#from a distance i thought it was very fine chainmail and then i looked closer

[flushwithdarlings]

finding out that lucanis knits and suddenly the woolen sweater he wears under his armour makes sense

[silverdragon-imagines-blog]

Counter Clockwise - Chapter 3 - Dawn of the Second Day

[Here’s the next chapter of “Counter Clockwise” the second fic in my “Threatening Darkness” series. Again, I’d like to remind you to check the tags and warnings before you read this, just in case. And let me know if I need to change the tags as well. I hope you enjoy ^u^]

Warning(s): description of injuries, slight body horror, lots of Dark Link being manipulative and creepy.

Read it on AO3

The next morning, Time jolted awake, eyes snapping open to see the floor at eye level, having fallen onto his side during the night. Sitting up proved to be tedious as his back protested each movement, quiet cracking of joints sounding much louder in the near-silent room. He turned to look behind him, at the bed he had given up for the still unconscious Warriors. He had refused to take one of the others' beds, having had insisted that he wanted to be there when Warriors woke up. He couldn’t help the disappointment and worry that sprung up when he saw that the Captain hadn't awoken yet.

Time could see that the Captain had put up a fight; bruises and cuts littered his hands and face, not to mention the broken chainmail he had worn when they found him. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been more injured, though Time couldn’t figure out why Dark had gone easy on him. It put him on edge, seeing how easily the Captain had been rendered unconscious and beaten. He stood, slowly as he took in the others in the room, his hands clenching as his mind spiraled into thoughts of the other missing heroes, one worst-case scenario after another.

They were running out of time...

He looked over to where Four had lain, the smaller now sitting up in bed with his knees clutched to his chest. He hadn't said anything, had barely responded to Twilight when he had asked what was wrong. It was worrying.

Time turned back to Warriors and carefully took his hand, holding it as though the unconscious hero would shatter if he wasn’t careful.

'He's fine,' he told himself, repeating it like a mantra, but it had never been so difficult to believe his own words until now.

He gently squeezed Warriors’ hand, knowing he would not get any response despite the small hope for the opposite. He let go, turning back to face the other three. Wild and Twilight looked at him expectantly.

"What's the plan?" Wild asked. Time opened and closed his mouth, finding himself at a loss.

"We need to find the others," Twilight spoke, his gaze moving between the Captain and Four, "but I don't think we should leave them alone."

"You can stop worrying about me." Four glared at Twilight from over his knees. "I can watch over the Captain. You have more important things to do."

Time knew he was right, but he felt a pit in his stomach at the thought of leaving them without anyone else to check on them. He wanted to argue, but he knew that he would need back up if he were to look for the others, especially if Dark Link was truly behind this.

"Okay," he conceded, the other's glare softening slightly, "I trust you, but please, if anything happens, promise me that you won’t do something that puts either of you in danger."

With Four’s agreement, Time left with Wild and Twilight trailing behind him. He passed the reception desk again without looking at the woman who stood behind it. She already knew that they were going to be staying for a few days if the fact that she hadn’t called them over to her yet was any indication.

They left through the East Gate again, and with a look to the imposing Stone Tower Temple in the distance, he led the way to Snowhead.

The cold was biting, though Time didn't react. He could hear the unmistakable sound of Twilight shifting to wolf form and Wild's slate activating behind him. He pushed forward, making his way to the mountain. As they passed the cabin where the two blacksmiths lived, he heard a strangled noise of distress.

He turned, expecting a monster attack, only to see Wild, shaking and staring wide-eyed at what looked like a block of ice, small yet almost big enough to conceal what was trapped inside of it. Time knew what was trapped there, it had been an all too familiar sight back then, even though Twilight seemed confused, glancing between his cub and his mentor for an answer neither would provide.

"Th-there's-"

"I know, Cub. I'm sorry that you had to see this.” Time placed a hand on Wild's shoulder, only for him to duck away and hurriedly pull out his slate.

In a flash of blue light, Wild held a burning orange blade in his hands, and with a soft puff of snow, he dropped the weapon close to the ice. Time could see it start to melt, steam lazily drifting off it. Wild, still shaken by the sight, returned to where Time stood patiently with Twilight. With a nod from the younger, they continued up the trail, and Time noticed the way that Wild pulled his hood further over his face as they walked.

When they made it to the gap that separated the rest of the path, Time reached for his bag again. He knew that he'd most likely need to don the Goron mask at some point, but before he could pull it out, he saw Twilight take a running leap at the cliff.

"Wait-" he heard himself begin to yell, a hand reaching out just a bit too late to stop his descendant.

His fear was short-lived, however, as the wolf managed to hang from the other side of the gap, claws digging into the snow and earth to pull himself onto solid ground. He shook himself off, then turned back around to face the other two, a smug look on his face that somehow was apparent even through his wolf-form.

"I swear everyone in this group is going to give me grey hair one of these days," he mumbled, fully taking the Goron mask out of his bag.

He could see out of the corner of his eye how Wild was looking through his slate, and the gleam in his eyes was telling.

"Whatever you're about to do is a bad idea," he said, but it was too late.

Wild had another flaming blade in his hands and turned away from him to set the nearby plant life on fire. He jumped over to it, unfurling his paraglider and flying into the air on the updraft. Time watched as the other glided over the chasm, landing safely on the other side. He looked smug.

Time put the mask on, feeling the pain of the transformation once again, from Hylian to Goron. His skin hardened to rock, stone-like skin overtaking his back. In truth, it hurt less than the Zora mask had. He soon found himself beginning to roll into a ball and making the leap onto the other side. He looked to both of his companions, lightly smacking them both.

"That's for the heart-attacks you both gave me," he rumbled, the deep voice of Darmani taking over his own.

Time sighed and led the way again up the trail, managing to get rid of the snow-covered boulders that would roll towards them with a single well-timed punch. It was slow going, needing to stop for each one, but soon, they found the entrance into the cavern that led to the Temple.

With a bloodcurdling scream, a White Wolfos appeared, howling at the three intruders. Twilight growled, lunging at the monster, quickly ending it with his claws and teeth.

"Good job, pup," Time said, and Twilight shifted back, rubbing at his chin where the monster’s blood remained.

They passed through a door, into a circular room with a large platform in the center of it. Wild looked over the edge to the bottom, seeing pools of lava. Time grabbed onto the back of the Warm Doublet the other wore, pulling the other back near him.

They stood on the platform, and Time could easily see the switch that he had to stand on to take them up to the room that the Boss had been in. Twilight seemed to notice it too.

"I think I could hit it," he said, and Time raised an eyebrow as his protege pulled out a heavy-looking steel ball attached to a rather long chain from the depths of his bag of items.

Twilight began to swing the ball over his head. It gained speed quickly, and with a small grunt, the ball flew through the air, broke through the metal grate around the switch, and hit it dead on. In a second, the platform rose right to where the staircase to the Boss Chamber was.

"That was so awesome, can I-"

"No. No, you can't." Time interrupted. Wild looked on in disappointment, following behind the other while Twilight laughed behind them.

====

Four sighed from his position by the bed that Warriors was still resting on. He was on the floor, leaning against the bed frame, while his mind continued to spiral. Blue and Red had been trying to get Vio to talk to them again, to get him to explain what had happened back in the Great Bay Temple. Green was the only one who could still focus enough to take control.

It felt strange to have to do this again after so long working as one. Four voices in one body, distinct yet the same. They made up one person, and yet, each attack on their psyche seemed to break them apart more and more each time. It was amazing they could still function. Taking control during each attack was difficult, each time it affected each of them differently, with the most stable one being forced to act as though there weren’t shattered inside. He had drawn the short straw this time.

He was listening closely to the quiet breaths he could hear from Warriors. It was all he could do to keep his mind away from the other three yelling in his mind. The quiet was nice, and it was almost calming.

Almost.

The air grew oppressive, as though he was being watched. He didn’t dare to try and find the source of it, knowing full well who would be lurking in the darkened corners of the room. They seemed to grow with every passing second, extending until the room became void-like and blood-red eyes shone through the darkness.

"You know, that little stunt you pulled back there wasn't very nice."

Green tensed as Dark Link stepped into view, his form shifting to that of Four himself. His grin was sharp as he stepped closer. Green sprung to his feet, sword quickly finding its way to his hand. Dark just laughed.

"Aw, scared of me, little smith?"

"Not a chance. Now, what do you want?” Green spoke through gritted teeth, and Dark's smile only grew.

"So it's one of the pieces. Tell me, how does it feel to not be whole anymore?"

Green could feel Blue's anger welling up, his want to just stab Dark and get it over with. Vio, too, seemed to be listening in now.

"Just leave, you've done enough harm."

"Oh, but I'm not here to hurt you," he spoke, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I'm just here to offer you a deal."

"We. Aren't. Interested."

And yet, as Green spoke, the others seemed fully focused on the conversation. Vio especially seemed interested in what Dark had to say.

"Ah? But I know that's a lie," he smirked, "I can tell that the traitor piece wants to know."

Green only blinked once, and Warriors was gone. He blinked again, and he was no longer Four. He could see Blue fuming next to him, sword drawn and ready, Red behind him, clutching the fire rod tightly while his knuckles turned white. And then there was Vio at his other side, sword drawn, but no intent to use it. He still looked shaken from the events at Great Bay, but he wanted to know what Dark's deal was.

"Now that you're all together, I can get a real answer,” Dark spoke. The four looked around, trying in vain to find him in the darkened void.

"I really don’t like to repeat myself, but that Hero of the Wilds appears to have kept his mouth shut,” Dark's voice boomed, causing Red to flinch and knock into Blue.

Dark appeared in front of Green, looking similar to Wild, yet without the scars that marred the other's body and face.

"I've been around a long time, and I've seen every single one of your adventures. I know all of your secrets and-" Dark smiled wide as he got in Green's face, "-I know what it is that you desire most."

Blue swung his sword at Dark, only for him to disappear into shadows, his laugh beginning to echo through the void. Red began to tremble, getting closer to Blue for comfort. Green looked back to Vio, seeing how hard he was gripping his sword and the determined look in his eyes.

"Vio. Don't," Green spoke, snapping the other out of his thoughts.

"But there's a chance-"

"I know, but we all know it'll go sideways. There's always a catch, it’s not worth it."

"Oh my, so the little leader figured it out?" Dark mocked, and this time showed himself as a darker Four, an all too familiar form that had all of them falter. Green could hear how Vio's breath halted for a second at the sight. This was bad.

"What are your terms?" Vio asked. The other two inhaled sharply, shocked at how quickly he seemed to want to make a deal with Dark. And Dark smiled.

"I'll bring him back," he replied plainly, and held out a hand, "no strings attached... this time anyway."

Green was pushed out of the way. Vio walked towards Dark, sword lying forgotten on the ground. Blue bolted over to him, grabbing Vio around the waist in an attempt to stop him. Red was begging Vio to stop, trying to say that's not worth it. Green couldn't find the words to say.

Dark's smile only grew as Vio fought Blue's hold on him, waiting patiently. But then he stopped, his gaze looking past the four of them. There was a snap, and a flash of light exploded at Dark's feet. He flinched, surprise on his face.

A second snap and the darkness left. Four was standing, approaching the bed he had slept in earlier that morning, and behind him, he could hear loud coughing. He turned quickly, running to where Warriors was now leaning on his arm, turned towards Four.

"Captain?"

"Deku nuts," he rasped, coughing once more, "good for distractions, makes a hell of a light show, too."

"How did you-"

"Dark Link isn't subtle, I'll tell you that. The bastard deserved it."

Four found himself giggling at that, and for once, all the colors inside his head were unified. All was well.

====

The door closed behind Wild, Twilight, and Time as they entered the circular room that made up the final room of Snowhead. Time could already feel the oppressive atmosphere when they entered, putting both him and his companions on edge. They didn't know what to expect, but Time had a feeling that Dark Link would appear. At this point, it was only a matter of time.

Wild had started to walk around the room, searching for something he didn’t specify. Time merely watched as Twilight followed behind the Cub, making sure everything was fine. Time stood off to the side, keeping a grip on the Goron mask just in case.

It was eerily quiet, and every darkened crevice made him peer closer, checking to see if the damning red glow of Dark's eyes were hiding there. Of course, no matter how hard he glared at the empty pockets in the stone, there was nothing in them besides the shadows.

Wild seemed to notice how the room’s darkened pockets made the elder hero watch them closely, and he grabbed his sword as a precaution. His hand froze in place, hovering over the pommel when an all too familiar chuckle rang in his ears.

He flinched, whipping his head around to locate its source, but coming up with nothing. The other two heroes didn't even seem to react, aside from Twilight looking at him with a questioning glance. Wild merely waved him off, shaking slightly.

"Oh, Hero of the Wilds," the voice--his voice--chuckled, "it's nice to see that you still remember me, despite your faulty memory."

Wild grit his teeth, the memories of that damned deal surfacing once again. He clenched at his sword hilt again, not drawing it out just yet.

"I paid a visit to your friends earlier. Seems no one was in the mood for dealmaking," he sighed, and Wild stifled a sound of relief.

"Though I will say, the Chosen Hero and the Hero of the Winds seemed interested in making a deal." He laughed, the sound loud and dangerous in his ears. "I, of course, let them, and I gave them exactly what they wanted. Why don't I show the heroes of Time and Twilight what those two wanted?"

"Don't. You. Dare," he spat, barely registering Twilight's worried call of "Cub?" over Dark's laughter.

"You know you have no power over me, Champion."

There was an audible crack, and the three snapped to attention, the wall in the center of the room splitting open, a pitch-black portal appearing in its place. Slowly, two familiar figures stepped out, and Wild felt his breath halt as he took in the bloodied and bruised forms of his friends.

Wind's tunic was in tatters, spots of blood dotting it where he had cuts, and bruises where he looked as though he had been hit. Sky was in a similar, if not worse, shape. His sailcloth looked as though it was falling apart, and his shirt and chainmail were wrecked, blood staining the fabric and metal where his skin was visible.

The worst part, however, was how their eyes gleamed red.

Dark laughed again, and this time, the others heard it. He stepped out of the portal himself, his appearance identical to Time's own. He stopped between the two wounded heroes, a wide smile on his face as he took in the shock and anger in the other three hero's expressions. He relished in their barely concealed anger as he put an arm around Sky’s shoulders, his other hand resting on Wind’s shoulder, watching as Wild’s sword hand twitched, as though itching to grasp his blade.

"Why so upset? I brought you your missing companions, didn't I?" He smirked . "And I'll let you take them with you, no strings attached...this time anyway."

"What did you do to them?" Twilight growled, trying to hide the horror in his voice. He quickly drew his blade and glared at Dark.

"Oh, Hero of the Twilight, I merely let them make a deal with me," he chuckled, "and now they have exactly what they've always wanted."

Wild edged closer, timidly reaching out to Wind, the only thought a hope that this was temporary, that it could be fixed. The other looked at Wild, no recognition in his gaze, face blank and unchanging as the hero’s steps faltered. Dark’s smile seemed to grow.

"Here, why don't I let you have them." He snapped his fingers once, and all hell broke loose.

Wild barely had time to react, instinct alone had him unsheathe his sword in one quick movement and block Wind's blade from coming down on his head. The loud clash of steel on steel had him flinching, but Wind’s blank stare made his panic rise.

"Wind, please," Wild's voice cracked, but the other still didn't react.

Wind jumped back, landing a few feet away. Wild could see Time almost hiding behind his shield as Sky began his onslaught. Twilight seemed torn on what he should do, and Wild found himself unable to say anything, unable to call out for help. His words were stuck in his throat, his focus locked firmly on Wind as he began to launch into a spin attack, each hit on the shield threatening it to break.

"My my, whatever shall you do, Wolf?" Dark called out, appearing in front of Twilight, now taking on the form of Twilight himself. "Protect your mentor or your cub? Choose wisely, you wouldn't want to lose anyone else, now, would you?"

Twilight paled at that, thoughts running between his mentor becoming the Hero's Shade and shattered mirrors, goodbyes that never happened, and the fear of things repeating once again. The ever-looming threat of failing his cub or watching as his past becomes true with Time’s death. What was the right answer? Was there even a right answer?

Twilight heard a loud curse from Time, and a decision was made. He pushed past Dark, a chuckle echoing in Twilight's ears, and unsheathed his sword, shield slipped onto his arm. He took a swing at Sky, the other jumping back in time to avoid his blade.

"Thanks, Pup," he heard Time sigh, and he nodded.

Sky seemed to stare intently at Twilight for a moment, a flicker of blue appearing for a second before it was overtaken by red once more. The corrupted hero raised his sword, a familiar blue light causing it to shine for a moment before he swung it down.

Twilight's eyes widened for a moment. His awareness came crashing back as Sky shambled forward and he bolted to the side, knocking Time away from the beam of light. He struggled to call out to Wild, managing a strangled cry that just wasn't loud enough. He watched as the beam of light hit Wind and Wild head-on. He felt a scream building in his throat as they were obscured by the light.

Dark was cackling, though he was no longer visible, the cruel sound echoing as it slowly faded away.

There was a beat, and then the light vanished. On the ground were the forms of Wild and Wind, the latter seemingly passed out on top of the former. They seemed to be okay, and Twilight groaned with relief, the feeling replacing the rush of adrenaline. He looked back over to Sky to see him kneeling, clutching his head, with the Master Sword fallen to the ground.

Twilight raised his weapon, keeping them at the ready. But it seemed as though he didn't have to.

"T-Twi?" Sky croaked out. Time inched forward, his gaze soft but wary.

The red glare in his eyes was gone, Time noticed, and as Sky lowered his hands, he caught sight of the burns that marred his palms, the pommel of the sword seared into his flesh. Time glanced around, noticing the silence and lack of Dark Link. He slowly knelt and grabbed a potion from his bag at his hip.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Sky didn't respond, merely staring at his hands with a faraway look in his eyes.

Time sighed, motioning for Twilight to check on the other two. As soon as they were bandaged and ready to be moved, they would head back to the inn. They all needed a break.

But the idea of Dark still being around,  that he was behind all of this and that two of his boys were still missing. It did little to ease his thoughts.

There was only one place they could be.

Time hung his head and sighed again.

[mypoisonedvine]

I Never Danced Until I Met You - Chapter 1

Jaskier x (female)Reader

Rating: T (we’re getting into E territory eventually… but not today)

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.6k (ooh boy it’s a long one… and just the one chapter lol)

Summary: You and Geralt fought together years ago and became quite close friends, but you stayed in your kingdom as a knight while he traveled the Continent to fight monsters.  When business brings him back into town, he has a new friend tagging along.  Jaskier is mischievous, boisterous, and unrelenting in his romanticism: just the opposite of yourself.  No one expected you two to get along… and exactly the last thing you expected was to find yourself developing a peculiar interest in him.

A secret meeting had been called late in the evening by the Queen and her closest staff members.  Something had been hunting and killing the citizens of the nation, and a decision needed to be made quickly to save lives and prevent hysteria.

Sadly, not many solutions were being brought forward.  You were only there as the Queen’s guard, not a politician, but after an hour wasted on nothing useful, you felt you had to say something.

“I humbly offer a proposition,” you spoke as you bowed before your Queen.

“A knight should not be speaking on matters of governance,” an advisor scowled discouragingly.

“This is not only a matter of governance but a matter of protection of the people: exactly what my Protector should be consulted on,” Queen Araja responded coolly.  Her expression softened as she turned back to you, though. “Speak,” she commanded.

“My troops are not prepared to wage war against something of a magical nature.  Our royal mage brings understanding but lacks tactical skill.  We need someone who can assess this threat and fight it.  A-”

“Witcher,” she beat you to your point.

“Blasphemy,” another advisor sputtered incredulously.

“Geralt of Rivia is a famed Witcher; I know him, he is a… colleague.  I could write to him, negotiate a reduced price,” you offered, ignoring the dissenting men.

“Price is no issue.  Negotiate instead for efficiency, and discretion,” she announced.

“Yes, my lady,” you bowed again, turning to leave.  You heard the arguments of the advisors at the table, but ignored them as you rushed to your quarters to get out the parchment and ink so you could write to an old friend.

~

“There is a man at the gates,” the errand boy said as he burst through your door.  His eyes went wide when he realized you were still dressing, your chest exposed.  He turned away.

“I should’ve knocked!” he apologized, but you weren’t sensitive about that sort of thing: knights don’t usually have the privilege of privacy, and you hadn’t really gotten used to having a room to yourself since you had become the Royal Protector and been granted your own space and luxuries.

“What you should’ve done was let him in- you knew I was expecting a witcher,” you instructed, slipping the tunic over your head and finally your chainmail and chestplate.  Sure, he was a friend, but technically he was here on request of the Queen, and that meant a formal royal greeting, with all the bells and whistles (or in this case, flags and trumpets and horses).

“H-he’s a witcher?!” he stuttered.

“Yes,” you looked at the boy with a tinge of confusion, “why are you so scared?  You’re not a monster in disguise are you?”

Clearly he wasn’t one for humour, just looking at you with an expression of absolute terror.

“My horse is ready?” you presumed.

“Yes, my lord- I mean, my lady- er, knight-” he began.

“Shut up, please,” you begged.

“Yes,” he agreed weakly, nodding in submission.

You shot him one last glance before putting on your helmet.  You had gotten used to seeing out of it, but it was always a bit of a transition when you put it on and the whole world was just a slit.

There was quite a fanfare, as you had informed the Queen how famous a guest they were entertaining.  You knew he didn’t care about that kind of stuff, but it was moreso to send a message to the other staff that Geralt was someone worth respecting.  Purple flags were draped over golden staves, an infantry of knights rode their horses towards the gates with full ceremonial armor, there was even a royal announcer to make the whole thing official.  It would’ve seemed ridiculous to a foreigner, but it had become very familiar to you after nearly a decade of serving her Royal Highness.

Seeing Geralt again, even from such a distance as your horse trotted towards him with the company in tow, made you smile.  It had been a long time since you fought beside him in the battle that made you famous and gave you the opportunity to serve the Queen, but of course he had not aged a day.  You were only sixteen then, a naive girl full of anger and a thirst for revenge.  In the decade since, you had come to appreciate the art of war, the realities of justice, the balance of peace.  You were probably nicer now than you were then, or at least more polite, but every year and the losses it brought hardened you to the world.  Even having advanced yourself to leading the Queen’s personal guard, most still doubted you simply for being a woman.  Not that you were ever much of a daydreamer, but you were probably the woman in the kingdom least interested in romantic pursuits or anything of the sort.  It was just as this thought crossed your mind that you noticed a man stood beside Geralt’s horse, dressed more… flamboyantly, to say the least.  They were a nobleman’s clothes, and as you came closer, you realized they were an entertainer’s clothes: he was a bard.  

You couldn’t stop yourself from noticing that he was rather attractive.  He had a young face, but you figured he was about your age considering his frame and the shadow of stubble on his jaw.  It was quite a diverse crowd- knights in armor, royal attendants in proper clothing, Geralt in witcher’s gear- and yet this bard stood among all of them.  Dressed formally but with most of his doublet’s buttons undone, and a posture that suggested a lackadaisical attitude.  You tried to ignore the chest hair creeping up from behind the collar of his exposed tunic, or the way the muscles in his thighs shifted underneath his tight trousers.  Men didn’t really dress that way in your kingdom.

“On the behalf of her Royal Grace, Most Honorable and Noble Queen Araja Persepolla Constantine Asher the Just, the kingdom of Revellon welcomes and accepts Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, Witcher most famed, as a royal guest and an honorary citizen of her nation,” the announcer read loudly from a scroll after the horses stopped moving.

“So much for discretion,” you heard your lieutenant mumble so that only you could hear.  You tried not to giggle.  

“This isn’t really necessary,” Geralt grumbled.  His voice sounded even deeper than you remembered, and that’s saying something.

“As a token of her gratitude and appreciation of your arduous journey, a feast will be held tonight in your honour in the main hall,” the announcer continued, ignoring Geralt’s disinterest. “Please join us at your convenience.”

“When is it?” the bard asked.  His voice was sort of high-pitched (but then again, whose wasn’t compared to Geralt’s?), his accent indicating that he was highly educated.

“A servant will fetch you from your rooms when the celebration is beginning,” the announcer explained.

“We’re expected to stay in the castle?” Geralt asked incredulously.

“We suspect you will find our conditions highly accommodating,” the announcer smiled politely.

“And the security?” Geralt interrogated.

You smiled as you removed your helmet, letting your hair fall down from the tight bun you had tied it into.

“Finest in the Continent,” you said confidently.

Geralt grinned when he saw you, and you glanced over to absorb the bard’s shocked expression for a moment.

“You failed to mention in your letter that you’d become a member of the Queen’s royal guard,” he said joyfully.

“She is the Queen’s royal guard,” your lieutenant corrected.

“Is that true?” he quirked an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t have worded it that way,” you said humbly, “but yes.  I am the Royal Protector and leader of the good Queen’s army.”

“Spectacular,” he said admiringly.

“You know this woman?” the bard asked nervously.  You looked to him but you almost didn’t want to, now that he could see your gaze.  You wondered if he could see your own unexplained nervousness.

“She’s a fine warrior,” he said, “one of the finest I know.”

When the formal greeting was complete, you let the servants show Geralt and his new friend around the palace, while you returned to your quarters to change into your dress blues.  There was never much of a security threat at a party, especially this one with a witcher in attendance, but for the sake of tradition you were expected to wear your medals and stand at the Queen’s side with your sabre at your hip.  You were pulling on your white gloves when a lady-in-waiting came to fetch you.

“I’ll be ready in a moment,” you told her, not even needing her to say anything- because why else would she be here but to tell you that it was time to escort Her Royal Highness to the banquet hall?

Everyone stood as the Queen entered, of course, and you took your post beside her.  She sat and motioned for everyone to return to their seats, but you were expected to stand the whole time at her side.  You always felt kind of like a decoration at these sorts of events… everyone would talk and drink and eat and dance as if you weren’t there, and you were not permitted to partake of any of it- not that you really wanted to necessarily.  You took your duty very seriously, even if you understood that there was not much of an actual risk.

That’s why it was so peculiar when Geralt’s bard- you’d figured out his name was Jaskier, or at least that was what he called himself- stopped playing along with the royal bards and approached you with a chalice in hand.

“I noticed you didn’t have a drink,” he explained, offering it to you, “so I brought you a glass.”

“That’s… kind of you,” you replied, trying to be gracious instead of just confused, “but I won’t be drinking this evening.  I’m on duty.”

“That’s all right,” he responded with less disappointment than you expected, “more for me.”

He took a swig of the drink and you felt so unsure of what to do.  People normally didn’t talk to you during these things- or all that much in general, really.

“What’d you think of my playing?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“It was… fine,” you answered simply.  Now that made him look more disappointed.

“Just fine?!” he repeated incredulously.

“I’m not really the person to ask- I don’t listen to much music, so I’m not a good judge of musical quality,” you defended.

“I wasn’t asking if it was objectively good, I was asking if you liked it,” he clarified.

That was a harder question to answer.  You hadn’t really been paying attention to the music itself, but the energy that filled the room with Jaskier played.  It was different from other events you’d attended.  

“The crowd seemed to be enjoying themselves,” you offered.

“That’s not what I asked,” he pressed.

You sighed.

“I suppose I did like it, yes,” you finally resigned.

“Then why don’t you come down and dance with me?” he asked.

You were blushing, strongly against your own will.  This was probably the longest personal conversation you’d had in months, and it was easily the most interest someone had ever shown in you for something other than your fighting skills.

“I don’t dance,” you announced.

“You don’t dance, you don’t listen to music, you don’t drink; what do you do when you’re not fighting?” he asked with a smirk.

“I prepare to fight,” you answered.

“Live by the blade, die by the blade,” he quoted the adage in warning.

“I plan to,” you responded coolly.

You had expected him to be shaken by that, but he just smiled even more.  What a weirdo.

“All the better to live for the moment while you can, before your untimely, tragic demise on the battlefield,” he countered.

“That’s preposterous,” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

“As your Queen, I order you to dance with this man,” Queen Araja suddenly interjected, “if for no other reason than for me to be spared of this irritating conversation.”

The smile he shot you when he heard that made you suddenly very nervous.  

He reached out and it took you a moment to realize that you were supposed to put your hand in his.  You cautiously removed your hand from the grip of your sabre and place it on his.  Even through the white gloves you felt that he was warm, and his touch was oddly electrifying.

The royal bards started the next song and you tried to ignore the guests staring at you, apparently noticing that you were not really meant to be mingling with them as given away by your outfit.  You felt horribly out of place, and the way Jaskier was looking at you made it so much better and and yet more nervous simultaneously.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you danced, but he guided you through it, slowly at first, and you were very aware of his hand on your back.

It was a lively tune, so you had to keep up the pace without stepping on toes which mostly worked.  You tried not to say anything, just hoping to get this over with, but eventually you had to speak up.

“You’re staring at me,” you observed.

“I’m looking at you; I’m dancing with you, where else should I look?” he asked with a tone of sarcasm.

“We’ve fine silk on the walls, look at that,” you suggested.

“Silk looks finer on you,” he winked. “Nice outfit by the way, certainly stands out.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a man who didn’t mind trousers on a woman.  Causes quite a stir around here basically every single day,” you rolled your eyes.

“You don’t seem the type to suffer fools,” he noted.

“And yet, here I am,” you sighed.  Suffering didn’t even begin to describe it.

“This couldn’t possibly be less fun that standing at attention and staring straight ahead,” he frowned.

“It wasn’t so bad,” you shrugged.

“Of course it wasn’t, because you kept sneaking looks at me,” he winked.

Your eyes went wide.  Had he really seen you watching him?

“You were the one playing music, where else should I have been looking?” you defended.

“Ah, so now you can’t say I shouldn’t be looking at you while I dance with you,” he countered.

You laughed, sort of an instinctive reaction to the mild annoyance-yet-bemusement you felt.  

“Your smile is gorgeous,” he said with a gentleness to his voice you were unprepared for.  You wanted to look away from him to avoid blushing, but you didn’t want to show any sensitivity either.

“I swear if one more man tells me to ‘smile more’,” you began threateningly.

“No, your stern, serious face is gorgeous too,” he interrupted. “I just hope I can get a chance to make you smile again.”

How were you supposed to respond to things like that?  Even if men had ever been interested in you like this, you suspected none of them would’ve been this forward.  

“Do you know how to do a dip?” he asked, thankfully giving you something else to talk about.

“I said I don’t dance,” you recalled.

“It’s not difficult,” he soothed, the hand on your waist tightening.

“Oh, no no no no,” you rushed anxiously.

“It’ll be fine,” he said in a way that wasn’t very reassuring.

“No, Jaskier, I swear on all things holy and unholy if you drop me on this floor-”

“I like the way you say my name,” he smiled, and just as you reacted to that rather unsavory double entendre, he swung you into the dip.

The only way to describe the sound you made was girlish… not a word that described you or your activities very often.  You tried to suppress it and it helped but you were still sure everyone thought you were out of your mind.  The fear of falling washed away as you looked up at him, and there was definitely a moment.  You had heard of these sorts of moments before, but until now you never understood it.  Now that you were there it all made perfect sense.  

Just as you noticed that a moment was happening, it ended: he pulled you back up and spun you in a quick circle.  You were incredibly close to him for a second, your body pressed completely against his, and it was exhilarating in a way entirely different from combat.  It may seem obvious that those things would be different, but you had gotten so used to approaching everything as if it were a war.

The song ended, and unlike if it were a war, you found yourself wishing it would’ve lasted longer.  He stepped away from you, and you both did the polite post-song clapping.  As the next song was just starting to begin, he gave you a little bow.  You figured you were supposed to curtsy in response, but you weren’t even sure how to, and bowing back seemed even worse, so you just stood there.

“Thank you for the honour,” he said as he came back up, and you tried not to notice his gaze trailing up your body.

“Thank you, for…” you weren’t sure how to finish that.  Thanks for reminding me I have a sexuality, I seemed to have misplaced it for the past decade didn’t seem to be appropriate even if it were true.

“For showing you a good time?” he offered.

“I’m not sure I’d’ve phrased it that way.”

“For lively conversation?” he proposed instead.

“The conversation was the worst part of it!” 

“I assumed the dancing was the worst part.”

“Oh, yes, you’re right, it was,” you corrected. “Thank you for the conversation: it was less frivolous than the dancing.”

He laughed in a way that made you wonder if you’d actually managed to hit his ego.  You’d been trying so hard to do so, but now that you might have, it was a lot less fun than you’d imagined.

“I won’t keep you, you can get back to what you were doing before,” he said flippantly.

“You mean guarding the Queen?” you asked, offended by his tone.

“I meant watching me play,” he winked.  Before you could react, he turned away and flipped his lute around on its strap to strum on it.

“Do you know Fishmonger’s Daughter?” he called out to the band as he approached them.

You smiled to yourself just a little as you walked back to your post, and tried not to make eye contact with Queen Araja: you weren’t sure what look she would give you but it would most likely make you more nervous.

You went to bed that night still trying to shake the ridiculous giddy feeling.

~

The next morning came early when the Queen requested to speak with you.

“The witcher is out on the hunt as we speak: while he is out and the infantry are on leave, take the bard out someplace,” she ordered when you arrived. 

“What am I supposed to do with him?” you asked innocently.

“I don’t know, go to the training fields and teach him archery or something,” she shrugged.

“Am I to believe you are giving me a purposeless assignment, my liege?”

“Cut the formality; we’re alone,” she instructed. 

“Sorry, my- Araja,” you stumbled.  Force of habit.

“It’s not purposeless, to answer your question.  I want you to spend more time with him,” she explained matter-of-factly.

“Why is that?” 

“He makes you laugh.  I’ve never seen you like that- the way you were last night at the banquet.”

“I apologize for my indecency,” you bowed, “I was caught up in the moment.”

“Exactly.  Get caught up in more moments, please,” she begged. “It’s good for you.”

“Pardon my insubordination, madam, but should a Queen really be concerning herself with the romantic exploits of her soldiers?” 

Even such a simple, and fair, question made you nervous.

“First: please shut up about insubordination.  Second: you’re not just a soldier, you’re my protector and closest ally in this castle, and it bothers me to see you always alone.  Lastly: who said anything about romance?  Just make a friend,” she encouraged.

You blushed, realizing that your wording had accidentally revealed your suppressed interests.

“I won’t hear any dissent from you, now go fetch him from his quarters,” she demanded.

“Myself?” you guffawed. “A lady of fine standing should not be seen entering a man’s quarters.  I’ll send a servant to do it.”

“Most everyone in this castle has forgotten that you’re a lady, except possibly for him,” she frowned. “Just go.”

You bowed before you left, turning down the hall to where you knew Jaskier had been staying.

Knocking on his door, you found it already cracked open.

“May I come in?” you called out into the room.

“Always,” you heard him reply, so you pushed the door open to find him sitting at the vanity, shaving with a dagger.  

“On business of the Queen?” he asked.

That was not the easiest question to answer.

“Yes, she has asked me to take you on a tour of the grounds,” you explained.

“Alone?” He smiled. “How scandalous.”

You ignored that.

“Shame,” you mumbled to yourself as you watched him shave.

“Hm?”

“I thought the stubble suited you,” you stated, hoping it didn’t come across the way you actually meant it.

He stopped moving the blade.

“Wish you’d said that before,” he frowned.

The idea that he cared what you thought of his appearance, enough to change his habits, was intriguing.

“It’s done now,” you fought a smirk, “can’t go out with half a beard.”

He sighed, his gaze returning back to himself in the mirror as he resumed moving the blade slowly along his jaw.  You watched intently for a moment, the muscles in his arms exposed by rolled-up sleeves, slowly shifting as he delicately dragged the knife along his skin.  

“When you’re finished, meet me in the courtyard,” you said quickly before stepping back into the hall.

Why did he make you feel so flustered?

[next chapter]

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes

Happy Friday! How are you all? Good I hope. 

Much thanks to @winterisakiller who has had to deal with my crushing self doubt while also keeping my angsty murder urges in check. I couldn’t do it without you. And to @tnystrk-exe who encourages the murder urges.

As some of you are probably aware of by now, I’m raising money for my birthday trip next month to NYC. I’ll be spending two nights in the city and seeing Betrayal on my Birthday. The trip’s a stretch for me and so I’m offering my Chainmaille jewelry and custom works at discounted prices, some as much as 25% off- check out @redfoxcrafts or donate to the cause by buying me a Ko-fi

Masterlist

Chapter warnings: Just some PTSD

Chapter 14- Movie Date?

Deanna insisted on helping load their spoils into the RV, much to Clint’s dismay. He insisted she should rest. For the two trips Dee hobbled into the RV, Clint had made four and managed to take everything else inside.

“So what now?” Dee asked as Clint locked the side door behind them.  

“Well, now we find somewhere to shelter us against the wind and buckle down. How’s the foot?”

“Hurts a bit but okay.”  

“Probably find a narrow street to park on. Stay in the town for a change. The buildings should give us some protection from the wind.”

“Or it could turn the street into a wind tunnel.” Dee offered with a smile as she made her way to the passenger seat, being ever mindful of her ankle.  

“Can’t win them all.” Clint joked but for a short moment, a shadow passed over his face. Dee didn’t say anything. He was right after all, you can’t win everything. He, more than anyone she knew would know that.  

The RV roared to life as the rain picked up again, falling in sheets. It took something around half an hour for Clint to settle on a place to park. It was a narrow street between two buildings. There was hardly enough room between the side of the RV slide outs and the walls of the buildings for the side door to open.

Though Deanna didn’t like the cramped feeling or the inability to see in the distance she had to admit with the current weather, she wouldn't have been able to see much in the open either.  There was an odd comfort to be had in knowing that there were only two ways someone could sneak up on them. There were only two very limited directions that their RV could even be seen by someone walking by.  

Clint made starting the generator look easy. With the rain, they’d had no choice but to use it. The constant ran had left a chill that meant they would also be burning propane to heat the RV. The idea of using such limited resources made Deanna nervous just the same.  

“You okay?” Clint asked, stepping inside of the RV while holding his umbrella outside, fighting to close it.  

“Fine. I just- It makes me nervous.” Clit nodded at my words. “It’s such a limited resource, such a limited supply.”

“You’ve done a great job making it last, that’s for sure.” While he spoke, he helped her to the couch before pulling out a bag of microwave popcorn. The whorl of the heater was soft in the background. “But I can get us more.” After a moment of hesitation, he rushed to add, “Or get you more if you want to ditch me at the farmhouse.”

“Well, unless we travel more, we won’t need much once we’re at the farmhouse.” Dee added, watching his face for reaction. “If you didn’t mind us staying together, that is.”  

“I think I’d really like that.” It felt like the words were so much more important than they sounded. It was as if there were some unknown meaning, unknown promise to them both but there still just the same.  

~~~~~<3

The smell of buttery popcorn filled the air within the RV. The air inside was warm as rain pelted the roof. Many of the lights except for what passed as a ‘hall’ light. It gave a warm glow to the space while providing enough light to see by.  

The microwave beeped as Clint carried the fluffy blanket from the bedroom. Dee made a mental note to find a throw blanket of some kind for the living space. That way they wouldn’t have to carry the heavy blanket back and forth. Unless, Clint had one he wanted to use.

It occurred to her that she shouldn’t be thinking of things in such a way. While it was clear at least for now, she wanted to stay with Clint and he with her, she was aware they were going to his home, a farmhouse. He mentioned it having access to power and water. Would they even still be living in the RV much longer?

“Need anything for the ankle?” Clint draped the blanket over her, breaking her spell of thought.  

“No, it’s not too bad now. The worst of it is over. At least, I think.”

“Still, take it easy on it.” His voice was firm but by no means demanding. “Let me do things for you.”

“You sound like an overbearing boyfriend.” Dee laughed. Clint put one of the romantic comedies she had wanted to watch yet hadn’t planned on requesting. “How did you know I wanted to watch that one?”  

“Guess I’m just boyfriend material.” Clint answered with a small smile rather than the wide grin she had expected.

As he settled on the couch next to her, she could feel the warmth from his side. The bowl of popcorn was perched in his lap. While the previews played, she thought back to that small smile and compared it to the wide grins she had often seen in the past. What did those small smiles mean? Were the large grins and carefree attitude a diversion, a mental or social suit of armor? Could those small smiles be Clint, the real man, shining through?

“Want a soda?” He held out a bottle of Pepsi for her and she took it with a mumbled thanks.  

When the movie started, she put her troubled thoughts away. Instead she focused on the love story playing out on the screen. She nibbled popcorn and sipped her soda. The taste was far better than she remembered and she had moaned when it first hit her tongue. All the while, she was aware of the warmth from Clint at her side.  

As they relaxed into the comfort and normalcy of watching a movie with popcorn, they seemed to melt into the couch. Before the movie was over, they were leaning against each other in a heap, soft snores passing from parted lips as the movie went on unwatched.  

~~~~~<3

Clint woke a few hours later to the title screen of the movie. His neck hurt, as did his back. The popcorn spilled on the ground at some point but most had disappeared, likely due to one large dog currently dozing by the door.  

Cuddled into his side was Dee. Slung over his thighs were her legs, bent at the knee and feet hanging down. Her fingers curled into his shirt. Her could feel every deep breath she took as he held her a little closer.  

Trust snorted and Clint’s eyes were drawn up to the dog, still asleep at the door. His eyes trailed around the room. Rain was pattering against the roof but it was much softer now. The buildings offered protection from the wind and he could hear it howling outside, though the RV did not rock with the force of it.  

On the arm of the couch sat the small stuffed fox atop the small folded blanket that she kept with her most of the time. Part of him wished he could do that, stomach the idea of keeping a trinket of Laura and the kids with him. Part of him was jealous of how Dee could clutch to the memory of her kids.  

Clint knew he could never forget them. He could never imagine a life where he couldn’t close his eyes and see their faces. It was clear as day to him that she thought herself weak for clinging to those reminders. In truth, he felt weak for not taking a part of his own family with him.

With a sigh, Clint worked his arm under her knees. While she seemed to comfortable enough, his neck ached and his back was screaming at him for having the gull to age. Wiggling his fingers, he gathered up the fluffy blanket that covered them.

He stood and shifted her, bringing her closer to his chest and adjusted his grip. It wouldn’t do to drop her on the way to the bed. That seamed like a sure fire way to end up sleeping on the couch or the dinette bed and really- his back liked the actual bed so much better.

The hall was so narrow that he had to shuffle through sideways to avoid hitting her on the walls. Still, he managed to smack his head rather hard on the door. Biting his lip and whimpering, he tired to ignore the urge to swear. It hurt like a mother fucker but she looked so peaceful.

There it was, as he set her on the bed. That weight of guilt that often seemed to settle in his gut made itself known as he looked down at her. Dee was so peaceful in her sleep. The lines of worry and stress were free from her face and he could just see the woman she had been before her life was ruined.

He blamed himself. It was just one more way he failed. He hadn’t known her at the time but he failed her. Just like he failed Laura and the kids. Just like he failed countless other people. But he had no say in it- it was their call to not bring him into the battle. He trusted them and that was where he failed.

Never again would he trust another to take care of those he cared about. Though it pained him to admit it, he cared about the woman on the bed. He cared about her far more than he should already. He cared about her far more than he had any right to, being a married man who’s wife was only dusted a handful of weeks ago.

But he did. And he failed her once, before knowing her. Clint decided he would not fail her again. No matter where she wanted to go, no matter what she wanted to do, he would follow and he would see to it she was safe. He owed her that much.

Clint wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching her sleep. It was late and he was tired but he couldn’t look away. Would she ever look this at peace when awake again? He would help her find a new peace, he decided. He didn’t know how he would do it, but somehow he would.

In the living space, Trust sneezed. The sound seemed to snap him out the trance he had fallen into. A sigh slipped out of him as he shook his head. It wasn’t going to do anyone any good for him to get wrapped up in his head. Casting his eyes to the ceiling, Clint very much wished he could see Laura again, talk to her. She was his best friend and he missed her. Was it strange that he wished to speak to her about Dee? To get her advice?

He needed to sleep, that much he was sure of. His mind was turning into a puddle of goo and sleep would be the only thing that would help it. Waking after only a few hours of rest hadn’t done him any good at all.

Without another thought, he pulled his shirt off before looking at her jean covered calf poking out from the blanket. While he thought about what he should do about that, he unbuckled his belt and let gravity take his pants down.

It was a slow process, untangling her from the blanket but eventually, he had it off her. He hoped she wouldn’t wake up while he worked. She needed her sleep just as much as he needed his. Plus, as he unbuttoned her jeans and inched them down her hips, it would look rather questionable if she woke right then.

He was lucky. Though at one point she rolled over onto her stomach, she hardly stirred otherwise. It took time to work her jeans down her legs but he was happy to take that time. Part of him felt guilty for it, but he allowed his eyes to travel her legs as he exposed them.

Once he had her out of the jeans, he rolled them up and tossed them in the hamper hidden behind one of the storage doors facing the foot of the bed. Reaching down, he grabbed his own discarded clothes and tossed them in as well.

With that cleaned up, he made his way into the living room again where he picked up the bowl and turned off the TV. After taking the time to check that the doors were locked and there was no sign of life outside, he returned to the bedroom where Dee had hardly so much as moved.

He spread the blanket out over the bed and crawled in next to her. For the first time since his wife and children had turned to dust, it felt like he was coming home. A sigh slipped out of him as his back and shoulders relaxed. In just a few short moments, Clint had joined Deanna in a state of sleep provided bliss.

~~~~~<3

Deanna was aware of warmth and the comfortable feeling of the mattress under her. There was that stale taste in her mouth that told her she hadn’t brushed her teeth before falling asleep.

It was dark outside and the rain was falling in sheets. She couldn’t see it but she could hear it, the way the drops pounded against the metal exterior of the RV. The sound was relaxing, even if she knew how tainted that rain was.

Reaching out, she blindly grabbed for the stuffed fox and soft blanket she normally slept with clutched to her heart however her fingers came up empty. Reaching farther still, her fingers found Clint’s bare arm and danced over his chest. They weren’t there.

Rolling over, she began to search the other side of the bed and found nothing. Panic ate at her and she tried to calm her breathing. She didn’t lose them. Nothing was taken. They just fell off the side of the bed. It was fine. Everything was fine.

Reaching down, she groped blindly some more and only found more of the floor. Without a single thought to the sleeping Avenger next to her, she turned on the light as her search got more frantic.

Clint woke with a start but she paid him no mind at all. She looked under pillows and pulled the blanket aside.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was like gravel and any other time she would have taken a moment to appreciate the sound but right now, it hardly registered.

“I can’t find them.” Her voice came tight and high, as if a wire was wound taught and so very close to snapping.

“Find what?” His hand rested on hers for a moment but she yanked it free to look under his pillow.

“My kids. Where are they. I can’t have lost them.”

“You’re kids?” Clint watched as she stood and ripped the blanket off the bed only to throw it back on in a heap.

“Sit down, you’re going to hurt your foot.” Clint stood, holding his hands out to her. “Don’t you remember, your kids- they...”

“I know.” Deanna reached up and pulled her fingers through her messy slept on hair. “I know. I know. But I’ve got to find them.”

“What are you looking for? Tell me exactly and I’ll find them, okay?”

The thing that had stood out to Clint from the moment he had first met Dee was how strong she was. Even with a sprained ankle and no choice but to rely on a stranger’s aid, she always had an air of strength to her. She was solid. Unshakable.

Now, woken in the middle of the night was proof that even she was haunted by the memories of what had happened. He couldn’t fault her for it, he himself had woken many times from a panicked search.

“Their- Aurora's- Oh god. I can’t have lost them.”

It hit Clint in that instant. There was only two things that she was never without. He had been proud of himself, getting her into the bed and out of her jeans without waking her. He had been sure he had thought of everything. But he had forgotten what had turned out to be the most important of things.

It wasn’t locking the doors. It wasn’t checking for people sneaking up on them. It wasn’t turning out lights or making sure Trust had food or water. It wasn’t picking up the popcorn bowl. It wasn’t even turning off the TV.

“Sit here, I think I know what you’re looking for.”

It took a firm hand to guide her to sit on the bed. It was clear as day she didn’t want to just sit but the panic was clouding her mind. Clint worried about her hurting her foot when it was already beginning to heal so well.

She just wanted to find them. She just wanted to hold them. She needed them.

Once he had her sitting, Clint rushed into the living room. In the process, he nearly tripped over Trust. The dog had slept through all the commotion and later, Clint would take it as a sign that the dog trusted him to care for the woman who had become his master.

Sitting neatly on the arm of the sofa was a stuffed fox, well loved and well cared for atop a soft folded baby blanket. She wasn’t looking for her kids, she was looking for all she had left of them.

With upmost care, he picked up the forgotten items and carried them into the bedroom. As soon as her eyes took them in, he watched as every bit of the tension left her. Wordlessly, she reached out and took them from him, holding them tight to her chest.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, looking up at him with watery eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Sitting next to her on the bed, Clint rested one large hand on her back and began to slowly rub. “I should have remembered to grab them. You have them every night.”

“You couldn’t have-”

“You have them every night.” He again repeated as she leaned into his touch. Tears dripped from her cheeks as he held her to his side. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He whispered.

“I try so hard.” It felt like a sacred admission, a holy secret.

“You can be weak sometimes. You can cry. You can fall apart. You’re not alone anymore, Dee. I’m right here with you now. I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”

~~~~~<3

Want in on the tag list? I will gladly add you, just let me know. And as always, I ADORE hearing about what you think, what challenges you think these two will face and what their path in the next few years will look like. What do YOU think the world immediately post snap would look like?

Tag List: @usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @theoneanna. @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @carissime72, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @myoxisbroken, @wegingerangelica

[ikesenhell]

From Air

The Measurement of Time: Chapter 3. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Kaiea is @boopbeepbopblarg ‘s lovely OC! Thanks for letting me use her!

Kaiea told him some time ago about the Trinity Island’s treacherous reputation, and it certainly lived up to that. The sailors desperately turned the boat back and forth and back and forth, struggling to find safe waters and not shred out the hull of the yacht. Finally they managed to find a small inlet. Without a second’s hesitation, Uesugi planted her foot on the railing and vaulted it, landing ankle deep in the water. Yukimura followed easily.

“I am not doing that,” Kaiea protested. “No way. I’ll break an ankle.”

Sasuke appraised the drop. The distance wasn’t unsafe by any measure, but he understood her hesitation. Before he could formulate a plan, Yukimura pulled himself back up onto the balustrade, holding out a hand to her. 

“Come on. I’ll help you in.”

She eyed him warily, but he jerked his head in a just come on motion and she obeyed. He propped himself up long enough to wrap a strong arm around her waist and pinned her against himself--and over they went, her surprised shriek echoing through the island. The ocean splashed over her cloak, but she was fine. Yukimura had even kept her from falling in the water or touching it. 

“You’re fine,” he mumbled at her, hefting her legs over his arm and carrying her to shore. His cheeks were red, but he set her down kindly anyway on the sand. 

And that just left him. Conjuring up distant memories of physical exercise, Sasuke finally took a running leap over the edge and landed. He wasn’t so graceful as the others. Wheeling in a frantic bid to stay on his feet, he splashed his knees into the water and was only stopped from faceplanting by Uesugi’s arm. 

“Nice.” She chuckled at him. “Not accustomed to physical exertion, are we?”

“I am a researcher, not a soldier.”

“Maybe you ought to consider that before volunteering yourself on a scouting mission next time.” She was blunt, but far from wrong. “Come on.”

Odd, smooth trees bent inward over them as they trekked to the island interior. Their supple bark swept upward to strangely human branches. Sasuke played his fingers across one, only for Kaiea to swat his hand away. 

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

But she just shook her head, eyeing it warily. “It’s a little freaky. I’ll tell you when we’re off the island, but there are... these aren’t normal trees.”

He took that at its face and stopped touching it. They trudged through crushed leaves and at last, they reached the skeleton of a town. Once it was cute; he could see the wilted remnants of a garden overflowing its fence. Half of the cottages had collapsed. The ocean was unforgiving on buildings. Wind swirled through the relic of a time gone by, bringing with it the tang of salt. 

“Look.” Uesugi fell back beside Sasuke, motioning ahead of them. “Is that the place you dreamed of, too?”

It wasn’t a building anymore--not a whole one, at least. The belltower leaned hard into the wind, half of the walls supporting it collapsed... outward? That didn’t make much sense. As they grew closer, the sight before them puzzled him more. 

“If this wall had just collapsed, this wouldn’t appear like this.” He eyed where the timbers had scattered outward, pieces of debris flung into the woods. “It would have settled in one place.”

“That’s what I was just thinking.” Yukimura nudged a beam with his toe. “This looks like an explosion.”

Uesugi stepped fearlessly into the gap, drawing her sword. Yukimura handed his own to Sasuke, taking a spear for himself. “Know how to use that?”

“Barely.”

“Let’s hope you don’t have to learn.”

Kaiea went completely white at the implication. Yuki just took her hand and tugged him beside her. “Stick close and you’ll be just fine.”

The town hall interior was dark. Sasuke blinked until he could see again. Molding floorboards creaked dangerously underfoot, light lancing through cracks in the ceiling. Uesugi picked her way around a bell lodged deep in the floor. 

“There’s a library in here somewhere. We emptied it out and moved the contents into the Royal Library years ago,” Kaiea whispered. Her voice carried through the emptiness. “This is where Mitsunari Ishida and the Princess found the way to defeat the invasion of the City. It’s a shame it’s derelict. I would think they’d try to preserve this place.”

Uesugi shook her head. “This place was declared off limits decades ago by the prior Queen herself. I don’t know what prompted the declaration, but we’ve honored it ever since.”

“Hey. Come here.” Yuki motioned from a corner. “There’s more damage here, but this is different.”

The three of them joined him. At his feet, the floor had collapsed outward, the beams cracked up toward the sky--and in the dark, a set of stone steps heading downward.

“You know what I just realized?” Uesugi commented. “The island was on fire. Why is nothing burned down?”

As if answering them, a wind billowed up from the hole at their feet, carrying the smell of smoke and dust. Yuki squared his shoulders and spear. 

“Well. Nowhere to go but down, right?”

“Right.”

Yuki took point, taking the first tentative steps downward. Uesugi followed behind him, fiddling with a necklace she wore until it produced enough light to help them. Kaiea looked very much as if she’d rather stay up top. Even so, she swallowed her protests and slipped down behind the other two, Sasuke taking up the rear. 

The scent of smoke grew the further they descended. He tried to calculate the distance, but soon it escaped him. All he knew was that it was deep. Oppressive darkness pressed in around them, the faint green glow from Uesugi’s necklace the only thing that cut through to the hard stone walls around them. And at last--at last they reached the bottom floor, a scorched door resting in ashes before them.

“Well.” Yuki nudged the debris, peering into the room. “What the hell?”

The concrete walls were black with soot, scorch marks splayed over the walls and ceiling like fingers. Maybe once there was furniture in this room. Now it was nothing but thick, grey, crumbling ruin. When the four of them stepped inside, the walls pulsed, a faint orange light glowing around them. 

“What the hell is happening?” Uesugi muttered. 

Sasuke took a long look at the walls. “If I had to speculate? It’s a form of responsive magic. It feeds off the residual energy of human presence.”

“Great. That’s not reassuring, given the dream--and the thing in front of us.”

That thing was a coffin. He recognized it immediately--his dream was remarkably detailed. The lid was cracked open in pieces on the floor, its interior entirely empty except for some odd, twisting cables. 

“What the hell was in there?” Yuki asked, poking it with his spear. 

Bending over the inside, Sasuke took them into his hand and examined them. Nothing like this was in any of the books he knew. He looked to Kaiea for some kind of guidance, but she just shook her head, wide eyed and uncertain. 

“Here’s a thought,” Uesugi started slow. “Do you think this was... connected to something?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure how to articulate it. Like a binding?”

He twisted the cable and stared down the center of it. Bits of copper and twisted wires protruded from the end. “The metals inside this all conduct electricity. I’m suspecting that this was used to... power something, perhaps.”

“Power something?” Yuki echoed. “Power what?”

It was then that the thing appeared. 

Even afterward, Sasuke couldn’t have possibly described it. The closest he could get was a statue, massive and twisting, a dark nightmare of cogs and whirring pieces. Its eyes glowed a slanted orange. It stood maybe ten feet tall, its spidery fingers moving in jerks and stops. A chainmail vestment draped over its shoulders and secured at some sort of a waist. To what end he couldn’t imagine. It looked like a dream of a mechanical knight--and it drew out a massive greatsword, bringing it in a gleaming arc down toward them.

They scattered as it cleaved clear through the coffin. Fragments of stone shattered like missiles against the walls. Yuki planted himself solidly between Kaiea and it, brandishing his spear.

“Up the stairs!” Uesugi bellowed. “Get up them!”

The Metal Knight swung hard toward her. She reflexively planted her sword to parry, but it just hit her so hard that the impact flung her into the wall with a sickening thud. Yuki almost threw Kaiea up the steps. 

“Go! Go go! Sasuke, get up there!” 

But he couldn’t. He watched the Metal Knight take an earthquake step toward Uesugi and knew she wouldn’t make it. She’d taken a hell of an impact, and she was scrabbling to her feet, and that sword was coming down--

And he was between her and it before he could stop himself, sword lifted above his head to stop it. Steel locked. Sasuke braced himself for the inevitable crush under overwhelming power--

It didn’t come. 

Instead his sword arm glowed a wild, brilliant green. That energy rolled up through his shoulder and shot up into their swords, bracing like a shield between them. Uesugi threw her sword upward too, and a blue energy joined his, entwining like snakes around the greatsword pressing down on them--and it snapped back. 

Precious seconds were back in their hand. 

“Go!” She yelled. 

All four of them raced up the steps, taking them two and three at a time. Sasuke turned back in time to see the thing vanish, swirling out of existence like smoke, but he didn’t trust it. None of them stopped until they were well above ground, standing in the ruins of the Town Hall and waiting for it. It never came.

“What the hell?” Yuki gasped, his chest heaving. “What the hell? What the actual hell?”

“Fuck.” Uesugi panted. 

“I d-d-don’t think there was an-any record of th-th-that in the archives,” Kaiea managed. “Th-th-that shouldn’t b-b-be there.”

“How did you do that?” Uesugi rounded on Sasuke next, her mismatched eyes peering straight through him. 

“Frankly, I don’t know.” He shoved his glasses up and realized they were fogged from sweat. It didn’t feel safe enough to take them off, so he just squinted through it. “I don’t know what that was. I was told I can’t do magic.”

“That wasn’t just any magic. That’s something signature. The Nine could do that, and we still aren’t sure how.” She paused. “And then I did it. I’ve never been able to do that. I don’t even know how I did.”

Was it? Sasuke poured through his memory, searching desperately for any reason why. “I’m only a distant relative to Sarutobi, and he wasn’t a member of the Nine, anyway.”

“Can we please leave?” Kaiea jogged frantically back and forth between her feet. “It can’t get off the island, can it? We could just leave it here.”

“We don’t know that.” Yuki didn’t shift from his battle-ready pose. “We really don’t know that. I think it teleported in there.”

“Then theoretically,” Sasuke posited, “It could be anywhere.”

“But you could stop its swing.” Uesugi stared through him for one more moment. “Alright. We need to full retreat and do some investigation. Sarutobi, I hope you aren’t needed at your lab too much.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because.” She stepped closer to him, her white blonde hair swirling in the wind. “I’m recruiting you.”

[literallyanyfxndom]

rescue mission [percival]

summary: you’re running from Morgause when Percival finds you and saves you

WARNINGS: none, distress (?)

A/N: this was supposed to be a male reader but it kinda ended up not being relevant to the story to mention a gender so? sorry! also not totally happy with how this turned out, the beginning is fine but the ending is v bad, so sorry about that too

The castle tower lumbered in the distance as you ran, hoofbeats pounding closer and closer to you. The edge of the woods was probably fifty feet in front of you; maybe if you could make it there, you could disappear. Ever since Morgause took you, all you could do was hope that you might have a chance to return to Camelot. The fight that night was what set her off; you had been doing fine, she even gave you a decent room in the castle rather than the dungeons, but you had angered her at dinner tonight, and you had narrowly escaped when she came to get you and throw you back into a cell.

Your breathing grew heavier and you heaved, groaning, praying you could make it to the woods. If you looked behind you, you knew that you would see her, black robes and a horse to match, stalking you. You couldn’t slow, could not bring yourself to face her wrath. Staying with Morgause meant death, but maybe running from her was going to kill you as well. Could anyone help you? And if you called, could anyone hear you? You would never know unless you took a chance, so why the hell not? “Help!” Tears streamed down your face at the thought of facing Morgause after this betrayal. She would kill you with absolutely no mercy, no sense of regret. “Help!”

Your feet crunched down on fallen leaves and the sticks while you ran, falling over trees while you weakened the more you ran. “Please, help!” You fell over tree roots and hastily pulled yourself back up, unsure of where you were going to go next, especially because Morgause kept your face covered with a brown sack on the way, specifically for the purpose of you not being able to find your way back. “Help!” This time, you heard heavy thuds from up ahead, relief washing over you at the thought of someone helping you. Morgause drew nearer still, hoping to catch you before the others did. “Help!”

Then you heard the voices, distant, but getting closer with each pound the forest floor endured. “Over there! Percy, help them and head back to camp.” In a blaze of dark fur and chainmail, you were swept up from the ground and deposited on the rump of a horse, directly behind a rather burly man, who hunkered down and turned away from all the action, booking it back for what you assumed was their camp. You did the same, too tired to really hold yourself up anyways, your hands trying to grip at anything to stay on, since your legs could not hold you up, and finally they found Percy’s shoulders.

You rode for about twenty minutes before you came to a stop. No tents stood about the small clearing, just some stones in a circle where logs sat, probably for a fire. He hopped off the horse and tied it to a tree branch, before helping you off and sitting you in front of the fire. “Is it too much to ask what happened back there?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to chuckle or even smile. “Maybe we should just start with names. I’m Y/N.”

He grinned at you and held his hand out. “I’m Percival.”

You nodded and shook his open palm. “Well nice to meet you Percival.” There was silence for a few moments before you spoke again. “Is it too much to ask what you guys are doing out here?”

Percival leaned down and started a fire while he contemplated his answer. “We’re on a quest, sent by King Arthur of Camelot. He’s actually accompanying us today, he’s back there with the others.” He poked at the fire a bit. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I was kidnapped by Morgause, I’m not even sure why honestly. Maybe she just wanted some company. Loneliness is deadly after all.”

“I suppose, yes. I can’t imagine living a life without any friends to depend on. But still, probably not the best idea to kidnap you.”

“Very true. I was fortunate that you came across me.”

Percy leaned back, away from the fire. “Right place, right time.”

[nicolabarth]

Blood and Bones - Chapter 2

Pairing: Samifer

Summary: When people on the Winchester lands vanish, including Dean, Sam thinks the necromancer who’s living near by in a tower is to blame.

Warnings: Fantasy AU, Violence, Blood Magic (as in people cut themselves and others to get blood for spells), Knight!Sam, Necromancer!Lucifer, Blood Mage!Lucifer, Undead, Questionable morals, Truth Spells

Notes: Thanks to my beta readers @coplins, @trisscar368 and @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell. The whole story was inspired by @brieflymaximumprincess

Read it on AO3

“Don’t you think the undead horse is a bit too much?” Sam’s own horse kept its distance, shying away from the creature thankfully made mostly of bone and a bit of dried skin. No rotting flesh.

The necromancer shrugged from where he was sitting in the saddle. They were riding into the woods, Sam and Lucifer, Sam in his chainmail now, sword by his side again.

“I don’t want to spend time caring for a living animal every day.”

That made sense in a way. Still, Sam could’ve done without the reminder of who he had sided with. He still wasn’t sure, if he wouldn’t regret this.

“What is it, Sammy?” Lucifer’s eyes were on him, leaving his undead horse to find its own way. “Second thoughts?”

“I’m not obliged to answer any more.” He couldn’t actually be angry about the truth spell, though. Sam had been the one who had broken into Lucifer’s tower and the truth spell had been a pretty gentle way to insure Lucifer’s safety. Still, Sam tried. After the kiss they shared, he felt like he had to put some distance between them again. It was sensible to join forces with the necromancer to get his brother back, of course. It was also a good idea to stay on friendly terms with him afterwards. For the good of their village. But the kiss had been more than just one step too far. As was the fascination Sam felt every time Lucifer talked about magic.

Lucifer shrugged. “Suit yourself. I liked you more when you were chatty, though.”

“You’re not supposed to like me. We have a common goal, that’s all.”

That earned him an amused look, tip of Lucifer’s tongue visible in the corner of his mouth for a moment – not that Sam was paying attention.

“Don’t get your hopes up too much. I’m sure grumpy, less chatty you will grow on me eventually.”

Never had a declaration of affection ever sounded so much like a promise of trouble to come.

It didn’t take them long to reach the waterfall that hid the dragon’s cave. “How do you want to do this?” Lucifer asked. “The hero way or the smart way?”

“I’m not going to stand in front of the cave and yell for the dragon to come out.”

Lucifer smiled. “See, that’s why I like you. So sneak in or draw it out?”

Sam pondered that question for a moment. To sneak in he’d have to lose his chainmail again, which meant potentially fighting a dragon without much protection. “Any ideas how to draw it out?”

“Yes. I’ll challenge it.”

“So you stand in front of the cave and yell for it to come out?” Sam asked grinning.

Lucifer threw him a bitchface. “Not quite.”

The plan was simple. Lucifer would be the distraction, while Sam would lie in ambush and wait for a good opportunity to attack. After all, he was the one who was supposed to kill the dragon. Lucifer summoned Meg again to send her off with Sam. “She can be of help,” was all he said.

Then he cut his palm, let a few drops of blood drip on the ground.

“What’s that for?” Sam asked.

“In case of an emergency. I think some other predators have lived here before. There are a lot of dead things in the ground, and I’ve just established a connection.” Lucifer’s smile made Sam shudder, but not in a completely unpleasant way. Damn him and his fascination with questionable people. “Now go.”

Sam was halfway to a good hiding place, when he realized that he’d just followed a command given by the necromancer. Damn! It was a sensible command, but still, he better not make a habit out of it.

Next to him, Meg moved in complete, eerie silence between the trees. No footsteps, no breathing. Of course no breathing, after all she was dead. Sam eyed her suspiciously. There was a slight red tint to her figure, and sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he could see her edges fray, but apart from that she looked like a normal human being. A tiny brunette girl in a way too revealing dress.

She grinned at him. “Like what you see?”

“He killed you,” Sam said, because that still bothered him.

“Yes. And then he went and gave me a new life. That’s how things are sometimes. Don’t get your undergarments in a twist about it, pretty boy.”

Sam huffed, not placated.

Meg laughed, a sound that wasn’t quite human. “If you were so appalled by it, you should’ve declined my company.”

“That wouldn’t have undone it. And if you can help, it would be stupid not to make use of that to save people who might still be alive.”

“So the fact that he killed me is useful to you now.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. “I guess …” he bit back angrily. Had he just lost a discussion about morals against an undead girl?

They found a good hiding place near the waterfall. While Sam crouched down behind a big boulder, spray from the waterfall settled on his face, his hair, his clothes. Slowly, he drew his sword.

Meg cupped her hands, and a small puddle of blood appeared between her fingers. “We’re ready, master,” she whispered.

Yes, she definitely was useful.

By the bank of the river Lucifer stepped out from between the trees just enough to be seen, but not far enough that he couldn’t duck back into the underbrush fast, if need be. He didn’t do anything, he just stood there, but suddenly he seemed taller, his shadow darker.

“What’s he doing?” Sam whispered.

“He just stopped hiding his aura,” Meg explained.

Oh. This definitely shouldn’t make Lucifer even more attractive.

It didn’t take long for a head to appear in the middle of the waterfall. It wasn’t quite as reptilian as Sam had expected it to be, though. It looked more bird-like, even if there were scales between the feathers. The sharp beak was approximately as long as Sam’s arm. The head was followed by a snake-like neck and a reptilian body. Leathery wings blocked the path of the waterfall for a moment, when they unfurled.

“Oops,” Meg said.

Sam was inclined to agree with her. “That’s not a dragon.”

“Well,” Meg said, “technically Basilisks are a subspecies of dragons.”

The Basilisk cocked its head to regard Lucifer. “Ah,” it said finally, more a hiss than a word. “Long time since I last saw a blood mage.”

“Long time since I last saw one of your kind, too,” Lucifer answered. “My name is Lucifer. You’re in my territory.”

“My apologies.” The Basilisk stepped further away from the waterfall and waded through the water towards Lucifer, still staying in the river though. Sam held his breath. As soon as it reached the riverbank, he’d strike. “I’m only here for the time my young need to learn how to fly. If you let me stay in your territory until then, I’ll repay you well.”

Lucifer smiled, apparently not even surprised that a huge, scary Basilisk prefered negotiations over fighting him. “Well, there’s one small problem.”

The Basilisk cocked it’s bird head again.

“You’re taking humans, and the villagers are bothering me now, because they think I’m responsible.”

For a very short moment Sam thought it was maybe possible to solve this via talking. The creature would agree not to take any more humans, it would give Dean and the other villagers back and they would allow it to raise its young, before it had to leave. Everybody would be happy. But then the Basilisk did something that was probably the closest you can get to a shrug, if you have wings instead of arms. “You seem powerful enough to deal with a few humans. What I can give you will be worth your trouble.”

No, that was not how this was supposed to go! Sam held his breath. He wasn’t sure how high the chances were that Lucifer was going to betray him.

“Is that so?” the necromancer asked. “What do you have to offer?”

Well, apparently they were high. Sam tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, when he suddenly felt Meg’s hand on his arm. “Wait. Trust him.”

Sam gave an almost soundless laugh. “Why should I trust him?”

“For one,” Meg leaned closer, and Sam faintly smelled blood, “if he wanted trouble, he wouldn’t have offered to help you in the first place. And secondly, you don’t have any other choice, because I will rip you to shreds if you move now.”

For a moment, Sam looked at her, seizing her up. Judging by how effortlessly she had disarmed him in the dungeon, this was probably no empty threat. But she had to have a weakness. He went through everything Bobby had ever told him about magic. A lot of magic creatures didn’t like iron, did they? Though Lucifer’s magic had worked on the chains in the dungeon. There were also some symbols that worked as protection, and Sam wished he’d memorized them better.

While he was lost in thought, the conversation between Lucifer and the Basilisk went on. The creature offered magic spells and riches. Lucifer seemed intrigued.

“Meg,” Sam whispered. “Do you remember your parents? They’re still alive. If Lucifer sides with that creature, they’re in danger.”

Did he imagine it or was there a slight pause as if Meg were thinking?

“Let me kill that Basilisk, no matter what they agree on,” Sam urged. “That’s all I’m asking.”

“Trust him,” Meg insisted again. Her grip on Sam’s arm loosened a bit, though. Sam took it as a good sign.

While they were talking, the Basilisk slowly crept closer to Lucifer, further and further out of the water. The necromancer carefully avoided eye contact, but otherwise watched the creature closely. Finally, it sat in the shallow water close to where Lucifer was standing. Sam tensed, ready to strike.

“Give him a few more seconds,” Meg whispered. “Then I’ll let you go.”

Fine. Sam could do that.

The necromancer smiled again. “That sounds all well and good,” he said. “There’s still one tiny problem, though.”

“What is it now?” The Basilisk was getting impatient. It took another step, threatening now, until its beak was only inches from Lucifer’s face. Sam saw the necromancer lower his gaze to the ground to avoid eye contact. But now it was also in the perfect position for Sam to strike.

“Well, you see,” Lucifer explained. He unfurled the fingers of the hand he had cut before, and a few more drops of blood dripped to the ground. What was he doing? “The very handsome knight I came here with apparently thinks I’m fascinating.”

Alarmed, the Basilisk looked around. And that did it. Sam shrugged off Meg’s hand and stood up. She let him.

“And that’s kind of nice,” Lucifer went on. “So I actually don’t want to betray him.”

The next word was not spoken in any language Sam knew, but it carried power, Sam could feel that in the energy that suddenly permeated the air. He half expected to get hit by a spell, before the meaning of Lucifer’s words completely got through to him.

Then he saw the bones that erupted from the ground. They formed hands and claws and they grabbed the Basilisk’s legs and wings. The creature screeched and its beak bit down, shattering skeletal arms, but there were more coming from the ground every second.

“Sam!” Lucifer called. “Now! And don’t look it in the eyes, it can turn you to stone.”

Sam was already moving. He swung his sword, hacking at the snake-neck of the creature. His blade sliced through the scales, but then the back of a flailing wing hit him, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Before he could even catch his breath, the beak came down. He rolled to the side, but he could already tell he wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid it completely.

The impact never came, though. Instead something red streaked through his line of sight, then Meg was there. She collided with the head of the creature with force, making it reel to the side. The beak sank into the ground instead of Sam’s flesh, sending grass and dirt flying. Immediately, the boney hands grabbed it. Together with Meg they held the Basilisk’s head to the ground, stretching the already injured neck. Sam got to his feet again, bringing the sword down with all his might.

This time, his blade went all the way through. The Basilisk convulsed and collapsed on the riverbank.

For a moment, Sam just stood there, breathing heavily.

The sound of someone clapping made him look up after a while. Lucifer leaned against the trunk of a tree, smirking. “You make a very heroic figure wielding your sword like that, Sam Dragonslayer. A pity that the fact that I helped you probably ruins this as material for the bards.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sam said. He hadn’t tried to be heroic, he’d just tried to get his brother back. But if Lucifer wanted to mock him for this, he could give as good as he got. “Depends on how they spin it. Apparently I made a formerly evil necromancer see the good in life again.” Which raised an interesting question. Lucifer hadn’t actually chosen his side because he liked him, had he?

“It’s blood mage.” Lucifer took a few steps towards him. He stopped right in front of Sam, almost touching, twinkle in his blue eyes. “And there are limits to what I’d do just because a good looking guy bats his eyelashes at me.” He leaned in even closer, breath on Sam’s face. “But it just so happens that Basilisk venom is the rarest spell ingredient in the world, and it’s the most potent when taken straight from the venom gland.” He reached out, fingertips slightly brushing over Sam’s cheek, before his hand came to rest on Sam’s chest. His touch left a tingling sensation on Sam’s skin, a faint echo of what the kiss had felt like. “So nice of you helping me acquire it.” With that he pushed Sam away gently, brushed past him and hunched down next to the severed Basilisk head, pulling his dagger from its sheath.

It really shouldn’t feel so much like Sam had just been turned down; still, Sam’s face burned with heat. “So reassuring that the reason I’m still alive is that the Basilisk’s offer lacked appeal for you,” he said, his anger at least in parts directed against himself for reacting to Lucifer like he did.

“Well, that and the fact that I gave you my word to help you.” Lucifer didn’t look up from forcing the beast’s beak open with his blade. “But you won’t believe that anyway.”

“Don’t act like not trusting you is an unreasonable thing to do.”

Lucifer made a dismissive gesture with his dagger. “Don’t you have a missing brother to look for?”

He was right, of course. Sam wiped his sword on his pants and put it back into the sheath. Then he stepped towards the waterfall.

“Don’t forget that thing mentioned offspring,” Lucifer called after him. “Meg, go with him.”

“Yes, master.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. “But I think, I’ll manage.”

“You’re not the one your father will get mad at when you go missing, too.” Lucifer had one hand between the Basilisk’s jaws, picking at something with the dagger. “So please accept my offer of further assistance.”

The sudden formality made Sam blink in surprise. Still, he felt like he owed it the necromancer to answer a polite request with a polite reply. “Of course.” He stepped into the river near the waterfall. “Are you coming, Meg?”

The river wasn’t deep, but when Sam arrived at the other side of the waterfall he was drenched from head to toe. He wiped the water out of his eyes and drew his sword again. He knew this cave, had been here before with Dean. It was just a small tunnel at the beginning, but after a bend it opened into a cavern with a light well in the middle so you didn’t need a torch. Sam stepped carefully around the bend.

They were sitting in the middle of the cavern, right inside a pillar of sunlight. And they were gnawing on something that Sam, to his horror, recognized as human limbs.

Don’t let this be Dean.

He’d never forgive himself if he’d come to late to save his brother.

A few gestures was all he needed to communicate his plan of attack to Meg. Then Sam circled to one side around the Basilisk offspring, the undead girl taking the other. After that it was just a matter of a few well placed strikes. For Sam at least. Meg hadn’t been kidding about being able to rip things to shreds. She came over the Basilisks like a demon and left torn bodies in her wake.

When she was done, there was more than a slight tint of red to her figure. She looked Sam up and down, who had more than a little blood on his clothes, too, by now, and threw him a blood splattered grin. “You’re fun. For a knight.”

“People of questionable morals keep telling me that,” Sam said. “Maybe I should reconsider some of my life choices.” One glance at what was left of the poor human the Basilisks had been gnawing on showed him that it wasn’t Dean. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was something. He recognized the usual garb of a shepherd. So he had come too late to save at least one of the villagers.

Meg laughed. “You’re clinging to what you think is right too much. And we stuck to our word, didn’t we?” Then she pointed to a part of the cavern that was immersed in shadows. “I think you’re looking for this.”

Sam squinted into the darkness. There was a human figure there, but not moving. Carefully he stepped closer, sword gripped tight. There were bones lying around here, carefully gnawed clean. The other villagers? “Dean?”

The figure in the back was Dean. He was sitting with his back against the wall, but he didn’t look up, his eyes were staring right past his brother. Sam reached out to shake his shoulder – but touched nothing but stone. “No! Dean!”

“Basilisks do that.” That was Lucifer’s voice from the entrance of the cave. “Keeps their food fresh.”

Sam turned around. Somehow the necromancer had managed to stay dry while passing the waterfall, and now he stepped around the carcasses of the Basilisk offspring.

“Is this reversible?” Sam demanded.

“A Basilisk can reverse it,” Lucifer said.

“We don’t have a Basilisk. Can you reverse it?”

Lucifer idly turned the remains of the Basilisk’s dinner around with his foot, looking at the gnawed off face of the man. “Oh, so you do need my help again?”

Did he have to pick this moment for playing games? Sam gritted his teeth and gripped the hilt of his sword so hard it hurt. He forced himself to take a deep breath though. Snapping at Lucifer wouldn’t help his brother. “Can you bring my brother back?”

Lucifer hooked his thumbs under his belt. “Depends on how important morals actually are to you. That spell requires a life.”

For a moment, Sam stared at Lucifer, but the necromancer seemed completely serious for once. Sam chewed on his lower lip in thought. Finding someone who deserved to die anyway shouldn’t be that big of a problem, shouldn’t it?

As the silence stretched, so did a grin on Lucifer’s face. “You’re considering it, aren’t you?” He sauntered closer. “That easy to turn into a murderer, isn’t it?”

Sam closed his eyes against the mocking tone. “Please tell me it doesn’t have to be someone innocent.”

“Would you consider that, too?” Now Lucifer was right in front of him, Sam could feel his body heat, hear his even breaths.

He opened his eyes again to look into Lucifer’s blue ones. “Would I be innocent enough?”

The necromancer lifted an eyebrow. “Willing to die for you brother?”

Sam nodded. Dean had always been the good son. Dean was the one who would rule this piece of land one day. Sam on the other hand, Sam had been a bit odd all his life, a bit too bookish for a knight, a bit too fascinated by the likes of Brady – and now Lucifer. John Winchester needed Dean more than he needed Sam. Adam, Charlie, Jo and Ellen and their whole village needed Dean more than they needed Sam.

Lucifer sighed. “Very noble. Very … knightly …” He said the last word as if he thought Sam was a bit stupid, but he could think whatever he wanted, if he just did what Sam asked of him.

“Will it work or not?”

“It’ll be a waste, that’s what it’ll be!” Lucifer’s voice echoed from the walls of the cavern angrily. His anger died down fast, though, followed by another sigh. “Well, if you’re willing to self-sacrifice, there’s another way.”

“Which way?” Sam didn’t dare hope. This would be something impossible, wouldn’t it?

Lucifer scrutinized him for a moment, before he spoke again. “You’d have to give a few years of your life to power the spell.”

“Done.”

The necromancer rolled his eyes. “As I said, very knightly. I’ll also have to use half of the Basilisk venom I collected today. Which means you owe me, because I could’ve used that for something more worthwhile.”

And there it was. The catch. “What do I owe you?”

That made Lucifer’s smile come back. “Oh look, he hasn’t lost all his sense after all. I half expected you to go: ‘Whatever you want.’ That’d have proved … interesting.”

Sam huffed. “I love my brother, but I’m not stupid. What do I owe you?”

He didn’t get an answer right away. Instead, Lucifer studied him again, tapping his lower lip in thought while he did so. His eyes took in the blood on Sam’s clothes, the sword in his hand. “If your father ever decides to make a move against me, you’ll be on my side.”

Yes, definitely a big catch. “You want me to fight against my own family?”

“Well …” Lucifer waved his hand. “You make it sound so dramatic. You don’t have to fight, if you find another way to get him off my back.”

On second thought, it didn’t sound that bad. Dean would owe Lucifer his life by then. Most of the other Winchester knights might not listen to Sam, but they would definitely listen to Dean. Slowly, Sam wiped his sword on his still wet pants again and sheathed it. “This doesn’t apply in case you attack us first.”

“Fine,” Lucifer said.

“Are we done bartering over my brother’s life then, or is there anything else you want?”

The corners of Lucifer’s mouth twitched. “There is. I want you, mostly naked, in the middle of the ritual circle I’m about to draw.”

Sam blinked at the sudden turn this had taken, but if he was honest, nothing Lucifer did should surprise him anymore by now. After a moment he just lifted an eyebrow, silently asking if the necromancer was serious.

Said necromancer – well, blood mage actually – met his gaze with a face that said he definitely was. “Do you think I can just take a few years of your life with the snap of my fingers? You have to be a part of this spell. You’ll have to do exactly as I say, no matter what happens. And once it’s started, I have to finish it, so if you’re not sure about it, better back out now.” Lucifer looked Sam up and down again. “Oh, and it’ll hurt,” he added as if in an afterthought. “A lot.”

Of course there was another catch. But Sam could live with that one. He took a deep breath. “Fine.” Then: “Did you actually mean the naked part?”

Lucifer threw him a grin. “Yes. Especially all the iron has to go. You can keep your pants on, though.”

“What, you’re passing up a chance to get me out of my pants?” It was probably a bad idea to give Lucifer ideas, but ‘It’ll hurt. A lot.’ was still very present in Sam’s thoughts. He’d grasp for anything that’d take his mind off that fact. Slowly, he undid his sword belt and put the weapons aside.

Lucifer laughed. Mirth danced in his eyes, and Sam decided he liked that look. It died down after a moment, though. “I’ll give that another try later, if you don’t hate me too much by then.”

Well, that sounded promising.

Tagging:  @spn-you-idjits @samwise-the-true-hero @i-bleed-salt@hooker-legs @consultingmooseintimeandspace @ravestablook@shebahda @savagearchangelforthewin2-0 @me-fangirl@hardcorefangirlgroupie@thisisnotsteva @wearemykingdom @coffee-queen448 @askatosch

[eliniei]

Not As It Seems XIX

Summary: When the Warrior of Light catches a cold, she refuses to simply rest, much to the dismay of those around her. 

Word Count: 3068

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

When I woke up that morning, I realized something was wrong from the start. I sat up and the first thing out of my mouth was a sneeze, accompanied by a dull throb between my eyes. I quickly turned my head away from the Ascian in my bed. With a small groan, I dropped back onto my pillow. 

An arm snaked around my middle as Emet-Selch tugged me closer to him and laid his head on my chest, the warmth of his skin seeping into me. 

“Stay in today, hero,” he ordered, sleepily, voice no louder than a murmur. I shifted so my arm slid under his body and wrapped it around his shoulders, staring up at the ceiling. “You need to rest.”

I pursed my lips and sighed through my nose. 

“You know I can’t,” I said, quietly, the sound of my voice muffled with my congestion. He was silent for a long moment as I sniffed. 

“No,” he started again. “It’s that you won’t .” 

I chewed on the inside of my mouth as I considered his words. He was right, I supposed. But now that the holidays were over, how could I rest with a world to save? 

I ran my fingernails up and down his arm and I felt him shiver under the blanket with my movement. I tilted my head, eyes lowering to the top of his head.

“Can Ascians...get sick?”

“If I were in my true form, your mortal ailments would have no effect on me. However, since I have taken residence in a human body, I am susceptible, yes.”

I bristled at the thought. Of course, if he wanted to be seen by those that didn’t have the Echo, he would have had to obtain a host, but I didn’t have to like it.

With another sigh, I slid out of his embrace and started getting out of bed. 

“All the more reason that I get to work.” A chill ran up my spine when the air hit my skin. “Wouldn’t want the almighty Emet-Selch to catch my cold.”

He sat up slightly, leaning his head on one hand as he watched me head to my closet and pull out some clothes. 

“You’d better dress warmly, hero,” he said, gaze moving towards the window for a moment. “It looks rather cold outside.” 

“ You’d better be careful, Ascian,” I shot back to him, one corner of my mouth tugging upward. “Lest you display some semblance of caring. ”

With a click of his tongue, he fell back into the mattress, pulling the blanket up to his chin, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest underneath. “I won’t be coming to rescue you again if you collapse.”

I huffed a laugh and rolled my eyes.

“It’s just a cold,” I insisted. “It’s hardly anything to worry over.”

He gave me a noncommittal hum and fell silent. By the time I had finished getting ready for the day, he was asleep again. 

As my day continued, much to my dismay, I could feel my sickness progressing. It was noticeable enough that even the Scions looked at me in worry, no matter the strong front I presented.

In the later part of the morning, I stood in the middle of the Ocular as my friends surrounded me, discussing how we should proceed. When the meeting was over, the Crystal Exarch made his way to me, placing his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from leaving for a moment.

“Are you alright, my friend?”

I cleared my throat, trying to stifle the cough that was climbing its way up my throat.

“I’m fine,” I replied, a smile appearing on my lips because of his concern. “No need to worry.” Even through his hood I could see the skeptical expression on his face as a silence stretched between us. 

“If you insist,” he said, finally, his hand dropping from my shoulder. “But should you need a rest, by all means, please take it.” I huffed a laugh and shrugged my shoulders.

“It’s-” Before I was able to swallow it down, the cough forced its way out. Beside me, he paused, mouth drooping into a frown. He reached for me again, but I shook my head as I covered my mouth, holding my hand out to make sure he kept his distance.

“Don’t get too close,” I urged him after I’d recovered, then playfully shoved him with my shoulder as I started for the door, following my friends, a smile spreading across my lips. “Wouldn’t want an old man such as yourself to catch it,” I teased. 

The Exarch pursed his lips and inhaled a deep breath.

“At the very least, I will have some potions sent to your rooms for faster recovery.”

“Fine, if you insist ,” I mimicked his words, stretching my arms behind my back as I walked, but halted quickly as I thought about the Ascian still likely in my bed. With a nervous laugh, I spun back around. “On second thought, I’ll just pick them up myself.”

He tilted his head towards me, curiously, but I gave him a strained smile. 

“I have to go by the apothecary later,” I explained with a shrug, trying to mask my unease. “No sense in making someone walk all the way to the Pendants when I’ll be in the area, anyway.” He watched me for a few long moments, but hummed and nodded, seemingly accepting my reasoning, and finally let me walk out of the Ocular. 

As the Scions went about their research, I decided to head back out to Lakeland and put my abilities to good use, helping the locals with the many menial tasks they needed assistance with. The apothecary and the medicine would just have to wait until later. 

It was just a cold, afterall.

But, while I was helping a man called Seanard spread mortar along the stone walls on the fort in an attempt to repair them, I felt my head swim. My heartbeat spiked and I paused, placing my hand flat against the wall as I blinked, trying to steady my vision.

“Alright?” he asked me, slapping me across the back. I braced myself against the impact. I nodded my head, unable to answer as my knees began to wobble. I inhaled deeply, trying to steady my heart rate. He stood back from the wall, placing his hands on his hips as he inspected out work. “I really appreciate this.” I shook my head.

“No, it’s…” 

He raised a brow as I trailed off, stepping up to me and inspecting my face closely. I shut my eyes tightly as the world started to spin.

“Are you sure you’re-”

Before he could finish, I felt myself falling, and everything went black. 

When I came to, soft voices were speaking around me and my head gently bounced against warm, soft cloth, the chainmail underneath poking into my cheek. My body shivered, a chill consuming me whole. 

“One of the locals brought her to the gate, my lord,” Lyna’s voice said, quietly. “Said she was out at Fort Jobb helping to repair one of the cracking walls.” Glass clinked and my eyes slid open. I was resting against the viera’s armor as she carried me down a hallway. The Exarch walked next to her, two potion vials in one hand, his staff, as usual, in the other. 

My eyelids began to droop again, but I blinked quickly. My head fell backwards against Lyna’s arm as she carried me. She looked down at my movement.

“Ah, you’re awake,” she observed, scanning my face. My brow furrowed and I sniffled, the congestion in my head causing a ache to brew behind my eyes. I wrapped my arms around myself, attempting to stifle the cold that I could feel in my very bones. 

“What happened?” I rasped, attempting to keep my voice even and my teeth from chattering. 

“You fainted in the middle of Lakeland,” the Exarch explained, his words short and agitated. “Might I add, not an hour after insisting you would be just fine .” I breathed a chuckle as I lifted my head again, settling my temple against the guard’s chest.

“Why do I get the impression you’re scolding me?” His head tilted towards me again, and I got the feeling that if I could see his face, he’d have an exasperated expression plastered on it.

“That’s because I am,” he shot at me and I rolled my eyes, one side of my mouth tugging upward. I closed my eyes again as I relaxed into the feel of Lyna’s steady footfalls as she walked. “You are to take a few days off and rest .” 

“Oh?” I scoffed. “And where are you taking me? The medical ward? Are you going to tie me to a bed to make sure I stay put?”

“Hardly,” he huffed, visibly trying to hide the smile my joke caused. “Your room will suffice, I think.”

A sigh escaped me as I thought about being warm in my bed, the pillows large and fluffy, the blanket soft on my skin. I supposed that would suffice-

Wait.

My eyes shot open again in alarm. My room? Oh, Gods-

I sat up in Lyna’s arms, attempting to slide myself to the ground. 

“What are you-”

“Let me down.”

“I hardly believe you capable of finding your own room in your current-”

“It’s fine ,” I insisted, wriggling around. “I can make it there myself.”

“Now, where have I heard that before?” the Exarch said with a smirk, lifting a hand to his chin in mock thought as the guard’s embrace around me tightened, holding me still, and in my weakened state, I found myself unable to struggle for long.

She paused outside my door as the Exarch pushed it open. 

“This is fine,” I repeated. “You’ve done enough al-” He waved the hand in which he carried the tonics to cut me off.

“By the Scions’ descriptions, Warrior of Light, I know you to be as stubborn as a mule,” he began as they headed inside. I cringed, waiting for them to realize that there was an Ascian in my room. That he had been spending nights in my room. That we were this comfortable together-

But there were no shocked gasps, no weapons drawn, no demanded questions followed by my hasty, nervous explanations. Instead, the Exarch continued.

“So we’re going to watch until you drink every last drop of this medicine before we take our leave.”

I lifted my head again, taking quick stock of the room. Any hint that Emet-Selch had been here was gone- as was the Ascian himself. I breathed a sigh of relief. The Exarch took it as my compliance and nodded his approval.

Lyna set me down on the edge of the bed, and once I had steadied myself, the Exarch unstoppered the vials and handed them to me. I downed them both at once, hissing at the bitter taste.

“Now,” he said, softly, a small smile gracing his face. He leaned down slightly, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Get some rest. I will send up some food and more medicine later.”

When I nodded, he motioned for the viera to leave the room, then took the small glasses from my hand and followed her closely as he instructed her with how he wanted my care handled. I sat quietly for several long minutes after they had closed the door behind them, leaning forward, my elbows digging into my thighs, and rubbed the skin between my eyes in an attempt to calm the headache as I waited for the potion to take effect. 

With a sigh, I finally stood and started heading for the bathing room so that I could undress- maybe relax in the bathtub before climbing back into bed. I fumbled with my belt as I stood, unhooking the clasp and letting it, along with my sheathed rapier, to clatter to the floor. My head swam once more with the quickness of my movements and I stumbled backwards, my legs hitting the bedside, causing me to fall back onto the bed, my impact making the mattress bounce a few times. 

My senses grew fuzzy as the darkness pulled at my consciousness and I had a hard time focusing on anything- even the beams in the ceiling above me. I struggled against my fading mind for long moments before I realized it wouldn’t help. Before I let the deep, cool darkness claim me, however, I heard a familiar hum. The sound of boots on the floor. 

The Ascian leaned over me, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he examined my face. My eyelids fluttered when the skin of his hand came into contact in my forehead.

“I did warn you, hero,” he said, pointedly before my eyes slid shut. 

I awoke sometime later with a jolt, quickly sitting up in my bed, my entire body covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The blanket covering me slipped from over my shoulders to my lap and I furrowed my brow.

How...had I ended up here? How long was I asleep?

I rubbed the haze from my eyes and looked around the room. The light in the room had dimmed significantly so- evening? A few hours, then.

“Ah,” a smooth voice said from the other side of the room. I twisted slightly to see Emet-Selch exiting my bathing room, the distinct sound of running water filtering into the room. “Finally. Do you know how boring it is to just sit and watch someone sleep?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Oh, forgive me, mighty Ascian,” I drawled, making sure the sarcasm in my voice dripped from every word, as I rolled my eyes and dropped back onto my damp pillow. I cringed slightly, the sweat that had seeped into my pillow and sheets cold against my back. 

“You love sleeping,” I mumbled. “Could’ve just joined me.” Emet-Selch hummed his amusement, but otherwise had no comment, and came to sit on the edge of my mattress, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. 

“Your fever has broken, at the very least,” he announced. I pursed my lips as I watched him, but a moment later, a fit of coughs clawed its way up my throat. I covered my mouth, quickly turning my head away from him. 

He slid his hand under my back and eased me up, resting me against him as he reached over to the nightstand and turned back with a new vial of medicine and a glass of water. 

“What are you, my nanny?” I asked as I wiped my mouth, mood tinged with a hint of annoyance. He gave an exasperated sigh and shoved the potion in my hand. I stared at it for a few moments, and when I didn’t move to ingest it, he clicked his tongue at me.

“Now is not the time to be stubborn, hero. As I have said before, you pushed yourself too hard and this is the result.” I sighed heavily through my nose and tore the cork out of the top and tipped the foul-tasting liquid down my throat, making my distaste for it obvious. “You don’t heed the words of those around you,” he began. “Clearly, the famed Warrior of Light cannot be trusted to take care of herself.” He paused his tirade for a moment, taking the vial from me and replacing it with the water. “And if you are unable, I suppose it falls to me. Drink.” 

I breathed a chuckle that led to more coughing.

“Why you?” I croaked as I tried to calm my body and took a sip of water. He shifted behind me, looking towards the nightstand again. I followed his gaze with my head to find a tray, a few different types of food arranged on its surface. 

“Clearly, your beloved Exarch doesn’t know the first thing about you.” I frowned, realizing that he was right-  none of the foods that had been sent were to my liking. Suddenly, without warning, his knowing, arrogant air was back, radiating off of him in waves.

“Besides,” he started. “ My cooking is much better than anything that comes out of his kitchens.” I nearly snorted.

“How conceited,” I mused and took another sip. I felt him shrug as he loosely wrapped his arms around me. 

“Maybe,” he admitted easily, leaning to nuzzle my ear with his nose. “But I was instructed by the best.” 

A small smile spread across my lips and I breathed a laugh. I handed the cup back to him, finished for the moment and he twisted to set it back on the bedside table. When he had turned back, replacing his arm over my shoulders, I threaded my fingers between his and settled into his chest, relishing the steadiness of his breathing, letting the rhythm quickly lull me into a state of near-sleep.

“Are you still cold, hero?” he asked, finally, his voice soft.

“A little,” I mumbled drowsily. He lifted one hand to snap and the running water in the other room faded.

I felt him move to stand, his hands going behind my back and under my knees, lifting me easily from the bed. 

“The bath should be ready by now.”

I raised my eyes to examine his face as he carried me to the bathing room, his expression, as usual, reserved and purposefully unreadable, though I could nearly discern an underlying concern that made one side of my mouth lift. 

“Don’t get used to it, warrior,” he ordered without looking at me. My smile widened and I breathed a giggle. 

When we entered, he slowly set me down on the floor, the cold tile sending a chill up my spine. He held me steady as I undressed and helped me sit on the edge of the tub so he could disrobe as well.

He got into the water first, then gently tugged me in. 

The warmth of the water caused a low moan slip from my mouth and he chuckled as he sat me back against his chest once more. His arms went around my waist and I laid my hands on top of them, sighing in relief. 

I closed my eyes as I melted into him, letting all of the tension in my muscles go. 

“Thank you, Ascian,” I breathed.

“You’re welcome, hero.”