#chapter one: A small but mighty ally

[vanillaarts]

Ek au Chapter one: A small but mighty ally

Archie stood in the shadows of the alleyway as Yumi stepped out of a bakery, holding a paper bag with a fresh loaf of bread. She turned to look at him.

“Why are you always hiding just out of sight here? You were fine the whole way here, and now you’re all jumpy.”

“I don’t want to know what would happen if Squid Coast, the place I ransacked, discovered I was here.”

“Understandable.” Yumi shrugged.

They walked out and barely got away from where they just were when they noticed a hero walk by. He was freakishly tall, at maybe seven feet, and was wearing all dark clothing. His eyes glowed lavender.

His unique looks attracted a lot of attention as he walked to the town square. He stepped up onto some crates as Archie heard whispering on the street.

“What are you doing…?” Some villager asked. A crowd was forming around the man. He held a pink orb in a sceptre. It was Karl.

He started to speak loudly, calling to the villagers in front of him.

“I need your people’s help. I’m on a quest and I need iron, diamonds, and gold.“

“Sir, we don’t have that here. We farm, gather, fish… but we done mine. None of us do.” A fisherman said in the midst crowd.

“You better get them for me. There will be negative consequences otherwise.”

“There are no caves for miles, and still, none of us will mine for you! Some people were forced to work in mines during the arch illagers reign, and won’t enter any cave again.” Another villager called out, “Sorry, but you just cannot get those things here.”

Karl sighed, drawing his sword.

“Well, you asked for this. Okay? This is what happens when you refuse me what I need.”

His hands and sword began to glow. He started to levitate, activating his powerful magic.

Karl smiled, feeling very powerful, and lunged forward, attacking the village. He was setting things ablaze, blowing other things up, and attacking any villagers that were in his range.

Chaos ensued immediately, and people began running around randomly, trying to hide. After shoving her way through the crowd, Yumi hid around a still-standing wall with Archie hiding close behind.

“What the hell are we gonna do?!” Archie asked from behind a crate, “Where can we go where he won’t notice us escaping?!”

“I- uhh…”She sighed, “I have no idea.”

Yumi looked to the tall hero with the orb.

Karl stood back from the flaming village, almost like he was proud of himself. He heard something like the crunch of a leaf from behind and swerved to the side just before a hero could hit him with her staff. Karl grabbed his sword off his back and instantly the two began to fight.

Karl initiated it by simply trying to swing his sword, which she dodged too easily.

Yumi noticed that he was distracted by the blue-clad hero and took it as an opportunity.

“Everyone come with me!!!” She screamed with more command than Archie expected. Upon seeing a leader with a way out, all the villagers that heard her ran with her.

They all understood there was no way to beat Karl like this. Fleeing was their best option. Archie also followed, but stayed hidden as best as he could as they entered the forest.

Meanwhile, back in the village, the battle was still going strong.

Karl repeatedly kept trying to hit the female hero, but all she would do is dodge, block, or fake an attack. She was very small, so dodging was easy.

“C’mon you coward! Fight me!” Karl yelled as he kept trying to fight her, as she would simply evade and block with her quarterstaff.

Karl realized something right then.

His arms were starting to burn. His movements slower and with less finesse. He was getting tired. Quickly.

The hero, unfortunately, noticed. She started to give small attacks, to make him fight back, and, after she could see clearly he was getting fatigued, attacked in that instant with the ferocity of a wolf.

Now Karl understood her strategy, and was not happy about it. She had energy and stamina on her side now.

He held his sword in defence but only managed to block one part of the pattern, letting her kick him hard in the leg. She started to aggressively attack, and Karl was having many issues defending.

He was starting to get very hurt when he heard the orb, speaking from the sceptre on his back.

‘Let me show you something.’

“Kinda busy right now…” Karl breathed so Quinn wouldn’t hear.

‘Do you want to make it out of this fight alive? You’re clearly losing. Let me help you.’

Karl thought for a second.

“Okay.” He said. “Do it.”

‘Let her face me.’

The hero was confused when Karl turned his back to her, which is always a bad idea in battle, but as soon as she saw the orb she realized what may happen. A blue beam shot out of it, hitting her square in the forehead. She collapsed immediately, unconscious.

“Jeez!” Karl said, jumping back, but wincing from the pain his injuries created.

‘She’s fine. It only knocks you out. We must leave. The orb said. Let’s go.’

Karl walked away from the scene, into the rising sun.

~~~

Back where the villagers were, they were running, but eventually slowed to a stop in the creeper woods.

“How many do we have?” Archie asked, out of breath. He stood behind the dense bushes, trying not to be noticed by the villagers.

“Around half. I have no idea where the others are…” Yumi responded. She walked away coldly, saying no more. Archie could tell even from when he found her again that she did not feel the same way to him. He did not blame her. He didn’t feel the same way towards himself, either.

After a couple of minutes, she came back. Archie peeked between the leaves of the bush as she began to command once again.

“It seems the hero is gone. I think we should go back to scavenge and find survivors.” Yumi announced, standing on a tree stump.

“And why should we listen to you, Yumi?” A farmer stepped forward. Salah. Another villager, much younger, tried to tell him something, but he quickly dismissed him.

“Not now, Axis. I have to deal with her first.” He whispered, “Now, Yumi, you tried to help that forsaken illager. Look where it got us. Now you think you have the authority to tell us what to do?”

“As the one who saved you from that hero, yes. Yes I do.”

“Well think again. Everyone! Let’s go back the the village, scavenge what we can and look for survivors.” Salah commanded. Everyone followed him back, leaving Archie and a very frustrated Yumi.

All the survivors of the village got back together, scavenging for remnants of resources and supplies and looking for survivors, just as Salah said.

Yumi slowly walked with Archie. She sighed, showing no emotions on her face. As they exited the woods, she looked to the field where Karl was standing and watching the village burn. He was gone.

However, there was something moving in the distance.

“Is there someone over there?” Yumi asked.

“Yeah. I see it too. Who is that hero?” Archie asked.

“Might as well ask. I’m pretty sure that’s who Karl was fighting was we ran away. Might thank them too for buying us time.”

So they came up to the hero.

“Hi! We’re survivors of this village raid and we were wondering if you could help us put a stop to that guy you fought earlier.”

The hero just looked at them, still coming out of her magic induced daze from when the orb knocked her out.

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

‘Maybe she doesn’t speak villager?’ Archie thought.

“Let me talk to her.” He said, walking up.

Archie spoke very slowly, using large hand gestures to describe each word.

“We… want… you… to help… us.” He said.

She gave him a puzzled look as she became fully aware.

‘Did she understand a word I just said?!’ Archie asked himself.

“Why are you doing that? You sound like an idiot.” She said in his language. Her accent was one he had never heard before.

He felt like an idiot.

Yumi just laughed. The lady smiled.

“Yeah, people never expect me to speak villager for some reason. Who are you guys?”

“I’m Archie, and this is Yumi.” Yumi came up to the two. She nodded her head.

“Hi.” She said.

“I’m Quinn.” She held out a hand and he shook it. She got up soon after. Archie was surprised to see that the hero reached just barely above his height.

She noticed how they looked at her.

“Don’t say I’m short. I’m well aware of that.” She said. The three stood in the field.

“So you said you wanted help stopping Karl?”

“His names Karl?”

“Yeah.”

“Well- yeah. You saw what he did. We’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

[onskepa]

Syawn ch 2

request:

Halo Hello Halo! I hope you are having a mighty fine day/night!

I hope this is alright but could I request a neteyam x avatar,na'vi! Reader?

Basically the reader is pregnant with what's supposed to be their first born. However, fate would have it that y/n would give birth to triplets! A never before heard of phenomena, due to na'vi usually having children one at a time and even then twins were a very rare event to occur!

I dunno I just like the idea of reader giving birth to triplets much to the sully family's surprise. Plus I couldn't help but think of how funny it would be for neteyam to be pacing outside the door for hours and the almost faint when finds out he doesn't just have one or two babies, but three!

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This is part two of Syawn request. Go check that out before reading this one! Now that aside! here is the awaited chapter two! enjoy!

Syawn series

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This communion with Eywa will be one for the books. Or in this case, a mark in na'vi history. Word spread of Eywa's miracle. Three na'vi children born at once! and from a dream walker no less!

All na'vi clans near and far wanted go and see for themselves. Because many refuse to believe such words, thinking its merely lies. But curiosity got the best of them.

When a day was set for the triplets communion with Eywa, many clans were set to witness it for themselves.

When such news got back to the Omatikaya clan, the world "overwhelmed" doesn't even begin to cover what everyone is feeling. While it is a huge honor for the clan to receive such guests, there is so little time to prepare who knows how many!

While jake and neytiri who are respectfully the Olo'eyktan and Tsahik of their clan, it was neteyam and syawn that were overwhelmed to the max.

So many people are coming to see their children bond with Eywa. The fear of seeing so many people just because of a impossibility happened.

Neyetam and syawn worry for their little ones as many people can scar them. Only having them for a few days and already both parents are being over protective and only want to keep their children safe.

"is this right...?" syawn asks neteyam as they gently rock the children's large basinet with them sleeping. "Let so many come see them...?" syawn says with clear worry in her eyes. Afraid that maybe what is happening isnt right.

"This is the first time many clans have come to see another's communion. It is a high honor....but I understand you yawne..." neteyam looks down at his sweet children. So small and already the three were making a impact on the world.

"to have them be shown like some spectacle, I fear the clans would see them as something else. Tell me nete, am I in the wrong? is this just my mother instincts seeing danger everywhere?" syawn goes on.

Neteyam brings her to his chest, her arms over his neck and his around her hips. The need to be closer to each other as means for comfort never dimmed with time.

"I can speak with my parents...I know they will understand and take our side" neteyam suggests. He felt his mate nod, her breathing slow as she relaxes in his embrace.

However as much as jake and neytiri understands their concerns, it was too late. By the next day, three clans arrived.

The Tipani clan, Anurai clan, and the Twakami clan.

And they all brought gifts for the children and the parents. Neteyam and syawn were grateful, but their worries never waivered despite the kind generosity the clans showed.

As the day goes by more clans appeared, even their closest ally, the Metkayina clan. Ao'nung and his beloved tsahik, Unyor came as well as bearing gifts from their island.

Tonowari and ronal, aged well but still in their prime, congratulate the couple and surprisingly, they along with the other metkayina members were allowed to the see the triplets first before everyone else.

Syawn understands the deep trust the sully family has with the metkayina clan, so she puts her trust in them too.

Ronal, Tonowari and their youngest, Ti'ong were given the privilege to carry one of the triplets in their arms. Ronal was happy, even though she isn't Tsahik anymore, she still blessing them like one. Giving each one a prayer and to hope for them a bright future.

As a warrior, Tonowari senses great strength in each of the little ones, sensing their hearts beating mighty and strong. Why, the one he holds already has a strong grip on his finger. That says a lot about them.

Ti'nong was looking at them with love and adoration in the young one's eyes. So small and so cute! Already seeing themselves as like a older distant cousin. But a fun cousin no less!

Ao'nung and Unyor were next to carry the two. Ronal held the other triplet a bit longer. Reminding herself of when her children were young.

"May Eywa bless you three with thriving joy and great bliss. Enjoy the gift she has given you and brace it to the fullest" Unyor says as she blessed the children. Syawn smiles, feeling pride and joy that her children were giving such blessings.

"I still don't understand how it is possible" ao'nung says, still confused of seeing triplets for the first time in his life.

"believe me brother, we don't either" neteyam replies.

"It is Eywa's will. She saw syawn worthy and blessed her with a great gift. That all is to it" ronal quickly tells. As Tsahik, one of the main things to do is try to understand and interpret what Eywa's will is and repeat it to the people.

The time came, where neteyam and Syawn's children would have their communion with Eywa. Thousands of na'vi from many tribes came to witness it. To see for their eyes of three of a kind na'vi.

Neytiri took charge, smiling happily as she recites the words, as neteyam, syawn, and kiri were each holding one of the triplets.

Neytiri took her time on each child, gently holding their queue and connecting them to one of the hanging vines, feeling joy as she is reminded of her children's communion.

She makes eye contact with neteyem. Love and pride seep from her golden eyes, smiling proudly at her eldest son.

"I am so proud of you ma'itan" she says lowly. Neteyam smiles, "thank you sa'nok". She goes to syawn and they make eyes contact with the same love and pride.

"May Eywa bless you ma'ite, to live long enough to see your children thrive. Protect and love these beautiful children unconditionally" neytiri says. Syawn nods and smiles lovingly, "yes, with all my heart".

It was a beautiful sight. Kiri felt proud to be part of the communion, to see her brother and his mate smile and beam with joy. She knows Eywa feels the same, deep in her heart.

Seeing the three children's golden eyes light up, smiling in daze. She wonder's what the triplets are seeing. Maybe seeing their great grandfather, Eytukan, or someone else. But either way, she is happy to see them happy.

After the communion, the celebration was large and loud. Many still hand neteyam and syawn gifts. There was so many, it began to build a hill. From fruits, medicines, beads, necklaces, bands, bows, arrows, you name it. There was so much, the parents believed they wont worry about shortage. All the Olo'eyktan's and Tsahik's gave their blessings to the triplets. Their eyes now believing the expansion of Eywa's gift.

For what they witnessed will be told throughout time. That the future generations must know about this wonderful night.

By the end of the night, everyone was tired. Syawn and neteyam brought their children back home. Where its warm, safe, and cozy. The children themselves were tired and slept peacefully, the three holding each other and snoozing as one. The three tucked in their big soft bassinet and syawn rocks them gently.

Neteyam adds beads to their children's songchords, singing out their life story, even if its short. Now a new bead to add of their communion. Syawn doing the same, as parents seeing their children connection with their great mother for the first time. She adds three purple colored beads, different shades, one for each child. She sings of her love and joy into her songchord.

Neteyam and syawn hug each other once more, and once again looking down at their children. Love is all they feel for their little ones. As they can only hope and see what will become of their little ones. And Eywa wonders too, to see what her little three souls will do with her gift.

Aaaaaaaaaaand that is it for ch 2! I loved this one and I hope you all do! Until next time! see ya!

taglisht: @quirkyhero , @theunfortunateplace , @moonchildxoxx

Unyor = sweetly aromatic, (a flowery or aromatic woody sort of smell). (may also refer to some spices used in Na’vi cooking)

Ti'nong = blooming, unfolding

[foundtherightwords]

The Hollow Heart - Chapter 3

Pairing: Hellcheer, Gothic AU

Summary: To escape her mother's control and the stifling society of Gilded Age New York, heiress Christabel Cunningham impulsively marries Henry Creel, a charming and seductive stranger, and accompanies him to his remote mansion on the West Coast. There, as Henry grows cold and cruel, Christabel must uncover her husband's sinister secret before it's too late. But can she trust Kas, her husband's enigmatic assistant, who seems to be her only ally in this strange place, or is Kas's loyalty to his master stronger than his attraction to Christabel?

Chapter warnings: none (unless you count some controlling behavior from Mrs. Cunningham and Jason)

Chapter word count: 4.1k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3 - The Mighty Spell

"Have you lost your mind?" Mrs. Cunningham said. "I won't allow it!"

Christabel sighed. She knew this was how her mother would react to the news of her engagement, but there was a small part of her that still hoped and wished that her mother could have been happy for her.

"You've mistaken my meaning, Mother," she said, with as much calmness and dignity as she could muster. "I'm not asking for your blessing. I'm simply informing you. I am twenty-three years old, I don't need your permission to get married. And Henry and I are getting married, whether you like it or not."

"I am your mother!" hissed Mrs. Cunningham, glancing at the closed door of their suite, looking out for eavesdropping servants. "And I won't let you marry some upstart nobody! Why, his father could have been one of those gold hunters!" She closed her eyes briefly, the idea of her daughter marrying the son of a prospector too horrifying for her to contemplate. "I will lock you up if I have to!"

"You've used that threat once too often, Mother," said Christabel coldly. "Aren't you afraid of what people will say?"

Mrs. Cunningham sputtered in outrage, and Christabel's heart pounded with exhilaration. She had never been able to speak to her mother like that, but now, when freedom was so close she could practically taste it, it had given her a boost of courage. But her triumph was short-lived, for a vindictive glint came into her mother's eyes, and she said slowly, "Mrs. Carver told me Jason has made you an offer."

"Yes, and I refused him," Christabel said warily. Her mother was planning something, and she didn't like it. "Didn't Mrs. Carver tell you that?"

"She did," her mother continued in that same awful, calm voice. "But I told her it was just silliness. Now that you've had time to think it over, you have accepted him, and we're going to announce your engagement at the ball tonight."

Now Christabel thought it was her mother who had lost her mind. "What are you—"

"What would it look like then, when you run off to marry someone else? Aren't you afraid of what people will say?"

Christabel stared. She didn't imagine her mother could be this extreme in her control. "You would humiliate your own daughter?" she asked in disbelief.

Her mother was all smiles and sweetness now. "I'm only doing what's best for you, darling."

"Jason would never agree to it," Christabel said, desperate to regain some control.

"He already did," her mother said smugly. "Now go and try on your costume. I'll send a maid up to help you." She went out, and Christabel heard the lock click shut. So her mother had locked her in, for good measure.

Alone, Christabel slumped down on the bed and let the tears of anger and desperation flow down her face. They were all ganging up on her, including Jason. By publicly announcing the engagement, they would force her into it, binding her hands and silencing her voice just like a kidnapped bride of some savage land, and she didn't know if she had the strength to stand up to all three of them. If only she had Henry with her! Could she risk bribing one of the maids again? Or—who was that servant of his, the strange, rather impertinent young man? Perhaps she could find him and ask him to bring Henry a message...

But Christabel never had the chance to write a message, let alone to send one, for her mother didn't leave her alone for a moment that entire day. She hovered over Christabel, ordering the maid to tighten Christabel's corset so she could fit into her costume, and telling Christabel to stick to the soup at lunch if she still wanted it to fit by that evening. And then she spent the rest of the day supervising the maids in packing their trunks—they were returning to New York the next day—in a state of false cheerfulness that oppressed and infuriated Christabel, like a summer storm that refused to break. Christabel thought about feigning a headache or illness to avoid going to the ball, but it wouldn't change a thing—her mother would still announce the engagement, with or without her. She held on to the hope that perhaps, when he found no message from her, Henry would know something was wrong and come to her rescue... But what could he do? No, she couldn't count on that. It would be best to steel herself for the inevitable and stand up for herself, if she could.

She tried to think of what she would say to the announcement. What my mother said is not true. I have rejected Mr. Carver, and I have no intention of marrying him. In fact, I am engaged to someone else... Too much? I'm sorry, my mother seemed to have been mistaken—No, she shouldn't place the blame on her mother. That would only worsen her mother's ire. I'm sorry, there seems to have been a mistake. I was honored by Mr. Carver's offer, but... Should she mention Jason at all? Her mother had said he was going along with this farce, but perhaps that was a lie to convince Christabel that it was no use fighting back. Should she fight fire with fire and preemptively announce her engagement to Henry before her mother could announce the sham one? But without Henry there, she would look rather foolish, wouldn't she?

Christabel's legs were shaky as she descended the stairs in her costume—a red velvet dress with long puffed sleeves and a huge lace ruff framing her neck and face, the skirt split open to show a petticoat of gold satin. The dress was trimmed with gold hearts, and a bejeweled girdle made of red hearts encircled her waits. Her hair was done up under a red velvet-and-gold crown, and a scepter also in the shape of a red heart in her hand completed the look. It was ostentatious and heavy and not at all to Christabel's taste, who would prefer to go as Psyche or a fairy, but she'd decided it wasn't worth it to fight her mother on this.

The Carvers' enormous ballroom was thronged with people and ablaze with light. The candle flames reflected on the silk and satin of the guests' costumes and on the jewels—both real and paste—that adorned their heads and necks and wrists, casting brilliant flecks over everything, dazzling Christabel's tired eyes, so she could not see who was dressed as what. The orchestra was striking up a quadrille. Someone took Christabel's hand and drew her into the circle. She danced along other young men and women, following the steps mechanically without seeing who her partner was. All she could think about was the announcement and what she was going to say. I'm sorry, there seems to have been a mistake. I have rejected Mr. Carver, and have no intention of marrying him—I'm sorry, there seems to have been a mistake. I am engaged to someone else—I'm sorry, I can't—I'm sorry—

It all sounded so clumsy, so childish. What was she apologizing for? None of this was her fault.

Then the quadrille was over, a polka began, and Christabel found herself dancing with Jason, who was dressed as Louis XVI.

"What's this I hear about our mothers planning to announce our engagement tonight?" she asked him, without preamble.

Jason was slightly taken aback by her accusing tone, but he soon recovered. "Your mother said that she could convince you to change your mind," he replied with a placating smile.

At that smile, any hope Christabel had of turning Jason into an ally vanished. "So all of you just go around deciding my life for me? Am I not a person, with my own thoughts and feelings and opinions? Or they just don't matter?" She realized she was getting loud, and people's heads were starting to turn toward her. She forced herself to lower her voice. "Why don't I just attach strings to my limbs so you can jerk me around like a puppet?" she hissed.

Jason's arms tightened around her. "Come now, Chrissy dear—don't be like that—"

"Don't call me Chrissy!"

She pried his hand from her waist and turned away, but the dancers closed in around her, a crowd of kings and queens, of French marquises and Oriental princesses, of cats and demons and birds of paradise, their eyes staring inquisitively, their mouths whispering gossip behind their fans or gloved hand, all blocking her way. The ballroom was a gilded cage, and she was trapped in it.

Suddenly, the crowd parted. Coming toward her was a figure dressed all in red—red brocade doublet and hose, red stockings and shoes, and a red velvet hooded cloak. An hourglass shape, half-red and half-black, adorned his chest. Nobody at the ball wore mask, but this person's forehead and nose was covered by a half-mask in the shape of a skull. Red spots splattered the lower half of his face like blood. The figure caught Christabel and whirled her into the next dance, a waltz.

"Excuse me, sir, but I'm not interested—" she tried to say.

"Hush, my dear Christabel," the figure said. "We are being observed." Her heart leaped at that rich, melodious voice. So he had come after all!

"Henry!" she exclaimed, almost sobbing with relief. "I wanted to send you a message, but I couldn't—"

"I know, my love, I know," he said, caressing her arm. "That's why I came. It took me a while to find the appropriate costume though. Do you like it?"

Though worried about their predicament, she couldn't help feeling thrilled at the way he called her my love. She ran an appraising eye over his costume. "What are you supposed to be?"

"The Red Death, from The Masque of the Red Death. Did you not recognize it?"

"Oh! Of course." She lifted up her red velvet skirt. "Look, we're matching!"

"And you are—?"

"The Queen of Hearts. You know, like in a deck of cards." She rolled her eyes. Now that Henry was here, all her fear was gone. "So silly. My mother insisted on it."

A strange smile spread across Henry's red-splattered lips. "The Queen of Hearts. Of course you are. How fitting."

She didn't ask him what he meant. "Listen, we don't have much time—" Maneuvering him through the crowd to the edge of the ballroom, where they could have a modicum of privacy, she gave him a brief summary of her mother's intention. "I believe they're going to announce it after the firework display," she concluded. "What are we going to do?"

Henry's eyes, brilliant blue behind the red polished surface of his mask, were thoughtful. "Do you want a big wedding?" he asked.

Christabel frowned at the non-sequitur, but she answered anyway. "No." Most of her friends dreamed of big lavish weddings with white satin and lace and pearls and orange blossoms, but none of it had ever mattered to her. "Why do you ask?"

"Then we can get married tomorrow morning, if you so wish."

Understanding dawned in her mind. "You mean—eloping?" she whispered.

He nodded, his smile widening under his skull mask. "We'll slip away tonight, get married in New York tomorrow morning, and be on the train back to San Francisco before they know it."

Christabel's heart hammered. By this time tomorrow, she would be Mrs. Creel and on her way to San Francisco! It sounded almost too good to be true.

"But"—she glanced back at her mother, who was watching her from the corner of the room with the other chaperones, a mistrustful frown on her face—"how are we to slip away?"

"I have a car at Brenner's," said Henry. "But we can't leave now, it will look suspicious. Before supper, I'll go and bring the car around. When the fireworks start, meet me by the back gate. They're all going to be looking up at the sky then, nobody will notice."

The waltz ended. Henry gave her hand a brief squeeze to lend her some courage, and slipped into the crowd.

Mrs. Cunningham questioned Christabel about her mysterious partner, of course, but she only answered vaguely that he was some friend of Jason's and danced the next three dances with Jason to soothe her mother's suspicion. All the while she kept her eyes fixed on Henry's red hood as he moved amongst the other dancers, praying that her mother wouldn't suddenly decide to make the announcement earlier than planned.

When Mrs. Carver clapped her hands and the orchestra stopped playing, Christabel's heart almost stopped as well, as she was certain they had decided to make the announcement early after all. But no, Mrs. Carver was only inviting people to go in for supper. Christabel searched for Henry. There he was, standing on the very edge of the crowd. He gave her a subtle nod before disappearing through a side door.

Christabel hardly knew what she was eating at supper. The meal seemed to go on forever, and every time Mrs. Carver or her mother or Jason stood up, her body would grow numb and cold with fear. But eventually supper was over, and people started drifting outside for the firework display. Christabel hung back until she was certain her mother was with the others, and then she ran upstairs and into her room.

She didn't give herself time to think. If she thought about what she was about to do, she would lose heart and never be able to go through with it. Thank God they had packed! She tore off her satin-and-velvet costume, heedless of the glass hearts on the girdle, which tinkled as she tossed it on the floor, and removed the ridiculous crown from her head. She threw on the traveling suit that had been laid out for the next day and picked up the valise containing some changes of clothes and her traveling case with some essentials. Did she need more? How long did it take to travel to San Francisco? Should she pack more? There was no time for that now. Had the fireworks already started?

She scribbled a few lines to let her mother know she'd left, without saying where or with whom—her mother could work that out easily enough—and put it on the desk. Then, valise and case in hand, she cracked open the door and looked down the long hallway, just as the tip of her mother's Duchess of Burgundy headdress with its fluttering veil came up the stairs. Christabel's blood froze in her veins. Was her mother coming to check on her? Either way, she could not possibly go down the same way now. What to do? What to do?

Locking herself in the room, Christabel turned around like a caged bird, frantically searching for a way out. Her eyes fell on the large elm growing outside the window. One of its branches almost reached the window sill. If she climbed onto the branch, she would be able to slide down the trunk...

Her mother was moving about in the room next door. She may come into Christabel's room any moment.

She threw the valise through the window and thanked God when it fell soundlessly on the grass below. Then, gripping the traveling case with one hand, she gathered up her skirts with the other and lifted herself on the windowsill. From here, she realized that the branch was much smaller than she'd thought. Would it hold? Only one way to find out. She stepped across the gap onto the branch. One foot, and then another, and then—

Her foot slipped. She reached out—for the window frame behind her or the tree trunk in front of her—but her hands only found thin air. The world tipped over, and Christabel fell, the canopy of the elm quickly receding over her head and the ground rushing up to meet her at an alarming speed—

She was too startled to scream. She only shut her eyes tightly and waited for the inevitable, sickening crunch of her body hitting the ground.

It never came.

Instead, there was only a jolt, and then a heavy grunt. It took Christabel a moment to realize someone had caught her, and the grunt was her own, made by the air being knocked out of her lungs as she fell into the arms of her rescuer.

She opened her eyes. In place of Henry's blue ones, she found herself looking into the dark, dark eyes of the strange young man who had introduced himself as Henry's servant. For a second, when their eyes met, Christabel felt as though the air had been knocked out of her again.

Then fireworks burst over their heads, breaking them both out of the spell.

"You all right, miss?" the dark-eyed man asked.

"Y-yes, thank you."

"Can you walk?"

"I— I don't know." She wasn't injured, but the rush from the fall had left her weak and trembling.

"Then, with your permission, miss, I'll carry you to the car. Mr. Creel is waiting."

She nodded. He leaned down to pick up her valise and traveling case, and, with Christabel in his arms, walked to the back gate in long, easy strides. For a confused moment, Christabel was reminded of the day she first met Henry—had it only been two weeks ago?—and the same matter-of-fact way that he had picked her up and carried her. The only difference was that this young man had asked for her permission first.

A small two-seat roadster was parked by the back gate of the Carver mansion. Henry was in one of the seats, waiting. He'd changed back into his usual clothes, though there were still some red spots on his jaw and chin. The man put Christabel next to Henry, placed her cases at her feet, and took the driver's seat. Soon the car was rolling down the path through the trees, while the fireworks continued to flash and crackle on the sky above, their boom and the pop of the car engine unable to drown out the the delighted oohs and aahs of the revelers.

"I thought you'd changed your mind," Henry said, hugging Christabel close.

"She had a fall, sir," the dark-eyed man said on her other side. "She's a bit shook up."

"All's well now," said Henry. "I see that you've met my assistant, Kas."

The dark-eyed man—Kas, what an odd name—nodded at Christabel briefly. "Please to make your acquaintance, Miss Cunningham," he said, before turning his attention back to the road.

"Soon to be Mrs. Creel, Kas," Henry corrected him, laughing. "Soon to be Mrs. Creel. Isn't that right, darling?"

Christabel was still too dazed after her fall to answer, and she was unsettled by something she thought she'd glimpsed in Kas's eyes when he glanced at her—something almost like pity. It reminded her of his enigmatic words the day he'd brought her Henry's message. I wouldn't go if I were you... But surely she'd imagined it. What did he have to pity her about? He didn't know her, and besides, she was on her way to marry the love of her life. What was to be pitied about that?

"Did you bring this car all the way from San Francisco?" she asked Henry, to change the subject.

"No, it's Brenner's. But he doesn't have much use for it now, does he?" Henry grinned and winked at her. She smiled back, though she didn't see much humor in the situation. "I do have my own car in Frisco though, a much better one," he continued. "You'll see."

They hadn't gone far from the Carver mansion when Henry suddenly called out, "Stop!"

Kas pulled the car over by a bend on the road. Christabel looked around, confused. "Why are we stopping?"

Henry grabbed her hand. "Come. There's something I want to show you."

"We don't have time—my mother may have already realized that I'm missing and raised the alarm—"

"It will take but a minute."

Christabel let him drag her through the woods to a clearing. A crescent moon shone its silvery light over the ivy covering the ground. Startled, she recognized this was the same clearing where Henry had proposed, where the ruins of his family's cottage still stood. She hoped somebody had removed the dead hare.

"Here." Henry pulled something out of his pocket. It was the same piece of stained glass she'd helped him find amongst the stones, the one depicting a rose, now polished and attached to a chain to form a necklace. "I had this made for you." He put the chain over her head and settled the rose on her chest. "I know it's not a ring, but I wanted to give it to you, because, well, because it's half yours, really. You found it."

Christabel lifted the stained glass pendant to examine it more clearly. "It's beautiful. Thank you."

Henry clasped her hands in his, closing her fingers around the pendant. "We have this tradition in our family," he said, "that the bride and groom will have a separate Celtic ceremony and exchange their own vows, in keeping with our roots, before the church ceremony. We can't have much of a ceremony here, but I can't think of a better place to exchange those vows, do you agree?"

His eyes were shining with a fervent light, and Christabel, caught up in his excitement, found herself excited as well.

"What are the vows?" she asked.

"Repeat after me," Henry said. "Heart bound to heart, soul bound to soul. I pledge to you my life and undying love. I'm yours, my body, my spirit, my being whole."

"Heart bound to heart, soul bound to soul. I pledge to you my life and undying love. I'm yours, body and spirit, my being whole," Christabel repeated, trying to suppress a delighted giggle, not wishing to ruin the moment with her girlish nervousness. How terribly romantic. Not just an elopement, but a secret pagan ritual in the middle of the woods, under the moon as well! Oh, wouldn't Mother throw a fit if she knew!

A red glow seemed to emanate from the pendant clasped between her palms, but when Christabel opened her hands and looked again, it was gone. Under the moonlight, the rose wasn't even red—it looked almost black, like volcanic rock. She must've imagined it, or it had been a flash from the fireworks.

"In the eyes of my ancestors, that means we are married now," Henry said, leaning forward to kiss her. "Nothing else matters."

They ran back to the car. Kas started the engine, and they flew down the road back to New York, as the last of the fireworks died out over their heads.

They arrived at Manhattan just as the city was waking up. The electric streetlamps were still burning, but they were already dimming in the approaching gray light of dawn, and workers were filling up the streets, ready to start their day. Kas dropped them off in front of a chapel and headed to the station to secure their passages on a train to San Francisco, while they waited for the chapel to open.

It was probably because she was too tired, but Christabel didn't remember much of the ceremony—afterward, in her mind, the memory was forever shrouded in the grayish light and fog of a Manhattan autumn morning. What she did remember was the minister being rather grumpy about having to perform a marriage ceremony first thing upon waking up. She remembered, too, how Henry had brought in two men who were on their way to work to act as witnesses, and how he gave them each a silver dollar once the ceremony was over. But what she'd said, what Henry had said, how he'd looked when he slipped the gold band over her finger—when had he found the time to buy a wedding ring?—and how she'd felt at that moment, it was all a blur.

Then Henry called a cab, which hurried them to Grand Central, and Christabel was bundled into a compartment. She barely had time to remove her hat before collapsing onto a bed and promptly falling asleep to the soothing rhythm of the train as it rolled westward, taking her toward a life new and unknown.

Chapter 4

[megamanrecut]

Okay, so taking awhile (again) on the next chapter, so here's another part of 'Become the Night 2'

Become the Night 2 Teaser, 2/? (part 1 here, or Ao3)

The air raider droned monotonously as they flew West. For awhile, Turner was quiet as he sat straight-backed in the passenger seat, staring imperiously into the horizon. Proto studied him curiously out of the corner of his eye.

Turner was not quite like Elec Man—certainly, the resemblance was there—they had practically identical faces and eyes. Yet while Elec Man could produce a glare as cold as a serial killer twisting a knife between your ribs while watching the life fade from your eyes, Turner’s similarly icy, penetrating glare only held the menace of one who might hold a knife up to a throat, but go no further. 

“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Turner said finally with the curt formality of an executive ordering about an intern.

“Don’t worry, I sneak off all the time!” replied Proto, waving a hand airily. “No one will think twice about it. But I gotta ask…how come you came to me for help? Why didn’t didn’t you go to Pharaoh Man instead?”

There was a small pause. Turner twisted in his seat to look blankly at Proto. “Who?”

“Geese, kid, how secret was this mission you and Elec Man were on? Don’t you know your other allies in the Syndicate?”

Turner stared at Proto for a moment, then shook his head. “Only our mutual acquaintance Mr. Smith, and stop calling me diminutives. I am Mr. Turner to you.”

“Can you fight?”

Turner angled his chin hastily and gave Proto a superior look.  “No, it is not my responsibility to ‘fight,’ that’s the job of lowly combat robots like you.”

“…Care to run that by me again, junior?”

With a small jerk, Turner added, “Please.”

Smiling, Proto looked out the window. They were flying over Indiana, green fields of corn stretching below them in a checkered grid. Despite all the blatant, uncalled for rudeness, he was enjoying Turner’s company a lot. Elec Man had taught his little brother well in acting the part of Syndicate, and his little brother was a good student—but Proto had a feeling underneath this robot was quite different from Elec Man or Syndicate altogether.

“…So ballet?” he queried, recalling something Elec Man had said about the mission in California.

Turner held himself up proudly (again a bit like a peacock fanning its feathers) “Yes. My alias is Todd Turner, perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

“…I’m afraid not?”

The feathers drooped. “Oh. Well, I’m the best ballet dancer in the world.”

“…Okay…?”

Picking up on Proto’s tone, Turner drew himself up indigently. “I like it a lot and if you’re going to make fun—“

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t!” said Proto hastily, though he felt his own eyebrows raising more than he intended. So then, Turner was a ballet dancer? That explained the prince-like suit!

As Turner continued to look offended, his pale eyes glaring superiorly ahead, Proto decided to change the subject back to the matter at hand.

“So…how long has Elec Man been missing?”

“I never said Mr. Smith went missing,” Turner replied stiffly.

“…No offense kid, but you are a bad liar (which according to my little brother is actually a good thing!). I could tell something was wrong the moment I first saw you.”

“No you couldn’t—how?”

“Well, for example, I saw you casing our house yesterday, while Rock and I were out walking his robo-dog. You thought you were hidden. I would have trashed you, but I noticed your eyes, which are just like your older brother’s, and decided to wait.”

At this, Turner’s pale eyes darted over to Proto. The high-and-mighty act he had been putting on slipped. He looked small, and scared.

“But listen, you don’t have to worry—“ Proto put in hastily, then added with a laugh, “I’m not going to hurt you, you know—I’m Break Man!”

…This didn’t quite alleviate Turner’s apprehension as anticipated. “…Who?” He sounded just as bewildered by this name as he had at Pharaoh Man’s.

“Break Man!” Proto repeated, confused. “The red bomber!”

“Never heard of you.”

“Well, I’m kinda like a superhero in New York City.”

This was met with awkward silence. Turner stared at Proto, scrutinizing him like a complicated jigsaw puzzle. He didn’t seem to know what to make of this information. They flew through a few puffy clouds, which briefly blanked the air raider’s convex windows in white.

“And you are…living like a human?” Turner sounded doubtful, as though asking if pigs could fly.

“Yeah, I guess,” replied Proto, feeling slightly defensive. “…Something funny about that?”

Turner quickly looked away from Proto back out the window. “No, not at all. …Though, you’re nothing at all like I pictured.”

“What did you picture?”

Turner’s brows drew together. He still looked nervous. “They call Cypher the 'Devil of the Underground'—that Cypher could take down an army of scrappers faster than fire in a paper warehouse, that he leaves no enemy alive,” he whispered.

“Stop! You’re making me blush,” laughed Proto, pleased. “I’m not half as scary as your brother.”

“Yeah, you’re not like that at all,” agreed Turner. “Really you’re just a dork from the suburbs.”

…Proto’s self-pleased feeling crashed.

“You don’t even dress well,” Turner added, almost accusingly, eying the old T-shirt and baggy jeans Proto was wearing beneath his bomber jacket.

“Well, this is just my lab clothes—shut up,” Proto muttered, fully aware he was wearing something that leaned more on the ‘comfort’ scale than the ‘cool’ scale, an unfortunate fashion trend that had snuck up on him when he had moved back to Dr. Light’s laboratory. Stuck up little brat, he thought, then smiled. He supposed Turner’s statement was a product of Elec Man’s influence—if anything, he should be annoyed at Elec Man.

“So…what did Elec Man tell you about me?” Proto asked casually as he checked the flight instruments and adjusted the altitude slightly.

“Not much.”

“…Oh.”

Proto’s shoulder’s slumped a little. He himself still sometimes thought of Elec Man—usually when he was busting amateurish heist that Elec Man would have found funny. He remembered how they used to challenge each other by doing something reckless. Instead, Proto was now making sure Roll didn’t do the same reckless shit he used to do while fighting Dr. Wily. Of course, it made sense that Elec Man had put all of that behind himself; Elec Man had always tried to act so mature...

Turner was eyeing Proto in a strange, almost jealous way, then clarified with significance, “Mr. Smith complains about everyone—the delivery men being late, the seamstresses mishandling my costumes, the director slacking off, when someone in the audience coughs too much, if one of the violins in the orchestra is off-key—but not you.”

Proto perked up again. “Really?”

Turner had gone back to watching Proto with a guarded expression. “I can trust you, right?”

“Yes, though you obviously don’t. You’re that desperate, huh junior?”

Turner sniffed. “Well…Mr. Smith trusted you.”

“Yeah. I mean, I was programmed to obey the Syndicate for most of the time we knew each other, but I think he did even outside of that.” Proto checked the flight course—an hour until they reached Los Angeles. “Alright, now that we have that settled, I’ll ask you again…how long has Elec Man been missing?”

At first, Proto thought Turner would continue to be aggravatingly stubborn, but Turner responded in the smallest of voices, “…Three days.”

Three days. Shit. “Kid, you better tell me everything. I got a real bad feeling about this. Your secrets are safe with me, honest—just tell me.”

For a moment, Turner continued to waver, then finally told Proto about his mission at the ballet—about having a target, an unknown person of whom he had been tasked to assassinate on a certain night. Then, reluctantly, he explained that he had told Elec Man that he couldn’t do it, and that Turner’s mission had been called off. 

“…Elec Man said our creator said I didn’t have to do it anymore, and I could just perform as usual, which is what I did,” Turner continued somberly. His eyes had been on his knees the entire time. “But then, that night…Elec Man wasn’t backstage like he usually is. He wasn’t at our apartment either. He wasn’t anywhere.”

Proto had been frowning all throughout Turner’s story. “This person you were targeting…were they dangerous?”

“I dunno.” Turner looked helplessly down at his hands, which had been balling up the fabric of his suit’s pant legs in a way Elec Man most certainly would not have approved of. “I think…I think something definitely went wrong. Elec Man wouldn’t just leave like that. If I had just done my part of the plan, then Elec Man would still be around, he—“

“Whatever happened wasn’t your fault,” Proto told Turner sternly. “I’m sure Elec Man would say the same if he were here.”

For the first time, Turner’s perfect posture crumpled. He sat slumped in the passenger chair, his eyes downcast on the creases he had just made in his suit’s pant legs.

“Hey, you did right thing coming to me for help!” Proto reassured him quickly. “We’ll find your brother, don’t worry.”

Turner was silent for awhile. Proto wasn’t sure if he’d speak again, but finally— “I don’t know what you mean by calling Elec Man my ‘brother.’ He’s just my prototype.”

“Does he care for you? And you him?”

“…Yes?”

“Well then, junior, he’s your brother.”

Turner mulled this over. Proto could see a flicker of excited revelation cross his face, like a momentary sunbeam. Again, Turner’s behavior thoroughly reminded Proto of Rock. Rock could be obnoxiously lawful like this, especially when he was enforcing Dr. Light’s rules with a dog-like level of obedience far beyond what even Dr. Light considered necessary. From then on, Proto decided to make it his mission to get Turner to laugh.

But first things first. “We’re almost to L.A.,” Proto announced. “Let’s check this apartment of yours out first, okay? Perhaps we can get a clue to where Elec Man is.” 

Continued in Part 3

[holly-fixation]

Silver Turncoat: Chapter 5

Summary: The golden child’s first mission was supposed to be a simple extermination of a people preventing Shinra rule. It was what he was trained for. What he was made for. But when a blond roughly his age gives him the chance to escape the life Shinra has planned for him, he’s given the first real choice of his entire life.

This was their one and only chance to make it to the western continent.

Inspired by this prompt by @im-totally-not-an-alien

Please enjoy!

Chapter 5: Come Home

Dark clouds intercepted the sun’s magnificent rays an hour before they reached the mighty city. Water began falling just as they entered Old Junon, the lower level abandoned by Shinra with the exception of the guarded elevator. The quaint nature of the remaining fishing town stirred curiosity in Sephiroth's heart along with an odd buzzing in his mind, but they had no time to waste on passive ailments. 

They entered the first store on the right, a backwater name not worth remembering. The youngest spotted the hooded cloaks they absolutely needed. The elder collected two shirts, pairs of pants, pairs of socks, and even pairs of shoes. 

“Is that all?” 

Cloud nodded. “This is everything. We’d also like to sell.”

“Let’s see what adds up first. No point in handing you gil just to give it right back.”

Sephiroth lifted the large leather bag onto the counter. He vaguely heard a mumble of ‘good gods’ before the shopkeeper dared to open it, shifting both dull and sharp spoils with a ruler: untreated leathers, monster claws, horns, teeth, and even edible meat saved in its own sealed sack.

She rocked her head as she calculated quickly. “Deducting the price of those… ten thousand eight hundred gil. Take it or leave it.”

That wasn't nearly the number they hoped for, but this town was poor and the monsters weren't too difficult to kill.

“Thank you.” 

She placed the gil in Cloud's gloved hand and he pocketed it immediately. 

“Do you know where the nearest restroom is?”

“There're a few stalls two allies away on your left. The signs are worn down but the water works. If you don't mind me asking, why are you guys dressed like that? I heard you're not allowed to alter your uniforms.”

Cloud gave a small chuckle. They prepared for this question. “Because this guy,” he wrapped an arm around the helmeted teen and pulled him off balance. According to the blond, this was usual behavior for ‘buddies’. It still felt weird though. “Forgot all his civilian clothes back in Corel and didn’t want everyone assuming he’s on duty.” 

Sephiroth looked away, hoping the shopkeeper would perceive it as shame. 

“Why not take the helmet off?”

“Oh… Can I tell her?” His voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. 

The helmet nodded. 

“He has a horrible scar on the left side of his face. A nasty accident in a mako reactor. He's alright, but he doesn't like the looks he gets.”

“Oh that’s horrible. Hey,” the woman suddenly placed her hand on his shoulder. The supposed cadet instantly went rigid. “I totally get that. My husband kept his face bandaged for a year after he got fish hook stuck in his cheek. It took less than half the time to heal, but he was terribly afraid of the looks. Oh! Here.” She let go of him and slipped a pair of cheap sunglasses off a small rotating shelf on the counter. “It's on the house. One scar bearer to another.”

The boy took them and nodded. This must be that ‘small town kindness’ Cloud once explained to him. Cloud explained a lot to him. “Thank you for your kindness…” He kept his voice low and airy. 

She didn't recognize it. Thank gods. They collected the bag of their clothes and swept into the alley. Without speaking, Cloud handed Sephiroth his portion and they slipped into the stalls. 

Discarding his sword was by far more difficult, but discarding his armor affected him as well. It was, however, far easier to stuff the remainder of his armor and uniform into the helmet than to bury his weapon in the middle of nowhere. He heard Cloud exit first, swiping the helmet from under the stall as Sephiroth finished putting on the new pants. He heard Cloud continue the next step of their plan, shoving both uniforms and the helmet to the bottom of the trashcan near the sink. Then he heard the constant spinning of the paper towel roll as Cloud covered up the evidence. 

For a brief moment, he wondered what Hojo would think if he saw him right now. Then it hit. 

The buzzing in his mind spiked just before he unlocked the stall door, suddenly falling to his knees and holding his head. 

“Seth! Are you okay?!” Cloud called his simple alias, but it muffled against the internal shatter. 

Endure the pain, Sephiroth. You have yet to reach your threshold. 

The more you endure, the greater the power that will awaken within you. 

The laugh echoing in his mind nearly made him shutter. He didn't even notice the small grunt of pain that left his lips. 

“Hey.”

He felt a hand on his arm under the stall door. 

“Breath slowly. Deep breaths.”

The teen obeyed unconsciously before the weakness drained and he stepped to his feet, opening the lock. The buzzing lessened to the same intensity he entered the city with. “Sorry. I suddenly felt… uncomfortable.”

Cloud seemed to ignore him as he scanned his face for the truth. 

“I'm fine now. Let's go.”

“We can come back tomorrow. We can turn back right now and no one would know.” 

“The ship won't return for two days. It’ll be too risky circling the city. We need this done today. I'm fine.”

Cloud hated this. Sephiroth could see it. But he also saw there were no other logical options. The longer they waited on this continent, the greater risk of Shinra finding them. Gods forbid the company captured them. Sephiroth shuddered at the thought of the discipline waiting in the lab. He couldn't claim he was taken prisoner anymore. He actively aided in their travel to find his mother. 

“Once we get on that elevator, there’s no turning back. This is the last chance we have to get proper rest.”

Sephiroth looked at Cloud with calculating slit eyes but ultimately landed on the same conclusion. “Let's go.”

The blond handed him the sunglasses. 

He had forgotten, taking them and shielding his inhuman eyes.

At the base of the elevator, Cloud simply paid the ten gil and they left without issue. Cloud explained on the ride up that it was probably the end of the man’s shift. No one cared about anything at the end of a shift, especially two teens that looked like mako addicts with their baggy clothes and cloaks. 

* * * 

The bustling upper city was a nightmare. Cloud’s hand itched with instinct to protect the freed soldier behind him. He knew their luck wouldn’t last forever. He only prayed there was enough left over to get them on that passenger ship. 

Banners he once saw decorate the city with celebration now begged for action. Every inch of available banners and advertising boards were covered in the image of the golden child with the title ‘we miss you’. Posters begged for accurate information with the promise of reward. Every shop tuned into the same news station, an eerie lull under all activity constantly updating the city on whereabouts and progress made in the search, fusing with the constant blare of air traffic above. Television screens silently displayed President Shinra's speech, the captions claiming the soldier was like a son to him and they were searching every corner of The Planet to find him. 

Messages in apartment windows read ‘Sephiroth come home’, some written in large colorful crayon with unpracticed hands. 

The silver haired teen unconsciously tucked his head further into his hood as they began their trek through the crowded sidewalk. The blond led the way and snaked through the crowd, the teen trailing close behind. Ten blocks. They just needed to walk ten blocks and they'd be halfway there. 

But with the eighth block completed, Sephiroth collapsed. They had no time for questions. Cloud quickly threw the boy’s arm over his shoulders and guided the soldier to a dirty alley, not a single stranger offering their aid or concern as they walked around the two. The teen grunted and groaned, trying to hide the noises under his breath even now. 

“What happened?” The blond asked as he slowly lowered them to the ground, Sephiroth's back sliding against the brick wall. “What's happening?”

His hands were on his head, pulling his hood down to avoid reaching for his hair or knocking off the sunglasses. “I-I don't know. Ah…” the strength in his voice wavered with each word leaving his lips. 

Why did this new problem have to start today? “We have time. We can wait it out. Breath.” He kept a hand on the black cloaked shoulder, trying to ground this invisible ache. 

Time only worsened the phantom pain, each tick of the clock raising its power. Sephiroth’s groans only grew sharper and louder despite his strength. “We need to go…!”

Cloud opened his mouth to argue.

“They’ll spot here… We need to leave now…!”

Damn it. He helped Sephiroth stand without another word. He hoped the teen's debilitated state would at least keep Shinra’s eyes away. After all, why would Sephiroth ever need help? Side by side, the horde of people tried less to avoid them, bumping into both of them as they tried to sneak by. The teen desperately grasped the hood in his fist, praying no one saw his face or his hair. 

Cloud led them to the cargo bay, the path thankfully familiar enough. He found an exhausted sailor by the loading dock and offered his aid loading the ship in exchange for passage for him and his sick ‘brother’. The cadet agreed with a bribe of five thousand gil, claiming security was tight thanks to the golden child’s disappearance. Thankfully the ‘brother’ comment prevented the need to see the other hooded boy’s face. Cloud sat the soldier in against one of the many stacks within the hanger. He only returned when the task was complete and the ship was moments from leaving port.

“Are you any better?” He kept his voice low, careful of any sailors that weren’t willing to stay quiet for a few thousand gil. 

Sephiroth shook his head as Cloud took a seat next to him, both of them stuck between two containers for the next twenty four hours. He rested his head on his arms and knees, but nothing soothed it.

The blond breathed softly. “Here. Lean on my shoulder.”

He clearly didn’t understand because he didn’t answer, only muffling long cries of pain. 

“Just try it. It might help.”

Sephiroth shifted slowly, turning and resting his forehead on the brown cloaked shoulder. The slightest bit of tension left his body.

“Better?”

“A little… nh…”

Cloud had absolutely no idea what was happening, and Sephiroth didn’t either. The silver soldier suffered even as the ship began moving. Ten minutes passed at sea before his small grunts finally stopped. The blond waited, but the soldier did not speak or move, remaining exactly where he was.

“...did it stop?” Cloud prompted after another moment.

Sephiroth looked away before slowly sitting up, freeing Cloud from his touch. “...Yes.”

“Do you know what it was? Any ideas?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You’re better. That’s what matters.”

The teen removed his sunglasses before glancing at the ground, his face stone but his eyes revealing. 

“Do you want to lean on me again? I didn’t say you had to stop.” The glare he gained was full of distrust. That Cloud could identify. “Really. I mean it.” He tapped his open shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.”

“Why do you do this?”

His yellow brows knotted. “Do what?”

“Why do you…” He trailed off, holding his head in his hands in frustration.

“...I don’t want to push anything on you. I just know you’re not used to putting yourself first. I’m offering. If you really don’t want it, you don’t have to take it.”

“...no ulterior motives?”

Cloud’s heart broke at the idea alone. How many times was the boy offered comfort as a test and punished for taking it? “None.”

With a question like that, he was surprised when Sephiroth gave in and rested the exact same way as before, not a shred of extra contact taken. Cloud slowly, carefully wrapped an arm around the boy not out of necessity but of comfort. The silver soldier’s body started shaking, but he did not make a sound. 

Cloud knew of the pain, but only Sephiroth knew the memories that ruthlessly attacked him until the headaches finally stopped and the deep twist of the knife that needed time to heal.

.

.

.

.

To be Continued…

Author’s Note: Apparently I am incapable of writing a single chapter and moving on. So here, two chapters in one week! Cloud “Doesn’t know how to talk about his emotions” Strife and Sephiroth “probably never learned that emotions are a good thing” are very interesting to write in moments like these. Anyway! We’ll get back to what the P0s are doing next time!

Thanks for reading!

Chapter List 

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I'm gonna be alternating Wednesdays with Roseverse and LitMoR, so since last week was a Roseverse preview, here's a preview of the next chapter of YCDHN! Featuring the origins of a joke I have been dying to make for SO LONG.

-

Plans never survived first contact with the enemy, and that was equally true of victories. People who spent too long celebrating a win rarely lived to see a second one.

The Mighty Nein (ten plus an additional four) gathered in the dining hall of Kindunos Keep, where months ago nearly all of them had murdered an entire tribe worth of people who thought they were stronger than they were. Reminders of small victories were necessary as they prepared to face the biggest one yet- the one for all the marbles.

Lucien was the one who stood up to take point and leadership. This nightmare had been started at the time of his birth- for the purpose of this leg of the journey, they were all going to look to him now and no one complained about it. Not even Molly looked at him skeptically.

A far cry from where they began, but the world was moving on. “They work fast when they want to,” he explained, looking to Beau, hunched over her hand like if she dug her nails into the eye on the back of it, she would tear it from her flesh. “It starts with dreams and then one by one, they’ll start bringin’ you more gifts.” He looked to Tyffial, Otis, and Zoran with their amulets, to Molly with his- eyes downcast and on the table, the reality of being a thrall still too close to the surface for him. “And once you’ve got nine eyes, you’re theirs. There won’t be anything we can do ‘til they’re dead.”

They didn’t have time to get another amulet made. Those things didn’t come cheap and Waccoh had used up every bit of good will and resources she had to make the ones for the other Tombtakers. There was no scenario where they could buy time for a second and wait this out. If they didn’t leave tomorrow, there was going to be Hell to pay for Beau and for all of them.

“The Somnovem are still being fueled by the Chained Oblivion,” he went on. “And all of them are right pissed at us for bein’ a thorn in their drawers.” He folded his arms behind his back. “Always nice when the apocalypse has a personal touch, hm?”

A small, restrained laugh. It had been a long time since Lucien had to give a speech like this. Nice to know that he could still maneuver around the appropriate beats to keep the mood from souring into hopelessness. Yes, things were dire, but they were going to meet it head-on. Violently.

He went on, pacing. “I know it looks like we have plenty of numbers on our side, but it’s not just nine ancient, batty-as-shit wizards and the god they’re siphoning power off of. It’s the thousands upon thousands of people trapped in Cognouza as well.”

“You lot handle the Somnovem,” Tyffial shrugged. “The Tombtakers will handle whatever else there is.” She smiled at Essek with too many teeth. “That includes you.”

“Why I have no qualms about aiding you in the fight, I think calling me a Tombtaker is… inaccurate, to say the least,” Essek drawled.

Otis leaned over to stage whisper at him. “Nah, we already voted. Can’t back out now. You’re with us forever. Heh.”

While Essek had a crisis over that, Lucien flashed Tyffial a tight smile that she returned, the pair exchanging a heated series of silent messages with only the sharpness of their eyes. ”I don’t recall giving you control over the Tombtakers.” ”Oh really? Shouldn’t have fucked off and gotten yourself domesticated then.”

“That will not be enough to stand against an entire city,” Caleb spoke up. “We are going to need more allies.”

☽

“Hey, Yussa! It’s Jester. We’re just wondering if you’d come with us to Aeor? We’re gonna fight an evil city in the Astral Sea.” A beat. “Please?”

”Aeor is hostile to wizards and I regret that I would prefer not to accompany you there. I could perhaps do some investigating, however.”

“Okay, so I told everyone that and they all freaked out and Beau says you should really, really not do that, like, at all.”

”Ah. Well. I will speak to some of my acquaintance and see about gathering any useful tools you might need, then.”

☽

Beau crossed a line through Yussa’s name in her journal to join several other names that were considered dud leads. Couldn’t get the group in Vasselheim because somebody needed to be on stand-by if they failed; couldn’t recruit anyone from the Cobalt Soul because they were neck-deep in Assembly troubles…

Jester slapped her hands on the table. “What about Shakaste? We could have four clerics.”

☽

“Shakaste, this is Cree of the Mighty Nein. We could use your help with a problem in Aeor, if you would be amenable.”

“Hey, baby, I would love to, but I’m a bit tied up in business out in the Swavain Islands right now. You understand?”

☽

“I hate that guy, anyway,” Zoran muttered, watching Beau strike Shakaste’s name from the ledger.

“What about Cali and Reani?” Yasha offered.

☽

Seconds after receiving Jester’s Sending, a tree in the backyard of Kindunos Keep spat out an overly excitable aasimar druid and her nervous sorceress girlfriend, who looked as if she still couldn’t quite get a handle on tree travel. “Oh my gosh, this used to be the Jagentoth’s place, Cali! I can’t believe I wasn’t there to see them get wrecked.”

Caduceus, who had been waiting for them, grinned as he gestured to the bushes that had sprung up where the Jagentoths had been buried. “You didn’t miss the tea at least.”

The two girls tackled him for a hug.

☽

“This might be a long shot, but what about Keg? Think the Gentleman would give her up, Jes’?”

☽

In a fight club in Nicodranas, Beau stood next to Yasha, waiting patiently for Keg to finish the brawl that had interrupted their conversation. She stepped out of the ring, victorious, her opponent flat on his back and groaning.

“Yeah, what the hell?” She grinned. “I miss knockin’ heads with you assholes.”

☽

“Ooh. What about the crew of the Nein Heroez, Fjord?”

“I… don’t know if they’re going to jump at getting involved in this sort of danger willingly, Jester.”

Veth piped up, tapping her chin. “Twiggy might.”

☽

On the deck of the Nein Heroez, Caleb and Veth laid out the plan to a wide-eyed Twiggy.

“I’m in!” She said, without even pausing to think about it.

☽

“How many is that?”

“Eighteen. Anyone else?”

Eighteen seemed like so many to drag through the tundra, even with it being Molly’s favored terrain and therefore impossible for them to get lost. It seemed like too few to face the horrors of Cognouza and what was waiting for them there.

It also just didn’t feel like the right number, in general.

“I have an idea,” Cree spoke up during a lull between names being offered and dismissed in the same breaths.

[skymaiden32]

Mariana Trench

AO3 link here

Fandom: Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or write new stories)

The battle for Pacifica has begun...

Hi *waves in no update for eight months*

I have no words for how late this is honestly. Big life stuff happened, I went to ComicCon (which was a blast; I went as Marina and met some awesome new people >:3), exams came and went, and then I got hit by the combined forces of a whopper of writer's block and burnout from aforementioned exams.

I would say the update times will get better from here, but I'm heading into the last year of university and will get very busy from September. Fingers crossed though ^^

Anyway, on with the chapter! >:D

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9: Battle of Pacifica

------

Phones examined the bars across the large windows carefully, humming worriedly as he did so. They were too narrow to squeeze between, so escaping that way was out of the question. The doors were locked and bolted from the outside. If they ever did get out, it wouldn’t be for a long time, and the Titanican attack on Pacifica may well be over. Phones groaned, jiggling the door handle in frustration in a last ditch hope it would come loose somehow. No luck…

He stole a glance over at Fisher, who was also looking for a way out. They caught each other’s eyes, and the younger aquanaut slumped his shoulders in defeat. It looked like they’d be here for quite some time. 

------

“And you are certain they cannot escape?” X20’s screen showed his King and his immediate superior, standing side by side as the battle raged on behind them. From the looks of it, the Titanicans had their enemies on the run.

“Positive, Captain.” X20 confirmed. “I made sure of it. And even if they do get away, I removed anything from my personal files relevant to the plan…”

“I applaud you for your foresight… For once.” Titan hummed, muttering the last part under his breath. “Losing Lemoy as a base of operations is not ideal, but it is necessary.”

Trench nodded in agreement. “Well done, X20. Return to Titanica and await further instructions.” He looked back at the chaos behind him. “The battle is almost over from the looks of it, so your assistance will likely not be required.”

X20 saluted, and the video winked off. Titan turned to his second-in-command. “Return to the battlefield. I realise you might have…” the tyrant frowned, “hesitations about it, but the Princess is a force to be reckoned with. If we are to win, she must be taken care of.”

Trench couldn’t help the proud smile that spread across his face. Of course Marina was carving her path through the enemy. He’d seen her in action before. Pacificans were pacifists by nature, but the rivalry with Titanica had changed that, and their Princess had WASP training under her belt, in addition to the combat lessons Aphony had insisted she take after returning from her capture. She was a worthy opponent.

Of course he had doubts about fighting the mermaid. She had once been like a sister to him. But if his King were to get any further in his goal, it was necessary. “I will not fail, O’ Mighty One…”

“See that you don’t…” Titan turned his attention back to the window, overlooking the battle. The sea-green blur that was Princess Marina, cutting down Aquaphibian after Aquaphibian, taunted him. “You know better than anyone, I am not merciful to those who fail me.”

Trench saluted, turning on his heel, and headed into battle against his former allies.

------

“You got any paper and a pen?” Fisher asked, beyond bored. The aquanauts were sat at the small table, watching the sun set on the horizon. All they could really do was wait. The beauty of the sunset currently meant nothing. “I wanna write something…”

Phones gave him a look. “Really?”

Fisher shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“Good point.” Phones stood up. “Well, to answer your question, yes, I have a pen,” he took the item out his pocket, placing it on the table in front of Fisher, “I don’t have any paper, but I might be able to grab a blank page from a book over there…” He pointed towards the small bookshelf, getting up and walking over to grab a book, when a thought crossed his mind. “Wait a minute…” Fisher looked at him quizzically as he bent down to look through the keyhole of the door. Phones smirked when he realised he couldn’t see through the small hole. The key was still in there! X20 must’ve forgotten to take it out. “Of course!”

The younger Lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Phones hushed him, getting more and more excited by the minute. “Never mind that, just gimme that pen back.” Fisher gave Phones a look, but did so anyway. The older man knelt down, judging the space under the door. Good. It was just big enough for this to work…

Grabbing a larger book, Phones tore a page out, slipping it under the door so it would be under the outside keyhole. He left a small slither of paper so he could pull it back towards him. Fisher’s eyes widened when he realised what his friend was up to. 

Phones took apart the pen, grabbing ahold of the ink cartridge inside, and gently threaded it through the keyhole. Soon enough, a thud was heard on the other side of the door as the key fell. Fisher gave him a hopeful look. “Think it fell where we want it to?”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Phones knelt down, and gently pulled the piece of paper towards the aquanauts. The silver gleam of the key was their reward. Phones picked it up with a flourish, exchanging a smirk with Fisher. Next stop, Pacifica.

------

Marina twirled through the water with grace as she exchanged blows with her friend turned enemy. When Trench had first appeared on the battlefield, he had muttered out an apology to Marina, heard only by her. The Princess had shuddered at the robotic voice. It was hard to forget the way she’d heard Troy’s dulcet tones behind it, now she knew it was him wearing the mask. Silently, she had given orders to the soldiers under her command, both Pacifican and WASP alike, to keep away from them as they fought. They’d obeyed, making a move to guard the throne room, where her father was anxiously awaiting the conclusion of the battle, and the return of his only child.

Blades clashed, Marina giving Trench a pleading look. If any part of him was still Tempest, it would at least stir something in him. She wished she knew what was going on his head. She wished she could see the emotions on his face.

On the other side of the watertight mask, Troy was struggling to keep the tears at bay. He hadn’t expected it to be so hard to face Marina in combat. Physically, they were almost evenly matched, with him just outclassing her, but there was something in the Princess’s pleading gaze that gave him pause everytime he went in for what should be the final strike. She was part of the reason why he’d left WASP, wasn’t she? So, why was it so hard to fight her?

“Stingray!” The panicked exclamation from one of the Aquaphibians caught everyone’s attention. Every faction involved looked up as the silver super-sub sped towards the greater WASP fleet. Marina and her people on the field grinned as it lead an attack on the Aquaphibian ships. Their enemy looked on in fear, knowing instantly that they would lose the battle. The Princess was certain she could Titan growl from wherever he was watching.

“Captain Trench.” The King’s cold voice caught his attention. “Issue a full retreat. We’ll never win with Stingray on their side. I’ll discuss both your and X20’s failures once we are safe behind Titanican walls…”

The human nodded, even though he knew his superior wouldn’t see it, and shivered. “Yes, sire.” Making a subtle gesture toward the closest Aquaphibian, the order quickly spread, and soon, the invaders were on the run. As they watched them leave, the Pacificans silently cheered, embracing each other in celebration. Marina smiled gently as her gaze swept along her people, never prouder to call herself a Pacifican. She was taken aback when she was pulled into a tight hug, although her grin widened when she realised who it was, holding her father just as tight.

On board Stingray, Phones and Fisher sadly watched as their once friend retreated with the enemy, even as the sounds of their colleagues on the comms and the sight of the Pacificans celebrating flooded their senses. Fisher cleared his throat. “I forgot to ask…” Phones turned to look his friend in the eye, grateful for the distraction. “How’d you know how to get the key?”

Phones smiled sadly at Fisher. “Troy taught me.” Phones sighed as he remembered that day. They’d been so excited to work on the same crew. Where had it all gone wrong? “It was on our first mission together.”

Fisher took note of the older man’s downcast face. “We’ll get him back, Phones.”

Phones sighed, turning Stingray’s nose back in the direction of Marineville. “I hope you’re right…”

[remma3760]

Consequences

Chapter 32: Epilogue

Summary:

Wen Ruohan is dead. The sects adjust to the new normal

The Dafan Wen were the first to declare independence. They stated their intention of forming a Healer Clan and claimed Dafan Mountain as their own. With the full backing of both the Lan and the Nie, who could argue?

The Lan Sect gave them full access to their library even allowing them to take copies of rare medical texts and in return the Dafan Wen donated much of their own work. They built a school to pass on their knowledge that soon became a famed centre for medical excellence. If people thought that the Lan or Nie funded the school, let them believe what they would. Let them forget that two members of the Dafan Wen had been in Nightless City with full access to the treasury when Wen Ruohan launched his disastrous attack on Cloud Recesses. 

While the Dafan Wen were the first, they were far from the last. Gradually, all the branch families took over their own territories and before long the mighty Wen Sect was instead a collection of small, loosely allied clans, most with close ties to the Lan, the Nie or both. None achieved the renown of the Dafan branch, but they took care of their people and were considerably better off than they had been under Wen Ruohan, so all was well. 

***

Jin Guangshan tried to take advantage of a perceived power vacuum following Wen Ruohan's death. He attempted to claim lands to which he had no right. He failed. Disgruntled, he called a discussion conference in Lanling. Both the Lan and Nie sent their regrets but they would be unable to attend as they had more pressing concerns at home. 

Most smaller sects followed suit and in the end the only attendees were Sect Leaders Yao and Ouyang. Even Jin Guangshan's good friend Sect Leader Qin didn't show as he was too busy organising his daughter's wedding to Lan Xichen.

Jin Guangshan sat on his raised throne, oozing discontent at the rows of empty tables. He wanted to be Chief Cultivator. He even tried declaring himself as such but no-one acknowledged him or gave him the respect he craved. He sulked in his room, alone.

It was left to Madam Jin to organise her son's wedding to Jiang Yanli. The Jiang's did not contribute, although Jiang Fengmian and Jiang Cheng did at least attend. Yu Ziyuan did not.

Madam Jin made sure it was an event to remember. She was the one to send out the invitations and it was to her the sects sent their acceptance. Everyone came. After all, Jin Zixuan was good friends with both Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue. Madam Jin, too, had become close to Madam Nie. Sad at the need to cut contact with Yu Ziyuan, her only friend, Jin Lihua had turned to Nie Min for comfort. The two found they shared a sly sense of humour and soon became confidants.

Jin Guangshan who had no involvement with wedding arrangement naturally tried to take all the credit for the event. Clan leaders would nod politely to him then give their congratulations to Madam Jin and the happy couple. 

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli gave Jin Guangshan the filial respect he was due but no more. He was never included in their lives. His wife, on the other hand, was loved by both Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan. When their son Jin Ling was born it was Madam Jin who got to hold him first. While Jin Guangshan was never deliberately kept from the child there always seemed to somewhere else Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli needed to be when he called for them. On the rare occasions he did get to hold the baby, Jin Ling screamed and kicked until he was given back. Jin Guangshan felt himself ignored.

He chose to bring his bastard son, Meng Yao to Koi Tower. He conveniently forgot that he had thrown the boy down the stairs when he had come to him before. Since then, Meng Yao had made a name for himself with the Nie, so Jin Guangshan decided he might be worth something after all. He even gave him a better name - Jin Guangyao.

As Jin Guangyao settled into his new home he soon came to realise that this was not the dream his mother had hoped for him. Jin Guangshan kept him close but never really accepted him. Jin Guangshan would complain to Jin Guangyao constantly of his woes. It was Jin Guangyao who was blamed for every rebuff, every discourtesy. It was Jin Guangyao who bore the brunt of Jin Guangshan's dissatisfaction. He would look at his father and wonder what his mother had been thinking.

And so it might have continued had not Jin Guangyao come accross a crying Jiang Yanli walking the halls with a wailing Jin Ling. Concerned, he rushed to her to see if either was injured. They were not. Jin Ling was teething and would not calm. Jiang Yanli did not want to give over the care of her son to a servant but she was so tired. Jin Guangyao offered to take the baby so she could rest for a moment and she agreed. He looked down at the little red face and Jin Ling looked back. Probably exhausted from crying, Jin Ling quieted, then blew a spit bubble at Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangyao fell in love. 

Jiang Yanli looked on in wonder, then smiled beautifically and declared that Jin Ling must really love his uncle and begged Jin Guangyao to visit with them more often. Jin Guangyao found that he wanted that very much. He was easily welcomed by his brother and his brother's wife. Madam Jin was less happy at his inclusion, but soon decided that he was an asset, his organisational skills much superior to her current assistant. There was also the not inconsiderable pleasure of stealing Jin Guangyao from her husband. Jin Guangshan, naturally, sulked. Alone.

One day, Jin Guangyao found himself called to Madam Jin's rooms. Nervous, he went. It turned out, Madam Jin wanted to set up Jin orphanages as she had seen the Lan do. It was something she had thought of for a while but Jin Guangshan had been against the idea. Now she intended to go ahead regardless of her husband's wishes. She asked for Jin Guangyao's assistance. He was more than willing to help and threw himelf into the endeavour happily. 

A whole network of homes were set up accross Lanling. When it was time for the first to open, Madam Jin again called Jin Guangyao to her. She suggested to him a suitable name for the orphanages - The Meng Shi Childrens' Shelters. Jin Guangyao cried. Madam Jin patted his hand and continued detailing her plans until he was once again in control of himself. 

Jin Guangyao took a deep breath as he looked at Madam Jin. His mother had been both right and wrong. So so wrong about his father, but right that he should come to Koi Tower. This was his home now. By coming here had had found something he had craved for a long time. He had found a family.

***

Madam Yu was insane. Everyone knew it though no-one talked about it. Not in front of Jiang Cheng, anyway. She had never recovered from the disastrous trip to Cloud Recesses. The loss of her arm followed by a public punishment had changed her. 

She never left her room. The windows had been shuttered to keep out the light. She rarely bathed or changed her clothes. Often she would call for Jinzhu and Yinzhu, getting angry when they did not come. Often, it seemed like she forgot what had happened, then she would see the empty sleeve where her arm once was and scream with fury. 

She would refuse food, throwing it at whichever poor servant had brought it to her. Then later, she would get hungry and scrape it from the floor and walls to eat it. 

She raged at the world. Her walls were covered in papers. Yu Ziyuan kept records of every imagined slight, charted every sign of disrespect ever shown her and pasted them all up. In the centre, written on the walls was Wei Wuxian's name. She found a way to link every disappointment of her life back to him. 

The Meishan Yu came to visit. The Yu Sect Leader, his grandmother, spent a long moment watching her then shook her head and left. After that, money started arriving from Meishan, but no-one ever came again. Jiang Cheng would force himself to go into her room but often she didn't even know him. 

So Yu Ziuan was insane and everyone knew it. What they didn't know was that Jiang Fengmian was also insane. A more gentle madness than his wife, but mad nonetheless. He spent all his days sitting at his desk and staring into space. Jiang Cheng had no idea what he was looking at, what he was seeing. A happier time, perhaps? Who knew? Certainly not Jiang Cheng.

No-one but Jiang Cheng was allowed to enter. As far as the rest of Lotus Pier knew, Jiang Fengmian still ran the sect. They didn't know that Jiang Cheng managed everything, only putting documents in front of Jiang Fengmian and directing him to sign. Which Jiang Fengmian would do without looking or with any sign of awareness. Jiang Cheng had no idea how long this pretence could continue or what would happen when people realised the truth. 

Jiang Cheng hated his disciples. They were loud, crude, unruly and all older than him. No parent sent their child for training to Lotus Pier anymore. Had not since the incident with Wei Wuxian all those years ago. They had to take what they could get, which usually meant the men no-one else wanted. Jiang Cheng strongly suspected that many of the newer disciples were former Wen who had nowhere else to go after their humiliation at the hands of the Lan and so had ended up here. 

He looked down at the blank sheet of paper in front of him. It didn't have to be like this. He didn't have to be so alone. His sister loved him. He knew she did. He need only write and she would invite him to visit. He could spend time with her. Could meet his baby nephew. But what would he say?

He knew what she wanted to hear. That he was sorry. That he was wrong. Deep deep down, he knew that was true. Knew that it was absurd to still be blaming Wei Wuxian for anything that happened in Lotus Pier. But if he stopped, if Wei Wuxian was innocent, what did that mean for him? If Wei Wuxian was not to blame then he would have to take responsibility. He would have to accept that had he not punched Jin Zixuan then none of this would have happened. His mother would not have been in Cloud Recesses. She would not have attacked Wei Wuxian. She would not have lost her arm or Zidian or her precious maids. And he couldn't. He couldn't admit that, not even to himself.

So what was there left to say to his sister? I miss you? I need you? I hate my life and I have nothing? Please come home? No, he couldn't say any of that. He still had his pride, even if he had nothing else. 

He screwed up the paper and threw it away. He couldn't write. Not today. But maybe, just maybe, he would be ready tomorrow.

***

Six months after Wen Ruohan died Wen Qing married Nie Mingjue. Nie Huaisang was ecstatic, bringing out a staggeringly big book of fabric swatches, wedding designs,menu cards and a list of the best birds to release at the ceromony. Nie Mingjue and Wen Qing looked at it in horror, then at each other and promptly eloped.

Nie Huaisang was by turns inconsolable and foot stampingly angry. Nie Mingjue gave him a colourful parrot to appease him. Nie Huaisang taught his parrot to insult Nie Mingjue every time it saw him. That helped his mood enormously. 

Things were starting to settle nicely when Wen Qing found out about the Nie Saber Curse. She raged at Nie Jiahao and Nie Mingjue, refusing to let such a thing stand; not on her watch. Nie Min and Nie Huaisang fumed by her side, equally angry since neither of them had been in on the secret. 

Once Wen Qing felt that both men were sufficiently cowed she sent for Wei Wuxian and Baoshen Sanren and they got to work on a cure. 

Nie Huaisang was again inconsolable, this time joined by Nie Min. It was only when Nie Jiahao promised them that they could completely redecorate the Unclean Realm were they mollified.

As for the unbreakable saber curse, well, it stood little chance against the concerted efforts of the greatest doctor of her generation, the best inventor ever known and an immortal. Within a month it was eradicated. Nie Jiahao, Nie Mingjue and all future Nie Sect Leaders were forever safe from qi deviation and would live long and contented lives. Nie Jiahao cried, blessing the day his son had brought home such a bride.

The following year when Wen Qing gave birth to twins - a fierce little girl and happy little boy, there was great rejoicing across Qinge. No parents could have been prouder or happier.

Nie Huaisang vied with Wen Ning for the position of favourite uncle. Wen Ning complained that Nie Huaisang had the advantage since he lived permanently in the Unclean Realm. While Wen Ning visited often, he was frequently away. He had completed his medical training and was an accomplished healer, travelling around the villages helping wherever he was needed. His arrival was always eagerly anticipated, a small room being set aside for him to see patients. 

One day Wen Ning found himself in a sticky situation involving an angry goose. He was saved by a travelling rogue cultivator. He thanked her then left to go on his way. He was surprised when she introduced herself as Chen Xiu and started walking with him. Nothing was said but they soon spent all their time together. After a few months and one or two more close calls, Chen Xiu turned to Wen Ning exasperated and informed him that he really wasn't safe to be allowed out alone and she had no idea how he had managed without her for so long. She said that they had better get married before he fell into a ditch and broke his neck. Wen Ning happily agreed. 

Nie Huasiang had no interest in marriage. He had his fans, his birds, his books and his art. He loved spending time with his niece and nephew but had no desire for children of his own. He was content to laze around doing nothing at all. When rumours started to circulate about Jin Guangshan (That he was impotent. That he was plagued with bloating gas that constantly escaped at both ends of his body and that was the reason he never entertained anymore. That he had developed a glandular problem that meant he always stank of rotting fish) Nie Huaisang's family looked at him in suspicion. He looked innocently back. 

Then the plays began appearing, becoming wildly popular. Riotous tales of Wen Ruohan's downfall. Heroic tales featuring the beautiful Wen doctor who defied her despotic uncle; of her handsome Nie love who flew to her side as soon as he was free to do so. Again his family looked to him, but he shrugged and said he knew nothing, nothing at all. Nobody believed him.

***

Lan Xichen's marriage to Qin Su was even more lavish than that of his brother and cousin. Baoshen Sanren had again inserted herself into proceedings. This time, she was aided and abetted by Nie Huaisang. Having been thwarted in his plans for his own brother's wedding he begged to be allowed to assist with that of his brother's best friend. Baoshen Sanren took one look at his wedding book and gleefully accepted. 

The two conspired together over every aspect of the celebrations. Lan Qiren tried to object that it was becoming ridiculous, but was overruled on every point. Eventually, he gave up and carried his grandson off to play with the bunnies.

The hard work paid off. Both bride and goom were beautiful, smiling radiantly at everyone and everything. Lan Yuan was brought in to jump on the marriage bed to bring fertility to the happy couple. Qin Su covered her face and giggled at the custom while Lan Xichen cleared his throat and blushed. 

When, only nine months later little Lan Song entered the world, Lan Yuan took full credit. When Lan Xichen reached his twenty-first year Lan Qiren handed over leadership to him with relief. As expected Lan Xichen was an exemplary sect leader, showing wisdom and compassion to all those who came to the Lan for help. He had his uncle by his side and Lan Yi just a letter away should he need advice. He rarely did, soon finding his feet. Lan Xichen was the first of his contemporaries to take this position, leading the way into a new era. 

Lan Qiren had never wanted to raise children or be sect leader. Both situations had been thrust upon him. He found himself infinitely glad for the first, and happy to be rid of the second. He now had time. Time to read. Time to write. Time to play with his growing number of great nephews and nieces. Still, his favourite was and would always remain his grandson, A-Yuan. 

He resumed teaching. He genuinely enjoyed imparting knowledge and seeing the eagerness to learn in the little faces turned up to him was a delight.

Baoshen Sanren and Lan Yi had begun spending many months each year at Cloud Recesses. Lan Qiren enjoyed their visits immensely, arguing semantics with Baoshen Sanren and playing music with Lan Yi. That was a special pleasure for him, to rediscover his joy in music. 

Every morning Lan Qiren would wake up happy for the day ahead. His life more full than he could ever have hoped for when he was a young man. He was content every day of his life. 

As for Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, they continued to do what they loved most. They became known for always going where the chaos was. If called to they would go, no matter who called or what problem needed solving. 

They bought a donkey - a particular wish of Wei Wuxian. She was a cantankerous beast named Little Apple since she had a particular love of apples. A-Yuan would perch on her back as they went on their travels. Wei Wuxian had been nervous of taking A-Yuan with them, scared that if something should happen to them he would be left alone. Lan Wangji reassured him that that would not happen to their son. They made sure that each time they took on a night hunt clear and precise instructions were left that the Lan Sect was to be instantly contacted in the even of a calamity. 

They took A-Yuan often to meet his family in Dafan Mountain.The Wens had been informed as soon as possible that he had survived and were overjoyed to get to know him. Lan Yuan, in turn loved the time he spent with them and would leave Dafan Mountain laden down with gifts. 

Wei Wuxian continued to create astonishing advancements in cultivation. The Spirit Lure Flag, Numbing Talisman and Compass of Evil were hugely popular and brought in a great deal of revenue for the Lan Sect. Then there was Binding. A talisman that would attach two people to each other while still allowing them to move freely. Wei Wuxian had developed that one after a terrifying incident in a market when A-Yuan had wandered away and been lost for almost ten minutes. With Binding, Lan Yuan was free to explore safely. This particular talisman soon became the favourite of parents everywhere.

As much as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji enjoyed travelling, they  never stayed away from Cloud Recesses for too long. It was their home; the place their family lived. No, they could never stray too far or too long from the people they loved the most. 

In fact, one might even say:

THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER.

[slendveny]

The Creed of The Crooked chapter 1: Blinding War

Hey everyone, this is the first chapter of my in-progress fantasy sci-fi romance novel, the Creed of The Crooked. It will contain sexual themes, but currently does not.

"By the gods!! It's bearing down on us!!" A soldier cries. The dark beast rushes at them with killing intent, and a barrage of missiles from the pistols of the men in metal fail to faze it. Clad in light, a warrior leaps toward it, dust leaving the ground behind their feet. They bring their mighty blade down on its head, decapitating it in a spray of black goo. He turns towards the crowd, smirking, and raises his blade overhead. The people cheer, and the warrior laughs at an earsplitting volume. As the crowd cheers, he swings his sword, a blade of light cleaving the onlookers in two.

Zayne cuts through the tree that stands before him, as it falls to the ground at his feet, knowing though a feat taken from many years of training, it is not particularly spectacular. He looks at the blade in his hand. 'Tis an ordinary blade, the Empire's standard sword, yet he is somewhat fond of it. He twists his body to block an instructor's arrow, his shield letting off a minute screech as sparks fly off of it. He runs at the instructor, who whirls about through the air, firing off a barrage of three arrows. He ducks, and one of them grazes his back, a mark left behind. He leaps into the air, bringing his blade down. His blade is blocked by the instructor's arm plates. The instructor swings their arm, catching him off guard and slamming into the side of his head. He spins around, landing with an imperfect stance. He coughs, spitting up a significant quantity of blood. He feels a pain on his neck, and struggles to breathe, falling unconcious.

Awakening in the infirmary, he sees his instructor's face and screams. A slap to the side of the head causes him some small measure of pain. "You will be silent in here. You are not to disturb the patients." The instructor states this with a glare. "You let your guard down, and so you were defeated. Were I a true enemy, you would not have lived. You would be but a corpse, devoured by the beasts of chaos."

"Realistically, I'd have a full squad on my side."

"And a beast of chaos would be far stronger than me."

"I'd be trying slightly harder."

"A beast of chaos wouldn't hold back, or even need to dodge your measly attacks."

"However, 'twould be a far easier target."

"False. Furthermore, what if you meet The Blinding Warrior? The man clad in light, with the mighty blade which blows the dark beasts away with single blows? The traitor who turned on his own kind and murdered hundreds upon hundreds?"

"Then I would die, as would you, as would a hundred warriors. I've heard of dragons that would fall before him."

"Though this is true, do not speak with such disrespect."

"I shall speak as I wish. You have yet to earn my respect."

His instructor punches him in the face, the metal pieces on his knuckles abraising the skin, a small bit of blood trailing through the air. The instructor's studded leather gauntlets are now stained with trace amounts of blood. Zayne lunges at the instructor, grabbing a nearby patient's walking stick and swinging it in an arcing motion, a whoosh filling the air. The instructor sidesteps, slamming a fist into Zayne's ribs, then grabbing the back of his head, flipping him around and slamming him into the floor with a cracking sound. The instructor finishes with a punch to the face, Zayne's nose breaking under the blow.

"Zayne, you are weak. You are nothing. You... will ne-VER... be *anything* until you learn to obey your superiors. A loose cannon strikes naught but its allies."

"I obey my superiors. Obey yours." Zayne did not truly mean this, he just loved the exasperated look on their face after his remarks.

"I truly wish to help you. Please... just... just listen. I want you to live. Look... if you can beat me in a fight, I'll admit that you are my superior. Go ahead. I'll let you get fully armed. I'll even stand still for a second."

Zayne steps out, bandaged, armed, and armored. An hour has passed, and he feels almost healthy. In a second, he has moved a full kilometer, and he launches an attack with his blade. The instructor grabs the blade, but Zayne performs a blade thrust technique. The instructor sweeps Zayne's legs out from under him, then punches him in the face. The tattered gauntlet reveals metal beneath. The instructor throws the gauntlets aside, and pulls off the bandages that have never left their arms until now, revealing the arms to be made of solid steel. They go for a punch, which is blocked by Zayne's shield, metal clanging on metal. Their stance is flawless compared to his, and their martial arts are incredible for an archer. Zayne starts to realize how outclassed he is. The instructor leaps back a great distance, taking a pose on the ground, as if preparing to sprint. They lunge forward, swinging their fists back to prepare a strike that could most likely shatter all the bone's in a warrior's body with no difficulty. Zayne isn't fast enough to block, and is launched back into a tree, which fully shatters. They stand 1,000 meters apart. Zayne closes the distance in 5 seconds. Delivering a flurry of blows, he is deflected with a single hand. He starts laughing.

"Oh, you poor, poor bastard. I've been planning a technique just to beat you."

They look genuinely shocked. Zayne lunges, launching a flurry of blows in an X-shaped pattern, then pulling his shield back to body-slam them. He slides beneath their legs, bringing the blade up in an arcing motion. The legs of the instructor are sliced away, and their torso is cleaved in half. The medics and artifacers quickly rush forward, working together(with various mystic techniques), and remove the heart-core of the instructor. They feed steel in heavy amounts to the heart-core, which slowly forms a metallic torso and limbs, only the head still being made of flesh. The metal of the previous form becomes a helmet and halberd. They tell Zayne to grab their old gear. He grabs the bow, arrows, and quiver, as well as two spare gauntlets.

"You may keep these, as a symbol of your victory. Use them in battle."

Zayne goes to sleep, dreaming of someday going into battle, defeating Chaos Beasts again and again. The war on the Chaos faction has gone on for centuries, centered only around their dire threat to the land. The Chaos Beasts are in a nigh-endless state of slumber, and they only awaken every few weeks. Soldiers often part-time at other jobs, a popular career being the path of the adventurer. This weakness is the only reason the Chaos Beasts haven't wiped the Forces of Light off the map yet.

Zayne awakens in a cold sweat, feeling a darkness around him. He puts on his shirt and pants, then puts on his leather armor. He quickly throws the torso piece over his shirt, which clings to his soaked figure. He steps into the leggings, puts his boots onto his feet, and throws on his gauntlets. He combs his hair for all of five seconds, which works surprisingly well, considering he's about 40 times as fast as the average human, even in the Empire, renowned for their warriors. He steps outside. Something is coming. He knows it. The roaring on the wind is just an assurance. Suddenly, a metal hand on his shoulder causes him to shriek. He turns, seeing the instructor. They look off into the distance, a solemn look on their face. A hulking shape appears atop a hill on the horizon. Its arms beat against its chest, and it lets out a shrieking roar. It bounds down the side of the hill, disappearing into the shadows. It bounds out across the plains, and alarm bells chime at the loudest that Zayne has ever heard them. The walls surrounding the camp have been breached, and an Oni is inside.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 37

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 300 notes on tumblr)

_____________________________________________________________

Simularé looked out over the city from the top of the school.  Using her replicated powers, she took the form of Volpina so they'd be able to alter the illusion quickly should something pop out and accidentally reveal the true form of the school. Thankfully the sentimonster didn’t need to do much in order to maintain the illusion; Paris was a surprisingly quiet city.

As far as they could tell, no one in the city outside of the school had any idea what was going on. And that worked out perfectly for them.

“So, this is where Lila has you stationed,” a voice called out, resulting in the faux fox turning around. The figure behind them was a woman clad in dark blue, with blue skin and a feathery fan. She looked confident and the sentimonster instinctively felt that this individual was very much aware of what it was.

Mayura had quickly deduced it was the sentimonster as it was in Lila’s previous akuma form, Volpina. With Lila now Masquerade, it was unlikely she would choose to take such a form. She would likely want to stay in her new form to show it off.

“Do not be alarmed, Simularé, it is your creator. Mayura,” Mayura spoke again.

The shapeshifter leveled a sharp glare at the woman. What made her so certain of that?

“How do I know that is true?” Simularé questioned.

The villainess took a moment to examine the sentimonster. Mayura had to admit that this sentimonster was her finest work to date. The amount of emotion harnessed from Lila to create it made it far more unique, much less of a mindless creature than her previous creations. Amoks were created much like akuma were, locking on to intense emotions before sending off. But unlike akuma, amok can be shaped and tailored with enough focus. Simularé was a special case, as it was made from the conclave of emotions that Lila was experiencing during her breakdown. It had been quite difficult to focus on one specific feeling but Mayura had pushed through. Simularé was sculpted to be Lila’s ideal ally, but it was also so much more than a simple asset. This Amok embodied Lila’s core personality. Her cleverness, her cunning, her mistrust of others, her playfulness, her pride and so much more. To put it simply, this Sentimonster was Lila’s spirit given a new form.

“Trust me Simularé, you would be best not to ask that,” Mayura warned.

The sentimonster felt as if it was being talked down to and clearly did not approve of anyone talking to them in such a tone, save for its master. It charged at the peacock villainess, ready to make contact, But, before it could get close, Mayura stuck out her hand and pinched her fingers together, causing the sentimonster to feel as if some force was pulling its essence out. The pain it felt was indescribable! It felt as if its very being was being ripped out. Mayura was in range to sense the Amok and could easily remove it without difficulty, much like Hawkmoth could with an akuma. Though Mayura had a feeling that letting the Sentimonster know that keeping her out of range of the item was the key to its survival would not be wise. It was best in this moment to display power.

“Stop! Please!” Simularé begged. “I … I believe you! I will do whatever you ask, just please stop the pain!”

The villainess smiled, it seemed there was even more to this Sentimonster than Mayura had anticipated. It had a powerful sense of self preservation, something controlled sentimonsters didn’t seem to have. She took note of that.

“Good. Now, you are going to explain to me your master’s end goal and where Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the building.”

Simularé felt the grip that Mayura had on its essence and held back its burning resentment towards the blue bird villainess. She would behave. For now.

“Okay… I will tell you everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Duck!” Ladyice called out as she had Ice Noir lower their bodies to avoid oncoming ice projectiles.

“Surprising that she's only attacking us with ice. She's Stormy weather. You'd think she would be attacking with more, maybe some rain or like a vol....” Ice Noir commented.

“Don't talk about that! Do not give her any ideas!”

The two had skated out of the room and made their way through the now icy hallway while Stormy Weather gave chase.

“I was just saying it seems weird how...mediocre her attacks are.

“It’s like we saw before, the akuma servants are like robots, they can’t react quickly so changing up her powers is likely just as much of a problem. She's probably not as dangerous as we initially thought.”

“So maybe we should face this problem head on now that we aren’t cornered?”

Ice Noir changed direction and began skating towards the umbrella-wielding akuma.

Stormy Weather noticed the approaching cat and raised her umbrella, creating a mighty gale to blow him back and ending him flying past Ladyice to the end of the hallway.

“She can use her other powers… can confirm,” Ice noir commented as he got off the wall, still dazed.

Ladyice skated up to the dazed cat and helped stabilize him. Despite seeming like a wasted effort, the cat’s brash antics actually inspired Ladyice with a way to take her out.

“I just figured out how we can stop her, think you can give her one last charge for me?”

“Why Bugaboo, asking me to rush headfirst into danger? How heartless.” He feigned hurt.

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Silly Kitty. Just be ready to hang in there when she blasts you with wind. Don’t get blown back this time.”

“Got it.”

Ice Noir quickly skated across the ice as he drew his weapon. He was ready for her this time.

“Hey breezy weezy! The weather today was supposed to be sunny with a 20% chance of raining Cats and Dogs!” Ice Noir called out, clearly happy with his lame joke.

Stormy Weather saw the cat approaching once again and prepared to send another wind blast at him.

But the cat was prepared this time around and extended his staff to anchor himself to the walls on either side.

“Nice try!” Ice Noir snarked. “But a small little puff of wind won't blow me back again.”

The storm akuma decided instead of creating just another wind blast, she was going to step it up with a cyclone attack! A powerful tornado tunnel would surely blast the cat down for good.

“We were wrong! She can amp up the power too!” Ice Noir exclaimed as he held onto his staff with all his might while his body was being blown back by the massive winds. “This was not well thought out!”

He focused on digging his claws into his staff and doing his best to remain in the wind tunnel. The powerful winds blew into his face and he could see Stormy Weather slowly approaching.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ladyice!”

He felt his grip slipping. Any second now, he was going to get blown back.

“Don’t worry, Kitty. I got this.”

Stormy Weather didn’t get a chance to react when she felt something tackle her full force and rush her into the wall on the opposite end of the hallway.

The wind died down and Ice Noir was able to land on his skates. He released his grip on his staff and fixed his windblown hair to resemble its original state before quickly skating down the hall to help his partner.

“Nice job, Ladyice.”

The red-clad heroine stood up from her grapple with the storm akuma.

“Actually…”

Ice Noir looked up to see that his partner had shifted power ups. Her skates and ice skater aesthetic were replaced with a suit that had red spacesuit-like plating, a jetpack with retractable wings with red and light blue colors that matches her helmet.

She had changed into her space form, Cosmobug.

“Space power up! Because you can fly through the wind! Genius!”

Cosmobug smiled.

“Well, Stormy Weather is dazed but probably not for long.”

The two heroes noticed her about to grab her umbrella, but Chat Noir’s cat-like reflexes helped him snatch it first.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ice Noir broke the umbrella over his knee.

“I don’t think she will be as mobile without her powers.”

Stormy Weather tried to stand but slipped on the icy floor she had created.

“Let’s just make our way to the boss,” Cosmobug said. She used the jet on her back to swoop up Ice Noir and fly slowly down the icy hall.

“Just like you to sweep me off my feet. But don’t think I will be a smitten kitten like usual.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The bug heroine raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard to imagine that you haven’t been dreaming about this scenario.”

“It helps that you aren’t riding a horse with the wind blowing in your hair,” Chat Noir joked back, catching Ladybug’s teasing.

Cosmobug quickly moved them to a part of the hall where there was no ice. Both undid their potion transformations, reverting back to their usual hero forms.

“Not keeping the jetpack?” Chat Noir asked. “It is really cool.”

“The room halls are pretty limited, and there's not much mobility, otherwise I might have,” Ladybug confessed.

The two heroes took a moment to catch their breaths and figure out their surroundings.

“We should thank Stormy Weather.”

The cat looked at his partner skeptically, remembering how a few minutes ago, the wind had nearly sent him flying through a brick wall.

“What makes you say that?”

“Lila probably had Stormy Weather out and about to flush out other people in the school and make sure the area was difficult to traverse. She likely sent out a bunch of other akuma to do the same, which means her forces are scattered and we have a better shot of dealing with her with fewer obstacles.”

Chat Noir nodded. He would not have deduced such a thing from one encounter with a weather akuma.

“Good to know, so the plan is to locate her and save the day.”

“No need to figure out where she is, I already have a good idea where she should be.”

Chat Noir noticed Ladybug had already started moving. He quickly followed behind, though he didn’t need an explanation this time. He already knew where Ladybug was heading — to his homeroom class, but he couldn’t say that without revealing what he knew.

_____________________________________________________________

‘This was a ridiculous decision.’

That was the thought running through Chloé’s mind as she ran for her life from a large group of Reflekta clones.

The two or three she had run into early were easy to avoid, but now it seemed like a horde of those tacky clones. And all of the ice that surrounded certain hallways made it impossible to traverse. She was limited in her running space and she was running out. But what made it all worse was that now those Reflekta copies had adjusted to running.

“HOW CAN YOU RUN IN THOSE HEELS!?” Chloé screamed as she ran down the hall.

She just had to try and be a hero. Why was she even doing this? The assistant probably got turned into one of those gross clones or got masked like those other students. She could have just sat back and just waited for Ladybug and Chat noir to find her or let them handle it.

“You can’t run forever” The crowd of clones sang in Rather impressive and creepy harmony.

Chloé took a turn down the hall and went into the door of the nearest room.

She closed the door and locked it before smelling the musty wet air.

“What the… EWW!” She spat in disgust as she realized she had locked herself in a janitor’s closet.

“Why did it have to be in such a gross smelly room?” she moaned.

Unfortunately, her comments caught the attention of the crowd chasing her.

She heard banging on the door.

“You can’t hide, we will find.”

Chloe put her back to the door to keep them out and felt herself slide down it in despair.

Was this how it was going to end? Getting turned into one of those fashion nightmares after hiding out in such a rank smelling closet? She didn’t even save… wait. She did save someone. She saved that old man. It hadn't been glamorous, but she did manage to save at least one person.

“I guess I did do something good after all. May not have been exceptional… but it was something.” Chloé smiled for a brief moment.

She took a moment to look at the positives, Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely come in and save the day, plus there were those other two heroes. Perhaps that would be enough. But she had to admit, finding solace in that was getting harder to do when the smell of the closet was destroying her nostrils. Just then, she remembered she had some nice perfume in her bag that she could spray to alleviate the smell.

“Well, at least I won’t smell awful when they capture me.”

She put her hand in her bag and felt around for her perfume. As she searched, she felt an unfamiliar object in her designer handbag. She pulled it out.

“What is this?”

She noticed a note on top of it. It was a bit dark to read so she pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight.

“Return to Ladybug after mission?”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Could this be what she thought it was? How was it possible? She didn’t have time to question it.

She opened the box and out came a floating bee creature, who Chloé recognized right away. It was real.

“Pollen!” Chloé exclaimed with cheer.

“It has been a while, my queen.” the bee kwami said.

Chloé would have loved to revel in this moment more but she knew that door was going to burst open any minute. She needed to be the bee heroine.

“As much as I would love to talk more, we need to hurry. We have some akuma clones that need bashing.”

“Right away, my queen!”

Chloe put the bee miraculous in her hair.

“Pollen, Buzz on!”

_____________________________________________________________

“It is a good thing there are so many copies,” Ryuuko stated as she leaped over a few Reflekta copies.

Viperion swerved and dodged the replicas of his sister’s akumatized form while avoiding getting caught in the bubbles that froze them and floated them up in the air.

Deadzone had been doing a lot of friendly fire thanks to its single minded obsession.

“After this, I really hope I never have to see my sister take this form again,” Viperion commented.

“Right, Adrien mentioned that you were Juleka’s brother. Older brother, right?”

“Older twin brother. But yes.”

“Really? You seem older.”

“I am a grade ahead of her, but we are the same age,” he explained.

“Could have sworn you were at least a year or two older.”

“A lot of people think the same thing. Even my mom forgets, sometimes. Rose, my sister’s girlfriend, says I radiate ‘big brother energy’ or something.”

“You learn something new.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Sadly no. I was an only child.”

“Too bad, I think you would have made a great older sister,” Viperion encouraged

“A snake charmer, are we?”

“Well I am the snake, and I am not charming myself, so I think the more correct term would be dragon charmer.”

“Change that to fun killer because you killed my fun right there.”

Before Viperion could retort, they had made their way down to the end of the hall and noticed that it was frozen off.

“Dead end,” they say at the same time.

“No, Deadzone.”

The two turn to see the deadly akuma amalgamation pointing its blaster at them.

The two heroes looked at the deadly akuma.

“Any ideas?” Ryuuko questioned.

“Just one.”

Viperion moved his hand to his bracelet.

“Second chance!” Viperion activated his power.

“Now we have some options.” Viperion explained.

The akuma fired a bubble blast at Ryuuko, and she was frozen.

“Second chance!”

Things reset to how they were a few seconds before. Viperion grabbed Ryuuko and pulled her out of the way of the oncoming bubble blast.

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought that thing had me.”

“It did, but I used my power to stop that. we still have to get out of here.”

“Look out!”

Ryuuko got hit with another bubble as they got up, protecting him from an attack.

“This might take a few attempts…”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth paced inside his lair.

Mayura was out there, his son was out there… and things were not going the way he planned. Masquerade seems to be building a base for herself and was more concerned with that than getting the miraculous. Adrien is MIA, and Mayura isn’t responding.

“I might need to step in. But there is a lot of risk in this. Far too many variables that I can't account for”

Hawkmoth never liked leaving his lair. It had too many risks to it. After Heroes' Day, he had nearly been exposed. And after that fiasco in Shanghai he didn’t want to risk getting taken out by his own akuma. He had already taken plenty of risks that had blown up in his face. Would this be another one of those times he would need to risk his miraculous?

“But it could also be just what is needed to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

With an akuma this powerful, the two would likely have to use their special powers multiple times. If he can just locate them and wait for them to do so, he could potentially gain the advantage. Maybe Mayura was on to something with her actions.

Hawkmoth walked to the window.

“There will be a right time. I just need to wait for it.”

He felt an itch in the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was but he could tell one thing, something big was going to go down, and he needed to figure out the right call soon or it could cost him dearly.

_____________________________________________________________

“…And that’s her plan.” Simularé finished. “As for Ladybug and Chat Noir… I am unsure. I lost track of them before I was given a new assignment. But they are in the building and they have not tried to leave.”

Mayura smiled at the information. While it was quite unfortunate that she didn’t have the exact location of the two heroes, it was good to know that they were still in the building, and Lila’s plan was certainly something interesting.

“Indeed, that is quite a clever plan. Ensuring everyone in the school couldn’t escape was pretty smart. You likely had a few escapes anyway, with how clumsy some of the akuma were. You are fortunate that neither one was Ladybug or Chat Noir. Still, though, it isn’t your master’s fault for that. They are basically mindless puppets. But then again, it seems that there might be zero escapes since there seems to be no new reports on the subject of a school takeover.”

Simularé let the peacock villainess muse, analyzing her movements as if trying to figure out any advantage it could handle.

“So, the next step now that all communications are cut is to send out a message that Ladybug and Chat Noir have already been defeated, so as to cause massive despair in order to create even more minions. Sounds a bit derivative, don’t you think?” Mayura mused.

Simularé said nothing. It held its tongue. Deep down, it knew that starting any dispute with this peacock was not wise. Especially given that crazy power she had over their being.

“Still, it is quite a plan. And with all those extra akuma recruited and Ladybug and Chat noir cut off from their guardian, they wouldn’t be able to get any sort of back up. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before all of Paris is under Masquerade’s thumb. I approve of the plan.”

“I am glad you do,” Simularé stated with a forced smile.

Their conversation was cut short when an akuma appeared. Seeing one it did not recognize, the artist akuma prepared to fight. But thankfully the shapeshifting sentimonster stepped in.

“Stand down Evillustrator, this one is not our enemy,” Simularé ordered.

Evillustrator eased and walked over.

“Masquerade has ordered that we start reinforcing the building. She wants this place to be like a fortress,” he parroted.

Mayura looked at the artist.

A fortress? Yes, Simularé mentioned that Masquerade wanted to reinforce the school so that she could ensure Ladybug and ChatNoir would have less chance of escape.

Simularé nodded at the akuma servant.

“Alright, so she wants us to drop the illusion, then?”

“She wants the place to be like a fortress.”

“Go ahead and start,” Simularé motioned. She figured that her master likely didn’t care about the illusion much as she was prepared for stage two. But she would maintain it for a bit.

The akuma moved to the end of the roof and begins working to reinforce the walls

Mayura began moving to the door of the roof to get back down into the school.

“Tell your boss I will be heading to her, and she best be welcoming,” Mayura ordered.

“As you command,” Simularé replied, hiding a large amount of anger and resentment towards the blue bird.

As soon as the blue peacock is out of sight.

Simularé contacts its master.

“Simularé, what is going on? Did Evilustrator reach you?”

“Yes. He is working to make this place a fortress. You want me to maintain the illusion, right?”

“I am about to go public shortly. After I make the announcement. Drop the illusion and make sure this place is a full-on fortress. After that is done, report back to me.

“Yes master. By the way, I had an idea.”

“Oh?”

Simularé smiled sinisterly. She was going to show Peacock why she was sorely mistaken.

“I will report the details to you shortly.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Everything is set up,” Robostus noted.

“Excellent. Let’s do it now.”

The Reflekta camera crew was all set, and Gamer had set it up so the moment they went live, every screen in Paris would show Masquerade.

Masquerade got off her call with Simularé. Something seemed a bit off with her sentimonster but she was intrigued that she had a plan.

“We are live in 5….4…3….2…” the gamer stated before pressing the go live button.

Masquerade smiled.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Paris. You may not know who I am, but don’t worry! You will be very familiar with me very soon. I am Masquerade, and I have decided to make Paris my personal kingdom.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“Now you are likely very alarmed by this declaration and that is normal. It will only be a matter of time before I spread my influence to everyone in Paris.”

She paused to let her words hang in the air before continuing.

“Do not be afraid, I am no monster. I plan on being a fair leader. All I ask is for your undying admiration and absolute loyalty. After that, you are free to live your lives as you normally would. Do not resist and you will have no problems. However, if you do… well, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Masquerade took a calm breath before finishing.

“This last message goes out to the heroes of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir. I know you are here, I know you believe you will stop me, and I know you have allies here. But you will fall to me. Your days of superheroing have come to an end, your miraculous will be taken from you, and I will expose you as the failures you are,” Masquerade finished with venom.

She ended the transmission.

“Now make sure that it is being looped,” she ordered.

“Already is,” Gamer confirmed. “And panic is starting to rise.”

Masquerade smiled. Her plan was already working.

It may have seemed like a simple ego boost, but that speech of hers was a crucial part of her plan. Her charm bracelet could hyper focus on anyone that was akumatized in the past and have their biggest insecurities exposed. But that one by one process took far too long, if the hope of the entire populace of Paris was already demoralized. Then all she needed to do was send out her masks and let them take hold. And all she needed to do was go out there and send the masks.

She could already feel massive amounts of negative emotion from outside of the school. As soon as she headed out of the school, she could easily go and get more akuma soldiers. She could feel her bracelet trembling with all the potential additions.

She was prepared to leave, activating one of the charms to give her black angel wings, but something she remembered caused her to stop.

“Simularé I am moving to phase two of my plan. Get down here.”

It only took a few seconds for the sentimonster to jump from the roof and knock on the window.

One for the Reflekta copies opened the large window to let in what appeared to be Dark Cupid, before it shifted into the phantasm form that was its base.

“Right on cue. So, what is this plan you wanted to suggest?” Masquerade inquired. “And be sure it is not a waste of my time.”

“What if I told you I could get you a Miraculous?”

The sentimonster could feel that Masquerade was very pleased with that idea.

_____________________________________________________________

37 attempts.

It took thirty-seven resets before Viperion figured out what they needed to do.

“Ryuuko, follow my directions exactly,” Viperion instructed. “I know how to win.”

He quickly pulled her towards him to make sure she dodged the first bubble.

The akuma was surprised by the avoidance.

Viperion smiled.

“Your next line is, ‘How did you know I was going to blast at her?'” Viperion stated confidently.

“How did you know I was going to blast at her?” Deadzone parroted in shock before realizing they had said exactly what Viperion had said they would say.

The dragon heroine looked at the determined expression of the snake. She could see experience and certainty in his posture. All her years of fencing taught Kagami the art of reading body language, and the hero in front of her was someone that exuded an aura of confidence. She knew she could trust him.

“Alright, Sassy Snake, I will let you take the reins.” Ryuuko responded.

“Jump to the left in 2 seconds and start running.”

Ryuuko followed the instructions and sure enough avoided yet another bubble attack from Deadzone.

“Head to their left and bounce off the locker at the end.”

Ryuuko dashed past the akuma and jumped as Viperion instructed, perfectly avoiding the barrage of blasts sent her way. Viperion had perfectly mirrored her motion as he explained the next steps.

“Now somersault twice and draw your sword.”

Ryuuko somersaulted as Viperion leaped over her and the dragon turned to draw her sword, now on the other side of the hall.

“Now as soon as it fires a bubble at you, activate your wind! No matter what! I believe in you Ryuuko.”

The last words seemed a bit strange to the fencer. What did he mean by that?

“Will you shut up!?” Deadzone shouted before sending a bubble at Viperion.

“For my final glimpse into the future, you will say, ‘Not so tough now are ya?'”

The bubble contacted Viperion.

“Viperion!” Ryuuko cried out.

The bubble enveloped the snake and floated to the ceiling, taking his frozen form along with it.

“No…” Ryuuko muttered. She looked down in sorrow.

I failed to protect him. He ended up protecting me. He had been backing me up to make sure I wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Ryuuko felt her mind flashback to a few days ago which now seemed almost like it happened a year ago. They had made such a good team back then and now… they get a chance to be heroes again and she couldn’t cover him like he did her.

“Ha, not so tough now are ya?” Deadzone stated with confidence.

Ryuuko’s ears perked up at the statement. That was the line Viperion predicted they would say. That means… Viperion knew this would happen! Which meant his previous statement was to show he planned this. She knew what to do.

Deadzone turned its attention to Ryuuko.

“Don’t worry, you will join him shortly.”

Deadzone fired another bubble right at her, but this time Ryuuko wasn’t moving. She was at the perfect distance to do what she needed to do.

Ryuuko smiled.

“Wind dragon!”

The dragon-themed heroine turned into a cloud and blew the bubble right back at the akuma.

“What!”

The bubble encapsulated the akuma, causing it to freeze in place and then float to the ceiling.

Ryuuko returned to her original form and smiled, seeing how they had finally incapacitated the akuma.

“We did it, Viperion. We took them down. I'm sorry it cost you so much… I won't let you down!”

She raised her blade, upon realizing that her partner was indeed trapped in a bubble.

“Wait a minute…”

Ryuuko walked underneath Viperion’s bubble. She wasn’t entirely sure if this would work, since akuma magic was weird and often unpredictable, but it would make a lot of sense if it did.

“It is a bubble, so this should work right?” Ryuuko questioned as she used the tip of her sword to touch the bubble. She pushed it forward a bit causing the bubble to pop.

Her partner dropped to the floor.

“Ugh… my head.”

“You’re okay!”

Ryuuko hugged her friend, but then realized her sudden action and quickly jumped back up. A bit flustered, she could swear Marinette was rubbing off on her.

“I am glad you are alright, friend. You had me concerned — slightly,” Ryuuko corrected herself.

Viperion was surprised by the quick motions but managed to steady himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. But make it quick, we will need to get a move on.”

“Okay… Who am I?”

Ryuuko froze at the question. She could see the confusion on his face. He was completely serious.

“Oh… that is not good at all.”

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade is on phase two of her plan and Simularé is starting to make waves.

Who will get to the akuma first, Mayura or our heroes.

What will happen to Viperion now that his memory is gone?

Will Queen bee be the right choice?

Reblog and Comment . Your support is invaluable in keeping this fic alive. And I love hearing your thoughts on it

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

an icarus and his sun: chapter 8

A/N: hello i have returned!! this chapter was weirdly difficult for me to write, but from here on out i think the writing will go much smoother! but unfortunately i do have classes to be worrying about soon, so who knows how much time i will have to write. but still!! very excited about this fic and how you guys will react to upcoming events >:) (plus i added some implied nature wives (katherine and shelby) to this bit so this fic is basically turning into me making empires smp gayer) also check out this stunning art of chapter 5 by @artanogon! and if you wanna make art of this fic, you absolutely can, just be sure to tag me so i can see it!

Warnings: depression of the heartbreak variety, past violence

AO3 Link - Tumblr Masterpost

-

Jimmy was trying his hardest to not be mopey as he helped Katherine with rebuilding. He knew that he had promised that he would help her- but his own confusing feelings about Scott, his lack of building know-how, and the dejected look Katherine had as she looked at the slight crater where her castle used to be had Jimmy feeling far out of his league. But he put on a brave face- he needed the distraction, after all.

They began with filling in the crater, mostly silent as they moved dirt over with their shovels. Then once the ground was level, they could begin with setting up the framework of the castle. They spoke more to each other then- but it was mostly Katherine telling Jimmy where to put the support beams. Jimmy wanted to say something, anything to break the tension and melancholy air- but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to Katherine that didn’t lead back to the tragedies they had experienced. Jimmy wished that Joel or Lizzie were there- but they were off gathering more materials for Katherine’s castle, and probably wouldn’t return until nightfall. So until then, it was just Jimmy and Katherine, silently stewing in their respective sadnesses.

Luckily- or maybe unluckily- someone much more chipper than either of them came along. Jimmy almost didn’t recognize her at first- but quickly realized that the figure approaching them was the mushroom gnome queen, Shrub. Or Shelby-she had said they could call her that too. She was dressed far more casually than she had been at the ball, a polka-dotted red kerchief tied over her head, brown overalls over a green shirt, and red boots with white polka dots. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, and Jimmy could see the tops of mushrooms peeking out of it.

“Um- hello! I- I wanted to offer some gifts from the Undergrove, maybe they could help with rebuilding! Or they could just look pretty- or just be a peace offering- or a gift of sympathy for what happened,” Shelby rambled, seeming just as skittish as she had at the ball, but was less afraid and more excited. Katherine set down the beam she was holding, and gave Shelby a small smile.

“The gift is much appreciated, thank you. It was nice of you to stop by- I apologize for the appearance of the Overgrown. Usually it’s prettier here,” Katherine said, looking over her lands for a brief moment before focusing back on Shelby.

“Oh! Well, what I saw of it at the ball, your empire is lovely! I’m sure it will be back to its former glory soon… if you’d like, I can help! I’m good with plants and I’m not a bad builder!” Shelby offered with an encouraging smile. Katherine practically glowed at the praise of her empire, and smiled back.

“I’d love to have your help- it’s just been me and Jimmy working all day, and most of our time was spent filling in the crater. Some extra hands would definitely help things go faster,” Katherine replied, gesturing at the land around her. Shelby beamed back at her, setting down her bag of mushrooms.

“Then I’m more than happy to help! We gnomes are small but mighty, just tell me where to lug these beams around and I’ll do it!” she chirped. Katherine blinked in slight surprise at her eagerness, but looked over to the stack of beams beside them.

“Well, there is one that needs to go across those two over here for the entrance. If you’re as strong as you say, then maybe you can help Jimmy with getting it up there- I’ll set some scaffolding up so you guys can reach it,” Katherine explained, going over to where two beams were upright and doing just that. Jimmy watched her set up the scaffolding for a moment, until he felt a pair of eyes on him. He turned and looked down to Shelby, who quickly looked away once she realized she had been caught staring.

“Is everything okay? You seem jumpy,” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion. Shelby chuckled nervously.

“Oh. Well- you see, gnomes can’t swim. And I’m kind of afraid of the water and water related things because of it. But you and the ocean lady seem like really nice people! So… sorry for being jumpy. It’s a habit,” she admitted sheepishly. Jimmy let out a good-natured laugh.

“I mean you’re right to be spooked by Lizzie, she can be scary when she wants to be- but most of the time she’s very nice! And trust me, there is not a single threatening thing about me,” Jimmy said, tone turning a bit rueful at the end of his statement. Shelby frowned.

“The guy with the goggles and his friend sure seemed to think otherwise, why else would they bother you like that?” she asked. Jimmy blinked in surprise at that.

“You… you think Fwhip and Sausage are afraid of me?” he asked in disbelief.

“Well… not afraid, but definitely threatened. I’ve seen it before, back where I came from. You’re someone who won’t bow to people easily, and people like them don’t like that,” Shelby explained with a shrug. Jimmy considered this for a moment.

“Huh. I guess… I never saw it like that before,” Jimmy said, a small smile coming to his face.

Their conversation was ended by Katherine waving them over, and Jimmy and Shelby picked up one of the beams to carry over to where the scaffolding had been set up. Shelby was surprisingly strong for her stature, and carrying around the beams and placing them where they needed to be was much easier than before she had arrived. It was less quiet with Shelby around too, as she cheerfully asked questions about their empires, as well as sharing some things about her own empire. But then there was one question that caused Jimmy’s blood to freeze in his veins.

“So you said that Joel and Lizzie were getting more building materials, but what about your partner? Is he with them too?” Shelby asked, and for a moment, Jimmy was confused.

“My… what?” he asked.

“The elf guy you were dancing with at the ball! You’re very cute together, by the way,” Shelby continued, completely oblivious to the tension in the air her statement created. However she soon noticed Jimmy’s pained expression, and it was her curious smile changed to a concerned frown.

“We uh. We were never together. And he betrayed us,” Jimmy said stiffly.

“Oh- oh I’m so sorry. You guys had just looked so happy together, I had just assumed- I’m sorry,” Shelby rambled, and Jimmy gave her a weak smile.

“It’s alright. I guess I was kinda happy- but it was never real. Not for him, at least,” Jimmy replied, throat feeling tight. He hadn’t really meant to burden all of his issues onto Shelby, but his mouth was moving a little faster than his brain was at the moment, and he couldn’t hold back his words.

“Well- well then that guy is missing out! You seem great, and he gave you up for what, tactical gain or political advantage or something?! He doesn’t deserve you!” Shelby declared, hands on her hips as she smiled up at Jimmy confidently. If someone he barely knew had so much confidence in him, then why shouldn’t he? Jimmy smiled back at Shelby.

“Maybe you’re right,” he conceded. Shelby gave him a half laugh, half playful scoff.

“Of course I’m right! Now c’mon, this castle isn’t gonna rebuild itself!” she chirped, heading over to the stack of beams. Jimmy could only stare after her for a moment, dumbfounded. Katherine seemed just as amazed by the gnome’s boundless positivity, a smile growing across her face.

“She’s spirited,” Katherine murmured. Jimmy chuckled.

“Yeah, you two are like birds of a feather,” Jimmy murmured back.

"We both are definitely nature-oriented," Katherine added with a chuckle. She looked at Shelby fondly for a moment, until her expression turned into a frown as she noticed something in the sky. Subconsciously her hand started reaching for Jimmy’s, and he took it as he looked up to the sky with her. Two figures were flying in- and the tension in Jimmy’s shoulders relaxed ever-so-slightly when he recognized them as Pearl and Gem. But he still gave Katherine’s hand a gentle squeeze all the same.

“What’s going on? Are we under attack again?!” Shelby asked anxiously, coming over to stand beside them and look up at Pearl and Gem flying in.

“Don’t know yet- they weren’t directly behind the explosion… but they are allied with the people who were,” Katherine said apprehensively. Shelby looked down from the sky, frowning in concern- and upon noticing Jimmy and Katherine’s joined hands, she grabbed Katherine’s other hand with a comforting smile. Katherine flushed slightly, but smiled back at Shelby gratefully.

“Please don’t be alarmed!” Gem shouted as she came in for a landing. Frankly, that didn’t make Jimmy feel any less alarmed.

“We aren’t allied with Fwhip and Sausage anymore. We don’t want any part of what they’re up to,” Pearl clarified, landing beside Gem.

“Really?” Jimmy asked warily. Gem looked to Jimmy with an open, pleading expression.

“I meant what I said when we told you that we didn’t know what Fwhip was up to. He left myself and Pearl completely in the dark, while Sausage and Scott were the only ones who knew about the full plan. But even then, I don’t think those two had the full picture, they looked surprised that we hadn’t known about the TNT. The point is- Pearl and I were tired of being part of an alliance that lied to us, and lied to us to hurt others! Katherine- if I had known what was going to happen, I would have never gone along with it and would have tried to put a stop to it,” Gem explained, turning her focus to Katherine as she spoke.

“So… you two are… on our side then?” Katherine asked slowly. Pearl gave her a gentle smile.

“If you’ll have us, yes. We also figured you could use our help rebuilding,” Pearl replied. Katherine looked to Jimmy, as if she was asking for his opinion. Jimmy blinked, and looked at Pearl and Gem. They seemed… candid, at least. But after Scott… Jimmy wasn’t sure who he could trust anymore besides his steady allies. However, they weren’t Scott. And furthermore, it really wasn’t his call to make. It was Katherine’s.

“It’s your empire, Katherine. If you don’t want them here, then just say the word. But you won’t get a fight from me if you do want them to help,” Jimmy said gently. Katherine smiled, and looked back to Pearl and Gem.

“I would absolutely appreciate your help. We’ve almost got all the framework for the castle set up- but having someone with wings help us out with some of the taller parts would be lovely,” Katherine said. Pearl beamed, and Gem clapped her hands excitedly. Gem came closer and Katherine let go of Shelby and Jimmy’s hands to talk over building plans with Gem, Shelby following after her and listening as well. Pearl, however, walked over to Jimmy with a mildly timid expression.

“Pearl?” Jimmy asked.

“There’s something I think you should know,” she blurted. Jimmy blinked in surprise, tilting his head to one side in confusion.

“I… okay,” Jimmy said semi-apprehensively. Pearl took a deep breath, like she was unsure of how to continue.

“Gem and I just came from a meeting with the Wither Rose Alliance. Well… it wasn’t much of a meeting, Gem and I broke off ties with the alliance pretty quickly and then left. But… there’s a… there’s something about Scott,” Pearl explained slowly. Jimmy tensed, swallowing nervously.

“Oh?” Jimmy asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Like I said, Gem and I didn’t stay long so I don’t know for sure- but there was something off about Scott. He just… didn’t seem himself. I think he was just as unhappy with Fwhip as we were with him. I… I just know he meant a lot to you. And I think you meant a lot to him too. I just… I don’t want to get your hopes up, but maybe… maybe you should give him a chance,” Pearl continued. Jimmy’s mouth fixed into a firm line.

“It’s a nice thought… but I don’t think I can trust him anymore. Not after everything that happened,” Jimmy said, throat tight as he tried not to cry. Part of him really wanted to hope that maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding, that Scott really did care about him- but Jimmy couldn’t afford that kind of hope. Pearl nodded in understanding.

“That’s fair. Like I said… just thought you should know,” she said, before walking over to join Katherine in her discussion for the build. Then Jimmy- only feeling ever so slightly useless now that Katherine had so much more help- swallowed the tears that thinking about Scott caused, and joined them.

-

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[poesparakeet-fics]

Read it here or on AO3!

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Caleb Widogast Characters: Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss, Beauregard Lionett, Jester Lavorre, Caduceus Clay Additional Tags: Shadogast - Freeform, dunamancy, Empire Siblings - Freeform, Prank Wars, Tickling, rib tickling Summary:

What happens to a ticklish wizard when he manages to piss off too many of the people who love him? Allies are made and lessons are learned.

FIC

“Caleb Widogast!” Caleb jumped as he walked into the kitchen of the Xorhaus, unsure of what he could have possibly done to upset anyone this early in the morning. He was even more surprised when he saw who. “Essek?” Caleb stammered, taken aback. The drow was perched on a large kitchen chair with a cup of Caduceus’ tea in his hands and a pinched look on his face. “Schatze, I’m sorry, were we to meet? I hope you weren’t waiting long, I--” “No.” Essek corrected him sharply. “I am here to have tea with Mr. Clay at his request, to discuss the situation in Savalierwood. But he just told me that he healed some pretty distinct injuries for you, yesterday?” Caleb felt a guilty cringe fold his stomach in half. He sighed, looking at Caduceus. “So that just came up, ja?” “Yeah,” Caduceus responded, “thought it might be why you slept in.” “Ja, I had a bit of a fall--” “A fall? From where?” Essek’s gaze was intense. Caleb dropped his eyes to the floor. “Oh just, you know, clumsy--” “Really? You clumsily practiced dunamantic phasing on your own and fell through the floor?” “I think it was three floors, actually…” Caduceus mused quietly. The cringe came to the surface and showed, unbidden on Caleb’s face. “Essek, I--” “I have never limited you. It was the one thing I asked.” “I know, I--” “Caleb.” He froze when Essek cut him off, meeting the elf’s gaze once more. Essek stared him down hard before continuing. “I had… better masters than you had, when I was a young wizard. Infinitely gentler, certainly. But they would have whipped me for practicing phasing magic by myself. Truly. You could have cut yourself in half, dismembered yourself, crushed yourself, suffocated in a wall--” Essek seemed to cut himself off with a wave of his hand. “The point… the point is it would cause me a great heartbreak if irresponsible use of the magic I taught you led to your demise. Please promise me again, and keep it this time.” Caleb ducked his head, feeling like a rightfully scolded school child. “I will, ja. I am sorry.” Essek gave him a look that said he didn't entirely believe him. “I do trust you. I do not trust your curiosity. It’s only a virtue if it doesn’t get you killed.” Caleb laughed softly, nodding as he sat down at the table with them and accepted a teacup from the still-silent Caduceus. He winked at Essek. “I think I could say the same to you, but fair enough. If I do it again, I’ll let you whip me.” Essek smiled back, but the doubt didn’t leave his expression. ... “CALEB!” Beau’s voice thundered from upstairs, and Caduceus almost dropped the knife he was using to prepare vegetables for dinner. He spun around to see the wizard in question with his hands in his component pouch, running as fast as he could through the kitchen and out the back door. Beau’s quick steps followed, but by the time she was in the kitchen they could both hear the familiar woosh of a misty step from outside. She stopped stock-still in the kitchen, hands clenched into fists, looking… different than Caduceus had ever seen her. What was it? “Uh… hey. Did you get some new clothes.?” Beau turned to him silently, eyes burning holes in his head. It was pretty scary, actually. “Oh! Uh… is that what this is about?” Beau’s clothes were bright magenta where they had once been her usual cobalt blue. She was still staring at Caduceus with her fists clenched. Veth and Fjord were creeping wearily into the kitchen behind her. “I think it looks nice--!” Veth offered, only to choke off in a scared squeak when Beau rounded to face her. Beau reached out to yank Fjord’s hat off his head and put it on. “Hey!’ Fjord protested, before clamping one hand over his mouth to hide a smile. “Oh. I see.” As it perched on Beau’s head, the hat instantly turned the same bright magenta of her robes. When she handed it back it returned to its usual color. The whole room was biting lips to keep an amused smile off their face, lest they become the new target for her fury. Beau took a deep breath before bellowing again. “CALEB!” She spoke into the air, her voice loud enough to hear throughout the house. “I KNOW THAT SPELL DOESN’T GO FAR. I KNOW YOU’RE HERE, AND I AM GOING TO FUCKING GET YOU, DO YOU HEAR ME? I AM GOING TO DO DOPE MONK SHIT TO YOUR NERVOUS SYSTEM, TIE YOU UP AND FEED YOU TO A ROOM FULL OF TIEFLINGS. You will FUCKING SUFFER! THINK OF A NEW NAME, CAUSE CALEB WIDOGAST IS A FUCKING DEAD MAN! ” At the end of her tirade Beau took a deep breath and started to walk upstairs again, but not before spinning around and jabbing a finger at everyone in the kitchen. “ANYONE caught harboring the wizard will share his fucking fate!” … "...CALEB WIDOGAST IS A FUCKING DEAD MAN! ” Caleb was sitting cross-legged on the floor of his hiding place in Fjord’s empty bedroom when Beau finished her threats, but by the time she was climbing the stairs again he had disappeared with a crackling pop. When the disorienting suck of the teleport spell faded he was standing on a clay path in a dimly-lit garden next to a trio of small towers made of iridescent grey brick. An arcane weather-vane creaked in the darkness. He started toward the door. “Caleb?” A head of pale curls popped up over the top of a bush of dark purple flowers, a frown of concern on the face beneath. “Essek, hello. Ah… may I spend the night?” Essek walked toward him as he pulled floral gardening gloves off of his hands, eyes narrowed wearily. “Of course, I am always happy to have you...” He reached Caleb and placed a distracted kiss on his cheek. “... did something happen at home?” “Yes.” Caleb answered, only to stutter as Essek’s worry grew, “Oh, ah, nothing bad. Well, nothing very bad. I just need to avoid Beauregard for a bit.” Essek’s worry immediately evaporated to be replaced with amused annoyance. “I see. What did you do this time?” They both started to stroll through the garden toward Essek’s back door. “Oh, just some illusion work. It will go away by morning. She deserves it, after stealing my spellbook while I was sleeping.” “Mhmm.” Essek hummed, linking his arm with Caleb’s. “But wasn’t her stealing your spellbook revenge for…” “The magic spiders, ja, but I had to do that! She--” “--the disappearing ink, yes, I remember. Are you sensing a pattern here, chathtiu?” Caleb sniffed and turned his nose up. “I have no idea what you mean.” Essek’s smile turned indulgent as he pulled Caleb into his home. “I’m sure you don’t. Beauregard does have a way of pushing your buttons, hm?” “She is the expert.” “I should ask her for advice, one of these days.” Caleb only laughed, pulling the smaller man into his arms. “You have your own way of pushing my buttons, don’t you schatz?” Essek smiled back. “You’re right, of course. I do.” ... Caleb stalked through the library of the Xorhause, circling it room by room. While his books were sitting on the desk he’d been working at the night before, their holsters were missing. He shifted the papers on his desk, panic rising in his chest. Where were they? “Caleb?” Jester was standing in the doorway, his holsters dangling from one finger. Caleb let out a sigh of relief. “Jester! Danke! Where were they?” “Sorry, I think Sprinkle must have stolen them.” Caleb shook his head, the tension in his chest easing. “That’s alright. I’m just glad they are found.” He reached out for them, stopping short when another figure entered the room. It was Beau, her clothes now back to their normal deep blue. Their eyes met for a moment, but the monk just breezed past as though she didn’t even notice Caleb was there. It had been a week since the incident with her clothes with no revenge or further threats, and Caleb was starting to wonder if he’d finally won the war. He shrugged his holsters on as the two women sat down on the sofa. He missed Jester’s giggle until it was too late. “Hey Caleb?” Beau asked. “Uh, ja?” Caleb cringed a little, turning around. Beau’s look was positively predatory. “Fuck you.” Caleb was about to respond when the sensation of fingers digging into his ribs flushed all the air out of him in one squeal. He spun around clumsily, hands flapping, but nobody was near him. He craned his neck to look down, his arms helplessly hugging his own ribcage while his knees buckled. That’s when he realized where the sensation was coming from. “Wh-what? No, I-- ah! Please!” His fingers fumbled with the buckle of his holsters to try and escape the traitorous leather trap, but the buckle was trapped under a magical seal of iridescent purple wax with the image of a skeleton key pressed into its surface. “Fuck!” Beaureguard was grinning like a gnoll. “What’s that buddy? Fuck you?” “Aah!” Caleb’s whole body convulsed and hit the carpet as the tickling escalated, even more invisible fingers reaching out from the leather to stroke delicate bones under pale skin and plain cloth. “No no! Please!” “Can I try?” Jester asked, giggling. “Nein!” “Sure, go for it.” “Fuck yooooou Caleb!” Caleb couldn’t answer her with words, he could only wail wordlessly. He writhed on the ground, trying desperately to resist the currently useless instinct to lock his arms at his sides so he could try and pull the holsters off over his head, but it was no use. All he could do was paw uselessly at the leather before Beureguard hissed the trigger word again and all he could see was stars. “Uh… everything alright in here?” Fjord’s voice came from the direction of the door. Caleb couldn’t see him over the sofa. “Fjord!” Caleb screeched. “Plea-hee-se! Evil!” It was all he could get out before his voice cracked and his laughter turned silent, his head thrown back against the carpet. “Huh?” Beau answered in an exaggeratedly casual tone. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just getting a little payback for my pink phase. Stole his holsters and Essek cursed ‘em.” A wave of betrayal strong enough to overpower his ticklishness gave Caleb just enough breath to shout “WHAT?!” before the laughter overtook him again, tears building in his eyes. “I helped with the ruse!” Jester piped up. “Uh-huh.” Fjord nodded, “can he breathe?” “Hmm? Oh, I guess we can check. Good boy, Caleb.” The sensation stopped all at once, and Caleb rolled flat on his back to gulp in air. “See? He’s fine.” Caleb sat up, hands held out in supplication even as he struggled to catch his breath. “Beau, please, I’m s-” “Fuck you and your apology.” Any strength Caleb had recovered melted away as he squealed and flopped back down on the carpet, limbs curling uselessly against his body. The tickling fingers coming from the inner panels of his holsters might as well have been sucking his very life-force out. Fjord lets out a sigh. “If you’re going to torture him for a prank, you at least have to let him apologise. Good boy?” Caleb didn’t get up this time, too scared to trigger someone’s wrath or sense of mischief. He was still giggling, partially from phantom sensation and partially from the panicky tension of knowing that any of them could trigger the curse at any moment. “I’m sorry! Bitte!” There was a beat of silence before Beau turned to Fjord again. “There, I let him apologise. Can we go back to the torture now?” “Wait!” Caleb squeaked, rising unsteadily to his knees. “Please Beau, we can talk about this--” “Oh, you wanna talk now? Cause when it happened you were happy to teleport away to your fucking boyfriend’s. So… you know,” she finished with a grin, “fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOU.” “Nein!” Was all Caleb could manage before his laughter stole his voice away, only to crack and go silent once more a moment later. Tears leaked from his eyes to roll into the fluffy carpet beneath him as he crumpled. “Oh, he’s so cute when he cries, I love it!” Jester clapped her hands while she watched from the sofa. “This is the best curse ever.” Fjord made an agreeable sound. “I wonder if Essek could make something more remote? Then we could tickle him wherever we are. That would be fun.” Caleb couldn’t respond to the idea with anything more than pained wail through his hysterics. The others pretended not to notice. “Yeah, I do worry that he goes without when we’re gone.” Jester cooed. “Pfft. Yeah, I don’t think Essek is letting that happen.” Beau snorted. Caleb started to beat at the floor with one hand, hiccups punctuating his laughter. “Aw, alright. Good boy.” The sensation stopped again, but Caleb couldn’t stop his laughter. “Please, pleaheese, *hic* bitte--” “Focus on catching your breath.” Fjord suggested, “It’ll do you more good than begging will.” Caleb let out an exhausted little sob before obeying, his lungs working overtime to suck in air. He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to make the hiccups go away with little success. When his breathing finally evened out Fjord gave him a reassuring smile. “See, that’s better.” Fjord soothed. Beau’s grin got wider. “Hey, Caleb?” “No!” “Fffffffffff…” “Mercy!” “...uuuuck you!” “Aaii!” Caleb let out a little yelp at the sound of the words, then… nothing. He’d clenched his eyes shut in anticipation, and when he slowly opened them Beau was glaring at him. “Hey! How come it didn’t work?” Caleb let out a huge sigh of relief. The curse must have expended all of its energy. “Is it done?” Jester questioned. Caleb was wondering the same thing. He tried to examine the buckle of his holsters as subtly as possible. The seal was still there, which meant whatever the curse was, it was not over. He needed to get out of earshot as quickly as he could. “I thought it was supposed to last longer than that. Can you message Essek?” “Sure!” Caleb started to cast for misty step as subtly as he could, hoping he was close enough to his lab to lock himself inside. “Hi Essek, it’s Jester! So, your awesome curse thingy is SO great, but like, but it ran out of tickles? Do you know why?” Whoosh. Caleb hit the stone floor of his lab with an oof, dragging himself to his feet and transmuting the door of the lab into stone for good measure. As he groaned he saw that the room looked quite different compared to how he had left it the night before. The large chalkboard he used for calculations had been moved into the centre of the room. In one corner someone had drawn a symbol-- a skeleton key, like the one on the seal trapping him in his holsters. Next to it someone had written in familiar, looping script: I will not practice phasing unsupervised. X100 Caleb whipped out the enchanted little book he and Essek used to send messages between them, only to find a new one waiting for him. You have 30 minutes. Caleb was glad nobody was there to watch him gape like a fish between the chalkboard and the book. Essek couldn’t be serious. He frowned and grabbed up a quill. You are a traitorous snake! There was only a single silent moment before the page shimmered and revealed another message under Caleb’s. Noted. Now you only have 25 minutes. Caleb took a moment to say every curse word in every language he knew. Then he stood up, snatched the chalk and started writing.

[kjack89]

An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 3/?)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU that’s honestly more aptly described as a regency-ish era fake marriage fic. Because ~shenanigans~ (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3)

It appears to this Author that the most discussed couple of this season will end up not being a couple at all. And no, this refers not to Baron Pontmercy and his latest object of obsession, a handkerchief that he claims belongs to the woman he met at the Thenardier’s ball, though it is perhaps as unlikely a pairing.

The Marquess of Enjolras and Mr. Grantaire have continued spending an inordinate amount of time in each other’s company, and no one, it would seem, is as surprised as their mutual friends and acquaintances. Mr. Combeferre was overheard in discussion with the Earl of Courfeyrac on more than one occasion lamenting the unlikely union. He seems to be skeptical on the nature of this deepening friendship, a skepticism one can only assume he shares with the other important people in the marquess’s life.

Namely, his mother, who has been keeping a low profile after their shouting match was recorded in this paper. Alas, her efforts will almost certainly be in vain if her son continues cavorting with the most unlikely of allies. And it appears he shall, as he is apparently set to accompany Mr. Grantaire on a visit to his country estate this week.

One can certainly speak of the restorative benefits of country air and time spent away from the city and the season. But proceed with caution, Lord Enjolras – scandal is not confined by geography. 

Nor, for that matter, is this Author. LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 2 MAY 1831

“I still cannot believe that I agreed to this,” Enjolras grumbled as he followed Grantaire into the carriage set to take them out to the country to visit Grantaire’s home.

“Honestly?” Grantaire said cheerfully, settling in the far corner of the carriage and stretching out luxuriously across the bench. “I am as well. I half-expected you not to show up this morning.”

Enjolras scowled slightly as he sat down across from him. “When I make a promise, I usually see it through,” he said stiffly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Leave it to you to take it as an impingement on your honor to suggest that you might have had misgivings about this particularly harebrained idea. And before you somehow take umbrage on my own behalf, surely if anyone is allowed to call this endeavor harebrained, it is myself.”

“Then am I allowed to take umbrage at the idea that you cannot even bring yourself to believe in your own schemes?” Enjolras snapped.

The carriage jolted suddenly as the driver spurred the horses into motion, and Enjolras pitched forward, reaching out to brace himself against the far wall of the carriage. Instead, his hands landed squarely on Grantaire’s chest. “Careful,” Grantaire said, his voice pitched low, and Enjolras flushed as he struggled to right himself.

“It seems this venture may very well be cursed,” he managed when he was finally settled back in his own seat, still flushed and avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “Or at the very least, off to the most inauspicious start in most of human history.”

Grantaire shrugged, glancing out the window of the carriage. “I don’t know about that,” he said. “It’s not every day one finds oneself in a compromising position with a marquess, after all.” He smirked at Enjolras. “Pity one of us isn’t the proper sex, or this entire thing would be settled already.” 

“Be serious,” Enjolras snapped, but Grantaire ignored him.

“I mean, caught in a scandalous embrace with a marquess, unchaperoned in the back of a carriage…it would be the scandal of the season, if not the decade.”

Grantaire sounded strangely wistful, and Enjolras gave him a look. “Forgive me,” he said curtly, “but I have the mental capacity for only one fictional scandal at a time, and I believe what we’re planning with your deceased sister takes precedence.”

His tone brooked no argument, not that this had ever once stopped Grantaire, but for once, Grantaire let the topic drop. “Very well,” he said instead, settling back into his corner and rapping his knuckles in a staccato rhythm against the side of the carriage. “But it is a long trip, and if I don’t have fantasy to entertain myself with, you’ll need to provide a more suitable topic.”

Enjolras blinked. “I assumed you would spend the trip sketching or painting or something,” he said, a little awkwardly.

“In a moving carriage?” Grantaire asked, a little incredulous, and as if to prove his point, the carriage swayed dangerously before righting itself.

Enjolras shrugged, feeling himself blush again. “You just seem to have the ability to sketch through anything,” he muttered. “Namely my every speech.” 

Grantaire smirked. “Can you blame me?”

“For not paying attention to a word I’m saying?”

“Now, that’s not entirely fair,” Grantaire said mildly. “I almost certainly catch about every fourth or fifth word.”

“Perhaps that’s the reason you can’t find it in yourself to believe in anything,” Enjolras said sourly.

Grantaire just laughed. “Perhaps,” he agreed with a lazy smirk.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and glanced out the window, dismayed to see that they had not even left the city yet. “Fine,” he said abruptly. “Then tell me about your sister.”

To his surprise, Grantaire’s smile disappeared and his shook his head. “No,” he said. “While I certainly cannot blame you for curiosity about your bride to be, now is not the time to speak of her.”

Enjolras looked closely at him. “You must have loved her very much,” he said quietly.

Grantaire shrugged again, looking uncomfortable. “She was my best – and for longer than I care to think about my only – friend. And that is all that I will say on the topic.”

He said it quite firmly and Enjolras inclined his head. “Very well,” he said. “Your father, then – if Lady Whistledown is to be believed, he is out of the country, correct?”

Grantaire had made a face as soon as Enjolras mentioned his father, and he shook his head. “Must we ruin this sojourn with talk of my father?” he asked plaintively. “Certainly you would not wish to speak of your mother, would you?”

Enjolras scowled. “Indeed I would not,” he said. “But need I remind you before you bring my mother into this, it was you who demanded conversation, so forgive me for trying to start one.”

Grantaire sighed, and to Enjolras’s continued surprise, actually managed an expression that at least resembled genuine contrition. “No, it is I who must ask your forgiveness,” he said. “I am not used to speaking of my family.” He managed a wan smile. “One of the benefits of not being noble – no one much cares to whom I am related.”

“They’ll certainly care a bit more after this,” Enjolras murmured.

“Well, you’re probably not wrong there,” Grantaire said with a snort. “But that is a problem for the future, so do not think you will somehow use my hesitation to get out of this arrangement.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Grantaire said, hesitating before adding, “But I apologize for stymying your attempts at conversation, so to make up for it, a promise: ask me any question, and I swear I will answer it.”

“Anything?”

“On my honor,” Grantaire said solemnly with a nod.

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Fine,” he said. “Then answer this: why are you doing this?”

“Anything but that.”

Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire—”

“Anything but that,” Grantaire repeated, his expression and tone both as serious as Enjolras had ever witnessed. He paused and seemed to force his expression into something more approximating his normal jovial appearance. “Come now, you out of everyone should know that my honor is worth very little.”

“To you, perhaps,” Enjolras muttered. “Very well, then…” He trailed off, casting around for a somewhat neutral topic. “Tell me about your home, I suppose. After all, I should know something about where we are traveling, and besides, it’s not every day that I get to visit a new money estate.”

He said the last words teasingly, and it had his desired effect: Grantaire half-smiled and shook his head. “I always knew you were a secret snob, looking down your nose on the landed gentry,” he said, equally teasing, and Enjolras relaxed, glad for reasons he could not quite articulate that they were back on their usual footing. “But there’s not much to tell. It’s a nice enough manor, just outside a small village. My sister and I were discouraged from going to the village much as children, so I doubt any there would even remember us, which works to our advantage, of course. But there was a wood on the other side of the house, and that’s where she and I spent most of our time…”

His words washed over Enjolras like a warm blanket. Despite usually being the one giving long speeches, Enjolras was quite surprised to find that for once, he was content just to sit back and listen as the carriage ride continued, bearing them both towards the house that Grantaire was describing with considerable enthusiasm.

So vividly did he describe it that Enjolras knew without Grantaire saying anything when they approached, the winding stone drive just as he had described it. But Grantaire had perhaps undersold the manor itself, which was massive, towering over them as they disembarked from the carriage. 

“Impressed?” Grantaire asked, with a sort of put-upon boredom, shooing the driver away and offering Enjolras his hand instead to help him down.

Enjolras just made a small, neutral noise. “As my mother would say, you have done well for yourself.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “High words, coming from her,” he said with a grin. “Though don’t think that I’m so new of money that I didn’t recognize the veiled insult in there.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Like I said, it’s what my mother would say,” he reminded him. “As for myself, it looks as noble a house as most I have seen in my life.”

“A mighty compliment,” Grantaire said, making a mocking leg. “Now please, my lord, let me offer the finest hospitality in at least the surrounding several acres.”

Together, they crossed to the door, where a man and a woman waited for them. Grantaire greeted both as if they were family, kissing the woman on the cheek and shaking the man’s hand. “My lord, if I may present my butler, Le Cabuc, and my housekeeper, Madame Hucheloup.”

Madame Hucheloup bobbed an awkward curtsy, her eyes wide. “Lord Marquess,” she said, and Enjolras couldn’t find it in himself to correct her on the title.

Le Cabuc gave him a stiff nod, clearly not as impressed as the housekeeper. “My lord,” he said. “You must forgive us, we are not used to entertaining gentlemen of your standing.”

“I am certain whatever arrangements you have made will more than suffice,” Enjolras assured him with a tight smile.

“In more ways that one,” Grantaire murmured in an undertone. “I have already filled Le Cabuc in on our plan, and intend on letting Madame Hucheloup know this evening.” He nudged Enjolras in the ribs, smirking again. “She shall likely stand in for my sister during the fake wedding.”

Enjolras frowned. “I didn’t realize there was going to be an actual wedding,” he hissed, following Grantaire inside. “Surely the town vicar will realize that Madame Hucheloup is not your sister!”

“The town vicar drinks more wine and whiskey than I do,” Grantaire informed him. “He will not recognize anyone, I promise you that. And we need this to look real, do we not?”

“I suppose,” Enjolras said reluctantly.

Grantaire clapped him on the shoulder in what he clearly thought was a bracing kind of way. “Chin up,” he said. “It will all be over soon enough. In the meantime, I am certain that Madame Hucheloup will have laid enough food to feed a small army. Do you wish to change before dinner?”

Enjolras looked down at his clothes, which were rumpled and dusty from the trip. “I won’t if you won’t,” he said, and Grantaire grinned.

“Deal.”

----------

After dinner, Grantaire showed Enjolras to his room, a large, airy chamber that was adjacent to Grantaire’s, and Enjolras went to bed early, determined to get a good night’s rest.

Instead, he woke early the next morning, a force of habit that was not helped by tossing and turning for most of the night at the thought of what they were about to do. He and Grantaire had not yet discussed exactly how the scandal was to unfold, but he imagined that they would figure that out sometime that day.

He woke so early that most of the staff was not up yet, and rather than inconvenience anyone by ringing them ahead of their usual wake up time, he instead slipped out the front door, taking the well-worn path down to the nearby village. It was a beautiful spring day, and despite himself, he found himself enjoying the walk.

Even though he tried to spend at least a little time in the villages that part of his family’s lands each time he visited, he could not imagine any time that he spent there would ever be like this, slipping down the winding streets as an anonymous stranger, watching the comings and goings of the townfolk.

He had just purchased a delicious-looking handheld pie from the baker when he felt a hand on his shoulder and immediately tensed. He turned, relaxing when he saw it was Grantaire. “Oh,” he said, relieved. “I thought—”

Out of nowhere, Grantaire’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him reeling backwards, his pie splattering to the ground. “What in the bleeding—”

“I do not know who you think you are,” Grantaire shouted, “but if you think that you can take advantage of my sister, sir, you have another think coming.”

Enjolras rubbed his jaw, blinking up at him as he tried to piece together what the hell was happening. “I don’t know—”  he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“You know perfectly well,” he growled. “Meeting with her in the middle of the night with no chaperone? Impugning her honor, with nary a marriage proposal in sight? I will not stand for it, my lord – on that, you have my word.”

The passersby had all stopped to stare, some openly gaping, others whispering to each other as they watched. “Your sister’s honor remains intact,” Enjolras said, slowly catching on to where this was going, but wondering why Grantaire was doing this here and now. “I give you my word—”

“Your word means nothing to me,” Grantaire said coldly, his expression flinty, and for the first time, Enjolras realized what it must be like for any who had crossed Grantaire. It was a formidable sight, and one he hoped not to be on the wrong side of for real anytime soon. “You will marry my sister, and before the week’s end.”

“And if I refuse?” Enjolras asked.

Someone in the crowd gasped, but it was the only sound anyone made as they stared between the two men. For a moment, it almost looked like Grantaire was smiling, just slightly, but it disappeared so quickly that Enjolras could not be certain that he did not imagine it. “Then it shall be a duel. First light on the morrow – guns or swords, your pick.”

This had absolutely not been a part of their plan, and Enjolras gaped at him. But before he could stop himself, before he could end this ruse with a few simple words, his idiotic pride got the best of him in the worst way possible at the worst time possible. “Guns,” he heard himself say. “First light on the morrow, and we shall see whose honor is left standing.”

Now Grantaire did smile, an almost feral grin. “I look forward to it, my lord,” he said, his voice low, and he turned and swept away without uttering another word.

Enjolras stood still for one long minute before realizing that every eye was still on him, and the whispers were starting to grow in volume. He flushed beet red and quickly hurried away, heading back toward the manor, his head reeling at what had just happened. 

About halfway back to Grantaire’s house, the man in question fell in next to him, his cold expression replaced by a genuine grin. “Well, that went well,” he said cheerfully, and Enjolras gave him a withering look.

“Did it?” he asked sourly, wincing at the pain still radiating from his jaw. “Because I was just about to ask you what in the bloody hell you were thinking.”

Grantaire clucked his tongue. “There is no need for that kind of language,” he scolded, still abominably cheerful.”

“Says the man who just publicly challenged me to a duel!”

Grantaire stopped so suddenly that Enjolras ran straight into him. “Yes, you idiot,” he said, but despite his words, his tone was soft, patient even. “I just very publicly challenged you to a duel. If you think that the townspeople won’t be telling everyone they know about that—”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “And what if I had just agreed to marry your sister?”

“Honestly, I was mostly expecting you to,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “After all, it’s not necessary for the ruse that we actually have a duel, just that the challenge and scandal is made known.” Enjolras flushed and opened his mouth to apologize and explain, but Grantaire didn’t let him, continuing thoughtfully, “But in honesty, this lends a certain...verisimilitude to the whole affair. After all, no one would believe that you would so quickly agree to a marriage.”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras reluctantly agreed, before adding, a little sullenly, “Though speaking of verisimilitude, I don’t think you needed to punch me quite so hard.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Oh, do not be such a baby,” he scoffed. “I pulled my punch.”

“You could have fooled me.”

Enjolras knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he didn’t much care. Grantaire rolled his eyes again. “Believe me, had I punched you with my full strength, you would have a broken jaw.” Enjolras was tempted to tell him that he wasn’t entirely sure his jaw wasn’t broken, but Grantaire glanced at the look on his face and sighed. “Oh, come here.”

He reached out and Enjolras automatically flinched. “What are you—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire cradled his jaw gently between both his hands, prodding gently with his fingertips, his touch almost feather-light.

Enjolras knew he was blushing, but if Grantaire noticed, he didn’t say anything. “See?” he said instead, his voice quiet. “Nothing broken. I doubt you’ll even have much of a bruise.”

His fingers skimmed lightly over his skin as he traced his jaw, and Enjolras swallowed, hard, realizing for the first time just how close they were standing. If anyone happened upon them, standing like this, the scandal in question would not be in relation to Grantaire’s sister. He cleared his throat. “You can let go of me now.”

Grantaire’s hands fell to his sides, and Enjolras wished he didn’t immediately miss the warmth. He shoved his hands into his pockets and they both started walking back toward the house. After a long silence, Enjolras cleared his throat again. “So what now?”

“Now, we make sure that one of the townsfolk’s accounts of what happened gets into the right hands so that it gets to Lady Whistledown,” Grantaire said.

“And after that?”

Grantaire smirked at him. “After that, we have a duel to plan.”

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 26//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia, @fantasyshadowhunters) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

I hope this chapter finds you all well, please enjoy some fluffy Feysand and baby vibes! ❤️

"He's breathtaking," Rhys said quietly from his place beside me.

After the maelstrom of labor had passed, Sebastian entered the world with a resounding wail—the most heartwarming sound I had ever heard in my life. The minutes after passed in a blur; the midwife placing him on my chest as she and Madja worked on cleaning him off with damp washcloths while Rhys and I stared at our newborn babe. We were both too completely and utterly stunned to speak in those first few minutes but sobbed the second he opened his eyes and were met with remarkable violet-blue.

Every part of him was truly incredible; resembling his father in nearly every feature except for the blue in his eyes and the tiny, perfect, shape of his mouth—even better than my own. I touched the soft, dark tendrils of his black hair as I nodded in agreement with Rhys's sentiment.

"He's amazing," I said, my voice still hoarse from my cries of agony.

But, as our gazes lingered on our son, the overwhelming relief I felt outshined my earlier anguish—any I felt before this moment. All the worry that had grown over the last several months, all the pain I had just endured, now vanished the longer I held my son. As I touched his cheek with a tentative finger, my tattoos a stark contrast against his perfectly unblemished skin, I felt a new bond snap into place.

Rhys must've felt it too, because the kiss he pressed to my temple was tender before he whispered to Sebastian, "Cauldron save you, Mother hold you. I, High Lord of the Night Court, vow to shield you with my body, protect you with my sword," I saw his throat bob as he swallowed before carrying on. "And keep you in my heart. My son."

The tears I had been battling to hold back finally fell as he finished those sacred vows, identical to the words we exchanged when he swore me in as his High Lady. My mate pressed another kiss to my brow but didn't pull back as I met his silver-lined eyes.

"Thank you, Feyre darling," he murmured softly, brushing away my tears with his thumb.

I beamed in return, my throat still thick as I touched his face with my free hand and swept away his own tears. "I couldn't have done it without you, Rhysand," I whispered.

Sebastian mewled quietly from his place on my chest, his wailing having ceased shortly after being placed on my skin, my mate and I returned our attention to him; that all-too familiar gentle and soft glimmer pulsing through the bond that now connected the three of us in the flesh.

XXX

"We call it the Dawn of the North." Rhys began, both of us settled in bed, Sebastian covered in a light blanket and still curled up on my chest for the precious skin-to-skin contact the midwife deemed crucial for the first hour of his life.

In this first hour following the birth, my scent and touch was pivotal in aiding Sebastian's development and especially in triggering his first few instincts—nursing being the most important. It was also a vital part of the new and delicate mother-baby bond between us. So, after the midwife and Madja had cleared away the mess from the delivery and provided me with my own postpartum care; instructing me to rest and recuperate after the undertaking my body had just been through, Rhys joined my side in bed; making sure the warm blankets I had been draped and covered with remained intact. With an arm wrapped securely around my shoulders, he waved a hand, his magic turning the bed in the direction of the window opposite of us. When I met him with a questioning stare, he simply smiled and motioned to the window again; urging me to look for myself.

The sky was painted in delicate, rippling curtains of green and blue light. The stars shimmering as the veils of light transitioned from one color to the next; multiple hues ranging from pale green, to red, to pink, and varying shades of blue shining through as they moved in soft waves across the sky. Set against the mountain, Ramiel, those three stars that only appeared on rare occasions in our court now shone bright while the rest continued glimmering in the patterned light. The look of astonishment on my face caused Rhys to grin as he went on to explain its origin.

"In the ancient texts, it's said that one of the first elements that came into being was night. Nyx, the primordial, and often forgotten, goddess of night was the prelude to the creation of our world-to Prythian itself," Rhys continued, his fingers brushing along my shoulder gently as we stared out at the sky.

"She was rumored to have wings and was powerful enough to be both feared and idolized by the ancient beings of Prythian and the continent. One of the many stories I heard growing up was her love of flying. My mother used to tell me that whenever Nyx would take to the skies, she would rattle the stars just from the mighty flap of her wings as she soared through them. In the early hours of dawn that would follow, the sky would look like this," he went on, his hold around me tightening slightly.

"It could only be seen in the Northern territory of Prythian. When the lords and the courts came to be, the sky would shimmer like this almost every night, but like Starfall, it soon faded over time and became a rare occasion—only appearing the night a new heir to the Night Court was born...as a sign of Nyx's blessing and approval." Rhys finished with a smile, bringing a hand up to wipe at a tear I hadn't realized I shed.

"It's beautiful," I breathed as I turned my head to look at him. "So, it can't be seen in the other courts?" I asked, thinking of the snowfall that had appeared in all of the territories following Eira's birth and how it must have compared to the storm that ravaged the Winter court instead.

Rhys's grin was crooked as he shook his head. "It's exclusive to our court alone, but our allies are being treated to a shower of stars similar to Starfall, minus the spirits" he explained, his eyes returning to Sebastian as the newborn let out a small sigh.

I brushed my fingers along Sebastian's back lightly, afraid that anything more might cause him to disappear, or worse. Through the bond, I could feel Rhys's equal level of apprehensiveness.

"He almost doesn't seem real, does he?" I asked as I continued my feather-light touch along my son's spine.

Rhys shook his head. "I have to keep reminding myself that I'm not dreaming," he said. "That I have a son, here in the flesh, and it's not some cruel trick of illusion crafted by the Cauldron as punishment for my sins…"

My fingers halted before reaching over to grasp my mate's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He's real, Rhysand," I said softly. "Do you remember what I told you all those months ago? How our son, our little Bash, is the culmination of all the best parts of you; of all the good you've done and are?"

The silver lining his eyes returned as he brought his lips down to meet mine with gentle ease in a chaste kiss. "All because of you, Feyre darling," he responded, his voice barely above a whisper before he kissed me again.

I smiled as we pulled apart and turned startled eyes to our son as he let out a tiny grunt. "Do you disapprove of my affection towards your mother, Bash?" Rhys asked softly.

I saw his hand twitch as if he might reach out and touch him, but changed his mind at the last second. You can touch your son, Rhysand, I promise I won't bite.

My mate's chuckle was quiet, but I felt his lingering trepidation. "It's okay," I encouraged.

His throat bobbed as he reached a shaky hand out and placed it gently on the back of Sebastian's head—so tiny and frail in my mate's large hand. Sebastian remained unfazed, eyes still closed and breathing even, as Rhys brushed a thumb along the light wisps of his blue-black hair.

"He is so small," Rhys murmured, voice still thick with unshed tears as he admired our son up close. "His nose, his lips, his eyes...they are the tiniest I have ever seen in my entire existence."

"He's perfect," I echoed before leaning in to press a breath of a kiss to my son's brow.

Sebastian let out another soft sigh at the contact and twisted his head back slightly, prying his eyes open to meet mine and my heart nearly stopped as I stared back at him. Tears immediately sprang back into my eyes as I smiled.

"Hello Sebastian. It's me...it's mommy," I said, near sobbing. "I love you so much…"

Sebastian's eyes slipped back closed, head cradled in Rhys's hand, already spent from our short interaction. Rhys let out a shuddering breath as I turned to look at him, tears of joy still falling.

"I don't know how I'll ever thank you for this, Feyre," he said, shedding a few tears of his own. "For this gift, this life."

You don't ever have to, Rhysand. He is our son, our gift. I said through the bond.

He pulled me closer as he kissed me again, his brow lingering against mine as we relished in this new familial tie between us.

XXX

Once our uninterrupted hour had passed, Madja and the midwife knocked on the bedroom door, causing both of us to tense as I held onto Sebastian more securely and as Rhys sat up in the bed; wings appearing a second later and curling protectively around Sebastian and me. I laughed when I realized just how soon those feral instincts had kicked in for us and touched Rhys's arm gently.

"They aren't a threat, they're just our caregivers," I reminded him.

He nodded, tucking his wings back in as he called the healer and midwife in, but kept a hand on my back as they entered. The two females came to my side, Madja pulling back the blankets I had been covered with in order to survey my recovery—mostly making sure no post-delivery complications were arising as the midwife began instructing me on how to nurse Sebastian. Both Rhysand and I paid close attention to the midwife's direction, taking extra care to the details on how I should position him on my breast and where Rhys could help should the need arise.

It took a bit of maneuvering, including Sebastian's adorably furrowed brow that resembled my mate's own look of frustration and confusion, but he latched on and was suckling in a matter of minutes. The sensation was strange and foreign, but something deep inside of me warmed as I cradled him to my breast, running a finger along his cheek lightly as he nursed. That warmth turned to a deeper understanding of the love I had for my son, and pride in the fact that I was able to nourish him. I was enough—had been enough in order to grow him safely inside of me, and now had the ability to provide him the sustenance he needed to survive outside of my womb.

I was enough.

You have always been more than enough, Feyre darling

I gave my mate an amorous smile, realizing he had been watching me with a level of devotion I hadn't seen before sparkling in his violet eyes. His hand rubbed loving circles into my back as we turned our concentration back to the midwife, who gave us further instruction on the nursing protocol. I briefly recalled seeing Viviane nurse and thought of how easy she made the process look, but as the midwife explained that I needed to switch Sebastian between breasts every so often and make sure he burped in between the feedings that would take place every few hours; all the while taking care of myself during my own convalescence, I couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed.

As if she could read my thoughts, Madja placed a comforting hand over mine. "It may seem like an impossible task now, my lady, but we will help you get accustomed and make sure all of your health needs are met," she said.

The midwife nodded in agreement, and so did Rhysand as he stroked the length of my shoulder. "You know you have plenty of support, my love," he said, and I knew he didn't just mean himself or the midwives.

We had our friends, a whole family, waiting for us back in Velaris once Sebastian and I were strong enough to go back. I stared at my newborn babe, wondering how they might react when they first laid eyes on him—only to be surprised when just the thought alone made me recoil, a sense of panic rising in me. Rhys chuckled at my plight, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Welcome to my world, Feyre darling," he teased. "Having that irrational, primal urge to keep him away, protected from everyone else, is akin to what I felt when our bond snapped into place."

I blinked; my instincts much further along than I earlier realized. "It's so odd," I mused. "I couldn't wait to introduce him to our family before, but now?"

I looked at Sebastian again as he suckled sleepily and rubbed his cheek gently in order to coax him awake. "I don't think I can let them anywhere near him yet," I admitted.

The midwife offered an empathetic smile while Madja laughed. "That is normal, my Lady, and will go away, to a degree, with time," she reassured.

"We should tell them though," I said to Rhys. "Let them know that he's here, and that we're both safe and healthy."

Rhys gestured to the window, the sky still painted with sparkling veils of pale blues and greens. "They know," he said. "I sent them a message via Az shortly after this appeared in the sky."

I sighed contentedly as I stared at the beauty of it, imagining what color paints I would need to mix in order to achieve those specific hues and what size canvas I would need. Nyx's flight I would call it, in honor of the ancient night goddess and my son's birth.

The midwife and Madja left after Sebastian completed his first successful session of nursing, wherein I reluctantly handed him over to their care for his first wellness examination. The midwife weighed and measured him, tested his reflexes and checked his overall wellbeing, all without much complaint from him as Rhys remained close to his side and talked him through the duration of the exam in soft murmurs. I watched from my place on the bed, propped up against a mountain of pillows after Madja performed her own examination of me and wiped my sweaty body clean with a warm damp towel. The magic of the Cabin presented a new shift at the foot of the bed, and the healer helped me change into that as well before helping me settle back into my semi-sitting position.

My eyes stung as I watched the midwife instruct Rhysand on how to properly place and secure a nappy on our son, before offering to show him how to properly swaddle a newborn babe. I saw my mate's enthusiastic nod, realizing he'd get to hold our son for the first time during the demonstration, and glanced in my direction for approval.

I can't do all the work, now can I? I teased through the bond.

His answering smile was just as warm as mine before he set about his task, the midwife only correcting his technique once before Rhys lifted and cradled the babe in his arms. The bundle that was now Sebastian looked impossibly tiny in my mates muscled arms; the Illyrian warrior, the High Lord of the Night Court, now enveloping his newborn son—the son he never thought he'd have, or deserved. I wiped the tears that spilled over as the older females dismissed themselves, and Rhys crossed back over to my bedside, eyes never leaving Sebastian's face as he stood. My heart squeezed as Rhys brought a hand to touch Sebastian's cheek hesitantly, his eyes growing silver lined as he marveled at our son.

"I don't think I'll ever grow tired of this feeling," Rhys murmured, gaze returning to mine.

"No, I don't think we will," I agreed, resting my head back against a pillow as I watched him.

Rhys paused, realizing. "Do you want him back?" he asked, knowing full-well that my maternal instincts were in full effect.

I shook my head. "I love seeing him in your arms Rhysand," I said. "I don't want you to leave my sight while you have him, but after months of imagining what it might look like to see you hold him...I can't picture anything better."

My mate softened at the sentiment before returning his gaze to Sebastian. "We better enjoy this time together while we still have it Bash, before your mother keeps you all to herself," he joked with a wink at me.

"I hope you warned the others," I quipped, a sleepy smile on my face as I watched Rhys make a small lap around the room, staying in close proximity to the bed.

"Mor and Cassian are already begging to come up here first thing in the morning, but Azriel, Amren and Nesta are keeping them leashed."

My laugh was quiet as I thought of their eagerness, but in reality, they all knew that it would be a while before they could be properly introduced to the newest addition of the inner circle. The midwife explained that the newborn bond was the most intense during the first week, and though I wouldn't be completely healed for another five following, we would at least be able to invite our family to meet Sebastian without the overwhelming need to safeguard him threatening to consume us and bare our teeth at our loved ones.

"They are going to love him," I said as I continued watching him move around the room, eyes growing heavier and heavier with the need to sleep.

Rhys heard the exhaustion in my voice and offered a sympathetic smirk as those adoring violet eyes turned to me. "You should sleep, my love, you've more than earned it after your efforts," he said.

I turned weary eyes to the bundle in his arms and he chuckled. "You can trust I won't leave your side, or even this room."

"I know," I said with a long yawn as he crossed back over to my side, taking a seat on the small space provided on the edge of the bed.

"I'll stay right here while you sleep," Rhys promised. "I think I can placate him until his next feeding."

I grinned languidly. "It can't be too hard if he continues to sleep like this," I said, glancing at Sebastian, who had fallen asleep almost immediately after being secured in his swaddle.

"My thoughts exactly, Feyre darling," he purred.

I was too exhausted to laugh, and instead brushed my fingers along Sebastian's cheek as he remained at peace in his father's arms. My heart squeezing as the full weight of realization hit, that our son was being held by Rhysand—his father.

To the stars who listen,

I brought my hand to his and squeezed it as his words echoed through our bond, both of us sharing a tender smile before admiring the sleeping bundle in his arms once again.

And the dreams that are answered.

[fericita-s]

The Princess and the Barbarian

A Helnik tale, rated T.  As Matthias recovers from a gunshot wound, Nina tells him the story of the Princess and the Barbarian. He interrupts a lot as his Fjerdan sensibilities are bothered and the Ravkan propaganda gets to be unbearable.  Thank you @theburnbarreljester​ for beta-ing and all the fantastic name suggestions.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Her Imperial Highness the Princess Inessa was unmarried at twenty-five and no one was in a hurry to change that, least of all Inessa.  

She was pretty enough and powerful besides.  Her hair was wavy and brown, prone to knots rather than seemly curls, and though her skin was too freckled to earn the admiration of the ladies at court her stately height was a subject of envy.  Ravka was the light of the known world, the pinnacle of burgeoning industry and scientific advancements and artistic endeavours and any number of lesser nations were eager to ally themselves with the imperial family by way of marriage.  Kerch, Shu Han, and the Wandering Isle sent instructions to their ambassadors to seek a match but the imperial family remained silent on the matter.  Fjerda had not sent any such inquiries, but it was to be expected that a nation of barbarians wouldn’t know how to build alliances through anything as civilized as marriage. 

Her brother, the Heir Apparent, was married and the father of two healthy sons.  Her parents, the Emperor and Empress, looked so hale that the royal healer had taken up gardening because his services were so rarely needed.  Her grandmother, the Dowager Empress, liked to summon wind to blow out a candle or to catch the topsail of her schooner as she took in the sights along the Neva River.  She’d even been known to flick her hand, calling a breeze, to show her cape to great advantage upon entering the ballroom. When news of firepox in a distant land had brought fear to the Grand Palace her grandmother was unconcerned.  “We’ll stay healthy and strong.  It’s the Grisha blood, my dearest.  You have it too, I can tell.”

Inessa couldn’t summon wind or call fire or feel the beating of hearts but she had a way with needle and thread, and not just for the embroidery acceptable for princesses. She fashioned horse blankets that kept the emperor’s steeds comfortable during the bleakest Ravkan winters and wicked away their sweat during the summer months.  She made tablecloths that red wine and butter-soaked blinis wouldn’t stain and handkerchiefs that felt cool against a fevered or blushing cheek. She lined woolen cloaks with a warmth that rivaled Fjerdan furs and were lighter to carry, a boon to their troops guarding the northern border. She even fiddled with her nephews’ boots, adding to the soles so that they squeaked as they toddled around the castle, alerting their harried nannies to their escape attempts from the nursery. 

So, Ravka did not need her to make an advantageous marriage.  The line of succession was clear, the empire prospered, and Inessa was happy to experiment with the small science of making materials into more than their first purpose.

Until, one day, it did. 

The Shadow Fold had unfurled in a cut of darkness and death and betrayal and suddenly the empire was rent in half.  Attempts to cross it were terrifying.  There were tales of bloodthirsty beasts who skulked in the darkness, more terrifying than the barbarians in the north.  At least the Fjerdans looked human.  These shrieking, flying monsters devoured any who tried to pass with gnashing teeth and serrated claws.  They called them volcra.

Where there had just been Ravka, there was now East Ravka and West Ravka.  The palaces at Os Alta were far from the horror at Novo-Kribirsk and Tsemna and the few messengers who made it through the darkness and the volcra spoke of the need to separate into two nations.

Instead, the Emperor and Empress left their oldest son to govern Os Alta while they brought their only daughter as an offering to the Duke of Udova.  She would be a bride who would bind east and west and calm the fears of Ravkans.  

The imperial tailor had asked if she wanted to fabrikate part of her wedding gown, to make the lace shimmer or the beaded buttons glow, but she wasn’t interested in adorning herself for her husband-to-be.  She didn’t know him and didn’t particularly care to, though she did hope he would be satisfying in the way her lady’s maid told her the stablehand was, giggling and blushing and using hand motions that left Inessa mystified but curious.

All of Os Alta had been draped in bunting and garlands of white peonies even though the marriage was to take place at the edge of the Shadow Fold by the banks of the Sokol River. Every village on the journey had banners waving in honor of the upcoming wedding and the people lined the roads to cheer as the royal carriage passed. 

“To Ravka!” they cried.   “To Princess Inessa and the strength of our mighty land!”

[letsunity]

Not Afraid - Chapter 5

Summery -  

The Bad Batch go to Tatooine to resupply and avoid the Empire. As per the usual, Omega gets separated from the group. Fortunately for her, Krayt's Claw just so happens to be nearby. Bossk and Embo guide her to Boba Fett, who takes interest in why the Kaminoans want her. It's a reluctant partnership, with the Bad Batch having to rely on Krayt's Claw to navigate non-military life.

The war left many without homes, jobs, anything to live for. Their only option was the criminal life, stealing to survive.

The camp is small, with junk and scrap lying across the ground. The boss was building something they could sell to get credits, enough to leave Lothal safely. Even so, they'd have to start stealing from the city; the farms didn't have enough.

This Empire has to be better than the Republic. Unless it involved the war, the Jedi ignored those suffering, even turning a blind eye to slavers. The Empire promised food, shelter, pay; all people had to do is apply. A few in the camp had that plan, preferring the new military than eating scraps for pocket change.

As the boss was paranoid, they had several mines strewn around the camp. That would end up being their greatest enemy, however.

Blasters fired from above, striking the buried mines and setting them off. The explosions burned their eyes, heat and scrap flying into the air. The ragtag thieves scattered, confused and frightened by the sudden attack.

Smoke grenades landed nearby a boy, the bellowing smog obscuring his vision. As Alex looked around, desperate to find safety, he met the blaster of another boy. This one was only a year younger than him, maybe two, but had the eyes of a monster. He could've sworn that they shimmered yellow for a moment as the end of it hit his head.

Boba pulled a knife from his suit, throwing it at a thief's knee, practically removing it from their body. The mask over his nose and mouth shielded him from the smoke. He didn't need his eyes to acquire the targets; he just needed their terror.

One decided to attack him, which was a mistake. A female Twi'lek tried shooting him, but her aim was atrocious. Boba ducked down, his spiked boot striking her shin. As she fell, Boba grabbed her arm and rolled her over his back, sending her to the dirt. Calmly, he kicked away her blaster and placed cuffs behind her.

That's three down.

Another bandit tried their shot, using a machete instead. Boba's armour was fitted against primitive blades and slugs, so this was a pathetic attempt. Boba rose his arm to block the slash, scowling into the man's frightened eyes. With him distracted, Boba drove their arm into their chest, the machete sticking through his spine.

He spat blood on Boba's face, shaking in terror. He twisted the machete, listening as life gargled from the man's body. He kicked the corpse's stomach, ripping out the machete as he threw it into the shoulder of another.

Boba counted fifteen, a majority of them younger than twenty-five. They weren't a challenge, just part of the job. Given their lack of weapons, they're only grunts, worthless to the big guy.

"Got 'im!" Wrecker yelled, having caught somebody. "He's a squirmer, too!"

Boba walked towards the hulking clone, a grin growing on his face. The Phindian spat, despising the tiny clone.

"Great catch," Bossk complimented, hissing at the angry caught man. "How the mighty have fallen, huh, Eve?"

"Do not call Moralo Eval that degraded nickname. He will each your liver!"

"You know this guy?" Echo questioned, dropping a tied up girl. "Looks like a friend of yours."

Bossk raised a scaled brow at the jab, lips shifting back to hint at his teeth. Echo tried mimicking him, expecting it to be an intimidation display.

"Moralo Eval. He helped General Kenobi and Cad Bane attack the Chancellor," Hunter named, glaring at the man. "What're you doing on Lothal? Doesn't match your type."

"Moralo Eval escaped prison, not too difficult. He was pursued and crashed here. He'd have done the work himself, but better safe than sorry. Fortunately, since the Empire started their occupation of the capital, he's met many local rats."

The first person thing was always annoying. Bossk assumed it to be part of his narcissism.

Wrecker sat him down as Tech placed the cuffs, glaring at the angry Phindian. The sociopath analysed them, planning ways to escape and leave the planet. Jango's son knelt, staring the man into his deranged eyes.

"Jabba's going to love you, Eval," he grinned maliciously, imagining what the Hutt would do to him. "You help us, and I'll delay his pet getting a taste of Phindian. Know that if you refuse, I'll have to remove your limbs, given your expertise at escape. Bossk is always hungry."

Next was a staring contest, seeing who would back down first. Boba felt him mulling over his options, Bossk snarling behind him, snapping his jaws threateningly.

Echo was going to interfere, but Hunter raised his hand to stop him, wanting to see what happened next.

Having been told to 'guard' the ledge, Omega skipped over, interested in what went on. There were some people on the ground, some with blood on them. She'd seen it before, but not freely pooling around people.

Seeing some distress, Wrecker was quick to pick her up, keeping her at a distance from the battle. She wasn't ready to see any of that yet.

"What is it that Boba wants?" Moralo relented reluctantly, sneering at the teen.

"Biological chips are making the clones behave like droids. They follow any order given. That means if asked, they'd make you into a bottom bitch. If the clones have free will, they'll be easier to manipulate, exploiting their 'compassion'. We'll be helping each other further future endeavours."

In a second, it went from hostage to business deal. The sudden whiplash seemed normal for them, another part of this career. Even though it was wrong to help this guy, they got a lot out of it. Hunter wanted to understand this process more, understand how to proposition enemies into reluctant allies.

It's evident that these two hate each other but were willing to cooperate for a common goal.

"Moralo Eval will assist in this goal, though only for himself. Once complete, Moralo Eval and Fetts cease working together. Agreed?"

"Until we're done, you've got a deal," Boba nodded, using Wrecker's knife to cut through the cuffs. "Dengar's going to love this."

"That one is still alive?" Moralo said, genuinely surprised. "He expected Dengar to be dead by now."

"He continues to disappoint," Bossk added, suddenly friendly with the Phindian.

Despite having seen it with his own eyes, Echo couldn't fathom what he was looking at. Were all bounty hunters insane? They appeared to be!

"What do we do with the kids?" Hunter asked, motioning to the ones tied up. "The ones alive, anyway."

"Give 'em to the farmers and get our credits. The loth-wolves will clean up this mess," Bossk answered, looking up. "And it would appear that we have an audience."

Hunter looked up, his eyes meeting Fennec's orange helmet. Now discovered, Fennec slid down the ridge, shooting at the group.

"Amateur," Moralo sighed casually as he rummaged through the garbage.

He lifted a makeshift flamethrower, unintimidated by the sharpshooter. With a manic smile, Moralo burst a stream of flame towards the woman, the range further than it should be. Hunter was eager for round two, running alongside the fire to engage Fennec.

"Wrecker, help Hunter. I'll get Omega outta here," Echo ordered, helping the girl down. "Bossk, protect those kids. No them, no credits," he added, playing into the money motivation of the lizard.

"Not exactly, but fine, I'll keep them alive," the lizard huffed, sulking towards the targets. With the usual threat of eating them, he shoved them to their feet and started moving.

"I wanna help," Omega said, worried for Hunter and Wrecker. "I know she's after me, but I can still help."

"You are helping, Omega," Echo sighed, kneeling to be at her level. "By knowing that you're safe, the others don't have to worry. We're going to stay at the farm village and wait for them to come back, ok? It's a tactical retreat."

While she wanted to stay, Echo was right. By staying away from Fennec, they could handle her. With Echo, she reluctantly ran away with him, hoping that they'll be alright.

"Pateesa, Koose Shag Wata," Boba growled into his comms, shooting at the woman. Wrecker had no idea what he said, but he understood the next bit. "Throw me."

"Eh, what?"

"Just throw me," he repeated, still holding Wrecker's knife.

Wrecker shrugged and picked up the teen. With a running start, he happily lobbed the teenager, interested in what he'd do.

As anticipated, Wrecker threw him over the other hunter. The Phindian got the idea fast, shoving her into the location required. Boba threw the knife, getting the woman in the leg. He tucked and rolled, getting back on his feet with a few bruises. Angrily, she turned back and planted a well-placed blaster shot in his chest. If not for his durasteel, he'd be deader than Rako's career.

Hunter exploited this as he elbowed her, glaring.

"Why did they send you?" Hunter demanded, lifting her. "Why do the Kaminoans want Omega?"

"It's not part of the job to ask," she spat, headbutting him again.

She jumped out of another stream of fire, scowling at Moralo as he threw the empty item at her. Boba fired at her, not aiming for the head as Hunter wanted him to.

"Bounty Hunters aren't allowed to kill one another," Moralo provided, guessing that the clone was new to this way of life. "Moralo Eval is greatly interested in this 'Omega' you spoke of. He presumes she is part of this 'chip' business."

"Probably," Wrecker shrugged as Fennec ran back into the trees. "Should we go after her?"

"No," Boba answered, rubbing his chest. Before Hunter asked, Boba lifted a tracking fob with a smirk. "With any luck, we'll be one step closer to figuring things out."

"She'll find it. She's not stupid," Hunter sighed, feeling like a fool.

"That is what the fake ones are for," Moralo added as if it was obvious. "Moralo Eval is eager to learn of these chips. He likes the stupidity and incompetence of clones."

That is somehow supposed to be a compliment, but Hunter didn't like it. Wrecker looked over to Bossk, who was hissing and yelling at their pay. Curious, he walked over, counting thirteen.

"Don't ye worry, we're only gonna give ya to the farmers, no problem," Wrecker declared, punching Bossk's shoulder. "Yo nephew is mad. Told me to lob 'im!"

"Just like his dad and granddad," Bossk sighed proudly, sneering at the captives. "Any of you got a name? Calling you numbers is more of a Government thing."

"Alex," one of them said, glaring at the two. "I'm going to join the Empire and get rid of people like you."

"I look forward to seeing you try and fail," the reptile shrugged, casually lifting the boy like he weighed nothing. "How are you going to stop a guild that has outlasted not only the Republic but the previous Empire? Set your sights on something achievable, boy."

"It's Alex Kallus, and you'll fear me!"

"Aww, he's kinda cute," Wrecker said, unaware that the boy interpreted it as teasing. "Can we keep him?"

"No!" Hunter yelled, his new dad senses tingling.

He'd known these people for all of fifteen minutes, but Moralo found this group oddly entertaining. He did lust for chaos, and they were drowning in it.

"Moralo Eval finds this group entertaining. His cooperation is heightened."

"Your whole third-person thing is really annoying; you know that?"

"Moralo Eval is very aware, and it entertains him. Your irritation feeds him."

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

Fennec leaned against a tree, ripping her outfit to cover her heavily bleeding leg. Though her armour hid it well, the flamethrower burned.

She'd heard about Jango, having been a little girl when he came to her village. On his own, he decimated a small group of Death Watch remnants, a force of nature. After seeing him shove a grenade down one's throat, she couldn't help but be enticed. It inspired her to enter the underworld, to be like him someday.

She grieved when he died, but it wasn't surprising considering who he faced. Only that Jedi could ever kill Jango Fett; not even the ketamine frog would stand a chance.

There were even rumours that he faked his death, as he'd done so before.

Given that Fennec spent her life becoming a master huntress, she didn't expect much from a child. That mindset almost got her killed, as he missed her artery by half an inch. Maybe the stories were true, where he destroyed a Star Destroyer and beheaded the Quarzite dictator. She doubted it, but then again, he'd been trained by the master himself.

Guild law be damned; her next shot would be between his eyes.

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

When Highslinger was told to bring Slave-1 to the boss, he did not anticipate seeing Moralo again.

"Hey, Sling," Omega greeted, happy to see the droid. "How're you?"

Highslinger provided a thumb up, a signal of contentment. He calmly rose his middle digit to Moralo, intent on getting revenge for his shtick on Naboo.

"You're still upset about that?" Moralo teased, waving off the droid's irritation. "He isn't going to apologise. You'd have done the same."

That didn't change Highslinger's feelings on the matter.

"Bitching later, recovery now. Pretty sure my sternum's cracked."

"I can apply a bacta-patch," Omega chirped confidently. "Nala Se taught me how to do it when she was too busy."

"I'll show you where they are," he sighed, his chest burning like it was on fire.

As a Mandalorian, he knew how to tolerate pain. It was something his father taught him long ago.

Highslinger stepped aside as the boss showed the child into the ship. He liked the girl, finding her interesting and curious.

Part of working with the boss was the stance on children. He had few rules which he wouldn't bend, something other syndicates danced around. It was consistent, the pay was always equal, and Boba didn't screw him over. In fact, Boba looked at Highslinger like he was another person, not just a droid.

Droids are property, no rights in the future. Funnily enough, Clones were similar, so there was empathy.

Just being talked to like an individual was enough for Highslinger to swear loyalty to the young Fett. Not hunter loyalty, but the commoner's idea of it.

"Nala Se, Jango once spoke of that one. She's the sadistic one," Bossk hissed with disgust. "Dibs on biting through that one's throat."

"Stand in line," Hunter said firmly, getting an amused grin from Moralo. "What?"

"Moralo Eval is most curious. You lot aren't designed like the common fool duplicates, and neither is she. What's so special about Omega that makes her more of a priority over you?"

"We're trying to figure that out," Echo answered, disturbed by the thing's interested gaze. "Hunter and Wrecker have genetic mutation enhancements. Wrecker's strong, and Hunter can feel electric frequencies."

"As someone aware of the cloning process, Moralo Eval must disagree. Mutations do not equal such abilities; that's something else. Moralo Eval is invested in learning what that something is. It may answer why the long-necks desire the 'Omega' girl."

Inside the ship, Omega took off the helmet, feeling safe within the ship. Her eye ached slightly, but nothing that she couldn't handle. Boba sat on a seat, starting to unbuckle his armour. As he directed her to the compartment, Omega opened another one, seeing the faint gleam of silver and blue.

It looked like armour, but it made sense for him to have backups. She took out the medkit, opening it on the floor. Finding what she needed, Omega walked up to the teenager.

Thanks to being a medical assistant, she was familiar with scars. Boba was smothered in them, having one on each part of his body. His back and shoulders were far more interesting, though. It looked like a tattoo, similar to what Hunter had. Unlike Hunter, it wasn't imprinting an image onto the skin.

It was like something had pierced his skin and ink injected into the wound.

"Never seen one like this, huh?" the teen said, somewhat amused. "It's a thing my clan does; it's a ta moko. It's painful but worthwhile."

The scars were still visible on his back, but there wasn't any attempt to cover them. He had no concern with having them, even the few on his face. Given his job, it made sense that he'd get scars.

"What was that language in the Toydarian's house?" she questioned, placing the patch onto his bruised chest.

"Mando'a. Haatyc or'arue jate'shya ori'sol aru'ike nuhaatyc."

"What does that mean?"

"Better one big enemy that you can see than many small ones you can't," he translated, ruffling her blonde hair. "You're small; they're going to underestimate you. When they do, you will show that you aren't the Kaminii's pet anymore. Nobody is more in control of your life and body than you."

Her body is her own, nobody else's. She chose to stay with Hunter, and that's where she was staying. Boba, her sort of cousin, casually brushed away every comment Nala Se used to say.

"My body is mine. I could get a haircut, or what you have?"

"Your body, your rules. Unless you give permission, nobody can touch you where you don't want them to. You've got a right to privacy and comfort. Not just that, but you're free to find your own path in this clusterfuck of a universe."

She liked the idea of that. She can be a Bad Batcher like the others, be strong just like them. Nala Se couldn't dictate what she did anymore.

"I wanna learn Mando'a."

"I'm very pleased that you do. How about after we get paid, ad'ika?"