#going to wear the matching gold tunic underneath for the actual show too

[astriiformes]

Just cosplayer things: Everyone at rehearsal is very impressed with the royal-looking cloak I happened to have around for playing King Ahasuerus in our Purim spiel.

Some of you may, uh, recognize it

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.36 - End

A Chance Meeting

08/08/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 10,158

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, creepy dudes

A/N: The end. 😭 I hope you’ve enjoyed it. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are always welcome.

*pictures relay only style of clothing and not physical appearance/race

Silken sheets that are cool to the touch. A roaring fire. The heartbreaking smell of peony blossoms.

A wooden bucket—your wooden bucket—full of ice-cold water.

A chill warmed by a feverish heat wrapped around your back.

All of these thoughts-no. They’re more like memories.

All of them have come to you over the course of a year.

They grow more elusive as they come.

Before you thought you could almost see a garden with an ocean of pink peonies in varying shades of blush to wine.

Now, after months of having these strange visions, they have become condensed into single colors at random. The most frequent is a shade of gold. A circle of blue.

You think these memories might be important but you cannot grasp onto them long enough to make any sense of them.

There’s also the fact that you know they cannot possibly be memories.

You have never seen a garden of peonies.

You’ve had plenty of chill in your life but a warmth like the one you’d recalled at the beginning of the year when the winter cold had been at its worst is as unfamiliar to you as the looming manor on the hill above the village.

With a small groan, you stop and set the bucket down. Your arms are strong enough to carry it but after so harsh a winter, you’d be a fool not to take care.

You’d only just managed to make it out alive after devoting so much time to your little one.

You suppose the golden hue you keep remembering is similar to your baby’s hair. Just a shade or two off. Just as beautiful.

The estate sits looming at the peak of a hill that sits almost a mile away from the village.

The manor itself, you can see, has been expanded. It has the appearance of a small castle now with towers and battlements. The parapet walls that now surround the structure offer crenels to whatever guard the now small castle may need.

It had sat there abandoned for so long, the lord once given task to watch over it and Bright Rise as well as several other small villages in this part of the kingdom having left.t

With the primary building made of wood, the added masonry has really given the old place new life.

What magnificent furnishings must it have? Gilded and ornate probably. Chairs worth more than everything you own.

What type of person has taken residence there? Is it someone you’d know?

Someone beautiful probably. A handsome lord and his gorgeous lady. Both of them probably members of his Majesty King Anthony’s court.

Do they have children? A young little lord or lady running around causing mischief.

You find yourself smiling, made happy by the image you paint in your head.

It makes you only a little sad that you picture yourself there. Your baby in your arms. Your husband…

My husband?

Silly…You don’t have a husband.

But you yearn for something you very nearly miss. Something you know you should have. Something…precious.

“Hello there, little mouse.”

You gasp, startled out of your daydreams and turn on your heel in search of the horrible voice.

With a stuttering heart you spot Phin, standing with his grimy hands in his tattered pockets.

“What do you want?” You ask him, voice cold but wavering as you grow wary.

Already you’re searching with a quick glance for the nearest route of escape.

You hunch over, grabbing your bucket and attempt and fail to stifle your groan of effort.

Phin lunges forward, his hand thrown out towards you. It makes you flinch. You keep your eyes shut as you wait for the blow.

It never comes.

Slowly you peek, searching for Phin's extended hand and find it wrapped around the rope handle of your bucket.

“What are you doing?” You ask, confused and fearful. “Let go.”

“I can treat you right, little mouse. I can give you proper protection. I’ll even pretend that bastard brat of yours is mine.

“I’ve been patient. I may not be able to wait much longer.” His voice is like sludge, creeping down your spine raising chills of terror as it goes.

You yank on the handle, urging him to release it. You meet his gaze, matching his threat with your own angry stubbornness.

You will not give in to him. Not now. Not ever. Even with your little one…you can’t.

He keeps holding it, refusing to let go until you feel like you’d rather drop the water and come back for more later.

He drops the rope and you stumble back a step, not having realized how much you were actually pulling on the bucket.

Some water spills but you’re just thankful to be free of Phin and you rush away to be even further. A glance back when you’re close to your small home shows you Phin still standing where you left him.

He’s watching you.

You hate him.

Getting inside, you shut the rickety door tight, resting your forehead against the splintered wood as you wait for your heart to stop pounding.

From behind you a sudden “goo" chases the tension and fear from your body. Your shoulders relax.

With a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, you turn in search of the cooing source.

Nestled into a bed of hay, covered with a thick blanket of navy fabric, is your little one.

A hair of golden hair and eyes as blue as the deepest ocean have enraptured you. Stolen your heart and changed your world.

“Are you finally awake?” You gush, moving to place your bucket by the crumbling and unlit fireplace before you make your way to him.

His chubby little legs kick away his tunic. A plain brown piece of linen you’d stitched together to keep him clothed.

At six months, he’s nearly outgrown it.

When you offer your arms, he throws his weight to his left until he can roll onto his stomach and then reaches for pivots towards you.

Sliding your hands underneath his arms, he grabs you and you lift him up then place several kisses to his chubby baby cheeks.

He's gorgeous, your baby boy. His smile is sun bright and the gleam in his eyes is sharp and observant.

The expressions he wears on his little face are familiar. They pull and tug at something too but you can’t focus on it long enough to care.

Your boy is your world and that’s all you need to know.

“Is my sweet boy hungry?” You wonder while moving for the bucket of water you’d lugged into the hut.

You dip your hand in and for a moment relish in the feel of the water on your hand. A sudden desire to be submerged in steaming hot water that smells like a spring garden overcomes you, but it’s gone by the time you gently swipe across your little one's face.

He protests you cleaning his face. Whining a little and twisting in your arms until you’re done and wait with both arms supporting him for his sputtering to stop.

He looks at you and after taking another moment to overcome his displeasure, he smiles again.

You chuckle and move to grab the swaddling blanket you’ve set aside for his use alone and sit with it in your lap as you lean back a little to expose your breast to feed him.

A song you feel you almost dreamt slips from your lips in a soothing hum. With your eyes shut you can almost see a beautiful gown sweep around your feet.

Strong arms hold you close as they lead you around a crowded room.

The image is like a dream too, part of the song you’re humming. You’ve never been in so vast a hall, tables laden with food and the satin gown you wear is softer than any rag you’ve ever worn.

No. You’ve never been bathed in such luxury.

This hovel is your home with its mostly dirt floor, loose cobblestones shoved around in spots you’d set aside to keep dry.

No windows. A door that hangs off its hinges. A straw bed. A patched roof.

As your son feeds and you allow your mind to put away the dream of nice things, you assess the hut you’ve made your home.

You’re almost certain that you’d had it in better condition before. The door had hung straight, the rickety fireplace had been sturdy and homely.

The floor had been more even. Your straw bed had been less lumpy.

You’d had another small shelf with your plates and cups. Your sewing kit safely stored in the cupboard below.

Your home had not been grand but it had been comfortable. It had been yours and you’d cared for it delicately and made it a sanctuary.

When had it changed so much?

As you attempt to remember when this place fell apart your mind is forced to confront several other unanswered questions that you seem to think on often but always forget.

It’s almost as if the thoughts are pushed from your mind until they are brought to the surface once more.

The one question that started it all…the one that had made you pause. You still remember the miller’s wife, staring at you at the small grocer's shop while you waited to pay for your bushel of potatoes.

“Oi, orphan. How much longer ‘til you have the babe?” She'd asked, her eyes narrowed as she considered your swollen belly.

You'd stroked it, smiling fondly at the little life growing within you.

“A fortnight.” You’d answered, happy and content despite your poor living.

“Ah, and who's the father?” She'd asked, then waited as your smile slowly fell.

You’d stood there for a few minutes, waiting your turn but lost in thought at the question that had never once occurred to you in the seven months since your belly began to grow.

“I…I don’t know.” You’d admitted to her and her eyes filled with a solemn worry.

“Looks like they finally cornered you. Didn’t get a look at ‘is face?” She'd wondered and it was then that you realized what she thought.

Your precious baby, your little growing bean, was the product of one of the village men forcing himself on you.

But it wasn’t true!

As you sit with your son in your arms, rocking him back and forth as he eats, you know without a doubt in your mind that your son was made with love.

You can feel it within your very soul. There was passion and love and devotion in his making.

A golden aura, warm and encompassing that gave you your own little ray of sunshine. But even though you know this you cannot see his father.

There is no father. Only your Joseph.

He stirs in your arms. You find him smiling, finished with his meal. And just like that, your thoughts are lost to his special allure.

“All done?” You ask him and he yawns.

You begin to wrap him up in the blanket you’d made for him and bring a basket from the corner of your hut.

It’s a decent size with straps sewn into the wicker so that you may put it on your back.

You place it before you, balanced between your legs and gently lay Joseph within. You make certain he's wrapped up tight and kiss his cheek before you fit a domed lid on top.

The lid covers his head and keeps him safe from the summer heat.

“We'll check the traps and then come right back.” You promise him and lift the basket onto your shoulders, listening as he coos long baby words that say nothing.

It’s like he’s talking to you, the quiver of his voice moving up and down with inflection as if he knows what he’s doing.

He takes a breath and then starts again, “Oooh-awhhhh-wahhhhhh-ooooohhhhhhh…”

You can’t help but smile, your skin greeted by scorching sun as you start your trek into the trees behind your home.

“Let's check the traps by the pond first, then we'll check the bog by the road.” Joseph coos along with you.

~~~~~~~~~~

The view is spectacular.

It’s downright scenic from up here so high on the hill. Even if the beautiful valley is slightly tarnished by the village below.

It’s part of the reason he decided to keep the purchase.

Several months ago, Steve had found the deed to the manor on Sunbright Hill.

He'd sat for nearly an hour while he'd considered the paperwork, trying to remember why he’d made the purchase of such a dilapidated plot.

The lord that had once resided here had apparently vacated when he'd married a lady of considerable wealth but she preferred the Capital city to Bright Rise below so, they’d left and never come back.

Slowly the manor began to rot and the village, without its caretaker, had also fallen into poverty and corruption.

The farms were all but dead. Only two were still in use and had the season failed once in the past few years, the village would have surely fallen.

“Steve?” Bucky sighs, moving into the renovated den.

Steve stands by the large arched windows behind his massive oak desk.

The chair is angled towards the glass, distracted as he's been lately, he can’t seem to get any work done.

“Steve?” Bucky says louder.

Steve blinks, pulled from his brooding to notice his friend. He turns and waits, saying nothing.

“She's here.” Bucky smiles.

Steve’s heart gives an eager stutter as his own bearded face breaks into a wide smile.

“Where?” He asks, moving towards his oldest friend.

“She’s with Nat in the dining room. She was hungry.”

Steve is already out the door, stomping with wide steps down the hallway, then another and another, down a staircase then to the east side of the manor towards the dining room.

It’s a long room, a table long enough to sit at least forty people takes up most of the center space.

Each wall has been adorned with tapestries and paintings, an iron chandelier with sixty candles hangs at the center of the room, currently unlit.

Instead, windows on both sides of the room sit open, a cool breeze blowing in to cool the manor from the summer heat.

As Steve thrusts the doors open, he spots a grouping of his closest friends. Sam, Wanda, Pietro, Peter who is actually squatting beside the chair they are all surrounding, and Natasha in the one beside it.

In the chair is a cherub. An angel. A literal princess dressed in pale pink. Her golden hair, a shade darker than Steve’s is pinned back on one side with clasp of small and ornate white peony blossoms.

“Maggie!” Steve calls, the honey in his deep voice soft and flowing as his heart swells in his chest.

The toddler turns her head, searching aimlessly as his voice echoes around the room. Her right hand full of jelly and toast as she’d sat munching, she now opens and holds her fingers wide as she isn’t coordinated enough to recognize when the food has fallen from her tiny grasp.

Everyone is watching her, despite the presence of their King and Steve cannot blame them. Her eyes find him and she releases a high squeal of excitement before she turns in her seat to take hold of the arm.

“Wait, Maggie, your hands are a mess.” Nat says, her voice full of amusement.

But little Maggie has no patience for cleanliness with her papa so close.

“Papa!” She screams, turning to look at him as she stands on the chair.

Her lips wrap around the name with a slur, her talking improving but still just beginning.

Nat continues to wipe her hands as Steve laughs and moves for her, arms extended.

Maggie bounces on her feet excitedly. Her pink dress swishing with every move.

As he reaches her, she allows herself to fall into his arms and he catches her, spinning her once as he presses a long kiss to her cheek.

Maggie laughs, her hands wrapped around Steve’s head so tightly that Steve wonders if her strength is increasing or it’s just his imagination.

“She has been asking about you all week.” Nat says, rising and then turning to Bucky as he approaches her to give her a kiss.

“We'll give you some space.” Wanda offers then moves around the chair towards the exit.

Steve stops his turning to watch her go, Pietro following.

“Will you be going back to Broklin?” He wonders, wondering if the twins only came to escort Maggie.

“No. We'll visit with Tony.” Pietro nods, then both of them stop at the door and bow before heading off at what must be Pietro’s run.

“How was the journey?” Steve worries, turning his eyes on Nat.

“It was fine. She was a little fussy last night but as soon as I explained that we were coming to see her papa, she converted her energy to enthusiastic impatience.” Nat chuckles. “She really has been asking for you. ‘Papa where?’, ‘Where Papa?’, ‘Papa, Papa, Papa…’. It’s almost as if it’s the only word she knows.”

“She’s never been away from him for so long.” Bucky observes, both he and Nat watching as Maggie places her little hands on Steve’s cheeks, her fingers exploring the edges of his beard while Steve admires her little face.

“I’m sorry, my treasure. I just wanted to make sure the manor would be ready when you arrived.” He tells her.

She seems to understand as she tilts her head to one side and throws her hand up, bent at the elbow as she babbles a string of words only she understands.

“Do you forgive me?” Steve begs.

Maggie giggles sleepily then leans forward to lay her head on his shoulder.

Steve strokes her tiny back, caressing her hair a bit as her eyes begin to close.

“How long will you stay, Nat?” Steve asks, his voice dropping a bit in volume to respect his sleeping toddler.

“Long enough for you and Sam to go and come back. Bucky and Peter will help me with Maggie.” She nods, looking for her faithful friend and Knight.

She spots him in another seat, head in hand, elbow on the table as he dozes lightly.

“He's been doting on her.” Nat explains. “Too much, perhaps?”

Sam huffs a laugh as he crosses his arms across his hard chest, tugging on the crimson tunic he’d quickly dressed himself in this morning.

“He’ll be angry we went to visit Morgana without him.” Sam observes and Steve can’t find it in him to deny it.

The romance that had bloomed between them had seemed to come out of nowhere for him.

In the back of his mind when he’s been laying in bed with Maggie beside him, he can almost remember a conversation about their eventual marriage. When he brought it up to Nat—he was fairly certain the topic had been discussed with a woman—she admitted to the thought never even crossing her mind.

She’d praised the match and teased Peter afterwards, but it has left Steve with another unanswered question.

So many…so many strings that he’s tried to pull on only to find the way blocked.

Maggie coos in his arm, another bout of baby babble in her sleep that pulls him from his pondering.

“We’ll head out in a few hours.” He tells Sam who straightens up and nods. “I would like to go now, but I want to spend a bit of time with Maggie before I leave her again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours with Maggie turned into thirty minutes.

The longer Steve sat with her in his arms, the more eager he was for her to wake.

He’s missed her but knows that she’s tired so in an effort to get the visit over with and return to his smiling princess, he tucks her into her crib in his bedroom then hands her care over to Nat who sits by the window while Bucky sees them out.

“How long will you be, your Majesty?” Bucky wonders, keeping pace with Steve’s quick and long stride.

“Not long. I’ve only to invite him to the ball in two weeks and we’ll return. I’m certain we’ll be back before dinner.” Steve assures him. “I hear you and Natasha are considering adopting a child?”

Bucky smiles. “There is another option, one that Natasha is most eager to try but I think I’ve convinced her to reconsider.”

Steve regards his friend skeptically.

“Truly, I think I have. She met with a witch a few weeks ago and apparently there is a way for Natasha to regain her ability to have a child.” Bucky explains, his expression a little darker.

Steve’s confusion is evident in the narrow of his brow. Despite his curiosity, he keeps his eyes fixed ahead as they move along the south hall to the stables.

The fall of their shoes echoes along the empty corridor, still only half decorated as it was only finished a few days ago. Steve can still smell the fresh clay between the stones underneath their feet.

He’ll have carpets put in to quell the sound.

“Isn’t that what you both want?” He wonders.

Bucky shakes his head. “I want her to be happy. She thinks I want a child of my own. Naturally my own. But I don’t care if the child is mine by blood. I just want to love her.”

“Magic like that of which she speaks comes with a hefty price.”

“That’s why I refuse to accept it.” Bucky sighs, the worries of his world evident on his shoulders.

“The price is too high?” Steve wonders, finally looking to his friend.

“We would be granted the ability to have our own child, but the mother would have to relinquish years of her own life. Five is what the witch told her. So, if it were Nat’s fate to die at the age of sixty, five years would be taken from that and she would die that much sooner.” Bucky laments, shaking his head in denial. “I cannot condone it.”

Steve sees his friend thinking things through, biting his lip as he wonders if he should speak what has consumed his mind aloud.

He gives in, “I know that it’s her choice. If she should want to do it, I only have some say in it. If having a child truly born of us both is what would make her happy then I would have no choice but to comply, but I would rather adopt a child who we will both love as our own anyway and have my wife for five years longer.”

Steve’s heart gives a painful ache.

Something in Bucky’s words makes him sad and breaks his heart.

My wife…Steve repeats in his head, the memory of feeling proud at that very thought overtaking his senses.

“Is it Margaret again?” Bucky wonders, stopping as they reach the end of the hall. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Steve reaches up to stroke the spot on his chest where he can feel his heart beating. Every thump it gives sends more agony into the pit of his stomach making his head hurt.

Is it Margaret? Steve doesn’t think so.

The first time someone had asked him if it was Margaret he was mourning he admitted it was because it was easier than to tell his friends that no, it wasn’t his dead wife he was thinking of. In fact, he wasn’t sure who it was he was thinking of.

He shuts his eyes now, overcome with the sweet scent of oils. Lilac and juniper. Peonies. Fields of them. A garden full, just like back home.

A smile flitters past his sense. The image nearly chokes him. A laugh. A pout. A tear stained face made blurry as he can’t recall its beauty.

Maggie in womanly arms, pressed gently to her breast.

These elusive images that skim his mind are not Margaret. Everyone seems to ignore that Maggie is too young to be Margaret’s or perhaps they simply don’t care?

It’s almost a silent agreement that Maggie’s mother is not Margaret but who exactly she is, no one cares. No one will think on the possibility long enough for it to matter.

Even Steve loses focus after a few second of torment.

Even now, as his heart breaks painfully, Bucky puts his hand on his shoulder and gives him a shake.

Just like that, the images that pained him only moments ago are gone.

Steve smiles, breathing in deep before exhaling in a huff.

“I’ll be quick. I want to be back before it’s too dark.” With a nod from Bucky, Steve hastens his way into the stable.

Sam already has his horse saddled and waiting.

He hops on, adjusting his posture as he takes the reigns then turns to give Bucky one final wave.

“Keep my daughter happy until I return.” He orders.

Bucky waves them off and watches until they clear the large gate.

~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands are shaking with rage. Yet another night with nothing caught.

All of your snares are in fact, broken. A deliberate cut made to the wire you’d spent so much money on.

You think you know exactly who it was that came out to ruin your work. There’s only one person who would benefit from sabotaging your efforts to feed yourself and your boy.

The image of Phin standing across the field from your home, staring at you is burned into your mind.

If it weren’t for Joseph, you would happily starve before you accept Phin’s hand in marriage.

As it is, it isn’t only you. In order to feed your son, you must eat. With no one coming to you for mending—which you are also sure is thanks to Phin’s interference as it has only been happening the past few weeks—you have no money to buy anything. No grain. No bread. No meat.

If you do not eat, your son will starve.

You clutch the broken snare in your hand, squeezing so tight you can feel the wire dig into the palms of your hand.

Were they not so rough, you may have cut yourself.

You take a quick peek at the basket carefully nestled between the rough trunk of tree and large berry bush. Your little one still dozing peacefully and safely covered by the basket’s lid.

While he sleeps, you know you must be quick with the snares by the bog. It isn’t too far so you decide to let him sleep in the shade and make your way through the trees to the road’s edge.

It’s a very short walk. Should he cry you’ll hear him perfectly and be able to run back to him in less than ten seconds.

The sun beats down on the road here and the bog is nearly dried over from the heat of the summer sun.

Normally the mud within is a thick sticky paste that one can easily be caked in. You even remember fetching a purse for the old woman who used to care for you when you were little.

As you stop by its edge, you wonder where the old woman has gone. You attempt to recall the last time you’d seen her but the last memory you have is fetching her purse from the mud pit.

Forcing her from your mind, you look to the two snares you’d set up between two trees and right at the edge of the bog.

The one at the edge has also been cut. You kick it angrily before you move to the other and find that it has also been tampered with.

“Fuck!” You mutter, hating Phin with every fiber of your being.

You try to picture him beside you, laying claim over you as his wife. You think on the life you will live, trapped in your home, and expected to fulfill his every whim, wish, and desire. He will rule you with a heavy hand, command you to obey, and take what he wants from you with violence if need be.

Terror roots you to that spot between the trees, hunched over as your hands shake with anger at the lack of options for you and Joseph.

There is the other choice, the one you’ve refused to make because where might you go? Here in Bright Rise you at least have a roof over your head.

Soon fall will come, then winter after that. If you choose to leave, you might be condemning yourself and your son to a death by freeze and you can’t do that. You can’t make such a reckless choice with him so little still.

You gather as much of the wire as you can, carefully wrapping it around an empty spool you’d kept just in case, hoping to keep your anger from shifting into sorrow.

As you work, you can hear the sound of hooves behind you. Two horses at most. Perhaps three? The sound of shifting gravel too close.

There’s the clearing of a throat before a steady voice speaks. “Excuse me, might I trouble you, miss for some directions? My guard and I seem to have become lost in these backroads by the village.”

You sigh, still consumed with rage with Phin, but rise and turn to face the man who addresses you.

He’s godly, this man with golden hair and a beard to match. His eyes are piercing. Storm blue as they stare you down and you fidget with the spool in your hand as your heart does a sudden and unexpected dip into your belly where it explodes into a flurry of butterflies.

Voice choked in your throat, you look away from the beautiful man and tried to clear your head.

“His Majesty, King Steven has asked you a question, miss.” His guard says, shocking your system into an automatic curtsy as you intentionally avoid their gaze now.

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, worried you might have given offense.

“Sam, it’s alright.” King Steven says, his voice soft and coaxing.

You take a quick peek at his guard, another handsome man with deep umber skin and a soft bronze glow. His gaze is a little sterner but kind all the same.

“We did not mean to startle you.” King Steven says, the gentility in his voice luring you into taking another look at him.

When your eyes meet, you find that you can’t look away.

“I-I was checking my traps.” You relay, feeling stupid suddenly for giving him information that he has not asked for.

“I can see that.” King Steven nods, a small smile tugging up half of his full pink lips.

He’s exquisite. His dress is fine, luxurious satin and silk. His tunic is a royal blue, a silver stitching along every seam in what looks to be a small wavy pattern.

It looks familiar and your hand absentmindedly moves with the pattern of the stitch as if it remembers how to make it though you’ve never sewn on anything so fine in your life.

King Steven’s eyes notice the movement and he watches your hand before you remember yourself and speak again.

“Forgive me, your Majesty, you asked me a question.” You gasp, dropping the spool at your feet and moving around the mud pit to stand at the edge of the road, much closer to where he and his guard tarry.

King Steven smiles again, sending your heart into a pitter patter.

“If you head down this road, you will reach a fork with three smaller roads. You’ll want to take the Eastern most road for nearly four miles before you reach a second fork of two roads. Take the left and follow that road and do not stray. You will reach the Capital before noon.” You say, pointing as you give instruction.

As you finish you drop your arm and bring your hand to tug at the worn leather of your belt.

King Steven stares at you, smiling for so long that you look down at your feet and are suddenly aghast by the state of your shoes and skirts.

You’re so dirty that you’re ashamed to be seen by them. With a bite to your lip, you turn and hurry back around the mud pit to pick up your spool.

“Thank you.” King Steve says, his wide shoulders relaxed. “Might I pay you for your assistance? What is the customary amount? Five silver pieces?”

You throw out your hand to stop him, embarrassed to take payment for so small a favor. “No!”

Gasping you watch as the spool flies out of your hand. It hits the front of his horse then topples onto the road where it rolls along further down the rocky path.

King Steven dismounts as you rush forward in chase of the wire.

Both of you reach it at the same time but King Steven is first to bend over and take it.

“Oh, please…” You gasp, worried about the dirt and muck that must be caked on the tool. “You’ll dirty your hands.”

As King Steven stands upright, he dusts it off then offers it to you. “A little dirt never killed anyone.”

Your senses are assaulted by him and for a moment all you can do is stare at his hand as he waits for you to take your wire.

He smells like evergreen woods and oranges. No…limes…You’re not sure! It’s a citrus of some sort and it overwhelms your mind. His voice is deep and smooth. It works its way into your bones and nearly turns them into jelly.

“Will you not take it?” He asks, shaking the spool a little.

You look up to meet his gaze but find that his smile has disappeared. In its place is a look of severe concentration.

Is he angry with you? Have you insulted him by waiting so long to take your property?

The look in his eyes is intense. He looks almost as if he’s trying to recall an elusive memory.

You know the feeling…

Quickly you take the spool, ignoring the moment your hand brushes his. He must notice how rough your hands are. He must mix with ladies whose hands had never once known the strife of physical labor.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” You curtsy quickly, avoiding his gaze and move around him.

A hot, vice-like grip takes hold around your wrist.

You stop, turning to look at his hand then up to meet his gaze.

Gone is the look of confusion, replaced by a furrowed brow and what can only be hopeful searching within his storm blue eyes.

“Steve?” His guard warns, confused by the moment almost as much as you are.

“What are-” You whisper, voice so weak you’re surprised you can manage to speak at all.

You clear your throat and search for the courage to say your piece.

You don’t like this. The way his presence almost consumes you. His touch is burning, and you’re not sure why you feel as if you’ve also been waiting a lifetime for it.

“Unhand me.” You plead, twisting your wrist in his hand but refusing to look away from his slowly shifting expression.

He smiles and your heart stutters, fear of what it might mean making you yank a little harder, but King Steven uses the momentum of your pull to step towards you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, dipping his head down as he presses fevered lips against your own.

You’re frozen in his arms, wide eyes staring at his own now shut. His lips are fierce, his kiss is hard. It hurts a little and it takes you a moment to feel the warmth of their touch.

He drops your wrist and wraps his other arm around you, hand pressed to the back of your head as he tilts his own to one side and coaxes your lips open with a gentle swipe of his tongue.

The taste of him stuns you, your body freezing as your mind is assaulted with images all blurred together into one precious life that you’d most assuredly lost and now found again.

Your eyes grow blurry, tears flooding from the corners as your lips finally respond to Steve’s kiss.

With a gasp you pull away, sobbing once as you gobble up the sight of him.

Steve’s hands caress the sides of your face, stroking your hair and cheeks as he also devours your visage.

“I found you.” He whispers, throat tick with emotion.

You sob once more, arms pulling him towards you as you give in to the shocking relief you feel to be in his arms once more.

Your heart breaks as you clutch him close. Over a year of lost time with not only him but…

“Maggie!” You exclaim, voice barely above a whisper.

“She’s perfect,” Steve assures you, pulling back to meet your gaze once more. “She’s growing bigger every day. She has your sweetness, your love of jams and jellies.”

Steve laughs, so happy that his own tears fall too. “She calls me Papa, and she calls Sam birb.”

You laugh, shaking your head already knowing that Bucky’s to blame for that.

“I don’t think it’s that funny.” Sam suddenly says, pulling both your gazes towards him.

“Sam…” You smile.

“I’ve kept watch over her, just as I promised.” The recognition in his eyes is heavenly.

“How did this happen?” Steve asks, continuing the caress of your cheeks. “How did we lose each other.”

You sigh, licking your lips as you prepare to explain when your heart suddenly drops, and you remember another pair of storm blue waiting in a basket. “Steve…”

Without warning you turn and race into the trees, running as fast as you can to make sure that he wasn’t a dream.

You find the basket where you left it and pull it away from its hiding spot before you remove the lid, happy to find your little boy still fast asleep.

“Y/N!” Steve calls, racing up behind you where he skids to a stop. “What is it, my flower? What’s the matter?”

He sighs heavily when he finds you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders, needing to feel you it seems.

“Don’t run away from me like that…” He pleads, and your heart aches for him but this is much more important.

“Steve,” You begin, and turn to reveal the six-month-old baby in your arms. “You have a son.”

The step back he takes you attribute to shock. The heartbreak and confusion on his face you have only yourself to blame for.

“How-?” He asks, shaking his head as he stares at the tiny prince in your arms.

“Steve…” You begin, suddenly fearful of what he might say when you confess the deal you’d made with grandmother.

“No.” Steve cuts you off, reaching out to trace the shape of your arms through the dingy dress you wear. “Not here. Let’s go home.”

“To Broklin?” You wonder, relieved that he’s eager to resume your lives together.

“No, I-do you remember when I asked you if I should purchase your little hut?” Despite speaking to you, his eyes are still trained on your son.

Slowly, as he speaks, his hand skates across your arms until he can stroke Joseph’s little cheek with one tentative finger.

“Yes.” You frown, disapproving of the purchase as it isn’t your land to begin with.

“Well, when you forbade me from buying it, I bought the manor on the hill instead.” He confesses, finally meeting your gaze.

“Oh.” You’re stunned.

“I thought that it would be nice to have somewhere in Malibia to call our own. Visiting your family is something that I wanted you to feel free to do. I wanted to give you a space you could come to, somewhere near your home.” He explains sweetly sending your heart into a tizzy.

“Steve…” You reach up, pressing your palm to his warm bearded cheek while keeping a firm hold of your little one with the other.

“Come on.” Steve urges you, leaning down quickly to kiss you then pulls away slowly almost as if he doesn’t want to. “Our princess is waiting.”

~~~~~~~~~~

She’s as beautiful as the night you’d held her close, memorizing the little wheeze in her breath as she’d drifted to sleep.

She’s bigger. She’s walking, unsteadily but moving. She’s talking, indeed saying ‘Papa’ but she says other things that you’ve already picked up on.

Her little chubby limbs have stretched a bit and you can’t believe you’ve lost so much time with her.

Tears are still streaming down your cheeks while you sit here, staring at her sleeping face.

Steve’s hands support her little back as he holds her to his chest, his back resting against the ornate wooden headboard of your bed.

“She’ll know you soon enough.” Steve assures you as you nod and quickly wipe the tears from your eyes. “She was so little.”

“I know.” You reach out, caressing her little head before you look down at the even smaller boy between you both. He’s chewing on his fist, little legs up in the air as he quietly plays by himself.

He’s so good at just being alone, you feel terrible about it because you know that it’s your fault. You’ve needed him to be independent as you worked hard to earn money for both of you.

When he meets your eyes, he coos those long wordless streams of vowel. He’s talking to you, probably relishing in the plush mattress all four of you lay on.

“Shh, my sweet boy. Your sister is sleeping.” You stroke his little chest and he takes hold of your hand as he kicks his legs in excitement.

“Y/N…” Steve begins, and you know it’s finally time.

“I’m ready now.” You sniffle, meeting his look of somber confusion. “I’ll tell you what happened.”

It takes you less than five minutes to explain. Grandmother’s vision. Her actions to see it in greater detail. The truth of his imminent death. You tell him that you begged for his life and that night when Grandmother had interrupted your sleep, she’d come to tell you that she’d found a solution.

“She said the magic would ask for payment. Something that only I could give.” You hope that he doesn’t hate you, his expression unreadable as he watches you with his brooding brow all scrunched and focused. “I thought that it would be my ability to see or walk. My hearing perhaps? Or being able to speak…I never thought that it would take you and Maggie from me.

“My life perhaps? But not my memories of you. Not knowing you.” You sigh, waiting for his rage to show.

What you get instead, is a calm conversation and a gentle pout.

“But it wasn’t only your memories. It was everyone’s. The magic wiped your existence as my wife and Queen completely.” He observes.

“Yes.” You agree. “Even the villagers in Bright Rise acted as if I’d never gone anywhere. How can magic be so powerful as to erase me completely from so many minds?”

Steve shakes his head, his hand still absentmindedly stroking Maggie’s back.

“It was such a risk for you to take.” Steve frowns, his gaze piercing, and the guilt you’d felt building since you’d stepped foot in the manor crests. “How could you make such a choice without consulting with me? I’m your husband.”

“I know.” Your lip trembles. “I’m sorry. It all happened so quickly, and I had so little time to consider the consequences of my choice. All I knew was that your future was certain. You would die protecting the world and I could not give you up to it. If I had the power to save you, of course I would use it. So long as I knew that Maggie would have you, I could stand any future I had to live.”

“Even this one? Both of us separated forever?” Steve counters, holding a mirror to the past year of your life.

You shake your head, new tears springing forth as you look down at your boy who has fallen asleep once again.

“I thought I would have to marry Phin.” You admit, voice quiet so as not to disturb your little ones.

“Why?”

“I’m fairly certain he was orchestrating it. No one in the village were taking work from me to mend their clothing and today, you found me checking my snares for small game, but someone has been breaking them. Cutting the wire or simply tearing it down.

“He wanted me to be hungry enough to marry him and the bastard knew that I would do it, for Joseph if not for myself.” Your anger taints your vision red, Phin’s detestable face a memory you wish you could forget.

Mentioning your son brings Steve’s eyes back down to him. He takes one hand and reaches down, placing his finger into Joseph’s tiny open hand. He grasps his papa’s finger, a tiny fist full of surprisingly sturdy strength.

“Now that we’ve remembered, I’m panicked by the idea that you might have found a new Queen in my absence.” You confess, chewing nervously on your lip.

“Bucky and Sam suggested it. They brought Sharon around me often to try and convince to take her on, but something prevented me from doing so.” His words send your heart into your feet, your head is suddenly splitting.

Glad as you are that he doesn’t seem to have found a new wife, the possibility of it make you feel almost sick to your stomach with anxiety.

“I think perhaps I knew in some way, deep down, that I was already married. The very thought of sharing my bed with someone else drove my skin to crawl. I felt guilty, as if I were committing some grave sin.” He admits, unrelenting in his stare.

“I would not have blamed you…” You whisper, almost fearful to speak the words. “…if you had taken a new wife. If you’d had another child with someone else. I would have had no one to blame but myself.”

“No one could ever take your place.” He assures you. “Even though I didn’t remember you, your presence was greatly missed. I may not have known what it was I was yearning for, but I was wishing for you every moment of every day.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the pleasure his words give you to soak deep down into your bones.

Even though he doesn’t ask, you’d also felt the exact same way. Something had always told you that somewhere was a home waiting for you to take your place. Never would you have guessed that it was a castle in the next Kingdom over.

“Were you frightened?” Steve wonders, drawing your gaze once more.

You find him watching Joseph once again, his thumb stroking the little one’s hand.

“Expecting him all on your own?” He clarifies.

“I was afraid of how I’d take care of him.” You smile, reaching to stroke the length of his little nose. “I knew I would be alright birthing him. It was long and taxing. But he was with me so suddenly. It was over before I even knew what was happening. The miller’s wife came to check on me and she helped me for a few days after, but I had no other choice than to push on. I was up and caring for him and myself before the week was out. That’s when my fear came.

“I knew that I had to feed myself in order to keep him fed and healthy and I wasn’t sure exactly how to do it with the village set so resolutely against me. An unwed mother with a bastard child?”

“I’ll have it burned to the ground.” Steve declares suddenly.

You smile wide, your heart melting as you watch the intensity in his gaze as new love blooms for his son.

“I wish you had spoken with me about Agatha’s vision before you made any decisions.” Steve laments, an anger growing in contrast with the new love.

It effectively wipes aware the happiness his love gives you as you regret having kept him in the dark.

“If I’d told you,” You begin, voice breaking and weak as emotion gets the better of you. The sound of it brings his gaze back to you and he seems to soften with it. “You would have kept me from doing what needed to be done. There was no question of saving you, Steve. I had only just found you. Our baby girl only just born. I could not lose you.”

Shutting your eyes, you let your head fall, burying your face into your pillow.

“Imsuhsawree.” You sob, muffled against the fluff of the bed.

The silence feels endless until you’ve just about made up your mind to look at him again when a sudden snort of laughter cuts the tension with ease.

You whip your head to face him, searching for the source of the laugh only to find Steve with his hand over his mouth as his body shakes with silent laughter.

“You’re laughing?” You gasp in disbelief; certain you must be seeing things.

Your husband cannot possibly be amused in this moment while your heart and soul are drowning in guilt and grief.

“I’m sorry.” Steve chortles, a whisper of giggles as he tries his best not to wake Maggie. “Forgive me, I…”

You frown at him, displeased with his humor but he reaches for you with his hand and hooks it behind your head in a soft caress.

“It’s not funny.” You insist.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “It isn’t. I’m sorry, my flower. I’m just…so happy you’ve returned. I’ve missed you so much.”

And just like that, he’s forgiven.

The four of you lay there in bed for hours. Though your stomach is empty, you refuse to bring your hunger to Steve’s attention. Even though you know very well just how much he will be upset with you for it, you can’t bring yourself to tear your little family apart so very soon.

The sun is only just setting when Joseph decides it’s time to eat. He whimpers, a soft murmuring of whiney breaths until the air takes shape and his cries begin to grow louder.

Beside him Maggie also stirs, staring around with wide eyes as the crying rises in volume and she’s brought out of her blissful slumber.

Steve wakes last, while you are already scooping your little boy into your arms and propping yourself up against the headboard to feed him, he rubs his face and glances at the window.

“It’s already so late.” He realizes, turning back to you and Joseph while Maggie twists her body until she can lay on her stomach and then throw herself back to sit on her bottom.

Her eyes are glued to Joseph as he latches to your breast and begins to suckle. Your breasts are sore, and the pain is worse than you remember it being with Maggie, but you have no time to focus on the pain.

You make sure he can eat easily, watching him for any signs of distress.

“Did you get her a wet nurse?” You wonder, letting your eyes drift to Maggie who still sits watching you feed her brother.

“I did.” Steve nods, lifting the girl back up onto his lap. “She was so little.”

You look away, a quiver in your bottom lip as you try to push past the heartbreak that you hadn’t been there for your daughter like you’d wanted to be. “Yeah.”

Steve is familiar with you enough that he knows you don’t want to dwell on it and changes the topic quickly.

“Shall we have dinner in here? I don’t want to share either of you yet.” He confesses, stroking the back of Maggie’s little head.

“Yes.” You nod, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically at the mention of food because Steve frowns.

“Damn it, Y/N.” He gripes and gently places Maggie back on the bed before he marches towards the doors. “If you were hungry, you should have said something. After your meal, I’ll have Natasha draw you a bath.”

The prospect of a full belly and a luxuriously hot bath which you hadn’t realized you’d grown so fond of is so dreamy that your heart gives a clench and once more you feel so very happy you just might cry again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“How’s your bath, my petal?” Steve checks, moving to the edge of the bed once more as the children sleep on.

After their dinner they’d quickly begun to play. They’d explored each other’s boundaries and Maggie had made Joseph cry only once for a few minutes before they were sharing Maggie’s soft cloth dolls.

They each sleep with one in their hands, huddled close together at the center of the bed.

“Is the water too hot?” Steve pulls over a small yellow footstool, sitting upon the soft cushion.

He doesn’t wait for your answer and dips his left hand into the water, testing the temperature as you lay yourself back against the large copper tub.

“Your hand is going to smell like peonies and rose oils.” You tease him, bringing your hand up above the fragrant water.

You take a peony petal and carefully tuck it behind his ear, gentle drops of water skirting down into his beard as the pink stands in pleasant contrast to the gold of his hair.

Biting your lip, you comb it back, tracing the shape of his jaw with damp fingers.

“Even though I didn’t know you, my heart and soul yearned for you.” You whisper, sliding your hand down to rest upon his shoulders.

“And I you.” He smiles, eyes shut as you lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I wonder,” You begin, pulling back to examine and rememorize every inch of his face. “Now that we are together again, whether this will negate in some way the effect of the spell?”

This thought raises a new worry in you. A fear that by meeting again you have somehow doomed Steve to die.

“Even if it has, I will not part with you again. I won’t die either.” Steve promises, but how can you take him at his word.

Magic is wicked and it will take its price one way or another.

“I have to speak to grandmother.” You counter, your gentle caress of his shoulders turned into a desperate cling.

“She’s gone.” Steve says, sending your heart into a pit within your belly. “No one has seen her since all of this started. However, there is something that I found in my office back home.”

Steve rises, moving towards his cloak left to rest on the back of a chair at the opposite end of the room.

When he returns, he holds in his hand a sealed piece of parchment, folded twice to keep its contents secure. The wax seal is a deep purple, her insignia that of a cat, back arched and head tilted up as if to yowl towards the moon.

You reach for your towel nearby and dry your hands then take the letter as Steve holds it out.

“I’ve been carrying it with me everywhere I go, hoping it would yield some explanation as to why I have been feeling so…empty.” He tells you, picking up his stool and moving to place it a bit more near the head of the tub where you sit. “Scoot forward.”

You do as he asks, staring at the letter and consider what its contents might be.

Steve’s hands disappear beneath the surface of your bathwater and emerge with a small porous sponge. It’s rough at first but with water and under Steve’s heavy hand, it becomes malleable and he begins to stroke your back, cleaning the peasant grime from your body.

“Why haven’t you opened it?” You wonder, turning it over almost expecting it to billow with glittering smoke.

“I attempted to many times. I couldn’t. The seal would not break. See there at the bottom of the fold?” He instructs.

You turn it over to look at the side with the seal and spot the small loopy writing at the bottom. The penmanship is so exquisite, you’re almost certain now that grandmother had indeed once been of noble blood.

For the Queen of Broklin.

“For me?” You gasp.

“I think it will only open for you, petal.” Steve explains as he leans closer to get the tops of your arms and then following the flow of muscle over your shoulders and down along your sides slowly.

Eager now, knowing this letter is meant for you, you tear it open and the seal breaks without fuss.

“Can you read it?” Steve wonders, no note of teasing in his voice.

Like you, he must be wondering whether so long a time away from life at the castle has made you forget everything you’d learned.

“I think so.” And with bated breath, you read, glad that you’d tried so hard to learn and only slightly surprised that you understand every single word she’s written.

If you are reading this note, it means that I was right.

First, believe me when I tell you that every word I spoke of King Rogers’s death was true. There is indeed a threat that would take his life and that of your father’s and King Thor’s as well.

I thought that perhaps King Rogers’s death would be enough to convince you that what we needed to do would be necessary and I am glad to say I was right.

What I did not tell you is that I knew the price to be asked would be the life you’d built within the castle in Broklin. I could not bear to tell you that you’d spent all that time suffering and building a family with him only to have it ripped from you.

Somehow, I don’t think you would have changed your mind even if I had.

After you spoke to me of your connection with the Asgardian king, I was wary of what it might mean for your future as Queen in the kingdom. There was only one chance to break the curse dealt by the spell to save your husband’s life and that was if you and he were always meant to be together.

Soulmates, I believe they call it. Two halves of one whole, set at opposite ends of the world to meet each other in just the right way to create what we know as destiny. In this case, the opposite ends you were placed in were poverty and wealth.

Your husband had every advantage in life while you had none. You were given no loves in life and King Rogers was given one big enough to eclipse the pull you would have for him when and if you met.

At the time, I worried that King Thor might be your true mate. The two of you were so well suited and perhaps I’m right? But if you’re reading this, it means that you and King Rogers found each other once again.

By some miracle, he or you have lifted the curse, and you can once more be together to live your lives and King and Queen of Broklin.

A fate you might not have found had I not thrown my purse into that bog by the road. I hope you appreciate my efforts, girl. I have worked very hard to walk you through this life but must now leave you to shape it on your own.

Don’t worry. I might not be with you every day, but should you need me, I will come. You don’t need to send for me. I’ll know. And rest assured, your husband’s life is safe.

There will always be evil in the world and he will always rise to fight it but be content to know that his life you most certainly have saved. Take care.

-Grandmother

You read the letter at least three times before Steve’s chin finds your shoulder, the scruff of his beard pleasantly rough against your skin.

“What does it say?” He wonders, tilting his head to kiss your neck.

You fold the letter and toss it away so that it won’t get wet, then lean back until you’re relaxed and can turn to look and admire your husband’s storm blue eyes.

“It says that no matter what might come to tear us apart, you will always find me.” You smile, reaching up to scratch underneath his chin.

Steve’s lips curl up on one side, a dashing smirk if you ever saw one.

“Always.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Same Smile

Huge thanks to my wonderful girlfriend @spiky-lesbian and my amazing friend @minky-for-short for the inspiration and listening to me reigniting my widomauk obsession.

Please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

------

Caleb Widogast did not know his husband, Mollymauk Tealeaf, had an identical brother.

He didn't know his husband had two identical brothers.

He didn't know one of those identical brothers is on shore leave and was sitting on his couch. Not until he kissed him, anyway.

Basically a Modern AU where all of the tenants of the Tealeaf body are identical triplets!

------

Caleb dropped his satchel on the floor with a dull, heavy thunk. He tried to find it in him to care when one of the overtaxed buckles popped open and a pen, some student’s papers and a handful of crystals spilled across the hall rug. That could be a problem for tomorrow morning.

But for tonight he’d had a very, very long day. He’d had two seminars where none of his students had done the reading, a lab demonstration that had gone horribly wrong and made him smell like ammonia all day, he’d had to eat lunch on the train to make it to the bookshop on time only to find the day’s delivery was wrong and he’d ended up with hundreds of copies of a medical textbook that was very informative but probably weren’t going to sell very well. All in all it had been a pretty shit day and a burst buckle was not going to muscle its way in on top of all that.

Caleb had a very narrow, very selective list of what was going to be allowed in the rest of his day. And top of that list was finding his husband, slumping down next to him and pressing his face to the curve of his neck where the scent of his perfume was the strongest. Next on that list was letting his son sit on his lap and do that adorable thing he’d been doing lately where he rubbed his head all over his papa while babbling contentedly, almost like he was just telling Caleb about his day. Next was his daughter curling around his shoulders and purring loudly right next to his ear.

And that was about it, honestly. Maybe a cup of tea.

Caleb hung up his coat and scarf, both of them still dusted with drizzle from outside, kicking his shoes into the corner. He half considered going and putting his pyjamas on but that wasn’t on the list, he just needed to have Molly run his fingers through his hair to work the knots out of it and tell him everything was okay, that he was home now.

Molly was curled up on the sofa, the slightly tatty one with it back to the door. He had his hair loose, just pushed back from his face with a thin leather headband. It looked nice, Caleb made a vague mental note to tell him so.

“Hey,” Caleb leaned over the edge of the sofa, already smiling just from the closeness, “You would not believe the day I’ve had…”

He didn’t give his husband a chance to answer, just kissing him softly, catching his lips halfway through forming a word. Caleb melted into it, putting his hand to his face, stoking his thumb across a cheek that was slightly rougher than he remembered it being that morning.

Caleb froze, eyes snapping open.

He yanked himself backwards, face completely expressionless as he stared at this person he’d just kissed. This person who absolutely, definitely was not his Mollymauk.

That person grinned crookedly, “I think you’re still having it, Red.”

Whenever Caleb was confronted by sudden panic, his brain chose to cope with it by shutting down entirely, by going into some kind of distant stand-by mode like a computer overwhelmed by a virus and choosing to simply crash in response.

Which was probably why he responded to this stranger that looked exactly but not exactly enough like his husband, sitting on his sofa and who he’d just passionately, mistakenly kissed, by opening his mouth and saying, “You’re not on the list.”

The stranger’s lopsided grin didn’t fade, the same sharp teeth that lived in Mollymauk’s mouth flashing but a few of these were cracked, one entirely made out of dentist’s acrylic, like this person had been punched in the face a few times. They were also wearing black leathers mostly, a sleeveless tunic that billowed out into a coat, a tight white shirt underneath and close fitting pants. And the tattoos weren���t right, he had them for certain but the designs and placement were wrong, these were heavily done in stark black and showed mostly waves and coordinates and compasses. They looked like homemade stick and poke jobs. The jewellery wasn’t as heavy either, seaglass threaded onto leather and thin gold chains.

Not Mollymauk. Definitely not Mollymauk.

“You must be Caleb,” they chuckled knowingly, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Caleb was saved from having to think of where to go from there by footfalls on the creaky floorboards in the hallway and Mollymauk appearing in the doorway. His actual Mollymauk, he glanced up and down him and confirmed it- the heavy gems hanging from his horns, the bright flowing coat and high boots, the scars that littered his neck and collarbone, the stretch marks that peeked between the waist of his leggings and his crop top.

What threw Caleb for a moment was the slightly harried, slightly exasperated expression on his face. He could count on both hands the amount of times he’d actually seen Mollymauk look stressed like that. Also the fact that he was holding a tray on which he’d actually gone to the effort of arranging two mugs that almost matched, sugar in a little bowl, a milk bottle, a handful of spoons.

Molly’s red eyes flickered between them for a moment before his face slumped into an expression of equal parts guilt and defeat. Like the face of someone who’d forgotten to water someone’s beloved houseplant and had been caught in the middle of replacing it.

“Oh,” he said in an attempt at cheeriness that was edged with too much tiredness to be convincing, “So you’ve met already…”

“A little more than that,” the Not Mollymauk laughed, leaning back casually and kicking their boots up onto the scuffed coffee table, “Your husband’s a good kisser, Moll.”

Caleb gave a strangled squeak of alarm, all that he could come up with in his own defence while his brain was still in static mode, feeling his face flush a hot, prickly red.

Molly just shook his head, an exhausted kind of realisation tightening his already tight smile, “Um...Caleb, this is Kingsley. Kingsley is, uh...he’s my brother.”

Caleb stared at him blankly, metally tearing through his files for any hint that his husband had mentioned a brother before and coming up empty, “Your...he’s not on my list, Mollymauk.”

Molly tilted his head slightly and gently skipped over that, shooting Caleb a brief, pleading look that promised an explanation later. He moved past Caleb to set the tray down on the coffee table, his tail giving an irritated flick to move his apparent brother’s feet out of the way first.

Kingsley moved, apparently completely unfazed by anything that had happened so far, “He’s cute, Moll, where did you find him? When you told me you’d shacked up with a professor of all things, I was expecting someone a little more-”

“We met at one of my shows,” Molly cut across him, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence, “We were friends for years and then we got together. And he isn’t just a professor, he’s got the bookshop too.”

“Gods, your band!” Kingsley laughed, folding his legs up underneath him instead, “I remember that, you and Yash and that busted old guitar you had...I mean, fuck man, if he still married you after hearing you play, you know it’s true love.”

Molly gave a noncommittal grunt, pushing one of the mugs at him perhaps a little harder than he needed to.

Caleb hesitantly moved to sit in a chair off to the side, still quite unsure what to do. He was so distracted he almost sat on Frumpkin, who huffed and slithered into his master’s lap, glaring through slitted eyes at this doppelganger of someone he already wasn’t fond of.

“But yeah, like I was saying,” Kingsley, cradled the tea between cupped hands as scarred as his brother’s, “The Revelry’s got me running this cargo to Nicodranas and I thought hey, if I’m going to be in the area, why not drop in on my favourite brother?”

“Why not,” Molly repeated, a little thinly, “Without calling or sending a letter or anything to let me know you’d be stopping by…”

Caleb winced a little at the undercurrent of annoyance underneath his love’s voice but Kingsley only laughed, like it was a joke.

“C’mon, you know that’s not how I work, Moll. I never know where I’m going to be heading or when. I’m just glad I got to see you! Especially seeing as apparently you got married since I last saw you? And popped out two kids, what the hell?”

“Una is adopted,” Molly mumbled, like that was the important point.

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Kingsley continued brightly, now smiling wide enough that Caleb caught the wink of a gold tooth, “I mean, you’re easily the most responsible out of all of us but still, married with kids, that's actually insane…”

Caleb’s eyebrows rose. He adored his husband but one thing he’d never be able to call him was responsible. Molly caught the movement from where he was sitting next to Kingsely and his cheekbones coloured.

Feeling a sudden stab of guilt, a sudden need to rush to Molly’s defence after he’d done it for him, Caleb blurted out, “Mollymauk is a great dad.”

Kingsley looked over to him, smiling crookedly, “I bet. He was always running around after me and Luce, making sure we didn’t get into trouble...well, as much trouble, I guess. Hey! Have you heard from Lucy lately, Moll? I haven’t spoken to him even longer than I hadn’t spoken to you.”

Molly tensed instantly at the question, jaw growing taut like a bowstring, his quietly simmering frustration igniting into full blown, barely concealed fury.

“I don’t speak to Lucien,” was all he said, voice tight and tense and, above all, final.

Even Kingsley seemed to pick up on that, backpedalling quickly, “Sure, sure...so where are these sprogs of yours, then? I’m so excited to meet them...”

“Yasha offered to take them for a few hours after I realised we had our unexpected guest,” Molly bit off the end of the sentence sharply, clearly struggling to maintain his control. He shook his head tightly, standing up and sighing, “Excuse me…”

Kingsley opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, finally falling silent as he watched his brother disappear in a swirl of his coat. Caleb didn’t hesitate, getting to his feet and moving after him, throwing Kingsley an apologetic glance.

“I’ll just, uh...see what he needs.”

Kingsley just nodded, flashing him a quick smile that didn’t quite shine as bright as his other ones, then just staring into his drink. Frumpkin jumped up next to him, eyeing him suspiciously.

In the kitchen, Caleb found Molly with his head in his hands, in the middle of a long, deep breath. Caleb tried to remember everything his husband did for him when he got overwhelmed, coming up behind him and gently wrapping his arms around his middle. Instantly he felt Molly lean into his touch, aching into it.

“I’m an asshole,” he heard him groan, muffled by his palms.

“You’re not,” Caleb murmured into his purple curls.

“I am,” Molly dropped his hands, “Gods, I haven’t seen my brother in years and he comes here and I didn’t even tell my husband or my kids about him, what does that make me look like to him? To you?”

Caleb shrugged, “It was a bit of a surprise...um, why didn’t you tell us? Just out of curiosity…”

Molly turned in his arms, pressing his face to the curve of his neck, having to bend as Caleb was just a little shorter than him. It was long enough that Caleb had accepted he wasn’t ready to talk about it, content just to hold him and let it pass, but then he felt him murmur.

“I hardly ever see him. He’s a pirate with the Revelry, he’s always off sailing somewhere and...and I try, I used to try but he never replies and I’d spend ninety percent of the time having no clue where he was before he’d just pop up suddenly and I’d have to bend my life around him for however long he’d stay and then have him just run off again…”

“And...Lucien?” Caleb asked hesitantly, “He’s your brother too?”

Molly moved back, eyes suddenly solid and serious, “Caleb, I need you to promise me, if you ever hear anything from Lucien, if you ever see him or he contacts you, you ignore him completely and you come straight to tell me. Don’t let him get anywhere near the kids, don’t listen to a word he says, just ignore him and find me. Understand?”

Caleb swallowed hard, more than a little taken aback, he’d never seen Molly like this, “I promise.”

At that, Molly relaxed a little, “He just...he’s not a good man, Caleb. He’s in deep with this cult shit, just...we’re having nothing to do with him anymore.”

Caleb nodded but a question was pressing irritatingly at the base of his tongue, wanting to push forward, as much as he worried it would upset Molly. His husband noticed, reading his face as easily as he ever had, a tired but fond smile chasing the last of the severity off his face.

“Go on then,” he prompted gently, “Ask me.”

Caleb almost groaned in relief as he nearly blurted, “How do you know they’re your brothers?”

Molly gave a rough laugh, “You mean aside from the obvious, that they look enough like me that you sucked Kingsely’s face thinking it was mine?”

Caleb’s face went up like flashpaper as he started to splutter, “It was an accident!”

Molly grinned, looking a little more like himself, putting a gentle hand on his cheek, “I get it, babe, don’t worry, I’ll take an IOU...but I get what you mean. You’re right, I don’t actually remember growing up with them, I don’t remember actually being their brother. And that’s kind of why it kind of hurts having him around, honestly.”

Caleb nodded sympathetically, “So they just sort of showed up after you woke up again?”

“Yeah,” Molly huffed out a laugh that didn’t have much humour in it, “Imagine you’re just walking down the street one day and some guy with your own face runs up to you and hugs you so hard it knocks you off your feet.”

“I can see how that would be...disconcerting?”

“Somewhat,” Molly sighed, moving to look at his reflection in the microwave door, trying to sort out the mess he’d made of his makeup, “Kingsley just...he’s a sweet enough guy even if he is a flit but...when he looks at me he sees this big brother he thought he’d lost, someone who apparently looked after him and ran around after him and held things together for him. Someone I absolutely am not. And he can’t seem to get it through his skull that I can’t be that person.”

Caleb gently but firmly stepped in front of Molly, taking his hands in his own. He didn’t seem to realise how badly they were shaking.

Molly gripped his fingers tightly, like he was holding on for dear life, like he hadn’t even realised how deep the water around him was until Caleb reached out.

“Honestly,” his voice was a shaky exhale, “I’m kind of glad he doesn’t stick around. He’d realise his brother’s gone for good.”

Caleb took a moment to consider his words, wanting desperately to say the right thing, willing his brain to kick into gear and let him help.

“Maybe if he met you now he’d realise he liked the brother he has?” he murmured gently, running his thumbs soothingly across Molly’s knuckles, “I am biased but I think you’re pretty fantastic.”

Molly smiled softly, leaning forward until he was resting his forehead on Caleb’s, “Thanks…”

“I don’t think you need to pretend to be anyone else,” Caleb promised, shifting slightly so he could press his lips to his forehead. It wasn’t quite the kiss he was imagining but he could tell it made Molly feel better and that was all that mattered.

Maybe so he couldn’t lose his nerve, Molly quickly returned the favour with a gentle kiss to the cheek and moved back into the living room. Caleb decided it was best to give them a moment, making a cup of tea of his own. He lingered over it, holding the warmth between his hands, watching the light outside of their small window turn from the full, deep orange of sunset to a cool blue.

Only then did he pad into the living room, not entirely sure what he was going to find. Of course he trusted Mollymauk but still, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little prepared to break up a fight. He mentally catalogued the components in his pockets, just in case.

But when he stuck his head around the corner, there were no flying feathers or drawn swords. The two Tealeafs were sat on the sofa together, Kingsley in the middle of another ramble, hands moving through the air as he gestured widley. Molly had an expression of bemusement and vague surprise.

“-and I was thinking I could show them how to tie knots, I swear man, you don’t even know how many godsdamned knots there are,” Kingsley was saying, eyes alight with excitement, “And maybe, if it was okay with you and Red obviously, I could take em out on the ship sometime! Just a little day trip and you guys could come too, there’s a place where you can always see dolphins and there’s seals and I even saw a whale once! Kids would be into that, right? Kids like animals, don’t they?”

For the first time, Kingsley looked something other than blithely amused. For the first time, a kind of hopeless uncertainty edged into his eyes.

Molly clearly caught it, something in him softening, “You...you really want to spend time with my kids?”

“Of course I do!” Kingsley blinked, “I mean, okay, I’ve not been the best brother on the planet but I’m an uncle now. Like, I’m someone’s actual uncle! That’s the most incredible thing and I just really want to do a good job at it. I want them to like me.”

For a moment, Molly looked startled, like he hadn’t expected him to say that. But once it had sunken in, his face cracked into a smile.

“I’ll be honest, Kingsley, I don’t think you’re going to have to work that hard to get them to like you. You’ll see.”

Kingsley looked like that was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him, his face lighting up like the dawn.

“And look,” Molly shrugged, “You’re not a shitty brother or anything just...just call more, damn it.”

“Okay, I promise,” Kingsley was back to laughing, looking like he was a second away from pouncing on Molly and hugging him, “I mean, I'm gonna be checking in with my little niece and nephew all the time, right?”

“Yeah,” Molly grinned back at him, “I guess you will.”

For all the broken teeth, they really did have the exact same smile.

Caleb leaned against the doorway, eyes warm as he watched them, as he watched Kingsely loudly announce that he’d even brought a present for his new family members before pulling an entire cutlass out of a holster neither of them had noticed under his coat, as he watched Molly choke down a laugh and start to explain why, as cool as they’d find it, a pirate sword really wasn’t an appropriate gift for two toddlers.

None of this had been on his list. But there was something to be said for surprises.

[thewhumperinwhite]

All Those That Dance: Intro (3)

Final part of the intro :)

Previous: Part 1 // Part 2

TW for: mild body horror (dressing infected wounds); skin/scar picking; implied past whump of a minor; aftermath of starvation. Whumpee feels guilty for needing help. Also some mild gaslighting, by whumpee to caretaker.

Also Jasper thinks Will looks about 17 but he’s actually 19 so i’m not tagging this minor whump. he is a teenager, though.

@whumpitywhumpwhump @favwhumpstuff

----

By the time the boy scrambled up out of Jasper’s bedroll, hair and eyes wild and almost taking the ratty old traveler’s tent up with him, the sun was already halfway up, and the small fire Jasper had lit was mostly embers.

The boy stared at Jasper, out of breath, and positively swimming in the tunic Jasper had lent him. He hadn’t packed with dressing skinny teenagers in mind; the rough green wool hung down to the boy’s knees and the collar showed all of his sharp jutting collarbones and most of his narrow chest. His eyes were wide and the color the sky would be above the Wastes at noon, and his face was sharp and angular, probably by nature and more so by starvation. There was a long sharp scar from his left brow to the corner of his mouth, to match the stab wound in his stomach.

“My sword,” was the first thing the boy said, voice cracked from thirst and probably also fever.

Jasper blinked up at him. He had pulled the boy’s sword belt off in the process of bandaging his gut-wound, because the old cloth wrapped over the wound had clearly not been changed in far, far too long. It had been many years since Jasper had had to look at a wound like that, and in the old days they’d never have let one go so bad; Silex would have had kittens. Jasper had peeled the remains of the boy’s white shirt off as soon as he’d carried him to a decent campsite, and then when he had to take breaks from the awful business of peeling bandages out of half-healed muscle to recharge his magic and settle his stomach, he’d set up the tent and made the fire. The shirt hadn’t been worth saving, so torn and stained with blood and sweat he couldn’t even tell what it’d been made of; the boy’s trousers honestly weren’t all that much better, the legs tatters from the knees down, but Jasper would have wanted to wake up in his own pants if their positions had been reversed, so he’d left them. The only other thing the boy had been carrying was the sword itself, and the belt for it, which was bloodstained but clearly good leather and had held alright, so Jasper had set it aside and gone back to the business of saving the boy’s life.

He hadn’t purposefully confiscated the sword, in other words; it hadn’t even occurred to him that the boy shouldn’t have it. It was a preposterous looking thing, anyway, the hilt all silver curlicues and blown glass of all things; he’d barely registered it as a weapon, but hearing the boy ask for it with such breathless urgency was a bit on the worrying side.

That said, the boy seemed to be standing upright only through a serious effort of will, so he probably wasn’t going to do a lot of fencing at the moment. Jasper pointed wordlessly to the left of the boy’s feet, where he’d piled his own pack and staff beside the tent; the glass ball at the end of the longsword hilt glinted redly under the desert sunrise.

The boy looked down, saw the sword, and sagged in relief so completely that his knees simply folded underneath him and he fell into a sitting position beside Jasper with a small thump.

“‘Morning to you too,” Jasper said, amused.

“Sorry,” the boy croaked, scrubbing a hand over his forehead, and then, “Thank you.”

Jasper waved that away. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’ve not done as much for that wound as I’d’ve liked, boy. I’m no Healer.”

The boy blinked at him, and then looked down at himself, and lifted the hem of the borrowed tunic out of the way to examine the wound. It probably hadn’t been large, at first; the center looked like a single stab from a short-bladed weapon, deep but not wide, and it might have even been partially healed by someone with more skill than Jasper when it was new. But running was bad for gut wounds—for most wounds, really—and the edges were raw and angry with infection; it had taken most of the bandages in Jasper’s pack to cover it, and the boy had to expose an uncomfortable number of sharply-visible ribs to see all of Jasper’s handiwork. The boy frowned down at the fresh bandages and then up at Jasper, looking uncomfortable. He could probably have been handsome if he’d ever eaten before, and although he didn’t look older than seventeen there was an old break in the bridge of his nose, on top of everything else; crooked like any break that had gone too long without healing or re-setting, but clearly not new and raw like the cuts in his face and stomach. Jasper hoped he hadn’t been too young when it had happened.

The boy fingered the wool of the tunic awkwardly, and opened his mouth, his expression clearly suggesting a repeat of both “thank you” and “sorry,” but Jasper held up a hand to stop him.

“I mean it, don’t thank me yet,” Jasper said, and took a deep breath. It was best to get this part over quick, like pulling off a bandage that didn’t require peeling. “I couldn’t find your friend, boy,” he said roughly, looking into the fire instead of the boy’s face, since he’d always been a coward.

“My what?” the boy said, voice still scratchy but otherwise nothing but bewildered. Jasper looked back up at him, startled.

“The girl,” he said. Nothing but confusion on the boy’s face. “The girl who was with you in the woods. I heard her voice, before I saw you, but I searched that little grove for damn near an hour, and I didn’t find any sign of her. I didn’t find much blood that wasn’t yours, either, though, for whatever that’s worth.” He stared at the boy, who only looked more lost. “You have no idea what I’m talking about,” he said slowly.

The boy shook his head helplessly. “Sorry.”

Jasper shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his pipe. “That’s—damn queer,” he muttered, filling the end with tobacco from the pouch in a different pocket of his cloak. He’d thought it was strange not to find—any evidence of a whole human being eaten by wolves, if that was what had happened; and he didn’t see how anyone could have run away fast enough to leave no sign they’d even been there, but— “I was sure I heard a girl’s voice,” he said around the end of his pipe.

“What did she say?” the boy rasped, curiously. 

“Govnoyed,” Jasper said, and snorted at the boy’s startled blink. “I know. Foul-mouthed little thing.”

“You speak Crythian?” the boy said, and then winced, like he wished he could take it back.

“Not as well as you do, I imagine,” Jasper said, amused. “There wasn’t much point in pretending to be a native,” he pointed out. “You’re probably the only blonde in a hundred-mile radius.” The boy’s hair looked like it was cut unevenly even without a night of hard sleep in a strange tent, and Jasper couldn’t guess when it was last washed, but underneath the grime and a certain amount of blood it was the color of pale gold.

The boy looked away, flushing unevenly underneath the spots of red fever had already put on his pale cheeks. “I--wasn’t,” he said softly. “I only—" He cleared his throat, scrubbing a hand over his mouth as though it hurt to talk. “Sorry.”

“For what?” Jasper said, laughing, and then he leaned forward toward where his pack was sitting, on the boy’s opposite side. “I hardly think—" 

When Jasper’s hand came within a few inches of the boy’s knee on its way past, the boy went immediately white to the lips and hunched in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Jasper stopped, raising his eyebrows.

The boy’s eyes opened immediately and he looked at Jasper, color rushing back into his cheeks too fast, apparently mortified.

“Sorry,” he muttered, visibly forcing himself to relax and looking down at his hands, tight on the torn fabric of his trouser legs. “Sorry.”

“I was reaching for my pack,” Jasper said slowly, and the boy nodded eagerly, still very much not looking at Jasper. Jasper shook his head, feeling a confused smile start on his face; if he didn’t find this funny it was going to be tragic, and Jasper always preferred funny. “I thought maybe I’d offer you some food.”

The boy did look at Jasper then, shaking his head in apparent alarm. “I can’t take your food,” he croaked desperately. “I’ve already—" He looked down at the borrowed tunic, and to Jasper’s mild horror, began to tug it off over his head. “I can’t take your things, I don’t want them—"

“Woah, stop,” Jasper said quickly, raising his hands in surrender; the boy froze at the order, the tunic already halfway off. Jasper could see too much of his hip bones and ribs, it was making him feel slightly ill. “Cross-God,” he said, “put it back on. Please.”

The boy did, rather reluctantly. “I don’t want to put you out,” he said faintly; he looked rather worse for wear for the sudden movement. Jasper felt rather out of breath himself, just watching.

“Boy,” he said finally, “who are you?”

The boy blinked at him, as though startled by the question. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m--Willem Price. Will, I suppose. If you like.”

Jasper laughed a little, helplessly. “Well, lovely to meet you, Will Price, but I’m not sure that’s really what I was asking.” He shook his head at the boy, who was still looking at him with wide eyes; they were really an almost shocking color. “What the hell are you doing in the Waste-Lands, kid?”

Will Price looked at him, and blinked his wide blue eyes slowly, and then, very carefully, shrugged.

Jasper stared at him.

“Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “And—where were you planning to go from here?”

The boy looked away, reaching up to scratch at the scar on his face with one finger, and shrugged again.

“Uh-huh,” Jasper said, frowning. The boy kept his eyes firmly off to the left, across the Wastes, tugging slightly at his scar and not looking at Jasper. “Fine. Here.” He took advantage of the boy’s studiously averted eyes to reach past him and grab his pack—the boy kept his flinch to a minimum, though Jasper could see his muscles tense—and tossed a small packet of traveller’s bread in the boy’s direction; the boy just barely caught it before it landed in the dust, presumably because he was still feverish. “Eat that, and then get some more sleep, if you can. I’d as soon not carry you to Atychia Town if I don’t have to.”

The boy turned sharply to look at him, alarmed. “I don’t want—"

“Shut up,” Jasper said firmly. “I am taking you into Atychia, because you are a child, and I am not a monster.” The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Jasper pushed on before he had the chance. “The choice that you have is whether you walk, or I carry you.” Honestly, the chances that the boy would be able to walk before his wound or fever would need attention Jasper couldn’t give it were practically nonexistent, but Jasper raised his eyebrows and said in mock offense, “Are you going to make me carry you?”

[queenjanai]

today i’m thinking about a continuation to this:

amaya coming back to lux aurea for the first time after she and janai kissed on the sunforge. she was gone for almost two weeks and janai was lowkey afraid their kiss was a one time thing (though she knows it’s not really true, they kissed again after the day the sunforge was purified) but amaya tells her she needed to be in katolis for that long because she was too busy with lux aurea and they needed her around

so they meet at the gates and janai waits until they’re alone inside the castle to kiss amaya. she pulls away and tells her she’s been waiting for the sunforge to be healed so she can take her on a proper tour of the city. “but you might want to freshen up before from your ride. your room is ready,” she says, and while amaya drinks and eats a little janai goes to her room to change. she drops her armor, something she doesn’t do often, and only leaves her crown on. she wears a crimson tunic, the front high enough to show just a stripe of her stomach, and the back goes past her knees. 

they go into the castle without guards, but their swords are still on them. amaya realizes she actually never saw lux aurea so closely, before the sunforge was purified her walks with janai remained in the courtyard area only. the houses shine in the daylight, there are beautiful balconies and a river that twists between the buildings. people bow at janai and wave at her. they already know amaya helped their queen bring the light back, so they smile at her too. this human is good. 

the citizens get close enough to just lightly touch janai, it’s considered good luck to see the queen, even more to talk or touch her. they greet them good morning and thank them again, and janai looks at amaya to see she’s feeling as if she’s walking in katolis, though she knows she’s a bit overwhelmed underneath. some kids gather around them asking to see janai’s sword (”it’s very hot, don’t touch it. do you see the runes on the sheath? i’d burn myself if they weren’t there”). they also ask amaya where is her shield, that makes amaya and janai look at each other in surprise. they assume some rumors have been going around the city. amaya shows them her sword instead

janai takes amaya to the main square, the biggest and most talked about neighborhood in lux aurea. the square is the largest in the city, and 6 alleys extend from it, forming a sun (amaya is not surprised). during the summer solstice, the citizens paint the streets with golden, yellow, red, and orange paint (think like the street painting from tangled). janai explains to her that each alley has stores and merchants for different things: spices, fruit and vegetables, pastries (amaya’s favorite alley), clothing, jewelry, and arms and armor (amaya’s second favorite). the alleys eventually turn smaller and connect to the rest of the city, and the buildings turn into houses, study rooms, bars, inns. lux aurea values knowledge as much as they love the sun, there’s one huge library as old as the city itself, and a few smaller ones. there are two schools, but study rooms still exist. 

janai tells amaya going through all of the alleys will take them the big portion of the day, so they visit half of the pastries and weapons alleys. amaya doesn’t buy anything from the arms and armor alley, though everything looks very foreign and fancy. she’s quite set on weapons and neither of them carry any money anyway. she is tempted to buy something from every stall at the pastries alley tho, and janai has to stop her from eating some buns that would burn her throat. they end up sharing one of janai’s favorite “sweet but not so sweet” desserts: a freshly baked orange-honey pie, decorated on top with pecan nuts. the fruit it’s made of looks like an orange on the outside, but it’s filled with honey. the seller insists they must try it, despite janai telling him she got no coins on her, but she took it, and wrote down the stall name so they elf would get afterward

on the way back to the castle they find a secluded part of the  neighborhood they’re in. it has a big garden full of trees and rows of bushes with colorful flowers, lined by a low stone wall. there’s a fountain in front of them, with water lillies floating inside. “you have a very beautiful city,” amaya says, wishes she could’ve seen in sooner. “i told you. much prettier than katolis. i assume it’s made of stone?” she asks, and they laugh. janai looks around, making sure no one can see them, and leans to kiss amaya

oh i forgot amaya is floored by her outfit. she’s only used to seeing janai is armor. her tunic has long, tight sleeves that begin just below her shoulders. amaya stays with her usual blue-and-grey outfit but janai is glad to see she changed it into something a little bit fancier

a nsfw point under the cut:

during janai’s listing of the buildings in lux aurea she is like “we have schools, libraries, inns, and.. uh..” “pleasure rooms?” amaya smirks at her. lux aurea consists of almost all of the sunfire elves, but there are only 4 pleasure houses in the city. and they’re actually not frowned upon. they can come up in converations naturally (if the people you’re talking with are of age, of course), and it’s rather pretty common that if you don’t have a partner to engage in physical relations with, you can go to a pleasure house. the works there can have other jobs, they can have friends in other circles, they can be really known, and no one bats an eye on them. it rarely happens but the only person who is shamed on a pleasure house is a customer who hurt one of the workers, then everyone knows to stay away. janai’s friends took her to one out of curiosity a day before her 18th birthday. a guard wasn’t present at the door from some reason, so they just stood around in the doorway, stunned by all the beautiful colors and curtains and decorations, and the smell of sweet incense in the air. actual acts happen further inside, in locked rooms, so they all saw was people sitting on couches on carpets together, in pairs or groups, talking, kissing, laughing. janai was really stressed to see men naked (one of the reasons she didn’t want to go). they were all took shocked that they couldn’t take half a step in before a lady came to tell, tall, wearing a beautiful purple crop top, with a matching skirt, and gold coins sewn on the fabric. she had braids at the front part of her hair that loosened into tight curls reaching her shoulders. “how old are you, girls?” she asked. no one found their voices but janai. “i’m turning 18 tomorrow.” the women turned them to the door and told her to come back tomorrow

yeah that’s my rant about brothels in lux aurea cheers!

[prissyhalliwell]

Author’s note: The long, loooong awaited smut for Welcome to the Enchanted Forest. It can also be read as a standalone smutty medieval roleplay oneshot as well. If you’re into that kind of thing…

Summary: It’s after hours at the theatre and Belle and Gold sneak in for some naughty roleplay action. I Read on AO3 A Command Performance Belle waited just offstage, bouncing on the balls of her feet while she waited for Gold’s cue to walk onstage. Butterflies were dancing around in her stomach, but she was more excited than nervous. 

They had decided against a script, settling instead on a simple scenario and leaving the rest to be improvised, which had suited Belle just fine. After all, there was nothing she liked more than performing improv with Gold. 

Belle smirked. Well, maybe one thing…

Tonight was definitely not their first time - not by a long shot. She had barely been able to hold out a week after their first kiss before dragging him into her apartment by his tie and pouncing on him. Yet, between tonight’s sneaking around and the rather public location, Belle’s heart was racing just as fast as it had that first night they had spent together. 

Sneaking in really hadn’t been that difficult. They’d merely waited until the rest of the staff had left for the night before getting ready. The idea had always been a joke between them, but as their six month anniversary had drawn closer, it had seized hold of Belle’s imagination in a way that refused to let go. 

When she’d presented the idea to Gold, she’d found that he was also rather excited about the prospect. Then again, she could have suggested the backseat of her car and he probably would have raced her there. 

At the sound of Gold clearing his throat, Belle pulled back the heavy red curtain. This stage was her second home and she knew the set so well she could navigate it blind.

But tonight, it was a new and exciting place. Anything could happen.

Gold’s back was turned to her as he pretended to study a tapestry with the crest of the show’s royal family on it. It gave Belle a chance to peek at his costume - a fitted black leather vest over a white tunic, black leather pants, and matching boots. She couldn’t help but admire how good he looked in his leather pants, which hugged his backside in just the right way. 

If Belle had any say in the matter, he’d never be allowed to wear any other pants ever again. 

She took a deep breath, sinking into character. She had played the princess of the Enchanted Forest hundreds of times, but tonight, she would finally be able to play out the fantasy she’d held for almost a decade. 

Belle was finally going to get to bang the Evil Chancellor. 

Barely containing a squeal of excitement, she stepped onto the stage, letting the curtain drop behind her. 

“Lord Chancellor?” she asked, announcing her presence. 

Gold spun around dramatically, looking at her with an expression of feigned astonishment. His look of surprise quickly become real as he took in her costume, his eyes widening as they swept over her, his gaze lingering at her bodice and the ample cleavage it showcased. Though she wore a corset for every show, it was a fairly modest one. The corset she was wearing tonight left very little to the imagination. 

“Belle..” Gold choked out, before remembering that they were supposed to be in character. A blush rose on his cheeks and Belle decided the corset had been worth every cent she’d paid. 

Though it would have been fun to wear their costumes from the show, they had quickly decided against it. Not only would Cruella DeVil, the theatre’s costume designer, have ripped their heads off for any damage or stains, but even worse, she’d have never let them live down the fact that she knew exactly how it had happened. 

Instead, they had picked up their outfits while visiting the renaissance fair in the nearby town of DunBroch. She’d actually run into Merlin Emrys, Storybrooke’s notorious theatre critic, when she was looking at leather corsets. He hadn’t said anything, merely smirked as he’d walked by. 

Despite his current support for The Enchanted Forest, Belle had almost picked up a turkey leg and threw it at him. 

The dress Gold was currently staring bug-eyed at was simpler than what she usually wore. It was of a similar shade of dark green as her velvet dress, but made of much more breathable cotton. She was also wearing nothing underneath, since any extra layers would only get in the way of their activity tonight. 

After a few moments, Gold was able to pull himself together. She saw the moment he slipped back into character, transforming from the befuddled actor to the suave manipulator. 

“Princess, whatever brings you to my tower in the middle of the night?” he asked, his voice dipping lower and his accent becoming thicker.  

Belle bit her lip, trying not to let on how much he was affecting her. While she loved the good and decent man that Gold was every day, there was something just a little bit thrilling about being seduced by the bad guy. 

She smiled shyly, embracing the role of the naive princess wholeheartedly. It had been a long time since she had played the character that way, but for tonight, she didn’t mind in the least. 

Sliding closer to Gold, she licked her lips nervously, knowing the effect it would have on him. 

“I came to return the book you lent me.” 

He quirked an eyebrow. “At this time of night?” 

“Well, I only just finished it.” 

He chuckled. “Most young ladies would have waited until morning, your majesty. There’s no telling what monsters lurk in the dark.” 

Belle smirked, turning her back to him as she pretended to add the book back to the bookshelf. “This is my father’s castle. I am safer in these walls than anywhere in the world. Unless you’re saying that you - my father’s most loyal adviser - would wish me harm?” 

His footsteps grew louder as he came to stand directly behind her, leaving only a hair's breadth between them. She could feel the warmth radiating off his body, even without the direct contact. 

“I wouldn’t necessarily say it like that,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “But I do have...ambitions.” 

His hand slid around her waist, pulling her roughly towards him. He held her fast while trailing the fingers of his other hand down her arm lightly. 

“Do you know what they say about curiosity, highness?” 

“I prefer the one about the cat that got the cream,” Belle replied. 

“Hmm,” he rumbled in agreement, raising her arm to kiss her wrist. “I should think so.” 

A small noise left Belle’s throat at his lips touched her skin. She heard his answering chuckle as he proceeded to nip and suck at her pulse point, making her heart flutter in her chest. 

“Books can teach you many things, highness. But I’ve found that some things require a more..hands-on approach.”

Belle couldn’t help the slight giggle that passed her lips. “You clearly don’t know the types of books I read, Lord Chancellor.” 

Without warning, Gold whirled her around, pressing her against the end of the table and covering her body with his. 

“Do tell, princess.” 

Belle opened her mouth to reply, but was immediately distracted as Gold’s hand, which had been resting near her waist, began to travel slowly down her dress, taking an agonizingly long time to travel the small distance. His hand bunched the material of her dress, dragging it up to her waist so he could reach under it. 

As ready as she was for him, even the slightest brush of his fingers against her entrance was enough to drive her near the edge. Belle could do nothing but lean against the table for support as his nimble fingers caressed her center, making her blood sing in her veins. 

Breaking character, she grabbed his face and kissed him fiercely. Gold growled against her lips, his tongue darting inside her mouth as he slipped two fingers inside her, pumping her in time with the thrust of his tongue. 

Belle’s head fell back as she began to see stars behind her eyelids. His lips descended to her neck, sucking at the juncture that always made her squeal. Between the growing pleasure between her legs and the sensitive spot on her neck, she quickly unraveled, letting out a sharp cry as she climaxed. 

Gold held her tightly as she sagged in his arms. He placed light kisses up and down her neck as her racing heart slowed. 

Setting her down on the edge of the table, Gold stepped away, his expression smug. One by one, he slowly sucked each finger clean, keeping eye contact with her the entire time. 

Belle licked her lips, anticipation growing. “I stand corrected, my lord. I do not believe any book has brought me such pleasure.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “I am here only to serve,” he said, sweeping into a deep bow. “But perhaps it would be wise for your highness to retire for the evening, before any other...misadventure occurs.”

Belle knew his words were only part of their game, but she was getting too impatient to play it much longer. She wanted him inside her now. 

She stood up and strode towards him purposely, stopping right before him. Trailing a finger down his chest, she looked up at him under long eyelashes. “You know, I don’t think we’ve had enough adventure yet. I certainly haven’t had my fill...” She let the last word trail off suggestively. 

A chuckle rumbled deep within his chest. “Are you trying to seduce me, your majesty?”

Gold was doing a marvelous job of staying in character. Belle decided to fix that. 

Standing up on her tiptoes, she whispered in his ear sweetly. “What’s a princess got to do around here to get fucked?” 

Gold’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. Belle considered it a win. 

It took him a moment to find his tongue. “Your highness is very...forthright.” 

Belle shrugged. “Perhaps I got tired of waiting.” She gave him a pointed look. “Again.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Before she could respond, Gold scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the floor. She hung tight as he spun her around and set her on top of the war table again.

“Is that quick enough for you?” he growled in her ear. 

Belle gasped as he pushed her down on the table, dragging up her skirt and setting his forearms on either side of her to balance himself. 

The table let out a warning creak. Belle suddenly wasn’t so sure that the old war table was up for that much action. 

As they sat up, she looked around for something a little sturdier. Her eyes alighted on the throne. 

Gold stepped back as Belle hopped down off the table, then followed her somewhat mystified as she led him to the throne. 

His confusion cleared as she sat down upon it, pulling up her dress and resting her ankles on the velvet armrests, baring herself to him. 

With a smirk that was entirely too sinful, he sank to his knees before her. “What do you wish of me, your highness?” 

Belle had never thought she’d enjoy commanding Gold in this way, but the rush of power was rather intoxicating. Perhaps they should try this more often. 

“Put that silver tongue of yours to good use for once, Chancellor.” 

He crawled closer, until his face was near where she wanted him to be and his breath was hot on her center. “I live only to serve, my lady.”

Before Belle could think of a reply, his mouth was on her. His tongue swept over her entrance, tasting the wetness that had gathered there. He found her clit and teased it, laving it with his tongue as she gripped the throne’s armrests.

With his lips and tongue working together so effortlessly, it wasn’t long until she was panting, begging for him not to stop. He knew just what she liked and it wasn’t long until Belle began to see the constellations again.

His fingernails dug into her thighs as he sucked at her clit, the sensation finally pushing her over the edge. 

She cried out, desperately glad for the support of the armrests keeping her from falling out of the chair. 

With a self-satisfied smirk, Gold licked his lips, his tongue gathering up her juices. 

“My but you taste good.”

Still breathing heavily, Belle stood up on shaky legs. Gold quickly rose to join her, the prominent bulge in his trousers obvious. 

She reached out and cupped him through the leather, smiling as his head fell back and he moaned with pleasure. Locking eyes with him, she loosened the drawstring of his pants, freeing his hardened cock and giving it a few firm strokes. She let him revel in the feeling for a few moments before dragging him by the hand across the stage once more, until her back bumped up against the stage wall. 

“Get inside me,” she growled. “Your princess demands it.”

Gold’s soft brown eyes were dark with desire. “If that’s what my lady commands - ”

Belle cut off his quip with a fierce kiss, swallowing his words. Gold, picking up on his cue, raised her up against the set before lining himself up and entering her smoothly with a grunt. 

She groaned at the feel of him sliding into her. With every thrust, she bounced against the wall, his hands sure to leave bruises from where he gripped her so tightly, but Belle didn’t care. It was the fantasy she’d imagined for years, and it was just as incredible as she’d always dreamed. 

Her hands were tangled in his hair, holding on for dear life as he thrust deeper and deeper into her. 

“Come for me, princess. I’ll fuck your royal cunt until you scream my name.” 

Belle came with a sudden shout, Gold’s name falling from her lips, as her fingernails dug into his shoulders. She gasped for air as the waves of her orgasm shuddered through her, pleasure coursing through her entire body. 

Beneath her, she could feel Gold reaching his own peak as well, moaning her name as he came. 

As their breathing returned to normal, they rested their foreheads against one another, Gold cradling her close to his chest. After a few minutes, he gently disentangled them from each other and set her back on her feet. 

Belle sank back against the wall, thankful for something else to hold her up. Gold leaned against the wall beside her, looking tired but sated.

“Same time tomorrow?” she quipped. 

He let out a bark of laughter. “You might need to give me a few days off for good behavior. I’m not as young as I once was.” 

She giggled. “Alright, but only a few days.” 

He groaned. “This is what I get for dating a beautiful young woman.”

Wrapping her arms around him, she snuggled into his chest. “Yes, I’m sure it’s just terrible.”

Gold laid his chin on her head. “Well, I suppose there’s a few perks.” 

Belle’s answering laughter echoed throughout the empty theatre. 

“It’s rather romantic here, isn’t it?” Gold asked, a curious tone to his voice. “Perhaps we’ll have to sneak in again sometime.” 

Belle could tell he was already planning something, but she was feeling too comfortable and happy to try and pry it out of him. 

She’d find out soon enough, after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  Author’s Note: This is dedicated to @b-does-the-write-thing who never gave up on me writing this, despite it being many, many months after her birthday. Love you, B!

P.S. I'll be posting the epilogue to Welcome to the Enchanted Forest this week!

[autumnpawtribe]

Life is crazy.

I'm still recovering from almost dying.  

I haven't written much in a while, life just went a bit insane.  I would not say it went to shit, but it was a bit crazy. I figured I would write the highlights, I expect my children may one day read this.

Now, this was the day my brother, Venyabi, took the mother of my child as a mate, for she accepted him, and he her.  He loved her. This was… I dealt with it.

***********************************

Xiao and Janaret had a small… interlude in the shower the morning after we have saved his Mother and younger sister from the demons they called Father and his little minion that Naddja was married to.  Now, My Janaret is very submissive, and he is what some would call my little. I take care of him, we have times where we spend time together and I braid his hair, or we just spend time cuddling. It makes me happy to take care of him, and he is happy knowing someone will take care of him when he cannot handle life.  He’s doing much better now that our friend, Talrethriel Shadethorn, has given him oils made of Shimmerweed to help him with his anxiety.  

After their time in the shower, which I often remind them took FOREVER...

*************************

After their shower and Xiao lead Aret out, the prelate didn't speak, only nodded as he led Xiao back into the room to find clothing.  "Um.. Xiao?" He had turned an interesting shade.. "What do I wear?"

Xiao blinked, looking back at him as he pulled on his red and black house kimono, though he put on his black cloth pants from the night before on underneath as well for decency, since he'd only worn then for all of 20 minutes. "What do you mean? You have clothes here, don't you?"

"I.. um.."

"Would you just fuckin' pick clothes for him.  Tarja is whining, Im hungry, and People are actually wanting to TALK to you two.  I only have So many topics of conversation that are not stories from when Aret was little.  There is a green kilt with Gold trim, and a green vest. Put that on."  Vol poked his thoughts into Xiao’s.  "He wants you to choose for him so he looked good for you..  first impression on his mother. Remember, he is submissive, he likes a bit of guidance.  Today it is from you." 

Xiao lit up when he realized what Aret wanted. He leaned over and kissed him. "Here love, come here." He took Aret's hand and pulled him to his closet. He pulled out several things for the prelate, looking them over before finally finding the piece that he thought was just right. It was an understated black tunic with crimson stitching that hung low enough to accentuate his muscled features without looking overtly revealing, tapering down to be more form fitting around his abdomen. It was a V cut down to about his navel, but for Troll standards it was a 'dressy' vest compared to something loose like what Vol would usually wear that was more two strips of fabric with a string to keep it from flapping in the wind. He made sure to get matching pants, glad to find they were a matching set, similar crimson threading lining the sides and hips. They weren't tight enough to bulge in the groin, but close knit enough to hug his muscled thighs and accentuate his form. He bit his lip, swaying in spot a bit before reaching back to unbraid Aret's hair and pull it over his front to all drape down one shoulder on his chest. He grinned, blushing a little before moving Aret in front of a mirror so they could stand side by side. The colors made sense now, it complimented Xiao's kimono so that the two would look absolutely lovely together. Also it would come as no surprise to Vol that Xiao had Aret's hair down, they likely both knew by now he loved it like that.

Janaret smiled, blushing but happy as he stood in front of the mirror and looked at his reflection. "Thank you.  S.. Sometimes Vol'raka will choose for me. That's part of .. our special things we do. I want to make sure Muuka likes you."  He stood up straight, experimentally flipped his hair, and put a hand out. "I will make you proud, and She'll like you. I know she will."

Xiao nearly squee'ed at the hair flip, clearly adoring it. "You look absolutely gorgeous." He leaned up to kiss Aret lovingly before offering his hand. "I am always proud of you, Ba'la... shall we head down?"

Aret nodded, a hand on Xiao's as he led him out of the bedroom and downstairs.  There was the deep voiced laugh of a Darkspear, Nielka making faces at Zakin and Tarja, the tiny troll girl giggling and bouncing in her hammock.  Pahre was sitting quietly, with a soft smile and Naddja was.. not there.

"Where is Naddja?"

"Ja sistah had a visitah an’ went fer a walk.  Ja two finally join us, da bacon an eggs be cold, but dere some muffins left.  Da pancakes be gone. Ja snooze ja loose." Vol grinned, finally having given up on his mates and eating his own breakfast.  "Xiao, aftah breakfast. Kyl need ta come out an finish dat house. Auntie, Naddja, and Nielka need dey own space."

Xiao's smile dropped when he heard 'visitah'. "Who showed up?" He asked nervously, almost as if he forgot he killed the two people they had to worry about. "You can find the stone in my brewing room if you want to just reach out to him for me, Vol." He said with a small smile, though still worried.

"His name was Venyabi.  Muuka, I like human food.  Muffin? Right?" Nielka was holding up what looked like a muffin, studded with blueberries.  "I want to learn to cook. Vol'raka, I want to learn how to make muffins.." Though still scarred, the girl knew she was safe where she was and had already perked up and liked her new home.  Her mother was more subdued, more years of pain still lingering and lining her face.

"Please do not bother them with trivialities, Nielka.  We are guests, I am sure that they have other matters."  The look on her face spoke volumes as she tended to her grandson, She was afraid still, and did not wish to antagonize.

"Auntie et be fine.  Ah gotta go ta take care of a mage and make sure he finish da work, but ah also gonna be sendin' Hae an Aret ta get some clothes fer ja.  Fabric at leas'. Hae be a good seamstress an Naddja's clothes not quite fit ja. Anothah day, ah teach ja ta make muffins. Xiao a bettah cook den me.  We be takin' turns wit da chores." He smiled as he turned to Aret and Xiao, noticing they matched. "Ja look handsome with ja haiah down, sweetheart. Suits ya."  he stood, clearing his plate and giving Aret and Xiao both kisses. "Ah gonna talk ta Kyl. Eat. Be good hosts."

"Ones that are not upstairs caterwauling their lusts in the shower..."

Xiao smiled and nodded, seeming relaxed again. "Your brother stopped by? Just to say hello or for business?" He asked casually as he sat beside Aret and reached to nibble on a muffin himself. "Nielka, I would love to teach you how to cook muffins if you would like that." He said warmly, speaking the Zandali after Aret or Vol translated for him as they had been since the night before. "You do not have to worry about bothering us, Pahre. Aret is family and you are Aret's family. That makes you our family. Family is never a bother, hm?"

"Venya come ta see Naddja....". He didn't sound thrilled, but let it go as the twelve year old squealed happily. 

"I want to learn!  I..."

"Nielka, calm child.  We will stay out of your way and be no bother.". 

"Muuka... Stop it." Aret and Vol turned as Naddja and his elder brother Venyabi came back in, the druid scowling.  "They are nothing like father. They welcome you into their home. They welcome us. We get to start again without Father's rules, pain....  All the things he inflicted upon us. Let Nielka learn things. It doesn't mean they are gonna make her get married! It means she learns skills.  This family works together. So she'll have chores, just as I do, I expect you as well..."

Vol interrupted, actually smiling at Naddja, switching to Zandali and translating in his head for Xiao.  The Link worked wonders for it.  

"She is right, Auntie. No need to hide in the room upstairs.   Enjoy the grounds, spend time as you will. Once you settle in,there are things we may ask.  Most importantly, I ask that you try and be happy. Find something that makes you happy.". Vol smiled kissing Xiao, Aret and Tarja in turn.  "These make me happy."

Xiao looked as though he were about to speak when Naddja came back in and spoke up. He sat quietly, letting the family talk before leaning up to kiss Vol with a small smile. "You are safe here, you can be free here. That is all. Asking us for things, spending time... it is not a bad thing. You do not have to worry anymore."

Pahre looked in her lap, noticing only when her son moved to sit next to her.  "Muuka, this is home. A family. Everyone here is family."

"What et be ja fear, Auntie?". Vol stood next to Xiao, relaxed and smiling gently as he looked at the similar blue eyes as his lover. 

Pahre sighed.  "I must remember, Torcali forgive me, that I can know something more than fear.  I fear this place is too open and honest, that something will shatter."

"Auntie, dis place not perfect, but we try ta get along.  Et not easy ta be en a relationship wit three, and all da rest.  Gotta work at et."

"It took me a while to get used to it too. Vol'raka helped me find happiness through that openness. It may take time, but you can let yourself finally be happy. There will be no pain here."

"Ah takin' Naddja ta mate." 

Aret, Pahre, and Vol'raka turned looking at Venyabi, Naddja facepalming. "Way to go, Venya."

Vol crossed his arms, not territorial, more annoyed as Aret stared at his sister.  Even Pahre was wide eyed.

"You...  Are the new baby's father?". 

"Ah gonna be....". Venya was stopped by Vol grabbing him by the scruff and dragging him outside, Naddja following.

"Entertain them... Talk.  I'm gonna rip my brother a new ass."

"Uhhh..." He blinked, kind of just staring. When Vol yanked Venya out, he just kind of watched. "... I want to know what happens, you better leave that link open." He offered a nervous little chuckle. "Who wants breakfast dessert crepes, hm?" Yes, more cooking, that would be a good distraction.

Nielka was distracted, hopping up to follow Xiao.  "Can I watch?!"

~~~~~

"Are you serious, Venya.  I knew you were fucking, by fucking Bwonsamdi you've known each other for...a few weeks!"

"She doesn't.... Mind my...  You know. Most people are not ok with it, lil bruddah."

"It's not your choice, Vol'raka."

"Naddja, think of what I am seeing.  The woman who ... Let's just say it. The woman who raped me and had my kid is fucking my brother.  Now mating my brother and going to probably have his children..."

"And you are fucking my brother...."

~~~~~

Xiao smiled at Nielka. "Of course, come here." He extended an arm out and began to prepare all of the ingredients, explaining it all to her as he listened through the link. "She cannot hear, but... us being with Aret is irrelevant, none of us did anything /wrong/. She did. Not that I hold a grudge, but... her point is not a good one."

~~~~~

"I am.  So what.  Did you tell my brother what you did to me.  How my daughter was conceived?"

"...  Yes."

"I still love her, Vol.  She actually accepts me."

"And her children?  You wander, Venya. You don't stay in one place.  How are you going to keep wandering."

Naddja got in Vol’s face, a finger right on his nose.  "We will wander too! You don't get input into my life, you are not my caretaker nor my father.  You promised to protect me until I found someone. I found someone. I will follow all the rules, I won't be called Tarja's mother, I pitch in and do my part.  So butt out of this."

Aret spoke up, quietly.  *"Let her be happy too."

"If you hurt Venyabi, I will not forgive you.  I will be letting it go, but I hope you can understand why I am upset about this.  You can stay here for a while Venya. Same deal. Pitch in."

~~~~~

Xiao listened in silence, sighing lightly as he tried to keep up a straight face as he showed Nielka how the delicate pastry was made. "So she is going to just... wander. That means Zakin will to. I thought she would want her children to know each other. Maybe I was naive in thinking she would just live here with us in her own little quarters so Tarja could grow up around /all/ of her family..." He sounded a tad disheartened as he finally chipped in, like his fantasy had been shattered a little. 

"perhaps.. if you talk..to her Aret?  I do not know Venyabi well?"

~~~~~

Vol had shut down and stalked off, still there but silent as he had left Venya and Naddja alone to come back in.

"Mango Mon, what a makin?". He was not looking at crepes.  He was looking at the stew pot. It smelled far different from a sweet breakfast.

~~~~~

"I do not know either of them well..." He said uncertainly, his gaze pulling to Venya now. The nickname made him smile again, putting the finishing touches on the crepes and putting some powdered sugar on top. "These? They are pastries and-..." It was then that he followed Venya's line of sight and cleared his throat. "That is nothing, just... something Vol'raka is making." He tried to sound casual but he was about as stiff as a board now, anxious panda. He didn't want any attention drawn to that pot. 

Venya sniffed, picked up the lid and wafted away the steam.  "Da fuck ja got troll hearts en a pot fer?"

Aret's face fell and he paled, hoping his mother and younger sister had not heard Venya.  thankfully Pahre was enamored with spending time with her playful grandson and granddaughter, who was inspecting her fingers.  "It is Vol'raka's dinner, please leave it alone."

Naddja scowled, then sighed.  "Bwonsamdi."

Venya made an "ooooooooohhhhh" looking face and closed the lid.  "Ah serve da grave too sometimes, ah get et. Ah not sure mah bruddah happy bout mah fallin' fer Naddja.

Xiao tried to stop him but it was too late. When Venya spoke about it, his mouth fell agape and he looked horrified. He hurried Nielka off to serve the crepes and then spoke in a low but 'angry' whisper so only Vena, Aret, and Naddja could hear once Nielka was out of earshot. "What is wrong with you! If there are Troll hearts stewing, you do not just ask like you would ask about the weather! Sweet Celestials... That poor woman has been through enough, they both have." He gave Venya a disapproving look, scolding him like the Ba he was. He then realized he had just scolded his future brother in law and bit his lip. "Sorry, I just... do not want Pahre and Nielka to have to go through anything more than they already have." He murmured, low still so the other two wouldn't hear.

"Ja lived with Vol dis long an’ he not brought home 'dinnah'?  He respectin' JA culture more den his own lil bruddah. Let da old lady be blissful an unaware.. or jus be blind ta et fer 'er own sake.  Ja not gotta be yellin' at me bout et. Et not mah sacrifice ta be eatin'."

Aret turned his head upstairs and wandered out, heading for the office Vol kept inside the house, almost like he was called.  Naddja watched her brother wander off, turning to Xiao. "Vol doesn't want me here, does he?"

Xiao sighed heavily, whispering to Venyabi now. "They are her hearts of her son by marriage and her husband. There is a reason I told you to shh. It is not the fact that they are offerings to Bwonsamdi, it is who the offerings ARE." He then huffed a little. "Also, do not talk about us not respecting his culture? Who do you think helped me prepare the sacrifice?." He grumbled under his breath mildly.  “I doubt we would have been met with the presence of the Loa of Graves if we were paying that little attention... Talk about making my heart race in minor panic." He grumbled again and sighed, realizing he said that out loud, hoping no one heard. He cleared his throat and welcomed Naddja's question, looking to her with a shake of her head. "It is not that he does not want you here. I think... the fact that he lets you near Tarja, lets you live in our home, as family... is trying to him. It takes patience. You have to remember, Naddja... at the end of the day, regardless of what circumstances you were under at home, you raped him. Did you know he does not drink anymore? He hardly even smokes. He refuses almost any intoxicants now ever since that incident. So to have the patience and restraint to let you live under his roof with our child and even getting to be in her life... then find out you are going to go wandering off with his brother? There are limitations to how much someone can put up with. Yes, he is also with your brother, but... we went into that situation with no idea who he was to you. The fact that you two are related is a sheer twist of incredibly unexpected fate. It is not as if he went after him knowing he was your brother. Even if he had, he was not the one who did the wrong but was the one wronged himself. So think of this from his perspective. He shows you the leniency and mercy and kindness to not only forgive you, but invite you and your family in, let you in our daughter's life, reunite you with your son... take care of certain issues so you never have to worry about safety again. All of that, and now he finds out that after everything he has done, you decide to possibly flit off with his brother. It is... salt in the wound. A wound that is still incredibly fresh to him." He sighed quietly, looking down at the kitchen floor as he contemplated his next words.

"I know that... I want you here, believe it or not. I thought that you would live here with us, Pahre and Nielka too. You would have your own quarters, a separate little area through portal magic, but... still in reach. Our own... tribe, if you will. Tarja gets aunts, uncles, grandmothers... a brother, though she will know him as a cousin and vice versa. Your son would get to grow up with a big loving family, no one would be in danger, and..." He shook his head, trailing off again. "It sounds idealistic, but I just thought... I guess I hoped you would stay here, all of you would. Aret is our family, so that makes you family. I had hoped we could be family... together."

Naddja looked chastised and sighed as Venya put an arm around her shoulders.  "Ah.. ah know what happen. We agree et not right, we agree da lil ones be needin' ta be raised tagetha, lil bruddah.  Et gonna be up to Vol'raka. He forgivin' but ah tink tings hurt em more den he lettin' on. We close, but ...."

"Xiao Chun.  Vol'raka is speaking with Kylendris.  He would like to speak to you, once he is done."  Aret came back in, having not heard Venya speaking.  "He is trying to fix the hole in the wall..."

Xiao frowned a little. "I know it is, but he is trying to keep us all together for the sake of our daughter. He wants her to be with as much family as she can. He just needs time and you two getting together is something that adds more strain to his already stressed load than he anticipated." He then looked back at Aret and nodded. "I was wondering when he was going to reach out to him." He said casually before reaching out through the link. "Hole?" He sighed internally, trying to hide his disappointment. "Do you think it is okay if I go in to see him now? Can you entertain?" He said with a glance toward those still in the kitchen and dining area. 

"Nienie...  let me show you how to fold the crepes?  Venyabi, we are not so close, and I would bet you do not know my mother, nor younger sister.  I would like to learn more of you, as you will be with my sister?" Aret smiled, hiding his worry.  "He broke his hand."

~~~~

Vol was healing his hand, misjudging his aim and having hit a section of stone.  The wall only had a small dent. The mage would finish his work and the rest of the family would get their space and he could ...  normal was not going to happen, he shouldn't delude himself.

Xiao hurried into the office, frowning as he saw Vol tending to his hand. "What happened...?" He asked worriedly, inching closer to Vol as he peered at him with a worried little whimper.

Vol looked up, grinning even if it did not meet his eyes.  "Just breaking my hand, lamenting that I let Venya come visit a few weeks ago, having Tarja's conception rubbed into my face, feeling like I can't save everyone and my kindness is tossed in my face like mud?  Nothing major lover. How are you?"  He flexed his hand as he stood up, putting Xiao's stone on the desk.  “He'll have it all finished by tomorrow. I need to send Hae and Aret off to get supplies, I need to feed the raptors.. I need to get shit done today.."  He instead sat in his chair and let his head fall on the desk.

Xiao's frown deepened, moving over to sit in Vol's lap and force his head off the desk and onto his fuzzy chest instead. "Vol'raka... hey, look at me." He murmured, trying to make Vol look up at him so he could gently kiss him on the noise before nuzzling against a tusk. "What do you mean thrown in your face? ... Who could you not save? I know you are hurting, but talk to me, please?" The upgrades from Kyl could wait until later, he was more concerned about Vol. 

"Ah get hurt..  ah get an unexpected kid, ah forgive, ah forget, ah do all ah can ta make people happy.  Killin' again, make sure ever' one be safe. Try to make so ouah lil girl be given a good family, all who love 'er, even ef ah gotta see ... er ever' day.  Now.. et be 'ey, we gonna go travelin'. Ah done ever'tin' ah could so dis can be a family, even ef et hurt me... an' now..." Vol sighed, defeated.

Xiao nodded in understanding, leaning in to hug Vol. "I told Naddja and Venyabi the same thing. Venyabi said that they will not be wandering. I already said they need to be here with their family. Zakin deserves to be with his sister, even if he it is raised as cousin. After all Pahre and Nielka have gone through, they should have their whole family, all the family that matters at least." He nuzzled into Vol's neck, trying to comfort him. "Venyabi said that the kids need to be raised together but... you accepting Naddja is going to be on you. I promptly told them that they are the ones who need to give you time. After everything... Venyabi being involved on top of it, I know it has to be overwhelming."

“I don't know if I can."  He left it at that, holding Xiao around the shoulders, chin resting on his love's head.  "I have tried.  I have tried so hard to forget.  To give up my hatred, to give her a chance.  All I see is the day she found me in Zandalar and told me she was carrying my kid.  I had nightmares... I think I still do...."

Xiao whimpered quietly, hugging Vol tighter. "Can I help...?"

"I don't know.."  He lifted his head, plastering on a smile.  "Just keep going..  all I can do, you, Aret, Tarja.  Need me to get over it."

Xiao shook his head. "No... hey... please, do not do that." He whimpered quietly, pressing his forehead against Vol's. "Don't pretend for me, I want my Vol, not some mask."

"Da mask be ta survive, Xiao Chun.  Et ta not explode." He looked over at the smallish hole in the wall.  “Not doin' such a good job hmm?”

Xiao shook his head again. "No... we promised honesty, remember?" He murmured nervously, trying to hug his Vol tighter

"Lie of Omission is still a lie.  I am TRYING hard to not snap at her.  I agreed to let her stay, for you, Aret, Tarja to have SOME relationship with her.  Killed her father, and that good for nothing man of her's... Even if it killed me to do so.  My family needs her, and she's gonna go run off with my brother.. make the two children she cares for wander too."  He was angry, almost shaking, but his voice was dead calm.

Xiao pulled back, looking at Vol. "They are staying, remember? Venyabi said they deserve to be raised together, meaning they will stay... I told him, they need to be together. They agreed."

"That's fine, I just....  I need our space, Xiao. I can't keep having Naddja in my face.  I want nights back where It's just you, me, Aret, and Tarja. A quiet meal with just my mates, our children.  If it was not a very bad time to do so, I would head to Jade Forest. Pack the four of us up and just go for a week.  Can't DO that. So that elf is going to come here, finish the job and Naddja, Venya, all of them get their OWN house. I want OUR house back.  I want to be able to fuck you on the kitchen table when I FEEL LIKE IT."  the last part was not meant as a joke.

Xiao blushed a little, nodding and cuddling into Vol. "I miss that openness, too. We can have Nielka, Venya, Pahre, Zakin, and Naddja all in their own home with the four of us being here. I originally had thought they could a separate set of rooms through a portal, but... an entirely different house would probably be better. That way we can have family dinners if we want while still having our privacy. Are we going to construct a base house so Kyl can create the portal setup or is this just going to be... a hidden portal outside that they walk into like a front door?"

The big troll sat back, sighing.  "Dunno, dun care.  I was our space back.  I'm going to be going with Hae to get supplies.  I was going to send Aret, but I need out of the house.   I'm going to actually meditate first."  He smirked at Xiao, kissing his nose.  "My Master taught me how, I think I need to right now.   I'll fix the wall later. I just. I cannot have her in my face all the time.  I need time to heal the wound, all I am asking. And maybe being able to bend my husbands over Where I want to....." 

"Well, just having a portal placed against a rock or something would be much more... instantly available where if we want an indoors place with the portals inside, that would require us to build the actual base structure first. If we just do a portal inlaid into a tree or something, it can be done in a day or two probably." He said as he nuzzled against Vol's neck. "Can I help at all? Can I do anything? I really wish I could help."

"Make the pain stop."  It was all he said as he curled around his love.  "I want no more reminders.  I want to look at my Loves and be happy, I want to look at my daughter and not think on .. what happened.  Forgive me if I run away from it for a day?"

"You do not have to be sorry for not wanting to think about being raped..." He whispered with a quiet whimper. "You are so strong, Vol'raka... to show as much kindness as you do. I am so proud of you." He stood up and offered Vol his hand. "Come on, we are going to run off for the day. Aret can entertain the family. You and I are going to have some time just for us, okay? Like things are normal like before. Just us, no distractions, no painful memories... just each other, okay?"

"It looks really bad if we just bail, Xiao Chun."

Xiao chuckled a little. "Kyl is my contact, it would make sense if you took me with you so I can make sure you get the right things?" He suggested as he offered his hand still, hopeful.

"Lover..."  He left the link, whispering in Xiao's ear.  "We wont make et ta Halfhill or da Shrine. Ah will take you to the jungle and I WILL have you.  on ja back, moanin' fer me, hearin' only MAH name on my lips. Until Ah hear.. "Fuck me Vol'raka.  Breed mah body, fill me....", be et screamed or whispered. And Ah will GLADLY do so.... Nothin' gonna get done dat way."

He grabbed Vol's hand and tugged "We are going, /now/." He practically moaned, trying to tug him out of the office and out on their little adventure.

*******************************

We have an active love life...

[sweetsameli]

Finding My Balance

Chapter Two: Who Are You Really?

Darryl and I walk into a shop that is filled with all sorts of parts for ships and droids. Items hang from the ceiling, are cluttered on the shelves and larger parts are on the ground.  

“What is this place, a junkyard?” I say callously. There is a loud thunk followed by some shattering noise of something breaking and then a light voice swearing in an alien language. I move my head around to see a figure moving around behind the main counter in the shop. It finally emerges and revealing it to be an ugnaught; having a bit more hair than most I have seen and less flappy skin. Its skin seems to be tanner as well. It is wearing a normal white tunic and thin blue fabric pants. Waddling over to us and I can see that it has a rounder belly then I was expecting from an ugnaught.

“I’m sorry! Did not hear the alert that someone had arrived.” The voice is light with hidden squeaks being some words, and from it I can tell that the ugnaught is a female. Possibly pregnant? “Welcome Di’onhs Parts. It looks like junk yard, yes, but holds the parts you looking for.” She smiles big, closing her eyes even and revealing her spaced out teeth. Then she returns to a normal happy face and motions one arm to the whole shop. “Please, take look around.” Darryl smiles at her.

“Thank you, and no need to worry. You know technology and how they fail sometimes, even the simplest things like a door alert.” He chuckles and she joins in with him, snorting with her laughter. I smile a little. “I actually have a list of the parts we need; would it be much trouble if you could tell me where they are?” He hands her a data pad and she looks it over.  

“I go get these! Happy to make customer happy.” she squeals happily.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose...” He motions his head slightly to her growing belly and she only snorts a laugh, patting her belly gently.

“No need to worry about little one. Parts small. I be back.” She turns around and heads off in the cluttered mess of parts before Darryl could protest again. He only sighs and turns to face me, shaking his head slightly.  

“I forget how prideful some women are when they are pregnant. On Csilla, mothers enjoyed being pampered and taken care of in any way possible.” He scoffs a little. “That is, until someone questioned their authority. You don’t want to stand in the way of a pregnant Chiss woman.” I can sense a little bit of... nostalgia.

“Do you miss being there? Your home planet?” My mouth gets ahold of the words before I can actually process them through my brain. “I’m sorry. That was too forward of me.” He only smiles at me.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, I mean I was talking to you while you were unconscious.” He winces a little at his words. “I hope that didn’t just come out as... disturbing.”  

“Hmm... Maybe a little.” I smile a bit. How can I be so relaxed around him? I swallow and motion my hands for him to continue. He crosses his arms in front of himself. He takes a bit before making a clicking noise from his tongue.

“Sometimes, but I’m not ready to go back. Not yet.” He wants to say more but he hesitates, narrowing his eyes and giving a scowl. Anger and precision, an odd combination of emotions, washes over him.  

“What is it?” I mouth to him. He moves his eyes slightly, as if aiming them somewhere and then turns around to face where the ugnaught went to. I sense for other beings and then feel their emotional state. A few... angry and disturbing creatures lurk by with intent on focusing on Darryl. They haven’t made their move, just watching us. I bite the inside of my lip, wanting to confront them to warn them off but I know I can’t just be walking around anymore as a Jedi, I have to be more careful. A dull ringing noise then comes through my head, and I let out a slight groan, holding my head with one hand. I can sense Darryl’s concern but before he can turn around, the ugnaught returns with a box, bigger than she is, full of the parts.  

“Here you go sir!” She comes over to him and he quickly grabs the box and she lets out a hefty sigh. “Got you good parts.” She nods happily and goes back to the counter, Darryl following behind her. She pulls out a different data pad, tapping on it. “That come to... 375 credit. I give discount to you. For being so nice.” She smiles softly and Darryl pulls out a cred stick, handing it to her.

“Thank you.” He tilts his head to the side to gesture a thank you and turns around to come back to me. “And please, keep the change.” She squeals a thank you back to him and goes back to working on whatever it was she was working on before we came in. Darryl reaches me and gently grabs my right arm, leaning down a little to my ear. “Act blind again.” He whispers in it. He straightens himself again and we start walking, I keep my arm linked through his, putting my other hand on his rather strong bicep. I walk in step with him, and turn suddenly, causing me to trip a little at the sudden change in direction.

“What is it?” I whisper.

“Bounty Hunter.” He whispers back. Fear rears its ugly head in my mind and I quickly try to shove it down. Then I sense something ahead of us and two Twi’leks step out from the shadows of the alleyway, blocking our path. They both stand with hands on their hips, opposite of each other. Both are female with one being teal skinned and having white thick horizonal stripes, wearing a plain leather band headdress and a simple tight-fitting outfit with a blaster pistol on her left hip. The other is blue with yellow thin jagged stripes, wearing a silver and gold metal headdress, clothed in a small tunic and short pants, having a blaster pistol on her right hip. They both wear matching necklaces of some sort of family crest, I can only presume. I can feel the distrust and angry seep off of them.  

“Friends of yours?” I whisper. Darryl shoots me a sideward glance and then looks back at them.  

“Ladies,” He carefully let’s go of my arm and sets the box down beside him. “It’s been so long!” He motions his left hand to the teal one. “Aelir, you’re looking rather good. New morning regime?” He then motions his left to the blue one. “Erak? Is that a new headdress?” He flirts casually with them. They remain unwavered though.  

“How dare you think you can just waltz back here.” Aelir hisses, her accent light.

“Especially after what you did to us!” Erak yells. Oh great. The person who rescued me is a womanizer. Erak comes closer and slaps him across the face. Darryl takes it, looking shocked.  

“Okay, yeah. Probably deserved that.” He looks back at her. Aelir comes over next and slaps him across the other cheek. He looks a little more shocked from this one, putting his hand on his cheek. I tilt my head down to hide a smile that is containing a laugh. I hear Darryl think among the lines of don’t you dare laugh. “Ladies, ladies. No need to for further aggression.” He looks back them. Aelir becomes enraged. “Perhaps I can help alleviate the tension between us? Say with dinner the next time I came back? Or I can give you some credits now and I will make sure to never return to this sector again.” He starts to pull out a cred stick and Erak now becomes enraged.  

“Do not think you can simply buy your way out of this! You left us without saying a word!” Aelir accuses, curling her fists now.  

“And you took all the credits from the mission we were supposed to do together!” Erak points out. Oh, this is too rich. “How could you leave us like that?!”

“We had to find a way back from that awful place!” Aelir says.

“Luckily, some kind old transporter man took pity on us and brought us back here.” Erak spits out.

“Unfortunately, you weren’t here for us to take back what you stole.” Aelir says, calming down it would seem.

“So, we waited for you.”

“And here you are.” Satisfactory takes place on Aelir’s face and something else takes place in her anger, almost like... triumph. Darryl raises an eye brow and tilts his head to the side. She slowly starts to walk around him, placing a finger on him to trace slowly. “We will take those credits, and more.” She scowls and as soon as she is in front of him, she shoves him. He only stumbles back a little, now he shows a scowl.  

“Oh? Is that how it’s going to be then?” He retorts. He’s about to reach for his pistol when Erak aims her pistol at me. He tenses his jaw and straightens again, smirking. Aelir becomes angry again.

“What are you smiling for?! We are threating you and your blind friend here and you think this is funny?!” She pulls out her pistol and aims it at him. He raises his arms slightly, still smirking though. She nods her head at Erak. “Shoot her, maybe he’ll take us seriously then.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that.” He warns. Aelir narrows her eyes at him and then shrugs. “Alright, don’t believe me.” Erak shoots at me and I dodge quickly, not lifting my head yet. Erak gasps a little and shoots again. I step forward quickly and dodge at the same time. Erak backs up now, shooting at random. I drop to the ground to dodge and sweep her legs from underneath her. She lands on her butt with a thud, the pistol flinging out of her hands. Aelir starts to shoot at me, panic in her shooting as well. I flip back up, still dodging and then she stops as Darryl puts the barrel of his gun against her head.  

“That’s why.” He takes her pistol and leans in close to her ear. “My ‘blind’ friend there is well... an assassin I hired. She only wears that cloth covering to give herself... a challenge when faced with opponents. I thought something like this would happen so I brought her from my protection. Thought, if I give the word for her to take it off, well let’s just say Erak wouldn’t be suffering from a sore butt.” Erak then gets up slowly, growling a little. Darryl raises an eyebrow and she only lowers her head in submissiveness. “Now, I would drop this petty idea of revenge and leave. Or I will have her kill you two.” Fear spikes in Aelir now and she scrambles to get away, grabbing Erk. I hear them swear in Huttese as they run away but I’m not sure what it was. I look over at Darryl and he is putting away his gun and picking up the box of parts.  

“Assassin?” I question, he walks over to me and loops his arm through my right arm again. He chuckles.

“Yes, well did you want to continue dealing with them?” He continues down the alleyway. I can sense something behind us but it is... eluding from me. I shake my head a little, the headache still there.

“You are going to have to tell me who you really are at some point. Two lies in one cycle? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so deceptive.” A sense of pride kind of comes from him and then some regret.  

“Well, in my line of work, lying is probably the only way to get things done. At first, I did tell the truth but it ended up just not getting me around certain obstacles so I started to tell little white lies. Not like they’re harmful or anything.” I shrug my shoulders a little.

“Okay, I can understand that...” We get to the ship finally. He clicks a button on his wrist and the ramp comes down. He then looks at me for a moment, a feeling of confidence spouts out from deep within him and I turn my head to look at him.

“Listen, I know we just met, and this is bold of me to ask but...” He pauses, seeming to try and find the right words. “Would you like to join me? I can try to help you with that mission you are trying to follow. The one that your Jedi friend told you to stay on?” I purse my lips together. I'm about to say no, because I should do this alone but something in the back of my mind tells me... no screams at me to say yes; even though I have barely known him for a day perhaps, my mind is telling me that this is the path I need to follow. He waves his hand in front of me. “Hey, take your time to think about it. I’ll fix up your ship and you can give me your answer then, okay?” He smiles slightly and his red eyes show a gentleness to them and I nod my head.  

“Okay. Thank you” I smile back. He heads for the ramp and then, I feel the flow of time slow. I sense it first, a blaster bolt coming towards us. I turn around to deflect it with my hand and ringing sensation happens through my head. Time returns to normal and instead the blaster bolt shoots straight into my shoulder and I get knocked onto my butt, holding onto my shoulder. What just happened? I groan in pain and Darryl turns around, pulling out his blaster pistol. He shoots at where the blaster bolt came from and I get up, looking to see where the blaster bolt came from. A figure stands at the end of the landing pad and is wearing sleek black heavy armor and holding to what looks like a modified blaster rifle. The figure dodges Darryl’s shots effortlessly, evading behind some large containers.

“Get on the ship!” Darryl commands, heading up the ramp. The figure is taking aim again and shoots at Darryl. I quickly grab my lightsaber, igniting one side and deflecting the bolt back, aiming for the cover they hide behind. The bolt barely hits the bottom of the containers but succeeds in making the assailant jump back. I then quickly extinguish my lightsaber and run into the ship, climbing up the ladder and running into the cockpit where Darryl is already at the pilot chair, getting the ship ready to make a quick escape. I hear the ramp close up as he starts to take the ship up into the atmosphere, and I jump into the co-pilot chair. When we hit space, Darryl jumps into hyperspace. I let out a sigh, leaning back in the chair and feel the stinging sensation in my shoulder, wincing at it. Oh, right. I grind my teeth. First, I electrocute my left arm, then powers are on the fritz probably. A dull ache pushes forward through my mind again. Oh, and how could I forget these stupid headaches, which probably why my powers are on the fritz, allowing me to finally hurt my right shoulder. Ugh! I need to meditate.  

“...Is that okay?” Darryl asks.  

“What?” Kriff, I'm not doing so good. Darryl looks at me suspiciously.  

“I said, I’m gonna take you to the medbay and clean that wound for you, is that okay?” He narrows his eyes at me now. “Are you okay? What happened back there?”

“I’m... not sure.” I rub arms a little, feeling cornered but not because of Darryl but because I’m trying to answer that question myself. “I’ve been having headaches but I... didn’t realize it would affect my powers. Or maybe it didn’t. I don’t know!” I flail my arms now, grinding my teeth when the pain comes from doing so. “Everything seems to be going wrong and I don’t understand why!” I yell now, standing up from the frustration and then look away, panting. Calm down. Darryl didn’t do anything wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’ll... take care of my arm on my own.” I leave before he can say anything else and search for the medbay.  

After a bit of searching, I finally find medbay and start looking for a kolto stim or a medpac of some sort. Frustration crawls over my skin and I grind my teeth again, curling my right hand into a fist. That frustration turns into anger and I growl after not finding anything to possibly help and I swing to punch a wall, stopping short by just a few centimeters. What I am doing? This isn’t me. I relax the tension in my shoulders and my hand falls to my side. I let my head hang in defeat. I feel more lost now than before this journey. I walk over to the bed and sit on it. I hold my head in my hands. Confusion, sorrow, chaos, it all feels like too much. No wonder Jedi aren’t supposed to feel emotion. I can’t hide it anymore. I can’t shield or suppress it anymore. I need to find those texts; they are the answer I seek. But first, I need to meditate, maybe it will help me find the texts or why I keep getting these headaches.  

I pull myself up onto the bed more and sit cross legged, setting my hands on my knees. I start with my breathing, slowing it down and bringing all the chaos rambling through my mind to a calm. Then, slowly everything starts to go dark and I feel myself start to float. Everything around me is in sync; the thrumming of the engines, the hum of the lights, the plant life on the ship I’ll make a side note of that for later, the whirring of the computer terminals. Then, I see an image start to form. A person is running from... a cloud of darkness. I focus more and see that the person is me. I know this vision now, usually I try to hide from it, afraid of what the outcome might be like but not this time. I must see this through.  

I see panic on my face as I run away from the dark cloud; a hand is now forming from within it. The darkness seems to nip at my feet, the hand so close to grabbing my arm. I feel my heart start to race now. No, calm down. Just a little bit longer. Too late. I fall, losing my concentration, hearing other objects falling as well.

“Whoa... Did you just... float?” Darryl said with admiration. I shake my head trying to see now. Kriff, how long has he been there for? “I’ve heard that Jedi can do it but to actually see it... I’m not sure I still believe it.” My surroundings start to slowly come to my vision. I sit up, turning to see Darryl at the doorway, his face matching the awe stuck voice he had.  

“Yes, well, that tends to happen when one is trying to balance their... uh mind.” I say carefully.  I don’t want him to know the mess I’m in, though I'm pretty sure from how I acted earlier, he might have an idea already. He nods, coming into the room.

“Looks like you haven’t found the medpac yet.” He goes over to one of the cabinets and opens up a drawer, finding one after a bit of rummaging through it. He comes over to me and hands it to me, “Here you go” I take it and start to pull out the supplies to clean my wound. He’s about to walk about out but stops at the doorway. “Listen... that bounty hunter we encountered on the dock? I’ve encountered him before. He’s after me, not you. At least I don’t think he is.” I tilt my head to the side, curious. “I’m not going to bore you with the details at the moment but I’ve been trying to avoid him for quite some time.” He turns to face me, putting an arm on the frame for the door, using his other hand to rub his chin. “He must have of expected me on Nar Shaddaa after our last encounter. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize he would even think of that.” He sighs annoyed, I’m guessing at himself. “I hate not knowing his moves, but I know so little of him.” He then looks at me. “I want you to know that I’m still offering to help you but I would understand if you don’t want to be chased by not only bounty hunters after you but after me.” I smile a little looking at the medpac, taking out a large bandage and putting on the blaster wound.  

“I would think you wouldn’t want to help me knowing more bounty hunters would be coming after you and your ship.” I tilt my head to face him now and he only smirks.

“I’m always up for a good challenge.” I nod my head.  

“I see. Well, I think I want some time to think still, if that is alright?”

“Of course. I said give me your answer after we finish your ship.” I nod my, getting off the bed, walking past him. “In the meantime, where are you headed to? Just so we can at least start heading that way and not get you too far off course, should you choose not to stay with me.” He follows, walking next to me.

“Oh, well... the next place I was headed to was Lothal.”

“Lothal? Whatchya looking for there anyway?” I hesitate to answer. Should I tell him? He’s already proven himself that he isn’t going to sell me any bounty hunter or crime lord. I bite my lip and stop just before the cockpit, standing next to the ladder for the exit ramp.  

“I’m looking for something...” I sigh “I might as well tell you. I’m looking for-” Before I can finish, the ship disengages from hyperspace and we both look at each other. Oh no, not again. Darryl quickly rushes over to the pilot chair and I go over to the co-pilot chair. Suddenly a large asteroid comes in view and we are about to smash into it.

“Hold on!” He dips the ship to go under the asteroid and we barely avoid it. He pulls the ship up back up after passing it and looks around. As he does this, I'm holding onto the console in front me to hold steady.  

“What happened?” I say, trying to calm down the alerts that bare blaring.  

“I’m not sure...” He looks out the viewport for something. “Probably ran into that asteroid because it veered off it’s normal course?” I finally calm down all the alerts and he flips’ a switch near him. “Scan the area, see if there are any mining ships or freighters out here.” I start to scan and I hear him mumble. “Probably some idiot lost control of it.” Something blips on the scanners.  

“I see one. It’s headed... straight toward us?” I turn my head to the viewport and see a small ship coming into view. Then I see red streaks coming at us and realize it’s the turbo lasers from the ship.

“Kriff!” Darryl exclaims, trying to turn the ship to dodge them but is too late. I cover my face from the sparks exploding from the console and then look back at it.  

“That was a direct hit to the front deflectors. We’re at 50% already!” Another spit of sparks comes out again. “And the scanners are offline.”

“Karabast.” He gets up quickly, going over to the navicomputer. “We need to take care of that ship before we can escape; navicomputer is down as well. Do you know how to handle a gun turret?” He walks back to the pilot chair.  

“Yeah, the basics are pretty simple.” I say, slightly nervous. Though I’ve never actually had to use them.  

“Good,” He points to the ladder that is descending down just in front the cockpit. “I need you at them.” I head over to ladder. It’s fine. I’ll be okay. I've had basic training. I climb the ladder and get into the chair, pulling the communications device over my head. The targeting system beeps slowly, showing parts of the ship ahead of us. I twist the chair to start aiming at the ship. It starts to beep faster as I center the ship in the middle of it and I press the buttons to shoot. The other ship dodges away though. Stupid ship. I swivel around to aim again.  

“Hold on up there!” Darryl yells from below. The ship takes a sudden turn; planting my feet and gripping the handles to try and not fall out of the chair. I see why he had to, there are a bunch of asteroids coming close to the viewport of the gun turret.  

“Are you sure I shouldn’t be the one piloting?” I yell down to Darryl.

“Oh yes, let the girl who caught her ship in a nebula be the pilot in a gun fight!” He teases me.  

“One time!” I say with bitterness. The targeting system beeps at me again and I turn the chair to follow the ship again. I shoot once I get some of it in my sight and get the tail wing.

“You hit it! Try to-” He cuts off and I see why. Another ship comes into view, being a little larger than the other ship. “Well kriff, I know that ship.” He growls. “How did it find us though...” He trails off, mumbling too low for me to hear now.

“Darryl?” I say, trying to take aim again.

“Keep shooting at the first ship. I’m gonna try to lose the other one. I’ll try to help with the dorsal turrets.” He makes the ship take a sharp turn, putting in perfect alignment with the first ship. I take aim and shoot at it, this time hitting near the ships’ engines. It makes a small explosion and it seems to look like it powers down. “Nice hit!” He takes another sharp turn and I see the turbo lasers from the other ship head towards us, hitting one part of the turret I am using; the barrel flinging off.  

“Darryl! I lost part of my turret!”

“Dammit!” He grumbles loudly. The second ship continues to keep shooting at us. Without warning he flips the ship upside down. Trying to hold onto the handles, I slip from the seat and into the viewport of the turret.  

“Darryl!” My face slams up against the glass, my left arm pinned underneath me and pain shoots through my arm. I can see the dorsal turrets fly past towards the second ship. After another volley of shots, he finally hits the second ship; damaging its guns and wings. He flips the ship back over and before I fall, I grab one of the rungs of the ladder with my left arm, pain searing through arm and going up my neck.  

“Get working on fixing the navicomputer. Yell at me later.” I purse my lips together and head over to the navicomputer. I start pulling files up and tapping on the control panel to bypass the problem. “Hurry! That second ship is still able to partially fly.” His voice is hasty. I tap faster. Come on... Finally! The navicomputer finally accepts the bypass and I quickly put in a destination.  

“Got it!” I yell, jumping into the co-pilot chair. He pulls the lever and we spring into hyperspace. I lean back into the chair, letting out a sigh of relief. “Who the hell was that? And how did they find us? We barely got out of hyperspace. No way they could’ve found us that quick unless...”  

“Unless they were tracking us? Yeah... I think I might’ve known it was. Dammit, I thought we got away from him just in time. He must have put a homing beacon on us as we left the landing pad. I didn’t recognize that first ship though. He might have recruited some help. That’s the only way to explain that...” He leans back and huffs. “They were waiting in orbit. He planned for us, well rather me, to escape. He wanted to track me. Ugh!” He sits up straight again and slams his fist on the console. “Fool! I knew it was too easy.” His frustration seethes off of him and his thoughts ridicule himself

“Hey...” I tilt my head slightly, trying to stay calm. “It’s okay. There was no way of knowing. Sometimes it’s hard to plan out every move.” He lets out an annoyed sigh.  

“You’re right, I know. I was... just hoping to stay one step ahead of this guy. Now I have to worry about two of them.” He mumbles something else but I don’t quite hear it. I’m about to ask him what he said but he continues talking instead. “Where are we headed to anyways? Lothal?” I nod my head. “Why are you headed there anyways?” I bite my lip once again at the question and sigh.  

“I’m looking for some ancient Jedi texts...”

“But I thought everything was on computer terminals for you guys?”  

“Well, for some things, yeah. But these texts are from a very long time ago. They are still in physical written form.” He nods his head slowly, slightly beginning to understand.

“I see... but why are you searching for them?” I tilt my head down to look in my lap. The question I don’t really want to answer but I know I have to if I am to trust him fully.

“I’m... lost.”

“Lost?”  

“Yes... or I should say I'm caught in between knowing what I thought was right to wondering if what Darth Revan says is true. My feelings are in... chaos.” I stand up finally, starting to slowly pace. “I read in my research about these texts, talking about ‘balance’ and ‘better understanding the force’ so I decided to leave before the war.” I look at him and the realization hits him.  

“That’s why that Jedi was telling you to stay on your path?” I give a small smile.

“Yes. He was my master. Master Dauula. He is the one who taught me to trust in my feelings and to always consider all options.” I look out the viewport, watching the swirls of hyperspace. “I didn’t realize my emotions would get out of hand though. I apologize again for that outburst I had earlier.”

“It’s alright. I mean, I don’t begin to even understand all that Jedi nonsense but I do understand about feeling lost.” He looks out the viewport as well, something haunting shows in his reflection but then he looks back at me. “I was gonna actually ask what was taking so long after you left to find the medpac, but then I saw you floating and was just so amazed...” he trails off.  

“What do you mean? I wasn’t gone that long...” Was I?

“Uh, you were gone for about three hours. I thought maybe the wound was more serious and you were unconscious or something.” I put my hand to my chin. Three hours? I didn’t even finish the vision...

“I was having... a vision. I didn’t realize the time. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“I wasn’t worried too much, just figured I should check up on you.” He smiles, then gets up. “Come on, let me take you to your quarters so you can get sleep. Or maybe finish meditating or whatever there.” He starts heading out of the cockpit and I follow after him. He comes up to a door and presses the button. It reveals normal size room for a ship with a bed in the wall, a dresser across from it in the opposite wall and a counter with a mirror near the entrance of the room.

“Thank you” I say as I walk in.  

“No problem. Get some rest. Your arm must be killing you at this point.” I remember the pain from earlier and nod my head.

“I will.” He winks at me and he leaves, the door sliding shut. I walk to the middle of the room and sit down, beginning my meditative state.

Darkness surrounds me. I hear cries of pain and begging. I look around to see if anyone is here but I am all alone.

“Hello?” my voice echoes, but no one responds. I hear a low growl and soon a dark cloud is forming in front of me. I scream and start to run away from it. It follows suit, a hand forming from it. I turn to look and trip. Turning on my butt to see it, the clarity of the hand begins to form. It’s pale, showing only four, largish, lanky, fingers. More of the arm start to extend out. I scramble backwards and a body starts to form. I panic and try to run when the arm grabs me. I turn to see who it is but hear my name in the distance.  

“Mikacele!” The voice is familiar. I try to yank my arm away. The hand only grips tighter.  

“Help!” I yell, struggling to get free. It’s pulling me now, towards the dark cloud. “No! Someone please help!” I scream.

“Mikacele!” The voice is getting closer. “No!” Darkness is clouding my vision now. I try to scream again but I cannot. The darkness is swallowing me. My hope and sense of self starts to drain quickly. Is this it? Is this how I die? Or rather, how I let my fear take over me?

Suddenly, I feel warmth grabbing my arm. It’s trying to pull me from the darkness. I hear from behind me a hiss.

“You can’t have her!” The voice is filled with venom and, it too, sounds familiar.

“She doesn’t belong to anyone!” The other voice argues. The hand keeps pulling me. “Come back to me Cilla! Don’t let the darkness overcome you!” Cilla... Cilla? That’s not my name.

“Her name is Mikacele! And she will be mine!”

“Don’t listen to him! Come back to me!” I see light forming in front of me, my hope and sense of self coming back. I see a tall figure forming in front of me.  

“NO! Mikacele! Don’t fall for his tricks!” The venomous voice is now starting to fade away.

“Yes! Come back to me. Come back to me Cilla!” The light blinds me and I can’t see anything in the force, but I feel... warmth. I feel strong arms around me.  

“You did it, my Visahot...” The voice echoes.

I sit up in bed, panting and sweating. I wipe my forehead. When did I get here? I swallow, shaking my head. Then, I slightly remember falling asleep after meditating, but I don’t remember going to bed... Then I remember feeling... something picking me up. Or maybe someone...

“Darryl...” I whisper.

[thewhumperinwhite]

WIP Wednesday

okay, i’m about to start working on some café bc that’s what wants to come out today (wkw is next I solemnly swear) but first bc I mentioned it here’s a snippet from My Actual Serious WIP, From Which All Others Have Grown.

@whumpitywhumpwhump

By the time the boy scrambled up out of Jasper’s bedroll, hair and eyes wild and almost taking the ratty old traveler’s tent up with him, the sun was already halfway up, and the small fire Jasper had lit was mostly embers.

    The boy stared at Jasper, out of breath, and positively swimming in the tunic Jasper had leant him. He hadn’t packed with dressing skinny teenagers in mind; the rough green wool hung down to the boy’s knees and the collar showed all of his sharp jutting collarbones and most of his narrow chest. His eyes were wide and the color the sky would be above the Wastes at noon, and his face was sharp and angular, probably by nature and certainly by starvation. There was a long sharp scar from his left brow to the corner of his mouth, to match the stab wound in his stomach.

    “My sword,” was the first thing the boy said, voice cracked from thirst and probably also fever.

    Jasper blinked up at him. He had pulled the boy’s sword-belt off in the process of bandaging his gut-wound, because the old cloth wrapped over the wound had clearly not been changed in far, far too long; it had been many years since Jasper had had to look at a wound like that, and in the old days they’d never have let one go so bad; Silex would have had kittens. Jasper had peeled the remains of the boy’s white shirt off as soon as he’d carried him to a decent campsite, and then when he had to take breaks from the awful business of peeling bandages out of half-healed muscle to recharge his magic and settle his stomach, he’d set up the tent and made the fire. The shirt hadn’t been worth saving, so torn and stained with blood and sweat he couldn’t even tell what it’d been made of; the boy’s trousers honestly weren’t all that much better, the legs tatters from the knees down, but Jasper would have wanted to wake up in his own pants if their positions had been reversed, so he’d left them. The only other thing the boy had been carrying was the sword itself, and the belt for it, which was bloodstained but clearly good leather and had held alright, so Jasper had set it aside and gone back to the business of saving the boy’s life.

    He hadn’t purposefully confiscated it, in other words; it hadn’t even occurred to him that the boy shouldn’t have it. It was a preposterous looking thing, anyway, all curlicues and glass of all things; he’d barely registered it as a weapon, but hearing the boy ask for it with such breathless urgency was a bit on the worrying side.

    That said, the boy seemed to be staying upright through a serious effort of will alone, so he probably wasn’t going to do a lot of fencing at the moment. Jasper pointed wordlessly to the left of the boy’s feet, where he’d piled his own pack and staff beside the tent; the glass ball at the pommel glinted redly under the desert sunrise.

    The boy looked down, saw the sword, and sagged in relief so completely that his knees simply folded underneath him and he fell into a sitting position beside Jasper with a small thump.

    “‘Morning to you too,” Jasper said, amused.

    “Sorry,” the boy croaked, scrubbing a hand over his forehead, and then, “Thank you.”

    Jasper waved that away. “Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’ve not done as much for that wound as I’d’ve liked, boy. I’m no Healer.”

    The boy blinked at him, and then looked down at himself, and lifted the hem of the borrowed tunic out of the way to examine the wound. It probably hadn’t been large, at first; the center looked like a single stab from a short-bladed weapon, deep but not wide, and it might have even been partially healed by someone with more skill than him when it was new, but running was bad for gut wounds--for most wounds, really--and the edges were raw and angry with infection; it had taken most of the bandages in Jasper’s pack to cover it, and the boy had to expose an uncomfortable number of sharply-visible ribs to see all of Jasper’s handiwork. The boy frowned down at the fresh bandages and then up at Jasper, looking uncomfortable. He would probably have been handsome if he’d ever eaten before, and although he didn’t look older than seventeen there was an old break in the bridge of his nose, on top of everything else; crooked like any break that had gone too long without healing or re-setting, but clearly not new and raw like the cuts in his face and stomach. Jasper hoped he hadn’t been too young when it had happened.

    The boy fingered the wool of the tunic awkwardly, and opened his mouth, his expression clearly suggesting a repeat of both “thank you” and “sorry,” but Jasper held up a hand to stop him.

    “I mean it, don’t thank me yet,” Jasper said, and took a deep breath; it was best to get this part over quick, like pulling off a bandage that didn’t require peeling. “I couldn’t find your friend, boy,” he said roughly, looking into the fire instead of the boy’s face, since he’d always been a coward.

    “My what?” the boy said, voice still scratchy but otherwise nothing but bewildered. Jasper looked back up at him, startled.

    “The little girl,” he said. Nothing but confusion on the boy’s face. “The little girl who was with you in the woods. I heard her voice, before I saw you, but I searched that little grove for damn near an hour, and I didn’t find any sign of her. I didn’t find much blood that wasn’t yours, either, though, for whatever that’s worth.” He stared at the boy, who only looked more lost. “You have no idea what I’m talking about,” he said slowly.

    The boy shook his head helplessly. “Sorry.”

    Jasper shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his pipe. “That’s--damn queer,” he muttered, filling the end with tobacco from the pouch in a different pocket of his cloak. He’d thought it was strange not to find--any evidence of a whole human being being eaten by wolves, if that was what had happened; and he didn’t see how anyone could have run away fast enough to leave no sign they’d even been there, but-- “I was sure I heard a little girl’s voice,” he said around the end of his pipe.

    “What did she say?” the boy rasped, curiously. 

    “Govnoyed,” Jasper said, and snorted at the boy’s startled blink. “I know. Foul-mouthed little thing.”

    “You speak Crythian?” the boy said, and then winced, like he wished he could take it back.

    “Not as well as you do, I imagine,” Jasper said, amused. “There wasn’t much point in pretending to be a native,” he pointed out. “You’re probably the only blonde in a hundred mile radius.” The boy’s hair looked like it was cut unevenly even without a night of hard sleep in a strange tent, and Jasper couldn’t guess when it was last washed, but underneath the grime and a certain amount of blood it was the color of pale gold.

    The boy looked away, flushing unevenly underneath the spots of red his fever had already put on his pale cheeks. “I--wasn’t,” he said softly. “I only--” He cleared his throat, scrubbing a hand over his mouth as though it hurt to talk. “Sorry.”

    “For what?” Jasper said, laughing, and then he leaned forward toward where his pack was sitting, on the boy’s opposite side. “I hardly think--” 

    When Jasper’s hand came within a few inches of the boy’s knee on its way past, the boy went immediately white to the lips and hunched in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. 

    Jasper stopped, raising his eyebrows.

    The boy’s eyes opened immediately and he looked at Jasper, color rushing back into his cheeks too fast, apparently mortified.

    “Sorry,” he muttered, visibly forcing himself to relax and looking down at his hands, tight on the torn fabric of his trouser legs. “Sorry.”

    “I was reaching for my pack,” Jasper said slowly, and the boy nodded eagerly, still very much not looking at Jasper. Jasper shook his head, feeling a confused smile start on his face; if he didn’t find this funny it was going to be tragic, and Jasper always preferred funny. “I thought maybe I’d offer you some food.”

    The boy stared at Jasper, shaking his head. “I can’t take your food,” he croaked desperately. “I’ve already--” He looked down at the borrowed tunic, and to Jasper’s mild horror, began to tug it off over his head. “I can’t take your things, I don’t want them--”

    “Woah, stop,” Jasper said quickly, raising his hands in surrender; the boy froze at the order, the tunic already halfway off. Jasper could see too much of his hip bones and ribs, it was making him feel slightly ill. “Cross-God,” he said, “put it back on. Please.”

    The boy did, rather reluctantly. “I don’t want to put you out,” he said faintly; he looked rather worse for wear for the sudden movement. Jasper felt rather out of breath himself, just watching.

    “Boy,” he said finally, “who are you?”

    The boy blinked at him, as though startled by the question. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m--Willem Price. Will, I suppose. If you like.”

    Jasper laughed a little, helplessly. “Well, lovely to meet you, Will Price, but I’m not sure that’s really what I was asking.” He shook his head at the boy, who was still looking at him with wide eyes; they were really an almost shocking color. “What the hell are you doing in the Waste-Lands, kid?”

    Will Price looked at him, and blinked his wide blue eyes slowly, and then, very carefully,  shrugged.

    Jasper stared at him.

    “Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “And--where were you planning to go from here?”

    The boy looked away, reaching up to scratch at the scar on his face with one finger, and shrugged again.

    “Uh-huh,” Jasper said, frowning. The boy kept his eyes firmly off to the left, across the Wastes, tugging slightly at his scar and not looking at Jasper. “Fine. Here.” He took advantage of the boy’s studiously averted eyes to reach past him and grab his pack--the boy kept his flinch to a minimum, though Jasper could see his muscles tense--and tossed a small packet of traveller’s bread in the boy’s direction; the boy just barely caught it before it landed in the dust, presumably because he was still feverish. “Eat that, and then get some more sleep, if you can. I’d as soon not carry you to Atychia Town if I don’t have to.”

    The boy turned sharply to look at him, alarmed. “I don’t want--”

“Shut up,” Jasper said firmly. “I am taking you into Atychia, because you are a child, and I am not a monster.” The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Jasper pushed on before he had the chance. “The choice that you have is whether you walk, or I carry you.” Honestly, the chances that the boy would be able to walk before his wound or fever would need attention Jasper couldn’t give it were practically nonexistent, but Jasper raised his eyebrows and said in mock offense, “Are you going to make me carry you?”