#fucks me up that chip was willing to risk their lives so much but draws the line at sending them to war. girl they weren't lying

[archivist-the-knight]

DEAR GODDD CHIIPP. ALWAYS WILLING TO DO SOMETHING IMPULSIVE AND DANGEROUS BUT CAN'T DO SOMETHING CALCUALTED THAT WILL END IN SAFETY

[crossdressingdeath]

(1/3) It always amuses me how stans try to justify JC actions by his abusive upbringing while there were 3 children in that family and both others turned very kind and/or very moral and not at all like JC (and frankly, he didn't even have the hardest position in the dysfunctional dynamic). Or LXC and LWJ whose upbringing was even more screwed up with a LQ who was certainly playing favorites and wanting perfection, and yet this never draw a wedge between them or created any jealousy.

(2/3)LXC loves for LWJ to excel! Same with "but JC had it so hard rebuilding Lotus Pier, WWX was goofing off with the Wens"...JC was paying people to do that for him, yes, while WWX was trying to start from scratch a settlement over a mountain of corpses with a bunch of weak or old people and not to die of hunger comes winter. While separated from all his friends and hated as a monster by the cultivation world. "But JC was so lonely during the 13/16y, so that justifies him lashing out" And WWX

(3/3) was dead, killed by his brother and thinking that there was not a person left on his side in the end, and yet, that didn't make him act like a dick? Or athg else really, because everything that JC went through in the past, WWX did also, but in a worse way because he lost his parents young, lived in the streets, didn't have JC societal privilege or money and has to harness an unstable necromancy practice on top of that. And yet no one uses it as arguments to explain his actions, only for JC 

Honestly? While none of the Jiang kids were in a good position, out of the three of them... JC did have it the easiest. It was still awful for him, don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting his childhood didn’t suck, but given it was made very clear to JYL that her only purpose was to be married off to JZX so her mother could tie her bloodline to her best friend’s and WWX was treated like a servant at best... Yeah. If I had to pick, I’d choose having a distant father and dealing with a mother who’s constantly emotionally abusive over having a distant father and dealing with a mother who’s constantly emotionally abusive and being treated like a bargaining chip/treated like a servant and/or bastard and being whipped for actions that would get the rest of the clan a lecture at worst. Again, I’m not saying JC didn’t have it bad, but his siblings having it worse is... interesting, given neither of them decided to be dicks to Literally Everyone over it.

I do have to say, even though this is about JC, there’s nothing suggesting LQR was playing favourites with LXC and LWJ. He was strict, yes, probably stricter than he should’ve been, and LXC probably did get more one-on-one interaction with him, but given LXC was going to be sect leader/became sect leader at a young age that makes sense. This is not super important to the point of this post, but I do find it odd how often people make LQR out to be this horrible person who’s always awful to his nephews because he’s Strict when we... don’t actually know anything about how he raised them. I don’t like him all that much, and he probably didn’t do a fantastic job of raising them, but the man did try, and he clearly wants his nephews to be safe and happy (even though he has inaccurate views of what that entails...), and given how the parents/parental figures of the cast generally act he deserves some credit for that. Also the Twin Jades ended up considerably better-adjusted than most of their age group, which... isn’t saying much all things considered but it does say something. If nothing else neither of them seem to feel actively unsafe around him, so he’s definitely not the worst parental figure in this novel.

...I had a surprising number of thoughts on LQR there. Whoops, sorry about the tangent. Maybe I’ll make a post about him at some point. Anyway, yeah, LXC and LWJ clearly adore each other! LXC would be delighted if LWJ surpassed him at something! Same with Nie bros; they argue a lot, but there’s no denying that they love each other. That’s what insults and threats out of love look like; NMJ threatens NHS all the time, but NHS clearly isn’t all that bothered by it until JGY starts fucking with NMJ’s mind and the threats become more serious, which really isn’t NMJ’s fault. It’s because in the other sibling relationships both parties are invested in staying close. They love each other and want to be close for the rest of their lives! Meanwhile JC is obsessed with WWX outperforming him at Literally Everything, and WWX genuinely believes that JC is allowed to treat him the way he does and it’s fine and healthy.

And yeah, JC wasn’t exactly rebuilding Lotus Pier all by his lonesome with his own two hands. In fact, going by what we see all the rebuilding was done well before WWX left! And I don’t doubt for a second that WWX was involved in that process; I have very mixed feelings about the scene in CQL where he blows off his duties to go and get drunk, because on the one hand it does do a good job of showing just how bad his mental state is getting (and how JC refuses to acknowledge it despite WWX obviously being Not Okay), but on the other hand... I just can’t see WWX not throwing himself into helping JC with everything he’s got even while his mental state is coming crashing down around him. I mean, this is the guy who created an incredibly powerful weapon that even he couldn’t fully control, not knowing what using it would do to him, to help his brother win a war. I’m pretty much certain that WWX ran himself into the ground helping JC rebuild and run the sect... then when he found himself in charge of a small group of desperate people, scrambling to keep them fed and clothed and healthy, JC just abandoned him to deal with it on his own.

And the whole “Oh, but JC was so lonely, don’t you feel bad for him?” shtick. I hate it so much. If he didn’t want to be lonely, he should’ve considered that before alienating everyone in his age group and leading an army to murder his brother, the only person left who was willing to put up with him! It’s... really hard to feel bad for someone who’s brought most of their suffering on themselves through a series of generally shitty and frequently downright cruel actions with easily foreseeable consequences. If he got sick of being alone, he should’ve apologized to his peers for being a dick to... literally all of them and tried to make amends and strike up some sort of relationship. Or, if that didn’t work, go out! Meet new people! Try not to be as awful to them! Also, he’s a sect leader. If he couldn’t even maintain a positive relationship with other sect leaders, people who, let me remind you, he has to work with on a regular basis and several of whom are actually nice and friendly people, that is on him. If you are awful to people you will end up alone. And then JC decided to respond to learning that the people he was a dick to every time he saw them (and, in LWJ and NHS’s cases, caused the death of someone they cared about) wanted nothing to do with him... by whining about how lonely he was as if that wasn’t largely his fault. Like, he lost his family and that’s awful, but he could have had friends to help him through his grief, and it’s his own damn fault that he doesn’t.

WWX’s life was miserable. He had plenty of friends, yeah, but he spent years on the streets after his parents died brutal deaths; was raised in a family where he was treated like a servant and a scapegoat; lost everything in an event he was blamed for despite having nothing to do with the attack; had to sacrifice his incredibly powerful golden core (thereby losing his primary means of defending himself while on the run and drastically shortening his lifespan) to keep his brother from letting himself die; was thrown into a corpse pit for three months where he had to create an entirely new and experimental (and as such incredibly dangerous) form of cultivation and probably resort to cannibalism just to survive; had to fight a war almost immediately after escaping; spent a... good portion of time (not sure how long exactly because the MDZS timeline is more a suggestion than an actual coherent timeline) being treated alternately as a tame pet or a rabid animal and having to pretend everything was just fine while everyone tried to either control him or remove him and his brother very obviously got increasingly resentful of his skill and power; had to abandon his home, his family, and everything he had left of his old life to save a bunch of innocent people while everyone, including his brother, acted like he’d gone mad for not wanting to let them die horribly; had to go back to the corpse pit he spent three months in because it was the only place where they might be safe; accidentally killed his brother-in-law due to losing control after being ambushed on the way to a celebration for his nephew that he was invited to by people he trusted, almost certainly making him wonder on at least some level if that was why he was invited; lost two members of his new family who he clearly loved because of said accidental murdering; learned their deaths were for nothing and, when he retaliated against the planned attack that shouldn’t have happened because that’s what WQ and WN gave their lives to prevent, saw his beloved sister die to save him; and, after all that, lost the rest of his new family to a siege on a civilian population led by his brother. And after all that, his response was... to destroy the incredibly dangerous weapon he’d made because he didn’t trust the sects to not destroy each other and themselves with it and kill himself rather than risk losing control again and hurting anyone else. In the novel too; I don’t doubt for a second that WWX planned on dying in that siege, even if he didn’t expect destroying the seal to do it.

Take a look at that paragraph. All those things that happened to WWX. And in the end, he was kind. He was so, so kind, and remains kind even after thirteen years of being dead. He would have been well within his rights to go all “Then let me be evil” on the sects, but every time he attacked them they struck first, and most of the serious damage he did happened as a direct result of losing control of his experimental and mostly unknown new cultivation, which is a real risk even with spiritual cultivation; NMJ probably would have happily killed everyone in Qinghe if the qi deviation hadn’t gotten to him first, given how easy it was for him to attack even his beloved little brother. Everything bad that happened to JC is on that list, pretty much. Everything that JC suffered WWX did too, with some variations in the details (and of course dead versus alone for the same period of time). JC had the advantage of a sect at his back and a high rank by virtue of his birth, while WWX’s position was entirely reliant on JFM and, later, JC. And yet some people insist that WWX’s trauma doesn’t excuse his actions but JC’s somehow does. Now, some people argue it’s different because WWX was a mass murderer. Yeah, well, JC’s a fucking serial killer, and he doesn’t have the excuse of losing control due to using resentful energy to cultivate and being attacked by everyone he’d ever known and trusted.

...I’ve kind of lost track of where I’m going with this. Short version: I very strongly disagree with anyone who insists WWX’s trauma doesn’t excuse his actions while bending over backwards to argue that JC’s trauma excuses his.

[proheromidoriyashouto]

matchmaker shouto au 2

when Shouto doesn't think All Might is going to marry his mom in a timely fashion, not only does he try to now separate them, he tries to get Midoriya Inko to marry Rei instead. it's so simple. Inko already expressed interest in helping remove Rei from Ende*vore by volunteering All Might before the man himself even knew what was going on- willing to forego marrying her own son's father figure if it meant saving another woman.

Inko's still married to Hisashi and while they care for each other it was more a marriage of convience than true heart-stopping love at the time. Hisashi supports them but is distant, having found someone to love in the U.S. He and Inko already had Izuku by then and felt that a divorce might be too messy with a young child and just never got around to it. Hisashi is a good partner and father to his SO and children in the States, but did feel guilt at not doing more for Izuku so as time passed he continued to send money to at least maintain his minimum support for his estranged son. Izuku knows this and doesn't feel much of anything regarding Hisashi. can't miss what you never had, though he does wonder what his younger half-siblings are like and if they want to know him but hasn't had the chance to communicate with them since they're little (a seven year old brother, a five year old sister, and a baby next year), and their mother wants both of them to be old enough to decide if meeting him is something they want (they don't dislike Izuku per say but definitely feel resentful that Hisashi cannot care for the children w the benefits of marriage in their home where he lives which leads to doubt about the sincerity of his feelings for them and thoughts that he may run off on them. they know this isn't fair to Izuku but they can't help want what's best for their children, and their fear is that seeing his oldest will reignite Hisashi's feelings for Inko- which were never especially romantic- implanting the idea to leave their family high and dry to reunite w his "real" family. they don't want to give the boy- who hasn't done anything to them to earn their ire- a hard no, but their heart doesn't have what it takes to risk that, however unlikely, just yet, and remains hopeful that a few more years will cement Hisashi's love for their family before bringing his son over to meet his siblings. So when Inko makes the call asking for a proper divorce, they're stunned (but grateful).

(It's 2200something in the BNHA verse, so Imma just wave my magical hand and legalize gay marriage and name taking and everything on a global scale, okay, live with it.)

Inko agreed pretty quick since marriage has never been about joining with a person out of love for her rather it's been about taking care of others. Her marriage served its purpose protecting Hisashi from his family, her from her lack of one, Izuku from the stigma of a broken home. But Hisashi found what he wanted in the U.S., and Izuku's older now, nearly a man and gone to the dorms of U.A. and has All Might to fill the father-shaped void, and she's happy where she is in the life she's built so she's doesn't need to hold on to her marriage to Hisashi anymore. She's got a good job and has been saving up to buy a house w/o relying on a loan which meant years of money-pinching and stalking clearance sales and she's nearly there anyway so why not?

Rei and All Might and most people Shouto knows go through whiplash as he switches from supporting "All Might wooing my mom" to "All Might can get dunked on" and simultaneously "Izuku's mom wooing my mom." Shouto's dead-serious about the "wooing" part and keep finding elaborate ways to set up "dates" and "coincidences." The Izucrew- who don't have the entire story except for Izuku- try and help but find it really ackward and sudden and ooc for Shouto but are too invested in his happiness to put a stop to the shenanigans. Izuku, as one might expect, has mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, his mom would be saving someone which he is down with, but... he's dating? his potential-stepmom's son?? Won't it be weird? Dating? His technically? stepbrother?? But Shouto pulls out the Big Anime Eyes move from his provisional training and the argument is dead in the water. From there it's all hands on deck for Operation: Make Todoroki A Midoriya; Rei Edition.

Rei is allowed to leave the care facility as long as she's with someone so Shouto takes her out to the aquarium.

Shouto: Oh, look. My boyfriend is here. And oh, look. His recently divorced bisexual mom is here too.

Rei: That's...um, nice. Very specific. Are you going to introdu-

Shouto: I should introduce you, mama. You'll like her. She's nice. She just bought a house. She's-

Inko: Shouto-kun! Fancy meeting you here! If I'd known I would have brought you a bento. We had cold soba last night. And you must be, ah, his mother?

Rei: Yes. I'm To-...Rei. Just Rei. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. My son speaks nothing but your's praises so-

Shouto: Mama-!

Rei: -I've been looking forward to the day I could meet the person responsible for raising the hero who saved him in my stead. From the sound of it, you have a fine son, Midoriya-san. My gratitude as well.

Inko: Oh! I, well, I did my best. He's quite a heroic boy on his own though, I hardly did anything. From what I hear your son is quite the hero himself! He's saved Izukun so many times, and been so cool doing it you wouldn't believe how my boy gushes about your own, oh, the stories I could tell you-

Izuku: Mom!

Rei: Please. I... Tell me everything.

And as they wonder toward the sea turtles, Izuku has to drag Shouto away so their moms can bond w/o them but he keeps trying to help and pre-emptively counter any argument Rei could have against Inko but he just keeps circling like 2-3 arguments because he's worked up.

Shouto: It's a western-style house. It has walls and door knobs and no big, loud jerkasses in it.

Izuku: C'mon, Shoushou. My mom said she's got this-! *tries to guide Shouto away w a hand on his back*

Shouto: She loves dogs but she's alergic but she's down for a cat, she said so. She gave me a fish I keep at her house. I am there all the time. So if you want to see me a bunch you can watch me sprinkle food in. At her house. Where I have a pet fish. Her new, 5 bedroom house. It has a big yard and a plot for gardening. It's near a park. The doors lock from the inside. Fuyumi's there. Natsuo forgot where it is but he's been there too so he might show up.

Izuku: Let's, uh, let's check out the seals. There should be a new baby, I think. *actively dragging Shouto by his waist into another section*

Shouto, digging in his boots w the kleets he brought specifically for this: She never yells. She's tough. She killed a cockroach w her bare hand once and didn't blink I think she could take Him in a fight. She's patient and good at hugs. Her ex is lame and won't show up. She's looking for an upgrade. The house is warm and smells like vanilla and coffee. There's a koi pond, mama. Mama, there's a koi pond. It's where I keep my fish. I live there. Fuyumi lives there and sometimes sneaks in her girlfriends. Or boyfriends. I'm not sure, actually. Tensei's over a lot. Anyway she's there, and she hangs her student's drawing on the walls in frames and cries over them. In the big house Inko just bought after her divorce-

Izuku, so grateful for his provisional license: *using OFA 5% to drag his boyfriend away* Shou-! shou-! There's a baby seal! S-stingrays! We can pet the stingrays! Let's gooo! Mom's got this already!!

Shouto, so grateful for his license: *using ice to plant himself anew each time his boyfriend drags him free, snaging a hand into the doorframe of the next exhibit* -it's got a hot tub in the bathroom. The walls are blue w leaf decal molding and solid like rice paper can't be. It's close to her work so she's around alot. She makes soba from scratch! 100% buckwheat soba! She likes K-dramas!

Izuku, aware of the stares they're getting, trying to spare their reputations any more damage: *ups OFA to 8% and hefts his boyfriend over his shoulder* I-I think they let you feed the eels! Let's do that. Let's touch the no-touch-noodles and then tell Tenya about it! He'll yell at us! That's always fun right?!

Shouto, just yelling at this point even though Inko and Rei are well out of ear shot by now: Bad American Monster movies! She likes seaweed chips! She knits! The house! Has a self-cleaning oven! The floor is carpeted! My fish has spots! I wear All Might onesies there! At the house! 'Cause fuck the other guy!

Izuku, even more grateful for his provisional license: *sweating and running before they get kicked out for property damage or worse*

Anyways, time goes on. Moms get together, get married for love of all things, and Rei changes her family name to Midoriya. Inko adopts Natsuo and he changes his name and his girlfriend is fully on board once in the know. Fuyumi has her own plan much like Shouto does.

Izuku gets to know his siblings and they fawn over their hero big brother. His stepparent apologizes profusely but he waves it off, you can't forgive what you never faulted in someone after all. They welcome him into their home and never regret it one moment. Hisashi is never close but he isn't negligent and stays up to date w Izuku.

Rei and Inko grow old together, gardening, knitting, tending to the koi, raising hero sons, and grandchildren in a big house where the walls shake with laughter and the front door is always open to let the cats out and maybe Toshinori is there as a third, maybe he isn't, no one can tell for sure not even their sons, but what matters is that their moms are happy (and its not like threesomes are uncommon in 22XX).

In the not so distant future, Rei and Shouto bond over being called Midoriya-san everywhere they go. Shouto can finally rest easy knowing that he saved his mother from the Todoroki legacy.

[captainbaneberry]

For distant-little-lights: Silas!Breakdown/Starscream. Silas giving that Seeker ass a good poundin’. Alternate ending to “The Human Factor”, where Silas escapes. This one went on a little too long, but hey, it happens.

Silas had escaped the Decepticons, left with nothing but what remained of his life. And if that wasn't embarrassing enough, after escaping into the bleak desert landscape of Jasper, he found out he wasn't actually really alone.

Granted, Starscream had been easy to dupe in the past--but with no weapons and no men to back him up, Silas was screwed. He was too weak to try and fight, migraines coming and going in powerful bursts.

When Starscream approached him, the Seeker looked menacing--standing tall, wings hiked, backlit by the light of a full moon, his red optics a storm of rage and--

"What the scrap!?" Starscream yelped, recoiling. He meant to shoot Silas, but in his panic and fear, blasted the ground beside him. "You--you're dead! D-Did Megatron send you? You don't look like you've been given dark energon--"

Silas quickly realized his advantage. He frowned, yellow optics dim as he raised his hands. Completed the look of submission and helplessness while on his knees. "No, Lord Starscream," he said, adding the title from past near-death experiences, "I'm not Breakdown. I'm..."

Starscream stared, wide-eyed. He registered Silas's voice, lowering his arm. "Well, well, well," he sneered, grinning like a madman. Part amused, part triumphant--this human had turned on him. Now he could have his revenge. "What an interesting development."

"I must apologize first," Silas mumbled, "for stealing your t-cog. For stabbing you in the back."

Starscream grumbled, twitching. He suddenly remembered Megatron, how he had apologized for the very same reasons. But he did it better, and Starscream wasn't nearly as merciful or senile as the old tin bucket. "Apology not accepted," he growled, pointing his nullray at the zombified Decepticon.

"Wait!" Silas gasped. "I came to you, specifically you... I've been looking. I realize now that the Decepticons are misguided, ignorant fools. You, Lord Starscream, you see the truth." He gestured to the Seeker, looking much like a young boy wooing a girl on his knees, trying to take her hand with the other pressed to his heart. And Starscream, so far, was eating it up. "I wish to work with you. Beside you, if you will permit me. If not, as your underling. I appreciate true strength and power when I see it--alas, but I was too late to see it before."

Starscream didn't know if it was due to lack of energon, his own recent damage, or the fact Silas had a very convincing tongue and way of talking, but something seemed to be working. It had been so long since anyone praised Starscream--even for the good things he'd legitimately done for the Decepticon cause. So long since anyone quivered in fear before him, made him remember what it was like to be an actual threat.

Starscream knew Silas was simply trying to save his own ass. He wasn't that stupid. But he could tell Silas was no threat in his condition. And he spoke such pretty words...

"Careful now," Starscream hummed, tapping claws to his cheeks and smiling, "you might actually live a little longer with the way you're talking."

Silas looked up at Starscream, alarmed but elated. "I'll do anything you ask," he said, trying to swallow down his glee. Sound more desperate, more pathetic; Starscream wanted to be lavished and adored, after all. Appeal to his massive ego. "Anything at all. I can help you get your t-cog back. I can polish your armor, clean you up. Return you to your former, glorious beauty..." He trailed off with a smug, scarred grin.

Starscream blinked rapidly five times straight, genuinely shocked. Then, he puffed out his chest, beaming with hands akimbo. "Oh, yes! Even now I shine in the dust and dirt, but I really do miss looking my best." His wings flexed and wiggled. "You find me attractive, do you? Strange for a human, I would think. But do tell me more..."

An opening. Silas was going to take it, even if he had to throw his giant body and fight through a tiny crack. Getting under Starscream's skin was much easier when Starscream had nothing left. Nothing but his damnable pride. Silas stood, cautiously; the Seeker kept his eyes trained on him, but did nothing, weapons pointed at the ground.

"Lord Starscream," Silas cooed, walking over to Starscream. The Seeker allowed this too. "If I could, I would show you the extent of my respect. I would risk using even my more... specialized equipment, if it meant pleasing you. Touching you. If you would let me, of course. The greatest of honors that I wish I had the chance to ask for before."

Starscream shuddered. "W-Well," he grunted, "perhaps I..." He walked closer with a sway of his slender hips. He took Silas by the chin, burying his claw ever so slightly into his bottom lip. "Might just let you. I do, after all, need some proof you're willing to obey and follow me. Bearing yourself, opening yourself as such, could do the trick." The last word trailed off in a low snarl, Starscream leering.

Surprisingly, that was all it took. But Silas knew it wouldn't be easy--just, right now, the two could set aside their differences. Starscream was hungry for touch and praise and loyalty. He was desperate enough to take it even from a human--it helped he wore Breakdown's skin. Breakdown had always been a bit smarmy to him in life; now it felt like Starscream was paying the meat-headed moron back for not believing and following him blindly.

Starscream wrapped his long fingers around Silas's unit, stroking it. "Never used this before, hmm?" he smirked. "It shows." He started working the unit in slow, taunting pumps. Silas groaned and tried not to fall over, bracing his hands on the rock behind Starscream. He wasn't sure it was safe to touch the Seeker quite yet.

"Look at you," Starscream sneered into his audiol, "how you come undone with only a few simple touches." He thrust thumb-claw into Silas's slit, earning a loud moan. "Pathetic." He probed the slit a little deeper before retracting, drawing out beads of transfluid. Starscream chuckled, pleased with himself; Silas's unit grew harder, pressurizing fast, and Silas could feel that pleasure, that lust, just as he could pain.

"Do try to last more than a few minutes, Silas."

Silas gulped. "My Lord... let me..." He raised a hand, showing it to Starscream. Like reassuring a feral animal they weren't going to hurt or touch them without permission. Starscream snorted, thinking nothing of it, but allowed Silas to lower his hand. He was surprised, however; it wasn't support Silas wanted, but rather he was moving that large hand between Starscream's thighs, finding his panel and cupping it. Starscream snarled--so warm, already wet and engorged. Now who was the pitiful one?

But let the poor, stupid little alien have its fun. It could be entertaining. Either way, Starscream would be getting a good fuck out of this tonight, even if there were a few fumbles in the process. He parted his panels; Silas stroked his folds, the mesh walls, finding his anterior node a bit too quickly. Silas was just surprised these complicated alien robots had similar crude sexual anatomy as humans. Not very different, in the end, with some exceptions--bit disappointing, actually. But that wasn't important right now.

Two fingers pinned Starscream's folds open, the middle working shallow strokes in his channel. Starscream growled, his own hands shaking and slowing around Silas's unit. Silas smiled inside his armor. His finger rubbed and rolled the node--basically a clit--along the pad of his steel finger. Starscream gasped, letting Silas go and leaning back against the boulder, hands grasping at the rock and tearing.

"Does this please you, Lord Starscream?" Silas crooned, keeping his human smile from translating on Breakdown's face. Don't get too cocky now.

"Nn," Starscream whined, teeth grit, "n-not... horrible, no..." He rolled his hips very slightly into the finger, lubricant trickling down his chipped thighs. Silas pressed the finger in deeper, and the Seeker quickly bit down on his fingers to stop himself from yelping aloud.

Silas had to admit, Starscream was, in his alien way, not that bad on the eyes. A little arrogance be damned--he inserted a second finger. Starscream clenched around the digits, for a moment surprised and thrown off balance; Silas gently guided him back against the rock with a hand on his wing. Aforementioned hand stroking the armor, over the torn red insignia.

Why was this human so... so good at this? Must have done his research. He seemed way too familiar with Cybertronian sexual anatomy, he just had to have downloaded the information. Practiced on himself--or Breakdown? Whatever. Yeah, yeah, that had to be it.

"Lord Starscream," Silas vented, mouthing a cord along Starscream's neck, "relax. I won't hurt you. Not unless you ask me to."

Starscream's optics widened, blazing red. "I--w-why would you--"

Taking Starscream by the hips, Silas nudged the head of his fat unit against his channel.

"Wait! Wait!" Starscream squawked. "I was suppose to--suppose to..."

"Would you like me to stop?" Silas asked, browplate cocked.

Starscream opened his mouth. Shut it, and frowned. "No," he growled, "this was my plan. Just--nn!"

Silas didn't want Starscream too frustrated. He pressed his unit in slowly, all the while the Seeker gasping and writhing beneath him. Wide optics watching as the appendage entered him, first a couple inches, then a little more. This pain, this pleasure--God, he missed it. He hated that he missed it. He hated that his damn body missed it, because his channel walls were instantly opening and spreading without any manual aide, happily swallowing more of the unit.

Silas nestled himself halfway inside Starscream before stopping. Gave the Seeker a moment to collect himself. And then--he started thrusting.

Silas had heard Starscream's cries and yips and yowls in the past, but none like this. It made him dizzy, and not just from the headaches. Starscream vented open-mouthed, optics flickering; he dug his claws into Silas's shoulders, holding tight. Bucking to meet each of those pumps, taking just a little of him more every time.

"S-Shit," Silas cursed, his body suddenly way too hot. He tried not to crush Starscream's waist in his bigger hands. Gasped when Starscream hooked one leg around his hip, the heel of his boot burying into his back. Silas picked up the pace, close to fucking the Seeker right into the boulder, if not into a hundred pieces.

Because Starscream was most definitely breaking.

"This is--this is--is--" Starscream croaked and rasped, optics lidded, drooling a little. "All--all part of m-my pla--ahhn!" He clung to Silas, in the process swallowing him to the hilt. Silas screamed too, both sets of vision blurring. "Don't s-stop now, d-dolt!" Starscream spat, slapping Silas’s back and wiggling on the unit.

Silas snarled, pulling back; unit sliding out a few inches, coated in lubricant, and slammed back in.

Starscream shrieked, head thrown back and wings standing on edge and quivering. "Y-Yes!" he cried, smiling sloppily. "Yes, y-yes!" Was he praising Silas or himself? Silas wasn't going too ask; couldn't think right now, the immense pleasure setting him closer on edge. He still wouldn't have the same amount of stamina as these aliens--not for a while. And if he survived more than a few more days in his condition.

"You f-feel so good, Lord Starscream," Silas groaned, voice shaky, "I-I've never felt s-so--"

Right, this wasn't Breakdown. This was a human wearing Breakdown like wolf's clothing. Starscream realized, in the haze of all the lust and pleasure and excitement, that technically this might have qualified as necrophilia. His spark skipped a pulse, but that was about it. It was only technically necrophilia, after all.

"I-I'm gonna com--er--over--overload!"

Starscream snapped his head forward, frowning. "No," he growled, gasping, "this was--no, I was suppose to--"

Too late. Starscream squealed, jerking as transfluid filled his channel, reaching his tanks. His optics bright and beautiful and hooded. He couldn't help it--he just had to smile. Oh, it felt so good, and the transfluid was so warm-- Starscream overloaded a second later, almost from all that wonderful nostalgia alone. Remembering how big Megatron was, how every time he climaxed inside him, he'd get a little bulge in his abdominal chamber. Starscream clenched down on the unit, whimpered--finished.

Silas vented, armor rattling. He slowly pulled his flaccid unit free, wincing at the sight of all that transfluid. Huh--not like the transmission fluid humans used, if they were the same. This was more purple-blue than the typical red or unhealthy black-scarlet. It came out in thick gobs, running down Starscream's quivering thighs, dripping into a puddle.

Starscream cleared his throat, still shivering. "Ah, y-yes," he swallowed, the timbre of his voice a little higher pitched, "I expected such, and it... was my... all... along..." He flopped back against the boulder, melting and groaning. "Scrap."

[megabadbunny]

Rose x Ten, post GitF-au/fixit; angst, fluff, romance, more angst, and possibly some smut later, but this part (and all parts on ff.net) is sfw (minor exception for brief language).

(see the end of this part for notes and special thanks)

(full-size image)

Minuet, Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV |  Part V | Part VI | Part VII

Twisting in his grasp, Rose cranes her neck to look at him, finally, and there he is, all furrowed brow and tight mouth and eyes glittering with anger, and god, if she wasn’t so irritated with him right now, she just might kiss him.

“That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?” she asks instead.

***

Eyes widening, the Doctor only has a moment to let his mouth drop open in surprise before another gentleman steps in—time to change dance partners. Rose slips into position with the newcomer without so much as a blink or even a glance in the Doctor’s direction, never faltering in her rhythm; a quick peek at the Doctor moments later tells her that he has allowed himself to be swept up in the tide of dancers, sidling up to his new partner across the room. Rose turns away, swirling in her partner’s arms, but she can feel the eyes of the Doctor boring into her. She shivers despite the summer heat. “That’s beside the point,” he whispers when they meet again, touching palm-to-palm first with one hand, then the other. “I’m a Time Lord.” “Really? First I’ve heard of it,” Rose replies drily.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Rose. A very long time. I understand the risks.” Rose rolls her eyes. “And stupid apes don’t.” At least the Doctor has the decency to flinch at those words. “That isn’t what I meant.” “Of course it is,” Rose sighs, and they both step back, granting a berth for other dancers to flit gracefully between them. “After all,” Rose continues when they reconnect, hands clasped, “I’m hardly one of the most accomplished women who ever lived, am I?”

Anger yields briefly to confusion, and the Doctor frowns. “What?” “It’s all right, Doctor—well, no, it’s not all right, it’s actually sort of disappointing,” Rose admits. “But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it, not to mention I’ve spent loads of time with Reinette. She’s pretty fantastic, actually. Did you know she’s personally acquainted with Voltaire? He wrote in her salon, she influenced some of his best work.” Rose chuckles quietly to herself. “Who am I kidding? Of course you knew that. “You know, we didn’t get on that well at first,” she continues, smiling as the two of them glide around the room, Rose’s skirts swishing and flicking about her ankles. “She thought I was sort of uncultured, and I thought she was a fancy poncy git with her head stuck up her gold-gilded arse. But she helped me anyway. Absolutely heaped praise on me after I stopped those androids—all I did was talk to ‘em, but she was grateful anyway! She could’ve just chucked me out on the street when all that was over—god knows that’s what some people wanted, they didn’t like the idea of this weird English girl in their court and they were pretty loud about it—but Reinette wouldn’t hear of it, stood up to ‘em like it was nothing. She stuck up for me, smoothed things over with everyone, talked the other ladies-in-waiting into showing me the ropes around here. Even got me some land and a title so I could be at court properly. I’m the Marquise de Powell now. Never thought I’d have a title, growing up on the Estate. Now I’ve got two! What’ll Mum think?” The Doctor is silent, the expression on his face inscrutable. Rose fights not to squirm beneath his gaze. “Anyway,” she says, her voice softening. “Reinette really is remarkable. It’s no wonder you were willing to do all that for her. She’d be well worth it even if she wasn’t so important to history.” “Well worth what?” “You know,” says Rose, and she twirls along with all of the other women in the court in a flurry of skirts and silk. The men all draw their partners in, and is Rose imagining it, or does the Doctor pull her just a little closer than all the rest? “Getting stuck,” she says finally. “Trapped without the TARDIS. Reinette would be worth it. You two are a great match.” The Doctor’s jaw tenses, his lips pressing together as if fighting to keep his words inside. Her steps faltering, Rose doesn’t even realize the Doctor has stopped dead in his tracks until his hands tighten around her waist—a reflexive move to stop her from tumbling to the floor. But he doesn’t say anything; he just glares. When another gentleman steps in for the next partner change, the Doctor’s eyes flash and before Rose knows it, his fingers have wrapped around her wrist so he can pull her away from the crowd. “What—” Concentration swallows the rest of Rose’s words as she trips over her skirts, dodges a dancer in the outer line, apologizes for bumping into a servant hovering at the periphery of the ballroom. But the Doctor doesn’t let up his pace; if anything, he strides more purposefully, leading Rose away from the noise and light of the court down the dark and quiet corridor beyond. “What are you doing?” Rose tries again when they’re alone. “Taking you home,” is his curt reply. “You mean the TARDIS.” “No.” Rose’s blood freezes in her veins. Now it’s her turn to halt in her tracks. She yanks her wrist out of the Doctor’s grasp, stumbling back in disbelief. He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t look at her. (Just as well, really; she doesn’t want him to see the look of horror plastered across her face.) “Sorry,” says Rose, once she can find her voice again. “Sorry, I think I misheard you just now. Sort of sounded like you said you were gonna send me back home.” He doesn’t reply. Rose swallows. “No,” she says, willing her words not to quaver and shake. “No, you don’t get to do that to me. I get a say in this. I didn’t jump through that mirror and strand myself in the fucking Renaissance for half a year just so you could drop me like a sack of moldy potatoes or strand me in bloody Aberdeen!” “Why did you do it?” the Doctor asks quietly, his fists clenching at his sides as his shoulders knit themselves into a harsh line. He’s all angles and edges now, sharp and brittle and ready to puncture. Rose tries to remember the last time she saw him like this, realizes it was back when he was a different man, all black leather and marble-schooled features. Even though he can’t see it, Rose shrugs. “Somebody had to fix history!” “Didn’t have to be you.” “Who else was it gonna be? Couldn’t be Mickey—he hasn’t been doing this long enough. Besides, his French is even worse than mine.” “It was supposed to be me,” the Doctor says sharply, turning to face her. “Yeah, and then what would Mickey and I have done?” Rose asks. “Just sat on that spaceship for god knows how long, surrounded by all those dead bodies? Activate Emergency Program One and just leave you stranded three thousand years in the past?” “You really don’t think I would have made it back to you?” “Maybe with Reinette here, you wouldn’t have even tried.” The Doctor rolls his eyes. “Don’t be stupid.” “Wow,” Rose breathes, crossing her arms snugly across her middle. She tells herself the pain in her chest is just the corset, wringing all of the air out of her after the dance; either way, it feels like all of the oxygen has left the room. “I mean, it’s not like I expected an award or a kiss or a prize or anything, but a thank you would have been nice, or at least a hug. I haven’t seen you in months.” “Which wouldn’t have happened if you,” the Doctor bites back, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “hadn’t acted so recklessly.” “I mean, I’m sorry I ruined your chance to play hero or whatever, but would it kill you to act like I did a good job here?” Rose asks. “It’s not like I did anything you wouldn’t do, but you stomp in here, all anger and nastiness and Oncoming Storm like I twisted a bunch of timelines together or chipped the paint on the TARDIS. I don’t know, maybe half a year doesn’t seem that long to you, certainly not long enough to care about.” “Now, that’s not fair—I never said—” “Yeah, I bet you were just gnawing off your fingernails with concern,” Rose snaps. “You know, if you were really that worried, there are better ways to show it.” The Doctor’s eyes avert from hers, his gaze falling heavily to the floor. Silence falls around them, so thick Rose could almost touch it. When the Doctor doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, doesn’t even seem to breathe, for several endless moments, Rose starts to wonder what could have gotten into him. Then she realizes. “Oh,” she says softly, an epiphany slowly blossoming through her thoughts. “Maybe you were really that worried.” “We should go,” the Doctor mutters, turning on his heel. Stunned, Rose can’t summon the words to argue with him—Please don’t take me home, at least let me say goodbye to my friends first, please just talk to me, please—they all just drift around uselessly, unable to climb their way out of her throat. Silently, she follows after him.

***

Next: Part III

***

A very special super thanks to @gingergallifreyan @pellaaearien @zoebelle9 @arynrds @epicgm @littleredrobyn @perserveringpolyglot @ladydiomede @desilluist @schi-walker-locked @wanderlust-killjoy @unknowntome @leabharlannkay @hellagoodtea @thedoctorandrosefanfics @greatbigouterspacedunce @abadplanwellexecuted @jem-scribbles @stupidsatsuma @hellostarlight20 @travelingrose @wordsintimeandspace @deriverose @asmilelikestarlight @chiaroscuroverse @postal-willshipeverything @perfectlyrose @curiositykilledtheslug @fadewithfury @goingtothetardis @lostinfic and absolutely anyone and everyone who has left nice comments and tags on this fic and art--you all gave me the oomph to keep going in a time when I’m really struggling with writer’s block! So, many many many thanks to you all! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[mira-gilastorm]

Fear Cuts Deeper Than Swords Chapter 2: Swearing Oaths and Vows

Summary: Quaithe is seeking out Daenerys - the new dragon. And is willing to trade a secret for a secret: that she has Helen Blackthorn. Aline and Dany are preparing to meet Khal Drogo, while the Lightwoods, Clary, and Magnus meet the King Beyond the Wall. But Arya has noticed Clary is missing and has roped Jon into helping her search for her friend and lady-in-waiting.[tldr: a lot of plot, sorry not sorry]

The obsidian candle in the window flickered to life, drawing the woman's silver eyes. Quaithe stared at the sputtering green flame, entranced. It wasn't quite lit, but it was the start of something. Another dragon was waking. The fire beneath her skin rushed at the very thought, remembering what it was like to live among her own kind, to walk in flame and blood. This time, she would intervene. This time there would be no Doom. Valyria had been her kind's greatest mistake and now she was the last. If another was born of fire, she would not let them burn like all the others - like the last of the dragons and the Targaryens.

She stood from her cot, donning her thick leather dress - more armor than clothing - and the traditional mask of Asshai'i, an intricate veil of wooden links, lacquered a blood red. Her glamoured hair tumbled loose down her back, appearing an unremarkable black, rather than its natural shifting color, the black glimmering green, purple, or blue, as it caught the light. She wouldn't bother with her eyes. She needed to get to the Volantis Institute. If anyone would have information on a stirring of new magic, it would be the Clave. And she always had a bargaining chip when it came to the Shadowhunters.

"Helen!" She shouted for her apprentice, a fae girl who she'd found wandering Quarth as a toddler and raised to use her own magic. The blonde curls and blue-green eyes appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a brow raised in question. "Pack up. We're closing shop and heading to Volantis. The candle is lighting and I intend to find out why."

Helen's lips twitched mischievously. "Ooh so we get to play with the Shadowhunters? It's about time." Her sing-song voice echoed as she already disappeared around the corner to follow the Asshai'i's orders.

Jace was painfully aware of the unmatched environment the warlock was leading them into. He was hoping his adopted siblings and this mysterious Clary would be enough if it came down to needing to fight their way out. There was no way he would count on the downworlder, no matter how he was glancing over at Alec. They followed the overdressed warlock through the encampment to a central tent. At least he was right about one thing - this was not a military camp. There were families, women and children, running about, tents pitched with stews over fires or laundry drying in the heat, protected from the snows. The wildlings were armed, but not like the soldiers the Lightwoods had traveled north with. They were armed for survival, not for show of strength.

Magnus walked ahead of Jace and Isabelle, with Clary still tucked close to him, away from where Alec stood, keeping stride. Whoever she was, she had the loyalty of a powerful warlock - or at least her parents had paid him exceptionally well - but there seemed to be a genuine affection between the two. He stopped short of entering the large tent that had to be some kind of meeting place - or else for someone very important.

The warlock fixed them with his unglamoured eyes, the golden cats eyes settling on each shadowhunter in turn before resting on Clary last. "Stay behind me. Do not speak until addressed. You especially run the risk of being recognized here." Who was this girl? He barely had time to register the layers of shock on her pale face before they were trailing Bane into a warm tent made of stitched skins, with a smouldering fire in the center, where some kind of council appeared to be expecting them. Jace's instincts were screaming that it was a trap.

Alec must have sensed his tension. He fell in step with his parabatai and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, lifting his head and putting on what Izzy always called his "Idris face" - the mask he used to play the diplomat. Several large men, all clothed in heavy furs, and two women who looked even more deadly than Izzy, turned to face the visitors.

Magnus threw out his arms in a grand gesture. "Mance! Always a pleasure to see you among anyone that isn't dressed in black."

A well-built man, with dark hair that fell in his eyes, stood to greet the warlock. They gripped forearms like comrades before the man broke into a grin, turning his eyes on the group of shadowhunters.

"I see not much has changed. The North warns of danger and the South sends children," his eyes flicked toward Clary, "and outcasts." Jace felt a surge of protective instinct toward the fresh shadowhunter as he stepped in front of her, moving to stand next to his brother.

"Believe it or not, they actually sent us valuable representatives of the Clave." A voice from around the fire spoke and Jace recognized it instantly, memories of his time training in the towers in Kings Landing flashing through his mind as his instructor shouted encouragements to the three Lightwood children from the floor below.

Isabelle practically radiated her resentment. "Starkweather."

Their former master at arms, nodded. "Well met, Iz."

Izzy made a move to leap at him, fury etched in her face, but her brothers grabbed her simultaneously, Jace's hand on her wrist so her weapon would remain hidden.

Magnus watched with what appeared to be only moderate interest. "Oh good. So introductions are hardly necessary. Mance Rayder, may I present Jace Wayland, and Alec and Isabelle Lightwood, of the Blackwater Institute, children to the head of the Institute herself, Maryse Lightwood. Shadowhunters, this is Mance Rayder, former brother of the Night's Watch, leader of the FreeFolk, and now a so-called King Beyond the Wall."

Mance snorted at that. "The FreeFolk need no king, Bane. We're not kneelers like those Southerners. I am simply the one who brought all the clans together." Jace nodded in respect, it wasn't like shadowhunters kneeled either. It was only when they were forced to interact with the obnoxious mundane courtesies.

Alec stepped forward, deliberately in front of Izzy. "I believe you asked us here for a purpose. The letter we received described ice demons and alliances with wolves."

At that, a large man, taller than even Mance, with unruly flaming red hair, stood as his eyes lit with the green of a werewolf. "You're damn right he made an alliance with the wolves. Our packs need south just as much as the humans do. We've lost too many to these fuckers." He glared down at the shadowhunters. "And they don't stay down. They get up - wolf, mundie, fae, giant - they all get up and do whatever those gods-damned demons command them to." The wolf encroached on Alec, looming over him, as if daring him to challenge the story.

Jace pulled up his sleeve, revealing many of his runes. "Does anyone who's seen them have runes? Do you have any shadowhunters up here, even with dormant angelic blood, we could still share the memory."

Mance and his men laughed. "None of us would trust you enough." The red-headed wolf backed down from Alec, chuckling. Even if the idea was a bust, at least his parabatai wasn't being threatened. "We might trust Magnus though."

Magnus snapped his attention from his colored fingernails he had been inspecting and stared at Mance as if he'd suddenly devolved into a puddle of ichor. "You want me to share Tormund Giantsbane's memories? This same man who's favorite story to tell is accidentally fucking a bear, thinking it was a hairy woman? That Tormund?"

A small snicker from behind them drew all attention to Clary. Jace cursed himself again for letting her through that stupid door. She'd just looked so damned determined. She watched them all as they evaluated her, as if unaffected.

She stared up at Magnus. "You judge his stories when I happen to know for a fact that your favorite to tell is how you fought off a fire-breathing cobra in Dorne. Or was it that you caught it?" She tilted her head, not even trying to play dumb. "I can never remember, it's changed so many times."

The warlock's mouth opened to defend himself, and he may have stuttered out words, but they were drowned out by the laughter of all the wildlings in the tent. Clary gave Magnus a self-satisfied smirk, brow raised, knowing she had diffused the situation and Jace felt like he was seeing the real Clary for the first time that day.

"Fine! Fine. Just shut up, the lot of you!" Magnus shouted above the obnoxious guffaws and overall laughter.

Tormund stomped his way over to the warlock, eyeing Clary as he did. "Kissed by fire, this one. Like me!" He tugged at his own hair before settling in front of Magnus, arm outstretched. "Let's do this, Sparky. I've got she-bears to fuck."

Aline was silent. And she refused to take any of the dresses Illyrio had offered, which only frustrated Dany's brother all the more. He knew the shadowhunter wasn't afraid of him and it bothered him - it kind of thrilled Daenerys. She'd never so much as spoken out against her brother, but this Volantian woman, clothed in runes and black leathers, defied him with silence.

"I know you're a shadowhunter. You being here has nothing to do with an alliance with my brother. From what I understand, your Clave would never make such an alliance anyway."

Aline froze, surprised by Dany's declaration. "I wasn't aware you had experience with the Clave."

"I don't. I listened to your mother's conversation with the magister. I learned much from just a single conversation. But I want to learn more." She held Aline's dark eyes with her own violet ones. "I scoured every book Illyrio has to offer, there's no mention of any of it." Dany leaned forward from her bed, where she was disrobing for a bath.

"No, I imagine there wouldn't be." Aline took her intricate blue dress and handed her a satin robe to wear to the bath. She glanced at Dany, and the princess felt like blushing. The shadowhunter stepped forward, blocking the hall to the bath. "Here. I would like to test something. I'm going to activate my glamour. Tell me if you can still see me, I won't have moved."

Daenerys nodded and watched as Aline took a silver knife - no, it wasn't quite a blade - almost a pen - and used it to trace over one of the runes on her skin, Something about her shimmered, but she was still there. "Did it not work? What is that thing?"

Aline flipped the instrument back into wherever it was hidden in her leathers before Dany could even reach for it, a small smile on her face. "It's called a stele, it activates the runes that give us shadowhunters our power. And yes, it did work. But apparently they were right about you. I'm glamoured and you can still see me. But to the average mundane, or average human, you would appear to be asking eager questions of the wind."

"Mundane. That's what my brother is."

"Yes. And cruel, from what I hear from the other girls. My assignment is to protect you, your Grace. Even if that means from your own kin." There was a hardness in Aline's eyes that told Dany she was serious. Daenerys suddenly had other questions to ask - like if she'd ever killed anyone, or been into battle, or won the princess' heart, like in the songs and books. But she had to bathe and dress to meet her husband-to-be. Grooming the broodmare, ready for sale - a wife for a crown. That was the deal Viserys had struck. The bathwater was steaming hot - the way she loved it.

She could feel the shadowhunter watching her. "I've always assumed I was going to marry him, you know. My brother." she tilted her head with each syllable. "It's the way of our family, if not of our home."

"I can't imagine that's something you would have wanted." The Volantian girl's eyes were far away. She must have had her own story, and Dany hadn't even thought to ask. Aline simply began to assist in washing her long platinum hair.

"Want? I don't recall anyone last asking what I want. I'm a princess, I'm fairly certain no one cares what I want." Dany felt an unfamiliar anger well up in her. She'd just been the prize on her brother's arm for so long - now she was to be some prize for a powerful Khal. "I want to go home."

The shadowhunter stopped lathering the soaps through the ends of Daenerys' hair. "Why don't you? The magister would help you. Now the Clave would too."

Dany shook her head slightly. "I would need a home to go to. I've been on the run my whole life, always dragged along behind my brother. Maybe the Khalasaar will be my home."

Aline rinsed the soaps out of her hair, the distinct smell of spices filling the air. "All Nephilim - shadowhunters - have a home, no matter where we are or where we're born, we all know Idris is home. It's in our blood."

"Idris? Yet another thing I've never found in my thorough and fruitless research." Dany stepped out of the water. It had cooled to barely warm enough to be comfortable anyway. She noticed the way Aline averted her eyes as she helped her into the lavender dress she was to wear, as though she was trying to maintain Dany's privacy.

Once the gown was laced and her hair was starting to wave from the humidity of Pentos, Aline answered the question she hadn't quite asked. "It's glamoured and there are wards that keep mundanes and other downworlders out without express permission. One minute you would be crossing the Western Waste, making your way into the Painted Mountains, and the next you would be in Idris. Or not, and you'd be right where you thought you were, having been transported from one side to the other."

"Sounds like something out of the songs."

Aline finished clasping bracelets and other jewelry on her, before fixing her with a sad smile. "All the legends are true. Where do you think the songs come from?"

Steps drew both of their attention to the hallway as Viserys barged in, his arrogant stride belying everything he thought the world owed him. Daenerys curtsied and presented herself to her brother. He stalked around her, almost threateningly, and Dany wondered what had angered him. Her eyes flicked over to Aline, who was standing silently to the side. He had ignored her entirely.

She's still glamoured, she realized with a start. Her brother lifted a strand of her hair, running his finger down her shoulder that the light gown left bare.

He circled her one more time, before deciding she was suitable. He rocked back on his heels, arms crossed. "It's a pity your breasts aren't bigger, to be more of a temptation. Oh well. We'll just have to see if the Khal will take you as you are." He offered her his arm for escort, which she took.

Aline crossed the room soundlessly and was waiting for them on the other side of the door, unglamoured. "Your Grace." She bowed, as she had the first time meeting Viserys. Daenerys knew it was to infuriate him. He simply nodded and pulled Dany down the steps toward the gardens.

Illyrio was waiting for them out in the courtyard, dressed finely in his magister's robes. He nodded to Aline and bowed lowly to Viserys and Dany. The sound of hooves flooded into the space, accented with yelps and warcrys as the Khal and his bloodriders filed down the path to the front of the magister's manse. They fanned out, horses and riders wild, and Daenerys understood why her brother saw them as barbarians.

Khal Drogo rode in front of them. He seemed to communicate with the other riders wordlessly. Viserys leaned over to whisper in Dany's ear. "See how long his braid is? When Dothraki warriors are defeated in battle, they cut their hair to show their shame. Drogo has never been defeated."

If she had been braver, Daenerys would have told him she knew that. That, and so much more. She'd been studying their language, their culture - anything to prepare her for what she now knew was coming. But she wasn't brave, not when it came to her brother. She glanced back at Aline, who was only steps away, her hands settled in a soldier's stance in front of her. The shadowhunter nodded ever so slightly to her, the motion likely imperceptible to the men around them.

Illyrio was introducing them to Drogo in the horde's native tongue. At Viserys' and her own name, the Khal's eyes swept over the siblings, taking extra time to look her over. His copper skin and dark eyes betrayed nothing of his thoughts, but she could feel him evaluating her, determining if this trade was worth waging war against her family's enemies. The dark markings on his face and body were faded with sun and time and she wondered how old he'd been when he'd received the ink. He wore no shirt, choosing instead to wear his scars and tattoos with pride, needing no barrier between him and his enemies. Dany found herself admiring him, meeting his gaze.

The Khal clicked to his horse, turning without another sound and leading his riders out of magister's courtyard. Viserys released her arm, stepping forward, again offended at not having been acknowledged. Daenerys could hear Aline hide a small snicker behind a cough behind her.

Her brother floundered for words. "What was that? What happened? Was he pleased with her?"

Illyrio raised a brow at Viserys' obvious panic. "Believe me, your Grace, if he had not been pleased, we would have known."

The magister's words calmed the Targaryen prince's panic, but not his pride. He stormed inside, muttering about barbarians and their lack of proper respect in the face of true power and dragons. Illyrio followed, always prepared to talk him down if need be.

Aline guided Dany back up to her rooms. "What did you think of my future husband, shadowhunter?"

The Volantian gave her a strange look. "I think he looks like a formidable opponent. I would not want to cross blades with him, even with my runes and the advantage they give me."

Daenerys rolled her eyes. Perhaps it would take a while before Aline was willing to talk of more than just duty.

Arya wandered the godswood with Nymeria. It wasn't like Clary to not be around like this. Rickon and Shaggydog were there, with Lucian, training the pup to be less wild. All the pups loved Clary's stepfather. Bran was sitting beneath the weirwood with Summer, resting.

"Ser Garroway, have you seen Clary? I'm so sorry to disturb the pups' training, but I haven't seen her at all this morning." Arya watched the Dornishman's eyes darken with anger.

"I'm afraid she was sent off on an errand with Lord Bane and some of the king's party. She should be back soon, my lady, or else I'll go looking for her myself, you have my word."

Arya nodded, her hand buried in Nym's thick coat. She turned, her footsteps silenced by the moss and leaves coating the ground. Jon, she thought. Jon will know what to do. She was going to find her friend. There was all this talk of leaving and going to Kings Landing and she was not going without Clary Rivers.

Jon was standing off to the side of the training yard, watching Robb and Joffrey spar with training swords. He was brooding, like he always did. Ghost turned at their approach, not making a sound, just observing as his littermate and Arya joined Jon in watching what was clearly an ill-matched session.

"The prince attacks with nothing but rage and spite, no thought for strategy or his opponent's potential strength or weakness." Jon was still watching the yard closely. "Robb sees it. He's wearing him down without having to hit him. It's clever, patient. More gracious than I would have been. I'd have given the twat a sound beating and let him learn his lesson."

Both she-wolves turned to watch the young men dance around each other with their pretend swords. Arya saw the truth of Jon's words. Robb was parrying every enraged blow, dodging every hurried thrust, until the blonde boy was panting and wild-eyed with fury.

Her big brother looked like it was taking every bit of his self-control not to grin. "It would appear I cannot even hit you, Your Grace. Shall we call it a draw?"

Joffrey's face reddened but Sansa was already there, swooning, telling him how astonishing his skill was, despite her brother being both older and larger than him. Arya fought the urge to gag.

Robb sauntered over to Jon and Arya, ruffling Nymeria's fur. None of them ever pet Ghost. The silent direwolf somehow made it clear he was Jon's and Jon's only. Jon spoke before Robb got the chance. "That was rather diplomatic of you."

Robb snickered. "Father told me quite firmly that I was not to beat the shit out of him, no matter how desperately I wanted to." He held himself upright, deepening his voice into a perfect imitation of their father. "'You'll just have to settle for outwitting him and proving you're a better man with more than just your sword.'"

Arya giggled and Jon nodded. "That sure sounds like Father."

Their older brother grinned at them both before slapping his thigh with sparring sword he was still holding. "I suppose I should go get dressed. See you both later."

They watched him leave as the younger prince, Tommen was bundled up and matched with Bran for sparring. She wondered vaguely when he had left the godswood.

"So what did you want, little sister?"

She peered up at Jon, who was finally looking at her, now that the sparring no longer interested him. "Clary's missing."

He made the pained expression that meant he was confused. "How is that possible? Her father is Captain of Father's forces. We have all these additional guards around..." his voice trailed off.

"What? What is it?" Arya knew that look. Jon knew something.

"The night of the feast, Clary went upstairs with Lord Bane. When Lucian asked me where she'd gone, I told him and he asked if she was alone."

"Well? Was she?"

Jon paused. Whatever it was, Arya could handle it. He should know she was old enough to handle it. "She looked alone to me, other than Magnus, but Tyrion Lannister said she was with three of the king's party. He said he wasn't sure their name, but that their mother had made sure they joined the caravan. Lucian seemed angry and stormed off toward his and Jocelyn's quarters. I assumed he knew something I didn't. I was also really rather drunk, Arya." He gave her a sad grimace. "Have you asked Lucian?"

She nodded fiercely. "He said she was on an errand with Lord Bane and if she didn't return soon, he would go looking for her himself."

Jon sighed. "Which means she's not here and he doesn't know where she is."

"Exactly." Arya's tone disturbed Nymeria, making the direwolf restless beside her. "I need to find her. She's been gone for over a day now and I'm not heading south without her."

Her brother ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated rush of breath. "Fine. I'll help you try and find her. But only because I know you would do it without me. Go find Simon, if she told anyone where she was going, it would be him. I'm going to ask Lord Tyrion about who he saw her head off with. We'll meet in Magnus' library, deal?" He held out his hand, in the way he always had when they were betting or swearing secrets.

Arya took his hand, gripping it fiercely. "Deal."

Wards went off all around the Volantis Institute. The portal room locked down right as the warlock, an old family friend, was about to open the portal back to their home in Dorne - the Water Gardens Institute. Andrew Blackthorn pressed his fingers to his eyes. It had been a long meeting with Jia and he just wanted to get back to his duties running his Institute, relieve his son Mark. Tessa, still trying to open the portal, let out a frustrated groan.

She turned to Andrew, seeing his state, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let's go ask Penhallow what's happening." He nodded, following her lead.

They stepped into the main entry of the Institute, only to see Jia rushing to them, confusion on her face. "So it wasn't you then."

Tessa was clearly offended. "I've been portaling in and out of Institutes longer than either of you have been alive. Of course it wasn't me. Whatever it is has warded off warlock magic. I couldn't open a portal now if I wanted to."

Jia's face stiffened. "So we're under attack." She began shouting commands at the shadowhunters of her Institute. She turned back to Tessa and Andrew and was saying something but Andrew was too exhausted to hear it.

Tessa nudged him and he snapped out of his stupor. "What?"

"I asked if you've heard from Mark. Is the Dornish Institute in danger as well?"

Tessa shook her head. "We've had no fire messages. I doubt any could get through this. This is not like any magic I've felt before. This is older than myself, or even Magnus or Ragnor. It isn't fae or demonic either."

Andrew noticed Jia pale at the warlock's words. "You know who it is."

She shook her head. "No, but I have an idea of what they might be."

The sound of shattering glass drew their attention toward the portal room entrance. Black flames, like obsidian, shimmering with greens and blues and purples, swirled into a portal until two figures stepped through, wreathed in the fire. One was a tall Asshai'i shadowbinder, clothed in leathers and her lacquered veil, with silver eyes and raven black hair. The other, though, was a fae girl with brilliant golden hair, with blue flowers woven into a braid, accenting her blue-green eyes.

Blackthorn eyes, Andrew couldn't help but thinking. He stepped forward, drawn to the girl. She looked so much like his baby girl he had lost, the girl he had looked for before duty called him back to Westeros. "What business do you have with the Volantis Institute?" His eyes were fixed on the fae girl, but he address the Asshai'i woman.

She chuckled, a low, dangerous sound. "I want to know why the obsidian candle is now lit. A new dragon is born and I intend to defend them, as you and my ancestors failed before."

Jia stepped up behind Andrew. "We cannot divulge the location of the one you seek. We have already sworn to defend them. You attack our Institute, infiltrate and make demands. Tell me, why would the Clave ever agree to trust you with such a priceless secret?"

He could feel Tessa tense next to him. Jia was withholding things - again. A new magic. The other heads of Institute had a right to know about things like that. He had to wonder, though, if she had gone through the Clave or if this was just Jia. Penhallow had a habit of making her own deals.

That dangerous sound that was the woman's laughter rumbled again, filling the room with a heated energy. She removed her veil, revealing olive skin that made her quicksilver eyes shimmer even brighter in contrast. A glamour wavered in front of their eyes, like waves of heat, and her raven black hair was suddenly as alive as the black flames of her portal.

"I am Quaithe, of the Shadowlands. The last true Valyrian. Now you see me as I am, fire made flesh. I am trusting you, not only with one great secret I have kept, but two." She gestured to the fae girl next to her, who grinned like a true faerie. "I bring back one of your own, whom I have raised since she was a child. She is like my own daughter and free to choose her own path, but I reveal her to you now in good faith."

Andrew stumbled forward and fell to his knees in front of the two women. "Helen?"

The blonde blinked in surprise at hearing the name, turning her blue-green gaze on him. Blackthorn eyes. Recognition flickered in her stare as she turned to the Valyrian and said something in a language he couldn't understand. She reached out gingerly to touch his cheek, as if to see if he was real, before drawing her hand back. Andrew watched the confidence flow back into his daughter, the same confidence that filled the Asshai'i woman.

His half-faerie daughter directed her announcement at the shadowhunters in the Institute, most of whom had gathered at the entry to view the spectacle that had become a reunion. "It's true. My name is Helen Blackthorn and I am daughter of Andrew Blackthorn, as well as of a lady of the Seelie Court. I am fae, yes. But I am also one of you. I am nephilim." She turned to Jia. "Do you trust us now, Mistress Penhallow?"

Chapter 1

[theemmataylor]

A Frozen Medley || Sebastian, Gaston, Emma, Evelyn, Alaric, and the Mikaelson Brothers

I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI

When it was Gaston's turn to take the extra ammo and reload, he winked at Kol. "Thank you, darling," he said, his voice casual, but his hands quick and deft. "Now, get back down there." He glanced at Sebastian's leg and his lips thinned slightly, but then he got back to work. "Moran, care for me to provide a distraction? If I get onto the porch roof, it's a bit lower than this, I could feign distress as if I want to get down, perhaps that would draw a few more into the open for you?"

--

When Elijah was given the message, he keyed the mic again. "Our hunters prefer that everyone stay indoors, for efficiency's sake, but thank you for the offer."

"You've got it. I'll call Ed. Signing off this channel, back once I have contact with him... Anything you want him told?"

"Our departure time may be somewhat delayed, we have an injury to deal with."

"Medevac?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay. I'm going to tell him to wave off and land in deeper water if he still sees those cute boys on the roof, somewhere the wolves can't come mess with him. He can taxi in when you're ready."

"You're a dear."

"Don't tell the hunters." The air went dead.

Elijah looked over at Emma, then smiled and shook his head at her. "Emma, you are quite the remarkable woman. Just what was it you heard this morning, incidentally?"

"Of course he acts like we're not in the middle of a bloody war-zone," Niklaus muttered, amused but annoyed at Elijah's overly calm demeanor, although he understood it.

Sebastian figured the scent of his blood would draw the wolves, but Gaston seemed to be the only one the sniper was willing to take suggestions from and he nodded, preparing himself for the attacks that were about to come.

At least the pack was starting to thin. They should be done before too long, surely.

"LeFevre?" Sebastian said in a gruff voice. "Don't be an idiot." By that he meant, be careful.

--

Emma smirked at the voice over the radio and then seemed to relax back to where she'd been sitting, still taking notes.

"I... don't know what it was. It woke me. Might have been scratching on the side of the building. And I know I heard a howl. This place is... a little creepy."

Kol smirked at Nik and finally met his eyes for a brief moment. "Elijah could have lost his leg and would still be cracking jokes."

"Depends on which of his three legs he lost," Nik returned, glancing slyly over at Alaric before he looked at Emma, who he had been filming for the last few moments.

--

"Yessir," Gaston replied, as he looped a rope around his waist. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and made a little yelp sound, then slid down to the lower roof where he landed flat on his stomach -- intentionally, although it looked like an accident. He froze at first, then made a show out of scrambling to try and find his footing, remaining on hands and knees...

Which drew out the one wolf who had been holding back.

Head lowered, a much larger, more heavily muscled creature came out, her lips pulled back in a snarl as she sniffed towards Gaston. He scrabbled, knocking snow and ice chips off the roof, and let his foot dangle over for just a moment --

The wolves forgot about Moran as the alpha redirected their focus to the frightened, awkward prey. After studying the distance to the roof for a moment, she tensed and prepared to leap -- then launched herself into the air with a single, powerful thrust.

Gaston told himself not to be afraid, even though the moment she had looked up at him, he'd realized she could do it. She could make it up here --

But she didn't know what Sebastian Moran was capable of, or how quickly he could react.

Sebastian had kept silent, holding his fire, waiting to see what would happen. But when that beautiful, terrible creature leapt, Sebastian couldn't help but marvel for a split second.

Then he fired.

Sebastian knew that if he hadn't shot her at such close range and square in the chest, if he had had to shoot her at a distance, she might not have been killed by the bullet.

When she went down, though, the pack seemed to circle in around her.

The sniper kept shooting.

--

Ric had met Nik's gaze and smirked, awkward as he may be. "Yeah, well, at least there is evidence that he'll need that third leg in the near future."

One shot seemed to turn into more and more, and Nik went quiet and pale. He hated guns. If he was going to shoot anything, it would be from behind one of his many cameras; the sound felt like a brutal assault and he was glad not to be one of the hunters.

Elijah dropped his forehead into his hand and rubbed at it, looking deeply sad, but patient.

-

As soon as he felt safe doing so, Gaston joined Moran in opening fire. One of the wolves got away -- just one. It raced away out into the wilderness, tail tucked, looking back over its shoulder from time to time with terror in its eyes. Gaston would have fired at that one as well, but by that point, he was out of ammunition again. It was up to Moran, if he had a shot left, or one wolf would live to tell the tale.

"Fuck," Gaston swore, and sighed heavily as he lost sight of the retreating one.

Sebastian could make the shot. He knew he could. But the creature wasn't attacking. This place would smell of its fallen pack for long enough that Seb hoped there wouldn't be an issue for the townsfolk later.

"I'm going to regret letting it go," he muttered, helping Gaston up, then looking around at all the carnage.

Grabbing the other rope, he let himself down, then watched as Gaston did the same. "We need to move the bodies. Nobody needs to see this."

Sebastian entered through the front doors, seeing the crowd. "It's safe. We're going to take care of the aftermath. If any of you feel willing with a strong enough stomach, we will take help with this. The pack was large."

"I'll go," Ric volunteered.

Kol followed after him, already having dressed by this point. Emma stood, and she looked as if she were going to as well, but Sebastian stopped her. "Ma'am. You can hate me for being sexist all you want. But this carnage out here... I would rather you stayed inside." He felt her start to turn against him, could see it in her eyes. "Please."

She huffed but nodded. "Fine."

"Wait," Elijah called out. "Rare as it is this far north, there have been cases of rabies before in the arctic. These wolves seemed healthy enough, from what I saw, but any unusual behavior should always be considered a red flag. It's unlikely they have any illness, but we need to handle the bodies as if they do -- and we need a sample of brain tissue."

Nik gave Elijah a dark look. "You're kidding."

"Blood, brain, and saliva. I'll get them when the moving is done. But please, everyone, treat the corpses as if they're toxic. Emma, can you put out the radio call to the town that the shooting should be over, and help moving bodies outside of the town would be appreciated? Also, there's a radio call-sign and frequency directory on the desk. Can you look through and try to find a way to contact the local wildlife department? This should be reported. They may not be able to send anyone for days, but..." In all honesty, the bodies would still be there. Burying them wasn't an option, there was no spare fuel up here to burn them with, but they could at least get them sent out of town. "And see if they can give you the information for exactly where I can send our sample to, with the next pilot returning south. It may be tedious, but it's important."

Elijah nodded that the others could go, but he put his hand on Moran's arm, and his eyes were ice-cold. "Your leg is injured," he said, "and you will let me care for it now, before going out to examine and move bodies. Unless you'll be returning south to a hospital, I cannot, will not risk the safety of this expedition by letting you increase your already high chances of infection." This didn't sound negotiable in the slightest. "Gaston will guard the others. You. Sit there." He gestured to the chair by the water and the medical kit.

Before any of them headed out, Alaric checked a couple of the cabinets until he found gloves. They were mediums, and likely wouldn't fit comfortably on all of their hands, but it was enough that maybe they could avoid coming into direct contact with any of the creatures. "The alpha," Sebastian said, glaring at Elijah but there wasn't much force behind the stare, "The alpha should be just off of the front porch. She was huge. The shot is in her chest. Save her for your samples."

As Emma moved to the desk to make the call that Elijah had instructed her to make, Sebastian moved to the chair indicated, barely limping. His adrenaline was still pumping too hard, too fast, for him to be able to really feel anything. Without pardoning himself in front of the woman -- she would likely see plenty of mostly, if not fully, nude men in the month to come -- he kicked off his boots and peeled away his pants, then his coat followed.

It took Emma some searching before she found the number for the wildlife department, and then she made that call next. The man who answered sounded half asleep, and relatively bored with the report of wolves. "No, you don't understand," she insisted. "There were... God. A dozen or more?" She was just going off the shots fired. "Maybe two. And they closed in on our hotel. We had two shooters on the roof. This town is... Please, just come for the cleanup. We're working to move the corpses out of the way, but they shouldn't stay there." Obviously.  "No, I know you're busy. I know this area is prone to such wildlife. But if their scents and there blood will attract larger animals, don't you think you should freaking come and clean it up sometime before winter sets?" It had been a mistake, she felt, to first tell him that she wasn't a local. But eventually it seemed evident that they would be out by the time the week closed to collect the bodies.

When she was finished with the call, she moved over to stand at Elijah's shoulder. "Can I help?"

"Wild animals do tend to bite," Elijah said dryly. He had put long surgical gloves on and had Moran's leg in the garbage can, washing it thoroughly with soap. "But hopefully this one won't sink his teeth into me..." He glanced quickly up at Emma, a playful light in his eyes, before immediately focusing back on cleaning Moran's leg.

"Help would be wonderful. Please go get a clean bath towel, the unopened roll of paper towels from under the bathroom sink, then put on gloves -- the blue ones there should be fine for you -- and I'll ask you to hand me things as they're needed." He glanced up at Moran next, meeting his eyes as he continued working. "We do have the antibiotics your medical statement said are safe for you, you should start them. I'll get your wounds washed, then irrigated, and make sure there's nothing still in them.. but I should be able to stitch most of these. I can numb the area; we have enough to numb four limbs on this trip. Are you comfortable with me doing that?"

His hands continued working as he talked to Moran, careful and deft; this wasn't Elijah's first time with a severe wound, not by a long shot. After another moment, he added: "Thank you, by the way, Moran; your skill and dedication are deeply appreciated, especially in such an unusual situation. It sounds as if the wolves knew we were in here -- Emma, would you tell  him what you heard?"

Emma had snorted a laugh. As a writer, she loved puns, and could greatly appreciate Elijah's wit. But then it was back to business and she rushed off to get the items she'd been ordered to get and then returned as quickly as possible.

Sebastian watched the pair, impressed that they were so comfortable seeming with each other after only meeting less than twelve hours before. But his eyes lingered on Elijah. The touches were gentle enough. Skilled.

"Please don't waste one of your doses on me." The sniper's voice was kinder this time. Quiet. He reached for the basic medication and then took it with the water that Emma was already offering. "I've been in worse scrapes than this. Stitches... They're fine. Just be quick about it." They would be gone for a month. One dose per week. He didn't want to risk anything. Besides, he had no intention of not being able to use his leg between now and boarding the plane.

"Mikaelson," he said after some time, still unwilling to thank the man in return. "I understand why you did what you did. But next time. If LeFevre and I leave instructions to stay inside, then I need you to stay the bloody hell inside." Seb never once raised his voice, but the demand was as conversational as could be.

He couldn't be worried about the rest of them. He couldn't be worried about them when dealing with the unpredictability of wild animals.

"I understand, at least as much as someone in my position can understand, but I do want to remind you that I care whether you live or die, Moran. If I have reason to believe -- and by reason, I mean experience and logic -- that I can offer you vital help without creating another distraction whose safety you need to fret over, I will. It is your job to see that we survive any attacks, and much as it pains me to say... I'll let you die before I force you to fail at that job by letting my life be lost instead... Your life still matters."

When he was done washing it, Elijah took off his gloves and pushed the bin out of the way. He opened the paper towels, had Emma lay the towel over his lap, then made a thick pad of paper towels over it. That done, Elijah had Sebastian put his leg on his lap, he put on fresh gloves -- they had well more than enough, this wasn't a supply they needed to skimp on, not yet, not when it came to handling Sebastian safely, for the sniper's sake -- and he got to work. The irrigation took time, but he carefully cleaned out and examined each wound, asking Emma to aim a flashlight and hold the magnifying glass when needed.

The plane landed while they were working, but Elijah didn't hurry the effort at all.

"What is your take on the wolves' behavior, Moran?" He had started the sutures, using his fingers to create a gentle pressure that alleviated some of the pain of the process. "As a hunter and a warrior -- how did their behavior towards you feel?"

Sebastian's jaw clenched but he didn't make any noise. He watched the cleaning, the stitching, and then when the men finally came in. He lifted a brow. They were finished quicker than he'd expected.

"At least five others came out to help us. The town is a fucking mess." Kol stated simply, his hands were freezing but otherwise they were all in fair condition. "I'm going to go take a hot shower. Shouldn't be more than five minutes. Then we'll start pulling things from the rooms for the plane.”

When the group passed through, Sebastian went back to Elijah's question. "I don't know what to make of it. This pack is larger than any one I've seen. These wolves were... large. When I shot the first one, I wasn't entirely sure that they weren't some kind of cat. But the tails were clearly wrong. And then... I don't know. They were too smart, too big, for their own good."

"Did they, at any point, display a fear of your firearms?"

Sebastian looked up at Gaston. "It's like they kept expecting them to... I don't know... Become useless? The only one that showed any inclination of fear was the one I let run off." I still bet I will regret that. "And I think that was only because we had killed its alpha."

That sent a chill through Elijah. "They -- knew the guns were dependent on ammunition? If Emma hadn't thought to get more bullets for you two... I wonder what they would have done next."

Gaston had just come in and, hearing that it was Emma who sent the bullets up to them, he gave her a brief and appreciative look before eyeing Moran's leg. He said nothing, but patted him once on the shoulder as he moved past, going to pack up their things.

Nik, still filming of course, asked: "So the wolves were stalking the hotel this morning... extra large, extra smart wolves, who weren't afraid of guns? Who understood them? Forgive me, but that's a bit worrisome."

"A bit," Elijah agreed.

Emma had been quiet save for trying again to explain to Sebastian that she hadn't understood exactly what she had heard that morning but the only way she could explain the sounds from her own experience.

Her eyes lifted to meet Gaston's and she smiled weakly, shyly. Then adjusted the light once more to follow Elijah's hands.

"I'm just... glad we hadn't been on our way to the plane and not known they were there."

"That wouldn't have happened. I will always go out first," Sebastian practically interrupted, though he seemed to look at her with an expression that was more reassuring than the scolding his tone seemed to take.

"Oh. Right. Well... You seemed like you were going alone?"

He smiled softly. "You did good, kid. Always report strange noises."

She didn't know why it made her feel better, but it did.

Kol finished with his shower quickly, finally warming up a bit, and then went straight to their room to dress and pack. This distraction had been... nice. Welcome. But he needed to get out of this hotel.

"Nik, why don't you go help our brother?" Elijah didn't look up from what he was doing.

Nik opened his mouth to object but he knew he didn't have a good reason. He shut the camera off, pursed his lips, then trailed ghostlike off after Kol. Slipping into the room with him, he shut the door behind them.

"Kol....?"

For some reason he had known Nik would end up in there with him, and so Kol managed to keep his expression neutral. He turned to face his brother, swallowing the newest wave of nausea from this hangover.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

"You mean about the alcohol? Or about you?"

Kol's mouth opened and closed and he struggled to meet his brother's stare. "You remember."

Nik swallowed hard. His chest hurt suddenly and he was holding too tightly to the camera, so he stared down at it. "I remember...  Kol... you... I should tell you this, before we go north. I..." There had to be a way out of this conversation. He could find something to get angry about, or work for them to throw themselves at in complete denial -- but this was his brother. Could he do that to his brother?

Under less dire circumstances, yes, but this... is important.

"You should know that I've been -- a terrible brother to you. Last night.. wasn't by any means the first time I'd thought about -- such things. And not always drunk."

Kol's stomach twisted and he didn't know what to say. He and Nik rarely had deep conversations. They were reckless and usually the two children Elijah had to reign in in order to get them to take a situation seriously.

With a sigh, he set his clothes on the end of their cot and then stepped closer to Niklaus. "What... So you..." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed again. "How long?"

"The last year-ish. But I won't -- act on... I won't try to -- make you do -- that -- again. After this shoot, I'll quit. I don't want to be... to cause trouble between you and Elijah. Or to take advantage of you." Nik closed his eyes tightly and took a slow breath, then looked at Kol. "Can you forgive me...?"

Kol was shaking his head before Niklaus could finish speaking. "You will not fucking quit," he demanded, eyes colder now. His thick brows pulled together and he looked at his brother as less of a... well, brother.

"Kiss me," he said, no hesitation in his voice. "Now that we're sober." I want to know if it feels as good as it did last night. "Kiss me again, Niklaus."

For a moment, Nik was sure that all of the air had passed out of the room. He stared at Kol, barely able to comprehend, before he set the camera aside and stepped forward. Taking Kol's face in his hands, he kissed him with all of the desperate affection and need he knew how to show. This might be the last time he ever got the chance to do this, to show Kol just how truly depraved he himself was, to show Kol how truly wonderful he found Kol to be. Nik wasn't usually one to make grand gestures or first moves, but when it was important, it was important.

At first Kol was skeptical. He wasn't sure that his memory of the night before was genuine. It had felt good; he wasn't about to deny that. But had the same... sentiments been there as what he imagined would be. He didn't hold Nik in return. He didn't initially kiss him back.

But then he felt it. And he melted.

One of Kol's arms went around Nik's waist, pulling him closer. He couldn't hate his brother, he remembered promising that, but he didn't know that he would... be this willing. This accepting of something that so many would be disgusted by. After a moment, his lips parted he tried to return all of the affection he felt from Niklaus. It was vital his brother knew that he was loved. Perhaps in more than just a familial way.

Afterwards, Nik looped his arms around Kol's shoulders and closed his eyes, resting his head against Kol's shoulder as well. "We needn't be anything we cannot be," he said softly, a deep, almost pastel-feeling sorrow in his voice, "I know it is wrong to be so drawn to you... but I cannot... trust anyone who isn't part of our family, Kol. And you, you are... you always seem to understand me. I need you."

There were far more passionate words he wanted to say, but he couldn't. He couldn't. They refused to move past his lips and he just hoped, standing silent and still now, that Kol could understand at least part of it, that somehow his hands or his lips or the subtle way his hips seemed to press into Kol's, somehow something would tell Kol that he was the one Nik needed.

I don't know that I can do this.

Kol held tighter to his brother and rested his head on Niklaus' temple, closing his eyes. He wanted to give this a chance. He wanted to give in to the things he felt. He wanted to kiss Niklaus again. But he didn't know if he could sleep with him again. How could he? They were brothers. Family.

But it had felt amazing. Perfect. Like he knew everything I could possibly want.

"I'm here," Kol said finally. "I'm here, Niklaus. I'm not going anywhere." He pulled away enough to kiss Nik's forehead and then rested his cheek against the same spot. "And it's not as if we'll have any privacy over the next month. Let's just... get through this, yeah? Then we'll figure the rest of it out. Together."

Nik nodded and squeezed him again. He knew that he would never really be the one who would have a chance, he wasn't Elijah, but Kol could have been so much colder to him, so much angrier.

"We ought to pack."

--

"Wasn't there someone you needed to call?" Gaston asked Sebastian after he brought their packs out of their room and set them down. He looked at the leg, but it seemed that Elijah was almost done with the suturing. Enjoying the show, Gaston sat down and leaned forward to take in the details, although he was sure to stay out of Elijah and Emma's way.

Sebastian shrugged. "Montparnasse, yeah. He's the one who... Anyway. I was just going to check in. We haven't the time now. I can check in when we land."

He watched Gaston with a light smile on his lips, entertained that his own stitches were becoming some source of entertainment. Emma had looked up at the other man, feeling his presence. "Um... Gaston? Do you mind holding the light and magnifying glass? So that I can finish gathering my things and be out of Elijah's way when he's done?"

Gaston nodded to her and got up, coming around to her side. He took them carefully, and once she was gone, he sat down in her place. "Look at you, Moran, a mess. A complete mess. Washed your leg in a trashcan, hm? Seems about right." He gave his partner a warm smile, but it quickly sobered.

"You saved my life today, Moran. More than once. Thank you. I know you don't like a great deal of gushing but all the same... while Elijah has you captive... I'm deeply grateful. I owe you."

Elijah's eyes had flicked up in recognition at the name Montparnasse, but it was a subtle thing, easily missed, and he quickly refocused.

Sebastian shrugged at the gratitude, not knowing how to receive it. "I feel the debt was more than repaid, Gaston. I wouldn't have survived today had you not been there. You have an excellent shot. Thank you."

Emma returned quickly, having only stayed over night the once, and she left her luggage in an open spot by a chair, tucking her pen and notepad into a side pocket and then returning to watch as the final stitch was put in place.

"Thank you, Elijah," Sebastian said, looking up just as Alaric was lugging out the last of the equipment. "You're too skilled at that, I hope you know. But I appreciate the attention you gave. Let's wrap it and get going. That plane won't wait forever."

Elijah hummed a soft you're welcome and didn't change his pace. He got Sebastian's leg wrapped up once he was completely done with it, then helped him get back into his trousers before taking out one last thing -- a small glass bottle and a syringe.

"The odds of a rabies infection are low, Sebastian, but it's still possible. This isn't something I'll force on you, but I want you to know that without the vaccine, if you begin to show symptoms of rabies, it will be too late. You will die. This is your choice. I would prefer to give you the vaccination, but I cannot force it on you."

"So, no pressure, love," Nik said, walking out and lugging the first round of his gear. He had the most and the heaviest, thanks to all of his camera equipment, but he didn't mind.

Sebastian nodded in regards to the vaccination. There was no point in risking this. This had nothing to do with his pain tolerance.

Kol followed his brother out with a few bags, some of them Nik's, and happened to meet Sebastian's eye. Something... Something in the way that the gunman looked at him made Kol convinced that Moran knew what had happened the night before. But that didn't make any sense. They had been quiet, right?

Emma stood when the two brothers came out and began setting things down. "Can I help with anything?" She looked at Nik. "I don't have equipment like you all do, but I am happy to carry anything you guys need help with."

Kol looked to his brother, letting him decide if he wanted help or not.

The clerk showed up then and started talking to Alaric about everything that had happened with the wolves. She shamelessly flirted with him, despite being at least twenty years older, and a sense of normality seemed to return. Nik looked at them for a moment, then back at Emma. For a moment, he wanted to say no, but instead he just smirked and gave her a one-handed 'be my guest' gesture.

"Any help is appreciated. I only have nineteen tons of supplies -- and then Alaric has all of the food, sound gear, and pieces of camp in his hutch."

Emma beamed at him, happy to be able to be helpful. She liked Niklaus. He was handsome. And he was kind to her. A little flirty, but it never seemed inappropriate.

She headed in the direction of the room and started grabbing bags.

Alaric, meanwhile, flirted back lightly, but ultimately he was just being friendly. His eyes kept drifting over to Elijah. He wanted more from the day before. He wanted to hug Elijah and tell him to try not to be stupid again.

--

Eventually, everything was gathered. And the group was as ready to go as they were going to be. Sebastian managed to find a shirt and sweater to wear under his coat.

"Is anybody else ready to get the bloody hell out of this town? After wolves like that, how bad can the bears be?" Kol smirked and bumped into Niklaus, trying to keep things easy between them. "How long is our flight?"

Elijah had left most of his clothes behind -- the direct opposite of Niklaus, who had one  duffel devoted entirely to thick, fluffy, ridiculously warm garments. He needed them, never seeming to quite give off Elijah's level of heat. By this time, Elijah was dressed how he would be for much of the shoot, in a genuine Inuit suit. Nik smirked at him in it.

"About three hours," Nik said, and bumped back into Kol. "Elijah looked quite silly. I don't know how our dear brother manages to keep warm in those rags... Perhaps we'll just have to always give him more to carry." He knew his brother would be perfectly fine, but he liked to give Elijah a hard time about it all the same.

Gaston fussed a little over Sebastian when no one was looking, making sure he was warm enough, that he didn't try to carry anything yet, and that he didn't over-exert himself, but he at least had the kindness to be quiet about it. Still, by the time they finished loading the plane and boarded it, he was relieved that Sebastian was able to get off of his leg for a while and just relax, even if it was only three hours.

Once the plane was off the ground, Nik was filming again, and he made Alaric set up a boom to handle the noise of the engines. He started with Elijah, who was sprawled on top of a pile of gear -- much the same as the rest of them, but Elijah simply looked the most ridiculous. "Tell our viewers, Elijah. What are you wearing and why, why in God's name do you insist on looking like a murdered seal?"

Elijah sighed at him but began explaining the traditional Inuit garb all the same. He also explained that he used furs instead of a normal down sleeping bag, which got more smirks from Niklaus, who never tired of their brother's eccentricities. Still, he knew there was something to it, especially as the weather got colder and colder; Elijah always seemed comfortable, and was the only one who hadn't had hypothermia yet -- nor did his sleeping bag collect ridiculous amounts of ice simply from the condensation caused by body heat in the down. Still, he forced Elijah to go into history, culture, physics, and aesthetics all in one go before he started filming the others.

After pestering Elijah, he made everyone talk about what had happened that morning -- starting with Emma, who he termed to be 'quite possibly the savior of the day.' Nik seemed to be in an almost inexplicably good mood.

When he got to Sebastian, he asked: "Sebastian Moran. Man of mystery. Will this documentary be the first time you actually speak to the camera on purpose? Inquiring minds wish to know."

Alaric fell more in love with Elijah as he spoke, though this wasn't new information to him. The air of the crew seemed strangely light considering what had happened.

Emma said only as much as she knew, and didn't embellish anything the way anybody else did. Her voice was quiet and she gave an incredibly shy smile. She was a writer. She so much preferred to be out of the line of the camera.

Though, when the camera landed on Sebastian, he looked up but didn't speak, knowing that in a game of wills, this man would not win.

Nik gave Moran a full minute before chuckling and awkwardly crawling around the plane to get more shots. Eventually, though, he went and settled down and took a nap with his head on Kol's lap.

Once Nik settled, Elijah did as well. He always seemed to be relaxed, but now that the atmosphere was getting quieter, he went and leaned against Alaric and closed his eyes for a few minutes -- until Gaston spoke up.

"So, is anyone going to say werewolves?"

Elijah huffed.

Kol's fingers carded through Nik's hair and he didn't care how affectionate it looked. He didn't care if it made anybody uncomfortable. He couldn't not touch him.

Alaric kissed the top of Elijah's head and nuzzled him. He was just about to whisper something when Gaston spoke up. He snorted a laugh. Again, he was about to say something, but Sebastian beat him to it.

"Not the first time rumors of such has popped up. But if they were werewolves..." We just killed a small village of people. "They didn't have much awareness. Some. They understood guns. But Elijah yelling at us didn't seem to affect them."

His tone was completely serious.