#god hearing arthurs voice in the epilogues

[arthursfuckinghat]

There's always the fear of forgetting the faces of loved ones that passed away, but visiting the old camps as John and hearing the echoes of people he knew hurts in a different way.

John may forget parts of his brother, but he'll never forget his voice.

He'll never forget the voices of the people he once saw as a family, for better or for worse, he is haunted by these echoes of the past.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - Prologue

The Way Back Home (Spencer Reid x Reader) - The Prologue Word Count: 4001 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: major angst, major fluff, mentions of murder, crime scenes, near-death experiences, slow-burnish romance, death, canon violence, rape, swearing, guns, knives, prostitution, canon cuteness of the team. Spoilers: Maeve's death, mentions of previous cases or canon events from seasons 1-10.

Spencer and you have an unspoken connection with one another. Nothing has ever happened between you two, especially since everything went down with Maeve, but your love has grown and overcome and is now clear as day to everyone. However, just when Spencer builds up enough courage to ask you out officially, you're requested on an undercover mission that halts your budding relationship in its tracks.

Months go by without a word from you until bodies of prostitutes start showing up in New York and the BAU is brought in to help. Spencer and you finally reunite as both your cases collide, but your lives and your love are both on the line now.

Will you and Spencer be able to find the way back home this time?

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Epilogue

~~~

You released a tired, relieved sigh as you and the rest of the team exited the elevator and walked back into the bullpen. You'd just landed back after a week in Utah chasing a serial killer who turned out to be a mormon. He killed in the name of burning out the false children of God from humanity - literally. The Unsub managed to burn six innocent people alive before they apprehended him.

'I cannot wait to go home for a hot bath and a good glass of scotch,' Rossi said, rubbing at the kink in his neck from the sleep home on the plane.

'Ditto,' Alex said. 'James is home for the weekend, and he has promised me some home made pie that I am very much looking forward to.'

You smiled as you reached your desk, the echo of the others adding to the conversation of what they were looking forward to when they got home warming the usually busy room as they passed you. A sense of comfort and relief washed over you as you placed your go-bag on your desk. Hearing all your friends' voices back in the office after a mission was never a guarantee, so you relished every time you heard them, regardless of the conversation.

You looked up when a figure entered your peripheral vision, and that comfort and warm feeling spread further through you when you saw who it was.

'What about you, Y/N?' Spencer said by way of greeting, a soft smile gracing his own tired features. 'What is waiting for you at home on this fine Friday evening?'

You paused to think about it for a second, a content smile tugging at your lips at the thought. 'Well, unless I've been robbed in the last few days, I will be enjoying a nice glass of moscato while I order pasta from the restaurant below my apartment, and snuggle in with my book that I've spent literally months trying to finish,' you said dreamily, the thought of good food and good wine and a good book sounding almost too good to be true. But Garcia had informed the team before landing that no new cases had been submitted and so you had the weekend to yourselves.

'That all?' he asked, amusement dancing on his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. 'I know. First Friday night home in DC in a while and I am choosing to stay at home instead. The utter shame of it all.'

You both laughed, and it pleased you to see his amber eyes light up after the long week you'd had.

'I didn't mean that as a bad thing,' Spencer said, brushing a stray curl from out of his eyes. Even though it was the shortest length it'd ever been, some rogue curls still managed to dangle out of confinement every once in a while. 'What book are you reading?'

'Don't laugh at me, but... The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes.'

Spencer's brow furrowed curiously. 'Why would I laugh? I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work.'

You shrugged, casually leaning against your desk as you crossed your arms. 'I know, it just seems a little silly that a federal agent is reading some old detective stories.'

'Actually, Doyle was one of the forefathers of detective fiction, as he brought in the concept that the science of deduction isn't just physical evidence but psychological observations. He created a space where all the sciences we know today can help in solving crime, and actually paved the way for more psychological avenues to be taken more seriously in academia and law enforcement. If you think about it, without Sherlock, you and I may not have our jobs as profilers right now.' Spencer paused when he realised he was rambling, and despite your soft, encouraging smile, he saw the tired blankness in your eyes.

Spencer licked his lips before speaking again. 'What I'm trying to say is... I don't think it's silly at all.'

You nodded your thanks although you knew you didn't need to. 'So what about you?', you asked in return. 'What will entertain Dr. Spencer Reid on this "fine Friday evening"?'

His words repeated back to him kept the smile on his face, more importantly the life in his eyes. But he began to fiddle with the strap of his satchel bag, and you couldn't help but notice he slightly swayed. Like he was nervous or something. It was cute.

He was cute.

You forced the rising heat in your cheeks to stay underneath the surface to not give away your embarrassment or your inner thoughts. Thoughts you'd been having since the day you'd met him six years ago. Thoughts that you'd suppressed so as to not interfere with your work, and then later so it wouldn't ruin your hard-built friendship.

When he told you about Maeve, you'd had mixed feelings. Of course, you'd been ecstatic for him that he'd found someone he could be himself with, and even more so when he disclosed to you that no one else knew about her - just you. But you couldn't deny the twinge of sadness that pulled at your heart knowing that that someone he could be himself with wasn't you.

But you hadn't hesitated, hadn't faltered when he'd needed a shoulder to cry on when Maeve was killed. Once he decided to open up and accept help, you were first in line to help keep the young doctor afloat in his sea of grief and loss.

It's been over a year since Maeve's death now, and while she would always remain important in his heart, he had, for the most part, moved on, slowly getting back to be his usual, quirky, logical self.

The past year and a bit has only brought you two closer together, and as much as you have tried to hide how amazing that makes you feel, you've had plenty of conversations with Penelope and others on the team about finally asking the boy wonder out. It's not like you didn't want to, but if Maeve was his type of girl, you just weren't sure you were what Spencer was looking for in a romantic partner. Besides, you were happy with your friendship.

It was by far the most precious relationship you had aside from your family - why ruin it?

You quickly realised you'd both been silent for a while, Spencer still not having answered your question yet. 'Spence?' you prompted gently.

The cute doctor managed to grasp his satchel strap fiercely and ground himself back in the present. 'R-Right. I too have a book at home. The one you got me for my birthday, actually.'

'Oh yes!' The Shining Girls by Lauren Beukes. You'd been hooked from the first line, and by the time you finished, all you could think about was how much you thought Spencer would enjoy it. So you instantly wrapped up your own personal copy and waited for Spencer's birthday to roll around. You never told him it was yours, you just hoped he didn't notice the slight bend in the spine or minuscule tears in some pages from you flipping them too quickly. 'I've been meaning to ask you if you enjoyed it or not. I just assumed you'd read it already.'

'We've just been so busy with cases lately. I haven't had time to even consider picking it up.'

You rolled your eyes. 'Come on, we both know you could've finished that book on one of our plane rides.'

He shrugged, eyes dipping for a moment before landing back on you. 'I know. I guess... I just wanted to give it the time and attention it deserved,' he settled on, and the honesty in both his words and his eyes threatened to steal your breath.

A silence that rested between comfortable and awkward settled upon you two. This had happened many times in recent weeks although you weren't quite sure why. Regardless of your hidden feelings and the tragedy of Maeve, neither of you lost your comfortability with one another.

'So... we've both got book dates tonight,' you said in an attempt to break the silence. The rest of the team was still chatting just a little away from them, but it felt like it was just the two of you sometimes when you talked.

'Well, actually, maybe...' Spencer started, and his fingers were twitching again. 'I was wondering if maybe you'd want t-to bring your book over and... join me, tonight.'

The request wasn't an unusual one. In fact, you'd conducted your own mini book club between the two of you on plenty of occasions. Mainly because you both found out you were the kind of people that liked your personal time and space, but didn't like the thought of being completely alone. This wasn't new, but it warmed your heart all the same at the gesture.

'That sounds great, Spence!' you said heartily. 'Give me half an hour and I'll be around at yours-'

'Actually,' Spencer interrupted, 'I was thinking we could grab some dinner together first. You know, like at a restaurant or some place you can sit in at.'

'...Like a date?' you asked softly, breathlessly. The words just kind of slipped from you before you even contemplated how they would affect Spencer. It just felt natural and right.

Your heart pounded like a jackhammer between your ribs, but you were more concerned at what expression Spencer would pull in the next five seconds.

To your relief, he smiled that small little smile of his that spoke volumes of his insecurity but also of his genuine intentions. 'Yeah. I guess it is like a date,' he finally replied.

Oh my goodness. He was nervous. His words were rushed and higher-pitched in tone. but you still managed to understand him, as well as what dinner implied.

A half-smile pulled at your lips. 'Dr. Spencer Reid,' you began softly, half-scared, half-excited to speak the words you'd been holding back for so long. 'Are you asking me out on a date right now?'

At your words, his anxiety seemed to disappear, as he stopped fidgeting with the satchel strap and took a daring step closer to you. 'I guess I am.'

You couldn't stop it now, the smile of pure joy you'd been holding back from splitting your face open. After years of suffering silently, of repressing the truth, it was all worth it for that one question.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N,' he quipped cheekily. 'Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

The answer was right there in the tip of your tongue, almost spewing from you, when your name was called out across the bullpen for all to hear.

The globe of silence and serenity that had built around Spencer and yourself suddenly shattered as you both, alongside the rest of the team, turned to Hotch standing in his office doorway. But while you all looked at him, his hard gaze was honed in on you.

'L/N,' he called again, having your attention now. 'Can I see you in my office, please?'

You looked between him and Spencer, unsure who to answer first. In the end, you were still technically on the clock so you nodded at your boss and said, 'Sure, I'll be in there shortly.'

'This can't wait, I'm sorry.'

It was the seriousness and discomfort in his voice that caused you to throw aside your personal agenda, giving Spencer an apologetic look before quickly making your way through the bullpen, up the stairs and into his office. You tried not to look at your team too much as you did, but you felt their gazes on the back of your head nevertheless.

They were just as confused as you were, then.

'Close the door,' Hotch instructed gently, to which you obliged. He pointed to the seat on the other side of his desk. 'Have a seat.'

'Everything okay, Hotch?' you asked, taking a seat in the chair. 'Oh no. Did I make an error in one of my reports again?'

'No, nothing like that,' he reassured you, which didn't help your already built up worry. For a moment, it was just you two sitting in his office in silence; you waited for him to explain his mysterious actions, while he seemed to struggle to find the right words.

He never struggled to find the right words.

You leaned forward in your seat, worry furrowing your brow. 'Hotch. What's wrong?'

'Nothing is wrong, so to say,' he insisted, but his frown remained. 'I've just been in contact with your old unit chief from Organised Crime. They believe there is an underground operation being conducted by gang leaders in Manhattan that involves the transporting, selling and purchasing of girls and women in the prostitute industry.'

'Okay,' you drawled out, more confused than ever. 'What has this got to do with us?'

'It doesn't,' Hotch answered immediately. 'Just you. Your old unit chief wants you back to go undercover in the case.'

'What?' You stood up from your seat instead of shouting, but goodness it took all your strength not to. 'Why do they need me? They have a whole squadron of agents to choose from.'

'They want a profiler to help them find out who these people are first, then go undercover and become part of the operation's inner circle and report back to them,' Hotch explained, although his tone displayed his displeasure in saying so. 'Y/N, you have more experience in undercover missions than anyone else on this team, even before you joined us as a profiler.'

You knew his words to be true, but the reality of it all was an ever-growing weight on your chest. 'What they are asking, Hotch, could take weeks, months even. Those kind of people will not trust so easily,' you tried reasoning with him.

You couldn't help but look through the blinds to your team still standing and talking outside in the bullpen. To Spencer, who had joined the team since you had left, but just looked at the window as if he could find out what was going on behind the glass and blinds if he looked long enough. It broke your heart to think you wouldn't see him for months, maybe even years.

Because that was the thing with undercover missions. Once you assumed the life of someone else, your old life became non-existent. That meant no contact with anyone outside of the case as a safety precaution.

That meant no talking to Spencer, or anyone in the BAU, until the case ended. Or unless you were killed, in which case you wouldn't be able to do a lot of talking anyways.

You turned back around at the sound of Hotch standing from his seat and coming around the desk to speak directly in front of you, no walls to hide behind. 'You know I wouldn't be asking if I hadn't tried to change their mind first. But even I can't argue that you are the best agent for the job.'

You nodded your understanding even if you hated to admit he was right. 'I guess it's not one of those jobs that I can decline, is it?'

Hotch shook his head regrettably. 'Head Chief requested for you personally. You've already been taken off the roster here at the BAU so you're not disturbed by other cases.'

Hearing that was just rubbing salt in the wound, and you hated the burning feeling of tears rising at the back of your eyes. You were already gone from here, like a ghost that didn't realise she was one to begin with.

Hotch's hand rested heavy on your shoulder as he comforted you. 'We can discuss your return to work when your mission is over. You will always have a place with us, Y/N.'

You attempted a smile, but it was strained as you tried to force back tears. You wiped at the strays that dribbled down your cheeks, pulling yourself back together before speaking again. 'All right. How long do I have before I am expected in the Big Apple?'

'There's someone waiting for you at your apartment already. They'll take you to their headquarters when you're done packing tonight.'

You sucked in air as you felt your whole world tilt unstably. Tonight. You had to leave tonight. Again, you found yourself seeking out Spencer through the half-closed blinds.

'So what do you say, SSA Y/N L/N? Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?'

You bit your lip as you blinked your tears away, trying but failing to ignore the cry of your heart as its strings were pulled harshly. 'Tonight?' you asked in the hope you'd misheard.

But no such hope existed, unfortunately.

'Yes,' Hotch said, that one word the final nail in the coffin of your impending suffering. 'I'm sorry. This goes without saying, but don't mention any of this to the team as you leave. Only myself and Section Chief Cruz will know where you are and the details of your mission.'

You huffed out a joyless laugh. 'Hiding truths from a team of profilers is like playing poker with a mirror attached to your face,' you said, and you didn't bother to hide your displeasure and sadness when you did. 'They're going to ask questions, and they will find out the truth eventually.'

'Let me worry about that,' Hotch said gently, letting go of you and leaving a cold mark where his hand once was. 'You've got bags to pack.'

'Right.' You sucked in a few deep breaths before making your way to the door. tears burned at your eyes again but you couldn't let the team see you like this. You couldn't let Spencer see you like this.

Because you had a job to do. And you always finished a job.

Before you could open the door handle, however, Hotch stopped you once more. 'Y/N.'

You looked at him, forcing an expression of blankness and indifference. 'Yes, sir?'

He must've seen your inner struggle, as he offered one of those genuine smiles of his that were oh so rare. 'We'll see you when you get back,' he said.

It wasn't a promise or a done deal, but it was the most hope you could ask for right now. So you smiled your thanks, nodded your goodbye, and opened the door back into the bullpen.

Immediately, all eyes set upon you and the room grew quiet. Your first instinct was to cry, then to run, then to blurt everything out because you hated keeping secrets. But you remembered what had just been said, and you whipped a bright smile onto your face to hide your despair.

'Don't you guys have homes to go to?' you asked cheerily, walking down the stairs as casually as possibly. You would've bee-lined for your bag, but if you moved too quickly they would suspect something. 'I recall hot baths and scotch were awaiting most of us, are they not?'

Thankfully Rossi took the bait, and picked up his go-bag in a huge huff. 'The lady is right. I spend enough time with you people as is, I am not wasting anymore not drinking and soaking.'

'Soaking in what? The bath or scotch?' JJ asked, also picking up her go-bag to make her way back to the elevator.

The group devolved into laughs and other jests, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you picked up your go-bag and followed them. Before you could though, a gentle call of your name halted you in your tracks, out of both politeness and frozen fear.

'Hey,' Spencer started, looking between you and Hotch's office. 'What was all that about?'

'Oh, uh, nothing super important,' you said, scrambled as you words were. 'Just a paperwork issue. Again.'

He broke out in smile that set your heart aflutter despite your inner turmoil. 'You know, you really shouldn't do paperwork on the plane when you're tired if you're just going to make a mistake. You're better off leaving it to the morning when your brain and body has rested enough to comprehend what the paperwork is asking of you.'

'Well sorry if I don't want to do a mountain of paperwork when I come back into the office,' you countered, grateful for the playful distraction as you made it over to the elevator. The others were just piling in when Spencer halted you again.

'So...' he dragged out, eyes flickering between you and teh floor nervously, '...what do you say?'

'To what?' you asked.

'To dinner. You didn't have time to give me an answer before.'

Shit. Your voice failed you now as you grasped at words - any words - to tell him. Your heart screamed yes, but there was someone waiting for you back home. A home you wouldn't be visiting for who knows how long.

Capitalising on your gaping mouth, you forced out a yawn and feigned covering it up out of embarrassment. 'Oh my goodness, sorry about that. Um, actually, now that you mention it, I am pretty beat. I'm just... going to go home and sleep it off if that's all right.'

It pained you to see his smile drop at your words, to see the hope leave his beautiful eyes at your rejection. And you knew you shouldn't say anything or make promises you couldn't keep, but you couldn't just leave him with no hope.

'Maybe next week sometime,' you offered, hoping your smile could bring some of that light back. 'You know, you've never tried the Italian Restaurant under my apartment before. We could go there. On me.'

Instinctively, you reached for his hand, relishing in the warmth it held and brought into you. To your relief, he didn't pull away. Instead, you got your smile back, and a little light returned to his eyes. You were kind of glad you wouldn't be around when the light left him completely.

'Okay,' he said softly, surprising you with a gentle squeeze of your hand in his. 'It's a date.'

'Yeah,' you replied, trying and failing to push aside the fluttering sensation his words gave your heart. You were only prolonging not only your pain, but his.

Selfish. So selfish.

'Come on, you two,' Derek called out from the elevator. 'I can't hold these doors open forever. Savannah will kill me if I miss our dinner reservations.'

You both quickly made it in to the elevator before Derek let them close on you, and then you were caught up in the chaos that was your team. You weren't sure how you got onto the topic of what scotch goes best with what foods, but you didn't care. It made you happy to know they never let the weight of a dark case get in the way of living their own lives to them fullest.

You all reached the car park and before you could make a run for your car, Spencer called out to you. 'See you Monday, Y/N!'

You turned back around to face not only him, but Derek, JJ, Penelope, Alex, and David as they all slowly went for their cars too.

You caught yourself staring at them, taking their happy faces in one last time before you left them behind. Hotch said you'd always have a place with the BAU, but you weren't sure how long this mission would take. And if you'd be replaced by then.

You forced a smile onto your face and waved them farewell. 'Yeah, see you then.'

You hated the bitter taste the lie brought to your mouth, but you managed to keep it together long enough that you got in your car and drove out of the car park without any more issues. That's when the tears came.

You wouldn't be there next Monday, and were not getting that date with Spencer next week.

It hurt you more to think that you may not get that date at all.

[quotidian-oblivion]

Abridged epilogue of LMDLMD

[spoilers of the fic below]

For the love of God, do not imagine Gaius watching the boy he considered his son writhe and scream in front of him, unable to do anything. Don't imagine him holding back his puke and tears for Merlin's sake as he cleaned the wounds he saw often in battle soldiers on his boy. Don't imagine him struggling to enter his chambers and still making meals for two knowing his ward was right under his feet, suffering. Don't imagine Gaius sneaking into the cave under the dungeons, ignoring the cell Merlin used to be in, and meeting The Great Dragon only to scream at him about Merlin's death then break down into tears. 

Don't imagine Kilgharrah roaring in anger only to spend his years in mourning until Gaius requested Arthur to free him. Don't imagine Kilgharrah flying to Balinor and telling him stories about the son he never met. His son who died. Don't imagine Balinor going back to Hunith and supporting her as she mourned Merlin, listening to all the stories she told him of their cheeky and bright-eyed son. Don't imagine Lancelot hearing the news from Gwen's letter and going back to Camelot in disbelief, only to find that it was true. Don't imagine Lancelot drinking himself to sleep after his knighting, knowing he couldn't have been there without Merlin.

Do not imagine Gwen watching her best friend scream about wanting to be human. Do not imagine her picturing all the times he had made her laugh, saved her life and helped her court Arthur. Do not imagine her sneaking into Merlin's room to sleep there, remembering when he had offered it to her once before when her father died. Do not imagine her kneeling with tears when the crown was set on her head, wishing more than anything that he was there.

Whatever you do, do not imagine Morgana watching Merlin be collared and chained and tortured knowing it could have been her. Don't imagine her feeling guilty for her fear when Merlin was living the nightmare. Don't imagine her running to Arthur's room at night, terrified. Don't imagine her waking up with real nightmares along with Seer visions every night. Don't imagine her reading the annotations in Merlin's book of magic and sobbing as she remembered her boisterous friend. Don't imagine her accidentally killing Morgause when she talked about killing Arthur. Don't imagine her sobbing into her brother's arms, with the knowledge she had killed her sister.

Please, just don't imagine Arthur just watching and not being able to make a single noise lest he hurt Merlin more. Don't imagine him watching as he licked the water off the floor while he couldn't do anything with four guards on him. Don't imagine Arthur feeling worthless as Merlin screamed in pain at his voice. Don't imagine him crying as Merlin was forced to admit he wasn’t human. Don't imagine him shaking with anger, pain, humiliation and sadness on Merlin's behalf as Merlin was forced to apologize to him and call him by his title. Don't imagine Arthur yelling and firing his next servant when he called him by his title. Don't imagine him waking up from a nightmare full of Merlin's screams, pleading and admittances of him being a monster. Don't imagine him seeing blood anywhere for the next few months and only seeing Merlin's. Don't imagine him sobbing in front of the butterfly Merlin subconsciously bonded to stay with him. Don't imagine him breaking himself apart when the butterfly left his sight for even a minute.

Do imagine Balinor and Hunith marrying and living peacefully and without fear, in remembrance of Merlin for the rest of their lives until they got to meet him again. 

Do imagine a strange force compelling Gwaine to travel to the Perilous Lands. Do imagine Percival taking the risk to befriend a depressed Lancelot and lifting his spirits. Do imagine Elyan feeling the bizzare need to visit his sister. Do imagine a strange, magical force bringing them to meet Arthur and Leon at a Round Table in an abandoned castle. 

Do imagine Morgana and Arthur looking away when an assassin from Harden kills Uther on Alisa's behalf. 

Do imagine Arthur taking the crown after telling the people about how the previous rulers of Harden had poisoned Uther’s mind into torturing a boy. Do imagine Gwen building a school to teach magic safely. Do imagine Morgana going on frequent diplomatic missions to Harden as Court Sorceress in making sure all magic-restraining weapons are destroyed. Do imagine Gaius taking on a young boy under the name of Daegal to pass on his physician legacy and spewing endless stories about another apprentice he once had named Merlin. Do imagine Morgana finding Mordred again and taking him under her wing as a sorceress's apprentice. Do imagine Mordred learning a spell and creating a portrait of Merlin to the exact liking. Do imagine Arthur and Gwen raising their child on stories about a brave friend they had named Merlin.

Do imagine Arthur staring down at his people, magic-users and non magic-users alike, with Merlin's voice of him being a great king ringing in his head, trusting in his friend's words and knowing it to be true.

Do imagine, one day, an old woman handing Arthur the horn of Cathbhadh.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Epilogue

Yep. You read that right - this is it. At least for now.... I made the decision to end the journey when the journey actually stopped.  Including the fact that it stopped very abruptly.

 Do not skip: Content/Trigger Warning for gore, blood, and injuries at the beginning of this chapter. There is a line of three asterisks (***) to denote where that ends. I am not kidding, I had to revoke a beta-reader’s access to the master doc until I wrote the rest, out of concern.

I cannot thank everyone enough for this wild, wild ride: @baelpenrose for all your moral and written support (and for the part of this chapter I just had to warn about!), @charlylimph-blog for being my third sister essentially, @drbibliophile, @quantumized-insanity, @werewolf2578, @lavcircuts, @janeshadow, @generalperfectionbread, @mustachebatschaos, @dierotenixe, @1978sah, and anyone else I may have missed.  Thank you!

I came to, gasping. Smoke filled my nostrils, and my eyes refused to see.  Panic filled me and I reached for my face even as I shouted hoarsely for my family. Only one hand would obey me, but it was enough to feel the sticky texture of blood glueing my eyes shut.

I worked to open my eyes, still shouting and straining my ears for anything.  Finally, I could open my eyes and sweep the ruins of the bridge. 

Maverick’s face lay in ruins, blood dripping down both sides, his chest caved in by the impact as he slumped over the controls that had smashed in his ribs. Beside him, my sister, teeth clenched in defiance, horrifyingly small in the death that had actually claimed her. I looked around, my muscles screaming as I clawed, frantically, at my restraints.

Scrambling out from under the table did not reveal anything better. Arthur had apparently managed to free himself shortly before I’d woken, but he had succumbed to his wounds trying to get to our pilots, and I could see the blood around his mouth, the way the impact had destroyed…

Charly…oh gods, Charly was. Charly’s face. Her spine was…it was wracked, twistingly broken, and she’d obviously died before waking. I tried to crawl towards where Grey had been strapped in, or Hunyh, but…my legs weren’t…

I screamed, coughing up more blood, trying to…

Some of the ship’s damaged hull screamed for me. Some of it crumbled, and I saw two more of my colleague’s mangled bodies come into view as their seats twisted around beneath the already ruined deck. That was Eino���I couldn’t even recognize the other’s face beneath the mask of blood, but based on the build, maybe, maybe Hunyh? 

Parvati…

Xiomara had died next to Parvati, and seeing the way Parvati had gone was probably the bitterest. Her last act had been to scrawl on the walls something, some little symbol I wished I could recognize, above where she and Xiomara lay.

I couldn’t see Pranav and Alice, but there was…it was quiet, and my vision was starting to tunnel. I tried screaming one more time, found myself coughing, choking on the blood from where my throat had torn.  Convulsions wracked my body, pain surging from limbs that were broken - 

***

“Sophia!” a voice shouted. “Sophia!”

I woke, gasping for air like I had been drowning.  The pain was a phantom sensation, and I started sobbing when I saw the person shaking me.

Maverick, eyes wide, hands firm but gentle on my shoulders, slumped in relief. “It was a nightmare, love. You were screaming.”

The tension left my body and I rested my forehead on his perfectly intact chest, feeling his hear beating strongly against my cheek. “I thought they had gone,” I admitted. “I haven’t had one in years.”

“It’s okay,” he assured me, pulling me onto his lap. “We’re okay. We’re here, we made it.”

“Conor isn’t here.” Damn the tears and the sniff that betrayed me.

Mav squeezed me tighter. “Love, he’s staying with the children, you know that. It’s just for a month, then he’ll be back. They turn five soon - “

“I know,” I sulked. “Then they can come stay with us when it’s his time to keep them.”

“And he can stay here,” Maverick finished. “You fully supported the proposal when Hannah and Antoine came to you about it.”

I rubbed my forehead and mentally cursed myself. “How was I supposed to know that Conor would be one of the first fathers?”

“Two more weeks, then he’s back for a month,” Maverick repeated. “And it’s not like we never see him around or have meals with him.”

Didn’t make me any happier about the situation, but he was right. Despite what could charitably be called a rough start, the colony had been very stable after the first five years. The Council - at the time in a state of peaceful transition while roles were voted on and handed off - had agreed to slowly start allowing children, but with one caveat.  Due to the need for genetic diversity, and to provide stability, they would live in their own quarters, later to be shared with their siblings, and their parents would come to them until they started school.  Once school started, all parents were required to live as close as possible to where education would take place, and the children essentially lived with both families as they saw fit.

In theory.  Conor’s twin girls were some of the colony’s eldest children, and fortunately we got along very well with their mother and her wife, who lived nearby anyway.  Even officially retired, a part of me was holding my breath to see how the parents who had to relocate handled things.

“Those girls had better be glad they’re cute,” I grumbled, snuggling in to try to get some more sleep before my shift started.

Several restless hours of dozing later, I felt my jaw pop as I yawned my way into the still-rebuilding Archives.  A precious cup of high octane tea in one hand, a bundle of thick paper in the other, I found my alcove and moved the light closer.  Great, more medical papers, I sighed to myself.  Having good penmanship had its ups and downs, the current ‘down’ being that I mostly got stuck transcribing essential documents that were less interesting than watching moss grow.

There hadn’t been time to commit all of the Archives to crystal, and on a planet with humidity both above and below ground, there were entirely too many documents that would be lost to the environment without transcription.  The paper we were using was made from the fibers of the stonevine - the vine Teeth had brought to our attention for how hard its sap cured once boiled.  It had taken several attempts, but the resulting paper was incredibly waterproof and actually required the letters to be etched into it to take any sort of pigment.  However, once anything was written on it, there was no way to destroy the document short of grinding it into a new pulp.

Unfortunately, that meant anyone copying the documents needed a very steady hand and impeccably legible handwriting, because you only got one shot at it.  Everything was in the database, but those last several months of Eko-mari interference had reinforced the need for hard copies of everything.  And so, my retirement from the Council had led to six shifts per week transcribing very important and very boring documents.

A harsh swear hissed in my direction, snapping my head up in confusion.  I barely had time to make out a head of wild brown hair attached to a young adult with an odd gait, practically dragging a toddler behind her. “Teeth…” I ventured hesitantly.

They froze in their tracks, and the little boy squealed before running over to me on stubby legs. Slowly, Teeth turned to face me, nose wrinkled in embarrassment. “Hi, Aunt Sophia.”

“PHEE!” the little boy screeched, climbing into my lap while I deftly moved the etching pen out of his sticky reach. “Sibby was noddy,” he assured me in the special loud whisper only managed by small children and drunks.

“I figured bud,” I muttered before turning my attention back. “I can’t imagine that the child of two queens is here on community service, not to mention that Siu writes better than you do.” I nodded to the boy who I was trying to keep the old papers away from. “What’s up?”

Surrendering, they came to sit across from me, gently taking the papers from my hand before their little brother could. “I was scaling the Vault - “

“Which you know you aren’t supposed to do,” I added.

“Which I have been told is dangerous,” they corrected. “And Siu saw me.”

I bit my tongue but scanned him for injuries. Scraped knees, but that was about as normal to him as breathing. Kid was a klutz, bless him.

When I nodded, Teeth kept going. “I thought he was with Queen Mum, but he was with his daycare class, on a field trip, and… The kids tried to imitate me.”

“Since you aren’t, you know, dead, I’m assuming the adults stopped anything tragic.”

“Miss Mona said we couldn’t climb,” Siu pouted at me.

“And they all started crying,” Teeth finished in a huff. “Busted by thirty six kids and four adults. All of my parents knew within an hour.”

I whirled a finger around to indicate the Archives, before swooping it in to boop my nephew’s cheek. “Doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Penmanship practice,” they groaned, dropping their head on their organic arm in a huff. “With an etching pen and everything.”

I thought about it for a second. “Simon’s idea?”

“Who else?” they despaired. Being twenty five may have given Teeth more experience, but it had also solidified them into a very expressive person that borderlined on teenage dramatics when it mattered the least.

I sighed. “Okay. You can practice here, but go get a glass slate and some markers for Siu. Otherwise he’ll get bored.”

“It’s only for a couple hours,” they swore, attitude suddenly changing. “Mom will be here on her lunch to come get him.” Springing to their feet, they took off to request one of the panes we used to conserve paper when people were first learning new alphabets.

“Swindled,” I told Siu very seriously. “Your sibling has swindled me again.”

“Fucking duh,” he giggled cheerfully.

Gaping for a second, I ground my teeth before shouting. “TEETH!”

Three hours and some exasperated promises from Charly - who was admirably keeping her laughter at bay - Siu was shrieking with laughter at the promise of swimming lessons with Mummy, and Teeth was working on a glass slate to replicate my cursive writing.

“This is so small,” they complained. “How do you do this?”

“Same way you are,” I answered without looking up. Hematology extracts for the win - I could barely spell half of these words. “Practice.”

“You could have written it bigger.”

“I did.” Demonstrating, I took a scrap of stonevine paper, etched a few words in it, washed in the ink, then turned it towards them. “See?” The only person I knew who naturally wrote smaller than me was Tyche - the largest letter on my paper was a quarter of an inch. Most were right at an eighth.

“Bitching has been retracted.”

“Besides, cheer up,” I continued. “I just heard today that Xale and Brol are coming to visit soon.  Siu’s never met Xale, has he?”

The felt pen squeaked loudly as Teeth’s arm jerked. “How did you hear this before me?” they demanded.

“Xale wanted it to be a surprise,” I assured. “But you seem like you could use the good news. They should be here in time for his birthday.”

They paused mid-wipe as they erased the streak. “Do you think his genetic parents will show up?” they asked quietly.

I shrugged, trying to look lighter than I felt. “They relinquished any custody of their material, neither felt confident that they could raise a child. As far as who Siu’s parents are, he’s your human brother, being co-raised by Charly and Nixe, just like you.”

They relaxed a fraction. “Then he should love his big sister as much as I do.  Will Kelly and Mati be there?” Teeth loved their little brother, but loved their ‘cousins’ almost as much, and made a point to play with them, even when Conor wasn’t the custodial parent.

“Their moms are all for it,” I assured. “The girls are the only kids on their side right now, and no one wants them to feel left out.”

“Good,” they nodded firmly. “Family is important.”

“Preaching to the choir,” I pointed at myself. “You may be the only person I know who has a bigger family than I do.”

“The outer caverns are almost complete,” they threw out, changing topic. “Mom is excited, because one of the caverns is going to be a new park.”

“Botanical lab,” I corrected. “Technically.”

“Interactive lab, which is the same thing as a park,” Teeth rebutted. “And you promised.”

“I don’t have any say, I told you that.”

“But you promised me you would at least talk to them…”

“I know, but are you sure? Siu’s already - “

“Aunt Sophia, you promised,” they pressed. “Mom and Mum will listen to you, especially when Simon already agrees with us…”

“Have you even one hundred percent decided - “

“Poodle collie mix,” they bounced triumphantly, knowing they’d won. “They shed less, they are incredibly smart, and they are gentle, so Siu and his kitten will be fine.”

I rubbed my forehead in mock frustration, secretly very proud of how far they had thought this through. “I can’t even argue about responsibility. I’ve seen you with the kids, recent blunder included.”

“Look, I - wait, what?”

I set my etching pen down and started counting off on my fingers, getting a small laugh out of them. “You made a point to do it when you thought you wouldn’t be seen, but especially when you thought Siu wouldn’t see you.  No one got hurt, so you clearly came right down before any of the kids could actually try.  And you brought Siu with you today, to make sure you knew where he was and that he wasn’t trying to climb a rock wall.” I turned my glance to them. “Plus, you were very adamant that when Xale gets their kitten, Siu gets one, too, because he misses Mac.”  Poor guy had barely survived the crash - excuse me, ‘high velocity landing’ - but even then, old age caught up a couple years later.

“You know, you could still get a kitten, too,” Teeth pointed out gently.

I scoffed, this time actually indignant. “I am a firm believer in the Kitten Distribution System, I will have you know. When I am meant to have a cat, one will manifest.”

“You do know that animal breeding is strictly controlled?”

“Cared exactly zero cats, ever. You’ll see.”

For the next several hours, we made at least an effort to focus on Teeth’s penmanship and my transcription. I managed to copy several pages, but despaired that Teeth was a lost cause as far as cursive went.  Which, fair - as long as they could print legibly, I could honestly have cared less.

When my shift was over, I let Teeth know that they were freed to their own recognizance and let my mind wander as I navigated the cavern system.  Several times, I had to dodge fuzzy yellow balls darting past - Else still largely navigated by bumping off of things, despite being large enough to leave a pretty sizable bruise - only to later stand aside so that Noah’s much smaller avatars could trundle after them.  I was still adapting to the hive-minded mushrooms being four feet tall instead of twelve, and always chuckled when I saw one chasing behind Else.

Eventually, children would be running through the caves in the same way. Every day, more and more of Charly’s bio-lights were mounted rather than hurriedly attached - constant signs of expansion as we recovered and spread out.  Gardens were tucked in every possible nook and cranny, especially those with small thermal pools.  More than a few had been built out with seating that used stone from smoothed out or expanded areas, repurposed.

It took all of my restraint to keep from turning into a communal food nook, the smell of chilies practically dragging me in.  The heavily vegetarian group of cooks had quickly found and claimed the space, which was too warm for habitation due to the springs that ran behind the walls - making it perfect for cooking.

Dinner with Maverick and Evan, I reminded myself. The newly installed Councillor for Health and Safety had been very attached to Mav since the final hours of our journey.  For a time, Conor and I had been slightly concerned and very much amused, but Evan had made it abundantly clear that she preferred zero romantic or physical attachments - she basically considered Maverick a very intelligent pet, and he thought that was hilarious.

I reached my favorite point of my walk and paused to enjoy it: one of the narrow passages had collapsed slightly on one side, leaving an overlook to our main hub. The Vault, we called it. There was no part of the day when people weren’t crossing through it, often stopping to speak to each other.  Streams of both hot and cold water flowed in channels across the floor, small decorative bridges arching over them at the wider points for safety.  Horticulturists hovered between the relatively new plant installations, which had already made the air sweet in their scant three years of growth.

I closed my eyes and inhaled the steam, feeling my heart slow and calm as it always did.  Terrible events had brought us here, refugees from our birth planet.  But we had survived the trip, across a distance we had never thought possible, and were carving out a home as carefully as possible.  And one day, if we ever saw the journey home, nothing would remain behind us except the stone works - the plants needed constant maintenance, a decision we had made to avoid introducing invasive species.

We had a second chance, and we promised we would do right by it.  As I did daily, I quietly said a prayer to myself that those who had survived on Earth - something Teeth was evident of - would make the same decision. Done, I smiled gently and headed home.

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[jarienn972]

La Sirena - Chapter Ten (Epilogue)

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 

(that’s finally being completed in winter)

We have reached the finale of this @cssns tale at last. This has been such a fun and challenging experience trying to build this universe, and I hope that readers have found it enjoyable as well. Thanks for all of your lovely words and feedback along the way!

I thank you, @kmomof4, for all of your assistance and input. You rock as a beta!  And @courtorderedcake​, thank you once again for the beautiful artwork that really brought to life the imagery of the opening chapter!

And now, back to the story... Here, we pick up moments after a stubborn and confused Killian pretended to be asleep to avoid his brother. He’s about to get a wonderful surprise...

Catch up from the beginning here on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Or read in full on AO3 or FF.net

The instant that Killian was certain that Liam was out of earshot and wouldn't be present to scold him for faking sleep, his eyelids sprang open wide to behold the most wondrous sight. Perched in the chair just to his left was the very same angelic vision he'd first laid eyes on back on that deserted beach days ago. She looked different with her long, gilded tresses pulled back by a ribbon and seemed a bit more diminutive while wearing a vastly oversized sailor's white uniform tunic and navy woolen trousers but he knew for certain it was her.

But how? How was he gazing upon a beautiful siren here in his own quarters? How could she be here and still be real?

"Emma? It's you!" he exclaimed, trying to sit upright to greet her properly despite the pain. "What are you doing here? How are you even here, Love?

"One question at a time," she chuckled as she reached over and placed her hand atop his forearm to urge him not to move. The moment her fingers brushed his skin, he felt a tingle pass through his entire body - one that was warm and tender. His heart was suddenly racing, but it was no longer driven by fear or anxiety. He welcomed her touch, her presence. "I'm here because this is where I belong and it would seem that even the gods agree."

"But you're a siren. I thought your home was those isles and the surrounding seas? I thought you couldn't leave without…" His voice trailed off before he could say sacrificing your powers.

Her demeanor rapidly switched from jovial to serious at Killian's off-handed, yet important questions. Her eyes avoided his for a moment, then recaptured his gaze with an intensity he'd not seen from her before. There was a new melancholy about her as she took in a deep, reflective breath before responding.

"That cove was no longer my home. In truth, it was far more of a prison for longer than I care to remember. I thought I was happy alone when I left the ranks of the siren council, but I had no idea how wrong I was - until you floated into my bay." Killian's jaw gaped in stunned silence as he watched the tears begin to well in her eyes, but she shushed him when he tried to reply. There was more to her confession that she needed him to hear before he could respond properly. "I may have rescued you from drowning that fateful day, but it was you who rescued me from an eternity of loneliness. And then watching my sister attempting to harm you only strengthened my resolve…" She paused to take a breath, unsure how he was going to react to her next words. "I guess what I am trying to say is that I am here right now on this ship, wearing these ridiculous garments because I knew I couldn't let you go. I risk sounding like a fool right now, but there is something I must confess. I love you, Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones of His Majesty's Royal Navy. Nothing in my entire lifetime has felt as right as the days I spent with you, and because of that, I asked the mighty Poseidon to make me human so that I could accompany you."

"Emma… I…," he stammered, his thoughts an incoherent jumble.

Her jaw wavered as she dipped her head, almost ashamed of her utterance. "I'm sorry if I've upset you, but after all we've been through these past days, I believed you should know the truth. I do understand if you do not feel the same as I do."

Ignoring his body's cries of pain, Killian threw off the blanket and forced his protesting limbs to sit upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bunk so he could position himself close enough to her that he could cup her cheek in his palm and brush away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

"Emma, there is no need for tears," he assured her. "While I will admit that your revelation to be a siren - and all of the events that followed - were a tad horrifying, I still knew I would gladly spend the remainder of my years stranded in that cove with you. But you, you gave up being a siren - being immortal - for me?"

"What good was being immortal if it meant losing you?" she said with a sniffle just as Killian leaned forward to capture her lips with his, neither of them even caring if Liam were to reenter Killian's quarters right then and there. For a brief moment, the universe was theirs alone until Killian's protesting rib cage caused him to reluctantly pull away, but not without more questions.

"But my brother and the crew, they didn't suspect you to be any less than human? Liam, he addressed you as Miss Swan? Since I don't believe that sirens have family names, wherever did that come from? Whatever did you tell them whilst I was incapacitated?"

"No one suspects me to be a siren, if that is your worry. Once your fellow crew members reached the cove to rescue you, I had to tell them something, so I led them to believe that I was a fellow prisoner from the sunken pirate ship. They believe that the pirates attacked my family's vessel prior to abducting you on that isle of Neverland you spoke of. It isn't as though any of them could corroborate my story with your captors. The crew also collected several damaged trunks and weathered chests that had washed up on the shore, believing them to be part of the stolen loot from the sunken ship. I happened to notice that there was a swan's head carved into one of the wooden trunks so as I boarded this vessel, I introduced myself to your captain as Emma Swan. Do you believe I should have chosen something else?"

Killian chuckled at the thought of her thinking up a surname on the spot. "I don't think anyone will make the connection. I kind of like it. You're beautiful and graceful like a swan. It suits you."

"Thank you," she blushed. "I hardly feel beautiful in these borrowed clothes. This fabric, it is rather unpleasant."

"I'm sure we can find you some attire more suitable for a lady when we next make port. Women aren't common on the high seas. There's an old legend that they're unlucky."

"What nonsense," she muttered with a frown. "But no matter. I have it on good authority that no harm will come to this ship. No creature of the seas would dare challenge Poseidon's edict."

"I still don't understand how this is possible. How does my brother not know that the expedition to the uncharted island went horribly wrong? He wants to award me a bloody commendation that I don't deserve. They think I've lost my mind."

"This will need to be our secret, but the events as you remember them never actually transpired," she stated, which of course left Killian befuddled. He opened his mouth, prepared with a barrage of questions, but she raised a hand to shush him, wanting to explain what she meant before letting him speak. "I know you will have many questions, some of which I will never be able to answer, but in simple terms, Poseidon modified all of the events that led up to your brother's ship arriving to rescue us from the cove. Everything that transpired remained in the same order, but not in the same manner. You still encountered the pirates on that island, they still took you prisoner, and the sirens still laid siege to the ship before it ran aground and sank, but Poseidon changed the scope of each event and allowed your brother's ship to pursue the pirate vessel to locate you. Your injuries were all believed to have come at the hands of your pirate captors and during the escape from the sinking vessel. They have no reason to suspect otherwise."

"But what about my crew? Does no one remember their sacrifices?" he queried anxiously, afraid that those men's lives had been lost in vain.

"Some of them were never there, never set foot on the island. Others were there but their fates were changed by the modified events," she explained, although her words did little to alleviate his confusion. "In this revised timeline, there was no actual battle with those scoundrels. You alone were captured by the pirates. I have no way else to explain, but essentially, Poseidon changed how your history played out. No one beyond our realm will ever know of the version you lived through."

His jaw remained slack as he shook his head and tried to come to terms with a turn of events that was nothing short of miraculous. "But how? Why?" he stammered. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"He said I reminded him of his daughter, Ursula, and he recognized your good heart - much like the man Ursula fell in love with so long ago. He knew you'd been wronged, as had I, and he wanted to put things right. He granted my wish to become human and accompany you, and brought your brother's ship into the bay so you could be saved by your kind."

"Do you know what became of your sister?"

"Not all. I do know that she had her powers revoked for abusing them and that she was made mortal, although not by choice in her case. I don't know if Poseidon turned her human or made her a permanent creature of the sea, and in truth, I don't care. I've made my peace with it. Now, all I wish is to be with you, if you'll have me."

"I wish for nothing else," he replied with a beaming smile. "I just don't know what sort of life I can provide for a former siren… There's so much out there…"

"And I want to experience it all!" she exclaimed giddily as she gestured towards the faded map of Britannia that Killian had pinned to one of the beams lining the walls of his cabin. "I know little of the world beyond our isles. If my time is now finite, I want to see and experience as much as possible! I want to visit these other lands and sail the other seas…"

Killian chuckled at her enthusiasm, not really sure what would be physically possible, but hey - after surviving several harrowing encounters with mythical beings and living to tell the fantastical tales, he was open to adventure.

"Whatever your heart desires, Emma. Whatever your heart desires is what I want for you," he repeated as he pulled his siren - his beautiful angel - in for another heartfelt, lengthy kiss, almost certain that he felt a surge of energy embrace them both.

A few years later…

It was a perfect morning. Only a few wispy clouds broke up the brilliant blue skies as gentle ripples made their way across the serene harbor. Crew lowered and secured the huge canvas sails of the Jewel of the Realm as Liam oversaw their arrival at the dock. His sailors worked like a well-oiled machine performing their tasks, which was a good thing since their Captain might have been a tad distracted.

Instead of supervising lines being tied off, Liam was scanning the shoreline in search of something - or rather, someone. He'd made sure to send out correspondence through courier when they last made port making sure that Killian was aware the Jewel was on its way to the port of Misthaven where they'd agreed to rendezvous.

He hadn't been particularly overjoyed when Killian had decided to resign his commission upon return to Britannia, but if he was honest, the decision hadn't come as much of a surprise. His little brother had endured a harrowing experience, one that Liam knew he could never fully understand. In the process, he'd formed a bond with the lovely Swan woman and Liam had seen all the signs that Killian had fallen head over heels in love and feared lengthy deployments at sea that would keep him apart from his love.

Liam also had to admit that he was a little envious of his brother, but it was clear that while Killian loved the sea, his calling wasn't a career in His Majesty's Royal Navy. He knew that his sibling had taken up as captain of a merchant ship, but since it had been nearly a year and a half since he had last seen Killian, he was curious to see how his brother was faring in his new pursuits.

"Ahoy, brother!" he heard a shout from the pier and off in the distance, he spotted his sibling waving like a fool. And was he wearing black leather?

Once the Jewel was safely moored, Liam gave out his instructions for crew liberty and then made his way down the gangplank with dozens of rambunctious sailors at his heels. He chuckled as they darted past him, scurrying along the pier on their way to one of the local taverns. At least one of them would likely end up spending a night in the brig for overindulgence, but Liam couldn't be bothered with that right now.

His brother awaited him at the far end of the pier, casually leaning against a stone pillar with his foot propped up on an overturned barrel. It was a far more confident stance than Liam recalled when they'd last seen each other, but it was Killian's attire that spoke volumes about his newfound fortitude. He'd not expected to find Killian sporting an ebony leather duster that hung to his knees atop of a bold crimson waistcoat and black woolen trousers that, even from a distance, appeared to be far softer than Liam's own scratchy uniform. Killian clearly seemed to be happy and must have been doing well for himself to afford such luxuries.

"You look well, brother," Killian greeted him.

"As do you," Liam replied, pulling his younger sibling into an embrace and patting him heartily on the back. "Whatever are you wearing?"

"Ah, this…," Killian smiled as he took a step back so Liam could take in all of the elaborate detail on the coat which included embroidered cuffs and lapels along with silver clasps and carved bone buttons. "This was a gift from Queen Ava. The circumstances behind how it came to be is a rather long tale that I'll not bore you with since we've little time to catch up."

"Of course…," Liam responded, raising his eyes skyward with a shake of his head. Killian always seemed to have a new, unbelievable tale these days. "Where ever is that lovely wife of yours? I expected she would be here with you."

"She's waiting for us back on our ship. It's getting a tad more difficult for her to get around these days."

"So then, my new niece or nephew will be arriving soon?"

"Soon enough. Likely before the next full moon. It is why we'll be sailing back to the port of Arendelle, leaving the day after tomorrow," an excited Killian announced.

"Arendelle?" Liam questioned. "Why are you heading there?"

"We were invited by the Queen, and one simply does not turn down the invitation of royalty."

"You were invited by Queen Elsa?" Liam asked incredulously as they ambled along the cobblestone street towards another section of Misthaven's bustling harbor that was filled with smaller fishing boats and merchant ships. He tried to figure out which of the vessels was the one Killian now owned but he couldn't be certain.

"Queen Anna, actually," Killian corrected him. "Queen Elsa stepped down from the throne last year as she believed her more vivacious sister was better suited to handle the duties of the royal court."

"Alright, but that still doesn't explain how you secured a royal invitation."

"While sailing the Northern Isles last summer, we stumbled upon the wreckage of a galleon that had partially sunk in a narrow, rocky fjord. We explored it to see if there was anything worthy of salvage and located a chest containing a crown and other treasures that had been stolen from the Kingdom of Arendelle. We returned the riches to the castle and received a hefty finders fee for our efforts and Emma made fast friends with the Queen. We've made several visits back to Arendelle and have kept in correspondence with the royal family. As soon as Queen Anna learned that Emma was with child, she extended the royal invitation to come join them in the castle. She's already arranged a midwife for Emma, and has said we're welcome to stay as long as we wish. Can you imagine - living in a castle? I would never have thought it possible…"

"I'm very happy for you, Killian, and very proud of you as well. For someone who believed himself a failure not so long ago, you seem to have fortune smiling upon you."

"It hardly seems possible, brother. I feel like the luckiest bloke in all the world," Killian gushed, stopping at the bottom of the gangplank of a decent sized ship with a single towering mast. It was far more compact than the Jewel, but still large enough to carry crew and cargo comfortably. "Here we are. This is our lovely lady, La Sirena."

"Beautiful vessel. Interesting choice of name though. What led you to christen her after such a creature?"

"Oh, I have my reasons," Killian smirked. "But anyway, here's Emma now." A broad smile lit up Killian's visage as he stared up at his wife who was leaning over the railing on the deck above them. "It's almost unfathomable how I ever got so lucky that the gods would send such an angel to watch over me." Emma didn't say a word herself but the smile that stretched from ear to ear across her own face seemed to echo his sentiment.

But then maybe she suspected that the love that blossomed from a heart that was true and good was worth far more than a little bit of luck.

[popculturebuffet]

The Legend of the Three Caballeros: Mt. Fuji Whiz and Thanks a Camelot Reviews: Thank God, No Daisy (Comissioned by WeirdKev27)

Saludos amgios and welcome to the final sprint of THE RIDE OF THE THREE CABLLEROS. If your wondering if this is a bit soon.. that’s because it is. While I planned to do the episodes as is before.. this bottom half of the series so far has been so good I couldn’t bare waiting days to get to the next episode just as things are getting really good, especially after the last episode’s cliffhanger. So today, I intend to FINISH the series, with an epilogue next week for my look at the cabs as a whole via a top 12 moments list. Plus i’m already excited for the next retrospective, so there’s that. And yeah Kev’s funding ANOTHER one and you can too.. serioulsy just shoot me an ask for any solo episode or arc you wan’t covered. But now’s not the time for shameless plugs, it’s the time for adventure and to sew up a cliffhanger! So come with me after the cut for some ghouls, ghosts and arthur won’t you?

PREVIOUSLY ON LEGEND OF THE THREE CABLLEROS:

And now the conclusion...

Mt. Fuji Whiz:

First off... let’s talk about the episode titles for the series since I don't think I have yet. 

It has bothered me for the ENTIRE run of the series how terrible most of them are. There all a pun of some kind on something involved with the episode.. but out of 13 episode titles the only ones I like are World-Tree Caballeros, No Man is an Easter Island, Stonehenge Your Bets, Nazca Racing and Thanks a Camelot. And most of them fit the theme of the episode with the exception of Stonehenge: World Tree is a clever pun they couldn’t NOT use, no man fits the theme of the episode as bad as that episode is, Nazca Racing is just another good pun and fits the race at the end, and thanks a Camelot while a very simple one, fits the story of that episode, i.e. everyone's dissatisfaction with Arthur’s training. More on that later. Point is the rest are just.. really cringe inducing puns. And I do LOVE a good pun.. but that’s a GOOD pun, not obvious ones about a “pyramid life-crisis” or a play on gee whiz in 2018 for god’s sake. And the finale title is just.. really awful as they gave up entirely and named it after square dancing for HOPEFULLY no adequate reason. And look the series is a comedy first with the action second, pun titles would be fine.. their just so bad it sucks all the pun out of them. See what I did there? THAT’S a pun. And not even a great one, but it’s still better than this. It feels like the titles were an afterthought and it’s obnoxious. and frustrates me every time I have to type them out. And with only four episodes left I had to get it out sometime. 

So moving onto the actual episode we pick up with the ending of last episode: Death killing the Cabs and Team Sheldgoose. And as we see shortly. he wasn’t bluffing. We pick up with them in the underworld in a dmv line. My god.. it’s even worse of a beaurcrcy than Beetlejuice. Feldrake informs the cabs where they are and Donald, being Donald, dosen’t have the patience to wait in line with the bilions of souls down there, especially since the take a number thing gave them a number that needed to be printed on both sides.. and their at 4. Good gag though. So Donald storms out the moment he sees and exit and our boys head into the city of the Damned. Sheldgoose meanwhile decides to do his best Karen and demands ot speak with the manager.. whose another Sheldgoose it turns out. Uh-Oh.  After the credits our boys explore the city and hoping not to get hit with more ghost cards, find shelter in a little tavern owned by none other than Clinton Coot, Donald’s Great-Grandpa and father of his grandmother Elvira Coot. Clinton initally mistakes the boys for their ancestors, and is disapionted in meeting donald, but once he learns their the ones that inehreted his Cabana, he’s exastic to meet and learn about them. We also learn he had a collection of fragile frontiersman figurines.. which cleverly, are all various versions of Scrooge from life and times. His second cowboy outfit from the side story “The Vigilante of Pizen Bluff”, his prospector outfit from “Terror of the Tranysval”, his klondike prospecter outfit and him finding the goose egg nugget from “King of The Klondike” and him bitterly hauling a sack of his loot into town from the same story. Also some palet swaps of all but the last one because animation is expensive. Panchito.. destroys them all while putting down his pIzza. “NOTHINGS BROKEN”. Clinton then invites the boys to have a sip of his memories, literally he drains some out and despite their relcutance the cabs take a chug.  They reveal prettty much.. every nagging question about the cabana. Clinton, after finding out about his ancestor Duego Duck, the original cabs version of donald, Clinton traveled the world and the 7 seas, everybody’s looking for something.. and he was looking for every trace of the cabs, and their mysterious ally, who we know as Xandra. He gathered all of it, hence the massive collection of books and magical treasures in the cabana, eventually finding their hidden lair and building his cabana on top of it, founding New Quackmore with Sheldgoose’s own great grandmother.. who betrayed him and took the institute from him. His consolation prize was finding Ari and the atlas but he couldn’t open it like the boys and is curious what they found. I absolutely love this and while I feel Clinton’s history would’ve worked better as an overaching mystery, there were seeds for all of this planeted throughout the season, with Sheldgoose being in charge despite the name and Clinton being involved, Shelgoose’s mention a sheldgoose has always been president, and the tease last episode. Still would’ve liked MORE exploration and build up to this , but what we got was facenating upgrading Clinton from a footnote on the duck family tree, to a throughly loveable character: A guy who was so fascenated by his ancestor’s adventures he became an adventurer himself and who lovingly catalogued eveyrthing the guy and his friends ever did.. and had some heartrending reasons why we’ll get to. 

 As Jose leads in with not what but WHO, and likely tells clint about their adventures, a clever way to get that exposition out off screen, we cut back to the world of the living. Xandra is beating herself up, if not literally over things, and while the girls just suggest going to the underworld via zoom point, Xandra points out that won’t work. There’s only one way in: Charon, the greek ferryman of the dead.. and she realizes that’s exactly how, while the girls try a seance.  I’ll just cover the séance stuff now. The girls hold a séance to summon the boys, finding some unfinished business (A piece of said pizza) and having ari dress like a fortune teller because eh why not. There’s some good gags and stuff, but it’s mostly plot irrelvant, only hurting Panchito’s brain at first, then summoning him just as their about to fight a Tengu, with humphrey eating the pizza finsihing the buisness. Not a bad plot at all and certainly refreshing after all the Daisy nonsense last episode, but nothing really important.  Meanwhile let’s also get to Xandra’s subplot, which is both mroe relevant and funnier and again i’ll be covering all at once for convience. Xandra finds that the horn to summon Charon... is now a sax.  Huh so THAT’S what pamela anderson’s character CJ was doing when she was introduced on baywatch. 

Anyways turns out Charon’s reinvented the old boat and since Xandra’s an immortal he offers her a free ride. It’s now a cruise ship with him as the captain, voiced by voice acting legend Jim Cummings who does a fantastic job. The reasonings also brilliant: he wasn’t getting many WILLING souls with his creepy old setup, so he reinvinted things and now has a packed house, plenty of coins and a nonstop party. He even gives us an add for the buisness... this whole thing is fucking amazing and deserves to be praised and is the series at it’s best: taking something mythic and giving it some wacky but still clever tweaks. Xandra eventually gets annoyed as he isn’t going into the city so she can’t look for the cabs and takes the wheel, cursing her to be the captain now, but she just uses that to get in and finds clinton who agrees to guide her to the boys... we’ll get to where he guided them in a moment. 

And that moment is now, Clinton tells the boys there is a way out, but it involves fighting the Tengu, which is misdentified as a falcon despite, even as someone with only a surface knowledge of yokai, I knew it’s modled after a crow, or at least some versions are as it turns out.. and so is the one here so how did they screw that one up?

Point is they need to get past it, and are on a timer as when the Creepy combination of jack skeltington and that moon from Majora’s mask that’s in the sky sets and night ends, their stuck. But first they run into a guard who says they have to fill out paperwork.. and his superior is intend on that, his superior being unsuprisingly sheldgoose, who got the gig since his family runs the afterlife. Oh goodie the rich also somehow run death....

But Donald decides FUCK PAPERWORK, throws it in the air and they run for it with Sheldgoose sicing the tengu on them, which looks awesome by the way. Panchito disappears as mentioned before just as they get a plan but returns in time to free his friends and they triumph.. only for Sheldgoose to not take this lying down and summon his entire family to kick their assses. So both sides power up: having learned the trick from clinton earlier, the cabs inflate.. part of their bodies while sheldgoose forms a voltron style fusion made up of his ancestor’s heads.. with the caveman as the crotch. 

So a fight insues that’s fluid and beautifully animated, and Xandra even arrives to provide backup, with Charon relieving her because he’ could loose his five star rating. I hear you man I struggled just to get my island up to a four. So it becomes a gorgeously animated and awesome fight with Clinton joining inn, finally able to be one of his heroes. He also reitarates something he told donald, that it’s not the journey.. it’s who you take it with and part of his love of the cabs was never having companions like that. Donald takes it to heart and our heroes take their leave, Clinton finally having achieved his lifes’ work. They decide to see japan because why not. Maybe they’ll run into hannibal there. 

And to tie things off, Shelgoose and Feldrake, whose spent the etnire epsidoe still in the staff depsite being dead and...

And find.. a demonic version of Donald in a devil costume, from that short with the devil and angel Donald's.. okay I have some questions. 

He sends them back and we’re out

Final Thoughts for Mt. Fuji Whiz: One of the series best. It’s well paced, has an amazing concept and both sideplots have some form of relevance while being utterly hilarious, especially the charon one. Seriously best bit character of the series calling it now. Already headcanon him as part of the ducktales universe. Along with a lot of this actually. IT’s good stuff and despite the series falts episodes like this prove why it really needed, and still needs, a second season. 

Thanks a Camelot:

Our heroes return to the land of the living with Xandra and to the Cabana, and while Donald wants to relax a bit, Xandra being an ass shoots that down. Though her reasons are valid: Feldrake has been stepping up his game with every scheme.. which is true. HIs last two schemes, not counting his post mortem one, only BARELY didn’t kill them and actually did kill them, and him too but that wasn’t on purpose. They need some good old fashioned hero training so Xandra’s taking the to king arthur and camelot, which of course are still around, to get it and since his training involves leaving everything behind, they leave htier weapons and other stuff behind including their amulets.. which haven’t come up since but are now since their important to the finale i’m guessing and they’ve been wearing the whole time. The girls are tagging along too as they want to document things because the plot says so but their entertaining so fine and leaving Ari and the Bear to guard. And the barrier.. more the barrier.  So with our heroes off Feldrake decides they need to strike and Sheldgoose has a plan to get around the barrier to get Humphrey’s spark: hide inside a cake and have humphrey so overcome by his desire for cake he comes to them. Feldrake is unimpressed but it works.. and even better as he drags them in.. but apparently while Feldrake’s protections are keyed to our heroes bloodline.. coot’s only extneded to feldrake. Which makes sense: he was friends with a Sheldgoose and probably didn’t consider her an enemy till he’d already set the spells, and cleverly, and i’d forgotten this till writing this review: Sheldgoose has already BEEN on the Cabana grounds once and to the doorstep, in the first episode when he visited the yardsale and in the finale of the second when he showed up to give Donald his check. So the show even showed it.. we just didn’t think about it or assumed having the ring meant he couldn’t now. But nope Sheldgoose is inside and Humphrey’s knocked out. 

Back in merry old Camelot, I apolgoize for having a deficit of spamalot and Monty Python refrences, our heroes meet King Arthur, voiced by former star of said spamelot John O’ Hurley, who I was going to give a good treatment and go into his career.. then I found out he’s VERY conservative, pro trump even post riot and generally kind of an ass in how he conducts himself soooo instead a hearty

Does a good job here, still a weasel fiesta. So King Arthur trains our heroes.. via motivational statments, trust falls and what not with his knights who get the same traning, one of which is Gallhad, a frog voiced by the same guy who viced Kermit on muppet babies. Yayyyyy. The girls wonder off, finding Merlin, whose busy with spells and such and clarfying which one is which. They give him june’s phone as Merlin has a video game addiction but Arthur forbids it because well. he has a problem why wouldn’t he.  Ruined Todd Chavez’s life it did. I mean it’s exceptional now but it took a bit of living on a drunken horse with serious issues couch. 

Anyways, Donald soon gets fed up because.. hes Donald. And because.. Tony kinda leans on the more classic constantly angry donald in this one, since he DID help write the lines. It’s not BAD mind you.. but I prefer the melding of his comics and shorts self other works did, the smug ego and everyman desperation to be noticed and liked from the comics mixed with the ego but also tons of rage of the shorts. Kinda like how Daffy had his own egotistical smartguy version merged with his screwball version for the Looney Tunes Show.. which i’ve been rewatching lately. Even better than I remember, highly underated. 

My point is this Donald, as we approach the end .. isn’t for me. He’s just not as intresting as the cloudcuckoolander panchito or the smootha nd wise jose. He ballances them well, being the more direct angry one to panchito’s unpredicablity and Jose’s smooth compemplation. He’s not BAD, and i get why some would prefer this one over Ducktales, as he’s more in line with his classic characterzation.. but I just prefer a more nuanced Donald and this one isn’t it. He spends most of the series either complaning, pissed off, or pining for an ungreatful she demon. There’s not a lot of notes compared to Jose or Panchito, as Jose isn’t just a ladies man or a charmer but a fairly smart guy who has pretty damn good plans and Panchito isn’t just spacey but, kind brave and with his own moral code. They just got more fleshing out as things went and Donald didn’t and it’s disappointing. 

So Donald gets fed up with the training, and calls out it’s only motivatoinal, with the other cabs agreeing, if more tactfully, and the knights.. also agreeing, pointing out King Arthur dosen’t even do his own goofy self motivational exercises and abandon him.. at the worst possible time as the girls conjur up a super powerful magical dragon. So the knights leave him to it and Arthur is too cowardly to face it. So the Cabs do what he won’t and charge in to defend the holy grail, called the grail of immortality here for ..r easons, and fight the dragon.. and Arthur joins them, inspired to finally get his groove back and gives the knights a rousing speech and even reconclies with donald. So our heroes fight the dragon and nearly die, before the rest of the round table pitches in, and the girls find the dragons scroll and impulsively burn it.. which destorys it. So the day’s saved, and Arthur apologizes to everyone and decides to give the boys proper combat training as thanks. Also we get a really funny bit with Merlin, who throws the phone into the fire.. and much like the dragon, apparenlty it was tied to the employee who activated it because he suddenly and horrifcly burns up. PFFT. Dark but beautfiul

But of course what about the Sheldgoose subplot. Well I saved that for now to cover it all at once SO: Sheldgoose pokes around, being annoyed by a dart board of his face and what not and tries to find something to fish the spark out with... but Ari finds him and proves to be entirely useful, beating Sheldgoose down into the treasure chamber and getting inot a fight with him. Sheldgoose holds pace.. until Humphrey wakes up and with the odds against him they throw him out. Meanwhile Feldrake zaps a dog that was going to get peed on him but when sheldgoose is ejegted is surronded by dogs and clearly didn’t escape as he dosne’t want to taklk about why he smells to sheldgosoe. He is ABOUT to berate him for failure again.. but Sheldgoose points out he swiped something more important: The amulets. 

Proving once again Sheldgoose is the real power in the team. 

Final Thoughts on Thanks a Camelot:  This was a fun one. While finding out about John O Hurley was... unfortunte.. he does a decent job and the episodes a fun take on camelot with, as usual , really excellent gags, pacing and a hell of a fight scene with a dragon. Good stuff as usual

NEXT TIME; It all ends! It’s a visit to some yeti’s before one final dance betwen good and evil and one last set of episodes for this retropsective! Be ready! 

[bellandpebbles]

In all honesty i felt terrible when john died at the end of rdr 1, but when arthur died i just.... god, like i wanted to try and complete more of the game after i did john’s little after part story but it just feels OFF. Like I keep expecting to hear arthur when i pet my horse or something and hearing/seeing john instead makes my heart hurt... if i could (i play the game on the ps4) i’d install a mod to be arthur after the main story ends... I miss my boah.... :,(

GOD FR... like i havent played rdr1 (yet) cos its a ps4 subscription exclusive or smth idk so im not even used to playing as john and its fucking me UP. like i go thru literally anywhere where i went as arthur and im like... my boah... he was here...... i can still hear his voice.........

especially at the start of the epilogue where john's cut his hair + has his beard he looks SO MUCH like arthur. and in his HAT. i love john w my whole heart but honest to god arthur if i could bring u back,,, 😭😭😭

[hyperfixiationstation]

Thoughts on LUCIDS Part four

Once again, I took forever to post this, sorry. Spoilers for LUCIDS Part four under the cut.

1.  I love the little chimes when the apple pops up into view as he throws it. I just think the opening scene is really cool.  

2.Wait if they met in Elementary school, does that mean in this universe Benjamin could go and talk to a little Isabelle?

3. I definitely have to copy down his speech about everything constantly existing for theorizing purposes.

4. Benjamin writing his proposal speech is the sweetest thing I have ever scene, and I am absolutely in love with their relationship now. I desperately wish that there were more fanfiction writers in this fandom so that I could read so much fanfiction about it! Unfortunately, we have a grand total of like one person, so I guess I will have to suffer. 

5.Aghhh I love Isabelle's voice! 

6.Oh my god its the scene from the epilogue!

7.I LOVE THEIR INTERACTIONS SO MUCH! Oliver making for of Benjamin for being dramatic is quite possibly my favorite thing ever. I’ve probably mentioned this already, but Characters and relationship dynamics are always my favorite things in any series, and little things like that, and them knowing there is going to be a PowerPoint when Ms. Hills talks to them gives me so much joy.

8. Ms. Hills back at it again with the stellar memes! Also, the roasting of Benjamin’s jokes is so good.

9. Wait, its been at least 3 days, and neither of their parents have gotten at all suspicious that they haven’t seen their child? I’m slightly worried by this information. 

10. I know that I’ve been talking about like, every other line so far, but they’ve just been so good that it feels wrong for me not to comment on them. Anyway, the shot of Oliver calling dibs on Benjamin’s bed, Benjamin protesting, then it immediately cutting to Oliver sitting on Benjamin’s bed while joking with him is one of my favorite scenes in this whole series, and this episode has already managed to surpass part 2 as my favorite episode at only like 5 minutes in.

11. Oliver’s facial expressions when Benjamin is going on about the dreamscapes are so incredible, and I just- UGH! I can’t express how much I love this series. 

12.Ok, I already addressed how I’ve been talking about every single line and how redundant I am in this post, so I’m just going to say how much I love Benjamin and Oliver’s dynamic one more time, and then I’ll shut up about it for this episode. 

13. Ms. Hill’s facial expressions and mannerisms are one of my favorite things about this frickin series. Her little proud shift when she tells them that she made more “Dank memes” and her smirk at Oliver’s terrible joke are so good.

14. Ok, now we’ve caught up to the point where everything in Jasper, the Epilogue, and the Trailer have happened, so there is literally zero knowledge of what is going to happen going forward, and I am so excited for it!

15. Did Quinn not recognize Benjamin from the cult? Or was he just asking about Oliver?

16. I did say I wasn’t going to praise Benjamin and Oliver’s dynamic anymore, but I have to give some appreciation to Jasper and Quinn. Gosh it’s great. Like we only got one scene, but gushing about a show together is one of the best examples of friendship. Also, I’m so glad that Oliver got to hear people gush about his show like that. He deserves it. 

17. QUINN IS A LUCID! I lowkey expected that, but I didn’t expect him to be like... practiced at it. Also, my friend mentioned this when I rewatched it with her, but the swear filter is such a great detail.

18. Why was this scene cut into Jasper episode 6? Does time move that much quicker in Jasper’s dreamscape? Does this give an indication of how time works as far as dreamscapes go? Does time move quicker in some dreamscapes than others? Did he not actually see this when he was knocked out at that time, and that was just foreshadowing?

19. Hey, he referenced the discord! Cool!

20. Oliver getting winded after like 5 seconds of running is a mood. Like same dude, same. 

21. Time for your regularly scheduled loving the music in this series mention. It is so incredibly good! I’ve actually been paying more attention to it lately, and I am completely blown away. I don’t know if that is because this is like par for the course, and I haven’t really thought about the soundtrack for shows that much in the past, or because this series in particular is really good, but either way I enjoy it immensely. 

22.I do not talk enough about the cinematography in this thing. Once again, it might not be more than what most shows do, but this is all done by like one guy! It is amazing!

23. I just realized that Oliver and Benjamin probably just straight up passed out in the Whole Foods in the first episode of TAOBAO. 

24. I wonder if Jasper is going to address what Oliver told him with Quinn later, or if he’s just gonna be like, “oh well,” and keep on livin. 

25. It is moments like these where I wish the fandom was bigger. Normally, I would have been reading Oliver/Benjamin and Quinn/Jasper fanfiction this entire time, and then after this interaction I would have been able to enjoy the brand new flurry of Jasper/Oliver fanfiction, but once again, all I can do is suffer.

26. Wait, why didn’t Ms. Hills realize that Quinn was a Lucid before? Are there certain criteria you have to meet to technically be a Lucid?

27. Was weird time jumping shenanigans going on? Why did we get a clip of Benjamin waking up? Are we going to learn more about how LUCIDS do time stuff in the future?

28. The Ah! A tree! guy was funny enough on his own, but Nick later explained it on the livestream, and gosh, that was a layered joke. 

29. What the actual fuck Ms. Hills. God I have so many thoughts and feelings about this scene. First of all, I almost cried the first time I watched it. Second of all, how are Benjamin and Oliver going to handle this information? Oliver especially? Like that is brutal man. Third of all, who did Quinn meet? Did he find another Lucid who trained him? What happened? Fourth of all, does Arthur know about this? Also, this was an observation from someone in the Discord server who wasn’t me, but does this have any implications for Arthur leaving and then Ms. Hills telling Oliver that “he always comes back”? Holy shit man, this scene is so crazy.

30. Benjamin cheated on Isabelle!? When they had a daughter together!? That scene was like two punches to the face, finding out about what Ms. Hills did, and then what Benjamin did. I can’t believe that he would open with that 2 minute shot making me fall completely in love with their relationship, and then just rip out my heart and completely stomp on it like that. 

31.Before I go into my closing thoughts, I just have to mention how much I love that ending music. Its so sweet and calming and comforting, and I want to be able to listen to the full version as soon as possible. This episode took everything I loved about Part 2, and then ramped it up to a ten. The soundtrack felt even more impressive, the characterization was pure gold in every single line, the character dynamics felt so real and natural, the plot twists were so incredibly insane, and the ending music makes me feel even more like I’m going to cry than the one from Part 2 did, but like in a good, comforting way.

32. Every single character in this series has to have an angsty backstory and moral complexity, don’t they? Like I can’t think of a single main character that those things don’t apply to in at least some way. 

33. Apparently Isabelle is voiced by a fan called astronautdancer (I think that is right) on TikTok who made a spinoff series about Isabelle, which I’m really excited to watch! (Nick did say it probably wasn’t canonical though)

[fuckingthefictional]

Cross my heart- Part 22

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OFC, John Shelby (platonic) x OFC

Warnings: none :)

A/N: this is the end of an era, thank you so much for all the support and love for this fic. I’ve really loved watching this story grow and getting to share my ideas with all of you. Fingers crossed there will be a Finn Shelby series coming soon! So watch out for that.

Previous//

Epilogue

“Tommy for the love of God- go to work.” Eliza was sick of this happening, the incessant hovering was making her go insane.

“But what if you go in labour while I’m away?” He fought back, spewing several ‘what if’ scenarios that made Eliza roll her eyes- the excuses that rolled off of his tongue were becoming more and more exaggerated.

“Love, you could just admit you’re worried you’ll miss the birth.” Eliza’s words were soft and not at all patronising.

Tommy sank down on his knees and rested his head against Eliza’s bulging belly. She was nearing the 38th week of her pregnancy- the same amount of weeks as Ada had been when she gave birth.

He didn’t want to admit it- let his hard, manly facade crumble before the girl he loved. But the nudges and kicks that he felt on his face made it awfully difficult to keep the facade up.

“I just-“ Tommy began, “I don’t want to be like the man who I’m forced to call ‘dad’”

Eliza simply ran her fingers through his raven locks, in all of the time they had spent together- Tommy had only mentioned Arthur Sr a handful of times.

“I don’t want to be like him and miss the birth of my own flesh and blood because I was too occupied with ‘business’ to see the most life-changing to happen in my life.”

Eliza heaved herself up from her place on the bed and wrapped her arms around Tommy neck and cuddled into him as much as she could. His heart was beating steadily- something that the baby apparently found soothing. As it kicked its body in happiness.

“Tom my love, you’re not going to miss it. The betting shop is just downstairs- if I do go into labour I’ll let you know okay?”

“But-“

“Thomas.” Eliza said firmly, “Don’t make me call on your brothers to come and collect you.”

Finally the dark haired man gave in to her wants. He gave a final kiss to Eliza’s lips and her belly before Tommy begrudgingly parted and exited the room.

“Right baby,” Eliza spoke to the life inside of her, who had kicked and punched at the sound of their mothers voice, “Lets take a nap, hmm?”

//

“You’re late.” Polly’s stern voice came from her spot at her desk, when Tommy looked over- she hadn’t even bothered to look up at him.

Before he could explain himself, John had interjected cockily, “He didn’t want to leave Liza by herself. Again.”

“Christ Tommy she’s pregnant not incapable.” Polly drawled back again.

It was obvious that she could see where he was coming from, but could see the woman’s point of view too, “Stop smothering her.”

Tommy rolled his eyes in response, “She’s due any day now- So John you can stop taking the piss.” He pointed to where his brother was stood leans against one of the betting shops desks, “And Pol, you can stop being patronising.”

The older woman stood up, stepping towards her nephew.

“It will all be fine Tom- soon you’ll meet your child.”

John once again interjected, “yep, and then we won’t stop hearing about ‘em for the next 18 years or so.”

“Shut up Joh-“

Finn suddenly burst into the room, red faced and seemingly out of breath.

“It’s Aunty El!” He spluttered, “She says the baby’s coming!”

//

4 hours. It had been 4 hours since Finn had burst through the doors of the betting den and declared that Eliza had gone into labour.

4 hours Tommy had been pacing around anxiously, nursing several glasses of whiskey to calm his nerves.

Each time he heard a scream or groan, Tommy found himself flinching at the sound of his girl in pain.

That was until it stopped. And the silence was broken by a shrill cry.

Immediately Tommy scrambled up the stairs and burst through the door to his old bedroom.

And there in all her glory was Eliza drenched in sweat, cradling a small body against her chest which was wrapped in blankets.

He dropped to his knees tears leaking from his eyes, his happiness immeasurable.

“She’s here Tommy.” Eliza spoke softly, “You have a daughter”

Tommy for the first time since France felt renewed, like he was the same young man from before the war.

Someone that could start a family, love freely, settle down. Be happy.

This was his new family. It wasn’t much- but it was enough.

In that moment Tommy made a promise to himself, he’d treasure and love his girls.

He crossed his heart and swore by it no matter what.

CMH taglist:

@peachy-aisha @eternallyvenus @marvelschriss @annabethgranger123 @captivatedbycillianmurphy @shadow-of-wonder @affection-rabbit @itzmegaaaaaaan @tscamander @annabelrose5 @laural2911

[choupichoups]

Press F (Instagram/College AU) Ch.15 (FINAL)

Lucas swears he’s the absolute master of undetected stalking. Or: Eliott is instagram famous and Lucas is the disaster gay who accidentally likes his post.

Epilogue will be posted soon! Thank you so much to everyone who’s supported this fic ♥

::::

Whoever thought of going to the skate park in this weather is down right insane. It was probably Basile. Yeah, it was most definitely Basile’s brilliant idea. 

And Lucas is a downright moron for agreeing to it. 

He hears Yann whoop loudly after Eliott does a successful trick— Lucas has no clue what it was even though his eyes have been glued on his boyfriend since they arrived. Eliott refuses to put his jacket back on, saying that he runs way too hot to be wearing it to the park, so Lucas finds himself clutching the jacket in between his arms, looking for the perfect opportunity to throw the damn thing over Eliott’s stubborn head. 

Because apparently this is his life now. Chasing after an errant boyfriend to protect him from getting a cold. 

“Eliott,” he calls out for the umpteenth time, feeling a brand new appreciation for his mother; this must’ve been how she felt like whenever he’d ignore the sound of her voice from the play structure way back when. “Eliott!” he repeats, louder now. 

Thankfully, they’re the only ones stupid enough to be there so Lucas doesn’t have to worry about any dirty looks thrown his way for causing such a ruckus. 

Eliott skates up to him eventually, grin wide and arms held out as if he hadn’t been ignoring Lucas’ voice for at least half an hour. Lucas dodges an attempt for a hug, huffing as he reaches around Eliott to place the jacket back over his shoulders— the slant of the shallow bowl Lucas is standing over thankfully makes up for their difference in height. 

He feels extra vindicated when Eliott is unsuccessful in trying to hide a sniffle. “I don’t care if it’s cramping your style,” Lucas says, tugging on the lapels of the jacket until Eliott’s properly covered in it. “You’re not going to wear just a shirt in negative degree weather.”

“It’s not in the negatives yet,” Eliott mumbles but obediently slides his arms into the jacket either way. A thoughtful look falls over his face the next second and then Lucas finds himself being subjected under an exaggerated pout, complete with sad eyes and hunched shoulders. “Actually you’re right, I am cold. Keep me warm?” 

Lucas stares at him with no ounce of pity. “Go do another trick then, I’m sure the adrenaline will warm you up.” 

“But Lucas,” Eliott whines, kicking his board up when it rolls down to jostle his ankles. “I’m too tired for that.” 

“Sounds like a you problem.” Lucas ducks down, hiding a smile behind his scarf, and moves away from Eliott’s grabby hands again. He hears Eliott huff out a laugh but looking up only has him catching an eyeful of Eliott’s soft gaze, pink lips upturned into a crooked smile. Lucas doesn’t realize he’s stopped blinking until his eyes start tearing up from a cold gush of wind. 

“It is a me problem.” With one hand in his jacket pocket and the other casually holding up his board, Eliott looks every bit the professional model he could be. Lucas tightens the hood thrown over his head and tries not to think about how he must look like some dweeby sock puppet and larva hybrid in comparison. “So hug me.” 

He shakes his head, his entire upper body moving with the act from how bundled up he is. 

Eliott tilts to the side, looking wholly amused. “Please, Lulu?”

Lucas lets out a grunt, hoping Eliott can see his eyes narrowing at the use of a nickname— how dare Eliott use Lucas’ weakness against him?

“Lu?”

He hesitates but stubbornly stands his ground.

“Bab—”

Lucas barely suppresses a squeak before throwing himself at Eliott, effectively shutting him up before he could do something as dumb as calling Lucas baby right in front of their rabid friends. Well, Yann’s still out on the giant bowl teaching Basile how to skate but Arthur is right there, head buried under a scarf and a winter jacket, but there nonetheless. 

Eliott has the gall to chuckle as he basks in the embrace— given under duress, thank you very much, but warm enough what with Lucas’ gazillion layers piled on one after the other. 

“You’re so—” Eliott’s voice is muffled from where his face is buried in Lucas’ shoulder. “Squishy.” He squeezes his arms tight as if to prove a point, like he’s squashing a teddy bear rather than a human being. Lucas feels that he’s in the right to smack his boyfriend upside the head, Eliott’s pitiful yelp notwithstanding. 

“That’s cause I dress for the weather unlike a certain idiot.” Standing on his toes makes him taller from where they’re at so Lucas moves his arms until they fall comfortably around the back of Eliott’s neck, preventing the wind from getting through the exposed skin there. He feels Eliott shiver before a smile is pressed into his neck and lets himself be used as a human heater. 

“If you skate with us, you wouldn’t be so cold.” 

Lucas knows that but he also resents that notion. “No thank you.”

“Does Lucas Lallemant not know how to skateboard?” 

“Does Eliott Demaury want another smack to the head?” 

Eliott laughs, starting to swing them side to side. “Just admit you can’t, Lucas.”

“Can so.” Lucas watches Basile fall on his butt for the thousandth time that day and winces in sympathy. Yeah, no, been there done that. There’s a soft rustling from under him and frankly, Eliott’s arms tightening around his waist should have been a clear warning, but Lucas doesn’t actually react to anything until Eliott hoists him up clear off the ground with a satisfied cackle. “Hey! Wait, what are you— Eliott?!” 

Lucas, rather afraid for his life, clings onto Eliott’s shoulders, screaming close mouthed when he hears Eliott drag his skateboard back by his feet. 

“We’re going for a ride.”

“No the fuck we are not, put me down right now!”

“Come on, just a little bit, it’s gonna be fun.”

“Falling and cracking my head open isn’t my idea of fun.” He squirms in Eliott’s grip, feeling kicking out in hopes of feeling the gravel back underneath them. “If you get on that board right now I swear you’re… you’re grounded.” 

That gets a delighted laugh out of Eliott. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Time out too.”

“Who are you, my mother?”

“No, but I’ll tell my mother that you attempted my murder this very day if you don’t put me down.” 

Grumbling protests aside, Eliott’s pretty quick in relenting after that. He walks the both of them up and out of the ramp and only then does Lucas’ heart stop fucking palpitating. God, he’s going to get a heart attack from one of Eliott’s stunts one day. 

Eliott does bring his board up with them, however, and Lucas hears the scratch of its wheels as he kicks it up the pavement. To his credit, Eliott puts him down as per demanded, but the unsteady surface below his feet clues him in that his asshole boyfriend didn’t quite place him on the ground. 

Thankfully, being best friends with Yann ‘Skater Boy’ Cazas does come with perks; Lucas hadn’t been lying about knowing how to ride a stupid skateboard. 

“I’m sorry, please don’t make your mom call the cops on me,” Eliott apologizes, leaning close to steal a swift kiss from Lucas’ cheek and of course Lucas readily forgives him because he’s apparently weak against cute boys who rightfully fear his mama. Very, very weak. 

He pretends to think about it though, biting back a grin as he slides his hands down to fold his fingers between Eliott’s— he’s standing all wrong on the skateboard and his balance is off so he keeps a tight grip on their connected hands to prevent any accidental wipe outs. “Hmmm, I don’t know…”

“Please. It’ll be awkward if my dad has to visit my place only to arrest me.”

Lucas pauses at that, wobbling on the board enough to probably fall over if it weren’t for Eliott’s steadying hands. “Uh, your dad’s a cop?” 

Whatever lighthearted expression had been on Eliott’s face is gone now, which is unfortunate really. Lucas and his dweeby hybrid self had been enjoying it. He knows there’s probably a conversation to be had there somewhere. Just— preferably not in this minute.

But Eliott simply nods, his calculating look melting away into a playful smile. “I let that one slip during a live once, you don’t remember?” 

And thank god for sensitive boyfriends. Lucas takes the smooth misdirection and runs with it. “Alright, let me clear this up.” He pauses for maximum dramatic effect. “Contrary to popular belief, I have not seen every single one of your posts and stories and lives. Okay, maybe I’ve seen all of your posts but I swear I’ve only seen your live once.”

“Uh huh.” 

“It’s true!” Lucas tugs on their hands, rolling himself closer to Eliott that way. He digs his chin into Eliott’s chest, looking up into those dreamy grey eyes. 

He can’t believe he just unironically used the word dreamy.

“Okay, so you’re a fake fan then.” Eliott’s smile is too soft to back up his teasing. 

Lucas straightens up, lifts his heels that minuscule bit until his lips are level with Eliott’s. “Sorry this fake fan tricked you.” 

Eliott takes it upon himself to brush the tip of their noses together, the perfect balance of gentle and fleeting that has Lucas tilting up for more. “And how is this fake fan planning to apologize?” 

Lucas huffs out a chuckle, shaking his head before slotting their lips into a small kiss. “How’s that?”

“Mm, no, do it again maybe.” 

There’s a sharp flapping sound by their feet and it distracts Lucas enough to delay the second kiss he’d been planning to deliver. He looks down only to see Arthur staring up at them, phone in hand, evidently unimpressed. Lucas had honestly forgotten about him. 

“Do you guys mind?” Arthur gesticulates between the three of them, the vague hand movements has his jacket sleeves flopping about and hitting the pavement. Lucas thinks he gets the gist of what he’s trying to say. Doesn’t mean he cares all that much though. 

“No we don’t mind, actually.” Eliott retaliates, all cheeky and faux oblivious. Lucas bursts out laughing. 

“Just like, take ten steps away from me.” Arthur sits up, shooing them away with one hand. “If I take off my glasses I won’t be able to see how loud you guys are being.” 

It’s a testament to how Lucas is trying his best shot at maturity when he doesn’t roll his eyes immediately. 

“He’s so bold.”

“It’s okay, Imane likes him back.”

“Yeah but I mean, isn’t it a bit intimidating crushing on your best friend’s younger sibling?” 

Lucas shrugs, head perched on Eliott’s shoulder as he absently looks down at Eliott’s phone, where Emir’s cataloguing exactly why he needs to be the most handsome guy at the party later so that Imane would pay attention to him. “Not if it’s Abe. He’s super nice and Emir’s a good guy too so I don’t see why they’d have a problem with it.” 

Eliott takes a moment to respond to Emir, snorting at the immediate barrage of responses he gets. “Still though, what if things go wrong? It’s scary.” 

“Shit happens.” Lucas shifts until he’s able to lay down on Eliott’s lap instead. “So you mean if Lucas 324 is Eliott 324’s best friend’s brother, he wouldn’t go for it? Cause it’s scary?”

The rapid texting above him stops, and Lucas peeks one eye open to watch the disapproving frown on Eliott’s face. “Well if that’s the case, then Eliott 324 better step up.” 

Lucas scoffs, “I’m sure every version of you is charming and perfect and ideal.”

“I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm but thank you either way.” He leans down and rains kisses all over Lucas’ face until a giggling Lucas pushes him away, insisting that his words are a hundred percent sincere. “You have way too much faith in me and my alternate selves. For all we know, Eliott 324 is a massive jerk.” 

“That’s tragic.” Lucas tugs on Eliott’s hand until he has it buried in his hair, fingers carding through the strands in soothing motions. Eliott laughs at his content sigh but he doesn’t care about the inevitable cat jokes when he’s the one who’s really winning here. “Lucas 324 doesn’t like jerks.”

“Very tragic.”

The sound of shoes hitting the metal staircase is loud in the empty building. The footsteps gain in volume the closer they approach, but Lucas doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Doesn’t move even when he hears the fire exit door unlatch with Yann’s familiar laugh following after. 

“There you are!”

“Congratulations,” Lucas says from where he’s still laying down. “You found us.”

“Shut up,” Yann grumps, leaning his board against the wall before plopping onto the floor beside him and Eliott. “Bas and Arthur are getting food, do you guys want anything?” 

Lucas only has enough energy to emit an incoherent groan, rolling over to grab his phone from where it had fallen on Eliott’s other side earlier. “Nah, we have to get going to see mama soon.” 

“Wait, Eliott’s going with you? To see her?” 

He nods, sending off a text confirming with Marie and his mom what time they want them there. “We have to bring Champ back to Marie and mama’s there with her so.” 

When Lucas turns back around, Yann’s wiggling his brows at Eliott. That combined with the giant grin splitting his face is starting to look more disturbing the longer Lucas looks at him. 

Eliott seems to share the sentiment, and he starts laughing a few seconds into their little stare off. “What?” 

“Nothing man, just glad you guys are at meet the parents level.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes, kicking at his best friend’s heel once before resting his ankle on top of Yann’s. “It’s just a casual supper thing.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Shut your face.”

And because he’s dumb, Yann mimes putting a hand over his face, expression blank when he next uncovers it. Lucas throws a balled up thread he’d ripped off of his jeans earlier and sneaks a glance up at Eliott. They make eye contact, what with Eliott already looking down at Lucas with a large, amused smile.

“Let’s head out then?” Eliott says, then turns to address Yann, “we’ll walk with you to where Arthur and Bas went, don’t worry, can’t have you being all lonely now.” 

“Thanks, you’re so nice, Lucas would never.” Yann dodges another kick to his leg. 

“I thought I told you to shut your face?” Lucas lazily hauls himself off the floor, dusting his pants a bit before turning a confused look at Eliott when he notices him pull out a leather jacket from his backpack. “Why do you have that in there?”

Eliott eyes him like Lucas is the one acting strange. “Babe, I have to look good when we get there, first impressions are important.” 

Lucas can feel his cheeks heating up. He can also practically feel Yann’s googly eyes at the back of his head and the internal screeching reverberating through their shared braincell so he’s resolutely not looking back in that direction. At least Arthur and Basile aren’t present. 

He lets the nickname slip, though, choosing to unwind the scarf around him to wrap Eliott up in it instead. If his boyfriend insists on being unreasonable then Lucas would just have to take care of the missed details. 

The missed detail here being the fact that it’s way too fucking cold for a leather jacket, hot as it may look on Eliott. 

“Mama’s not gonna care if you look like a Calvin Klein model, Eliott.” Oh yes she will. Lucas would probably have to endure a few hours of brow raising and elbow nudging. But Eliott doesn’t need to know that. “But if you’re putting that on then you’re also wearing this scarf and that’s final, mister.” 

Eliott snickers, tugging the scarf off his neck and throwing it around Lucas before pushing the leather jacket back inside his backpack. “Okay, okay, fine, I will. And I’ll change later so it doesn’t get too cold. Happy?” 

Lucas grumpily ducks his head down into his scarf until only his narrowing eyes are visible. “Satisfactory.” 

“You know you guys act like a married couple, right?” Yann pipes up, hugging his skateboard to his chest as he leans back against the exit door.

Lucas shoves the door open and watches Yann tumble backwards with a crash. 

Lucas feels like he’s been holding his breath throughout the entire trip to Marie’s house. He’s not nervous, no, he can’t imagine his mother disliking a single thing about Eliott. But it’s not like he’s had a golden track record of significant others to introduce to his mother so he doesn’t know how these things are supposed to go. Casual as he convinces himself this whole thing is, nothing about it feels all that casual to him.

“You look like you’re about to launch yourself into outer space.” Eliott places a hand on the low of his back once they reach Marie’s front porch, thumb brushing back and forth. “I’m supposed to be the nervous one here.” 

“I’m fine,” Lucas squeaks out, highly unconvincing. At least Eliott finds it hilarious so maybe he wouldn’t be a stuttering mess. 

Marie opens the door on the second knock and immediately takes a wiggling Champ into her arms. “Come on in, boys!” She steps back to open the door wider. “Hello my little Champagne, oh I missed you too, I missed you… just leave your shoes anywhere you can find. Lorraine’s in the kitchen,” she whispers the last part with a wink towards Eliott before walking off. 

Lucas laughs a little, easing up under Marie’s presence. He waits for Eliott by the door and notices how his boyfriend’s moving slower than usual, evidently delaying the actual first meeting part of the meeting. He holds out his hand before it gets too ridiculous. 

“She’ll love you,” he says, raising his hand higher when Eliott looks up at him like a deer in the headlights. “Come on.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s right. 

His mama folds Eliott into a warm embrace the moment they’ve exchanged names, endeared as Eliott does stutter through the introductions. 

“He’s handsome,” she says to Lucas when they pass each other in the living room. And there goes the elbow nudging Lucas had predicted earlier. “Very handsome.”

“I know, mama.” He rolls his eyes, sitting on the piano bench where Champ is napping under. Eliott and Marie are deep in conversation as she shows him a photobook of her family back in Jamaica so Lucas occupies himself with the piano, quietly hitting a few keys while his eyes roam over the top for a music book. 

What he finds instead are papers with his mama and papa’s names on them. 

He snatches them off the top of the piano, skimming through the documents to try and inch out what they’re for as quickly as possible. A hand on his shoulder stops his frantic reading and Lucas looks up at his mom with eyes wide in question. 

“It’s not about the transfer if that’s what you’re thinking.” She sits on the bench beside him and flips the papers until she settles on a page with big letters jumping out from the rest. It goes without question now. 

Application (Divorce)

Divorce Order 

When Lucas remains silent, she takes the papers away from his hands and puts them back where he found them. “I think it’s time, don’t you? I brought it over for Marie to read through so…”  

Lucas still doesn’t say anything but he manages a small smile in her direction before tucking her hands in between both of his. They sit there for a bit, just looking at each other, all teary and holding hands. Lucas thinks that yeah, they really are mother and son, getting all sappy at inconvenient times of the day. 

That’s before she laughs again, clear and carefree, and untangles their hands to play a familiar tune on the piano. She glances up at Lucas with a daring smile, one eyebrow raising as if in challenge. 

Lucas bristles, sitting up properly to prove that yes, he can still give her a run for her money. He takes a deep breath, fingers landing soft on the smooth ivory, letting his hands familiarize themselves with the instrument— it’s been a long, long time since he's last played. But here, sitting beside the woman who’s patiently taught him one echoing tune at a time, there’s no doubt in Lucas’ mind that he could never forget a single piece they’ve played together. 

And it feels so good to be doing this again that it almost pushes him over the edge, almost has him straight up crying. Only almost though. 

There’s complete silence in the living room only seconds after they start, and Lucas’ skin prickles at the feeling of eyes on his back. He doesn’t let it distract him, focused on hitting the correct notes as four hands dance around the length of the piano. 

Riopy’s I love you has always been his mama’s favourite. She’d altered the tune slightly so that both her and Lucas could play it together and for him, right now, it’s never sounded better.

Later, watching Eliott enthusiastically converse with his mama about possibly joining the culinary classes she’s attending (thank god), Lucas thinks it only makes sense for Eliott to be present the moment Lucas plays that particular piece for the first time in years. 

They head out with only a few minutes to spare before the bus to Eliott’s apartment arrives. Both of their group chats are blown up with reminders that they’re all supposed to wear costumes to the party, with explicit mentions of how Eliott and Lucas are specifically not allowed to ditch the party until at least two hours into it. 

“What was that song you guys played?” Eliott asks as they settle into the back seats, huddled together for warmth. 

Lucas hides his face inside the fabric of his hood. “I don’t remember,” he says, biting his lip as he wills for the blush to die down. Maybe they should’ve played one of Chopin’s pieces instead. “I’ll look it up later.” 

Yeah. Much, much later. 

Abe had met up with them at Eliott’s so they could walk to the party together. It was apparently the only way to ensure that Eliott doesn’t cancel at the last minute. He’d complained all the way through about being left out and had even called Idris so they could ‘share their experiences as a third wheel’. 

His actions are made all the more ridiculous considering Abe is wearing a fucking banana suit to the party. 

Lucas secretly thinks that he wouldn’t have minded staying in, just him and Eliott on the couch with a movie and some snacks. 

But now he’s standing by the walls at this party, alone with the one drink he’s been nursing since the start, watching his friends jump around on the dance floor as the strobe lights cut through the dark to illuminate the wide smiles they share. 

It’s not that he’s bored. He’s just a little tired from the day he’s had and he could probably only dance as rigorously as everyone else for about five minutes before throwing the towel in. God, he’s getting old. 

Eyes searching, it doesn’t take very long for him to spot Eliott— he stands out after all. Tall and handsome even in a simple hoodie, messy head of hair bobbing along to the bass of the music. Eliott’s been swept into conversation by many, many people all night long and of course his boyfriend’s too sweet to snub them all. It seems like everyone’s constantly vying for his attention, just like that first party they’d attended together, and Lucas is still a little baffled witnessing it. He’s very quickly understanding why Eliott isn’t too fond of attending parties if this is how they always go for him. 

A loud whoop from the dance floor steals his attention and Lucas laughs at the sight of Basile flailing around in a dance battle against Abe of all people. It’s really not a good look to lose a dance battle against a walking banana. But Abe’s unfortunately just that good. 

Imane and Alexia are on the floor, collapsed in laughter. Beside them, Manon and Adam start clapping and cheering when Yann jumps to Basile’s rescue, flailing into a more acceptable dance routine that has Abe jokingly backing off, pulling Idris and Omar into the center of the circle for their turn at the dance off. Daphne is making wide eyes at Emir, poking him in the ribs hard enough to have him flinching closer to where Imane is slowly regaining her wits. Emma is at the bar struggling to balance a tray of drinks in her hands. He certainly hopes those are for the whole group rather than for her alone. 

Lucas hides what he knows must be another dumb smile on his face, watching his friends and Eliott’s friends interact like they’ve always been a huge messy group of idiots rather than only having met each other recently. Never did he allow himself to imagine that his and Eliott’s lives would merge in this way.

“What’s a beautiful guy like you doing here all alone?” Eliott whispers in his ear and Lucas is so startled he almost spills his drink on the both of them. 

But he recovers quickly, snorting at Eliott’s words. “I’m not alone, actually.” 

“Oh. No?” Eliott’s leaning on the wall beside him now, and Lucas thinks he’s the beautiful one here, so beautiful even the lights are shy as they strike flitting colours over his hair, his cheeks, his radiant eyes, his smiling lips.

“Mhm, I have boyfriend but he keeps ditching me for other people. You’ve probably seen him around.”

“Sounds like a terrible boyfriend,” Eliott says, “I suggest you break up with him and run away with me.” 

“What, right now?” Lucas plays along, discarding his drink on the first steady surface he finds. “I don’t know, he’s kinda cute.” 

“I’m cuter.”

Lucas laughs at that, hands anchoring themselves on Eliott’s shoulder as he stands on the tips of his toes. “I can’t see you clearly.” 

Eliott leans down to meet him halfway, catching his lips in a sweet kiss. Literally. He tastes like Fruitopia and somehow, that’s a funny enough thought to have Lucas melting into a heap of giggles. He feels Eliott’s amused huff against his hair before Lucas is being dragged back up, breath catching into a deeper kiss, and all thoughts of fruity drinks are quickly gone from his mind.

Warm hands insistently pull him off the wall and into Eliott’s chest, but it isn’t a hard feat anyway— it’s not like Lucas has any plans to fight against it. He brings his own hands up, sliding from shoulder to neck to the back of Eliott’s head where clumsy fingers tangle themselves into the soft strands they find there. He pulls away soon after, heartbeat off rhythm and lungs begging. His next inhale is an intoxicating mix of cologne and alcohol and Eliott. 

“Can you see me now?” 

Lucas smiles, hands moving to rest on either side of Eliott’s cheeks. Even in the dark, he’s the most precious thing Lucas has ever seen. “I see you.” 

And maybe, just maybe, Lucas number 1 did alright in this universe after all. 

[morgan-macguire]

A Wretched Breed Of Man

Charles Smith x reader

Summary: After a Skinner Brother ambush, you and Charles have to say goodbye to the future you dreamed about together.

Warnings: epilogue spoilers, violence, the bird from the house building scene

A/n: HUGE thank you to @followthefreedomtrail9 for helping me with this. I absolutely could not have done it without you. thank you thank you thank you!! 

masterlist

(not my gif)

Skinner brothers were a wretched breed of man. They had terrorized Tall Trees for far too long, and probably should have been exterminated long before they were able to expand to such an extent. A small group of them had made the fatal mistake of trying to ambush you, Charles, and John while you were returning from Strawberry, giving you the perfect opportunity to push them back a bit. The three of you were off your horses in seconds and picked them off one by one until they were all on the ground. The fight may have been fast, but it sure was bloody. Your trio had been separated early on, each forced to take on multiple Skinner Brothers at once. They put up as much fight as they could, but were ultimately no match for former outlaws such as yourselves.

After the fight was over, Charles and John both met back up at the horses. Charles glanced behind him, eyes roaming the quiet Forrest for you. He spotted you in between a few trees, resting against a fallen log. It was over. The last man had fallen, damned to never stand again.

You smiled at him, sending a tired wave his way. He returned it with an equally tired chuckle, whistling for your horse to come. Charles watched for a moment as you set your things down and walked a few feet away to pick some Bay Bolete mushrooms. His attention was drawn just slightly to John, who shoo’d a Rattlesnake away from his anxious horse. The snake slithered away, but didn’t get too far.

“You think they was followin’ us?” John asked Charles, who shook his head.

“I think we were just passing through at the wrong time. Seemed like they were just waiting to ambush some poor bastard.”

John agreed, starting to pick up some of the cargo that had fallen from his horse during the ambush.

A single gunshot rang out, silencing both Charles and John immediately. A man was standing a few feet in front of you, nearly covered in mud with bits of blood spattered across his body. He was pointing your own shotgun straight at you with a twisted smile spread across his face.

Skinner Brother.

Charles felt like he had been kicked in the chest, and he drew his own weapon to stop the man. The initial boom startled the Rattlesnake, who then tried to create some distance between it and the sound. It slithered underneath your horse and into the tall grass behind it. Immediately upon spotting the snake, your horse whinnied and jumped up in fright. Her rear end knocked into Charles and threw him straight into the dirt before sprinting off towards Beechers Hope.

A single bullet pierced the Skinner Brother’s skull before Charles could grab and fire his gun, having been sent from the barrel of John’s repeater just a second too late.

You were already lying on the ground, gasping out in shock from a second impact. Charles had landed face down a few feet away, having heard three total gunshots. He pushed himself back up, eyes searching for only one thing amongst the trees.

Your fingers slipped through the ground, clenching at the moist dirt and mushrooms below you. You felt yourself begin to panic, life being slowly drained as blood seeped out of your stomach. You were doing the best you could to find something, anything to ground yourself. You weren’t ready to go.

The wounds were far too wide for your comfort, and you became lightheaded within moments.

The sun was gleaming above, bringing the slightest bit of warmth to your skin as your body heat faded. You had a single moment of clarity as your gaze settled upon the tall trees and into the bright sky above. Songbirds and Bluejays soared in and out of your sight, enjoying the pleasant day. One bird in particular stood out to you. A plump Bluejay sat on the lowest branch of the tree directly above, looking down at you. There was something different about it’s presence, something strange. Your thoughts settles around Arthur, but you weren’t sure why.

The wind danced through the thick grass around you, chilling your skin, reminding you of your predicament. You didn’t have much time left. The two bullet holes in your stomach couldn’t be fixed, not without a real doctor, and the nearest one was in Valentine. You wouldn’t survive the ride there, much less the next few minutes.

You tried to look around for Charles, praying to whoever would listen for him to be okay.

And then he appeared. His knees crashed into the grass to your right before he pried your fingers away from your stomach to see the damage. You knew his hands were on you, but you couldn’t seem to feel his touch. He was floating above you, scrambling around but you never felt the connection. His mouth was moving, but you couldn’t hear him. The distraught look in his eyes told you the situation was as bad as you thought, if not worse.

“Don’t be sad.” You mumbled, bringing a shaky hand to gently caress his cheek. He would be sad. You knew he’d be. He’d be heartbroken and furious with himself. You could only hope that one day he’d be able to make peace and be happy again. God, he deserved so much happiness, the world had deprived him of it for too long.

He had been happy. You two had only just found each other again. After all of the business with the gang, you’d been separated. Lucky enough for you, Jack remembered your face. He pointed you out to Abigail some odd weeks ago in Blackwater, and she nearly dragged you back to Beechers Hope, to Charles. You stood face to face with the man you thought you’d never see again, the man you loved most of all. For the first time in years, Charles was truly happy.

It was almost like you hadn’t even been apart. The spark was still there. In fact, it may have been even brighter than before. The two of you spent every moment you could with each other. After so many years apart, being without the other again seemed unimaginable. You made plans for the future. You were going to stay close to John’s family, but build your own home. You were going to wed and have children together.

He was excited to start a new life with you, have a family with you. John’s family gave him serious baby fever. Now, that didn’t seem like a possible reality anymore. The gaping holes in your stomach told you it could never be.

Somehow, you had been hoisted up and shifted to lay in his lap. The feeling returned in your body, along with all of the pain. Charles could only find himself apologizing to you as you began to whimper. You wanted to tell him it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault, but your words slurred together, only to spill from your mouth as an uninterpretable mesh.

You were laying against Charles, looking up into his beautiful eyes, now filled with pools of tears. One of his warm arms had wrapped itself around you, holding you close to him while the other held something you couldn’t see up against your wounds in a vain attempt to control the bleeding. He was muttering something into your ear, but you couldn’t seem to make it out. Your hands came to rest upon his own, squeezing as tightly as you possibly could. You knew where this would end. You didn’t have much time left, and wanted to spend your last moments in his arms.

Charles knew, too, even if he couldn’t admit it. It was too late, and all he could do was hold you close to his heart and whisper “I’m right here with you.” In your ear.

You willed your lead tongue to move, thanking Charles for sharing his life with you and apologizing for not being able to spend any more of it with him.

“Don’t apologize, my love.” His voice was shaking, sorrow lacing every word, “I love you, more than anything.”

“I love you, too.”

Your heart ached, desperate for this all to be some bad dream. Some crazy and terrifying nightmare you had. You wanted Charles to gently kiss your forehead to wake you, and to hold you in his arms. He would listen as you explained what happened, and he’d reassure you that it wasn’t real while his fingers carded through your hair. He’d tell you that none of it was real and that neither of you were going anywhere and that he’d never let anything like that happen. You’d be able to go back to sleep, wrapped up in his arms and feeling completely safe.

But it was real. This was real life, and yours was about to end.

Charles couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down his face, and frankly he didn’t care about them. He held you close to him, whispering over and over into your ear how much he loved you.

You sent him the brightest smile you could muster, using up just about the last bit of your energy,

and then you were gone.

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Epilogue

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart by George deValier

Auf wiedersehen, auf wiedersehen, we'll meet again, sweetheart…

.

Early 1974 Italy

It was a busy, sunny, glorious day in the village. Feliciano strolled the streets with his hands in his pockets, whistling to himself, occasionally tipping his hat and flashing a grin at the pretty girls who passed in the sunlight. Most knew him well and just laughed, shooing him on his way with bright smiles and flippant waves of the hand. But Feliciano was surprised at the amount of unfamiliar faces around town lately. Foreigners in unfamiliar uniforms filled the cantinas, English could be heard on every corner, and here in the town square a big platform had been put up beside a brand new stone memorial. Feliciano had heard there was to be a ceremony of some sort, but he was not sure what all these Americans had to do with it. He did know that it had something to do with the war, so he had not troubled himself to find out more. Feliciano did not like to remember the war. As he walked past a large group clustered around the fountain, he realised that many of the people in the crowd were too young to actually remember it themselves. He shrugged to himself, continuing on his way to meet Ludwig at the old Cantina Rossa beside the square. His heart immediately lightened at the thought.

As he headed towards the edge of square, Feliciano noticed a man standing separate from the crowd, looking both confused and frustrated as he looked all around him. He was wearing a tweed suit and looked a little older than Feliciano, mid-fifties perhaps, with greying blond hair and quite possibly the largest eyebrows Feliciano had ever seen.

"Good day!" said Feliciano cheerfully, walking up to stand in front of the bewildered foreigner. He was not sure about all these Americans, but that was no reason not to help one of them if he could. "Are you all right? Can I help you?"

The man looked a bit panicked at the greeting. "Non… oh, bloody hell... Non Italiano…"

"Oh, sorry, of course!" Feliciano switched to English. "You're American."

"I beg your pardon?" Now the man looked genuinely affronted. "God no, I'm English."

Feliciano was immediately delighted. "Of course you are! I should have guessed from the suit! Tweed in this weather, my goodness, you English people are wonderful. I bet you quote Shakespeare all the time. Are you lost?"

"What? I…" The Englishman furrowed his brow in confused surprise, then continued to glance around the square as though searching for something. "I'm not lost. He's the one who's bloody lost."

Feliciano tried to follow the Englishman's searching gaze, then simply stared back at him. He had always been fascinated by England and the English, so it was a marvellous surprise to meet one unexpectedly in the town square. "Are you on holiday? There are a lot of people visiting Italy, lately. Well, this part of it, anyway."

"I'm here for the ceremony, with my, uh, friend." The man tripped over the word, then quickly tried to hide it. "Yes, my friend, an old friend of mine. He fought here, during the war."

"Oh! My…" Feliciano leant forward and winked, "…friend fought here during the war too. Was your friend in the British army?"

The Englishman looked completely stunned by that. Feliciano just grinned, until the man attempted an uncertain smile back. "No, he's American. He was a fighter pilot."

Feliciano gasped loudly. "No! Really? So was Ludwig! I'm going to meet him now, come have a drink with us! The cantina is right on the street here, and I'm sure your American will find you better if you stay in one place. My name is Feliciano, what's yours?"

The man fell into step beside Feliciano, though he looked like he wasn't sure how that had happened. "Uh… Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. Pleased to meet you."

"Arthur? Like King Arthur?! I always thought that English stories were the best. Ludwig is German, so his stories are dark and strange and oh, I hope you won't be upset to meet him, even if he is German…"

"The war was years ago." Arthur gave Feliciano another smile. "I have to wonder why we are constantly reminded of it."

Feliciano breathed a sigh of relief, then laughed lightly. "That is good to hear! You seem like a nice fellow, Arthur. Oh! Ludwig!"

Feliciano hurried to where Ludwig sat at the table on the street, a pot of coffee and two mugs on the table before him. Ludwig looked up and smiled, his eyes sparkling blue as always, his hat pulled forward over that little bald spot he hated but which Feliciano thought was cute. "Feliciano."

Feliciano loved the sound of Ludwig saying his name in that deep, unfading German accent. Everyone else called him Feli – everyone but Ludwig. To Ludwig, he had always been Feliciano, and always would be.

"Look, Ludwig, I found an Englishman!"

Arthur looked a little startled at the introduction. Ludwig just nodded politely. "Good afternoon. I hope Feliciano did not scare you, he tends to do that."

Arthur shook his head and let out a short breath of laughter. "Good afternoon. And not at all, I assure you. In fact I am… almost reminded of someone."

Feliciano fell into the chair beside Ludwig and gestured for Arthur to sit opposite. "His name is Arthur, Ludwig, can you believe it? Arthur, this is my friend, Ludwig." Feliciano winked again before gesturing to a nearby waiter. "Excuse me, young man, could we get some tea please? He's English." Ludwig muttered something that sounded suspiciously like an apology. Arthur looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"So," Feliciano continued, turning back to the table cheerfully. He was always happy to meet someone new, especially someone English. "Have you ever seen so many people gathered in one place?" he asked, gesturing around the busy cantina.

"Actually, yes, but I am from London," explained Arthur, resting his hands lightly on the table. He glanced between Feliciano and Ludwig, like he was trying to study them discreetly. "I suppose everyone is here for the anniversary."

"The anniversary?" Feliciano was still not entirely sure what the celebration was about.

Ludwig passed Feliciano a mug of coffee. "Feliciano, don't you know what today is?"

"Yes, it's Tuesday."

"No…"

"It is too, Ludwig, it's Tuesday, I know because last night we had bolognese and we always have bolognese on Monday so today must be…"

Ludwig interrupted quickly. "It is the thirtieth anniversary of the American landings."

Feliciano paused for a second. "It is?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Thirty years. Feliciano could remember the landings of thirty years ago like it was yesterday. The landings he had told Ludwig about, on that awful winter morning in the rain, betraying the Resistenza by doing so. The landings that had taken Ludwig away from him. That was what everyone was celebrating? Feliciano suddenly felt quite ill. Before he could think how to react, a loud voice interrupted the silence.

"Arthur!" Feliciano looked up to see a blond man in glasses, a military uniform, and a crooked little hat race up to the table and grasp the back of a chair breathlessly. "I think I got lost!"

Arthur managed to scowl and look relieved at the same time. "You did get bloody lost, you fool."

"I can't help it! So much has changed since I was here!" The man turned to Feliciano and Ludwig and gave a little wave, grinning cheerfully. "Hello! Er, sorry, I mean..." The man took a small book from his pocket, flipped to a front page, and shouted, "BUON GIORNO! Arthur, who are these people?"

Feliciano giggled while Arthur muttered an apology. "Alfred, for heaven's sake, they speak English. This is Feliciano and Lud... wig..." Arthur trailed off slowly, a look of realisation dawning on his face.

At that moment, a strange sort of stillness fell over the table. Alfred's smile faltered as he stared at Ludwig, unmoving, his eyes going wide and his cheeks turning pale. Feliciano glanced between Alfred's stunned expression, Arthur's bewildered face, and Ludwig's wide, unblinking eyes. It took a few moments before everything fell into place in Feliciano's mind. Alfred, an American fighter pilot who fought here during the war... Arthur, an Englishman with big, bushy eyebrows�� If it was him, I'd take on the whole German military single-handed...

"Oh!" Feliciano's blood fired at the memory, and he could not hold back the loud outburst of understanding.

Heavy silence fell again until Ludwig spoke, steady and deliberate. "Pleased to meet you, Alfred."

Alfred looked from Ludwig to Feliciano, then gave a short disbelieving laugh. His blond hair was streaked with grey, and he certainly filled out his uniform more than he once had - especially around the middle - but Feliciano could see that same cheerful American pilot from all those years ago. The American who had led him to Ludwig; the American whose life Ludwig had saved in return. Alfred's look of disbelief turned to joy, and he fell into the chair beside Arthur, grinning brightly. "It sure is a pleasure to meet you folks! And it'd sure be swell to speak to some locals, rather than these stuffy military types trying to drag me everywhere. Excusi, waiter, BUON GIORNO! Coffee, per favore... COF - FEE!"

They quickly broke into cheerful, light-hearted conversation, though Feliciano and Alfred carried most of it. There was no need to speak of the past; no need to explain. They all understood, and that was enough. Feliciano gave Alfred help with his Italian pronunciation, and spoke about his and Ludwig's excitement for the upcoming FIFA World Cup, which was to be held in Germany this year. Arthur told them about London, with its busy streets and cricket grounds and little music clubs. Alfred and Ludwig spoke for a long time about the new fourth generation jet fighters, which Feliciano did not really understand very well. Feliciano learnt that Arthur owned a pub, that Alfred was a military flight instructor, and that they travelled often between America and England.

"But America is very far from England isn't it?" asked Feliciano, fascinated by all he learnt about these strange, faraway countries. He and Ludwig had never been able to travel further than Germany. America almost seemed like another planet.

"Ten hours or so to fly commercially," replied Arthur, stirring more sugar into his tea. "Although I almost prefer the days of the ocean liners. At least then I did not have to deal with Alfred racing to the cockpit and trying to convince the pilots to let him fly the bloody plane."

"The American pilots let me," Alfred muttered. "Damn British airlines and your stupid 'rules.'"

"We often visit New York in the summer," Arthur continued, easily ignoring Alfred.

"New York, wow! We go to Germany in the summer, don't we Ludwig, because it is not so cold then. Sometimes we stop in Vienna on the way home."

"Oh?" Arthur was very polite, Feliciano noticed, even if he did sometimes kick Alfred's foot under the table. "Aren't Francis and Matthew in Vienna now, Alfred?"

"Apparently. Damn fine excuse for Matt to leave me doing this ceremony alone." Alfred snorted as he leant back in his seat. "Francis and Matt are friends of ours," he explained. "I'm pretty sure they've travelled everywhere by now."

Feliciano wondered if Alfred was speaking of his fellow pilot Matthew Williams, the nice Canadian with the little polar bear. "Have they been to the moon?"

Ludwig sighed almost inaudibly. "Feliciano, I've told you, just because one man went to the moon doesn't mean everyone can go."

"The military asked me to go to the moon," said Alfred proudly.

Arthur touched his forehead briefly. "Alfred, I've told you, they were being sarcastic, and it wasn't a compliment."

"Me and Ludwig watched the moon landing on the television in the village, but my brother Lovino says it didn't really happen, he says they faked it."

That immediately got Alfred's attention. Arthur groaned as Alfred sat up eagerly. "No, no, they went to the moon, but it was a distraction."

"A distraction?" asked Feliciano, instantly intrigued. "From what?"

"Mars," Alfred replied, his eyes fixed and intense.

Feliciano was confused and fascinated all at once. "Why Mars?"

Alfred leant forward on the table and gestured decisively as he answered. "Aliens."

Feliciano gasped breathlessly. "Of course!"

Ludwig and Arthur exchanged a resigned look of mutual understanding.

Another round of coffee and eventually the crowded cantina started to thin, everyone filtering away to the thronging square. "It looks like the ceremony will be starting soon," said Arthur, discreetly squeezing Alfred's arm. "We should probably be going."

Alfred looked reluctant, but he shrugged, sighed, and pushed back his chair. "Unfortunately, duty calls."

Feliciano felt a little sad to see them go. He couldn't help wondering if he would see them again. "What happens at the ceremony?"

Alfred took a moment to answer, and glanced briefly at Ludwig before he did. "Well, I get to stand up there smiling and looking proud while someone shakes my hand and thanks me and probably gives me another medal."

Feliciano wondered why Alfred looked so uncomfortable as he said it. "Well, that sounds nice!"

Alfred's smile looked a little forced, and Arthur quickly changed the subject. "If you're ever in London, please look up a pub called the Emerald Lion. We'd be delighted to see you."

"The Emerald Lion – that sounds pretty! Do you actually have a lion?"

Arthur laughed softly, and again he exchanged a strangely sympathetic glance with Ludwig. "No, but we have frogs in the back garden."

Alfred winked at Ludwig. "They ain't poisonous, though." Ludwig almost laughed at that. Alfred stood, held his hand out to Ludwig, and Feliciano noticed for the first time that it was missing two fingers. "It's been good to meet you folks." Alfred waited, still and expectant, until eventually Arthur spoke very quietly.

"Alfred."

Ludwig very briefly looked down at his chair, then back up at Alfred. With a sudden gasp of realisation, Alfred clenched his hand into a fist and looked away, his expression painfully shocked and almost angry. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and swore under his breath. But Ludwig spoke quickly. "I am grateful to have met you again, Lieutenant – or is it Captain, now? And I am glad to see that you are happy and well – the same as I."

It was the first time all afternoon anyone had acknowledged the fact they had met before. Feliciano hadn't ever thought he would see the American pilot again, and he certainly never expected to meet the Englishman whose photograph Alfred had shown him all those years ago. In some way it felt freeing, to see that they were living a happy life together; it felt like a resolution. Ludwig's sacrifice had not been in vain.

Alfred smiled reflectively, glancing between Feliciano and Ludwig. He still looked a little sad, but there was a relieved sort of joy in his face. He nodded, took a step closer, and again offered his hand, this time so Ludwig could reach it. "You deserve to be standing up there today, Lieutenant. You're the real hero."

Ludwig simply shook Alfred's hand firmly. "Good luck at the ceremony."

When Alfred turned towards him, Feliciano felt his chest fill with old familiar emotion and gratitude. Thirty years ago this man had told Feliciano of Ludwig's location in an American base. Consequences aside, it was still the most startling, selfless thing a stranger had ever done for Feliciano. Instead of shaking his hand, Feliciano pulled Alfred into a bruising hug. At the same time Arthur took Ludwig's hand in a handshake, holding it for a few moments with an intense, unfathomable look in his eyes. Finally he spoke one word, his voice breaking slightly. "Thank you."

Ludwig nodded at Arthur while Alfred laughed cheerfully, patting Feliciano on the back. Feliciano waved as they finally parted ways, Arthur and Alfred pressing through the crowd into the square. "Auf wiedersehen," he called brightly.

Arthur turned back and smiled. "We'll meet again."

Later, as Feliciano pushed Ludwig's chair past the town square, they were greeted by the strains of a familiar song being sung by the crowd.

Una mattina mi son svegliato, o bella, ciao, bella, ciao, bella, ciao, ciao, ciao! Una mattina mi son svegliato, e ho trovato l'invasor.

Feliciano came to a slow stop at the back of the massing crowd, looking through the sea of Italian and American flags. The new stone monument had been unveiled in the square, to honour the American air crews who had liberated the town. It stood beside the older memorial, the one inscribed with names of murdered Italian resistance members. Alfred stood at the front of the singing crowd, a row of shiny medals on his chest, while several official looking men in suits stood beside him and a local villager prepared a big microphone on a tall stand. Feliciano could just see Arthur off to the side watching. Alfred stood waiting to be hailed as a hero; Ludwig sat at the back, unnoticed. But the four of them knew: the four of them understood.

Feliciano and Ludwig watched the ceremony for a few minutes, as an Italian official began talking about the heroes of the resistance and the sacrifices of the town and everyone's gratitude for the American military's defeat of the occupying German forces. As the man spoke, a fleeting memory ran through Feliciano's mind: of that moment thirty years ago he had almost witnessed the execution of two resistance members in this very square. He remembered Grandpa Roma's unfaltering determination to fight for a free Italy; he remembered the torment and years of pain Antonio had gone through after his interrogation by the Gestapo. Then Feliciano touched Ludwig's shoulder. He had been a member of that occupying German military, yet without him Alfred would not be standing on that podium today. Feliciano wondered if anyone in the crowd had any idea how complicated the entire situation actually was. There was no black and white when it came to war: no good guys and bad guys like there were in storybooks.

Feliciano looked again at Alfred with his medals and the admiration of the crowd. "Ludwig, do you have shiny medals like that?"

Ludwig took a moment to respond. "I once had many, Feliciano. But fighting for your country is not always the same as fighting for what's right."

Feliciano understood that, but still found it hard to accept. Ludwig was good, and noble, and all those years ago as a German officer, he had only ever tried to do the right thing. But Ludwig was on the losing side, so he would never be a hero.

They turned and headed out of the square, leaving the ceremony behind them; through the village and out into the countryside. The quiet of the country air was a relief after the heat and noise of the village square. Buildings had sprung up around the town in recent years, and it always seemed that the country road was growing shorter. But further out in the fields it was still quiet and empty: the tall grass rustling gently, the familiar scents of flowers and herbs drifting on the wind. They walked in silence, Ludwig allowing Feliciano to push his chair over the narrow dusty road; Feliciano stopping briefly by the completely overgrown old tank to pick a sprig of wild rosemary from its side.

The old field had not changed in years, though there was now a track long worn through the grass towards the oak tree. As Feliciano slowly pushed Ludwig's chair along the track, that old familiar feeling enveloped him. This same easy peace, this same tranquil stillness, like they were the only people in the world; like they were somewhere else. Although it took a little longer to reach the oak tree now, and Feliciano's knees creaked as they stopped, and it took him a little longer to sit down on the grass. He sat beside Ludwig's chair, leaning his head against Ludwig's knees and playing with the sprig of rosemary. "I will place this at the memorial. When there is not such a big crowd."

Ludwig ran his hand through Feliciano's hair. "Rosmarino, for remembrance."

Feliciano did not usually like to remember those days, even though they were imprinted on his memory, and Ludwig's also. Their life was more now than those few days when it began. Their life was sunny afternoons in the Italian fields, taking all day to walk to the town or to just watch the clouds. It was mornings in their little garden, gathering herbs and flowers to sell at the market. It was long, warm summers in Germany, though they had to take the train to Munich since that big wall was built in Berlin. Feliciano supposed that by some people's measure of success he had not achieved much in his life. He could not write great symphonies like Roderich, or great books like Lovino. He was never a national hero like Grandpa Roma or Antonio. He could not even work in the fields like Grandpa Roma used to, not with the pain in his chest. But he could love. He could spend his days with Ludwig, and look after him, and that was all he wanted. That made Feliciano's life important.

"What will we do tomorrow, Ludwig?"

"We could go for a drive out to the vineyards. If you promise to remember you are not on a racing track."

Feliciano laughed. "My driving is just fine, Ludwig."

"Yes. For a racing car driver."

Feliciano ignored that. "The vineyards would be nice. We can get some wine for when Lovino returns. Can you believe he is going to play his guitar in Vienna? And Roderich said his orchestra would play our song! There is even a famous soprano going to sing it, but I can't remember her name..."

Ludwig brushed Feliciano's cheek with a cold hand. "I would much prefer to hear you sing it, Feliciano."

Feliciano smiled up at him. No, he did not often think of those days, but sometimes it was important to remember. It was now thirty years since they found each other. Thirty years, and this could have been any moment they had spent together. Because these feelings never changed. So Feliciano sang to remember, twirling the rosemary between his fingers, as the wind shook the leaves overhead and the sun started to descend in the sky.

But Feliciano did not sing the last line. He just hummed the melody, feeling Ludwig's hand through his hair, his strong, steady warmth behind him. Yes, sometimes it was important to remember. But there was no need to ever sing that last line again.

Auf wiedersehen, sweetheart.

THE END

.

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.

[wildwesternwoman]

To the Blue Jay (RDR2 Epilogue)

I have requests in my inbox and a five-page paper to write for class, but I had inspiration for this and couldn’t not write it. Please be warned, this is set during the epilogue so there are MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD for the main story. 

Also, its somewhat Arthur Morgan x Reader, so a lot of angst. Enjoy! 

_______________________________________________________________________

You never remembered it being this hot in Blackwater. The sun beat down hard on the top of your head as you rode up the main street of the town. Damn, how long had it been since you’d been here? At least seven, eight years. You tried not to think of everything that had happened since then, the sadness, the anger, the grief at the hand life had dealt you. So, instead, you distracted yourself with thoughts of the pretty necklace you left at the camp you and the gang had to flee. Reckon it was still there? 

You laughed at the thought. There. That’s what you needed to remember. The good times, the silly times. Sean’s drunken shenanigans, Arthur’s gruff kindness, Hosea’s wise guidance. The things you loved so about the family you once had. Not to mention, the freedom you’d experienced the past few years. Things hadn’t necessarily been bad, you’d stayed on your feet after everything that happened at Beaver Hollow. You’d done some small robberies before finally making it to civilization – if you could call Tumbleweed civilization. It was still somewhere where nobody knew your name. After that, you settled down. Took on honest work. You’d worked on a ranch, at a saloon, hell, even in a bank. You found yourself chuckling every day at the irony of that. But you just weren’t happy out west. You’d heard talk of one Jim Milton hanging around Strawberry and Blackwater and couldn’t help but wonder if it happened to be another man you once knew with those same initials. God, how you missed the old gang. Especially Arthur. Your relationship with the cowboy was somewhat up to interpretation. Were you in love? You never quite figured that out, but you certainly did love him. You thought he was one of the greatest people you ever met, you still thought that. And your heart ached when you thought about him, so you just didn’t. Seven years, you did everything in your to not think of him. And damn was that hard. So, now you rode down the main street of Blackwater, the last place you’d been with him when things had really been ok. The last place you’d been together before things went off the rails. And you were hoping, praying, to find the biggest reminder of him to date. John. Tall and strong, older and scarred, but still handsome as always. Coming out of the lumber yard. There he was. And everything you’d been trying to ignore, trying to not feel for seven years came flooding back to you. The sadness, the anger, the grief, the betrayal. “Jim Milton!” You called as your rode toward him. He turned dead in his tracks, giving you a deathly glare before realization spread across his face. “Y/N! Y/N Y/L/N! Is that really you?” You hopped off your horse, pulling him into a hug. “In the flesh. I hoped I might find you here.” “It’s been a long time.” “It sure has.” You smiled at him, the scared, but hopeful young rebel. “Hey, you ain’t gonna believe who else I seen lately. Sadie Adler.” Your mind flashed back to the last time you’d seen Sadie. A few days after Beaver Hollow, after Arthur, as you all tried to figure out what to do, where to go, how to be safe. She set off on her own, and you did, too. But her strength in all that she’d faced in life gave you strength, as well. “And Uncle,” John’s voice interrupted your thoughts. “And Charles Smith, too. They’re both out at my house. Well, what will be my house, it’s just my land right now. Ain’t much to it, yet.” “Well, look at you. Little Johnny Marston all settled down. How’s Abigail and Jack?” John flinched at your words, and for a moment you feared the worst. “They ain’t around right now. They’re waiting for me to get this house built and this ranch working. Then they’re gonna join me out here.” He looked at you, a look you swore you’d seen a thousand times in the many many years you’d known him. A hopeful, familiar look. “Would you wanna come out? See the land? You can stay with the rest of us. Kinda be like havin’ the old gang back together.” Except Arthur. Your heart wretched, but you only smiled. “I’d love to, John.” So, you rejoined your old friends out at Beecher’s Hope. Laughing, and drinking, and fighting with the Skinner’s, chasing bounties with John and Sadie. It sure did feel like the old days, at least until you’d arrive back at the camp and it just wasn’t. No Javier on guitar, no Swanson drunkenly preaching, no Arthur. Just his strong, reassuring presence. It just wasn’t right. The day finally came when it was time to start working on John’s house. The plans and material and tools all there in front of you, and you were ready and willing to help, as always. So, apparently, was a little blue jay that seemed to watch over you all the time. As you laid the foundation, it sat on joists, supervising. When John accidently slammed the hammer down on his finger while laying the floor, it chirped out a laugh. It would stare almost thoughtfully at Charles as he worked. It seemed to like flying around and annoying Uncle, as well, particularly when he’d fall asleep on the job. “That damn bird!” He cussed one hot afternoon. “I like it.” You smiled as the bird chirped out, almost arguing with the old man. One evening, when you had climbed up on the roof to do some work with laying the shingles, it hovered near you. “I ain’t gonna fall,” You told it. “Quit you’re worrying.” You realized it sounded like you were talking to a person, but at this point, the little blue jay felt like part of the gang. It was a friend. You dreaded the day it flew away and didn’t come back. But it was here for now, and you were going to enjoy its presence and its song. As you rested in the shade of the tall chimney, the bird came to land on your knee, staring up at you with eyes almost human. Eyes you felt like you’d seen before. It chirped at you and you smiled back it. “Hey, little fella. Time for you to take a break too?” It chirped back, walking further up your leg before settling down on your thigh, seemingly content. And you felt content, as well. The cool bricks against your back, the warm sun overhead, and the beautiful countryside that you called home, for now. It felt good to have your friends, your family, back again. For the first time in seven years, you felt alright. Content. Happy, even. That night, John slid down the latter, declaring the house officially finished and offering each of you a home there. The blue jay soared around the roof, singing the whole time before coming to land on the rail of the porch, watching the four of you as you admired your handy work. Your home.

It was from this perch that the blue jay watched you all later that night, gathered around a warm campfire drinking and telling stories of your lives from the time you’d been apart.

“When I was just a lad, you know, I met a gal from ol’ Bordeaux,” Uncle started to sing after a particularly stiff drink. You each seemed to join in as you passed the bottle around. You thought you may’ve drank too much when you started to hear a high pitched noise join in. “That’s what you call the ring-dang-doo!” They sang as you looked around, determined, even in you’re a bit inebriated state, to find the source of the noise. And then you saw it. The blue jay. Joining in your song and singing with you. You couldn’t help but smile and raise your bottle. To the blue jay.

[azarathedragon]

Mild spoilers. Nothing is really stated, but its enough to clue in to stuff that happens in the main story.

Nothing has emotionally destroyed me more this year then Red Dead Redemption 2. And for me, thats saying something, because i uh....dont usually cry during a video game. I cant actually bring to mind another game that had me that upset over a character. Books, yea. Tv shows, yea. But a video game. Make me sad, sure, but actually cry, nope.

And i loved the game to bits, enough so that it actually got my ass in gear to play and attempt to finish the first game. My only gripe would have been some of the choices made with horses.

First being that the best horses are locked behind the epilogue, where theres maybe a dozen hours worth of content. Maybe more if you didnt do some stuff as Arthur. It doesnt make sense that the character you spend the most time with, only has access to lower tier horses, barring the black arabian and gold turk (which i find ugly as shit by the why. Sadie's turk was a far prettier color.)

The unique horses like the black shire or Buell. If you sell either, or it gets killed, they are gone for good. There is no getting that specific coat color back. And that is dumb as shit my friends. As a side note, we shoulda been able to get Buell earlier on. You basically get that stubborn bastard when theres only a few hours of gameplay left (story wise anyway. If you spend fifteen hours just dicking around, all the more power to ya. Lord knows i did because the game ending was spoiled for me within the first week of its release. Thanks youtube. Thanks.)

Second. All horses should have been able to be found wild or stable bought. Just decrease spawn chance for the real nice ones like the Arabians and Turks. Horse herds were depressing to look at after a while, when you realize the three fastest wild breeds only have two wild coat colors. Nokota, Thoroughbred, snd the Anerican Standards. Two colors. And you find herds with 4 to 6 of one of the afformentioned breeds in it. Two colors. Its just...sad to look at. And its not like Rockstar was short on coat colors snd patterns. Also. Fuck them for patching the St. Denis spawn glitch. I found an alternative as john and got that pretty rose grey arabian. For free. And i think i found an alternative as arthur. But my lips are sealed, because frankly, its bullshit i cant steal a real nice horse. Were outlaws, lemme steal the nice horses you bastards.

Coats and their patterns. The only ALL black horse is a American Standardbred. They are an average horse. Ok speed, and ok health and stamina. And i will say it again. Rockstar was not short on coat colors and patterns. There are so many colors for the Kentucky Saddlers, Tennessee Walkers, and Morgans. So fuckin many. A lot of these could have been copied or split into other breeds. Or pull the Nintendo BotW method where there is a dozen base colors, that then have additional patterns thrown over top. Because i really want an all black horse that has good stats. (And unless im crazy, im pretty sure the initial launch of the game there were no all black horses? The standardbred used to have like...a snip on its face. Mandela effect probably. There are a handful of black horses they all start to blur together after a while)

The horse types like War and Work should have meant more than more health over stamina or vice versa. War horses shouldnt balk at gunfire, its what it was bred and raised for. Work horses shouldnt have felt the stamina drain from carrying pelts, it was born and raised to do intensive work. Wild horses should have handled threatening wildlife (snakes, cougars, bears, alligators) better than stable horses. Stable horses spook easier at said creatures, but handle towns and nearby trains better. Yes, you read that right, trains. Horses dont like loud things, and trains to them, are downright terrifying. It takes years of consistent exposure for a horse to calm down around such things. (My family had horses, and we lived near John Trovolta. The dude has a private jet. Taking off in practically our back yard. The horses freaked about it at first, but after a while began to realize the giant screaming metal demon bird isn't here to harm them. They still dont like it, but they dont freak out as easily to it either.)

Im still not sure as to what Handling meant. Does it turn faster? Different animations? Game devs love putting shit in, and then not tell us what it means. Like that "wild horses will keep some wild tendencies." That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. Tendencies could be anything, literally anything. Maybe this horse really, really likes chewing on its butt. Maybe it has a biting problem. The word means nothing if we arent given context on what it means.

Volume slider for the horses please. My god. Both of my parents are hard of hearing, and while my dad has no interest in the game other than "oh what gun is that? A wincester?". My mom did on the other hand. So she turns the volume up a little to hear characters better, but then we have to turn it back down, because the horses are overly loud at times. (And yes captions are on, but we still like hearing the voice behind those words. Pretty sure the tv speakers are going anyway, but there are other audio issues with the game at times that are unrelated to a shit tv). Audio option are important. And we are stuck with only three sliders. Master, score, and dialogue. You dont want to listen to a horse grunting, overpowering whatver it was that character said? Too bad. You dont get to decide that. Really hope the pc release adds a few more sliders to make it bearable.

[isingonly4myangel]

HELLO YES I WANT A FIC WHERE WE SEE WHAT SIBELLA IS THINKING DURING THOSE SPECIFIC SCENES OF DRACULA, PLEASE AND THANK YOU!

“Jonathan, let the others go against him,” Sibella spoke to her onstage husband, Jonathan Harker. Simon was a wonderful actor, and he and Sibella worked well together.

“No, I’ll never be free until I see him destroyed. I’ve got to join Van Helsing and the others downstairs. Will you come?”

“No! Don’t go!” She stepped closer to him. That had been her choice, as it was not initially indicated in the stage directions, but it had felt right so their director, Charles, had told her to ‘keep it’.

“Really, I must-” he began to protest, but Sibella jumped to cut him off, as there was no more of his line written.

“Stay, for just a moment.” She lowered her voice to imitate the quality of a whisper while still being mindful to ‘project’ so that she could be heard. “Hold me… just for a moment.” He crossed to her and took her in his arms, but she gave a sharp gasp as though she were in pain. The actions were so engrained in them that they carried them out without thought as to what they were supposed to do next. Everything seemed natural.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know… I can’t…” He gave it a moment to let her words rest in the air.

“Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Early on in the rehearsal process, Sibella found that she could conjure strong emotion just by willing it. All she had to do was focus on the emptiness in her and the ache in her chest and the tears would come. Her only problem was pulling out of it. “I don’t know! Oh please, just hold me.”

“Of course, darling. It’s alright.” He wrapped his arms around her and she leaned into his embrace. She had become so accustomed to him that it no longer felt strange to be held by a man that she had no romantic attachment to. He smelled of stage makeup and subtle cologne and the solidity of his presence was comforting to her. Though her comfort with him was aided by the fact that he was not romantically interested in women, married or not.

The lights came down and they scurried off stage in the darkness. Standing in the wing, Sibella struggled to stop her tears from falling.Knowing that she would need it, Simon produced a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, dabbing carefully at her eyes so as not to smear her makeup. Simon’s gentle hand on her back quickly turned into him holding her as he felt her trembling.

***

Sibella lay in the bed, waiting for the scent of the stage fog that signaled Edward’s arrival as the vampire. She did her best to feel uneasy, attempting to wake Simon who lay next to her, but as directed he was unresponsive. Hearing the rustle of the fabric of Edward’s cape, she turned to face him with a gasp.

“Silence!” rasped Edward in his thick Transylvanian accent,and pointed to Simon in the bed. “If you make a sound I shall take him and dash his brains out before your very eyes.” He placed a hand on Sibella’s shoulder and held her lightly while she raised herself to her knees, giving the impression that he had pulled her upward. Turning her to face outward, he tugged open the snap holding her dressing gown together, exposing the skin of her neck and chest.

Edward had an uncanny ability to make Sibella incredibly uncomfortable onstage. Outside of his role as Dracula, he was a lovely and charming middle-aged man with greying hair and a sweet wife. He had brought Sibella flowers on opening night to congratulate her on her stage debut. But once the vampiric makeup went on, he was positively frightful. A tribute, Sibella was sure, to his acting ability, but nevertheless she felt her skin crawl as he trailed the fingers of those skeletal gloves down her neck.

“First,” he spoke. “A little refreshment to reward my exertions. You may as well be quiet; it is not the first time that your veins have appeased my thirst, Mina!”

Sibella tried not to flinch as she heard the slight popping of Edward biting into the small capsule filled with fake blood. She hated the next part, but she had to suffer through it, and her discomfort worked well in the scene. In the moment that it took to lower his head to her neck, Edward would swipe the “blood” across the set of clay fangs in his mouth so that when he brushed the false teeth against her neck they would leave droplets of blood behind. He could then spread the rest of the liquid to cover his lips, gaining the desired gasps from the audience as he at last pulled away from her.

During the following speech, Sibella tried at once to both fight and embrace her urge to bolt in the opposite direction. She wanted nothing more than to hide in her dressing room and clean the blood off of her neck, but she had the rest of a scene to do. And this portion was the unfortunate price she had to pay in order to reach her favourite scene in the play.

“And to end this!” Edward continued. He tugged open his outer shirt to reveal the pale white one underneath it, appearing as skin to the audience. With another popping of a small packet, carefully taped to the inside of his cape, blood seeped across the fabric of the fitted white shirt,achieving another resounding gasp from spectators.

His apparent seizing of Sibella was in fact carefully coordinated so that Sibella was entirely in control of their motions. As she pressed her mouth into the stream of red liquid, smearing it across her face in her pretended struggle against the vampire’s hold, she begged the moments to pass faster that the other actors’ entrance might be expedited.Suddenly, the four men burst through the door in the far wall,and Sibella threw herself down hard on the bed. She closed her eyes tightly against the sounds of the confrontation and the sudden change of the lights.

When Edward had dived beneath the bed and the stage was lit again, she could at last release the scream that had been building in her throat. When the men had questioned her about it, she found that she had no answer as to where a scream of that variety came from. At the beginning of the rehearsal process she needed only to recall the nightmares she had about losing Monty and Phoebe and the scream would come, raw and heart-wrenching. But now she could produce it so that it felt organic and did not take her thoughts away from the supposed reality of what was happening on the stage.

Timothy, playing Professor Van Helsing, ran to her and flung the coverlet over her as she began to wail, hiding her face in her hands.Nathaniel, in the role of Dr. Jack Seward, dashed around to the other side of the bed to rouse Simon.

“What’s happening? Seward, tell me,” Simon mumbled as he pretended to awake. “Mina, oh my god!” he cried as he laid eyes on Sibella. “My god, help her!”

“Jonathan?” Sibella gasped through her tears.

“Oh, thank god, Van Helsing save her, it cannot have gone too far yet, guard her while I look for him.” He leapt off the bed and started towards the door, but he stopped short as Sibella cried out to him.

“No no no, Jonathan don’t go, don’t leave me! Stay with these friends who will watch over you!” Every night, Simon was taken aback by the emotion that Mrs. Holland was able to pour into those few words. Retracing his steps, he came to her outstretched arms. She pulled him down to be sitting on the bedside and clung to him fiercely.

“Do not fear, dearest Wilhelmina-” began Timothy, but he stopped as directed when Sibella began to wail. In holding onto Simon she had smeared the blood from her face and neck onto his white nightshirt, exactly as intended.

“It’s alright, Mina, it’s alright!” Simon cried, pulling her into his arms and holding her tight while she sobbed.

***

The rest of the play was tiring but fun for Sibella. The farther into vampirism she slipped, the more delirious she had to become. The hypnotism bits were fun too, and she had been told that she held both the audience and her fellow actors enthralled while she spoke in her theoretical trance.

“Oh dear Mina, stop now! I fear for you!” spoke Timothy, attempting to hold her back from the three ghostly women who floated around the stage.

“Fear for me? You fool!” Sibella laughed. “There is none safer in all the world from them than I!” But as she stepped up to the edge of the circle, she gave a piercing scream that was echoed by all three women,recoiling as though she had been burned. “I cannot pass! I cannot pass! Don’t leave, don’t leave, wait! My sisters!” She fell backwards in a faint, trusting that Nathaniel and Ethan would be there to catch her as Dr. Seward and Quincey Morris.

***

“God be praised,” breathed Timothy when they had finally arrived at the end of the play. “Dracula is no more.”

“Now God be thanked that it has not been in vain,” Ethan choked out in his American accent as he lay with a stab wound to his side. “The curse has passed away!” And to the dismay of all the audience, he slumped backwards, dead.

“The burn on my forehead,” Sibella murmured, raising herself up from the floor. “Is it gone?”

“Yes,” replied Simon, who had come to kneel beside her. She leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder.

“Quincey is dead,” Nathaniel said in disbelief. A solemn silence hung over the stage for a moment before Timothy stepped forward and began to bless Quincey’s body.

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he declared, marking the figure of a cross in the air. Matthew, playing Arthur Holmwood, and Nathaniel each took one end of Ethan to raise him. Simon swept Sibella up into his arms and carried her off stage as all save Timothy made their final exit.

“I ask no one to accept these yellowing pages as fact,”declared Timothy, standing centre stage to deliver the ending of the epilogue.“I offer no proof. I ask none to believe. You have only my word before God, and the knowledge in the ancient part of your own brain that what I have told is complete and utter truth.”

 Darkness engulfed the stage and the theatre was filled by only silence for a moment, until the lights were raised to reveal all the actors in a line on the stage. Sibella waited her turn to step forward with Simon. Sweeping an elegant curtsey at the centre of the stage, Sibella smiled at the audience’s response.

***

“I really don’t know why you’ve not done this before, Sibella,” Simon addressed her as they all sat around a table in the French-style restaurant around the corner from the theatre that they frequented after performances. “You’re absolutely terrific!”

“He’s quite right, you know,” added Timothy as Sibella blushed.

“Absolutely astonishing!” exclaimed Elizabeth, who played Lucy, with a smile.

“I’ve seen a great number of actresses in my time, my dear,” said Edward, now devoid of his white makeup and false fangs. “And you have true talent.”

Matthew stood, raising his glass in front of him. “To Sibella.” he declared the toast.

“To Sibella!” The others echoed, and clinked all their glasses together as Sibella laughed, glad to have found such a wonderful group of friends.​

[msilet]

Hello, Beloved Husband (2/3)

Summary: Harry and Eggsy finally find Merlin lying in a coma in Thailand. Harry uses his marital status with Merlin to gain visiting right.

Ship: Harry Hart/Merlin

Chapter: 2 / 3

Link to chapter 1: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/167977795700/hello-beloved-husband

Link to chapter 3: http://msilet.tumblr.com/post/168964840325/hello-beloved-husband-33

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12853176/chapters/29435082

Note: I told myself I would just write a small epilogue with the proposal and the wedding. 2500+ words later and I still have no wedding. That will have to be in chapter 3.

Chapter behind the cut

It has been 3 months since they brought Merlin back to the UK. The Kingsman doctors have assured him that Merlin is healing nicely and he should be up and about in the foreseeable future. Whiskey came over last month to examine Merlin and assured Harry that things are going remarkably well.

Another great news is that they located both Lancelot and Percival alive. Roxy had a lot of her bones broken and sustained a few fractures on her skull due to the building collapsing on her panic room but there was nothing their doctors could not mend. Martin was extremely lucky to escape completely unscathed thanks to not being home. He was on a mission and only routed his communication via his house to encrypt it. Martin was the one finding and bringing Roxy in. Eggsy, Harry, Martin and even Roxy in her temporary wheelchair take turn looking over Merlin so that the others can be away to attend to personal and Kingsman business.

Harry would like nothing more than to spend time at the temporary HQ with all the people closest to him but Kingsman has to come first. At the moment he is up in Scotland to oversee the construction of the new Kingsman distillery and below it, the Scottish base. They have decided to decentralize so that all of them can no longer be wiped out at once anymore. The tailor shop is being rebuilt as well as the original HQ, this time with state of the art defense systems. Harry sighs, when it comes to technologies, he would have loved to have the opinion and skills of his wizard. He does hope Merlin will be up soon and help him out because sometimes, all these tech stuff confound him.

Suddenly, Harry's glasses beep. Right after he turns it on he hears Eggsy yelling breathlessly, as if he's running from a stampede, into the mic, "Harry! Harry! Back to HQ! I'm on my way!"

"Eggsy, what's wrong?", he panics slightly, "Are we getting attacked? Is everyone alright?"

"No! No, nothin' like that!", Eggsy sounds like he does not slow down, "Roxy called! Merlin's up! He opened his eyes!"

Harry is speechless for a moment, then he starts running too. "Eggsy, where are you right now? Can you get to him soon?"

"Yeah, Harry, 'm in London, can be there in less than 30 minutes!"

"Good, tell Merlin I'm on my way. I'll find the fastest way possible even if I'll have to fly the helicopter myself!"

"Harry! You only have one eye, if you fly that helicopter I swear to God Merlin's gonna kill you himself!"

"That would require him being able to kill me first!"

"Harry, bruv, I will help him kill you if you fly that helicopter, call the pilot! Now I've got to go, bye!"

3 hours later

Harry walks to the hospital wing, a bloody long walk if you ask him. He can even hear Merlin taunting late again, Sir in his head. All his grand idea of being there when Merlin wakes up not only went up in flames but now he is late for his own husband finally coming back to the living world. Not that he is displeased, he's beyond happy but deep down there's a little pettiness, just a little. He was there the whole day yesterday. As he approaches Merlin's room, he sees Eggsy wheeling Roxy out. Eggsy's face lights up when he sees Harry. "About damn time, Harry. What took you so long?"

"Had to make a detour for something. Am I the last one?"

Eggsy grins mischievously and says "Nah Harry, lucky for you, Percival is still in mainland Europe!"

Harry exhales, "Well thank God for small favours."

Eggsy, and by extent, Roxy, moves closer to Harry. Roxy tells him "Merlin is still awake, come inside and talk to him before he falls asleep again, Arthur." Eggsy nods and continues Roxy's words, "She's right and I figure you've got lots to talk about, yeah? Good luck!" and then off they go.

Harry stands alone in front of the door, wondering why he is so hesitant. The adrenaline level he has been running on is now dropping low and all kinds of irrational doubts float to the forefront of his mind. What if this is a dream and when he pushes that door open he will see Merlin still in a coma or worse, dead? He had nightmares like that before.

"You coward, get a grip on yourself", he mumbles to himself. He takes a deep breath and pushes the door open.

The sight that greets him makes him tear up. It is really his dear Hamish sitting on the bed with pillows propped up behind him. As Merlin sees Harry, he smiles. His smile is slightly tired but genuine and that is definitely the greatest sight Harry has ever seen. "Hello, Galahad.", Merlin greets him with the familiar line. It is their thing; the sentence sounds completely professional to others but holds so much meaning for them.

"Hello, beloved husband. It is Arthur now.", Harry can't help but says as he walks over to Merlin's side as quick as possible, feeling like he is floating on cloud nine.

"Oh, my. Please forgive me, Your Majesty. I would have loved to stand up and greet you properly but…", Merlin gestures to his legs sarcastically.

Harry does not say anything, just silently raises his hands to touch Merlin's face while staring into his eyes. "Hamish…", he manages to choke out, his voice breaking.

"Harry…", Merlin only manages before Harry pulls him into a tight hug. He can feel Harry shaking.

"You're back, you're really back, alive, in my arms.", Harry says between sobs, still clinging onto Merlin.

Despite being in pain, Merlin lifts his bandaged arms up and wraps them around Harry, holding him close. "I'm here, Harry. It seems our time together isn't at an end yet."

"You are damn right it isn't. If I have my way, it won't be over for a long time.", Harry's voice is muffled by Merlin's shirt but audible.

"Yes, Your Majesty.", Merlin chuckles.

After a while, calmed down, Harry realizes that he is still holding onto Merlin tightly, too tightly in fact, that he might be hurting him. He pulls back and asks, "Did I hurt you? Sorry, I was quite overwhelmed." When Merlin shakes his head, Harry lets out a sigh of relief. He sits down on the chair next to the bed and smiles shyly at Merlin. "How do you feel, Hamish?"

"It hurts all over and I still feel pain where my legs used to be but I am happy to be alive and have my mind intact."

"No Kingsman test for you then", Harry grins, his eye watery.

"Fucking hell, no, Harry.", Merlin grins back. Both of them then just sit together in silence for a few moments. Harry uses this time to collect his thoughts and muster up some ideas of what to say next.

"Look, Hamish, there is something very important I need to tell you right now."

"I just woke up from a coma, Harry, can't it wait a few days?"

Harry hesitates but then looks at Merlin, pleading. "I made a promise when I found you in Thailand that I would do this the moment you come back to me. Indulge me, please?"

"Well then, Harry, what is it?", Merlin is fully curious.

"I remember that you love John Denver now, amongst other artists."

Merlin laughs uneasily "Well that's good, Harry, but I don't see why it's so important that you need to say it today."

"Please just let me finish. I am nervous enough as it is."

"Alright, go ahead."

"Hamish, I told Eggsy that when I was shot, loneliness and regret was all I felt, I had no one. That was not true. I did not want to tell the truth because I knew you could hear me. I did not want you to know that while I was filled with regret, it was because of all the things I wanted to say to you and experience with you. I lied about having nobody because I did not want to explain everything to Eggsy and take the focus away from him and Tilde. I was also still slightly confused and did not wish to deal with complicated matters while not operating at full mental capacity. That was a shit decision. When that mine went off, it was the worst moment of my life, much worse than when I thought I was about to die. I had to watch the most important person to me on this earth getting killed without being able to even shed a tear."

"The 6 months that you were missing, I could not go a moment without thinking of you, of what we could have had. You haunted me even in my sleep, saying I failed you. I didn't know how you could do it the 2 years before. Maybe you were better at controlling your emotions, maybe I didn’t mean as much to you as you do to me, I don't know, but I don't care anymore. You are here, now, and it's all that matters."

Taking advantage of a shocked Merlin, Harry pulls out a box from his suit pocket and gets down on one knee, looking up at Merlin. He opens the box, revealing a platinum ring with intricate patterns on the sides.

"I bought this ring before the day we signed our civil partnership document but only now can I do this properly. I love you, Hamish Andrew Ferguson, will you marry me? I mean, for real this time. I promise I would do everything in my power to make sure you are always loved, cherished and happy."

Harry waits for an answer but after a while, none was given. Merlin looks like he has frozen and become a statue. Reluctantly, Harry says, "Well this is the part where you either say yes, try to let me down gently or laugh at my face. This silence is not doing my heart any favour."

Merlin opens his mouth, then closes it, blinks, then open his mouth again but no sound comes out. Seeing Harry nearing a heart attack, he says, "Excuse me, Harry. It's not every day a man wakes up from a 9-month-long coma to a marriage proposal, I need time to process the information."

Harry deflates, all bravado leaving his body. He knows the request is definitely reasonable and he should not be demanding an answer immediately but he'd be lying if he did not dream of Merlin saying yes right away and then they share some sort of true love's kiss and everything would be right as rain, damn hopeless romantic that he is. He tries to smile, "Sure, love. You must be tired, you should rest. I'm sorry for springing it upon you so soon. It just feels wrong, keeping secrets between us any longer, life is too precious for that." Harry stands up and is about to turn around to the door but Merlin reaches a hand out to stop him. "Harry, sit down." Years of conditioning makes Harry obey Merlin's order without thinking. Merlin is looking at Harry now while Harry is staring down at his hands, still holding the box.

"Did you mean it?", Merlin broke the silence.

"Everything.", Harry does not look up.

"I am crippled now, Harry. Look at me, I'm going to be a burden on everyone. Are you really sure about this?"

"Sweetheart, granted, your long legs were so sinful they should have been illegal but they aren't the only reason why I love you. Without them, you are not a burden. Whatever your answer shall be, I will be there to help you through all this, even when you get mad at me, shout at me or tell me to fuck off. I love all of you, just as you are, regardless of circumstances."

"Since when?"

Harry chuckled dryly, "I don't know? I can't pinpoint an exact moment that made me fall in love with you. There were so many moments, across so many years that before I knew it, the only one I could have asked that day was you."

"Th…That day, it wasn't just for professional reasons?"

"No, I was just trying to find any reason to get you to say yes. Figured if I sounded too desperate I'd scared you off.", Harry smiles uneasily.

And then Merlin does something Harry does not expect at all, he giggles. "Oh God", Harry sighs, looking up at Merlin, "you are laughing at me. May I get an explanation as to why?"

"You are an idiot," Merlin signals Harry to let him finish speaking before getting upset, "and so am I."

"What does that even mean?"

"The answer is yes."

"That makes no sense! You just answered yes to a 'what' que...", Harry trails off, and then his eye widens, "Yes?"

Merlin still has a smile on his face. "Yes, I will marry you."

Now it is Harry's turn to be speechless. He just sits and stares at Merlin. "Y...yes.", he repeats.

The giggles are back. "Harry Hart, speechless. What a sight to see. To be quite honest, I expected you to be livelier."

And then Merlin finds himself with an armful of Harry Hart, crashing hard enough onto him that he has the air knocked out of his lungs. "Ouch, that hurts."

Harry is hyperventilating, he babbles, "You said yes. You said yes! Oh my God you said yes"

Merlin pats his back then slowly rubs it. "Would have said yes if you asked me like this then, too. I've been in love with you since our second year together as agent-handler. You were under serious hostile fire and yet still managed to steal that rare Star Wars action figure and brought it back unscathed for me as a souvenir just because you heard me talking about liking the series once in passing. To be absolutely honest with you, I would have said yes right that moment."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Many reasons, I guess. First, it was not professional. Being a handler and falling for your agent is both cliché and dangerous, not even counting it being bad for the team environment. What if people accuse me of favouring you? What if you don't reciprocate and then it would be awkward and hinder the missions. Not only that, Arthur was an old judgemental prick that would have given us hell if he suspected anything. Second, you are the Harry Hart, you could have had anyone you'd liked. I'm the plain Scottish nerd with shit upbringing and I spend too much time with books and computers. Figured I should have been contented with being friends with benefits. And then you asked me to enter the civil partnership and I jumped at the chance to take what I could get without asking too many questions.”

"We have been idiots, we wasted so much time." Harry sniffles, while his face is still buried against Merlin's shoulder.

"I cried so much the day I came to empty your safe after V-Day. I found the ring, you know, I had so many questions. What did you mean by buying this, why did you not give it to me, was it even for me. I thought I would never have a chance to know anymore. I shut myself off emotionally and carried on. Kingsman, especially Eggsy, needed me. Helping him accomplishing the vision you had for him was a way to keep you in my heart. Sometimes I dream of you proposing to me and us getting married somewhere beautiful in Scotland surrounded by our friends and I let myself indulge a little in that fantasy during the late hours at night before getting back to the missions in the morning. When we found you, you couldn't remember and then you did but not really, I was devastated but if you asked me to let you go, I would have."

"Please don't ever let me go. I won't let you go, Hamish. And it is not a fantasy anymore. I love you, I want to marry you and I'd do anything for you."

"I love you too, Harry", Merlin says, a tear rolling down his face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Yes, Harry, you can kiss me."

Harry lifts his head up, cups Merlin's face with his hands and leans his face in closer, then Merlin meets him halfway. The kiss was full of love and longing and although no magic happens, Merlin's legs don't get magically healed, Harry is pretty sure it is True Love's Kiss.

Footnote:

Well yeah Hamish is a little easily persuaded but I would probably marry someone who gets me a rare expensive Batman action figure too. I chose the name Martin for Percival because I love Lywinis and bearfeathers stories so much, this is a little tribute.