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pikapeppa · 3 years ago

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Garrus Vakarian x f!Shepard: Crick

Hello friends and loved ones: I am dipping my toe into Shakarian fic. Haven’t quite decided yet how much to commit to writing this pairing in detail, so here’s a little oneshot set just after the Horizon mission in ME2. ~2400 words. (Tumblr only for now, but I’ll post on AO3 if I decide to write more.)

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Garrus sighed as he made his way to the main battery room. There was a stiff feeling in the left side of his neck and shoulder when he tilted his head, and he was annoyed by it. It was his own fault, really; he’d fallen asleep at his weapons modification table again last night and woken with this crick in his neck that wouldn’t go away.

It was one of those times when he really wished he could get a proper hammer massage. There was that one place on the Citadel that did real Palavenese massage, the good kind that you really felt vibrating all the way through your carapace into your bones, but Garrus wasn’t sure if Shepard would be ordering them back to the Citadel anytime soon.

It’s just a crick, he reminded himself. It could be so much worse. The fight they’d just gone through on Horizon had been… a tough one, to say the least. Any fight with an unfamiliar new enemy could be unnerving, but seeing that Harbinger thing jumping from body to body during the fight had almost been enough to make Garrus pause.

Almost, but not quite. Archangel never hesitated or missed his shot.

He stepped into the main battery room and took a deep breath, then released it in a satisfied sigh. The air in here smelled like clean plastic and a hint of metal, and he savoured the relaxing smell just as he did every time he stepped into this room after a hard fight.

He flicked on the monitors and cracked the joints in his fingers, then started his usual routine of checking the gun settings – a routine that was more for comfort now than necessity, if he was being totally honest. Cerberus might be a pack of crazies doing their twisted human experiments, but they sure made a mighty fine canon.

He finished up his calibrating routine, and he was just about to move on to studying the Collector particle rifle that Shepard had salvaged when he heard the distinct beep-and-shunk of the door unlocking. A second later, the doors slid open, and Shepard stepped through.

She nodded briskly. “Garrus. Just checking in. You doing okay after that fight?”

“I’m just fine, Shepard,” he assured her. “I was about to start looking at your new toy here, actually.”

“That’s great,” she said. “It looks like a powerful little piece of tech. Something we can turn to our advantage, you think?”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said. “There’s nothing I find more satisfying than using the enemy’s own weapons against them.”

A small smile crossed her face, just as he’d hoped it would. He hadn’t seen a smile on her face all day, not since the Collectors had gotten away with the population of Horizon’s colony. Kaidan’s angry lecture probably hadn’t helped things, either.

She huffed and leaned an elbow on the weapons mod table. “That’s pretty bloodthirsty of you, Garrus.”

“Bloodthirsty? Me? Never,” he said. “Thirsty for justice, on the other hand…”

She laughed — a husky rolling sound that always reminded him, for some reason, of brandy-filled chocolates. “What a line. Did your time on Omega inspire you to dip your toe into writing noir mystery novels?”

“What if it did?” he said playfully.

“Then I’d tell you stick to your dayjob,” she replied.

It was Garrus’s turn to chuckle. Shepard smiled at him once more, then straightened up and nodded at the particle rifle. “I know you just got started here, but I’m interested to see what you find. Mind if I watch you working for a while?”

“No problem,” he said. “Might ask you to throw up a barrier for your own protection, though. This thing doesn’t use conventional heat sinks. I’m not sure yet if it can even be fully turned off.”

She nodded and cast herself a barrier with a quick clench of her fist, and Garrus got to work studying the Collector rifle. He scanned it to build a schematic and explained the exploded view to Shepard, and she frowned thoughtfully and asked questions about the weapon’s uses and disadvantages, and all the while, as he often did, he wondered what she was really thinking.

By any objective standards, it had been a bad day. They’d just watched most of a human colony get taken away by the Collectors. Her former lieutenant had accused her of crimes against her race right after a really tough fight, and when they’d boarded the Normandy once more, the Illusive Man had told her that he’d actually incited the Collectors to target Horizon.

If Garrus was in Shepard’s place, he’d be vibrating with anger by now. But here she was, watching him dismantle a gun with the calmest look on her face.

A solid half hour later, when he’d finished thoroughly surveying the rifle, he tapped his visor from its analysis mode back into its resting mode and looked at her. “I think that’s about all I’m going to do with this rifle for today. You need me for anything else?”

“Nothing else for now,” she said. “Thanks for the demonstration. I’ll talk to you later.” She stepped back toward the door.

On a sudden whim, he opened his mouth. “Shepard, hang on a second.”

She turned back to him. “What is it?”

He hesitated. Now he was wondering if the question at the tip of his tongue was too personal. He and Shepard were friends, sure, but his question might touch a bit of a sore spot, given what had happened today. If Garrus knew anything about Shepard, it was that she wasn’t much of one for talking about her feelings when missions didn’t go as expected. Not that Garrus was a talky-feely sort of guy, either, but still…

She raised her eyebrows expectantly, and he shook himself. He’d called her to turn around; he had no choice but to ask now. “Are you doing okay?”

Her eyebrows rose higher. “Sorry?”

“This whole Collector business on Horizon,” he clarified. “I know it didn’t go down the way we wanted, and then with the Illusive Man being, you know… illusive.” He lifted his shoulders. “It can’t have been easy.”

Her blue-black eyes crinkled at the corners. “You worrying about me, Vakarian?”

“A little, maybe,” he said. “You’ve only taken a dig at me once today.”

Another smile flashed across her face, but it was gone a second later, smoothed back into her usual businesslike expression. “I’m all right,” she said. “It’s a hit to have lost the colony, but we’ll save the next one. I’ll make sure of it.”

He nodded. “Seeing Kaidan was a bit of a shock, huh?”

She huffed and folded her arms. “It wasn’t ideal, but that’s the way it is. He’s got his mission, and we’ve got ours. We can’t lose our focus over personal feelings.”

Garrus nodded again. Everything she was saying was reasonable and true, and her calm attitude was envious, really. If Garrus was able to keep his calm like Shepard did… well, he’d tried to channel Shepard’s calm while he was on Omega, but it had only gotten him so far. Garrus had never known anyone, human or otherwise, who kept their cool all the time quite the way Shepard did.

And yet, for some reason, he just… he wasn’t sure. Her manner struck him as a little bit off, somehow, like the feeling of the crick in his neck.

She lifted her eyebrows. “Anything else?”

“How do you do it?” he said bluntly.

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Keep it together all the time,” he said. “You never seem uncertain. You always seem to know what you’re doing, even if you can’t possibly know. I have to admit, I envy you,” he admitted. “How is it that you always manage to keep it together?”

She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she just stared at him without speaking, and Garrus started to feel a little awkward. It was hard to tell from the look on her face, but he thought that maybe she was… was she angry? Surprised? Bored, maybe? He couldn’t quite tell. Human expressions were usually easy to interpret, with their fleshy lips stretching and pouting and their eyebrows leaping up and down. But when Shepard was in her ‘commander’ mode, she could be so damned hard to read.

She glanced at the closed door. Then, to his surprise, she walked over to him and sat in his chair.

She raked her long black bangs back from her face and looked up at him. “You want to know my secret?” she said.

“Secret?” he said blankly. “To what?”

“To staying calm all the time,” she said. “Can I tell you my secret?”

“Um, sure,” he said.

She leaned toward him, and he instinctively stooped down a bit to hear her better — a good thing that he did, since her voice was low and conspiratorial when she spoke.

“I cry in the shower,” she said.

His guts twisted in a funny way. “What?”

She leaned back in his chair. “I cry in the shower,” she said. “When something really fucked up happens, I get in the shower at the end of the day and I cry like hell.”

He stared at her wordlessly. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t this.

A little smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’s wrong? Not the answer you were hoping to hear?”

“It’s — it’s not that,” he said. “I’m just, uh, surprised. You cry in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “Not bullshitting you, I promise. This is not a bet with Joker or anything like that.”

He tried to gather his wits. “So… what, you cry in the shower, and then you just… get back to being Commander Malin Shepard, saviour of the Citadel and resident Reaper conspiracist?”

She chuckled. “Exactly. It’s like a purge. Works perfectly every time.”

He nodded slowly, feeling like he needed some time to process this, and Shepard huffed and punched his arm in a friendly manner. “Not so impressed with me anymore, huh?”

That wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t that he was unimpressed. But now he was actually worried about her. In all the time Garrus had known her, he had never once imagined her crying about anything. If what she was telling him was true, though…

Hang on. How often did she cry in the shower, exactly? No, he couldn’t ask that — it would definitely be overstepping.

He scrambled to find a clever reply. “It’s not that,” he said. “Actually, I’m jealous.”

She laughed. “Jealous? Why?” Then her eyebrows rose. “Wait, can turians cry?”

“Sure,” Garrus said. “But we don’t do it often.”

“Is it hard for you to cry?” she asked.

“Well, the turian military doesn’t exactly encourage you to curl up in the corner for a little weeping time,” he said dryly.

She snorted. “Not what I meant. I was more wondering if, uh, since you have deep eye sockets, maybe your tears collect in there somewhere…?”

He flared his mandibles in amusement. “Tears don’t collect in a little reservoir under our eyes or something, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he drawled. “But yeah, we can cry. It just doesn’t happen much. Which leads me to the jealousy,” he added. “You get to sit in your shower crying whenever you feel like it? Forget the private cabin: that’s the real luxury of being the commander.”

She laughed again, more heartily this time, and the husky warmth of her laughter was such that Garrus could almost taste the sweet bite of brandy and bittersweet chocolate. “Well, if you ever want to try it sometime, let me know.”

“Try what?” he said. “Crying in the shower?”

“Yep,” she said. “You can borrow my private shower instead of using the shared showers down here, if you want. The walls are soundproof, so nobody can hear you wailing.”

For a split second, an image flashed across his mind: Shepard’s private shower. No, not just Shepard’s private shower: Shepard’s private shower, with Shepard in it. Shepard naked in the shower — what did her body look like under those clothes, he wondered? — and he, Garrus, joining her in the shower —

Wait. Wait a second. Why was he thinking about that? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. It was Shepard, for crying out loud: his friend and his CO. Who did he think he was, to imagine his human female CO naked in the shower?

He scrambled to get his thoughts back on track. “I’ll, uh, let you know,” he said. “Might have to train my eyes how to cry, it’s been so long.”

She smirked. “Nice try, Vakarian. Something tells me you’re not quite that heartless.”

He chuckled — a little weakly, to be truthful, but Shepard didn’t seem to notice; she was rising from his chair with a smile. “Well, I should go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he echoed, and he watched her surreptitiously as she left the room. Once she was gone, he sat in his chair and closed his eyes.

Crying in the shower… he honestly wouldn’t have guessed it. He’d expected her to give him some kind of encouraging advice or bolstering words of wisdom, like the sorts of things she said to the team before they set off on a mission. But somehow, hearing her say she cried in the shower was… interesting. It made him think about her in a different way. He was worried for sure, but also… comforted, somehow, to know that even Shepard got overwhelmed enough to cry. It seemed that under all that heavy N7 armour, she really was a regular person, too.

Under all that heavy N7 armour… A flash of a thought projected itself on his closed eyelids: Shepard stripping off her armour, her slender human fingers raking her sweat-dampened bangs back from her face, the small bare patch at the nape of her neck where her short spiky hair faded into light golden-brown skin…

He snapped open his eyes. Was he drifting off? He must be more tired than he thought. No other reason that he’d keep thinking about Shepard like this.

He rose from his chair and rolled his shoulders, then clicked in his mandibles in annoyance as the crick in his neck announced itself once more. “Really could use a damned massage,” he muttered. Well, he’d just have to suck it up and wait until they got back to the Citadel.

In the meantime, he’d just have to cope with the strange nagging feeling of the crick in his neck.

#garrus vakarian #garrus #shakarian #garrus/shepard #garrus x shepard #garrus x femshep #Fun fact: Garrus is actually my OG videogame husbando from back in the day #but when i first played the ME trilogy i wasn't a writer #so i could not process my feelings like a thirsty madwoman with too many emotions #I AM A WRITER NOW HOWEVER #AND MY FEELINGS CAN ONLY BE PROCESSED BY BARFING THEM ONTO A SCREEN #pikapeppa writes

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years ago

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Sweetest of Exiles - One

Summary: When Oberyn Martell travels to Essos for exile, he found more than he anticipated when he first lays eyes on Pero Tovar, his brother-in-arms in the Second Sons mercenary company. While Pero is a bit resistant to his Oberyn’s overt charms at first, the Prince always gets what he wants. When the Second Sons are hired to rescue a wealthy merchant’s daughter, Oberyn learns there is much more to the grumpy sellsword. And Oberyn doesn’t mind sharing–especially when the merchant’s daughter smiles at him like that.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, (past) Pero Tovar x F!Reader (No Y/N), future--it is a surprise.

Rating for this chapter: T for mentions of blood, guts and gore...magic. My overuse of italics.

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I wrote most of this drunk (or buzzed). I am still riding my red wine high so I almost apologize for the nonsense. If you have any questions about the ASOIAF lore/geography that I’m mentioning, please send me an ask or a DM! I’m always happy to ramble about this series.

(thank you to my love, @starlight-starwrites for the absolutely gorgeous banner. I love you.)

Or read on Ao3 here!

CHAPTER ONE: The Mercenary

Oberyn had always wondered what he looked like when fucking someone. He had looking glasses set up in one of his lover’s rooms so he could try to catch a glimpse himself. But his unrelenting need to keep his partners satisfied always won out over his curiosity.

But then the gods seemed to have a sense of humor when they sent him away from Dorne after he might-have-killed Edgar Yronwood. The Citadel and Oldtown had entertained him for a moment but it soon bored him and he set off across the Narrow Sea to Essos. While the Second Sons mercenary company welcomed him and his sword arm, his eyes were firmly trained on the man toward the back of the company with the scar down his face.

His face.

And well, his time away from Dorne just became much more interesting.

It had taken almost an entire year of not-at-all subtle flirting and propositions and nearly losing their lives time and time again before Pero found himself tumbling into the Prince of Dorne’s bed. The Prince was definitely persistent, Pero would never admit that his charms—his annoying charms—had worn him down instead of Pero’s selfish desire for release while the company was too far away from any sort of willing woman and his hand just wasn’t cutting it. But the Prince had been attentive—willing to let Pero wrap his scarred and rough hand around his throat when he was pressing him into the threadbare bedroll in the quiet corner of camp.

The prince felt good—and he knew how to make Pero feel good.

It was infuriating—he wanted to strangle he smug smirk right off the prince’s face but he knew that the Prince was only capable of enjoying when someone’s hand was around his throat. But he had to admit that he had finally found a true friend (and not just release) with the man who looked strangely like him.

It had been nearly two decades since he could speak with someone as openly as he did when he was alone with the prince in their tent.

But his mind still drifted—to years ago. To his life before finding coin in the service of the Second Sons.

“You make the moon shine brighter, Pero.”

It was childish of him, stupid, to still think of her all these years later. Surely she had forgotten him. They had just been children—he had just been a third-born son of a disgraced lord from Valysar and she had been… she had been everything.

“You are pensive, Tovar.” The prince’s voice cut through his reverie.

He had thought the prince asleep—spent from a long day’s ride and a quick, near-desperate fuck as soon as their shared tent was erected. “It is dark, princeling. You cannot see me.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I know your brooding silences from your angry quiet.”

“You think a great deal of yourself, don’t you?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes despite the dark.

“I believe you think a great deal of me, as well.”

Pero sighed.

“Tell me what weighs on your mind.”

“Nothing that concerns you. Go to sleep.”

Oberyn laughed. “I will find out what has you brooding.”

“Do not hold your breath, princeling.”

He only laughed.

Pero was not sure when they had both fallen asleep but they were both woken by a frantic yell outside their tent. The prince’s knife glinted in the dimming moonlight and Pero had never let his hand leave the hilt of one of his smaller swords as they charged outside. They expected an ambush—a retaliation from the Tyroshi they had just pushed back on behalf of Lys—but instead, they found a disheveled man, bloodied and bruised and desperately limping toward their camp, frantically waving his hands above his head, shouting something in the Myrish bastard Valyrian dialect.

Pero sheathed his blade as he finally started to realize what the man was babbling. “Calm yourself, man.” Pero said, stepping in front of Oberyn.

The man nearly collapsed as he reached them, big, brown eyes shining in the moonlight. “They took her. They took her—I barely escaped.” He continued to jabber and Pero mostly listened—having heard desperate pleas from hundreds of men and women over the years of his service in the mercenary company—the man’s story consisted of being surrounded on the road to Myr by a group of religious zealots. The story was not an unfamiliar one. The Free Cities were known to erupt with pockets of violence; the causes ranged from trade disputes, claims to land, religion, and everything in between.

Pero had heard it all.

But then the man opened his mouth, blood drying on his chin, and said, “but they took her—they wanted her.” And a name pushed by the man’s bruised lips—a name he hadn’t heard in years.

Before he could stop himself, Pero reached out and grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and hauled him to his unsteady feet. “Tell me where.”

The captains deliberated for only a few short moments before refusing to take the charge.

The fact that the woman was Qohorik had negated the fact that the Myrish magistrate who had fought his way to their camp had promised a princess’ ransom and promised that her father, a prominent merchant, would double it for her safe return. The Second Sons had been humiliated generations ago at Qohor and had not taken any bounties or contracts from the city or its inhabitants since then.

The Second Sons gave the magistrate—Orestes, his name was—some water and a bit of feed for his exhausted horse and then told him to leave. They would not go.

And Pero was an angry man. He had wrath in his blood since he was a boy, tempered only with bouts of relief and quiet. But this had sent him into a near rage with how flippant they captains had been when they had delivered their decision. Of course, he had not mentioned that the woman Orestes had pleaded to be rescued had been…her. Or how he knew her. Attachments like that were frowned upon, even by mercenaries. Soft hearts made easy targets.

But as the sun set the next day, Pero knew what he had to do. Even if he was alone. He packed his bare essentials, mostly worried about his sack of coin and weapons, and then pushed out of the tent-

-only to be met with the smirking face of the princeling. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”

“I do not have time for this.”

“Yes, you do,” Oberyn said with a broadening smirk as he turned away, leading Pero further away from camp as the moon continued her climb up into the inky sky. And why was Pero following him? He had to leave. He had to find that stupid magistrate. He had to-

There were about two dozen Second Sons, including one of the company’s healers, waiting at the tree line with their packs and mounts. Oberyn’s smirk reached its peak as he winked over his shoulder at Pero who only scowled in return. The Magistrate—Orestes—was standing with them, looking more than a little out of place with his rumpled fine clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. But he offered a tentative tilt of his head when Pero stepped up to the group with Oberyn.

“What did you do?” Pero hissed.

“I formed my own mercenary company,” Oberyn replied with a roll of his shoulders. “I know you are brighter than this, Tovar.”

If possible, his lips formed an even thinner line.

“Do not pout. We are going to save the damsel and get paid.” There was a cheer from the small band of men—both Tovar and Orestes were the only ones who did not seem to enjoy it. But soon they were on their way, each step taking them further away from the strange safety of the Second Sons and into the wilds of Essos.

Orestes, Pero found, was fond of speaking to anyone who would listen. His voice was pleasing but Pero preferred the quiet in most instances. But, he supposed it was necessary to learn just how he had ended up fleeing to the Second Sons in a desperate plea for help.

Orestes and his companion had been traveling from Qohor to Myr—and Pero tried very hard to not grind his teeth every time Orestes referred to her as ‘my lady’—to allow her to see more of Essos and to return Orestes to Myr after his year-long residency to Qohor that had been in the name of strengthening trade routes and agreements.

(“But, of course, I found myself more entranced by the city and its people than my fellow magistrates’ mandates that I was told to quickly solidify.” He sighed, the sound only a lovelorn man could make and Pero could not stop the grinding of his teeth at that.)

But on the road between Volantis and Myr, a group of heavily armed, religious zealots had slaughtered their small band of traveling companions and guards and took her and Orestes captive in a plot to gain the knowledge her father was keeping secret.

Her father, Lord Ollo, had been one of the famed smiths in Qohor who still knew the secrets of re-forging Valyrian Steel. The famed metal had become a treasure since the Doom and those who could work with the fickle and strong metal were regarded as lords and wielded their power like nobility, too. Travelers from all across Essos sought him out for new weapons, armor, and the occasional piece of jewelry from bits of Valyrian Steel and he had gained a reputation for being excessively secretive but the best at his trade. His wife was a noble woman and had raised his status with their marriage while providing her with the lifestyle on par with princesses.

But Pero knew all of this. He had seen it firsthand. He had supped with him and felt his lady-wife’s fingers tug at his boyishly poorly cropped hair with a fond smile. He knew that their home, an imposing fortress deep in the Forest of Qohor, always smelled of fire and metal and drying flowers.

It smelled…like home.

Well, it had. For a time. A long time ago.

And Orestes never needed to know that—never needed to know that the only reason he had a small band of mercenaries at his call was because the Prince knew that the woman, whose name he could not even say aloud, meant something to Pero.

For all his pride and well-earned arrogance, Oberyn was a good man, Pero had to admit. (He would never actually say this to Oberyn, his ego was big enough without the extra fodder.) And he would have to find a way to repay the prince-who-had-everything in some fashion. Pero’s pride would not allow this kindness to be left unpaid.

Orestes went on to explain that the zealots thought attaining the knowledge of Valyrian Steel would allow them the proper way of sacrificing in order to satiate the supposed blood lust of some old, stupidly named god. They hoped to trade her for Lord Ollo’s knowledge.

“But you seem to know my lady,” Orestes said, turning in his saddle to look Pero straight in the face. “Do you?”

“Is she your lady?” Pero asked in return, ignoring Orestes’ question and how his stomach turned at the thought of her being alone with a group of men as delusional as the band of zealots. Thankfully, they were nearing where Orestes said he had been held captive—less than two days’ ride from their camp but they had set their horses upon the trail with haste, cutting time from their journey.

Orestes’ answering smile was small. “No. But I am blessed to know her and I will never forgive myself for leaving her behind.”

“But she told you to, didn’t she? Told you to run and not look back.” The words were out of his mouth before he could bite them back and his ever-present scowl deepened.

“You do know her. Indeed, she told me to run as soon as I was able. But not to Myr—she told me to run west.” He paused and shook his head and Pero barely caught the confusion coloring the Magistrate’s features. “I had thought the prince was jesting when he said you knew her. I am in your debt, it seems.”

“Just pay the fee you promised.”

“Of course! I would not dream of-”

“Good.” Pero dug his heels into his horse’s side and urged the animal into a faster trot. “You will keep your head, then.” Orestes said something else but Pero had already galloped away to Oberyn’s side at the front of the group. “What have you said to the magistrate?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Do not lie to me, princeling.” Pero scarcely noticed the men behind them slow their horses’ pace to give them room. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—was an open secret to most in the Second Sons and some of those who followed Oberyn into this new company were also willing to indulge themselves in each other’s bedrolls if the time called for it.

Oberyn only laughed. “I did not know that your obvious reaction to a lady’s name was a secret needing to be kept.”

“What else have you told him?”

“Nothing. Just as you have told me nothing. But I have still called the men who were loyal to me and the promised coin to save this woman you have kept like a secret.” Oberyn arched an eyebrow, a look Pero knew meant Oberyn was daring him to argue. “She will be safe. The Magistrate will be on his way and our pockets will be filled.” Oberyn’s dark eyes sparkled in the growing sunlight. “And I shall meet this lady of yours. She must be a sight to behold to warrant such attention.”

“She…” The words died on his tongue. How would he even try to describe her? How childish would he sound to a prince for harboring such affections for his childhood love after all this time? “She warrants much more than any man could ever give. Including the Magistrate.”

Oberyn huffed but a smile tugged at his lips. “We are nearly there, Tovar. You can make the polite introductions.”

Night had just started to fall, painting the sky a violent shade of orange, when Orestes had announced that the ruined castle was just over the next hill.

Pero felt his chest tighten for a moment, a shot of adrenaline he had not felt as strongly since he was a new recruit to the Second Sons facing a small horde of Dothraki.

They crested the hill and Pero saw the broken remains of a once-grand castle. A single window was lit with the dim light of a candle just as the sun disappeared behind the stone, making it look like it had absorbed the red light and bathed in an inky black.

Defense of the castle was nearly impossible with its location and the small band of mercenaries quickly surrounded it, ready to drive inside when suddenly….the door, large and rusted, opened and a single man rushed out, screaming something in what Pero thought to be Old Ghiscari and covered in…blood.

Pero turned to look at Oberyn who seemed to be waffling between amusement and confusion at the sight. He waved a hand, silently commanding two men to secure the fleeing zealot—quietly, if possible.

“It is too quiet,” Pero said as he turned back to the castle after watching the screaming man be brought to his knees and a dirty rag shoved between his lips.

Oberyn agreed. “Surely a band of zealots would make more noise. I’ve been told they’re fond of chanting.” The prince slid closer to the ruined castle, staying hidden behind the rolling hill and scattered boulders for cover.

Pero watched him move, knowing the prince had an innate talent for hearing the smallest noises—whether it be from a rabbit or a sneaking assassin, and would trust whatever his judgement was.

“If anyone is left, they are not moving.”

Pero nodded, ignoring the umpteenth time his chest clenched, and signaled for the rest of their band of men to press forward. Step by step, they neared the castle and spread out to find different entrances. Orestes stumbled in the loose dirt to stay near Pero and Oberyn and Pero grimaced when Oberyn nudged him in the side, silently telling him to allow it—at least for the time being.

Closer and closer, they crept until they Pero was able to curl his hand around the edge of the door and peel it open just enough for him and Oberyn to slip inside. Orestes tripped over a loose stone as he followed.

And Oberyn had been right.

The castle was quiet. Unnaturally so.

The grip on his swords tightened as the small group pushed further into the dark ruins. Torches were scattered and burning out in their holds on the wall, casting even more shadows against the crumbling stone. He heard the soft footfalls of his fellow mercenaries coming in through the east and west entrances but it gave him little comfort. They were alone.

Alone.

His next step made a splash and he looked down to see the toe of his boot submerged in a dark puddle. He reached out and grabbed a torch from the wall and let the dying flames shine near the floor.

It was blood.

He raise the torch just enough to light the end of the hall and sighed.

“How interesting,” Oberyn said as he glanced over his shoulder.

Blood pooled between the broken stone and drip-drip-dripped from some unseen source to puddle in the corner. Bodies were crumpled along the path and Pero turned to pin Orestes with a look. “These men were the ones who slaughtered your guards and took you captive?”

Orestes looked down at a body and seemed to bite back a gulp. “Yes.”

“It looks like they put up quite a fight.”

“It looks like they were ripped open,” Pero corrected before pressing forward. “What did this? Did they do this to each other?”

“I’ve never seen a group more cohesive than them,” Orestes said. “They never contradicted each other or spoke out of turn. They had a singular mentality, it seemed. I would not believe they turned on each other.”

“Men turn on each other all the time,” Oberyn said. “Even without cause.”

They continued forward, Pero leading. He was not sure where they were going, but he knew—instinctively—that he needed to keep moving. If another person or creature had found the castle before they did, what hope did she have? Would he find her like this, too? Reduced to a bloody corpse? Would that be the last chance he would have to see her?

But they walked on, further into the dark, catching glimpses of the rising moon in the half-collapsed windows until they turned and saw the outline of a door, lit by a dim, orange light. Without a care, Pero pushed forward, hilt of his sword still in his hand as he pushed the door open and his grip faltered.

For the first time in nearly two decades, Pero let his swords fall from his grasp.

In the corner of the small room, huddled near a solitary candle, was a woman. Not just a woman—her.

Chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists and angry, deep cuts spanned the length of her legs and arms and her fine dress had been reduced to rags. He barely registered Oberyn calling for the healer as he stepped to her side and quickly knelt down. The locks on the chains were easily undone and his roughened hands carefully prodded at the broken skin.

“Pero,” she whispered, the name sliding by her chapped lips. Her head sagged and Pero moved just enough to let her forehead rest against his shoulder. “You’re here…” her voice was rough and raspy, like she had been screaming for hours. And perhaps she had.

“I’m here.”

The healer came in, arms filled with supplies, while more than a few of their company stuck their heads into the room to see their charge. Oberyn quickly moved them back and shut the door—Pero would thank him for it later.

“Look at me. Look at me, Petal,” Pero said as the healer tutted as he looked over her wounds before uncorking a bit of firewine.

Her unfocused eyes slid to him as the healer set to work. A cry broke her chapped lips as the firewine started to spill across her legs.

Pero reached out and kept her head still, gaze on him, as the healer continued. “Just me, Petal. I am here.”

“Pe-Pero.” The name was stilted on her tongue. “Please—it hurts-” a scream tore its way out of her throat but Pero held her steady even as his chest clenched.

“I know. But it will be over soon.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks as her hands shot out to grab at his armor; he could feel the heat of her touch sliding and blooming warmth through his thick tunic. But he kept her focused on him even as the healer muttered about needing more wrappings.

“I’m here, Petal. I’m here.”

“This is my fault,” Orestes whispered.

The company had settled into the ruins as a camp for the night, finding the rooms (where there wasn’t blood or any bodies) more comfortable than the outside ground. Pero, Oberyn, and Orestes were the last three to retire from the roaring fire they had made in the remnants of the great hall.

Pero agreed but kept that to himself. “How?”

“We travelled by Myr weeks ago. But I could not bear to part from my lady’s side—I convinced her, selfishly, to let me take her to see Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh. She had marveled at everything Norvos and Braavos had offered—even Lorath had made her wonder like a child. I wanted to give her more of that, to show her all I could.”

“And then you were set upon by zealots. Probably followed you from Dagger Lake.”

Orestes shook his head. “Our party never neared that pirate hive. The closest we came to it was when she insisted on seeing Valysar. That little town of no consequence.”

Oberyn, only briefly, touched Pero’s back and he knew the prince meant it as a comfort at the mention of Pero’s former home. Orestes did not notice it.

“But she was adamant and refused to tell anyone why. But she all but disappeared for an entire day once we arrived and would not speak of her adventures��the little box she had procured never left her side and was never opened.”

Pero almost smiled at that. She had not changed—in that respect, at least.

Orestes yawned and stood from the rickety chair. “I must retire for the night. Please alert me if my lady calls for me.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement while Pero felt his face curl into a sneer as the magistrate left the hall.

“He certainly holds a candle for his lady, does he not?” Oberyn mused as soon as Orestes was out of earshot.

“She did not ask for him once,” Pero said before reaching forward to grab the jug of terrible wine left on the table and took a large gulp.

“But she’s asked for you? Hm?” Oberyn asked, snatching the jug from him. “And you’ve yet to introduce me. I am almost insulted.”

“She needs rest, princeling.” He had made sure she was comfortable in one of the largest rooms and was happy to find that her trunks, filled with her belongings, were still intact and made sure she received them before he had let her rest for the night, making sure to let the rest of the company know that she was not to be disturbed.

“I’m sure she does.” He took a drink. “But she has also been trapped, alone, with men who meant her harm for nearly a week. You were the first friendly face she saw—do not think that I misheard her. She called for you. Pero.”

“You could walk in there now and she would not be able to tell the difference.”

Oberyn tutted and Pero stole the jug back. “I believe she would.”

Pero nearly startled when Oberyn reached out and grasped his wrist, keeping him from draining the rest of the wine. His grip was firm but gentle and a hold Pero knew well. “I thought people in Essos were more willing to indulge themselves in matters of the heart and flesh. Do not be stupid.”

And somehow…that worked. Pero slipped into her room and found her sitting on the small bed, wrapped legs atop the thin blankets and a book on her lap. In the warm candlelight, she looked almost healthy. Like she was not covered in healing salve and he didn’t know there were long, angry cuts hidden by wrappings and her thin nightgown.

She looked…so much like the girl he had left behind decades ago.

Pero remembered Lady Daeryssa smiling down at her daughter, flowers twisted into her braids.

“You are special, my star. Like me.”

“Like you, Mama?”

Daeryssa nodded and grabbed the small, blue rose she had Pero fetch just that morning and pressed her thumb against one of its thorns until blood bloomed on her skin and started to trickle down her skin. Her face was serene and Pero could not look away. Her bloodied fingers pulled the petals from the rose and she carefully pressed them against her daughter’s forehead, sticking them to her skin with blood. Words he didn’t understand slipped by her lips as she pressed another petal and then another to her daughter’s face until she stripped the flower bare.

“You will be magnificent, my star. Your trials will be hard but you will always rise above.”

“Come in,” she said, setting her book aside.

Pero did as he was told and blindly set his hands in hers as she reached out for him, letting her tug him onto the edge of her bed. “How are you?”

“I will heal.” She smiled as if nothing had caused her pain and his chest hurt. “I brought you something.” She leaned back just enough to retrieve a small box from the mess of blankets.

The box was nothing spectacular, made from a polished dark wood with a simple latch and did not weigh more than his dagger. “How did you know we would see each other again?” He asked.

She only smiled and pressed the small box further into his grip. “Open it.”

And he could not tell her no. He unfastened the latch and felt his face crumple as he looked inside. His mother’s handwriting, still beautiful and tilted, drew his eye first. He grabbed the thin bit of parchment and unfurled it.

My dear boy- I love you more than words can say. You have saved us.

The rest of the letter was filled with anecdotes, telling Pero how the coin he had sent back home kept their family afloat and settled his father’s debts, allowing his mother and brothers to stay home and retain their titles and livelihoods. He had saved them. His mother had written it at least three times in her short letter.

But I still wish I witnessed you grow into the man you are today. Come home. You are always welcome.

He quickly let the letter curl in on itself again and shoved it back in the box, knowing she was watching him, face serene and almost unreadable. He reached into the box again and let his fingers brush against something cold and smooth. A shuddering breath pushed its way out of his lung as he pulled out a small, carved wooden wolf that fit in his palm. He raised it up to press the well-worn wood against his lips, just once, before placing it gently back into the box.

“You met my family.”

“I did,” she said. “They were very kind.” She paused. “And they smile so often. I almost didn’t believe you were related to them.”

He huffed. “You never let me have a moments’ peace, Petal.”

“You were the only peace I knew as a child,” she responded.

Pero sat with her for hours under their tree after her mother had disappeared and the petals remained on her face, only falling one by one after the sun had set, leaving little bloody thumbprints across her skin. He tried to press them back onto her skin without success, and she only giggled at his attempts, leaning into each of his touches and letting him try and try again.

She collected all the petals as they fell and Pero had given up on trying to re-stick them.

“What are you doing?”

“Practice.” He watched her reach out and scratch her palm against the broken bark of the tree, slicing open her palm in a single movement.

He squawked and moved to grab her hand but she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the petals against her bloodied palm. She took a single, long breath through her nose and then unclenched her fist. The petals rose from her bloodied hand and floated up into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. They swirled around the pair before, with another long breath, she let them fly away, disappearing into the thick of the forest.

She laughed then, a light sound that had blood rushing to his cheeks for a reason he could not explain or pinpoint at that moment. All he could mutter as she looked at him, eyes twinkling and a giggle still on her lips was…”petal.”

“Why did you leave?” She asked as he tucked the small box away into his tunic.

Pero froze. “I had to.”

A/N: please let me know what you think! I hope you guys like this! there will be three chapters.

#oberyn martell x reader #pero tovar x reader #oberyn martell imagine #pero tovar imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #game of thrones #the great wall

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aceghosts · 3 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2021 Day 16: On a Need to Know Basis

Prompt: Recovery

Fandom: Mass Effect

Rating: T

Summary: Commander Rooney Shepard deals with their frustration over the slow process of healing, and Thane reminds them of a few important facts.

Warnings: Trauma. Rooney is just dealing with shit.

Words: 819 words.

Ship: Commander Rooney Shepard x Thane Krios

AO3

Rooney stares up at the dark grey ceiling of the Citadel hospital, resting against the pillows on their hospital bed. Frustration burns deep within them, their jaw slightly clenched. If they could just-

“Siha.” Rooney tears their gaze away from the ceiling as Thane steps into the hospital room, silent and graceful as ever. He smiles at them softly, approaching their bedside. Thane presses a kiss to their cheek before sitting in the chair beside the bed. Gently taking their right hand in his, Thane asks, “How are you doing, Siha?”

“Fine.” Rooney answers too quickly as he frowns. They swallow, expanding on their answer. “You know how it goes, just another day in recovery.” Rooney doesn’t want Thane to worry about them. He already has too much on his plate. The Hanar/Drell embassies routinely ask for his help, which Thane is only happy to do. Plus, Kolyat needs Thane. Even though Thane’s relationship with Kolyat grows stronger with each day, they still need time together, and Rooney won’t intrude on that. They feel like a burden, restricted to this hospital bed.

His eyes narrow, sensing there is something Rooney holds back. “How was physical therapy?” Thane asks, watching their reaction carefully.

The physical therapy session from earlier replays in their mind. “Commander,’ The Nurse asks, ‘Are you ready to try again?”

They swallow, determined to be at their best. “I am,” Rooney replies resolutely, as the Nurse reaches over to help Rooney up to their feet. When Rooney is on their feet, the pair start the exercise again. Rooney only takes a step before collapsing to the ground again. Goddamnit! Frustration wells within them, an uglier emotion bubbling underneath.

“Siha,’ He gives their hand a gentle squeeze, ‘Did something happen?”

“It wasn’t a great session; I’ve had better ones.” Rooney looks away, catching a glimpse of themself in the mirror. After Rooney unleashed the Catalyst, it had affected them too. Their freckled face is carved deep with orange cybernetic scars. One of their eyes, the left pupil, now glows a permanent faint orange. Their left arm and right leg also had to be replaced with metal limbs. Sometimes, Rooney doesn’t recognize the person in the mirror.

“That’s not all, is it? Something else is bothering you.” Rooney returns their gaze to him. They note the concern in his eyes; they know Thane only wants to be there.

“Just frustrated.” Thane stays silent as it all just comes pouring out of Rooney. “I’m so goddamned frustrated,’ They snarl, ‘I’m angry at myself for not being well already. I’m angry at myself for falling, to be incapable of basic tasks. I’m frustrated that my body won’t heal faster, that I’m not back to who I was before the Catalyst. I start to wonder if I’ll ever be the same. What if this is it? What if this is all I am? What use is a soldier who can’t fight? What if everyone decides they don’t need me anymore? What if they all decide to leave?” Tears stream down their cheeks as they close their eyes.

Thane gets up from the chair, releasing their hand. He sits on the edge of the bed, tucking a strand of dark red hair behind their right ear. Rooney opens their eyes, staring back into his. “Siha, I do not know what the future holds. I cannot tell you whether you will continue to heal,’ He smirks, ‘Though knowing how stubborn you are, I doubt you will give up.”

Taking their right hand in his, Thane continues, “Siha, your life is not defined by the Reaper War alone. Your life will be judged by the actions you have taken, and the actions you will take. I know that you will continue to do great things, to help others, even if you are no longer a soldier. As for everyone leaving you,’ He brings their hand up to his lips, kissing it, ‘No one is going to leave you. And even if everyone else does, I will always be here for you.”

Rooney’s bottom lip trembles. “I really needed to hear that.” They kiss him deeply, thankful to have someone like Thane in their corner.

“I know you did, and I will always remind you when you forget,” He murmurs into the kiss.

“Shepard-OH!” Rooney and Thane turn to find Kaidan in the doorway, pushing a wheelchair. He looks slightly flustered, face red. “Are we interrupting something?”

Joker moves past him, a smirk on his face. “If you two are done sucking each other’s faces, we’re breaking Shepard out. Just for a little while,’ Looking to Thane, he asks, ‘Think you can help us distract the nurses?”

Thane nods before looking at Rooney. “I think it would be a good idea for you to get some fresh air, Siha.”

Rooney grins, their heart feeling lighter. “Let’s go. I’ve been dying to get out of this place.”

#whumptober2021 #no.16 #recovery #mass effect #fic #trauma tw #shrios #thane krios #masseffectfanfic #commander shepard #themshep #commander rooney shepard #the rooney fic tag #kate writes #otp: time for me is short siha but any that i have is yours to take

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khaleesiofalicante · 3 years ago

Note

SCREAMS

MORE SCREAMING

INTENSIFIED SCREAMING

First of all, when you tagged me as Georgia in the CYM did you look into my brain because THIS GIRL DHUDHUCIUHIDFUHKDFVUKHDKHU

AWW GEORGIA IS ON THE PATH OF BECOMING A SCIENTIST LIKE HENRY AND CHRISTOPHER!! MEMORIES!!

if Eidolon demons could do calligraphy, it would look like Georgia’s handwriting.

oof same

GEORGIA BABY IT'S OK I HAVE A HORRIBLE HANDWRITING TOO

I eventually gave up

she is so smart sniffs THE IRON SISTERS ARE IN LONG ISLAND

[5:16 PM]AYUGDCSYUGDCYGUVFDYUGVDFUYH SO THERE'S A RUMOR ABOUT RAFAEL DATING SOMEONE?? WHY?? DUDE LIVE YOUR OWN LIFE AND LET HIM LIVE HIS

“The poor boy had a crush on you for a month,” she heard dadda chuckle.

“Excuse you, it was a month and a half,” Mama corrected.

HUYDSUYGDFYGUFVSUYGVFHUVFUHUIFVUHFVUIHFVD

why is everyone so obsessed with the kids' dating lives like dude-

Uncle Alec had been elected as the Consul – again.

Pretends to be shocked. MY BOY IS THE BEST CONSUL OUT THERE FITE ME

And when he was stressed, he watched Dora the Explorer.

good to know im not the only one who watches cartoons when they are stressed(edited)

ALSO RAFAEL BABY IM COMING THERE TO FIGHT THESE PEOPLE WHO ARE SPREADING RUMORS THE AUDACITY

Georgia is the first ever person to actually enjoy izza's cooking

She had always thought of herself as a loner. It happens when you think differently from everyone else. Sometimes you feel like you live in your own world with your own rules. She had been okay with it. She had been comfortable.

same bestie same

Georgia had been surprised because she hadn’t known she was an option at all.

i feel like this fic is calling me out

But Georgia couldn’t let it go. She refused to believe that things were either good or bad. Anything can be anything if you know how to use it.

YES

“Brother Enoch!” Lexi raised her hand. “Up top?”

The silent brother stared – or probably glared cause you could never tell – and walked past them to the institute office room.

“He is never going to high five you,” Georgia pointed out.

“Nah, he is just a little shy,” Lexi grinned. “I will get that high five. You will see.”

HNVUHVUHVUKVDFYHUDUKFVH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

JACE MAKING PUNS AND BEING OBSESSED WITH TEA

GIMME

“Hey!” Mama said – her face looked a little red, like she had put lipstick all over her face, not just her lips.

Now I would have overlooked this but shadowhunters are getting sick and dying and I'm worried.

THE PARABATAI TEST THING YGSDCYUGDUYGKFWECYGUKWFEYGUK ROMAN

“Lexi tried to eat her witchlight to see if she would light up,” Georgia pointed out. “Of course, she doesn’t know what’s good for her!”

THESE DAMN HERONDALES GEORGE

IM GONNA CRY NO Their bond...HUYGYJUDYJDSCHUKDUKYDFV the way Georgia knew

“That’s just a common misconception,” dada laughed. “Do you think I’m the responsible one in my parabatai relationship? Or is it Clary? I literally summoned angel Raziel in the middle of a farm and your Clary raised her boyfriend from the dead.”

“And if you think Alec is the responsible parabatai then I have a lot of stories to tell you,” Mama chuckled to herself.

HYSUHYSCUDUYIDHUDFVUIFDVUKHFVDU

I dont think that it was Lexi telling Georgia about the test that fucked it up. there is definitely something more to it.

It sounded so simple. Georgia frowned at that. “But what I mess up?”

“Then we will call Magnus,” Mama said, and dada laughed at that.

TRUE

“Then I will wear it to my first day at the academy,” she grinned and walked away.

“I'm having war flashbacks to my middle school days. Our daughter is going to get bullied,” she heard dada whisper to her mother.

“Our daughter is going to be the biggest badass to walk this earth,” mama corrected.

“I thought you were the biggest badass to walk this earth,” dada chuckled.

“I’m going to retire.”

AWWW

Georgia and Simon are such nerds I LOVE THEM

M GONNA CRY

[5:49 PM]THEIR FRIENDSHIP

“That’s insane! If I want cool weapons, I will break into the adamant citadel,” Lexi sounded angry.

YES LETS GO ~!~(edited)

Georgia smiled at that. “I know, Lex. I just…I guess I couldn’t understand why would want to be my parabatai in the first place. I know I am a litte-”

“Talented? Brilliant? Incredible? Amazing? Show stopping? Spectacular? Never the same? Totally unique? Completely never been done before?”

“Stop quoting Lady Gaga!”

“Never!”

AHHHHHHHHHH THEM

“I don’t want to be born into greatness,” Lexi confessed quietly. “It makes me feel like I didn’t have a choice. I'm going to be great, I want to it be my choice.”

Georgia smiled. “I understand.”

“And you’re my first choice, Gigi,” Lexi whispered. “Cause you’re pretty damn great.”

FUCK THAT WOMAN BESTIE YOU DO YOU

Lexi chuckled with her and pulled back. “When things get rough, you are not going to abandon me and become an Iron Sister, right?”

“God, no!” Georgia shuddered thinking of the serious looking Iron Sisters in their white robes. “I don’t think I could pull of the white aesthetic.”

“You can pull off anything,” Lexi firmly disagreed.

“Besides, they can’t get married,” Georgia pointed out, and Lexi made a face. “What if Harry Styles finally replies to my fan mail? It’s too risky.”

i would die for these two no questions asked. look im against smoking but alec smoking is my aesthetic LEAVE ME AND MY PIZZA (with way too many veggies fuck you my brother) ALONE

“Uncle Alec,” she said. “You better not smoke again after I leave.”

“Or you will tell Magnus?” he grinned.

“No. I will tell granny.”

His grin disappeared immediately. “Damn. Okay. Fine. No smoking.”

I CHOKED-

GEORGIA MAKING LEXI HAIR CLIPS OUT OF ADAMAS

“Oh shit, was I supposed to get something you too?” Lexi asked awkwardly. “I thought I didn’t have to…cause I kinda gave you my soul as a gift and all that.”

Georgia chuckled. “I accept your gift.”

“Good,” Lexi grinned. “Cause it’s non-refundable.”

sigh herondales (affectionate)

Also I don't think I'm ever getting over Magnus as Dumbledore

I AM OFFICIALLY NAMING MYSELF PROTECTOR OF GEORGIA LOVELACE LIGHTWOOD IDC IDC

damn it's almost 7 am- my sleep's fucked. BYE!!!

YOUR REACTIONS GIVE ME SO MUCH LIFE.

If you ever want to do one of those live reaction videos on YouTube for shows and stuff, you should totally give it a go. I think you would KILL IT.

Gigi and Lexi have the purest form of friendship. I can't wait to show you more of it!

Laters x.

#lbaf

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bgnmagic · 3 years ago

Text

Acceptance a/b/o Merlin Fanfic

Merlin nearly got caught by the guards posted outside Arthur’s chambers as he snuck out. However, having been trapped in the prince’s rooms for nearly three weeks Merlin knew their habits already. Easily distracting the pair with a simple spell, Merlin caused a tapestry to move further down the corridor and they went off like puppies to investigate.

Good riddance. He needed to get outside. Merlin knew his alpha, Arthur, meant well by keeping him hidden, but not getting to go outside was making Merlin go stir crazy. The injuries he’d sustained from when Arthur had rescued him were on the mend. He could walk without a limp now and his shoulder only hurt minimally when Merlin tried to raise his arm over his head.

Hoping he could slip out and away to the forest while Arthur was busy in a council meeting all afternoon, Merlin continued on his way out of the citadel. The hard stone walls surrounding him only seemed to enforce the feeling of being imprisoned. Merlin knew he could leave at any time, the only issue being whether or not Arthur would come with him.

Finding out who his mate was in such a chaotic way only added to the confusion he felt. Arthur had rescued him from certain death after a bandit attack only three short weeks ago. They’d been literally thrown together under extremely stressful circumstances. All of which Merlin was actually okay with, it was the small detail of Arthur’s father being a magic hating crazy man that made things difficult.

Merlin wasn’t sure if he should be happy or worried that Uther hadn’t come to drag him away to be executed yet. The man had seen Merlin’s magic the same night Arthur brought him to Camelot. That had been a terrible first greeting. Welcome to your new home, where we hate magic and don’t like it when people find their true mates. Good luck with everything, get out before we kill you!

Shuddering at the memory, as it was the first and only time Merlin had seen Uther so far, he hoped getting some fresh air would help clear the fog in his brain. It was obvious that Arthur felt their bond very deeply, considering he kept standing up to his father anytime the king came to shout about their budding relationship. Merlin could hear them argue clearly through the closed door to his little room.

Arthur had turned his antechamber into a mini nest for Merlin. His alpha’s reasoning was the antechamber was easier to defend if need be. They’d already gone over escape plans and what to do should Uther come to take Merlin away. It was all quite romantic if you didn’t focus on the reasoning behind it. However, the window with its little cushioned seat wasn’t enough fresh air for Merlin, he needed to be outside, and he needed to feel the earth under his feet.

Avoiding the main courtyard Merlin slipped out through the back gate of the citadel. It was wide open at this time because the maids were doing laundry. Merlin had a view of this particular exit from his room so he knew the schedule. Once his feet hit the dirt path he broke out in a run. Feeling the air rushing past him felt wondrous. The smell of the trees and flowers filled his nostrils. Gods, he’d missed this sensation.

Coming into a clearing a few minutes later Merlin immediately flopped down into the grass and lay there looking up at the clouds floating by. Grinning from ear to ear he let all the worries and stress from the past weeks melt away. It was easy enough to keep going, continue on away from Camelot, never to return. A small part of Merlin wished he could, but the reality was that he’d found his mate. There was a bond there whether he wanted to admit it or not. Arthur was his alpha. The one roadblock they had yet to overcome was Uther’s wish that Merlin be put to death. Arthur insisted that he would run away with Merlin if it came down to that, but he wasn’t sure the prince would be willing to leave his title behind simply for the likes of a peasant omega.

Pushing the thought aside Merlin tried to clear his head. He came out here to find peace not get worked up about Uther being a complete tyrant. Merlin lost track of time watching the clouds and birds fly by. Planning on only being gone for an hour at most Merlin was unexpectedly shocked into alertness by an alarm bell ringing in the distance. Something had happened at the citadel. He’d tarried too long, getting back inside with an alarm going was near impossible. He’d seen it once before when someone had escaped the dungeons.

Standing up in a rush, Merlin tried to think of what to do. He could wait for the alarm to end but everyone would still be riled up, Merlin would be caught for sure. Groaning at his own foolishness Merlin began heading back, he’d have to hide and see if he could sneak back in, though deep down Merlin knew it wouldn’t work. Not without using a lot of magic, and that didn’t seem like such a great idea considering what Uther would do to him if Arthur wasn’t there to help.

When the turrets of the north tower came into view Merlin slowed his pace. Simply walking up to the door he’d left through was all good in principle, but actually doing it was quite another story. He couldn’t stay out here all night! Desperate to know the reason for the alarm Merlin opted to hide behind a large tree and wait. Maybe it was another escapee? The guards could easily claim he was the wanted man and kill him on the spot.

Nothing ever went right for Merlin; he was doomed to always be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Suddenly stuck with the idea that he might never see Arthur again made his chest constrict painfully. They barely knew each other but Merlin was having a hard time imagining life without his alpha. Damn their bond! Why was it so strong?!

Lost, wallowing in his own misery Merlin missed the frantic shouts coming from the citadel. After a moment he figured he was going crazy because Merlin was sure he could his own name drifting through the air. Peeking out from behind the tree he listened, waiting to hear the call again. Sure enough, someone was urgently screaming his name. Oh shit.

Ducking back behind the trunk Merlin attempted to not die of panic. Why were they looking for him? Only Arthur or gods forbid Uther should have discovered his absence. There was no need to send off a bloody alarm just for an omega. Something else terrible must have happened. Maybe it was time to enact their escape plan but Merlin had ruined everything by sneaking out. Visions of armed men ruthlessly chasing Arthur through the citadel crossed his mind, causing his anxiety to spike further. Uther might try and kill his only son, the man seemed like the type to do it, he was unhinged.

The sound of a door bursting open followed by more worried calls of ‘Merlin’ forced him to look once more. The fading afternoon sun cast the man that came running out of the gate in a halo of gold light. It was Arthur; he stopped briefly and looked around, clearly fretting. When a knight came running out after him, Merlin almost used his magic to throw the man back, but upon closer inspection it was Leon. He’d been there with Arthur when they’d found him that fateful day in the forest.

Leon looked just as worried as Arthur. Unable to understand why they looked so upset Merlin waited a little longer before revealing his hiding spot. If no one else came out after them perhaps it was safe after all. Merlin was about to step out when another shadow framed the doorway. It was the king; he looked much the same as when Merlin had seen three weeks ago. Angry, uncaring, and mean.

The fear of seeing him again made Merlin’s knees weak. He didn’t want to hurt the king, but if he had any intent to maim him, Merlin wasn’t going to back down. Distracted by the figure of Uther, Merlin was unaware that Arthur had stopped walking around.

Arthur took a deep breath and turned on his father, “I can smell him, he’s still nearby. If you’ve done anything to him I swear I’ll --.”

“You’ll what? Arthur, I believe we’ve been over this a thousand times already. I’ve given my word that I won’t kill your mate.”

“Forgive me if I don’t completely trust you on that matter yet,” Arthur spit back before spinning around and heading off into the trees, straight to where Merlin was hiding.

Arthur, Merlin had learned was very good at following scents. Hence the reason they’d even met in the first place. Merlin’s distressed, I’m probably going to die, scent had lead Arthur straight to him, much like it was doing right now.

Unable to hide any longer Merlin leaned out and smiled sheepishly. Arthur was in his space a second later roughly pulling Merlin into a fierce hug.

“Thank the gods, I thought father had you taken away,” he exclaimed with worry. “Are you hurt?” Arthur asked pulling back to gently cradle Merlin’s face in his shaking hands.

“Sorry, I needed some air; I thought you were going to be in your meeting longer. I planned on being back by then.”

“You scared me half to death, if anything had happened to you I don’t – I,” Arthur trailed off with a pained look.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine, I just couldn’t stand being cooped up anymore. Are we safe? Why is the alarm going?” Merlin asked quickly.

“Huh? The alarm, I just told you I thought I’d lost you.”

Merlin’s brain skidded to a halt; Arthur had raised the alarm for him? “What? But why? I’m just an omega.”

“Merlin,” Arthur chided, “You’re more than that, don’t ever think that. Let’s get back inside; I’m sure my father won’t wait on us for much longer.”

Arthur went to pull Merlin along back towards the gate door, but he stopped after a few feet. “Why is Uther waiting? Why is he even here, he looks like he wants to stab me.”

“Merlin, that’s the reason the meeting ended early, we don’t have to hide anymore. I managed to convince father and the council to stop meddling in our affairs,” Arthur replied.

“I don’t understand.”

“Idiot,” Arthur sighed fondly, “shut up and come with me.”

If it weren’t for the smile on Arthur’s face Merlin would have bolted back into the woods. Nodding he started walking again and tried to avoid looking directly at the king. This tactic didn’t work well when Arthur drug Merlin right in front of his father.

“Father, do I have your word that you’ll allow this partnership to move forward?”

Uther scowled but nodded all the same, “Yes, but enough talk, I’m tired of standing here.”

“That’s it? Are you really alright with this now, after threatening to kill me?” Merlin blurted without thinking.

Groaning loudly Uther turned and held his gaze, “My son brings back a wounded, magic using omega claiming he is his mate, how did you think I would react?” the king answered coldly.

“I thought you’d be happy for him,” uttered Merlin. Hearing that Uther didn’t even believe the feelings of his own son was disheartening.

“Perhaps I will in time,” Uther replied. “Consider yourself very lucky that I’m willing to turn a blind eye to this – arrangement, but be warned omega, if you so much as use a lick of magic against us I’ll have you burned.”

Uther’s use of influenced alpha speech made Merlin flinch. He hated it when alpha’s did that, it wasn’t like he was ignoring him. Merlin was in fear of his life. Why on earth would he not pay attention?

“Acknowledge me omega!” Uther demanded.

“Yes, my lord!” Merlin answered, trying mightily not to shake.

The king growled once in response and without another word turned and stalked back towards the citadel. Suddenly feeling exhausted Merlin ducked his head and grabbed Arthur’s hand. The prince squeezed back and then they were all heading back inside. Merlin kept his head down as they walked through the corridors. The king had gone off somewhere and even Leon had disappeared. When the doors to Arthur’s chamber appeared Merlin let out a sigh of relief.

The second the door was closed and bolted Arthur pulled Merlin close and held him tightly. “Are you alright?” he asked softly. “I can tell you’re upset, I mean I know why, my father isn’t exactly an easy man to deal with on the best of days.”

“I’ll get over it; I don’t want to cause trouble, yet that’s all I’ve done despite doing nothing but be me, magic and all.”

Arthur stepped back and pouted, Merlin was learning this meant his alpha was feeling things but didn’t know how to talk about it. For being as protective as he was Arthur was terrible at talking about his emotions. “I know it’s been odd these past few weeks being together with only our bond to rely on,” Arthur sighed. “I trust that you’re my mate but we still have so much to learn about each other.”

At the mention of their bond Merlin began nervously shuffling his feet. “About that, what exactly is the next step for people who find their mates? Obviously we seem to get along, when you’re not being a complete prat of cour--.”

“Hey! I’m not a prat!”

“Yes, you are. Not all the time but you throw things at me and that’s not nice.”

Arthur sighed and shook his head, “You were trying to steal my last sausage for breakfast, you can’t do that.”

“You’re my alpha, I should be able to take your food Arthur.” Merlin had the pleasure of watching Arthur shudder and groan at his use of the influenced word.

“Watch it Merlin, I’m trying my best not to claim you right where you stand. If you keep doing things like that I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

At the mention of claiming, Merlin sobered again, “Seriously Arthur what’s next? I don’t have to stay in your rooms all day so what do I do and how do we become a true bonded pair?”

“Oh, right, um well I bite you and then you can bite me and that’s it.” Arthur didn’t go into any more detail and Merlin felt that there should be so much more to this process.

“Wait, that’s it? We bite each other and we’re bonded for life?”

“I think so, I’d have to ask Gaius to be certain, but I always thought that was how it worked. I know that the paired omega’s I’ve seen around the citadel have bite marks on their gland and their scent changes, or maybe my perception of it does.”

“I’m aware that paired omegas have less trouble with alphas, that would be a welcome change,” Merlin admitted.

“I’ll never let anything harm you Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed stepping back into his space, grabbing his biceps and squeezing.

“Yes, I’ve gathered that, so um, when are you going to bite me?”

Arthur looked confused and went back to pouting, great; his alpha was being emotionally stunted again. “Erm, well, we’ve not even kissed yet so maybe we should try that first?”

Right, all they’d managed so far was massive amounts of cuddling. Merlin had been bed ridden for the first week due to his injuries so all they could do was hold each other. Arthur was solidly built so Merlin had no complaints about sleeping on him. However, the only other stuff they’d done was talk about their lives and hold hands so far. Kissing seemed like fun but that might lead to something more and Merlin wasn’t sure he’d be able to push Arthur away if it came down to it.”

Arthur took Merlin’s brooding silence as a rejection to the idea and quickly back tracked, “We don’t have to obviously, we could lie on the bed and relax. You’ve not had a chance to sleep in here yet. The bed in the antechamber is too small for us to fit comfortably, you can stretch out in here,” Arthur enthused as he gently pulled Merlin over to the giant bed.

“I dunno, maybe we should go do something, now that your father isn’t out to get me. You could show me around the citadel, if you want?” Merlin asked hopefully.

“If that’s what you want, we can go on a little tour, but first, um,” Arthur paused and was pouting again. “Can I mark you before we go out? I don’t want any other alphas to think you’re available.”

Oh, shit. That actually made sense; Merlin didn’t want anyone trying to approach him at the moment. Not that they would with the crown prince accompanying him but it was always better to be safe than sorry. “I guess so; I don’t want any trouble if we go out. How do we?” Merlin asked unsure of who should make the first move.

“Relax and tilt your head, I promise I’ll be quick.”

Merlin did as instructed and waited. Arthur’s scent permeated his senses a moment later as the prince stepped closer. Next came the gentlest of touches on his neck, Arthur’s barely there stubble was touching his bare skin. Closing his eyes to keep calm, Merlin gasped when Arthur held him even tighter and pushed out his scent.

The feeling of euphoria was so intense Merlin could barely breathe. Every nerve in his body was singing in pleasure, nothing else registered to him. His surroundings had blacked out and Merlin was only aware of the desire to be completely joined with his alpha. Breathing deeply Merlin sucked in Arthur’s scent and revealed in its warmth. If he died right now Merlin would be a happy omega, why did no one mention this absolutely intoxicating practice before? Getting marked was pure heaven.

“—lin, Merlin?! Can you hear me?” Arthur’s panicked voice asked, breaking through Merlin’s pleasure induced fog.

“Wha? M’here,” Merlin answered, not sure why Arthur was acting so strange. However, as the room began to come into focus again Merlin found he’d been literally swept off his feet by Arthur. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Are you alright? You scared me half to death!” Arthur asked as he carried Merlin over to the bed.

“That was amazing, we need to do that more often,” replied Merlin.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? I went to mark you and you went limp and I had to pick you up. What happened?”

“This fucking happened you clotpole,” Merlin answered right before he grabbed Arthur’s shoulders, and tugged him down so he could rub their scent glands together again. This time Merlin pushed his scent as much as he could. If Arthur could mark him so intensely then Merlin could too! Arthur’s full body weight collapsing on top of Merlin a few seconds later meant he’d done his job properly.

“Oh my – gods,” Arthur rasped in between breaths. “Is it – it supposed to feel that good? That felt amazing!”

“Why didn’t we try -- this sooner?” Merlin asked trying to wiggle out from underneath Arthur’s bulk.

“Merlin you broke me, I can’t move,” Arthur whined.

“Shit, does that mean we can’t go on the tour anymore?”

“My legs are jelly and my brain is mush, gods you smell so good. What are you doing? Come back here I need you,” Arthur demanded as he chased him across the bed. Merlin’s attempt at escaping failed miserably when Arthur grabbed his legs and pulled him across the covers. “Mine,” was all Arthur stated as he buried his head into Merlin’s thigh.

Giving up on getting free of Arthur’s grip, Merlin sank into the bedding and began playing with Arthur’s hair. The alpha made some sort of noise half way between a growl and a moan. Guess he liked having his head scratched. “Should we at least request dinner before you pass out and trap me here until morning?”

“M’not moving.”

“Arthur,” Merlin whined, “I’m hungry, let’s celebrate not dying and get drunk.”

“Okay that sounds like fun, but you’ll need to help me to the door, whatever you did to me broke me.”

Merlin laughed and smiled fondly at the blond alpha currently trying to squeeze the life out of him. “Promise me we’ll at least get to see the citadel tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll show you around don’t worry,” Arthur huffed. “Right now I want to eat so we can mark each other again afterward, that was fun!”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33486670

#merlin #fanfic #alpha beta omega dynamics

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lordrethandus · 3 years ago

Text

Daily Writing Challenge 2021 Day 13

Pride ( @daily-writing-challenge )

World: Warcraft

Content Warning: Minor blood and gore.

It was busy in Zaldrannar: the Black Judge. The accursed depths of the floating black citadel belonged to the dead, and lately these desolate halls have been bursting at the seams with all manner of vile reanimated creatures.They had no need for light or warmth, finding solace here in the dark. Filthy abominations lumbered around in the choking shadows, with ghouls and geists crawling along the rafters. Right above them lurked a hundred Death Knights in the dim frostfire torches on the upper levels of the undead sector, and in the center of it all was a sea of countless corpses, and an angelic Val’kyr aglow in a sickly blue light; in silence she worked, either raising them into service for her living elven master, or leaving them to be used as compost for the black citadel.

Rethandus found solace working at the giant blightforge with the mindless skeletal smiths; the monsters were mute, and perfect company for someone who didn’t like talking. Hammering away with his tools helped curb his violent tendencies too -- but like all other Death Knights, eventually he would have to leave and take on missions to slate his thirst for murder, lest the Curse of Undeath purge him of what little sanity he had left. The pile of scrap metal and broken weapons beside him began to shake from approaching footfalls. But the Harbinger didn’t bother looking up to see who it was; only one bastard threw his weight around so shamelessly.

CLONK!

Without warning a bent blade almost as big as Rethandus was tossed at his feet. “Fix my sword.” Grunted the hulking brute. Thurok the Depraved was big, even for a tauren, and his body was made even bigger by the swelling power of blood magic coursing through his rotten flesh. His long black mane remained disheveled, likely since the day of his first death, with cracked horns and a mangled snout. Ugly doesn’t even begin to describe this monster, who continued to surprise everyone with his ability to even speak without half of his lower jaw, and that gaping hole in his throat. Absolutely disgusting.

“How will you be paying for it?" Asked the Harbinger. A gurgled snort bubbled up from his throat-hole as he peeled his lips back in a grotesque attempt to smile. Immediately it got under the Harbinger's frozen skin.

"You fix for FREE." Thurok snorted indignantly. "Or I shove down throat and turn little elf man into popsicle."

Rethandus clenched his jaw as he glowered up at the audacity of this beast. Had he retained his old rank, this halfwit wouldn't have dared demand him for anything; but his usefulness to Councilor Zerethel had waned, and he was replaced by someone more willing to do his dirty work. Now he was just like everyone else in this unholy barrow of titansteel and bones -- except he was still the best blacksmith aboard Zaldrannar.

"Get someone else to fix your sword." Rethandus remained as calm as he could manage. "I'm too busy for charity."

"You fix sword NOW!" Thurok croaked, kicking at his anvil with his peeling hoof. The Harbinger slowly rose to his feet, the air around him freezing as icicles crept along the ground from his boots. He was barely a third of this tauren's weight, barely standing tall enough to headbutt the brute's bloodied snout. Other undead began to take notice and gather around to watch, but at a distance; everyone wanted a good show, but no one wanted to participate. Thurok's meaty finger jabbed Rethandus in the chest. "Angry?" He asked, gurgling with delight. "Try me, little elf. Your kind thinks they're so great… Lich King showed your worth in 'High' Kingdom. Come then… pet project. Show me what a 'Harbinger' can do." He jabbed him with his greasy finger again, and Rethandus almost snapped.

Fights between Death Knights were commonplace even back in the good old days of the Scourge, but using your runeblade against your brothers and sisters in death has been forbidden and strictly enforced since the first pillaging of Naxxramas.s always been a forbidden rule; killing fellow undead didn’t help curb the curse, and the fighting power of your unit has grown weaker as a result. Thurok was unarmed -- he saw no reason not to be. Rethandus was too small to be any real threat without his weapons, and all he had to do was grab hold of him and snap him in half. The Harbinger tightened his grip on his blacksmith hammer partially hidden behind his thigh. He was ready and willing to cave in this bastard’s skull, and he only needed one good swing to do it too. But as he was about to kill him, the memory of the promise he made just a few months prior popped back into his head.

“Mr. Andy? Can I ask you a question?” Said the six year old girl. She ran her tiny fingers through her auburn hair, tucking her locks behind her soft pointy ears. In the warmth of the Eversong Woods, aglow in the orange light of the setting sun, her bright golden eyes shimmering in the growing shadows almost put a smile on the Harbinger’s face. Her mother wasn’t too far behind, letting her spunky daughter put on a good show for the frozen killing machine. “What are those symbols on your swords?”

“What are those symbol thingies on your swords?”

“They’re Frost Runes.” He calmly answered.

“What do they do?”

“They allow me to use powerful magic to fight my enemies.”

“Why?”

“Because we tap into the runes to release their power.”

“Why?”

“… because Death Knights like me need the advantage in combat.” She fell silent for several moments, her soft round face contorted with confusion.

“Why…?” Rethandus clenched his jaw, causing bits of frost to snow from his chin.

“It’s how we were designed, I guess. See…” He paused to think of the simplest way to explain this to a child. “We are bad people. But we also fight bad people, so you and Mommy can live in peace. Do you understand?”

“You’re not bad anymore!” She squeaked defiantly. “You’re good! Do you understand? Promise me!”

Slowly Rethandus crossed his arms and tilted his head. He didn’t know the difference between good and bad anymore; it had been so long since he had to question his own moral standing that he probably couldn’t recall them. But he would humor his ward, at least so she would stop asking him so many questions. “I promise.”

She didn’t look convinced. She reached down and picked up the straightest stick she could find. “Kneel before me, and make a sodomy vow!”

“Solemn.” Rethandus quietly corrected her, before glancing over his shoulder to see her mother not far behind. Thankfully she wasn’t paying attention; if she heard the words coming out of her daughter’s mouth, she would be absolutely livid. Hesitantly he dropped to a knee and bowed his head. The little girl approached him as regally as she could manage in her bulky coat, and placed the end of the stick onto his shoulder.

“Brave sir knight, you are now forever good. You must use your swords for good things. Never bad things.” She then tapped the other shoulder. “Now rise, Mr. Andy! Rise and be good again!”

“Be good again.” Rethandus thought, staring into the pale grey eyes of this bulking Death Knight. His anger was calmed, for now, and he slowly turned his back to begin walking away from this situation; better to let Thoruk have his little victory then to stoop down to his lev-

“Coward.”

He stopped mid stride. He could feel the ice on his teeth splintering from clenching his jaw so hard. Heat rose from his frozen guts, such as it was, until the Harbinger was just about ready to explode. “Ice in pointy ears?!” Taunted Thoruk. “I call you COWAR-!”

Rethandus spun around and whipped his hammer so hard across Thoruk's face that his metal nose ring and a chunk of his snout went flying into the onlookers! Frost runes glowed on his gauntlet in the dim light when he blasted the staggering tauren with rime! Then the Harbinger jumped on him, with one hand firmly gripping a horn as the other raised his hammer high above him! Just as he brought it down to bury into his brains, Thoruk bucked forward to shake him off! Blinded by frost and rage alike, the tauren charged forward and carried the Harbinger across the room to slam into the wall!

THOCK!

Even clad in reinforced elementium from the neck down he felt his ribs and pelvis shatter! Rethandus bucked over, using his runes to refreeze his bones back into place. A fist the size of a cannonball came crashing into his back, snapping a shoulder blade! A hoof whipped upwards and knocked him onto his side! Rethandus swiped his hammer off the ground and brought it up to uppercut the tauren, but with his broken bones it didn't land nearly as hard enough to kill him!

The other Death Knights huddled around them, shouting and cheering for either man in this twisted battle to the death! Thoruk was still struggling to keep his balance from the first swing, with blood shooting from his ruined snout with each exhale. "Kill you!" He grunted, lifting a massive hoof. "Crush you!"

Rethandus barely had enough time to raise his arms before Thoruk stomped him, his right elbow snapping like brittle firewood beneath the surging unholy strength of this beast. Even if he had his helmet the Harbinger knew he wouldn’t survive another stomp, so he grabbed onto the disgusting hoof and overloaded his frost runes, freezing himself to the ground and Thoruk’s lower half. At this angle he wouldn’t be able to reach Rethandus with his own two meaty hands, and before long he would either have to submit and relinquish the fight, shatter his own legs just to kill him, or be entombed in ice until someone with authority could thaw them out. Thoruk in his maddened rage chose the fourth option. His hand stretched toward the forge. Black lightning lashed out from his fingers and yanked his bent runed greatsword from the floor. “KILL YOU!” He bellowed, raising it high above his head! Within the ice Rethandus closed his eyes and prepared for decapitation, ready to see his parents and older brother again before he was doomed to the void…

The voice of a woman calmly but loudly clearing her throat made Thoruk freeze before he stabbed downward, and the crowd of Death Knights parted like a theater curtain to let her pass. Her boots clicked and clacked against the floor as she walked, the sound echoing through the chamber from the dead silence. The tauren turned to look with his pale eyes widening in fear, and he dropped the sword like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Thoruk, Thoruk, Thoruk.” She sighed, shaking her head. “What exactly were you planning to do with that busted blade? I’m dying to know.”

“N-nothing, Istrys…!” He lied, gurgling from his throat hole and his face hole. “Rethandus tried to kill me! I was defending myself!”

“Rethandus.” The woman started, crossing her arms. “Release the cow before I let both of you remain frozen here until the end of time.” Rethandus could barely hear her beneath the ice he made, but he knew what she wanted. A low hiss came from the thawing, and as soon as he was able to lift his hoof off the Harbinger and stand normally, he did. She turned her attention back to Thoruk. “Turning your runeblade against kin is forbidden. Would you like to come with me back to my quarters to learn firsthand what happens to traitors who can’t follow the simplest of rules?”

“No, Istrys! I-it won’t happen again…!” The once hulking beast was reduced to a sniveling coward in her presence, but Rethandus didn’t blame him; Istrys was a true monster. She delighted in the suffering of living and undead alike, and was solely in charge of disciplinary actions within Zaldrannar. She was the one that replaced the Harbinger as Councilor Zerethel’s right hand, after all.

“Get out of my sight before I change my mind.” Her tone was uncomfortably gleeful. Abandoning his greatsword Thoruk did exactly as she commanded, pushing past the crowd to vanish into the black tunnels. She looked down at Rethandus with a cruel grin spreading across her dead lips. “Seems you’re injured, Andy. I guess that means you’re coming with me. Heh heh heh heh…”

#dwc2021 #day132021 #ijirothehero

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sword-brainrot · 4 years ago

Note

Hello~! I'm the Anon who asked for the Saniwa with the part-time job.

Don't worry hc were enough! I don't want to cause more work for you :3

But those hc were good! Can I ask for the same thing but with Yagen Toushirou, Minamoto Kyomaru and Suishinshi Masahide!

Thank you ^^

Hello again!! I'm so happy that you enjoyed the previous ones!! They are always such a blast to write.

TW: violence, blood, burns/scars, S*icide mention

♡ Yagen wouldn't be at your café often but would show up from time to time. Normally when he was with some of his younger siblings (only like two because OH GOD). He would often be busy at the citadel doing any work you assigned him for that day or working on new medicine.

♡ Yagen has rarely any time to take a break. He is very much so a workaholic. You will always see him working on something, so it takes his brothers a lot of begging to get him to stop. When they do, it's to go to the café where you work. A lot of the younger swords miss you a lot when you are not at home.

♡ Yagen will take the chance of coming to visit you as a chance to buy stuff at stories for medicines he is working on or maybe a book to help him study. So often times, they will come into the café with some bags that he bought just before coming in.

♡ He will make sure that his younger siblings don't bother you when you are working! He will buy them a small dessert while ordering some tea for himself. He doesn't want to cause more trouble for you because he knows you are working hard to support everyone at the citadel and really admires you for it.

♡ That being said, he does worry about you a lot. Don't be surprised if you feel eyes on you while you work. As soon as you look over at him, he will advert his eyes and pretend he was just reading. In actuality he was trying to study your body language and facial expressions to make sure you aren't overworking yourself.

♡ They will stay at your café for about an hour, at most. Before he gathers them up and says one last goodbye before taking them home.

♡ When you do get home, you are not allowed to work all that much. He understands you have to do paperwork and assign jobs for the swords but he will make extra sure you are taking breaks and eating properly. So don't be surprised if you see him much more often around you after you get back. He will make sure to bring you tea, snacks, and maybe some sleeping medicine at night if you can't fall asleep.

♡ Customers are relatively patient and understanding, so he often doesn't have to worry all that much when you are working.

♡ So expect a very shocked Yagen walking into the café and seeing hot coffee being poured on you when the customer gets so angry for getting the order wrong. Shock quickly turns into pure anger. He will push his younger siblings away before dashing over to the scene.

♡ Yagen is one of the fastest Tantous. You won't even see him. It will be a blur in front of your eyes before you finally realize that Yagen had just dashed from the door to the other side of the café and right into the man. The man now knocked out, laying against the wall he was just driven into by Yagen.

♡ The anger quickly fades from his face since the man is no longer his concern. His attention is quickly brought over to you, worry on his face and he doesn't even attempt to hide it. His gloved hands with quickly find yours, and guide you quickly to the back to help you.

♡ His siblings will follow the both of you, very concerned about you. Expect Yagen to be very quiet during this time. It will be mostly his younger siblings asking you if you are okay and having small talk to you.

♡ Yagen will hold you very gently as immerse the burns in cool water. His treatment is fast but gentle. He won't look at you in the eyes as he puts on the lotion and bandages the burn. The most he will say will asking his siblings to be a little more quiet and careful around you.

♡ The first time he will look at you will be when he gives you a pill to relieve the pain that you must be feeling. His eyes will still look insanely worried for you and you will see his mouth in a straight line, as if he is holding back emotions. He can't let you or his siblings see him cry.

♡ Yagen had to see many people hurt, almost all of them being people he cares about deeply. Sometimes, they wouldn't make it and break/pass away. He knows you are fully human and a little more fragile than him and the rest of the swords. It is only then, when seeing you hurt, does he realize how terrified he is about losing you.

♡ Yagen had lost his previous master and his mastered used him to die. He doesn't want to lose you too. He is no longer just a blade, he can make sure he can protect you.

♡ After his emotions are more under control, he will declare; "My siblings care about you a lot. All the swords care about you a lot." He will look down as he continues, "I care about you a lot. So get better soon and when situations like that happen and get too dangerous... It's okay to run away and rely on us. It doesn't make you weak. So don't go pushing yourself too far or else I won't forgive you. There is only so much I can help heal..."

♡ When you get home, you will have your own personal nurse around. Yagen will be around much more now. He will make sure you have everything you need and make sure you aren't working too much so your wounds can heal. He is also going to be the sword that is constantly changing your bandages and making sure you are taking your medicine and resting. He isn't going to allow him to back sass him either. You are following HIS orders until you fully heal.

♡ He isn't going to prevent you from working or going back to the café, though. He knows you are responsible and will do what you wish but he wants you to be aware that everyone cares about you and will be there if you need them. As well as not pushing yourself too far.

♡ Minamoto will often times show up at the café! Normally in the afternoon with Suishinshi. Minamoto often challenges poor Suishinshi at the arcade and whoever loses has to pay for the winner's food and drink. Let's just say... Minamoto isn't the one paying often and you see a very angry sword hiding half his face in his collar because of it.

♡ Minamoto thinks it's great that you are working in the café because it seems like something you really enjoy doing! Even if it's stressful sometimes. He honestly wishes he could also work with you and help out around the café but knows that working there is on a strict schedule that he just can't follow due to being a Touken Danshi (sword warrior). He has to be prepared to work around the citadel or go off to missions any moment you say the word. He respects that too.

♡ Doesn't mean he doesn't do his own work though! He actually gets paid to win stuffed animals from claw machines for people and sometimes enters gaming tournaments around the town to try to win some money for you and the citadel. He wants to help too! In his own special way.

♡ Speaking of that, he is very good at claw machines! So if he knows you like a certain animal or character (or maybe he just thinks it's cute), he will win it for you and show it to you when he gets to the café to surprise you and bring up your day! He knows you two can't talk much while you are working but he wants to make you smile any way he can and brighten your stressful day.

♡ Even though he shows up often to the café, he doesn't stay too long. He doesn't want to take up too much of your time when he knows you are busy. He wants to relieve your stress, not add onto it.

♡ Minamoto will try to make you some of the drinks or desserts back at the citadel for when you return! It... does not taste the same. He can make it look pretty! The taste is lacking though. It's the thought that counts. He would love it if you two cook together and you teach him how to make it! Anything to get your mind off work and just enjoy your time away from it. Bonus points if you actually enjoy cooking.

♡ As everyone knows, Minamoto is actually a pretty chill person. He doesn't look for a fight and eager to welcome anyone new and let them know that he respects them. That being said, his emotions sometimes gets the best of him and doesn't want to confront them directly which might come off more passive aggressive.

♡ I bring this up because the side he shows when everything goes down will not be a pretty one.

♡ He will be having a little chat with Suishinshi as they enjoy their drinks (Suishinshi with black coffee where every time he takes a sip, it looks like he is getting hit but he has to look mature. And Minamoto with a very sweet smoothie that could probably rot your teeth if you're not careful) but then will hear the loud commotion coming not too far from them. As soon as Minamoto sees that it's you that is involved, he rushes to get up and protect you. Not wasting any moments and nearly throwing the table on it's side. The drinks that were on it, broken, on the floor.

♡ Even though he rushed, he witnesses you getting the hot coffee poured on you right in front of him. Just a little too slow to get there. Horror will be written on his face as he turns his attention to the man who just did that to you.

♡ Fury. The man lasts no chance before Minamoto has him on the floor and letting his anger get the best of him.

♡ It is Suishinshi that urges you to go into the back with a follow coworker to get your wounds handled. It is also Suishinshi that pulls Minamoto off the customer. The once angry customer is now beaten and bleeding badly. However he is still conscious and rushes to get away from the swords. Suishinshi understands how his friend his feeling but knows that he can't let his anger get the best of him... Not here.

♡ Suishinshi will be the one that goes into the back to see you and take you home. Minamoto will be no where to be found. He has to cool off before he can see you.

♡ You will find him much later, on the rooftop looking at the stars. He will be much more quiet than ever before and won't look at you if you sit next to him. It will take a while before you can hear his voice that sounds stressed, as if not wanting to let more emotions get out.

♡ "You should of ran. You didn't have to take what he was saying... You-" He would pause as he grips his cloak, "You didn't have to see that side of me."

♡ He doesn't mean to blame you and would apologize a lot when he realizes it comes off like that. He knows that it isn't /your/ fault. He has a lot of emotions welling inside of him as he thinks about the incident and now seeing your skin bandaged. He never wanted to see you hurt like that.

♡ If you touch him and get close, everything he was holding back would just break. He would be sobbing into your shoulder as he expressed how he was so scared that he was going to lose you and not protect you. How he wanted to not cause more stress for you but ended up being useless and causing so much more stress and hurt onto you. His hug will be tight but gentle to make sure to not touch any of the wounded areas.

♡ He cares about you a lot that sometimes he doesn't know how to react to some of his more darker emotions. He didn't mean for today to turn out like that. He promises to be better and make sure to never let his anger get the best of him like that again.

♡ Like stated above, Suishinshi comes to the café often with Minamoto! He will often complained that Minamoto dragged him along but in actuality, it was Suishinshi dragging Minamoto. Though, you don't need to know that he misses you often when you aren't in the citadel. He will keep that secret just between him and Minamoto. Minamoto knows not to tease him about it because he will get defensive and just not go, then gets all depressed for not seeing you. So instead, he just smiles and goes along with it. Anything for his best friend.

♡ Suishinshi still often pays for the meals and drinks when they go because Minamoto still brings him along to the arcade. If he wants to see you so bad, he has to play a few rounds with Minamoto.

♡ Although he is often angry about losing, he does cheer up quite a bit when you come over and smile at them before asking for their order. You may even see a small blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide with his collar.

♡ He still orders black coffee even though it is very clear he does not like it, at all. He wants to impress you and show you that he is very mature and can handle bitter foods/drinks! Though you can see Minamoto often laughing at him for trying to drink his cup and making a face each time... HE WILL DRINK IT ALL. He will not back down.

♡ Even after Suishinshi and Minamoto leave after their order, you will find him outside the café around closing time. He will act like he just came back to do some shopping but he will not be holding anything. He is really just looking for an excuse to be with just you and walk you home after work. Don't point it out, he has an image to uphold!!

♡ Will wrap his cloak/jacket around you if it's cold when you both are walking home. "You shaking so much is distracting me, just take it". You won't even be shaking but he will say you were anyway. His cloak/jacket is very warm! Personal heater sword right there. Though he gets cold often but will still want you to swear the cloak/jacket.

♡ Don't be too surprised if you still him glaring at other customers when he is in the café. If he sees anyone looking at you in interest, his eyes are locked on them and he is giving them the death glare. He won't stop until they get the note. If you ask him about it, he will reply very bluntly to you with "I don't like their face."

♡ He can be very rude to those not important to him. Especially those that are trying to do something with his master.

♡ He is trying to get better at expressing his emotions! Emphasis on try. Sometimes when you both just get home and you both are hanging up your coat, hat, and taking off your shoes, he will mutter very softly for you to hear; "Good work today" before running off. You can't even ask what he said or thank him because he is already gone by the time you hear it and look over to him.

♡ He wants you to know that he supports you in everything you do but is really bad at putting that into words. Even worst with confronting you directly about it without running away. Just know that he means it every time he does get it out! He cares about you a lot more than he is able to express.

♡ So when he sees someone causing you trouble in the café one day? Oh no... He doesn't wait and gets up right away. Minamoto is the one that tries to calm him down, saying that aruji (master) can handle it. They are very capable on their own as well! That is the only reason that Suishinshi hesitates for a moment.

♡ But it is in that moment when the situation grows dire and coffee gets splashed onto you. Both swords stand there in shock for a moment before rushing forward. Suishinshi wastes no further moments and quickly knees the customer in the stomach to make them topple over, onto the ground.

♡ However, he doesn't focus on them. Instead, he turns his attention onto you and gently grabs you to rush you into the back. Minamoto is the one that deals with the violent customer (this time a little more calm but still seething).

♡ "It's okay. It's okay.." He will keep repeating as he puts cold water on your burns. You are unsure if he is trying to reassure you or himself. You will see him on the slight panic mode as he tries to help your wounds. Him shaking rather bad and dropping any item he tries to hold and help. A coworker will have to come in and actually help bandage and take care of your wounds as Suishinshi is escorted out to calm down.

♡ As soon as you come out of the room, now bandaged up, you will see him pacing back and forth in the cafe. Minamoto trying to get him to sit down and breathe. As soon as he hears the door open, his eyes shoot over to you and he runs over. Grasping you gently as he starts to go on a tangent.

♡ "A-are you okay? Are you hurt badly? Can you walk? Oh god that was dumb, of course you can. How are your eyes? Can you see? How many fingers am I holding up? Do you remember my name? My liege, do you know how worried I was about you? You shouldn't of..." He would stop and look down at the ground as he tries to catch his breath that he wasn't aware he was holding, "You shouldn't of been the one that got hurt. I should of taken the hit and your pain. I am sorry for failing you as your sword. I have no right to the title of Touken Danshi."

♡ Don't expect to continue working for a while. Suishinshi is normally one to not give affection openly but after that incident, good luck getting rid of him from your side. He will be constantly trying to help you around the citadel and not letting you touch almost anything that could hurt you.

♡ Also expect him to constantly be cuddling with you (if you allow it). It is more for him than you. He wants to make sure he doesn't lose you and protect you.

♡ There will be times where he is cuddling you from behind, with his chin resting on your shoulder and another sword will come in, telling you about missions reports. Suishinshi will be glaring at them from your shoulder. Almost like a feral cat trying to tell people to leave their owner alone.

♡ Suishinshi will say that he won't allow you to go back to work but if you really wanted to, you could. He is just very paranoid of a similar incident happening again.

♡ When/if you do start working again, expect him to be there everyday for the first good while. He won't use Minamoto as an excuse anymore and will just be there by himself. He wants to make sure to protect you! It will take a long time before he will actually distance himself from you and not be at your side all the time. You might have to talk to him to let him know that it will be okay and that it won't happen again. Even then, he will be scared and still show up fairly often. He will break the habit overtime!

#Touken Ranbu #Touken Danshi #Tourabu #Touken Ranbu Headcanons #Touken Ranbu Imagines #Touken Ranbu x Reader #TKRB #TKRB Headcanons #TKRB Imagines #TKRB x Reader #Yagen Toushirou #Yagen Toushirou x Reader #Suishinshi Masahide #Suishinshi Masahide x Reader #Minamoto Kiyomaro #Minamoto Kiyomaro x Reader

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jedi-order-apologist · 4 years ago

Note

- I know ol’ Palps is a big doodoo liar pants but one of his line stuck out to me and I’d like to share my thoughts. He says “The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way, including their quest for greater power.” Now, we obviously (hopefully) know that’s bullshit but I think it gives an interesting look into Papa Palp’s (and by extension, the Sith’s) philosophy on power in comparison to what we know about the Jedi. Hear me out. (1/3)

- The Jedi value and seek things like knowledge, wisdom, self-control, justice, and love. To them, these are powerful, however, these things are typically not associated with power—true power—in either our culture or the Sith’s. Be that as it may, in pursuing these things, the Jedi actually do gain power as it is traditionally defined, almost unintentionally. Jedi have combat skills enough to dominate most life forms in the galaxy, can influence the minds of other sentient beings, (2/3)

- and eventually even achieve immortality. These things are supremely powerful according to most definitions and yet they are not the type of power the Jedi actively seek for their own sake. But the Sith do seek them. And although they have the first two, the most of coveted of them—immortality—still eludes them. So from a certain point of view, Palps is right in saying both groups seek power. However what power means to each of them are very different. (3/3)

You could look at it that way, yeah - the Sith seek power to control others; the Jedi seek power to control oneself, and Palpatine either doesn't understand the difference or he's disingenuously conflating the two to manipulate Anakin (or both). But I think it goes further than that - the Jedi have power, yes, and they work towards developing their individual power as a means of using it responsibly, but they aren't obsessed with it or with gaining more like the Sith are. The Jedi have (or at least strive for) a healthy, cautious, balanced engagement with power - neither insisting on being powerless nor focused on being the most powerful there can be, but instead accepting where their power lies and how they can put it to use in the service of society, not over society.

I think Yoda's confrontation with Dooku in Yoda: Dark Rendezvous, where he challenges Dooku to turn him to the dark side, is an excellent demonstration of the difference in this attitude towards power between the Jedi and Sith:

“You want me to tell you about the power of the dark side?” Dooku said wonderingly.

Yoda had the dragon’s eyes again: half closed, gleaming under heavy lids. “Strong, strong the dark side is in this place,” he murmured. “Touch it you can, like a serpent’s belly sliding under your hand. Taste it, like blood in the air…Tell me of the dark side, apprentice.”

“I’m not your apprentice anymore,” Dooku said.

Yoda snuffed: laughed: stirred the air with his crooked stick. “You think Yoda stops teaching, just because his student does not want to hear? Yoda a teacher is. Yoda teaches like drunkards drink. Like killers kill,” he said softly. “But now, you be the teacher, Dooku. Tell me: is it hard to find the power of the dark side?”

“No. The lore of the Sith—that is another matter. But to touch the power of the dark side, to begin to know it, all you have to do is…allow yourself. Relax. We carry the dark side within ourselves,” Dooku said. “Surely you must know that by now. Surely even Yoda has felt it. Half of life, dark to balance light, waits inside you like an orphan. Waiting to be welcomed home.

“We all desire, Yoda. We all fear. We are all beset. A Jedi learns to suppress these things: to ignore these things: to pretend they don’t exist, or if they do, they apply to someone else, not us. Not the pure. Not the Protectors.” Dooku found himself beginning to pace. “To know the dark side is merely to stop lying. Stop pretending you don’t want what you want. Stop pretending you don’t fear what you fear. Half the day is night, Master Yoda. To see truly, you have to learn to see in the dark.”

“Mmmmmmmm.” Yoda hummed and grunted, eyes nearly closed now. “The dark side, power would give me.”

“Power over all. When you understand your own evils and the evils of others, it makes them pitifully easy to manipulate. It’s another kind of push-feather,” the Count said. “The dark side will show you the stiff places in a being. His dreads and needs. The dark side gives you the keys to him.”

“Hmph. Very fine that is, but Yoda has power,” the ancient Master said, examining his hairy toes. “I live in a palace bigger than this one, if I count the Temple as a palace. Dooku is a master of armies: but Yoda is a master of armies, too. So far, we are even.”

“Is there such a thing as too much power?” Dooku mused. “For instance,” he continued carefully, “there was a day when your power was clearly greater than mine. Today, however, I have waxed as you have waned. You stand in my citadel. I have at my command servants and droids and great powers of my own that I think would overwhelm even you. It is possible that at a single word, I could have you killed. And without you, how long would those dear to you last? I could have them, one by one: Mace and Iron Hand, Obi-Wan and precious young Skywalker, too. Surely you would feel safer if this were not so.”

Yoda cocked his head to one side. “Like Anakin, you do not?”

“Perhaps he reminds me too much of myself at the same age. Arrogant. Impulsive. Proud. I realize humility is high among the Enforced Virtues, the ones no one acquires by choice; but that being said, if Fate is looking for an instrument to humble Skywalker, I confess myself willing to volunteer.”

Yoda reached behind his back with his stick, trying to scratch a spot just between his shoulder blades. “Power over beings, need I not. What else can it give me, this dark side of yours?”

“What game are you playing here, Master Yoda?”Yoda smiled at the use of the term Master—curse him—and shrugged. “No game. Wasteful, this war is. Even you agree. Sent you the candle, did I: you know there can be coming home for you. Know this, both of us do, and if come back to the Temple you wish, I will take you there.”

“Very kind,” Dooku said dryly. “Decent of you to give me an arm to lean on.”

“Always catch you will I, when you fall,” Yoda said. “I swore it.”

Dooku flinched as if stung.

“But another way to solve the war there is. If you will not join with me, perhaps join with you I should. Tell me more,” Yoda said testily. “If power over beings need I not, what else can your dark side do for me?”

“What do you want?” Dooku snapped. “Tell me what you want and I will show you how the dark side can help you achieve it. Do you want friends? The dark side can compel them for you. Lovers? The dark side understands passion in a way you never have. Do you want riches—endless life—deep wisdom…?”

“I want…” Yoda held up the flower in his hand and took another sniff. “I want a rose.”

“Be serious,” Dooku said impatiently.

“Serious am I!” Yoda cried. He bounced to his feet. Standing on the desktop, he was almost as tall as Dooku. He held the flower imperiously toward his former pupil. “Another rose, make for me!”

“The dark side springs from the heart,” Dooku said. “It isn’t a handbook for cheap conjuror’s tricks.”

“But like this trick, do I!” Yoda said. “The trick that brings the flower from the ground. The trick that sets the sun on fire.”

“The Force is not magic. I can’t create a flower out of thin air. Nobody can—not you, not the Lord of the Sith.”

Yoda blinked. “My Force does. Binds every living thing, the Force I understand.”

“Master, these are games of words. The Force is as it has always been. The dark side is not a different energy. To use it is only to open yourself to new ways to command that energy, that have to do with the hearts of beings. Want something else. Want power.”

“Power have I.”

“Want wealth.”

“Wealth I need not.”

“Want to be safe,” Dooku said in frustration. “Want to be free from fear!”

“I will never be safe,” Yoda said. He turned away from Dooku, a shapeless bundle under a battered, acid-eaten cloak. “The universe is large and cold and very dark: that is the truth. What I love, taken from me will be, late or soon: and no power is there, dark or light, that can save me. Murdered, Jai Maruk was when the looking after him I had; and Maks Leem; and all the many, many more Jedi I have lost. My family they were.”

“So be angry about that!” Dooku said. “Hate! Rage! Despair! Allow yourself, just once, to stop playing at the game of Jedi Knight, and admit what you have always known: you are alone, and you are great, and when the world strikes you it is better to strike back than to turn your cheek. Feel, Yoda! I can feel the darkness rising in you. Here, in this place, be honest for once and feel the truth about yourself.”

At this moment Yoda turned, and Dooku gasped. Whether it was the play of the holomonitors, beaming their views of bleak space and distant battles, or some other trick of the light, Yoda’s face was deeply hidden in the shadows, mottled black and blue, so that for one terrible instant he looked exactly like Darth Sidious. Or rather, it was Yoda as he might have been, or could yet become: a Yoda gone rotten, a Yoda whose awesome powers had been utterly unleashed by his connection to the dark side. In a flash Dooku saw how foolish he had been, trying to urge the old Master to the dark side. If Yoda ever turned that way, Sidious himself would be annihilated. The universe had yet to comprehend the kind of evil that a Jedi Knight of nearly nine hundred years could wield.

From the shadows, Yoda spoke. “Disappointment like I not, apprentice,” he snarled, in a wicked, wicked voice. “Give me my rose!”

To Dooku, there is never enough power. It's a goal in and of itself, and he's convinced he can have anything as long as he has enough power, even impossible things like never again being afraid, and he frantically shifts around the goalposts when Yoda picks apart the flaws in his logic.

Yoda, on the other hand, recognizes the limits of power and is satisfied with that, with what he has. And it's Yoda who has the much healthier outlook, here, who "wins" this debate. He doesn't turn to the dark side (what Dooku sees at the end of the excerpt is only a vision), and he renders Dooku very conflicted about the dark side (at least until Anakin shows up, and Dooku is so offended by Anakin's existence and his own conviction that Yoda likes Anakin more than him that he throws a fit and jumps right back into the dark side).

#the-redcapesarecoming #discussion #yoda dark rendezvous #on the force #in defense of the jedi #on the dark side #on jedi philosophy #yoda #dooku

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panharmonium · 5 years ago

Text

okay.

i realize this might be a kind of a weird thing for me to devote time to when i’m one episode from the end but honestly? i just have to. i have to. i have a longer piece of meta in this vein that i’ll deal with some other time when i’m less focused on the end of season 5, but given the content of the last couple episodes i just - cannot restrain myself. the stunning level of deliberate, unnecessary cruelty i witnessed in that one moment yesterday (guess i was WRONG omg i STILL can’t believe i heard that with my own two ears...i probably have the lowest expectations of arthur pendragon out of anybody in this fandom but even i was shocked) - it tipped me right over the edge. it threw me for an entire loop.

so, what i have to do right now is take a second to acknowledge the one character who a) predicted this bullshit a long time ago, and b) could have been relied upon to react to it appropriately, that is to say by punching arthur pendragon in the mouth.

fig. A: my Son, ‘I Would Sell Arthur Pendragon to Satan for One Corn Chip’

i love him.

i know we only saw him once. i don’t care. he’s the only non-villain across five entire seasons of this show who ever told arthur pendragon to get fucked, and that makes him an absolute hero.

this kid snuck up on me and became my most beloved minor character. when i first met him, i liked him a normal amount, but i wasn’t as deeply invested in him as i am now. it wasn’t until i got a little further along in the show and started to see how truly painful merlin’s situation becomes without a friend who knows him that i started thinking about him again, and realized how much i actually appreciated him.

so. will.

will occupies a...fairly unique position in merlin’s circle. all of merlin’s other friends eventually become knights, or become queen, and they all hop aboard the arthur pendragon train as they get deeper entwined in camelot’s renaissance. even gwaine, who is a little iffy about arthur in the very beginning, becomes as loyal a knight as camelot has ever seen, and he’s just as invested in camelot’s flourishing as anyone. and i don’t say this to throw shade at him, or at lancelot, or anybody; those two in particular have absolutely always been true friends to merlin, regardless of the vows they took to camelot. but there is just something to be said for like - merlin does not have a single person in his life right now who cares about him without also being beholden to arthur. gwen and gaius and all of the knights are sworn to serve and protect the king. they are all fully aboard the arthur pendragon train, and on board with merlin’s mission to aid arthur and keep him safe. gwen, gwaine, gaius, lancelot - even merlin’s own mother is on that train, when she tells merlin he has to go back to camelot at the end of 1.10, saying “you belong at arthur’s side. i’ve seen how much he needs you.”

these people would not argue with merlin over the merits of sacrificing things for arthur, because they, too, would do anything for their king. they wouldn’t necessarily challenge merlin on statements like “his life is worth a hundred of mine,” because they understand what merlin means. they’re on that same page.

and that’s nice and all, but given recent events (and forthcoming events, i suspect) i suppose i just am feeling. a little tired of that.

i’m tired of the arthur pendragon train. i want to get off. i want MERLIN to get off. and the only other person in the world who ever believed that merlin deserved to get off the arthur pendragon train was will.

all the most recent episodes i’m watching are highlighting for me once again how little merlin settles for in his life. he can’t be known. he can’t be seen. he can’t be accepted. he can’t be listened to. he can’t be believed. he can’t be respected. he can’t be safe. he can’t be loved. he can’t say ‘i am sorry that i can’t go with you to this place’ (for the first time in HOW many years?) without receiving a deliberately nasty, cutting slap across the face.

and we try to rationalize this away; we try to look at the good parts (and yes, there are good parts, of course there are good parts; of course arthur and merlin care about each other) but the ultimate truth is that arthur isn’t merlin’s real friend, not yet. he thinks he is. but he isn’t. a real friend isn’t someone who might kill you if they knew who you were. a real friend isn’t someone who makes you feel like you have to pretend to be someone you’re not.

you cannot be loved if you aren’t safe.

the only person who ever acknowledges this dynamic is will. will sees the parts of arthur that merlin tries not to look at, and will loves merlin enough to say ‘this situation you are in is messed up.’ he’s the only one, across five seasons of this show, who ever comes right out and says that merlin is fooling himself when it comes to this ‘friendship.’ merlin might have other people who care about him, later, but all of them are as wrapped up in arthur’s well-being as merlin is. they don’t tell merlin he deserves better. they don’t tell merlin ‘this is shitty. this is a shitty situation you’re settling for. you deserve more than this.’

five seasons, and will is the only person who ever says this. merlin’s own mother won’t tell him this.

i’ve been thinking about will kind of a lot as i watch these episodes.

i think...i think will would lose his mind if he could see merlin at the end of this show. at ANY point in this show, practically. he would be so devastatingly angry. if he ever heard “his life is worth a hundred of mine” come out of merlin’s mouth - i mean. he’d kill somebody. he'd thump merlin upside the head and then go kill somebody.

will was only ever in this for merlin. he didn’t save arthur’s life because he’d started to like the guy; he did it because that’s just who he is. he saw someone about to get shot and his first instinct was to get in the way. he’s not riding the arthur pendragon train, and he’s certainly not riding the camelot train, but he still makes sure merlin can go safely back to the citadel, because for some unfathomable reason, merlin seems to feel that it’s important.

because - and this is so important here - will doesn’t even know anything about merlin’s ‘destiny.’ they didn’t have time to talk about dragons or destinies or any of that. all will knows is that it’s important to merlin, for whatever reason, and that’s enough to make it important to will. even though he doesn’t understand it. even though he doesn’t agree with it. even though he personally thinks arthur’s a loser. he does what he does so that merlin can have what he wants, so that merlin can be safe and happy in the city of his choice.

SAFE and HAPPY. and merlin isn’t either of those things. merlin has never been less safe than he is now. and merlin hasn’t been happy for a very long time.

will would be rolling over in his grave if he could see merlin now. he would have fought against the sort of...slow self-immolation we see merlin surrendering himself to here every step of the way. will told a prince to fuck off in front of the entire population of ealdor; he wouldn’t have any qualms about telling ‘destiny’ to get stuffed, either. and i find myself missing that single-minded devotion, that uncompromising affirmation of merlin’s intrinsic worth, as opposed to merlin’s importance as a prophesied figure out of myth, as the skies darken over merlin’s head and i see him getting ready to (i think) do something that would send will into an absolute rage.

none of merlin’s friends or family have ever wanted him to suffer, but will was the only one who saw where this was going, a long, long time ago. he knew from the beginning that it wasn’t right. and like...people can complain about him refusing to jump on board the arthur+merlin ship all they want, but the reason he doesn’t get on that boat is because he’s always been captain and sole passenger of the HMS Merlin, and he is the only one who has ever understood that these two boats, with the way the world works right now, just can’t sail together. so much would have to change first.

so like...i miss this kid. i really do. and i think merlin misses him, too, but not in a way that he can afford to let himself think about. how can a person in merlin’s position afford to remember someone who always thought that merlin’s happiness and safety were more important than anything, when merlin has, by necessity, spent all these years forcing himself to finally accept that his own happiness and safety will always have to be his last priority? how can he handle being reminded of a time when someone unconditionally believed that merlin deserved to live in this world and be happy, not because of what merlin could do or what great purpose he would serve, but simply because he is. just because he exists. because he’s enough as he is. he matters just as he is. he deserves to be safe and happy just because he is, not because of what he can do for his majesty the prince.

i don’t think someone in merlin’s position can afford to think like that, especially now. i think it’s like - when you’re overwhelmed or stressed or upset and you’re holding it together but then somebody does one simple nice thing for you or gives you a hug and that’s when you lose it and start bawling - it feels like that. i don’t think merlin could handle being gentled in that way. i think it would be similar to when gwaine tells him “not arthur” - that inability to conceive of somebody who only cares about him, who puts him first. i think if merlin allowed himself to remember that there was in fact a time in his life when he was someone’s first priority, if he remembered what that felt like - he would crack right down the middle.

i think if someone were to really remind him of what he deserves from this life, to remind him of what he used to hope he would one day have, he would never be able to do what he thinks he needs to do.

anyway.

the point of all this is just that as i enter the very end of this show and see merlin still - still - being deliberately gutted by someone who is supposed to love him, someone for whom merlin has been totally willing to give up his life a hundred times over, despite never being recognized and never being accepted and never being free - it is making me appreciate even more keenly the very few people in merlin’s life who chose not to treat him that way. the very, very few people who knew him and loved him just the way he was. and in particular it makes me appreciate will, who never had eyes for anybody but merlin, and who, uniquely among merlin’s friends, could not care less about arthur pendragon if you paid him.

after the last episode, i’m just really feeling his energy.

#the once and future slowburn #no kings no masters #meta #anyway i love this boy #more and more every day #esp. now that i've become suspicious that he and lancelot might end up being the only ones whose honest friendship merlin ever gets to enjoy #i used to think (back when i first started this show and assumed it would someday have a happy ending)#that people like will were the 'first' people who gave merlin the gift of honest friendship #and that eventually things would change and everyone would find out and merlin would be able to live openly #now i am starting to worry that they may not be 'first'#i am starting to worry that they might in fact be 'only'#the only ones #in twenty-something years #not that i'm saying no one will ever know #but i'm not sure merlin will be able to benefit from it if you know what i mean #it would be nice to be wrong #because this would be criminal #but whether i'm wrong or not #the one thing you can be sure of is that i will never stop singing these people's praises #they've earned it #they've earned it in a way that arthur pendragon hasn't #they've given merlin something arthur pendragon never could #and to be 100% honest they've treated merlin better than arthur pendragon ever did #their absence is felt - severely - in how merlin's life starts disintegrating once lancelot dies and all of them are gone #merlin has been alone for a long long time #i hate to think he's going to die or be otherwise taken out of the game before that changes #but i suppose i'll just have to see #either way i'm gonna be channeling will's energy of 'i am here for merlin and the rest of you can go jump in a lake'#(ACTUALLY UHHHH poor choice of words omg; they really might lol)#GUESS WE'LL SEE ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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fedeipox · 4 years ago

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The Way of Time (Rdr2 - fanfic) - Chapter 8 (1/3)

Previously on TWoT: Finally, Arthur went back to camp. On his way back he found Emily wandering around and decided to take her to Citadel Rock to get her lavender. On the way back they met some O’Driscoll and to help Arthur she ended up killing a man, her first man. He won’t be the last.

Chapter 8 (1/3) - Bounty Hunter

Words: 2k

Emily didn’t think her little runaway would be noticed by someone and only when she and Arthur dismounted the horse she understood how worried and angry people in camp were. Mary-Beth came running and screamed “where were you?”. Right after Miss Grimshaw showed up telling her how disappointed she was by her behavior.

In a few words: Miss Grimshaw thought her disappearance had something to do with the O’Driscoll thing and ran to tell Dutch and Hosea about it. Both of them weren’t pleased to know what she had done.

“Well, thank you very much. Really, thank you for your trust and for worrying about me” she murmured to the group of people who had gathered around her for the reproach. Then, moving Tilly aside, she walked away, with her head still full of all the recent events and especially the fact that she had just killed a man.

She spent the rest of the evening lying down and crying. No-one bothered to go ask her something, but instead they went to Arthur to ask him what had happened. He told the story at least five times that evening, to five different groups of people and so everybody knew about their little terrible adventure. Hosea thought about go and talk to her, but he knew that his apologies were worth nothing. Besides he couldn’t understand the others’s behavior: she had just made a mistake, it wasn’t such a big deal.

“A mistake that might have cost us our lives, Hosea. And hers first of all” Arthur told him.

“But it didn’t. History isn’t made of possibilities, but of facts.”

Arthur grunted and walked away, but he knew Hosea was right when he said everybody was being too tough with that girl.

The day after, Emily opened her eyes, still puffy because of the crying of the night before. It was still early in the morning and almost nobody was awake yet, so she sneaked among the tents and reached the kitchen where she took some canned peaches. Then, she reached the edge of the cliff and seated on the rock, her rock, to watch the sun rising in the sky.

“Good morning.”

Turning her head she exchanged a quick look with Dutch before she fixed her eyes on the landscape again.

“Quite a fuss you caused yesterday. I think I’ve never seen Miss Grimshaw in such a…”

“I don’t care about how Miss Grimshaw was because of me” she replied coldly.

Dutch signed and walked closer until he stopped right by her side, but still she didn’t look at him.

“Well, you should.”

“I have apologized.”

“I’m not talking about apologies. When Miss Grimshaw acts that way is because she is worried about one of her girls, and yesterday she was worried about you.” “She didn’t seem worried, she seemed angry.”

“Exactly. You’ll soon understand Susan has her own way to show feelings.”

Emily didn’t know what to think: if what Dutch was saying was true, then those people really cared about her and they were really worried, and Miss Grimshaw most of all. So she forced herself to get over it, trying not to think anymore about Kieran, the slap, the run and the reproaches.

She finished her peaches and walked to the kitchen. There, Abigail was sipping her coffee with Mrs. Adler and at Emily’s ‘good morning’ the former answered kindly while the latter moved her eyes away and pursed her lips in dislike. Was she still angry at her because of that story?

“Mr. Pearson you still have that oil for me, don’t you?” she asked as he reached the cook.

He gave her what she had asked for and then she took an empty jar and the mortar. She brought all the tools and ingredients to the round table, took the lavender she had picked up the day before and put herself to work.

The process was easy: she had to crush the lavender flowers with the mortar, let them dry in the sun for a couple of days, put them in the jar with the oil and make it cook in the boiling water for one hour.

She had just began when Hosea walked closer with a cup of coffee. He sat down opposite to her and looked at her as she was working, taking a sip of the dark liquid every now and then.

“I’ve seen you do it often too” she stated as she crushed the flowers in the mortar. “What do you prepare?”

“Mostly medical stuff. Like yarrow and ginseng, together they’re great for health.”

“That’s why you knew where to find the lavender, you have a great knowledge of plants.”

“I have a discreet knowledge of plants” he chuckled.

“You are too modest.”

For all the time they talked, Hosea didn’t mention once Kieran nor her disappearance and Emily was glad of that. All she wanted was to forget that story and she wished she wouldn’t make other mistakes of that kind in the future. She was feeling rather pacific, finally getting over everything that had happened, when something slipped inside her mind, something she hadn’t thought about until that moment and that made her panic.

...

Hosea felt the change in her state of mind and immediately asked a concerned “what’s wrong?”

“I-I haven’t told you what happened with Arthur” she murmured with a new strange trembling voice.

Hosea knew what she was talking about and immediately calmed down, took a deep breath and got ready for one of his speeches.

“He told me. Well, in truth, he told everyone.”

Her breathing was becoming irregular and that pushed Hosea to stand up and reach her side of the table.

“What’s wrong?” he asked again keeling down in front of her, but he didn’t need to ask, he knew what she was thinking about.

“I-I forgot. How could I forget?” she whispered with her eyes lost in the nothingness.

“About the O’Driscoll?”

Finally their eyes met. Arthur had told him about their encounter, about the aggression, about Emily shooting the man. It was her first killing, Hosea was aware of that, and she was pretty shocked, so shocked that her mind had erased that memory for a couple of hours.

“I killed him” she whispered.

“Yes, you did.”

There was no point in telling her not to worry, it wouldn’t have had any effect.

“You killed him, and you did it for a good reason.”

She frowned at his words, but they also had the desired effect to calm her down.

“What would have happened if you hadn’t shot him?” he asked.

She dipped in her thoughts for a second.

“P-probably he would have hurt me.”

“He would have killed you, and Arthur right after. You saved his life.”

“Saved his life” she echoed in another whisper.

It wasn’t true of course, Arthur would have found a way to get out of that situation. Hosea had seen him fight against four men, so two O’Driscoll were nothing to him, but he needed to make Emily believe that what she had done was necessary, to let her accept it, and he had succeeded.

He smiled and stood up returning to his chair. She didn’t know he was a perfect liar and had believed him right away, which made him feel a little ashamed, but that was a lie for a good cause. She nodded a couple of times, lost in her thoughts, and then gave him a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Hosea” she murmured.

“I just tell the truth” he replied.

“I think I’ll go to Charles for the riding lesson” she said standing up.

“Oh, Charles is in town with Javier and Bill.”

“Really? Well, I guess our lesson is delayed then. I’ll go find something else to do.”

...

Emily found a corner in the kitchen to leave her lavender flowers to sundry and started wandering around camp to find something to do. Hosea’s words had calmed her. She wasn’t proud nor happy of what she had done, but thinking about it, she had done it in order to defend herself and Arthur’s life. Besides, that man was a criminal, part of the gang that had killed Sadie’s husband, he probably deserved to die.

What about Kieran then? She asked herself. Does he deserve to be tied there in that way? Emily shook her head. It seemed that the more she wanted to send those thoughts away, the more those thoughts came back to her. She had to distract herself.

She headed to her tent hoping that there she would have found a distraction. Maybe the girls could help her. Only when she got there she found a Mary-Beth, a Tilly and a Karen with long faces, and the air over them was heavy with boredom.

“What could we do?” asked Emily sitting next to them and assuming their same expression.

“We might find a job, if we had the chance to go to Valentine” said Karen.

The said chance soon arrived, when Arthur woke up and decided to bother poor Uncle, busy with his thinking. The four girls listened quietly to their conversation, with a giggling every now and then, and after the two men were done arguing, Karen made them all sign to follow her and she asked Arthur if they could go with him and Uncle.

“Can Miss Grimshaw spare you?”

The girls complained about his question and after an exchange of looks Arthur decided to bring them in that rather useless expedition, and in case they had found something… well at least he could call it a day. They quickly got on the wagon and took the road to Valentine.

“Ladies, sing us a song.”

Uncle’s request was soon accepted and the three girls started a little tune with a lyric full of double meaning to which Emily could only clap her hands following the rhythm. They had almost reached the train trails when a carriage pulled by two horses had an accident. Uncle used the lumbago excuse and the responsibility to bring the horse that had got loose back to the owner fell on Arthur.

From their following conversation, Emily understood it wasn’t in their style to help people in need, at least it wasn’t Arthur’s style, who affirmed he had robbed the man if it wasn’t for the presence of four fine girls like them, and it was at that moment that Emily wondered what kind of man Arthur was.

She knew so little about him and in that little time they had spent together he hadn’t appeared to her as generous as Charles, nor as kind as Hosea. Maybe he was hiding those parts of his personality, or maybe he just wasn’t like Emily had imagined him.

They leaded the wagon across that town that they knew so well now and stopped it right in front of the stable.

“Uncle, what are we doing?” asked Arthur jumping down the wagon.

“Well, we’re gonna do what any self-respecting maniac does: put the women to work.”

“I didn’t know you were such a gentleman, Uncle” laughed Emily following the three girls down the wagon and on the muddy street.

“We’ll start at the saloon, ladies” said Karen with a nod to Tilly and Mary-Beth.

“Oh no, not the saloon, please” whined Emily. She didn’t want to put a foot inside that awful place, the memory of what had happened still fresh in her mind.

“Don’t you worry, everything like that happens again, I’ll deal with the son of a bitch” said Tilly.

Emily smiled gratefully, but she didn’t want to go to the saloon anyway.

“What happened exactly?” asked Arthur, but Emily ignored him. She hadn’t told anybody about that pig she had met and how Charles and Javier had protected her, and she didn’t want to tell it now.

“Uncle, do you mind if I stay with you?” she asked.

“Not at all, my dear. We’ll just go to the general store for now. I have to get something there.”

“Okay ladies. Just pretend we’re in Paris” said Karen walking away with Tilly and Mary-Beth right after her. The latter turned around for a second and waved to Emily who made the same gesture to her.

Arthur and Uncle headed to the store exchanging puns and provocations and Emily followed them, listening quietly and laughing to herself. Once inside the store the owner recognized Emily and asked her about the book. She replied with a few words but she didn’t want to start a debate with a man who wouldn’t have understood the social impact a book like that had had.

Uncle took something to drink and eat while they waited for the girls. Arthur took something too, but when he aimed for the counter to pay Emily stood in his way.

“I’ll pay for you” she said taking the purchases from his hands and leaving them in front of the owner together with a chocolate bar she had taken for herself. “I still owe you for the clothes” she added when Arthur frowned at her.

“I had forgot. You could have said nothing and get away with it” he chuckled.

“It wouldn’t be right” she simply said.

Arthur shook his head and followed her outside. Uncle needed some more time to decide what to buy.

“So, what do we do?” she asked.

“I have no idea. Where did you get that money?”

“I worked” she replied biting her chocolate.

Arthur raised his eyebrows asking her to explain herself. Emily chuckled and with a nod of her head told him to follow her. She showed him the back of the apothecary and told him about what she and Javier had found out, all the setup with Bill, and the money they had gained.

“My Lord, you’re becoming a real outlaw, aren’t you?” he laughed in the end as they walked back to the main road.

“All I’ve been doing is stealing to some criminals and shooting another one, the same things policemen do everyday” she replied as Hosea’s words about the necessity of her actions came back to her mind.

“So, that’s how you see yourself? As a policemen?” asked Arthur ironically.

Emily laughed and turned to look at him, but something else caught her attention.

“Good morning, sheriff” she said stretching out an arm to greet the man under the porch.

“Oh, morning to you, Miss. How you doing?”

“Very well, thank you. We’re looking for work.”

The sheriff frowned, moving his eyes from her to Arthur. He was obviously considering her words.

“I may have something for your friend, if he’s interested in bounties.”

Emily and Arthur exchanged a look.

“Yeah, why not? So I can play the policeman too” he added in a murmur and Emily laughed again at his words. The two of them followed the sheriff inside.

“George, show the man the poster” he ordered to the deputy getting behind his desk and sitting down.

The deputy moved his cold skeptic eyes from Arthur to Emily and his face relaxed all at once.

“Oh, Miss. Good to see you again. Not some other bar fight I hope.”

“No, don’t worry. Just looking for some work with my friend.”

“This is your friend?” he asked and looking at Arthur he raised an eyebrow.

The difference between the two was abysmal: she was tiny, clean, with a kind expression and sweet eyes. He was big, dirty, tough and mean. Their ‘friendship’ was pretty suspicious.

Emily couldn’t see Arthur’s face because she was right behind him, but she was sure he had glanced at the deputy in a terrible way, because the man immediately looked away in embarrassment and walked towards the wall pointing at a poster.

“That’s the man. Benedict Allbright” he said.

“He’s being poisoning folks with his miracle cure from here to Annesburg.”

“A doctor?” asked Emily walking past Arthur to look at the paper. “It makes no sense. Doctors are good, they are supposed to help people.”

The deputy chuckled at all that innocence.

“Things are not always as they should be” he replied.

“Where can I find him?” asked Arthur taking the poster from the wall.

“North of here, straight by the gorge. That’s where they saw him last time” the sheriff informed him.

“You think you can bring him in? The pay is good, but we need him alive, though. I have to make sure the women he widowed get compensated before he swings.”

Emily looked at the poster and then exchanged a look with Arthur. He didn’t seem convinced.

“It’s fifty dollars to bring a murderer to justice. It’s a double reward from my point of view” she said with an encouraging smile.

Arthur snorted and shook his head: she truly had some strange ideas.

“Well, I’ll see what I can do” he said heading to the door.

“Thank you, sheriff, for giving my friend this chance” said Emily. “I guess we’ll see each other again soon” she added to the deputy.

“Miss” he replied with a nod of his head.

#rdr2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #tilly jackson #karen jones #mary-beth gaskill #hosea matthews

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bi-naesala · 4 years ago

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Found you (chapter two)

Bad Batch arc retelling (sort of) | Fives lives AU

Also on AO3

Chapter 1

Fives hates waiting, especially in these kinds of situations. They should be rescuing Echo, but all they can do now it to wait around until they get permission like some kind of kids!

The idea of leaving alone comes to mind, but even if he manages to reach Skako Minor - that’s where Echo’s signal came from - what could he do against entire squadrons of droids? They’re about to mess with the Techno Union, which means that things are going to get ugly. No, as much as he hates admitting it, he needs everyone, even the Shebs Batch.

The only problem, now, is that Rex has somehow disappeared. Where’s the Captain now? He doubts he’s in his quarters - why would he be there of all places? - but he can’t find him anywhere.

A hand plants itself on his shoulder, forcing him to stay still and stop pacing.

“You’re going to burn a hole in your boots if you keep up like that,” Jesse says, “Just calm down.”

“I am calm,” Fives snaps back. He hates when people tell him to calm down; if anything, they only succeed in irritating him more. He tries to pull his shoulder free, but Jesse’s hold is too strong.

“You really are not,” he says, which is rich coming from him of all people. Jesse has never exactly been a paramount of patience.

Seeing the worry in his brother’s eyes, Fives’ aggressive stance deflates.

“Look, I just want to be over with this part,” he says, “We should’ve moved already.”

“I know, but it’s not like we can do whatever we want. There are strategies to be made.” Fives hates this kind of reasoning because it’s so cold: it makes war look like more like a series of calculations than the gruesome affair that it actually is. Still, Jesse is right - for once - but this doesn’t mean that Fives has to be happy with it, hence the pacing and the death stares; he’s sure he’s scared shitless a few shinies that have tried to approach him. He should apologize to them, but they really had picked a very bad time to bother him.

“Hey,” Jesse calls him then, a smirk on his face, “If you’re looking for a way to pass time, why don’t we play some sabacc? Want to steal more credits out of you.”

“So you admit that was stealing!” Fives exclaims, playfully shoving his vod, “Besides, now I know your tricks. You won’t fool me this time,” he adds with a confidence that makes Jesse chuckle.

“We’ll see…”

Thankfully for Fives’ credits, they’re stopped by captain Rex before they can make their way to the barracks.

“Captain, where were--”

“We have no time for that, Fives,” Rex interrupts him, “We’re leaving.”

Fives still doesn’t understand if they’ve actually gotten clearance to depart or if general Skywalker is doing as he pleases - it wouldn’t be the first time. In the end, it doesn’t matter, as long as they get to Skako Minor and rescue Echo.

He’s not entirely comfortable with the idea of having left Jesse behind, but general Kenobi and general Windu are going to need all the help they can and Jesse is one of the best. Whatever happens, he’ll surely make it out alive, or at least Fives hopes so. He really doesn’t want to lose another brother…

“Did you hear what he said? Does it mean he knows?”

“Sir, I really have no idea--”

Those are clearly the general and the captain’s voices that Fives is hearing as he makes his way to the ship’s main corridor. A glance is enough to confirm this theory: general Skywalker and captain Rex seem to be having a heated conversation. What are they talking about?

“Did you snitch on me, Rex? Were you the one who told Obi-Wan?” Skywalker accuses, making Rex spout indignantly at the idea that he would betray his trust like that. If nobody intervenes, things might escalate, which prompts Fives to walk up to them.

“Sirs, is there something wrong?” he asks, feigning innocence, like he hasn’t accidentally heard part of their conversation.

There’s a moment of pause, then the two look at each other.

“It’s nothing, Fives,” Anakin says then, leaving his previous position to do who knows what - probably going to speak with Hunter.

“What was that about?” Fives asks once he and Rex are alone. General Skywalker is known for his temperament, but there are only few things that would set him off even against Rex, and one of these things are…

“Was this about him and Senator Amidala?”

“General Kenobi finally snapped and made it clear that he knows.” Ah, so that’s what happened.

Skywalker and Amidala. They’re the worst kept secret in the whole GAR. The only way the Jedi Council hasn’t approached the general about this yet is probably because they think that looking the other way is the best solution which, in the end, might’ve been true: all this talk about attachments, and yet Skywalker, the Jedi who you could say has the most attachments, hasn’t turned on them, not even when the Chancellor tried to persuade him to his side by using his fear of losing his loved ones. If he had cracked, things would’ve gone very differently and Fives doubts he’d even be alive to tell the tale. Who knows.

It’s also true that Palpatine didn’t really get much time to talk before being shot from behind - he probably wasn’t expecting the Guard to turn on him, but Fox looked particularly smug when he took the shot. He had underestimated the clones, and this is what ruined him. A fitting end.

Before Fives’ thoughts can wander even more, Rex recalls him to attention.

“We should regroup with the others,” he says and, as always, he’s right.

“Yes, sir. Let’s go.”

They land into a storm. Just their luck.

Thankfully Tech is skilled enough to make them land safely. It was still a better landing than when the general flies.

“Nice job vod,” Five mutters, giving Tech’s shoulder a nice pat. Out of all the Bad Batchers, he’s the one he likes the most.

Tech seems surprised by such familiarity coming from him, but apart from looking at him like he’s seen a ghost, he doesn’t comment on it except from an awkward “thank you”.

And now, let’s see what kind of banthashit they’ll have to deal with now.

So long the General has only being kidnapped and rescued. Basically, nothing new.

If things keep going this way, maybe they’ll be done by the end of the day with only a few things majorly blowing up. Nothing Fives hasn’t experienced already.

These Poletecs are adamant on not wanting war on their planet, and to be frank, Fives can’t exactly blame them. Still, they’re here not to bring war but to save a brother, so if they’ll have to fight in order to do it, he won’t hesitate.

Tech’s the one that comes to the rescue again, thanks to his technology. An immediate translator like that would be mighty useful to have - how many times did Fives try to flirt with somebody at 79, only to find out they don’t speak the same language? Not that it usually isn’t that much of a problem, but still it would be something nice. Maybe if he asks kindly Tech would build one for him too?

At least now they’ve gotten safe passage, and from what Fives has understood, they’re even going to take them to Purkoll? Talk about lucky.

It would’ve been nice if they could help out more, but Fives supposed they can’t exactly ask much out of them. They’ll have to make do with that little they have.

Fives cracks his knuckles and adjusts the helmet on his face. Time to put his ARC training to use.

Everything was going great… until it doesn’t anymore. Tech has lost Echo’s signal, and that small hope they all felt is beginning to get overshadowed by doubt again, not for Fives, though, and not for Rex. Fives’ glad that the captain is backing him up as he keeps telling them that something must’ve happened and that they need to hurry up.

Then Crosshair opens his mouth.

“You feelings are getting in the way because you left him for dead at the Citadel.”

Fives blood begins to boil. He remembers that moment too vividly - there hasn’t been a day that he hasn’t thought about that. The General’s voice echoes in his head, the continuous screams and the “we have to keep going!”. He takes his first step towards Crosshair.

“We wouldn’t have if he had a choice! We couldn’t--”

“Oh, I don’t blame you, I would’ve left him for dead too.” Fives swears, this guy-- “Besides, he’s just another reg.”

Just another reg...

Anger takes over Fives. This time he doesn’t even try to rebuttal, he just throws himself at Crosshair with all his weight, making them tumble along the hill.

He’s been wanting to punch this asshole’s face since he first laid his eyes on him, and now he finally can. If he wasn’t so angry he would’ve smirked hearing his pained noises, but he’s too busy punching him to care.

“You don’t know what we’ve been through! You don’t know!”

Even as Crosshair tries to break free, there’s little he can do against Fives’ superior strength. ARC training really paid off.

Then he feels someone pulling him up, and as he tries to pull away, he recognizes Wrecker’s voice telling him to take it someone not his size. As if he’s afraid of him.

“Put him down!” Rex shouts at him, shaking him so that he loses his grip on Fives, who lands on the ground but gets up immediately, ready to throw down again. Wrecker’s attention, however, has moved to Rex; he clearly hasn’t appreciated the way his captain interfered, even though he had been the first one to put himself into a fight that didn’t concern him. It doesn’t matter, Fives can take care of him too.

“You’ll be a lot smaller when I’m through with you!” Rex shouts, maintaining the aggressive stance towards Wrecker. Fives has rarely seen him lose his cool like this and he almost wishes Jesse was here to witness it - he’ll just have to tell him when they come back. Still, it’s nice of his captain to stand up for him, especially against these assholes.

“That’s enough!”

General Skywalker’s voice echo with not exactly rage, but definitely irritation. The Jedi has put himself between Wrecker and the other two clones. “We’re supposed to work together, not getting into fights like this!”

He’s right, of course, even though if anything this makes things worse: if Skywalker of all people is telling you to be more responsible, then things must be bad.

The general sighs, a defeated look in his eyes, then he asks the Bad Batch to scout ahead, a clear excuse to be left alone with Rex and Fives.

“Sir,” Fives begins immediately once they are alone, “You heard him. I couldn’t--”

“I know Fives,” Skywalker interrupts him, “I don’t like what he said either, but that’s no excuse to act like that.”

As Rex apologizes for the show they’ve just given, Five has to bite his tongue in order not to snap at the general that he can’t say stuff like that, not when he’s done the same on other occasions. It’s unfair and he knows it, but he’s not perfect and sometimes you have to be petty to win.

At least the general seems to understand their situation. “Listen,” he sighs, “I know this mission means a lot to you, it means a lot to me too. If Echo’s truly alive, then it’s our priority to get him out of there, however… We have to be prepared in case this is just a trap, understood?”

“Yes sir.” Rex replies. Skywalker then proceeds to put a hand on Rex’s shoulder and the other on Fives’.

“I want him to be alive as much as you do, but if it turns out he isn’t, I need to know that you’ll be able to handle it. Can you?”

“We will, sir,” Rex says, “If he turns out dead, we’ll handle it.”

“Good,” Skywalker replies, his voice soft with obvious concern. He turns to Fives then. “And you, Fives?”

It takes him longer that it should to reply. He knows that there are many chances that yes, this is all a trap, but he has to believe that Echo is alive - someone has to. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first he has a hunch that, although highly improbable, turns out to be true.

“Yes I… I’ll handle it,” he says eventually, because if it’s really true that Echo’s dead, it will hurt, but eventually he’ll have to move on. His brother wouldn’t like it if he spent his entire life mourning him, or worse getting injured because he was too busy being sad to concentrate on the mission.

He feels Skywalker’s grip tighten, but not too much, just enough to be comforting.

“I’ll be fine sir. Really.”

The general nods, then he smiles. It’s that kind of smile that means trouble, the one who usually give Rex headaches because it means that he’s going to do something stupid.

“Alright, let’s go now. Wouldn’t want to be outshined, eh, guys?”

Rex and Fives share a look.

“General’s right,” Fives points out, a mischievous smile mirroring Skywalker’s on his face. For once, even Rex seems on board with this.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Once they all reach the tower, they finally manage to pick up Echo’s signal again. It doesn’t mean that it’s all good, but Fives will take what he can get.

If there’s even the smallest chance that Echo’s alive, then it’s all worth it.

Tech - the only valid Bad Batcher, Fives will never stop saying it - manages to hack the door open, which is good because at least they can get in undetected.

Fives has never been fond of stealth missions but he understands their importance. Eh, this reminds him of that time when he and Hardcase had to sneak in that umbaran… Hardcase.

Fives shakes his head. That’s not the time to think about his fallen brother.

Fortunately he gets distracted from that by Wrecker’s hesitation in front of the elevator. Fives can barely suppresses a chuckle at the discovery that big strong Wrecker’s afraid of heights, but as soon as Hunter suggests holding his hand he doesn’t hold back anymore, gaining a punch on his shoulder from an angry Wrecker - though given the standards it’s a pretty light punch.

“You got something to say?” he says, clearly challenging him. As if Fives is going to fall back.

“I can hold your other hand if you want.”

At that, even Hunter chuckles; the sergeant thankfully puts a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, stopping him before he can attack Fives again. All that’s left for the big guy is to grumble that he hates everybody there.

Ah the irony of general Skywalker telling them this is a stealth mission, only for the elevator’s doors to open and reveal a group of droids outside, too close not to spot them.

Of course Wrecker, the big oaf, throws himself at them, screaming without a care in the world. Ok that he wanted to crush some droids, but what the kriff anyway.

“So much for stealth,” Rex comments, using the I’m-so-done-with-this voice Fives is very familiar with. They look at each other and he shrugs. Might as well make themselves useful.

They all move out, firing their blasters. They still have a chance of not blowing it if they manage to kill everything fast enough. Fives manages even to steal a couple of kills from Crosshair - and he notes to himself that he must never make him forget it.

Nobody is impressed with the way Wrecker begins to shout after destroying the droids. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed about it.

He even apologizes, though Fives doubts he’s really sorry.

Damn, he and Hardcase would’ve gotten along splendidly.

Of course, since things were going so splendidly, there’s a new problem: Tech is able to track Echo’s signal only during intel transmission, which makes him harder to find.

“Damn it!” Fives exclaims, and he would’ve punched the wall in rage if Rex hadn’t grabbed his wrist. They’re so close and yet so far!

“Calm down, Fives. We’ll find him.”

“Alright,” the general calls them back to attention, “We’re splitting up. Search for every door and, if you find Echo, contact the others.”

He moves his gaze to Fives, making it clear that this last part is addressing him in particular. “We go in together, just in case there’s trouble.”

Fives nods, but he already knows that, depending on the situation, he’ll decide later whether to consider that an order or just a mere suggestion.

The room Fives’ searches is empty, but that won’t stop him. He’s already rushing outside, moving to the next room, when Tech announces that Echo’s signal is back.

They follow it, arriving in front at a double door. Echo must be inside! Fives rushes to it, trying to open it, but it doesn’t budge!

To make things worse, the viewscreen next to the door activates, showing them Wat Tambor’s ugly mug.

The way he’s talking about Echo like it’s just a robot, an algorithm, makes Fives’ blood boil. If he gets his hands on him he’ll make sure he won’t survive the encounter.

He had forgotten how scary captain Rex can get when he’s angry; he believes every word he says about leaving that place only with Echo.

Oh no, they have company now - so many droids. They’re left with no choice but to fight.

Thankfully the general has finally reached them, helping them getting rid of the droids faster. Still, this is no easy feat: there’s too many droids and so little of them. In this case Fives is really glad that the Bad Batch is with them, because they’re handling things spectacularly, so much that they actually manage to get rid of the droids in record time…

No, reinforcements are coming. Kriff.

Good thing Tech’s working on opening the door.

They just have to resist a little bit longer.

As soon as the doors open, Fives and Rex rush to it. Since they aren’t incompetent they don’t do so blindly, and they keep their weapon ready, eyes on the lookout. Getting ambushed now won’t do at all.

They stumble upon an empty huge room, a lab definitely, but what gets everyone’s attention is a certain stasis chamber… Is Echo in there?!

“I don’t like the look of this,” Tech comment, very helpfully.

“Just open it, please,” Fives begs. If Echo’s in there they need to pull him out!

He can feel the weight of Rex resting his hand on his pauldron, an even though he can see his expression under the helmet, the way he inclines his head his enough for Fives to understand that he wants to know if he’s fine. He nods. Yeah, he’s fine.

The chamber’s about to be opened soon.

“I’m picking up a life form in there.”

It’s Echo, it has to be Echo…

Fives can’t believe his eyes. He… doesn’t know what to say.

That thing that has gotten out of the stasis chamber, still attached to it by wires, is… Echo?

He looks terrible: he’s pale, so skinny that he could see the bones, head shaved, gaze unfocused like he hadn’t even realized they’re there, and… prosthesis at his arm and his legs.

Fives is going to kill the entire Techno Union.

Thankfully, Rex manages to recover from the shock and springs into action, ordering Tech to find a way to safely unplug Echo from this machine. He begins working on getting him down, and after shaking his head, trying to focus, Fives joins him.

“Echo? Echo are you there?” he calls out, but there’s no response coming from him.

He feels like he’s going to be sick. What have they done to him?

It’s his fault. This is all his fault.

He shouldn’t have left him at the Citadel. He should’ve tried harder.

Both he and Rex remove their helmets, hoping that maybe he will recognize them like this. Now Fives can see how horrified Rex is; well, he feels the same.

It’s then that Echo begins to talk, but his voice is so low and broken that Fives can barely understands what he’s saying. He can only catch “Citadel”.

“No! No!” he begins to say, face panicking. Fives doesn’t know what the best course of action is, but he can’t stay idle and watch his brother suffer.

He gently puts a hand on his shoulder - he’s so cold - and tries to call for him again, this time without raising his voice, no matter how much he wants to scream.

“Echo? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“It’s me, Fives!”

Still nothing.

“I’m here, Echo. Talk to me please!”

“… Fives?” A flash of recognition has passed through Echo’s eyes, and now he looks like he’s actually seeing them. “Rex?”

“Yes, I’m here,” the captain says, scooting closer to Echo.

When Echo speaks again, with that voice so soft, Fives feels tears prickling at the side of his eyes, but he fights them back. Seeing him cry is the last thing Echo needs rights now.

“You came back for me.”

It breaks Fives’ heart. Yes, they came back to him, but after how many years? If only they had known before…

“Yes, yes we did,” Rex replies, and Fives can easily sense from his voice that he too is close to completely breaking down. They have to be strong for Echo.

“Thought you’d get rid of me that easily, vod?” he attempts to joke, and he doubts anyone has ever felt the relief he’s feeling when Echo chuckles.

There are still some things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do.

There’s also the question of having to come back, which is another big problem on its own, but now that they’ve found Echo, Fives feels unstoppable. It wouldn’t be good dying right when they’re so close to succeeding.

“We’re going to get you home. Whatever happens, I’ll keep you safe.” He goes to take his brothers hand, squeezing it with determination.

“I promise.”

#arc trooper fives #captain rex #anakin skywalker #the bad batch #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #arc trooper echo #tcw #sw #star wars #my fics #mine #found you

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secret-engima · 5 years ago

Note

You’re probably gonna be mad I’m asking, but what happens to Cloud-as-Prompto when Cor and the other citadel adults figure out his home situation?

*sigh-laughs* I’m not mad, I’ve known for a while now that Tumblr is filled with enablers and the moment I yote a new AU into existence it would get asks about it XPP. Alright then buckle up NEW FICLET:

-It takes them a while to figure it out, not because Cloud/Prompto is ... particularly hiding it, he just makes sure to never mention it because he doesn’t want any drama and the adults at first assume everything is fine.

-When Prompto stays over for sleepovers with his new friend the Prince, they are mostly concerned with security, not with the boy’s home life. They assume his parents gave permission, because- well- the Citadel, of course their child would be safe there.

-But then he keeps coming over for sleepovers more and more frequently, to the point one day Cor sits up and realizes he hasn’t seen anyone take Prompto HOME in about two weeks now and THAT raises red flags. He discreetly asks around and all the servants confirm that no, Prompto hasn’t gone home in two weeks. He goes to school with Prince Noctis and then comes to the Citadel with him.

-Alarm bells fully ringing now, Cor goes to ask Prompto about it himself, because surely there’s an explanation that isn’t the one poisoning the tip of his tongue.

-Prompto looks up from the video game he’s playing with Noctis when Cor enters, and something in Cor screams. He’s been politely avoiding the boy for the most part, one because his job does genuinely keep him busy and two because he doesn’t want to ... put expectations on the boy that shouldn’t be there. This is not the baby he gave away for the boy’s own safety, not the baby he grew so attached to hauling him out of the lab and to safety in Insomnia over the course of months. This boy is one who has been raised from age 1 in a loving, proper home environment, who has no memory of who Cor is beyond the “Immortal” persona the media touts. Cor SHOULD be looking at a happy, gentle child, if a shy, quiet one from all reports of the servants.

-So why is he looking into the eyes of a soldier?

-Noctis pauses their game and bounds up, eagerly asking why Cor has come to visit. Cor idly pats Noctis’s head without taking his eyes off Prompto, who stares back with assessing blue eyes. There is warmth there, a sort of trust Cor assumes must come from Noctis’s stories (because there is no way the boy remembers those months on the run, no way), but aside from that spark, there is no childishness. No naivety. He doesn’t see the shyness the reports mention, he sees the cool assessment of a soldier, watching the world for threats.

-Cor begins to feel sick.

-He hides it and gently asks Prompto about what he’s noticed, about the two weeks of unbroken sleepover, and does Cor need to call his parents? Is everything alright? They DO know where he is, don’t they?

-Prompto shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. He tells Cor that everything is fine, Zack (Prompto’s nickname for Noctis, though Cor has no clue as to the logic behind it) just wanted him to stay over this long, that’s all. No, Cor doesn’t need to call his parents, everything is fine, he likes being in the Citadel with his friend.

-Prompto doesn’t answer the last question. Cor asks it again. Prompto’s gaze flickers away with something akin to ... hurt. Not the guilt of a child, but the unease and simmering anger of someone who is thinking “why now? Why do you care now?” and Cor feels dread as Prompto shrugs.

-That’s not an answer, he tells Prompto.

-Prompto sighs and shrugs again, “I left them a note. I don’t know if they’ve read it by now or not. Depends on if they came home before heading to their next conference.”

-And Cor’s world drops out from under him.

-Cor asks more questions until Prompto seems to get distressed and suddenly Noctis is there, bristling protectively, a too-old glint of magic in his eyes that only happens when a genuine tantrum of all tantrums is on the way. Noctis tells Cor to get out and Cor evacuates. He has research to do anyway.

-It takes him a week to compile all the clues and reports and evidence (a week Prompto spends with Noctis, a still unbroken “sleepover” that is now alarming in its length). It takes him several hours in the training room before he is sane enough to present his findings to Regis.

-He glares at Regis and Clarus the entire time they read. Tries very, VERY hard not to sound accusing when he asks what they want to do now (tries hard not to let his fury leak into his voice or manner, his urge to scream at them because THEY were the ones who vetted the couple that adopted Prompto, THEY were the ones who were supposed to know what decent parents looked like and pick a good home life for the baby Cor brought home, not the child soldier, not Cor, and look at where it’s led).

-He is mildly gratified by the look of guilt on Clarus’s face and the horrified anger on Regis’s.

-The Argentums are a very respected couple, upstanding members of their community, hard workers, and donators to charity. They are well liked by their colleagues and peers, trusted by their employers to the point they get sent often on business trips on behalf of the company, and while they are by no means RICH, they are comfortably middle class.

-None of the people Cor’s agents had interviewed, not even the ones who considered themselves close friends of the Argentums, even knew they had a child. If it weren’t for the school attendance records, yearly checkups at the local hospital, and periodic purchase of toys for Christmas and birthdays, there would be no evidence that Prompto Argentum even EXISTED.

-Toys were not a replacement for love and presence in a child’s life, and the Argentums were definitely NOT doing that.

-“Cor-” Clarus starts, Cor growls at him, feral and furious and hurting, his fingers itching with the memory of holding the child he saved from that lab, his heart shuddering with the memory of how the boy had reached for him and cried when he handed him off to what Cor had been PROMISED would be loving, gentle parents.

-“You will FIX this,” Cor snarls wetly.

-Regis nods, his magic unfurling to settle on Cor’s shoulders like an apology and sympathetic anger all in one, “We will contact child services immediately and have him removed form their custody. I will personally ensure this is kept quiet and away from the media. The Argentums are not ... unreasonable people. Once they are shown the evidence of their own- their own neglect, I’m certain they will give him up without a fight. We’ll find suitable-.”

-“You will give him to me.” Clarus and Regis stop and stare at Cor. Cor who’s hands are balled into shaking fists and his lungs stinging with the fury he thought he’d worked out in a training room, “We did it your way and Prompto has been neglected all his life. Give him to me.”

-Regis’s lips thin in worry, “Cor, raising a child is- a huge responsibility, they require a great deal of time-,”

-“Time the Argentums never spent?”

-“There is also security to think of, it has been seven years since you broke into that lab, but there is still a chance someone will look at his age and realize what he is.”

-Cor can feel his teeth grinding, “Just say it’s because he’s Noctis’s friend. I took him in for security purposes, to ensure the prince’s best friend was well protected. He can even keep the Argentum surname. He looks like them, no one will think of the lab baby that disappeared.”

-Clarus reached out and gently touched Cor’s shoulder, “And if he does not want to live with you? You’re a stranger to him, Cor. A FAMOUS and intimidating stranger.”

-Cor comes so close to punching Clarus in the mouth it’s a miracle he doesn’t. He shakes off Clarus’s hand and storms out, back to the training rooms to try to get a measure of his sanity back.

-The entire process is kept very, very quiet. With the king himself backing the order and Prompto’s original origins weighing in the back of their minds, the Argentums fold to the claims and give up Prompto without a fight. Cor thinks there is genuine regret and heartbreak in their eyes, genuine surprise and horror when their crimes are listed before them. As if they hadn’t realized until that moment just how MUCH time they spent away from the house and the little boy they claimed to love. Cor feels nothing but anger toward them.

-Prompto is informed of his removal from their custody only after the fact and he goes very, very still. Something cold lingers in blue eyes as he quietly asks if he’s going to be placed in the foster system. Cor is angry again that Prompto doesn’t ask about his parents, doesn’t demand to go back to his “mom�� and “dad” (is angry that he calls them “the Argentums”, like he never thought of them as parents in the first place). Noctis is clinging to his best friend with wide eyes and instantly begs Regis to adopt “Cloud” so they can be brothers. Regis smiles sadly and explains he can’t do that, it would put a spotlight on Prompto that he doesn’t need, and that Prompto deserves to go to new parents who can spend time with him.

-“I don’t want them.” Everyone stops and looks at Prompto. Prompto glares at the floor, works his jaw and carefully outlines each word on his tongue before saying it, “I don’t want to go to new parents. My last ones didn’t care, what will make the new ones any different? They’ll keep me away from Zack. Or just want to adopt me for my connection to the royal prince. I don’t want new parents.”

-Regis reaches out a hand and starts to gently explain that Prompto HAS to have parents, that this time will be better, Prompto just hunches his shoulders and glares harder at the floor. There is something cold and broken in those blue eyes, something Cor KNOWS down to the fibers of his soul.

-Why do I bother saying anything when I know no one will listen to what I want anyway? My opinion doesn’t matter.

-I don’t matter.

-He’d seen those eyes in the mirror for a very, very long time until he ran away and joined the Crownsguard at thirteen, desperate enough to MAKE something of himself, to BE someone, that he was willing to risk death in the military. If only because joining was HIS choice, not someone else’s.

-Cor is speaking before he can think better of it, “What do you want then?”

-Every stops and stares at him. Noctis is already beaming hopefully at Cor, and Prompto looks ... surprised, wary. Cor kneels down in front of the seven year old, equalizing their heights as much as he can, and murmurs seriously, “You need a guardian of some kind, it’s the law. But if you don’t want new parents, what DO you want? Is there anyone- is there anyone you would prefer as a caretaker? One of your teachers, or ... even one of the servants here in the Citadel? We could ask if they would be willing to adopt you. At least until your age of majority.”

-Prompto stares at him, the looks down at the floor. He blinks rapidly as tears start to form and mutters something Cor could have sworn was “stupid child hormones” under his breath before sniffling loudly and ....

-Reaching out to tentatively hook his fingers around Cor’s sleeve.

-“Can I ... pick you?” Blue eyes peer at him shyly, cautiously, “Can I pick you as my guardian?” And Cor feels like his chest is going to burst.

-He wants to say yes instantly, but instead he asks, “Are you sure? You don’t know me. I am the Marshal of the Crownsguard, my duties will keep me very busy. I WILL make time for you whenever you need, but I won’t be able to spend as much ... as much time with you as you deserve.”

-Prompto’s lips twitch into something like a smile, “You’re safe,” he whispers and then looks away like he’s embarrassed. Then he opens his mouth and shatters Cor’s world, “You took me away from the- the men in white coats, and the cold, and the green.” The boy shudders with MEMORY that he should have and glances at Cor again, “I trust you.”

-And Cor can’t breathe.

-Regis and Clarus both look like a stiff wind could knock them over (just like how Cor feels) and Regis manages a strangled, “You were just a baby...”

-And Prompto shrugs, lets go of Cor’s jacket to fidget with the band around his wrist (that covers his barcode, covers the one visible remaining sign of the trauma and experiments they had done to him and oh ASTRALS how much does the boy remember), “It hurt a lot. People remember things that hurt better than they remember nice things. It was cold, and ... scary. They kept making me sick. Then Cor came. He picked me up and took me away. He brought me here and ... I know the Argentums weren’t very good parents. But they never hurt me. They never-” Prompto’s eyes blow wide and his breath stutters like he’s remembering something truly terrible and he shrinks mindlessly into Noctis’s tight hug, shaking like a leaf in genuine terror before he shakes his head and looks pleadingly at Cor, “I trust you,” he whispers again and its a knife to Cor’s heart, “please. Don’t send me away this time.”

-Noctis is still clinging to Prompto like a protective limpet, so when Cor reaches out and snatches Prompto against his chest, he’s clutching Noctis as well, but he doesn’t CARE. Because Prompto REMEMBERS the lab and the flight, somehow he remembers (has to remember, because the Argentums were never told any of that, there was no one but Cor to tell Prompto about those things and Cor hadn’t spoken to Prompto in all those seven years) all the trauma and fear and that Cor had LEFT him and Cor knows he will never forgive himself for this.

-But he will make it right.

-“Okay,” he breathes into Prompto’s hair, “You can stay. You can stay with me.” He inhales shakily, raises his head and GLARES at Regis and Clarus, daring them to disagree this time. Oath or no oath, king or no king, Cor will fight them this time if they try to take Prompto away.

-Regis dips his head in a shaky acknowledgement, still off-balance from the revelation that Prompto remembered “I’ll have the paperwork brought up.”

-Cor buries his face in Prompto’s hair again with a shaky sigh and a tight squeeze. Prompto is his.

-He’s never, ever letting go again.

#SE asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Clouds and Moonlit Skies verse #dad!cor #oh look new ficlet

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wolfandwild · 4 years ago

Text

My Shadowlands Wish List

Now that we’re getting closer and closer to pre-patch and the inevitable launch of the expansion, I thought I’d rattle off a wish list of things I hope we get to see in Shadowlands, largely from a lore/story perspective. (Or rather, my stupid foot was hurting so badly I couldn’t concentrate on writing my fic properly, so I decided to ramble off some not-so-hot takes, honestly they’re pretty mild in the grand scheme of things). I was in the first alpha wave, so I’ve had a pretty good opportunity to play the game as it is thus far, and I did want to make it clear up front that I’m fully aboard the hype train. Shadowlands is looking like a great expansion for a number of different reasons, and while I do have a few areas of concern, on the whole I am currently feeling very positive. Please also note these are just my random, late-night personal musings - your mileage may vary, and that’s a-okay. Mild Shadowlands spoilers below the cut.

You Get A Customisation! You Get A Customisation! Everybody Gets A Customisation! This one is pretty much a no-brainer. I don’t necessarily think Blizzard need to have absolutely every possible character customisation ready to go before launch, but I’d like them to continue adding further options over time. I move in a couple of different circles in Warcraft - I’m obviously involved in the writing/lore/character aspect of the game, but I’m also GM of a raiding guild and closely follow the gameplay/competitive side of things too - and customisation is one of those few things that gets everyone excited, regardless of their reason for playing the game. I’m looking forward to seeing a much more vibrant, unique and diverse Azeroth come Shadowlands pre-patch. (Mostly irrelevant side story - when Wrathion returned in the Patch 8.3 cinematics, my Twitter and lore Discords were basically going berserk with excitement, meanwhile there’s a hundred very confused dudes in my raiding guild who don’t read quest text being all, “What the hell is a ‘Wrathion’?”. I live in two different worlds, honestly). Another reason I’m excited about customisation (and I’m probably in a very small minority on this one) is because I actually really dislike allied races, and I think it gives Blizzard an option to add more flavour to character creation in the game without always having to cobble together a new race. I honestly think they should have simply gone for sub-race customisation from the beginning, to avoid having to ass-pull allied races out of nowhere. Using customisation over allied races also makes it far simpler to give something to both factions (e.g. high elves), or to add something for one faction without necessarily having to always add something to the other faction to keep things in balance. Giving an extra hairstyle to humans but not orcs generally isn’t going to cause that much of a fuss, but if one faction were given an allied race and the other wasn’t because there wasn’t a logical racial option, there would be a shitstorm of epic proportions. So you end up in a situation where one faction* gets saddled with a really random, sucky allied race just to be ‘fair’. *The Alliance. It’s the Alliance. Leave Britney Arthas Alone Arthas has never been a personal favourite of mine, but I respect that he has a fantastic story, and that he’s a cornerstone of Warcraft lore. His story is both satisfying and complete, and that’s exactly why they should leave him the hell alone. I don’t mind if he’s visited in flashbacks (like the Bastion cinematic), or if we explore how he affected still living characters (e.g. Jaina, Sylvanas, Bolvar), but I think it would be a mistake to try to make him a central character in the expansion. In contrast, someone like Kael’thas is an excellent choice for an additional arc, because his original story was a bit all over the place and there is still plenty of room for his character development. Arthas doesn’t need it, and I don’t think the minute potential gain is worth the risk of retroactively making the rest of his story worse. On a similar note... Warcraft III Was Released Nearly 20 Years Ago, It’s Time to Move On The Warcraft RTS was a landmark series of games, and was obviously without them we wouldn’t have the World of Warcraft. However, I think the future health of Warcraft’s lore depends on the ability of the writers to grow the story outwards and upwards, not to always default back to the same handful of characters for nostalgia’s sake. While characters like Jaina, and Thrall, and Sylvanas are great, they can’t carry the narrative forever. Shadowlands represents a unique opportunity to build up the next generation of characters and to blow the cosmology of the universe wide open. From what I’ve seen on the alpha/beta, Blizzard are definitely taking a step in this direction, and I’m hoping that’s what we get instead of Patch 9.2 - Oh Look, It’s Thrall Again. On an additionally similar note... Sylvanas Is Crazy, And She Needs To Go Down (I don’t actually think she’s crazy, but one should never miss the opportunity for an Avatar reference). One of my complaints about the recent lore developments in Warcraft its that it’s starting to feel a lot less like the World of Warcraft, and more like the Sylvanas of Warcraft. She’s playing 469D chess; she’s behind everything; she’s the sole driving force of the narrative. I don’t think that works in an MMO that’s meant to tell the story of an entire expanded universe. It makes things feel small. And before I get eaten alive, I want to be clear that I don’t dislike Sylvanas as a character - in fact, I think she’s very compelling and on a night when my foot wasn’t killing me so much I’d be happy to get into an argument as to why she’s actually one of the most consistent and well-written characters in the World of Warcraft. I don’t necessarily think she needs to die, either, but I think it’s time for her narrative to come to a close to make room for other characters in the story, and I don’t think Blizzard are going to get a much better opportunity to give her a satisfying ending than in a death-themed expansion. Justice for Tyrande (Or Vengeance, Whatever Uther Wants to Call It) Tyrande got done dirty in Battle for Azeroth, probably more than any other character. I’m not a massive night elf fangirl by any means, but their entire race was basically used as grist for the mill in Sad Orc Dad’s story, with no next to no narrative follow-up besides a cool cinematic that went absolutely nowhere in game. Outside the game, her character then got subjected to the cacophonous misogynistic crowing of the fanbase that occurs whenever a female character dares to be angry in the World of Warcraft. Much like Jaina, she’s decried for being ‘crazy’ or ‘irrational’ for, you know, being pissed that her people and her homeland were wiped out in an act of wildly disproportional aggression. I don’t know about you guys, but that would tend to make me a wee bit testy, but maybe I’m crazy and irrational too. In any case, I want to see her go off in Shadowlands. Fuck ‘em up, girlfriend. You Get One Villain. If You Drop It, I’m Not Buying You Another One I think most people will agree with me that the two weakest expansions (at least from a narrative perspective) were Warlords of Draenor and Battle for Azeroth. There are a few reasons for this, but for me one of the biggest issues was that they were chop-and-change expansions. Both were advertised and started off with narratives and themes that were wildly different from where they finished up. Warlords was part Iron Horde expansion, part Legion expansion; BFA was part faction war expansion, part Old God expansion... and that’s exactly the problem. Both times, I felt like we got two half-done expansions, instead of one single, cohesive narrative experience. If you look at expansions like Wrath of the Lich King and Legion, both of which were very well received, a lot of their success hinges on their presentation of a consistent narrative with a clear goal for players within the story. The Lich King, for example, was a consistent and very present villain. He menaced you throughout your entire journey, and so his eventual defeat on top of Icecrown Citadel was meaningful and impactful. Defeating N’Zoth, by contrast, felt pretty hollow, as we hadn’t had enough narrative build up to really care about taking him down. Part of the reason I’m excited for Shadowlands is it looks like we’re getting a nice, focused story development that builds up to a logical and satisfying villain in the Jailer. Why Can’t We Be Friends? Look, I bleed blue. I love the Alliance... but the faction war should not continue to be a driving narrative element in the World of Warcraft. I don’t want the factions to be removed, I think they’re a core part of the Warcraft experience and I’d be pretty sad to have to let them go entirely, but the cycle of hating one another then teaming up in an uneasy alliance in order to defeat a bigger bad, only to go back to being at one another’s throats the next day is... tiresome.

Ideally, the war would have ended after Legion - it was the most logical place to do so, and I think it was a big missed opportunity that they ran with Battle for Azeroth immediately afterwards. Unfortunately, I think this means the Alliance is going to just have to forgive and forget, which doesn’t really make a lot sense at this point given everything that happened in BFA, but for the sake of the overall story, it might be a necessary sacrifice. That said... I Am Once Again Asking for Alliance Narrative Agency I know there are a lot of (valid) complaints to be had about the Horde storyline, but the one thing the Horde has always had over the Alliance is that they actually get to drive the narrative forward. The Alliance are pretty much exclusively reactionary, and in a lot of ways are side characters to the main Horde storyline. I’ve made this argument elsewhere, but it honestly wouldn’t be too hard to remove Anduin’s part in Saurfang’s storyline in Battle for Azeroth and have it turn out more or less exactly the same way... which says a lot about the importance of the Alliance in the overall storyline. In short, the Alliance are secondary players at best, and downright irrelevant at worst. One of my biggest hopes for Shadowlands is that we’ll actually get to see some Alliance narrative agency. To be clear, however, this does not mean a simple rehashing of Horde conflicts with a blue coat of paint. Alliance stories are not Horde stories, and nor should they be. Having an Alliance leader turn into a genocidal despot is not the only way to create conflict or agency in the story - there are plenty of opportunities for character growth, development and conflict on the Alliance side without having to have one of our leaders do a heel turn (e.g. Tyrande as the Night Warrior, Anduin dealing with his experience in the Maw, Jaina confronting the fates of people like Kael’thas and Arthas, Taelia meeting her father, etc.), and I really hope we get to see some of those narrative threads come to fruition. I Want to Mount Everything Add a hundred new mounts. Two hundred. A pot plant with googly eyes, the four hundredth Alliance horse, your mum. I’ll ride anything; I don’t even care. (Please note this is the most important opinion I have).

#world of warcraft #shadowlands #shadowlands spoilers #battle for azeroth #lore #turns out i had a few more opinions than i originally realised #anyway shadowlands looks cool guys y'all should check it out #but i would always rather have some warcraft than no warcraft #so take that how you will

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n7inky-fanfics · 3 years ago

Text

Aftermath pt. 10

CW: trauma, mention of suicide, burns, PTSD, mentions of nightmares

A few days later, Kaidan awakens at Shepard's bedside to see her sleepily watching him.. There's something different about her today, but he can't quite put his finger on it... Oh, her eyes! Her eyes are focused and present. She's really here!

"Hazel," he says softly "good morning."

She smiles weakly. "Kaidan."

"Are you okay? Are you in any pain?"

"Nothing I can't handle." She tries to move her arm towards him, but stops and winces at the pain. "Damn, those burns are a bit intense." She laughs dryly.

"Can I get you anything? Water, a nurse?"

"Kaidan, I'm alright. Stop fussing over me and tell me what happened."

"What do you remember?"

"I..." She pauses and looks away from him. "The Crucible. I remember the Crucible. Did it work?"

"It did. The Reapers are destroyed. When you've woken up before, you've asked about this. Do you know about the Geth and EDI?" He's trying to be straightforward with her. It's usually what she needs. He just hopes telling her again doesn't break her.

"If the AI was right, they're... dead. Are they?"

The pain in her voice makes Kaidan want to hold her close, but he knows that will hurt her so he strokes her hair gently and says "EDI backed herself up after scanning the blast. We think she got it done on time. It'll take time to bring her back, but we think we can do it. The Geth... we don't think they made it."

"I... It was the only way to destroy the Reapers. It wasn't my only choice, but.. I..."

"Hey, you don't have to justify yourself to me. I trust you, Shepard. Hackett is here somewhere, and he'll want to ask you about it. But you don't owe me any justification. If you want to tell the Alliance to go to hell, I'll back you."

"Since when have you been willing to piss off the Alliance?"

"Since realizing that they abandoned you when you were inconvenient and used you when you weren't."

"Oh..." Shepard looks worried about him. Why is she worried about him? He should be the one worrying about her. Before he can respond, Hackett comes in and pulls up a chair.

"Good to see you awake and talking, Commander."

"Admiral." She sounds tired. Kaidan opens his mouth to ask Hackett to leave and let her rest, but she shoots him a reassuring look and says "What can I do for you?"

"We'd like to talk with you about what happened on the Citadel before the Crucible fired. Major Alenko, would you please give us the room?"

"Let him stay, please." Her voice shakes a little. Hackett's expression softens and he nods. "I'll explain everything, but first tell me... did you find Anderson?"

"Yes, Commander. He was recovered and laid to rest with a funeral in accordance with Alliance traditions."

"Where would you like me to start?"

"How did you make it? We thought that all of Hammer was killed."

Shepard inhales sharply and her eyes look beyond Hackett, back to the battle. "The Reaper beam hit near me. It seared most of my armor into my skin. I was out for a while. When I came to, the Reaper was leaving and everyone was dead. I..."

Her breath was shallow and fast. Kaidan reached out to her, to stroke her hair, but she pulled away and continued. "I got to my feet. I think I was severely injured, but I had to keep going. I walked towards the beam. There were husks and a marauder. I shot them with my pistol and got to the beam. It brought me to this room I've never seen before. The Keepers were there. And the..."

She inhaled shakily before continuing "The piles of human bodies took up the whole room. Anderson had reached me on the comms. He had made it too. We landed in different places. We both made our way to this corridor and into a central chamber. He got there first... And the Illusive Man was there."

Kaidan tenses at the name. That man is one of the most disgusting and horrible beings in the Galaxy.

"The Illusive Man?" Hackett asks.

"He was indoctrinated. Some of his skin had melted away. He was implanted with Reaper tech, I think. He used indoctrination to control Anderson and I, to stop us. We talked. I tried to convince him to stop fighting us, to help us instead. He decided to show me the power of indoctrination. I.. He made me shoot Anderson. It didn't kill him, but..."

Shepard is visibly shaking now, but she sucks in as much air as she can and continues.

"Anderson and I talked him down. He realized what he was, and he fought the indoctrination long enough to shoot himself. Then we opened the arms."

"Did anything happen between when you opened the arms and when I contacted you?" Hackett had spoken with her while she was on the Citadel? Kaidan knows he shouldn't be jealous or angry, but he is. He couldn't be there for her, but Hackett was there. Of course, Hackett was probably asking more of her. He always is.

"I was so tired. The pain was... just exhausting. So I sat down next to Anderson. We talked. He... he died. I was so tired, and I thought I'd just close my eyes for a second. That it was over and that I could just rest and wait for someone to come get me. Then you came on the comms and said it wasn't firing. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't get up, so I tried to crawl to the control panel. I couldn't make it. I... I think I blacked out."

Kaidan would give anything to hold her, to comfort her. She doesn't seem to notice the tears that have been quietly sliding down her face since she started talking about Anderson. It's good to know he wasn't alone when he died, though.

"So how did you get it to fire?" Hackett asks.

"I came to on a platform, just below the connection to the Crucible. There was a figure in front of me. It was... I think it was like a hologram, but not quite. It looked like that little boy..." Her breathing is speeding up rapidly and her voice is shaking. Kaidan reaches for her once more. This time she doesn't move away when he strokes her hair.

"A little boy?"

"When we were fighting our way to the Normandy, back on Earth, I found a little boy in a ventilation system. I tried to help him, to get him to safety, but he said I couldn't help and fled back into the vents. I saw him later, when I had gotten onto the Normandy. The boy was on the docks. He got into an Alliance shuttle... and it was blown to bits by a Reaper."

"The hologram figure looked like a child that you saw die?" Hackett looks confused at best.

"Yeah... I think it could see into my mind... It must have known that I couldn't stop dreaming about that boy."

"You what?" This time it's Kaidan asking. She has been haunted by drwams about a dead child and didn't tell him? Is this why she startled awake that night before they raided the Cerberus base?

"I... Come on, we need to get back on topic." Kaidan doesn't want to. This new development worries him, but he nods and she continues. "It told me that it was the AI that lead the Reapers. The Citadel wasn't the Catalyst, it was. It confirmed what the Leviathan had told me. It determined that in order to save organic life, the Reapers must kill advanced galactic civilizations at their peak, before they develop advanced AI that destroys them. It said that this cycle, the factors had changed. The Crucible brought new options, and we had proved that the galaxy could overcome and change. So it gave me options. It told me that I was the one to choose..."

Despite themselves, Kaidan and Hackett are both on the edges of their seats. She had talked with the original AI? Kaidan can't help but note just how extraordinary her life has been.

"It told me that I could assume control of the Reapers by directly interfacing with them and replacing it, that I could provide my organic body and genetics to synthesize all life, making everyone a mixture between organics and synthetics, or I could destroy the Reapers. It said that no matter what, I would die... and that if I destroyed the Reapers, it would destroy all synthetic life."

That's why she had asked about the Geth and EDI, and why she had felt so guilty. She blames herself for their deaths, despite the fact that she did her best in an impossible circumstance.

"I just couldn't trust it. Something about the way it pushed the other options on me felt off. There were so many ways they could go wrong. So I stuck with the original plan. I destroyed them... and committed genocide in the process."

"Shepard, you did good." Hackett says. "We'll mark it down in the file, but keep it classified. You saved the galaxy. We knew there would be great costs. You were right, the other options do sound too risky." Shepard doesn't look convinced, but nods. "What do you remember after that?"

"I shot this container, which blew up. To destroy the Reapers. It flung me backwards. There was this intense heat, and my head hit something. The next thing I remember is waking up this morning to the Major sitting at my bedside."

"Thank you for your testimony, Shepard. I will keep this in classified records. When you have rested and healed, we can discuss your future with the Alliance. There will, of course, be awards and ceremonies to attend. For now, I will leave you."

"Thank you, Admiral." Shepard says, always the diplomat and model soldier. "I would salute, but... well, you know." She smiles a little.

"It is my turn to salute you, Commander." Hackett says. He salutes her and adds "Thank you for your service, Shepard." He turns and leaves the room.

Kaidan strokes Hazel's hair gently. "Thank you, Hazel."

"For what?"

"For coming back to me."

#female shepard #shenko #mass effect #f!shenko #fanfic #bioware #kaidan alenko

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