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its-actually-minicika · 2 years ago

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The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 4;;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader x bookcanon Aemond;

Warnings: all of them lmao - dubious consent, canon typical violence, lack of Jacaerys, death, blood and gore, Aemond - who forces the reader into holy matrimony in this one (oh yes it's happening), and of course engages in petty masturbation (it's not THW without him going ham on his own hand ♡)

Word Count: 15k+ (wowza i know)

Author's Note: Low and behold, part 4 is here!! Originally, this was supposed to be a 4 parts series, but that obviously isn't the case anymore. THIS TOOK SO LONG AND I'M SO SORRY - I had major issues with the tag list, and at some point, tumblr wouldn’t let me post this; I unfortunately couldn't solve those problems, no matter how hard I tried, so most of you haven't been properly tagged :") This update is a hot mess, and I haven't actually had the time to read through all the paragraphs that I wrote. I SHALL BE BACK TO EDIT

A huge thank you to everyone who's still following the story, though, and I hope you enjoy!

A war is in its midst.

When everyone else is readying themselves for the following decisive battles, you and Aemond are busy playing house.

Things get heated in Harrenhal, and one must decide when and where to pick their side.

The contact of the hot water upon Aemond’s ivory skin made the man shudder in naught but blinding pain. Achingly slow movements, followed by slow grunts echoed throughout the room – and Lady Tully stilled upon the silken sheets, moving her eyes over the book’s page for the thousandth time since he returned; thus driving all her peace away.

The baths Aemond determinedly took in the raptures of the late-night hours never failed to make her uncomfortable, and keep her on edge. Even so, being forced to hear the pained man move with such little stability and lack of confidence almost teetered the girl to the brink of madness.

Harrenhal had been in shambles since its proud conqueror beckoned his return on dragon back that very eve. Two young maids shouted for maesters, and Alys Rivers nearly caused a scene. As he got off his leather saddle, the Prince all but collapsed from tiredness and blood loss.

'He commanded his features to turn brave and taciturn,' his paramour had told her, 'as to not let a single hint of his condition spread throughout the Keep. My poor Aemond.'

The fool had been reached by an arrow.

An impressive feat, one had to agree – and wonder further on the identity of the courageous shot.

‘Struck right between his shoulder blade and chest,’ she had heard some lost girl utter, ‘It is a miracle he’s still alive.’

… Or the Gods’ cruelest punishment, the Lady compelled within her thoughts.

“Mmhh…” Aemond’s rugged breath deterred the girl to raise her glassy orbs from the confinement of the wilting pages. She schooled her eyes to stay above any level of indiscretion, and gingerly followed the trail of blood mixed with dirt, that seeped into and dirtied the once clear water.

Now that her curiosity was quenched, she could freely look away again.

Half a heartbeat later, she relented and surrendered in the face of his quarrelsome state. The Prince bit the inside of his cheek again, and raised his hand up to allow droplets of liquid to trail past his wounded shoulder… but to no avail.

“You could call in a maid, you know.” Her raspy voice descended upon his struggling body. Sooner than she may have liked, the Bliss of Riverrun closed her eyes, and concentrated on the languid noises that the Prince was making.

Seconds felt like pending minutes, until Aemond One-Eye graced her with a reply.

“I don’t need a maid to help me.”

Then that was that, the young woman soon concluded, returning her attention to the opened book.

'The Philosophies of the Riverlands', however, provided little to no aid to the situation at hand – and her overall station.

For she knew, perhaps far too well, that she had to play a different game than the one they'd engaged in, months prior to her imprisonment in that cursed place.

Insufferable man… she vexed him cruelly inside her head, I hoped by now you would be dead.

She raised one leg from the mattress that embedded her, and shifted it, so as to allow her limbs to hang lowly by the edge of the bed. Her thoughts formed and went as they pleased, but the girl settled on one final reach.

He hadn't even allowed Alys to help him undress. Suggesting her now was a deliberate waste of her time.

Not only that, but she still had to win his trust. Somehow, she promised herself, no matter what it takes, she'd do it.

Forcibly she rose from the bed, and made her way slowly towards his wide basin, fixating her eyes on the stone floor ahead. Her throat closed in on itself, and the girl pursed her lips into a tight line, whilst exhaling through her nose. It took a while for her to calm herself.

"... What about me?" She asked in a leveled tone.

Her gaze met his piercing orb, and the Lady nearly took a small step back. His face long washed the wave of shock from his sharp, Targaryen features – Aemond awaited her next words with a quirked up brow and a slight bite o'r his inner cheek. He seemed more than interested in her meek suggestion.

His wordless approval had left her speechless and, for a while, only her heartbeat emerged in her ears.

The Prince Regent trailed his eye hungrily over her extended arm. He took in a sharp breath as she grasped the rough sponge from his hand, and drained it of the putrid smell. She confidently brought it up to him – and teasingly trailed it over his hard chest, down to his lower abdomen, up again to his slouching shoulder.

"This… will hurt you a little bit." She whispered to him, skillfully averting her face from the man in question.

He gritted his teeth harshly, and almost let out a groan from his parted lips – with his dexterous and long fingers, he gripped the edge of the wooden basin, but dared not to look away from the kneeling Lady – choosing, instead, to focus on singling out her every soft and hard feature.

On her end, (Y/N) dabbed the piece of cloth over his wound gently, chanting inside her head to remain small and taciturn.

He shan't get more of a reaction from me, she promised herself through the span of an agonized huff, as she focused in on the task at hand.

Aemond's white skin revealed itself from the washed patches of dirt, and the Prince sighed a deep breath of contentment, as he felt his body be unintentionally caressed by her. His eye fluttered close, and a slight furrow of his tantalizing brow indicated the uncommon pleasure he took from their sporadic intimacy.

The two remain in awkward silence - the only noise that reached the girl's ears being the rattle of water and the occasional hiss from Aemond.

"... I'm sorry." She strained herself to whisper, whilst her hair fell seemingly out of place. "This looks as if it's painful."

The Prince Protector mirrored her stance, and glanced at her through the thick curtain of long, silver hair – the lilac in his eye complimenting the heatwaves of fire that danced across his marred skin.

"It's not painful." His gruff voice echoed in reply.

"... You –" The Lady began, but stopped on her tracks to level her voice again, by the aid of coughing in the back of her hand.

"You don't have to pretend in my company, you know."

She graced him with a forced smile, one she hoped seemed light enough to fool him. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't make fun of you."

Her eyes trailed over to the harsh stone floor, wrinkling at their sharpened ends – "When I was three and ten," she began, "My youngest brother betted against one of the stable boys: that he could ride faster than anyone on his horse, Middle." Her eyes spasmed close at the memory, and the girl wistfully smiled to herself, "The fool scraped his knees in that dreadful race. Middle threw him right out of his expensive saddle."

As she spoke, she brought the rough cloth over Aemond's shoulder blade, right above his wound, and began scrubbing the dirt that adorned over his skin.

"He didn’t want anyone to know what had happened, so he made me clean it, in the stead of a maester." The Lady let out an airy laugh, as her nose scrunched up with a pang of fondness. "I have never seen a boy get so worked up over a simple scratch before."

Aemond hummed in admission – half relieved by the distraction she was offering, and half worried by the impending pain he would soon feel. He shifted from inside the basin, as if to reach for the sponge in her hand himself, but the girl simply laid her hand away.

Her musings came to an abrupt end. She retreated on her steps lightly, and offered the Crown Prince a quirked-up brow.

"You need to stay put, Prince Aemond. Otherwise, I risk causing you more harm than good." She swallowed thickly, and only shook her head, "Your wound needs thorough cleaning, Your Grace. And it is too far in the back for you to clean it by yourself."

She glanced at his face anew, and let out a tumbling sigh as he nodded his head again, trying his hardest to relax into her touch once more.

Part of him remained put up – the bulk of his chest and shoulders still gloriously hunched over, ready to bolt up at any given moment.

"... I hate to admit it. I thought he was exaggerating then – with the discomfort which he feigned was feeling."

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as she glanced quickly at the laying man, "But how can one make fun of another's state of pain?"

A sympathetic look was shared between them.

Her eyes softened in admission to his furrowed brows and descended features. In that exact light, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled her Jace.

"Pain makes us human. And it's a reminder for us: to really cherish our times of incandescent joy."

The break of a cold sweat kissed over Aemond's forehead; droplets of which gathered at the base of his left eye, where his leather eyepatch stayed secured.

The girl pushed down a disdainful puff, as her eyes trailed him over, from the rosy blotch of skin, back to his hawk-like eye.

"Leather retains heat." She murmured before she could catch herself.

The Targaryen Prince expelled a deep breath, and, as her hand came to rest over the buckle that secured his patch into place, he primed his lips into a downturned arch.

"It can't be good for you to always keep it on."

"The sight of it frightens others. I don't want it to frighten you."

"I've seen you without your eyepatch before."

"That was different. This time… is different."

The latter of his words sent a shiver down her bent spine. Nothing is different, she was aching to say. Her lips pressed anxiously together, and the girl offered Aemond a curt nod. Just as she was about to pull her hand away from the nape of his neck, the Prince's wet palm came up to stop her.

His fingers shakily entwined with hers. The deep callouses of his hand scratched the softness of her open palm.

For a while, Time herself froze before them.

(Y/N) came to avert her gaze, but Aemond's eye feverishly searched for the relieving clash of hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the Lady of Riverrun nearly choked onto the clogged-up air.

His silver locks curled slightly at their ends – the dampness of the room striking its claim over his perfectly straight strands of hair. In his own right, Aemond could be called beautiful. His striking Targaryen features might have ensured the favor of many young maidens, were it not for his rash and impetuous attitude, the bite that rested in his character – which no doubt spread like a disease over his life at Court.

"Look at me." Against his better judgment, and his innermost turmoil, Aemond allowed her small fingers to trail over the buckle of his blinder again. He drew out a comforting sigh, and, with her hand still in his, gently slid the leather off.

He sucked in a quiet breath, as the coldness of the air enveloped his throbbing eyelids.

The poise in his composure was cracking at the seams, with the passing of each second, during which she settled to remain silent.

Eventually, her hand came to rest over his face again. Her dexterous fingers began to leisurely wipe the sweat from his brow, his eye, by submerging them into the lukewarm water, and bringing them over and over to his clenched face.

"I'm sorry." She settled on to say instead, once the breaching of kind words failed to meet her. "No one deserves to be left without an eye. No one deserves such appalling cruelty."

"You appear to be sorry an awful lot this evening, My Lady." Aemond choked under his breath, taken aback by her gentle movements and sainty utter.

"I spend the better part of my days in the company of my own thoughts." She huskily reminded him, "... It's been increasingly easier for me to reflect on my past mistakes."

Wordless from her hoax admission, and desperate to feel her hands explore him further, the Targaryen Prince rose heavily from the dirtied water – his chest coming directly to her field of vision.

The girl let out a cutting gasp, as she turned swiftly on her heel, refusing to glance at his modesty, not any longer than she'd already had.

Her eyelids fluttered close, and she shifted from one foot to the other, but to no avail. For in spite of her desire to run away, the Lady found herself hammered in place.

The proximity between them laid out to be a problem – Aemond let out a frustrated sigh, and turned her head around with the clasping of his untouched arm. Two of his fingers came to rest at the base of her cheek and chin; the Prince let out a satisfied hum, as her body trembled in slight shock at their change of position.

"Gevie…" He muttered to no one but himself.

His cock stood proudly at attention, kissing over his prominent abdomen, trailing long past his belly button. Every now and then, white pearls pooled to the base of his length, weeping from his angry tip, trailing past his stones in the reach of the water below him.

"Look at me." He breathed again, and his sweet Lady obeyed.

She threw him a dejected look: half harsh and cold, half hardened and scorned. The tips of her ears matched the redness of her pale cheeks. Her eyes cast their curious glow throughout every corner of the room, yet stayed away from the scorn of indiscretion that called out to her, only centimeters below her swollen lips.

Aemond's thumb flicked once over her crimson labium, but the man sighed, seemingly discouraged, and settled upon gripping her dainty wrist instead.

"Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda."

The gentleness that oozed from his voice could have had anyone fooled. But not her. The translations of the words he muttered against the skin of her wrist were lost on her, but the Lady of Riverrun still singled out a most protruding word.

He had never failed to call her 'his tormenting love'.

The girl's breath rose and fell with each agonizing word that befell over her face.

"Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa." Aemond sighed against her wrist.

'I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin. I would sooner die than spread my legs for the Usurper's kin.'

Her words rang harsh and true inside her head – and, much like it was back then, her heart harbored no honorable intent towards the Trident's Terror.

He burnt your entire homeland, she chastised herself harshly, He killed thousands. Every day, even more find their end by the breath of his dragon. By the way of his wrath.

The ache in her heartbeat rang loudly inside her ears – her every pore aligned with her wish to run away, and her mind was screaming at her to retreat to a corner.

Comparing him to Jacaerys was a laughable feat.

"Let's… just finish getting you cleaned up, Your Grace" She struggled to finally suggest out loud, through the timid inflection of her outwardly calm voice.

She slithered her face away from his grasp, and began draining the sponge of the dark mud again.

Aemond sighed, and lowered himself back into the cold water – his lone eye never leaving the mould of her smaller frame.

"I heard that conversation… sometimes distracts the ill from the discomfort of the cleaning process, Your Grace."

Now turned to his exposed back, the girl's hand wavered over his punctured shoulder. She waited three, perhaps four seconds, before her arm finally breached contact with the wounded flesh.

Aemond took in a sharp breath, but remained otherwise silent, until she prompted him to speak again.

"How… how did such a thing even come to happen?"

Aemond's chest rose and fell with each labored pant. His eye remained tightly closed, his jaw awfully set. Her question registered into his mind, and a reply formed at the former base of his thoughts.

For a while, however, the One-Eyed Prince remained quiet – weighing the option of telling her the truth rather carefully.

"A Frey company was marching South." He hissed as her light hand came over his flesh, applying soft pressure in its wake. "The fog of the morning masked them from me – but Vhagar's shadow still went right above their heads."

The woman brought her free hand to rest over his lower back, and her fingers rubbed soothing circles into the dampness of his skin. "It was… very lucky that you didn't get more hurt."

She scorned herself inwardly, but kept her curiosity at bay. She wouldn’t ask him whether the company had risen victorious, or if he burnt all those men to the ground.

The latter option, in any case, seemed more than likely.

The Crown Prince tensed visibly, but didn’t scoot away from her soothing touch. A deep sigh parted from his cracked lips, and the man revelled at their sudden closeness.

He ached to talk to her, to plead with her to welcome him inside her heart – and into her bed. He could feel his own beat loudly, and his body trembled in unquenched lust and rage.

Still, he knew it was too soon for that.

Not once during their rash acquaintance, did the girl before he talk with so much interest about his day with him.

His thoughts trailed to Alys, and Aemond wondered if half her new admission was owed to her – if indeed the two women secured a friendship within the last two weeks, if his whore became her confidant, if she breathed in her trust in him.

He would have to talk to her later. Thank her, if he was feeling apt and generous.

(Y/N)'s breath caught in the shell of his ear, and the Targaryen Prince nibbled at his lower lip. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down; the coldness of the water gave him the strength to concentrate, by the sliding of small ripples down his exposed chest and abdomen. The ache of his wound was a small price to pay, if only to feel her knuckles working against his back.

"There we are. All done, Your Grace."

She rose up from her kneeling stance, wincing at the sudden change of perspective, and at the throb of her tired knees. She gingerly presented the clean set of clothes and bathing robes to him. Her head remained turned to the side, and her hand instantly let go of the heavy clothes, the moment his palm came into contact with them.

In the stead of returning to sit idly by their resting place, the woman graced him with a final look, and let out a faint mutter. "I'll leave you to it."

She wavered but a moment, and turned her stare to the ruined clothes; the ones that Aemond had so carelessly discarded on the floor, as he prepared for his undeserved nightly soak.

The shadow of a long-laid plan gleamed beneath her silent gaze.

"I can wash them for you tomorrow – after my bath. It might be wiser to keep the nature of your wounds hidden. The maids needn't worry over how much blood you lost."

Aemond's brows furrowed in slight shock, and the Prince remained wordless in the face of her sensible suggestion.

And yet her eyes spoke with so much sincerity, that he gleefully allowed the pang of hope to warm his unforgiving features.

"As you wish." He rumbled out, while forcing himself to move his stare to the folded clothes before him.

His eye trailed back to his hands' agile ministrations, and Aemond soon began to roll over his linen breeches, covering his half-hard cock with the help of the rough material.

A throaty groan etched from deep within his throat, however, as he reached for the pristine shirt.

The girl stopped in her tracks, and a deep scowl settled over her fair features.

The struggle he was undergoing would have been music to her ears – were it not for the solidarity of her position. For the millionth time that night, she reminded herself of her plan and her desperation to escape.

Thus, unbeknownst to her own better judgment, the Lady compelled herself to seek him further.

Although her words failed to assist her, the way she gingerly reached, with her hand wide and outstretched, made Aemond aware of her pending intent.

Their bodies were inches apart. The girl sucked in a hurried breath, and neglected to exhale it as the oxygen hit her lungs.

Aemond was burning up – and whether that was from the lack of fresh air within the confining room, or the first telltale sign of fever, or her – he was lost on saying anymore. His weakened arm slithered into the sleeve of his shirt, though the pain was long forgotten.

And instead of focusing on his poised movements, his glassy eye ran hungrily over her face and hypnotic features.

(Y/N)'s fingertips grazed over the light material. Her tired eyes softened at the familiar feeling. The threat of tears beckoned at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them all away in a hasty movement. Melancholy ate away at her, far more often than she knew was wise to allow.

Still she remembered, if only for a moment, the raptures of Jacaerys' warm embrace. And how, in the heat of summer, that very same cloth felt against her heated cheek.

They must have had the same seamstress, the same tailor. Of course, she thought to herself in a bitter manner, after all, they are both Princes.

… Were.

But if she closed her eyes, she could pretend – No, she chastised herself fully, such a thing just cannot be. And you'd be a fool to attempt to it.

The magnetic pull between them trebly pried the two souls together. And it would be yet another minute, until (Y/N) finally took a step back, opening her mouth to announce the end of her intimate task.

Her eyes fell on the stone hard floor, and she carefully turned her back around him.

The long waves of her hair shifted over her modest nightgown, covering her mounds of flesh with a slight shift to the left.

"I'm going to sleep." She pathetically uttered, as the warmth that emanated from Aemond's form not moments prior, still fell heavily over her slight frame.

Mechanically she gripped the satin sheets and engulfed herself with them – a slight comfort came over her, as the coldness of the unused bedding fanned gently over her scorched limbs.

Aemond remained stuck in place, and a heaved breath rumbled from within his chest. The red in his cheeks would have put both their Houses' seals to shame – For once, he was glad she wasn't looking his way.

***

The rest of the night was spent in washed quietness.

And his Lady might have made it up: the dip at the edge of the bed, the smell of fresh pine and wildfire that caressed her in her sleepy state, and the slight "Thank you" that dabbled from her captor's lips.

“You plan to ride on dragon-back again? So soon?” The echo of Alys' voice carried her worry throughout the silent clearing.

The first rays of sunlight caught flame into her raven hair, lighting her features in such a way, that it accentuated her every perpetual scar and wrinkle. The fire inside her eyes could rival the one of a trueborn Targaryen, were it not for her strong outer appearance.

Aemond moved his body at a leisurely pace, not even bothering to throw the woman one of his usual vexing looks.

"Do you think dear nuncle will put a stop to the siege of the Twins, should the word spread about my condition?"

His cutting words rendered the woman speechless, and the Rivers witch simply clicked her tongue, whilst glancing at the green grass below her.

"War awaits no one, my dear." He asserted definitively, as he gripped onto Vhagar's long bridles.

The mighty beast let out a shaken roar, as Aemond winced once his wounded shoulder made light contact with her dark-green scales.

"Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar." He instinctively reached for her, and caressed her lower belly with one of his gloved hands.

At their calm exchange, Alys bit over her lower lip, harshly enough to draw her own blood. "You should stay." She managed to draw out, "At least a while – going in search of your uncle today, instead of tomorrow, won't make a difference to your brother's cause."

But her voice of reason reached deafened ears. For Aemond Targaryen was set on paying the debt he owed. The debt he agreed to take on, the moment his dragon clasped onto Lucaerys, swallowing the bastard whole.

"Everything matters at war, Alys." He hummed impatiently, while snapping his head in her general direction. "What do you think will happen to you, should Daemon reach Harrenhal? Your pretty head will rest near mine, impaled on a sharpened spike."

But if she told you to stay put, you would do just that, wouldn’t you? Her bitter thoughts chewed her conscious away.

Alys spat out a lowly curse, as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "Daemon Targaryen was here once, not long before you. He didn’t kill me then."

"Because you didn't matter back then." The Prince Protector of the Realm hissed through painfully gritted teeth, "You were no one to him. You were a wet nurse who merely spread her legs for him."

The man turned his back to her, as he wordlessly bound Vhagar's bridle over his wrist again and again.

"And last I checked, your cunt failed to inspire him."

Her mouth parted in a silent protest, and her green eyes widened in partial distress. "Still I should remain in luck," She choked out through a breathless laugh, "for it has never failed to inspire you."

"You are perfectly right," Aemond's laughter was humorless and brash, "And it is because of this loose cunt that Aegon nearly lost the support of Storm's End."

The Prince spun around on his heel's end, and trapped the woman in between his hard chest and restless dragon. "Sometimes I think you cost me more than you're worth." He whispered calmly into her ear, while trailing his index finger over the sharp edge of her jaw. "For speaking back to me, I could have you executed."

The finality of his words drew her body closer to the ancient beast, and Vhagar let out a displeased grunt. Amusement pulled at the corners of his downturned mouth.

"Still you should remain in luck," He mocked her with an airy laugh, "I find myself in an exceedingly good mood today."

The back of his hand came to play with a loose lock of her messy braid, and the Prince smiled at her stance and her bewildered look. "But you've been a most useful asset, haven't you, my dear?" He obliged her with a teasing smirk, "Lady Tully responded well to you, hasn't she? Tell me," He paused momentarily, as he trailed his hands to the narrow middle of her waist, and back up again. "Have you kept up your training with her?"

Alys' face fell into a frown, as she staggered a frustrated look. Aemond was toying with her.

"That dull book she pretends to read at night has the maps of three secret passages hidden amongst the latter pages. Two of them lead to that cell into the West Wing – but of course, she doesn't know that. The third one leads to the stables of Harrenhal."

Aemond hummed pleasedly, and the man soon took a wide step back, allowing his paramour enough space for proper breathing. "You did well." He smiled wistfully, "I should reward you well tonight. You may think of something you desire. I will see to it once I return."

"I would very much like you to stay and heal today." She urged him not a heartbeat later, surprising even herself with the intensity of her tone.

Aemond's composure broke with the licks of roaring laughter – one that was empty, and fell devoid of any feelings of fondness or grief.

"Think of something else." He urged her coolly, and dismissively pushed past her, to reach for his dragon's saddle.

"'Tis a good thing you shall never be a wife, Alys. The role of the worried wench doesn't suit you one bit."

"Keep feeding her half-truths and lies." He encouraged the woman with a final reach over her hand. He squeezed once over her balled-up fist – acting as both a promise, and a taciturn warning on what should happen, should she let him down again. "Regarding whatever else she may have to say… you'll report it back immediately."

With that, the Kinslayer of the Trident took off, leaving the promise of bone and ash behind his dragon's menacing ascend.

The Eyrie was, on all accounts, smaller even than Maegor's Holdfast. Inside the stronghold nestled the Arryns, hidden deep beneath the illusion of the smallest stronghold of the main seven Kingdoms. Despite its intermediate size, the Keep of the Giant's Lance deemed itself one of the safest places to be – Hardly a lie, especially now, Cain Waters ineptly hummed, once his wobbly feet carried him over the stoney threshold.

Despite its less-than-imposing size, and lack of sheer volume, (Y/N)'s sworn shield felt himself smaller than ever before.

How would he dare account for his whereabouts? Reason his shortcomings?

How could he hope to explain to his Lord that not only did he return empty-handed, without his beloved granddaughter on horseback – he returned without the notion of a hand at all?

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, it was Mira Florent who rested loyally by his side – her strength and stability allowing the Waters bastard to lean into her, if only for a fleeting moment, during the ascend of the narrow stairs.

"Take heart," She whispered, "Your Lord is a kind and understanding one. You won't be facing trial for this."

His mere reply was a solitary grunt, and a quick smile, dejectedly thrown her way.

Between the two strange figures with whom he traveled, Albar had remained behind. The mute man shrugged his head decidedly when Cain gestured towards the waiting castle, and Mira explained to him that the Vale scarcely left him feeling safe and wanted.

And he understood, perhaps far too well – the feeling of dejection a bastard boy felt, as he stepped foot into the land of his birth.

***

He'd been granted the comfort of a Maester and a hot soak, almost immediately after his appearance at the Arryns' Great Door.

The Lady of the Vale proved to be a kindred spirit, capable of great nurture, despite her lack of heirs to her family's ancestral throne. She gasped loudly at the sight of him. Her eyebrows furrowed in grave distraught, and her lower lip trembled as the healers informed her of the state of his right hand.

Her searching eyes reminded him of the ones of his own mother – neither particularly warm nor cold towards him, but fair and just in their own accord.

She almost decided against calling upon him to the Trouts' Black Council, but the young Oscar Tully had entirely different plans.

His eyes, as they were, were socketed by a deep, but elusive brown. They spoke and reminded him of a whole different tale than the one of his fair, poor Lady.

And it was Oscar's eyes, so similar in shape to hers, who bore ghastly holes into the back of Ser Cain's skull. His arm rose up, as if to cut off the man's retelling – his nostrils flared up in disgust, and his face twisted into a painful scowl.

"So what you're telling me… is that you failed to bring her back."

Cain's eyes hardened at her brother's words, and the knight nibbled on his lower lip, in an attempt to calm himself.

Although a brave and honest man, he dared not look in the eyes of Lord Grover Tully – he dared not see what lay beneath his wilted face. Thus, all his attention focused in on the chirping lass.

"Aye, my Lord." He mustered up to tell him, "I lost her to the One-Eyed Prince. We escaped Harrenhal, and managed to get as far as the Saltpans, but –"

The boy scoffed at his attempt to pardon and explain himself. He nodded affirmatively, and scrutinized Cain with his piercing gaze.

"You returned with an empty hand, Ser Cain. You failed: miserably."

His back straightened in an attempt to appear bigger, and the hot-headed lass rose from his chair in a hurling daze.

"Because of you, my sister is in the hands of that cycloptic freak. Because of you, we don't know anything about her whereabouts. She could be tortured, enslaved, sullied – worse!"

Lady Jane Arryn clicked her tongue in disbelief, and beckoned her guard to guide the boy back into a sitting stance.

"That is quite enough, Oscar." She asserted calmly, "We have no evidence of such a feat."

"Of course we don't!" The young Lordling huffed annoyedly, jolting on the brink of madness, "The deranged cripple wouldn't reply to any of our ravens!"

His face contorted animalistically, the freckles on his face being taken by the deep shade of crimson that coloured in his plumper cheeks. "And with you here, Waters, we don't even have the certainty that (Y/N) is still alive!"

"Oscar." Grover's deep voice echoed a warning through the quietness of the tiny Keep.

As if struck in the face, the youngest of the Tully brothers shifted in his seat again. "My sister's fate is breached unknown," He cried out in a collapsing tune, "She's our family, grandfather, my only sister! Pray tell, why does it look as if I'm the only one who gives a damn?"

The graying Lord and the narrow Lady both leaned towards a perplexing look. But before any of them could reply to his laid-out challenge, (Y/N)'s brother urged them further, as he hissed through his gritted teeth. "It would have been better for you not to return at all, Ser Cain. It would have been better for all parties involved to have sent me in his stead, Grandfather!"

His shoulders slouched forward, and the brazen boy fought with Grover's intense stare. "Had I failed, I wouldn’t have even returned at all." Oscar roared over the silent council, proclaiming his intent with a defying raise. "I would sooner have died, than see her be taken by that monster again."

"What would you have had me do, boy?!" Grover Tully raised his voice in turn, "You fool. Would you have had me send you away for her? Do you think your death would have made you a martyr?!"

Cain's lips pursed into a tight line, as the Riverlords before him bickered further. Even Lady Jane Arryn seemed to be left speechless, unsure of when or how to stop their arguing.

Family feuds were neither one's strongest suit.

"Do you think," His Grandfather uttered, "that if you were to die, anyone would remember you fondly?!" The red in his cheeks matched the one on his grandson's face, and the elder Lord broke out into a coughing fit. "Your sacrifice would mean nothing. And when the dust settled over Westeros, and the war was done, you would just be another casualty. Another body to burn in a communal."

Almost immediately, his eyes softened, and their deep creases faltered on his face.

The Lord of Riverrun grunted in fatigue, but still rose himself securely on his two able feet. He marched towards the huffing boy, and placed a wrinkled hand over his sweaty forehead, urging him to quiet down.

"It's not about glory, Grandfather." He spat out lowly, as his ears began to match his fiery locks of curly hair. "It's about family. Our family. It's about ensuring its survival."

The older man gave the lass a curt nod. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and turned to the knight with a downturned smile.

"There wasn't a knight more fit for the task than Ser Cain." He confirmed his judgment with a tired gesture in his direction. "He was knighted at five and ten. You are over your seven and tenth birthday, boy, and haven’t been even mirthed a squire."

Oscar sucked in a protesting breath, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room fall before him. His brows furrowed in a dangerous quarrel, and his blood ran hot. "Yet even with all the skill in the world, he still failed."

Lord Grover was losing his patience, "Yes, grandson, that he did! He failed, despite all the signs that pointedly told us otherwise – do you think you'd do an equitable job? When you haven't even once crossed swords in a Joust or Tourney?"

Nearby the aching knight, Lady Arryn renowed her position.

She whispered to her waiting guard, and the man took a step ahead, hitting over the chantry with the hilt of his sword.

The noise that erupted grabbed the attention of both grandson and grandfather.

"The turn of events marked by Ser Cain's departure means we need to readjust our plans." She commanded their heed calmly, "It is… unfortunate; that Lady Tully's sworn shield failed to protect her. Yet here we all stand, warming our bottoms on a mine of gold."

Cain should have been grateful for the distraction she was offering. All the displeasure surged upon him evaporated within the click of her tongue, and less conventional language – still, even he had to remain weary on the subject he opened.

"On a mine of gold?" Oscar spat out sharply, feeling his self-control disperse by failing him again. "My Lady, do you think my sister's condition is a situation of great rejoice?"

The Lady's blue eyes cut through the boy deeply, and the young man closed his mouth in embarrassment, before sitting down again.

She reached for the goblet of wine, and wet her lips with it, "Our strategical situation couldn't be better. Not once have we had a spy of Harrenhal successfully return. In truth, we didn’t even think it possible." Her lithe hand pointed towards the bloodied knight, and her eyes glimmered in mischief, "Yet here stands our living proof."

She elegantly rose from her ivory throne, and signaled the man to take a seat at the bent table. As he gingerly followed her lead, the woman spared him with a kind glance, and met his glance with her deep azul gaze.

"From what I gather, you spent the better part of a month undetected in the Strongs' Keep. Is that true?"

Cain nodded stiffly, and rested his bulky hands over his tired knees. "Yes, my lady. That I have."

"And you were knighted at fifteen?" She alluded to what was early spoken.

"Yes, my lady."

"By Lord Hunter Redwyne." She urged him to clarify, through the edge of a quirked-up brow, and the callings of a small smile pulling at her dusted lips.

"Yes, my lady. The very one."

Lady Jane hummed, seemingly satisfied by his short answers. She turned her attention to Lord Grover and his tiresome grandson, and merely asked Ser Cain again.

"And you faced the Kinslayer in combat, cut by a Valyrian blade, and lived to tell the tale?"

"... Aye, my lady."

Oscar's eyes remained unyielding. But Grover Tully glanced at the man before him, and offered him a wordless bow.

"Tell me, Ser, how would you like to command your own battalion?"

"You have to be patient." Alys chastised her deeply, as her luring features turned from flaccid to sharp. "Hardly enough time has passed since your last attempted escape – Aemond is still very much on edge."

The Lady's eyes turned to her. With the bridge of her nose scrunched up, and her fair features molded into a desperate plea, the girl looked more like a lost child, than an able and resourceful Lady.

Alys regarded her as such, and sighed deeply as she grasped onto her shoulders carefully.

"If I wait any longer, it'll be too late. I've already wasted three moon turns in this cursed Keep. I have to return to my family." The Tully spoke decidedly, leaving behind no room for arguing. She took a seat before the tiny mirror, that breached her modest vanity – a recent gift from Aemond, deduced by him to make her feel more like a proper lady.

The image that reflected within it looked at her like a dire stranger. The green silks she was dressed into, the pristine, braided hair that framed her pale cheeks perfectly; She was the vision of a flawless royal, a soft and polite maiden, untouched yet by the spoils of death and war.

'Would this be enough?' She asked herself desperately, whilst gripping the edge of her chair painfully.

Was this what Aemond had always wanted? The proof of her lack of autonomy, finally presented to him on a silver platter, as he returned from war every night?

Was he, perhaps, congratulating himself, every time he glanced at her, thinking himself master of the universe for making her arch and kneel?

Alys shook her head once more, and rested a hand over her bouncing knee.

"Patience is a virtue, Lady Tully. You needn't put yourself through any more unnecessary risks."

The Lady of Riverrun shook her head vigorously, finally snapping herself back to reality; Her actions were defying, and devoid of any capacity. Alys felt herself more confounded by the second. "I'll help you plan this thoroughly." The wood witch adverted. Her head quirked to the side in an encouraging gesture, and the girl nodded feverishly in reply.

Her green eyes widened in fair delight, and Aemond's lover lowered her gaze over the girl's book. "You memorized the passages well enough. Very soon, you shall put your knowledge to practice."

(Y/N) let out a tired sigh, and graced the older woman with a pleasant smile. "I'm lucky to have you, Alys" She played with her rings as she spoke, "Thank you. For everything."

As the elder woman finally left her Quarters in favor of bringing out the order for dinner, (Y/N) let out an aggravated groan.

Her long pretense would surely make her nauseous. But she would be a simpleton indeed, to place all her trust in Alys.

The walls preleened with the doom of silence. A cold breeze dug its way deeply into her spine, and the silent taste of passing and demise left a sour taste in her parted mouth.

***

Aemond began dinner as he wontedly did every day – praying to the Warrior to grant him strength in battle, to the Smith, to mend all that was left broken, to the Father, "to shine his light", and lead their souls out of the brink of darkness.

Each and every time, without fail, the girl would bring the pristine napkin to her mouth, masking the obvious way her lips would quirk into a most unyielding smile. His pious speech, and the way his hands painfully clasped together, begging for the blessing of resolve, made her scoff in blinding wonder.

Was he even aware of the words he mostly muttered? Did he ever stop to assess himself throughout the day, and realize the sin in which he debaucherously bathed in?

As his speech came to an end, the Lady preleened forward, grabbing a hold of the boiled-up stork.

How lovely it was to sit between comfort and chaos.

"You've never been one to speak much during our time spent together." Aemond remarked through the rumble of a solitary hum. "Yet I had hoped this last week softened your resolve, My Lady."

Her eyebrows rose in slight discomfort, as her eyes focused on the leisure movements of his bigger hands.

So he was softening up.

She opened her mouth almost immediately, but her hesitant eyes danced around his blinding stare. Her plump lips pressed into a hard line, and she exhaled loudly through her nose, in an attempt to ground herself.

"Not at all, Your Grace, I assure you." The cluttering of her fork came to a hoisted end, as Lady Tully aligned her head to focus directly on the One-Eyed Prince. "I should love nothing more than to talk to you… Please, do advise me on what you would like most to hear."

She fidgeted nervously with her silver rings – a quirk she developed whilst imprisoned in the Strong's Keep – and gingerly awaited his reply.

Your Grace. Your Grace. Your Grace.

The stillness in her speech and eyes drove the man effectively wild.

"Aemond." He stilled her faction through the reign of a distorted sigh.

She regarded him with a petrified stance. Her hands fell heavy over her legs in the wake of anticipation.

"... I-I beg your pardon?"

"Aemond." He repeated his name again, "We already break bread and sleep in the same bed." His lilac eye rose from his plate, and singled out her reddened cheeks. The man paused a while, as if to weigh his words carefully, and his cold, glassy orb, hungrily ran over her form. "It seems inevitable that we'd call each other by our given names. Yet you never once said mine throughout."

The girl could feel her throat dry up. While still maintaining his awkward stare, she reached for the glass of wine that rested by her left side. She wrapped her hand around its stem, and brought it to her paling lips.

The liquid courage slid down her throat in a quick, though burning manner, and (Y/N) had to swallow down an erratic cough. Her brows furrowed amidst, as she picked her words out slowly.

"I have called your name before, Prince Aemond. Many times throughout the moons, in fact."

He smiled at her perturbed reply, and shook his head in coy distraught.

"Not without the honorifics." The man clarified in a pleading tone, his voice growing hotter now. "... Just say my name." He sighed defeatedly. His hand gripped the edge of the table, silently, as the Targaryen Prince could feel his mind running with a thousand thoughts per passing minute.

The silence ate at him alive. She drowned the wine in a swift swing, and slouched forward to pour herself another glass.

She was too sober for this.

Lucaerys, Jacaerys, Cain.

Part of her wanted to pluck his eye out. Part of her wished nothing more than to make fun of him. Laugh, perhaps, at his desperate indiscretion. Do something – anything – to gauge a reaction out of him.

Any sort of reaction, that would make her pestering feelings for him leave her heavy soul.

Surprising even herself, adamantly going against her own wishes, the woman caught herself breathing out.

"... Aemond."

Unexpectedly he moved, by jumping to his ready feet, fully disregarding the oak chair as it hit the floor in a most perused manner.

The pang of noise alerted her, and seemingly, the guards outside. A while they remained in silence, listening in to the clash of metal that announced their unsure shifting.

But they wouldn’t come inside. The girl was lest aware of that.

As time pressed on, Aemond remained hammered in place, heaving out his weighty breaths and clasping his hands in aching fists.

Her eyes momentarily left his shadow – to turn again towards the poach of wine, and empty another glass in rapid gulps.

The heavy atmosphere inside the room hung lowly over their tired heads. (Y/N) resumed her mellow eating, wincing at the shakiness within her hands. She grabbed another piece of the boiled meat, though Aemond's stare soon made her drop it, and the girl clicked her tongue in disbelief; grabbing it instead with a piece of cloth, and securing it into a tight knot.

This time, it was her actions that had failed her. And perhaps it'd be her ready words that would prevail.

"Aemond." She spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The bitter liquor was burning her throat, her chest, her heart. She felt her limbs heavy – with both anticipation and frustration - borne out of lack of relief. She wanted to slap him, to hit him, to crush him beneath her feet.

She wanted to run away, to stay confined, forever inside this room, forever astute to what was going on in the outside world.

She wanted to feel something.

She wanted…

"Yes." Aemond encouraged her softly, and her attention came back to the raptures of the present tense. "There we go." He worded out, keeping his tone barely above a whisper.

Neither could tell when or how it happened – but Aemond's body was inches away from touching hers. The heat emanating from his beating heart washed over the meek form of the tipsy Lady. His Lady.

She gulped painfully, and the Prince could feel how his hands started spasming with the need to feel her. His nails bit the inside of his calloused palm, leaving deep and angry marks inside them.

His prominent veins shifted with his every faction. His face morphed into hopeful disarray.

"There we go." He repeated gently, "I want to hear your laughter. You never once laughed with me."

Her stare was hard to decipher. And yet confliction danced across her face. Aemond turned serious, and the stammering of his hands came to an untimely end. His eye bared holes into her reddened face; and the Lady humorously thought, if only for a moment, that it was a lucky thing he didn’t still have both his eyes. For such a stare would be embedded in her subconscious, bringing forth her swift undoing.

The corners of her mouth felt painful to bend and break. Shakily she smiled at him, and opened her mouth in shocked reclusion.

A shy laughter erupted from her unquenched throat, and the woman shuddered, surrendering the reins of reason to the drunken thoughts that sieged her.

Her laughter wasn't her own. The languid movements of her hands, that trailed over Aemond's chest, were not her own.

His finger came to caress her cheek. Her nose. Her brow. Her lips. Her mouth. The Crown Prince sucked in a dangerous breath, and secured his left arm loosely around her waist.

"Good girl," He spoke tenderly, his voice going from gruff to rough, "Such a good girl for me." His fingers combed through her messy braids, marking their swift undoing – taking a step back, he could feel the heat leave his head, in the favor of traveling lower, to meet the almost flaccid cock confined in the tightness of his pants. "Say my name again. Laugh again." He commanded in a pleading meowl. His lips twitched in anticipation, and his eyes trailed lower, lower still, from up her face, down to her soaring bosom.

"Aemond."

"(Y/N)."

A solitary look of shame was shared between them. Perhaps pushed forward by the only remaining faction of rationale, the two placed a step in between each other, but even that proved to be too fickle of a barrier to keep them whole apart.

Aemond reached to cup her face with his own trembling hand – on her end, the girl's digits trailed over from his high cheekbones, down to his prominent cupid's bow, in an all but gentle caress.

"Avy jorrāelan." He hissed through painfully gritted teeth, allowing his head to rest in the crook made of her shoulder blade and neck. "Avy jorrāelan." He repeated, the vulnerability in his voice making him lose the hold he had over himself.

"Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao." His feathered breath came into contact with her dainty neck. (Y/N) gasped lightly, as she felt the first of his many kisses being tenderly placed over her jaw and neck.

Her head was pounding, and her eyes were screwed shut, as the coldness of the wall hit her in perused waves. The impropriety of the soft moans and sighs that filled her ears to the brim left her confused and wanting.

The worst of it was that she didn’t know whether they came from her or him.

She felt as though her head was being harshly held below the water, and the girl clawed at her dress to loosen her tight bodice, which seemed to constrict even her erratic breathing.

Aemond's attention moved from her earlobe back to her lips. He felt how her hands contorted sporadically, and he placed his own palm over hers, to put an end to her hasty movements, and give her a sense of calmness. His fingers suddenly entwined with hers, as his form hovered above her. His throat etched with a lousy moan, and his mouth finally crashed with hers.

(Y/N)'s eyes opened at the shocking scene, and her lips suddenly parted, either to beg or to protest against him, but Aemond's hot tongue found entrance into her warm cave – deciding instead to deepen the kiss, and press himself further against her smaller form.

The outline of his throbbing cock molded against the shape of the woman's thigh, and the Prince Protector of the Realm let out a pleasured hiss, once her insistent writhing ended up brushing up his weeping tip. "Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa." He mumbled against her swollen lips, "Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī."

She let out a fatigued whimper, and swiftly turned her head around, putting an abrupt end to their meek and vicious pecks.

"What's wrong, hmm? Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir."

Aemond's lips were soft and tender, leaving behind an almost vivacious bite over her exposed parts. His pace had been filled with an animalistic hunger; the longing inside his eye caught her unprepared, and her lips parted with the desire to feel something – anything – that his palpable mouth would keenly offer.

(Y/N) shuddered with her eyes closed, and grabbed a hold of his long, white hair, leading the man closer yet to her swelling heat.

The way in which he held her should have felt so very wrong. But at that moment, the only thing she could do was extend her arm back up to him, and guide him with an insistent pull over his silky locks: encouraging him to bring forth his descent upon her lips.

She disregarded the way a figment of her psyche screamed at her. To stop her ministrations, to slap his calloused hands away from her. For if she kept her eyes closed, and focused solely on the shape of him, then she could almost pretend that the man before her had nothing to do with her beloved Jace.

She could almost pretend that he was Jace.

Aemond's pupil was left blown wide – so much so, that the lilac of his iris could almost be left neglected. He wrapped his hands around the lady's thighs, and hoisted her up to meet him by his narrow hips. Both moaned into the other's mouth, and the Prince soon found his way into the raptures of the silken bed.

His heated cock kissed the outlines of her soaked cunny. Aemond sighed deeply over the arch of her neck, and pawed away at her untouched bodice.

(Y/N)'s hands rested still upon his eyepatch, and, with a swift and hasty movement, she yanked it off his sculpted face.

"We need to stop…" She moaned, defeated, and felt how Aemond's body stiffened up below her, as the harsh realization finally hit them both.

She had uttered the words aloud.

Half expecting him to blow out fuming, the woman tried to pry herself off his fevered body, but his hands reigned like iron shackles over the inside of her spreading thighs.

"Do we?" He whispered lowly, whilst leaning in to steal another kiss from her again.

"We shouldn’t." She strained herself to say once more, and Aemond nodded, still chasing her lips with his.

She melted into his reluctant touch, and hummed against his beating heart. His hands dug deeply into her resting sides; his fingertips scattered over her translucent spine, leaving their possessive mark. "This isn’t right."

"I know, I know," He gasped, "Seven Hells, I know…"

"Yn nyke istan zarvīzis," He pressed a finger over her swollen lips, "Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis."

With the last ounce of her strength, she bit over his lower lip, dragging a wanton moan from out of his rosy lips.

"Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa..." He chanted, while latched onto her burning sear, "Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī."

His High Valyrian had made her dizzy. And at first, she tried to pay his words her mind, she tried to grapple and understand what he was saying.

A starved meowl left her panting lips.

"You can tell me to stop," The words that poured out of his mouth washed upon her like a rippled tide, "You can tell me to stop… and I will..."

Her body quickly arched against him; her shaky hands came to rest over his hips. She laced her mouth again with his, expecting rough, dominant kisses – but Aemond's hands propped themselves loosely against her cheeks, his thumbs pliantly stroking her with untoward devotion. His single eye drank her in with reverence.

"Please…" He whimpered into her mouth, "Avy jorrāelan." He confessed to her, again and again, trying his hardest not to take her against the cold floor – and not fuck her straight into the messy mattress.

Her limbs felt heavy. Lacking their autonomy. The body she was nestled in still wasn't her own.

"... Why?" She asked him disdainfully, sporadically, as his index finger came to pry open her haughty entrance.

His eye widened in perplexed ruin, but the Prince soon stumbled over his words again.

That bastard Jace must have taught her the gist of that.

"... I wish I knew." Came his sole and sincere reply.

Just like that, her eyes welled with the threat of tears.

His hands, his hold, his voice, his mouth. It was all wrong. In truth none could ever hope to feel right.

Flashes of her old lover, of his baby brother – who was so small the last she'd seen him –, of her sworn shield came into view. All of them, gone as if they never were. All of them, with their memories trampled deep beneath her sprawled-out form.

She wasn't a woman of the Faith. Not after what had happened. Not after the spoils of war that she, herself, felt like angry whips upon her skin. But her eyes fluttered close, and she begged the Mother for forgiveness, whilst a tear rolled off her ticking cheek.

She brought a hand to her wobbly lips, and began to violently rub away any remaining trace of Aemond's presence.

She was disgusted. With him, with herself, with the world, with the image of her Jace – that surged in her mind the second she blinked, the moment that she jolted awake in her misery.

On his end, (Y/N)'s display of pure abhorrence failed to falter Aemond's lustful grief. Why, if she did not desire him, did she fall into his arms again and again?

Love was the death of duty. And longing was the doom of all.

"Fucking cock tease…" The Prince growled, grief-stricken, "How much longer are you going to give into me, just to push me away?"

His patience had been running thin. The ache in his breeches was long forgotten. In its stead, the urgent sting in his heart dragged the man into the pits of madness. "What is it this time?" He groveled over her closed legs again.

Her recuperation had been jovial and quick. Adrenaline replaced the pain and shame, and the woman tried to get off the bed, put as much distance as she knew how in between her and the ravished Prince.

For the first time since he came to be, Aemond would not let her escape his clutches. As she moved backwards, he persisted forward – following her wobbly feet throughout the room with the spare of his predatory eye.

"Y-You said –" She tried ceaselessly to accuse him. "You said you wouldn't –"

"And you're right. I meant every. Single. Thing. I told you." He growled into her frightened ear, as his hands came to cage her, trap her under the seclusion of the hard, stone wall.

"You're mine." He hissed desperately, as he clasped her jaw to face him. "You've always been mine, you fucking harlot. From the moment you stepped foot into Harrenhal, your life belonged to me."

Perhaps Aemond was right, and she was nothing but a harlot. A treacherous swine that hung onto whatever he could give her - so starved and devoid of love and warmth, that she'd dare to stoop so lowly with him.

Aemond descended his unquenched rage over her exposed neck, and began leaving tender love bites all over, in spite of her lackluster pleas.

(Y/N)'s head felt like it was about to explode. She felt sick to her stomach – the wine and the distraught both built up inside of her. All she wanted now was to be left alone. For Aemond's touch felt oddly comforting, and her tired eyes began to close. "You drive me insane." She heard him choke.

She wanted to open her mouth. To urge the Prince to stop; but her word hole was sewn shut, taken over by the grip of feared confusion. While his hand hoisted her up by the waist again, her hand went around him, to grab onto whatever she could find. Finally, she stopped at the dragon-glass dagger, that securely latched onto Aemond's waist. Effectively, she wrapped her fingers around its silver hilt, and sheathed it out of its confinements.

"I swear on whatever God you want me to, I'll slit your throat if you don't stop touching me –" She wailed into Aemond's form, as she felt him stiffen up in tumultation.

His nostrils flared up at her attempt to intimidate him, and yet… his face looked most serene, as the cutting edge of the dagger reached close to his ivory skin. She raised her brows at him in utter surprise; for she expected him to surrender. His arms snaked away from her, and Aemond watched her intensely with his piercing gaze.

She could kill him, consequences be damned. And if she faced trial for this, then at least she'd have taken out a Green and Vhagar.

Her hand was shaking. Her breathing became erratic. She'd held a blade on multiple occasions; she'd fantasized about cutting Aemond's throat more times than she could bring herself to count. And yet…

His lack of movement – of worry – rattled her endlessly. She wanted to scream at him, to push him, to cut him. But for some reason couldn't bring herself to do it.

The realization that she just couldn’t do it made her almost drop the knife from the tight hold she'd kept it under.

"Why aren't you the least bit worried?" She spat out lowly, with her body trembling and her jaw set tight.

Aemond remained quiet and taciturn. His eye fixed her face carefully, and his hand gently wrapped around her quivering wrist. "Come on now…" He whispered to her, and watched how her eyes filled with the endless tears of frustration, how the hot droplets rolled down her reddened cheeks.

It would take another moment for her to drop the blade.

A moment she would forever grow to resent.

"I fucking hate you." She hissed through a breathless sob.

Oh, how she wished to hate him. Hate him as she did when they first clashed swords. Hate him as she did when she heard Jace talk about Lucaerys' death.

"Liar." Aemond rasped in acknowledgment.

And, just like that, the damage had been done. The blade rested back into his hand within an instant, and Aemond hit the wall behind her with murderous intent. "Fucking liar." He whispered again, breathing less and less sporadically, trying to wash his nerves away.

"I have been so good to you. But no matter what I do, it'll never be enough for you. Hmm?" He shook his head adamantly, and dug his fingers into the cold tiles of the cursed stronghold. "I am a patient man. But I will not wait a minute longer."

Her face twisted into a painful scowl, and the girl pushed over his chest roughly, but Aemond was quick to deny her exit. "This is not ideal," He muttered lowly to himself, "Yet you need to be taught a lesson."

"What are you d–"

Her words died upon her lips. Aemond hummed in dissatisfaction, and immediately brought the blade into her view.

She let out a scream of pure horror, but his pliant mouth silenced her with a scorching kiss. Her whole body was shaking, and the Prince Regent let out a frustrated sigh.

"Cease your crying, you hateful woman." He chastised her cruelly, "The fucking Gods sent you to ruin me."

At that moment, she wasn't above pleading. Her knees wobbled in place, and her orbs frantically searched for a way out. For something to grip and swing at the man before her.

Aemond's eye softened at the sight of her. Despite the pang of guilt he felt, a teasing and self-assuring smirk formed at the corners of his upturned lips.

So Jacaerys hadn't told her. He never mentioned their Valyrian way to her.

His triumphant feat soon washed away, as her trembling hands came into contact with his. "Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon." He told her adherently, truthfully, despite the obvious language barrier.

He took a moment to regain his composure. Grab a hold of her balled-up fists and remember the ancient words he'd only ever read about in his history books.

"Hen lantoti ānogar. Va sỹndroti vāedroma."

He ripped the sleeve from his linen shirt, and placed it over their entwined fingers.

"Mēro perzot gīhoti. Elēdroma iārza sĩr. Izuli ampā perzī."

The blade finally pressed down, over the softness of his left palm. Aemond winced at the sudden pain, and made a mental note to only nick the frightened girl with it, when the time came for that.

"Prūmĩ lanti sēteksi. Hen jenỹ māzīlarion. Qēlossa ozündesi."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened to a comical amount. Somewhere along the way, it seemed, she grew aware of Aemond's intent. She refused to show her hand to him, placing them both behind her back, and holding on for her dear life.

He let out a disapproving grunt, and reached his bloodied hands to her, yanking her right hand from underneath her strong grasp.

"No! No –!" She kept on screaming, and the guards outside shifted in place, before they fell under their oath of silence once again.

The cold and slick edge of the dragon glass pressed lightly against her writhing palm. Aemond made a smaller cut, and carried on with his rapid mumbling.

"Sỹndroro öñö jēdo. Rỹ kīvia mazvestraksi."

His very fist came to cut over his lower lip. His gory hand then reached for her jaw, hammering her in her place, and a sharp sting reflected on her weary stance. Aemond profited off the moment, to ease the dagger into her waiting mouth.

The metallic taste flooded her senses – the girl saw red before her eyes, and failed to register how his fingers came upon his and her forehead, painting them over with a ghastly symbol.

The Targaryen Prince reached for her hand again, and pressed her wounded palm cohesively with his.

"Following the tradition of my House from before the Doom of Old Valyria, I, Aemond of House Targaryen, bind myself to (Y/N) of House Tully, by blood, by soul, by life –"

"NO!"

" – And I pledge to her: that we are now one flesh, one heart, one body. Now and forever."

As he finally pried his limbs away from her trapped body, Aemond allowed his lips to feathery trace over her twisted mouth. She glanced at him, with wide-set and teary eyes.

"Fuck your fucking pledge."

Some grand venue she received.

A single question hung loosely into the air.

"Are you going to rape me now?"

She scarcely registered her own words as they left her mouth.

Aemond's eye widened at her query, and the Targaryen bit over his lower lip, as a deep grimace morphed the fairness of his features. He looked almost dumbfounded by her made assumption.

As soon as it came, the look of utter betrayal left his face.

"You would slit my throat with the knife." Was his mere reply.

***

Sometime along the night, he left.

The mighty roars of Vhagar registered themselves in the far-away distance.

That night, and only that night, she allowed herself the sacrilege of prayer. And she did so, again and again, pleading to the Seven for a blind arrow to reach his neck.

On the back of Vhagar, Aemond shuddered away from the impossible waves of heat, that licked deliciously at his stiffened cock; whenever her breathing would reach his ears, he felt tortured, trapped beneath the swell of lust and wanton desire.

Despite his abhorrent decision, he knew what their marriage meant. He knew all too well what his cruel bind had done, and yet… he felt no plausible remorse for the situation at hand.

The support of Storm's End, Floris Baratheon, Alys – mere casualties compared to the brink of having her, to knowing that she was finally his, as he was wholly hers.

Eventually, she'd have to love him. Eventually, she'd learn to do so.

A marriage wasn't a marriage until it was consummated. But he would give her, as he had promised, the illusion of choice, if nothing else.

As the cold night's air whipped his face again and again, and as Vhagar's thundering resounded over the burnt trees of the Riverlands, Aemond sighed, and brought a shaky hand to the strings of his breeches.

Scared as she was, his Lady made for a beautiful bride. It was such a shame that he didn’t get to see her wear the traditional Targaryen gown.

The pad of his thumb trailed over the cut he'd made – the same cut that now rested over her extended palm.

The flesh would scar, he thought, well pleased; whenever he looked at her, he'd get to see how she was undeniably his.

A possessive growl etched from his parted lips. Images of her paling skin, of her laugh. Her smile. The way her eyes bore into him, as if she always knew something he didn’t.

Leisurely, he began to pump his cock. Below him, Vhagar let out an anguished roar.

"Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon."

Droplets of precum rolled over his clenching digits, coating his knuckles and the base of his shaft in a translucent, but thick ropes.

He groaned desperately, aching to relieve his frustration deep within her, but alas…

His gruff moans filled the air around him; and Aemond could feel his climax building up, as visions of her flooded his thoughts.

How she would feel underneath him. How she would writhe on the edge of bliss, begging, pleading for him to finally take her.

He could feel her legs wrapping around him, and feel himself sliding inside her with ease, praising her for being so good to him.

He wrapped Vhagar's bridle tight over his arm, and secured himself better in his leather saddle. His grip tightened around his dripping cock, but it was just not good enough.

The pace with which he fucked his hand picked up in a wilding speed. Aemond sighed in pleasure, and felt his hips move to their own accord. His breathing became rugged. His very mind was not his own.

He wondered what other scars her body bore. What the story behind them was, and how many of them came by his swift undoing.

Would she lie down and let him take care of everything? Or would she want to stay on top, jumping up and down on him, each time with a harsher thrust?

His hips rose and fell with his less than gentle pace, and the man pushed his length deeper into his steadfast grip.

He knew that if she let him touch her, he wouldn't be leaving her bed for weeks. He would pull countless orgasms from her, time and time again, until she begged for him to stop. He would have her so full of his seed, so the Gods' help him, that she would swell with his child – his trueborn child – before the rise of the first rays of sun.

Feeling his release beckon, the Prince set on a final rhythm, one that left his loins more in need than ever. With a loud hiss, he pushed himself inside his fist one final time, spilling his seed onto the saddle beneath him.

He panted wildly into the night, and suddenly opened his lustful eye, allowing a tear of ecstasy to roll off his scarred cheek.

"Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra."

He couldn't keep up the charade with her. He would tell her all about it, once things finally settled down.

Word in Harrenhal traveled fast.

First it was her brash arrival. Then her impromptu marriage.

No one dared to talk to her. Yet she was never without the indiscreet eyes that followed her about.

Her situation wasn't without its ups and falls: Aemond felt no need to guard her as stiffly anymore – For where would the former Tully go, now that she bared his Targaryen name?

She was allowed to breach into some castle corners, always in the company of hefty guards, of course, and basked herself in some new acquired perks of freedom.

On the same account, whilst Alys remained loyal to her role as her lady-in-waiting, the tension between them couldn't have been more pain-strikingly high.

"I never asked for this. You must believe me."

She gave the younger woman a domineering stare, and only shook her head, obliged.

"And yet here you stand, inside his bed."

Word in Harrenhal spread fast – like a fire left unattended, like the so-called "Targaryen madness".

But a new, particular rumor gobbled the attention of everyone present.

Daemon Targaryen was to return to the Riverlands. And with him and Caraxes, he'd bring forth the formerly wild dragon, Sheepstealer, mounted by none other than Nettles.

The Lady had been acquainted with the bastard girl before – when the Sowing of the Dragon Seeds reveled in their first borne crops.

Another troubling report came forth. King's Landing had been secured by Rhaenyra.

When (Y/N) heard the news be whispered, she almost collapsed on her knees in glee. This must have marked the end of it. Surely, the usurpers would be put through the sword, leaving all to be well, and right again.

The Greens would die. They would face trial.

The Greens.

Indeed, word in Harrenhal spread fast. And she'd just been made the wife of the cruelest of them all.

Dread filled her insides. Her eyes cast their darkened shadow over the walls of the cursed Keep. A single, fundamental truth raised strongly from her anxious wallowing.

If Daemon Targaryen should find out about her marriage to his nephew, and get to her first… naught of the loyalty of the Riverlords would have a single say in her decided fate. And she would meet her end by the way of his blade, Dark Sister.

Now, more so than ever, it was pivotal for her to escape.

The clock was ticking.

And she was running out of time.

***

Her last day in Harrenhal was spent making plans. She'd rubbed her temples a myriad times, and paced about the room in a dizzying trot.

It wasn’t enough for her to disappear – she had to ensure everyone else thought she was gone.

When Aemond returned, she beckoned his call by jumping to her ready feet. The girl took him in, in his devillished state, and merely raised her brows at him. Whenever she saw him, the nick on her palm and lip itched at her relentlessly.

Neither was willing to recognize aloud what had transpired two moons ago, but both knew the inevitable punishment that would come with Aemond's actions.

He took a seat by the edge of their bed, and took his dagger out to play with it.

In vain he had asked Alys to share with him what she could see. She laid in broken, cradling her forming bump – the one she so desperately tried to hide away from him. The one thing that once meant her protection and raise in rank, now could very well heed out her doom.

Her green eyes raised from the floor below them, and Alys merely shook her head.

"There is fire, my Prince. Fire, and blood, and death."

"Going out to face two dragons is a death sentence." His deep voice rumbled through the silent chamber, "I can't afford that risk anymore with you involved."

And there it was. The silent admission of what he had done.

"We'll have to move from Harrenhal. You'll get to meet Daeron in Oldtown."

Was he sorry for what he did?

"It was about time you got acquainted with the rest of the family."

Aegon's cause was lucky that Storm's End was already too involved. They couldn't turn in their banners to the other front. Not now.

"It's a wonderful idea." She uttered in a glacial tone, barely above a whisper. "When will we depart?"

Sharpened orbs came in contact with the loneness of a purple eye.

The man took in a sparring breath, and hummed at her obedient retreat. The Prince's fist clenched over his cutting wound, and he nodded his head firmly.

"Should we be graced with the Gods' favor, issa jorrāelagon, then on the morrow," He explained, "but no sooner than that."

The girl's brows furrowed in discontent, as Aemond faltered in pressing the matter further. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with the aid of two long fingers, and heavily rose from his seat.

"Don't wait for me tonight. I shall return to you in the morning. I have unfinished business to attend to."

Lack of air. And crippling fear.

Her tiny world had been thrown into the arms of chaos. But everything fell so perfectly into place.

As soon as Aemond had mounted Vhagar, as soon as her father of wings died upon the night's first watch, the woman sprung to her feet, and began her soul's ascent into the pits of the Seven Hells.

She started off by breaking in her tiny mirror, placing a goose feather pillow below and over it, to somehow mask the clefty noise.

Her long hair was the first to go. She began cutting it swiftly, using big and brisk movements to chop off as many of her luscious locks as she possibly could.

She ripped the mattress of the bed open with one of the bigger shards, and revealed Aemond's dried-up shirt, that she had tucked well under after washing it, long preparing it for that occasion.

Her stomach churned as her hand went to her chamber pot. Risking her own deniability, she submerged her digits deep within it, letting out a victorious huff as she brushed across a piece of cold felt.

The insides of the sack revealed fermented meat – putrid, more like. She scattered the final remains of it over the stone floor like a mad-woman, and ripped the latter pages of the book Alys had gifted her.

She would take the passage to the stables, and simply hope for the best.

Her eyes searched feverishly about the cluttered room, but the hammering in her heart stilled only as she gaped upon the lower left corner of the wall full of banners.

There it was. Exactly where Alys told her it was going to be.

She tore into the mattress further, spreading the wool around, and grabbed a hold of a piece of wood from the crackling fire.

May she be forgiven for what she was about to do.

Her shaky hands grasped the lumber strongly, and she let it roll in the middle of the room, allowing it to fall with a loud bang.

***

The sound of wailing screams echoed inside her head, scratching at her ears, to the point of making them almost bleed. The heat of the fire she caused fell over her skimpily clothed back, and the disgust she felt with herself was palpable against her tongue.

With every turn she took, she made herself another promise. She would not rest until the war would see its end. She'd never sleep warmly again, and forever remind herself of the sacrifice she had to make – of all the lives that she undoubtedly ended, if only to meet her selfish ends.

For once, this was not just Aemond's doing. This was her fault all alone.

Blinded by rage, and seething with fury, her feet carried her down the crooked set of stairs. The woman brought a hand up to her face, and coughed wildly in the back of it. She'd have to make a bold turn soon. Then the outside world would heed, and she would be free again.

With just a twinge of luck, the guards should think that whatever was left of her room collapsed upon herself inside. Her burnt hair and clothes would create the wanted look – the meat would add the unmistakable smell of rot and death, and the lack of an actual body would take days to figure out.

And she prayed. She prayed, she prayed, she prayed: that no one else knew of the passages that she was threading through below.

Her eyes could barely see in front of her. Smoke rose to unforgiving levels, and the Lady swore it could be cut even by the dullest knife. As she reached the crossroads of the secret tunnel, her hands came to grapple at the breeches' pockets, turning them inside out – trying to find the torn pages of the book she'd just previously carried.

A sigh of relief rumbled from within her throat, as the pads of her shaking digits stroked across the withered, olden pages.

Her relief would be short lived.

Boney hands snaked around her, and the girl nearly screamed – until the familiar scent of mint and wild berries floored her senses.

"Alys?!" Her voice let out in an exasperated high. "Alys, we need to hurry!"

But her able hands still hesitantly clung to the soft material of her shirt, digging so deeply into it, that she could rip it in a downward pull.

"You –" She began to say, but cut herself short as she momentarily closed her eyes.

No matter what, she couldn’t tell the Lady before her that she'd have sent her upon her death.

"You took a wrong turn. This isn't the right way towards the South Gates."

The adrenaline flooded her veins. Her heart was pumping wildly against her ears. Lady Tully only nodded, failing to process that Alys had, in fact, never given her access to such an option on the crudely drawn map.

"This way, (Y/N) – came quickly!"

Two sets of legs descended further into the murky passages of Harrenhal. At one point, the smoke had gotten so very thick, that both women had to feel their way out, by touching the corners of every tunnel that they surpassed.

When all seemed lost, Alys finally spoke, "Over here!" She yelled out to her, and latched onto Aemond's dampened shirt.

They stumble into each other, as the small opening of the stifling cellar reaches the South Gates. The witch stops hastily on her heel, and the young Lady nearly busts their cover.

A raid of soldiers came flocking out, with what then looked like tens of thousands of squealing maids. So frightened by their own demise, they bumped into the oak doors and onto each other – choosing to, instead of unlocking the main Gates, reach and pull at the other's hairs, cursing loud and wildly.

Alys let out a bemused huff at their perused antics, but her reglament was short lived; as one of the smarter lassies reached for the illustrious piece of wood, and opened the doors with the loudest of creak.

"Now's our chance," The Lady of Riverrun whispered to her fellow escapee, grabbing onto her wrist harshly, and dragging her out and into the light. "Mingle in the crowd, Alys –"

"My Lady, do not stray far –"

The older woman let out a staggering breath, as she raised her skirts to follow suit on the trail left by the hot-headed girl.

She is Elmo's daughter alright, she disarmingly told herself, Just as hopeless and reckless as he once was.

Alys almost tackled her to the ground, as Lady Tully succumbed herself deeper into the burnt out forest. She gripped onto her hands with hers, so harshly, that she'd definitely leave her mark. "I thought I had told you not to stray far."

The breathless form of the lost child before her appeared to be enough to soften a tad of her resolve. "When I tell you something, I expect you to do it."

Whilst chastising her deeply for her foolhardy behavior, the woman searched her pockets, and pushed out two quarter silvers into her trembling hands.

"You'll go towards the Rushing Halls and buy yourself a mule from the Half Calf's Inn."

As the younger Lady nodded feverishly at her late advice, Alys clasped her cheeks with her hands, and brought her head further towards her. "You'll keep a straight line to the Green Fork. You won't stop to eat or drink – you won't stop until you reach Hag's Mire. Make sure to cover the cut on your hand with this." As she spoke, Alys pushed a black glove into her resting hands.

The Bliss of Riverrun threw the witch a bewildered look. Her eyes searched adamantly for hers, and the woman panted out in pure wonder. "How did you know I intended on migrating North?

"I've already seen you do it." She shook her shoulders promptly, "I've already seen you succeed."

Her green eyes softened, if only for a blazing moment; but the crackling of the trees behind them snapped her out of her inward trance. "Don't waste anymore time. Your diversion was smart, but he will try to find you."

The girl reached down, to squeeze her hands, perhaps, in a wordless display of gratitude and affection. Her soft fingers interlaced over her boney knuckles, and Alys muttered a faint blessing over the twisted arch of her furrowed brow.

The Lady turned around, but not before pausing and shooting the witch one last fiery look. "Come with me." She offered determinedly, and shook her head strongly as Alys took a step back. "He'll try to punish someone for it. You're his next available girl." She begged her to see to reason.

"My place remains here. By his side."

(Y/N)'s eyes hardened at her thorough admission, but she strained herself to shoot the wet nurse back with a curt nod.

"I shan't forget what you did for me." She promised her elder with a minute smile.

"A heads-up when you next decide to set the whole stronghold on fire would be most appreciated…!" She lightheartedly told her, despite the obvious wabbling of her lower lip.

(Y/N) nodded, but remained hammered in place for another while. Alys' hand reached to cup over her face, but a brisk moment of clarity was quick to change her mind.

"Go, you foolish girl…!" She snapped, "Make good use of that promise you made."

Her feet began moving on their own accord. Her mind was blazing with all of the unfinished tasks at hand.

She would run towards the Rushing Halls. Buy a mule. Retreat towards Green Fork. Reach the Twins.

Her road shall lead to Winterfell. If Forrest Fray remained the same kind fool that he once was, she should have no trouble sending Cregan Stark a raven.

And if she could reason with Jacaerys' friend, take in his testimony of protection, perhaps her life wasn't lost just yet.

The gusts of wind ran through her shortened and unkempt hair. Aemond's clothes hung loosely over her, and the stench of fire and ash filled her nostrils with something else other than hopeless dread.

Never before in her life, did the girl run so fast.

Taglist:

Translations:

Gevie… = Beautiful;

Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, issa dōna jorrāelagon. Nyke kivio ao naejot sagon gīda. = Do not worry, my sweet love. I promised you I would be patient;

Mēre tubis ao jāhor jaelagon issa. = One day you will desire me;

Se Jaes emagon qrimbrōstan issa naejot jorrāelagon ao. = The Gods have cursed me to love you;

Gīda ilagon, Vhagar. Sagon nykeēdrosa... Sȳz hāedar. = Calm down, Vagar. Be still. Good girl;

Jaes, ao istan vēttan syt issa. = Gods, you were made for me;

Sepār jurnegon skorkydoso īlon kostagon fāelor hēnkirī. = Just look how perfectly we fit together;

Dōna hāedar… ȳdra daor hakogon qrīdrughagon hen issa sir = Sweet girl… don't pull away from me now;

Yn nyke istan zarvīzis. Nyke emagon issare sīr sȳz se… sīr, sīr zarvīzis. = But I've been patient. I've been so good and… so, so patient;

Ao aehron raqagon ao ȳdra daor jaelagon bisa... = You act like you don't want this…;

Yn ao jaelagon issa sepār hae olvie. Ao mazilībagon syt issa – sepār hae qosaevaerī. = But you want me just as much. You ache for me – just as badly.

Ÿdra daor dīnagon, issa gevie Dāria. Nyke jāhor dōrī jaelagon naejot ōdrikagon. = Don't cry, my beautiful Princess. I would sooner die than hurt you;

Valyrian Wedding Vows: Blood of two, joined as one, ghostly flame, and song of shadows, two hearts as embers, forged in fourteen fires, a future promised in glass – the stars stand witness, of the vow spoken through time, of darkness and light;

Nyke gīmigon, Vhagar. Gīmigon. = I know Vhagar, I know;

Se Jaes daoriot rȳbagon naejot nykeā vala raqagon issa. Yn nyke jāhor jikagon va issa knees se kostilus zirȳla naejot ivestragī issa emagon ao. Ao issi issa rōva botagon se se olvie rivaestra lambraes aohvra. = The Gods don't listen to men like me. But I would go on my knees and beg them to let me keep you. You were once the bane of my existence… and now, you find yourself the center of it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #the harshest winters #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #jacaerys valaryon #jacaerys imagine #jacaerys angst #aemond smut #bookcanon aemond targaryen #dark aemond x reader #dark aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #yandere aegon targaryen #unhinged aemond yep yep

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pedrito-friskito · 2 years ago

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-three

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

shit doesn't go as planned on your way out of the QZ.

a/n: the bridge between episode 1 and 2. part twenty-four will be up this week! thank you to all of those who commented on the last two parts, I'll be reblogging/replying to those plus any comments here in the next two days, and my askbox is always open 🤍 thanks for sticking with me bbys!!! I love you all!

word count: 7.3k

warnings: canon-typical violence, you know the drill. no filth here.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

“Observe mandatory curfew to fight infection and insurrection.”

God, if you had a dollar for every time you’d heard that fucking sentence. Or a ration card. You’d be set for life. You and Joel could die well-fed. Tess, too.

The rain has let up some, but still, you pull your hood up, instruct Ellie to do the same. The bat is a soft press between your shoulders, hidden by your bag, but you feel acutely aware of the weapon. You feel acutely aware of everything. Not like this is your first rodeo — this is an old habit for you, at this point — but something feels different. It is different.

Before you even step foot out of the lobby, you grab Ellie, turning her to face you. She stares up at you with those dark eyes, so full of fear you almost feel bad. “I’m gonna keep this simple,” you say to her, removing your hand from her shoulder. “You stay in between me and Joel, not behind. Between. You follow close, you keep your mouth shut, and if shit goes south, you take the easiest path, follow whichever one of us gets away, and you don’t look back. Clear?”

She just stares at you for a moment, her bottom lip almost quivering. “What if none of you get away?”

“We will. Are we clear?” When she doesn’t reply, you prompt her further. “Ellie,” you say, your voice teetering on stern. “Say it.”

The kid swallows hard, nods. “Clear.”

“Good.” You tear your eyes from her innocent face, finding Joel’s dark gaze watching you. “Ready?”

He just nods.

It’s easy enough, getting from the apartment building to the opening at Lancaster. Tess scouts a few feet ahead, signals you to follow when it’s clear, and you take one of your old routes through the empty warehouses to get where you need to be.

Ellie keeps close to you as you move through the city, just as you’d asked. At one point, your boot slips on the curb, your ankle twisting sideways, and before you can so much as flinch, she grabs your hand, using her weight to push you back onto the sidewalk. You mouth thanks and she nods, but doesn’t let go of your hand.

Finally, the storm drain at Lancaster is in view, and Tess jogs ahead, waiting for the coast to clear before she waves you forward. She and Joel lift the drain, Tess slides down first, then Ellie, then you, then Joel. He turns once he’s in, grabs the drain cover and slides it back into place with some help from you.

It’s dark inside, the walls slimy and wet and it smells fucking awful. Tess doesn’t waste any time, heading towards the other end, and once you’re almost there, Joel pushes to the front, taking the few steps up to the asphalt barrier. With a grunt, he pushes his shoulder up and into it, pauses when you hear the sound of a helicopter overhead. Once it passes, he continues to slide the asphalt piece across, another quiet grunt falling out of him.

Joel hauls himself up and out, kneeling in the dirt, and holds his hand towards you. You take it, holding your breath as he yanks you up, jutting his chin towards your foot, the ankle that had twisted. “You okay?” he whispers.

You just nod, kneeling beside him as Ellie clambers out of the hole. Her hands press into the dirt and you grab her by the handle of her backpack, helping her out, then offering your hand to Tess. As soon as you’re all out, crouched in the dirt, you and Joel grab hold of the asphalt, sliding the piece back into place.

Ellie straightens, awe in her expression as she takes in your new surroundings. “Holy shit, I’m actually outside!”

“Oh, for the love of—” You grit the words out, grabbing the sleeve of her jacket and yanking her back down hard.

“Oh, shit,” she half-whispers, ducking down behind the abandoned bus you’ve tucked yourself behind. The unimpressed expression on Joel’s face would make you laugh in any other circumstance. “Sorry.”

“Okay,” you whisper, ignoring her apology. “We’re gonna take the left edge around the buffer zone, you know what that is?” you ask, and she nods, her lips pressed together. “You stay close, like you have been, and you follow my lead. You got it?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding more. “Of course. I got it.”

“Let’s go,” Tess hisses, and you wave her on, shooting Joel a glare as he shakes his head, nudging Ellie to follow Tess beneath the bus. He waits for you to slide beneath before following, and when you glance back, you see the FEDRA spotlights sweep across the space you’d just been occupying.

Tess takes the lead again, and Ellie pauses when you come out the other side of the bus, waiting for you to step ahead, taking her place between you and Joel. She looks at you with big eyes as you walk past her, almost like she’s waiting for your approval, and you offer it in the form of a slight nod, mouthing good call.

The rumble of a truck makes your every sense heighten, and Ellie grabs your hand. You grip it tight, pulling her to the side, ducking you both behind a car as the truck drives past. Tess looks at you wordlessly over the top of Ellie’s head, and you turn your neck to see Joel crouched behind an overturned car. You all pause, waiting for more noise, but only the thunder comes.

Your steps are a bit faster now, all of you pushed against the fractured concrete that shields you from the helicopters above. Tess keeps point, and you keep your grip on Ellie’s hand. A second truck rumbles past, and you all dive for cover. You don’t miss the hitch in the kid’s breath as she tries to catch it, and you squeeze her fingers.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” you tell her. “Just stay close. You’re doing great.”

Even without looking, you can feel Joel’s eyes shooting daggers into your back.

Another corner turned, and the gap in the fence comes into view. It’s almost comical, with the warning signs on either side of it, the chain link spread wide enough for you all to fit through. Ellie’s still holding your hand, and you make for the fence, squinting up as the rain starts to come harder, soaking your hair, making it stick to the back of your neck. Joel moves up beside you, his hand finding your side as you step forward and then—

“Hey!”

Fuck.

“Hey, don’t, don’t…don’t move!”

You all freeze as you see Sergeant Lee Evans standing against the concrete wall, re-zipping his pants, flashlight waving as he reaches for his gun. McCoy’s guy, the one who’d taken over his posts, the one you’ve been making deals with for a long time. The one who was meant to get you the truck to get to Wyoming, before you struck the deal with Marlene.

“Don’t move!”

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles, illuminating the space you’re all standing in. Lee lifts his gun, points it at Joel, then you, then Ellie. Then he pauses, the gun swinging back to you, and lifts the visor on his helmet.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.”

“Okay, Lee, wait,” you start, lifting your hands, putting yourself slightly in front of Ellie, “let’s just talk this out, yeah?”

Joel takes a half-step, doing the same, his tone sliding into something persuasive. “Hold on—”

“Get on your fuckin’ knees!” Lee shouts, pointing at Joel, the gun lowering slightly. “Get on your fuckin’ knees!”

“Now, hold on—” Joel repeats, but Lee ignores him.

“What did I fuckin’ tell you, man? I said stay the fuck home. Now, get on your knees!”

“Lee—”

“Knees!”

Tess smacks your arm. “Just get on your knees,” she says, sinking to her own. “Just get on your knees.” On the ground, she turns back to Lee, trying to placate him. Meanwhile, you sink down beside her, tugging Ellie down, while Joel takes the empty space between Ellie and Tess. “You let us do this run,” Tess continues, her voice carrying through the space, “and we’ll split the cards with you.”

“Oh, will you?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m so blessed,” Lee says sarcastically. “Hands on your head, eyes forward.”

You shoot a glance over your shoulder, and see the bio-scanner in his hand. Your stomach drops into your toes. Fuck. There’ve been a few run-ins, over the years, sure, but you’ve always managed to talk your way — or shoot your way — out of them.

“Hands on your head!” Lee spits.

Not talking your way out of this one.

You do as the soldier says, nudging Ellie to do the same. Joel shoots you a glance, meeting your eyes over the kid’s head, and you shake your head just slightly. What the fuck are you gonna do, what are you gonna—

“Really, man?” Tess protests as the machine buzzes at her neck.

“Yep,” Lee grits, unimpressed. “We’re doing this by the book.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tess mutters, glancing at you before looking back at Lee. “What about three-quarters?”

The screen on the bio-scanner goes green, clearing Tess, and you swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck

“Unauthorized exit,” Lee spits, shooting you a glare. “They’ll hang you for that.”

“Fine!” Joel shouts as Lee moves along the line of you, shoving the scanner against Joel’s neck. “Everything off of this run.”

“And half off on all the pills,” you shout, trying to sweeten the deal.

Lee laughs at you. “Half off? All off. Risk my job for half off. Outta your fuckin’ minds.”

Beside you, Ellie’s breathing gets heavy. Something in you wants to reach for her, but you resist, lacing your hands at the back of your head. Lee steps towards her, and something tightens in your chest, making you—

Ellie screams as the scanner beeps at her neck, whirling around towards Lee. You didn’t notice the switchblade open in her hand, and it sinks into Lee’s leg.

“Ellie!” you shriek. Lee shoves her forward and you go after her instantly, putting yourself in front of her as Lee yanks the knife out. It clatters to the asphalt, and Tess slinks to the side, Joel standing in front of you and Ellie as Lee lifts his gun.

“Fucking bitch!” he shouts. “Get out of the fucking way!”

“Woah!” Joel shouts, lifting his hands again. “Woah!” He glances over his shoulder at you, standing in front of Ellie, your arm held out protectively. “We can fix this!”

The barrel of the gun shifts from Joel to you, the flashlight taped to it blinding you. You feel Ellie’s fingers curl in the fabric of your sleeve. “Move,” Lee spits, “or I kill your wife, and then the girl.”

For a moment, everything is eerily silent. Joel is completely still. Behind you, you can hear the hitch in Ellie’s breath, and this beast in your chest, this protective thing roars. If Lee pulls that trigger, you’ll—

“Move.”

Lee takes a step towards you, and Joel lunges forward with a yell. They both go crashing to the ground, the gun skittering to the side, but Joel has the upper hand in a moment. Over and over, his fist connects with Lee’s face, the flashes of lightning illuminating the blood on his skin, on Joel’s knuckles. Over and over and over and over.

“Joel,” you call, but it’s no use, he doesn’t so much as flinch. Ellie tries to step around you, and you try to stop her, try to shield her from the bloody scene before you, but she moves around you quickly, her dark eyes fixated on Joel’s cocked fist. “Joel!”

Finally, he stops, breathing heavily as he lifts his red-stained fist. His knuckles are probably split, maybe even broken, and your own heart is rioting in your chest. He straightens slightly, turning back to the three of you, and for a moment, he and Ellie just stare at each other. Lee lies unmoving on the ground.

Then Joel’s eyes slide to you. “Liv, I…” He trails off, but you just shake your head.

You step towards him, grip his arm and haul him sideways off of Lee’s too-still body. Bile crawls up the back of your throat. Not the first time, you know it won’t be the last. “We need to go.”

Behind you, Tess gasps. You turn to see her with Lee’s bio-scanner in her hand. The screen is red.

He’d scanned Ellie last.

“No!” the girl cries, panic making her voice climb. “No! No, I’m not sick!”

“Liv!” Tess shouts, holding the scanner towards you, the red screen too bright as it blinks at you. “Liv!”

“I am not sick,” Ellie says again, and your stomach ties itself into a knot. “I’m not sick! Look, look!” She tugs up her sleeve, offers her arm to Tess, and Joel pulls you back a step, trying to put himself in front of you. Like that matters. “This is three weeks old,” Ellie continues, her tone still dripping with panic. “Nobody lasts more than a day. Does this look a day old to you?!” Her head lifts, those dark eyes whipping in your direction. “I couldn’t tell you, you would’ve killed me!”

“We should fucking kill you!” Tess spits, and Joel puts his hand on your arm, but you shrug it off. Faintly, you can hear FEDRA sirens growing closer.

“They’re gonna catch us if we don’t run,” Ellie says, and her eyes are trained on you. Joel reaches out again, but you smack his hand away this time, crouching and grabbing Lee’s gun, shoving it against Joel’s chest. He catches it with his good hand, and you grab at his injured one, inspecting his split and bloody knuckles. He hisses when you spread his fingers, pulls his hand away.

As you drop his hand, something catches your eye. Ellie’s knife, smeared with blood, laying in the dirt. You crouch to grab it, switching the blade shut and jamming the thing into your pocket.

“We need to go,” you say, and stride back to where Ellie’s standing. You all but yank her away from Tess, pushing the young girl toward the fence. “Tess, let’s go.”

You hold the fence open as Ellie scrambles through, keep it open for Tess as well. Joel is still standing beside Lee, staring down at the soldier.

“Joel!” you shout, and his head snaps up, dark eyes meeting yours. “We need to go.”

The sirens are getting closer, but you wait for him. He offers you his good hand as he gets closer, the gun now looped over his shoulder, and you take it, lacing your fingers together and heading through the fence. Ellie looks at you with big eyes as you clamber through, Tess holding the chain link open for you both. Gripping Joel’s hand tightly, you turn her around, push her forward as you all disappear into the night, the sounds of FEDRA’s patrols getting closer and closer to the scene you’ve left behind.

The rain doesn’t let up. It gets worse as you move through the city, puddles beneath your every step. Your socks are soaked inside your boots, your hair sticking to your scalp. Joel’s grip on your hand is tight, his knuckles pressed to yours.

You get a few feet from the fence before Ellie turns to you, panic embedded in her face, an apology on her lips. “Liv, please, I’m sorry, okay? I couldn’t tell you, Marlene said not to—”

“Shut up,” you hiss at her, forcing yourself to ignore the way she flinches at your tone. She stops in her tracks, and you pull away from Joel enough to grab her by the front of her jacket, spinning her around. “We’re not safe out here, whether or not you’re sick. Follow Tess, and keep your mouth shut.”

She does as you say.

You fall back into step with Joel, who’s now brandishing Lee’s gun, his good hand on the trigger. Thunder rumbles, and you reach for the bat, gripping the handle tightly. Being outside of the QZ is one thing, this close to the walls, but unarmed is another. Ahead of you, Tess picks her way through the rubble, heading for the closest building. It used to be a hair salon; you remember getting your hair done there, before. The memory feels strange to recall, fuzzy at the edges and almost more like a dream.

Joel nudges you with his shoulder, his voice low. “How are we gonna play this?”

Pulled out of your head, you turn toward him, your brows pulling down. “What?”

“Tess doesn’t know about you,” he whispers, his eyes searching yours. “And if this kid is—”

“Tess doesn’t know what about me?” you ask him, and you watch the realization settle on his face. There’s a loud creak, and you see Tess has pried the salon door open, waving you all in. “Can we just make it through the night, first? One thing at a goddamned time.”

You go to take a step away, but Joel catches your hand, wincing as his bruised hand closes around yours. “Liv, I…” He clears his throat, staring down at his boots. “I’m sorry, for what happened back there. He pointed that gun at you and the kid and I just…” After a beat, his eyes lift to yours. They’re so haunted, so full of emotion that your breath catches. “He pointed that gun at you, and I was right back to that night. In Austin, when Sarah…”

His voice breaks on her name. Something in your chest cracks. You honestly can’t remember the last time he said it out loud.

“Stop,” you say, moving close to him. You take his scruffy jaw in your hand, keep his eyes on yours. “You did what you had to. We had to get out of there. There was no other option. I know that, and you know that. Lee was a fucking asshole, anyway.” He huffs something like a laugh, and you press a soft kiss to his mouth. “We’re safe, okay? C’mon. Let’s go inside. I need to look at that hand.”

Stepping into the salon feels surreal, your brain wired to expect fluorescent lights and the secretary who truly couldn’t have given less of a fuck asking what time your appointment was at. You’ve walked past this place a million times on runs since the walls went up, but you’ve never once stepped back inside.

Ellie’s standing in the middle of the space, staring up at the ceiling. Nature has truly taken over, grass and moss erupting through the cracked tiles, dirt covering the rest of the floor. A lone chair stands upright off to the side, every mirror shattered to pieces. Ivy climbs along one wall, and as you walk inside, Tess shuts the door, muttering at Joel to help her move a big cabinet in front of the door.

“What the fuck was Marlene doing with an infected kid?” Tess hisses as the three of you stand near the door, stealing glances at the kid in the middle of the salon. “We oughta put a damn bullet in her head.”

“Then why didn’t Marlene do it?” you counter, and Tess’s shoulder sag. “Clearly she’s important. She said that bite is what, two weeks old? What—”

“Three weeks,” Ellie calls out conversationally, a rumble of thunder punctuating her words. You give her the most withering look you can manage.

You look back at Tess. “We’re tired. We’re scared. That wasn’t what any of us had anticipated, and the last thing we need to do is make an impulsive decision.” Joel nods slightly, his eyes glued to your face. “We sleep it off, and we talk it out in the morning.”

“I’ll take first watch,” Tess says, reaching out and taking Lee’s gun from Joel. “Tell her to pick a corner.” She looks at you. “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

You nod, inclining your head towards an empty corner. Joel heads for it, and you walk towards Ellie.

Your steps are slow, the bat still held in your hand. She turns her head to look at you as you approach, and you look up a the ceiling, seeing the large hole giving way to the floor above, the cracked beams and what looks like a tree growing out of the second storey. Further up, you can see flashes of lightning, the rumble of thunder following close behind.

“So, is this the part where you kill me?” she asks, and you know she’s trying to be the tough guy, but her voice gives her away, that waver of panic still evident. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s late,” you say, shaking your head. “No one’s killing you. You should get some sleep, all right? We’re all rattled; we’ll figure this out in the morning.” When she doesn’t say anything, you say, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“You got a blanket or anything in that bag?”

She shakes her head. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay.”

Without another word, you turn on your heel, heading for the corner Joel is now occupying. He’s sat on the ground, his back propped against the wall, legs stretched ahead of him. You drop your bag next to his, tapping your boot against his. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, eyes shooting open. His bad hand lifts to rub over his face and he winces before he can complete the movement. “Fuck.”

“Let me see it,” you say, crouching in front of your bag, pulling out what little first aid supplies you have left. A single alcohol wipe, a mostly-clean rag you tore into strips for bandages. “You think it’s broken?”

“Maybe a hairline,” he grunts, sliding over as you move to sit beside him, holding your hand out for his. You tear the wipe open with your teeth, spit the wrapper to the side. “It’ll heal fast.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” you mutter, shaking your head as you lift his hand for closer inspection, swiping at the blood. He doesn’t flinch, but lets out a little groan, his other hand wrapping around your leg.

You clean as much of the blood away as you can. Two of his knuckles are split, but you’ve definitely seen worse on him. And if there’s anything you’ve learned about Joel over the years, it’s that he can take the pain.

You both can.

You finish wrapping his hand, tying the makeshift bandage off in the middle of his palm. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do. The ground is hard beneath you as you settle in, Joel bunching up his jacket as a pillow for you both to share, him lying with his back to the wall, good ear up. You fit yourself against his front, draping your coat over the both of you, tugging his arm around your waist beneath it. Whatever comfort you can get, you take. You revel in it.

Every time you try to close your eyes, something pops up to haunt you, chasing sleep away before you can grab it.

Memories of the explosions all those years ago, of hiding in the bookstore and waiting to die.

The way you’d held out hope that Joel was still alive, that he’d make good on his promise and find you, across the country, no matter how much time had passed.

The fear that had consumed you when you were bit, the hope Joel had offered when he told you about Anna, what had happened to her, what turned out to be the same for you.

The panic you felt when Nick took Deanna and the kids away, blackmailing you into silence.

The frustration when Tommy stopped answering the goddamned radio, sending Joel into a spiral.

The obvious hurt in Tess’s face after she and Robin had talked.

That sinking feeling that’s been chasing you around with every day that’s passed where you haven’t heard from Bill and Frank, not a song on the radio or a crackling message to let you know they’re okay.

The feral violence Joel had rained down on Lee, to keep you safe. To keep Ellie safe.

The sheer fucking terror in Ellie’s face when the scanner turned red.

Sleep seems to come to Joel easily, his breathing evening out against your neck, his forehead tipped against the back of your head. His arm tightens around you, and you try to replace the haunted memories with good ones, happy ones. Led Zeppelin on the radio and walking down the aisle, all the stars in the sky and the bed of Joel’s truck, the deer at the lake and your honeymoon at the cabin.

It feels like sleep has just pulled you under when Tess is waking you for the next watch. “Liv,” she calls, her hand curled around your shoulder. “Liv.”

Your eyes blink open, and it takes you a minute to realize that there’s music playing.

I’m taking a ride with my best friend.

Tess kicks at Joel’s boot and he jolts out of dreamless sleep. You’re not where you were, pressed against him, and he bolts upright, panic twisting his stomach when he sees you a few feet from him, hunched over something. He rubs his hand across his face and his hand aches.

“What…?”

Never want to put my feet back down on the ground.

“I can’t check the fucking book, Tess, can I?” you spit, shoving your hand through your hair. It’s the radio, Joel realizes, that you’re bent over, the music filling the quiet space between you. He glances to the corner where Ellie had sprawled; she’s still asleep, curled on her side, facing away from all of you. “I swear to god, it was 1985.”

“Sure, when you were what, seven?” Tess hisses, straightening, putting her hands on her hips. The frustration is clear on her face. “How do we know it wasn’t the nineties? Depeche Mode was still around when the world fucking imploded, it could have been ‘92, ‘93?”

“Nineties doesn’t mean anything on the code, Tess,” you tell her, your tone completely flat until you say her name, and your voice snaps in two. “Something is wrong.” You go quiet for a moment, heaving a breath, and then launch the radio across the room. It hits the wall with a loud crack, splintering into pieces, and from the corner of his eye, Joel sees Ellie jump. “I was right. We should have left days ago, we shouldn’t have waited for this to fucking happen!”

You get to your feet, storming across the salon to where he’d propped the cabinet against the door. The metal rings as your fist connects, and Tess shoots him a look. “Liv,” he calls, getting to his feet, jogging toward you. He catches your wrist before you can swing again. “Baby, stop it. Don’t—” You try to yank your hand away from him, but he tightens his grip. “Hey.”

“They could be dead,” you murmur, the words halfway between speaking and sobbing. His heart aches at the sound. “They could…” You trail off, shaking your head, tears shining on your cheeks in the streaks of moonlight coming through the cracks in the windows and doors.

“C’mere,” Joel whispers, using your wrist as leverage, pulling you against him. You go willingly, collapsing into his chest. You bury your face in his neck, and he rubs his hand up and down your spine. “There’s nothin’ we can do right now, baby. It’s the middle of the night, you’re exhausted, we all are. The moment the sun comes up, we get the kid to the State House, we get the truck, and we haul ass to Lincoln, you understand me? Computer probably stopped working, and Bill couldn’t reset the radio.” He presses his lips to your temple, his next words muffled against your skin. “It’s gonna be fine. Everythin’ is gonna be fine.”

With a soft noise something like a whimper, you nod your head, your forehead brushing his chin as you do.

“Go back and lie down,” he tells you, reluctantly detaching you from his chest. “I’ll take the next watch.”

“But—”

“Go, Liv,” he says, a little more tersely. “I’ll wake you in a couple hours.”

You’re halfway across the room when Ellie pipes up. “1987.”

You stop dead in your tracks. Joel’s watching you go, Tess also watching from her spot against the wall. “What did you say?”

“The song. It’s from 1987,” the kid repeats, rubbing at her eyes. “I had the cassette tape.”

You say nothing in response, and for a moment, Joel feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Your head is turned, he can just see your profile, streaks of moonlight in your hair. He’s never seen that expression on your face, as you stare at Ellie. He doesn’t have a name for it.

“Go back to sleep,” you say finally, and Joel inhales sharply.

He waits until you’ve settled back in the space where you’d both been laying, your coat tugged over you like a blanket. Tess hands him the rifle, finding her own space to sprawl out, and Ellie watches before turning over herself, the room plunging back into silence.

As quietly as he can, Joel creeps across to where the radio had landed. It’s shattered, the plastic cracked, the metal antenna a few feet away from the rest of it. Sighing, Joel slides his boot across the ground, pushing the pieces closer to the wall.

Morning comes quick. The moment Tess and Joel wake, you’re anxious to get moving, but there’s still a conversation to be had. You barely slept, your mind racing too quickly for you to feel rested, and you know Joel stayed on watch longer than he should have. You can see it in the bags under his eyes, the groan he lets out as he peels himself up off the floor.

Joel found two more chairs, in the night, and Tess sinks into one of them while you take the other, facing Ellie’s still sleeping figure. Joel stands behind you, Lee’s rifle in his hand. “Keep it pointed at her,” Tess says, and when his eyes shift to you, you just nod.

The lying comes almost too easily, pretending you’re not the same as the girl still asleep on the floor. Three weeks post-bite versus fourteen years. You wonder, if Tess knew the truth, if she’d pull a gun on you. You wonder how deep your betrayal would cut her.

You force the thought from your mind as the building creaks above you. The rain is gone, replaced with sunlight that streams through the hole in the ceiling, lighting up the middle of the salon, the grass and moss bright green in the sun.

A loud creak echoes through the building, and Ellie rouses, rolling onto her stomach and pushing herself up off the ground. You all watch silently as she wakes, patting at her pockets. She curses under her breath, and you see fresh panic on her face as she grabs her bag and wrenches it open, digging through it.

You pull the switchblade from your pocket. “Looking for this?”

She grimaces. “Morning. Can I have that back?” She gets to her feet, and Joel lifts the rifle. Guilt tugs at your stomach at the expression on her face. “Do I look like I’m infected?”

You open your mouth to reply, but Joel beats you to it. “Show us your arm.”

With a loud sigh, Ellie tugs up her sleeve. Her bite looks similar to yours, in the middle of her forearm. The same spindly lines stretch outward from the bite that’s long healed over. Yours is just the same has been for years.

“Yeah, it’s not getting any worse, is it?” she says flatly.

Tess shoots you a look, and you inhale deeply, one brow lifting, the words silently communicated. She’s got a point.

“If we’re out in the open city, why aren’t we getting swarmed?” Ellie asks.

“Don’t worry about that,” Joel shoots back, and the kid almost rolls her eyes.

“Well, I’m gonna.”

Joel leans forward like he’s gonna say something more, but you put your hand out, your knuckles hitting his chest. “What was Marlene doing with an infected kid?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“I’m not infected,” she says quickly, and the three of you just stare back. Your brow lifts again, and she keeps going. “She found me after I was bitten.”

“And she didn’t just shoot you, right then and there?”

“Clearly not.” The kid’s gaze drops, tugging at a blade of grass at her feet. “She locked me up and had her guys test me every day to see if I was getting sick.”

“Test you how?” Tess asks, leaning closer to you.

“I have to pee,” Ellie quips, and Tess goes rigid beside you.

“Test you how?” you repeat.

“They’d make me count to ten and hold out my hand and keep it steady, but you know, I think what really impressed them was the fact that I didn’t turn into a fucking monster.” You have to stifle your laugh as the kid gets to her feet. “Now can I please?”

Joel rises as Ellie does, lifting the gun slightly. Her eyes go wide again, full of fear, and you grab the back of Joel’s jacket. “Fine,” you jut your chin toward the back of the salon. “Through that door. Pick a corner.”

“Here,” Tess calls as she walks away, grabbing a magazine at her feet and flinging it towards Ellie, who catches it easily. “Tear out a few pages.”

She turns on her heel, heading for the door you’d pointed to. “There’s not gonna be anything bad in here?” she asks.

“Just you,” Joel retorts, and you smack his chest.

“Oh, funny.”

You sigh collectively as she disappears through the door. Joel sinks into the chair you’d been sitting in, and you hold out your hand for his. “Let me see,” you say, and he lets the rifle sit in his lap, putting his bandaged palm in yours. He winces as you tug at the bandage, and you purse your lips; clearly it’s more tender than it’d been last night. “Should have brought something for the pain.”

“Didn’t think I’d be in pain,” Joel says, lifting his eyes to yours. He still has that haunted look in them, the one you’d seen when he’d told you what last night had done to him, that he’d felt like he was back there with Sarah.

And then the way he’d held you, after the radio had gone off. This is what your lives have become, both of you cracked at the edges, the other just trying their best to keep you from shattering completely.

Over and over and over again.

You can feel Tess’s eyes on you, and when you’ve retied Joel’s bandage, your eyes slide to hers. “What?”

“What?” she repeats, shock on her face. “She made it through the fucking night, and that’s all you have to say?”

“Three weeks, Tess,” you say, flinging your hand in the direction Ellie had disappeared. “We might not like Marlene, but she’s not a fucking idiot. If the kid was going to turn, it would have happened already, and if it had, she’d be dead, and we’d already be in fucking Wyoming.”

“It could still happen,” Joel pipes in, and your gaze slides to his. His fingers twitch in your grip. This is for show. You hope. “We’re still close to the wall; we sneak her back in, we find another way to get the battery, then we go.”

“I won’t go back to the QZ,” Tess says, shaking her head. “Not now. I’m done with Boston. I can’t…” She keeps shaking her head. “I won’t. You two take her back, if that’s what you want, but I won’t—”

“What did Robin say to you?” you ask, leaning forward so you can catch her eyes. But she says nothing, and you heave a sigh. “We don’t have time. Besides, we take her back to the QZ, how long until someone notices her arm? They scan her, they kill her, and it’s just another fucking tally in FEDRA’s book.”

“We take her to the Fireflies, and what the fuck are they gonna do with her?” Tess counters.

“We take her to the Fireflies, and at least we get what we want.”

She goes silent again.

Ellie’s footsteps echo as she comes back into the main room, and Joel leans back in his chair, both hands around the rifle again. Ellie tosses the magazine back at Tess, and it skids across the floor, hitting her boots.

“We should eat something,” you say, reaching for your bag. You dig out some of the dried beef you’d collected yesterday, hand a piece to Joel as Tess takes her own out. “Ellie, are you hungry? You can share some of ours.”

“I’m good,” she replies, returning to her spot in the moss. “Marlene sent me with my own.”

Joel’s hand shakes as he tries to snap the beef into a smaller piece, and you take it from him, breaking it yourself and handing him half. His eyes flash to yours, and you squeeze his shoulder. You’re all silent for a moment, eating quietly, until something in the air makes your nose prickle.

“Is that…chicken?”

“Yeah,” Ellie says, swallowing a mouthful. “Marlene said they get it from smugglers. I guess not you guys.”

Slowly, you tilt your head to the side, tossing your piece of beef back onto the paper sitting atop your bag. “Why are you so important to Marlene, huh? That woman is stingy with her resources, but she’s pulled out all the stops for you.” You get to your feet, feeling Joel swipe at the back of your jacket as you step toward the kid. “And don’t lie to me, or we’ll take you back.”

“You take me back, and you don’t get what you want,” the kid says, a sly grin on her face.

You scoff. “Oh, you heard that? Then you must have heard the other part, too. We take you back to the QZ, and it’s only a matter of time before FEDRA gets their hands on you. And trust me, kid, they’re a hell of a lot meaner than we are.” You glance over your shoulder at Joel, his wrapped hand. “And that’s saying something. You wouldn’t last a day.”

Her throat bobs, and Joel calls your name, a warning.

You sink into a crouch in front of her, arms braced on your knees. “I’m gonna talk to you like you’re an adult, okay? The three of us? We aren’t good people, Ellie. We’re doing this for us, like you said, to get what we want. Apparently, you’re worth something, but we don’t know what you’re worth, other than the fact that you got bit three weeks ago, and like you said, you’re not a fucking monster. So answer my question: why are you so important to Marlene?”

She looks at you for a long moment before her eyes drop shut, and she covers her face with her hand. “She told me not to tell anyone,” she mumbles out, “and now I’m telling the first people that…”

You just stare at her, waiting.

Finally, with a sigh, she continues. “There’s a Firefly base camp somewhere out west, with doctors. They’re working on a cure.”

You hear the screech of the chair across the ground, and Joel gets to his feet. “Mhm, we’ve heard this before.”

Ellie shoots a glare in his direction. “And whatever happened to me is the—”

“—key to finding the vaccine,” Joel finishes, and you can hear the anger creeping up into his voice. “That’s what this is? We’ve heard this a million times. Vaccines, miracle cures, none of it works. Ever.”

“Fuck you, man,” Ellie spits, jumping to her feet. “I didn’t ask for this!”

“Yeah, you and me both!” he shouts back. “Running fuckin’ errands for Fireflies, some kind of goddamn joke.”

You know why he’s angry. It’s not the first time you’ve heard it, and if you’d stayed in Boston any longer, you know it wouldn’t have been the last. And every single time, Joel had bristled like a cornered animal. You saw the same look on his face that you had when he’d fought with Tommy, when his brother had mentioned giving you over to the Fireflies when he found out what you are.

About five years back, some doctor in New York claimed to have created a cure using the blood of the infected. It even got to the point where people volunteered to be a part of the trial, they had so much faith in the dumb fuck. The hospital he was working out of was overrun within two days. A few months later, another doctor in another QZ had some other hair-brained scheme, on and on it went.

Hell, maybe they’re spouting the same shit in Wyoming. Only time will tell.

“All the more reason not to take her back,” you say, turning to face Joel. “We finish this. We get what we came for, and we get the fuck out of this state.” You reach out for his good hand, rub your thumb across his knuckles. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he grunts, pulling away from you.

You gesture for Ellie to get her things, and as Joel picks up the rifle, her eyes cut to you. “Can I have a gun?”

“Pardon?” you sputter.

Joel cuts his hand through the air. “Absolutely not.”

Tess looks at you like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “Fuck no”

“Okay, Jesus, fine,” Ellie nearly whines, “I’ll have to throw a fucking sandwich at them.”

That actually makes you laugh, and Tess shoots you a look. “What? It’s a good visual.”

Huffing, Joel moves towards the door, sliding the cabinet out of the way of the door. As it swings open, more sunlight pours in, the sounds of birds chirping making it almost inviting to step out. Joel leans out the door, looking left and right. “It’s clear.”

Tess brushes past you as she heads out the door, Joel holding it open for her. You turn back to Ellie, who stands hesitantly in the middle of the room, concern clear on her face. “C’mon, kid,” you say to her, tilting your head towards the door. “The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

Without a word, she follows you out of the salon and onto the open street. As soon as you’re through the door, however, she lets out a quiet holy shit.

“Looks different in the daylight, huh?”

You can’t help but grin a little at the awe on her face as she takes in the half-toppled buildings, crumbled structures and piles of rubble, overturned cars and signs of destruction, but then, amid the signs of the city that had once stood, further proof that nature is taking back what once belonged to it. More moss and leaves and overgrown trees in every corner of every piece of concrete, flocks of birds flying from one building to the next. Sunlight glints off the few intact panes of glass left on a building in the distance, and it makes you squint.

Joel busies himself finding a high point, stepping up on a large piece of concrete to take a look around. He doesn’t look any more concerned than usual, but he glances at Ellie before looking to you. “We should get movin’.

You nod, falling back a step so you can move to his right side. “Let’s go.”

PREV | NEXT

#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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sirendeepity · 11 months ago

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[ SJM Romance Week, day 7: Free Day ]

A/N: I might be completely and unashamedly biased, but I love those kids to pieces. In my mind, there are one too many options on how the triplets have come into the world, but this is the one I hold dearest, so I tried to put it into words. Hopefully, I did it justice. A short summary would be a canon-compliant fic of sorts, set years into the future, where Nesta and Cassian had kept their pregnancy a secret from the world, but not anymore. Enjoy <3

@sjmromanceweek

T/W: occasional mention of past traumatic events;

W/C: 3.9k

It’s been four years since Cassian had last felt the “jumping off a cliff with tied wings would be less stressful” kind of nervous.

You want this, he reminded himself. And gods damned him, he did. He had all but howled when Nesta had given him the green light. He had written a letter—little more than a scrap of paper with a date, place, and time scribbled on it—, and counted down the days. Eleven. He had double-checked that everything was how it was supposed to be before stepping out of the house—still fifteen minutes earlier. Cassian didn’t want to take any risk. He simply leaned against a tree and waited, looking at the hollowed-out trunk they had used as a drop-off point for their letters during those past few years. A couple of years shy of a decade had passed since he’d last seen his family, so Cassian took those moments of quietness to let his memories flow. How the last war they’d fought had taken everything from his mate, leaving an empty shell of the fierce female she used to be; how he had kept his promise and took her far, far away, to a place no one knew about. A place where they could both rest and heal. Their friends had been distraught when Cassian had told them they would leave for an indefinite amount of time and asked them not to contact Nesta in any way—to give her space and, most importantly, time. And they had. Rhys and Feyre had rarely spoken to him using their daemati abilities, asking for updates, if they needed anything, when could they meet again. Even Azriel’s shadow had kept their distance. Kept their secret, too. A little more than two months and Nesta had held out a closed envelope to him. “For Feyre and Elain,” she said simply. So Cassian had found that very place in the middle of nowhere, tied a white ribbon around one of the lowest branches, and let a simple thought travel out into the ether: “I’ve got something for you.” That had been their first contact. But even as the letters became more frequent, Cassian could see how Nesta’s eyes shuttered every time he tried to bring up Velaris, or the House of Wind. So they all waited. Time flew by, and before Cassian could take a full breath, weeks turned into months turned into years, and now—

“Cass.”

Cassian blinked, turning to face the owner of the voice. Feyre stood a few steps from him, tears already filling her eyes. Rhys was at her side, and Mor, and Az. Everyone had come, right when he’d told them to. Not a minute before, and not a minute later. Words failed him, so Cassian just opened his arms wide, inviting his friends and family back into his life. Tears fell, and laughter soon filled the air around them as hugs and kisses were exchanged. Even Amren, for a fleeting moment, wrapped her slender arms around his middle, squeezing him tightly despite her furrowed brows. Cassian wasted no time, kissing Gwyn on both cheeks in congratulations, careful of her round belly, before setting off into the woods and beckoning them to follow. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“I told you Nesta would turn the wolves prowling this place,” Mor gestured at the mountains around them with a manicured hand, “and make puppies out of them.”

Feyre laughed. It must’ve been a recurring joke between them.

Cassian only grinned, “Something like that.”

A few minutes later they reached an opening, a meadow big enough for comfort, and a house came into view. His house, the one Cassian had built from the grounds up. It was two stories high, with a small patio on the front—mirror to the much larger one in the back— and a tall stone chimney. He had flattened out one side of the rooftop, making a little terrace of sorts—which Nesta had decorated with pillows and plants and candles—, and every door and window had been painted a bright red. It had taken them some time to turn that place into a home, but now there was something unequivocally theirs about it all. Cassian had come to cherish the peace of mind granted by its four walls, and it had turned into a safe space for him as much as it was for his mate. Instead of opening the doors to them, Cassian guided his friends to the back. A couple of stray trees dotted the space, with flowers ready to bloom. They hosted swings and knotted ropes. A sheet had been tied between two trunks and turned into a makeshift hammock.

Planks of wood were still piled up beside the furthest tree. Once upon a time, Cassian had promised he would pick up the project again, but he could hardly bring himself to look at it without bile rising up his throat. That broken tree-house was all he could see.

“Daddy’s back!”

A small figure wrapped in a yellow dress ran toward him, chubby arms already raised in the air. Cassian caught his daughter as she launched at him, swinging her in the air before bringing her close to his chest. Gasps echoed behind him.

“Look, look!” Nora exclaimed. Twin pigtail braids swayed this way and that, following the movements of her head. “Mommy put her ribbons in my braids! Now I’m a valykirie, too!”

Cassian laughed at his daughter’s words. “Valkyrie,” he corrected her, kissing her rosy cheek. “You look so pretty, Ladybug.”

Nora giggled, hiding her face in the crook of his neck and wrapping her arms around him.

“Cass,” Mor choked on a whisper. He winked at her, inclining his head as he moved deeper into the garden. A large blanket had been laid onto the grass, almost every inch of it covered with small plates and trays filled with hard cheese, cured meats, and veggies of all kinds. Nesta had even made fresh rosemary and olive bread that morning, filling the house with its aromatic scent. Thankfully, the Mother had blessed them with a sunny day—a rarity in Illyria, especially during that time of the year, when spring and summer met in uncertain weather. Sometimes it was so warm they had to strip off layers of clothing, others the sky was raining down on them, or the wind sneaked into their home and tried to steal anything light enough to be carried away. That day was perfect, with white clouds sheltering them from the harshness of the sun and a light breeze to keep them cool. The trees helped, too. It was there, under the shadows of rustling leaves, that his mate was. She was seated on a plush pillow, one of the many they had thrown around, with a baby curled over her chest. Two, actually. Maya left a kiss on her brother’s cheek, patting his soft curls as he wiped at his eyes. His wings were relaxed, low on the ground, and Nesta was rubbing his back in wide circles. Nora’s excitement must have woken him from his nap. Athos tended to be grumpy when someone disturbed his dreams. With one last kiss, Maya parted from her brother and ran to Cassian.

She stopped at his side, barely reaching his knees, and Cassian bent down to place a hand on top of her dark hair, braided in a crown—so I can look like Mom, she had said that morning. But it was not at him she was looking at. Her gaze was fixed behind him, where Emerie stood. As Nesta rose, Athos still in her arms, and walked closer, Cassian watched his daughter study the female, waiting. Everyone held their breath.

“Are you Em…” Maya’s blue-gray eyes, Nesta’s eyes, turned to him, and Cassian nodded in encouragement, “..Erie?”

Emerie sniffed once before clearing her throat. “That’s me.”

Maya gasped, joy lighting up her soft features. She pivoted, pink skirts and all, and spread her little black wings. The right one stretched open, while the left couldn’t go past half its length. A brutal scar ran down its inner side, covering leather and skin alike. Cassian’s throat closed at the memory of his daughter, his Butterfly, falling from the tree house. The one he’d built for them. The one he should’ve built better, making sure everything was safe before letting three toddlers get in it.

One of the floor planks had given out when Maya had jumped on it, the wood breaking beneath her tiny feet, and in her fall the exposed shards had dug into her back. Had cut through tendon and bone alike. They had managed to save her spine—fuck, they had managed to save her life—but there was nothing they could do for the little wing. It had been devastating. For weeks, Cassian had barely been able to eat, to sleep, to look his kids in the face. He’d been ridden by guilt and shame. He still was, the darkness lurking toward him, hitting him in waves, and more than a year had passed since that awful day. A warm hand grabbed his, holding gently, and Cassian turned toward his mate, exchanging glances. She knew, he knew, neither of them would let the shadows take control of their thoughts, their emotions, again.

“Mama said I’m like you!” Cassian could’ve sworn pride laced his daughter’s words. Nesta had told her, told all of them, countless stories about Emerie, and Gwyn, and even Feyre and Elain. About those females who had not allowed the blows life had dealt them to break their spirit, to bend their will.

“Did she now? Well,” Emerie said, voice thick with emotions as she bent down and stretched her open palm toward Maya, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, then.”

“I’m Maya,” she said, grabbing Emerie’s fingers with both hands. “And she is Nora.” On cue, Nora started wiggling in his arms, so Cassian placed her feet back on the ground and wrapped his newly free arm around Nesta’s waist. “And that is Puppy.”

“He is Athos!” Maya scolded her sister, both of them bursting into a fit of snorts and giggles. Athos blinked once, twice, golden-brown curls falling into the hazel eyes they shared. With skin one or two shades paler than his sisters’, he was the one resembling Nesta the most—save for the pair of leathery wings on his back, now tucked in tight as he turned his head the other way and hid in the safety of his mother’s arms. He had her same quiet nature, too, but that didn’t stop his sisters from luring him into trouble at any given chance. Nora, on the other hand, was Cassian’s carbon copy. Not just in looks, but in spirit too. She laughed as hard as she cried, living her emotions to the fullest. Much like the day they were born, she was always at the lead, always the first to act, to make way for her twins. Believe it or not, she was not the mind behind their shenanigans. Maya was. Their eyes were the only feature that set them apart. One from forests and mountains, the other from skies and seas. Maya was a little devil in disguise, already too clever for her own good.

“Oh, my,” Elain breathed, cheeks stained with tears. “Are they-”

“Triplets,” confirmed Nesta. The waterworks began again.

“When?”

“How?”

“Girls, finally!”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Congratulations, brother.”

Cassian raised his hands, exposing his palms in surrender, and said, “We’ll tell you everything, but we should eat first, or only the ants will enjoy my bread.”

Cassian took Athos from Nesta’s arms so she could greet her sisters properly, and edged Nora and Maya toward their embroidered pillows, the others following suit.

As he caught Azriel’s eyes, his brother left his mate’s side and inched closer.

“Hey, Puppy,” Cassian murmured into his son’s ear, guiding his attention toward Az. “Do you see this guy?” A nod. “If you don’t like the noise, or if there are too many people, or you just don’t feel very good and your mother and I are not around, you go to him, okay?”

Azriel inhaled slowly, his shadows swirling with the movement. A black curl reached out tentatively, and Athos studied it. His warm eyes rose to Azriel’s then, who patiently waited for the boy to make the first move. “Do they hurt?” He asked, one little finger reaching back.

“No.” To prove his point, he let the black tendril wrap around Athos’ finger. “They’re very curious, though. They like puppies, I’ve been told..”

Athos’s gasp turned into a quiet giggle. “They tickle.”

Soon they were all seated, letting fresh food and berry juice pass from hand to hand, talking about everything and nothing at all. From the projects Nyx wanted to explore to modernize Velaris—the male, now more than 50 years old, had a mind so brilliant it turned Dawn’s thinkers green with envy—, to the journey across the continent Lucien had promised Elain as a gift for their latest anniversary—only a couple of arrangements left to make before their departure—to the obvious new double-addition to their ranks, Azriel and Gwyn’s twins. There was so much to tell, so much to catch up on.

Cassian looked at his brother and found him smiling tenderly at the boy, love and gratitude filling his eyes.

“But let’s focus on the real stars of this day,” Mor said, face still splotchy from all the crying. Her brown eyes jumped from one little face to another, as if she wanted to imprint their soft features into her brain as quickly as she could.

“When is your birthday?” Rhys asked, taking a sip from his glass. “We have missed five of them. We must fix it.”

Maya didn’t even finish chewing her food before replying. “Four.” To prove her point, she raised three jam-sticky fingers in the air. Rhys chuckled, bending his head. “My apologies.”

“At the crack of dawn on the 23rd of September,” three curly heads turned one after another, entranced by their mother’s voice. “After ten hours of labor,” Nesta added pointedly, twisting Maya’s dark strands around her finger, “Came Nora, then Maya, and then Athos.”

Nesta exhaled heavily, Cassian replicating the gesture. “Our brave boy.”

At his words, the groups shared a sort of understanding.

There was this belief, among Illyrians, that every time a baby was born, they were faced with two options—two mothers. If they got too scared by the world surrounding them, so dark and cruel and full of terrors, the Mother would cradle them in her arms and take them someplace else, where no harm would ever find them. Nesta, Cassian knew, was still plagued with nightmares of her pained, desperate screams filling the silence left by their son. He’d come out of the womb with the birth cord wrapped around his neck. Despite the midwife’s lightning speed in freeing his airways, it hadn’t been enough. But then, just as the sun peeked from behind the mountain tops, time had seemed to slow as a small, frail, tentative wailing filled the room.

“Really?” Gwyn exclaimed with too much enthusiasm. She placed a hand on her bump, forcing her lips to curve in a smile despite the tears brimming her teal eyes. “They’re supposed to be due at the beginning of August. Close enough.”

“Sissy’s birthday is in August, too!”

“No, Nora,” Cassian laughed, grateful for the distraction. He placed a cheese stick in her hand. She chewed on it without hesitation. “Her birthday is in June.”

“Who is Sissy?” Lucien asked. “Are we missing someone?” He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe there were more.

“Trixie—Beatrix,” Nesta amended, “is our oldest.” By the look on their faces, Cassian knew they were all doing the math.

“Don’t worry,” he grinned, “She will be here, soon.”

“She already is.”

All eyes turned toward the house, to the proud female stepping out the backdoor.

Joyous screams rose from the kids, their smiles lighting up like fireflies as they stood and ran to their sister.

Trixie crouched, arms open, bracing for the collision. She kissed their cheeks, their little noses, their soft curls. Cassian’s heart swelled in his chest at the sight.

“Such cute overalls, Puppy,” she said, taking his hand and guiding him into a spin.

His son smiled from ear to ear. “You gave it to me!”

“I did, didn’t I?” She gestured for the kids to sit down again with one hand, the other holding the ribbons tied around a box. Trixie bent to leave a soft kiss against Nesta’s temple, placing the box on the grass at her side before rising again and making her way to him. She knelt behind him, and Cassian moved his wings to make space for her body as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him, moving to sit at his side. Nyx, to her right, looked anywhere but at her, the tips of his pointed ears turning a deep shade of red. Cassian was tempted to call him out, but knew his “over-protectiveness” would only piss off Trixie.

“Everyone, this is Trixie,” Cassian said, grinning like a cat. “Trixie-”

“Everyone,” she cleared her throat, bobbing her head once in acknowledgment.

Maya made her way onto Trixie’s lap, passing food to her older sister, and they flowed back into easy conversation.

From the opposite side of the blanket, Amren nodded in Trixie’s direction, “How did you find that one?”

“She found us,” was Nesta’s reply. She opened the box containing the Illyrian’s typical pastries Cassian had asked Trixie to buy, and found a little corner to place them among the rest of the food. “She had made the house her own. I found her sleeping in our bed when we came here.”

Cassian, Mother damned him, had come dangerously close to losing it when he had realized they were not alone in the house. The dagger was in his hand within moments, ready to take down any threat, when Nesta had climbed down the stairs on nimble feet and told him, in that no-nonsense way of hers, that there was a little girl asleep in the main bedroom, and he should cook dinner for three that evening. Cassian had kissed her senseless, and just like that they had found themselves with a daughter. Well, Cassian wished it had been that easy. Trixie, who had seen and lived through more than any fourteen-year-old should, had waged war on them for months, trying her very best to push them over the edge. But Nesta was relentless, and so was he. Nothing she could’ve said or done would have made them turn their backs on her. So she stayed, and soon enough Beatrix became Trixie became Sissy. A blessing, that’s what she’d been. She had healed some intrinsic part of Nesta that not even Cassian had been able to reach. He would forever be indebted to her for that reason only. Her wings had not been clipped, so he’d been able to teach her how to fly, and fight, and dream again. His daughter in all the ways that mattered, and then some.

“The house was big enough for all of us,” Nesta glanced pointedly at her, adding, “It still is.”

Trixie stared right back at her, one of those wordless conversations happening between the two females. Cassian was used to it.

“That’s amazing,” Elain smiled brighter than the sun. “I am so, so happy for you guys.”

“Please,” Gwyn whined, “Don’t cry or I’ll cry, too.” The two laughed, tears slipping free anyway.

“I can see why you kept contacts to a minimum,” Lucien passed a napkin to Elain, gently pulling locks of hair away from her face as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. “I would’ve kept this little corner of heaven a secret from the world, too.”

Cassian glanced at Nesta and found that she was already looking at him. Now, her eyes seemed to say. A tug on the bond confirmed that.

“Speaking of which,” Cassian exhaled. Should he break the news gently? Or should he go straight for it, and adapt to the consequences?

Nesta, it seemed, had already made that choice for both of them. “We’re coming back to Velaris.”

Feyre could barely contain her enthusiasm. “Really?”

“Really,” Cassian echoed. “It will be good for the kids. They should make friends and play with other kids their age and drive us crazy. Am I right?”

Maya looked up at him, a mischievous gleam in her bright eyes. Nora, closest to Nesta, was already giggling.

“Mother spares us all,” Rhys murmured. They had their hands full, and they had never left this mountain. Cassian already felt weak in the knees at the idea of unleashing the triples on Velaris. But, fuck, how he wanted to take them on walks along the Sidra, or see the House turn into an even bigger mother-hen for Nesta’s kids, or teach them how to fly on one of its many balconies. And Starfall! They would love Starfall, he was sure of it. And the week-long celebrations for Solstice, with presents and hot cocoa and-

“Oh, no,” Trixie’s voice called him back to the moment. She was facing Nyx, answering a question he must’ve asked her while he was lost in his thoughts. “I’m going to stay here.”

Nora gasped, and Nesta was instantly there to calm their daughter down before she started what they had taken to call “the domino cry”.

“It’s okay,” Trixie said while rubbing Maya’s arms. The pout on her face was not a good sign. The trembling chin was even worse. Cassian gazed down at Athos, looking for any hint of distress. Trixie went on, “We’ll see each other every week, I promise.”

“But why can’t you come with us?” Nora sniffed. “It’s unafaire.”

“Unfair,” Nesta murmured to her, “And she can’t come with us because there are other kids who need her here.”

“Other kids?” Athos scrunched his little nose.

He nodded. “You three have each other, but other kids might not be so lucky. Trixie was among them, a long time ago.”

“But Sissy is our Sissy.”

“I am, yes,” Trixie said, “But maybe I can be that for all the other children who need a Sissy as well, don’t you think?”

Nora blinked at her a couple of times, mulling over the words. “Will they become Ladybug, Butterfly, and Puppy, too?”

Behind her, Nesta shrugged. “Why not.”

Cassian’s heart made a backflip inside his chest. He met his mate’s serene gaze, the most delicate pink staining her cheeks. They would end up with a legion of kids if Nesta had her way. Cassian couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t.

Cassian mirrored her smile with one of his own. “We should start thinking about names, then.”

“You guys are out of your minds,” Amren commented, but the concern in her voice didn’t match the grin stretching her red-painted lips.

Athos started laughing, the giggles turning into full belly laughs as his sisters joined him. And as the wind made lullabies of rustling leaves, and the smiles of his family outshone the sun itself, Cassian knew with absolute certainty the one reason he was still there, alive and content. Or maybe it was three.

#dee writes #good things come in three #sjmromanceweek2024 #nessian fanfiction #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar

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vinff7 · 10 months ago

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This update got me looking at and editing some of my Head canons, so posting those here. HC for how Gortash started worshiping Bane. And other ‘young Gortash’ HC

The game gives us very little hints about how and when Gortash started worshiping Bane. (Except for that one draft of a biography that seemed to place it in his adulthood, but doesn’t mention Hell? I think that might have just been when his Bane worship got more pronounced and noticed by that author not when it really started)

So I’ve made my own headcanon as I’ve seen multiple different versions around.

For me I think he started worshiping Bane in the House of Hope. Not right off the bat. I HC that Gortash likely was enslaved down there around the age of 10. Obviously a very difficult transition for a child to start living in Hell. But I think he eventually got to a point where he was aloud to wander somewhat and read in the library to educate himself. But was also taught by the Walock that brought him there to start (In-between him getting tortured and abused because I love whump to much to not imagine that there were horendious things done to him)

During this time around age 11 I like to think that he caught the attention of an awful demon/devil that would take torturing him really far, citing how amusing it was to get Enver to cry.

I also like to HC that young Enver had really bad anxiety and fear around crying. Like when he was in baulders gate his parents would get furious and yell at him to shut up. So if he noticed he was getting close to crying he would panic, which would pretty much ensure he would cry. And it would be a fun awful spiral of self hate thoughts at himself to be quiet and stop crying making his crying worse.

Anyway, awful torture keeps happening to the kid in between him needing to work and learn. And then Enver’s warlock teacher misses his lesson, and the next one. So Enver is hiding out trying to avoid the houses inhabitants when he finally spots his Walrock teacher and approaches them. Tries to figure out when his next lesson would be. Only to get dismissed with a wave. His mentor tells him The devil that had taken an interest in him has a habit of killing and breaking prisoners and he out ranks the Warlock, so the Warlock is giving up teaching Enver since trying to argue that he should be left alone would be more trouble then it’s worth.

Outright tells an 11 year old “Yeah, maybe not today, but I bet by the time 6 months has passed he’ll have tortured you to death. So there’s not really a point in teaching you anything anymore. No matter what you or I do you’ll end up the like mindless tormented souls soon.“ seeing how terrified Enver looked he says “Best you can do is try convince a god to fish your soul out of here after that devil gets bored or reckless enough to torture you to death.”

Which uh, def fucks with Enver’s head. So he does start deep diving into the Gods and trying to figure out if he can find any he aligns with enough that they would take him. And during this search he finds books about Bane and I fee like Bane’s philosophies is something he would immediatly relate and cling too.

Bane started as a slave and became a God. Bane teaches that the world is truely an Evil place by default, and pretending it isn’t is a lie. Someone who has only seen the worst the worlds have to offer must feel so validated reading that. To me Bane teaches so much about Self Disciple and self Control that some of his books written by worshipers must go into methods of self control. I can see young Enver finding a book of Worship with mantras to repeat when feeling weak or when needing to focus and clinging to those like a life raft.

Repeating phrases like mantras over and over in real life can have mind altering properties. Add a religious one to a word with magic and maybe there is an added Boost that actually works for getting in the zone via worship.

I don’t think Bane answered or noticed Enver at first, at all. I don’t think this discouraged Enver at all, the mantras helped and he figured he needed to do more to earn his gods favor so he worked at it. The focus on his self control helped. He could endure toruture quietly more and some of his tormentors lost interest in the now more stoic boy. Learning to master himself became a thing he could control to keep himself sane in Hell through the torment.

Obviously things didn’t ever get kind in Hell. But I also imagine after a few years of contactless worship Bane does notice Enver since getting prayer pings from Hell is not the most common. I doubt he would often interveen. Enduring torture is good training for a Banite.

I do think the first time they speak is an intervension though. Gods are able to see the future when it comes to things under their portfolio and so I imagine he could see that Enver has a LOT of potential. But he notices that the potential vanishes if all is left with nothing changing which gets him to interveen.

In my head the violent devil that started all of this does decide he want’s to break Enver during a point where Raphael might have been out of the house. Bane notices looking into the future that the torture they have planned for Enver would shatter him, and while Bane approved of discipline, he knows the difference between being weak and being put through so much agony that it’s unreasonable to expect discipline to cary someone through.

So I imagine Enver getting dragged from his cell, trying to fight down panic and start praying as a devil taunts him about his up coming torutre then, vision starts getting very dark and far away as Bane reaches in and just puuuulls his soul away. Bane is able to posses his followers so in my mind he does that for Gortash and pulls him away for a private chat.

I imagine being possesed by Bane is a bit like The Sunken Place from Get out. There is a viewing window you can look out to see what you body is doing, and otherwise Bane sponsored darkness. I feel like they had a short chat, nothing huge for Bane but life altering for a kid, someone actually caring for him enough to help. I feel like Bane would make an agreement with Enver that he will make sure Enver will never have to go through anything so bad that he would not be able to overcome it, which is a huge boost of self confidence for Enver. Now anytime he’s getting tortured in the future he has the promise of ‘My God knows this won’t break me’ going off in the back of his mind.

Bane also tells Enver that he won’t step in to free Enver, Enver needs to free himself, but he will grant him power if needed so that Enver can rise up as long as Enver loyaly serves him.

And so that is how they meet and Enver becomes even more loyally tied to Bane in my HC! I also have a couple ideas I’ll toss here at the end about him escaping since I’m already rambling.

I like to think that once he was older Enver was able to escape by using the Helldusk boots since he has those in game. My though was somehow the boots magic was used almost like a magic key? So he stole those, wards noticed the boots and figured whoever had them must be aloud to be there else why would they have them, so they helped him get past some magic locks and escape.

I did see in a fic about Enver leaping through those portals that could cause insanity and just giving a ‘hey help me out’ prayer to Bane to help him survive which worked and I always liked that idea.

Last Gortash ~ Bane idea that I like is that once Gortash escaped from the House of Hope Bane gave him his approval and told him like “You’re a Watchful Brother in Bane’s church, now you’ll never be called a Slave again.” And got to skip that ‘rank’ in normal Baneite hierarchy.

#gortash #enver gortash #bg3 #bg3 gortash #headcanon #d&d bane #house of hope #rambles

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zombubble · 8 months ago

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In Memory; In Truth chapter FOUR, wherein we expand our scope just a bit:

Nie Huaisang chuckles, now. His relationship with Wei-zhenjun is decidedly different. Where Mo Xuanyu has chosen to put his faith in the god and treats him accordingly, Nie-zongzhu still treats him like an old friend. They’re casual with each other. Familiar. Nie-zongzhu finds it amusing that Wei-zhenjun ascended, but not in a malicious way. He does not worship Wei Wuxian, but has been kind enough to make offerings regardless. A favor to a friend, he says they are, and a way for him to repay Wei-zhenjun with offerings and merits, if only a little. Yawning, Mo Xuanyu looks at Nie Huaisang. “It’s so early. They’re really supposed to be here, soon?” “Lan-er-gongzi wakes at sunrise,” Nie Huaisang says. “Wei-xiong doesn’t have to sleep. We need to eat breakfast same as them. They might as well get here early.” “You want an update as soon as possible, too,” Mo Xuanyu points out. Nie Huaisang looks at him, his smile shifting into something a bit more shrewd. The thing about Nie Huaisang is that he’s foppish and whiny, incompetent and absolutely unsuited to his position. The real thing about Nie Huaisang is that’s exactly what he wants you to think, and all of that covers a calculating mind and a frankly terrifying sense of determination and a willingness to justify the means with the end, regardless of what they are. Interestingly, he’s a lot like Wei-zhenjun in some ways.

New players on the scene!!! Yes, in this AU Mo Xuanyu lives! I've been having so much fun writing him. The Mo Xuanyu I created in my brain (because we have so little of him in canon) is fun and kind and determined and willing to fuck someone up in unsavory ways if that's what it takes.

There's some stuff I haven't written yet with him that I'm really looking forward to..... once I get through the scene I've been chewing on for the last few days. Progress is being made, though, and I'm almost at the end of draft number one.

Thanks to @thewalrus-said for helping me choose which bit of this chapter to post, though admittedly I did know this would likely be the final outcome once I sent it.

Thanks to all of you for reading, and I will HOPEFULLY have this weekend free of Moving Bullshit, but we'll see!

#c'est ma vie #wip wednesday #fic: imit #ascension au #nie huaisang #mo xuanyu #uwu is there side sangyu?#maybe #my fic

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babymetaldoll · 2 years ago

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Baby, I'm yours - Chapter three: "To die by your side"

Summary: The team is doing its best to find Emily. Spencer is struggling with the fear of losing his friend and the thought of not being enough to keep his girlfriend safe.

Word count: 11,5K

Warnings: Lots of angst, Criminal Mind classic and painful canon, smut, mention of drug addiction and drug use.

'A/N: Hey guys!! Thank you for reading! And sorry for the angst! Tumblr didn't show last week's chapter in the tags 😔 I don't know why. Remember feedback is more than welcome if you are enjoying this story: Like, reblog and comment if you can.

Next update: February 1st

Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel Masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

(Y/N)’s point of view

I was having an awful flashback. I was again outside Tobias Hankel’s house and Morgan was telling me Spencer was nowhere to be seen. It was the same feeling of fear and panic that didn’t let me think straight all those years ago, and that ended up making me yell at JJ.

The fear of losing someone you love can be the fuel you need to bring them back or a paralyzing energy that restrains each and every one of your thoughts and movements. At that minute, it was the second.

I walked to Penelope’s office to tell her we were ready to take off to Boston and didn’t even knock on the door. She was talking on the phone with someone, and soon I realized she was leaving voicemails in every phone number that had ever belonged to Prentiss.

- “Hey, it's me. Hotch asked me to try all your numbers, and I have this as an old listing, and you probably don't even use it anymore, but if it is you and you're out there, come home, please. God, Emily, what did you think, that we would just let you walk out of our lives? I am so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, how you're in some dark place all alone. But you're not alone, ok? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. If you can't, then..”- I rested my head on her shoulder as I heard her sobbing- “Then you stay alive. 'Cause, we're coming!”

- “We love you, Emily! We are your family”- I added and broke into tears as well. Garcia hugged me and we cried for a few minutes. I needed to let it all out before I put on my BAU profiler mask and hid every feeling I had.

- “We are gonna bring her home, and we are gonna get so wasted!”- I whispered and chuckled between sobs

- “Oh, we are gonna get so drunk after this!”- Garcia agreed and wiped off her tears- “Let’s save our friend, munchkin.”

We were on a plane to Boston. Emily had been captured by Doyle, Garcia had shown us the footage and for a second, we all thought the worst. Also, the police had detained Clyde Easter in that city and we needed to talk to him as soon as possible. He had to give us some more info about Doyle and his relationship with Prentiss. Anything that could help us find them.

- “Emily walked into a trap. It looks like Doyle got into the SUV, but from this angle, you can see that he didn't. Which I wished Boston PD would have told me before I started watching it. Sorry again for the screaming.”

Penelope showed us again the footage of the incident, and we analyzed it frame by frame.

- “She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She's lucky the 3 people inside didn't die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”- Morgan was clearly upset, he had been angry for the last 10 hours, after Prentiss’ disappearance. I had been upset when we discovered she had slept with Doyle, but at that point, I just wanted to bring my friend safe. I didn’t care what she had done.

- “Well, three bad guys.”- Rossi gave him a sarcastic remark and shook his head.

- “Illegal as it is, I think Prentiss knows she has to be as ruthless as Doyle.”- Hotch pointed out and I nodded in support as I sipped my tea.

- “He's come to the US to wage a public vendetta and hired a group of mercenaries to remain loyal to him. He has nothing to lose, so she has to act the same way.”- Reid added with a voice that showed how deeply concerned he was. I wanted to hold his hands the entire time to show him I was there with him, but I knew I couldn’t at the time.

- “So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?”- Rossi asked and JJ answered.

- “ Well, the mole must have told him, right? The same guy who's been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents?”

- “And our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash. How do we get Easter to talk? He won't cooperate willingly.”- Seaver questioned and I knew Hoth was going to handle the asshole himself.

- “I'll handle that. The rest of you focus on Doyle's location.”

- “I hate to be the one to ask this, but how long does Emily have?”- Garcia’s question was in fact the same we all shared, but no one had spoken about it in fear of the truth. Hotch’s voice was soft and kind as he explained the situation in the most positive way possible.

- “Her best chance is also the most troubling. Doyle saved her for last because he views her as his stressor. Which means he'll take his time.”

We all looked down and stayed in silence for most of what was left of the trip.

The Boston police station felt like a prison. I wanted to get out of there and find Emily. I knew walking around with no clue and no idea of what was happening would be useless, but waiting felt like torture. I just hoped Em wasn’t going through torture herself.

- “Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I'm the man!”- Hotch and I turned to see the man walking in cuffs to the station.

- “Who's that?”- I asked Rossi, who joined us with more info

- “Jack Fahey, Irish mob. He called Easter's cell phone 12 times in 6 hours.”

- “Any connection to Doyle?”- Hotch looked at Rossi as he waited for an affirmative answer.

- “Boston PD says he's low-level. But the Irish mob has long-standing ties to the IRA”- Rossi explained.

- “You two and Reid, see if you can get anything out of him.”- Hotch said and the three of us nodded before we started walking away.

I had questioned witnesses and suspects many times with Reid before. But never as a couple. I had wondered how that would be, but under those circumstances, I didn’t have much patience to play any kind of game.

- “Why were you calling Clyde Easter so much, Jack?”- Rossi asked right away, as we stood in front of Fahey, but he decided to ignore him.

- “Anybody got a smoke? How about you sweetheart?”- I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms on my chest, not saying a word back to him- “How about you, beanpole?”

- “What do you think?”- I asked my boyfriend as he made eye contact with Fahey and whispered his answer, making sure the suspect could hear us.

- “Narcissism masking deep-seated insecurity.”- Rossi and I nodded at his description.

- “So if we puncture his self-image, this hood rat will talk.”- David added, just to toy with him.

- “Hey, hey, hey, I ain't no hood rat. You take that back.”- Fahey freaked out immediately, as predicted.

- “Well, you look like one. You smell like one. You smell that?”- Rossi walked to Fahey as he spoke, and Spencer and I sniffed and answered at the same time.

- “Hood rat.”

- “I am not! Take it back!”- Fahey looked funny when he was mad, I give him that.

- “Hey, Jack. Do you know what a hood rat is?”- I walked over and stared at the suspect right in the eyes. He couldn't even answer my question, so I looked at Spencer and shook my head- “You see what I mean? He's just gonna have to learn the hard way.”

- “All right, all right, look, Clyde was gonna pay my medical bills, all right? This ear, it ain't growing back.”

- “What happened to it?”- Reid crossed his arms on his chest and looked at him with a severe glance.

- “This bitch teammate of his shot it. Said it was a warning. Thought she could take on this IRA big shit named Doyle. So I told these...!”- but the poor bastard couldn’t keep talking ‘cos Rosi kinda lost it. He squeezed his shot ear, making him cry and twist in pain on his chair. Blood came from the wound through the patch and soaked Rossi’s hand.

- “What the hell, man?! Jeez!”

- “Where's Prentiss?”- I shouted and hit the table, trying to get his attention.

- “Who? I don't know!”

- “Lauren Reynolds. Where is Lauren Reynolds?”- Spencer asked with the same urgency and somehow Fahey chuckled through the pain.

- “Oh. Friend of yours, is she?”- suddenly I realized we had lost our upper hand with him. And all just because of our feelings for Prentiss.

- “You tell us where she is right now, or I swear, I'll send you to a prison where they'll teach you what a hood rat is.”- Rossi threatened him, but it was too late, the bastard just chuckled.

- “And by the time you do, she'll be in pieces. So, uh... my price just went up.”

If he hadn’t been our only lead, I would have killed him right there and no one would have missed him. But we needed whichever piece of information the bastard could give us.

- “200,000?”- Seaver asked underneath, pretty shocked as we all stood at a side of the station. Fahey was sitting a few feet from us, waiting for our resolution.

- “What other leverage do we have?”- Hotch asked.

- “I just wanna beat the shit out of him until he speaks”- I confessed and sighed- “But I know it won’t take us very far, and there is not enough time.”

- “Is he an addict?”- Seaver asked, taking a second look at him.

- “He's having a nicotine fit. We wouldn't let him smoke.”- I explained and even cut her an evil grin.

- “We could use that. He’d relax, open his big mouth.”- Seaver suggested, and surprisingly it wasn’t a bad idea.

- “Is that enough?”- Hotch questioned and she cut him her sweetest smile.

- “Well, I'm pretty good with narcissists.”

- “Please don’t tell me, your dad was a serial killer and you know everything about narcissists”- the words slipped my lips, I couldn’t help it and I knew Hotch was gonna make me pay for it.

- “Well, I also dated a few.”- she answered and I sighed. We were going to go through Seaver’s plan. God help me.

For security reasons, we took Fahey to the rooftop. Hotch thought having two girls would help him feel more relaxed and so it was just me and Seaver with him. Well, if you ignore all the officials waiting for us at the door, including Spencer who insisted on keeping a close eye on what was happening.

- “You know when a cigarette is best? After sex with me.”- that bastard joked as he took a long drag of his cigarette, winking at Ashley.

- “Mind your manners, asshole.”- I commanded and kept my serious look on him. Clearly, I was the bad cop in that situation- “You're already extorting us for Prentiss’ location.”

- “So, just out of curiosity, what's it like working for Doyle?”- Seaver asked with a sweet tone of voice.

- “Eh, he's not so tough.”

- “Wow. I bet you're his hookup, aren't you? I mean, after all, you're the man.”

- “I could show you how much of a man I really am.”- I clenched my knuckles and took a step closer to Fahey, ready to smack those dirty answers out of him. But he raised his arms and took a step back.

- “All right, all right, all right, jeez. What's with the sexy good /sexy bad cop routine? What do you two think…”- a shot came from a window nearby, all of a sudden.

- “Down!”- I quickly wrapped my arms around Seaver and the two of us kneeled down as we heard a second gunshot and our only lead dropped dead right in front of us. Seaver started shaking, Fahey’s blood damping her white sweater. I kept my arms around her for a few more seconds, trying to comfort her as the police force surrounded us, working to find the killer.

- “Are you ok?”- I whispered and she just nodded.

- “(Y/N)!! (Y/N)!!”- Spencer showed up running and cupped my face in his hands- “Are you ok? are you hurt?”- I just shook my head and looked into his teary eyes, feeling like the most loved human on earth.

- “I’m ok, it’s ok honey. They got Fahey, we are ok. Right, Ashley?”- I rubbed my hand on her back and she nodded.

- “Yeah, but now we are back to square one”- she whispered, still shaky.

- “Come on”- Spencer helped us stand up and quickly walked us in.- “It’s not safe out here.”

After Spencer made sure I was safe, his fear of losing me (or any other member of the team under those circumstances) hitting hard for a moment, I grabbed a clean shirt from my go bag and walked to find Seaver. The poor kid was trying to wipe off the blood from her sweater with a napkin. It was sad. I knew without Prentiss, she didn’t have anyone close inside the team but Rossi. And I also knew it wouldn’t kill me to be nice to her for once.

- “That's not going to come out.”- I announced as I walked toward her.

- “Yeah, I know.”- I gave her my shirt and she looked at it in shock for a moment. Yeah, apparently it was that hard to believe that I could be nice and human with her- “Thanks.”

- “It’s ok. Actually, I needed to talk to you”

- “About…”- I don’t know what she wanted to say ‘cos I started talking before she could finish her idea.

- “Ashley, we have a problem. Without Fahey, there's not much left. We all want to save Prentiss so badly that we can't see this case straight.”

- “Ok. What do we do?”

- “Something that terrifies me: we depend on the team member with the freshest eyes.”- Seaver looked at me in shock and shook her head, honestly scared to carry such a burden on herself.

- “Oh, no. Not me, no.”

- “Believe me, this hurts me too. But the truth is you haven't worked with Prentiss for five years. You're unprejudiced.”- I sat next to her and maintained eye contact the entire time. I didn’t mean to make her nervous, I just needed her to focus.

- “Now, what's been bugging you since we left Quantico? How about the affair? That bugs me, you saw me, I yelled when I found out what had happened. Now tell me, how does the two of them sleeping together change Doyle's profile?”

- “I don't know.”- she mumbled, frustrated

- “Come on, Ashley. It's textbook!!”- I raised my voice ‘cos though I was trying to be nice at her, I was also aware we were running out of time to find Prentiss safe.

- “I haven't read every textbook! You always complain about that!!”- Ashley yelled back at me, so I moved closer to her and ket pushing her.

- “You want me to hold your hand? Fine! See? I'm holding your hand and giving you all my moral support. Now tell me, honestly: What doesn't fit? Just say it! What are you thinking? Spit it out!”

- “Why families?!”- she finally shouted and I nodded, excited pushing her had actually worked.

- “Keep going.”

- “Prentiss is Doyle's stressor. He wants revenge on the woman who betrayed him, and I understand that. But why kill that child in D. C.?”

- “Finally! You just gave me a reason to love the fact you are on the team.”- I hugged her and she widened her eyes- “Now throw away that awful sweater, put on the clean shirt and never wear white to work again, got it?”

Spencer’s point of view

There were too many stressors. Way too many for me to handle properly under that amount of stress. First, Prentiss runs away from us, hiding information from the team. Then, knowing how far she had gone with Doyle, faking a relationship with him and even sleeping with him. I’m not a prude, but even I know that can mess things up in the field. Now how did that change Doyle’s profile and how was he going to act with Emily? We had nothing.

And the fact a sniper had shot Fahey on the police station’s roof and might have killed (Y/N) instead was eating me alive. Of course, I always knew there was a risk in doing what we do for a living. And yes (Y/N) had been shot before (by far, the worst day of my life). But that day, on that rooftop, it affected me on a completely different level. I wanted to protect her no matter what, and I hated feeling I couldn’t do it properly.

I don’t think it had actually hit me until that day, but I wanted to marry her. I wanted to have babies with her. And soon. We had waited so long to confess our feelings I didn’t want to wait another five years to commit. I knew we had been dating for less than a month, but I knew she was my forever. I knew it since the first time I saw her.

But at that minute our job was to bring Prentiss home. Then I could take care of the rest.

Hotch got Prentiss' ex’s unit chief, Clyde Eater, to collaborate with us and the entire team got together to finally make some progress.

- “Ian Doyle's a power-assertive psychopath, highly controlling and very explosive when something doesn't go as planned.”- Clyde explained. We knew he was a psychopath and a serial killer. But his M.O and all the intel the CIA had on him were extremely useful to profile the bastard. And most important: to know what he was doing with Prentiss.

- “Ok, so how does this fit in with who he is as a family annihilator?”- Seaver asked and (Y/N) added

- “And Prentiss’ role in it.”

- “Annihilators have a romanticized view of who their family is.”- I looked at Clyde, but he shook his head at my words.

- “Well, actually, he was an orphan.”

- “Well, they think of family as their possession, until some law shatters that and starts them killing”- Morgan added.

- “But Doyle was never married.”- Clyde kept dismissing all of our contributions to the profile.

- “Children?”- Rossi asked, but we all guessed it was negative.

- “No.”

- “You run your profile that he carried out his murder with surgical-like precision.”- I continued talking as (Y/N) grabbed the picture of the kid Doyle shot from my hands, trying to find anything on that image that we could use as a clue.

- “Yes.”

- “With no collateral damage.”- Morgan added.

- “That's right.”

- “Perhaps this child was a surrogate for one he had.”- (Y/N) suggested

- “Say Doyle had a child and you didn't know about it. Is it possible that Prentiss did?”- Rossi asked the million-dollar question, and Clayde shook his head.

- “Then why would she keep it from me?”

- “Who else was in the compound the day that you arrested Doyle?”- Hotch asked and looked at the list of names.

- “Just his staff.”

- “All Irish?”- Hotch raised an eyebrow going through the names again, and Clayde nodded.

- “Yeah.”

- “That's a start.”

Thirty two minutes later we had an address and we got ready to rescue our friend. We knew Prentiss discovered Ian Doyle had in fact a son hidden, who had been raised by one of his maids as her own, to keep him from any danger. When the CIA got Doyle, the maid and the boy made it to America, and a year after Doyle’s imprisonment, Prentiss faked their deaths and relocated them, saving their lives from him. We didn’t know how or where. We just knew she made sure she did everything she could to save that kid’s life. Because that is how amazing Prentiss is.

We were on a rescue mission for Emily. The entire team, plus the special forces, got to an empty warehouse. We all walked in, and the first thing I did was to keep (Y/N) close. I couldn't focus on anything if I didn’t know she was close enough for me to save her. Morgan’s words kept spinning in my head: Our only advantage in that mission was stealth. Once Doyle knew we were on site, nothing would stop him from killing Prentiss. Or anyone on his way.

Derek was leading the mission, and after a few minutes of the most nerve-wracking silence, he announced he had Emily.

- “I got her!!”- his voice nearly pierced my ear as he shot into the earpiece- “I got her in the basement on

Southside! I need a medic!”

I stopped in my tracks and grabbed (Y/N)’s arm, who had just started running towards Morgan.

- “We don’t know where Doyle is! Stop! (Y/N)!”- I looked into her teary eyes and felt her struggling to let go.

- “But she is right there, Spencer! She needs us!!”- she begged as we heard Derek’s voice in our earpiece again.

- “Prentiss. Hey, it's me, I'm right here. You're gonna be alright. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me.”- the officials cleared the room as we all continued to move, being extra careful in case Doyle was still in the area. I surely doubted it. He just wanted to hurt Emily and he couldn’t do it with all of us there and all his men down.

- “Clear!”- we heard that word, and (Y/N) ran from my side until she got to Prentiss and Derek the minute the ambulance reached the perimeter. I caught her and held her as we watched the paramedics checking her vitals and quickly moving her into the ambulance and to the nearest hospital.

Honestly, it all happened too quickly and I almost didn’t register it all. The way Prentiss looked when we reached her side, pale, almost dead. How Morgan kept holding her hand and refused to move from her side, getting into the ambulance with her, even against the paramedic’s will. The way (Y/N)’s tears soaked my shirt when I wrapped my arms around her, and how her hands grabbed my arms and nearly hung from me, not letting go until Hotch said we had to go to the hospital.

Everything will be engraved in my memory forever. And I wish I could just forget it all. It was all too much. And it just kept getting worse.

We waited over five hours in that visitor lounge, in the hospital. (Y/N) sat next to me, shaking most of the time, though I gave her my jacket, and wrapped my arm around her to keep her warm, and Rossi kept getting us coffee and snacks from the closest vending machine.

- “She is gonna be ok, right?”- Penelope whispered and waited for our answer. Derek just wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple. (Y/N) looked at me for a moment, with pleading eyes. She wanted to hear it too, she needed to hear Prentiss was gonna be ok. I cut her a short smile, though my eyes were filled with tears, and snuggled closer to her.

- “Of course, she is gonna be ok”- I whispered to her and she just nodded, resting her head on my shoulder.

I think that’s the first time I knew I was lying to my girlfriend. But I was too scared to tell her I didn’t know. That I just wasn’t sure what was gonna happen. I wanted to be her rock, the man she needed. But I was so scared. Petrified at the thought of losing my friend. Of failing to the team.

We all raised our eyes when we heard footsteps coming over, and JJ walked slowly over us. Her eyes were red and she couldn’t even speak. We all turned to her and waited if she had any update on Prentiss’ condition. But her tears stopped our hearts. (Y/N) held my hand and squeezed it tight. I just opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. It couldn’t be right. There was no way that was actually happening.

- “She never made it off the table”- JJ confirmed and for a moment, time stopped. I refuse to believe what she had said was true. My friend couldn’t be dead. My last conversation with her couldn’t be that random exchange of words. Emily Prentiss couldn’t be dead.

I looked around and watched how all of our friends were breaking apart. Rossi was sobbing, Garcia was in shock. I stood up and tried to run away, though I didn’t really know where I was planning to go. But (Y/N) grabbed my hand and stopped me. I turned to look at her and saw the tears falling down her cheeks as she bit her lips, trying her best to contain her emotions. I knew she hated crying in public, and I also knew she couldn’t really control it at the moment.

- “Hon…”- she whispered and grabbed both my arms, maybe scared I would actually run away from her. But instead of fighting her touch, I melted into it, wrapping my arms around her body and sobbing against the soft skin of her neck.

- “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye”- I mumbled and felt her arms trying to hold me together. I let my tears run as she hugged me and caressed my back. She was crying too, as well as everybody around us. That couldn’t be happening. Emily couldn’t be dead. That couldn't just be it. We were the good guys, and the good guys always win. We couldn’t lose her, we couldn’t lose Emily.

But we did.

(Y/N) and I held each other the entire flight back home. I don’t really know if we were trying to console one another, or just trying to stay together to keep each other sane. I didn’t follow any of the PDA rules Hotch and Strauss had been nagging us about. I held (Y/N) in my arms the entire trip. I sat her on my lap and wrapped a blanket around her, ‘cos she kept shaking.

No one said a word the entire trip. The only sound around us were grieves and sobs. There was a deep feeling of loss. Not only we had lost Emily, but we all felt lost. It seemed unreal.

(Y/N)’s hands were clinging to my sweater, and every time I moved on the seat, she tightened her grip on me. I kissed her forehead as I snuggled her closer.

- “I’m not going anywhere”- I whispered and slowly leaned it to kiss her hands. She sighed and looked into my eyes with tears.

- “I’m so scared, Spencer.”- she called me by my name as one of her hands let go of my sweater and moved to my cheeks, caressing me- “I don’t wanna lose you too.”

- “You won’t, I swear. I am not going to leave you, and nothing bad will happen to me.”

But the truth is, I was petrified too. And I held her even tighter until we got home, ‘cos I was also scared to lose her. We did everything we could to keep Prentiss safe, but we failed. The same way we failed to protect Elle, and Garcia. We failed to protect Hailey and Jack. We were a failure, the entire BAU. And it scared me to death to think something bad could ever happen to my girl.

We got home that night and just sat on her couch. We talked about having a cup of tea, but neither of us moved. We just sat there, crying and holding each other until the sun came out.

I smelled her shampoo all over me as (Y/N) let her hair loose and for once, it didn’t make me feel better, protected or loved. If anything, it made me more anxious. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel losing her. And the fear kept crawling down my skin like a disease that spread all over my body.

And there was only one thing I knew had helped me get rid of that fear and pain: Dilaudid.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I stood outside the car and took a deep breath. We were at the cemetery, ready to give Emily her final resting place. It wasn’t right. The last few days had been the closest I had ever been to hell. We had to present our reports on what had happened the day Emily died. Then Hotch gave us the day off to rest and process what had happened. And now we were at a cemetery. No, it made no sense.

I had cried my eyes out in the last 48 hours. Life had changed completely and I felt lost. I refused to admit the fact my friend was gone. That had to be a joke, a very bad one. But I knew we couldn't function as a team without Emily. She was our rock. She was the one who always managed to keep her cool, even during the worst times. She was the one I turned to for advice since she joined the team, ‘cos we both had a rough start with Gideon, and Hotch wasn’t a big fan of women’s work when we first started.

- “Ready?”- Spencer held my hand and took me from my thoughts. I shook my hand and bit my lips, making my best not to cry anymore. I’ve always hated crying in public. He kissed my hand, and his lips lingered on my skin for a second before we started walking to meet the rest of the team.

Penelope was already there, with Morgan. I rested my head on her shoulder not saying a word, as I felt her caressing my hair. We just stood there in silence until Hotch and Rossi walked over. Aaron hugged us all, as I kept fighting the tears back.

- “It’s time.”- that was all he said, and we just nodded.

Spencer kissed my cheek one more time before walking with Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch to hold Prentiss’s coffin and carry it to her grave. Penelope held my hand as we walked behind them, along with JJ and Seaver, carrying some of Prentiss’ favorite flowers. Everybody was there, but I didn’t register much. A priest talked about loss and how we shall overcome it. But it was all a blur. I just remember standing in front of the coffin, fighting the tears, holding Spencer’s hand tight.

JJ walked and left her flowers on the coffin, and Penelope followed slowly. Then Seaver, Rossi, and Morgan. Spencer looked at me and I did my best to walk. But I swear, I felt my knees were going to betray me any minute. My boyfriend held my arm tight and helped me make my way to say my last goodbye. I still don’t know how he had the strength to do it if I knew he was hurting too. But at that minute I knew I was more thankful to have him than ever. I never wanted to lose him.

- “Come on kid, let’s go to my house for a drink”- Rossi whispered after the ceremony was over.

- “No, thank you. I wanna be alone”- I whispered, knowing he wasn’t going to let me go, but still trying to see if he could get I didn’t want to deal with people.

- “Kid, this hit the entire family and it’s time for the family to be together. Come. Both of you can not lock yourself to grieve all alone.”- Rossi was right, I just didn’t know how to deal with everything that was happening with all those people around me.

- “Do you wanna go?”- I asked Spencer, who kept holding my hand, his eyes glued to the ground.

- “It’s gonna be good for all of us”- Rossi added and Reid nodded. I sighed and gave up. I knew it was gonna be worse not attending, and maybe Dave was right and some time with family would be good for all of us.

Of course, spending time with family, under those circumstances, was painfully hard, because though all we wanted was to support each other, all our emotions were on the surface, and I don’t think we knew what to do with them.

We drove in convoy to Rossi’s and when we got there we realized he had prepared a little get-together. He had some food, some wine and a table in his backyard ready for us. Spencer poured a glass of wine for me, grabbed a juice for himself, and stood by my side as the rest of the team gathered around for a toast. I didn’t feel like toasting for Emily. Not that I didn’t want to honor her, but I wanted to do it on my own. I didn’t feel ready to share my feelings with my friends just yet.

- “To Emily”- Rossi raised his glass and his voice broke immediately- “A tuff rock, the smartest woman and one of the best friends we’ve had.”- we all raised our glasses and drank a sip.

- “Emily is my… was my best friend”- Garcia started, but tears stopped her speech. Morgan wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead, in support. We weren’t ready for this. The wound was open and bleeding. This was basically just twisting the knife inside the wound.

- “I remember when she first joined the team ‘cos Stauss pushed me to accept her. Erin thought she could use Em to control me and get some info about our work. And instead, she gave us an invaluable team member, and a friend that will live in our hearts forever.”- Hotch’s words started with a light chuckle and ended with tears. I knew he wanted us to remember the good things, but we couldn’t just forget that she was dead, and we would never see her again.

- “I just can’t believe she is gone”- Spencer whispered and I wrapped an arm around him immediately- “I mean, if we can’t protect each other, what can we do? how can we do our work?”

No one could give an answer to that. I know I didn’t have comfort words for Spencer ‘cos I felt broken inside as well. I hugged him tight and felt how he soaked my neck with tears, as he made an effort to cry quietly.

- “I just wish she would have trusted us from the beginning.”- Derek took a sip of his wine and stared at us, fighting the tears- “I mean, we could have helped her! we could have caught Doyle and killed that son of a bitch!”

- “Derek”- Hotch tried to calm him down, but we all had to express our feelings somehow, I guess.

- “Why did she do this alone?! I told her we were there for her! I knew she was hiding something from us! And now she is gone!”

Morgan was angry, and I got it. I had noticed Emily was acting strange but didn’t do anything either. I was too busy being happy with Reid. And in a way, I blamed myself as well.

- “Emily locked us out of her life. She decided she was better on her own.”- JJ argued and Will held her hand, ‘cos it felt as if her words came out harder than she had initially intended.

- “We are all fucking profilers! We all knew there was something going on and we just decided to overlook it!”- I argued and let Spencer go ‘cos I needed a refill of my wine already.

- “Kid, we all feel guilty. Trust me, I hate myself right now and I know there are a lot of things that we could have done to help her. But we didn’t, and it’s done. Regret won’t take us anywhere but feeling even more miserable!”- Rossi raised his voice but didn’t try to lecture me. He followed me to the bar and wrapped an arm around me, pouring me a second glass of wine.

- “But we have each other, ragazza. And we are gonna overcome this together. Trust me.”

My BAU family is so different from my real one. I could get away from my blood relatives, I had a million excuses I had certified were adequate to stay away from them. But I could never get away from my BAU’s kin. They were harder to keep away.

Spencer excused himself and walked to the bathroom for a moment. I looked at him and realized he had been trying to be strong for me, and be my rock. But of course, I knew he needed to process the whole situation his own way. I knew he wasn’t afraid to cry in front of me or anything like it. But he would never want to feel like he was a burden for me. And he would want to process his sorrow alone.

I just hoped this whole thing wouldn’t affect our new relationship. All I actually wanted was to curl into bed with him, hug him and get some rest. It felt like the weight of the world was on our shoulders and there was no escape from it.

- “I didn’t get to know Emily very well”- Seaver started talking and for once, I didn’t really care. I was so sad I didn’t even want to argue with her- “But she was the first to open her arms and give me a chance. Teach me some of the things she knew and just… help me be a better profiler.”

- “My baby was like that”- Garcia whispered, trying her best to stop sobbing- “She would always go an extra mile for someone she knew deserved it.”

- “She also had the better comebacks. I learned so many curse words from her”- I sipped my wine after my words and heard Rossi chuckle.

- “You can’t say she was a bad influence. You two together were an accident waiting to happen.”

- “Remember when she picked up that guy at the bar?”- Garcia looked at me and JJ, and we both knew exactly what she was talking about.

- “What guy?”- Spencer walked over and stood by my side. I turned to him and cut him a shy smile, holding his hands. His fingers were cold and I felt like kissing them, but it felt weird doing that in front of the team.

- “A random asshole that flirted with her at a bar one time when she first joined the team. We had one of our first ladies' nights and she walked to our table with a guy that told her was an FBI agent”- I explained and Garcia shook her head.

- “No, but he was a loser, he was so pathetic. He kept saying everything we asked was “classified.”

- “Worst was when she said “affirmative” instead of yes!”- JJ added and I chuckled.

- “Oh my god! I had totally forgotten about that!”

- “The best part was when she asked him to see his batch and he argued he couldn’t show it ‘cos it was classified”- Garcia smiled at the memory and Rossi looked at us with wide-opened eyes.

- “And what did you guys do?”

- “We asked him if it looked anything like ours, and he turned around and left completely humiliated”- I finished the story with a big grin on my face, thinking that was the kind of thing that happened when Emily was in charge of getting the next round of drinks.

- “I remember when I hit her with my rocket on the head”- Spencer said and smiled as he remembered what happened that day- “And she didn’t even get mad at me, she just asked me to show her how I had done it”

- “And you didn’t, ‘cos a magician never reveals his secrets.”- I turned to my boyfriend and smiled. I remembered that day so well. He looked so cute and concentrated on preparing his tricks.

- “Remember when we asked her to flirt with that lousy guy to get a better profile?”- Morgan added with an evil grin.

- “¡Viper!”- I nearly jumped when I said his name- “The level of bullying I gave her for doing that…”

- “You flirted with him too!”- Morgan argued, and Spencer frowned, totally confused.

- “I did not, I was just mean to him as Emily worked her magic on the poor bastard. You on the other hand”- I turned and looked at Reid, who opened his eyes innocently, giving me his baby look.

- “What did I do, chipmunk?”

- “Morgan taught you how to flirt and you got that waitress’ phone number.”- Morgan laughed at the memory, and Spencer looked at me with his Bambi's eyes not knowing what to say- “And she sent you that stupid card you gave her”

- “Em said your anger was epic that night, so epic indeed, that you drank half a bottle of tequila and rambled for two hours about how much you hated Spencer flirting with other girls and how he never flirted with you.”

I opened my mouth to argue Garcia’s words, but I couldn’t. Instead I smiled, and a lot, ‘cos it was a beautiful memory with my friend. A friend I knew I was never going to see again.

Spencer’s point of view

That night I had to drive (Y/N) back to her place ‘cos she had way too much wine. It wasn’t a crappy evening after all, all things considered. We had a nice time remembering all the fun things we did with Emily, all the jokes, all the laughs. All the nights out. I know I have an eidetic memory, but there was no way on earth I could ever forget a second of all the moments I shared with Prentiss.

I put (Y/N) to bed and then sat on the couch, staring at the wall. I thought about reading for a while, hoping to get sleepy soon, but honestly, I couldn’t focus.

I wrapped my arms around my body and laid on the couch. I felt empty and useless. Sadness was just part of it all. Fear was consuming me. The agony of losing someone and the angst of the imminent loss of the person I loved the most.

The team had been blind to all the signs Emily needed help. I never saw or even thought any of this could ever happen. What could I do if anything like this ever happened to (Y/N)? I was powerless. I needed to find a way to keep her safe and happy. ‘Cos that’s what she deserved. Happiness, nothing less than that.

There was a hole in the middle of my chest and that void was eating all my thoughts, all my knowledge. All my sanity. I grabbed one of (Y/N)’s pillows and covered my face with it as I started crying. I didn’t want to make a noise, she had to rest and get some sleep. Besides, I didn’t want to look weak in front of her. I wanted to be a rock for my woman, a shoulder for her to cry on. I wanted to help her and be there for her. If she saw me crying, she would get worried, and she had enough on her plate. Our friend died, it wasn’t wise to add a weak boyfriend to that mix.

The next day was a blur. Hotch gave us a week off to gather our thoughts and process what had happened. (Y/N) said there weren’t enough days to deal with what had happened, and I completely agreed. The first day we spent it in our pajamas, basically doing nothing but hunting her apartment like a couple of ghosts. I did my best to stay strong and hold (Y/N) every time she broke into tears. But after two days, I needed something to help me cope with my feelings. Or more likely, to avoid them.

Yes, having my girlfriend there for me was incredible. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel alone under such bitter circumstances. She made me feel safe and secure when she held me close at night. But I didn’t want her to think I was a burden in any way. I just wanted to make her happy. Besides, my head was driving me mad. I needed something that could make me stop thinking and feeling for a moment. Just once. One time was all I needed.

- “Do you have to go?”- (Y/N) whispered and hugged me as I stood by her bed, folding my clothes and putting them into my go bag. I really didn’t want to be apart from her, but I needed to cave in. I was trying to be strong, but one last Dilaudil shot could help under those circumstances, right? I couldn’t shake that thought off my head.

- “I will come back tomorrow, chipmunk. I just need to go to my house, grab some clean clothes, a few books, and pay the bills.”- I felt like crap knowing I was lying to her. I was really just going to get Dilaudid and get high.

- “I’m gonna miss you, Batsy”- (Y/N) mumbled against my sweater, as she kept her arms around me, and her face hidden against my back.

- “I’m gonna miss you too. But hey, we have to go to see my mom in a few days, so maybe we can use these hours apart to prepare our bags?”- I turned around and caressed her arms, trying to be positive and cheerful for once.

- “Ok…”- her reply was short and muffled against my chest.

- “If you don’t wanna go to visit my mom…”- but before I could tell her it was ok to postpone the trip, she looked at me and shook her head frantically.

- “No hon, I wanna visit your mom. We have rescheduled this visit for too long, and I wanna see her. I know she is gonna be happy to be with you, and I am also sure you need to hug her right now.”- I smiled and sighed, resting my nose on her head and letting her smell invade every inch of my body. God, I didn’t want to leave that night, ‘cos I knew I was giving up. But I needed to do something to avoid the pain.

- “I don’t deserve you”- I whispered and she shook her head slowly.

- “Never say that again, honey bunny. I love you because you are the best man on earth. I am proud of everything you do. I am lucky you are mine and I’ll always do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

Those words froze me. There I was, packing to go back to my apartment, call my dealer and get high after years of being sober. I was ready to ditch happiness over weakness without actually giving a fight.

Wanna know the worst part? None of that stopped me. I hugged her one last time and walked to the door, promising I would be back the following day. I kissed her and felt her lips lingering on mine for a little longer. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers playing with my hair. I sighed and smiled, pecking her lips one more time as I stared into her eyes in adoration.

- “I love you”- I whispered and she smiled sweetly.

- “I love you too, batsy”- she replied and kissed me one more time- “Now go before I regret it and force you to stay with me on that bed.”- I chuckled, but my heart was just breaking, and it continued breaking as I moved apart from her and walked out of her door.

I actually walked out of her apartment (I still can’t believe I did it), and after a few blocks, I stood in front of a payphone, grabbed a few cents and dialed a number I knew by memory, even though I hadn’t called in years. The same old voice answered and after I presented myself with the same old alias I used back in the days, he chuckled.

- “I knew you’d come back”- the statement felt like a slap of reality. I should have stopped right there, hung up the phone, and gone back to (Y/N)’s. But I did none of that. Instead, I ignored the comment, asked for a dose and my former dealer told me where to go. As simple as that. That’s how I ruined everything I had worked for so hard in my life.

Later that night, I sat on a couch, staring at the Dialaudid bottle on my coffee table. I stared at it, feeling it was actually staring back at me, judging me. I deserved it though, being judged. I was being weak and a liar. And if my girlfriend ever caught me doing drugs again, she would never forgive me, that was a statement.

The phone ringing nearly made me jump off my chair. I grabbed the Dilaudid and hid it in a jacket hanging on a chair before picking up the phone, which made me feel stupid. Whoever was calling would never see it. But I was paranoid and I didn’t want to get caught.

- “Hello?”

- “Hey doc, how are you, it’s Frank.”

- “Hey Paco, nice to hear you.”

- “Likewise. I just wanted to call to tell you I am very sorry for your loss, and that I am here whenever you wanna talk.”- I froze and for a moment, I couldn’t even answer. Not that I was surprised that Frank would give me his support during a hard moment like that, but because I was still surprised I actually had friends. And good friends.

- “Doc? Are you there?”

- “Yeah, sorry. I’m just…”

- “Don’t worry, I totally get it. I was talking with (Y/N) earlier and she gave me the whole story. It’s pretty fucked up”

- “It is”

- “Do you wanna grab a beer? Nugget said you had been spending time with her, but maybe a night with a friend could do you better than being alone.”

- “I... don’t wanna be… a burden”- I simply confessed and closed my eyes.

- “Don’t be stupid. I’ll be there in ten.”

After I left the phone on the table, I stayed still, sitting on the couch, knowing there was a bottle of Dilaudid in my jacket. I couldn’t use it anymore, not if Frank was coming over. Maybe that was a good thing, I didn’t have to fail that night. I could fail the following day, or maybe late that night after Frank left.

Maybe I could tell (Y/N) I’m gonna get to her apartment after lunch, and use it in the morning. No, that was too risky, she might have noticed. I needed a whole night to recover.

My eyes were glued to my jacket. I had Dilaudid. What the hell was I thinking??! I couldn’t do that! not to me, not to (Y/N). After everything we went through those days she locked me in her apartment to get me sober, after all the times I thought about using, but my will was strong enough not to give up. Why was I quitting then?

The knock on my door took me from my thoughts. I jumped from the couch and took a deep breath before answering. Frank stood in the hall with a sick pack and a pizza.

- “I was in the neighborhood.”- he grinned and walked in.- “I didn’t know if you had dinner so I came prepared. Pizza, chips, and beer. It’s dude’s night.”

I smiled and nodded. Hanging out with Frank wasn’t that bad. It was way better than falling into Dilaudid again. I wondered if (Y/N) asked him to call me. Maybe she suspected something when I left earlier. I shouldn’t have left in the first place.

- “So, before you start over analyzing it, (Y/N) didn’t ask me to come or to check on you. I just thought you might need a little company. Someone who is not your girlfriend or any coworker.”- Frank opened a beer and grabbed a slice of pizza, sitting on the couch, on the same exact spot he always sat on when he visited.

- “Thank you, that means a lot.”

- “Don’t sweat it, doc. So… (Y/N) told me you already told her dad about your relationship. How was that?”- I chuckle and grab a beer for myself.

- “Terrifying”- I confess and think of Chief (Y/L/N)’ face when we told her we were together- “For a moment I was sure he was going to kill me. But everything ended up well”

- “He would have killed you if you never confessed your feelings for his daughter. That man really loves you. He has been telling my dad how great you are ever since he met you!”

That made me feel worse. Using Dilaudid again would never look good in front of (Y/N)’s parents, and I wanted to marry her. What the fuck was I thinking calling my dealer again?

- “So, when are you gonna ask her?”- I widened my eyes, shocked. Was Frank actually a mind reader? That would explain a lot. I just stared at him, still sipping my beer and he smiled- “Ok, I was kidding before but now clearly you were thinking about it.”

- “What are you talking about?”

- “I’ve always teased (Y/N) telling her you two are gonna get married, ever since the first time we met you. Now that you are dating, it’s just a matter of time”

- “We haven’t been together for a month yet!”

- “So? you love her, she loves you. What else do you need to know? You’ve known her for years! and you’ve loved her every day of those years. I support you if you wanna do it, and I could be your best man if you need me. I’m guessing Lu is gonna be her bride’s maid.

- “I don’t even have a ring yet”

- “As your best man, I could go with you to Tiffany’s and help you pick one”- I opened my mouth to answer, but no word came out for a few seconds until Frank burst out laughing and chewed his pizza.

- “I’m just kidding doc, I don’t mean to push you. It would be awesome if you two get married and have a lot of kids so I can spoil them and teach them all the bad words, though.”

Surprisingly, Frank had our life planned. I could only think about how disappointed he would be if only he knew I was planning to throw that future off the window when he called. Instead of saying anything else, I kept eating in silence and focused on not making a mess with the cheese in my pizza.

- “Mikey says hi by the way. I saw him earlier, I would have told him to come but he had a date.”

- “A date? wow, that’s new”

- “Yeah, the kid doesn’t date much, but when he does, it’s usually epic. Last time he dated a girl, they got matching tattoos.”- Frank started chuckling and nearly chook with his beer.

- “I remember, I was there when he showed us”- I raised an eyebrow as I reminded him I was actually part of that story. I was the one who told Mikey about all the infections he might get getting a tattoo in a random place, and also reminded him of the statistic of couples breaking up after getting one.

- “Right! sorry, I don’t have an eidetic memory”

- “And you were probably stoned”- I added and Frank grinned.

- “I don’t talk about drugs with the feds, doc.”

- “I don’t see any fed in the room. I’m home, Frank, not at work.”- and I also had drugs in the apartment. Shit, every second made me regret more my stupid decision of getting Dilaudid.

- “I know, I know, but I like teasing you two.”

- “Did you already have this talk with (Y/N)? the whole marriage thing?”- Frank nodded, chewing his pizza- “And did she freak out?”

- “Not really, so I would take that as a good sign.”

We ended up playing poker and drinking beer. Frank told me about a girl he had just met, and who seemed to be nice and fun to date. He also told me about how tired he was of his work, but he couldn’t quit or find anything new until the end of the year. He said he was planning to start a master's in psychology the following year, so he needed to save some money. I told him about our trip to visit my mother, and how excited I was to tell her (Y/N) and I were finally dating. We also talked about music, the piano lessons (Y/N) was giving me, gambling, and the first time I got kicked out of a casino.

We talked about anything and everything, except Prentiss. And it felt good, for once. It was an escape from reality, from feeling miserable and crying. It made me feel guilty for a moment, ‘cos I was having a lot of fun, but I figured if it included cards and booze, Prentiss would approve.

- “I was shocked when nugget told me you came home tonight. I had the feeling you two were way too entertained physically to bear a night apart”

- “I am not telling you about our sex life”- I raised both eyebrows as I continued dealing the cards.

- “Trust me, I don’t wanna know. I love my friend and I respect her intimacy.”- Frank made a pause and looked at me, trying his best not to burst out laughing.

- “I don’t need to use any profiler’s skill to know you are lying!”- and so he started laughing.

- “Sorry, sorry. Just… one question”

- “No, Frank!”- I frowned, but chuckled, ‘cos the fact he wanted to ask about our sex life was weird and I didn’t get why he was trying to do it.

- “I just need to know something!”

- “No!”

After we switched to whisky, talked more about music, specifically Johnny Cash, and ended up singing along with a vinyl I was playing, Frank came back with the sex questions.

- “Come on man! I am not a perv or anything, I just…”

- “No!”- I nearly shouted, chuckling.

- “But I need to know how the fuck can you be here with me getting drunk if you waited forever for her and didn’t fuck with anyone else that I know in like five years… did you?”

- “No”- if I hadn’t been half drunk, I wouldn’t have answered, I know that.

- “Ok, so if you didn’t fuck with anyone for five years, not even freaking Lila Archer! why aren’t you catching up with all the years of missing sex?! And how do you even manage to get out of bed to work every morning? I mean, you two have so much fucking pending!”

I just laughed for a moment, until Frank’s words made total sense. There I was, originally alone to get high, and then with Frank getting drunk, when I could be with the woman I loved, making love to her. What the fuck was I doing?

- “Now you wanna go and have sex with her, don’t you?”- Frank asked and finished his glass. I just looked at him, knowing I was blushing and finished my drink as well.

- “Oh shit you do. Fine, let’s share a cab.”- Frank stood up and grabbed what was left in the bag of chips.

- “Wait!”- I ran to my room, grabbed my bag, and filled it with clean clothes in less than two minutes- “Ok, now I’m ready”

- “Got enough condoms?”

- “She is on the pill”- again, things I would have never said if I hadn’t been half drunk.

- “Nice! Let’s go.”

And somehow, after a pizza, poker, whisky, and rambling, Frank accidentally stopped me from using Dilaudid and sent me back to (Y/N)’s arms. I still wonder if that was his plan all along.

I opened the door quietly. It was nearly two in the morning when I got to her place. The lights were out, so I took off my shoes and quietly made it to her room. There she was, laying on the bed, softly snoring. A book still on her lap let me know what she was doing before falling asleep. I left my bag on the floor, took off my pants and shirt, and got into bed with her. I carefully grabbed the book from her hands and put it on the night table, turned off the lights, and wrapped her in my arms.

- “I am so sorry, love. I promise I will never be that man again. I don’t wanna disappoint you.”- I mumbled and felt her breathing against my skin, as she fluttered her eyes and smiled.

- “What are you doing here, honey?”

- “I realized sleeping without you was a mistake. I don’t ever wanna be apart from you. Never.”- she smiled and snuggled closer.

- “You are welcome to stay forever, honey bunny.”- (Y/N) whispered, wrapping her arms around me - “Were you drinking?”

- “Frank brought beer… and I had whisky”- I kissed her neck and my hands roamed her body as I heard her chuckle. I hadn’t heard her laugh in days, that sound really made me feel happy.

- “I see, well, sleep that booze off and tomorrow you’ll have a nice breakfast for the hangover.”

- “But I don’t wanna sleep, ma cherié. I wanna worship you and love you like I always dreamed of doing”- I attached my lips to her neck and started sucking on her soft skin, to refresh the marks that claimed her as mine.

- “Worship me?”- she questioned and giggled. I don’t know why she found that amusing, I was completely serious.

- “Yes, like a goddess, the sun of my life, the light of my eyes”- I mumbled and made a trail of wet kisses from her neck to her chest, but she stopped me before I could reach her breasts.

- “Spencer, you are drunk!”

- “Yes, but not really that drunk. Consider myself uninhibited.”- I rolled on the bed and positioned myself on top of her. She looked at me confused.- “I am not intoxicated, pumpkin. I just had a long conversation with Frank that made me realize I wanted to be buried deep inside of you instead of being home alone.”

- “Spencer Walter Reid, you are being very honest!”- she made a pause and gasped- “Oh my god! were you talking about sex with Frank?”

- “What? No! I swear! he just started asking things and that made me think I wanted to be with you and love you all night long.”

And without giving her time to reply or even react, I crushed my lips against her and kissed her so deeply I nearly felt dizzy. I didn’t stop kissing her until I felt her hands on my back, holding me closer to her. That’s when I moved my lips from hers and heard her soft whimper of disapproval. I would have stopped myself and continued kissing her, I just wanted to do what made her happy, but… I knew what I had in mind was gonna be so much better for her.

I kissed her jaw and neck as I removed her pajama top. Then I continued my way down her body, playing with her breast for a long while, licking all over and pinching her nipples as she twisted underneath me, whispering my name. The delicious moans coming from her were the encouragement I needed to continue. So I moved my hand underneath the waistband of her cotton pajama shorts and slid my fingers between her wet folds. Even I let out a groan when I felt her so ready for me, it made my cock even harder, confined inside my boxers.

- “Spencer, please”- I heard her whisper and I looked at her, while I continued licking her nipples and she moaned even harder as we made eye contact.

- “Let me love you”- I murmured and resumed my task. I toyed with her clit, rubbing it slowly and teasing her entrance a few times, licking my fingers just to show her how much I liked her taste.

- “Honey, please let me touch you”- she begged and I shook my head, moving my lips from her breast and down her stomach, as I also tried to keep my erection away from her hands.

- “Not yet. I wanna please you first.”

I slowly moved until my face was perfectly located between her legs. My own piece of heaven. Her breathing was already shaking and I hadn’t even touched her yet. That felt like a good boost to my ego. I wanted to be able to please my woman, literally worship her. Frank was right, I had wasted way too much time before and I couldn’t continue on that path. I needed to enjoy every second with her, ‘cos I loved her. And I knew it was forever.

I wrapped my tongue around her clit, sucking it lightly and she twisted in pleasure right away, a soft moan leaving her lips. I grabbed her tights and kept her still in front of me. My tongue ran through her folds and two of my fingers made their way slowly into her entrance.

- “God, honey”- she twisted and I tried to hold her in place.

- “You taste so sweet”- I murmured against the inside of her thighs- “I could eat you all day, every day. I love you so much, so, so much.”- I looked at her for a moment and she smiled at me. But before she could reply, I started lapping her again, eating her like a hungry man. Her body trembled underneath me and her hand quickly found my hair, fingers entangled in it, trying to guide me to her release.

- “You are gonna make me cum already”- she said after a few minutes and bit her lips- “I don’t think I’ve ever cum this fast”

- “Cum for me, ma cherie. Let me make you feel good.”- she let out a groan as I felt her wall tighten around my fingers. Her moans were more intense until she reached her peak, nearly yelling.

I didn’t des attack my lips from her cunt. Instead, I kissed it slowly as she rode her high, and I didn’t stop until overstimulation made her jump. That’s when I kissed my way up to her breast again, then to her neck, and finally her lips.

- “You really are a genius”- (Y/N) chuckled and kissed me. I ran my hand down her face and lingered my fingers on the few bruises I had left on her skin earlier that week.

- “You are my everything”- I confessed feeling my cheeks turn pink. My girlfriend smiled and kissed me again- “And I am so scared to lose you.”

- “You won’t lose me, honey. Never.”- I felt a knot in my throat thinking she didn’t know what I had done. And she should never know either. So instead of drowning myself in depressing thoughts, I decided to continue with my task and worship my girlfriend. I kissed her slowly as I got rid of my underwear and aligned my cock against her entrance.

- “Please Spencer”

- “What do you need, ma cherié?”

- “You, just you.”- her request was more than I could take and I had to fight the tears back for a moment. But it wasn't time to think, it was time to act and show her just how much I loved every inch of her.

- “You have me, always.”

With a slow movement, and looking into her eyes, I slipped inside her. She gasped and scratched my arms as I did, adjusting to the intrusion.

- “You feel so good, honey”- I heard her whisper as she smiled for a moment before I leaned over and kissed her. I could still taste her juices in my mouth and the mix in her lips was fueling me. I slowly started moving inside her, as she moaned into my mouth.

- “I could live like this, buried deep into you, fucking you slowly, watching you cum.”

- “You are very uninhibited, honey”- she giggled as I kissed her neck.

- “I did warn you that”

- “Yes, and I’m loving it”

- “Good, ‘cos I think we wasted too much time being just friends and now I want to tell you what I feel for you all the time. And right now, ma cherié, I wanna make you cum and scream my name again until you can’t feel your legs anymore.”

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thousand-winters · 3 months ago

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Pal, I hope the cats are doing well!! I have fanfic questions for you! 5, 7, 20, 27, 36, 48, ok I gotta stop there's too many good questions haha

Hi, friend!!! They're very good, they have been cuddling on my bed these past week because it has been so incredibly cold, so they're living their best lives haha. I hope you and your cats have been doing as well as you possibly can, given the circumstances 💖

It does have some amazing questions, it's hard to decide what to pick when it comes to asking. But let's get into that haha.

5. How many wips do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

... Oh, boy. Let me count them, haha. There's...

4 I have pending for Dadrius week (crying, by the time I'm done with that, it's going to be the next Dadrius week, surely). Do I count the two multichapters I have going on? I'm not going to, just to give myself some grace ahaha.

For MP100 I have one silly little idea for Reigen's birthday, one Dimple centric fic that I'm struggling for my life with because his interactions with Reigen keep coming out flirty, one silly Terumob inspired in a Mean Girls song, and the "Reigen pulls an Eda" fic. I technically have more but shhhh, only picking the ones I have faith in. So that's another 4.

And then finally for Saiki K I have vampire Kaido that I need to finish for Halloween but we'll see what the gods say about it, the Aren intervention™️ that I might turn shippy out of spite, and then Hairo getting burnt out. So 3, surprisingly not that much yet. I'm refraining from any Teruhashi ideas because I know I'm not gonna shut up with her.

That gives me a total of 11 things without counting multichapters I have to update. Not too bad. I think. Help me LMAO.

7. Post a snippet from a wip.

Reigen pauses all of his movements and looks up from his game, one eyebrow raised. “Unless… you really like my company, I guess.” Dimple huffs. As if. “In your dreams.” “More like my nightmares.” “You would be lucky to have me in your nightmares.”

Why does it sound flirty. Am I going crazy. Help.

20. Do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

Canon fics, I think. I like exploring the possibilities and it's honestly less of a headache to have certain things about the characters already established rather than to have to think about how a new background has shaped their life haha.

I really, really enjoy AUs, but in terms of what's easier, canon is always good to play with, especially when it's a fandom in which there's a lot to explore and usually that's the case.

27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Mmmm... the sequence of events, if that makes sense? Like I'm generally good at picturing how one thing gets from one point to the other, which might not say much about the way in which I actually write it when it comes down to it, but I do think it's important to have a grasp on how you get from point A to point B, and I think I'm good at that. If it ever feels rushed, that's a problem of my descriptions and redaction, not the plan in my head, I believe haha.

36. What fic are you proudest of?

The stars too, they tell of spring returning continues being my baby. I've been re-reading it in the hopes I can get back to it soon and oof. I went off with that one, it has a good amount of tension and it doesn't stall too long in unnecessary bits in my opinion? I don't know, I just like it. I did start writing the next chapter, it's just a matter of time, we'll get there!!!

48. Who is your favorite character to write for? Has this changed since you’ve started writing for that fandom?

Darius Deamonne my beloved. I do think I need to make him a bit bitchier haha, I have made him far too soft lately, and while I do believe he's a sucker for his loved ones, he's also a bitch in the best of ways. But anyway, this says your favorite and not the one you write the best so I stand by the fact it's Darius, he's just fun in all of his little complexities, his snarkiness and his softness and his vulnerability. I love him madly.

My favorite to write for used to be Hunter, for sure. Now with him I think it was in part because he's easy. He's so terribly traumatized that I always joke with my friends that you can project some things on him and chances are it'll stick because he has all the issues in the world, poor tang haha.

Thanks for the questions, friend!!! From this ask game

#ask games

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wrongcaitlyn · 6 months ago

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hiiiii tawny I had free time for the first time in like WEEKS and so I caught up on your solangelo au week posts and now for my thoughts:

so american: YES. I LOVE. SO WORTH THE WAIT. NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY THE VIBES WERE VIBING. I read this as soon as it came out so the thoughts have left my head but trust I loved it.

renegades au: omg I love it. v v excited to see where it goes. also may have convinced me that I need to read renegades?? but I love the dynamic that the anarchists have. also I love scientist percy for some reason like it’s def not the easiest power you could’ve went with but I like the idea of him being a more behind-the-scenes guy bc I think that’s what he’d choose for himself if given the chance. also your percabeth dynamics are on point in literally every fic from this week (even tho they’re just in the background lmao).

new rome au: I think this route for nico is like. actually way more plausible than what happened canonically. like he DOES have way more friends in new rome than in chb. dont get me wrong im glad he stayed in canon but this was SO INTERESTING. I love the idea of nico healing on his own and separate from will. I feel like it takes away some of the… unhealthy codependency of their relationship LOL. once again the percabeth dynamics🫶🏻 also I feel like some space from percy and then seeing him while he and annabeth are in college more often would be good for their friendship??? like idk I am a big fan of taking ur space when needed. also risk is SUCH a will song. boy was in love with a dude before they even had a conversation.

nerds au: as a nerd a nerds au is something that can be so special LMAO I love this dynamic perhaps bc it is also my life (esp in hs). all of the character dynamics in this fic were just. chef’s kiss. I loved. I think you translated nico’s unhealthy habits from canon into a hs au in a really interesting, believable way bc nico WOULD stay up late to do hw out of spite. maybe not canon nico but a nico who grew up in the (possible public) school system. also I love the quiz bowl addition (at my hs it was called scholar bowl so sorry if I type that instead LOL) bc I had so much fun in quiz bowl. I made some of my best friends thru it :) are u in quiz bowl?!? the rules were way too accurate to be written by someone unfamiliar with it lol.

long story short I love all ur fics and will forever be excited to see an update to any one of them <3

oh my GOD. you have literally made me die dead. kicking my feet and giggling at this AHHGSDF

i'm SO glad that you liked so american!!!! was highly anticipating ur response bc u convinced me to actually write it so!!!! i'm so happy <33

ABSOLUTELY READ RENEGADES. srsly it's such a good series like i will recommend it to EVERYONE. the anarchists dynamic is so😭😭 keep in mind that this is a heavy au of renegades, so the dynamic is slightly different (+ a very different ending in the series, i took a lot of creative liberties) but i'm so glad that you liked it!! and YESLKSDJF i just realized that i had background percabeth in all of my solangelo week fics. which like. THEYRE SO ICONIC THEY HAVE TO BE EVERYWHERE i think there are some couples that i absolutely LOVE but i prefer to actually write them as background couples?? like i obsess over their dynamics, but i like it from an outsider's perspective and not as the main plotline (at least when writing fics) so i very much enjoyed including them in all of these

honestly SAME with the new rome au. like. absolutely love that nico managed to make a home in chb, but like?? reyna jason AND hazel were all in new rome... i honestly wouldn't have blamed him if he took that opportunity instead!!! i think this would be a really cool au to expand on and like actually make a full multichap but i am trying desperately to not turn everything into 100k monstrosities. i tried limiting myself to 5k words and didn't even manage that so. but i definitely think he would've grown a lot + gotten some healthier coping mechanisms when living with all of his friends, then meeting percy a year later, and THEN going into a relationship with will - and ofc, will is happy with whatever ends with a solangelo endgame. he's their own number one shipper!!

I'M SO GLAD U LIKED THE NERDS AU nico's characterization was definitely something that i considered (and, tbh, that i consider in all au's, because trauma and coping mechanisms do not often translate the exact same over universes - characters are always going to behave slightly different in other situations, so it's always exciting to see how that works!!). one thing that DOES translate throughout every universe is that he has no semblance of a sleep schedule; this time it's just due to hw instead of tartarus nightmares! SAME WITH THE QUIZ BOWL and yes i am part of the club!!! genuinely made my friend group through that, and we actually did what was in the fic irl - as in, we made a discord server and like quizzed each other over that. my team lost be an insane amount. i am nowhere near as skilled as nico and will. i maybe have gotten, like, 4 questions right in my two years of being part of the club (though i will use the excuse that my anxiety makes it VERY hard to hit the buzzer. i hate being wrong more than not answeringslkdf) but!!!! i do think nico and will would SLAY at quiz bowl, they both definitely feel like people who have random encyclopedic knowledge on the most niche topics

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH ILY <333

#wrongcaitlyn #wrongcaitlyn asks

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jgvfhl · 2 years ago

Text

The Number Lads Go Snooping

Here we are folks... Sevenset is tasked with keeping Fives entertained while Tup is examined after the tragic and mysterious execution of General Tiplar on Ringo Vinda. Unfortunately for them, and Echo's blood pressure, Sevenset and Fives have strange ideas of what constitutes entertainment. BEHOLD, THE ORDERS ARC BEGINS!!

Words: not quite 8K (longest chapter to date oop) Warnings: Canon typical suspense with canon atypical swearing :) Link to Master List of Chapters on Tumblr Link to the full story on Ao3 Happy reading!

CrispyDomino: hey sevenset, need a favor

RedBoiiiii: o7 reporting for orders

CrispyDomino: Fives is bringing one of our boys to Kamino for a med eval

RedBoiiiii: yikes that’s not fun

CrispyDomino: Yeah, you mind making sure he’s not worrying himself sick over the kid?

RedBoiiiii: I will do my best! When are they arriving?

CrispyDomino: Should get there in a few hours

RedBoiiiii: You got it, buddy! I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too stupid

DEATH: That’s not particularly promising

RedBoiiiii: oh COME ON

d0nut man: lkdjafkd

Double Trouble: oh my gods XD

CrispyDomino: Don’t worry, Sevens, I have faith in you

RedBoiiiii: THANK you echo

Leafs: We really can’t go ten seconds without something huh?

RedBoiiiii: THE COMMANDER STARTED IT

CrispyDomino: Anyway, thanks Sevens, means a lot

CrispyDomino: I’m on campaign, but feel free to send updates if you want

-scene break-

Sevenset had gotten a message from Fives as soon as he’d touched down, it had appeared. He’d grumbled a little at his batchmate’s mothering, but he’d conceded it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get out of his own head while his friend was in medical. But, first Fives had to be assessed as well, so Sevenset had been left to his own devices for a bit, waiting for Fives to comm him after he was cleared.

He had chosen to use this time to be, as most people called it, a menace. He called it practicing his environmental awareness and stealth skills, although no one else seemed too keen to agree with him. After successfully pranking Colt on the Venator after their last mission, he’d doubled-down on finding some way to get at Alpha-17. A death sentence? Possibly.

But he would be legendary if he pulled it off.

It did leave him with the slight problem of finding where the grumpy captain spent most of his time. He was a very private man, and most of the time he wasn’t in his rooms anyway (which would be great news once Sevenset found them). His search had brought him almost back around to the main medical wing of Kamino. No, not the medical wing for the tubies, or the medical wing for the scientists, or the other medical wing for surgery and … whatever else they did over there. This was mainly for soldiers who came in with injuries too mysterious or serious to treat on the field, so it was undoubtedly where Fives and his friend were now.

His plan so far was based solely on lying, and hoping someone was fooled into giving him Alpha’s room number, or at least which wing he lived in. So far, however, he’d only encountered clone officers who knew better than to talk to him outside of necessity, Kaminoans who really didn’t know what to do with him half the time he approached them, and some of the nattie trainers. He didn’t feel like talking to many of them. They were fine, for the most part, but… eh. Not his thing.

An alarm went off, harsh against his ears without his bucket. He flinched, looking around and waiting for an announcement.

“Security breach. All nonessential personnel report to a safe room for lockdown.”

The round door at the end of the hallway slid open suddenly, making him pivot in that direction. The hall flooded with red emergency lighting. A pantoran woman strode out, followed by the sounds of hustle and bustle a bit too bustling for normal medical procedure.

“This place is about to be locked down,” she told him. “Better get a move on, ARC.”

He fell into step beside her as she walked, seeing no point in sticking around if that was indeed the case. He glanced over her person, trying to remember if he’d seen her around for long. He definitely recognized parts of her armor. She was one of the few Mandos left on Kamino, her armor mostly a deep blue, with pink and yellow clouds rolling along the bottom of her chestplate. Her pink hair was cropped close to her head on the sides and flopped over loosely on top. She was only about as tall as his shoulder, probably approaching forty years old, but this woman had two gold jaig eyes tattooed on her forehead.

There was no messing with her.

“Why?” he asked.

“Undisclosed. Someone’s up to no good in the medical wing.”

The alarm continued to blare.

Sevenset glanced behind him at the closed door. Fives hadn’t contacted him yet… did that mean he was in lockdown without his armor? They had to remove their kit for med evals, so maybe with the security, he hadn’t been able to get his comm back yet. That had to be it. Fives was ARC. He hadn’t survived this long by doing rash things like… whatever this trooper was doing.

“What’s your name, ma’am?” he asked, choosing to collect whatever information he could about this Mando.

She glanced over at him. “Maral Tumun.”

He nodded. “I’m Sevenset. I’ve seen you around once or twice.”

“I would hope so. I’ve been training you lot for ages. I trained some of the command batches up from tykes.”

Oh, had she now? That was worth poking into a little bit. “Which batches?”

Before she had an opportunity to answer, his comm went off. He glanced at the frequency and frowned. He didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t anyone in his squadron, or any of the Numbers. Weird.

“Sorry, I gotta take this,” he mumbled, answering the voice transmission. “This is ARC seven seven seven seven.”

“Hey, Sevens, it’s Fives. Listen–I uh… I might’ve done something.”

Oh no.

He hastily muted the comm, but didn't disconnect it, staring at Trainer Tumun, whose gold eyes had locked on him as soon as she'd heard Fives' name. "Wrong number?" he tried.

Her brow rose. "You often get wrong numbers who know your name?"

"Uh, yeah, all the time. Pretty common name among the newer batches, actually," he rambled on.

"Let me hear him," she said.

"Why? No. Ma'am."

“If you don’t, I am still under obligation to report any incidents related to what that trooper has done in medical to my superiors,” she said. “And I believe you would prefer this knowledge remain out of the Kaminoans’ hands for as long as possible, yes?”

He blinked at her. She was… helping? Was she helping? Obviously, whatever Fives had done, he wanted to know as much as he could before making decisions on how to help. She did have reasonable authority to march him down to one of the commanders or one of the doctors and make him sing, and he did not want to do that.

“You won’t get him in trouble?”

She crossed her arms, her beskar clinking. “Any more trouble, you mean?”

“Yeah…”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I know well enough to hear him out.”

Okay. It was as good as he was gonna get. He unmuted the comm.

“Heyyy…. Fives, sorry about that–”

“What the hell was that?” his friend demanded. “What happened?”

“I ran into a trainer, okay?” he shot back, trying to keep his voice down. “I–she heard you, I had to explain some things–”

“Who? What? I thought you were gonna help, Sevens!”

That hurt. He put a hand on his hip even though Fives couldn’t see him. “I’m trying, okay? This is the first time someone’s commed me after putting a whole wing of medical into lockdown, Fives! That was you, right?”

Trainer Tumun stepped closer. “What happened, trooper?”

“It’s–-there’s—something’s wrong with Tup. Yeah, Nala se was gonna cover up all the data, she switched the cases and everything.”

Sevenset exchanged a quizzical glance with the trainer. “This is the guy you were escorting here?”

“Yeah, yeah, he—kark, I dunno, mate, he got all kinds of messed up on Ringo Vinda.” Fives didn’t sound like himself. Far too agitated to be the collected, quick-witted soldier Sevenset knew. “He… he killed a Jedi, Sevens. And the Kaminoans aren’t doing enough to figure out why. All they want to do is kill him and take him apart afterwards.”

Sevenset sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively glancing up and around for witnesses. Without warning, Trainer Tumun grabbed his arm and pulled them both into a storage room toward the end of the corridor. It was dark, except for the white light from his comm, giving both their faces an eerie glow.

“Explain,” she ordered once they were both inside. At least the alarm was quieter here.

“He lost it! He was—he was—agitated, he was violent, he wasn’t responding to his name at all. He tried takin’ a swipe at General Skywalker too! Tied down to a gurney.”

“So what are you doing, Fives?” Sevenset wanted to know. “Why don’t you have your armor?”

“Armor? Armor—no, no, no, no, armor was too recognizable. Grabbed a plain set. He’ll be fine, barely a concussion—”

“You stole armor?”

“Well, no one’s giving it away, are they?” Fives replied sharply. “I may have… I kind of convinced a droid to perform a medical procedure on Tup, and when Nala Se found out, she freaked out. Said they had to do more extensive testing, still says it might be a virus, or a–a parasite—”

“Extensive testing?” Sevenset asked, his brows furrowing. Initial testing was usually pretty thorough. Why the need to go extensive? “Not the hyper testing, I hope. That will kill him.”

“But I found something!” Fives said. “I found something in his brain with the scan I did, right? But Nala Se said it was nothing, said the machine was calibrated wrong.”

Trainer Tumun tilted her head. “Those machines are never calibrated wrong.”

“Exactly! There was something in his head—maybe not just him, maybe there’s more—”

Sevenset held up a hand. “Okay, hold up, where are you?”

There was a heavy pause. Then, quietly, “Storage room, near the genetics wing.”

Another pause landed. “How? Why?” Sevenset demanded.

“I’m in disguise, aren’t I? They were gonna kriffin’ wipe me, Sevens! Now are you gonna help make sure Tup’s okay, or not?”

Sevenset sucked in a sharp breath almost without thinking. Reconditioning was more of a rumor than anything concrete on Kamino. Hearing his friend say it out loud like that…. Kark. This was worse than he’d thought.

“Yeah, and how am I supposed to keep Tup safe and you out of harm’s way at the same time, huh?”

“I’ll look after Tup,” Trainer Tumun said, cutting into their conversation suddenly.

“What?”

“I am Trainer Maral Tumun,” she said for Fives’ sake. “I don’t trust these Kaminoans when they’re this excited to dispose of a soldier. If they are so keen to find you, then they are keen to cover up what’s happening to Tup. I will find out, and I will make sure he gets to a doctor who knows the value of sentient life.”

There was another long pause as they both took in the information. Finally, Fives said, “Thank you, ma’am.”

“How are you gonna do that?” Sevenset asked. So he was a little skeptical. He had reason to be.

She smiled. “I am of Clan Ves. We do not disappoint.”

“Yeah, that’s great, I was talking more logistics?” he said. “Where are there doctors to treat him? How is he getting off Kamino? How are you even getting him off the medical table?”

Trainer Tumun sniffed, lifting her chin. “I know a guy.”

“It’s not Commander Nero, is it?” Fives asked with much sarcasm.

She looked down at the comm, shifting her stance slightly. “I do not have to answer that.”

“Nero?” Sevenset repeated. “Wait, he’s Commander Sixes’ batcher, right?” He recalled her remark about training command batches. “Holy kark, you trained those grumpy bastards, didn’t you?”

Once again, she lifted her chin and shuffled her feet slightly. “They were my best.”

“They’re kriffing sociopaths, ma’am,” Fives blurted.

“No, they are not, I had them tested.”

Comforting. But not important right now. “Okay, okay, fine,” he said. “You’ll find Tup and use Commander Nero’s infinite source of strings to pull to get him off-world. Fives, I’m gonna find you and make sure you don’t do anything stupid by yourself.”

Trainer Tumun gave him a look. “Not the usual phrasing of that expression.”

“Story of my life, ma’am,” he told her.

“Sounds good. My locator should still be on, Sevenset should be able to track me with that. I’m heading to the Genetic Records Hall.”

He sighed, rubbing his head. “Copy that, I’ll find you.”

“Stay outside until I come out. And thanks… again…”

The comm disconnected, leaving them in almost total darkness. Almost, because of the tiny dots of light on their vambrace controls.

“Okay.”

She nodded. Probably. “Let’s go.”

He followed her out into the hall, selecting the frequency Fives had used to comm him and tracking the corresponding locator signal. He turned this way and that a couple times, never the best at directionality.

“Okay, Genetic Records Hall,” he said. “No clue where that is.”

“I know it,” Tumun nodded. “I’ll need access to a different part of the medical wing, so I’ll send you the coordinates while we walk.” Without leaving room for debate, she turned and began walking, leaving him to catch up at a slight jog.

This was a bad situation, obviously. Sevenset wasn’t that tone-deaf not to realize that. But he also knew the value in taking the opportunities presented to him, and right now, he had direct access to a woman who had known Commander Sixes since he had been able to walk. There was no way in any of the nine hells he was letting this chance pass by without using it to find out something.

“So… Chaos Batch, huh?” he said by way of introduction. “You uh… you made ‘em like that?”

“I trained them,” she replied. “They were already like that.”

He gave a low whistle. “Okay, so Commander Nero has always been two degrees away from being a serial killer?”

“Well, he did try to kill a Kaminoan when he was five standard.”

He gaped at her. “He did what? And he’s alive?”

“That’s when he was transferred to the Chaos Batch,” she answered easily. “And also when he was tested for sociopathy. He just has a very rigid view of right and wrong, and a penchant for finding the simplest solution to his problems. But his emotional depth is perfectly normal.”

Sevenset could only nod. So the weird vibes he’d gotten from Commander Nero were well deserved. Granted, he’d never felt actively threatened by the man. He just had understood that if Nero had wanted it, Sevenset would have been dead faster than he could say his own name.

“Uh…huh,” he answered. “And Commander Sixes… has he always been that prickly? Grumpy, as some would say.”

She shook her head. “No, Bacara’s the one they call Grumpy. Sixes was… well. Geonosis One changed a lot of your older brothers. He’s a sweetheart to his core.”

A what? A sweetheart? The guy in all-black armor whose callsign was Death was a sweetheart? Sevenset’s mind reeled.

“Not that he’d ever admit it,” Tumun continued as they turned the corner to the neighboring corridor. “They’re all stubborn as hell, but they had determination and ingenuity like I’d never seen in a squad of cadets before. Bacara once stayed up all night putting together what he called a ‘flawless battle strategy’ for the four of them, and it was. He took into account each of their strengths and weaknesses, and they absolutely demolished the squad they were facing the next day.”

“No kidding,” he said. Small wonder the Marines were some of the most efficient soldiers in the GAR. With a commander like that… well.

“But they also invented Knife Monopoly while drunk for the first time,” she mused, a fond smile on her face. “And Sixes and Nero once shot each other during a concocted ‘duel,’ and they both have scars from it.” She shook her head. “Even genetic manipulation can’t stop teenagers from being teenagers.”

Sevenset was honestly approaching speechlessness. All that came out in reply to those world-shattering revelations was, “Oh.” His mind felt like a speeder without altitude stabilizers.

“We’re here,” Tumun said, stopping near an arched door back into the medical wing. She raised her vambrace, tapping a message. “These are the coordinates to the Genetics Hall. It’s near the incubation wings. I’ll go find Tup.”

“Got it,” he nodded, his brain struggling a little to recover from the previous conversation.

“What is Tup’s designation?” she asked.

“Uh…” He commed Fives.

“Are you here?”

“Starting there now. What’s Tup’s designation?”

“CT fifty-three eighty-five.”

Tumun nodded. “I’ll go find him. I promise,” she added, pressing a closed fist across her chest. A Mandalorian salute.

He nodded back, then took off at a jog toward where he knew the incubators were. He didn’t know what kind of time frame Fives was on, but he had to assume it wasn’t a long one. He offered passing excuses and thank yous as he dodged around doctors and troopers in the hallways, but honestly, Colt had made him run enough laps through the city that even if someone asked him what he was doing, he’d just say tell them that. No one would even blink.

Ten minutes. It took him almost ten minutes to get there. Something closer to seven, probably, but still. It felt too long. When the door was in sight, he opened his comm again.

“Fives, I’m near the main doors, what’s your status?”

“This shit just gets worse and worse, I’m telling you–” he replied angrily.

The door opened, making Sevenset look up hopefully. But no. Kaminoans were filing out of the room. Quietly, seemingly unbothered, but… no. Too quickly. Too orderly.

“Buddy, they know you’re in there,” he said, keeping his voice down.

“Yeah, I see it.”

Well. Sevenset was nothing if not recklessly impulsive at his core. “I’m coming with you,” he said, disconnecting the comm before Fives could argue, then darting towards the door.

The Kaminoans didn’t stop him. They moved out of his way, if anything. As he passed the threshold, he heard more hurried footsteps approaching from the opposite corridor from which he’d come.

“Time go, pal!” he called, now out-right sprinting to Fives. Force, he looked weird in shiny armor.

“You’re a kriffing moron, Sevens!” he shouted, following an AZ medical droid towards… oh, an emergency hatch in the ceiling. Smart.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” he shot back.

“There!” someone shouted behind them. Then stun rings began blazing past them as they ran.

Maker’s sake, they really wanted this guy! Sevenset would have been impressed, if he weren’t running away from them too. He practically flung himself up the yellow rungs of the ladder behind Fives, pulling himself into the emergency hatch after him and stepping back so the AZ could weld it shut.

Then he turned to Fives.

“Okay, so you’re in a stupendous amount of shit.”

“You didn’t have to follow me!” he shot back.

“Too bad! You’re my friend, and I have reckless tendencies,” he replied, tossing his hands in the air.

“I do not meant to interrupt,” said the droid, holding up one of its metal fingers, “but we have research to finish.”

“Finish?” Fives repeated, looking at it. “You didn’t get everything you needed?”

“Hey, I’ve an idea,” Sevenset cut in. “How about we walk and talk, yeah? Where the hell are you going?”

“What information do you still need, AZ?” Fives asked the droid.

“Well,” the droid began, sounding, as many droids did, way too calm for the amount of pressure riding on the current situation, “we know it is an organic chip, created and implanted into clone Tup’s brain.”

Sevenset put his hands on his hips and looked at Fives.

“We found a thing in Tup’s brain, it’s not from the original genetic material from Prime, so someone had to put it there,” he supplied.

“What I am not sure of,” AZ went on, turning his body around and rummaging in his storage compartment, “is at what stage of development the chip is implanted, and its purpose.”

“And we don’t know if it’s in my brain too,” Fives added, which made Sevenset’s gaze snap back to him.

“Excuse me?” Fives had reason to believe that whatever made Tup execute a Jedi General was also in his head?

The droid spoke up, now holding a glass slide containing something suspiciously flesh-colored. “Your scans did not indicate—”

“Neither did Tup’s, until we looked deeper,” Fives insisted. “If they missed it in Tup, they can miss it in me. We have to check.”

A horrible thought came unbidden to Sevenset’s mind. If this thing was in Fives and Tup… then it could be in his head too, right?

“And if it is?” he heard himself ask.

His friend looked at him.

“If it is in your head too?”

“Then he takes it out,” Fives said firmly, tilting his bucket towards AZ.

The droid rose in the air slightly, his visual receptors shining a bit brighter in shock. “That is a dangerous surgery. When I removed clone Tup’s chip, his overall health greatly worsened.”

“I’ll risk it.”

“Hey–wait, what?” Sevenset held up his hands. “‘Greatly worsened?’ What does that mean?”

“He’s still alive,” Fives said, then turned back to AZ. “Are you gonna help, or not?”

“We will need to return to a medical facility,” the droid said, drifting slightly towards Sevenset, intending to pass him.

“Fives, mate,” he said, stepping in front of the droid. “This is a lot. Are you sure you’re—”

Fives stepped over the round hole in the floor where the hatch was. “Tup is one of my best friends. He’s hurting because someone put this thing in his head. Maybe they put this thing into all of our heads. Now, the Kaminoans know something they’re not willing to let me find out.”

“And that might be a good thing,” Sevenset argued. “Listen, I’m not one to trust the long-necks, but we’re not scientists, Fives.”

“This thing made Tup kill a Jedi!” his friend exclaimed. “You want that? You wanna wake up one day a prisoner in your own head, watching your body hunt down General Ti and shoot her?”

“Don’t do that,” he told him, his voice dropping to a dark pitch.

“It’s the truth,” Fives told him. “I need to know how far this goes. You should too.”

Truthfully, Sevenset was curious. Inherently so, some would say. But he wasn’t an idiot, like the others would also say. What Fives was doing was dangerous. A medical procedure like brain surgery wasn’t without risk, even when performed by a droid designed like AZ. But something nagged at the back of his mind, like a child very softly tugging at a parent’s clothing for attention. He couldn’t ignore it forever.

The truth was, Fives wasn’t an idiot either. Hell, he was one of the most caring brothers he’d met, and that included himself.

He sighed, rubbing his face roughly. “Gods, Echo’s gonna kill me for helping you.”

“Yeah.” His friend’s voice sounded hollow at the mention of his batchmate. Probably not the kindest thing Sevenset could have brought up. “AZ, lead the way,” he said.

The droid whirred as he rose higher up the ladder, and Sevenset let Fives follow him before bringing up the rear. They climbed about three levels before the droid cut left. They followed doggedly, turning a few times before dropping back down two more levels. Finally, AZ paused, hovering over a hatch.

“Is this it?” Fives asked, squatting down.

The droid appeared to nod. “Yes. This is a hatch to the D-wing of the medical building. As of now, I can detect no noise on the other side of this hatch.”

Fives hesitated briefly, then took a breath, handing off his stolen blaster to Sevenset so he could hop down to open the hatch. He twisted the yellow wheel slowly, trying to minimize the noise. When it was finally open, he let it down as slowly as he could, and Sevenset reached out to grab the back of his utility belt to steady him as he leaned down.

“All clear,” he reported. He sat back up, then lowered himself down.

AZ followed him, and Sevenset tossed down the blaster so he could have his hands free to follow them. AZ let them into one of the medical examination rooms. It all went so smoothly, Sevenset found himself momentarily baffled. Wouldn’t the Kamino Guard have troopers posted at every emergency tunnel entrance in the whole medical wing? Weird.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Fives said, removing his helmet and setting both it and his blaster on a tray beside the bed. Bed was a generous term. Table was better. He lifted himself onto it.

“And you’re sure this is the thing to do?” he asked again. He already knew the answer, he just couldn’t help it.

“It’s just gonna be a scan and maybe some surgery.”

“Yeah, it’s the maybe I’m worried about, Fives,” he said, watching AZ pull up the scanning machine and begin to program it.

“Knowing what I know now about these chips,” the droid said, poking buttons on the touchscreen, “I do not need to scan at the atomic level. Due to the inorganic compounds present in these chips, a molecular examination should suffice.”

“Is that good?” Sevenset asked as Fives lay down.

“A molecular scan does not put as much strain on the subject.”

He nodded vaguely. So it was good.

AZ brought the ring-shaped scanner around to position it around Fives’ head. “Please remain still and do not speak during the examination,” he said, sounding routine. “Close your eyes and keep them closed until told to open them.”

Fives did as instructed, and Sevenset stood at the foot of the table to watch. AZ tapped a button to begin the examination, and the ring-shaped machine whirred into action, a slow green-ish blue light beginning to travel around the inner circumference.

The exam was probably pretty short, considering the number of actions AZ completed during the time, but the seconds felt like they were moving like drying mud to Sevenset. The droid hovered next to a screen on the side of the room, where a diagram or image of Fives’ brain was slowly developing. After what was probably a minute or so, a red dot appeared on the screen.

AZ hummed a short note of… what, surprise? Acknowledgement? Droids… so hard to parse. Then he flew back over to the scanning device and tapped a few buttons to power it down. When the interior light had fully faded out, he moved the device away.

“You may open your eyes,” he said cheerfully.

Fives blinked his eyes open slowly, looking groggy all of a sudden. Sevenset moved to his side.

“You alright, mate?” he asked, holding out a hand.

“Bit of a headache,” Fives admitted. “But it’s fading.” He took his hand and hauled himself up into a sitting position. Sevenset eyed him carefully. “What’s the word, AZ?”

“By ‘the word,’ I assume you mean the results of the scan?”

“Yes.”

“They are identical to clone Tup,” the droid chirped, moving to the side so Fives and Sevenset could see the screen. “The same tumor appears in the same location in your brain.”

“Sithspit,” Fives hissed, rubbing his head. “Can you take it out?”

“Of course.”

“Then do it,” he said, resuming his previous position on the table.

As AZ began preparing, Sevenset’s comm went off, so he stepped away to answer it. It was Trainer Tumun.

“I have Tup secure,” she reported. “Someone is in transit to collect him and get him to safety.”

He looked up to Fives, who had turned his head to listen. “Hear that?”

Fives nodded, a brief wave of relief washing over his features before he settled back to let AZ begin.

Sevenset turned away. He was fine with blood, but he had no desire to see the inside of Fives’ skull. “Thank you, ma’am. We know the one-eighteenth can be trusted with this.”

There was a pause, since Tumun hadn’t known of their affiliations with Nero’s battalion. But, time was waning, and she must have thought better than to waste any by starting down that winding path. “If I can, I’ll let you know when they have him secure.”

“Much appreciated, ma’am.”

“Hopefully, the ruckus I caused can help you and Fives get the information you need.”

He nodded. “Absolutely. We’re working on it.”

“I wish you the best. Good hunting, ARCs.”

The comm disconnected. He could still hear AZ working, so he kept his attention firmly on the set of window controls below the oval window separating this room from the next. Currently, it was opaque, but the buttons underneath could turn it transparent or translucent if so desired. He was impressed by his own ability to not mess with them.

Mainly because his mind was too busy reeling over the information he’d learned in such a short time.

Somehow, both Fives and Tup had little semi-organic chips in their brains that had been implanted by… someone, who knew whom that had been, and that was uncomfortable enough. But Tup’s had looked… sick. He’d lost his mind, almost as literally as a sentient being could, and that alone sent chills down his spine. If more clones had these chips… then way more of them than just Tup were capable of outright murdering Jedi.

Or anyone.

“The operation is complete.”

He jolted. How much time had passed? He hadn’t checked the time before. Shit. How long had they stayed in one place? That was dangerous. Fives was waking up. AZ held a second glass compartment, examining the contents.

“Well?” he asked, walking over to put hands on Fives to remind himself he was okay.

“This is new,” AZ said. “The chip removed from clone trooper Tup was severely degraded in function and structure, but this one is entirely healthy.”

Fives groaned quietly, his hand rising to his head, only to bump into the metal device still implanted there. His hair had been shorn around it, making for a rather unsightly haircut. Maybe he could pass it off as a fade if he shaved the other side to match?

“Okay, so… Tup was an accident?” he said. “He didn’t mean it. He was sick.”

“That is the most likely scenario,” AZ replied, his body rotating around so he could place Fives’ chip in his storage compartment with Tup’s.

“What are the chances this thing’s in my head too?” Sevenset dared to ask.

“Given you are from the same generation of clones,” the droid said, tapping his fingers together with something resembling nervousness, “the chances are not exactly… low.”

He’d already suspected as much. Judging by the look on Fives’ face, he felt the same. Nice of him to not share it until Sevenset was ready. Alright, well, if he was ever going to have brain surgery, having it on his own terms seemed like a great time for it.

Holding out a hand to Fives again, he helped him off the table, giving a look that asked if he was alright, and receiving a nod in return. “Might as well mark brain surgery off my bucket list,” he said, hoisting himself onto the table.

“You haven’t been scanned,” Fives said, gesturing to the machine. “You don’t know if you even have this thing.”

Sevenset rolled his eyes, desperate to cover up the anxiety rising in his system. “Yeah, I think we all kinda know it’s gonna be there. Better to just save myself the headache, right? We’ve been here too long as it is.”

Fives couldn’t argue with the last point. The longer they stayed in one place, the more likely it was someone would find them. They needed to move, and if this got it done faster, then so be it. His friend looked a little helpless for a split second before nodding and stepping back.

“Are you sure?” AZ asked. “Without a scan, I will have to estimate where the cells are located—”

“And you’re a smart droid,” Sevenset cut in, lying back on the table. “You’ll do fine. It’s probably exactly where Fives’ was. We are clones, after all, right?”

After a second or two of processing, the droid nodded. “Very well.” He flew over to a barely visible cabinet underneath the display screens at the back wall, and retrieved what supplies he would need. Normally, they would have been laid out, but he’d used them on Fives already. He held up a large syringe which Sevenset was not thrilled about. “This will not hurt—”

“Yes, it will,” Fives cut him off.

“It will only hurt a bit,” the droid corrected, and Sevenset braced himself.

It did hurt. Quite a bit, actually, like injecting fire under the skin of his neck. But, after only a few seconds, the pain had faded, and the rest of the world faded out as well.

-scene break-

He woke up to his comm blinking at him, telling him a new message had arrived. As he had suspected, AZ held a sample identical to the one that had come out of Fives' head. Holy Force. Once AZ gave him the all-clear, he opened his comm, scanning it quickly as he and Fives readied themselves for whatever came next. There wasn't time to process what had just happened.

“Where are we going next?” he asked,his eyes fixed on the thing AZ had taken out of his head. Gross. It made his skin crawl like an itchy sweater he couldn’t take off.

“The incubation rooms,” AZ answered, flying over to the door. “We must find out how many clones have these implanted chips, and when they are implanted into your cell structure.”

Sevenset nodded. “Alright. Let’s visit some tubies.” He paused to open his comm. “Uh… I take it we’re keeping our activities unknown to your batcher?” he asked.

“Please,” Fives said, looking terribly guilty.

He started typing a reply as they hurried out of the room.

CrispyDomino: Rex says he’s on his way back, how’s Fives?

RedBoiiiii: peachy!

CrispyDomino: oh good

CrispyDomino: do you know how Tup’s doing?

RedBoiiiii: uhh more tests?

d0nut man: aw that’s too bad :(

d0nut man: might it have anything to do with the 118th’s unplanned visit to Kamino right now?

CrispyDomino: What.

RedBoiiii: I’m sure it’s nothing Zero

Double Trouble: guys he just used capitalization correctly…

RedBoiiii: dosido i do no t need this right now

DEATH: And where is Fives in this conversation?

RedBoiiiii: he doesnt have his comm

RedBoiiiii: they had to clear him had to get his kit off

CrispyDomino: Do you know he’s okay?

RedBoiiiii: like i said, peachy

d0nut man: uh yeah, i wasn’t joking about an unplanned stop in the Kamino system.

d0nut man: what are we doing here

DEATH: I have a terrible feeling about this

DressedtotheNines: Please don’t say that, every time Kenobi says that, bad stuff happens

Leafs: Wait, Echo left Sevenset in charge of Fives?

CrispyDomino: Yes

Loopy: wait why

CrispyDomino: Bc I assume he got to ARC trooper SOMEHOW

RedBoiiiii: look hes’ fine!!! I’m still with him!!

DEATH: Nero’s hiding something. The 118th is definitely going to Kamino for crimes.

CrispyDomino: CRIMES???

d0nut man: oooohh yay I hope it’s kidnapping :)

d0nut man: that’s my favorite crime

d0nut man: been in a high crimes and misdemeanors kinda mood lately

Leafs: I have so many questions I do not want answers for.

CrispyDomino: Okay okay, since I’m about to go into another firefight

CrispyDomino: I am choosing to believe the crimes and my batcher are unrelated.

RedBoiiiii: good choice

Double Trouble: they are so related

Loopy: yeah, definitely

Submarine: Hey… probably a bad time to ask, but is anyone else going on leave soon?

d0nut man: well we were suPPOSED TO

Loopy: not official leave, just stopping by 000 for a restock n stuff, but yeah

Leafs: I do have leave soon, yes

DressedtotheNines: Yeah, we’re here already, set for a couple weeks

DEATH: Get some noodles. I’m sure Mira and Saleha will be overjoyed to see you.

RedBoiiiii: aw that’s actually sweet!

DEATH: They haven’t met you yet, don’t get your hopes up.

RedBoiiiii: :/

RedBoiiiii: Hey sir

RedBoiiiii: Is it true you and cmdr bacara invented Knife Monopoly when drunk the first time?

Double Trouble: THEY DID WHAT NOW???

Submarine: Oh is that why so many Novas play that game?

Leafs: Wait it’s an actual game?? With knives??

Loopy: it better have knives, i’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t

CrispyDomino: Sevenset you are supposed to be watching my brother

CrispyDomino: not tempting Death himself

DressedtotheNines: I … I’m not sure what to think

d0nut man: I think Seven’s about to vanish under mysterious circumstances

Submarine: Yes, it does involve knives. I’ve never played though.

DEATH: Echo, I have it on good authority that the kid you sent to Kamino is in good hands

CrispyDomino: WHOSE AUTHORITY

DEATH: My old trainer

RedBoiiiii: she didn’t mention anything else…?

DEATH: She told me everything.

DEATH: But for now, all these laser brains need to know is it is being handled.

CrispyDomino: There’s an EVERYTHING???

RedBoiiiii: an Everything that is fine, yes!

-scene break-

All of them.

Every single clone.

Sevenset looked from the glowing green lights on the display screen to the tower of growth tubes before them.

All of them had these things in their heads, waiting for activation. Activation for what? AZ hadn’t been able to figure out what these bioengineered things could be used for. The only data point they had was Tup, and he had been whisked off somewhere by Trainer Tumun. Hopefully.

“So that means…” Fives said, pulling off his helmet, “we’re all part of this. Whatever reason these things exist, it… it affects all of us.”

“It would appear so, yes.” Even AZ looked as surprised as he could.

The sudden sound of a door hissing as it slid open made them all spin around, Fives automatically raising his blaster.

Kark.

It was Nala Se, one of the head doctors on Kamino, and a distinctly unpleasant person. She approached with raised hands.

“Stay where you are,” Fives told her sharply. Sevenset wanted to edge closer to him, just in case he did something really stupid, but he didn’t move.

“Why are you doing this?” the doctor asked.

“Take a guess,” he shot back before Fives could. “You thought you could cover up putting bioengineered hardware into our brains, and no one would notice? No one would get curious?”

The doctor ignored or otherwise dismissed the blatant threat Fives posed, and continued to approach them with her hands visible. “Curious about what?” she asked peaceably.

Sevenset moved to the side, revealing the display screen and gesturing at it. “This?” he demanded. Fives flanked the doctor and corralled her towards the screen. “What is it?”

“That is a structural inhibitor chip,” she explained, her voice never changing. It always freaked him out that Kaminoans had little to no inflection. Like somehow, their scientific findings had placed them above emotions. “It is supposed to prevent you from being aggressive,” she went on, looking over her shoulder at Fives, who still had a blaster on her. “Like your source, Jango Fett.”

Sevenset laughed. Dry and cynical. “Less aggressive?” he said. “I’m sorry, have you met some of the Alphas? And who thinks of putting an inhibitor on aggression in soldiers, eh?”

“Jedi Master Sypho Dias instructed us to introduce these structures during the growth cycle,” Nala Se replied evenly.

Fives blinked, casting a glance at Sevenset. “The Jedi did this?”

“No way.” Sevenset shook his head. “If the Jedi wanted this done—if they were the ones to blueprint this thing—then why did General Ti have no idea about it? She’s been here for ages.”

Nala Se’s enormous eyes narrowed. “I do not pretend to know the workings of the Jedi.”

“The Jedi wouldn’t do this,” he repeated, pointing to the tower of tubies next to them.

“It is not uncommon to put inhibitors in clones.”

AZ had spun his body around and dug out Tup’s chip. “I have analyzed clone Tup’s inhibitor chip. Apparently, it has failed.”

“Until this point,” Nala Se said, glaring at Fives, “there has never been a problem.”

“Well, I specialize in making my own problems,” Sevenset told her, taking a step toward her.

“And you’ve got a big one right now,” Fives growled, nudging the nose of his blaster into the small of the doctor’s back for emphasis.

Sevenset saw the door open this time, allowing General Ti and a few Kamino Guards into the room. Fives darted around Nala Se, keeping her between them and the new threats.

“Don’t move!” one of the guards ordered as they ran.

They came to a stop upon realizing the doctor was between them and their targets. General Ti ignited her lightsaber. “Drop your weapon,” she demanded.

“Did you know about this?” Fives replied, jerking his head to indicate the display screen. “The inhibitor chips the Jedi ordered them to put in our brains?”

She surveyed them, calculating. “I have no recollection of any one of my Order informing me of such things. Do you have evidence?”

AZ whirred forward, still holding Tup’s chip. “Right here,” he said. “This is the chip taken from clone trooper Tup. As you can see, it appears blackened and rotten. This sickness caused the malfunction.”

“But what caused the sickness?” the Jedi wanted to know.

“We don’t know,” Sevenset admitted.

“It doesn’t matter!” Fives argued. “What matters is it happened. And it could happen again. More clones could turn against their Jedi, or their brothers. The entire Republic Army could be compromised if someone figured out a way to activate these chips on purpose!”

That was something Sevenset had not considered yet. It hadn’t occurred to him that these chips might have a purpose outside of… well, they didn’t know yet. What if there was a manual activation? Or a secret code?

“There is no proof of any of this!” Nala Se interjected, finally showing some of the frustration she must have been feeling for a while. “This is an isolated incident. Besides, when you removed Tup’s chip, his health deteriorated immensely.”

Rude.

“We’re fine, aren’t we?” Fives said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“What does that matter?”

“We removed our chips as well,” Sevenset said, pointing to the bandage over the incision on his skull.

AZ held up the chips. “Here they are, very healthy.”

“Then you are both threats and should be considered dangerous,” Nala Se said sharply. “Master Jedi, they should be terminated immediately.”

“I am not a piece of kriffing hardware!” Fives exclaimed, and Sevenset had to agree with him on his anger.

“We’re ARC troopers,” he added. “We’ve laid our lives on the line for the Republic countless times, and you want to terminate us because we found out about your chips?”

“Because you have removed your chips,” Nala Se hissed at him. “And technically, you are both property of the Kaminoan government.”

Sevenset blinked, honestly shocked. He knew the Kaminoans weren’t to be trusted, nor did they place any real value in a trooper’s life, but to hear it like that? To actually be labeled property? He’d have gotten no better on Nal Hutta. Or Zyggeria! Were these chips… they couldn’t be slave chips, could they?

“Correction.” General Ti’s strong voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. She extinguished her blade and lowered the hilt to her side. “Technically, they are ‘property’ of the Republic.”

“They are a danger to themselves and to others,” Nala Se argued, her small head swaying on her long neck as she struggled to remain civilized. “They must be terminated.”

“Oh, for Maker’s sake,” Sevenset spat. “Just say killed. It’s what you mean, right? You wanna kill us? Don’t hide behind words as long as your neck.”

“I believe,” said General Ti, cutting off the doctor’s reply, “their fates are for me to decide.” She lifted her chin. “Fives, you are coming with me to Coruscant. Sevenset will accompany him. You will tell your story to the Chancellor.”

The Chancellor? He was going to see the Chancellor himself? Not an aide, not Mas Amedda, but the actual, real-live Chancellor, who got his robe unravelled by Commander Thire that one time?

Nala Se finally moved, harshly pushing away the blaster Fives had been holding half-heartedly at her chest. “Master Jedi—”

“Sounds great, when do we leave?” Sevenset interrupted, hurrying to get ahead of her.

He could feel Nala Se’s enormous grey eyes boring into the back of his head.

“The chancellor wanted all the data on Tup, correct?” General Ti continued, a confident light in her eyes as she typed something into her comm unit. “We’re sending the data, Tup’s tumor, and the two other samples, and Fives and Sevenset will go with them.”

The Kaminoan doctor drew herself up to her full, impressive height. “Then I am going with them.”

Oh, please no. Sevenset had exactly zero desire to spend several hours in hyperspace with her anywhere near him. He saw Fives felt similarly, and he turned his gaze to the general, hoping to communicate just how much he didn’t want this to happen.

But her hands must have been tied. She narrowed her eyes slightly, but agreed. “As you wish, Doctor.”

The door opened yet again, admitting a small team of Kamino Guards bearing two stretchers between them. Sevenset watched Fives sit down on one before doing the same on the other.

“Thank you, General,” Fives said as the Jedi began to turn away. “For believing us.”

“It’s not a matter of belief, Fives,” she told him, her face impassible. “It is simply the right thing to do.”

…Jedi.

In watching her leave, Sevenset was caught off guard by one of the guards approaching him with a syringe in his hand. He instantly shied away from it, holding a hand up. “Whoa, hold on. What is that?” He looked over to Fives, seeing him rub his neck as another guard walked away from him.

“A weak sedative.”

“I don’t want a sedative,” he said. “I don’t care if it’s weaker than a day-old porg.”

“It’s preventative.”

“Against?” he asked, a little flummoxed. “What, you think I’m gonna jump up and escape? Escape where?”

“It’s not my call,” the guard replied, sounding a little apologetic.

He glanced up at Nala Se, whose back was to him as she followed the general out of the room. Probably standard procedure. Probably. He still didn’t want it.

“Don’t give it to me, or I will jump up and do something about it,” he said, then lay back on the stretcher. “Now get going.”

The guard looked confused, standing there without purpose. But eventually, the guard manning the stretcher just shook his head and turned him toward the doors. Good. His method of wasting people’s time until they gave him what he wanted was still effective. Now… on to Coruscant.

What will happen on Coruscant?? What will the chancellor do?? Will Nala Se finally hit her head on a doorframe?? All that and MORE next month ;) Unless I can't help myself and I post it for the Number Lads 1 year anniversary this month In addition: Maral Tumun is another OC by my friend 23-bears and me. I drew her during OC-tober last year, here.

@23-bears @theultimatesandwich @mercurydancer @persimminwrites @beskarmermaid @darth-void @rndmpeep

#i write things sometimes #star wars fanfic #the clone wars #tcw fanfic #clone trooper ocs #star wars ocs #pantoran oc #mandalorian oc #arc trooper sevenset #arc trooper fives #clone trooper tup #nala se #shaak ti #kaminoans #number lads #numbers gang

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