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solohux · 5 years ago

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We’re almost halfway through the year so I felt in the mood to make a rec list, and what better fics to rec than the ones which have possibly been overlooked in 2020!

Please remember that this is my own rec list and not being on here does not reflect skill, enjoyment or anything else. It’s just my opinion!

Enjoy! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

• Pretty Little Bunny by funnylookinfella (2.2k, E) Kylo makes the 'mistake' of telling Hux he thinks bunnies are cute. Just a silly little smut fic for springtime!

• Kitten by koi_boi (3k, M) Hux sleeps in an orange cat onesie (which happens to match Millicent). Kylo catches him snoozing in said onesie. They cuddle.

• Paintball Warriors by @rudbeckiasun (2k, E) Supreme Leader Kylo Ren decrees that all officers must have shore leave. Then someone suggests teambuilding activities. Hux isn’t convinced, but paintballing turns out to be far more entertaining than he ever imagined.

• You're My Fucked Up Remedy by @nonsensicalsoliloquy (15.7k, E) For years now, Hux had plans. For so many long, arduous years he’d schemed in the shadows, waging a silent war with the men who’d taken his life and diligently strived to have it suit their every desire. He thought himself prepared for anything. However, what Hux hadn’t planned for, what took over his messed up existence like it suddenly had any other meaning beyond vengeance…was Ren.

• Revenge is Best Served with Hesitation by @heresetrash (4.6k, E) Hux had never been one to do his own dirty work. He preferred to send others to perform those tasks for him. Not because he couldn't do them himself - he was more than capable - but such work was time-consuming and messy, and he had better things to do. Kylo, however, was different. This was personal. Hux didn't just want to kill him himself, he needed to.

• Matters of Efficiency by mundanecactus (4.3k, T) A diplomatic mission goes awry, and General Hux is forced to admit that maybe he doesn't have a protocol for everything...

• Sick Day by newh0pe (2.3k, T) Kylo Ren has killed Supreme Leader Snoke and become one of the most powerful men in the galaxy... but his boyfriend still has to drag him out of bed when he isn't feeling well and baby him.

• We Remain by @drxcomxlfoys (1.1k, G) Kylo finds Hux in the holding cell after Pryde shot him. They both decide to leave the First Order.

• Smirks and Cigarettes by @ashenpages (1.8k, T) The first time Hux has Ren light his cigarette, it isn’t planned or discussed, or even a sensible time to be smoking.

• ghosts from the past by morlawny (<1k, T) It was the same nightmare he had been having for the past few months, and it was haunting him. His father’s voice, the look he gave him… The way his hand touched his face... Kylo released a deep, heavy sigh, causing the body next to him to stir.

• Regeneration by DaisyChainz (3.8k, E) Hux discovers Kylo Ren out in the woods practicing a local ritual to welcome their current planet's Vernal Equinox. Somehow he gets drawn into the rites and finds that, while he objects to the mess, there might be something to the idea of 'renewal'.

• You're Making Fun of Me by DeviantDarkBelle (<1k, M) Kissing something that shouldn't be kissed.

• A Murder on Starscatter Isle by @theweddingofthefoxes (WIP, 8.2k, M) Detective Armitage Hux has volunteered for the case of a lifetime -- solving the murder of Snoke, the leader of a mysterious and isolated commune. If he succeeds, he's sure to get promoted. But if he fails, he could be in for more than he ever expected. Is the new leader, Kylo Ren, a friend, a foe, or something else entirely?

• By the Grace of the Fire and the Flames by Mothwing (11.1k, E) The sight of the pale, sunken chest lifting, pausing, falling again as the valve released. Air escaped the slack mouth with a little huff. Hux’s eyes were sunken and closed. He looked so much smaller than Ben remembered, vulnerable, almost soft around the edges, all his wiry strength gone. Ben had strangled him with both the force and his bare hands before, in anger and in a lust that felt very much like anger. And even though it could have never been easier to end his life, something stopped Ben just as it had always stopped Kylo. Something about the dry patches on his hands. Something about the blue shadows under his eyes. It felt odd to say this, but there was simply no honour in killing this man. Nothing good would come from ending this life, even though, and Ben knew that, they both deserved to die. A little balance. A little justice. And you could not tell a corpse that it’d lost. Ben dismissed the thought. No one was even keeping score any more.

• Whole Worlds Fade by boomsherlocka (34.5k, M) Their first meeting was not noteworthy. Hux was not yet General, and Ren was not yet what he would eventually become.

• Watch This by DaisyChainz (2k, E) Hux had never had a lover like Kylo before: someone that wants Hux, and not just a random warm body. So Hux Really wants to give Kylo what he's asking for, but he's just so damn exhausted. Luckily, Kylo has a stimulating solution.

• Aural by @kyluxtrashpit (2.7k, E) Hux fucks Kylo's ear.

• let go by DarthKyloRen (1.8k, G) “You’re in pain,” Ben’s small voice broke the silence. Kylo nodded in agreement. “I am.” “You don’t have to be.” “Yes I do.”

• The Bidding by tsar_saltans_swan (3.4k, T) "Going once, going twice, won't these gentlemen suffice?" Armitage, a young lawyer, is suddenly thrown into an auction house to atone for the crime of not finding a wife by 25. It's a living hell... until he meets Ben.

• My Jolly Sailor Bold by @ellalba (<1k, G) A ship wonders into the Knight’s of Ren territory and get taken down by Kylo and his knights. Kylo has always been fascinated by humans but never really gotten the opportunity to actually interact with one in a way that doesn’t end with bloody murder. So he spots his opportunity to keep one when he sees a survivor getting away in a rowboat. A survivor with red hair.

• Take A Jump And Pray, May The Force Guide You by @ggerisminth (5.5k, M) The Resistance won, there is peace, well their version of peace. It isn't peace, it isn't even stability. It's just as worse as it was if not worse. But the far greater tragedy is the death of her family, and she will do everything in her power to get them back, even if that means using a technology created by the Sith to take her back in time. Even if it means that it might not work, or that she can never come back. She will never stop fighting to get them back, that is a promise. A promise to the Force, the Stars, and the Moon.

• Stay or Go? by Lokisbestgirl (5k, M) Hux enters into an arranged marriage with General Pryde for power and protection, but he's not getting any satisfaction in the bedroom. When Kylo comes around, they start sleeping together behind Enric's back and Hux finds out he is expecting. The trick is to get Pryde to sleep with Armitage again before suspicion arises. Will Pryde find out or will they get away with it all?

• Fixed by Offing (<1k, T) There was a small bottle sitting on the side table. It was clear, filled with a yellow liquid, and labeled simply, “Happiness”. A hypodermic needle sat next to it.

• I Really Wish I Hated You by inquisitor_tohru (1.5k, T) In another galaxy far, far away, Kylo Ren becomes aware that the voices he's hearing may not be aIl that they seem and comes to the unfortunate conclusion that Hux may be his only hope.

• Caim by Eiramma (20k, T) Hux is stolen from his academy bunk late one night and is dumped on the frozen waste land that is Ilum along with a small handful of his other classmates. Despite never having dreamed a night of his life, on his first night on this frozen planet, Hux finds himself in the body of an angry padawan, Ben Solo. As his stay on Ilum continues, it becomes apparent that pair of them share some sort of deep connection forged through mysticism of the Force, that permits them spend their dreams in one another's waking lives, and Hux has no idea why. But with danger lurking around every snow covered tree, Hux begins to wonder if he will be able to live long enough to understand the mystery of their bond, never mind deal with the growing fondness for the other boy that has begun to bloom in his heart.

• A War of Wages by R_Quarion (2.9k, M) When Kylo Ren kills Palpatine and the power is passed onto him, the Rebellion becomes a story of the past. With the First and Final Order in control of the galaxy, Hux cannot believe that he doesn't even have control over his own paychecks. Phasma is stubborn.

• Wookie Wash by @bostarsky & @sunnywritesstuff (5.6k, E) There had been posters, propaganda on the minuscule level. Nobody had been bold enough to do anything directly, but Hux could tell the decision had not been taken well by his men. That was when he had prompted the head of morale on base to do something about the insurrection, and she had told him she would fix it. Hoping he had finally washed his hands of the matter, Hux had gone back about his day as normal. That had been three days ago, before all the racket. The issue with the campaign was that the model who had been shown in the ad was... Incredibly attractive, to say the least, and apparently the morale officer said that that man was none other than Kylo Ren. Now, nobody had ever seen his face before, but everyone always assumed he was ugly. Hux loathed drama and gossip of all kinds, it distracted his officers from their important duties... But even he couldn't get over the ridiculousness of the new advertisement. There was no way in the galaxy that such an attractive man could be under that mask, and Hux wanted to get to the bottom of it.

• To be Licked, Topped and Loved by hexgoldyloins (2.1k, E) Ren wants to be licked, topped and loved. Hux is willing to explore that.

• For This One Night by Lady_Faulkner (<1k, T) As Starkiller Base nears its completion, Supreme Leader Snoke orders General Hux to go on vacation. The general isn’t pleased. At least he has Kylo Ren in a speedo to look at.

• Halloween Candles by @paperprinc3 (1.3k, M) Ben convinces his friend Hux to help him with a ritual so that Ben can try and talk to his dead grandfather Anakin. The ritual requires a virgin host to take the spirit however Hux didn't think that it was meant literally.

• Fate Is A Cruel Thing by shinogi (<1k, T) What would happen if Kylo was on the steadfast during the events that took place to Hux?

• An Eros Festival Gift by Lady_Faulkner (<1k, T) Hux has been away for two weeks, but he’s due back on the start the Eros Festival, a galaxy wide festival of love, and Kylo has the perfect gift for him. That is, he hopes he does.

• An Earned Reward by PrincessDesire (5.2k, E) Hux rewards his sub Ren for a successful mission.

• Snow Powered by IsaiahVirus (<1k, G) Kylo finds comfort in the snow and in Hux.

• Calligraphy by @emperorsvornskr (1.1k, T) Kylo goes back to an old form of meditation assistance, and asks Hux to participate to give them both some stress relief.

• He's Got the Whole World in his Hands by undernightlight (<1k, G) Finally, he is the Supreme Leader. He has the power he’s always deserved, the power that was promised to him, so then, why does he still feel hollow?

• Twin Crowns by kylux_nonsense (<1k, G) Twin thrones, one black marble on white floor, one white marble on black floor. Twin crowns, one rests amongst long, dark hair, one sits atop fiery red. There is but one galaxy, and in all its infinite variety every corner owes its allegiance to one or the other.

• Eh, it's love by @abboh (<1k, G) Hux was never one to show love of any degree but then there was Kylo, who showed his love in his own little ways.

• Castles in the Sand by orphan_account (2.4k, T) A depressed General Hux and his secretive obsessive pining for Kylo Ren.

• The Duel of the Fates by mheb (31.2k, E) Hux’s datapad chimed again, a call from Kuat this time, and he sighed aloud at it, exasperated. “What?” Hux leaned back in his chair, eyeing the holographic figure seated across from him, the shadowy form of their TIE cockpit barely visible around their body, the entire image emitted from the steel inlay in the far wall that Hux used to transmit his speeches. Hux carelessly knocked over a good half of the physical chess pieces in front of him, putting his bare feet up on his desk. His projected guest scowled at him. But Hux paled at the words that met his ears through his datapad. 'Jedi are with the rebel group that bombed the fueling station...the girl is here.' He ended the call without a goodbye, returning to the other conversation he’d been having, up until this point quite pleasant. “Ren.”

• And They Were Bottoms! (~oh my God, they were bottoms~) by Ki_Ken_Tai_Ichi (<1k, T) Kylo and Hux both had very similar -and yet very different- plans for how their first night of intimacy was going to go.

• Tough Games by ouigeneral (4k, E) Kylo Ren and Armitage Hux have been participating in a secret relationship for a while. Both men love power play and experimenting with bondage. One night Hux organises a surprise for Kylo. Kylo certainly is surprised.

• Hate until you love by SuperEllen (<1k, T) Can you hate someone so much that you actually love them?

• Mark Me, Burn Me (the sun is nothing compared to you) by DiamondCrystalInk (1.7k, T) Enjoying a morning on Coruscant, Hux gives Ren a proposition. It's time Hux leaves his mark.

• Put Your Money on Me by Asrael_Valtiri (2.5k, E, WIP) He felt Ren press against his back, wrap his arms around his waist. He couldn’t help himself; he leaned back into Ren’s broad chest. Hux was glad their full-length mirror was behind them; he didn’t want Ren to see his face. So Hux closed his eyes a moment, let himself pretend he possessed all he’d ever wanted. Power, security, order, galactic peace--and above all, Ren.

• deep by g4t1t0 (2.9k, T) snoke dies and kylo ren is lost. hux hates to see him this way, but for a reason he cant name/hux prefers to see ren enraged, violent, hungry/he gets what he wants

• Heads Will Roll by @pizzzazlut (2.3k, M) Hux and Kylo decide to venture into the notoriously haunted Arkanis Asylum one night to try and see if they can get actual evidence in their ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?

• Grandfather of the Century by ashangel101010 (<1k, T) The Emperor of the Seven Sith Hells does his best to protect his grandson.

• Love and Fear by @abboh (<1k, G) Sometimes it is better to be feared than loved by your people. But, gazing down from above, love can be found amdist all that fear.

• Take A Moment To Ask Yourself, Is This How We Fall Apart? by @bumblebae8 (1k, T) Take a moment to ask yourself… if this is how we fall apart?

• You Ruined It by ravenlights (1.1k, T) Kylo Ren is serious about home-baked muffins, and Hux, well. Hux ruins it.

• Crevices Of Sanity by WynneWritesHQ (<1k, T) How late the hour was, or how ramshackle the small room in which General Hux had decided he would spend the night, did not matter anymore. Not when everything he could think about was the man kissing his neck, carrying him aloft and onto some crates that, miraculously, withstood the general disorder better than the dusty residues beneath his always-well-polished boots.

• Pygmalion by orphan_account (17.4k, T) This is a story inspired by the theme of artificial intelligence and explores Armitage Hux's feelings of loneliness and isolation in the First Order. Unable or unwilling to seek out human connections and relationships, Hux turns to a company which provides custom built androids as personal companions to satisfy his need for intimacy.

Adjacent Ship Recs

• Home for Dinner by DaisyChainz (2.9k, E) Matt is always so sweet and attentive to Techie. When he's having a bad day, Techie tries to be brave enough to make things better for him.

• Icing on the (Strawberry) Cake by Luxuria_Ira (3.6k, G) On a rainy night in June, Clyde takes Stensland up into the rolling hills of West Virginia and asks him a question that's been on the tip of his tongue since they met.

• Better, Ren? by DeviantDarkBelle (1.5k, E) Before Hux and Kylo have to return from leave, Hux hopes he can treat Kylo to something nice. Of course, Thomas and Charlie are more than willing to help out.

• Someone could see us by DeviantDarkBelle (<1k, E) Thomas McGregor is on vacation in NYC. He runs into Charlie Barber. Somewhere along the way, feelings are caught.

• Horny Hearts by Rattlesnake (9.5k, E, WIP) Techie has a new flatmate called Matt and all he can really think about is doing it with him.

• Leaving It Up to You by undernightlight (8k, E) Henry Beard had been staring at him all day - Flip wasn't blind. Once it was just the two of them in the office, Flip decided to casually confront him about why. He had a mild suspicion, but he wanted to know for sure. He likes to be proven right.

• The Might and Measure of Love by @atlinmerrick (1.2k, E) A clearer invitation to go poking around inside Mr Cheung's house was never made, so a minute later and sure enough Clyde found Stens in the bathroom making weird little frantic noises. Clyde knew those noises. They were 'trying desperately to get off because of awkwardly-timed stiffy' noises.

#kylux #fic rec #kylux adjacent #and honestly i'm still a little salty about the same few big fandom fics being recced on lists over and over again #there are almost 14000 fics in the ao3 tag #let's rec something other than cwu

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kendrixtermina · 5 years ago

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The Team Dynamics of the Three Houses

Essay time! =D

Part One: Team Makeup and Thematic Framework Blue Lions

Overarching Theme: Classic basic fantasy archetypes but with a dark twist (We have Prince Charming/ Guilt-ridden softboy standard-issue JRPG protagonist, Handsome Lech/Idiot Friend, Standoffish Rival, Gentleman Thief, Lady Knight, Sweet nice healer, Adorable spellcaster Girl, the Gentle Giant etc. )

Composition: Has the most people with crests, and the one guy with a naturally occurring major crest. Foreshadows how the crest obsession is particularly bad here, due to Faerghus’ harsh environment and a society that’s both religious and has a serious element of hero worship

History: Notably the most tight-knit group. Everyone knows each other already. It’s basically Dimitri, Dimitri’s longtime best friends, the daughter of Dimitri’s former instructor who heard lots of stories about him and her super nice BFF who gets along with everyone... and Ashe, who didn’t know the others until the academy, but since he is a honest sweety who loves cooking and knight stories, he hits it off with the others right away.

Atmosphere: Everyone has kind of the same hobbies (cooking, handicrafts, weapons collecting, knight stuff) and a lot of history, some posters have remarked on missing the “family ambiente” in the other routes but since the bonds are stronger they’re also more charged, it’s also been said that it’s the group with the most inter-team drama, especially when you feature in their relatives - You have Dimitri’s whole character arc, all the family drama between the Fraldariuses and the Dominics, Ingrid’s hangups regarding poor Dedue etc.

As expected if you recruit any of them they’ll kinda have a hard time going after their old home, even the tsundere ones.

The Leader’s position: For all that Dimitri’s friends refuse to drop his honorifics they really are his friends. They’re just all kinda polite with the obvious exception of Felix, and he’s largely tsundere. Despite the afore mentioned drama we see plenty of Dimitri just hanging out with his friends and even coming to them for help, he’s really just one of the bunch .

Since Faerghus is in chaos everyone’s pinning a lot of hopes on Dimitri and it’s not like he’s completely unaware of that or doesn’t have the corresponding sense of duty, he’s always torn between that and his revenge plan which eventually just takes over. He pursues this entirely on his own, too, with not even Dedue knowing what he’s sneaking around the library for.

How this “flavors” part one: Gives it a very “personal” touch. Faerghus, it’s culture, recent past and current state of chaos are fleshed out a lot (we learn plenty about the Alliance and the Empire but Claude and Edelgard have greater scope plans) and since a lot of the part I missions concern the instabilities in the kingdom they affect the characters directly. Basically since they’re more “regular” fantasy protagonists we gotta hit em all with the Drama hammer to keep things fresh. And that’s how it continues - They follow Dimitri because of personal loyalty (both toward him specifically, and because it’s in their culture), and Dimitri just wants to protect (or avenge) the people he cares about.

How this Ties into The Themes: The Kingdom route eventually becomes very much a Power of Friendship story where they all stick it out with Dimitri in his time of need because he’s their friend and they want to be there for him and that makes a lot more sense if there was a big emphasis on friendship/ found family before that, and of course their friendship is what eventually helps him turn his life around.

How does Byleth fit into this: Dimitri, like Hubert and Leonie, can be filed into the box of those who aren’t immediately awed by their heroic charisma. He doesn’t really get people who aren’t as outwardly expressive as him (eg. Edelgard) But unlike, say, Leonie, Dimitri has no settings between crushkilldestroy and stilted politeness and seldom expresses or responds to overt hostility most of the time. On the one hand there’s a side to him that’s a bit judgemental and vindictive, but that extends to himself too so he’s very ashamed of his flaws and is afraid that he won’t be accepted, so he projects outward that same acceptance that he likes to receive.

So the end result is that he goes out of his way to befriend Byleth, he encourages everyone to speak with them in a familiar manner, insists that they join the victory celebrations etc. Then of course he gets to see that they’re actually quite supportive and so in time they become, as Dimitri puts it “the heart of the group”.

By the time they find out that Dimitri ever disliked them, that’s long past. He’s a very high-empathy, emotional person so once he likes you he really likes you and will regard your troubles like his own. Some ppl might say that maybe the bond feels more special since it took longer to “earn”. He’s practically ready to swear a blood oath with them once Jeralt dies. There’s an unappreciated Symmetry here like he goes through the trouble to ‘defrost’ them, and then they return the favor by supporting him through his difficult times when they perhaps get to see the ugliest side of him.

Further Dynamic Notes:

So you have a dynamic of working past/ understanding and accepting each other despite one’s flaws and differences. (whereas Claude and Edelgard are interested in Byleth right away, because they’re unusual, but in slightly different ways - Claude can kinda relate to the experience of sticking out itself but is still stumped by being unable to read them, whereas Edelgard sticks out in the same way so you’re actually on the same wavelenght to begin with)

“opposites attract” specifically in the way that they balance each other out. A cool steadfast leader type certainly has a grounding effect on Dimitri as a very reactive person, but he also pulls them into the ‘normal’ world a bit after they spend all this time just wandering the world like all places are the same to them. They basically put the magic destiny on the backburner to help him out. They still become archbishop and all to fit the standard fantasy look of it all but not like full messiah like on the church route

Even after the timeskip Byleth kinda plays the mentor role or at least that of the dominant person/ big spoon in the relationship (though Dimitri ends up waaay taler than them especially fem Byleth), “Excuse me this is my emotional support mercenary”

If you go the platonic route you very much stay at „mentor“, Byleth is basically the brains of the operation post timeskip ‘cause the old Mitya can‘t come to the phone right now and Gilbert and Rodrigue would follow him off a cliff

Plot wise, their contribution is to stop the revenge trip when it gets to be a too obvious kamikaze stunt, which they, as a relative outsider to Faerghus and experienced, pragmatic fighter, would do when someone like Gilbert would not

Character journey wise, they refuse to give up on Dimitri and still see the good in him so that he eventually comes to a point where he could envision his own redemption/ come to accept/forgive himself and learn that its okay to move on and live his own life

Byleth can be said to somewhat even out the flaws in everyone‘s leadership styles (while the house leaders help Byleth find their own direction – i didnt come up with this alone there was a brilliant post a while ago that i cant find rn) – In Dimitri‘s case, he has authority/credibility/integrity („Pathos“), being the rightful king with many loyal followers, and emotional/ personal leadership as an emphatetic person who inspired respect for his character („Ethos“) but is lacking in plans („Logos“)

Golden Deer

Overarching Theme: Ragtag Bunch of misfits /Unlikely Heroes (let’s see, we have trickster turned lying politician, upper-class twit turned opportunistic conservative, lazy rich girl, shy glasses boy and his best friend dumb muscle, cursed werewolf girl, stuckup teen genius and the mean money obsessed one )

Composition: Has the most honest-to-goodness commoners - and they largely got in on their own merits, too, while almost all the others had connections. You have a few peeps from the Alliance’s prominent merchant class and one completely ordinary village person whose father was a simple hunter.

History: Bar the two merchant kids none of them know each other and even they’ve been a little estranged since the demise of Rafael’s parents. There are a few backstory connections (Such as Lorenz’ dad basically having murdered everybody’s dead relatives, or Leonie’s village being in his territory) but they’re largely indirect. They come from a range of different backgrounds and life experiences. Even Claude just showed up the year before and doesn’t know anybody. Of course this is all so you can watch them grow into a team on-screen all leading up to Claude’s epic speech about how they got along despite being from different backgrounds (or be surprised if they show up as one post-timeskip)

Unlike Dedue or Hubert, Hilda can still be napped early on because she doesn’t really become Claude’s right-hand person until halfway through part oneIf you recruit any of the deer they’ll say that they didn’t have that much ties to their homeland anyways.

Atmosphere: These are definitely Garreg Magh’s party animals. Or like a bunch of theatre kids. They’re tremendous fun. “Less complicated” as Claude puts it though some have missed the intensity/drama of the other bunches. The Alliance itself might be full of political intrigues but this younger generation is fairly chill with the important exceptions that are Leonie and Lysithea but Leonie’s lack of chill is largely Byleth-specific, she’s plenty chill in her other supports, and though Lysithea probably donated all the extra chill for the other deer and hence doesn’t have any left, the others love her anyways wether she wants to or not because try as she might she can’t really get an argument out of them.

This certainly jives well with Claude’s “friendly surface level extrovert” gimmick they all get along on a surface level and you’ll be hard-pressed to find an ounce of social skills in the Black Eagle house, and the Lions have the Drama Moments, but some have also perceived the deer as not quite as open.

At the same time they’re not superficial. We have a large abundance of Artsy Ones, we have Ignatz, Claude and Lorenz both write poetry, Leonie isn’t good at it but she does draw etc There’s enough insightful ones for depht and insight to be a significant undercurrent in the group dynamics. They all have different sortts of insight - Hilda can read people well, Ignatz has this sort of intuuitive thoughtful understanding, Lysithea is observant and logically astute, Leonie has street smarts etc.

The Leader’s position: Precarious. No one knows him, no one trusts him. He just showed up one day, very suspicious timing, not long after his uncle dropped dead (that was Lorenz’ dad but it’s not like anyone knows) and then he’s a shifty weirdo who cannot help being slightly unnerving despite his friendly extroverted demeanor.

Still he’s a big believer in teamwork, appreciates the value in everyone’s perspective and he can do the friendly extroverted charm well enough to eventually win over most people based on that, though its not until waay after the timeskip that he even considers letting anyone past the soft outer layer. (In Recruited, Raphael remembers him mainly a lover of feats and merriment)

The longer the story goes on the more the Deer transition to being “Claude’s jolly detective bureau” in which he pulls on all their individual insight for maximum info collection.

How this “flavors” part one: It’s taken up largely by Claude’s search for information with the various events being seen in that light.

Claude’s first reaction is often to ask questions and be curious with the emotional response hitting him somewhat later, though it’s definitely also that he keeps up a cheerful face for the team.

Ironically he’s the only one who came to Garreg Magh for it’s intended purpose: To get a ruler’s education and do networking. Dimitri and Edelgard were already onto Thales courtesy of his having killed their families, him searching on his own, her making preparations for her takeover, and Claude doesn’t know - it’s probably a game balance thing because Claude is the smartest person in the game and if he started out with all the info there would be no plot.

How this Ties into The Themes: It all builds towards Claude’s big speech about people from different backgrounds coming together. It’s like a microcosm for what he wants to do with the world, to bring people from different places and backgrounds together and have them understand each other.

Lorenz takes until halfway through part II to come around, but come around he does. (markedly, this happens only on Claude’s route, otherwise he sticks with the empire out of self-preservation and opportunism, though he gladly jumps ship to join the kingdom. )

How does Byleth fit into this: Now I‘ve seen some people saying that Claude initially didn‘t like Byleth or just wanted to use them, but I don‘t think that‘s true. I do think he actually liked them, found them interesting and wanted to befriend them. But Claude, on principle, doesn‘t trust easily, and will in any interaction look at how he can use it.

It‘s a habit born out of both natural curiosity and intelligence (What the 12type eneagramm calls a „Mercury“ Personality type) and the need to survive in a hostile environment where people tried to kill him as a child, and as such it‘s automatic second nature. He has a strong overruling self-preservation instinct. Claude is suspicious and will interogate people completely independent of how much he likes them. No amount of like makes him trust implicitly.

He doesn‘t have a bad impression like Dimitri, but he doesn‘t immediately click like Edelgard and the curve is pretty nonlinear: With Dimitri we have a clear progression from dislike to like and then the reversal where Dimitri had defrosted Byleth and now Byleth must defrost Dimitri. With Edelgard she likes them immediately out of similarity (like Felix likes Byleth, or like Edelgard likes Lysithea and Petra), and the difficulty/drama only comes later when Byleth‘s connection to the church and Edelgard‘s plots become apparent, but mostly she‘s sad that she‘s „destined“ to be enemies with this person she likes, her level of like never goes down. Claude meanwhile – you might compare him with Dorothea. He‘s used to being able to charm people as well as read them, and Byleth is not only a brick wall, but remains one upon closer examination. They really don‘t know about their past – but Claude takes that as evasions and becomes more and more suspicious.

A big turning point here is the Jeralt situation, where Byleth finally opens up and tells him everything, and Claude realizes they‘re not hiding. And that‘s something I really love about their dynamic – Byleth tells him all and Claude is so interested in them and looks out for them.

Though you could assign each of the three a „turning point“ after which they open up - The diary for Claude (which shows him that Byleth really isn‘t hiding anything) Flayn‘s dissapearance for Dimitri (which convinces him that Byleth cares) and the holy tomb scene for Edelgard (which shows her that Byleth won‘t betray her)

Further Dynamic Notes:

Claude and Byleth relate because they both stick out, but it‘s notably about the experience of sticking out in and of itself, whereas in Edelgard‘s case they stick out in the same way. They’re also alike in that they only found out some secrets about themselves when they were already young adults, Byleth’s magical destiny, and Claude finding out he was related to the ruling house. From how he mentions “not being raised in the lap of luxury” and how his royal connections in Almyra are also “distant”, he might in fact have been raised in a normal village and not known he was the king’s bastard son for some time, though once the secret was out he definitely got some princely instruction like training with Nader.

The dynamic both interpersonally and as an action duo is very much a complementary one. Dimitri is very different and has that sorta morality chain dynamic going on. And though they each have their specialties that the other is lowkey jelly of Edelgard and Byleth actually fill a fairly similar niche as the charismatic superhumanly powerful field commander. Meanwhile with Claude there’s a division of labor: Claude’s the planner and Byleth’s the enforcer. He repeatedly observes that his plans would be way less effective without someone of Byleth’s caliber to carry them out.

Out of the three lords Claude is the only one where you get the sense that Byleth works for Claude post-timeskip or that Byleth becomes his subordinate. Dimitri’s lost without them, and while Edelgard offers them a formal position as royal advisor after the mock battle and gets this line about how they can’t yell orders at her in public now that she’s the emperor, but it’s phrased in such a way to suggest that she just wants them to yell orders at her discreetly. They certainly balance out Claude’s presentability/trustworthyness problem the way that Hubert quickly puts them in charge of morale to patch Edelgard’s PR shortcomings, but Hubert pretty much says this to Byleth’s face whereas Claude is the only one who knows where the ship is going for the majority of verdant wind. And in the end he’s like “Babysit fodlan for me while I finish world peace” He’s also the dominant one on an interpersonal level, he gives Byleth this speech about how they should use their position more confidently and promise to detective out their mysterious past for them. He also tries dropping hints that maybe Rhea’s not to be trusted though Byleth’s dialogue options are written to suggest that they bought her maternal act and want her back – some ppl said but this way really expositions that „well meaning deception“ aspect of Claude‘s character. He frequently steers ppl toward something they don‘t want but with the hope that they‘ll want it eventually. Perhaps he could be said to have a very fluid/dynamic view of things and people; The other two lords view them more as fixed, hence „I respectfully disagree… lets settle this by stabbing each other“

The platonic end result is your basic Epic Friendship, tell each other everything, very supportive, look out for each other, take down a zombie warrior together in an epic team attack, what more could you want I think I‘ve made a whole post about what a good friendo Claude is, initial ulterior motives nonwithstanding… He certainly had strategic advantages in the back of his mind but I don‘t think he ever faked liking Byleth

Plot wise, having The Messiah on his team gives Claude a bargaining chip to seize control of the church with its greater influence. On the other routes, he wisely refuses to touch that particular hot potato with a ten foot pole.

Character wise Byleth‘s influence largely serves to mitigate his jaded cynism. He starts to actually believe his far-flung dreams might happen, so he plays far less defensively than on the other routes.

Claude is smart and charismatic („Logos“ and „Ethos“), his main problem is that nobody trusts him. This is a bit more dimensional than just a flaw though, because he hides his real goals (though they are not truly sinister) both to avoid fights with people who would oppose these goals (contrast Edelgard who declares her intentions openly and deals with the fallout, so she has to fight the knights whereas claude manipulates them) and get the chance to gradually convince them and reveal the truth once ppl agree, also he‘s more a tactician than a strategist and often changes his plans in accordance with what he thinks is doable under the circumstances, and not telling what his plans are gives him the freedom to do that – either way, a downside of that is that no one trusts him. He lacks credibility and, having shown up out of nowhere, has less loyalty and support. Byleth, as a chrch-sanctioned charismatic figurehead, naturally mitigates that.

Black Eagles

Overarching Theme: Subverted Villain tropes. We have Emperor Evulz / mad science supersoldier, Black Mage classic, Seditious Chancellor Junior, Sexy Mage, Eccentric Scholar, Pretty Barbarian, Fighting Obsessed Blood Knight and Antisocial Sniper

Composition: It‘s nobles all the way down, even the one commoner used to be famous and is from the capital where all the wealthy ppl live (as opposed to the decentralied alliance and the very spartan kingdom nobles) – The capital‘s a heaven for culture and sophistication but you also see the evident elitism/corruption/inequality problem going on. In keeping with Adrestia being more secular, Ferdinand‘s the only one who‘s explicitly stated to be a believer (in the Marianne support) and he‘s not even super devout

One should also appreciate the irony that the side with the ‚saintly‘ crests is now against the church whereas Faerghus, ruled by the descendants of Nemesis‘ former allies and where he used to have his stronghold are now fighting for the church. But should you go with the church route it also makes a kind of sense as they‘d be goig back to the empire‘s distant origins in a sense.

History: They all vaguely know/ have heard of each other due to their parents being co-workers or living in the same town, many have at least met each other but at the same time they‘re not BFF like the Lions and many take a bit to warm up to each other.

Another thing of note is that while many of the Lions‘ families were also friends and have been associates since the days of Nemesis, many of the backstory connections for the adrestian studenrs would seem to predispose them to being foes rather than friends, half their dads‘ essentially dethroned Edelgard‘s and are various degrees of complicit in what happened to her siblings, Petra was basically taken hostage by the previous administration, Dorothea has good reason to have beef with the local rich people etc

Atmosphere: I‘ve seen some ppl who played the other routes first say things like how they were struck by how individualistic they are and how there‘s far less team cohesion, or how they „all seem to hate each other“ - I don‘t think that‘s correct assesment but they definitely are quirky, independent-minded or both. They scamper off in all directions when introduced and definitely don‘t bother with formal politeness or friendly facades, if they‘re annoyed with you most of them will probably say so. Even Bernie gives Ferdinand a lecture once XD They‘re basically goth. Though I do think it‘s sorely underappreciated that there definitely IS friendship and admiration between them esp. later in the story, admiration & appreciation being key factors especially since they‘re none too easily impressed.

Of course being independent minded makes it likely that they wouldn‘t blindly follow a leader who‘s up to no good, but it would make them just as suitable to participate in a rebellion

Another thing of note is that while the Kingdom nobles all learned to hold sharp objects in the nusery and many of the deer have street smarts or survival experience having had to live through tough circumstances most of the Eagles are complete greenhorns when you first deploy them – sure many have seen their share of effed up stuff but not in a warlike setting. And you have many of the sensitive/reluctant ones like Bernie, Linny and Dorothea. This of course could either make you think twice about the church sending them on missions or predispose you toward Flayns brand of pacifism.

Of course this just leads to Hubert and Edelgard (and to a lesser extent Petra) to clearly stand out as the experienced ones. El-chan and Hubie dear have most definitely killed a man before. The rest of them will definitely have to measure up to pick up the slack after the two of them leave.

The trajectory certainly goes differently, in CF they all return notably more confident after the timeskip (most notably with Bernie) perhaps in keeping with how Edelgard believes in & promotes self-reliance whereas in Silver Snow they never quite stop being like „AAAAA“ though I suppose the point is that they get their act together and do the deed regardless.

The Leader’s position: Absolute both in terms of power (sorry Ferdie) and dynamics. Definite ‚student council president‘ vibe, she largely interacts with them as a taskmaster/ to make them do their homework. She markedly doesn‘t like this and would like to be one of the bunch but genuinely finds it hard to step out of boss mode.

She does try her best to cultivate an equal atmosphere and for what it‘s worth most do drop the honorifics and tell her when they disagree.

How this “flavors” part one: The emphasis is certainly on expositioning how much everything in the setting sucks especially on the church‘s horribleness, I mean in the end if she‘s essentially like „We‘ve all seen it this past year“ but of course there‘s also definite foreshadowing that sHE is up to something, there‘s certainly peeps who picked her ‚cause she‘s pretty and she looked more put-together/less obviously dodgy than the others but then didn‘t personal taste wise jive with her character. The whole scene after Jeralt‘s death is definitely a point where you either decide you hate her or love her forever; You get both „WTF“ and „I get it“ type of dialogue options.

How this Ties into The Themes:

No matter what route yo pick you essentially get a story about going your own way and putting right what the previous generations done fucked up – wether they do this by leading Adrestia back to its holy origins, or by backing Edelgard‘s revolution.

On a political level they either go against their homeland or the previous administration, and personally they‘re all sorta expected to take over their parents‘s job and follow these expectations of proper nobility that they have no interest in and many of them renounce their titles or cut ties with their folks. Only Ferdinand particularly wants his fathers job and even them he means to do it very differently. The happy ending, for most of the eagles, is getting to choose their own paths

How does Byleth fit into this:

Mostly, they shift the team dynamics from Edelgard as the absolute leader in a lofty, distanced position to her coming closer to being „one of the group“ working under Byleth.

There‘s a reason she later names her elite troop the „Black Eagle Strike force“ in honor of their time at the academy. This is almost the bigger difference, because Byleth isn‘t there for the timeskip. The big change is caused by creating this situation where all the black eagles leave with Edelgard, so she knows she can trust them and having real allies needs the slithers less.

It‘s very hard for her to step out of boss mode for reasons ranging from her personality, backstory, monarch obligations and fear of vulnerability, but having Byleth be the boss for once helps. Some of her most formative experiences were a) Her family betrayed by almost all its allies including her own uncle b) being helplessly dragged around as a hostage. She wants to avoid being helpless ever again at all costs and thus grew to be a very proactive decisive adult which is mostly a good thing but can cause her tome come off blunt and unyielding at times. I mean when she‘s worried that Hubert, her best friend, is hiding some worrysome secret from her she‘s like „Tell me that‘s an order!“ and when he expertly sidesteps that (since he knows her well and understands that she wouldn‘t actually force it out of him) she‘s stumped and doesn‘t know how to tell him that she‘s worried about him – and this is a guy she knows since forever. With the other eagles she really looks out for them but can only really show it through her „leader“ persona, she has this one trick, and when it doesn‘t work (like with Caspar or Linhardt who don‘t really want anyone to boss them around or talk politics) she‘s stumped.

This is hugely mitigated when another person of her caliber shows up with whom she can share the responsibility or even leave it to them so she learns to allow herself to be soft and do stuff like admit her doubts, this starts with Byleth but also radiates into the other relationships. See Caspar and Linhard revising their bad first impressions of her later in the support chains

Further dynamics notes:

A recurring theme is being misunderstood (outright stated in the introduction and that one quote by ladislava – and also in the church route dialogues where Seteth says that „the people will never understand her ideals“ ) and finding someone who understands, which is different from Claude and Dimitri who ultimately want the world at large to understand and accept them. Edelgard has given up on that long ago - her version of the „pep talk“ scene implies she thinks its impossible to truly understand anothers sorrow – I like to think that after her siblings died she found great comfort in Hubert being „not much for condolences“ and talking plans rather than sympathies while everyone else was showing pity for something they couldnt understand. Dimitri is basically traumatized (he relates to Dedue about losing everything and thats why they‘re so tight knit), Claude is basically an outcast and relates to all that dont quite fit in, but Edelgard… yes her family‘s dead much like Dimitri‘s, but in addition to that, she has been through an indescribable science fiction fantasy thing that no one has any context for. She views herself as so altered that she considers herself a whole different person and her past self basically dead. Hence someone like Byleth or Lysithea who could relate to all that is very, very tempting to her – we‘re not told if that‘s the truth or just her perception though, Hubert doesn‘t note her being extremly different, and later on she kinda admids that she herself distanced herself from other people.

Likewise the ship dynamic is ‚birds of a feather‘. Edelgard tells you right away: She feels that she and Byleth are similar and is drawn to them because of that. It‘s not just the mad science background, both are stoic natural leaders with a bit of a dorky side. This goes both ways – While others are often mildly stumped by Byleth, she can read them pretty well and gets a lot of dialoue like „wow you‘re telling the truth“ or „I can tell you‘re lying“ - that happens so often that it‘s even used to hint that she‘s the flame emperor.

If you had to name a dominant person it would probably be Byleth but overall this combination is disntinguished by being relatively equal and balanced. She likes having Byleth‘s support but repeatedly mentions wanting to support Byleth as well - As she says after the big mock battle, „sometimes its better to have someone to rely on to support each other through the darkness“. Team dynamics wise they feel a similar niche – the abnormally powerful, stoic charismatic leader who inspires many followers and is a gifted field commander. When they‘re not allies they are foils after all. But as pointed out in their A support despite their similarities each of them have their own particular strenghts that the other envies – Byleth is a better tactician and ultimately better at moral support (though their time powers help). On the flipside, Edelgard is more proactive whereas Byleth struggles with that, and at least her 22 year old self probably has more raw strenght (judging by her stats total and how they‘re evenly matched in the church route reunion cinematic though she isn‘t using her preferred weapon)

If you don‘t marry her then the note the A support ends on would suggest that Byleth sorta gets adopted as a honorary big sister/brother with how El asks them to use her childhood nickname and just lampshading the sense of kinship between them – the platonic outcome is a family bond, which buils as much on similarity and alikeness as their romantic outcome

Plot wise, Byleth‘s presence gives Edelgard something that she wouldn‘t otherwise have: Reliable allies. This means not just Byleth themselves, but the other Black Eagles whom she feels are more firmly on her side as they never defended Garreg Mach from her assault. As she puts it when she tries to recruit you as the „Flame Emperor“, the slighterers will go around causinga strocities but with the sword of the creator on her side she could courttail that better and generally has less need to coorperate even for purely pragmatic reasons so she is free to weaken them ahead of time, kills Cornelia right away rather than work with her etc. Interestingly this is why the front lines are actually further back when Byleth returns than they are in the other routes, but then the war ends the quickest.

Character journey wise, Edelgard goes from being convinced that she has to give up everything to be a tough leader to allowing herself to just be a person, cummulating in the ending where she pulls a washington/cincinatus, abdicates and gets a normal life.

In terms of leadership style, Edelgard has „Logos“ and „Pathos“ to spare, she‘s described as a remarkable leader who inspires remarkable devotion and has a cause/ rationale – but she‘s got her weakness with inspiring loyalty on an interpersonal level. The followers are loyal to the cause – Edelgard herself is perceived as unapproachable and shady/unsavory, see Dimitri‘s rant about how she‘s „strong“, or statements by herself and Ladislava that people tend to misunderstand her. As a superhuman science experiment she is by definition not a „relatable“ leader. So once Byleth proves trustworthy Hubert immediately puts them in charge of morale and of support/pep talking the reluctant recruits.

(In part II we‘ll get into decision making processes but I think here we have to separate by route rather than house since it’s most evident post-timeskip and dependent on plot events.)

Team Dynamics and Decisionmaking

Empire Route

Here, there is a very clear distinction between inner circle and outer circle. Edelgard and Hubert have their own thing going on and once you prove loyal, you’re in, and you get to see a whole different side to both of them, Edelgard lets down her guard, Hubert acts polite and sympathetic where he was previously suspicious and mocking, and they basically tell Byleth everything, including the unsavory pursuits that they keep secret from everyone else – but overall the secrecy, maintained for realpolitik reasons, never truly stops. Basically those three make all the decisions.

Notable is that if you’ve recruited Lysithea she hovers on the threshold between inner and outer circle. She was fed the cover story of the nuke being a church weapon (though she did’t buy it) but WAS told about the secret assault on Arianrhod. This is prolly cause Edelgard likes her, she can become her main advisor in their paired ending.

Kingdom Route

Dimitri describes himself as as someone who thinks change should come from the people and that the leadership should serve them, for all that he prefers to uphold the basic order of society, and this is reflected in his leadership style – though this also reflects that he is a ‚people person‘ rather than a planner, so the plans are left to his advisors like Byleth, Gilbert and Rodrigue. He is more the emotional/ spiritual lynchpin than the mind or will of the group.

In Azure Moon, especially later on, the decisions are really made by the entire group and you see them considering their next step together. Dimitri spills the backstory as soon as it comes up, telling everyone about his relationship with Edelgard for example.

In early part 2 this is at an extreme in that Byleth, Rodrigue and Gilbert are de facto making the decisions and Dimitri is at best a grumpy figurehead that they‘re putting up because they need him as a symbol, but at the same time he doesn‘t really compromise on his revenge obsession and is just dragging the whole team along/ not really reacting to how they are making him the lynchpin for their hopes. (though it is important to note that he didn‘t ask him too either – they decide to follow him out of friendship or loyalty to his house) yet inwardly Dimitri too is blindly following what he believes are his obligations.

A huge turning point is when he returns after the whole rain conversation and Byleth gets to ask him some variety of „What do you want to do“ in which Dimitri makes a step toward both inner and outer self-directedness, but precisely because of that becomes are more complete/better consensus leader.

I also want to stress that Claude and Edelgard LOVE togetherness and cooperation and equality as concepts every bit as much as Dimitri does they want to be one of the team but they find it difficult. And of course Dimitri’s style has its own flaws too

Alliance Route

While the Blue Lions decide everything together and either variation of the Black Eagles setup has an „inner circle“ that makes the decisions, in the Golden Dear that inner circle is basically just Claude.

Even Byleth doesn‘t find out his plans until part two, and it‘s later still till he comes clear with the team (and still doesn‘t reveal all but points to Cyril as a stand-in) Hilda and Lysithea are discernable as preferred right hand people, and Byleth and Marianne as special confidants, but in the end Claude rarely shows his real self and only he knows the plan. If Hilda and Lysithea pick up alot about him and his true self it‘s because of how observant THEY are and how much Hilda is basically a lot like him.

Claude does all the thinking and motivates followers (from Lorenz to the random merchans who support him) by promising them things they want – because even if he can‘t trust peopöle, he can trust their self-interest.

Church Route

Since you are with the church that is ideally a sort of benevolent parental authority under the supposition that people need guidance and that‘s a good thing it is perhaps fitting that though Byleth winds up the nominal leader, this is actually the route where they are more of a follower. They do watch Seteth says, who is doing what he believes is his duty and mission, and we have Flayn as an innocent, pacifistic voice.

They lost their dad, and the Nabateans are a sort of surrogate family. (wether its one that youre born into or marry into, the wiord „family“ is stressed) – they are the „inner circle“ making the decision and the empire kids, ragtag misfits estranged from their homes, follow. On the one hand they‘re going against their home country on the other they have the saint‘s blood and Adrestia USED to be church aligned so it also makes a kind of sense.

Among the Adrestian kids themselves, Ferdinand and Petra get a chance to shine as the ostensible leaders. They are stalward, competent leader-like people in CF too , but there they are more overshadowed by the much more experienced Hubert and Edelgard. - Though when you think about it they are like „pure hero“ versions of them who were never forced to become as cold and pragmatic. Ferdinand, like Hubert, is a nobleman from a storied family who is proud of it but wants to fix its tarnished reputation from his corrupt father. Petra, like Edelgard, is a former political hostage who experienced hardship at a young age and worked her way up all on her own, being very serious and competent despite her young age. I prefer the version where they stay buds rly.

It‘s worth noting that Seteth, ‚Heir of Purpose‘, sees it as their families duty to protect Fodlan and is the only one really doing that – his brothers noped out, and Rhea, uneknowst to him, twisted „protect“ into „rule/subjugate“. One might question who gives him the right to decide things because his mom is magic but on the other hand he really is 100% benevolent and I see no sign that he has any greedy intentions especially in in Silver Snow, all the countries collapse and someone needs to keep order, he doesn‘t understand what the empire‘s doing and why just sees their agression and really is rising to the challenge of upholding peace because something needs to do something about the violence. He had withdrawn to protect his daughter but then in the end he‘s the last one who is really doing what Sothis would have wanted. He looks most like her too having the slightly darker, ‚spikier‘ hair.

Further Thoughts

I’m curious to see how Yuri, the Ashen Wolves, and Cindered Shadows compare/contrast to this and i theyll manage to make the dynamics sufficiently different so that its neither a carbon copy or a blabk mary sue ish superlative.

I mean the other routes are so interesting to dissect because its a tradeof and all have their own flavor so really CS would do better to try to be “different” or, better yet, “complementary” than “better” or “cooler”

#three houses #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #black eagles #blue lions #golden deer #three houses meta

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 5 years ago

Text

6 Feet

The whole thing, from beginning to end.

______________

A knock at the door.

Knocks on the door are usually fairly innocuous.

And this one was punctuated by the excited barks of two puppy greyhounds named Kaga and Ishigami.

“Oh, come on you guys,” Miho complained, following the excited loping bounce of her dogs, “there is no need to bark at absolutely everything that approaches the house.”

Apparently, the puppies disagreed, and continued to bark as if a world full of murderers were congregated on the other side of the door.

“For fuck’s sake Kaga,” she huffed, dancing to dodge the poochies underfoot, “get out of the way!”

But the joviality in her voice, the laughter, drained away when she looked at the AV intercom Goto had insisted they install.

There stood an ominous entourage of Public Safety captains and lieutenants.

“Sit,” Miho barked, and in a scurry, both puppies scampered back and planted their bums on the floorboards.

The latch came free, then the deadbolt, before Miho pulled open the heavy, solid wood door to peer at the conspicuous gathering through the security door – and each of them wore a solemn expression no grate or barrier could protect her from.

“Captains,” she said, also focus on keeping her mind from jumping to catastrophic conclusions, “Lieutenants, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami nodded evenly, but she knew him well enough to interpret the way he fidgeted with his glasses as a bad sign. “Would it be too much trouble to come inside?”

Silently she gave a nod, but the puppies at her back began barking the moment she unlocked the security door, and growled at the sight of Kaga.

“Kaga that’s enough,” Miho snapped sharply, and Kaga – the man not the dog – blinked and straightened.

“Daaw, look how they’ve grown!” Kurosawa gushed, dropping to his knees the moment there was room, and both puppies tackled him happily.

“Kaga stop humping his knee,” Miho sighed, avoiding the human Kaga’s gaze, knowing it was growing increasingly irritated. “Ahh, this way gentlemen.”

No more was said between then and the lounge room; not even their footfalls against the floorboards made sound, and yet Miho could already hear every word they had come to say.

She had spent her career in matchmaking reading people, after all, and their strides, the way their eyes stared straight ahead and the tight set of their jaws spoke volumes in their silence. She had not known them to visit as a group before, Kaga and Shinonome hadn’t even set foot in the Goto residence alone, and the Master of the house’s conspicuous absence from the congregation was absolutely the reason they were there.

“I’ll put some coffee on,” Miho declared when the men all stood uncomfortably in the bright, airy space, the puppies frolicking between them.

“Don’t,” Kaga dropped, catching her wrist as she stepped toward the kitchen.

Foreseeing their purpose, Miho did not react as she might once have; there was no scathing warning, no brazen physical response, just the slight downward tilt of her head and the shift of her body toward the still unoccupied couch.

“Please, sit,” she offered, and all but Captain Ishigami found a place to sit.

He, crouched down in front of Miho and reached for her hands in an uncharacteristic physical gesture, cool, slender fingers wrapping lightly around hers.

“As you know, Lieutenant Goto has been undercover for several months,” he said slowly, clearly choosing his words carefully. “And while he has not been able to contact you, communication with Public Safety was consistent in line with mission operational parameters.”

“Was,” Miho repeated, plucking the crucial word from his sentence and lighting it up in the space between them.

Puppy-Kaga and Puppy-Ishigami’s sleek bodies leapt up onto the couch, and sensing the gathering storm about to lash their mother, they curled up either side of her.

“There was a critical incident last night,” Ishigami went on, his shoulder twitch suggesting he’d like to adjust his glasses again, but he maintained contact with her palms. “A gunfight erupted and…”

Puppy-Kaga interrupted with a whining yawn before turning his head to rest into Miho’s lap, and this was all Kurosawa could take, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.

“Is he dead?” Miho asked, so, so quiet though her voice did not tremble – that is the truth she’d known the moment she had opened to the door to find them all standing there.

Even Ishigami seemed to be struggling with the maintenance of his usually perfect, stoic façade, a frown driving a deep arrow between his brows.

“We recovered digital footage from the scene,” he expounded without directly answering her question, “and,” he added after taking a slow, deep breath, “found the burned remains of the gang he had infiltrated early this morning. We’ve confirmed Goto – Seiji – was among them.”

The closing flutter of Miho’s eyes saved her from the struggle in Ishigami’s expression, but threatened her with the horrific blanks her mind filled in, not that her imagination could possibly conjure up a nightmare greater than what had already been delivered.

“I see,” she whispered, a sound from somewhere deep within her throat. “Thank you,” she went on as she looked up and around at her husband’s closest colleagues, “thank you all for coming to tell me personally, I appreciate it, and I know Seiji would too.”

“What?” Kurosawa coughed, pausing in his own anguish to blink at her in surprise. “Thank you? That’s all?”

“Toru,” Soma hissed sharply.

“But!” he insisted, seeming both confused and a little outraged by Miho’s calm.

“It’s okay,” Miho smiled sadly. “I understand you were all very close to him.”

“You’re his wife,” Kurosawa wept, even as Shinonome took his arm and gave him a tug toward the door.

“Rest assured, Mrs. Goto, this won’t go unpunished,” Kaga assured her, his teeth clenched fiercely.

“I believe you, Captain,” Miho nodded, sliding Puppy-Kaga away and standing slowly, forcing Ishigami to his feet also. “Seiji has every trust in you both.”

There was no quibble over her misused verb tense, just the awkwardness of men of action trapped in a situation where heroism couldn’t be rushing in with guns blazing.

The only hero among them now, it seemed, was dead.

“Thank you again for coming,” Miho expressed gently, her glance past them to the corridor leading to the front door a clear signal they did not miss.

Reluctantly, however, Ishigami stepped back, disquieted by her lack of reaction in his own way.

“Is there someone we can call for you?” he offered, forced to follow her down the hall, Kaga and Soma in tow. “Miss Mann perhaps? Miss Genever? Liana?”

“No, thank you,” Miho replied politely, opening the door to reveal Kurosawa sitting on the porch with Shinonome hovering over him. “I know you’re all very busy, and your investigation is not over.”

Getting to his feet, it looked as if Kurosawa had something more to say, but he sucked it back into his chest and turned down the path.

“You’ll let me know when you’ve learned more?” she then enquired, and both Ishigami and Kaga nodded soberly.

“Straight away,” Kaga assured her, “and… if you should need anything, just call, any of us.”

At his atypical kindness, Miho smiled mildly.

“Of course, Captain. I will.”

Forget - click to listen to song for mood (I wrote and sung it too!)

Her nod was a clear dismissal, and yet the four remaining officers all felt reluctant now to leave, even though they’d dreaded the duty that had awaited them in their colleague’s home. But eventually they bid their solemn farewell, having been there no more than twenty minutes, and with a quiet click, Miho let the door close shut and placed her back against it.

The burn began in her eyes then flushed her cheeks with a fire no amount of tears could quell; but they were trapped in her chest, along with the last breath she’d taken as the door closed. Though she had known there was a possibility her husband might not come back from an operation, the reality of it being delivered to her by the men he trusted most, was somehow beyond her comprehension.

It didn’t make sense.

It couldn’t be real.

He would call and explain it was all some mix up.

When the dizziness became too much, her body forced her to inhale – lungs full of fire she released in a choking, guttural, sobbing gasp, that shattered the strength of her legs. Sliding down, a ragdoll curling against the floorboards, Miho was allowed only mere seconds before Ishigami and Kaga began poking her with their slender muzzles and licking at her cheeks.

Despite having declined Ishigami’s offer, Jazz simply let herself into the Goto residence and hunting down where Miho was curled up in the shower recess.

The water was running cold over her best friend’s naked body, but she didn’t seem to notice her intense shaking, or the deep imprints her nails had made where she was clutching legs.

Wordlessly, Miho followed Jazz’s directions, allowing the other woman to dry her, before numbly stepping into her pyjamas.

“I don’t suppose you feel like eating,” Jazz sighed, folding the doona up to Miho’s chin.

“We were going to have duck,” Miho murmured, one hand on Ishigami’s head, the other on Kaga’s as they laid either side of her.

“We?” Jazz frowned, and Miho nodded slightly.

“Me and the kids,” she snorted, but it was a mirthless sound.

“The dogs get duck?” Jazz blinked, looking between the two most spoilt dogs ever.

Miho’s eyes closed and bit her lower lip, and in response the two sleek puppies nuzzled against her.

“Aww Honey,” Jazz exhaled, her heart breaking and surely as if Kuni had died. “I know there is nothing I can say to make this okay,” she went on softly, stroking Miho’s hair gently, “so I’ll just be here, for whatever you need for as long as you need it.”

“You know, I told him I had a bad feeling about this mission,” Miho whispered, lifting her lids and rolling her eyes to the ceiling, “but I would never ask him not to go, because he’s never given me a reason to doubt when he promises me he’ll always come home.”

Patiently, Jazz listened, while Ishigami began licking Miho’s fingertips.

“So,” Miho inhaled slowly, and then breathed out the rest of her sentence, “I don’t know why I’m being so pathetic… if he promised… he promised… so he will come back.”

And another piece of Jazz’s heart broke off.

If Ishigami and the others were sure enough about Goto’s fate they actually came to tell Miho about it in person, then Jazz had to think they were certain. Miho’s denial was not surprising, just one of many terrible steps on the road of grief she would have to travel – and not for the first time. Perhaps, Jazz wondered, Daisetsu’s faked death helped allow Miho to imagine this was all some elaborate ruse for some other purpose.

When Miho sat up, it was almost as if in clairvoyance, for the very next second both dogs’ ear pricked up and they leapt from the bed before galloping for the front door.

Then there was urgent knocking.

Jazz actually had to jump back a little as hope glimmered in Miho’s eyes and she threw back the blankets. Her bare feet slapped loudly against the floorboards as she ran, and she made no attempts to hold back her puppies before wrenching open the door.

Both Ishigami and Kaga were more than excited to see the figure on the other side of the door, leaping at him with reckless abandon, but Miho slumped against the door frame. Jazz appeared behind her, biting her lip as Subaru fought the puppies off to wrap Miho in a tight embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair, shoving the foil covered casserole he had in one hand at Jazz.

This time, Miho didn’t cry, even if Subaru did.

“It doesn’t have coriander in it, does it?”

“You love coriander!” he attempted to joke, but the look on Jazz’s face told him he’d made a terrible blunder.

“No,” Miho disagreed quietly. “That’s Seiji.”

“Oh,” Subaru dropped, cringing a second but he had a smile affixed when he finally brought Miho to arm’s length.

“It’s fine,” she smiled back. “Everyone’s in a bit of a tizzy at the moment.”

“Except you,” he noted a little quizzically. “The very picture of calm and collected.”

“How many times has he nearly died?” she asked, turning and heading into the living area with the pups on her heels. “Every other week, really, right?”

Glancing sideways at Jazz, Subaru followed, shrugging awkwardly. It was clear to Jazz that Subaru didn’t have the words, not to comfort Miho, or himself. True, Subaru and Goto always bickered, but their actions had proven time and time again they were best friends.

“Tea? Coffee?” Miho chirped, obviously attempting to change Subaru’s grim expression.

“Yeah,” he answered ambiguously, scrutinising the house’s interior as he trailed Miho and Jazz into the kitchen.

“Yeah what?”

“What happened here?” he replied, only looking more confused. “This place is spotless.”

Another blunder for anyone who knew Goto was a bit on the untidy side.

“Are you suggesting my home is usually a mess?” Miho sniffed.

“Well, no,” he stumbled. “But there’s clean, and then there’s I could eat off the tiles clean.”

“We’ve been keeping busy,” Jazz clarified.

“Because work isn’t enough to keep us occupied apparently,” Miho dropped sarcastically.

“Should you even be wandering around?” he then asked of Jazz, who while obviously pregnant did not seem to be in any discomfort.

“Being pregnant isn’t a disability, you know,” she grunted, then dropped her voice. “Unlike being an idiot.”

“I heard that,” Subaru grated sourly, but his brows lifted when Miho let out a chuckle.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think this comedy routine was for me.”

Both her friends fell silent.

“Oh, cut it out will you?” she huffed, throwing up her hands in annoyance. “Come on, Subaru, you’ve known Seiji far longer than me, so you should know this is bullshit.”

“Um…” he squirmed. “I’ve seen the evidence, Miho, the forensics…”

“Yeah?” she snorted. “You know who saw the evidence for Daisetsu’s ‘death’? The forensics? I did, and we all know how that ended.”

Knowingly, and not very discreetly, Jazz rolled her eyes to Subaru.

“Cut that out,” Miho snapped. “He’s not dead, and that’s all there is to it.”

She left them both standing in the kitchen a little bewildered by her curtness, but Jazz eventually let out a heavy sigh.

“I tried to talk to her about funeral arrangements, but she just shuts me down,” she explained solemnly. “I get where she is coming from, what with Daisetsu’s faked death, but if Captain Ishigami and the whole of Public Safety is sure, then…”

Helplessly, she shrugged.

“She doesn’t want me to comfort her,” she exhaled, her eyes misting over a little, and Subaru drew closer. “I don’t know how to comfort her, and I’ve always known.”

“We just be here,” he said, offering his arms and an awkward but honest hug. “So, when she figures out what she needs, we can be there to give it.”

People came and went, but it was the arrival of Goto’s parents and brother that complicated the situation more. Under any other circumstance, the presence of family might have brought some solace, but Miho was… as Miho was – forward about her opinion.

“I’m not interested in burying an empty casket,” she declared stubbornly.

Haruka looked tearily helpless.

Shinichi scowled.

Issei became angry.

“I thought you loved him!” he barked, and Miho’s face darkened in response.

“I love him, present tense,” she snapped. “And it’s because I love him, know him, trust him, that I can’t and won’t believe he’d be stupid enough to get killed.”

“But Miho,” Shinichi beseeched, and in an unusual sign of physical affection he attempted to hug her.

Miho dodged.

“No, Dad,” she argued.

“You’ve always known his work was dangerous,” Shinichi continued, his tone settling back into something gruffer. “As much as we might want this not to be true, there are things beyond our control, beyond Seiji’s control.”

“You go,” Miho told them, nodding emphatically. “I understand. If you believe this, then you need to find closure, but I will not put another box in the ground.”

The door slammed, Kaga and Ishigami lucky to scoot through with tails intact.

In the bedroom, Miho paced back and forth until her eyes came to rest on the pinstripe suit laid out across the grey duvet.

Haruka had picked it out. Even though there wasn’t a body as such to put in it, she’d felt it symbolic of his professionalism, of his nature, and an important part of letting him go. Kaga and Ishigami, however, thought the suit made perfect bedding, and curled up together to watch their mother scowl.

“What the hell, Miho?” Issei charged, bursting into the room. “Where do you get off talking to Mum like that?”

His eyes were red – he had been crying, but now he was just angry.

“You think you’re hurting? What about us?” he snapped, spittle peppering the air between them.

“He’s not dead, Issei!” Miho shouted, right into his face, then pointed at Goto’s suit. “It’s empty, you see that? EMPTY.”

“Because what’s left of him is locked up in a mortuary!” Issei fired back, not backing down – but that only drew him into striking range.

Redder still, Issei looked absolutely shocked with Miho’s palm print emblazoned across his left cheek.

“Your brother would be heartbroken you’ve so little faith in him,” she hissed, her eyes wild and her tone low, seething. “Go pick a casket, choose music and scripture and flowers to lay at a hollow grave, but do not think for a moment I will partake in such a farce.”

She moved so quickly her puppies didn’t have a chance to catch up. Bursting from the bedroom, she stalked to the front door past a bewildered Shinichi and Haruka and snatched her jacket.

After stomping several blocks, Miho hailed a taxi, glad she left emergency money secured in the inside pocket of her coat. It was enough to get her to Station, where Agasa raised an eyebrow at her in recognition. The death of a police officer, regardless of what department they belonged to, did not remain a secret for very long, and though Agasa might have seen Goto and Miho only a handful of times – if that – Second Unit had raised more than a few glasses in honour of a fallen comrade and a good man.

“Mrs. Goto,” he greeted softly, as Miho sat herself down on a stool at the bar. “What can I get you?”

“Enough whiskey to make it all go away,” she replied, not questioning how he knew her, just tapping the bar with her fingertips expectantly.

Agasa knew well enough when to argue with a customer and when to let them drink. At least if she was there, he could keep an eye on her, call in backup if things got a bit too ugly. He placed the bottle down beside her, though it was only a third full, then a glass.

“Don’t go too overboard,” he warned her softly, and in response she grunted and poured for herself.

As she drank, she muttered, but she was not looking for a response from Agasa or those who came and went.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, shaking her head.

Hitting Issei like that – she knew she’d done a bad thing and would have to apologise.

“How can I convince them?” she sighed, staring into her glass but quickly turning her head when she sensed a presence close behind her.

“Convince who of what, Princess?” Baba enquired in his usual happy tone.

“You know what,” she replied dryly, taking another sip as he sat down beside her. “You know everything.”

“It is true I know a lot of things,” he smiled, waving to Agasa before pointing at Miho’s glass. “Not quite everything, though.”

Working with Baba at the agency had proven both a blessing and a curse at times. He had this infuriating way of being jovial no matter what happened, this ability to see the upside in even the darkest of situations. It could be both uplifting and excruciating at the same time. There was also the fact that he had made himself available on and off through Miho’s single years as a physical comfort: the best kind of friend with benefits.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him, still not looking into his face.

She wasn’t sure she could stand to see the sparkle in his eyes or the playfulness on his lips.

“You know this is a police bar, right?” she added.

Baba shrugged.

“I don’t know why I should be concerned,” he smirked. “I’m a law-abiding citizen; besides, I don’t think Detective Ayase meets the height requirement to get in.”

Miho might have snorted, but the air in her lungs was lethargic, morose.

“Come on, Princess,” he crooned, giving her arm a gentle nudge with his, as Agasa put a tumbler down in front of him. “I tracked you down because I thought you’d have given me a call by now.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” she pointed out, emptying her glass and pouring herself another, then one for Baba.

“Yes, yes, funerals – so many little details to plan for,” he agreed, one hand moving in an animated way as he spoke. “Eulogies and floral arrangements and boxes for burial.”

Now, Miho looked at him, her eyes narrowed. But she said nothing, studying him, searching him. What he said was not meant to hurt her; no, he was teasing her because…

“Tell me,” she demanded in a cold hiss, turning her body to his. “Tell me I’m right.”

“Right about?” he poked, obviously enjoying the little game, pushing her because he indeed knew her well enough he knew her limits.

“I will fucking deck you, Mitsunari,” she growled, leaning forward and baring her teeth. “Tell me I am right. He isn’t dead.”

“Hot damn, you’re sexy when you get angry,” he grinned. “You really ought to wear more leather.”

Limit.

He probably could have dodged, but he didn’t, so when Miho grabbed him by the tie and dragged him off his barstool, he slid off easily.

“Riding crop, too,” Baba added, allowing himself to be dragged to a booth and shoved into it.

“Cut the shit,” she hissed, dropping in opposite him. “Playtime is over.”

“A little birdy told me something fascinating,” he admitted finally, triumphant. “Did you know that DNA identification of burnt bone can be pretty reliable?”

Eyes sharp, Miho brain raced ahead to find Baba’s point before he voiced it.

“In extremely bad cases though, if someone was to use, say, white phosphorus or thermite, for example, bones don’t leave much at all – no nuclear DNA – and even mitochondrial profiles are sporadic in their reliability at best.”

“The gang he infiltrated had access to thermite and white phosphorus?” Miho blinked.

Of course, she knew Public Safety worked dangerous cases chasing really dangerous people, but for criminals to have and use dangerous chemicals like those put a whole new perspective on it.

“Maybe,” Baba mused noncommittally, “but I think the point is more that it’s highly unlikely any remains burned to that extent could be positively identified.”

Miho licked her lips.

She knew better than to ask about Baba’s sources, and knew through experience – even if she didn’t know how – that his information was always accurate.

“Captain Ishigami wouldn’t, he wouldn’t tell me it’s him if he wasn’t sure,” she exhaled to herself. “He wouldn’t accept the death of a subordinate if there was any doubt.”

“You know the guy that well?” Baba posed. “I mean, these Public Safety guys lie for a living, right?”

“To me? About that?” Miho wondered, her throat dry.

Trembling hands took her mobile phone from her pocket.

“That I don’t know the answer to,” he admitted, leaning a little closer to see what Miho was texting. “Going straight to the top, huh?”

“No, Namba’s out of town,” Miho murmured, as she fired off her text message to Liana, “but Captain Ishigami will do.”

“I wouldn’t want to be him,” Baba smirked swirling the drink he hadn’t touched yet. “You have a plan?”

“Yeah,” Miho rumbled, slipping from the barstool and throwing a fist full of money for her drinks on the counter. “I’m going to get really, really angry.”

Rationality still existed, Miho felt it tugging her in the opposite direction to her destination, but she ignored it. Her rage was a blaze bringing warmth back to the numbness of her flesh, and she allowed it to fill her to overflowing before she arrived at the restaurant Liana had unwittingly revealed as the location of Miho’s target.

“Miho?” Liana blinked, as Miho stalked between the tables – definitely a woman on a mission.

“Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami added, seeming surprised but quick to rise to his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Out of respect for our friendship and your personal and professional relationship with Seiji,” Miho began, her tone an ice-pick: cold, pointed, “I’m going to give you the opportunity to step out with me and have this conversation.”

Understandably, Ishigami looked surprised, but Liana appeared downright shocked and both their mouths hung open too long for Miho’s liking.

“Very well,” Miho grunted. “Explain the conviction you have Seiji is dead, when the extreme heat you’ve admitted rendered the remains you found to nothing but bones?”

People looked in the direction of the standing pair as they remained facing one another, though the volume of their voices was not especially loud.

“I’m no scientist, Captain,” Miho went on to fill the void once more, “or a weapon’s expert, but to reach the kind of temperatures needed to reduce human bone to the condition you found them in, in an open space like that warehouse, you’d need some seriously restricted firepower.”

“Where did you get this idea from?” Ishigami asked finally, his expression a good approximation of concerned.

“You mean, how do I know you grossly overstated the certainty of my husband’s death?” she snapped, the crack of a whip that silenced everything else in the restaurant.

“Miho,” Liana whispered, reaching for her hand, but Miho yanked it away.

“Look into his eyes, Liana,” Miho growled, pointing into Ishigami’s face. “Imagine Seiji is telling you your husband is dead, all the while you’re holding evidence it isn’t true in your hand.”

“I know this is very difficult for you,” Ishigami attempted, watching the maitre’d cautiously approach in his peripheral vision. “No one wants Lieut..”

“I am his WIFE!” she roared, and people at nearby tables flinched at the violence of her retort, the rawness of her emotion. “Difficult is an understatement I will not bear when you know he’s alive.”

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you t…” the maitre’d interrupted, but the freeze of his jaw when Miho’s eyes fell upon him made it clear he saw death in them.

“Tell me where he is,” Miho demanded on little more than a breath, an imperative she exhaled into Ishigami’s face. “Give me the truth.”

“I can see, Mrs. Goto, the truth is too much for you at present,” Ishigami said evenly, but Liana saw him adjust his glasses – noted and filed it. “Grief is…”

“I will not mourn the living,” Miho snarled, blind to the much larger man who had come to back the maitre’d.

“Ma’am,” came a firmer, warning voice.

Miho tilted her head in some form of acknowledgement but maintained eye contact with Ishigami.

“I will never forget this pain,” she hissed, gaze like razor-wire. “And I will never forget your part in it.”

Before she could be manhandled out of the restaurant, Miho turned on her heels and strode out, to bystanders a vengeful force of wrathful energy.

(GUEST WRITER @BelXsar! Scene RPed)

There was a full moment of silence, then another, and another, before the interior of the restaurant finally started to return to its former activity before the human whirlwind that was Miho Fujisawa Goto had blown in and then just as dramatically swept out. The restaurant staff resumed their former duties, and the other patrons’ gazes went back to their dining companions, while Liana studied her husband with hers, even as he just as studiously avoided it. They had just been contemplating what to have for dessert when Miho had arrived, but it was clear that any appetite for sweets had vanished just as abruptly. With a sidelong glance towards the discarded dessert menus lying on the table, Captain Hideki Ishigami emptied his water glass, then signalled their waiter and coolly asked for the cheque. The bill paid, he got up, and his wife followed him out of the restaurant.

His hand reached out for hers on the street outside, and Liana took it, noting his grasp was on the cool side as usual but his grip a bit tighter. They strode silently, hand in hand, to where their car was parked, and he opened the door for her before sliding into the driver’s seat. As the car pulled into traffic, he still had yet to meet his wife’s gaze which had remained mostly fixed on him all the while.

On the silent drive home, Liana pulled out her phone and tapped a quick text to Jazz Mann Akiwa, hoping their shared friend would update her on what was going on when clearly her husband had no desire to do so.

Ishigami remained silent even as they arrived home. It was after they entered their flat, taken off their shoes, hung up their coats, and he seemed to be heading towards the bathroom, that Liana finally quickened her stride and cut in front of her husband, putting her hand against the wall to block his path.

Enough was enough.

She had given him the appropriate discretion while they had been in public, despite the maelstrom of questions running through her mind. Now, in the privacy of their own home, she could remain silent no longer.

“Hideki,” she said quietly, softly, yet no less firmly. “What is going on?”

Her dark blue eyes sought out his grey ones, intent.

His hand was half-way to his glasses before he actually stopped himself.

“I thought perhaps I would take a shower,” he explained, as if as much was obvious. “I have an early meeting tomorrow and will not have time in the morning.”

If he knew what she was actually getting at - and the man wasn’t a moron, so he knew - there was not a single hint of it in his expression.

Liana tilted her head slightly and gave him a look, one eyebrow raised. “Please don’t insult me, and I won’t return the favor. You know very well what I mean.”

With practised zen, Ishigami’s expression didn’t so much as twitch; still, when he spoke again, there was at least a little emotion in his tone.

“It is understandable Mrs. Goto would not wish to believe Lieutenant Goto is gone,” he explained, “and regrettable her desire seems to have manifested so strongly. You are right to be concerned; I shall organise for a counsellor to touch base with her tomorrow.”

Liana’s eyebrows drew together a little. “As passionate as Miho can be, she’s not a woman prone to hysterics. And I think you appreciate that, Hideki. This is not just a grieving widow deep in denial and going off the deep end. She said something about extreme heat, and remains being reduced to nothing. Which you didn’t deny. You’re deflecting. Whatever it is, I think Miho has proven in the past she can handle it, any truth, rather than a bunch of lies. As Lieutenant Goto’s wife, she deserves that much, at least.”

Responding seemed a little difficult for Ishigami - not because he didn’t know what to say, but because saying it to his inquisitive wife would not be easy.

“You know I cannot discuss an ongoing investigation,” he told her gently, his brows lowering just a little bit.

He wasn’t without empathy.

“Doing so could put further lives at risk, and that is the very reason rules and protocols exist.”

“Then she’s not wrong.”

Liana’s words were murmured to herself as much as her reticent husband, said in confirmation more than any triumph. She looked back up at Ishigami. “You don’t have to tell her any details. But can’t you at least indicate you’re still just trying to confirm the identification of the remains, and that it’s still an ‘ongoing investigation’? If you tell her to keep things to herself, she will. She understands the importance of discretion, as much for her husband’s safety as the case itself. Just don’t add to her trauma, Hideki. You know she’s not someone you want on the warpath against you, and that’s what’s going to happen if you keep lying to her and suggesting she’s crazy.”

His wife calling him a liar was something he knew he just had to weather. Despite his absolute devotion to the job, it hurt no less.

“I do not believe she is crazy,” he said carefully. “Grief takes a great many forms and denial can be a natural part of the mourning process.”

This wasn’t anything Liana didn’t already know.

“If I lost you,” he continued, hazarding to raise his hand toward her cheek, “I would not wish to believe it, either; I would do anything to undo it… But I cannot give this to Mrs. Goto, or to you, no matter how much we both want to alleviate her suffering.”

She looked down for a moment, shaking her head briefly before taking a breath and looking back up at her husband.

“Things don’t always have to be zero sum, you know. I believe rules exist for the spirit of such protocol rather that the strict letter of them. You don’t want to compromise an ongoing investigation, I understand that. So does Miho. But in this case, especially for her -- and I’m not just saying that because she’s my friend; I think she’s proven herself in situations like this --, I think you can maintain the integrity of the investigation while not having to deceive her at the same time. Rules are a dead and static thing, made by humans to serve the needs of a situation. And by the same token, situations can change, and so we can be flexible to adapt while remaining true to overall protocol. It’s not ‘either or’ in this case, Hideki, you must be able to see that. Things need not be robotic; in fact, I think something as dynamic as a complicated investigation is best served by anything but.”

Her look was beseeching as much as it was resolute. She wanted, needed, him to understand that there was more than one alternative, and indeed, a better one existed than what dead, strict rules dictated.

His hand had reached her cheek, his thumb had been lightly grazing the skin as she spoke, but the moment she’d mentioned his way was ‘robotic’, his arm sank back to his side.

“You are operating under the assumption I do not know how to effectively perform my job,” he stated, and indeed, this time he sounded more mechanical, “that I am intentionally wounding Mrs. Goto. Please do not forget our duty is not without risk - risk Lieutenant Goto has always accepted as a necessary evil in the pursuit of people who want to destroy our way of life (writes a presidential speech). Lieutenant Goto’s death will not be in vain provided the integrity of this investigation is not compromised, and in time, Mrs. Goto’s pain will diminish.”

His stoic mask was now firmly affixed, a sure sign to his wife he had been affronted. It was rare he showed anger, whether he felt it or not; it was far more common for him to shut down.

Which is what he did - and before she could speak again he had stepped away.

“I am going to take a shower now,” he asserted.

“Is that part of the fake eulogy you’re going to give?” she threw at his retreating back before she could stop herself, her sarcastic side finding voice in her frustration.

She almost wanted to throw something at the firmly closing bathroom door, but knew it would accomplish nothing but a momentary childish satisfaction of noise to punctuate her ire. She thought she understood her husband enough to get beyond the ‘cyborg’ persona his colleagues often referred to him as, but now she wondered how much she was really able to understand him in the dire situations when she felt she should most.

She bit her lip, and after only a moment’s thought, grabbed her phone to text a quick thanks to Jazz for what she was able to surmise by now. She followed this with a quick text to Miho:

“I believe you. I’m sorry about him.”

Liana didn’t want to go more into it than that, over what was really essentially not that secure a channel. She hoped her friend understood the ‘him’ was her infuriatingly stubborn husband.

Liana stood halfway between the hallway and her bedroom, wondering whether she should get ready for bed or go to Miho to apologize to and try to comfort, and help, her friend. She doubted if she would get much further with Hideki tonight, though a tenacious part of her wanted to try, as well as to make him understand she was not against him, but trying to help him as well as her friend and Lieutenant Goto. Or if it would be more helpful to the situation as a whole to go to discuss things over with her friend. A chime from her phone alerting her to an incoming text helped make up her mind.

“I’m going to need more ice cream.”

It was Jazz, and no doubt Miho had chowed her way through all available potential sources to cool her ire.

“Will hijack an ice cream van and be right over. Preferences?”

“Surprise us.”

While humble had never been easy for Miho, she had much bowing to do when she eventually went home to face Goto’s family. Though difficult, her apologies were sincere, for she had no desire to hurt them or compound their suffering, even if they did not agree with her point of view. A compromise was struck, and though she would not concede her belief that Goto was still alive, she accepted no accord would be met and did not pursue further attempts to convince them the whole funeral thing was a sham.

She resigned herself to being the most supporting daughter and sister she could be, though Issei seemed unsurprisingly angry at her still.

Shinichi, Seiji’s father, would have liked traditional Shinto customs observed, but the circumstances being what they were, there were several steps concerning the corpse that could simply not be performed as one might with a fully intact body.

Still, Miho returned to the Goto family residence out of Tokyo to help in the preparation of food offerings; her only real contribution that all offerings be made at a reasonably cool temperature, the way Seiji would have been able to eat it. But her resolve did not waver.

As the process proceeded toward the wake, she’d had several follow-up conversations with Liana, who had pledged to use her journalistic sources to investigate what current criminal organisations within Japan would have access to highly restricted flammables, despite knowing her husband would not be impressed if he found her meddling. So far, she had come up empty, though several organised crime groups had certainly been more active of late; Liana did not keep this from Miho or Jazz, the latter who was staying in accommodations nearby to continue offering Miho her support.

On the day of the wake, everyone visibly donned the darkness of their grief, and Miho robotically greeted mourners to accept their condolences.

She wanted to shout out how pointless all their words were, their tears, when Seiji was still alive somewhere – not a pile of bones awaiting further cremation – but she kept it buried behind a stoic, if tired mask.

Priests prayed and prayed and prayed, before mourners were fed, but Miho had no appetite. Under Subaru and Jazz’s watchful eyes, she remained quiet, while those who didn’t know her very well at all whispered about how strong the wife of a police officer had to be, how brave she was.

“This is normal, right?” Subaru whispered to Jazz as the pair observed Miho’s blank expression.

Her eyes were directed at the coffin, but there was nothing to see in her gaze at all.

“Miho’s never normal,” Jazz replied just as quietly. “And you know she’s only doing this for Goto’s family; she still won’t believe he’d dead.”

“I guess, maybe I can’t blame her, after that whole thing with her ex-husband’s faked death and all,” Subaru noted, but he was scowling – after all, this was difficult for him too. “But, how long do you think this will last?”

Jazz tilted her head a little as she considered her best friend, then looked up into Subaru’s face.

“I think you know her well enough now,” she said. “If she believes something, no one will sway her.”

“So, what do we do?” he scowled, as people began to line up to say their final farewells.

“We just be here for her, if she needs us,” Jazz shrugged, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it slowly. “For her, this isn’t nearly over.”

Shinichi first, Haruka then Issei, then it was Miho’s turn to stand before Goto’s coffin and bid farewell to the man she loved more than her own life.

It seemed silence fell, a thick blanket of tense expectation for those who knew how she felt; but when she spoke it was so softly only the closest ears could have overheard.

“I will never let you go,” she whispered, glaring at the coffin intensely. “And when I find you, I’m going to kick your ass for putting me and your family through this.”

That was his send off, and when all had passed and said their goodbye, the immediate family travelled to the crematorium.

It was ironic – Miho even wanted to laugh at the idea a man reduced to bone would be cooked all over again in the name of tradition – but she managed to hold it in.

Instead, she took some time alone before they all returned to the house, staring across the rows of headstones, of mausoleums.

“Not today,” she grated under her breath, jaw clenched as she was struck with an overwhelming pang of loneliness.

“Mrs. Goto,” Kaga said, clearing his throat. “I was going to congratulate you on whatever you said to unsettle Captain Ishigami,” he continued, his voice low. “But there will be more appropriate times for that.”

Miho hadn’t had as much to do with Kaga as she had Goto’s direct superior, but she knew the man was callous, or clumsy, or a mixture of the two – enough to not be offended by his awkward, misplaced dig at Ishigami.

“Tell me, Captain,” Miho said, her voice thick, her watery eyes fixed on the distance. “Do you believe it? What you’ve seen on your surveillance tapes? What you’ve heard, read in reports? Would Seiji be so incompetent as to fall prey to a death and make his wife a widow?”

For a man rarely at a loss for words, Kaga’s lips parted but no sound emerged. Unusually, he seemed to be thinking carefully before speaking.

“Would Lieutenant Goto intentionally put himself at undue risk?” he rephrased, but Miho intercepted his dodge.

“Not what I asked,” she snapped, inching a little closer to him.

“I am sure of what I observed, and am satisfied with the rigor of our forensic investigators,” he answered slowly, and Miho jumped on his hesitation.

“Damnit, Hyogo, you know what I’m asking!” she barked, giving his chest a bit of a shove, and Kaga snatched her wrist.

This caught the attention of Liana, who was standing nearby with a phone pressed to her ear.

“These are questions for Captain Ishigami,” Kaga told her, lowering his head and his tone.

“He was as slippery as you, and it’s suspicious,” Miho hissed.

“You’re grieving,” he asserted, trying to sound accommodating, maybe even sympathetic. “You’re raw and hurting and wanting all this to be a horrible nightmare, but…”

“I DISBELIEVE!” she snarled, shaking herself free, and several others looked over, including Issei.

“Captain Kaga,” Liana began amiably, as she approached to defuse a true blow-up of the situation.

She had since ended her phone call, and gave the pair her entire focus.

“Please, allow me,” she smiled warmly, slipping her hand into Miho’s.

Not quite with his tail between his legs, but certainly without reluctance, Kaga nodded and shifted away from the two women.

“You just saved him a black eye,” Miho hissed, scuffing her toes in the gravel irritably.

“Just a black eye?” Liana smirked cheekily, and this got Miho to smile wickedly.

“Yeah okay, he might have lost a little more; I’m fed up with getting chided for not being morose enough,” she muttered, allowing Liana to turn her away from the gathering at the shrine.

“Well, I just got off the phone with reliable source,” Liana explained quietly, “who said a known terrorist group on Public Safety’s watchlist called Kurai, had recently been planning a serious attack, but now the group is in chaos - something about an internal power struggle.”

“When?” Miho prompted, giving Liana her full attention.

“That’s what caught my attention,” Liana nodded. “According to my source, an attack targeting shinkansen lines was supposed to happen two days after Goto’s supposed death.”

Miho’s brows drew slowly down, but she wasn’t drawing any major conclusions yet, but the wheels were definitely turning. Liana’s acceptance of Miho’s belief in Goto’s survival was warming, a relief.

“No terrorists though,” Miho noted.

Any disruption to the train network would be big news – a case of terrorism, if it had occurred, would have been all over the news

“So their plans were disturbed,” Miho added, thinking aloud.

“I wasn’t able to get much in terms of specifics,” Liana admitted, “but,” she continued quickly, “Kurai is having a bit of a management crisis, which might explain why their plans fell through.”

“Seiji,” Miho exhaled. “This is totally his doing.”

“Entirely possible,” Liana smiled, but quickly her expression fell. “And if that’s the case, his death, could all be a part of the investigation.”

About that idea, Liana did not look at all impressed.

“I’m going to need to speak to your husband again,” Miho growled, and while Liana would defend Ishigami when he was in the right, she had no issue taking him to task when he was wrong.

“We’re staying here overnight,” Liana revealed. “I’ll give you the hotel address.”

“Spill it,” Miho charged, the moment Liana opened the door of her hotel room.

Stunned, Ishigami blinked at the instant onslaught, but Miho did not even allow him to draw breath.

“He’s not dead, and you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on or…”

“Stop right there, Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami said, emerging from his stupor.

“I will not stop!” she snapped – in his face, teeth bared and savage. “Whatever this is? Terrorists? All of Japan, the world in peril? Because if it’s not, the bullshit you’re putting me, and Seiji’s family through it outrageous and I…”

“You need to calm down,” he tried to reason, but Liana could see the cracks forming in his demeanour.

“Would you? If I told you Liana was dead, tell me you wouldn’t be in my face demanding answers,” Miho pressed, finally stabbing a finger against his chest, and there Ishigami lost his cool.

“That is enough,” he snapped, and even Liana flinched.

Miho’s lips continued to move, but no sound emerged.

After a few tense seconds, Ishigami adjusted his glasses and exhaled a slow sigh.

“Kurai,” Miho prompted, more tempered in tone. “Seiji infiltrated them, didn’t he?”

Walking to the window, Ishigami sighed again.

“Yes,” Ishigami admitted, softly. “And… his death… is essential to not only the success of the operation, but to his survival because…”

Hanging off his every word, Miho leaned forward; Ishigami turned back to the room and pair of expectant gazes, his own serious.

“There is a mole in Public Safety.”

“Who?” Miho blurted.

“If I knew that, all this would not be necessary,” Ishigami grumbled, fiddling with his glasses again. “The only way to protect him and his contact within Kurai, is to convince everyone in Public Safety he is no longer in play.”

“So… who does know he’s alive?” Liana asked.

“Myself, Chief Namba, and now the two of you, against my better judgement,” he answered wearily. “Though I must say, I am immensely relieved to have brought your suffering to an end.”

“I’d still be livid if I didn’t know you genuinely did this to protect Seiji,” Miho nodded slowly. “But am still pissed off you didn’t think me capable of feigning grief.”

“This is a case of substantial import,” Ishigami insisted. “Telling anyone what you have learned could not only destroy our chances of bringing down Kurai, but lead to catastrophic infrastructure damage and death.”

“I got it,” Miho huffed, running her fingers through her hair in a frustrated manner, before reaffixing her gaze on him.

Softer.

Beseeching.

“Have you had contact with him?” she asked, voice so much smaller. “Is he injured?”

“Not… recently, no,” he admitted, motioning for her to sit.

She complied.

“But his last communication was directly to my private number informing me of his status – unharmed – a brief situational report, and his strong suspicion he and his contact had been compromised by a mole in Public Safety.”

It wasn’t until a cup of tea appeared before her, that Miho realised Liana had snuck away. With a small smile, Miho accepted the offering.

“So, what do you do now?” she frowned, before blowing softly against the rim of her mug.

“Well,” Ishigami began again, moving to also sit. “I will have to inform Chief Namba that you’re now aware of the situation. He will probably wish to speak to you himself.”

Though Chief of Public Safety, when Miho followed Ishigami into Namba’s office, the broad-shouldered looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“So, where do you want it, Jin?” she dropped, flat and cold and staring daggers.

“Excuse me?” Namba blinked, looking from Miho to his subordinate.

“I believe she means to hit you,” Ishigami translated, and Namba’s brows twitched.

“Hit is the polite translation,” Miho snorted, pointing at him sharply. “I get your need for secrecy, but all this is bullshit – I should have been told.”

“Ah,” he nodded, shifting a little before his fingers knitted together before him.

“No doubt Captain Ishigami has now explained the seriousness of the situation?”

At this, it was Ishigami’s turn to squirm a little.

“I think we both know, Mrs. Goto is not one to let something go once she has sunk her teeth into it,” he said, then wished he’d used different phrasing when Miho bared her teeth.

“You knew marrying a skilled undercover agent could result in time apart,” Namba explained. “And that strict rules of confidentiality would prevent you from knowing the details of his missions.”

This was true, but in Miho’s mind, what they had done to her and the rest of Goto’s family was way beyond that.

“You killed me,” she asserted, tone low and dangerous as she leaned forward across his desk. “You carved out my heart, and you set it beside the heart of his mother, and father and brother…”

“For Lieutenant Goto’s safety,” Namba insisted.

“And that’s the only reason I haven’t crawled over this desk and ripped out your throat,” she growled, at which point, Ishigami did the brave thing and put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

“That is quite enough,” he told her firmly. “We are all sorry for the pain you have experienced, but as I said earlier, the greater good was, is served by the continuing secrecy of Goto’s mission.”

Surprisingly, Miho didn’t throw his hand off. In fact, she straightened and let out a long breath to balance herself before resettling her gaze on Namba.

“So, I suppose you want to get him home,” he then said, a sparkle lighting up his eyes. “And since you no doubt know most of what’s going on - if I’m right about your interrogation abilities – I have an idea of just how you can help do that.”

“Sir?” Ishigami frowned, but Namba held his hand up.

“If it was to become known in Public Safety circles, that you had received a missive from Lieutenant Goto prior to his death, and that you felt it necessary to take action upon that information…”

“That could draw the mole out to ensure what I fictionally know doesn’t reveal their identity,” Miho finished thoughtfully, already nodded.

Ishigami, meanwhile, was not.

“I am very much against this,” he declared. “Involving Mrs. Goto in this investigation is…”

“A brilliant idea,” Miho interrupted.

“Irresponsible,” Ishigami corrected. “A traitor in our midst willing to put the safety of the public and his or her colleagues at risk, in the firing line of the Kurai, is not someone against whom a civilian should be pitted. I should also think Lieutenant Goto would not want his wife put in undue danger.”

“Lieutenant Goto knows better than to tell me what I can and cannot do,” Miho sniffed, then flashed a nasty grin toward Namba. “Flush that son of a bitch in my direction, Chief.”

“Chief Namba,” Ishigami said, as serious as he may have ever been. “I will go on record with my disagreement; Mrs. Goto should not be any further involved in this!”

For a few seconds following the rise of his voice, the two others looked at him a little surprised.

“You don’t want me in danger, I get it,” Miho told him finally, her expression softening a little. “But Seiji can’t come home until the mole is revealed, and this will work. I doubt Chief Namba has a mind to strip me naked, tie a bow around my neck and shout-out to all potential traitors to come have a poke.”

Both men immediately blushed.

Like, fires of hell heat in their cheeks you could see in pitch black.

“For crying out loud, you’re both grown men,” she huffed. “The point is, I’m not signing up to die, but to be very well guarded bait. Do you have people who are above reproach? Kurosawa, surely,” Miho answered, before they could. “He idolises Seiji. There’s no way he would do anything to put him in danger.”

“Soma and Kaga,” Namba put in, though at the last name, Ishigami’s nose wrinkled.

“I’m not so sure about the last,” he declared.

“Leave him out then… Subaru… call Subaru in. He would never let anything happen to me.”

“He may well have a few things to say in opposition,” Ishigami added.

“Then he can stow it too,” Miho huffed. “Chief Namba, will you set this up?”

With only a few seconds hesitation, Namba nodded his assent, and Miho exhaled.

“I’ll wait for your instructions,” she sighed. “Whatever it is you need me to do, I will, don’t question that for a second.”

“I don’t think anyone would dare,” he noted, and there concluded the meeting.

It was in silence Miho drove through dim backstreets two nights later, though Kurosawa prattled unnecessary reassurances in her ears through her tiny earbud radio.

“I’m fine, Toru,” she muttered for the seventh time. “It’s like the Chief said - the mole won’t hurt me until he or she is sure the information that might incriminate them cannot fall into the hands of any authority.”

“Still,” he grumbled, in his place of hiding near Miho’s destination. “I feel ill thinking you may be at the mercy of this unscrupulous creature.”

“Shut up, Kurosawa,” Kaga snapped. “Keep comms clear.”

And for once, Miho was glad to hear the acid of Kaga’s voice.

“Don’t worry your heads about this,” Miho told them. “This idiot won’t know what hit ‘em.”

She was early, as was part of the plan, and so was Namba, who she was there to meet and pass on the package she had only just received - presumably sent on the day of Goto’s death.

It had to be somewhere quiet, somewhere other people would not get involved should violence break out, and despite her bravado, Miho actually shuddered a little at the gloom of the dockside warehouse. No one in sight, no one to catch stray bullets, except for the small group of instructors Namba had enlisted for the operation.

Her steps sounded loudly against the moist asphalt, bouncing off concrete walls and worn, metal shipping containers. Slowly, she made her way around the building toward a single door, trepidation growing, twisting knots in her stomach she obstinately refused to show in her expression.

“That’s quite far enough,” a raspy, gravelly voice asserted, and Miho flinched then froze.

The kind of voice that did far too much yelling.

“Chief?” she queried, though she knew it wasn’t him.

“We have contact,” Namba’s voice hissed in Miho’s ear.

“I should be,” the man’s voice came again, oblivious to the voices in Miho’s head.

Slowly, she hazarded to turn her head.

The outline was average except perhaps for the hair, messy waves of ink from crown to shoulders in a decidedly unkempt manner.

“Instructor Nagita?” Miho blinked, mostly for the benefit of the others in case they did not have a clear enough line of sight. “I am supposed to be meeting Chief Namba here. Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

Playing dumb was not Miho’s strong suit, but she tried just the same.

It was then he pulled out a gun - not how Miho would have played it given she’d just given him the opportunity to play along, but anyone who picked a fight with Goto and his people couldn’t really be considered smart.

“Don’t play ignorant with me! Give me the contents of the package Goto sent you,” he demanded roughly, inching a little closer to her, and Miho shuffled back a little, away from the warehouse wall.

“I will shoot you,” he insisted, waving the firearm a little erratically, before a gunshot rang out.

Miho’s breath stalled, her chest clenched and her gaze fixed on the slumping figure of Nagita, who a few seconds later was face down. Trembling, Miho touched her hand to her cheek - wet, warm, fresh blood transferred to her fingers.

“What…?” she stammered out, as a new form stepped from the shadows and claimed responsibility for Nagita’s murder.

“Is that… Chiba?” Soma said through comms.

“The student?” Subaru sought in clarification. “We should move now!”

“Hold,” Namba instructed. “If there are even students involved in this, we don’t know who else may be involved.”

“That student just killed an instructor,” Subaru pointed out. “You think he’s going to hesitate to kill Miho?”

“It’s fine, okay?” Miho breathed, holding both her hands up in front of her. “Just… relax.”

“Kurai knew Nagita didn’t have the guts to follow through,” Chiba announced, his voice contrastingly soft and boyish considering the situation. “But this is my way out of mediocrity, out of obscurity. No one will ever overlook me again.”

“Keep him talking, Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami encouraged. “We’re converging on your position.”

“Well, I think I can say,” Miho began carefully. “If I had met you, before now, I would not have overlooked you… and if I knew your name…?”

“Chiba Daisuke,” he announced proudly - obviously not a seasoned criminal even with fresh blood on his hands.

“And, Mr. Chiba, you ah… you’re working for Kurai then? An enforcer by the looks of it - it looks good on you.”

“Not for, with,” he corrected.

“Oh, obviously,” Miho rushed. “Man of your bearing, I suppose, takes orders from no one… right?”

“Including you, Mrs. Goto,” he smiled, so innocently it seemed so ridiculous he held her at gun-point. “It’s a shame, because I actually liked Instructor Goto…”

“He’s gearing up to kill her too, I’m moving in!” Subaru barked.

“... but,” Chiba continued. “I can’t allow you to blow my cover, so I’m going to have to…”

“FREEZE!” Ishigami shouted, appearing dramatically, and simultaneously Miho let out a squeak as Subaru snatched her around the waist and put himself between her and Chiba.

“Don’t move!” Kaga added, emerging with Soma, their own guns drawn.

“Reach for the sky, scumbag!” Kurosawa exclaimed, and no doubt they all would have facepalmed were the circumstances not so serious.

“It’s over, Chiba,” Namba told him, and indeed, Chiba was now surrounded. “Put down the gun so no one else gets hurt.”

“Get her out of here,” Ishigami commanded of Subaru, and he did not have to be asked twice.

“Hold it!” Chiba barked, uncharacteristically sharp. “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“And in which universe do you think you’ll walk away from this if you do?” Kaga scoffed. “You fire, we fire, and you’re dead.”

“I… I’ll still take one of you with me,” Chiba declared, no longer sounding so confident, his gun hand wavering a little.

In a dramatic crash that blocked Miho and Subaru from Chiba’s line of sight, the door Miho had earlier been heading for opened, and a body tackled the murderous student.

The gun skidded across the ground and was quickly scooped up by Soma, while the others jumped in to restrain the young man.

“Come on,” Subaru urged, but Miho would not be moved, transfixed on the fray of arms and legs.

And she gasped when Chiba was dragged to his feet and cuffed, because with order restored, Miho could see who it was that had intervened.

“The hell are you going here?” Subaru growled, glaring at the man.

“Did you really think I was going to allow you to put my wife in such danger and not oversee her safety myself?” Goto huffed, straightening his clothes.

But his eyes looked beyond his friend to Miho’s blood speckled face, her tear-brimming, lip-quivering expression that broke his heart all over again.

“Get going, dead-man,” Kaga snorted curtly. “You can’t be here.”

“Seiji,” Miho whispered thickly, fighting Subaru’s grip on her unsuccessfully.

“Go!” Subaru growled, grappling Miho as she struggled. “I’ll take care of her.”

“I’ll take care of you if you don’t let me GO!” Miho shrieked, a wildcat now, flailing.

With a broken look, Goto began to back away, mouthing one word before he turned and ran.

“Soon.”

The aftermath dragged on well through the night and into the morning, and at nine Miho was sitting on the couch in Ishigami’s office - still pouting.

“Looks like you could use this,” Kaga declared, dropping a steaming mug of coffee into Miho’s line of sight.

Her eyes rolled up to look at him skeptically.

“If Ishigami sees you in here, you’re toast,” she declared, reaching for the mug… which he then moved out of her reach. “Do that again and you won’t need to worry about him.”

“Oh yeah?” Kaga smirked, holding his ground. “Right now, I could take you with just my little finger.”

“I suggest you keep you little finger, and all other appendages, away from Mrs. Goto,” Ishigami said coldly from the doorway, and Miho used the opportunity to relieve Kaga of the mug. “And remove yourself from my office.”

“So you can move in on her instead? You’ve got no chance, four-eyes,” Kaga dropped, shoving past him on the way out.

Silence settled in the wake of his exit, until Miho sat back down.

“How are you holding up?” Ishigami asked carefully.

“Still mad,” she replied waspishly. “You could have given me a minute with him.”

“As I said before, every moment he breaks cover is a chance for Kurai to discover his deception,” he pointed out, and not for the first time.

Noisily, Miho slurped her coffee.

“A counsellor from the Department will be in contact in the next few days.”

“I don’t need counselling, Ishigami,” Miho grumped. “I need my hus…”

“... husband back, yes I understand,” he filled in, nodding. “And I am sure he feels as anxious for this operation to be as over as you.”

To this, Miho grunted, sculled the rest of the coffee - ignoring the burn - and rolled her neck.

“I’m going home,” she announced.

“Ichiyanagi will drive you,” he informed her. “Chief Namba and I agree you should have protection until such time as the Kurai are neutralised, just in case they…”

“No,” she disagreed.

“I’m actually not giving you a choice,” Ishigami retorted, finally putting his foot down. “You insisted on involving yourself, and now you will put up with the consequences.”

Her jaw worked, but she wasn’t so unreasonable that she wouldn’t accept responsibility for her own actions.

“Fine, I’m leaving now,” she grumped, grabbed her bag, and stalked out.

“So, you’re not going to talk to me forever now?” Subaru sniffed, following Miho up the path to her front door.

Of course - to prove the point - Miho did not respond.

As she slipped the key into the lock, barking greeted her, and she had to grit her teeth not to allow exhausted tears to spill. Ishigami and Kaga bounced up against her the moment she cleared the door, and she gladly sat on the floor to let the greyhound wiggling soothe her weary heart.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Subaru said, walking past the tangle unscathed while Miho snuggled her face against soft, sleek doggy heads.

“Daddy will be home soon,” she whispered to her ‘kids’, before struggling back up.

She needed sleep.

A week ticked by.

Then another.

And while the longing to see Goto never waned, Miho had rather gotten used to having a house-maid-chauffeur-butler-heavy-lifter-emergency-tampon-buying dog-walker. Still, she craved a little alone time, and hatched a plan to give Subaru the slip.

Ishigami and Kaga, complicit in her crime, ran happily beside her as she snuck out through her back yard’s fence. When she had taken enough twists and turns to ensure even a seasoned tracker would have trouble picking up her trail, she headed for somewhere her poochies could play and she could relax.

Even though the weather was cooling, Miho was determined to sit on a very significant patch of grass in the park where it all started. The greyhounds ran laps around her as she ruminated. She pictured the picnic rug upon which they had laid that first ‘test drive’, smiled as she remembered how uptight he’d been in the beginning, how awkward - then grinned when she recalled how he’d surprised her in the bushes.

Heavily, she dragged herself up and headed toward the toilet block, just as she had that day; but she was disappointed when there was no Goto to drag her out of sight and defile her in the best possible way.

“Fuck,” she growled, her mood darkening.

“I’d better do something about this frustration of yours,” a familiar voice said at her back, causing Miho to freeze. “Or you might fall into the arms of that apron wearing hooligan.”

Miho trapped the air in her lungs, afraid that if she drew breath he would disappear; but at the same time, she had to know.

“You’re not going to run away again, are you?” she gasped out, and though she longed to throw herself at him, her body was paralysed.

“I”m sorry I had to do that, Miho,” he apologised, face patterned with profound contrition. “But I’m here now, because I couldn’t stand it anymore. Even if the Kurai kill me tomorrow, it’ll have been worth it.”

In the background, Ishigami and Kaga bounded around the park, amusing themselves, but everything that wasn’t Goto faded from Miho’s world. When his arms closed around her, she drew in a deep breath, filling her senses with the scent of him. Every fibre of her being sang out in joy and relief, and her muscles turned mush.

“If they hurt you,” she whimpered against his neck, finally locking him in her own embrace, “I will burn Tokyo to the ground until every last one of them is destroyed.”

“I believe it,” he laughed, tightening his grip.

Nothing felt as good to him, as having her heart beating against his chest.

“Come on,” he urged, pulling away far enough to walk without stumbling, tugging her toward the bushes.

“Uhh, Ishigami and Kaga will wonder where I am,” she exhaled, but in all honesty it was amazing she could form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

“I should never have let you name them that,” Goto hissed, pressing her back against a familiar tree trunk and slithering his fingers beneath her jacket.

“It was… Kurosawa,” Miho protested weakly, coiling her arms around his neck and dragging her fingernails through his hair.

“Stop saying other men’s names,” he growled against her throat, nipping it enough to cause Miho to squirm, sharp little stings giving way to tingling warmth and pleasure. “I have missed the taste of you.”

“I’ve missed being tasted,” she sighed, directing his face back to hers. “I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” he smiled, straightening her dishevelled jacket and taking her face either side. “Nothing is so precious to me.”

A little confused they were both still fully dressed, Miho frowned, despite his declaration.

“But you’re not done yet, are you?” she forced out, the quietest of squeaks.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, resting his forehead against hers, brushing her moist cheeks with his thumbs. “If I don’t finish this, many people will be in danger, including you - so I have to see this out.”

She knew he wouldn’t abandon his job, his responsibility to the people he vowed to protect, the law he vowed to uphold - that was the man she loved and married.

“But,” he continued, even as Miho wept, “when it’s over, I’m going to request full time assignment at the academy, no more undercover.”

“Ohh,” she exhaled, lightly nuzzling her nose against his. “But you would miss it, Lieutenant Goto, it’s as much a part of you as I am… just… promise…”

“Anything,” he pledged. “Absolutely anything.”

“Never die again,” she pouted, pecking his lips with desperate, quick kisses.

“Miho…”

“You said anything!” she pointed out smugly, rubbing herself against him, trying to make it as difficult for him to leave her as possible.

“Mmm,” he groaned. “Then I suppose I’ll have to live forever. But for now, I have to go.”

When he kissed her now, it was a kiss designed to convince her, once and for all, if any doubt lingered, that he was alive and hers. He would return to her safely, and they would be happy.

The joyful, hysterical bark-whining of Ishigami and Kaga, slammed into the moment, as surely as the dog slammed into the back of Goto’s legs. They proceeded to bounce energetically until he crouched, and then they clambered up his body, over his shoulders, his back, his chest, licking all the while.

“Come on kids,” Miho sniffled, untucking their leashes from her belt-loop and clicked each to their collars. “Let Daddy get back to work so he can come home to us.”

It took some serious strength to drag the dogs away from Goto, and it was with reluctance that he stepped back.

“And I will come home to you: soon.”

#miho fujiwara #seiji goto #hideki ishigami #kaga #soma #kurosawa #kurai #hlitf #hlitf fanfic #namba #burn all of tokyo #dog-babies

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shrptxth-blog · 6 years ago

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DRUM ROLL PLEASE: brrrrrrdumdumdum - CALL ME 707 (lol, SEVEN’s cool though). I’m your resident …um, something. Anyway, let’s get to the good stuff. I’m a 28 year woman (she/her), who likes to escape the trials and tribulations of her job by writing about different worlds and fantastical characters. Let’s hope Seojun fits in that category. Kidding. Mostly. Lol.

( KIM TAEHYUNG. CIS MALE. ) Everyone in Vivian’s pack knows of ( SEOJUN HYUN,) one of her loyal Leechers. ( HE ) is/are a ( 25 / 427 ) year old lycan known amongst their packmates for being ( EFFICIENT + DUTIFUL ) but also quite ( STEADFAST - CALCULATING ) They’re known for being the ( SOLDIER ) Though they are technically disbanded, they are still dedicated to their cause.

clickety-click below to read more about this child of mine. plz&thnx, friends.

seojun, the past.

>> Seojun Hyun was born in 1567, during the Joseon Dynasty. His family were cattle herders who tried their best to live a simple life. Although there were many lessons taught to Seojun during this time, a majority of fundamental development went exactly as expected - there were no childhood traumas or events that shook his life into a path he couldn’t get out of. No, that would be saved for when he reached adulthood.

>> When Seojun was in his early twenties, impending war had started to edge into Korea and by the time Seojun turned 25, the Japanese Invasion began. It was the year 1592 when Toyotomi Hideyoshi lead the Japanese troops to invade Korea. Although his family had insisted that he refrain from enlisting, Seojun ultimately chose to enlist in order to protect his father and grandfather from having to do the duty themselves. However, during this time, Seojun had started to learn who he really was: a solider through and through. Seojun excelled in all of the aspects of being a solider - from the physical abilities to the mentality that came with war, he was a brilliant soldier and should have gone further up the ranks …

>> During the first year of his enlistment, everything had gone swimmingly. At least, it seemed to be going swimmingly. During a planned attack, Seojun had been separated from his squad and chose to hide in a nearby forest for safety. Unbeknownst to him, the war in the darkness of the forest was far worse than the war outside. As he wandered, he had been attacked by something - the darkness made it difficult for him to make out the figure. Although, he couldn’t see it, he could feel the blood lust and while he tried to fight, the creature had strength greater than he could even imagine. Seojun couldn’t remember if the darkness had grown too heavy or if he had blacked out, but the metallic scent of his blood clung in the air as he awoke.

>> Despite having been woken up bloodied, Seojun managed to remain calm. However, he saw a figure come near him, he did what any twenty-five year in the middle of a war would do when a stranger dressed in tatters and drenched in blood would do: he screamed and tried to get up. Unfortunately, whatever had attacked him had left far more injured than he expected - he was able to move two steps forward before hitting the ground again. The stranger hadn’t said anything, rather he walked over to Seojun and turned him on his back. The man claimed to be a “doctor” and had said he could save the fallen soldier. Seojun had been skeptical since the man began a blood transfusion on the forest floor. This seemed neither safe nor sanitary, but the soldier had closed his eyes and decided that if he were to die today, he would hope his parents would be honored that he fought for their country.

>> Sometime during this time, Seojun’s memory continues to grow fuzzy. He’s unsure of the events that had unfolded; he kept asking himself: "Are there werewolves in Korea?“

>> When he awoke, the man was no longer present. Seojun woke with confusion - he was suddenly alright, but something felt wrong. He didn’t feel quite himself. Not exactly. The man who had claimed to be a doctor had transfused blood into him …whose blood? Seojun frantically tried to figure this out but by the time he discovered it, it would be impossible turn back. The unknown doctor had been a Lycan taking cover in Korea.

>> Are there Lycans in Korea? Yes.

>> Seojun had quickly grown to accept his newfound identity. He decided that it would be best for his family to believe he died during the war rather than to know that he had become something other human. After his family was delivered the news that he had died during the war, Seojun began a nomad life - he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, not yet.

>> A pack of wolves in Korea had taken Seojun in - their leader being the “doctor” who had completed the blood transfusion that turned Seojun. They trained him in with their abilities and he quickly excelled in understanding himself. To be able to excel in anything, he needed to master himself beforehand. It took years to fully become as comfortable as he is now - the Seojun in the past would never have imagined he could be as skilled and talented as he is now.

>> Although, he had never gotten over leaving his human family, he had grown to love his new pack. Though Seojun tried to avoid any confrontations against the Vampires, when his pack leader and members had been killed during one of the many fights, Seojun could no longer allow himself to play the role of just an observer. He knew he had to step into the battlefield: a soldier can never rest, after all.

>> He quickly earned a reputation for his efficient methods - the work of a soldier needed to be quick, precise and deadly. Killing wasn’t something new to him. Rather, his Lycan abilities assisted in making him better at it. He’d been a soldier before anything else and since they were in a war, it was impossible not to act.

>> Seojun eventually left Korea in search for others to help with this on-going war against the vampires. He briefly met Vivian almost a hundred years ago and joined her pack. His youthful and softer appearance often allows people to underestimate the monster that hides underneath; the element of surprise has always been one of his favorite things in the world, after all.

>> The Peace Treaty makes him skeptical. He doesn’t believe it. He is a solider and has seen the wars that erupt when peace ends. Although, Seojun knows the public image that needs to displayed, there are plenty of things that go bump in the dark.

seojun, the present.

>> Peace and soldiers cannot coexist. At least, not in Seojun’s opinion. Luckily, he knew peace had always just been a mask for the truth - there are monsters in the dark, after all. Publicly, the Leechers had been disbanded but that was never something written in blood. There are people who spend their lives fighting against the nature burned in their blood, but Seojun had inherited the blood and accepted his truth. All he has to do is wait.

>> Seojun has always believe that the pack comes first. He does not care about the lengths he needs to go. It’s been four hundred years, he doesn’t mind if his hands gets a little bit dirtier. Although, he has been feeling antsy lately. Peace is boring to him, after all. Many people may have started to lose their edge due to peace, but if anything, it has made him more alert, more aware and evermore ready to jump as soon as the opportunity arises.

fun facts & other things.

>> Seojun is a connoisseur of steak. His family had been cattle ranchers, so he is very particular about the cuts and cooking methods of steak. He’s very, very specific in how steaks are supposed to be seasoned and cooked. Do not argue with him about either, especially when he’s got that steak knife in his hand.

>> He often changes his hair color as a way to signify that he has aged another year. His appearance has not changed much, but at the very least, he can change his hair color to make it look like time has passed.

>> Seojun likes to run. During his early years as a soldier, the man was talented in running and sprinting; he was the fastest in his squadron. With his lycanthropic abilities, it’s only made him faster. This desire for speed has always made him impatient; whenever his attention trips out, he will start tapping his foot and run off as soon as he is able to.

>> There had been a period of time when Seojun would always carry a sword with him. Despite always having a sword with him, he would always break said sword. It took him a few hundred years to master not breaking a sword.

>> If asked what his family was like, Seojun will say that he was raised by cattle before he ate said cattle. His birth family has never been a topic he liked to discuss. The people he had once loved became ghosts that haunted his memories.

... and I will probs add more but it is nearly midnight. If I keep going, it’s going to get really weird and specific. Like how Seojun always puts his left sock on before he puts his right sock on, but then puts his right shoe on before his left one. Or even how, he can never sleep in a room with an electric fan on - he swears that it could kill him if it’s still on when he closes his eyes. Or even like how when he has decided he will kill someone, he will write their name down in red ink - back in his years, when writing the family registry, a deceased person’s name is written in red ...so, if he has decided you’re going to die, he’ll write your name down with red ink and then burn the paper.

I don’t know. He’s weird enough for me to have a million headcanons.

Anyway, come at me with plots and thangs and headcanons and ideas and ...yes. I’m ready for it.

Thanks for reading down this far. Seojun and I appreciate you very much.

#underworldshqintro #hi there.#this got long.#but i'm excited to meet everyone and their muses.#yeeeeea-yuh.

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0l1v3juice · 6 years ago

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Departure

Never in my wildest dreams could I have known that I would be granted the opportunity to meet such kind and unique people. I can still remember everything from start to finish, like it just happened yesterday. Even the moments in which I felt consumed by fear, the memory does not fade. I do not think I will ever forget this experience. Then again, I also really do not want to. Who would want to lose any of the memories they have relating to their most cherished relationships, even the ones that hurt or are scary? In the beginning, though, things were neither painful nor scary; things were bleak.

I remember hinting to my friends that we should not leave the village, but of course we would anyway. Whether or not we stayed or left, war would continue to consume our lives and destroy our livelihood. We were far too outnumbered to stand up to either the Alliance or the Horde, so we played an insignificant force in the war as a supplier of food resources. There were a few people here and there who would abandon the village to join the ranks of our oppressors, but the lot of us simply resisted that temptation. We were nothing if not resilient. Our spirits would not be broken by the onslaught of foreign nations declaring war over our own soil. There had been rumors circulating that neighboring villages had driven off all the soldiers from either side that dared to fight on their land, and we used this as our fuel to keep fighting. Eventually, however, one day, we grew weary of the senseless bloodshed.

“There must be a better way to deal with this than to merely ride it out,” I pleaded to my fellow villager.

“When we have the forces to drive them back, we will know. Until then, we must survive. You know in your heart that there is no other way, Hunjun,” she sighed to me.

As much as I did not want to keep hearing it, I knew that she was right. But I was growing more concerned as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. Our numbers were dwindling. Some of us who openly opposed the commandeering of land which was already inhabited and cared for ended up paying the price for speaking out - either by harsh physical labor or other means of subordination. Many of us did not survive the transition into forced servitude. We are a gentle race, but we are also determined and persistent. It was difficult to watch so many of us fall to their torture. We simply would not sit idly by in the face of injustice and cruelty. There was nothing just about the war being fought between the two factions, and so we fought back.

To fight back was our downfall, as ill-prepared as we were. Our quiet, peaceful village was not as prepared for battle as it should have been. As our numbers grew smaller and more of our resources were stolen by soldiers, our lives diminished before us, and we lost hope of redemption for our village. Soon it was just Maysam, Toolani, Songxue, Shen, Mao Cung, and me.

“I don’t know how much longer we can live like this,” cried Toolani.

“We are not living, we are surviving. If you want to live, first you have to survive,” Shen counseled her.

“But it has been this way for so long. Could you so easily chide our brothers and sisters out there slaving away for our enemies?” Mao Cung rebuked.

“Mao is right; if surviving and holding out were the answer, there would not be so many of us dead or enslaved!” lamented Songxue.

As the days drew nearer to our eventual decision to escape the prison of our last safe house, discussions like this were not uncommon. Shen was always level-headed, but did not understand that we were dealing with entirely foreign forces. Toolani's parents had been a part of the resistance which was stamped out by the soldiers, and it took more and more of a mental toll on her every day. The prospect of our kin being enslaved on our own land enraged Mao Cung beyond belief, especially as the last remaining member of the family who led the village. Songxue knew not what to do besides mourn our losses. Maysam and I typically remained silent during these discussions, since they usually led to nowhere. But not that day. Maysam interrupted the bickering with one thoughtful question:

“What reason do any of us have to oppose the idea of leaving our forsaken village?”

There was a moment of silence, and Songxue responded first.

“Would we not be abandoning our kin and leaving them to a life of servitude until death?” she remarked.

“Songxue, while it is admirable that you wish to free our brethren, what ability do any of us here have to do so? What makes you feel certain that we would not end up as they have? Should we not carry on a legacy for this village and make our escape before everyone is lost?” Maysam admonished. Songxue lowered her head and nodded in sorrowful understanding.

Mao Cung stewed in his thoughts for a moment before voicing a bothersome detail about Maysam's proposal.

“It's a pretty cowardly thing to do. I know staying here would likely result in our ultimate demise, but in facing our ends with pride, we die with honor. You should like to dishonor the name of our village by cowardly retreating in its dying moments?” he criticized.

Maysam was taken aback by his assertion. She meditated on his sentiments for a few moments before he continued.

“We are not living, we are surviving. We must survive until the very end in order to bestow honor upon our village's name and our own names. What would our ancestors think of us, running away and leaving what they have given us to become ruins? Though our defeat is certain, we still must face it with bravery and pride for our loved ones, do you not agree? Certainly you understand what that means,” Mao Cung finished.

“There is a difference, a fine line between bravery and foolishness, Mao Cung. What good would it do us or our ancestors to wait patiently in our seats for the kiss of death? Brave heroes face certain death when it means a greater good is accomplished. Fools await their demise in the name of the so-called ‘honor’ that comes waiting. There is no honor in senseless bloodshed. There is no honor in this war. I am certain that our ancestors would want us to rebuild their legacy where fertile soil awaits. We cannot change the fates of those we loved and lost, but we can continue living for them. Does that not sound like what you would want, Mao?” Maysam spoke. Mao Cung reflected for a moment before agreeing with the sentiments Maysam expressed. Truly, she was making a groundbreaking decision.

With Maysam's speeches granting reassurance to Toolani and Shen that escape was the right thing to do, it seemed as though we were all in agreement with the idea. Then, I spoke on one important detail.

“Where shall we go?”

Songxue and Mao Cung's eyes fixated on me in confusion, while Shen, Toolani, and Maysam shared a look of insightful despondency. They knew what I meant, and they did not have an answer. No one could have.

“Where shall we escape to? A neighboring village already consumed by the war? What about the dense forests that we can trek through to reach the beaches? Will there not be soldiers arriving on those beaches? What would we do then?”

As I barraged them with question after question, the atmosphere quickly withdrew from hopeful to despairing. It was unintentional, but I refused to welcome hope into my heart again only to have it ripped away. They had all forgotten how prevalent the presence was of those pests we were hiding from. Soldiers were on every beach, constantly arriving with new and improved plans to burn our villages and take our resources. How would we expect to get past them? Daunting as the task seemed, Shen remembered to never lose that hope that I had already lost.

“We are all willing to do whatever it takes to carry on our legacy, so there must be a way,” he proclaimed.

A moment of silence passed before Toolani spoke.

“I may have an idea, but you won't like it,” she told us.

I can still remember the feeling that overcame me when she sighed those words. In my heart, I felt grief - grief that was so strong, I almost thought I had already lost her. I am certain we all knew what she was going to say before she shared her plan with us. Toolani was a very skilled mage, of course her idea would include the use of her talents, likely against the invaders. However, something told me that she would likely not make it with us in our journey onward. It seemed that Toolani was the only one willing to accept the fact that we would not all make it. Before she could continue with the details, Maysam sprung into the conversation.

“No! I will not allow you to put yourself on the line and ultimately die at the hands of these savages! Do you want to end up as the rest of our brothers and sisters have?” Maysam implored Toolani not to go through with it. But Toolani's mind was already made up.

“No, sister, I don’t. And I wish to shield the rest of you from meeting that same fate as well. But I know - I know full well that they will not stop coming. If we are to escape, it must be now. We don't have the luxury of time. We don't have the promise of good fortune. So, I must do everything in my power to protect you all and keep the memory of our beloved village alive. It is my duty. Please, May, let me lead you all to victory,” Toolani calmly spoke.

We all sat in a moment of silence in respect to the bereavement we knew we would be experiencing soon enough. Following shortly after, Toolani shared with us her plan. It was bold and daring, just her style. She had carefully concocted the idea so we would have a means of escape and a length of time to expect for travel away from our home. Toolani really did think of everything.

Though her plan was executed perfectly, it still hurt to say goodbye.

#olive writes things #world of warcraft #my ocs #Hunjun Sweetbreeze #Maysam Wildsong #idk #the others are just kind of made up and not fleshed out really lmaooo #maybe i'll do a part 2?

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runephoenix6769 · 6 years ago

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Rwby and Absentee Mother's.

Absentee Mother's and questionable parenting seems to be a common theme in RWBY.

Vilifying mother figures is something rarely done except in fairytales culminating in the ‘wicked step mother’ trope, (usually after the death of the mother in childbirth, the ‘other’ woman is some how intruding on the family unit, somehow alluding that the ‘other’ woman is coming between the children and the father)

Mothers in society are seen as the healers, the cooks, the home makers, the strength behind the man. And there is quite a double standard in society to do with absentee parents.

A woman leaves her kids behind, she is evil n how dare she return.

A woman stays behind to raise her kids alone, oh who gives a shit, big deal. It's expected. Her struggle, yeah maybe she should have held onto her man. Or maybe she shouldn't be such a slut.

A dad leaves his kids behind. It's totally fine, he's shiking his responsibility. He comes back, "omg, what a great guy! Let's give him a around of applause.

A dad stays behind to raise his kids, alone. Omg! Parent of the year, all the medals and praise in the world.. Everyone trips over themselves.

So that's the ingrained basis, in our heads before we watch the show. Our opinions are already slightly skewered.

In RWBY some parents are given a free pass for obv reasons, such as Summer. Others given a light pass for reasons I'll try to wrap my head n others are outright vilified..

Let's attempt to dissect this. The hero, the neutral and the villan.

Summer died, so she is the hero absentee mother. What we know, she never returned from a mission, so far it has been alluded but unconfirmed she sacrificed herself for the greater good.. Rightly so, she's given a free pass.

Willow Schnee... So far she seems to be given neutral status... We know she's an alcoholic, driven there by hurt, anger, grief and could very well be a broken heart. But I don't understand why she gets a pass.. Her children were left in an abusive situation. Why didn't she try to stand for her kids? It could be argued that Willow herself was a victim if Jacques cruel behaviour, or she simply was too afraid to stand up to one she feared, but this is sheer speculation.

Ghira and Kali Belladonna...Again they are given a pass.. Both of them raised their daughter in the White Fang.. Granted, before it became a terrorist organisation, but still dragged her across Remnant to protests, eventually exposing her to terrorists until she became one of them.

If Blake had made this choice as an adult, I might not be so critical but she made this choice at 12/13, under the grooming of an 18 year old Adam Taurus, and continued for the next five years, something a parent should not have allowed to stand.

They are in no way abusive to Blake or show lack of care and love, like some RWBY parents, in fact they are overly supportive of her, to the fault of the previous point.

Tai Yang Xiao Long. . Yang has spoken at length about having to grow up way beyond her years because her dad shut down. Almost in a direct foil to Willow. He shut down due to grief, hurt and loss.

He threw himself into his work, and 'raised' the girls as best he could with a heavy dose of help from a prepubescent Yang. He is protective of his girls, as said by Yang but when the girls go off to Haven, Tai seems quite happy tending to his sunflowers rather than helping. Yet some parts of the fandom heap praise on him as a parent..

Mustache twiddling Jacques Schnee..The only Schnee Parent that is there. This guy out of all of them tries to actually be a parent, He collects his daughter from a war torn city, to bring her to safety.

He attempts to establish boundaries n punishment when she misbehaves. However, he goes around it all wrong, hitting her, threatening her, locking her in her room and quite literally being too hands on.

Grounding someone is normal parental behaviour, how ever, eradicating them from the global narrative, gas lighting the world saying she is mentally unstable is some JFK's father lobotomising his sister type of villainy.

And finally,

Raven Branwen, the villainous mother we love to hate. The thing is about her, we don't know the real reasons why she left. All we know is that she chose her tribe over her new born daughter and that in our eyes (as I explained above) is the worst possible thing in the world a mother can do, because she goes against everything society says a mother should be.

She has saved her daughter on defo one occasion and it's been speculated there has been another two occasions where Raven has saved her daughters life.

She evidently cares.

Why else would she break down in the Vault, when she found herself lacking the courage that she needed.

Raven apologises to Yang twice, but both out of ear shot of her daughter, which I think could make all the world of difference, if Yang heard it. It wouldn't incur instant forgiveness and nor should it. But it might be the tinder that sparks a character arc.

Yet why has she stayed away for so long? Is it fear of Salem coming for the Spring Maidens powers, if she ever found out Raven had them? I would have been leaning towards that, of it wasn't for Raven leaving Yang to hold the relic n draw Salem upon herself.

Raven is by no ways a good person. She's complicated, and multifaceted. I think we have yet to see more of her motivation for leaving.

Was it simply a sense of duty to her tribe, which Raven has said to Qrow.

Did she leave Yang behind so as not to raise her in the dangerous life of a bandit, or are there entirely different reasons?

What scared the shit óut of her so much that she practically trembles at the mention of Salem name, yet scoffs at the thought of Cinder n Watts.

At least one ‘villainous’ parent needs a redemption arc. I dont see this being Jacques, but it could either go with Raven or Willow...

#raven branwen #tai yang xiao long #jacques schnee #summer rose #willow schnee #kali belladonna #ghira belladonna #rwby

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willag42 · 7 years ago

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Yuri!!! On Ice Fanfic Recs with Reviews ["W" Authors]

Note: Doing some major reformating of the YOI fanfic rec pages. The pages that include my reviews are now having the posts separated alphabetically by author (see below). I am also creating separate page(s) that allow filtering the fanfics by category. It's a work in progress, but I'm having fun with it.

This page includes my YOI fanfic recs (with reviews) for authors whose names begin with "W".

Note: For any authors whom I don't know the gender, I refer to them with they/them. If any authors wish to correct me, please do so.

AUTHORS REC PAGES: #0-9 -- A -- B -- C -- D -- E -- F -- G -- H -- I -- J -- K -- L -- M -- N -- O -- P -- Q -- R -- S -- T -- U -- V -- W -- X -- Y -- Z

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Refer to this masterlist for all of my YOI fanfic recs.

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whelvenwings (@whelvenwings)

You Set My Heart on Fire

Rating: Teen Words: 34.6k Status: Complete Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Tags: Alternate careers AU; Painters; Soulmates AU; Anxiety ❤❤❤❤❤ Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. And everyone sees any marks on their soulmate's skin appear on their own body; it starts with the first marks, drawn on by the midwife at birth. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a soulmate who replies, but Yuuri does, and he knows that he should feel fortunate - however, when he's trying to make a living as a small-time painter, and his soulmate is the famous artist, Viktor Nikiforov... well, it seems slightly less than fortunate. Yuuri can't help but feel self-conscious. So self-conscious, in fact, that he's never even shown Viktor his face, never let Viktor hear his voice. The only way that they've spoken is through ink, writing message after message to each other on their skin - but that's all about to change. ❤❤❤❤❤ Review: This soulmate fic takes place in an alternate universe where Yuuri and Viktor are painters. They have been communicating with each other since Yuuri's birth by writing to one another on their skin. Yuuri is an extremely anxious and very sensitive in this AU, nervous to let himself be known to many people, including Viktor. Eventually, at 24, he works up the nerve to call Viktor on the phone and soon gets wrangled into a painting competition with Yuri using Viktor's body as the canvas. This is a story about Yuuri slowly becoming more confident and bold in both his relationship with Viktor and with his art. A big setback occurs which results in Yuuri withdrawing from Viktor, but gradually they work their way back and further beyond. They learn to work with each other's opposing personalities to strengthen and improve themselves and their relationship. This is a delightful fic with a really sweet ending.

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witchbane (@witchsbane)

Kintsugi

Rating: Explicit Words: 114.1k Status: Work In Progress Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Tags: Mafia AU; Enemies to lovers; Angst; Slow burn ❤❤❤❤❤ Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a hitman burdened with a debt he can never repay. His target: Viktor Nikiforov, next Pakhan to one of the most dangerous families in the Russian mafia. When the two are drawn into a treacherous alliance after a mission gone wrong, the bonds of love and loyalty to family and duty begin to unravel—even as they get more tangled up in each other. ❤❤❤❤❤ Review: I'm normally not much for mafia AUs. I don't enjoy stories with main characters that are genuinely despicable, assholish, or psychotic, and I like it even less when my favorite characters are changed and portrayed that way. What works with Kitsugi is witchbane's talented, careful handling of the characters, more broken and hardened from their experiences, but still likeable and similar to their canon counterparts. Yuuri is turned into an efficient and capable killer in order to pay off a debt, but he hates what he does, feeling guilty about several of his actions, but is determined to see it through because he desires to finally go back home to his family and earn his freedom. Victor is colder and more ruthless, but does so out of loyalty and care for Yakov and others in the mafia family, and he values loyalty in others. He's an asshole to Yuuri at first, being a for-hire hitman and outsider, but comes to genuinely care for him, respecting Yuuri's desire to not be forced into sex, worrying over him when he gets injured, and trusting him with secrets. They are slowly forging a loving bond in harsh, cruel conditions, and it will be interesting to see where the story goes from there considering how much Yuuri is hiding from Victor. The story is realistic, gritty, and angsty, doesn't glorify or romanticize the lifestyle, and still maintains sympathetic characters. It makes for a fascinating fic, and I really appreciate what witchbane has done with it.

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writingfromtheshadows (@lovingnikiforov)

Equivalent Exchange

Rating: Mature Words: 129.6k Status: Work In Progress Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov Tags: Fantasy AU; Royalty AU; Politics; Magic; Hurt/comfort ❤❤❤❤❤ Summary: Without the Katsuki line to protect and maintain the laws of magic, Great Mages have become so few and far between that many believe the age of magic is coming to an end. However, when he comes across a young man weaving tales with figures of fire, Viktor begins to wonder if magic is truly dead, or if it lives on in the body of the storyteller with warm brown eyes. ❤❤❤❤❤ Review: This fic is absolutely amazing. Hands down one of the best royalty, political thriller fanfics for YOI, with everyone being a competent badass in their own special way. Dessa takes great care at carefully developing the plot and characters, never sacrificing one for the other. The beginning of the fic sets the stage for Viktor and Yuuri's relationship, both ommitting key facts about themselves, but still able to create a connection. Viktor is a king who just wants a break from the ever-constant responsibility and to connect with someone who just sees him as Viktor. Yuuri is a mage who pretends to not be one, and becomes attached to this man who seems to have a target painted on his back. The beginning is mostly light-hearted, with hints of the trouble to come. The Nikiforovs have a powerful, magical enemy that is determined to destroy their dynasty, and Yuuri becomes the only possible person to combat these attacks. The plot is gradual to work its way in, but once it does it hits in full force, and the topics tackled are heavy - regicide, mass murders, discrimination, duty/sacrifice. The story approaches the conflicts and politics in a realistic manner - everybody has to sacrifice something for the greater good. As much as some of Viktor's advisors would like to play the part of Viktor's friend and trust his faith in Yuuri, they must remain skeptical and wary. As much as Yuuri would just like to run away and hide who he is, he is the only force powerful enough to protect Viktor and change the course of the battle. As much as Viktor would like to be more familiar around Yuuri, he must maintain a certain distance. Dessa utilizes multiple POVs so that you understand the motivations behind each of the main characters. Everyone is so well-rounded. I love it how in one chapter I can be so frustrated with the actions of one character, and in the next I'm sympathizing with their plight and reasons behind their actions. And it's not just one character, it's multiple. They all make frustrating mistakes, but they all also learn and grow from these mistakes. Their inner thoughts and interactions with one another builds the careful framework that this story thrives on. Wow, I really really really can't wait to see how this fic is resolved - this is the story I most eagerly anticipate updates for.

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Wynn (@astreetcarnamedwynn)

Wynn is so great with balancing the dynamics between Yuuri, Victor, and Yuri. Normally I don't care for Yuri taking away focus from Yuuri and Victor, but I love how she weaves him into her fics. She is perhaps one of the few authors that I will gladly read Yuri's POV and interactions with Yuuri and Victor.

Sixty Impossible Things

Rating: Teen Words: 77.9k Status: Work In Progress Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov; (platonic friendship) Yuri+Yuuri Tags: Canon divergent; Alterate meeting after Sochi; Sassy Yuuri; Pining Victor; Anxiety; Getting to know each other; Learning to relationship ❤❤❤❤❤ Summary: Yuuri sits shellshocked at the barrage of messages. His friends and family in Hasetsu possessed a modicum of chill, as Phichit would say, at least when it came to phones and social media. This blitz... possessed no chill whatsoever. None. Yuuri thinks even Phichit would be awed. "Yuri Plisetsky and Viktor Nikiforov are messaging me the argument I think they’re having with each other about each other while likely standing right next to each other while texting me." Celestino stares at him a long moment, silent. Then he lifts a hand to his temple, closes his eyes, and sighs. ❤❤❤❤❤ Review: This is a canon divergence fic where Yuri starts contacting Yuuri soon after the Sochi Grand Prix, and things barrel out of control from there. Something that I absolutely LOVE is that Wynn focuses on Yuuri's relationships with Yuri, Viktor, Phichit, Celestino, and Minami. The way Yuuri interacts with each of them is different, and I appreciate the care and emphasis she puts on making each one important for Yuuri. Celestino is often an overlooked character, so I really appreciate her attention to him. The conversations are honest, occasionally savage, occasionally funny, and just generally sweet. I especially love how he responds to Yuri's rudeness with equal rudeness initially, which is refreshing to the normal "oh what a cute kitten." Yuri can be a real dick, and it's nice to see him called out on such dickishness. And while the interactions between the two are petty and contentious from both sides for a while, this slowly changes as the fic continues. Originally, this story was set as complete at five chapters and has since been continued, which I was so excited to see! Each chapter continues to get better, further developing the dynamics between Yuuri, Victor, and Yuri. Recent chapters have seen a break through between the three, being more honest with each other, and all the angst and stress beforehand was worth the heartwarming payoff. I love this story so much, and I'm glad that Wynn decided to continue it!

Yuri, the Vampire Slayer

Rating: Teen Words: 20.9k Status: Work In Progress Relationship: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov; (platonic) Yuri+Yuuri; (brothers) Victor+Yuri Tags: Buffy the Vampire Slayer AU; Vampire slayer Yuri; Vampire slayer Yuuri; Watcher Yuuri; Witch Victor; BAMF Yuuri ❤❤❤❤❤ Summary: One month after the death of his Watcher, Yakov Feltsman, sixteen-year old Yuri Plisetsky struggles to deal with the grief he feels at Yakov's death as well as the burden he bears at being a vampire slayer, particularly keeping his secret from his best friend, Otabek Altin. Yuri's brother, Viktor, struggles as well, having traded ballet and the Bolshoi for lawnmowers and suburbia following the death of their mother two years prior. Into both of their lives walks Yuuri Katsuki, a walking knot of contradictions, with his ugly tie and slicked back hair, bearing the news that he, now, is Yuri's new Watcher. ❤❤❤❤❤ Review: I was hesitant to start this story despite being a big Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan (favorite American tv series still to this day). I saw the title, wasn't too enthusiastic for a story where Yuri was the main character, and stayed away. I shouldn't have worried, because Wynn does a great job balancing the scenes between all three characters. And despite Yuri getting the title role, the Buffy mantle is shared between him and Yuuri (Yuuri is 7th season Buffy to Yuri's 1st season Buffy). Yuuri shares several of his slaying stories with Yuri, which any fan of the Buffy series will recognize (the drowning, fight with the mayor, etc). I love how much of a BAMF Yuuri is. Yuri is understandably angry with the whole situation, slowly improving with Yuuri's guidance. And Victor is desperate to protect his brother and keep their family together. It's really well done, and I hope that Wynn eventually gets back to the story.

#Victuuri fic recs #YOI fic recs #W authors

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thesansastarkimperative · 7 years ago

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The Black Veiled Bride (1/2 )[Jonsa]

Summary: In which Daenerys' army comes to the North to prepare for the Long Night. Jon is forcefully removed from his position as King and Sansa rises as the new Queen in the North. Instead of staking their claim to remain at Winterfell, Sansa and the Northern folk choose to travel to the Riverlands to await their deaths unless they can strike a bargain with the Dragon Queen. One that assures the North's independence.

Note: I haven’t written in ages and as such, I am incredibly rusty. I wrote this because I wanted to sort out my feelings for Jon - I wanted to reconcile what I think the poor characterization he received in season 7 with the only possible explanation as to why: Undercover!Jon, eventually. I also want to apologize if the language doesn’t fit the time period. I simply don’t know how to.

Unbeta’d / Did not proofread. Sorry for the spelling and grammatical errors.

It disturbed her greatly to see that the brother she swore remarked that he would do anything to protect her, walked in with the most dangerous conqueror she had ever known.

At first she thought that the raven he sent was false, that he was made captive at Dragonstone, akin to the time when she had to write a similar letter at the hands of the Lannisters. She desperately wanted to believe that the Jon she knew, wouldn’t take up with a foreign Queen. Sansa tried to quell her feelings for the brother she thought she lost once, withdrawing from her growing affections simply because she thought it was inappropriate. Although, it ultimately was ineffective. She prayed for his safety every night, but if she was honest with herself, she stopped praying altogether after receiving Jon’s letter. And that was when she started devising a plan.

When news of their arrival reached Winterfell several moons before, Sansa had the pleasure (or obligation, a careful distinction she afforded herself) of preparing the castle as Lady of Winterfell. It was one of her many duties along with the constant placating she needed to do to keep the armies of the Vale and the other Northern lords loyal to their cause. It didn’t help that Littlefinger constantly fed her rumors about Jon laying with the Dragon Queen and that he had forfeit the North’s independence just for a night with her. It seemed that Daenerys’ beauty was not as exaggerated as Sansa once thought.

And now, here they were. The dragons were the first signals of their arrival – from afar, the scouts saw two magnificent creatures riding through the sky heading towards the castle gates. The gates opened and with loud announcement, the Dragon Queen’s party came in full force with Jon carefully walking beside her. The common folk immediately bended the knee in respect to their former King. Apart from Jon, Daenerys’ council consisted of her Hand Tyrion, her closest advisor Missandei, as well as the familiar faces of Varys the spider and Ser Davos. They were welcomed by the neutral faces of Arya, Bran, Brienne, Sam, Commander Yohn Royce, and other lesser Norther Lords. Noticeably absent was the Lady of Winterfell.

“Jon,” Arya eyed him soullessly. “It is unfortunate that we are meeting again under these circumstances. Most of us are leaving. The North will not bow to a Southern Queen”. Daenerys looked at Jon then, willing him to say something, anything, to salvage this particular development. After the initial shock of her statement faded, Jon approached his siblings with the intent of hugging them but was taken aback by the raised swords of Brienne and the other knights.

“What is the meaning of this? I am your King!” Jon exasperated.

“You are our King no more. Lord Snow, you abdicated as soon as you bent the knee. The North remembers the transgressions of the House Targaryen, the horrible things that happened to your aunt Lyanna. We will not be subjected to your Queen’s rule.” Lyanna Mormont stated as walked forward from the back lines.

“Where is the Lady of Winterfell? I must speak with her at once. I want to understand why she convinced all of you to leave.”

“Leave the Queen out of this my lord,” Brienne spoke.

Daenerys’ anger surged. “Queen?!” She shouted. “My good people, your King bent the knee and as such the North belongs to me. Lady Sansa is not your Queen. I am. No one will leave, unless they want to feel the wrath of my dragons,” She prided herself in delivering threats menacingly, inspiring fear to those she spoke them to but the Northern folk simply laughed at her.

“Your Dragons are not infallible your grace.” From a distance they saw Queen Sansa walk down the ramparts. Every Northern kin bowed. Sansa glided towards them in her dress that was outlined by red and blue, Tully colors as well as wolf patches to signify her Stark blood. “We know that you had three dragons, yet you only came with two. We know that our former King bargained the North in exchange for your help and he will honor that. But we will not stay. We will not bow to any conqueror, we will seek passage to the Riverlands where my uncle currently resides. We will start anew there.” Daenerys bristled. It surprised her that the passing of one her beloved dragons did not fail to escape her notice.

“Sansa, have you gone mad?!” Jon began as he approached her. Again, the knights raised their swords in defiance.

“I’d recommend you stay where you are Lord Snow. The North doesn’t take too kindly to traitors,” She replied. Daenerys grew impatient by the minute, she was promised the North and if she wasn’t going to get it then she would let the dead destroy them first.

“Jon, you promised me the North – if I won’t have it, including the people then I’d rather let the dead enslave us all.” Daenerys knew she was acting similarly to a petulant child but she was tired of having her birth right as the rightful ruler of the seven kingdoms continuously denied. She would not let some usurper assume the kingdom of the North when its King had bent the knee to her cause.

“Let me speak to them Dany, maybe I can convince them to reconsider,” Jon whispered. “Your Grace,” he began – referring to the sister he once entrusted the North to before he sailed. “If you would offer me your private counsel for a brief moment, I would like to speak to you so that we could consider the repercussions of your said leaving and the dangers when the Long Night will befall all of us.”

Sansa considered his words. “Very well. If you would join me Lord Snow, let us confer in my chambers. Let us leave the others to get acquainted.”

He approached her then, expecting no opposition to taking her hand and leading her to one of the many rooms in the castle. She took his arm and they silently walked inside the castle halls. The rest were still touched by the cold outside as they await the end of Jon’s and Sansa’s conversation.

Once they entered Sansa’s chambers, Sansa rushed to envelop him with a hug, one that he had been desperately craving for moons now. Jon took her face with his hands a planted a kiss on her forehead.

“You are a gifted thespian, Jon Snow.” She remarked and they both laughed.

Sansa needed to find a way to secure their claim to the North, sans the foreign conqueror. After Littlefinger’s trial she seeked Bran’s wisdom – she wanted to know if he had seen any eventuality of them surviving the war with a Stark ruling in the North.

“Bran, may I speak to you in private?” She asked as she saw him and Sam Tarly whispering in his chambers one night.

“I was just leaving my lady. Have a good night to you both.” Sam awkwardly said as he left the two of them.

“What is it?” He stoically said.

“I’m not sure if you’d seen it in one of your visions but Jon has declared Daenerys Targaryen as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, including the North, and I wanted to know if this was the truth.” Sansa asked, her voice full of worry and concern.

“Yes it is.”

“Do you know why?” Tears were threatening to fall but she kept her composure.

“I can only see bits and pieces but the price of that knowledge will hurt you. I am sure of it.” Bran replied.

“You know of my feelings for him then? Feelings that are not brotherly?”

“Yes. I don’t know when it began but I just saw you looking at him with admiration, and then I knew. I am not condemning you for it.”

“But it is wrong! If Arya found out I was harboring feelings for our brother, she would have me killed. Her loyalty for him far exceeds any loyalty she holds for me.”

“Sansa, if I impart on you some knowledge of Jon, you have to promise me that you won’t speak of it to anyone else until Jon knows.”

“I promise.”

“Jon is not our brother – he is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen with our aunt Lyanna.” She gasped. “Sansa, he didn’t steal her away. They were in love. And they married. Jon is the rightful heir to the Iron throne.”

“Gods! Jon Snow isn’t a bastard, he’s a prince! He must know immediately.”

“Sansa… I neglected to tell you the reason why he bent the knee.”

In her scattered state, she had forgotten to ask.

“Yes?” She motioned for him to continue

“He had fallen in love.” Sansa felt her knees tremble and she fell, her legs bending beneath her as if her whole world was ending. Fat tears were rolling down her face as Bran simply looked at her offering one simple consolation. “But he’s in love with you too.”

She wasn’t happy that he had fallen in love with someone else, but Sansa knew his sense of duty was greater. She placed her faith in the certitude that his love for her, for the North was far greater than his love for this foreign Queen. She would make sure of it.

After wiping her tears, she rose and asked Bran if she could tell Jon the news through a letter, assuring him that it would be brought to him directly. After Bran agreed, Sansa hastily walked to her chamber and wrote to him. If she being completely honest with herself, she was relieved that Jon wasn’t their half-brother, a bastard born from her father’s previous indiscretion. She loved him and she had hoped he felt the same way. She thought he felt the exact same way inferring from the looks that he gave her but his letter, declaring his allegiance to the Dragon Queen complicated matters.

Jon,

I am writing to you with urgent news. Before you continue reading, I implore you that you MUST be alone while reading the contents of this letter. It contains sensitive information even to your new “allies”.

Jon, I have previously told you that Bran is now the Three-eyed raven, a magical being that can see the past, and the future. It is as if he is time itself. While training his powers, Bran has come across some knowledge about your parentage. Your true parentage. Jon. You are not the son of Ned Stark. You are the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. He didn’t steal Lyanna away, they ran away together. They married. Jon, you are the rightful heir to the Iron Throne.

As I let you sit with that new knowledge, I must know. Why did you bend the knee? Did you lay with her? Was there no dragonglass? When you entrusted me the North, I gave you my word that I will hold it in your stead. Yet, what you’ve done is an act of treason to the Northern folk. They will not accept you or your Dragon Queen. I have forged a solution but I would like to have some answers before I declare it.

Yours,

Sansa.

Sansa knew that the foreign Queen’s army was set to arrive in a few moons so she must act quickly. She took some cloth and rolled it around the parchment to prevent it from being spoiled.

“Ghost! To me.” She called and the direwolf quickly appeared.

“I want you to deliver this to your Master, can you do that boy? I want you to give it to him only when he’s alone in his tent. It is of utmost importance.” Understanding the severity of the situation, Ghost barked in acknowledgment. She motioned for Ghost to open his mouth and she placed the tiny letter below his tongue. She knew this was the safest way to deliver it.

With a gentle pat on his head, Ghost bounded out of her room and started to run towards the gates, towards his master wherever he may be.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #jon x sansa fanfiction #jonsaff #jonxsansaff #jonsa fanfic #jonsa fic #game of thrones #got #got7 #minor spoilers #asoiaf #TSIfics #Sorta nervous

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tsuraiwrites · 7 years ago

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Fic: rewriting the epilogue (1)

repost of fic from my old writing blog to my main.

Anders and Hawke have created a sanctuary for mages. Now they must protect what they've built.

Previously

Hawke no longer makes a habit of taking in strays. No, that’s all Anders’ purview these days, in the months when their flight from Kirkwall turned to a solid march on circle after circle. Starkhaven was the first after they fled the red-stained city. Then the letters start to come, Following their group in the claws of ravens and the occasional sharp-eyed songbird.

They all boil down to help us, too.

He follows Anders on to the next site, helping the mages who decide to stay with them – to give others what they’ve craved through all the years shut away. For once it’s not Hawke that’s looked on with fear and awe, that admiration that always irked him but seems to settle over Anders like a tailored cloak. It shows when Anders heals their wounds, treats malnutrition and old whipping scars and nary a soul flinches away anymore when Justice shines through the cracks in his skin. Anders lends a listening ear to the man who recounts his narrow escape from Tranquility when the Templars found out he would occasionally hear voices that weren’t there. Justice flies into a rage, vows of vengeance on his lips in the face of the barely-pubescent girl who flinches from the touch of grown men, crying when Justice kneels before her. “What was done to you was wrong. Not your fault, only their sickness and hate. We will protect you. Shield you from harm until you learn to protect yourself. This we swear: they will never touch you again.” Despite the tears and the sinister blue glow, the girl throws herself into Justice’s arms.

“Thank you thank you thank you.”

They stay. They fight, for the cause and for their new leader. The children follow Anders like ducklings and he teaches them to cast a steady barrier so no one and nothing can harm them.

Later, Hawke teaches them to cast fire over the barrier, superheating their hands – to go for the neck, the eyes and groin, any gaps armor may not cover. They take to it swimmingly and Anders sighs at him as the children soon come for burn salve less and less.

Merrill finds them after the second circle lies in ruins, bringing with her news of Templars on the march. Justice burns bright but does not rage, turning steely eyes on her. “You know much of magics not taught in circles – not the demon filth, but that which is practiced by the elven peoples?”

Her smile is bright in the falling dusk. “Yes of course! I would be happy to teach anyone who wants to learn!”

“Then stay.”

Their party soon grows too big to travel, ungainly and winding down the road – an easy target.

Anders sits beside him one night with a world-weary sigh. Hawke sets aside the nearly-finished staff he was working on setting a crystal into and wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Tired?”

“Just worried. We’re not safe, we never will be on the run like this.”

Hawke hums, turning to look his lover in the eyes. “Then we need to stop running.”

Understanding and a flicker of blue lights Anders’ gaze, enough to acknowledge Justice’s agreement. His answering smile is enough to make Hawke’s heart flutter.

They debate the Planasene forest but no one wishes to settle that close to Kirkwall, most especially the former Gallows mages. Instead they head northwest between Wildervale and the Nevarran border, miles away from the closest town, and start to build. The children and apprentices practice their levitation spells, lifting trunks and great boulders in a joint effort to build a defensible wall between tall, still-rooted trees. Merrill teaches everyone the fireproofing runes used on elven aravels and several days are spent carving them into the walls. One human and one elven apprentice prove adept at Keeper magics, and they are tasked with weaving living roots throughout the border to serve as both an alarm system and defense should someone try to sneak by.

The elven apprentice uncovers a burrow in the meanwhile, running back to their interim camp with two tiny brown kittens in her arms. Hawke knows even before Anders lets out a delighted sound that it’s too late – more strays. At least Dog takes the presence of the kittens well, hopping around the nest Anders makes for them with typical mabari enthusiasm. Hawke can only sigh and make affirmative noises when presented with the tiny fluffballs. The smaller one mews plaintively until he gives in to scratching it under the chin and pretends not to notice Anders beaming at him. Nothing gets done for the next few hours.

Later, he directs the mages with specialties in water and earth magic to dig a well, deep enough to serve their little settlement as it grows. As a force mage, Hawke can’t do much other than help stabilize the rocks as they shift, but he learns by watching and talking with the older enchanters who’ve taught generations of apprentices. Others gather eventually, chipping in their ideas and asking questions until work grinds to a halt as everyone joins the discussion. He has the fleeting thought that this – the discussion, the ideas volleying back and forth between enchanter and apprentice alike – are what the Circles could and should have been: a place to learn so much more than a single apostate on the run could ever pick up, and safe to boot.

That night Anders brings the kittens to the tent they’ve claimed until shelters can be built. Hawke sighs and doesn’t argue, stripping off the armor that’s become a second skin over the years and laying his staff by the pile of furs that serves as their bed.

Anders is humming, forgoing the stack of parchment that is his continually-rewritten manifesto in lieu of stroking one sleeping kitten’s fur. There is a softness to his face that brings warmth to Hawke’s chest. He shuffles over to the man, lifting a hand to cup his face and kissing him with all the love he can muster. The skin under his hand cracks blue as he pulls away, Justice looking out through Anders’ eyes and both as close to content as he’s ever seen them.

“Love you,” he says, to both of them. They smile back, pulling him up to their face for another kiss.

“We love you, too.”

Feynriel comes to Hawke in a dream. No longer a boy but not quite a man in his eyes, the somniari has nonetheless become something of a friend to him, occasionally reaching all the way from Tevinter to give aid to their cause. The way he bends dreams to his will and walks the Fade from border to border in an instant has been instrumental to alerting the Circles as to what’s happening and planning breakouts for the rebel mages.

“Trouble,” Feynriel says, stirring apart the calm little corner of the Fade Hawke had been floating in. “You’ve got a legion of Templars heading your way now that they know you’re not moving.”

“A legion. How many?” He doesn’t bother asking why Feynriel didn’t go to Anders; they both know that while Justice is cut off from the Fade itself, the spirit still creates an impenetrable wall between it and anything that would seek to influence Anders.

“Thirty, at least. Maybe up to fifty. It’s…hard to tell with so many in one place.” He sounds apologetic. Hawke sighs but doesn’t allow dread to grow in his chest. He and a bare handful of battle-capable mages took on greater numbers in the Gallows. Nonetheless, they now have children and the few Tranquil who agreed to come under the protection of the rebels to think about. In addition, he and Anders had planned to head out soon.

“What about Ostwick?”

“There have been whispers of a pre-emptive Annulment. The Knight-Commander there guards his dreams, but Trevelyan has seen evidence of correspondence with the Chantry. He may be waiting on a writ from the Divine.”

His fists clench as Hawke bites his lip to keep from sighing again. “Thank you. I'll talk to my people and Anders, see what they want to do.”

Feynriel smiles wanly, the wisps of Fade-stuff already blurring his edges. “Keep in touch, Hawke.”

“You know I will.”

Even if the clank of armor didn’t give them away, the screams of approaching Templars getting caught, then torn apart by animated roots and tree branches certainly does. The noise is enough to wake the mages not already on watch.

“Hmm, seems like they’re having a little trouble,” Hawke muses, twirling his staff with a vicious grin. “Shall we be polite hosts and head out to meet them?”

Anders doesn’t laugh, Justice too far at the forefront to let the humor of the moment distract them, but he nods and leads the way to the gate. A web of impenetrable, thorny roots strung between two thick trees serves to bar any entrance or exit. Merrill is already there, bouncing down the roots from the top of the wall with feet so light she barely makes a sound.

“They’re here!” she sings, tone airy but with eyes full of vicious glee. Already, several Dalish clans have been caught in the backlash of the rebellion. Between Feynriel and ravens they’ve done what they can to warn the elves away from any great force, but bloodshed is inevitable and not every clan can swallow their pride long enough to accept aid from a group of flatears and shems, no matter how well-intentioned.

Justice sucks in a breath. “Where is Orsino? He volunteered for guard duty this night, did he not?”

“Oh! He’s so eager to get started, I already helped him up the wall,” she exclaims, pointing up to the side of the gate furthest from them. Hawke looks up just in time to see the former First Enchanter – now clad in far more practical light armor – square his shoulders. Mana crackles through the air and they watch as the man thrusts his staff forward – multiple fireballs shoot outwards, engulfing the area beyond in heat and light as the shouts of pain and anger redouble.

“That’s our cue, I think,” Hawke says, turning to Merrill. “Going to let us out?”

Merrill bounces on her feet again, turning to call out: “Paloma, Elan! Come open the gate!” Her apprentices emerge from amidst the tents, the young elven girl already making gestures at the shuddering plants.

Whistles pierce the air as flaming arrows start to appear. Before any of the mages on the ground can make a move, Orsino releases a great gust of wind that howls through the encampment like a pack of lonely wolves. It turns each shaft back where it came from.

“Take that!” he shouts, spitting past the stone and roots. The Templars are now close enough Hawke can hear their curses in return.

“Ready!” Elan calls, the boy gesturing toward the nearly-invisible gap at the gate as it slowly starts to widen.

“Let’s go!” Merrill grabs Justice by one arm and Hawke by the other, rushing through at a breakneck pace. The gate groans, closing swiftly behind them.

The Templars are legion, but also in chaos, their formation already broken as nature itself seems to rain her wrath down on them.

Hawke grins.

“Suck on a fireball!” Justice cries in Anders’ voice, gaining the closest warriors’ attention just in time for the explosion to catch them full in the face.

Merrill steps forward then, a dagger already out and pressed to her wrist. Red mist rises around her but neither man pays it any mind, too used to the blood settling and lifting off their skin as the woman’s power surges.

“Maleficar!” someone shouts, and that’s when the real battle begins.

The battle lasts long enough that he loses track of time, but when Hawke looks up from shoving his staff blade through the throat of a downed and dying Templar, dawn is already starting to lighten a strip of the sky Hawke can see through the trees. The armored man below him chokes, gurgles, dies.

He stands, wrenching the staff out and flicking away the blood before downing his last lyrium potion. They will have to bring more with them when they come back from Ostwick – even with only the older mages using them in desperate straits, supplies dwindle quickly and Hawke knows that they will have to make some sort of deal with the dwarves soon. Varric’s last letter discussed it in not so many words, making light of his growing connections within the Merchants’ Guild. Despite his conflicted feelings about Anders’ actions in Kirkwall, the dwarf has always come through for them. His friendship is one of the few treasures Hawke has left in the world.

Another of those treasures stands from their stoop, still burning Fade-blue underneath the blood and singed clothing. The air is clogged with the stench of death, burning flesh, and the sharp smell of too much lightning called down in too small a space. Justice leans on Anders’ staff as they look out over the field, trying to spot any flash of movement or even the twitch of a slow death in the clearing that surrounds the gate.

There’s another sharp cry and Hawke turns just in time to see Merrill smash in the head of a crouching hunter with her Stonefist. The Templar’s dagger drops from nerveless fingers even as the fresh corpse thuds dully to the ground.

“All done,” Merrill says, her usual cheer dimmed by weariness. Black streaks her arms, her blood clotting unnaturally quickly as she walks back their way.

“Have we finished them all?” Hawke asks warily, not quite willing to release the battle adrenaline unless the settlement’s safety is assured.

“I sense no hostile presences,” Justice rumbles, finally turning away from the scene of carnage to scan the wall behind them. “But where is Orsino?”

On cue, Hawke and Merrill whip around to view the stone above them. It’s deserted. “Shit.”

He and Justice both turn to Merrill, but before they can ask her to let them in the thorns rustle and part.

Elan runs straight through to them, not pausing to take in the field of death beyond the three. “We need a healer! C-come quick,” the boy pants, nearly falling over as he spins back around.

Justice bolts immediately, not pausing for even a moment as Hawke and Merrill quickly fall into line after him.

The scene is not good, though thankfully not as gruesome as Hawke imagined.

One of the apprentices lies propped against the wall, another pressing hard against a wound on the girl’s shoulder with a wad of cloth that looks to be part of a robe. Not ten feet away, two Templars in hunter armor lie crumpled as their blood seeps into the ground, a dagger still embedded in one’s neck.

And between them, a blank-faced woman stands with blood on her hands and the Chantry sun emblazoned on her forehead.

“Andraste’s tits,” Anders swears, the light in him dimming but not disappearing as he hurries to the stabbed apprentice’s side and starts tugging the cloth and her clothes away with one hand, the other glowing with healing magic. “What happened? Is anyone else hurt?”

“N-no, serah,” the boy who’d been putting pressure on the wound says. “Just Brigit, here. The-the Templars must have snuck past, got over the thorns somehow, because one appeared in front of us and just…just stabbed her. Didn’t even say anything. Thought we were all going to die, but…” he gestures to the Tranquil woman who looks back, still without expression. “Elise saved us. Ripped the knife right out of his hand and just…killed him. Then the other one, but no one even saw that one until he was lying on the ground, so.” He looks at the woman and offers her a wan smile. “Thank you, you saved our lives.”

Elise blinks, but otherwise does not move even to wipe the blood off her hands. “Thanks are unnecessary. You are my charges, I am responsible for your safety and continued existence,” she responds with eerie flatness.

Hawke turns to her, ready to take up the conversation with Anders and Justice occupied. “This is true? How did you know they were there?”

“Caywen speaks truth. I did not know anyone had come past the wall until Brigit was injured.”

“And you responded quickly enough to do this?” Hawke gestures, somewhat skeptical. He or Anders could have done it, yes, but they had decades of experience fighting Templars to lean on.

The woman blinks again, slowly. “I trained as a Templar for four and a half years before my magic manifested. I am familiar with their tactics and techniques.” Her response is not the least bit defensive, merely explanatory.

He can’t think of anything to say in response. Logically, there had to be some trainees who turned out to be mages when Templars started training orphans and volunteers so young, but he’d never met a mage – or Tranquil – who would ever admit to it. One would think they wouldn’t want those mages around at all, considering their inside knowledge. He pauses, another thought occurring to him. “Has anyone seen Orsino?” he asks the mages gathered between tents and the other interim structures.

“Here, Hawke,” the man himself answers, pushing through the crowd. One of the elf’s hands glows bright green where it’s wrapped over the nape of a vaguely-familiar middle-aged enchanter, pushing the man forward and then to his knees when they reach the space in front of Hawke and the others. Hawke blinks, taken aback by the roughness Orsino displays toward his fellow mage.

“Who’s this?” he asks before he can think better of it. Anders stands, wobbling a little on his feet before Hawke reaches out to steady him.

“Samuel Murray, of Starkhaven, if I remember correctly,” Anders rasps, his memory for names and faces always leagues beyond Hawke’s.

The man on his knees grimaces but it’s Orsino who replies, practically spitting in his anger.

“A spy!”

It takes a lot to convince Justice not to just end Murray right there when his crimes are laid bare for all to hear. Contacting Templars with one of their ravens, passing along the settlement’s location, defenses, and number of battle-ready mages all in the name of the Loyalists. Anders does nothing to stop Justice from reaching forward right in front of everyone and instead Hawke has to catch him by the arm.

“Justice, think,” he hisses. “If you kill him without arbitration, you become the one with all the power. That’s not the self-governance we’re fighting for.”

“He betrayed the cause, put everyone here in danger. He must die for his crimes,” Justice replies, not bothering to moderate his voice. The whole camp has assembled by this point, some already voicing their agreement, others muttering dissent but not openly shouting him down.

Hawke sighs, because he is just as angry, just as ready to strike the spy down where he stands for the harm he tried to bring down on those they swore to protect. But this is not the time, and playing sole judge and executioner in this situation would only hurt their cause in the long run.

It takes more whispered words and Hawke’s hand over the back of Justice’s neck in a soft parody of Orsino’s hand over Murray’s to get justice to calm enough to listen. The spirit subsides, lifting his chin as he and Anders gaze out over the gathered crowd.

“We will put it to a vote,” Anders says, angry and tired all in one. “Everyone past the age of majority gets a say.”

“Exile,” Justice finishes, “or execution.”

It comes so very close. Exile is not the ideal solution – all of them can see that, even the mages formerly of Starkhaven who were once Murray’s friends. They may drive him off, but the spy already carries so much information; their numbers, defenses, techniques, and location. The last is now a moot point – made apparent by the pile of fresh corpses settling by the gates – but it still settles uneasily with Hawke even as they escort the spy none-to-gently past the thorns.

Murray doesn’t curse them or attempt any magic. He merely glares, spitting at Anders’ feet then turning to walk away into the forest. If a thorny vine happens to lash out at his ankles as he passes, no one can be bothered to censure Merrill for it.

Life goes on – it has to. The older mages strip the Templar corpses of their weapons and armor, salvage cloth scraps and bits of leather while the younger ones are sent into the forest under supervision to gather wood for a pyre. As little respect as they have for their oppressors, no one would deny them the right to a sparse Andrastian funeral, if only to keep any spirits from resurrecting the corpses. The work is not quick; by the time all the armor is separated from weapons and clothing it is almost evening.

Orsino uses only one of his powerful fireballs to set the pyre alight. Hiding their location is a lost cause. Even if the nobles of Wildervale have yet to make a move for or against them, there is no doubt that they and everyone else will soon know where the free mages have taken shelter.

Hawke inspects the huge pile of scavenged metal then moves to join an exhausted Anders on a fallen log nearby. He doesn’t say anything as Anders leans into him with a ragged sigh. He can hear the clank and bustle of the evening meal being prepared beyond the wall, shouting as some of the children start to become lively again. There’s a low murmur of voices across the clearing where several men and women cluster together, watching the pyre with tight eyes and relaxed hands.

“I don’t want to leave them,” Anders mutters, turning his face into Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke doesn’t have to ask what he means.

“We have Ostwick to think about.”

“But what if the Templars attack again? Think what you will, Garrett, but you know the three of us can’t take on a circle alone.”

“So we take some of the better offensive mages with us, and leave the rest here. Merrill and her apprentices can defend the outside, the others can be safe behind the walls.” Hawke puts an arm over his shoulder, squeezing the thinner man against his side. “If all else fails, that Tranquil, what was her name-?”

“Elise.”

“Elise still has the skill to protect the young ones, Orsino can lead the rest. We’ll be gone three weeks at most, less if I can actually get my haste spell to work with yours. They’ll be fine.”

“You can’t know that.”

Hawke thinks for a long moment, silent as he looks over the churned earth and red pooling in what’s left of the battlefield. When Merrill regains her energy, she will take the earth mages into the clearing to turn over fresh dirt until every inch of blood and other viscera has disappeared.

“You could stay. I can take a handful of the enchanters with me, Ostwick is larger than Starkhaven, but I think we could-”

“No,” Anders almost yells, bolting upright, Justice writhing under his skin. “We will not see you parted from us, Garrett. You promised-”

Hawke grabs their hands and squeezes, trying to impart some comfort. “I know, love. But it’s either that or all three of us go. Unless you think we should leave Ostwick to its fate…?” It’s not a real question, but he has to ask.

Justice dies down, leaving Anders to shudder and close his eyes. “No. No, of course not.” A breath. “We’ll go, but…” he trails off, sighs, then gets to his feet, grabbing at Hawke as he goes. “I’m tired. Let’s sleep.”

Anders leads the way back through the gate to their tent, never once letting go of Hawke’s hand. The kittens are already curled up asleep, well-fed if the bulge of their tiny stomachs is anything to go by. Anders gives each a small stroke before he sits to take off his boots.

Hawke strips efficiently, neither of them speaking until they both lie under the covers, Anders tucked up against Hawke’s neck. He holds Anders close as tension slowly seeps out of the blond man’s body and his breath evens out.

They will leave the day after tomorrow, perhaps the day after that. There are more of their people out there, trapped and suffering – Hawke can only close his eyes and hope that the choice they make now is the best route to their lasting freedom.

Orsino hands them a letter. “They’ve called for the Rite in Ostwick. Thought you should know.” is scrawled across a piece of torn, dirty parchment.

“Fuck,” Hawke hisses.

“Raleigh Samson sent this?” Justice asks. Orsino’s correspondence with the man is well-known to them, one of the few ravens in their possession used almost exclusively for the Templar to pass information along. Hawke still doesn’t like it, but so far nothing the man’s sent has proven false.

Orsino nods, face twisting in anxiety. Hawke hands the parchment back to him before he destroys it with his clenching fists.

“We need to leave, now,” Anders says. “Tell those coming with to be ready within the hour. It’ll be a hard march, but we must hurry.”

Ostwick is a shitstorm from start to finish. After Starkhaven and Kirkwall itself, they should have anticipated the Templars’ preparation for their arrival.

The Rite is already under way.

They lose two of their own in the first hour. Another is gravely wounded and Hawke must stop their forward march to defend Anders as he heals the fallen man.

Templars come at them in waves, and when they eventually do reach the mages, one’s already given into temptation. Their form indistinguishable as human, rage demon lava eating through their skin as they attack anything that moves. It’s all a nightmare and honestly, Hawke could have gone his whole life without what they find in the apprentice quarters.

Row upon row of children, quietly stabbed or beheaded in their beds. A few managed to make it to the door before being cut down. Bile builds in his throat as Hawke uses magic to hook the nearest Templars closest to him and rip them apart at their necks. Behind him, Trevelyan begins retching over one of his students’ mangled bodies.

Of the Circle one-hundred and fifty mages strong, only sixty-four make it out alive. There are no children.

Not one Templar walks away.

The settlement welcomes them back with gates that bristle with thorns grown a deep red at the tips – and shining bands of steel laid into the rocks and trees that make up the walls. The walls themselves stand twice as high, now. Between that and the reinforcement of metal woven everywhere, it is easy to see that the free mages have not been idle in their absence. Hawke wonders for a moment where on Thedas they found all the metal such a work requires, but notices the piles of salvage from their battle are long-gone. Someone has figured out a use for all the discarded armor, it seems.

Elise meets them at the front, blank as ever but now with two daggers at her belt and, most surprising of all, decked out in armor instead of the typical robes worn by Tranquil. The armor bears no insignia – someone has beaten the sword of mercy out of the chestplate, leaving only slightly-dented metal behind. “You are back,” she observes when they get close enough, casting her eyes over their large party. “It is gratifying that you did not die, Keeper Merrill would be most upset.”

“Uh, thanks?” Hawke says, not really sure how to react to such a blunt remark.

“Have things been made ready for the new mages yet?” Anders cuts in, his voice tired. He’s not alone in that; the majority of the people behind them are dead on their feet, held up only by their staves or each other.

Elise nods. “Redthorne has been preparing for weeks. We have more than enough food and shelter for the moment.”

Hawke’s eyebrows go up, but it’s Anders who asks, anxiety leaking into his tone, “Redthorne? What is that? Something we need to know about?” Justice surfaces at the surge of emotion, but Elise only blinks back at them.

“It is the name of this settlement, as of thirteen days ago. After the Templar attack the week before, the gate’s color has shifted. Keeper Merrill suggested-”

“Wait, wait!” Hawke interrupts, alarm setting his hair on end. “Two weeks ago? We left the day after the Templars came, and that was three weeks ago!”

“There was another attack,” Elise responds, slowly, as if Hawke has suddenly lost the ability to comprehend Common. “They came in greater numbers, but the Keeper and First Enchanter Orsino led quite competently and no lives were lost on Redthorne’s side.”

There is a flash, Justice blazing so brightly that several of the Ostwick mages cry out in alarm, still unused to the spirit’s manifestations. “They dare,” he thunders. “After everything, how thoroughly we put them down, they dare to attack again so soon? Templars – we will end them all!” He is interrupted from his tirade by a rustle of the gates and Merrill’s clear, bell-like voice calling out.

“Hawke, Anders! Oh, Justice! I’m so glad to see you!” She flings herself at them, heedless of the danger an angry spirit represents as she hooks her arms around Justice and Hawke’s necks to pull them into a hug. Hawke can feel Justice go completely stiff beside him, but he neither protests nor lashes out against her, a testament to the control the spirit has gained over the years. “Feynriel visited my dreams to tell me what happened,” Merrill murmurs, voice low. “I’m so sorry. I hope we can make everyone feel welcome here.” She raises her voice, then. “Please everyone, come in! I’m Keeper Merrill. We’ve got hot food and bedding for anyone who needs it.”

Groans of happiness and relief echo through the clearing, and Hawke can only follow Merrill’s tugging as she leads everyone through the gates and into their new home.

It is, of course, Justice who notices Merrill is wounded. “You’re limping,” the spirit growls, stopping Merrill’s ongoing chatter about the settlement’s – Redthorne’s – growth over the past few weeks. Hawke is startled when the elf blushes to the tips of her ears.

“Ah, yes, you see, one of the Templars in the last attack landed a hit on my leg. Nothing to be concerned about, of course!” she says, waving her hand in a frantically dismissive fashion. “I'm afraid I’m just not as skilled at healing as Anders is, so I’ve been putting poultices on it. But there’s so much to do around here, I can’t possibly take the time to put it up.”

Justice is scowling fiercely now, looking at her legs as if he could make out the wound through her leggings. “What of your filthy blood magic, mortal? That is typically more than enough to keep enemies out of range.” It’s strange, to hear the spirit ask after blood magic – Hawke is treated to his disapproval of the art every time the topic is brought up, but over the years Merrill, Justice, and Anders have reached a tentative agreement wherein if blood magic utilizes only her own blood and that of their enemies and never for summoning demons or other nefarious deeds, the spirit and mage will accept her use of it. And now it appears to have failed her.

“One of the hunters had the Litany of…Adralla?” she bites her lip, looking away from them. “It stopped my blood magic before I could cast, then another caught me in a Silence. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Orsino weren’t there.”

Justice looks at her for a long moment, blaze-blue eyes unreadable. “We…are glad you are alright. Anders wishes to know if you will allow him to heal you?”

Merrill perks up immediately. “Oh, of course, if you’re not too tired? If you are, I can wait until you’ve rested, it’s really no problem-”

Hawke swears that the spirit rolls his eyes. “Come with us, I understand mortals have an aversion to taking off their lower clothing in public.”

Despite his bone-deep exhaustion, his mental fatigue in the face of what he witnessed at Ostwick, he can’t help but smile as two of his oldest friends walk away, becoming three when Anders comes to the forefront to chide Merrill for not taking care of herself properly.

Two people show up at Redthorne’s gate a week later – unarmed and unarmored, the man and woman wear homespun clothing and have naught but a nag carrying a few packs on its back between them.

“Please,” the woman says in a thick Northern brogue when Hawke and Anders step warily out to meet them. “We heard this was a refuge for mages from Kirkwall and Starkhaven. It’s just, is there any chance we could-” she tapers off, tears starting to stream down her travelworn face.

“It’s our son,” the man says, hugging the woman close to him. “He was taken when he was naught but eight. Do you…do you know if he’s with you? And if so, can we see him? Please, serah.”

Before Hawke or Anders can speak, a small, stuttering voice calls from behind the gate. “Mum? …Da?”

The woman’s head snaps up, her face breaking out in an expression of such pure joy that her tears may as well not be there. “Elan? Oh, it’s you!” Running footsteps sound behind them, and Hawke turns just in time to see Merrill’s male apprentice, barely a teenager, dart past him and throw himself into his parents’ arms. “Maker, oh Maker. My baby boy. I thought I’d never see you again, I’m so happy,” the woman says, before she begins to sob. It’s only when Elan turns to look at Anders, his eyes pleading, that Hawke realizes the crowd behind the gate is silent – as if holding their collective breaths.

“Please, Serah Anders. Can- can they stay?”

And what else can Anders do but smile and agree.

#fic #redthorne 'verse #dragon age #justhanders #anders/justice/m!hawke #bipolar anders #rape mention #child death cw

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