#he got attacked and held for ransom by bandits | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

archies-litterbox · 3 years ago

Text

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up…

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor.

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison - and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to -

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…”

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

“...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But -

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone.

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if…

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That’s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black.

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him…

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed.

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.”

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic’s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths.

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind.

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

#tales of arcadia #toa #mine #toa fanfic #whump #hurt/comfort #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #moppet!douxie #archie toa #toa merlin #toa morgana #toa wizards #fic: of poison forest floors and terrified wizards #draining dust

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noneatnonedotcom · 4 years ago

Note

Dark rwby smut:

Raven has Yang and Weiss hostage and won’t release them. It’s up to Jaune to challenge the bandit leader for the sake of his friend’s freedom.

A knight strode into a bandit camp with purpose.

It sounds like the start of a grand story, some fairytale you’d tell children before bed.

The truth was very different. Jaune Arc had long since abandoned the ideals of heroism. But there was one idea he held onto even now.

An Arc always kept his word.

That’s why he was doing this, he’d sworn to help his friends no matter what and by the gods if he had to take on the most dangerous bandit tribe in fucking Minstral then he would do so. An Arc NEVER went back on his word.

He ignored the squelching mud under his new boots. Or the way his armor sat a little heavier on him than he’d like. The new gauntlets were closer to a robotic hand than the armor most people thought of. A side effect of telling ruby that he was off to save her sister. He’d only just avoided muscle armor. Still, there were worse things than having a suit of armor tailor-made for you by the best blacksmith this side of the afterlife.

It at least let him look the part.

Still, he’d stalled long enough, time to deal with reality.

Raven stood before him.

“You’re a long way from home, boy,” she said, not looking up from the drink she was enjoying. The scantily clad Weiss poured for her. Both her and Yang were chained around the neck.

“I’m here for them”

“Then you have the ransom?” she asked with a raised brow

“Yeah, I'll just be giving it to you in steel rather than gold,” he said, working hard to keep his voice calm as he drew his blade. He didn’t deploy the shield; he'd need the element of surprise if he wanted any chance of surviving this.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raven was worried, she’d heard about the arc family, hell she’d gone to school with the boy's father. There was a good reason why the area around the arc ancestral lands was so safe. Everyone who crossed the family died, or worse.

And his mother was definitely worse. A tribal just like her she’d fought Arc to prove a point, now thirty years later she was still a breeding sow for the family. Her warrior stock probably only made them more powerful. And now here he was ready to take her daughter and the Schnee.

If she had it her way she’d just give the boy both and be done with it. They weren’t worth her head. But that wasn’t an option. No, instead she’ll just have to offer something better than the satisfaction of her death.

“Very well boy, I'll take your steel. And if you manage to beat me I’ll even give you my body as well”

She only prayed that the Arc would accept it

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune wasn’t sure what to do, frankly, he wanted nothing to do with a woman who abandoned her daughter but if he didn’t take the deal then he’d likely be jumped by her entire tribe, who had begun forming a circle around the last patch of dry grass that hadn’t been turned to mud from them walking through it.

“Fine,” he said, annoyance in his voice, he just wanted Yang and Weiss back home with the team where they belonged now he’d have to deal with this too.

He took his place across from her, taking his sword in a two-handed grip that his father had tried teaching him when he was a boy. It was Pyrrha who taught him how to fight with a shield. Who taught him to protect others but jaune wasn’t looking to protect here. Only to slay.

There was no signal, Raven just rushed him. Normally he wouldn’t have been able to react to the speed. But months with Nora had taught him to use her peripheral vision. The added context to the attack that was about to hit him prevented panic and allowed him to dodge the blow as an ear-splitting screech tore through the air as dust-enhanced steel met angled armor. It was only sheer luck that let his pommel slam into her chin.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The boy was strong, Raven had a habit of toying with those weaker than her but for strong opponents, she tried to end it in a single strike. Using her aura to launch herself like a rocket at her enemy then causing another boost of aura to swing her blade fast enough to make a sonic boom like a bullet.

Not only had this jaune blocked it, but in the same fluid motion, he’d counterattacked. And now he was coming at her.

Gods’ why didn’t she just give him the girls?!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune stumbled forward catching himself just in time to almost run but not quite. Still, he was out of time bracing his shoulder he jumped forward slamming into her gut just as her sword would have split his head.

He’d told ruby he needed a helmet!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raven was knocked on her ass and fear began to take hold, she couldn’t die here, this boy, this man was too strong and

NO!

She would defeat him, rolling to her feet she charged as much aura as she could into her blade and swung down, she’d be exhausted but the monster would be dead. Off to the side, she noticed that her daughter had freed herself and the Schnee. That would be a problem but it was too late for her to save her little boy toy.

Just as her daughter screamed the world went white

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune felt more aura coursing through him than ever before. And down there in front of him, on her back trying to crawl away in fear was raven.

“I give up!” she screamed as jaune lifted his sword, “please just take them and go!”

Jaune glared at the woman “I’d love nothing more than to leave your weak tribe and be fucking done with this” he said honestly. The longer he stayed here the more likely it was these guys would jump him. And even if he got lucky with raven he doubted he could take all of them “but unfortunately I made you a promise”

With that, he began to unarmor himself. Taking a step toward the retreating woman with each thunk of the heavy armor falling away until as he stripped his pants and showed off his cock to the world he once more sighed pulling raven back by her legs to him. He hoped yang and Weiss weren’t watching, he was pretty average and didn’t have much to show off. Then again, he didn’t have much to compare him with.

All the guys at beacon refused to shower with him in the locker room

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OF COURSE THE BOY WAS A MONSTER, HE WAS A FUCKING ARC!

He was carrying around a foot of cock and it was surely gonna ruin her. But as Raven tried to crawl away, her own aura utterly depleted she felt him drag her back in front of him by her ankle. Her hands pulling up tufts of grass in vane as she tried to avoid her fate

“Just hurry the fuck up and strip raven, I have better shit to do!” came the annoyed voice of the monster behind her

What?

She froze and jaune growled in frustration ripping her clothes apart and lining himself up with her snatch

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She was tight, that was about all Jaune could say on the subject as Raven squirmed and struggled underneath him. He really wasn’t enjoying this. She was too shallow, too unused to him and SHE KEPT FUCKING CRAWLING AWAY!

Like, he got it, it was probably annoying to have to deal with him shoving himself into her, but damn it this wasn’t his fucking idea. And an Arc always keeps their word, so here he was trying to hold this whining bitch down so he could finish up and be done the entire fucking thing.

Finally getting tired of her bullshit jaune wrapped her hair around his hand and pulled her back into him. She screamed louder as he hammered into her, probably pissed that he was touching her hair like yang would be. Damn it he was starting to lose his boner! Think about Ruby Jaune! Think about that big, bubbly, Rubooty!

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Raven was going to die, she was sure of it, his massive cock was sticking out of her stomach and she could feel her body struggling to accommodate him as he shoved that fucking pillar deep into her. Having already gone as far as her womb.

Then he told her he was halfway in! The fuking idiot didn’t seem to get that there was NO MORE FUCKING ROOM FOR HIM.

She screamed as her body was flooded with pleasure as he pulled her hair. Bringing her back into him as he fucked her like a common whore. Her daughter was watching with her friend and… oh gods he just got bigger!

He must have seen Yang masterbating to this.

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He smacked Raven’s ass, disappointed it didn’t jiggle like Ruby’s when she ran, and struggled to maintain the fantasy. With a grunt, he pushed in deeper and held her there as his first orgasm finally came.

Thank the Gods’

Only two more holes to go.

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Raven thought it was over when she felt herself fill with cum, groaning in relief as jaune pulled out of her now leaking cunt. Ruined for all the world to see. But then she felt herself being pulled up by her hair. And suddenly she was being throat fucked, her vision filled by a sneering Jaune.

She felt herself cum again as he used her

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It was official, raven sucked at this. It was a fucking blow job! How hard could it be? Nora had given him plenty when she was bored on the road and Ren couldn’t keep up with her anymore. Let alone when he imagined Ruby to be able to do it. No, that wasn’t fair. Maybe she was just out of practice. After all, it's not like many guys around here would give her the time of day.

Okay Jaune just lay close your eyes and imagine Ruby, you can do this

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He was thinking about someone else, Raven was sure of it now, the way he kept his eyes closed. The way he tried to force her deeper. Was it Yang? Was that why he was here to save her? She didn’t know she didn’t care. Right now that massive dick was being used for her, it was hers!

Her nose filled with his scent, her tongue slipping out from her mouth to lap at his balls. Oh gods what a man. To take her so utterly. To ruin her and have her be just another of his conquests. She wept with joy as she felt him cum down her throat.

She couldn’t give this up

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Jaune stared down at the clearly delirious Raven, he was a little worried that he’d gone too far as he had forgotten to let her breathe. Normally he’d just wait for the tap on his thigh but she obviously didn’t know about that.

Oh well, just anal left and he could head home with yang and Weiss. He hoped they weren’t too bored.

“Turn around slut,” he said, trying to sound authoritative. He’d heard girls like that, and he was willing to try with Raven since it didn’t really matter if she didn’t like it. Not like he was ever gonna see her again

He was pleasantly surprised to find he was right as he watched Raven squeal in glee before she put herself face down into the grass. Huh… good to know, maybe Ruby would like it if he used his leader’s voice?

Lining up with the older woman’s ass Jaune decided it was about time to wrap this up so he wasn’t gonna go with the slow and steady pace he had before

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Raven’s world was one of sensations alone as she felt her master slam his cock into her ass. Her eyes swam with colors and her body twitched as she felt orgasm after orgasm. Pain and pleasure mixing in a delirious cocktail that her brain drowned in. and her hands, no longer being used to hold her up, Rubbed along the imprint his cock made in her. Trying to give him the same pleasure she felt

Every breath was praise for him.

This was heaven.

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Raven was annoying as hell.

“iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouILOVEYOU!”

“Please just shut the fuck up Raven!” Jaune screamed back as he tried to finish himself off. Groaning in relief as he felt another set of mouths on his balls. Turning around he saw Yang and Weiss doing their best to help him through this chore. They were great friends and jaune owed them for this.

What they lacked in skill they made up for in enthusiasm. And Jaune soon found himself about to cum slamming home in the bandit queen jaune moaned in relief as he flooded raven’s body with his seed. Slowly pulling the still hard cock out of the twitching mess of a woman and letting Yang and Weiss try to clean him up.

Oh yeah, he owed these two a lot. Though he did come to save them in the first place. But that was only to help his friends so yeah, he’d still owe them.

Nodding in agreement with his train of logic, he said out loud “welp time to go home” to his surprise the Raven opened a portal to …. Qrow?

OH HEY, THERE WAS RUBY!

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Ruby was a very happy girl, her sister was safe, as was her bestie Weiss. And Raven had even learned the error of her ways. Yeah, today was great.

It was also great because she was slamming her nice thicc ass back on Jaune’s dick like nature intended. Honestly, what was Raven thinking trying to take a dick this amazing with an ass like that? At least Yang had the common sense to use her tits to get jaune off. And Weiss…. Weiss was willing to help however she could.

So that’s why she let her sister and friend join in on her fun with her boyfriend.

Slamming her ass down on his dick faster, Ruby relished the attention that was on her as Raven whimpered in the corner.

Yeah, Yang and Weiss got to help, but Raven had to study hard if she wanted to be a good slut. That’s why she was being forced to watch her and Jaune go at it for hours on end.

It totally wasn’t because ruby liked putting the snobby bitch in her place. Ruby would never do that.

Moaning in pure pleasure as she arched her back and Jaune came inside her. Ruby smiled before resuming her work with a kiss from Jaune.

And they all lived happily ever after

#rwby #smut #questionable consent #jaune just wants to go home #ruby is a happy girl #you are not immue to hot dorky blonde

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notebooks-and-laptops · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt: 'Cos Darling I was born to rest my head between your shoulder blades (at night, when light is fading)

This excuse to write hurt/comfort and the bois cuddling can also be found here on Ao3

-///-

In the settled darkness of a grubby inn in a nowhere town, Geralt found himself – inexplicably - counting Jaskier’s breaths.

In, out, one, in, out, two, in, out, three, in, out, four…

There was no reason too. The town was fresh for both of them, which meant no cuckold husbands or wives were liable to sneak into their rooms to try and slit the bard's throat. Nor was Jaskier ill. They had received about as warm a welcome as Witchers got, with nobody muttered about his mutations in the sparsely populated tavern.

There was no need for Geralt to stay awake for their protection, no need for him to keep a close eye over Jaskier. What they both needed was rest after a trying day.

And yet.

In, out, nine, in, out, ten, in, out, eleven…

Geralt couldn’t stop counting Jaskier’s breaths.

He shifted on the threadbare mattress. Uncomfortable, but not the worst place he’d ever slept and certainly better than a bedroll and a tree root sticking into his back. When it came to Witchers, this might be the extent of what could be classed as luxury. He wasn’t getting rained on, after all.

So it wasn’t the mattress or the inn room itself with it’s two slim beds. It wasn’t fear of being attacked. There wasn’t, truly, anything discernible that was keeping him awake. Not really at least. Nothing that should bother a Witcher like him.

In, out, twenty, in, out, twenty-one, in, out, twenty-two, in, out, twenty-three…

Geralt let out a low growl of frustration, careful to keep it low enough not to wake his companion. He didn’t need an audience for this, and certainly not Jaskier of all people. He was too worked up. His heart beat quicker than its usual monotonous, slow drum.

He couldn’t help but focus on Jaskier’s steady breathing.

He was – annoyingly, unfortunately, unfairly - panicked.

Probably because of the day's events, if he was honest with himself (which in truth, was the last thing he wanted to do). The past twenty-four hours had been difficult, yes, but not entirely unusual. He was used to the bard getting himself into danger and he was used to pulling Jaskier out of it when he got in over his head; be that getting too close to monsters or else dodging a cuckolds blade. This wasn’t even the first time Jaskier had been kidnapped by someone who thought they could use him to wager a hefty ransom. Jaskier attracted trouble like a moth to a flame after all.

But it was the first time that the bandits who had taken Jaskier were skilled. It was the first time that he had walked in and been uncertain if Jaskier would make it out alive. There had been a mage and her ornate, jewelled knife had been held to the curve of Jaskier’s throat.

Jaskier had almost died, there. Would have done, if Geralt hadn’t managed to get the bitch's attention away long enough for Jaskier to kick her in the shin (a risky move, a stupid move).

In, out, sixty-three, in, out, sixty-four, in, out, sixty-five…

Fuck.

Why did it bother him so much? Geralt almost died on a daily basis. Humans were even worse for keeping their skin on their backs. Morality – his own or otherwise – had never kept him awake before.

Without warning nor any real conscious thought, he pushed himself up from his bed. Laying still was not helping anything. Perhaps he could go for a walk, shake off the lingering adrenaline from the fight. Fresh air would do him good, he thought. It might remind him that everyone in that godforsaken group of bandits who had stolen Jaskier was dead. No, not just dead, butchered. He’d torn them to shreds. He’d set an example. Never again. Under my protection. Mine.

Jaskier had spent an awfully long time trying to convince people Geralt was not a monster, was not the famed Butcher of Blavikan. There was a certain irony then, in the fact that Jaskier was one of the only ones who could drag the Butcher out of him.

He meant to step towards the door, he truly did. So he was surprised when instead he found himself stepping deeper into the room, towards Jaskier’s bed. Yet he needed… something. He didn’t know what. The emotions crashing against his chest were volatile, and far more demanding than he was used to.

In, out, ninety, in, out, ninety-one, in, out, ninety-two…

Considering his inner turmoil, it was almost jarring to see how peaceful Jaskier looked curled up on the bed. The moonlight spilling through the window was weak, but it allowed Geralt’s eyes to better track the steady rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest. Geralt’s heart seemed to beat to the rhythm: he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive.

He shifted to move away, the floorboards creaking under his weight as he did so.

Behind him, there was a slight stirring, “Hmm, Geralt?”

Geralt went still.

“What you doin’?” Jaskier mumbled, clearly still half asleep. When Geralt dared to glance over, he could see the barest crack Jaskier had opened his eyes, searching blearily for Geralt’s form in the darkness. Human as his eyes were, Geralt was likely nothing but a shadow to him.

“I—” Geralt began to explain, but then realised he had no fucking clue how to answer that question in a way that wouldn’t sound pathetic as fuck. What are you doing? Counting your breaths so I don’t have to imagine a knife drawing blood from your throat. Contemplating your morality. Protecting you from nothing because apparently, you’ve gone and made me care for you, you bastard.

Jaskier seemed to give up on waiting for an answer long before Geralt could find an appropriate one. He began to shift. Fuck, Jaskier was going to get out of bed to try and deal with Geralt’s crap, wasn’t he? Geralt never should have got up, Geralt should have gone for his fucking walk, Geralt should have known better than to get so fucking attached to a fucking fragile little human bard of all people in this vast continent.

Except Jaskier didn’t get up. Instead, he did the opposite, moving so he was pressed up into the crease where the bed met the wall. “Come here, then, hmm?”

Geralt blinked.

What?

“Don’t make me say it again,” Jaskier muttered, around a yawn, “come get into bed so we can sleep.”

Geralt should say no. He should get back into his own bed. He wasn’t a child; he had no need to be coddled by Jaskier. He was not fragile. He was a witcher. He’d told Jaskier a million times before, he didn’t want anyone needing him and he certainly had no need of anyone else.

If he was a stronger man, he’d do what had to be done. He’d let the bard fall back asleep, and then leave with Roach in tow, careful to never cross Jaskier’s path again. Jaskier could get into plenty of trouble by himself, yes, but such trouble was exasperated by his friendship with Geralt. If Geralt truly wanted to protect Jaskier, to stop any more repeats of today, he would shake the bard off like he’d always planned to but never gotten round to doing.

It was Geralt’s fault, what had gone down today. It was always, completely, Geralt’s fault.

He needed to leave.

Instead - because he was a weak fool underneath the shell of his armour - he found himself perching awkwardly on the edge of Jaskier’s bed.

Jaskier sighed, sounding so put upon Geralt almost stood up and dashed for the door. But before he could, Jaskier was grabbing the back of his shirt “Geralt, I said come here.” There wasn’t a lot of room for the two of them, and Geralt tried to keep himself flat, tried not to touch where the touch of a monster might not be welcomed.

Jaskier, it seemed, had no qualms with monsters.

Sometimes Geralt wondered if Jaskier had been dropped on his head as a babe. Maybe that was why he was so foolhardy and so unable to believe that Geralt was the thing others made him out to be.

Because nobody would touch a monster like this. Jaskier’s arms moved around him, tugging him closer, arranging them both to his liking as if it was all so simple. Geralt was surprised to find that his head ended up on Jaskier’s chest, Jaskier’s arms around his body. He’d paid extra coin to lay beside whores and prostitutes after sex more than once, but in those scenarios, he always did the holding not the other way round. He was a witcher. Big, and strong. It was what was expected.

Jaskier had never given a damn what was expected.

In fact, he’d gone pretty far out of his way to try and make sure that people stopped expecting the worst from Witchers.

It was…disconcerting. Geralt didn’t know how to deal with this. The affection he was granted by the bard was casual, simple, innocuous. He didn’t think before giving it, it seemed. He touched Geralt’s shoulder to get his attention, he invaded Geralt’s personal space, he rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder when they were sat by a fire and he was composing. It was touch without reason, and it was…terrifying.

This was more terrifying.

That he might be this scared for Jaskier’s mortality, that he might be kept awake by the thought of the bard's death and – worse – that he might crawl into bed beside him and listen to the beat of Jaskier’s heartbeat like it was all that was keeping him steady.

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

Better than breathing, a heartbeat. More solid. Firm.

“Today scared you,” Jaskier murmured, after a while, a hand finding its way into Geralt’s hair, stroking over the white strands as if they weren’t a sign of his mutations, of his monstrosity. As if his hair was nothing but that; hair, and Geralt’s, and fit for a talented musician’s fingers. “Why? I’ve gotten myself into worse situations. I’ll get myself into more, no doubt.”

Geralt didn’t speak, couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t Jaskier be the same as everyone else? Why couldn’t he assume Witchers didn’t have emotions, that they didn’t get scared? It would make all of this so much easier. The arm that he’d slung attentively around Jaskier’s waist tightened its grip slightly.

Jaskier clearly wasn’t close to sleep anymore. Geralt should apologise for waking him. Except before he could Jaskier sighed, dipping his lips to the top of Geralt’s head, “dearheart,” he breathed, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll stay by your side until my bones are weary and my skin – heaven forbid – sags, and I’m no longer charming but old and decrepit. I’ll stay. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.”

Geralt tensed, for just a second, then felt that same tension dissipate, unable to be held up under the weight of Jaskier’s arms around him.

When was the last time he’d been held by someone who just…wanted to? For the sake of wanting to? For no ulterior motive?

Geralt was pretty sure the answer was never.

Jaskier was, as ever, a grand exception to every rule.

After a moment of no response but Geralt’s bonelessness, Jaskier chuckled, “one day, dear, we’ll work on your methods communication, hm?” And then, light-hearted and calm, he began to hum. Geralt couldn’t place the tune, exactly, but he knew it was Jaskier’s own. He could tell, these days. Jaskier’s music. Jaskier’s songs. Even when they travelled apart, and he heard someone else take up something Jaskier had penned, he could tell where it originated from.

He knew his bard.

And sometimes – even more terrifying – he believed his bard might know him. Might understand. Understand in how he held Geralt right now and how he knew Geralt needed holding before Geralt had.

“No songs about this,” he grumbled, finally, throat dry around the words, but at least they were words.

Jaskier’s chuckle was one of Geralt’s favourite sounds, “never, dearheart. This is just for us.”

Just for us.

I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.

Geralt fell asleep, finally, to Jaskier humming for him and in Jaskier’s arms, perhaps the terrifying reality of his emotions for the bard wasn’t too much to manage.

#geraskier #geraskier drabble #geraskier fic #Geralt/jaskier #geralt/dandelion #Jaskier/geralt #the witcher #geraskier fic rec #jaskier #geralt #niamh be a writing

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 3 years ago

Text

Motion Sickness Chapter 46

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Wutai was burning when we returned. We could see the smoke a ways off. I rushed to help, flying with Limit Breaker. People were trapped under rubble, a collapsed house and I picked it up off them allowing them to escape despite the flames licking out at me.

With my aura I was amongst the safest.

Neo caught up to me but I was already moving. I'd seen enough burnt down villages for a life-time.

I found Godo in the middle of town, he was directing the firefighting crews about.

"What happened here?"

"Strife-San? We were attacked. Bandits in the woods. Ever since Branwen took over they've been getting bolder. They took my daughter."

"Why would they do that?" My hands itched. I was jumping out of my skin. That murderous something rose up in me. The Grimm we'd slaughtered on the way back had satisfied me none.

"Ransom. They believe they'll be able to hold her over me and receive our supplies. It's not the first time we have been attacked in such a way. Though I was stronger back then. I fear for my daughter's life."

"I'll help you. You just worry about putting out the fires. I'll see about getting you your daughter back."

I had a great deal of pent up rage that could only be quelled against human opponents. Things prone to suffering deserved my attention, not like the Grimm.

"I would be in your debt."

I dismissed him with a wave of my gloved hand and turned to the tracks in the earth. My preternatural ability to track Grimm wouldn't help here but the footprints were clear in the soft ground and I was faster than even your average hunter. I'd catch up to them.

I flew through the woods. One hand out and the other back holding Crocea Mors up in its broadest form. I hungered for violence. The little book about my construction in my pocket felt as heavy as the relic by my side. It felt as heavy as Crocea Mors, even.

I wanted to use both my sword and the relic. After this… after this I'd give it a try. I needed something to help me cope and I wasn't sure murder and drugs were going to do it for me. I really wanted to kill something, though, something that could feel pain. And I really wanted to get these bugs out of my eyes.

Maybe knowledge would be the key. It was one of the four most powerful relics on Remnant's face. I'd be a fool to not try something with it.

I glid inches above the forest floor. The bramble and uneven ground which might have tripped me up couldn't slow me. I leaned forward over the vines and flew faster. It was dusk, only getting darker. Someone who couldn't fly would be seriously slowed and hampered by the terrain. I low profiled the tree branches and flew right through them where they might delay me, my aura and I weren't to be halted by this.

There was a reason most horror stories took place in the woods and at the moment I felt like such a terror.

I must have flown kilometers, chasing them through the underbrush they trampled and I merely breezed past. I left Neo behind but she'd be able to catch up if she was decent at tracking. Teleporting would also help her match me.

I could make out a light in the woods ahead. A small light which burned beneath the great pine trees.

I hovered forward and transitioned to easy footsteps. "Found you…" I murmured. I wanted to murder. I wanted death. I wanted to kill.

The bandits had a building made from hewn logs to make walls. I could spot the light of their campfire inside and a few tents. They didn't have wide enough walls for battlements and had no sentries. Instead it sounded like a party inside.

Neo appeared beside me. She panted hard for a minute or two as I took stock of the situation.

"Like I said, go nuts." I told her. "Personally I'm taking no prisoners."

She laughed silently beside me.

I front-flipped over the logs and landed in the middle of their camp near the blazing fire.

I spotted Yuma tied up with rope by the fire. She was surrounded by celebrating bandits who slowly went for their weapons. Well slowly relative to the speed I was running at.

"Things may not work out for you," I whispered, holding the broadsword level. Blue light streamed off my body and I felt good in the elevated state.

Some of them wore armor imitating Grimm bone. If they wanted Grimm I'd show them Grimm. I was a can of that type of worm. I would show them the trouble that meant. The beast in my chest roared something angry and malevolent.

I attacked. One nearest me went for a sword at his belt. I slashed him. Biting deep into aura, I knocked him to the ground. I brought my sword down in a hacking motion once, twice, three times and I sliced through him at the neck and sent his head rolling.

I felt the violent spirit inside me only grow louder. It was hungry for bloodshed and I was going to give it to it.

Spears, axes, guns all pointed at me. Neo flickered into place beside me and bullets bounced off her bullet proof umbrella.

I rolled behind her taking cover from the storm of bullets that ensued. When there was a reprieve I flew out from behind her and slashed down at a girl nearby me wearing that Grimm white bone on her shoulders. She flinched back and raised her pistol. I swung upwards and clipped her arms. Another man came at me with a spear but I blocked it to the side.

I Cross Slashed him and he fell into four pieces. Even without Limit I was feeling good. I… I wasn't sure I wanted to stop at these bandits. Wutai was weak. I could kill everyone there and no one would be the wiser.

I came back to the girl with the pistol and slashed her across the ribs. Then brought my blade down at her shoulder. Her aura flared and shattered as I thrust the wide blade into her chest. I gave it a shaking motion, bringing the Titania up and she fell off with a shlick noise.

I swung horizontally at one with a rifle and he tried to block with his weapon but I cut right through it and knocked him to the ground. I kicked him in the chest where he fell with my right foot in a snapping tai-kick. Then I stepped forward and snapped out a round kick with my left. Then I brought the blade around lightning fast and cut him at the torso, just above the arm, and all the way through his rib cage.

Another still I punished with a devastating falling aerieal attack. I sliced at him and tore away a chunk of aura. Then I side-flipped and slashed with the motion cutting him again. He tried to stab down at me but I caught it easily on my massive blade. I lifted my weapon and the motion tossed him backwards and I was on him with the cuts until he fell forever. Horizontal. Vertical. Diagonal. Vertical.

Neo landed beside me and pulled at my sleeve. She got my attention. I glanced at her face to see something like fear on her expression. I'd never seen her look like that. I followed her gaze. I turned to look at a woman in a Grimm faced mask with a long red katana. She had a wild mane of black hair that went waist length.

"You have some nerve attacking me."

"I have no idea who you are."

She laughed beneath her mask. "I'm the Khan of Khans."

"Raven Branwen. I know your daughter," I confessed.

"I have no daughter."

I charged Limit for a beat and was rewarded with the trailing, glowing, blue wisps. I twirled my weapon about and placed it between us. She waved her Katana at me, it was nearly four feet long but it looked fragile in comparison to Crocea Mors.

"I would know your name, Warrior. You know mine."

"I'm Cloud Strife. Your reign of destruction and pillaging ends here."

"Doubtful. Many have tried and stood where you now stand."

"None of them were like me. I am danger's oldest son."

She blurred forward as though to get around me but I matched her speed and blocked her. She lowered her weapon slightly. Because of the mask, I couldn't identify what emotion she felt. She was fast, like Cinder or Tyrian fast.

But I'd kept pace with Cinder when last we met. Raven blurred to one side, trying to flank me again but I matched her once more and our weapons collided in a flash of blue and red. She stumbled back and took stock of her situation. I was faster than her with my semblance active. I might even be outright stronger than her too by a degree. Perhaps even without my semblance. My range was superior to her too and of course, one way to look at that was that she is slower than Ruby who I was able to match at times.

I raised my weapon parallel to my face. I thrust at her but she swept it to the side. She front-flipped at me but I caught both her and her downward swing with a horizontal roof block. I held one hand on the handle and the other against the back of the blade. I held up the force of her strike and her entire body weight easily. I pressed her back and she landed on her feet neatly.

I wasn't about to back down from this fight. I felt like I had a real shot at winning it.

The beast in my chest let out a low wary murmur. It was not satisfied. I wasn't satisfied. Both I and it wanted Raven to die, just for getting in my way. It shrieked for more blood to be spilled. A devouring volume that kept rising. A drum that beat in time with my heart.

Raven came at me and slashed her katana then when I shielded she reversed it and tried to stab at me. I deflected that too and quickly brought the weight of Crocea Mors down on her head. She stepped back out of my range hurriedly, desperately avoiding the massive strike. The power of it left the earth grooved. For five feet out in front of the tip of the blade. It would have splashed that energy across her body if it had come into contact with her.

She jumped somersaulting acrobatically towards me and I just flew straight at her. Our blades met twice in a crossing gesture while in mid-air but I had some force propelling me as I flew and with a low guiding hum of metal on metal I flung her back into one of the tents.

She landed ungracefully and rolled to the side as I brought Crocea Mors thrusting vertically down where she had laid fallen. She kicked at me and I stumbled back from the force of it.

She swept her blade at my legs but I hovered over it, grabbed her and pushed her all the way back to the wall where the bandits had hurried logs to make up their camp.

I tried to push her straight through it but I only managed to slam her into it. At this range neither of our swords could be brought to bear and it turned into a melee.

She elbowed me in the face and down across my eye as I went to knee her in the gut. She knocked my knee back down, catching it on her one open palm.

I grabbed her by the shoulder and stuck out one leg and tossed her back all the way across the clearing. She rolled to her feet. Bringing her katana up to handle what came at her next.

I slashed at her twice before I thrust forward and caught her by the belly. I pulled twenty feet straight up in the air and came slamming back down on her with a Climb-Hazard. She dodged out of the way of the second hit. And sliced me across the chest. She went for another cut about mid-height but I deflected it and with a shout I slung her away and into the wall of the camp once more.

I ran up to her and slashed horizontally in a move that brought the fifteen foot high wall of logs down on us. She flickered out of the way but I cut my path up through the falling tree trunks.

"You know I thought you'd have a whole entourage with you, following the queen of the bandits. Seems to me you're mostly alone. Why is that?"

She jumped at me and I Limit Break blade-beamed her. The tall beam caught her by the legs and dragged her into it. The move blended against her aura until it began to crackle, then it tossed her away.

No longer glowing blue I found myself still propelled on nothing more than my will. I was tractionless above the ground and I slid at her on a pocket of air until I slashed at her baseball style and it connected across her body and sent her rebounding off the ground.

"Vernal is dead. I didn't kill her but your little spring maiden is gone." I went on.

I stood still, just charging away at my next Limit Break. I'd get it eventually and once I did I'd be in a comfortable position to end her.

"You work for her, for Salem."

"Yes." I breathed. "And no. We have a complicated relationship. Family is like that, though. I'm sure you understand."

She moved fast enough to leave behind an after-image. She sliced at me and I blocked the first attack but the second caught me under the ribs. It buffeted me back but I quickly regained my balance. She came around for a third but I twisted my much wider blade around to catch it.

She front kicked at me and caught me in the center of the chest. I was once more knocked back but I wasn't losing any real ground. I laughed. She cut me four more times in the blink of an eye. Slashing back and forth with her long red katana. The pain felt amazing. There was a popping sound as the air expanded around me and my semblance returned.

Blue flames licked out and I caught her sword arm, picked her up and slammed her face first into the ground once. Twice. Three times. Then I delivered a boot to her head that sent her rolling. I swept after her on a pocket of air and gave her an upwards gold swing.. It was a strike upwards that caught her by the chest.

It launched her into the air and I chased after her. I slashed at her with my heavy weapon while she was airborn and helpless. I spent Limit on an eight cut move. I hit her with two diagonal cuts that rebounded off her aura. Then I hit her with four horizontal ones. Then I front-flipped and delivered two more massive vertical ones alternating each direction.

The final hit sent her rocketing to earth where she threw up dust and dirt. I landed gently nearby and began to pace over to where she was slowly struggling to rise.

She sheathed her blade, I watched the compartment cycle for a moment until she withdrew it and shot a current of electricity at me. It came at me like a curtain and I watched the yellow blade she had drawn shatter as she spent the dust forged into it.

It hardly mattered since the bolt threw me off my feet into the encampment wall and left me singed. She slashed at the air and a red portal appeared. She stepped into it and was gone as the portal faded and collapsed.

I screamed. When I picked myself up I howled and stabbed some poor bandit soul who was still standing too close, perhaps waiting to finish me off. My aura was indeed on the lower side, but not so low that I'd be finished by scum like that.

I reached out with my sword and slashed at the man's purple aura until it gave way and I sliced through his body too.

Neo reappeared beside me and for a moment I wanted to kill her too. I breathed in and out, nice and easy.

"I'm fine," I said through grit teeth. "Just pissed off she escaped me. I fucking had her dead to rights with that Octa-Slash."

She gestured at the remaining bandits.

"Kill them. Torture them. Whatever pleases you." She nodded looking relieved and pleased. She vanished, flickering away.

I walked over to Yuma and sheathed my broadsword. I pulled the longsword free from my back and cut her loose. I pulled the gag that had been in her mouth out.

She reached out and embraced me and the monster in my heart that I'd discovered in Merlot's laboratory died down. I just held the young girl in my arms and shushed her.

She looked over at what Neo was doing and I pulled her head back.

"Look at me, sweetheart. Don't pay that any attention." There was screaming coming from behind us.

"You saved me."

"It was the right thing to do." I said it gruffly like I didn't want to believe it. Ruby… Pyrrha… neither would be proud of they'd seen what I'd become and before this young girl I felt a crawling sense of shame.

I was ashamed of letting the darkness in my heart rule me.

So what if I was a puppet? So what if I was born a monster? So what even if I had to kill people? Even if I have to torture people?

I didn't have to like it. I wasn't sure if that was enough of a difference to set me free. I wasn't even sure if it gave me a sense of hope. More than anything I still felt an inching dread. Maybe I was hopeless. Maybe I was doomed.

But there was a difference between doing what I must for the sake of doing what I had to and doing what I wanted to because I could.

I didn't have to be like Tyrian. I didn't have to be like Salem's agents. I could still choose what I wanted. And tonight I'd chosen death and torture over everything else. I'd wanted that. Me.

And I couldn't take it back.

And a thousand saved little girls didn't change that.

It didn't change the fact that if Wutai hadn't been burning when I arrived, I might have been the one to burn it down. If there hadn't been a drive, something for me to focus my rage on I'd have been the cold creature that stalks the night. Just a puppet all the same.

I pulled the relic from my side and pulled the top off of it.

Blue gas floated free of it as it drifted loose of my fingers. The fire stopped flickering and held in place. Yuma held her shuddering sobs still.

A woman formed of that mist. She stretched over her golden chains and yawned.

"Ah- tell me now. What knowledge do you seek? Three questions yet remain this century. So ask, and I shall answer."

"Mother...How do I stop her? She can control me. So how do I stop Salem?" I choked out.

The floating woman gave me a small sad smile.

"Stop her? Or vanquish her?"

"There's a difference?"

"You tell me."

"Either."

"You cannot vanquish her. As long as this planet turns, she shall walk it's face," the blue woman spoke. She floated forward and cupped my face in her hands. I looked away and where I touched her, her fingers faded into that blue mist.

"She's immortal? She's unbeatable, then."

"Perhaps. Only her mind. Her body can be injured, however temporarily. She can be cut and she can be lanced."

"Then… then she can be stopped. Just… just…"

"Just not forever. She will never be just a memory."

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

#rwby #jaune arc #cloud strife #neo #neapolitan #ff7 #ffvii #cloud!jaune arc #sephiroth!Jaune arc #raven branwen #motion sickness #war of the roses #lancaster #whiteknight #white knight #white rose #whiterose #ruby rose x jaune arc x weiss schnee

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mondstadtbreeze · 3 years ago

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Hey!

Usually I wouldn't post this much before it's done, but I'm applying for a zine.

This is a snippet of something a little longer I'm writing, but I thought it'd be a good show of my writing plus it has Lumine as focus point in it. I know this is a bit out of context, but I hope that's alright!

This was not how it was supposed to go.

"Childe! CHILDE!"

A streamlined mission:

Kill a geovishap that had started nesting in a cavern deep inside the local mine shaft, bring whatever loot there was left afterwards.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Great pay! Maybe that should have been their first clue.

"Lumine, dodge!"

Lumine ducked as another treasure hoarder swung at her.

Clang! The sword clashed against her own as she lifted it in the air with tired arms but quick reflexes.

She jumped back and sent a whirl of wind in the man's direction.

He stumbled and she used it to dash past him.

"Childe, get over here!", she yelled as she dodged another attack, but before her travel companion could answer, something exploded next to her and she was thrown into the wall with more force than expected.

She yelped in pain and then the entire mine shaft started trembling.

"Shit!", Lumine yelled, as dust and dirt started raining from the ceiling, hitting her head.

"Lumine! Are you alr- argh!"

A dull 'Thwack!' sounded somewhere through the hissing and singing of metal and arrows and Childe didn't speak again.

"Childe!"

Lumine shook her head to get rid of the dizziness from hitting her head on the rocks as she ran towards the sound.

Her vision blurred slightly when she moved out of the way of another thug and mercilessly rammed her sword into the space between his neck and shoulder.

She shook her head to clear it before hurrying in the direction of the cave entrance where she'd seen Childe last.

Where was he?

Another bomb detonated a few meters behind her and this time the mine shook so strongly, that she stumbled.

These idiots! They were going to bury all of them together!

Using one hand to keep to the wall, Lumine kept going.

Where was he?!

The dust was getting thicker and it was difficult to make out anything other than shapes in the low light of the mine's torches.

Panic crawled up her throat, choked it closed like greedy claws when he still didn't answer.

It made breathing difficult, her heart pounding even faster.

She couldn't have passed him, right?

Maybe he'd run ahead and was too far out of range to hear her.

She didn't yell again and instead just pushed herself to run faster, eventhough her leg hurt and the geovishap had gotten her pretty good before the run in with the bandits.

What if they took him? Or had already killed him!

No, even in both their states, Childe wouldn't go down so easily.

Plus, he dressed like the rich man he was, so maybe they'd just drag him to their hideout for ransom and she'd still have time!

A memory blinked into her mind; Aether, hand outstretched and eyes widened, terrified, as dark, cubes of magic encased him.

She clenched her jaw as she pushed it back into the darkest spaces of her mind, tried to forget the fear in Aether's voice.

Not now!

She couldn't panic now.

She took a deep breath and started running, stinging leg be damned.

"CHILDE!"

Finally there was a muffled reply from up ahead, where the dust cleared a little and Lumine almost laughed in relief- until her foot got stuck and she kicked something a few meters.

She stopped at the glow it gave off.

Childe's vision.

She looked back to see what she fell over and realized with dread, that it was his bow.

"Lumine, watch out!"

Alarmed by his warning Lumine missed a step, slipped and fell backwards, the same time a loud metallic zinging and a blow of wind rushed past her face, only centimeters above her head.

The huge claymore sank into the earthen wall above her like a knife into butter.

She yelped as a kick got her in the ribs, but used the mometum to roll out of reach before looking up to see the treasure hoarder pull at the big weapon.

Lumine didn't waste time.

She rammed her sword through his foot and pulled herself up in one fluid motion, going straight into an attack stance, shutting his pained screams up with a hook to the chin.

Something cracked as his head flew back and he lost grip on the claymore, sinking to the floor, unconscious.

Lumine whirled around, where she could hear the scuffle of two other bodies; a bloody looking Childe on the floor held down by the enemy's foot, eyes wide and struggling against the hold, just as the big burly bandit was about to bring his hammer down on his head.

"NO!"

Lumine took to a run and jumped, propelling herself forward with help of every ounce of anemo powers she had left.

She didn't leap in front of Childe, didn't put herself in between them.

Instead, she hit the body of the treasure hoarder like a canon ball, drove her sword so deep into his body she could feel it cut through and break bones.

They crashed into the closest wall with a force that gave the foundation of the mine the last push.

With a horrid creaking and shrieking that only wood could make, the wooden framework on the sides bent inwards, before it burst into thousands of splinters and noticable had the earth sag.

"We have to get out!", Childe yelled and Lumine threw herself forward to reach him in time.

"Paimon! Get us out of here!"

Paimon's magic sounded in a familiar chime, just as Lumine gripped the fatui by his collar and pulled him close.

The world went dark.

#This is really just for the zine application #its nowhere near done but I'm quite proud of it so far!#nina writes

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kumeko · 5 years ago

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A/N: For the @bnha-fantasy-zine ! Is it a surprise I wrote about big three and Eri again? I think not

…

“HAAAAHHHHH!” Mirio yelled as he charged forward. Shield raised, he blocked an incoming attack before deftly slashing with his own sword. His opponent, a rough-looking thief, grunted as she jumped back, narrowly missing a killing blow. Not that Mirio’s sword missed by much—the cut on her arm was sure to sting.

“I can’t find their leader!” Tamaki shapeshifted into a wolf, pouncing on the thief before she could recover. His jaws tore through her flesh, leaving a bloody wound on her shoulder. It was too much for her—the wound, the blood, the wolf, and she fainted.

“Thanks.” Wiping the sweat from his eyes, Mirio glanced around the cave, the hideout for a gang that terrorized a local town. A huge system of tunnels and caverns, it had taken them over an hour to find this main chamber. Another twenty minutes to clear it of the thieves and rogues that called it home. Whatever ones were still alive would be taken into questioning, but considering how hard they fought, there might not be many. “I don’t see him either—they said he had a crow’s mask, right?”

“It might just be a beaked mouth, maybe he’s a shapeshifter too,” Tamaki suggested, his voice oddly gravelly. Maybe it was the wolf vocal chords. No matter how many times it happened, Mirio still couldn’t get used to hearing a human voice from an animal. “I’ll check.” Tamaki sniffed the air. “There it is!”

Before Mirio could stop him, he bounded off down a corridor. Damn it, they weren’t supposed to separate. Mirio scanned the room: the bandits were all down, either dead or groaning with pain. None of them seemed capable of getting up, let alone fight. Satisfied, he ran after his friend. “I’m coming!”

“Hurry up!” Tamaki howled, more wolf than man. His cry echoed through the shaft.

That didn’t sound good. Gripping his sword tighter, Mirio sprinted down the dark tunnel. On the right wall, Tamak’s tail disappeared through a door. “Here!”

Barely slowing down to turn, Mirio bounded into the gloomy room and slipped into a fighting stance. Just like the rest of the cavern, the lighting here was a single, flickering bar on the top. No one popped out at his entrance. “How many?”

“One.” Tamaki ran toward a corner, where a bundle of blankets was piled up. He started nosing it. “Hiding. They smell—”

“Smell what?” Mirio heard a hard crunch as he stepped forward. Looking down, he spotted a dirty doll. In a bandit’s hideout. Did it accidentally get mixed in with the loot? Tamaki still hadn’t responded and Mirio’s brow raised. “Tamaki? What is it?”

“Mirio,” Tamaki replied balefully, wolf ears drooped down. He was sitting on his haunches now, his gaze fixed on the blankets. “What do we do?”

“What do you mean?” Leaving the doll behind, he quickly trotted to his friend. They’d fought a whole gang together. Just what was left that could stump his friend? “We—”

Catching sight of the bundle, Mirio cut himself off. Nestled in a cocoon of blankets was a little girl, fast asleep.

-x-

There were few things on this planet as magical as Nejire’s grove. Mirio would know—as a knight, he had travelled to lands near and far and almost nothing took his breath away as that first view as he entered her lands. Graceful willow trees and towering oaks ringed her field, a wide, open field littered with wildflowers. A dirt path led to a secret grotto, which was perhaps his second favourite place.

It was a pity he couldn’t appreciate any of these things. Instead, most of his attention was focused on the little girl in his hands, sound asleep. In the few days he had known her, she had barely said a word, only looking at him and Tamaki with big, worried eyes. A kidnapped child? Possibly, but no villages had reported missing people or even a ransom. Most likely scenario, an orphan taken in or a child of the gang. Either way, she had to have seen terrible things, especially considering how she had trembled when he’d first held her hand.

“We’re almost there,” Tamaki muttered, trotting nervously next to him. He’d taken on the form a giant elk, fierce horns jutting out of his skull. Only animals could find the way to Nejire’s home. “You have them, right?”

“What?” Shaken from his thoughts, Mirio raised a brow.

“My clothes!” Tamaki whispered nervously, his big eyes darting to and fro as though Nejire would pop out at his words. “I need to change before she spots us.”

“Afraid to be caught buck-naked?” Grinning, he couldn’t resist the obvious pun. It was just there. And obvious. It’d take a greater man than him to ignore it. Patting the bag looped over his shoulder, he added reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I made sure to grab them.”

Tamaki sighed in relief. “Thanks—”

A breeze ruffled through his hair before he could add anything and Mirio could almost hear Tamaki’s groan. Within seconds Nejire appeared before them, forming out of the wind itself. She hovered over the ground, her simple white dress fluttering around her knees. At the tips of her blue hair, mini-tornadoes formed, harmless to touch. Her bright eyes were open and staring at them as she floated in the air. “Hey, you’re here!”

Surprised, Tamaki transformed back into a human out of reflex. A burst of smoke rolled off him, hiding him from sight, but not before they both caught a glimpse of his bright red skin. With a yelp, Tamaki dived into the bushes. Nejire blinked, surprised. “Tamaki?”

The bushes rustled and Mirio could just barely make out Tamaki’s eyes peeking out of the leaves. “My clothes.”

“Hey, hey!” Nejire landed on the ground and crouched in front of the bushes. With a frown, she started to reach into the bushes. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

“Accidentally!” Tamaki hissed, clarifying immediately. He swatted her hands away.

“It was multiple times!” Nejire grumbled, rubbing her sore hand.

“Every time was an accident!” Tamaki’s hand poked out of the bush, as red as a lobster’s. “Clothes!”

Mirio chuckled. Well, that was to be expected as a shapeshifter. Animals didn’t really wear clothes, after all. Shrugging off his sack, he dropped it into Tamaki’s waiting hand. “Here you go.”

“I don’t get it.” Nejire puffed her cheeks, sulking as she stepped back. “What’s the big deal?”

“Uh…” Mirio scratched his cheek, not sure how to explain any of this. Especially to a sprite that only started wearing clothes because Tamaki was going to die of a heart attack every time they met otherwise. “Well, he’s shy?” It was partially correct, at least.

“Sure.” Nejire clearly didn’t believe a word but she let it go. Rocking on the heels of her feet, she glanced at him. “What’s with the blankets?”

“Right.” Mirio glanced at the bundle in his arm. He’d almost forgotten why they were here in the first place. Fortunately, Eri hadn’t woken up yet. “I need your help.”

“My help?” Nejire clapped her hands excitedly, her powers spiking and making her float. “We haven’t gone on an adventure together in ages!”

“Last month,” Tamaki corrected, emerging from the bushes fully dressed. “We went together last month.”

“That was long ago!” Nejire argued, before grimacing. “Why are your clothes so bad?”

Tamaki looked away, rubbing his arm uncomfortably. “It’s easier to slip out of them.”

Mirio couldn’t argue about that—while everything Tamaki wore now was oversized and ill-fitted, he didn’t have to worry too much while he was shapeshifting. His pants, so loose they actually needed a belt to stay on? It’d just drop off as he transformed. An irregular tunic? Cheap material that wasn’t a loss if Tamaki tore right through them. They’d learned the hard way what happened to nice clothes the last time they attended a banquet.

“Yeah, I get that.” Nejire rolled her eyes, leaning forward to poke at his chest. “But there’s fashionable baggy clothes.”

An old argument. Mirio stepped between them before they got trapped in it again. “Anyways, I need your help.” He uncovered Eri’s face, showing her to Nejire. “This little girl—”

“You’re pregnant?” Nejire shrieked, her hands pumping excitedly as her eyes darted from Eri to Mirio. “She doesn’t look like you. Is that normal?”

“WHAT?” Mirio felt his ears burn and he was sure his skin colour was only a shade away from turning into Tamaki’s at this point. “I’m not…t-this isn’t…”

“People don’t work like that.” Tamaki’s lips twitched, clearly suppressing his own laughter.

“Yeah!” Mirio shook his head furiously. “Also, she’s three. That’s not what a human baby looks like.”

“Oh.” Nejire’s shoulders slumped, disappointed. “I see.” After a second, she perked up again. “You got someone else pregnant!”

“No, we were catching a gang of thieves and found her at the hideout!” Mirio clarified quickly, before the misunderstanding could get any worse. He knew nymphs and other magical creatures had different norms, but even this? Seriously? If his skin got any redder, any hotter, he could cook an egg on it.

“You got a gang member pregnant?” Nejire looked at him pityingly. “Mirio…that’s a tragic romance.”

Mirio hit his head against a tree.

-x-

“We’re almost there,” Nejire chirped cheerfully, skipping ahead of them on the forest path. “But do we really need to talk here? What’s left to even discuss?”

“Something important.” Mirio glanced down at the little girl clutching him tightly, as though she would get snatched away the second he let go. Her tiny hand wrapped around his finger. He’d never realized just how small she was until now. Even during the ride to Nejire’s place, he’d been more wrapped in on what he had to do. “I think the gang might try to take her back and we need to talk somewhere safe.”

“Safe, huh.” Nejire grinned, turning around walking backwards. She rubbed her nose, proudly puffing her chest. “Hey, hey, nowhere is safer than my field.”

“Yep.” Tamaki pulled his hood tighter over his head. Ahead of them, the forest path ended, opening up to a field of wildflowers. “I can wait here.”

Eri glanced at him nervously, her lips curving down. As her wide, worried eyes bored into him, Tamaki looked away. “…I’ll stay.”

“Hey, hey.” Nejire pointed at herself, feeling a little left out. “I’m a good person too.”

Eri shuffled to her left until she was partially hidden behind Mirio’s legs. Her head peeked out as she studied Nejire. She’d been like this ever since she woke up in the middle of their reproductive argument. Which, in hindsight, was hopefully something she didn’t hear any part of. Not recognizing any of their surroundings or Nejire, she’d hid behind Mirio until he managed to coax her into walking beside him.

To be perfectly honest, Nejire wasn’t really what you’d call a normal person, so Mirio could understand her fear. Crouching down, Mirio patted Eri’s head gently. “She’s a good friend.”

“Your friend?” Eri whispered, her voice cracking from disuse. Her body pressed against his as she took in Nejire.

“Really,” Mirio confirmed, straightening up. He held out his hand for Eri to grab. “I know you’ll like her.”

Doubtful, Eri grabbed his finger again. Well, it wasn’t much, but it was a start. Though, clearly Nejire didn’t see it that way, with the way she dejectedly continued to lead the way. As they entered the clearing, she half-hearted gestured at the expanse. “Welcome.”

“Wow!” Eri gaped as they entered the field of wildflowers and Mirio felt his own jaw drop. It was even prettier than last year. While the forest surrounded it, the field was filled with only flowers, more colourful than a rainbow. Her head turned this way and that. “Pretty.”

“Very pretty,” Mirio agreed, crouching next to her. He broke off a pink flower and tucked behind her ear. “And now you’re pretty.”

Eri’s chubby fingers touched flower tentatively before she broke into a shy smile. Glancing at Nejire, she leaned forward and whispered into Mirio’s ear, “She looks like a princess.”

“Oh.” Mirio felt a wave of relief at that—so she wasn’t really scared of Nejire. Just nervous. Just shy. Nodding, he whispered back, “You should give her a flower, she’d like that.”

Eri’s eyes widened. Her fingers nervously twisted her shirt as she glanced at him, and then at Nejire, before finally shaking her head and hiding behind him. Mirio laughed, maybe it was a little too fast for that then.

“Mirio.” Tamaki tapped his forehead, worry colouring his voice. “We have to ask.”

Mirio glanced at him, then at Eri. The reason they were here. A part of him was scared to ask, because he knew that once he asked, he couldn’t unask. Couldn’t unhear. Still, if he was scared, how much more scared was Eri? Putting on a brave smile, he asked, “Hey, Eri, could you show Nejire your forehead?”

Eri pulled back and blinked. Her head cocked to the side, not comprehending.

Nejire had an identical expression, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Eri has this little bump on her forehead.” Mirio gently coaxed Eri to stand in beside him, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Slowly, he pulled the hair away from her forehead, exposing the growth to the sunlight. Her little body trembled but she didn’t pull away.

“There’s something magical about it.” Tamaki rubbed his shoulder, averting his gaze when Nejire turned to him. “I can smell it…it’s strong.”

“Strong, huh?” Nejire crouched in front of Eri. Her hand on her knees, she peered up at the girl. “Is it okay if I touch it?”

“Y-yes.” Eri swallowed, nodding her head slowly. Her big eyes followed Nejire’s hand as she reached up to touch it. At contact, she winced and squeezed her eyes shut. When nothing happened, she timidly opened her eyes once more.

“Huh.” Nejire’s smile stayed on, but her tone dropped a notch, more serious than silly for once. Her eyes narrowed. “I can feel it.” She pulled her hand away suddenly, staring at it. “Interesting.”

“Interesting?” Mirio wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

“It’s…an erasing magic? Something like that.” Nejire tapped the horn again before sitting back on her haunches. Pulling a lock of hair, she drew it forward for him to inspect. “See?”

“See what—” Mirio’s jaw dropped as he realized that Nejire’s hair actually looked like hair for once. No tornado curls, no bits and pieces disappearing and reappearing. Just human-like hair, to match a very human-like girl. All of Nejire looked human-like for once, even her usually sparkling eyes seemed dimmed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Nejire waved away his concern. “It’ll come back.” When Eri’s face fell, Nejire added, “Don’t worry, your magic isn’t that powerful yet.”

“Magic?” Tamaki winced, pursing his lips together. “Then…a witch’s coven…”

“That’d probably be the best place to take her. They can help her control it.” Nejire stood up straight now, stretching her arms above her. “But enough of that gloomy talk!” Tapping the side of her head, she grinned. “Hey, that flower looks really pretty on you.”

Flustered, Eri brushed her fingers against the flower. A shy smile bloomed on her face. “T-thank you.”

“And you’re all staying here tonight.” Nejire rested her hand on her hips, gazing determinedly at the forest. There was an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. “I’ll get food. Berries and meat, right? That’s what people eat?”

“How do you not know that?” Tamaki muttered, staring at her in disbelief. “You’ve seen us eat.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen little yous eat.” Nejire replied matter-of-factly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. After all that they’d discussed today, Mirio wasn’t sure what was common sense anymore.

“That’s not what a…” Tamaki rubbed his forehead, a headache forming. Giving up, his shoulders slumped. “Fine, whatever.”

Mirio chuckled. Nejire was a force of nature, it was almost impossible to argue with her. Even harder to win an argument against her. Feeling a tug on his shirt, he glanced down to find a bright blue flower. Eri held it out to him. At his stare, she mumbled, “So y-you’re pretty too.”

His eyes widened, for once not sure what to say, how to look. When she shifted nervously, Mirio caught himself and curled his hand delicately around the bloom. “Thanks.” There was a burning sensation in his throat, his eyes watery, but he pushed it away. “It’s beautiful.”

Eri’s expression brightened and she turned to the other two. Feeling a little more courageous, she took a step toward them. “For…you two.” She held out a hand, two flowers resting in her sweaty palm. “So you’re pretty,” she added, anxiously.

Her other hand clutched the hem of Mirio’s shirt and he wiped his eyes before they got anymore watery at the sight of a tiny, brave girl.

Nejire had no such complications. The second she spotted the flowers, her eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “Awww,” she cooed, taking a pink flower. She tucked it behind her ear immediately. “What do you think?”

Tamaki picked the other one, an orange blossom. “It smells nice.”

“…you look like a princess,” Eri mumbled, shyly looking down at her toes.

Speechless, Nejire’s jaw dropped. Her arms flung around Eri’s, giving her a tight hug. “We’re keeping her.”

“What?” Tamaki stopped sniffing his flower. “We can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Nejire pulled back, gazing at Eri. “You want to stay with me too, right?”

“Huh?” Eri’s eyes widened, the thought never crossing her mind before this. “I can?”

“I see. I have to win you over.” Letting go, Nejire pulled back. She squinted, scrutinizing Eri. “You’re hungry, right?” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and sprinted to the forest. “Hey, hey, you’ll have the best meal ever.”

“What in the—” Tamaki sighed, his shoulders slumping. He glanced at Mirio. “We have to stop her.”

“Yeah.” Mirio twirled the blue flower in his finger before tucking it behind his ear. “Yeah, of course.”

Yet Eri’s hand was still holding his shirt and he wasn’t sure if he could tell her to let go. He wasn’t sure if he could let go himself. He was a knight. Nejire was a nymph. Tamaki, a shapeshifter. If the three of them couldn’t protect a little girl, who could? Maybe, just maybe, it’d be better if they all stayed together.

“She’s so fast!” Eri chirped, looking up at him with a wide, bright smile. For once, she looked like an ordinary kid, open and eager to explore. Entirely unlike the child he’d found in the bandit hideout, shaking and terrified.

Maybe Tamaki was right, maybe they couldn’t keep her here. None of them had any skills with raising a child. Yet, for that smile, he wanted to try. Nejire could teach her magic and he could teach her everything else and maybe, just maybe, Eri could know a little about what an ordinary life was like.

#bnha #eri #tamaki amakiji #mirio togata #nejire hadou #miritamaneji #fanfic #enjoy my attempts at action

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eddisfargo · 4 years ago

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CoMC Chapter 114

CHAPTER 114

Peppino

26 minutes

Oh hey I remember Peppino! The guy MC saved from execution, right? Anyway, here’s some random Frenchman in Rome! It’s not MC because no one even clocks him as French, and this guy speaks an amount of Italian that rounds to 0 (just music words). Tried to recognize his voice from the narrator, which I know is cheating, hahaha. But he introduces himself like 5 minutes in, when he gets to the house of Thompson and French--MC’s bank! It is…. DANGLARS! I was honestly starting to question if we’d get our big reveal with him after all!! It’s so late game!

So it turns out he’s here to pick up $5 million of MC money! And we find this out from the bandits who are planning to rob him, hahaha. Namely our old friend Peppino, here on account of our old friend Luigi Vampa, whom I have not mentioned since Chapter 38!

Anyway, Danglars is very happy (temporarily) because he has money and plans and people are calling him Your Excellency. He dgaf about the beauty of Rome, which he doesn’t bother trying to see. He accidentally leaves town pretty late and it gets dark. And unbeknownst to him, there’s literally a bandit in his carriage. He’s a happy little clam whose life has only improved after his bankruptcy. I mean, until he realizes he’s being attacked by bandits. First he thinks it’s the po-po and he’s being arrested, but nope! Just held for ransom, presumably, but by the erudite bandito Vampa himself!

He remembers the exact same thing happening to Albert (although at the time he heard them he was like “haha yeah right”), and he realizes he’s in the very same cell! He’s happy because it has a bed, and he remembers Albert getting ransomed for 4K Crowns. Presumably Danglars, who considers himself worth two Alberts (omg dude you’re worth like a millionth of an Albert) will be ransomed for about 8K Crowns. That’s less than $50,000, which is like 10% of his spoils, so he’ll be fine. It’s not like they’re going to ransom him for all five of his millions. They don’t even know he has 5 millions, amirite?

Right?

PS, you known how I said I last mentioned Ouija Vampa in Chapter 38? That was page 25 of the doc where I’m writing all these. I’m now on PAGE 98. I’ve got to hit 100!! I promise I won’t ramble on purpose (although I will ramble like normal), but I reserve the right to totally cheat and include like… a reaction gif or something, hahaha. Probably won’t be necessary anyway. Three chapters, 2 pages? It’d be impossible to avoid hitting 100. Also I might do like a conclusion post.

OH MY GOD I HAVE THREE CHAPTERS LEFT. I will almost certainly finish this tomorrow. Although I originally thought I’d finish it today.

Later edit: So I totally did hit 100 pages, so I don’t need this for stats padding, but I thought it was fun. I took this picture right around the end of this chapter to show my progress bar in the book.

Do you see that orange progress bar? Do you see that teeny tiny bit of the bar that’s not orange? No? Squint real hard? That’s the amount I have left! Not quite 2%.

(PPS, sorry if you got excited by Dorothy Dunnett--that’s actually my mom’s book, not mine. First book’s totally on my tbr, but it’s SO HARD. I will get there though! But NOT as an audiobook)

#Eddis Reads Monte Cristo #count of monte cristo #spoilers #that's right--just ONE HOUR LEFT

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1stunseeliefaelass · 5 years ago

Text

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 3 Quiet Masquerade

Death noticed the little scene himself but despite his concerns about the spider he said nothing of it. Rather instead he turned his thoughts onto what reasons Morgen would need to powder her hands. Obviously there had to be a reason for it. Although, could it really be something so mundane as she seemed to imply with her answer? Surely not given her royal status. While some royals did do some eccentric things, she didn't strike him as the type. If anything she seemed a bit reserved, not as much as himself, but still. Morgen also seemed to have a serenity about her, he couldn't quite place it, but a sort of peace just seemed to be emanating from her.

Morgen noticed his occasional glances before long, "Is something the matter?"

"Something as makeup on the hands just seems...a little too off for you." Death expressed simply.

"Perhaps so, but as I told you I have my reasons for it."

"Trying to hide something from someone?" Death inquired.

"Oh come now, what do I have to hide?" Morgen asked a bit coyly.

"Just seems a bit strange is all. Makeup is a good way to hide things. You would think lotion would be a better choice if you're skin is often dry. But makeup? That says something else." Death pressed.

"It is good at hiding things, so long as you're careful that is. And it's not dry hands that I have to worry about I assure you." Morgen informed him calmly.

"So what is it that you're hiding, and from whom?"

Morgen sighed and thought for a moment before glancing at the spider, as if asking permission for something. Or perhaps rather, based on Morgen's shame filled expression, that even whoever controlled the spider wasn't aware of this secret, "If I tell you, this does not leave your lips. No one else hears of it. Am I clear on that?"

"Depends. How bad's the secret?" Death asked.

"I'll show you...", Morgen whispered before revealing her hand and wrist, "...I'll need some water though."

Death pulls out a water bladder before proposing to her, "Want me to take care of the spider whilst I'm at it?"

"No. It's fine. The creature can remain, as I'm sure its master will want to hear this as well. Even though I dread his reaction." Morgen muttered whilst shivering at the thought.

"Can the master hear from the spider?" Death questioned.

"Yes he can, but he's a good man I assure you. Always looking out for me as best he can." Morgen replied.

"So do you want him to hear this?"

"He'd likely try and listen even if I didn't. So I've little choice really." Morgen stated softly.

"Well....", Death began speaking an incantation of some kind that freezes the spider after he's done, "..you do now."

"And I was fine with him hearing anyway." Morgen declares.

"Ehe...Sorry, do you wish me to remove it?"

Morgen nodded and Death thusly removed the spell. The spider then responded by showing its fangs and stridulating in agitation.

"You wanna die?" Death questioned.

Morgen then spotted a second spider coming up behind him, "Perhaps you'd best leave them alone."

"Them?" Death tendered before jumping slightly at the feeling of the second spider crawling on his back, "Eh...how venomous are they?"

"They've taken down a horse, but not killed it. Just put it out of commission for a time." Morgen explained matter-of-factly.

Death's eyes widen and he looks at the spider in hidden fear. Morgen however only snickered, "Don't worry, they can control both the potency and quantity of their venom."

"They seem to be the perfect assassins." Death expressed.

"I'll bare this in mind for another time. For now...", Morgen began as she started to manipulate the water in the flask with her magic, "...I said that I'd show you my secret."

Death watched keenly as she removed the makeup by casting the water all along her wrist and hand. Her hand had small faded scars that were clearly going to heal completely in time. Her wrist however held marks that suggested she'd been bound by rope recently. While those marks had healed, they were clearly taking longer to do so. The spiders stridulated even louder now, worrying Morgen a bit.

Death however, "Whoever did this should be fearing for his life."

Morgen looked at him surprised but also with a bit of shame, "I asked Mina to do it for me. It was...necessary."

As the spiders calmed slightly Death probed further, "Why would you ask that of her?"

"Because it was needed.....for a ritual...one that's very taboo now...", Morgen explained whilst looking around a bit paranoid.

The spiders look both interested and concerned, whilst Death shares such an expression, "What was this ritual for exactly?"

Morgen looked around again before whispering into his ear, while the spider on Death's back came to his shoulder to hear her, "It's the one that...causes an abortion."

Death's eyes widened all the more in a mix of shock and horror, "What?" Meanwhile the spider that could hear this made a strange noise akin to a demented woodpecker. Death looked at it worried, "Should I be worried about the spiders now?"

"No, I expected that reaction. Believe me. I also can't blame you for the disgust." Morgen expressed shamefully.

Death sighed, unsure of what to say ultimately. Strife however had an idea of what to ask, "What the HELL was that noise?"

"Spiders." Death explains as the spiders begin to converge to the window. Thus causing Strife to panic and shut it back.

Mina meanwhile asked the spider that was with her, "What happened?", hoping it had been shown what its fellow spiders had bore witness to. It climbs up her shoulder and whispers in her ear. Its eyes glowing as well as part of the spell to help it speak, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Mina sighed, "Please forgive me Barrcus, I was just as worried as her. That word would get out, particularly to Uther."

"It won't."

Strife looked at Mina when hearing a strange voice saying something he couldn't pick up. Then upon seeing the glowing eyes of the spider, "Is that thing talking?"

The spider's eyes cease glowing and it makes a shhhh type gesture. Mina responds to Strife by saying, "Maybe you just heard another strange noise."

The girls paid no heed to what was going on, being too focused on Fuzzball. Meanwhile Strife just sighed and went back to viewing out the window. Soon enough the company had reached the castle. The Captain of the guard was already there and trying to insist Uther send more guards out there to find Morgen. His partially dislocated leg being treated as he pled with the king.

Vortigern and Uther did agree on that, but were arguing over executing the poor man or not, "Brother he did all he could. The situation just made it so that he being dragged by his legs by his horses."

Uther rebutted however, "If he had been more COMPETENT, that wouldn't have happened."

Vortigern retorted, "He shouldn't be executed for a MISHAP!"

"I find it highly, HIGHLY difficult to believe that this man was strapped by his leg to his HORSES. And then was dragged off."

The Captain explained, "It was the bandits, they got the upper hand, I'm sorry sir."

Barrcus however told them, "Sire, it seems our problem has been taken care of.", before pointing towards the carriage.

Morgen hopped off the driver's seat and greeted everyone, "Sorry to worry you everyone."

"Ah you had me worried." Barrcus stated in relief and was about to continue before being interrupted.

"Care to explain what exactly happened? Tried to milk the information from this...imbecile, but he hasn't been so forthcoming." Uther demanded of her.

"The bandits attacked and the Captain was dragged off. The bandits converged on me when I came out to face them. I was preparing to attack when two strangers came to our aid." Morgen explained a bit fearfully.

"So what do you think we should do with the guard?" Uther questioned her.

"Just leave him be, blame the bandits if anything. They've all suffered a painful demise. Especially the leader. Whom may I add made a few advances towards me?" Morgen told him.

"Excuse me, what?" Uther growled out.

"He intended to make a ransom of me initially. But I'm sure he may have....had his way with me if things turned out poorly."

"So where are the bandits now?" Uther asked.

"Like she said, dead." Death replied.

"Where are their bodies? Or at least the leader's?"

"He may have....been turned into mush." Strife mentioned reluctantly.

Uther chuckles, "So how can I repay you?"

Death then began his request, "My brother and I would humbly request an invitation to this party."

Uther began to scan Death up and down, a full once over. He then gains a warm smile and says, "I would be grateful to have such brave heroes attend my party of sorts. Although, I do have one easy to follow request. Do not make unnecessary trouble."

"Not a problem, and I'll make sure my brother does the same." Death informs him.

"Hmm, right. Now, Barrcus shall take to where this event shall take place." Uther explained before heading off to attend to other matters.

Mina came out of the carriage as the little ones hugged their Father. Vortigern naturally had his own thanks to give as well.

"I must thank you in some way."

"Uhmm....I....", Death began a bit unsure, "...If we need your help in any way in the future. Would you lend your hand in those regards?"

Vortigern nodded, "Well if you need any help or a place to stay my doors are open."

"Thank you." Death replied simply.

Meanwhile Barrcus took the time to tell Mina as she walked inside with Morgen, "Get her ready, but I want to speak with in the kitchens later."

"I'll be there Barrcus, don't ye worry. I'll also ensure Morgen isn't....disturbed, before I can get her ready. Or while I'm at it." Mina declared before continuing to take Morgen inside.

From there Barrcus began to lead the two Horsemen throughout the castle. Death noted the mask Barrcus wore, and couldn't help but comment on it.

"May I ask about the mask? It's not one for a masquerade."

"I suffered an affliction some time back. For the most part the king doesn't like it when I show my face around. So I put it on for his AMUSEMENT." Barrcus told him coldly.

"Sorry if I brought up bad memories."

"If it makes you feel any better, I keep the mask on to revert everyone else's judgment. You would know something similar to that, wouldn't you?" Barrcus inquired cocking his head.

Death cocked his own head in a worried confusion as Strife took over talking, "Wouldn't know what you mean by that my friend. Sorry about your face though."

Barrcus just nods, "I don't mind. So, what do you think of the Princess?"

Strife spoke up first, "Pretty, nice voice, seems like a good person."

Barrcus then looked to Death, "And you?"

"Troubled, and trying her best."

Barrcus cocked his head again, "Hmm, we're almost to the chambers now."

From there they continued on and soon came upon the banquet halls.

"Will you not be joining us?" Death asked.

"No, I am not one for these festivities." Barrcus replied.

"Neither am I." Death mumbled a bit.

Barrcus chuckled again, "Be prepared for a lot of....interesting 'events'."

"Yeah! Very interesting. Now who might you be?" Puck queried of the two brothers.

"Just a really good fan of yours." Strife remarks, glad at seeing his old friend but frustrated at the disguise.

Puck only smirked a bit, "Ah really? Well why don't we have a private conversation then?"

Strife nods, "Let's man."

Death groaned and seeked out a corner as the two party animals went to go chat. He then notices he's by a veiled portrait of a woman. Looking at it but not moving the black veil he mutters under his breath,

"Who might you be?"

Barrcus heard it all the same, making Death actually jumped when he spoke, "That is a portrait of the late Queen Igraine."

After the initial moment of being spooked, Death took note of his pained tone, "What do you know of her?"

"Due to an 'ailment' caused by a certain royal, she passed away. Do you wish to see the Queen?" Barrcus muttered.

"I am bit curious."

From there Barrcus removed the veil, and Death was met with a woman who was the spitting image of Morgen. Or rather Morgen would've been the spitting image of her. The Queen only bore brown hair as opposed to the white locks Morgen sported. "Was she of the Seelie or Unseelie courts?"

"Unseelie." Barrcus stated softly.

"She was a kind woman, amazing to all who knew her. A good Mother as well, always wanting what was best for her children." Mina proclaimed coming up behind them.

"What was the ailment that afflicted her?" Death asked cautiously.

"We mustn't say." Mina explained simply.

"It was a painful time for us all, for MANY reasons." Barrcus stated whilst stridulating a bit himself.

Death noted how it sounded like a swarm, and then looked back to Mina, "And is there a reason for your vagueness?"

Mina looked at Barrcus, being unsure what to say herself, "Because it would cast a bad light on a certain someone."

"Aye, someone with a lot of power too." Mina added onto his statement.

"Is Morgen related to Uther by any chance?"

"Only through her Mother's marriage to him." Barrcus told him.

"Is there another child?" Death inquired.

"There is, little Arthur. He's only a wee bairn." Mina says warmly.

Death cocked his head as Barrcus clarified, "She means to say he's a baby."

"How long was Igraine there, alive for Arthur?"

"It's been 50 years since the incident. And she spent 25 of them with the child." Barrcus expressed quietly.

Death began to notice the pain he was feeling and questioned, "How long did you know her?"

"We were raised in the same household. Her family took me in when I was young and somewhat raised me around her. Igraine was a sister to me."

"I can understand the pain. Lost a family member sometime back myself." Death stated.

"I can only imagine."

Mina meanwhile watched the two for a time and finally asked of Barrcus, "Might we start that talk now? Morgen's being tended to by the maids under me. They'll not let Uther in lest I give em a what for."

"Yes let's....have our talk. If you will excuse us for a moment."

Death remained where he was and looked at the portrait a bit more before putting the veil back. As he went to stand in a nearby corner to avoid Puck and Strife more, Mina and Barrcus went into the gardens.

"Why didn't you talk her out of it? There are methods of dealing with that problem."

"I tried many times, believe me. But she was set on it. She felt it was the safest way. She also felt it was unfair to throw child after child out into the world. As she was worried they'd come looking for her when adulthood came about." Mina explained.

"There are OTHER METHODS for dealing with it. One I am ok with. Although it will cause me some unrest later on." Barrcus insisted.

"I know of the other methods as does she. But you try and explain that to a scared young woman who wants nothing to do with the man forcing himself on her. To the point where she fears any children from it."

"There's methods I haven't told you of. The first method is to ask for a certain Mother to hold the child. Using magic to create a surrogate by placing the seeded egg in them instead. The other is putting the child into an eggsac and hoping it survives."

"Why an eggsac?" Mina asks him.

"Because it would have enough genetic material inside to grow the child properly. And once it was born I'd give it to some....associates of mine."

"What sort of associates?" Mina questioned.

He unbuttons his shirt to show her his many scars, "The ones that healed me to the best of their abilities."

"I see. Speaking of em though, how are the scars? Any pain? I just....want ya to be ok. It worries me when yer in pain." Mina says to him whilst going to touch one of the scars gently.

Barrcus hissed in pain and twinged backwards a bit at her touch, "I wish I could feel something other than pain."

Mina grasped his hands as he went to close up his shirt, "I wish I could ease it, or even end it. If I could.....let loose....I could help ye more."

Two spindly wings began sprouting from her back but Barrcus quickly stopped her from going further with it, "No. That won't aid me. Besides, you must this hidden from him. Lest he use it against you."

Mina put her wings away again, letting them meld into her back. She then looked at him saddened, "Then how shall I help you?"

He removes his mask and tells her calmly, "Why don't we steal a moment for ourselves? Like we used to."

Mina smiled at that and held back a quiet giggle as Barrcus tried and failed to scoop her up. Ultimately he's left having to bend down to Mina's height to gain what he's after. Mina doesn't mind it though, nor does she mind the scarred tissue on his body or the spider features. She simply embraced him all the same before the two kissed in that sweet silence. The flowers' fragrances only added to sweetness in the air around them in that moment. No one else was there, just a spider and his little rose.

Barrcus sighed after they broke from each other, "Do you remember the new plan?"

"I do, just help Strife and Puck hide when things go wrong. But what is going to go wrong? Tell me that at least."

"A performance is about to show...", He starts before changing into a jester's get up with a new face to show, "...something rather foreboding."

With that Barrcus made a bow and asked for a wish of luck before heading away. Mina in turn headed to the kitchens to begin the meal preparations finally. The guests would soon be arriving after all. And she'd have to get everything ready, particularly in the servant's tunnels leading to the quarters from the ballroom. A good hiding spot for anyone wanting to avoid the party, or for anyone needing a quick getaway. Meanwhile Strife continued to converse with Puck, enjoying the time he was getting to have with him.

The two finished laughing at a shared joke before Strife grilled Puck, "Seriously man, why would you go walking in?"

"Huh I just wanted to. Besides it brought peace amongst the tribes didn't it?"

Strife noted Puck's smirk and shook his head slightly, "Man you're one crazy bastard."

Puck then looked over at Death brooding in a corner, "What do you think we should do about him?"

"Eh he's normally a broody asshole anyway. Just leave him be."

Death heard Strife all the same though, "Who you calling an asshole?"

"See what I mean man?" Strife questioned Puck.

"Easy now, no need to make your brother come kill us both." Puck remarked.

Death rolled his eyes as the two continued their conversation. Strife in particular reached quite the interesting conclusion, and walked up to his sibling to be annoying,

"You know what, I think it's because of the princess we met earlier today. I saw you staring at her."

"The only one staring and making inappropriate comments was you. And it was to her maid." Death retorted.

"I saw you when you're driving, as best I could anyway. And besides after the spider I started keeping everything to myself."

"What did you see?"

"Hmmm, looked like you two were about to walk in a field of daisies. If ya know what I mean. Until you saw her hand then you just....went all melodramatic." Strife stated.

Death gave a silent glare and pulled out a hairpin from his hair, "Do you really wanna keep testing me?"

"Sorry I think your brother has had enough for tonight. He does have a point though. Plus you do need to lighten up a bit. Given the party you're attending." Puck tried to say.

"No one's here to see me yet, and I'm probably going to be keeping to myself." Death retorted.

"What about you Strife, you gonna be hopping around the place?" Puck inquired of his friend.

"Maybe." Strife stated simply with chuckle.

"Sly bastard."

"Hey maybe when Morgen shows up Death won't be able to keep to himself huh?" Strife questioned Puck whilst patting his chest as good buds do.

Death growls as Puck nearly laughs. Puck narrowly avoids angering him further. Course another strange sight was coming on by. Fuzzball all dolled up in various little dress up bows and other such decorations. He looked like a powder puff as well with how throughly his fur had been brushed.

"What happened to you?" Death inquired upon seeing him.

Fuzzball shrugged and gave a cock of his head as Strife reminded Death, "You told the girls to watch him remember?"

"What girls?" Puck asked.

"Oh Morgen's cousins." Strife replied.

"Seriously? Vortigern's kids? You left s cute rodent with Vortigern's rascals?" Puck inquires.

Vortigern then came up behind him, "Mind yourself Satyr."

Puck froze as Death laughed, "That's what you get for not watching your tongue." Fuzzball then came up to Death all adorable and panting happily. "So did you like your manicure?"

He got a few happy yips in response to that. Death then began to pet him which knocked a few bows off, "What am I going to do with you?"

Puck then looked at Strife, "Honestly I thought you were taking the piss out of it."

"Wasn't joking, not one bit. Fuzzball is indeed a pet to my brother. Mr. gloom and doom himself."

Death shook his head embarrassed "I'm about to show you what 'gloom and doom' really looks like."

Vortigern then told both of them, "I think now would be a good time for everyone to relax a bit. Given what this party will have in store for everyone."

Death looked up at him, "Are you going to be partaking in some of the pleasantries of this?"

"A little bit too responsible for that." Vortigern explained chuckling.

Strife nodded, "Yeah yeah, you being a Dad and all."

Vortigern then got an idea, "How about some rounds of blackjack gentlemen?"

Strife nods again, "Alright but Death's the dealer. He cheats."

"I don't cheat at blackjack, you suck." Death retorted.

"Very true Horseman." Puck stated in agreement.

Vortigern however looked at both Strife and Death. Death himself facepalmed, "Way to go geniuses."

"I was expecting as much Death." Vortigern said calmly.

"Wait what?!" Death asked concerned.

"Uther can't see it, but he suspects it. I however can see it. I'm not as dense as my brother can be. That also goes for you Strife, also didn't know you were good friends with Puck here." Vortigern explains.

Strife's only response was, "Uhhhhhh....well shit I actually thought this would work."

"Your mannerisms gave you both away. Death was far too brooding, that's what made it easy for me, and probably for my Niece as well."

"What gave me away?" Strife questioned.

"Was is the hair?" Death remarked sarcastically.

"Yes actually it was, along with his stance. Whenever he gets nervous his hands go to his waist. Like any good gunslinger's hands do." Vortigern replied.

"Uh thank you, and also fuck you bro."

"Love you too brother, love you too." Death sarcastically stated.

Death then thought back on Vortigern's statements a moment ago. And realized he'd mentioned Morgen likely knew who he was as well. But how could she have known? Her staff had so little power in it, that should've meant she didn't have much either. Not to mention Barrcus' hint from earlier in regards to masks.

"How could Morgen know?" Death questioned with caution.

"She's far more powerful than you think. Don't let the staff fool you. Besides the staff is a simple gift I gave when she was still attempting to be a knight." Vortigern explained.

"That explains some things but, are you telling me she's a powerful magic caster?"

"In some cases. Given what Barrcus has taught her." Vortigern stated simply.

"Wait seriously? The guy in the mask?"

"Yes, the spider."

Death then thought a moment, and realized Barrcus did stridulate earlier. And had other spider like features to him. Being nearly as tall as war, spindly, and hairs like the setae of a spider, "Does he have uh...strange spiders for pets?"

"Define strange." Vortigern bade him.

Strife then piped up, "You mean the ones with glowing eyeballs?"

"Wait the eyes glow?" Death asked surprised.

Vortigern chuckled at them both, "Heheh, he used to be a bodyguard to Morgen before an accident crippled him. Now every move he makes, any pressure on him, causes immense pain. But he still defends my Niece to the best of his abilities, the spiders are a very good example. I have no idea how he got the spiders, but I definitely know he keeps them close by for many reasons."

Death then thought to himself, "So that's why she was fine with him hearing what she told me before."

From there he finally dealt out the cards for blackjack. The rounds were surprisingly short but very loud. Which was hilarious for Death as Strife kept losing. Puck and Vortigern are constantly neck and neck.

"Yeah keep laughing it up asshole." Strife told him.

Death only chuckled again, "Hey don't blame me, I'm a dealer not a player."

Strife groaned in anger as he tried his damnest to win at least one round.

"Maybe you'd like some....?" Puck tried to say only for Strife to shut him down.

"No. I don't need the help. I don't need the help."

Around this time everyone started to arrive at last and Death told Strife and the others, "Last round, and keep your mouths shut."

Strife looked around briefly before quickly going back to his hand, muttering to himself.

Death laughed again, "Do you want me to play in your stead or help you out?"

"Neither." Strife snapped at him.

Death shook his head and watched the trainwreck in silence. Eventually the round was won by Puck.

"For a soldier you do pretty well at cards."

Vortigern smiled, "It's because I'm soldier that I do well at card games."

Death pointed out, "My youngest brother would agree with you."

Meanwhile Strife walked off to go release the rage in privacy. Going to garden to scream into the heavens. Not expecting anyone to be there.

Death tried to warn him though, "No wait brother..."

However he was too late as Strife screamed bloody murder. Only for a hidden couple to tell him,

"Excuse me, do you mind?"

"Yes quite?"

Strife then got red faced and said, "Oh sorry....just nearly all my earnings this week. I'm gonna go now."

Death came up to him and with a mix of concern and hidden laughter he inquired, "Are you alright? Did you see anything strange?"

"I'm fine I'm fine. Just didn't know people started this early." Strife said highly embarrassed.

Death patted his back, "There there bro, there there. Now let's get to work."

Strife then went off with Puck for ideas,

"Hey Puck you got some ideas?"

"I do, just not the right kind."

"Good."

"Also I'll be performing so I won't be having too much fun. Make sure you have some for me after all this."

"Yeah yeah man, don't worry. Also I'll try to find ya some tail." Strife stated before going to see the ladies.

Death only shook his head before trying to find a spot to hide out for a bit. He then felt a tap on his back,

"You alright?"

He jumped slightly before saying, "Other than you startling me a bit I'm fine.", then he noticed her dress. "Uhm...that's a..very lovely dress you have there."

"Thank you, I was hoping someone might say so. I rather enjoy the mixed shades of purple in it." Morgen says a bit shyly.

"They bring out your eyes. And the butterflies bring an elegance to you, as do the floral patterns." Death told her.

Morgen blushed a bit, "Well....thank you. Truly. You can be quite charming for a man known for killing."

"Uhm....perhaps we could take this conversation to a more 'private' area?"

"Oh of course, follow me." Morgen suggested whilst taking his hand. He noticed she wasn't powdery this time. Instead he felt how soft her hands truly were. Course he also caught a wiff of something pleasant in the air now. Though he couldn't place it just yet. Leading him on and through a hedge maze in the garden. Which Death realized was much bigger than he thought. She brought him to a clearing off to the side of the maze. Within it was a garden that had a straight path into it. A dead end if ever there was one. Along with the garden was a few fireflies and a small pagoda with a bench inside it.

"Will this do?" Morgen asked of him.

#Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Darksiders OCs #Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited #Death #Strife

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evilwriter37 · 5 years ago

Text

Day 27: Ransom

Rated: mature

Warnings: rape mention, bestiality mention

Pairings: Dagur/Mala

Word Count: 1,380

Dagur was in a position that was very much not fit for a king. He was forced to kneel with his hands tied behind his back. Dagur and Mala had been working to rid the Northern Markets of its bandits and crime, trying to make it a safer place for all who went there, and one of the groups of bandits was not happy with this at all. They’d captured Dagur and had put out a ransom note to Mala. She’d only get him back if she paid them a hefty amount of money. They had the money, but Dagur was of the mind that the bandits didn’t deserve it. He’d heard of this particular group before. They were the worst sort of criminals, more than thieves. They were murderers and rapists, tormentors. They didn’t deserve anything that Mala could give them.

And now here Dagur was trapped with them. They’d taken him to their camp in the woods, and had him kneeling before their leader as he sat on what served as his throne. His name was Bjorn.

“It feels good to have a king kneel before me,” Bjorn told Dagur. He had a scar that puckered his right cheek, and his long brown beard was in braids. “Even a weak king.”

“Weak?” Dagur questioned, insulted by the word.

“As chief of the Berserkers you instilled fear in everyone,” Bjorn said. “You had one of the biggest armadas in the north. Now look at you. Pet to a queen who loves dragons.”

Dagur curled his lip in anger. “I’m not Mala’s pet.”

Bjorn leaned forward in his throne, put his spear underneath Dagur’s chin and lifted it. There was an amused look on his face. “Tell me: does you queen lie with dragons.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone here wants to know. Does the Queen of the Defenders of the Wing fuck dragons? Is that why she loves them so much? She likes them for their cock?”

Dagur roared in anger, rising to his feet. He tried rushing at Bjorn, but the man acted fast, swinging his spear. It tore Dagur’s left cheek open, and their was a jarring sensation as if it had hit his cheekbone. Dagur yelled in pain, went down on his side, blood flowing freely from his face. He laid there stunned for a moment while Bjorn laughed, then got back onto his knees. He wanted to stand, but there were two men on either side of him that were supposed to keep him from doing that. They should have held him back from Bjorn too, except they’d known that Bjorn would strike him. They’d probably wanted to see it.

“What about you, Dagur?”

“I don’t fuck dragons,” Dagur spat angrily. Blood got into his mouth and he had to spit it out.

Bjorn was steadying the reddened end of his spear. “Oh, I wasn’t asking about that. Word has it that you like cock.” He lowered his spear, looked at Dagur. “Is that true?”

“Where’d you hear that?” he asked. It was true that Dagur liked men as well, but he didn’t want it getting out, especially not about his time in prison when he had been forced upon without his consent.

“Oh come on. Everyone knows you fancy the heir of Berk.” Bjorn spread his arms to make his point. “But you had to settle for a woman instead. Word is that you like it up the ass, that you got so used to it from your prison days that you want more.”

Dagur growled, tried rising in an attempt to attack Bjorn again, but this time the men held him back. He was angry, so angry. How did Bjorn know any of this? Maybe some of these bandits had been in prison with him, had heard about what had happened, and had spread it around. Dagur hadn’t exactly kept his obsession for Hiccup secret during that time. Sometimes, in the middle of being defiled, he’d cried out for him, wanting him instead, wanting him to save him.

“Where’d you hear that?” Dagur snarled, struggling against the two men that were holding him on his knees. He was also mad that Bjorn thought he’d “settled” for Mala. Mala was a force to be reckoned with, and so Dagur admired and loved her for that. He hadn’t settled for anything.

Bjorn smiled at him. “Word gets around.” He put his spear under Dagur’s chin again, staining him with his own blood. “I was hoping maybe you could give a demonstration of how you like it before your wife shows up. We’ve got time.”

Dagur’s eyes went wide with horror, and he felt like everything in him dropped to his feet. He was surprised he didn’t piss himself at what Bjorn was suggesting.

Rape. They were going to rape him.

“No.” The word came out weak, but he had to say it. He wouldn’t give into this. He would fight the whole time.

“Anyone here want him?” Bjorn asked, raising his voice so those throughout the camp could hear. There was laughter, and the man on Dagur’s right put a hand in his hair, tugged his head back to look at him.

“I’ll take him,” he said.

“No,” Dagur intoned, furious and terrified. He couldn’t go through this. Not again.

“Good,” Bjorn said, and Dagur sensed a smile in his words. “Anyone else want to fuck the king?”

“That’s enough!” a clear voice shouted into the camp. Relief spilled into Dagur at the sound of Mala’s voice. He turned his head despite the hand in his hair, saw her striding into the camp, no one making a move on her. Throk was a step behind her.

Bjorn sat straighter in his chair, and the other bandit released Dagur’s hair.

“Queen Mala, you came.”

“I did.” Mala strode right up to the makeshift throne, threw a bag of gold coins onto the ground where they spilled out. “There. Now give me back my husband.”

Bjorn looked disappointed. “Oh, but we were going to have a bit of fun with him first.”

“You have your money,” Throk said. “Now release him. Like you promised.”

Bjorn sighed. “Oh, very well.” He nodded to the men holding Dagur, and one of them drew a knife, cut his ropes. Dagur was allowed to stand, and he rubbed at his chafed wrists. The rope they’d used had been coarse. He glared at Bjorn, then at the man who had been going to rape him. They both returned his glares, not looking cowed. “Now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Mala said, taking Dagur’s arm.

“Try me, queenie.”

Mala looked like she wanted to slap Bjorn or spit on him, but she did neither of those things, currently outnumbered in the camp. Instead, she took Dagur, and the three of them turned and walked out.

“Are you okay?” Mala asked as she dabbed at Dagur’s cheek. They were on another part of the island, at Mala’s camp, away from the bandits.

“Yeah,” Dagur said, though he was still shaken from what had almost happened to him.

Mala sighed, looking at his cheek. “This goes really deep. It’ll need to be stitched.”

Dagur cracked a smile. “Cool. A new scar.”

Mala lowered the cloth, looked him very seriously in the eye. “I mean it. Are you alright? I caught the tail end of what Bjorn was saying.”

Dagur sighed, broke his eyes from her gaze, looking down at the ground they sat on. “They wanted to… rape me,” he said quietly. They were out of earshot of anyone, but that wasn’t something he could say very easily. “And I was terrified. I didn’t know if I’d be able to get through that again.” Mala knew about what had happened to him in prison, knew all of his life now, so she knew what he meant by “again.”

Mala very suddenly hugged him, fiercely. “Lucky I got there in time.” There was a hint of fear in her voice. She pulled away, looked like she wanted to kiss him, but didn’t. Dagur was alright with that at the moment.

“Yeah,” Dagur said, voice rough. “Thank you.”

Mala smiled, began cleaning his face again. “Anything for you, darling.”

#whumptober2019 #no.27 #rape mention #whump #dagur!whump #nsfwhump #ransom #wounded #tied up #dagur the deranged #mala #dagla #rtte #race to the edge #httyd #how to train your dragon #writing #fanfiction

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heroofshield · 5 years ago

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Dark & Ransom (ME:A)

Prompts from Inktober (Dark, 26th) and Whumptober (Ransom, 27th) to get me caught up! Enjoy.

“This is the last time I go out by myself on Kadara.” Scott Ryder thought to himself as he tried to ignore how much his nose itched.

He knew it was because his hands were tied behind the chair he was sitting in, and if he just ignored it, the sensation would go away. But at the same time it was driving him up a metaphorical wall

“Stupid rocks busting an axel and stupid raiders thinking ‘hey! let’s attack the pathfinder while he’s fixing his rover.’ That would really put a wrench in his plans to try and chart the area.” Scott mentally sighed while slumping slightly, his body stiff from sitting for so long. “Drack is never going to let me hear the end of this.”

The sound of the door to his room...cell...wherever he was being held opened and Scott straightened. The blindfold over his eyes keeping him in the dark as to where he was exactly. All he knew was that SAM had told him the area was heavily fortified so that made a rescue attempt tricky.

Footsteps approached and Scott tensed as rough hands untied his bonds and yanked him up. Stumbling, Scott barely stayed upright and quickly matched the pace. Echoes told him that he was somewhere in a cave.

“Although there are approximately a million caves on Kadara so that doesn’t give me anything.” Scott thought as they shoved him into another room. This time though, his foot tripped on something and he went sprawling onto the floor.

“You guys really need to clean up, nearly broke my neck.” Scott quipped while feeling blood drip down his face.

A cough to disguise laughter gave Scott that there was at least one other person in the room with them and he started a mental tally. They hadn’t taken the blindfold off so that meant they didn’t want him to see what they were about to do.

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.” Scott wondered to himself as they sat him down in another chair.

“We recording?” a gruff voice asked.

A pause, where Scott assumed that someone nodded, and the voice continued.

“You asked for proof and here it is. We’ve got the Pathfinder. Here are our demands.”

“I’m sorry what?” Scott blurted out, confused as to what was going on. “Demands? What is this, a ransom vid?”

“Shut up.” The voice said, a second before a fist connected with Scott’s face.

Light burst across his darkened vision and Scott fell out of the chair, landing on the prefab floor with a metallic thud. Rough hands grabbed him and shoved him back into the chair, binding his hands behind his back again.

“Edit that out.” After clearing his throat, the man continued, “Five hundred credits and an Initiative shuttle, tracking disabled, to take us off this hell hole of a planet.”

“Only five hundred credits for the Human Pathfinder? C’mon, where’s your imagination guys.” Scott spoke up again, while wondering if he had a concussion because while he could verbally spar with the best of them, at the same time knew if he kept mouthing off he’d get another kiss with a fist.

But he was kind of insulted that they thought he was only worth five hundred credits.

There was a pause and Scott tensed, waiting for the hit that never came. Another beat of silence passed before the bandit spoke. “What do you mean, imagination?”

Scott shifted in his chair while trying to think fast. “Think about it. You managed to get the drop on the only pathfinder in the cluster at the moment. Why limit yourself to five hundred credits? Sure that’ll get you started somewhere else, but after that what? You go back to raiding? You need to think long term.”

“He’s right boss. What if we asked for two shuttles?” Another voice chimed in. “Then we can start running supplies-maybe get on Vidal’s nerves that someone else is edging in on his exclusivity on flipping off Kelly.”

“See, he get’s it.” Scott said while nodding his head in the vague direction that the voice had come from. “I can tell you that-”

The rest of the sentence gets cut off by the door suddenly opening and the tell-tale thunk of a grenade hitting the floor.

Scott reacts almost immediately, throwing himself off the chair while rotating so that his back takes the brunt of the explosion. Ears ringing, he can dimly hear gunfire being exchanged and he tries to curl himself into a small enough target so he doesn’t get hit.

“Stupid tied up hands.” he thinks as the fighting continues. Then silence fills the space and Scott wants to get up, but he has no idea who won.

Footsteps and muffled voices approach him and Scott tenses, waiting to be hauled up again. Instead calloused hands, hands he knows, go for his bound hands and untie them. Sitting up, Scott goes for the blindfold around his eyes and he squinting against the light as they adjust.

Blinking rapidly, the blur in front of him sharpens and it’s Reyes.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” Scott smiles while sagging in relief. Cora and Drack are in the background, checking to make sure the bodies on the ground are actually dead and if they have anything they can sell later on.

Reyes smiles as well, relief that they found Ryder in time washing over him. It had been a race to find the pathfinder once they realized he was missing, hoping that they could get to him before something happened.

“SAM told us you were stalling them. Saying how much they needed to ask for ransom.” Reyes held out his hand to help Scott up, the other man taking it gladly and leaning against Reyes once he’s fully up. “That’s pretty impressive thinking.”

Scott would smile but the ache where he got hit is almost too much. “They wanted five hundred credits and a shuttle for me.”

“I didn’t know that was the going rate for pathfinders.”

“I was almost insulted.” Scott let out a slight breath as Reyes helped him down the steps. “I’m...thanks for the assist.”

“You’re welcome.” Reyes gave Scott’s hand a squeeze and they slowly made their way back to his shuttle. “Just promise me to not get kidnapped again.”

“I make no promises.”

#scott is a mouthy little shit sometimes #promptober #me:a #whumptober2019 #inktober #scott ryder #reyes vidal #my writing #this is a bit long #but i was really enjoying it

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imagine-loki · 6 years ago

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Loki and the Witchling

TITLE: Loki and the Witchling

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 59/76

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a healer working with the Avengers when Loki comes to join the team

RATING: T (so far)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

You groaned when you finally woke again. Your head was on fire, your mouth was dry, and you had a swimming feeling in your stomach that made it seem like throwing up was going to be inevitable. You made the mistake of cracking open your eyes and instantly regretted it. You shut them quickly, clutching your head and making the most pitiful pained noise as the morning light fried your eyes and drove the migraine in your skull up about ten pain points.

In short. You were very hungover.

Though you’d had no alcohol.

“Back among the living, I see, witchling,” came Loki’s voice from nearby. You whimpered, curled yourself in a tighter ball, then remembered, remembered what you had done and what Loki had been through.

You made the next mistake of jolting upright, forcing your eyes open so you could check on Loki. He’d been through so much. You whimpered at the movement, fought back the wave of nausea and dizziness and tried to focus on Loki. Tried. Really tried. Your eyes wouldn’t focus.

There was movement on the bed as Loki joined you. His hands steadied you and propped you up against the pillows. “I should leave you like this to teach you a lesson,” he told you. He wasn’t happy with you, but his tone was light, this at least was a joke.

“I’d do it again if it meant saving you from that hell,” you croaked through dry lips and a fuzzy mouth. “Fuck, I’d do it a thousand times to keep you from going through that,”

“Healers…” he sighed. “You are incorrigible, my darling. I still should leave you like this so maybe you’d learn to never overdose on magic like that again, but we need to discuss what happened over the last few days, so you need to be coherent for that. Now, hold still. I have enough healing gift for this.” His cold fingers were on your temples and instantly the pain began to ease.

“Thanks,” you murmured when you were feeling human again. It wasn’t feeling Asgardian again, but you’d take human over whimpering ball of misery. You raised your hand automatically to summon a glass of water.

Loki grabbed your hand. You saw then the emotions he was fighting. He wasn’t happy to say the least. “Stop that. You have used quite enough power, witchling,” he told you firmly. He handed you a cup of hot tea and you gave him a small smile. He didn’t return it.

You took a sip of the tea. “How pissed off are you?” you asked him softly.

“That is going to depend on the story you have to tell me, witchling,” at least he wasn’t pissed off enough yet to drop the terms of endearment. That was about the time he got dangerous.

“Thor didn’t tell you?” you asked instead of starting the story. Damn Thunderer was supposed to tell him so he wouldn’t worry.

“He told me you did something stupid you did not wish for me to know about, that you said you would be fine, and that I should not worry. Since then, they have all been busy with the strays you told them to bring back,” Loki growled and his teacup exploded in his hands.

“Loki!” you dropped your teacup and it floated in the air next to you. You took Loki’s hands to make sure he wasn’t injured as the broken teacup and mess disappeared. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek, brushed your thumb over his lips, before you leaned up and kissed him. You had to check your handiwork, had to make sure he was really safe. You wrapped your arms around him. “I was so worried about you,” you told him.

He held you too tightly for a moment. “I was terrified for you when you arrived at that place,” he admitted. “I never wanted you to come after me,”

You scoffed. “You should have known better,” you told him. He inclined his head with a small smile.

“I should have,” he agreed softly. “I never wanted you to have to use your powers like that,” he told you sadly.

“I never wanted to either, but they hurt what’s mine,” you snarled softly. Loki kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too, witchling. Now tell me what happened.” His voice had gentled. He understood your motives, though he wasn’t pleased. He also still couldn’t quite believe you cared enough about him to do that.

You curled yourself more comfortably in his arms and your teacup floated back over to you. You began the story from the moment Loki was taken. “You drank what?!” he demanded when you got to the part about the coffee.

“And that’s why I told Thor not to tell you about that,” you said softly, looking at you cup of tea. “I needed the power boost,” you added softly. He sighed and couldn’t argue that point. He knew how drained you’d both been after healing the children and how little you would have recovered by the next morning.

“And that my darling witchling is why you overdosed on magic and why you were so very, very hungover,”

“I realize that,” you told him grumpily. “I’m very aware why you told me not to boost my powers like that.” You’d known and done it anyway. You had been kinda desperate. He didn’t protest anymore so you continued the story. “I’m sorry I lost your lovelock,” you told him when you’d explained how you’d given it to Strange so you could find him.

He kissed the top of your head. “I’ll give you a new one,” he told you softly. He sounded impressed that you’d used it to find him.

Then you had to tell him about the rage and pain of seeing him in that place, of how he’d been bound and chained. About how they’d sewn his mouth shut. They had tortured your Loki and they’d had to pay.

Loki pulled you more tightly into his arms, holding you safely, and kissing the top of your head. “You should never have come there. Thor should have known to stop you. They were after you, my love,” his words were harsh with emotion, with the pain and horror you had seen in his eyes when you had removed the blindfold on him in that place. “I stopped them from taking you… and you still went there anyway,”

“I had to get you back. They were torturing you. They. Those fucking pieces of shit sewed your mouth shut,” you reminded him, wrapping your arms around his waist to hold him too tightly too.

His voice was haunted when he answered. “They…they said they had to silence my silver tongue before I recovered enough to use it against them. Before they got ahold of you. They thought when you showed up that I would talk you out of doing whatever it was they wanted you to,”

“I would have done anything to save you.” And you had. You had exploded every single person in that place. That knowledge was finally sinking in. You’d never killed before, and you had thoroughly destroyed all of those people.

“No,” Loki told you firmly when he sensed your change in thoughts. “Don’t you do that to yourself.” He felt your emotions and could hear thoughts when you were projecting too loudly. He tilted your head up and kissed you. “Sometimes killing is a necessary evil. I never wished for you to have to use your powers like that. I know you’re a healer to your core and I love you dearly for it, no matter how exasperating it can be. I know you, my darling, I know that you would never do anything like that except in the most dire of circumstances. The circumstances the other day were very dire indeed,” that was an understatement. They had tortured your Loki. “You’re not a monster, love. Don’t even think for an instant that you are,”

“I love you,” you told him and laid your head on his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. You weren’t convinced you were going to get over killing all of those people so easily, but you knew it hadn’t been the wrong decision. It wasn’t the best decision, you knew the legal system was there for a reason…

“Never anger a Lady of Asgard and never enrage a healer,” Loki said softly, more like he was voicing a memory than anything.

“You knew?” you asked him just as softly. He kissed your forehead.

“Of course,”

“You should have told me,”

“I never wished for you to have to use that aspect of your abilities. But I saw it once before. There was only one occasion when Thor and I had reason to witness the depth of a healer’s rage,” he kissed you lightly. “I can’t tell you how much it means that you love me that much. Only that level of love can illicit that response from a healer,”

“You said you saw it before?” you asked, curious.

He shuddered. “Once. Thor and I were seven or eight at the time. We went out on a picnic with Mother outside the palace. This was before Thor had Mjolnir, before I knew more than very basic magic. We hadn’t taken any guards with us. It was supposed to be close enough to the palace to be safe, just a mother having a picnic lunch with her sons. We were attacked by bandits. They were going to take us hostage to ransom the queen and the princes for gold. Even at that young age, Thor and I weren’t going to stand by and let Mother be hurt. I summoned a blade even then and Thor had his practice sword. We were horribly outmatched, even with Mother. Until she saw that I was injured, bleeding. Until she saw the full extent of the danger. Until my pain and our fear ignited that same healer’s instinct to protect the ones she loved. She grabbed us both, held us in her arms, and shielded us from the red rain as the men around us…popped and screamed and died. I don’t know how Father knew…” you knew he was lost to the memories and the story if he was actually calling Odin ‘father’ again. “He was there a minute later with a full squad of the army. They looked horrified, until Father reminded them that it is unwise to anger a Lady of Asgard, and more unwise still to injure the loved ones of a healer. He kissed her, told her he loved her, and how brave she was to defend her family. She was distraught, but she calmed when she realized we were all safe,” he told you.

“Frigga-?” you would never suspect the mild, gentle, caring Queen of such violence.

“Yes, darling. My Lady Mother. If Asgard’s queen can take such an action to defend the princes without being a monster, then so can her princess,” he told you warmly.

“You’re really ok?” you asked him. He smiled softly and kissed you again.

“Very much so, darling. Thanks to you. However, I would very much like to go find something to eat and you’ve been unconscious for over a day, so I can’t imagine that you aren’t starving too,” he told you warmly as both of your stomachs began to growl more insistently. You burst into laughter and finally, finally things seemed like they would be ok.

You insisted on getting a shower before you went downstairs. You were still covered in the remnants of the red mist from the warehouse. Loki joined you. You didn’t mind as you still weren’t steady enough to want him out of your sight. You had a feeling he was experiencing similar emotions.

Clean and freshly dressed you made your way downstairs, Loki’s hand tightly held in yours. “Darling, relax. We’re safe in the tower,” he reminded you. “We’re safe,” he said again when you gave him a look.

“They hurt you,” you protested. “You’re a god…” why didn’t he understand?

“That was a very extenuating circumstance, witchling. We were both drained to the point of passing out from healing all of those children. It was a clever trap. They knew they’d have to incapacitate me to get to you. It is not something that will happen again. The team is already making plans. Cap is very boring about it,” he rolled his eyes and you laughed. You knew Cap’s lectures well. They were very boring.

“Hey, we were wondering when you two would show your faces,” Nat greeted you when you made it to the kitchen. “Thor said you were sleeping off that shit you drank to save Loki,” she added.

“Yeah. He’s still mad at me for drinking that shit,” you told her with a smile. “Any food around here?”

“Stark ordered about a thousand pizzas. If you don’t want to cook that’s what we all had for breakfast,” Nat gestured to the fridge. “Cap wants to see you down on the detention floor when you’ve eaten,”

“Pizza ok with you?” you asked Loki, who just shrugged. So you dug pizzas out of the fridge. “What does Cap need me for?”

“We’re having trouble with the man we rescued,” she looked haunted for a moment before she continued. “I recognize him from before. We met five or so years ago. He goes by The Winter Soldier. We haven’t been able to get him calm enough to remove his mask or eat anything or do anything besides try to kill anyone who enters his cell. Cap thinks you might be able to help,”

You nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. What about the kids?”

“They’re upstairs in guest rooms the floor below yours. Don’t know if they’re staying yet or not, but they seem to be doing ok now that they’re out of that hell. Oh, the man you left alive is currently being ‘questioned’ by SHIELD. Don’t worry, he’s not enjoying it. At all. I’m sure Coulson will have intelligence for us soon,”

“Darling, shouldn’t you heat that up?” Loki asked as you pulled a slice of pizza from the box to shove directly into your face.

“Wha? Cold pizza tastes just fine,” you told him as you swallowed said mouthful of cold pizza.

He just sighed. “Sometimes I forget that you grew up on Midgard and not a civilized place like Asgard,” he said mournfully. You rolled your eyes and proceeded to shove yet another slice of pizza into your face. Asgardians could eat. Starving Asgardians were a danger upon anything edible in their vicinity. You were beyond starving. You’d pushed yourself and your abilities way too hard to rescue Loki. You handed a box of pizza to Loki.

“You’re welcome to heat yours up. I don’t feel like waiting that long when pizza tastes just fine cold.” With a wave of his hand the pizza was piping hot. “Cheater,” you told him and stole a slice from his box. He sighed heavily and waved a hand over your box of pizza too, looking put-upon. Nat didn’t comment as you each devoured an entire extra large pizza. “You coming with me to meet this winter soldier?” you asked Loki.

“Of course,” he replied as if that were obvious.

“You don’t have to protect me, love,” you didn’t want him in potential danger either.

He raised your left hand to his lips to kiss your engagement ring. “Together,” was all he had to say.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 59 #loki and the witchling #nekoamamori

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