#despite that shes stubborn and refuses to back down from the challenges. shes survived this long for a reason

[lieu-rey]

omg official Rockstar Games(tm) art of inez valenzuela who's totally a real character in the hit game Red Dead Redemption 2(tm)??!?!?!?!1

[warriorsbutnotreally]

Sandstorm Is Tigerstar's Daughter AU

So, to preface this

a lot of changes had to be made to canon

but in the end it came to a result that made me happy

and to add - this isn't super long

I don't even span the full first arc

Self edit before this is even posted; I got carried away and this is longer than I expected

this was a fun idea and [admittedly] I almost ignored it - cause I was worried I would have no ideas - until a bunch of cool ideas hit me at once and then I got excited about it

There's also changes to some relationships for very obvious reasons!

Sandkit is born alongside her brothers Swiftkit and Lynxkit [who are not Patchpelt's kits. You cannot convince me they're Patchpelt's. I have a lot of negative emotions towards the retconned family relationships in Warriors]. They are born about six moons before Rusty / Firepaw joins, meaning Swift and Lynx are older than they are in canon.

Sandkit is very proud of her heritage, as is her brothers and the three are close. Lynxkit is the most level-headed as his brother and sister can be stubborn and hot-headed.

When they're apprenticed, Tigerclaw goes out of his way to have his kits apprenticed to cats he considers his friends by convincing Bluestar and Redtail that it's a good idea. Sandpaw goes to Whitestorm, Swiftpaw goes to Longtail, and Lynxpaw goes to Darkstripe.

When Firepaw joins ThunderClan, Tigerclaw is quick to make sure his kits do not like and do not trust this kittypet and allows them to openly antagonize Firepaw. This gets so bad that apprentices den is split into two factions; the group who likes Firepaw; Firepaw, Graypaw, and Ravenpaw and the group who wants him gone; Sandpaw, Swiftpaw, Dustpaw, and Lynxpaw.

However, after their first patrol together, Lynxpaw is the first to change his mind about Firepaw. He becomes more welcoming, but expresses to Firepaw in private that he doesn't want his siblings to turn against him. Firepaw and Lynxpaw bond quietly behind Sandpaw and Swiftpaw's backs.

Sandpaw sticks close to her father or her mentor most days and as Bluestar's mental health starts to slowly decline, Tigerclaw is planting the seeds of disloyalty into her head. This only gets worse when she learns that Lynxpaw and Firepaw are friends and she lashes out at her brother

Swiftpaw is still on Sandpaw's side, however, and refuses to budge, though he's unsure about being angry at their brother.

When Fireheart and Graystripe become warriors, Sandpaw is even more outraged and - with some prompting from her father - starts making plans to make Fireheart's life just a little worse every day

Sandpaw sticks with Tigerclaw and it's thank to him that Bluestar finally gives her and her brothers their warrior names while Fireheart and Graystripe are out saving WindClan; Sandstorm, Swiftfang, and Lynxclaw.

When Tigerclaw tries to clear Bluestar on the Thunderpath, Sandstorm does manage to stop Cinderpaw from going as she knows the apprentice isn't the target.

After Bluestar fails to show, however, Sandstorm and Tigerclaw start up a different plan. Sandstorm openly blames Fireheart for the fact she didn't show, despite her being sick with greencough.

They do try to drag Swiftfang into their plans, but he expresses concern. He only agrees after Sandstorm peerpressures him into it, but it's clear that he believe they're going too far.

When Bramblekit and Tawnykit are born, Sandstorm becomes like a guardian older sister who spends time with them. This has her thinking of starting a family, but she wants to wait until she finds a proper mate - she is considering Dustpelt - and when her father is finally Tigerstar

Swiftfang does eventually tattle on them before the rogues attack and turns Sandstorm and Tigerclaw in as traitors, as he finds himself unable to just sit back and let them kill Bluestar and Fireheart, especially as he believes Lynxclaw loves the former kittypet.

Sandstorm is outraged as she and her father are exiled from the Clan. She tries to get Dustpelt to join, and for a moment she thinks he will until he reveals he'll never be able to stand beside someone who willingly walked with Redtail's killer.

After joining ShadowClan, Sandstorm assists her father in working hard, though she dislikes ShadowClan's territory. She starts considering having kits, not for a family, but for strong warriors that are loyal to her and her father.

When he becomes Tigerstar, he makes Blackfoot his deputy and Sandstorm is irritated but decides that gives her time to work out her own plan.

She starts carefully deciding which cat is the strongest in ShadowClan and, after being rejected by Blackfoot, settles on Boulder to sire her kits.

While she's courting Boulder, she learns of BloodClan and tells Tigerstar. The three go and meet Scourge and her plans change as she starts talking with Bone.

She's early into expecting Bone's kits when Scourge kills Tigerstar and she lashes out at the BloodClan cats. She isn't killed and ShadowClan ends up exiling her after she refuses to renounce her father's crimes.

When Scourge and Bone are killed, Sandstorm sneaks into the ranks and quickly earns favor with BloodClan as they know who she is and she reveals that the kits she's close to having are the proper heirs of BloodClan.

Cats try to challenge her, but Sandstorm allows herself to be brutal and relentless, which soon catches the eye of a certain one-eyed molly.

Fury becomes co-leader as she teaches Sandstorm the shaky customs of BloodClan and the two become close by the time the kits are born.

There are four kits born to Sandstorm; a dark calico tabby she-cat named Omen, a pale ginger and white tom named Talon, a mostly black tom named Bane, and a dark tabby with white patches named Tiger

Sandstorm instantly favors Tiger more than any other of her kits and is determined that he'll take over BloodClan when the time comes.

As the kits grow older, Fury and Sandstorm grow closer and eventually the two becomes mates and work together to help BloodClan grow better and stronger.

Sandstorm starts spying on the Clans again and learns, angrily, that Firestar and Lynxclaw are mates now and that the two have had a litter of kits together; Squrrielkit, Leafkit, and Spottedkit [Squirrel is dark ginger, Leaf and Spotted are both tortoiseshells] [how is also up for interpretation]

Sandstorm starts making plans again to take down ThunderClan and Fury is more than happy to help.

This comes together in an idea to steal the kits and hold them hostage until Firestar comes to get them.

The first attempt doesn't go well and many BloodClan cats are wounded in trying, but that doesn't stop either leader and they try once more. This time they manage to steal two of the kits; Squirrelkit and her brother Spottedkit.

While watching the two kits, Sandstorm is overtaken by rage at her brother becoming mates with 'the enemy' and for a brief moment she actually considers killing one of the kits. She actually almost kills Squirrelkit before she is stopped by Bane [he and the others being the age of older apprentices].

Bane becomes the watcher of the kits and he bonds well with his cousins and feels pity for them. When he learns his mothers' plans, he convinces Omen to help him carry them back home before any needless death happens. Omen is hesitant at first, but agrees and the two carry the kits back to ThunderClan.

When she learns about this, Sandstorm is outraged and she considers a regular punishment until Fury insists that Bane needs to be made an example of.

Sandstorm allows Fury to publicly kill their son and Omen feels like she's the only one truly horrified at this. Talon seems openly interested in the violence and Tiger was never easy for her to understand, as they are rather withdrawn and never talked to her or their brothers as they were being trained to take over BloodClan.

Sandstorm goes on to not allow Omen to be alone and Omen has a guard with her at all times.

Eventually Omen escapes her guard and flees to the Clans, being taken in by ThunderClan, who promise to protect her.

There she meets her cousins again, plus Leafkit, and gets to know her uncles, Lynxclaw and Brambleheart. She is treated with love and welcoming for the first time in her life and she finds herself about to cry.

She chooses to join ThunderClan after a moon of thought as well, as she fears what will happen if she ever encounters her mothers again. She is given the name Lightpaw.

Eventually Sandstorm does attack again and Lightpaw tries to hide, only to be found by her brother Talon and attacked. He almost kills her only to be killed by Firestar.

This outrages Sandstorm even more.

She attacks Firestar and takes away one of his lives, but before she can do more harm, she is attacked by Lightpaw.

Lightpaw fights her mother off and Sandstorm swears that she'll have her revenge and that ThunderClan will never be forgiven

Lightpaw tries to reason with her sibling, Tiger, but they push her away and lash out, angry that she let their brother die She tries to reason more, but it's useless

She watches as they leave

.

BloodClan does return in the form of Tiger, eventually, but my brain didn't plan that far, but Sandstorm eventually does pass away and Tiger kills Fury in a silent retaliation against her as they never forgive her for killing Bane.

She and Fury do also end up with another litter; a ginger tabby she-cat named Wrath, and an albino tom named Wisp.

Lightpaw eventually earns the name Lightstep and she's the one chosen to represent ThunderClan in the Great Journey.

Spottedkit/paw ends up being killed by BloodClan in a random, aggravated attack and Squirrelflight almost dies in the same attack, but survives, unlike her brother

Squirrelflight eventually becomes mates with Shrewpaw/heart, who survives in this AU and they have a very happy and healthy relationship

Lightstep originally is crushing on Feathertail, but she passes away. Later she actually becomes mates with Daisy and the two are very happy and comfortable wives to help take care of kits who need help raising.

Swiftfang leaves ThunderClan and ends up joining WindClan to get away from all the drama involving his family. He never takes a mate or has kits and he's perfectly happy just living a nice life.

[edda-grenade]

Clothes.

Solas receives an unexpected gift, and Adaar gets an unexpected offer.

#feral verse, 1600 words. on AO3.

Solas didn’t know why he had not left.

It was a frivolous distraction from his duty at best, a willful betrayal of his people at worst. To waste his time playing teacher, playing at Wisdom, for some half-grown dragon spawn. What did it matter that she soaked up any knowledge he shared like a sponge? What did it matter, that she dug for even more with a hunger that had his heart feel like it was bleeding to witness it? What did it matter, that he had to struggle to keep ahead of her, all his knowledge and experience and power hamstrung by what the Veil had done to the world? That the thrill of success was all the sweeter for knowing he had something new to share with her? What would any of it matter in the end, when it—

“Feral little forest man!”

—it was not Adaar’s voice. Neither the voice of one of her parents. Wary yet curious despite himself, Solas followed the call through the trees, silently bristling at the moniker. It was aggravating enough that Adaar’s parents were so fond of it, for it to have spread to someone else…

It was one of the Dalish. An older woman, with a sharp, lined face, the mark of Mythal on her forehead. The skin of Solas’s face felt raw, as if from sunburn, at the sight. Adaar had introduced them at some point, he remembered—Ashuon was her name. She either didn’t remember his, or chose not to use it. More likely the latter, he decided at the hard expression that took hold of her features when she caught sight of him as he emerged from the foliage.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I’ve brought you some clothes,” she said, and lifted a bundle of cloth.

Solas frowned. “I have clothes.”

“Ah yes, that one cloak you possess.” She eyed it critically, and Solas’s frown deepened. He was aware the garment was not in the best of conditions, but considering it had survived his long sleep, he refused to give it up.

“Either way,” she continued, “these are mostly trousers, and an undercoat for layering. Fall will be cold enough, let alone the winter, and I don’t actually want you to freeze to death once the weather turns.”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked slowly. “We did not… part on the best of terms.”

“You mean you’re a self-righteous blighter who thinks he knows everything? Don’t worry, this isn’t for your sake. Adaar asked me to, and the poor girl deserves better than having to deal with your thighs all the time.”

Solas blinked, perplexed by the non-sequitur. “What on earth is wrong with my legs?”

Ashuon rolled her eyes. “Nothing.” She pushed the bundle of cloth at him, and he reluctantly accepted it, before it could fall to the ground. “Might not be relevant anyway, depending on how she decides.”

“She—where is Adaar?” Her absence was puzzling, if not slightly worrying. For her to ask for material favors, especially from Clan Lavellan, on his behalf was already… He preferred not to linger on that particular thought for too long. But why would she ask for the clothes to be delivered as well? They met nearly every day, even if only briefly—it would be an easy task to bring them herself.

Ashuon placed her hands on her hips, her stance confrontational. “Do you have any idea how powerful that girl is?” she said. “If she were an elf, any clan would be lucky to have her.”

Solas swallowed down the bitter retort that brimmed on his tongue. No clan he had encountered so far would even know what to do with someone so ruthlessly curious, as mired in their stubborn beliefs as they were.

“Where is she?” he asked again.

“Talking to our Keeper.”

“About what?”

“Deshanna is willing to teach Adaar magic, permanently, as long as she cuts you loose.”

Solas’s breath caught. There it was—an egress. Whatever weakness, compulsion, misplaced sympathy—whatever it was that kept him fixed to this place, to Adaar, to everything she called home… what would it matter, when she sent him away herself?

He should be elated. His stomach should not sink like a stone at the thought. A wave of cold swept through him—

With a burst of magic, Adaar appeared between them. “Oh, good, you haven’t tried to murder each other—” She stumbled a little, panting, then straightened up.

“Hey,” she said, with a sheepish smile.

“Did you sprint the entire way here?” Ashuon asked, bemused.

“Sort of. I stepped through the Fade. Well, with the Fade. A lot.”

Solas almost dropped the cloth bundle as he tried to reach out for her face, before he caught himself. Her skin seemed flushed, and her pupils were blown wide. “You must be careful not to overexert yourself in this manner,” he said. “If you collapse from exhaustion somewhere dangerous…” He had managed that himself quite a few times, after he had woken up. Magic that had been as easy as breathing before the Veil had drained him to the point of fainting.

“I’m fine, I’m mostly dizzy from the speed. Did you—” She turned to Ashuon, glanced at her empty hands, then at Solas— “Ah, you did. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, dima’len.”

The hard expression that had never quite left Ashuon’s face while Solas had spoken to her melted into an old fondness, now that Adaar was the focus of her attention. Quietly, Solas turned away and took a few steps towards the trees so he might give them at least the illusion of privacy, but he heard their hushed conversation nonetheless.

“I—um.” The shifting of feet. “I think Deshanna’s angry with me, now?”

“It’ll pass. We’re just worried about you, dima’len.”

“I know, I know. It’s—thank you. But you really don’t have to be. I know what I’m doing.”

A low chuckle. “Creators, I hope you’re right.”

“…Will we see you again next year?”

“Of course. I—Adaar!”

The exclamation drew Solas’s gaze. Adaar had swept Ashuon up into an embrace that lifted the old elf clean off of her feet. She laughed, the lines around her eyes crinkling, and patted Adaar’s shoulders. Solas forced himself to avert his gaze again. His chest ached strangely, as though there wasn’t enough space within for his lungs and heart.

Murmurs of dareth shiral were exchanged, and finally Ashuon departed, but not without a final demand to “Layer up, forest man!” shouted in his direction. Solas scowled, but he did hold onto the clothes.

Adaar ambled closer, then, watching him. The silence stretched.

“Thank you,” Solas said quietly. “You did not have to do this.”

She shrugged, but her smile remained. “It’s not that big a deal. You needed some more clothes, and I could afford to spend a few days helping out with aravel repairs. They’ll fit, I hope. We can make some alterations if not—”

“Did you not take their Keeper’s offer?”

Adaar grew quiet. She crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby tree, with an abruptness that had the young trunk shaking. Her mouth twisted, teeth digging into her lower lip, before she spoke: “Ashuon told you, huh?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t take it, yeah.”

Something lurched painfully in Solas’s chest, and his fingers curled tight into the cloth bundle.

“Why not?”

Adaar stared at him.

“Are you serious?” she burst out at last. Solas nodded, his throat tight. He may have sounded more incredulous than he intended—but still, the question was more than justified…

“Because I’ve learned more from you in a few months than I have in years? Because I enjoy being around you, when you’re not actively being a prick? And because I’m not that fucking naive, and I know these lands can be terrible to people like us?”

His pulse pounded in his ears, as if from far away. “‘People like us?’” he echoed tonelessly.

“Mages. Vashoth. Elves.” She gestured haphazardly as she spoke. “Maybe you’re just keeping quiet about it—but from where I’m standing it really doesn’t look like you’ve got people who will keep you safe. Or do you?”

She was right. She had no idea how right she was.

“The disadvantage of a solitary life, albeit a manageable one,” he said, keeping his voice flat. His heartbeat was still thundering, and refused to calm. Adaar let out a sharp, brittle laugh.

“It shouldn’t have to be like that,” she muttered. “And I’m not doing that to you. I mean. Unless you—if you wanted to—to go—”

“No.”

What was he doing? To be handed a graceful exit on a silver platter, and cast it aside near instantly…

“No?”

There were—reasons. She was right. He was far more vulnerable on his own, and he knew well the atrocities inflicted on elves and mages alike in this world. Even if neither term strictly applied to him, to anyone living in this world it was what they would see in him. And further…

“I do not wish to, as you put it, ‘go’,” he said, choosing his words with cautious deliberation. “I enjoy our arrangement of learning. It is an unexpected… challenge.”

The relief on Adaar’s face morphed into an expression he was coming to know quite well from her, a strange mixture of amusement and mischief.

“You almost sound like my parents, back when I used to figure out new ways to get up on the roof. And refused to come down.”

“A welcome challenge,” he amended, softly. How her smile widened in reply…

None of this would matter, in the end, he told himself. But neither would lingering a few weeks more.

[band--psycho]

Bucky Barnes x Reader-The Lost King(Royal AU)

A/n: This is my second entry for @girl-next-door-writes bingo writing challenge (this is probably one of the longest fics I’ve written) I hope you all enjoy it!!

Streams of sunlight began to flood into the room, the brightness of the light causing Y/n to stir in her sleep as her eyes fluttered open. Normally, she’d marvel at what a beautiful morning it was but today was different. Today, she couldn’t help but feel the dull ache in her heart as she turned to see Bucky sleeping peacefully beside her. Lightly she caressed his face, careful not to disturb what was bound to be the last peaceful sleep he’d have for a while. She tried to push the fear and worry that filled her head but in truth she was terrified, the war between their country and King Schmidts had grown fiercer and bloodier over the past few days. Bucky, wanted to show  a display of hope and strength to our people and was going to ride out to the battle with a large number of soldiers in just a small number of hours. Of course Y/n supported his decision, she knew it would give their people hope, hope which so desperately needed to be shown in these dark times but she knew what Kinf Schmidt and his men were like from the reports she’d read and the gossip that swam round the castle; these people were cut throat,ruthless and bloodthirtsy. She knew Bucky was a talented fighter, there was no denying that but still the fear that he may not return from this battle seemed to be permanently ingrained in her mind.   

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Bucky whispered drowsily, dragging Y/n from her thoughts. 

“Morning,” Y/n whispered before lightly pressing her lips to his. The kiss was soft but yet it seemed to convey all the emotions Y/n didn’t trust herself to say, maybe it was because Bucky knew her so well or maybe it was because he felt a familiar feeling of dread himself. He knew what he was doing was risky but it needed to be done. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know” Bucky cooed once they pulled away from the kiss, instantly seeing the sadness in her eyes. He knew that there were no words that would ease the worry from her mind so he did the only thing that he could do. He held her. He pulled her into his embrace, his hands lightly roaming over her body, not in a sexual way but in a soothing one. The pair of them stayed like that, wrapped up in each other's arms, silently comforting each other, right up until there was a dull knock at the door. Both of them wanted nothing more than to just stay in that moment but they couldn’t. It was time and they both knew it. 

“Promise me you’ll come back to me,” the pain in Y/n's voice was enough to make his heartbreak.

“I’ll always come back to you, my love,” he soothed, holding her even closer than before. 

 “Always,” he repeated like a mantra, placing a final kiss on her lips.

“I love you” 

“I love you too,” she replied back with tears in her eyes, coldness washing over her body as he pulled away from the embrace, vanishing behind the door to make his way down to the armoury.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n stood leaning against the stone railing of balcony, her gaze locked onto the horizon which she had watched the love of her life disappear into. It had been six months since she said her final farewell to the man she loved and she had been out here everyday since, no matter the weather.She remembered watching him the day he left, she had stood in this very spot, fear and anxiety plaguing her thoughts. She recalled the way the sun had glinted of his pristine armour, of the way he spoke and inspired his men, lifting their spirits from the back of his noble steed as the animal trotted along the lines.He had stopped in front, looking over the men following him as his horse pawed restlessly at the ground. His short hair was neat, every strand styled in place the way he liked, and despite the distance she remembered the spark in his eyes and the familiar smirk upon his face as the battalion of men cheered for him, ready and willing to follow their king into battle. 

He had waved to her, blew a kiss in her direction before setting off. She had stood in place for what felt like hours, watching his figure grow smaller and smaller until he vanished out of sight altogether. 

His goal and wish was for his actions to reignite hope amongst their people, and for a time it had. But it only lasted so long, they say no news is good news, but for most the disappearance of their king and his gallant men had only increased their desperation  and despair, one in particular.

“Your Majesty,” as though on que the recent bane of her existence made himself known. Sighing, Y/N turns her head towards the voice she and come to loath.

“Lord Stark, can I help you with something?” She inquired with a curt tone, already knowing what he was here to discuss with her. She had been avoiding him for this very reason, and it seems he had clicked onto her intentions. She was in no mood for this.  

She hears him sigh in response, as he, her royal advisor comes to stand a few feet behind her, “You know why I’m here your majesty. We didn’t get the chance to finish our discussion.”

“On the contrary  Lord Stark, I believe we have, on multiple occasions now. What you mean to say is that you’re unsatisfied with my answer and wish for me to reconsider my decision.” she corrected sternly, trying her hardest to maintain her composure

“I meant no disrespect my lady, I’m just saying it would be wise to-“

“To what? To marry again?”Y/N cuts him off before he can finish

“We’ve been over this Your Majesty, marrying again would protect you and it may even form a new alliance,” His words and tone felt like a dagger in her heart, how many times had they discussed this. Y/N curses herself at the feeling of tears building up, fighting to keep them in as she looks to the sky and takes a deep breath, calming herself. He was out there still, he had to be, why was it so hard for others to have faith in him.

“You’re talking as if he’s dead,”

“I cannot even begin to understand how hard this is for you-“

Pity, his tone reeked of it, if she turned to him now she knew she’d see it plain as day upon his face. He spoke to her as though she were a child, one that needed coddling and protecting. She knew the kingdom needed a king, they needed security and an heir and she had been doing her best. For him above all else. He had done so much for her, he had given her his life and his heart and in turn she had done the same and she refused to give up on him now. 

“He’s not dead, he’s out there somewhere.” Lord Stark merely sighed in response to her again, though this time there was an irritated tone to it. She could tell her stubbornness was annoying him, but she couldn’t bring herself to care, he had pushed her past that months ago.

“I understand your need for hope.” 

She couldn’t help but let a humourless laugh slip past her lips as she turned to look at her advisor. Head high and shoulders back, she knew he would see the redness in her eyes, but above all else she wanted him to see her determination and strength. Approaching him, she mutters, “Hope which you should share for your king.” Not giving him a chance to say anything else, Y/N walks towards the doors to the balcony, hope lost was as good as admitting defeat, in accepting that that which you have faith in no longer invokes to inspire you. Bucky deserves more than that.,”

~~~~~~~~

Lord Rogers, much like Y/n refused to believe that the king was dead.. Regret and guilt tended to fill his mind when he would search him, he hated that he didn’t go with him to the battle. Ever since they were boys, the two of them would always be there for each other, protecting each other from foes. As a young boy, Steve didn’t have the best life, but Bucky was always there to defend him and no one would dare harm a prince, those that dared to try normally ended up flat on their arse. When Bucky inherited the throne he gave Steve a title, land and with that came some long overdue respect. But inheriting the throne led to Bucky having to face harsher foes than just the local bullies and of course through every battle Steve was there, protecting his friend the same way Bucky had protected him for all those years before. This time it was different though, Bucky insisted that Steve stayed at the castle to keep an eye on Y/n, to protect her if anything happened to him in the battle. It worried him but he also understood Buckys reasoning so didn’t try to fight him on the matter.Steve spent days at a time searching the surrounding forests and mountains for any sign of the king's survival, only returning to the castle to check on the Queen, knowing she, like him, was struggling. But hers was for a different reason, he knew she was being pressured by her royal advisor, Lord Stark to re-marry and it pained Steve to admit it but Lord Stark had a point, their country was vulnerable without a king, Y/n was an excellent queen, there was no denying that but men from other lands failed to show her the respect she deserved without a king next to her. Steve knew Bucky was alive, he knew in his heart that he was alive,they were like brothers and he Steve was determined to find him.

Steve was riding through the woods on the border of the land, it was an area he hadn’t been to since the king first went missing. In the distance Steve saw another man on horseback, instantly his guard was up, prepared for the possibility of an attack. A few seconds passed and the figure started to become clearer but the man fell off his horse before Steve could make out any detail or features of the man. Steve dismounted his horse almost instantly and made his way over cautiously toward the man. As he got closer to the figure he noticed the all time familiar features of his best friend; his hair looked long and matter, his clothes were torn and he was covered in blood. Worry flooded over Steve’s face as he knelt down next to Bucky, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realised the blood wasn’t Buckys. Carefully he picked up the king's unconscious body and placed it on his own horse before bolting back to the castle.

~~~~~~~

A frustrated sigh left Y/ns lips as she entered her bedroom. She’d spent most of the day trying to calm the Lords who were getting more agitated by the day as well as dealing with the constant hints Lord Stark was making about finding a new suitor. She hated this. She hated being like this, passed around like she was a piece of meat to any king that would help the country. She knew in both her head and her heart that she would never remarry, if Bucky wasn’t found then she would rule the country alone like she had been doing with the hope that sooner or later the Lords would respect her the way they did Bucky. She all but collapsed on the bed she once shared with Bucky, her eyes slowly drifted shut as she got lost in the memories of her and Bucky. 

Y/n nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard someone burst through the door, to her relief though it was only Steve. However his boldness was something that caught her attention, normally Steve was such a gentleman and would always wait to be summoned into the room. 

“Steve? Are you okay?” She asked, confusion racing through her brain as her eyes scanned over Steve, searching for answers. 

“I found him,” those words were enough to have Y/n darting out of her bed and grabbing her robe before following Steve to the infirmary, a mixture of anxiety and relief filling her her thoughts. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When she first saw him in his bloodstained clothes, she instantly thought the worst. She thought he was dead. But when she saw his chest slowly rising and falling she felt relief wash over her. He was alive. All of those months of waiting for him and he was here. He was really here, back with her. Hours passed and Y/n was still sat by Bucky's side, not wanting to leave his side ever again, she never wanted to let him go ever again. A few more hours passed before Bucky's blue eyes slowly fluttered open. Shock and terror filled his eyes when he first opened them, until he saw Y/n's face, as soon as he saw her face he felt all of the pain and terror fade away. He slowly raised his hand to her face, trying to work out if he’d wandered into a dream, but this felt more real than any dream he’d had in the months that’d passed. 

“You’re safe, you’re home,” Y/n cooed, stroking some of the stray strands of hair away from his face. Her voice was  soft and sweet just like he remembered it and at her touch he felt like he was being brought back to life, like all the terrors of the past six months hadn’t happened. 

“You came back to me,” she soothed, caressing his face as she lightly placed her forehead against his. 

“Of course I did,” Bucky whispered, moving his head slightly to press a kiss onto her palm, “I had a promise to keep.”

(Credit to the gif owners)

Tag List: 

@sarcasticallywitty15 @abadamn @wiccanmetallicrose @little-diable @xacatapelsyx @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ @amythedvdhoarder @chrissquares​

[yourdeepestfathoms]

for anyone curious, my newest book is about the Salem Witch Trials! it’s at the point of view of Mary Warren and how she went through trials, ultimately ending in her downward spiral into madness as the trials deteriorate her mental health. it’s called Servant of Evil.

here’s the first segment of the first chapter!

— — —

She was gathering crops the first day she caught wind of the hysteria.

It was late January and sunny, the last warm day in what would soon feel like forever. The sickle in her hand was wickedly sharp and gleaming in pale yellow light, and the stalks of the corn she was cutting away were rough and sharp beneath calloused fingers. Already, the skin on her hands was shredded, oozing ruby droplets of blood and staining bright green stems. Her legs ached from crouching in the dirt, muscles locked up and tense. Somewhere beyond the pillars of corn stretched out before her, she could hear her master’s children talking in high-pitched voices, dogs barking, and horses neighing. Even closer than that, however, she could hear heavy footsteps tramping through the field, and she knew the owner of this land would not enjoy such galumphing through his crops. But she also knew that the one who appeared through the stalks wouldn’t care much for the fiery point of John Proctor’s scorn.

“Something weirdish is going on in Salem.”

Without looking up, Mary Warren answered the unexpected visitor, “Something is always going on in Salem.”

That much was true, at least right now. Salem was a town of rich trade and sea salt, characterized by a sparkling harbor that was bested only by Boston’s and a habit of fighting with itself. For years, Salem had been split between two forces: the nobles up in Salem Town and the farmers down in Salem Village. The two territories were never not fighting with each other; they were always mad about something the other did, and it was easy to lose track of who hated who and for what reason. Salem Village didn’t like the control Salem Town held over it, while Salem Town was annoyed by Salem Village thinking it was its own settlement, but they all detested the British church, which was mutual. Salem Town often pulled men from Salem Village to be a part of the national guard, which made Salem Village nervous because then they would have nobody to protect them, and Indian attacks were a regular fear throughout the civilization. Aside from its harbor, the other thing Salem had to owe to its popularity was its unfortunate position in front of frequent ambushes. And if it didn’t suffer ambushes first-hand, then it suffered ambushes through the survivors of such raids, many of which populated the city and would soon help with the grisly events that turned the community over on its head.

But the only other thing Salem Village and Salem Town could agree on was that the Indians were an issue. Unfortunately, that was where agreements ended and arguments began- Salem Town wanted more men to train, promising protection; Salem Village refusing, saying they knew how Salem Town lied, and if they didn’t, then they only saved them because of their bountiful trade and not because they were their people. It wouldn’t be long until the yelling broke out, testaments from the Bible were quoted, and grown men argued like two children fighting over who was their parents’ favorite kid.

However, Salem as a whole had fallen silent recently. Things were peaceful. It was as though a grace period were opening up before them all--or, perhaps, it was actually ending.

Except for right now, in the Proctor corn field, of course. Because her visitor would only bring silence if she were dead, and she had proved to be too slippery for death’s fingers three times over after surviving several Indian attacks throughout her young life.

“This is different.”

Wiping a sagging green sleeve over her damp brow, Mary looked up and squinted through sweat and sun to look at none other than the Putnam’s maid, Mercy Lewis.

Mercy was a fine example of everything the Puritans didn’t want. Despite her name’s sake, she was stubborn, brash, and spitfire, though she was smart enough to never act in such a way in front of the church. And she was, indeed, smart. She was more clever than a fox, easily outwitting several situations despite the minimal education women had in their lifetime. The only thing she was merciful to was her younger cousin, Ann Putnam Jr. Her parents were better off naming her Big, Loud, and Vulgar.

Mercy was nineteen-years-old, two years older than Mary, and built like a small bear. She was short, compact, and sinewy, her muscles and joints well-honed from rough maid work. Her temper was black and her teeth were sharp. Her curly dark brown hair was tucked up in her blindingly white bonnet, and she was dressed in a nondescript dress of purple. Storm cloud grey eyes bore down on Mary with bright amusement.

The two of them met three years ago in Elizabeth Proctor’s tavern. Mary had been struggling to wipe away a sticky stain on one of the tables; Mercy was looking for fresh meat. They both were in the right place at the right time.

Mary hadn’t heard her come in. It was as though the shadows of the tavern itself had unfolded the sixteen-year-old before her because she was suddenly there, towering over the front of the table, and Mary ended up spilling the bowl of soapy water she was using all over herself upon noticing her.

“My, are you jumpy,” the strange girl had observed, peering over the edge of the table. She didn’t offer Mary her help or even an apology. Mary didn’t ask for one. “Were your parents murdered by savages, too?”

“What?”

“Ooo, no, then. Got it.”

Mary blinked up at her for a moment, then carefully got up out of the sudsy puddle and retrieved a dry rag to clean up the newest mess. The entire time, the strange girl watched her as she dripped droplets and beads of white soap from the bottom of her old lavender dress.

“Can I help you?” Mary asked as she got back down on her hands and knees to clean the floor.

“Oh, no,” the strange girl answered. “I just came to say hello. Introduce myself. You work for the Proctor’s, yeah?”

“Yes,” Mary nodded.

“Interesting, interesting. I work for the Putnam’s. Thomas is my cousin, actually.”

Mary nodded again. She looked back down at the puddle, trying to focus on that. The girl didn’t move.

“Mercy.”

Mary looked back up again. She blinked. The strange girl blinked back. Was this a game?

“Pity.”

The girl stared at her for a moment, then burst into loud laughter that seemed to shake the walls. Mary was startled; she had never heard anyone laugh so hard in her entire life. Especially in a town as strict as Sakem.

“No, that’s my name,” the girl said after calming down. “My name is Mercy. Mercy Lewis.”

“Oh,” Mary’s ears heated up. “Right. Your parents were feeling pretty creative, weren’t they?”

Another bout of laughter. “Yes. Yes, they were.” She squinted at her. “And you are?”

“Mary. Mary Warren.”

“Well, Mary ‘Pity’ Warren, I think we are going to be very good friends.”

And she was right.

Mercy, as menacing as she could be, made life in Salem a lot more bearable, especially when Proctor’s whip frequently began lapping at Mary’s bare back. Together, they formed a cohort of sorts, sneaking away into the woods with other village girls, hiding away from the Lord’s watchful eyes to discuss the most sinful of things.

And today, Mercy wanted to carry on with their long-running traditions.

“Different in what way?” Mary asked.

Mercy rolled her eyes. She kicked a cloud of dust at Mary, and Mary sputtered, nearly falling backwards into the corn.

“Different-different,” Mercy answered. “Something is wrong with Abigail. Betty, too, I hear. We’re gonna go up to the Reverend’s house and see them. They’re ill, you know?”

“No,” Mary shook her head. “Mister Proctor didn’t tell me anything. They’re sick?”

“Yeah. Real sick. Ain’t wakin’ up. The Reverend has been throwin’ a huge fit over them.” Mercy explained, “I’m surprised you never heard him howlin’!” Then, doing a horrible imitation of Reverend Samuel Parris’s voice, she wailed, “Oh Betty, Betty! Wake, my sweet daughter! Wake! Why won’t you wake?!”

She clung to Mary’s arm dramatically. “God! God! Why have you forsaken me?! What have you struck my little girls with?!”

Mary couldn’t help but giggle softly. Still, her mind was made up on the whole ordeal.

“Tell them my pardons and prayers,” she said, grabbing the fallen sickle. “My master said I gotta tend to the crops. Then I can go to town. But I am not spendin’ my free time meddlin’ in someone else’s affairs.”

Mercy groaned loudly and snatched the sickle away from Mary, making her yelp.

“Live a little, will ya? Let’s go see poor Abby and Betty!” Mercy urged. “To Hell with your master right now. You can’t let him lead you around by a leash all the time. Deal with the consequences later. Let’s go!”

Mary stared into the older girl’s eyes and then sighed, giving in. She stood up- Mercy was taller than her, as she always had been. “Lead on, Mercy.”

Mercy brightened.

Together, the two of them snuck out of the Proctor property, careful as to not get caught by one of the many children roaming the plantation.

Technically, the Proctor’s had eighteen children, though four were dead and eleven were brought forth by two different women, both of which had also passed over the seasons. The only living child of John Proctor’s first wife, Martha Giddens, was Benjamin, a tall, lanky man who could never seem to grow a beard, yet had hair down to his shoulders. He was thirty-three and didn’t talk to Mary very often, but when he did, he greatly critiqued her work in the field. That farm was his pride and joy, and it was a challenge to not roll her eyes when he would go on about the importance of their crops and proper plant care.

Elizabeth II was the second oldest at twenty-nine, and helped Elizabeth Proctor run the tavern with her other siblings: Martha IV, twenty-six (the first two Martha’s had died when they were both infants, along with the woman they were named after); Mary II, twenty-five; John II, twenty-four; Mary III, twenty-three; and Thorndike, twenty. Why Proctor decided to have TWO daughters named Mary was beyond Mary herself, but it wasn’t uncommon for things to become confusing when their name was shouted for whatever reason.

Elizabeth Proctor’s children stayed on the farm, helping clean and take care of the livestock: William, eighteen; Sarah fifteen; Samuel, seven; Elisha, five; Abigail, three; and Joseph, one. Mercy often made jokes that Elizabeth had obviously been the one to name the kids, as they were actually creative and not repeating several times over.

But with so many watchmen on the property, Mary was surprised about how easy it was to slip away unseen.

The road was loose and crunched loudly beneath their footfalls. Mercy kept kicking a rock, and Mary watched it bounce across the ground.

“So, what’s wrong with Betty and Abby?” Mary asked.

Mercy smirked widely.

“There be witches about, Mary.”

[razorblade180]

Shackles 11: Resolve

[part 10]

“Anymore?” That’s all Ilia could think to say in the windswept desert, surrounded by wounded escapees and the guards she struck down. Ilia looked to her left to see Yang tend to Adam’s wounds as best as possible with the supplies they had. “Should we expect anymore to come out? There’s…less than I expected.”

“Other than Blake and Jacquelyn, I couldn’t say. Right now I’m worried about whether any one of us can make a trip to Vacou in this condition.”

“I handled that already. Right now I’m more concerned about-” a tremor cut her off. The entrance of the mine shaft began crumbling as Blake and Jacquelyn ran out. The maiden raised her foot and stomped the ground again, causing another tremble that closed the entrance with rubble.

Jacquelyn looked at her handy work briefly while she brought her hands together to pray. “It’s not a proper burial, but it’s the best I could offer. Forgive me.” She gave a moment of silence before running off to Adam. Beside him was a girl she didn’t recognize and Yang. “How is he!?”

“Breathing, but that’s about all I can say. I did stop some bleeding. In this situation though…”

“I got it…” Jacquelyn uttered. She sat by his side quietly and took his hand. It was faint but she could feel him gently squeeze back. “Hang on a little longer okay?” Her eyes watered. Unsure of what to do or feel, Jasmine remained speechless.

Yang stood up and gave them space. Truthfully she didn’t think she could watch Jacquelyn cry. Something about it…hit a little close to home. Despite her personal feelings, Yang hoped for the best. Her eyes spotted Blake standing apart from everyone else. Yang approached without hesitation but was shocked whenever she tried reaching out and Blake moved away; not even looking her way.

“Blake? Hey, what’s wrong?” She waited patiently but didn’t get a response. “Blake, you're scaring me a little. What happened?”

“I…I just…” Blake dropped to her knees and covered her mouth. She could that pit in her stomach start churning as she did her best to keep calm. She could still feel it. The pounding in her chest and the adrenaline that made her shake violently. Next thing she knew Yang had was holding her while Blake struggled to breathe.

“Blake!? Blake what’s wrong!? Ilia! Something is wrong!”

“What!?” She came rushing over and saw Blake on the ground, her pupils extremely cat-like. “She’s hyperventilating! Blake you gotta calm down! Look at me. Deep breaths.”

Try as she might, Blake couldn’t. Her senses felt heightened beyond anything she’s ever felt. The cries of friends became muffled and their tearful expressions blurred. Blake once again found herself fading into darkness.

xxxx

Blake couldn’t understand what was happening to her or how long it lasted. As quickly as the darkness came, there was light again. However, it wasn’t sun light; and she wasn’t on the sand. Blake was staring up at the ceiling. A quick head tilt told her all she needed. Blake in a hospital, Menagerie’s hospital. Wait…

Blake sprung up. “How’d I get here!?” She looked at her to see an IV drip connected. She was about to take it out when the door opened. Blake gasped to see her father walk in. He was just as surprised to see her awake.

“Blake!” He ran over and gave her a hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay!”

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

“Me? I should be the one asking you that. At least…that’s what I would say if Sun hadn’t filled in your mother and I when we returned.” Ghira finally stopped hugging but grabbed his daughter’s shoulders. “Blake, how could you not tell us something so important?”

Blake’s eyes softened with guilt. “It’s not as if I didn’t trust you. It was just…a lot to process. I’m still processing. Ugh, my shoulders.”

Ghira let go. “Sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“No, it’s not you. My entire body feels like lead. What happened to me? How am I back here?”

Her father sat by her side and stroked his beard. “Well for starters the doctors say you had a severe panic attack. As for how you’re here, you arrived by airship flown by Ilia; along with several other ships with more of Sun’s friends.

So that was it. Sun or Ilia must’ve told the rest of team SSSN ahead of time to be ready with evacuation. It was pretty ridiculous that asking for their help didn’t even cross her mind.

“You’re not all they brought. There were few others. The ones that didn’t need immediate help or couldn’t manage in Vacou. Unfortunately… some didn’t survive.”

The pit in her stomach came back again. “I see. Guess it would’ve been wishful thinking to assume otherwise.” Blake gripped her knees and shut her eyes. No need to beat around the bush. “Where’s Adam?”

“He’s in intensive care, underwatch.”

“Take me to him.”

“Blake you need to-”

“I’ll search every room, so just tell me.” Blake removed the IV drip and proceeded to leave. Ghira didn’t think twice following behind her. He didn’t even know why she asked for help. Blake was heading in the obvious direction. Where the noise was loudest.

Way down the hall near the back of the hospital had many empty rooms. Menagerie typically never reached close to max capacity, so the fact several rooms had wound in it at all was a shock. The furthest room was surrounded by guards . The only thing in their way being Yang.

One guard in particular, a man with a faded scar on his right eye, confronted the blonde. “For the hundredth time, step aside.”

“You know I would’ve thought the third time I said no would be enough to get the point across. Ninety seven more times feels obsessive.”

“Ma’am if you continue this behavior then-”

Blake called the guard’s “Saber!” They all turned to the approaching leader and former leader. “What’s this about?”

“Blake! You scared me half to death!”

“Madam, your friend refuses to let us in and restrain the terrorist.”

“Restrain? He couldn’t even see last time I saw him. I’m shocked he made it on life support.”

“Be that as it may, he’s far too dangerous to be left unrestrained. Once he no longer needs treatment he will be locked up and tried-”

“He’s not going to jail.” Blake said calmly. No surprise that everyone looked at her like she said something crazy. By all means it was. “The world thinks he’s dead. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Keep it that way? He’s wanted everywhere; terrorized everywhere! We can’t simply keep that under wraps Mrs. Belladonna.”

“Said who?” Blake challenged, standing up straight. “The world already has its story and as far as I’m concerned, it’s pound of flesh as well. That hell we found him in was worse than anything a judge could pass onto him. Besides, people would get unrest learning he’s alive after everything that happened.”

“That doesn’t change anything! His name causes panic and discourse regardless if people think he’s dead. All the lives he’s uprooted, the divide. A beating-”

“Saber.” Blake’s voice cut through the air like her blade, demanding attention. “Do not try to preach to me about the people he’s hurt. I’m well aware.”

“That’s…I didn’t…” Saber bit his tongue. Yang put her hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Take it from me, you’re not going to persuade her.”

Blake walked to the door and faced all the guards. Their mixed emotions plain to see and obvious frustration. “All of you have protected the people and my family more times than I can count. You’re always dependable. I trust you. However, I can’t just ask you to keep this a secret; I’m ordering you to, as High Leader. Wash your hands of it completely.

Saber and others were stunned. “You can’t…Ghira, you’re just going to let her do that!? That’s a blatant abuse of power!”

“Calm down Saber. It’s true that I would never use status like this and I would advise my daughter to tread lightly with that title, but I have no more power than you here. Let’s all just…discuss the details later. For now I don’t see the point in alarming everyone about our…our patient.”

“Your patient, not mine or the guards.” Saber and the guards began to take their leave. “But we will not say a word, per the High Leader’s orders. However, I expect that man to be in one of our cells discreetly. Once he heals of course. Discussing his fate means nothing right now.”

Blake kept any remarks she had about that condition, choosing to bow instead. “I appreciate your cooperation.” She rose, not expecting a reply. “Yang, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I was only around in the first place because I wanted a check up.” Yang rubbed her stomach. “Looks like stubbornness runs in the family. Doctor says the little spitfire is perfectly fine. Embers are burning strong.”

“I’m glad to hear, honestly. Heh…Ember, that’s a good name.”

Yang chuckled. “Meh, too on the nose. But…I’ll give it thought. Sun was here earlier by the way. He took Jacquelyn to your home with Ilia. Those two weren’t exactly happy with the guards. Not to guilt trip you but Sun has been doing a lot without question. Love or not, you owe him.”

“She most certainly does.” Ghira piped up. “Your mother didn’t take the news well.”

Blake winced. Yang patted her back to offer any comfort. She never saw Kali angry before but if she was anything like Blake was on that mineshaft, then Sun was a real trooper. “Listen Blake, try to slow down for a while. For everyone’s sake.”

“I…sigh, yeah.”

“Good. Hate to tell you but I think I’m at the end of my rope. I’m spent.”

Blake frowned. It made sense, but it still hurt to hear. “I take it you’re leaving then? Sorry this trip wasn’t anything it was meant to be.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Yang smiled, pulling Blake into a hug. “I made up with my ex. Be safe, okay?”

“…Sure thing.” Blake’s arms tightened the hug. Funny, was Yang always this warm? Blake couldn’t remember. Maybe it’s just been far too long since they felt comfortable with each other. “Let me know Jaune’s reaction.”

“Oh I’m recording it.” Yang let go and walked away. However, she felt the need to look back at Adam’s door. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think we rescued the person we fought at Argus, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re right. Still, I hope you prove me wrong.” Yang waved goodbye and left. Hope wasn’t something she had for the situation. Nevertheless, if Blake called, Yang would answer. And who knows? Crazier things have happened. It made her wonder…

“Hmmm, I should talk to mom again.”

Blake couldn’t explain why Yang’s words calmed her nerves but it did. She gave her loving father a glance. “I should‘ve told you and mom from the start. I’m sorry.”

“Sigh, I’m not upset. Not anymore; I feared this secret was quietly terrifying you; that him being out there would give you unrest. I never expected you to come to his defense.”

“Do you think I’m being stupid?”

“Sweetheart, of course not. There’s not a day that I have thought that. However, recklessness and naïveté, no one is immune to those.”

“Dad, you’ve taught there’s strength in forgiveness; that it is infinitely harder to believe a person can change after they crossed so many lines. I…I can’t go around preaching that to others around the world if I don’t at least try once, really try. So…” Ghira placed his hand on her. His calm expression and gentle eyes locked with her as he nodded ever so slightly. Blake grabbed his hand and nodded back. “Watch the door.”

“Oh you were never going to stop me from doing that.” He smiled.

Blake let go, finally going inside. The shades were tilted to let in a bit of light; the windows tightly locked. There he was, the center of all of this, laying in a hospital bed. Adam’s face wasn’t swollen anymore. Now it was only covered in red and purple bruises. Monitors beeped steadily and he was hooked up like she was, but with the addition of a nasal cannula. Blake took a seat to unwind.

“I know you’re awake.” She watched Adam’s head turn to her and smirk. The man opened his tired eyes. Right of the back, Blake understood what Yang meant. “Hey…”

“Hey. You look a little rough there Blake.”

“Like you’re in a position to say that?”

“Heh, I always look rough. Now I just feel it too. Gotta admit, I’m shocked I cheated death again. How’s Jackie?”

“Seething or crying most likely, but safe.”

Adam let out a sigh of relief, sinking into his bed. “Good. I thought I heard her earlier but I wasn’t sure.” He noticed how tense Blake looked. Her ears were alert and posture rigid. “I take it you want answers?”

“No shit! What the hell happened? The last time I saw you was when both of you took off in an airship. Had I known you two were planning to hide in Menagerie’s desert…”

“Her idea, not mine. Though I gotta admit that it was pretty solid for the most part. Up until now anyways.”

“That’s what I don’t get. Out the blue, people with an axe to grind come knocking on your door and-”

“They weren’t here for me.” Adam interjected, sitting up slowly. “Blake, Menagerie is ground zero for White Fang. They came looking for anyone they wrote off as a beast who needed correcting. Plans changed though once they found me.”

Blake’s eyes widened. That thought never crossed her mind but it made sense. Plenty of old White Fang members chose to stay here. If they saw Ilia as a beast then of course they would look here. It was only by coincidence that she was in Vacou helping.

“You’d be surprised how many people actually try sneaking onto the island from the desert. Most don’t last while others are more persistent. One day Jackie went off to town and that’s when they showed up. That had to have planned it because the timing was too perfect and the numbers were too heavy for infiltration. The house was surrounded and I was in bed.”

“They caught you off guard, of all people ?”

“Things have been quiet for years. I don’t go into town so yeah, I wasn’t expecting karama to open the door like it opened the place.”

“We were inside the house. There wasn’t a sign of a struggle whatsoever.”

“Because I went quietly.”

“Why!?” Blake stood up forcefully. “It makes no sense! You’d sooner die than let anyone capture you. I don’t care how many years it’s been.”

“…heh, you’re not wrong. Truthfully, I was ready to slaughter as many as possible. But…the house would’ve been obliterated; and Jackie would’ve come back to a literal dead beat. Did she tell you that she’s pregnant?”

“You knew!?” Blake gasped, “She said she didn’t tell you yet.”

“The house is only so big. Jackie is bad at hiding her feelings and items, like a pregnancy test. Even without it, things were obvious. I’m with her constantly.”

Blake took her seat again. Now things were fitting together. “You left to protect her.”

“More or less. I don’t know, that’s giving me too much credit. I did leave for her safety but also to keep myself alive a bit longer. I never doubted that she would look for me. Involving you though… I guess her pregnancy was more of a hurdle than I thought. Jackie never wants help.”

“She was a mess when I found her in my house.”

“Like I said, she doesn’t hide emotions well. So, I doubt I have to tell you anything else. You saw where I ended up. Is Sobek dead?”

Blake clicked her tongue and narrowed her eyes. “I can’t say. The mineshaft was sealed but that’s all I know, and we both know that no body doesn’t mean death. ”

“Hehehe.”

“How could you laugh at that!? It’s not funny. I’m so sick and tired of….ugh, I don’t even know what’s pissing me off anymore!” Blake put her head in her hands.”

“…Things would’ve been easier if I died that day, huh?”

“YES! I mean…no, I…what are you doing!? What’s the angle!? Why is everything connected to you just a spit in the face to me!?” Blake got up again, tears running like a river. “All things you’ve done to me, the bonds you tested, I should feel nothing but anger for what you’ve done to me; yet the day I learned you were still alive was a weight off my chest. I wanna tell myself I don’t care but even now I’m happy to see you actually speak to me in earnest. You didn’t believe in my dream, my beliefs, and this entire mess not only proved I’ve actually done nothing so far, but also that I’m clueless to what’s happening in my own home! Despite all that…I ran to you. Adam I killed for you. Sobek was made because of you and yet I felt anger deep inside I never had before. I was borderline feral! Yet here I am, upset at myself because I’m buying into every little prayer that I have about believing you are changing as a person and aren’t playing the two people in this world that actually want you alive!” Her lungs burned immensely.

Adam watched her eyes constrict and her body shook violently, yet just as Blake said, her eyes didn’t hold the rage he once had. They could never hold it. Adam bit down on his lip, straining his body to get out of bed. The stitches on him bled while his legs barely kept him up. Forgiveness was unthinkable to ask for. There wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t sound wrong or halfhearted. Still, saying nothing now was not an option.

“Blake…” he leaned forward, falling actually; gently onto Blake who caught him. “Thank you for having hope. As for that anger, it’s proof you’re different from me, Jacquelyn, Sobek, and anyone like us. Righteous fury, to truly be angry for someone else’s circumstance, it’s why people follow you; why they will continue to follow you. Why…I’ll follow you.”

Blake hadn’t realized it until now, but she was still trying to keep calm; to let the turmoil inside her subside, but now…she couldn’t. Not after that. Her legs gave, falling to the floor with Adam. The tears she thought were running free rushed out twice as hard as Blake audibly began to cry her heart out, gripping Adam’s clothes.

“Please…I’m begging you…” She sobbed heavily. “Let this be real.”

He finally put his arms around her, unsure of all his actions. “I swear.”

Words weren’t enough, but a foundation needed to start somewhere. Against many opinions, Blake chose to believe in his words. It was far too late to turn back now. The tidal wave of emotions that festered inside had finally run its course. Blake couldn’t say she felt better right now, but she didn’t feel worse. A small victory, but one nonetheless. All the tension Blake had made her fail to notice the rummaging outside the door. Suddenly it swung open, startling Blake to her feet. In just a single blink, a blur of black and white dashed behind Adam. It was the girl that was near him in the desert.

Ghira rushed in. “Sorry! I tried stopping her, but she barreled her way through.” He looked at the hospital gowned girl who growled and quivered behind Adam. “Do you…know this girl?”

“I guess you can say that. She was in the mines too.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that little one. If that’s the case then having you run around might be dangerous if you aren’t healthy.” Ghira took a step and the tiger faunus ducked behind Adam in fear, shaking. He took a couple steps back. “Poor child. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling right now. Does she…have a family?”

Adam was about to speak but small hands gripped his shirt. Jasmine made no effort to speak. She simply stood there, her eyes vacant and almost dead. She would’ve been nonexistent if not for the fact they were all looking right at her.

“Can she speak?” Ghira asked.

“She can, or at least could.” Adam reached for her. The child’s eyes softened slightly, her ears falling down when his hand rested on her head. Jasmine’s eyes shut tight and she began whimpering. Tears trickled down dark sunburned cheeks.”

“I can’t imagine what happened in that place, but it appears someone got attached.”

“She snuck past guards to speak to me several times. As well as stopped them all from branding me with another scar. Both her parents and her brother…didn’t make it.”

Blake could only ache for the child. To have lost so much so early on. It was clear to see why Adam would be drawn to her. “What’s her name?”

“It’s-”

“Sienna.” Jasmine said, breaking her silence and shocking everyone. “My name, it’s Sienna.” Her voice was meek and a bit dry. The lie came naturally, almost like instinct. However, it didn’t feel like a lie. Not to her, or to Adam. An unspoken acknowledgment happened when their eyes met, a sad truth and new reality. Back in the mineshaft in that cruel cell, there may have only been one body, but two people died there. A brother and sister that loved each other to the end. The girl he rescued was not the one who got imprisoned; nor would it ever be.

“That’s right.” Adam uttered, lamenting the deaths brought by his own past arrogance. “Her name is Sienna.”

[kyoonqs]

iluso amor ; second part.

↬ summary: Cora has always considered herself elusive, easy to bore and adventurous to the last fiber of her body. One day for no apparent reason, she appears in front of the manager of a globetrotting circus passing through the city where she is temporarily staying to fill her life with magic. Baekhyun, as serious as he is handsome, has no intention of playing a role other than on the main canvas of the circus. He decides to separate Cora from her life of fantasies created by her travels and sets out to show her reality as raw and cruel as he knows it. Or so he believes.

Will time run out too quickly before love and passion devour him and he decides to risk everything for a love that lasts… Forever?

↬ pairing: baekhyun x cora fem!reader.

↬ circus!au ; illusionist!baek x hitchhiker!oc ; strangers to lovers au!

↬ genre: fluff ; romance ; angst ; drama.

↬ length: 3.6 k words.

↬ tag list: @changshapatrol @spacebyuns @fluffyhunnie @soos-goddess @hoho-cham @shadoukiti @sunbyun21​ @mangobaek​ @suhotly​ @pororodks​ @bbhbae​ @blahblahblah-boo 

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, please let me know!

↬ masterlist.

Baekhyun was giving orders, simultaneously lending a hand to the circus men and Cora noticed the tense muscles in his arms as he loaded seats into the forklift and pulled the rope. At that moment she remembered that when he had left her alone, she had roamed the caravan from start to finish, only to find one of his whips on the bed. Despite seeing his conduct at the show, she couldn't help but feel threatened. It was then that she realized she had no courage to sleep in the trailer, not even on the couch.

–“Come on, let's go to bed.” The last vestiges of the dream vanished and Cora was immediately on guard. The darkness was absolute, she couldn't see anything. Most of the trucks were gone and the workers with them.

–“I have decided to sleep here.”

–“Outside? I don’t think so. In case you haven't noticed, you're shivering.” He was right. It wasn't cold when she had first stepped outside, but the temperature had dropped since then.

–“Take this as a friendly warning. I've barely slept in three days. First we had a storm and we almost lost the circus cover, then I had to make two trips. I’m not an easygoing person in the best of circumstances, but I’m even worse when I don’t sleep.” He raised the arm at her side and she hissed in alarm when she saw a whip twisted into his hand. Cora gasped when Baekhyun grabbed her arm and pulled Cora to her feet without putting up much resistance. He opened the door to the trailer and turned on the light, gently nudging her elbow to enter. Was it just Cora's imagination or had the inside of the trailer shrunk since she'd first seen it?

–“Please don't touch me again.”

–“I'm too tired to think of anything you imagine I can do to you, if that's what you're concerned about.” His words did not reassure her.

–“Why do you carry the whip everywhere? Are you threatening me?”

He muttered something under his breath, closed the door and walked over to the bed to sit down. He dropped the whip to the ground, but the handle still rested on his knee. She looked at him apprehensively.

On one hand, Cora had promised to continue her journey, he hadn't hurt her or anyone else but on the other, there was no doubt that he scared her. She wasn't very skilled at fighting, but she knew what to do when the time came necessary. She steeled herself.

–“I think we should clear things up. I want you to know that I will not be able to live with you if you keep intimidated me in this way.”

–“Intimidating you? What are you talking about?”. Her nervousness increased, but she forced herself to continue.

–“I guess you can't help it. It's probably because of the way you grew up, although it's not that I believed that story you told onstage. Your lack of sanity?”  She paused. “Because it's fake, right?”. 

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

–“Yes, of course it is,” she hastened to say. 

–“What I mean by intimidating, I mean your attitude and …” she took a deep breath, “that whip.”

–“What's the matter with it?”. Cora shut her eyes. With a wrinkle of her nose she bit her lip and took a deep breath before starting again.

–“If you have that kind of inclination, I would appreciate you telling me now instead of giving hints.”

–“What are you talking about?”. He continued to stare blankly at her, until she screamed in frustration.

–“For the love of God! If you intend to hit me for pleasure, tell me. Hey, Cora, I like to whip people for pleasure, and you're next on the list. At least I would know what's on your mind”. 

His eyebrows raised, “Would that make you feel better?” 

She nodded.

–“As you wish.” Baekhyun looked at her with sparkling eyes and repeated the same phrase she tried to dictate to him seconds ago. He excused himself saying he was going to shower, went into the bathroom and closed the door. Cora nibbled on her lower lip. That hadn't exactly gone as planned.

Baekhyun chuckled as the shower water poured onto his body. Cora had given him more fun in the past ten hours than he'd gotten in the entire year before. Or maybe even more. His life was normally a very serious matter. Laughter was a luxury he hadn't been able to afford very often. But it was only natural when he had spent his whole life chasing something.

He remembered her comment about a fetish...maybe? But it would have spoiled the fun if he had explained that he always carried a whip when he knew the workers had been drinking. 

Traveling circuses were like a war zone when it came to solving problems –they had to be prevented before they arose– and the sight of the whip was a very dissuasive measure to alleviate the temper of some.

Despite how much the last confrontation with the girl had amused him, he had a feeling that the fun would not last long. This year he was putting him to the test, first a promise made to the circus owner on his deathbed: to do one last tour with the circus, and second the challenges that came with navigating one, including Cora.

As he let the water run off the shampoo, he thought about his past. Baekhyun had known the circus since he was eight years old and one of them spent the summer touring the towns of the Spanish coast. He would never forget that afternoon when he had accompanied his father to make the profit tally of imported products to Korea and the noise of a crowd gathered on the avenue caught his attention. 

He remembered how after begging his mother to convince his father to take him to a show –  it had become his absolute dream to become a circus performer. This dream would seemingly collapse at 18 when his father gave him maturity lessons during summer vacation. After that he’d traveled with the circus to earn money, and then much later, in adulthood, when every few years he left his life behind and spent a few months on the road.

Baekhyun's character had been shaped by his father's wise sermons and his always astute observations about the world and how hard it was for a man to survive. A man had to work hard, take care of himself, and maintain his pride.

Circumstances had made him that way, a tough and stubborn man who lived by his own code with no illusions about himself. And Cora... she lived in a dream world created from travel and tourist places.

He wrapped a towel around his waist, grabbed another to dry his hair, and opened the bathroom door. Cora gulped when the bathroom door opened and he stepped out. While he dried his head with the towel, she took the opportunity to look carefully at what seemed a perfect body, with well-defined but not excessively toned muscles. Baekhyun possessed a broad chest and shoulders, hips considerably narrower than said shoulders and his abdomen was flat, hard. Her gaze followed the arrow of hair that started at the navel and continued under the towel. Suddenly, she felt heated as she wondered what it would be like below.

–“I'll drop the towel in five seconds.” He deprived her of the vision of his chest when he turned his back on her and headed for the bed.

She quickly grabbed some clean underwear and a faded Kyung Hee University t-shirt that she had found on the same couch, surely belonging to Baekhyun – and dashed into the bathroom, slamming the door. 

Twenty minutes later, she came out of the shower fresh with his shirt on. She had decided that it was preferable to wear this over the only nightgown she had, a tiny pink silk babydoll with lots of lace that her aunt had given her in case she "conquered" European men.

He slept on his back, the sheet covering his bare hips. It wasn’t right to look at a person while they were sleeping, but she couldn't stop doing it. She walked to the foot of the bed and watched him, looking up from his abdomen to his chest to admire the perfect symmetry of the male torso. Asleep, he didn't look the same. 

Cora's hands tingled with the urge to caress his cheeks and comb his hair. She didn't understand how it was the same man who had scared her to the point of wanting to bolt out of there, she wanted to understand what was going through his mind, she wanted to approach him and tell him that she wasn’t as dumb as she seemed. 

She stared at him for a few minutes more, swearing to herself that she would do her best to figure out and ease the weight on his shoulders. She lay back on the sofa and tried to fall asleep as soon as possible. Starting tomorrow, a new chapter of her life will begin.

–“Wake up, dulzura. We have a long day ahead of us.”

She rolled onto her stomach. He tugged on the sheet and Cora felt the cool air brush against the back of her bare thighs. She refused to move. If she did, she would have to face a new day. She buried her face deeper into the pillow. She felt a soft and warm hand rest in her hair, curling it back softly, clearing her face so that the Sun –which was barely peeking out– would illuminate her face. She rejoiced in the caress. Baekhyun was grinning widely but she missed it by putting up resistance to getting up.

Only when he pulled his hand away did she slowly open her eyes to see that he was already dressed and shaved at that unholy hour. Baekhyun glanced at her body, reminding her that she was actually practically naked under the sheet, just dressed in an old t-shirt of his and some rather compromising panties. When she realized it, she rolled onto her back and pulled the sheet up to cover herself with it.

–“We have almost three hours of travel ahead of us and we will be leaving in ten minutes. Get dressed and do something useful.” He turned away from her and went to the sink.

–“It's still night.” Cora and squinted at the gray morning light streaming through the dirty little windows.

–“It's almost six o'clock.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and raised the mug to his lips.

–“I'll stay in here while you drive.”

–“It’s illegal.” Baekhyun set the coffee cup on the table, then reached down to quickly pick up the clothes from the floor. He examined her critically and handed her a pair of jeans that had been hanging over the armrest of the chair.

Cora wanted to say something funny but was sure he would not be amused, so she reluctantly went to the bathroom. Ten minutes later she came out dressed and noticed that he was in front of the open kitchen cupboard, somewhat indecisive and it could even be said that a certain sadness claimed his face. She noticed that on the sink was an apple, a packaged cupcake, the last of the oatmeal frosts from the jar that contained them, and a recyclable bottle of what looked like yogurt.

–“Um... this morning you can eat whatever you want, you don't have many options but I know you can satisfy your stomach with this. From the next purchase we’ll have to divide the food between us. The circus is beautiful but it doesn’t leave much profit.” It was the first time she had heard him so dejected, almost regretful and that confirmed Cora's suspicion: his gruff behavior possessed a reason so she would try her best to not be another burden. She just hoped that Baekhyun would build the confidence to share his troubles.

She murmured a "thank you" as soft and delicate as she could when he stepped past her, scratching the back of his neck as if the situation had made him more uncomfortable than it should. She decided that from now on, she would try not to feel scared in front of him and that she would be the strong woman her mother had instilled in her to be.

They barely spoke during the first hour of travel. Since he hadn't given her enough time to get ready, Cora had to finish “putting on makeup” –she was only able to apply lip balm and blush– in the truck and comb her hair as best she could despite the bumps on the road, holding her hair in a high ponytail which she braided first then decorated at the end with a patterned fabric bow. Baekhyun observed her as much as he could from the corner of his eye, avoiding a smile that would give him away and enjoying how her hair twisted when she moved her fingers from side to side. He thought that with her washed face she looked prettier than the day before. The shadows in her eyes distracted from the color and spark they possessed and the lipstick widened her lips to the point that they appeared be swollen.

Around mid-morning, Baekhyun bought orange juice, some cereal bars and two packaged sandwiches. He stopped the truck in a place decorated with flags and logs cut to a length that suggested they were to be used for seating. After eating, Cora went to the bathroom and tried to find money with which she could return the favor to Baekhyun, but she only found some coupons from a previous job and some tokens for the spreading machine. 

When she came out she realized two things: one, an attractive waitress was flirting with Baekhyun and two, he was doing absolutely nothing to discourage her.

Cora watched him tilt his head and smile at something the girl had said. She experienced a twinge of jealousy as he seemed to be enjoying the waitress's company more than her own. She made up her mind to ignore what was happening but then it came to her recollection she’d never explicitly let on to having feelings for Baekhyun. Cora feared that if she came on too strongly, crossed barriers he wasn’t ready to do away with just yet, she’d never have the opportunity to get closer. Though he had been fairly hospitable, there was always an air of reluctance that clouded his every  interaction with her, a sort of underlying anxiety she couldn’t quite place. With resignation, she straightened her shoulders and approached the table where she gave the clerk her most radiant smile.

–“Thank you very much for keeping this dulzura company. Most of the time, he doesn’t like talking.” The waitress seemed somewhat surprised by Cora's friendly demeanor. She then lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “It was very kind of her, wasn't it, mi amor?”. 

Baekhyun choked on his coffee. She leaned in to pat him on the back while giving the girl a beaming smile.

Controlling his cough, he stood up from the table with an expression even angrier than was usual for him. Before he had a chance to open his mouth, Cora reached out and brought it to her lips so he wouldn't say anything. He looked at her like he was going to strangle her, but he just tossed several bills on the table and shoved her out of the restaurant.

–“Are you going to get mad about a little joke? Haven't you gotten used to clowns yet?” Cora's shoes slipped on the gravel as he dragged her toward the truck and the ugly trailer.

–“I already told you, you’re the grumpiest man I have ever met. And it doesn't suit you, not at all, Baekhyun. Let me tell you something, I was right, you look much more handsome smiling.”

He halted in his tracks and although she hoped he would say something to her, perhaps return the compliment, he continued his accelerated march to the truck. Disappointed, she grabbed the door handle, pulled and seated herself on the passenger side. Moments later they were back on the road.

The morning was sunny. The warm air coming in through the ajar window was not yet suffocating. Cora couldn't find any reason for him to sulk on such a perfect and beautiful morning, so she finally broke the silence. 

So far Baekhyun had been cooperative, he had commented that they were going to Fraga, they would spend two nights there and then they would continue traveling through the rest of Huesca. They had 4 months ahead of it, a life of trips and tours that were only missed once the season was over, exhausting but full of colors and renewed illusions in the face of each person who made up the audience during their performances. She wished they’d already given a place in the show. She still had little clue as to what she would have to go through first.

–“This will be the last season of the circus. So we will put in our best efforts. The owner passed away at the beginning of the year and his wife, Algeria, has inherited the circus and has put it up for sale.” He said, pressing his lips together almost imperceptibly. Cora noticed anyway. 

–“Have you been at the circus a long time?” she asked, determined to find out more about him.

–“I go and come. I traveled with the circus from my teenage years until I was twenty. Since then I’ve come and gone.” She took the time to appreciate him better than she could the night before, surprised that he was speaking so "openly" and that he wasn't growling in the middle of her questioning. 

The questions didn’t stop there, Cora would take her time asking him as much as she could but she had been somewhat disappointed when he didn't ask her any in return. Suddenly she remembered that she was there for work and decided to inform Baekhyun that she had never set foot in a job as artistic as the circus.

–“I just wanted to say that I don't know anything about the circus world.”

–“You'll learn. Gael, the guy who normally runs the locker, has to be away for a couple of days. You’ll be taking his place until he returns, and then you can join the show. We open the function with the parade presentation. Later we can look for the act you’ll be joining.”

She only made an approving sound. For now she was only counting the moles that were spread evenly and in isolation from his face to his ears and even fingers.

They continued traveling several miles in silence while she pondered what he had told her. But it was what he hadn’t said that worried her the most. Unknown to her, the word "love" –amor as she had called him in front of the waitress– had been bouncing around inside his skull. Baekhyun had been thinking that perhaps Cora wasn’t as empty-headed as he initially believed and perhaps he liked the nickname more than he expected.

↬ author’s note: today's chapter has been a little longer, hope you enjoy it! as you know, any feedback is welcome ♡ and must tell you something important, pay attention to the small details, they will play an important role in the plot! last but not least, thanks to Oliv for her help and time invested in helping me get each part correctly narrated.

[jenonctcity]

Charia Kingdom - Masterlist

An NCT Dream Fantasy Series.

Charia Kingdom - A place that has equal amounts of sunshine and rain, hot and cold, rich and poor, and, humans and creatures that couldn’t be identified as that of human status. Ruled by the Lee family with a king whose cutthroat and unforgiving nature is feared by many. The poor not cared for by people who have everything, where disease takes the lives of those unfortunate enough to not have the funds to purchase medicine. A place where humans live among  creatures many would find terrifying. It’s no secret that Vampires, Werewolves, Wizards, etc live amongst them like normal people. Unless you murder someone, you’re considered normal. Everyone lives their own lives, whether it be a happy life, or a sorrowful life...

Mark Lee - Born into a family of renowned witches and wizards, there came a time for Mark to fly the nest. The nest being their comfortable home in the middle of the bustling kingdom. After the death of the castle’s witch, 17 year old Mark was brought in to take her place. He lives up to his family’s name and has impressed the royal family with his natural talents. Now 20 years old with the trust of the royal family and kingdom, shy, quiet Mark is given a new obstacle when a new maid is brought to work alongside him in the castle. Granted she’s mostly there to clean up his mess, but he finds she plays a much bigger role in his life than just that. With the new light in his life, Mark faces a new task at hand. Keeping her safe from the horrors of the castle. 

Perils Brewing - [S], [A], [F]

Huang Renjun - Being chased from the royal family’s castle at the age of 16 was never something Renjun hoped for when he was growing up. Having lived in the castle since his birth, his mother, the castles witch, raised him alone. After finding out a huge secret and confronting the king, the king has Renjun’s mother killed, leading Renjun to use the dark powers he never knew he had to curse the Prince of the kingdom. After a bounty is put on his head for his crimes, he lives his life on the run, burrowing away in a cabin far out in the depths of the dangerous forest. A place where many lethal creatures live. Now 19, Renjun has lived in solitude for 3 years, and never expected a girl to break into his home in the dead of night. The girl he encounters is on the run herself, but refuses to tell him why. The stubborn, mentally strong, and brave girl persaudes him to let her stay with him. Can he live alongside another being when he’s still got dark magic flowing through his veins and a huge secret heavy in his heart?

Running From The Dark - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Jeno - Being the crown prince of Charia Kingdom was never something that worried Jeno. He was raised by his mother to smile when talked to, and to have a kind heart so that he would rule the kingdom differently to how his father had. At 16, he’s unexpectedly hit by a powerful curse after hearing a ruckus going on in the echoing halls of the castle. It flips his life around, his new status as a werewolf being a challenge he hates with all his heart. It turned the kingdoms sweetheart into an angry, brooding boy. Now 19, Jeno has learned how to control when he phases with the help of the remedies Mark brews for him. The only thing he can’t control is bursting into a gigantic wolf every time a negative emotion takes over his mind. No one apart from the workers of the castle know that he’s a wolf, it being kept a secret from the public. He runs in the forest in his wolf form calm him down, until he comes face to face with a rogue wolf who threatens his life with her piercing glare. After imprinting on each other, Jeno has to learn how to balance his new love, his duties as prince, his burning rage, and a secret that is revealed to him that changes his life once again. 

Stepping Into The Moonlight - [S], [A], [F]

Lee Donghyuck - Donghyuck the cheeky, charismatic boy who wasn't born a demon. As a human Donghyuck was known for his greed and crimes. So when he died at the age of 19, Satan offered him an eternal life in exchange for completing tasks. At the age of 79 he was banished from hell for failing to take the life of someone he decided upon himself didn't deserve to die. For his sin, as punishment he was sent to live on earth forever. Being immortal and watching people you make connections with die from illness, old age, or suicide was a far bigger punishment than dying. Currently 128 years old, he’s seen many of his peers around him die in many ways, and every time it happens it chips away at his sanity and positive attitude. He swore never to fall in love, but upon meeting the princess of Charia, he can’t keep away from her. After falling in love with her, it’s becoming more likely that she will be ripped away from him sooner rather than later. With his emotions flipping completely, can he manage to stop himself from sinning to save the woman he loves?

Coming Soon...

Na Jaemin - At the age of 19, Jaemin was brutally beaten by a knight of the royal family and left for dead. He was found by a creature of the night and turned into a blood craving vampire. Many years later, he’s now 210 years old and lives life one day at a time. He’s rather peaceful for a murderous creature, only being considered dangerous when he’s starved of the only thing he needs; blood. Before his death, he was an orphan, abandoned with only a pile of letters telling him of his true heritage. Something that’s always planted in the back of his mind. After hunting one night, he hears screams coming from the kingdoms small hospital. There he finds a nurse being attacked by a patient. After defusing the attack, he has no other choice but to help the wounded nurse, not being able to leave her there half dead as he was once before. The addicting scent of her makes him keep her around despite the danger that he poses to her by having her in his home. He finds himself doing something he never would have dreamed of doing to keep her around. After finding out about his true heritage, she changes, for the good or bad? Will this be a love story, or a tragedy?

Coming Soon...

Zhong Chenle - Born as an angel in heaven, Chenle had always been obsessed over how humans lived on earth. But forbidden to step foot on earth he had to always watch from above. Turning 18 he decided to take a risk. A risk that lead him to be ripped from his family, forced to live his life on earth like a mortal human. He has his halo taken from him, but is plagued by the wings that have a heavier feeling on his back than what they used to in heaven. Living the life he always wanted, he’s a happy soul, rarely being sad even if he can’t leave the house as much as he would like. His wings are hard to conceal, and with fallen angel’s being a more than rare thing, he’s scared he will be killed for his wings. You’d think if he was killed he would go to back heaven right? Wrong. After being thrown to earth, he had no means of survival other than stealing to stay alive. One night he meets the hyperactive, bubbly girl who works in the local bookstore. A friendship immediately occurs between the two. He soon finds himself falling for the girl and has hopes of living the normal life he always wanted. As he gets used to living as a human does, will life pan out the way sweet Chenle wants?

Coming Soon...

Park Jisung - In human form, Jisung looks like the worlds softest boy. His shy, slightly awkward persona often tricks people into thinking that he couldn’t even fight off a new-born baby. So why has the royal family put this lanky, slender 17 year old boy in front of the castles main gate as its protector when the rumours are that a terrifying dragon is the guarder of the castle. Well, something not many people know about the boy is that he’s a dragon hybrid. And can turn into an overwhelmingly huge dragon that has even the bravest of knights quivering in their chain mail. So far no one has ever gotten past the boy, and he intends on keeping it that way. So when a girl who looks around the same age as him slips past him and is found stealing from the castle, he’s not too impressed. She’s locked away in the dungeon, and the curious boy has to meet the only person to ever get past him. She’s sentenced to death but after pleading with his friend Prince Jeno, her crimes are pardoned, but only if Jisung keeps her with him as his assistant. He encourages her to change her thieving ways, but will he ever be able to change the hard-headed girl he argues with daily? What if you add strange feelings of love into the mix and a promise that one of them doesn't intend on keeping?

Coming Soon...

(A/N: Hi! I’m so excited to for this series I hope you enjoyed the teasers! whose are you most looking forward to? I worked really, really hard on these so please let me know your thoughts and give it loads of love! Also as all of this series hasn't been written yet, things may change in the plots and summaries but it shouldn't be anything too drastic. Also this series will contain smut, angst and fluff. Obviously no smut for Chenle and Jisung, and each story will get warnings and categories marked on them when they’re published.)

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 14: A Life For A Life

(from ‘The Conman and the Maid’ Series)

…in which Y/N takes a life and saves a life.

Word count: 7.7k

AU: princess!y/n, conman!harry, prisoner!harry.

Series description: Y/N is a princess and Harry is a prisoner in her castle. With his help, she escapes from her arranged marriage in search of a happy ending, if there is one.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N)

Warning: character’s death, gore, violence

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Two Isolde guards grabbed Egon, twisted his arms behind his back and forced him down onto his knees. Another one stabbed Jo’s murderer from behind. His body stumbled forward before collapsing right beside Jo’s. Dead. More screams erupted from the crowd of courtiers, but all Y/N could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

These weren’t Isolde guards; they were Attwell’s men in disguise. And this was all a part of the Bastard Prince’s plan to assassinate his brother and soon, Egon. If that was the case, then there was no chance for Y/N to walk out of here alive.

“The throne room has been secured by Attwell guards,” Lance announced, taking in every frightened face before his grey eyes stopped at Y/N once again. “We are here for the tyrant and the rescue of Princess Y/N. I’m going to free you from tyranny, not imprison you. Those who are innocent shall not be harmed. Unless you try to defy us.”

Catching her breath, Y/N narrowed her eyes at him to silently question, ‘Why?’

Lance seemed to understand and yet did not answer. “Kill him.”

“Stop!” Y/N shouted. All eyes fell on her. Lance was frozen in his spot though there was no sign of astonishment on his face. She couldn’t figure out why such a kind-looking prince could murder his brother cold-bloodedly. But she could not criticize him for something she also would have done.

With all her courage, she marched toward Lance. His guards reached for their weapons, but he raised a hand for them to stay back and let her approach. She stood an arm’s length away from the prince, her voice lowered, “You are not going to kill my brother in our home.”

“I just saved your life, Princess,” Lance said coolly.

Y/N let out a mirthless laugh. “Don’t expect me to thank you. You are no better than him if you saved my life only to take my father’s throne.”

Lance considered her, his voice steady, “I’m here to kill the tyrant. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Really?” Y/N challenged. “Not even when I’m standing between you and my crown?”

The question had captured Lance’s full attention. His eyes squinted as though to ask her to explain. She lifted her chin and bent down to take the letter out of her boot. “This is my father’s letter,” she said, “in which he stated that I shall be the new ruler of Isolde. So if you want the crown, you’ll have to kill me.”

Lance didn’t speak. Y/N then beckoned to the Lord Chancellor who was trembling in the corner. “Lord Chancellor Callahan, would you please read this letter and confirm that it is from my father?”

“Y-Yes, Your Highness,” the old man said as he accepted the folded piece of paper with both hands.

The atmosphere in the throne room became heavy as the Lord Chancellor scrutinized King Willem’s letter. The stench of fresh blood hung in the air, sickening Y/N. She gripped her sword-hilt and refused to acknowledge Jo’s dead body lying on the floor. She would avenge her loyal friend. Even if it cost Y/N her life.

“This is,” proclaimed the Lord Chancellor, “indeed King Willem’s handwriting and signature.” The whisperings among the crowd grew louder. The old man stroked his beard as he looked over at Y/N. “That would make you the rightful heir to the throne, Princess Y/N.”

When her eyes met Lance’s once again, he composed and inclined his head. “Very well,” he said. “Then I shall leave the fate of the tyrant in your hand, future Queen of Isolde. I would not break my promise of becoming your ally.”

The indifference in his expression left her bewildered. Was he simply here to murder Egon and free the people of Isolde from her brother’s tyranny? What was he? A living saint? It was unthinkable that he’d gone through all this trouble to plan this assassination just to hand the crown back to her.

What were his real motives?

She was about to ask when suddenly Egon, who had been silent this whole time, raised his voice.

“Cheers to you, little sister.” He was smiling despite being held down by two Atwell’s guards. “Are you going to kill me now? Put me out of my misery?” His tone was full of mockery. “Remember. You will never escape the fate of our family. How do you think the people would react to their new Queen,” his gaze jumped to Lance, “who’s been assisted by the enemy to commit treason,” then back to Y/N, “murdered her own brother and stolen the crown.”

His words chilled her to the bone. She wished he would stop talking, but everything he said was based on facts.

“People won’t care if you are the heir Father chose, Y/N. You are weak. You are not meant to rule. It won’t be long until another one cast you down and our dynasty crumbles. If you believe in a prophecy told by a madwoman, then you are more a fool than a queen.”

“You believe in the prophecy,” she hissed, bending down to come face to face with her kneeling brother. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have kept Maggie alive after murdering her sisters. Admit it, Egon. You are afraid of me.”

Egon did not waver. “Is that what you tell yourself at night?”

Y/N balled her free hand into a fist as she straightened. She felt the whole room watching as she motioned for a guard to hand her his sword. Lance was the first to realize what she intended to do.

“Princess, don’t do it,” he implored. “Just have him executed and take the crown.”

She ignored him. He was, after all, a foreigner. She knew her people. They would never bend the knees if they couldn’t see her as a ruler. Her father might have passed the crown onto her, but it was she who had to show the people she’d earned it rightfully.

She tossed the weapon on to the floor and it slid toward where her brother was being held. His head jerked up as he shot her a tentative look.

“We’ll have a duel,” she declared.

The crowd gasped.

“Princess–” the Lord Chancellor interjected, but she raised a hand to silence him, her eyes fixed on her brother, who couldn’t seem more satisfied. She’d had him on his knees, but now she’d given him the chance to kill her.

“Just like Uncle and Father,” she said.

“The winner takes Isolde,” Egon stated.

“Not only Isolde.” She shook her head. “But also the other’s life.”

“Princess, this is absurd!” Lance cried out and his men unintelligibly agreed.

Y/N cast him a pointed look. “I don’t know who you are and why you’re doing this, but I can condemn you for invading the nobility of the Isolde court. If you wish to preserve the alliance between your kingdom and mine, I suggest you do not speak up. This is our land. We go by our rules.”

Lance didn’t break their gaze, and Y/N found herself trying to convey through her eyes that she wanted him to trust her. He then released a heavy breath and ordered his men to release Egon.

“Pick up the sword,” Y/N commanded. Her brother growled as he got up to his feet, almost losing balance on his wounded leg.

“With all due respect, Princess,” spoke the Lord Chancellor. “King Egon is the best swordsman in the royal court. I cannot stand by and watch you risk your life now that you are the rightful ruler of Isolde. King Willem would not approve of this.”

“If you accept me as your new ruler,” Y/N said, “the first thing you should do is believe in me.”

Her command silenced the Lord Chancellor. He reluctantly bowed and stepped back.

Wiping the blade with his sleeve, Egon said, “It’s not fair that you’re requesting a duel with a wounded man, sister.”

“You’re wounded. I’m wearing a dress. We’re both at a disadvantage, aren’t we?” She cocked her head. “Now, should we take this outside?”

“It’s snowing,” Egon said.

“Good,” Y/N replied. “Just like old times.”

.

.

.

When Harry arrived at the home of the witch sisters, he was shocked to see that what had been a beautiful cottage was now ashes and burnt wood. He dismounted Lightning in the shade of a tree and asked Kenny, his companion, to stay right there. Stubborn and curious, Kenny got off the mare and followed him toward the ruins of the house.

“What do you think happened here?” she asked.

“Egon’s men,” Harry said with no further explanation.

“Do you think these sisters had something to do with the prophecy about Y/N?”

“Possibly,” he sighed. “Come on. We better get going. Hopefully, we’ll reach Stefan’s village before it gets dark.”

The two returned to their horse. Harry was helping Kenny vault Lightning’s back when he was greeted with a swift blow to the back of his legs. He cried out in pain as he came down on his hands and knees. Lightning neighed loudly to frighten Harry’s attacker, gaining just enough time for him to get back to his feet and draw his sword.

He froze when he recognized the person.

“Mary?”

Half of her face was severely burnt, but Harry would never forget the one who’d given him love potion so he would sleep with her.

“Harry, are you okay?” cried Kenny, snapping him back to reality.

“I’m okay,” he told her without breaking his gaze with Mary. The maiden was holding a wooden board above her head. She looked like she’d lost her mind. “Put that thing down, Mary,” he cautioned while extending a hand toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Mary recoiled like a scared animal. Something told him her sisters were both dead and somehow she’d survived. He wasn’t sure if she recognized him.

Suddenly, she asked, “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“The princess.” Mary’s eyes darted around, her breathing quickened. “Your lover. She did this. She did this to us!”

“Y/N...burnt down your house?” Harry arched both eyebrows in disbelief.

Mary shook her head. She was calmer than before, even though she was still scared. “Her brother did,” she said. “His men came. If it weren’t for her, my sisters would still be alive!”

Harry regarded Mary for a moment before he slowly lowered his sword. To his surprise, she did the same with the wooden board. She let it fall to the ground and jerked back when he tried to reach for her arm. He quickly held up both hands to let her know he meant no harm.

“I’m sorry about your sisters,” he said. “But Y/N didn’t want this to happen. She’s–”

“You’re defending her because you love her!” Mary shouted. “My sisters called her the saviour but what has she done for us? She’s not a saviour! People die left and right for her and she’s now safe in the North castle with her tyrant brother!”

“Mary–”

“I just...I just want to be normal! I didn’t get to choose! I wanted you for myself, but I had to give you to her. Now I’ve lost my sisters to her as well. I want her dea–”

An arrow whooshed right past them and stuck into the trunk of the tree next to Lightning. The animal reared up on her hind legs, tossing Kenny right off her back, and before Harry could react, Kenny screamed, “Harry, behind you!”

He jumped just in time to dodge the blade of a sword. The bushes rustled, and Mary disappeared into the wood, leaving them to deal with the attacker. A man dressed in a black cloak.

He advanced toward Harry and raised his blade above his head. Harry rolled to the side. The sword thrust into the dirt. He leapt back to his feet and swung his sword, but Black Cloak was fast enough to block the blade. The villain kept attacking and Harry kept deflecting the blows. Harry might be quicker, but his weapon was no match for his opponent’s. He recognized the symbol on the blade. It belonged to the Isolde court. This man served Egon. He must be here to make sure none of the sisters had survived.

Harry could not strike back with his stubby sword, not even once, so he tried to buy himself time, hoping he would exhaust his opponent before himself. Just as his hands were getting numb, he heard galloping and whipped his head to find Lightning charging forward. The mare kicked Black Cloak with full force, sending his massive body sliding across the dirt and slamming into a tree, his sword in the opposite direction.

Harry fetched the heavy weapon as fast as he could and pointed it at the defeated opponent. Groaning, Black Cloak pushed himself up to sit against the trunk of the tree. His hood fell off, revealing an ugly scarred face. It looked like he’d been attacked by a jungle cat.

Harry took a moment to recall what had happened to Y/N at the market. How she’d been beaten by a man in a black cloak. She’d scratched his face before he could squeeze the life out of her.

“You...” Harry hissed, the tip of his sword pointing at the man’s heart. “You tried to kill her.”

“Prince Egon’s command,” said Black Cloak, giving a half-smile. “I was just going to bring her back alive.”

“Wait, I know you!” Kenny limped toward them and stood behind Harry, peering around his arm. “I know him, Crow. I’ve seen him a few times when my mother used to work in Theros court. He used to be a courtier. He betrayed the Queen!”

Harry’s chest burnt with rage as realization hit him. “You killed the king, didn’t you? Everyone wanted to believe the North did it. They did not suspect the murderer to be an insider.”

Black Cloak didn’t even try to deny. “Calanthe is not my queen,” he spat out blood while smiling as if he was at the other end of the sword. “I’ve served the court of Theros my whole life and I was nothing but a poor soldier. Now I’m loyal to King Egon. He would make me his commander when the war is over. He should rule both the South and the North. Not some little girl.”

Harry gripped the hilt of his sword so tight he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore.

“Look at you, street rat,” Black Cloak continued with a sneer. “A whore spreads her legs and you stick out your tongue and become her dog. I wouldn’t aim too high if I were you.”

“Harry, leave him.” Kenny tugged at Harry’s arm when she recognized the darkness in his eyes. “Let’s go. Before it gets dark.”

He let her take his hand, but instead of following her steps, he thrust the sword into Black Cloak’s chest. Kenny cried out and begged him to stop when he twisted the blade and yanked it out. Red blood poured from the wound. The man died fast. His eyes were open, staring back at his murderer.

Harry dropped the sword with a clang and wrapped both arms around Kenny, holding her tight against his chest as she wept uncontrollably.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, closing his eyes and kissing her forehead.

She was still crying as she buried her face into his chest. “You had to,” she choked out the words. “He was a bad man...You did the right thing.”

Harry wanted to believe that, but he knew he hadn’t done it in the name of justice. He’d been triggered by the disgusting words Black Cloak had said about Y/N. After all, Harry was only human.

.

.

.

The snow was falling outside in the court of Isolde, each flake dancing in the fading light of day. When Y/N was little, she used to stand on this field outside the castle and picture herself in a wintry ballroom as colourless confetti fell weightlessly downward from heaven. Now, as the entire royal court had gathered here, it really did look like a ballroom. And she was about to dance to the death.

She’d ripped off the tail of her skirt, leaving her legs exposed from the knees down. Her breath was pale against the numbing air. The frost kissed her face as she blinked thoughtfully, enthralled by the soft, dusty illusions of light that sat heavily on her eyelashes. For a moment, the world faded away, and there was just her, the snow, the trees, and the sky.

Then, the clang of armour snapped her back to reality. A guard presented her with the maid named Aleina. The poor girl was shaking. Y/N wasn’t sure if she was scared or simply cold.

She stopped in front of Y/N and curtsied. “You asked for me, Your Majesty?”

Y/N met Egon’s eyes as he bandaged the wound on his calf with a torn piece of his sleeve. He smirked at her, and she looked away. She took Aleina’s hand, leaned in and whispered to the maid, “Clean the body of Lady Josephine. Make sure no one moves her.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“I’ve ordered the guards to take the white-haired lady from the dungeon to see Jo.” Aleina nodded though she seemed utterly perplexed. “You will tell the witch that...she may have her pure soul to travel to another world...in exchange for Jo’s life.”

“My lady!” Aleina exclaimed and immediately lowered her voice to a whisper, “What are you talking about?! Jo...is dead!”

Y/N placed a finger on her own lips to silence the girl. “You are not allowed to question. Just do as I say.”

Aleina hesitantly nodded again, her gaze fell to her feet.

“And no one will be in the room with Jo and the witch,” Y/N went on. “No one will know what happens in that room. Do you understand?” Seeing how frightened and shocked the maid was, Y/N took Aleina’s warm hand with her cold fingers and squeezed it tight. “I might not come back, and you’re the only one I can trust. Can you take care of this for me, Aleina?”

Aleina nodded, seemingly more determined although her voice wavered as she spoke, “You’ll c-come back, Your Majesty...I-I believe in you.”

Y/N thanked the girl and promised that she would try her best. Watching Aleina disappear into the crowd, Y/N gripped her heart to stop it from beating so hard and fast. She had no idea if Maggie was capable of bringing Jo’s back, but she knew Maggie had a reason to tell her about the other word and how to get there. Y/N believed this was it. This was how she must save Jo.

She wasn’t a mother. Who knew if she would ever be if the circumstances had been different? But Jo had been with child. Jo had sacrificed the life of her baby and her own for Y/N to almost get killed if it hadn’t been for Lance’s interference. Jo would still be alive if Y/N hadn’t one-sidedly involved Jo into her stupid escape plan.

She would never be at peace bringing up a child with the memory of what had happened to Jo today. And she didn’t want to have her child grow up in court and live the same life she had lived, full of risks and uncertainty. She’d thought that, with her father’s permission, she could find Harry once she’d become Queen and bring him here so they could live happily ever after in richness. But Egon was right. Her father could forgive her for breaking traditions, but her people would not. She’d be a queen. She’d live and die for her kingdom, and that was her only purpose. If she was not allowed to end up with the man she loved, be his wife, have his children then she wanted none of it.

With that in mind, she must survive today.

When she was little, every time there had been a duel, she would be so certain that she’d lose because Egon was bigger, stronger, and faster. Now Egon was wounded and it had been years since the last time he’d picked up a sword to fight. He had never left the comfort of the castle grounds, while she had travelled all the way to the South and escaped Death countless times. Many people had tried to kill her and failed, so she would not die in a duel where there were rules and spectators who were also the judges.

She remembered the euphoria of watching duels between her father and uncle; it’d been nerve-racking watching from the front row, but it’d been nothing compared to how she was feeling now. She squeezed her free hand into a fist so no one could see her shaking.

The Chancellor went over the rules which she had learned by heart, then prayed for the Gods to bless them both. As his sad eyes lingered on Y/N before he walked back to the crowd, she realized she might be the only one here who believed she would win.

She hated how knowing that troubled her a little.

Still, she steadied her breathing, her numb fingers closed around the sword-hilt, her boots pressing firmly into the snow.

Egon stood a few feet away, holding his sword, mirroring her fighting stance. “It’s not too late to back out, little sister.”

“No,” said Y/N. “If you want my blood, take it.”

“Very well,” he replied, drew his sword and lunged. When he moved, the blade caught the light with a wavering spark. Y/N backed up, her eyes on the weapon. They had been here too many times before and she’d been defeated too many times before. Her brother attacked with confidence but also negligence. She was wiser now. For all the fall she’d taken, the way he moved was imprinted on her consciousness.

She ducked his strike and advanced, her sword almost cutting his arm but he moved fast enough to dodge it. The crowd fell silent, watching. His face hardened. He advanced, faster than before. His blade broke her guard and scoured her shoulder. Her sleeve tore, blood running down her arm. He struck mercilessly and she parried the blow and shoved him back. From the horrified look on his face, she knew it wasn’t her skills that had shocked him, it was also the fact that she was ruthless. She wasn’t afraid to hurt him. And this was not a threat.

All about her, the crowd stood mute. The hot smell of her own blood drove home to her. She thought about Jo’s body turning cold on the floor of the throne room, and fury filled her to the brim. She drove suddenly beneath his guard and dragged her knife across his ribs. Blood poured from the open wound. The crowd broke into gasps.

He howled and leapt back, face twisted with pain. Blood was dripping down her fingers, staining the pure white ground every time she moved. She didn’t know how bad her wound was, but the pain caused her teeth to rattle as she gripped the hilt of the sword, using all the strength she had left to strike continuously. Her brother could only dodge and parry. He was helpless and horrified.

He fell to the ground with a loud thump and cries burst among the crowd. Someone screamed. Someone wept. She saw her reflection in her brother’s eyes as he soundlessly begged for mercy. She forced her sword down, broke his guard; her blade cut through the blood-stained bandage around his leg. His painful wail rattling the trees.

The snow kept falling lazily all around them. Her vision went hazy for a second. From behind her, Lance shouted, “Kill him!”

Her blade was lifted, then frozen midair.

She could not.

She remembered the dream, how she’d murdered her brother, but she was the one bleeding out.

“Do it, whore! Kill me! Are you scared now, little girl?” Egon taunted, veins popping on his necks. Y/N didn’t answer, so he turned to the people. “This is the heir my father chose. A coward. Look at her. Would you want this, a frightened little girl, to become your ruler?”

There was only silence.

The Lord Chancellor was the first person to bend the knee.

Then the guards.

The maids.

Even those from Attwell.

Each and everyone got on their knee and bowed their head to the new queen of the North.

Y/N’s tear-filled eyes searched for Lance, who was one of the last to kneel. He held her gaze, and she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she saw a smile, as though to say, ‘Well done.’

Egon was bewildered. He started screaming at his men, calling them insulting names, ordering them to take her, but no one paid attention to him. Y/N thrust her sword into the snow and gazed down upon her brother, taking a deep breath.

“For the innocent lives you’ve taken,” she declared. “For the ones you’ve hurt. For the murder of Josephine. I banish you from Isolde.”

“You are not allowed, you stupid bitch!”

“If you manage to stay alive until dawn, you’ll be taken into the woods, and you shall never return again. If you disobey my order, you’ll be sentenced to death.”

Just as Y/N spun her heels, Egon shouted after her, “I killed two kings, Y/N. I will come back and kill you, too.”

The crowd cried out as Y/N stopped, and turned slowly. Her fingers hardened around the sword-hilt despite the blood pouring from her open wound.

Egon was bleeding to death. The pain had turned him hysterical as he laughed like a madman. “I killed our father, Y/N. I plotted our uncle’s murder, too. There is nothing I couldn’t do. You cast me out, I will return. I will live. Because I am the face of Go–”

Her blade slashed across his throat and blood splashed on her dress. She stood quietly above his dead body, watching the light in his eyes go out. Someone was calling her name. Blackness oozed in from the corners of her vision. She was on the edge of consciousness when two strong arms caught her before she fell.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Lance called her name, his face was blurred. In his cold grip, she remembered riding on Thunder’s back through a snowstorm. The crackling of the fire. The sound of the running river. A road in a forest full of stars. A pair of green eyes and a familiar voice whispering sweet words in her ears.

She could have sworn the prince cursed under his breath before she could feel his arm beneath her knees, beneath her shoulders as he lifted her from the ground.

.

.

.

Y/N woke up screaming.

In her dream, Egon had had his fingers around her throat. It was the pain of the wound that brought her back to reality. She blinked frantically, feeling a warm hand placed over her forehead, calming her nerves, before the room and the face above her came into view.

She was staring into Jo’s bright blue eyes.

Before Jo could speak, Y/N jolted upward and wrapped both arms around Jo’s neck, laughing and crying hysterically. Jo was crying, too. They held each other for the longest time until it was too painful for Y/N to remain sitting. Jo helped her lie back down and brushed her hair out of her forehead.

Jo looked so well. Her cheeks were pink, her hair shiny and more golden than Y/N remembered. She seemed more alive than she had always been.

“You’re so stupid, Y/N. So stupid,” she sniffled, stroking Y/N’s cheek.

Y/N’s gaze dropped to Jo’s flat stomach, eyes widened before glancing back to Jo’s face. “Did it...did it hurt?”

Jo pursed her lips. “I guessed it couldn’t have hurt more than being stabbed. Still, there are scars to make sure the emotional pain is permanent.”

Y/N frowned as she placed her hand on Jo’s belly, trying to feel a beat that was no longer there.

“A life for a life, the white-haired lady said,” Jo sighed. “It’s gone forever. I won’t be able to have one again.”

Y/N felt tears sting her eyes again. “I’m so sorry, Jo. This...this is all my fault.”

“No, Y/N! Stop that!” Jo leaned down and cupped her face. “You saved my life! I would have jumped in front of the blade for you, you know that!”

“The baby was innocent!”

“It’s better this way, Y/N. If the baby was born, it would forever be condemned for having a tyrant as a father. Children don’t deserve to pay the price for their parents’ wrongdoings.”

Y/N bit her lip. She nodded once before changing the subject. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Two days.”

“And the Prince–”

Jo didn’t even let her finish. “Aleina told me he was the one who carried you back from the field! He could be a wonderful suitor considering now that he’s the next in line for his father’s throne.”

Y/N laughed. She was glad that Jo had found her sense of humour, but she was not amused by the joke.If it had been a joke.

“He murdered his brother,” she said coolly.

Jo didn’t seem to agree. “His brother was no better than Egon. The Prince did you a favour.”

“But why?”

“You’re going to have to ask him. He’ll be in court to have an audience with you when you have recovered,” Jo said brightly. “I think he wishes to marry you to strengthen the alliance between Isolde and Atwell.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but she supposed Jo could see right through her. Jo sighed as she fidgeted with her skirt. “He’s a charming young lad,” her voice lowered, “but maybe your heart is in another place?”

Y/N shut her eyes and exhaled sharply. “I should have asked Maggie to take my heart, too. I would have given her for free.”

This made Jo giggle. “I adore your heart, Y/N. It saved the kingdom from a tyrant.” Then, she put her fingers under Y/N’s chin, making Y/N open her eyes again. “If you want to talk about him, I’m all ears.”

“I cannot ask that of you,” Y/N mumbled.

There was a flicker of sadness in Jo’s eyes, yet she managed to conceal it with a twitch of her lips. “I love you, Y/N,” she said. “I always have and I always will. I know you don’t love me the same way, but you do love me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have sacrificed so much for me. Maggie told me what it took to bring me back. I could never repay you. All I ask is for you to let me be your friend again. I’d be happy to serve you as your lady-in-waiting.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a smile. “I didn’t bring you back to cast you out, Jo. If the two of us are going to be husbandless and childless. Let’s be that together.”

Jo gave her a look that said ‘I don’t believe you’, but all she said was, “I’d be honoured.”

“Do you know where Maggie is?” Y/N asked. “I have to thank her when I can get out of this room.”

“She’s gone,” Jo told her regretfully. “She said something about another world.”

.

.

.

It took a week for Y/N to recover.

Lance and his retinue were meant to leave tomorrow. He had requested an audience with her the day before his departure, and she had gladly accepted. However, instead of meeting in the throne room, she’d demanded to see him in the garden where they could be alone.

She had ordered the servants to grow some winter flowers in the garden. Her mother had always wanted that. As she was admiring the primroses, she heard heavy footsteps coming up from behind, and so she spoke before the person could, “Your walk is so loud, you’d scare off the prey during a hunt.”

Lance laughed lowly as he stopped beside her, hands behind his back. He was dressed in all black, his silky hair was dark as midnight. In her white garden, he stood out the most.

“I’m not hunting and you’re not my prey,” he said.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Are you finally going to give me answers?”

“Yes.” He inclined his head. “And also...an apology. I should not have caused so much chaos.”

She lifted her shoulders. “We both slit our brothers’ throats. I’m not fit to judge you, am I?”

His dimples made an appearance at her response.

She expected him to wait for her to prompt, but then he commenced, “I was supposed to marry your aunt. Queen Calanthe of Theros.”

Y/N assessed his face to make sure he wasn’t joking. His eyebrows were drawn together; he could not look more sincere.

“My father had offered the marriage to save her after her family had been executed. But she chose your uncle’s proposal because she’d rather be married to a king than a bastard.”

This information amused her more than it should. She couldn’t help but smirk. “So you hate her because she turned you down and hurt your pride?”

“Some would find your mockery offensive, my lady.” He grinned.

“Do you?”

“I find it attractive.”

She waved off his compliment. “Don’t expect me to swoon and sigh for that.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said, still grinning. “To answer your question ‘Why did you kill your brother?’: My half brother was an idiot and since my father’s reign was over, he was going to be the new king.”

Y/N blinked. “The king of Attwell is dead?”

Lance nodded. “The news hasn’t been announced to the people of Attwell yet, but it would be when my half brother returns with his new bride, which was supposed to be you.”

“So you planned on killing Kavan and then Egon in the hope of stealing his bride and ruling two kingdoms at once.”

Lance lifted a brow as though to say ‘well done, you’ve figured it out.’

“I raised an army,” he told her. “People of Attwell are more open-minded than those of Isolde. They serve whoever they think is more competent, and most of them have chosen me as their leader. No one would speak of what had happened here. When we get back to the West, we’ll tell the people that Kavan has been murdered in Egon’s order.”

“So you lied your way to the throne?”

“Are you judging me?”

“No. Just wondering.” She arched her lips. “Well then, congratulations on your soon-to-happen coronation.”

Lance took a moment to contemplate her face. She almost thought he’d lost grip on reality. Then, he said, “Not everyone would be happy that their new king is a bastard. Same as how many of your people would react to having a female ruler.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you suggesting, my lord?”

“Call me Lance,” he said with a hand over his heart.

She nodded. “Well, Lance?”

“A marriage to unite our kingdoms.”

“No,” she answered without pause. “I did not kill my own brother to hand my reign to you. A foreigner. And no offence, a bastard.”

Lance didn’t look offended at the slightest. “We are both the black sheep of our family, Y/N,” he said quietly.

“You may call me Your Majesty.” Her anger didn’t stir him. If anything, he seemed even calmer than before. She lifted her chin. “I suppose you wonder how I’d convinced the witch to save Jo’s life.”

“There have been different versions of the story,” he said, his forehead puckered. “No one dares to ask you, however.”

“Well, I’m going to tell you now, Lance. In return for Jo’s life, I gave up the ability to produce an heir. So you will gain nothing from this marriage.”

“I’m not proposing to you for a baby, Y/N!” She glowered at him, and he cleared his throat into his fist, his face reddening. “Sorry…Your Majesty. But that was not the reason I’m proposing–”

“You’re not proposing to me at all. Good day, my lord.”

She turned and he caught her elbow. She shot him a glare, and he released her in an instant.

“Think about it,” he said. “You gave up the chance to have an heir, and I suppose you’re not going to marry, either. Because you cannot bend the rules of your kingdom for your own benefits and marry a peasant.”

This time, her gaze silenced him. And she regretted it. He’d heard the rumours about her ‘romantic excursion’. Now she’d confirmed it was true. She’d shown her weakness and he was going to use it against her.

Lance stepped forward until he was close enough for her to see herself in his grey eyes. “If you have a king by your side–”

“I don’t need a king.”

“Yes, you do. It’s politics,” he said. “Look, we can have an agreement. The marriage will be based solely on the political stability of our kingdoms. We’re neighbours so the North and the West can become one. I will rule my country and you will rule yours, separately, but together. I will even stay here in your court if it means that I get a chance to gain your trust. I don’t want an heir. I just want to do the best I can for my people and be the ruler they need. Calanthe can use the murder of Egon to turn the other kingdoms against Isolde, and I cannot side with her. Your people would let you rule in peace if you have a king by your side, and my people would let me rule in peace if I marry an actual royal queen.”

She took some time to ponder over his words before asking, “Why can’t you side with Calanthe?”

He gave an open-mouthed smile. “Well, first of all, she rejected my proposal and insulted me.”

“So you’re a bitter little boy?”

Her teasing made him chuckle.

“What is the second reason?” she asked, genuinely curious.

His eyes found hers. “Am I allowed to say I fancy you?”

Y/N went stiff. She worked her jaw, trying to find an answer, but the Prince didn’t wait for her to succeed.

“We won’t have to fall in love,” he said, smirking. “Unless you want to.”

“I don’t. Thank you,” she huffed and looked away. “But I will consider this agreement.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” He took her fingers, his lips warm against the cool skin of her hand. He glanced up from beneath his long lashes “I would gain your trust. You have my word.”

She could not withdraw her hand fast enough. “I would love to see you try.”

.

.

.

There was a ball that night in celebration of the Queen’s recovery.

Y/N had not doubted Lance’s warnings about how she was perceived by her subjects. But it wasn’t until she conversed with the courtiers that she allowed herself to fully believe him. As courteous as they might appear, she could feel it in their words, bows and curtsies that half of these people doubted her, the other half feared her. Though they had bent the knees, their loyalty was not rooted.

However, they loved Lance. She supposed it was because they knew nothing about him while Egon had spent all those months convincing the people that she was either a madwoman or a whore. When she was with Lance, her subjects seemed to like her better.

The courtiers who had witnessed the massacre in the throne room were not allowed to speak of it to the public. So the other members of the gentry who had not been here only knew the details of the duel, and Lance was portrayed as the knight in shining armour who’d shown up just in time.

Of course, people also knew about Y/N’s bravery and that she’d commanded a witch to bring Jo back to life. Y/N believed that was why they feared her. But she didn’t want to be feared. She wanted to be loved, like her mother. She had spent her whole life trying to not be like her father and Egon. With Lance by her side, she might succeed. Everyone loved the romanticized version of what had happened that day, with less blood and death, more prince carrying princess home from the bloody battle. Tonight, she would give them that. She was still on the fence about the proposal, but the ball tonight had really made her think.

That was until she saw him.

At first, she thought it was only a trick of the mind. Because there was no possible way he could sneak past the guards to enter the castle, let alone attend the royal ball. But she could not mistake him from any other faces. That was him.

Their eyes met from across the room. He was dressed like a gentleman, probably had stolen the clothes from a real gentleman who’d been too drunk to care. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was true.

She opened her mouth although he wouldn’t be able to hear her voice over the music even if she shouted his name. Suddenly, he broke their gaze and disappeared through the doors like a ghost.

She immediately excused herself from the conversation and left Lance to entertain the guests with his jokes; they liked him better anyway.

No one followed her as she ducked out of the ballroom, holding up her full skirt as she ran down the long stairs leading to the garden. The snow was falling thick and the night was black. The dim flickering of lanterns could not help her see more than ten steps ahead of her.

The snow had covered the footsteps of the runaway guest, if he existed at all. She believed he did. She wanted to believe so. She found herself wandering into the darkness as the wind blew stronger and colder. One of her hands holding the crown upon her head, the other gripping her skirt, her hair flying wild, and her eyes burning from the cold.

“HARRY!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, the howling of the wind drowning out her voice. “IF YOU DON’T SHOW YOUR FACE, I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!”

There was no answer. She feared he couldn’t hear her, and after a moment, as the hot tears turned to frost on her cheeks and eyelashes, she feared that she’d gone mad.

“Y/N!”

She whipped her head around to the doorway where Lance stood with a guard in the warm glow of the castle corridor. He rushed down the stairs toward her while shrugging off his coat and wrapped it around her body. He tugged her to his chest and walked her back inside.

“What happened?” he panted, his gloved hands warming up her cheeks. Her teeth were rattling, and she could see her breath. “Are you hurt, Y/N? Speak to me!”

“No,” she managed to say. “I thought I saw someone…”

“An intruder?”

“I don’t know.” She swallowed and buried her face into his chest. She was crying. She couldn’t control it, but it felt good to let it all out. Lance rubbed her back and mumbled into her hair that it could be a wild animal and he’d send the guards to search in the garden. Her heart jumped as she thought of Harry getting caught. But maybe he deserved it. If the guards caught him, they’d present him to her, their Queen. And she’d meant it when she’d said she wouldn’t forgive him for messing with her like that.

Deep down she knew there was no Harry. Just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Would you like to return to the ball?” Lance asked, still not letting her go.

She shook her head, still shivering. He didn’t object and told the guard behind him to escort the Queen back to her bed-chamber.

“I’ll tell the guests that you don’t feel well,” he said.

She scowled at him from beneath her frosted lashes. “I don’t trust you to deliver the words. You’ve tried to win my people’s affection all night.”

He laughed a little, his hands were firm on her shoulders. “Just because you can resist me doesn’t mean the others can.”

At that moment, the Lord Chancellor appeared at the end of the hallway, apparently also looking for the two of them.

“There you are, my lord,” said Lance. “The Queen doesn’t feel well. She’d like to return to her bed-chamber.” Then he gave her a look which said ‘do you believe me now?’

She rolled her eyes in answer and pushed away from him. His touch lingered on her body when she left.

The guard followed her all the way back to her chambers. She could not wait to be alone so she could scream and break things, so as soon as she entered the room, she ordered for all the maids to leave. The door fell shut, but she could still feel the guard’s presence. He was standing at the door, in full armour.

“Did Lance tell you to stay?” she sighed. “Get out. You are not needed. I’m going to have to change my clothes.”

The guard didn’t move.

Something was wrong.

Intruder. Think fast.

Y/N held her breath as she ambled to the bed. Right as she drew out her dagger from under her pillow and raised it in the air, the guard had advanced and caught her by the wrist. She did not give in. She kicked and screamed. He covered her mouth and said something, but his voice was muffled by the helmet. She punched him and he pinned her to the bed, straddling her waist. He managed to take the dagger from her hand and held it at her throat.

He tried to tell her something again.

Wait, the ring. The ring on his finger! She knew that ring!

Before she could react, the guard used his free hand to pull off the helmet, his long brown curls tumbling out, dim candlelight flickering in his green eyes.

“It’s me, Peach,” he said, his voice soft and warm.

He smiled that beautiful smile.

And she struck him across the face.

[mordoriscalling]

Life (of) Surprise (3/5)

Jaskier lies to his family about being engaged to Geralt for the second time… and there are way too many surprises involved.

Part 4 of the Singer and the Sailor AU that no one asked for but I wrote anyway (again). Warnings: Jaskier and Geralt have a serious argument in this one.

(Part 1) (Part 2) 

III - A Surprise Realisation 

Geralt never thought he’d get married again, much less to a man. Leave alone a man like Jaskier, who is loud, bright, and charismatic; unlike Geralt in so many aspects that by all means, their relationship shouldn’t work as well as it does.  

He’s a divorcee. His previous relationships didn’t last. Rationally, he knows he should’ve been more cautious, yet when Jaskier got down on one knee that April morning, Geralt found himself unable to say no. He was so tired that day, but that wasn’t the reason he said yes. He agreed to marry Jaskier because back then – as he looked into Jaskier’s eyes, blue like the cloudless sky above them – he realised that it seemed right.

Jaskier’s always accepted Geralt the way he is, with all his problems and mistakes. Jaskier is both safety and adventure. He’s trustworthy and unpredictable; a fascinating contradiction that Geralt could see himself exploring for the rest of his life.

Or so he thought.

“Eight months,” Geralt grits out, his emotions balancing at the edge of fury.

Jaskier says nothing, his eyes cast downwards, standing in the middle of the room with the air of a puppy about to be kicked.

“We’ve been engaged for eight fucking months,” Geralt growls, “and you’re only telling me this now?”

“I wanted to come clean,” Jaskier answers weakly. His voice doesn’t waver.

The steadiness of his voice shouldn’t be surprising, though. Jaskier’s a singer. A performer. A very good one. Geralt didn’t have an issue with that before. The only problem with Jaskier that Geralt’s ever truly had it that Jaskier can be extremely inconsiderate at times.

Now, the former and the latter seem to have merged into something that Geralt isn’t sure he can forgive.

“You didn’t think about doing that earlier?” he asks.

It’s New Year’s Eve. They’re in Jaskier’s childhood bedroom, where they’re to sleep for the night. Downstairs, a party is about to begin, with both Jaskier’s and Geralt’s family and closest friends in attendance. Jaskier’s parents, Wanda and Alfred. Rozalia and Silvio, Amelia with Nasir and their daughter. Triss, Essi and Eskel. Aiden and Lambert. Vesemir, Yennefer, Ciri, Dara.

Geralt suspects that everyone is waiting in the dining room already. Yet, this is the moment that Jaskier chose to tell him about the circumstances of their engagement.

“I didn’t have the courage,” Jaskier replies, “I was afraid you’d take it the wrong way.”

“Have the fuck am I supposed to take it any other way?!” Geralt barks, making Jaskier flinch. “You told your family that we’d marry before you asked me to marry you.”

It’s dark outside the tall windows. The only source of light in the room is the chandelier above Jaskier’s head, hanging down from the high ceiling. The lamps cast Jaskier in a warm glow, and to Geralt, it seems as if he saw his fiancé for the first time. There’s a stubborn set to Jaskier’s jaw as he still refuses to look at nowhere but the wooden floor.

“You did that for what?” Geralt demands, “So that you look good in front of your family? Is... us some kind of fucking performance for you? Have you been pretending from the –”

“No,” Jaskier cuts in. His gaze is finally on Geralt, and he appears genuinely aghast at the notion. “The only pretending I’ve ever done is lying to myself that our engagement was for real the whole time! I told everyone that we’d marry because I wished it so badly to be true! I wanted it to happen, so I said something that would force me to make it happen.”

The confession would be heart-warming if not for the last sentence, which makes Geralt’s blood run cold. He walks up to Jaskier slowly, staring him down, trying to see through the (distracting, deceptive) blue of his eyes.

“You would’ve made it happen?” he murmurs, his emotions treading the dangerous line again, “If I’d said no, would you have persisted? Manipulated me, as you did with the spring wedding?”

A broken noise escapes Jaskier’s lips. “That wasn’t my intention! I’m so sorry that I made you feel this way. Please forgive me, I never meant it like that–”

“I’m starting to doubt every word you say,” Geralt interrupts, because now their nearly three years together feel fake.

Jaskier takes a step back, hurt written all over his features. Tears well up in his eyes as he exclaims, “I’m not lying! I’m not lying when I say that you’re the only one that I want to marry.”

Geralt doesn’t want to hear it. He moves to walk away but Jaskier grabs him by the arm. “Dammit Jaskier,” he growls, “don’t–”

“Listen to me,” Jaskier says, insistent.

 Geralt tries not to, looks away to distance himself, but Jaskier’s voice is that of a siren – arresting and irresistible, powerful even when hushed.

“I never thought that I’d settle down. I fell in love too easily. One day a woman from the bar would have my heart, and then next it would be a guy at the bus stop. Commitment wasn’t my thing.”

Geralt scowls, about to ask how that information is supposed to help in the current situation, but Jaskier speaks first.

“But then, then I met someone who’s so deeply fascinating that I can’t stop thinking about him. He’s been through so much and yet he’s nothing but kind and considerate. He has so much presence but he rarely uses it to his advantage. He feels so much and yet he shows nothing. He...” Jaskier chuckles, the sound somehow both warm and sad. “He’s honest with me and calls me out on my mistakes, challenging me to be better. Thanks to him, I don’t stop learning. With him, it seems like... like we’re writing a gripping book. A... a story I want to go on and on.”

A story without an ending may not be a happy one, Geralt muses. He says nothing, though, still looking away, and Jaskier speaks up again.

“From the moment I met you, I’ve wanted you to stay, but perhaps–” he cuts himself off, releasing out a shaky sigh. He lets go of Geralt’s arm at least and then utters, “Perhaps I love you too much. Maybe it’s not healthy, after all.”

Pain seeps through every syllable as Jaskier says this. Geralt has to swallow hard because that, that seems so wrong. How can it not be healthy when the only time they truly breathe – truly relax and let go – is as they are around each other?

Geralt stands frozen, listening to Jaskier’s sniffs, and tries to process all that he’s heard. He has to fight his fervent want to believe Jaskier’s loving words. He wishes it to be true, yet the recent revelation’s stained all they’ve been through with the ugly thought that Geralt’s feelings – his love – have just been a fucking box to tick.

The sheer hurt of it settles somewhere deep within him, clawing a hole in his chest, wrenching, pulling all the air out of his lungs. He can’t stand being next to Jaskier anymore and escapes to the bathroom, which is adjacent to the bedroom.

The water is cool as Geralt splashes it all over his face. He tries to take his emotions under control, especially that anger raises within him once more. He’s a moment away from doing some real damage to the furniture.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to calm down. He assumes that enough time passes for Jaskier to decide to go downstairs without him, which is the only wish he has right now. Yet, as he emerges from the bathroom, it (unsurprisingly) turns out that he can't have what he wants – Jaskier sits there, at the edge of the large bed, his face hidden in his hands. As he hears Geralt approach, he raises his head revealing his dishevelled hair and red-rimmed eyes.

He’s a picture of misery and Geralt heart lurches in sympathy, in a ridiculous need to comfort his fiancé, despite his anger.

They stay like that, staring at each other for a few unbearable moments of heavy, choking silence, until Geralt finally breaks it.

“Dinner must’ve started by now,” he says, “We should go.”

 A rasped “okay” is all the answer Jaskier gives.

They don’t pretend that everything is all right. Everybody quickly notices the tension between them and the dinner is a painful affair at the beginning. It’s a miracle that everyone’s managed to gather here today, though. The two families seem determined to make the best of it and the initial awkwardness soon passes. Conversations start flowing and after some time, everyone is getting along well enough for the party not to be torturous.

When dinner is finished, Jaskier’s parents invite them to the living room. There, a piano awaits, and Jaskier launches into a short performance that leaves everyone spell-bound, including Geralt, even though it hurts.

It hurts to watch Jaskier’s fingers dance over the keys, knowing the way in which those beautiful hands touch his body. It hurts to see the tempting curve of Jaskier’s neck, knowing how Jaskier always gasps when he kisses it. It hurts to watch Jaskier shine because he believed that he had a part of Jaskier’s light to himself.

And yet. Now, there’s the ugly thought at the back of his head that it wasn’t true. Jaskier did claim it was.

And yet.

The moment the performance ends, Geralt decides to survive by sticking with Silvio. Rozalia’s husband is talkative but what he loves chattering about the most is the cats and dogs he’s fostering with his wife. He shows Geralt pictures and videos, which improves Geralt’s mood slightly.

After Triss and Nasir steal Silvio away, Geralt is left alone, sitting in the corner of the room with his glass of wine. On instinct, his eyes search for his daughter. He finds her talking to Jaskier’s sister and frowns.

He loves Ciri more than life itself but he’s aware that she’s can be a right brat. He’s also familiar with Amelia and Rozalia enough to know that they’re very likely to be charmed by Cirilla’s vicious streak. Jaskier seems to know it too, and he appears genuinely terrified as he watches his sisters chat with Ciri, the three smiling mysteriously.

Then, Yennefer joins them, and Geralt is... apprehensive.

The party goes on. Some people, like his brothers, leave Geralt in peace. Others, such as Jaskier’s parents, insist on speaking to him. He picks his way through the, admittedly polite and pleasant, conversations, until no one wants to talk to him.

All the while, his gaze strays to Jaskier. Geralt watches him joke with Essi and Vesemir, laugh at something Lambert and Eskel are saying, take his niece into his arms and coo at her with Aiden by his side.

As Geralt observes Jaskier hold little Zofia and smile at her lovingly while Aiden makes funny faces at her, he suddenly comes to understand how tightly Jaskier has managed to weave himself in between all the threads that make Geralt’s life. All his family know Jaskier and accept him. Most of them are fond of him, or downright adore him. Geralt’s thoughts and memories of the sea are mingled with Jaskier’s songs. He doesn’t miss being at sea as much as he feared in large part due to Jaskier engaging him in his own life. Jaskier knows him, like a true friend does.

Removing him from the tapestry would leave a jagged hole, and Geralt realises that it’s not something he’d ever want. After all, he doesn’t have a particular place where he belongs. His home is where his loved ones are.

And he loves Jaskier so.

It’s ten minutes to midnight when Jaskier approaches him for the first time since the argument. Geralt still sits on the couch without any company as Jaskier stands before him, clearly putting up a happy face.

“I love the way you just... sit in the corner and brood,” he remarks, his cheerfulness falling flat,

Geralt rolls his eyes, irritated. “I’m here to drink alone,” he grunts.  

Jaskier, of course, refuses to take the hint and sits down beside him. Before Geralt can protest it, though, loud giggles catch his attention. He looks at the source of the sound and sees Ciri and Dara laughing at something on their phones (a meme, Geralt assumes). Joy at seeing his daughter’s happiness fill him but then Jaskier’s voice snaps him back to reality.

“If you say that you don’t believe me,” he says, “what must Dara think?”

Geralt looks at him sharply and immediately understands the sadness in his eyes. He’s aware of how much Jaskier wants Dara to know that all he’s done to help the boy – putting his career on hold to care for him, providing for him, going to therapy with him – are driven by genuine willingness to help, not pity or charity.

“Maybe I’m not good at...” Jaskier goes on, a wry smile twisting his lips, “Well. This whole... guardian thing.”

“You are,” Geralt replies.

It is true. Dara agreed to say with Jaskier eight months ago. The boy is still grieving and struggling but Jaskier has been supporting him through it with surprisingly few missteps.

“Thank you,” Jaskier answers, uncharismatically timid.“I... Geralt,” he begins, his tone sombre.

Geralt tenses and waits. His free hand, the one not holding the wine glass, clenches into a fist.  

“I’m sorry for withholding the truth from you for so long, I was...” Jaskier swallows. “Stupid. It was wrong of me, and I... I promise it won’t happen again.”

He looks away and considers, even though there isn’t much to wonder about. There’s no coming back from how important Jaskier is to him, for better or for worse. His hurt is far from mended but Geralt nods. Jaskier heaves a sigh and lays his hand atop Geralt clenched fist.

“Will you stay?” Jaskier murmurs.

A memory strikes him – of how Jaskier asked him the same thing almost three years ago as they stood outside this very house.

In the background, the countdown begins. Geralt unclenches his fist and takes Jaskier’s hand in his, giving it a squeeze. Jaskier squeezes back and the New Year starts.

***

A/N: the chapter count went up to 5 because I wanted to split ch3 into two smaller parts. Also, you can also read this fic on AO3. 

[amachaheadcanons]

If they both survived or lasted longer through the killing game, how do you think will their relationship develop?

ヽ(゜∇゜)ノ o hyuuuuuuuuuuuuuss

If they both survived; making Shuichi, Rantaro and Tenko the survivors. I’d cry tears of joy. In this scenario, Shuichi makes Tenko accept the fact that men aren’t all bad (via her FTEs), using Rantaro as an example of genuinely good guys (which along with the thought of her master being male really kick-start her change in attitude towards males chapt 4+). It’d be slow since they’d be end game but a lot of small moments that make up their friendship. These guys would re-write the game’s story and becoming the new trio. With Tenko and Rantarou giving Shuichi the strength in the end to end DR, and Rantaro opening up to them about his perk and being able to use that to maybe end the game earlier? Haven’t given it much thought BUT!

If they lasted longer in game, however… {Cough, I’m looking at you, Taro} Oh-ho-ho…

This gets rambley…so it’s under the cut hehe~

 I would have loved a scene where Shuichi stumbles upon Tenko and Rantaro sparring in the courtyard or dojo, or even his dorm room…

Chapter 2.

The thought of Shuichi walking past Amami’s pixel icon and hearing heavy puffing and suspicious grunting from his dorm room would be the funniest thing in the game. Especially if he attempts to ignore the sounds and escape the dormitories just as the door bursts open with Rantaro dodging another move from Tenko.

I strongly believe physical conflict would ensue between these two because, 1, that’s how Tenko understands her opponent, and I feel like Rantarou’s adventure/survival instinct would kick in and he’d be the only person able to dodge/delay Tenko’s advances, making her {2} more infuriated and pursue a fair fight with him further and {3} grow to understand his character from wanting to challenge his strong resolve and claims of being the opposite of what Tenko assumes of him.

Chapter 3.

After this initial conflict between them, Shuichi would then encounter them sparring in her dojo. There’s tension in the air. It gets personal. Tenko learns just how much Rantaro blames himself for losing his sisters and in a moment of her bewilderment he pins her to the floor and wins the round. Tenko demands a rematch, he refused because it’s nighttime, but Tenko secretly makes plans to spar with him again. It’d be hinted in game whenever Shuuichi sought out Tenko alone mumbling to herself.

By their forth sparring session Tenko stops calling Rantaro a degenerate, it almost goes unnoticed. Thanks to Kokichi/Iruma’s acknowledgement.

When Tenko steps in to ease Himiko and be the victim to Kiyo’s seesaw, Rantaro insists he be the victim, his carefree attitude aiming to show Himiko it’s nothing to be scared over. Tenko refuses, they enter a back and forth that makes Himiko smile and takes the pressure off the séance, so she inaudibly agrees to Kiyo’s demands. When Himiko’s ready, Tenko promises she’ll be waiting for her on the other side with open arms!

Upon finding Himiko’s unmoving body, Tenko refuses to work with anyone. The trial gets emotional.

Chapter 4.

Following Himiko’s death and Korekiyo’s execution. Tenko shuts down. Locks herself in her room and dojo, but Shuichi stumbles upon Rantaro trying to talk some sense into her behind her dojo’s walls. Rantaro challenges her to another spar, and despite her refusal, he manages to get her to crawl out of her cave. During chapt 4 Tenko starts following Rantarou around since he’s a good support system and feels as though he’s the closet friend she has. Shuichi has the option to find them in the game room at nighttime, decks of cards spewed on the table, a half finished game of pool, as Rantaro was in the midst of brushing her hair on the couch as a movie played in the background. He was comforting her. It came naturally. From that night on, every few days Tenko would wear a new hairstyle, seemingly done by Rantaro. 

When Rantaro starts neglecting her, she finds Shuichi and asks for his help. They manage to corner him in the warehouse, he becomes very secretive. Tenko becomes offended. When Shuichi tries to talk to him, she pushes some foam mats together and readies an Aikido stance for when Rantaro tries to leave the room. She drags him onto the mats and declares a duel. If he wins, he’s free to leave and she won’t stop him. If she wins, he will be truthful. He shakes his head, muttering something like “I’m sorry Tenko, but I don’t have time for this.” her stubborn actions of dragging him onto the mats 3 times gets an aggravated grunt from him. He discards his shirt, the room swells with emotions. The battle is intense and painful to watch. In their haste, Tenko comes off the mat haphazardly, spraining something, she refuses to retreat. Thus, he does so for her. Exiting the room with an injured Tenko trailing after him and falling to the floor. Shuichi is by her side but Rantaro is no where to be seen. 

Kokichi makes a deal with Rantaro. They both want to end the killing game, they’re both growing impatient. Their plan’s elaborate and Kokichi manages to get Rantaro to set most of the pieces in motion while he motivates Miu to fix the mammoth computer. When performing the test run, there’s a malfunction, Rantarou dies because Ouma isn’t able to abort the test. He tried to save him. Rantaro dies by his own hands. Monokuma rules it off as suicide to throw everyone off. 

Shuichi needs to defend Ouma against an enraged Tenko. It breaks his heart knowing what he’s doing to her. 

Chapter 5.

Tenko comes to breakfast the next morning with everyone’s eyes on her. Her hair unevenly chopped off past her ears. It only served as a bitter reminder of their bond and the things his fingers could do woven threw her hair...

In her state of mourning, Iruma easily convinces Tenko to team up with her to take out Ouma. He’s too dangerous, too much of a wild card. Especially with the Exisals in his possession. Needless to say, they manage to override an exisal, shit ensues, yet Tenko actively seeks out the role of culprit to protect Miu at all costs. She has nothing else to live for expect the life of someone who could potentially change the world.

IDK there’s my 10 cents !

UGH i know it’s cliche but I could see this happening...though I really wanna hear people’s ideas for Tenko dying in the third chapter and Rantarou going awall trying to end the killing game and somehow surviving. With pinches of amacha in chapters 1 and 2 with Himiko running to him to save her from Tenko and acting like Himi’s big bro...yeah, i’d read that.

Thoughts?

[g0dspeeed]

Unconditional Positive Regard, 5

I’m thinking of not posting fic updates anymore on here, but I will be updating this Smasher/OC fic on ao3!

=========================================

Assessment

A faint whisper.

Soft.

Barely there.

The only noise in the Arasaka gym facility was its overhead air vent, but Adam felt absolutely annoyed by it all the same.

Silent and brooding, the mercenary stood in the middle of the gym mats with arms crossed and his red eyes staring heavily on the entrance. No doubt he was ready to lay into her, practically frothing for Lumen to feel how intensely pissed off he was at her lateness, at how she kept him waiting around like a fool.

Even before his days in the military, Adam was punctual. Or incredibly early. Had to be. As a hardened resident of NYC’s underworld, he could never predict what mob boss would lose his absolute shit over Adam’s ass being late, job fulfilled or not. Such a life seldom provided a second chance, and after watching many a comrade receive their due punishment for inconveniencing some trigger-hungry gang leader, Adam knew better than to press his luck. Though tucked back several decades into his past, the lessons learned in the streets of New York prepared him well in all their cruelty.

Other Arasaka staff wandered near the mats, completely oblivious to Adam until their eyes locked. Without a word, the staff members scurried out of sight.

A growl hummed past his lips. He checked the digital clock above the room for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. His jaw tightened.

Damn her.

Damn that fucking bitch and her bullshit contract.

Just as Adam was about to rip into her via holo, the rushed sounds of pattering feet echoed into the space. Lumen at last made her appearance, jogging through the entrance dressed in a grey tank top, black leggings, and tennis shoes. If anything, she looked prepared for Adam’s physical assessment.

Though her focus, Adam quickly observed, was clearly elsewhere.

As if not even noticing him, Lumen had tossed a small gym bag at the edge of the mats and quickly made work of her dark hair, her fingers running themselves frantically through its tangles in a vain effort to tie them back. Stray hairs stuck to the sticky sheen on her forehead as she struggled to compose herself.

Adam caught Lumen peeking over her shoulder near the entrance, gold eyes wide with anticipation.

Alit brilliant red, his own eyes shined as Adam conducted a quick scan of her vitals. Just as expected, the results read all racing pulse and rising body heat.

He frowned.

The woman was scared.

That force of rage soothed into a dull static. Still pissed? Absolutely, but his curiosity for her anxious state outweighed the anger, especially since the woman at this point seemed unable to experience anything resembling fear. She had stood brave in the face of his wrath before, multiple times even. Not budging, not wavering despite his powerful presence, despite the tight grip he had on her arm in the office.

If not terrified of him, Adam Smasher, what the hell could cause her to be so flustered?

Adam waited as she at last noticed him watching her, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m late,” Lumen stated sheepishly. “I know that.”

Eyes narrowing, Adam didn’t grace her with a response.

A sigh.

“It won’t happen again,” she continued. “I promise.”

He wholly expected a flood of excuses, but Lumen offered not a single one. Instead, she casually approached him, giving one final look over her shoulder towards the opening of the gym.

“Expecting someone?” he questioned.

She turned away.

“Hm?”

At that, Adam snapped.

“You’re not a stupid bitch so stop fucking acting like one!”

Lumen flinched at the sudden harshness in his voice, at how he somehow managed to make himself larger as he loomed over her frozen form.

However, much to Adam’s annoyance, she then squared her shoulders. In a showing of grace, Lumen chose to maintain her ignorance.

“It’s nothing,” she quipped. “Let’s just get started, yeah?”

A tense pause filled the air while the pair refused to break eye contact with one another, too stubborn and too prideful to back down first.

Adam rolled his eyes. So be it. He didn’t really give a fuck anyway. Temper steaming, he conceded, allowing the moment to pass so they could finally start his assessment.

“Stretch,” he ordered. “Then I’ll give you some exercises-”

“What kind?”

“Physical ones,” he replied sharply. “Just do what I fucking tell you. You’ve already wasted enough of my time tonight.”

It was then did she truly regard him. Amusement soon touched her features as she scrutinized his attire. Gone was his large Arasaka jacket, replaced with a gray tank of his own that clung to his large frame. More of his implants could be seen under the bright lights of the gym, and without the jacket’s neck guard Lumen was able to appraise the thick, black cables that snaked down his neck and shoulders, as well as the sharp jawline from the implant on his chin. He still wore his black cargo pants and military-grade boots, but seeing more of his broad shoulders and some RealSkin was a nice change for the good doctor. In a strange way the look humanized him.

“Gawk at me all you want,” stated Adam. “But don’t start anything you can’t finish, sweetheart.”

Her lips twisted into a scowl, but Lumen began stretching as he had told her to. Adam felt pleased at her obedience, eyes lingering on her body as she bent over to tap the mats. Her toned physique curved deliciously at her hips, ass, and breasts, and he blatantly allowed himself an eye full.

Denial served him no good. Adam knew that he was physically attracted to the woman. Knew since they first met in the lobby, her beauty and confidence stalling him in his tracks. Always more drawn to the feminine figure, Lumen’s body lacked any qualities that suggested any weakness. Her legs were lined with muscle, arms, too, showing evidence of some athleticism.

How unfortunate that she was the client, he thought. Might’ve be fun to-

“You good?”

Gold eyes pierced him like knives as her hands gripped her shins.

Adam smirked. No guilt filled him. No shame forced his eyes to avert. Instead, he held her stare in a welcomed challenge.

“Never better,” he responded.

Lumen scoffed.

“To start,” continued Adam. “I need to know what implants you’re outfitted with.”

The annoyance on her face melted away into a blank stare.

“Just my eyes,” she answered. “Kiroshis-”

“I’m not stupid. No one has eyes like yours.”

That last comment spilled out of him before he could stop it. Another pause followed. Adam pushed through the awkwardness, ignoring her quirked brow.

“What other cyberware?”

Her shoulders rose.

“That’s it. I don’t have-”

“There’s no use lying to me-”

“I know. I’m telling the truth. I don’t have anything else.”

His teeth grit.

Of course.

Of course that’s all she had.

His latest security job is an organic meatbag with a savior complex, and his future career with one of the leading corporations in Night City is hinging on her survival.

Lumen frowned as if sensing his disapproval, but he asked nothing more. Instead, Adam led her to an indoor track in the facility and commanded she run a mile. The woman did as she was asked, again stirring a sense of pleasure in the mercenary as he openly lusted at her body while she bounded away.

Meatbag or not, Adam planned to push her. To break her in. To see what she looked like when she crumbled, when her body gave out. To see how she handled pain. Eyes lingered on her ass as she lapped him, his mind forcibly ignoring how his body twitched.

The evening drawled on in a slower pace than what Adam preferred. True, Lumen did all that he asked when it came to assessing her physical prowess. She ran, lifted, pushed, pulled, twisted, and carried whatever weight, time, or distance that Adam commanded. She scored high in each test, even as patches of sweat darkened her top. Her stats mildly impressed him though he would never admit that. It was a small relief that he wouldn’t have to drag her ass through the field as he might the lazy corpos from past security details, their bodies clammy and panting from mild exercise. Though her body was strong, her understanding about defense tactics was certainly not. That’s what made time drag on, the hours stretching with each new technique and modeling of skill. Each drill was met with more questions and coupled with Lumen’s furrowed brow as she tried to learn proper stance and follow-through. She stumbled. She forgot where her hands were supposed to rest. He had to repeat himself, sometimes three or four times until she got it right. To be fair, her opponent stood more than a foot taller than her, his body broad, heavy, and hard. The average citizen of Night City wouldn’t have the same build, but Adam saw value in testing her all the same. No complaints left Lumen, though as time pressed on, Adam could sense her fatigue.

If asked, he would ignore any implications that he enjoyed testing her. The woman was surprisingly open and attentive to his teachings, even when bested by the merc or met with criticism. Adam caught her off guard multiple times to challenge her reflexes, shoulder checking or roughly shoving her back onto the cushioned mats. Frustration was evident whenever she made a mistake, usually in the form of a sharp exhale or her teeth worrying her bottom lip, but Lumen did not allow any self-pity. Instead, she quickly rose from the mat to try again. Such persistence and the true power he felt behind every blocked blow loosened Adam up. Perhaps he lingered in his holds a little longer than necessary. Perhaps he savored how his body was pressed against hers, the heady scent of her perfume and sweat intoxicating him. Maybe he enjoyed her shit-eating grin whenever she felt that she bested him. Or when he let her land some hits just to see her golden eyes light up in pride. Or Adam gave a short ‘good’ whenever she seemed to master a concept, the closest thing to praise that he ever gave anyone.

Denial served him no good. But he would deny to anyone watching them spar that night that he permitted himself a smile.

For his own amusement, Adam dodged her attempt to strike him in the face, side stepping and immediately wrapping an arm around her waist. A shriek escaped Lumen as he lifted her from the floor with ease and tossed her a few yards away, her body landing hard on the mats and rolling before she settled with a groan.

“Again,” Adam repeated for likely the hundredth time.

When Lumen spoke, her face was still turned away, muffled and listless.

“Does this gym not have a closing time-”

“No.”

A heavy breath left her, her body deflating from exhaustion.

“We’ve been doing this for like, six hours, Adam. I think I’m done for the day.”

“You’ll be done when I say you’re done. Get up-”

“Nah.”

She heard his steps and could practically feel the challenge rolling off of him in waves.

“I know that your little assessment is over,” she chided with the same amount of liveliness. “Safe to say that you like tossing me around.”

A sneer spread across Adam’s lips.

“Maybe I do,” he agreed. “Or I just like the view of you on your back.”

A laugh. Weak, but genuine all the same.

“Preem. Glad to know I’m not losing my mind.”

Rolling over, Lumen dared to look into his red eyes. Never got old, the way her eyes shined. The directness set him back.

“Did I pass?” she asked. “Are you willing to babysit me now?”

“Willing? Never.”

Her eyes rolled.

“But do I pass?”

“It’ll take years before you’re passable, but for one day a week I guess it’ll do.”

Lumen chuckled as she pulled herself to her feet. Every muscle and joint ached at the effort, a silent scream retching from her body after all the work that he put her through. She knew that the intensity and duration was all unnecessary, but she chose to humor him all the same with how he conducted his assessment. Especially after catching how Adam watched her, glimmers of his suppressed amazement glowing each time Lumen completed an exercise well ahead of her expected time.

“Holy shit, it’s midnight,” she breathed.

Adam said not a word, choosing to watch her stretch and pack her things in silence. Lumen’s gray tank top was soaked all the way through, evidence of her labor practically dripping off her face. The woman was still standing after all the hell he pushed her through, even smiling to herself as she took off her tank and slipped on a windbreaker. Wasn’t shy, not one bit. His eyes drank her in, committing her curves to memory. Just below the band of her sports bra, Adam saw the beginning of a black tattoo.

“Are you above fraternizing?”

The words took a moment to register, his mind wondering more so about the hidden ink.

Lumen’s smile weakened, feeling the sting of rejection in his lack of response.

“Hey,” she tried again in a new, soft voice. The change snapped Adam back into focus, suspicion filling him immediately.

“I’m sorry about how I treated you back at my office,” continued the woman. “That last time, you know, with my client?”

Her tongue wet her lips.

“She’s just a child,” continued Lumen. “And, well, I guess tantrums match the level of body modifications? I don’t know. Anyway, it wasn’t right that I took out my frustration on you. You just tried to help, and I’m sorry that I was…”

And just like that, her warm smile and how deeply she looked into his eyes captivated him. He froze at her authenticity, at how brazen she was with her vulnerable emotions. A whim that Adam seldom allowed himself to have, lest it maintain a sense of control.

“I was a bitch,” she concluded. “And I’m sorry.”

Adam wasn’t quite sure what to do next. No one had really apologized to him before, not out of anything other than pure fear anyway, and he was so taken aback by the genuine sincerity of it all that he found himself staring off towards the far side of the gym to avoid the intimacy of her gaze.

“I don’t give a shit,” he stated coolly. “You’re just part of the agreement with Arasaka, a means to an end unfortunately. Even if you were being a total cunt.”

Hoping that she would do something predictable like maybe argue or insult him, Adam dared his eyes to venture back to the woman. Lumen appeared not to take offense at his latest label. She laughed heartily.

“I guess I was being a cunt,” she mused. “That’s fair.”

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Lumen approached the door. She gave a small wave from over her shoulder. Adam was left speechless.

Before leaving the building himself, the merc took an elevator to one of the other lower floors. Too preoccupied by what occurred that evening, he nearly forgot to retrieve a finishing touch from the Weapons Department. He didn’t typically find much use for this particular item, the other contracts either not important enough or Adam not giving a shit either way, but in this case he thought it wise to play it safer rather than risk any unnecessary setbacks to his missions with Lumen. The check-out process was easy enough, especially with his level of clearance. Item in hand, Adam was lost in thought as he travelled down to the parking garage of Arasaka headquarters. The woman had asked him about fraternization.

Why?

To what end?

Did she expect him to want to have a drink with her? Dinner?

As if they were friendly?

As if he was interested in learning anything about her that didn’t have to do with their contract?

Enigmatic. That would be a great word to describe Lumen or at least one that satisfied Adam in that moment. Each time they met she surprised him. Each time she challenged his assumptions about how she’d respond, react, treat him, even in the face of an insult or threat. What bothered Adam more was how unbothered he was becoming to her defiance. He allowed her to roll her eyes, to argue, to bait him, to tease. Not once had he laid a hand on her with intent to harm. Unlike her colleague, Lumen walked away from their conversations unscathed, or more honestly, he felt the need to walk away from her due to how off kilter she made Adam feel with that smile and gentle touches of the hand. He shivered at the memory of her warmth, at how deeply she looked into his eyes with her palm pressed to his cheek. Couldn’t recall the last time someone held him like that, even if she was only doing it to distract him from his rage.

A scoff.

That’s the only reason she did such an intimate thing. To survive. To fend off her imminent demise at his hand. She must recognize how tentative her role is, that the moment Arasaka deemed their contact over all reserve and patience went out the window. That must be why he staved his anger, why he showed her such undeserved mercy even though she was such a festering pain in his ass.

And yet.

Preem. That’s what she had said with that classic smile. That’s what she said at their shared acknowledgment of his attraction to her.

Preem.

Almost flirtatious.

The elevator doors opened and let in the cool air of the parking garage. It smelled of oil and exhaust, coupled with the strong urban smells of the city street. Something about a city at night stirred within Adam a sense of belonging. Of home. Maybe it was the kind of people who roamed freely at night, who clubbed, drank, and drugged themselves to excess in primal escapism. The kind who found comfort in the shadows as he did, who took refuge in the lapse in reality that Night City’s underbelly provided.

He breathed it in to feel the taste on his tongue, already debating on how to spend one of his rare, free nights off.

Just as Adam was about to leave the garage, a far-off figure captured his attention.

She stood in heavy contemplation by the opening of the garage, her attention completely void of Adam’s presence. That plump bottom lip of hers were tugged in her teeth with her fingers also pinching the skin as she thought on, clearly weighing upon an important decision.

Adam frowned at seeing Lumen still lingering around the corporate building. Their time had concluded half an hour ago, yet there she was. Stance rigid, Adam took note in how uncomfortable she appeared, recalling how strangely she had entered the gym earlier in the night. He scanned her, not surprised to see her heart rate was elevated and breathing slightly labored.

Fear.

Textbook fear, but why?

Following her stare, Adam quickly understood.

Down the street stood a small group of young men. They stood huddled amongst each other near the hood of some beat up car, their scrappy clothes alit by streetlight. They smoked and talked to one another in hushed voices, but even in their best efforts to appear nonchalant, Adam was aware at how each one would periodically stare in Lumen’s direction. Eyes hooded and with a hint of a smile, one man even nodded towards her. Lumen flinched.

No one was aware of Adam. No one knew he lingered in the shadows, how he was privy to all who were involved. How he had access to their bounties and criminal charges in seconds, how his temper blistered at seeing the nature of their offenses.

With a heavy hand, Adam reached out from the darkness and placed his palm on the base of her neck. Lumen jumped instantly, a scream catching in her throat.

“Do you know them?”

His voice was stern, though unreadable. Beneath his touch, he could feel her body relaxing, at how calm she became at hearing his voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered. “Why the fuck would you do that-”

“Do you know those men?”

She swallowed.

“No.”

Adam stepped out from beneath the shadows of the parking garage, his grip still on the back of Lumen’s neck.

When he spoke again, his voice was louder and held a sort of lethality in its tone.

“Go home,” he commanded.

Before she could respond, his other hand left his side to reveal the item he took from the Weapons Department. She frowned in confusion as he held up a large white ring, the device clearly some form of modification. Without asking, Adam moved the device over her head and hung it around her neck.

“What is this?” asked Lumen.

“A Halo.”

Adam’s red eyes glowed an amber color, the device then chiming to life. Lumen felt a dull vibration coming from the ring as it activated and synced with the mercenary, her anxiety bubbling even more. It shined a bright white, the color illuminating her face in a faint glow. Adam gave her neck a squeeze.

“What, what does it do?” she asked him.

“Stops anyone from hacking in, even if its just your optics and processor. Tells me where you are at all times and any irregularities in your vitals. Also has a panic feature. Not that you’ll need it.”

That last part was said while Adam gave his coldest stare to the men on the opposite end of the street. He knew they could hear him, knew they recognized who he was, his name falling off their lips the moment he revealed himself. Adam reveled in how quickly they avoided his gaze, at how fast they scrambled.

Turning back to Lumen, he caught her letting out a sigh of relief.

“Go home,” he commanded again. “Turn this off when you get there.”

She nodded slowly.

Adam’s eyes lingered on her face a moment longer, taking in the redness of her cheeks and how quickly her pulse raced, his thumb feeling its drumming beneath his touch.

He let her go and turned down the sidewalk, not bothering to look at her again.

Just as Adam thought that he finally had the final word, a faint ‘thank you’ was whispered from behind.

[nikstersss]

Not How To Pass The PLE

Before I go into the main gist of this post, let me give you a small background story. I was a mid-year post-graduate intern in Manila who started in January 2021. I lived alone in our condo unit near the hospital I went to. My usual routine was to get up early, prep, take a short walk to the trike station where I’d take a tricycle to the hospital, go on duty, insert a coffee or carioca break in between, walk all the way home at the end of the day, then maybe have a short study session with a couple friends after dinner or just chill at home. It was a pretty good setup. But then COVID happened. Suddenly, I was a pandemic e-ntern stuck at home listening to Zoom endorsements and lectures all day. At first I was hopeful that things would somehow go back to normal and maybe I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my internship in front of a screen, but we all know how that turned out. 

I finished the first half of my internship with the regular year PGIs online. While they were prepping for their boards, I was on my second half with the new batch of interns (that’s probably you, dear reader)—still online. Now you might think that it would have been wise of me to use all that “free” time to start early with my own boards prep and you would be correct. I thought the exact same thing. And trust me, I tried. And failed. Countless times. I won’t even try to justify it. Admittedly, I still think it was a wasted opportunity to read more and make notes, but then again, there’s no use crying over spilled milk. Besides, while it would have been nice and probably less stressful, I still survived without it. Which means that you can, too. So if you’re one of those who’s berating himself because you “didn’t make the most out of your time”, cut it out. You’ll be fine.

Towards the end of my internship, I enrolled in a review center. Despite the asynchronous setup, the review schedule was super tight and the sessions already started while I was still in the middle of final reports and exams. Needless to say, I was already behind on that before it even began. In fact, I didn’t even get to focus on reviewing itself until maybe around early February because of clearance, paperwork, and application stuff. So if you were to ask me how long I really reviewed for the March 2021 boards, I’d say just a little over a month. Kasalanan ko. Wag po tularan. Stressful siya. Nakakaloka. 

And even when I did get to really buckle down and do some intense reading, I didn’t follow the program anymore. I tried to catch up at first, but I was already way behind. But I am grateful for all the summarized material because that meant I didn’t have to pore over the mother books anymore. What I will say, though, is that because I didn’t exactly follow the recommended study hours etcetera, I was able to enjoy the whole process because I did it at my own pace. Sure, there was still that dread that maybe I wasn’t on the same level as the others, but I learned to tune those thoughts out eventually. And that’s where goal-setting and discipline comes in, I guess. 

The most common question I’ve been getting is what was my day like during the PLE review season. Honestly, I’d like to say I had a routine I followed, but that’s only half-true. While I did have a structure for my day, I rarely followed it exactly. Nevertheless, allow me to share what it would have been like if I did: 

Ideally, I’d wake up at 5:00 A.M. then do my morning routine which included prayer and meditation, making my bed, taking a shower, and brewing coffee. And because I’m the type of person who enjoys these mundane activities and slow mornings, I also took this opportunity to get myself in the zone before all the studying that’s to come. I’d plan out my study goals and outline (something you can do the night before, actually) then maybe have breakfast while watching some videos (could be review-related, or those self-motivational vids, or maybe even Korean street food). I’d do whatever I wanted to wake my brain up without stressing it out too much until around 6:30 A.M. By this time, I’d work on backlogs for about an hour and study until about 10 or 11 A.M.—it depends how in the zone I am. I’d prep and cook lunch and then eat while watching Netflix maybe or even play a bit of Fortnite or Paladins until about 1:00 P.M. At this point, I’m pretty certain to be quite sleepy so it’s either I make coffee or tea, or maybe even go out to study at a coffee shop, and then it’s study all the way until 7 P.M. I then take a break to get some exercise, take a shower, have a light dinner, and if I feel like I deserve it, nap for a little bit. At around 8:30, my family usually calls and then we pray the rosary together. After this, I study again, but more of a recall and review session for the day’s progress until about 11:30. I then have my night self-care routine and then go to sleep around midnight. 

The main takeaway from the previous paragraph? “Ideally.”

During the first few days of setting up my schedule or routine, following it was already challenging, but still doable. But then the backlogs started piling up and no matter how much I tried to streamline the whole study process, I just couldn’t keep up. I did what I could to follow study habits and schedules, but the setup was falling apart. And you know what? That was okay. 

Normally, my type A self would have been so frustrated already with how poorly I was handling my review season. Admittedly, there were a few meltdowns and anxiety attacks as the exam drew nearer, but for the most part, I just let things happen as they did. I still adjusted, sure, but I wasn’t hard on myself for always having to. I kept changing goals when I didn’t meet them (which was probably 80% of the time). There were even instances where I’d finish a handout and then I’d say that okay, I’ll watch an episode for a reward, but that episode became the entire season. While I considered myself to be the most chill reviewee, I also thought I was the worst because I refused to give up any of my wants for my needs. I resisted, of course, but then they’d bug me the entire time I was studying so instead of staying productive, I’d just annoy the hell out of myself. I was probably just lazy and stubborn. LOL. Long story, short, it was a constant battle. 

There were times when I felt confident enough to power through the whole thing. I enjoyed the whole process of studying, actually. Making notes and my own ways of memorizing things was fun. I made use of different study strategies, self-checks, and motivational boosters (more on these on a different post). Aside from these, having review-mates who were just a chat away made things bearable. Breakdown session muna tas aral na ulit. And how could I forget all my sweet friends who would send over coffee ayuda every now and then? To me, passing the boards, while mainly should be for oneself and one’s self-actualization, is also about not letting down these people who have been with you throughout your journey. 

But it wasn’t always a hyped-90s-movie-transformation-montage kind of environment. Other times, I was just worn out and dejected by my lack of progress. In the already meager time I had to study, I still had plenty of off-days. Concepts just wouldn’t stick and it was disappointing how I’d already forgotten what I just read a couple days ago. It got really tiring even if I was staying indoors all the time. I missed the comfort of coffee shops and the company of study buddies. I missed my family. I wanted to hug our dog. There were days when I couldn’t even bring myself to make coffee and open my notes. I even reached a point where I was sure that I wouldn’t finish reading all the material. (I kid you not, I have handouts I never got to open.) 

Yet here I am. Here I am writing about how I survived all that and got those two letters attached to my name. I am not a good example, obviously. There are hundreds better than me and you probably should be taking advice from them instead. I’m simply writing this to tell you that you don’t have to worry. This is all just to ease your anxieties about the PLE. I’m not saying it’s an easy feat that you can just achieve just like that. While I seemed rather complacent, I still put in the work, after all. Admittedly, I know I could have done more, but again, I’m not going to dwell on that anymore. It’s done. 

My goal in writing this is to let you know, my dear future doctor, that you’re going to be just fine. Here’s someone who understands the huge disconnect that stemmed from being a pandemic e-ntern. Here’s someone who’s always been doubtful and full of anxieties about the PLE even before she filed her application at the PRC. Here’s someone who constantly prayed that the PLE be moved even for just a month (or kahit two weeks lang masaya na ako nun) up to the week before the exam along with a rising number of cases. Here’s someone who barely has the capability to maintain focus for more than an hour. Here’s someone whose reading pace was literally at 10 minutes per page (yes, I actually timed it and IDK if that’s slow or really slow). Here’s someone who still allowed herself to study at coffee shops and even have samgyup (with proper health protocols, of course) even if she knew she was drowning in backlogs. 

My point is that if I managed to pass despite all that, you can, too. My close friends know that I developed a rather funny mentality to ease the jitters as the boards drew nearer. I knew and claimed it for myself that I would already pass. I viewed the whole PLE as just a “formality”--a means for His plans of me becoming a doctor to manifest in this realm. I believed it so much to the point that I thought that no matter what bloopers and slip-ups I have during the test, I’d still see my name on the list of board passers. I’m not saying you should totally ease up and just have a come-what-may attitude. Again, I’m not the model student you should be following here. What I’m saying is to have faith in yourself, your capabilities, and in God. So chin up, Doc. Just a little more ‘til you get to legally practice with that MD at the end of your name.

[chaosride]

A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

“Children have never been very good at listening to their elders, but they have never failed to imitate them.” — James Baldwin

Raelnor, once he woke the next morning, was as stubborn about telling Anders the truth of how he had gotten hurt as he had been everytime before. Unlike the times before, the healer challenged his story of yet another accident. All it had accomplished was making the teenager angry and defensive.

“I don’t know why you care so much. We’re not your kids so we’re not your blighted problem. Bree, Tanner, Ros, get the twins, let’s go.”

“But Rae-”

“Now, ” Raelnor ordered. “Thank you for the healing,” he told Anders tersely before brushing past him.

His siblings followed reluctantly, and Bree cast Anders an apologetic look over her shoulder before Raelnor snapped at her to hurry up. Anders wished he could comfort her, but it had been made clear that he had overstepped his boundaries. Raelnor was right; they were not his kids, no matter how much he would welcome them with open arms as such. Family was just another freedom not available to him.

After that, the younger children stopped coming to the clinic during the day. When Anders passed their camp, Tanner and Rosalyn kept their heads down and would hold the twins back from running to him. Bree always broke his heart because she would watch him go past with tear filled eyes, her small face crumpled in despair.

The clinic felt emptier even when they were bustling with people and Anders barely slept, worried that if he would not come to Anders, Raelnor wouldn’t go to anyone else either. Something was clearly going on with him, but it was something he made clear that Anders had no right to ask about. The boy was right, Anders was just a healer. Getting too attached to those he treated was a recipe for disaster, but he hadn’t been able to help himself.

----

Fenris leaned against the wall near the exit to Darktown from the docks and watched as all the dock workers and ship hands scuttled about finishing their duties for the day. He blended in easily with the crowd of men playing dice in the shade, sailors in port for the evening from what he had gathered, but he knew Raelnor had seen him regardless. Rather than try slinking off a different way, however, Raelnor finished what he needed to do before striding over to where Fenris was waiting.

“Let me guess, the healer sent you and I owe some kind of favor for all the free help,” he said.

“The healer doesn’t know I’m here. You owe him an apology,” Fenris said.

Now that he said it outloud, he knew it sounded a little ridiculous for him to come here for something as seemingly inane as that but it had to be done.

“He worries about you. Come, walk with me,” he said when he saw Raelnor look at the men around them who were all clearly listening to their conversation.

Fenris worried for a moment Raelnor would tell him to sod off but he followed diligently. He steered them towards Hightown at a leisurely pace, forcing Raelnor to walk beside him rather than behind as the boy tried to.

“How are you actually getting those injuries? I asked around, there haven’t been any major accidents like you’ve said, according to other dock hands I know.”

“Why does it matter?” Raelnor asked sullenly. “I’m fine , and we need the extra money. Feeding seven of us isn’t easy. I’m doing what I have to do.”

“Which is?”

Raelnor huffed and refused to look at Fenris.

“I am no stranger to doing what must be done to survive,” Fenris told him carefully. “How are you making the extra money?” He mainly asked to see if the boy would tell him.

Fenris could make an educated guess or three where the injuries came from. The bootprint that Fenris had noticed on the boy's filthy shirt over his broken ribs had been a pretty good indication. Now that he knew he was making money off of it there were really only a few things Raelnor could have gotten himself into, none of them good.

Raelnor sighed. “My boss got me a spot to fight in these underground matches, and he puts bets on me with my pay for the day and then gives me part of the bet winnings. I’ve been winning so the pay days have been good, I can’t walk away from it."

Fenris nodded and digested that information. He had figured it was something to that effect, but knew from the dock workers who would speak with him that Raelnor’s boss was a greedy, cold-hearted man who wouldn’t hesitate to throw Raelnor to the wolves if it made him money.

“Fighting like that will make good money, while it lasts. But in those kinds of fights, no one will step in when an opponent goes too far. And one always does. Next time it won’t be your ribs they break, it will be your skull or your spine. Even if you do keep winning for now, you won’t if they keep getting hits like that in. Especially if you are too stubborn to seek out a healer.”

“I know,” Raelnor said petulantly, “I have one big fight left. I’ve won so many in a row that Burgess said it’s better to let him bet against me and take a dive. After that, I already promised Delilah I would stop fighting.”

“And you informed your boss about not fighting any more after?”

“Yeah, that’s when he suggested the dive. He said as long as I made it look good, I would be fine.”

Fenris doubted the boy’s boss would be letting him leave that fight alive, why split the winning when he could keep it all for himself. Especially if the fighter was going to stop making him as much money.

“And you trust his word? I make more coin than I need, I will pay whatever he has been per fight if you back out.”

“We don’t need a hand out. I told the kids I would make the money we needed to survive, and I won’t sit and watch as they go hungry again. I just… want a better life for them.”

“I understand not wanting to be coddled, but accepting help from those who care about your well-being is not a hand out. The offer is there if you want it. When is the fight?”

“In two nights. And you don’t actually care about us, you just feel sorry for us.”

Fenris snorted. “I promise if that were the case, I would have found a more willing charity case. The streets are littered with people who have fallen on hard times. I actually do care, and so does Anders. Apologise to him, or at the very least stop keeping the children away from him. They are safer with him in the clinic while you are away than fending for themselves as they are now.”

“Yes, you made your point, I’ll apologize to the healer. If he’ll even hear it, I was… cruel, before.”

Fenris didn’t know what Raelnor had said to Anders, only that the mage had looked as though his heart had been shattered and stomped on every time he saw the children in passing or one of their companions teased him about his new charges.

“Even so, he will hear you. Anders is a good man, and a dedicated healer,” Fenris advised.

“I know he really cares about the kids, and Bree loves him. But I can’t tell him about this, he’ll want me to stop and start sending more food with the kids than he already does. He doesn’t have it anymore than anyone else in Darktown does. I still don’t understand why you care though. I mean enough to come here and offer to pay me.”

If Fenris was honest, he didn’t either, entirely. He had asked himself why he was even bothering at least three times on the walk over. Part of it was his desire to make sure the children were safe, the ones he could anyway. But the driving factor was that he couldn’t bear to see Anders moping around anymore. It was clear the healer blamed himself for whatever falling out had occurred and wasn’t going to take steps to correct the issue so Fenris had.

Fenris wasn’t even sure why it bothered him. He and Anders had never seen eye to eye. When he had first seen the children hanging around the clinic Fenris had assumed the worst of the mage; he wouldn’t have been the first pervert to groom children into relying on him. But Anders had only cared for the children and tried to look after them. He was willing to give them whatever he could despite how little he had already. Anders was a nurturing person and these children needed nurture. Even Fenris could see it was cruel to keep them away from each other.

He paused near the top of the steps that entered Hightown from Lowtown, directly into a square crowded with merchant stalls. The market was lively with day laborers coming to get what they needed for the night, and a child’s shrieking laugh followed by the barking of a dog rose above the sound of the crowd. Raelnor waited for him to answer, watching Fenris with curious eyes.

“Because Anders is upset and it is not how things have to be. They can still be mended. Even if you won’t back out of that fight, at least apologise to him. He is a worthy ally to have in your corner. Since you’re worried about him feeding you more than he has, let me buy you more food to take to him.”

Raelnor opened his mouth to argue but Fenris had already waved his protest off and cleared the last few steps. The boy trailed him to a stall selling fresh bread from the bakery in town. He seemed to realize protesting was useless and instead followed after Fenris, the look on his face a cross between befuddlement and indignation.

Fenris walked him all the way back to the Darktown, not bothered by the lack of conversation from his companion. Raelnor looked thoughtful, and Fenris only hoped he was considering what he had told him about dropping out of the fight. As they descended into Darktown, Fenris broke the silence.

“You said your fight is in two days, where?”

Raelnor looked at him in surprise.

“There’s a ship that Burgess keeps docked here at a private port, they have the fights below decks there,” he told Fenris. “Why, you comin’ to see me fight?”

“I may,” was all Fenris answered and left it at that.

Tanner, Bree, and Rosalyn all looked hesitantly hopeful when they recognized Fenris. All hesitation was wiped away when Raelnor told them they were going to the clinic to see Anders and glee took its place. Fenris let Bree carry the basket of food when she asked to, ensuring she had a good grip on it before releasing it to her. Cahir reached for Fenris from Rosalyn’s arms and Rosalyn trustingly stepped closer to allow Fenris to take him but Fenris shook his head. At her hurt look he sighed.

“I’m not going in,” he explained.

Raelnor raised an eyebrow and looked at the amount of food in the basket Bree was valiantly hefting along ahead of them then back at Fenris.

“You’re not staying for dinner? Are you fighting with the healer too?”

Always, it seems like, Fenris thought with an amused huff. Though, he supposed that wasn’t quite true. He had spent all afternoon hunting down the man’s children on his behalf because he believed Anders to be in the right. Naturally Fenris would rather face down an entire army of demons than admit that to Anders himself though.

“Nothing of the sort,” he assured them. “I agreed to eat dinner elsewhere. I’m sure I will join you another night,” he added when Rosalyn frowned and looked away.

She nodded and shifted Cahir in her arms when he continued to squirm. Finally she let him down when it was clear he wouldn’t tolerate being carried. The warrior was sure he would join Cat where she was holding Tanner’s hand and chattering at him in excited baby babbling as he led her after Bree. Instead of migrating after his twin however, Cahir toddled over to Fenris determinedly and the elf sighed before picking the boy up.

“I suppose I should have known I had no say with you,” he told Cahir who only jabbered at him happily, pleased now that he had gotten his way. He escorted the entire pack around the corner and rapped twice on the closed clinic door. He knelt to set Cahir down and was saved any fuss at the clingy toddler being put down by Cat stumbling to him. Tanner gave him a half smile as Fenris stood and carefully extricated himself from the cluster the kids formed at the door like out of season Wintersend carollers.

Fenris was already striding away when he heard it open but he felt Anders’ bewildered eyes on his back as he rounded the corner. He smiled despite himself when he heard the children begin making a commotion at the sight of the healer. Anders' joyful laughter followed him out of Darktown and echoed in his dreams that night.

---

Two nights later found Fenris below decks on a ship in a private dock. Isabela had known the place when he asked her. Evidently asking her about it and more about Burgess was enough to warrant Varric and Isabela tagging along out of curiosity. When he had explained the situation to Isabela she had agreed that Raelnor was likely in danger and said she would go with him. Of course when he met her at the docks, Varric had been with her. The dwarf’s nose for good gossip was too good for him not to find out, Fenris supposed. Or Isabela was writing friend-fiction and distributing it much faster than he realized. Fenris was sure he could handle himself if things went south, but it did always feel good to have friends watching his back.

“So we’re here looking out for one of your kids?” Varric asked him conversationally. Fenris had found a spot close enough to the fights to see and get there to intervene if necessary but far enough to blend in with the crowd and see the entrances.

“They’re the mage's children, not mine,” Fenris dismissed.

“Funny, Blondie isn’t here,” Varric pointed out, earning a giggle from Isabela.

“Shut up, dwarf.”

“I think it’s all very sweet,” Isabela said, “never thought you were a settling down type, Fen,” she teased.

“I- have never considered it because it never seemed like it would be an option. Settling down wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, with the right person. Regardless, they aren’t my children, I just would not see the boy brutalized for a pay day. I have fought in things such as these, to make enough coin to continue on to the next city, and they are never kind. I worry they will try to kill him even if he surrenders.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised, these things can be brutal,” Varric said. “I’m glad you’re looking out for the kid, Broody.” He smiled at Fenris before wandering over to the bookie calling for bets.

The first few fights went quickly and left blood smeared across the section of floor that had been sectioned off as a ring for the fighters. The closer they got to Raelnor’s fight, the tenser Fenris felt. Something about how the fights had gone, how quickly, didn’t sit right with him. When Varric returned, he voiced the reason for Fenris’ discomfort without any trouble.

“There’s too much blood out there for what’s supposed to be bare knuckle boxing. One of those fighters has a knife of some kind,” he observed. “Aeducan’s beard, what has the kid gotten himself into.”

“Trouble, what children are adept at finding,” Isabela said, sounding wistful. Definitely about the trouble part, from how she fondly touched the hilt of one of her daggers.

“Think we can get to him before they start the fight? We could just force him to leave,” Varric said.

“No, it would only make him angry. We will watch and step in if things get out of hand. He won’t be fighting to win, just to make it look good.”

Neither rogue looked pleased with his decision but didn’t argue. They watched as Raelnor took his place opposite his opponent for the night. The other man was a barrel chested sailor who outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. The bulky bandages around his fingers looked like they were concealing brass knuckles, which Isabela pointed as well. Both Raelnor and the sailor circled one another, crouched and ready to strike. The sailor made the first move, feinting to the right and scowling when Raelnor dodged his harder follow up attack from the left.

He just has to make it look good, Fenris told himself in a mantra as he watched the boy easily out maneuver the larger man.

Raelnor was certainly making it look good, and had landed the first actual blow of the fight by using his smaller size to his advantage to duck in close enough to land a punch to the man’s middle before dancing back out of range. The crowd came alive as they cheered for him but the other fighter hadn’t even flinched at the blow. Perhaps buoyed by the crowd’s enthusiasm, Raelnor darted back in again. There was a lot of power behind the kick he swung at the other fighter but it was easily turned against him. The sailor caught Raelnor’s leg at the ankle and used his momentum to swing him in an arch and slam him onto the ground face first.

He hit hard enough Fenris felt the impact reverberate in the soles of his feet. In the ring, Raelnor spluttered and scrambled to his hands and knees. Vicious, the sailor kicked him back to the ground. This time Raelnor stayed and held his hands up.

“I give, man, you win,” he said.

Blood poured from Raelnor's mouth to pool on the planks beneath him as he panted to catch his breath, still belly down on the floor. The crowd jeered at him to get to his feet and keep fighting, becoming a sea of sharp elbows and stomping feet at the lack of action.

“Enough stalling,” the sailor said finally over the commotion, “I don’t accept surrenders, kid. Every fight with me is to the death. Get up and fight back or I’ll put you out of your misery right there.”

“Hey- I said I was done!” Raelnor protested but the other man was already going after him, moving much faster than he had when they were squaring off before.

“Knife,” Isabela murmured to Fenris, already moving towards the fight. The sailor raised the blade and it gleamed harshly in the light cast by the lanterns swinging from the ceiling before it started to descend towards Raelnor. “Knife!” she screamed and broke into a sprint.

Fenris was faster. The crowd worked against Isabela even as she shoved people aside. The elf did not have that obstacle; Fenris’ brands had flared to life as soon as he realized what the sailor was saying. He slid through the crowd like a lyrium ghost and then phased through the sailor himself before he rematerialized in between Raelnor and the blow. The knife sunk into his shoulder rather then Raelnor's exposed back. The sailor tried to wrench it free but the blade broke off in his flesh. Fenris left it for the moment, knowing he risked bleeding out if he removed it.

The sailor stared at him in shock. Fenris stood and forced the man back, away from Raelnor and towards the other end of the ring. He regarded Fenris with a bloodless, frightened face- like he had seen a ghost.

Good , Fenris thought vindictively.

“The boy said he was done. However, I also fight to the death if you would prefer to continue,” Fenris said.

“How did you-? Where did you-?”

“Are you willing to accept a surrender or are you determined to die today?”

The sailor fell into a fighting stance and sized Fenris up, clearly considering his odds. Fenris saw the sailor's eyes land on the greatsword on his back and smirked as he made a show of flexing his hands in their gauntlets. The sharp points of them gleamed as the elf inspected them as he would his fingernails, an act of casual dismissal.

"I will even agree to fight without my weapon, if you wish, though you clearly do not offer the same honor."

The sailor sighed and straightened from his crouched stance. He had obviously seen that he would not be able to best the elven warrior.

“Blighted knife ears,” he spat. “This is way less fun than you promised it would be Burgess.”

Fenris ignored them and looked to where Isabela had helped Raelnor to his feet. The boy’s face was a bloody mess, his nose broken and his lips cut where his teeth had made impact when he was downed. He weaved on his feet but his eyes were clear when they met Fenris’.

“Alright, excitement’s over everyone!” Varric called, already herding them towards the entrance. Fenris ducked under Raelnor’s other arm to help support him as they left the ship together.

“Maker’s breath, what happened to you?!”

Anders was on them immediately once they staggered into the clinic as a many legged beast, with Raelnor practically hanging limp between Fenris and Isabela. Raelnor’s face had already swelled almost beyond recognition. He weakly lifted his head at Ander’s voice.

“Sorry, healer,” he slurred, “your man got stabbed for me,” though Anders likely didn’t hear the last part as he was already moving to get what he needed to heal him. Fenris shot the boy a warning look, hoping he would drop his injury until Anders had seen to his wounds.

“Here, get him on the cot over here. Has he thrown up or gotten dizzy?”

Isabela and Fenris managed to lay Raelnor down. Fenris only half heard as Varric and Isabela said their farewells to the night, clearly leaving Fenris and Raelnor in Anders’ care.

“He couldn’t walk straight on the way here, probably a concussion.”

“Healer,” Raelnor said over their chatter, making them both go quiet. “He got stabbed, treat him first.”

“Who got stabbed?”

Raelnor chucked his chin in Fenris’ direction. Anders turned to Fenris in surprise.

“Fenris, you got stabbed?!”

“I’m fine, the blade broke off and I can remove it myself when you are ready to close the wound. Treat Raelnor first.”

“I-”

“Mage. Heal your son first,” he said and chuckled when it made Anders splutter in embarrassment.

“I’m not his dad,” he protested.

“You nag me like a mum,” Raelnor said.

He laughed at the dark look Anders gave him but then sucked in a sharp breath as the movement jostled the tender skin of his jaw.

"It's a compliment, healer, my own ma didn't ever fuss over me this much," he soothed even as Anders tried to shush him to prevent more pain.

“Only because someone clearly needs to,” Anders told him and began carefully cleaning his face off with a wet rag.

With Anders occupied with healing Raelnor, Fenris surveyed the clinic. There were cots missing from the main area of the clinic and Anders had strung a makeshift curtain to section off the back of the clinic. Now that he was looking, he could see it flutter some at the corner before Bree’s face peeked out. When she saw Fenris had seen her, she crept out to him.

“Will Rae be okay?”

Fenris nodded. He knelt to be on her level when she didn’t move, still staring across the clinic at Ander’s back.

“Raelnor is going to be fine, I promise. Come, back to bed and you can speak to him yourself in the morning, yes?”

Bree nodded after a moment. “You’ll tuck me in?”

“I will tuck you in,” he agreed. Vaguely, Fenris wondered when this had become his life. He could still remember when children scattered from his path and fell quiet when he entered the room, when even the other slaves would rather continue working than risk being in the kitchen alone with him for their supper.

Bree led him back to the curtained off area and Fenris saw that his assumption was correct; the partition was serving as privacy for what the mage had set up as a bedroom of sorts for the children. It was darker behind it too, with only faint light of the candles filtered out by the cloth hanging from what looked like a clothesline ran from one wall to the other. Besides Bree, only Tanner was awake. When he saw it was Fenris with Bree he gave a small wave before rolling back over to resume sleeping.

“Thank you for whatever you said to Rae,” Bree whispered to him. “It made the healer really happy,” she told him before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

She laid and Fenris covered her with the blanket once she had gotten comfortable.

“Goodnight, da,” she mumbled to him when he rose. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back.

Fenris lingered long enough to see her breathing deepen in sleep before he slipped back out into the clinic where Anders was waiting for him. He sat down on the cot Anders gestured towards and helped the healer removed enough of his armor to see the wound. The bloodsoaked cloth of his undershirt clung to his skin so tightly Anders had to practically peel it off. The healer cleaned around the wound before nodding to Fenris.

“You can go ahead and pull the blade out,” he told him.

Fenris tried not to notice how enraptured the mage looked when he lit his brands and reached his opposite hand up to phase in and pluck the blade free. Anders’ hands were a cool relief against the wound as soon as Fenris had moved his own out of the way. It was always odd to feel the torn muscles and ruptured blood vessels knit themselves back together at such an accelerated rate.

Odd, but not unpleasant. Fenris had never had healing magic used on him before Anders, only blood magic or spells meant to hurt. He found that he wasn’t as adverse to magic being used on his person as long as it was healing magic. Or maybe as long as it was as long as it was Anders’ magic, but he wasn’t ready to unpack all of that just yet.

“Raelnor told me some of what happened. Thank you for looking out for him.”

“He got in over his head, I did what anyone would do.”

Anders smiled softly, not looking away from where he was intently focussing his magic on Fenris’ now mainly healed shoulder.

“No, you did what any good man would do. You’re all healed up, go easy on it for a day or two, he got you deep.”

Fenris nodded and tested his shoulder how Anders instructed him to, rolling it in his joint and stretching it. The healed wound gave no twinges of pain and he still had his full range of motion, which Anders seemed pleased with.

“I’ll leave you to fuss over your children, mage,” Fenris said finally, before he could entertain thoughts of simply staying in the clinic for the evening.

Anders looked conflicted but nodded and walked Fenris to the door. The elf noticed that the door didn’t shut until he was almost out of sight. On the dark walk back to his empty home, he allowed himself to picture what mornings would be like if they all lived together. Hectic certainly, but worth it for the children’s laughter and Anders’ smile as he leaned into- the elf didn’t let himself finish picturing the end of that scenario. Fenris wondered when Anders had begun to play such a starring role in his idle fantasies.

He shook his head at himself. Why bother dreaming of a life he could never have; such things were not for men dogged by their pasts as Fenris was. Danarius had often told him he had been molded into a weapon, and a weapon could not be loved, only wielded well. His freedom meant Fenris could choose what was a worthy cause and the children had passed. That was all it was, really.

(In his dreams that night Anders finished leaning in to kiss him as around them their children faked disgust. In his dreams he was more than a weapon to be put away when it wasn’t needed.)

Comment and Kudo here please!!

[electricbluebutterflies]

Soft babes, 32

I live for post-canon Chris/Melissa relationship dev so... this is that. PG-ish.

the way you said “I love you”... in a way I can’t return

If nothing else, Melissa has a Type. Few things have survived the past few years – the storm that was her discovery that human beings aren’t the only species relevant to her life, and the quiet acclimation that continues – but her thirty-year track record remains. She knows what she likes in a man, and equally what she’s drawn to even though it never ends well. Communication issues, a violent streak, too stubborn to fix himself… how could a woman refuse.

She has a type, but this current manifestation is still new and different and challenging and thirty years of predictability did not prepare her for a goddamned thing.

It has been, objectively, six months since she pulled him down for the best emotion-rush kiss of her life and just under two since she admitted it meant something. That is as much of a timeline as she has to work with, as much as she’s getting out of this. Damaged and complicated are not strong enough words, but despite the visible wounds Chris is… surprisingly functional as a human being. Not someone she has to worry about, most of the time. Trying.

They are not anything and they are everything. It’s nice to have someone who feels like an equal partner, who makes space for her and tells her things the kids won’t, who will probably always be hesitant before showing affection. On paper, everything else is fine. The relationship is evolving at a pace that makes Melissa empathize when she drives past a turtle, but that’s such a minor complaint. She is pretty sure she loves who he currently is. She’s just less sure who he was before that.

(She remembers trying to fight him in a parking lot three years ago. She knows he lost everything, and he may have lowkey been in a cult, and she is not sure how to start that conversation but she wants to know. She wants so much.)

“You alright?” he asks.

They’re standing in her kitchen, one of those nights like before she crossed the line, like the important thing is neither of them wants to be alone. It’s been close to a year since the first time this happened and it’s comfortable enough, and even now she can’t take her eyes off him. A polite distance away, trying to take up as little space as possible. Beautiful man. How did she not see the inevitable that first night when he said no to that bottle of wine that had been in her fridge for god-knows-how-long? (How did she not see it three years ago, when the wedding ring on his hand meant less than the gun in it?)

“Distracted,” she replies, not sure where to start or where it ends.

“By…”

“Is it at all weird to you that we haven’t known each other that long? Like, first time I had an actual conversation with you was tied up in a tree-basement and then a whole year passed and my kid was pretty sure you were dead in Mexico and-“

“What do you actually want, Melissa?”

Bad, bad question. See, this is why this here is a bad idea, because this beautiful idiot man does not have the background she does. He has not spent the majority of his life chasing different variations on the same cliché. (She has never met a woman less like herself than the dead wife was, she is sure of it.) But she can’t know, because as far as she’s concerned his life started two years ago and…

“Tell me. What happened before me. Before your life started revolving around running damage control.”

“That’s not…”

“I am trying to figure out how this happened.” She feels fire burning in her now, that desire to pick a fight that she always feels when a relationship is about to go somewhere she can’t salvage. She’s good at this. Hasn’t had to be in a few years, but she is still good. “Why in the hell someone like you looked twice at someone like me, because I am nothing like what you know and-“

“And that’s why.”

For a moment, the world stops. Something is still lost in translation here, but…

“Not just because I’m convenient?” she counters, still feeling defensive and wanting it out of her system.

“Convenient?” he repeats. The word sounds so bitter in his low voice, an anger she hasn’t seen from this version of him she’s starting to wonder if she even knows. “No. Not like that.”

“Then tell me. Please.”

He takes a few deep breaths and fixes his eyes on some spot on the wall behind her. “You being… not what I know, as you put it, is good.”

“That is vague and you-“

“What I know, what I believed in for most of my life, was absolute obedience. The world worked a very specific way, everything in its place, and I had no reason to question that. It was expected that I would be paired to a woman who would compensate for flaws I couldn’t fix on my own, and I was. That was all that mattered. Finding someone who could control me the right way.”

“Was it enough?”

“I am very good at following orders, or at least I was. I don’t…”

“So this is where I fit?” Melissa asks. “First woman who doesn’t ask you to do anything harder than answer simple questions and not screw anyone else?”

“This is where I don’t know anymore. Being cooperative is how I know how to show love, and you don’t ask for…“

There is silence for a few heartbeats, each of them processing. She has so many more questions and at the same time she’s clearly pushed too far, turned this into a confession that is visibly ravaging her partner. The closer she gets, the easier it is to see cracks in his armor and right now he looks like one of those broken Japanese vases they repair with gold. She is not sure she is enough, but-

“Is that what you need?”

“That depends on what you want.”

Melissa makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a growl, frustrated and impatient. “Yeah, so much for the answering simple questions bit,” she mutters. “I am trying to figure you out and I am trying to be a not-terrible partner and-“

“My instincts and my training are to keep my woman happy, whatever that may mean. Hunter women are trained to be very particular. You are…”

“Not used to being involved with someone who isn’t a complete cockroach,” she finishes before he can find some more affectionate way of pointing out that she has no standards. “I get it. I am as far from high-maintenance as it is possible to get while still being female, and if that is too much for you-“

“I want to take care of you.”

From any other man, that would be a nice sentence of red flags and Melissa has not survived this long by acting like a bull. If she were standing opposite anyone else she’s ever wanted, or at least anyone she’s dated since the dust of her first marriage settled, she would tell them to get the hell out and she would make sure they did not come back. But faults and eccentricities and past trauma be damned, Chris is at least an easy man to trust. If he wanted anything compromising from her, he would’ve tried to take it from her by now, and he has done no such thing. She knows, and is more sure now that she has some concept of the background behind it, that he’s not exactly suggesting some caged-bird kept-woman nightmare here.

She’s just not sure how much she’s comfortable with, really.

“I’m not a housepet,” she breathes. “I am not… I don’t need much.”

“I know. But what I am is yours. What I have is yours.”

How lucky he is to have ended up here with her. She’s never thought of herself as all that much of a catch – not pretty enough, single mother, too much of a bad-idea magnet – but she can see how this caretaker heart could easily get trampled by the wrong woman. At least she’ll be gentle with it. At least she won’t take advantage.

“And if I can’t ask for anything yet?”

“I didn’t mean to pressure you. I just…”

He looks, as he so often does, like some stray dog that’s spent too many nights out in the rain. It breaks her heart a little, how easily he hurts his own heart. That, she decides, she will not allow.

“I’m not that kind of woman,” she murmurs, stepping closer and reaching for his shaking hands. “I can’t be what you know. Can you live with that?”

“I can learn.”

[suncatchr]

Heyo if u wanna talk abt ur ocs can u tell me abt the newest ones (or at least the ones that r new to me which is all of them on the last pic of ur oc post I think?) :3

omggg thank you for asking :3 this is long sorry i haven’t organised my thoughts about them yet ahjfklsa but here we go

before i can talk abt rain n evie i have to explain the universe with kes, amaya, and rio. im sure you remember them :3 but umm you said they were based on pacific rim and i don’t know anything abt pacific rim fhjlafnj sooo i made a bunch of stuff up. soooo there’s a parallel universe/alternate dimension full of people and like, monsters. the alt. universe people r testing ways to break into our dimension and open the door permanently so that both dimensions are their domain. the... city...? that the story is set in is like a capitalists’s dream, split harshly between rich and poor with no middle class. the poor faction of the city that will be named soon is the one responsible for keeping the other-dimension-ers out of our dimension, most if not all of them are responsible in some way for keeping their area safe from those tears in the ozone layer. they in return are given technology, money, and supplies from the rich faction. those guys do next to nothing, they operate like any other city where everyone has jobs and pays their dues to the government. they are very strict about who they let into the city; they don’t want outsiders to know about their dimension problem lest they stop the warriors from doing their jobs or do something to make the tear bigger etc etc. they also don’t want poor people in the city, even if they’re responsible for everyone’s safety. I’m thinking of making the story a really obvious allegory similar to older-fashioned dystopian novels like animal farm and brave new world because i’m obsessed with those in concept. so i think supporting characters will be one-dimensional caricatures of types of people in society, and only the MCs will have nuance. this also makes it easier for me to write side characters ;3

so kestrel and amaya are siblings mostly born and raised into monster-fighting. you know when there’s a factory or whatever in town that most people in that city work at? there’s one of those but it’s like... a firehouse for monster fighting. they mostly live and sleep there, they’re fed and clothed here for free so long as they fight and they’re both content with that. I’m not sure what happened to their parents yet but they’re probably dead. not everyone’s parents are dead, some people have families that they live with at the... compound, these two are just tragic and whatnot. families are encouraged to fight together in duos or trios so that loyalty makes them fight smarter and harder to protect each other. when they’re not at the compound, like if they have shifts off or whatever, they live in an abandoned subway station and steal power from the government who’s unaware that that track is unused 😌

so as far as them as individuals, i kept the planets that u based them off of :3 kestrel is based off mars and mars is the planet of action, energy, motivation, temper. kestrel is moody and temperamental, but their choices are never made without careful consideration. they’re a quick thinker and that makes them confident, so they never back down from a challenge. they have a hard time masking their emotions and it’s easy to see what’s going on in their head. they’re hard to embarrass, though, and they’re very confident in most of their assertions. they’re impatient and crabby, but they aren’t at all shy.

amaya is based off venus, so she’s more emotionally rounded than her sibling and more interested in the poetry of life. she’s very expressive and polite, and she has a thing abt maintaining her image. she’s a bit materialistic and self-centred, focused on her looks and her space, but she’s realistic in her material n sensual desires because al things considered she lives in a subway station. she knows what to expect from life, or at least she thinks she does, and is just as confident in her own assertions as kestrel. she’s stubborn and argumentative for that reason, but her confidence makes her a natural leader and people flock to her for advice and assistance. she loves this.

and adrion, based off earth, comes into their lives later. rio used to live on the rich side of town until a second dimension creature escapes the notice of the warriors (i swear they won’t actually be called “warriors” forever 😭) and destroys his part of the city. his family is alright, but the destruction makes him feel like he could do a better job than whoever’s currently there. he leaves his family to join up with the. the compound, and when asked to find a partner to fight with, chooses amaya and kestrel because they’re a top-of-their-class team who are always talking about how things could be better. at first, they don’t want him bc they’re lone wolves and they do not like to be told what to do. but he’s a tough fighter and he’s got the motivation to be good, so they let him stay on the team. as far as personality, rio is really chill and understanding, often willing to let other people’s faults slide. as long as he’s allowed to do what he wants to do, other people can have their way. he’s cheerier than the other two but he’s quieter and more in-the-background. his strong will makes him sensitive and he refuses to change his mind often because he’s quite naive and gullible, making him easy to trick and take advantage of which makes him insecure. this makes him prone to snapping when people put pressure on him.

now for rain and evie. i originally created them as prototypes for their own narrative but the story seemed really similar to my other stuff so i scrapped it BUT i thought the characters themselves worked in this story instead so i kept them :3. rain and evie are brothers who were initially raised in a fighting ring. they live on the poor side of town but they never worked for the compound. they make a living by gladiator fighting, people pay to come in and bet on them and obviously they’re paid for winning fights. rain is an extremely adept fighter and usually manages to beat opponents with brute strength. evie is smaller and less physical and usually fights by using the opponent’s strength against them. they’re simultaneously popular and unpopular in their neighbourhood as they’re like. cool for being good in the ring but they’re really weird otherwise. they’re aggressive, angry and irrational, they act like they’re always in the ring. rain is more sociable and capable than evie, who tends to be reactive and angry. he doesn’t want to be here, but rain is more content in his abilities, so he handles mostly everything so that evie doesn’t have to be responsible for anything. they end up moving on from the ring after evie takes on an opponent that rain tried to tell everyone that he could never beat. evie takes a violent blow to the head that leaves him comatose, and rain spends a huge chunk of money for a piece of technology that replaces the damaged areas of evie’s head and functions in its place. no one tells rain, though, that the thing he put in evie’s head is technology from the other dimension. after the two leave the ring, they decide to make themselves useful and fight the monsters that forced them into this life in the first place.

personality-wise, rain is a laid-back, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. he likes to let things take their course and he isn’t much concerned with proceedings outside of himself and evie. he purposefully denies himself negative emotion and usually tries to fake that everything is good all the time. despite this, he’s emotional and reactive and extremely defensive. he doesn’t like to be challenged or made unhappy and in his dream world he and evie are always just hanging out doing what they want and not having to answer to anyone. people often find him charming bc he’s able to finagle most situations into him getting his way, he’s exceptional with people but he doesn’t like them.

evie is more sullen and droopy. he almost always lets rain do all the talking and he usually appears unconcerned with most goings-on because he’s letting rain evaluate the situation. he’s usually inside his own head, daydreaming or fussing. most of his interactions with others are verbal or physical fights bc he’s unsure how to manage himself without rain around and is often willing to fight for whatever he thinks rain would want. he’s independent outside of that, doesn’t like to be told what to do or how to act. not even rain can calm him down when he’s on his soapbox because he truly believes that if he had to grow up a fighting dog he should be allowed to do whatever the fuck he wants. in downtime he’s usually a little bit more uppity than rain but still similarly laid-back and willing to act like things are okay.

the five of these characters r in the same universe and they go on missions together often, though kes and amaya don’t really get along with rain and evie because they’re all so stubborn.

next are niko and andre, who i got from sammy! we got urban fantasy going on here, and i’m thinking of setting it in like. the mid 1800-s. i’m feeling spicy. umm so i think the key thing about this universe is that “hunters” are a species of humanoid monster. this world is spinning with vampires, werewolves, faeries, demons, etc. pretending to be human in order to survive, and hunters are a mimic species that look human but just... aren’t. they have an insatiable desire to hunt and kill (used to be for food but humans make food more easily accessible), but killing humans makes them vulnerable to being found out. killing other monsters is the perfect substitute, plus humans praise them for it. they’re onto each other but they can’t make scenes in human society so they have to dance around each other to do all of their killing in secret.

andre is a hunter living in the shadow of his older sister, angel. she’s a better, more ruthless hunter than he is, with stronger instincts and a greater prey drive. she’s popular with people in town and generally just more charismatic. he really wants to be like her, but he’s klutzy and insecure and his instincts are poor cuz he overthinks them. one day he comes across niko in a bar and, perceiving him to be human bc he has 0 instincts, they get their flirt on. until niko says something that makes andre realise he’s a vampire. embarrassed and ashamed of his attraction, andre tries to turn his feeling of betrayal into murderous instinct, and he can turn that anger into his first solo kill. niko keeps chasing after andre trying to catch his non-murderous attention because he actually really likes him and doesn’t want to let what they are get in their way.

personality wise, niko is a noisy little wisecracker who likes to be popular. he’s a genuinely nice guy and is famous wherever he goes for being wise and helpful. he’s usually pretty optimistic and very charming, especially in bigger crowds where he can fit in. he can be purposefully oblivious and is very good at disguising his feelings and intentions. he’s witty and sarcastic, often masking negativity for the sake of keeping it light.

andre is a straightforward intellectual type who likes to work and create and achieve. he’s intelligent and steadfast and always strives to do his best (which is why being terrible at hunting is upsetting for him). making achievements kind of replaces his understanding of himself, and not being good at things really digs at his self-worth. he’s not much of a people person but he’s not really shy, either. he’s polite and good-natured, though his feelings are quite fragile.

next generation, same universe, next is honour (whose name HAS to be spelled with the u), journey, and solace. resident throuple. honour and solace are hunters, and journey is human. honour was raised in a big home with lots of hunters under the iron fist of like, the mean nursemaid from annie. they hunt monsters as an organised group, but its a violent institution that doesn’t believe in autonomy nor the worth of human lives. humans exist as something to blend into while they exterminate all other monsters. honour stops believing this when she gets older, mostly due to meeting journey. she assumes journey is just going to be vapid and goofy bc he’s a human, but he ends up being a really cool dude who’s just as in-depth as her and she begins to realise how terrible the lessons she was raised on are.

journey’s family were aware that they were often surrounded by monsters and as such were very protective of him and his siblings. journey never gets to go out and do things, and being stuck in the stuffy comfort of his home is not what he wants to do with his life when he knows there are monsters out there. when he and honour hit it off, they decide to run away together, deciding to shed their upbringings entirely by changing their names to the things they want most.

i set this in the 1800s JUST so that i could have honour and journey use the train to run away. not nice public transit trains, i mean they are riding the dirty rusty rails to seek a better life. they intend to ride a long time to make sure that they’re never recognised. on one of the trains they catch to head north, they come across solace, helping him onto the train as he got there a split second too late to catch it. despite his initial gratitude, solace is unpleasant to ride with. turns out he’s been on the run for most of his life and is just trying to find a place to stay where no one will care that he’s a hunter. in human-only societies hunters are known as mimics and are heavily discriminated against if you’re suspected of being one and straight up killed if you are. after living an uncomfortable life and seeing his father killed, solace decides to go from town to town until he finds a place that’s mostly hunters. when honour reveals they’re looking for the same thing, solace decides to go with them. he’s hesitant to give up his name because it was given to him by his parents, but ultimately he wants to leave that life behind and embody comfort and. yk. solace.

haven’t quite figured these three out personality-wise bc i only finished their designs and names in time for posting the art, rip

and lastly my warriors ocs! I decided to make regular fanclans as opposed to using my existing ocs in an au mostly because i didn’t wanna add in random npcs (as it were) to fill the nursery and elder’s den even tho those r important to clan life. so, i made separate ocs, they live in the arctic! summitclan in the mountains, tundraclan in the plains, and glacierclan by the. glacier. the story so far is a murder mystery, cats of all clans are being killed and going missing and no one knows why. while most warriors assume there’s a bear or fox hanging around the territories, the apprentices saw something while they were hanging out that made them decide to investigate deeper...

our mc is snowpaw, a repurposed rp oc fjdkfjld;af. he’s a summitclan cat and he’s known to be strange and standoffish. he seems cold and apathetic about almost everything and it’s hard to see what he enjoys and dislikes. his secretiveness makes it easy for him to investigate the murders, no one ever questions where snowpaw is going or what he’s doing. with his friends and family snowpaw is a little more jovial, he has very dry humour and is also always trying to help

crowpaw is a tundraclan cat. he’s stuck up and big-mouthed, very arrogant little know it all. don’t ever tell him that, though, bc he’s very sensitive and he will cry. he likes to be seen as the best at everything so he dedicates excess time to learning and is actually a very curious and adventurous cat underneath.

swiftpaw is a glacierclan cat. he’s very mature and is often rumoured to be a great deputy choice when he’s old enough. he’s calm and level-headed, a quick-thinking problem solver with a bit of a superiority complex but not one that anyone in his life would be aware of bc he’s so darn polite. the warrior code is important to him and so are rules of daily clan life that reduce conflict in any way.

teapaw is also a glacierclan cat. she, like snowpaw, is a little bit quiet and secretive, the kind of person (..?) that kinda lurks in the back of important things going on rather than offering her voice. she’s a healer’s apprentice and takes a lot of pride in being effective and efficient with all her duties. she’s curious and observant, and shes good friends with her clan’s seer, deadhawk (i split the medicine cat position into two for these clans, healers do doctor stuff, seers talk to starclan), so she tends to be up to date w what starclan says, which helps her and her friends w their mystery.

and finally, breezepaw! he’s a summitclan cat and snowpaw’s bff. he’s kinda clueless and distractable, very much a follower personality as he likes others to decide what’s important for him to do. he’s a quiet cat, but he’s not afraid to speak his mind when the time comes. kinda a goofy jokester dude, but he knows how to read a room and keep quiet when he doesn’t know what to contribute and jokes won’t help. he likes snowpaw because snowpaw’s always confident in what he’s doing and never clowns on breezepaw for not knowing wtf is going on