#he placed her forward as a claimant to turn his back on that when he had the opportunity to place his own blood on the throne

[halfyearsqueen]

honestly the betrayal she feels in the foundation of team green against her is more directed towards Otto then it is alicent. and this is because politically there had been ? a level of allegiance toward her that he had been pretty public about considering he had a whole party behind him petitioning for her claim to be set over daemon’s

[galwednesday]

Inktober drabbles (100 words each) for days 1 - 5:

GARGOYLE

Mabel's favorite thing about the apartment building she'd lived in for some sixty years was the gargoyles. They gave the place some class. Even better, they were the cheapest laundry service in the city.

Dry, neatly folded shirts filled the basket she'd left by the kitchen window full of wet clothes yesterday evening. The clothesline where they'd hung overnight held only a pair of hot pink fingerless gloves flapping gently against the glass. Mabel worked the gloves over the outstretched stone hands of the gargoyle perched motionless on the windowsill, making a note to buy more neon yarn that weekend.

SCURRY

Rats fled sinking ships. His tower was sinking, crumbling, and burning simultaneously, so leaving was the smart move. Watching his familiar turn tail and streak away shouldn't have sent a betrayed pang through his chest. 

In fairness, the pang could’ve been the broken ribs. 

Either way, he was surprised when Whiptail returned. "No, you were right," he said. "Get--ow!"

Whiptail released her teeth and screeched at him like an aggravated modem. He blinked at the teleportation token she'd dragged into his hand.

"Oh, best lab assistant," he said fervently, and tucked her securely against his chest before activating it.

BATS

The problem with turning into a cloud of bats was getting the right bats back. It was common to swap body parts after a group swarm; it wasn't common to file lawsuits about it.

"If they look so similar," the mediator said, "does it really matter who has whose nose?"

"Yes," the claimant said, "because this nose has allergies. I have a cat! Would I have gotten a cat if I had allergies?"

The defendant shrugged. "People do crazy things for love."

The mediator pulled the evidence file out of the way just before the claimant went over the table.

SCALLOP

It had lived in many forests, dug deep into leaf litter and gaps under logs, sharing space with flora, fauna, and fungi. But nobody had ever come to visit before.

"We try to be neighborly," the wolf said, and thrust his offering forward. His fur was tucked away until the next lunar peak, but his teeth, bared in a friendly smile, were still sharp. "Hope you like scalloped potatoes!"

It blinked, one eye after the other. Potatoes. Not crunchy brown lumps underground, but white circles layered like snake scales. Like full moons. "Yes," it decided, and accepted the casserole dish.

FLAME

Sadie knows not to play with fire, fire the devourer, the consumer, the Devil's hunger that leaps from farm to farm when the storm wards fail, but since the tiny flicker she found in the stump of a lightning-struck tree isn't like that, it must not be fire after all.

Fire is supposed to burn, and her new friend only dances bright like sunlight on water between her palms. She tucks it into her overalls and goes about her chores, reminding it to be gentle as the calves nose it curiously, sneezing at the tickle and crowding around its warmth.

[wulfhurst]

"They cannot do this!"

They had arrived early in the day, collars nearly as fluffed as their raised hackles in ample agitation. A group of four people, all of which made up the would-be leaders of the people in his barony.

"We must act. Hiding behind our walls will do nothing this time! It is time for action, my lord!"

Their words and minds were nearly as sheltered as their lives had been, only able to glimpse a fragment of the bigger picture. All they knew was that they were angry, and that their lord had to do something about it.

"Your father never would have sat idly by for this! You are not your father's son! Your time spent away and with that haunted little vixen of yours has poisoned your mind!"

They just wouldn't stop. One slanderous drip of bile from their tongues after another, each one more reckless than the last. As if daring their lord to act against them. As if the walls of the barony protected them from him.

"And that new found family of yours! They are naught but pushovers! You invite them into our homes, and now they eat our food far quicker than we ever have! What are we going to do for the winter?! You and that disgrace of an uncle are going to be the death of our people!"

"Anar'vis-trans; mori."

As Lucius eyes finally raised from the desk, a sinister glint of arcane was evident while a wisp of mana seeped from his lips. At once did the four assembled vassals go rigid, as if frozen in place. Their eyes glossed over, flicking back and forth as if watching some sort of moving picture.

Their lips trembled, cracked and dry, tears welling from the corners of their eyes. Some clutched at their chest, others reached towards the air in a plea for help. When at last the spell faded from them, they had fallen to the ground, crumpled, and knelt. Now though, they regained their senses, and at once their outrage bubbled to the service.

All it took was a single raise of his right hand, and the baron's guards stepped forward. Two of them, blades drawn with the brief duet of hissing metal. The threat was made clear, and as the former warden rose from his chair, his frame blocked out the sun filtering through the window behind him. A large shadow was cast over the four men, withering on the spot with fear.

For they had walked into the den of the wulf, and attacked its family.

"The walls of his barony protect us - from them. Colfax, the claimant to the throne, is nothing more than a traitor and pretender, who stakes his claim through dubious means, and whom had his land granted during the time of Prestor. -We- don't have to do anything. Redridge will become a battlefield, and I will not have us caught out in the open after fielding nothing more than farmers to fight a war single-handedly."

Each word that left Lucius' lips brought with the weight of his guards' swords upon their necks, as if the edge was pressing into the meat of their flesh like water to a dam about to burst.

"When the time comes, we will act. If Colfax seeks to claim Cardinal Grove and use it as a bastion to defend Redridge from, he will lose hundreds, if not thousands of men in the process."

The image flashed through each of their minds, the battle that would be waged at Wulfgard. The mountainous checkpoint through which all had to travel to gain entry to the barony's safety.

"Rhiannon Graves is mine. Do you understand that? Any careless word against her will be another knock on your door in the dead of night, dragging you from your homes to be questioned here in my chambers."

Another scene. Archers, as silent as the grave, poised as a threat that no person could run from with complete certainty that they'd go unharmed. At night, they would be twice as effective.

"My uncle, his people, and my father are -all- part of my family. Therefore, they are part of -your- family. As we have looked out for them, they will look out for us when the time comes. My father, in all of his wisdom, knew that he could not go out and fight battles. He turned his efforts instead to the acquisition of trade. Due to such, we have a sizable treasury saved up. He wanted for me to use it as a foundation, to take this barony and turn it into something that our people deserve to have, if not more."

"Never again will we have anything taken from us."

"Let Colfax come! Let Northgate come! Let the rebellious forces amass at the gate of Wulfgard, and be found wanting when faced with fifty bows and a hundred shields ready to lay waste upon our walls! They will taste the iron indignation of our ballista!"

"This is our grove, and these are our people. They will NEVER take it from us!"

Lucius' words could be heard echoing through his manor, a shout that would carry out unto the masses of Cardinal Grove in due time as the rumor mill ran on overtime.

@theoldlord @theweepingseraph @theborderlandcoalition

[jovialyouthmusic]

Silver Service

The Court visits the Cormery Isles without Lady Olivia. Lucretia makes plans and Anton makes an unpleasant discovery. 

Word Count 2964

A/N Apologies for the delay in posting. the chapter is short, but a lot happens. Warning - harm to a major character.

19 We move closer...

‘Excuse me your Grace’ James knocked on the door of Liam’s bedroom, where he was packing for the trip to Cormery.

‘What is it, James?’ He asked, and he entered, standing by the door in the stoic posture of the King’s Guard.

‘I thought you’d like to know Lady Olivia is returning from her meeting with Lucretia, Sir.’

‘Already? I thought she’d be longer. Do we know what entrance she’ll be using? I’d like to meet her straight away’ James pressed a finger to his earpiece, listening intently

‘Follow me sir’ he replied ‘I’ll take you there, her route is being monitored’

Liam was just in time to greet Olivia as she swept in the staff entrance at speed, but she wouldn’t stop. He ran to keep up with her as she made her way to her suite. She refused to speak until she got there, when she seized the nearest object – a heavy vase full of flowers. She picked it up and held it up to hurl it down on the ground, but Liam stopped her, catching hold of her hands and helping her to put it down safely. She pulled away from him abruptly

‘That old bitch’ she stormed ‘She knows’ She went to the desk and swept the papers off the desk. Liam followed her and caught at her wrists before she did any more damage.

‘Knows what, Livvy?’ he asked urgently ‘What does Lucretia know?’ Olivia’s eyes were full of fire and she glared at him for a moment before letting her arms go limp and dropping her head.

‘She knows I’m pregnant’ she said quietly ‘She worked it out, the witch’

‘Calm down Livvy. We can handle this’ Liam said soothingly ‘Take a deep breath’

‘How are we going to keep this quiet?’ She said ‘It’s too soon’

‘It’s okay, she’s under house arrest’ Liam reminded her ‘She has no means of contacting anyone outside the house, it will be fine’ He let her go, and she went over to lean on the desk.

‘We have to up our profile’ she said ‘I hate the idea of going to Cormery, but perhaps I should be seen with you’

‘I think we’re doing alright’ said Liam ‘I’ll make sure you’re mentioned in the press releases. I’ll get Sophia to work on a positive spin on your absence. You need to go home to recharge your batteries. If all goes well, we’ll have found a way to neutralise Anton’s claims, and then we can announce our intentions.’

‘And if he succeeds?’ Olivia said shortly

‘Then we go into exile. I’ll stay with you Livvy, whatever happens’

------

‘This has to be the dullest leg of the tour so far’ murmured Sophia to Riley ‘Standing around watching nobles hit a ball around a golf course isn’t my idea of fun’

‘Quiet please’ came the request from the referee. Yet another ball was hit, sailing off down the green, and the hushed crowd made appreciative noises. There was a low murmur as everyone moved off to the next vantage point, and the three of them trailed at the back of the crowd.

‘Tell me about it’ said Riley ‘Let’s go back to the clubhouse’ Drake snorted in reply ‘What?’ she said ‘At least they have a bar there’

‘You really think they’ll let riff raff like us in? he laughed drily ‘Dream on’ Riley sighed

‘Surely they’ll let us in, we’re official guests’

‘You can try’ grunted Drake ‘Even if they do, the prices are sky high’

‘In any case I think I’d rather drink from a hip flask in Bas’s SUV than traipse round after these blowhards’ she replied.

‘We can’t just cut out’ Sophia pointed out ‘If the press sees us…’

‘Excuse me, we’re not exactly newsworthy guests, all the attention is on the players, and the outfits all the noble ladies are wearing’ Drake pointed out.

‘I’ll ask Bas’ Sophia offered ‘He’ll have some sort of get out’ She tapped away on her phone.

This is dull as ditchwater. How can we bail out?

We?

Me, Riley, Drake

Grin and bear it

Will bribery work?

Don’t distract me

I’ll wear stockings for a week

Wicked woman

You love it

Leave it with me

‘What does Bas say?’ Riley hissed as they reached the hole

‘He’ll bail us out somehow’ At that moment, one of the guards tapped Sophia on the shoulder

‘Miss Turner, there’s an urgent message for you, come with me. You might want some company, I think it’s bad news’

‘Oh’ Sophia said, hand flying to her mouth ‘Riley had better come then’ She turned to Riley and grabbed at her hand. Drake looked alarmed

‘I’d better go with you’ he said ‘For support’ The three of them hurried away, a few of the audience casting a gaze over them as they went. Once they were out of sight of the crowd, the guard spoke.

‘Just for the record, Captain Lykel has asked me to escort you to the staff bar and has requested that you stay there until he contacts you at the end of the tournament. On no account are you to leave except for – and I quote – a life threatening emergency’

‘Anyone would think we were with Maxwell’ muttered Drake.

‘There’s a limited tab for you at the bar, and a buffet’ the guard told Sophia as they approached the clubhouse. ‘Two drinks each, and after that you pay for them yourself. Please be moderate with your quota’ He pressed his earpiece and nodded ‘The Captain says no expensive single malts or bottles of champagne. By the glass only’

Sophia crooked an eyebrow and glanced at Drake. He made a sour face as they reached the building, and the guard lead them to the unimposing bar reserved for staff at the club. A couple of chauffeurs and other aides sat at the tables set out, so Sophia chose somewhere to sit while Drake went to order. He had a whisky, and Sophia and Riley ordered white wine. The barman indicated a buffet table at the side of the room, and as soon as Drake had taken the drinks to the girls he took a plate and started to heap it up.

‘Steady on Drake, leave some for the Guard’ Riley scolded

‘Come on, this is proper food’ Drake complained ‘not the fiddly crab bruschetta and fishy crackers the nobles get’

‘Well I’m not really hungry’ Sophia declared ‘Knock yourself out’

‘Don’t worry Sir, we’ve actually got plenty to go round’ the barman assured him ‘We know the nobles just pick at the food, and the club manager usually adjusts the budget so that most of the allowance is for staff – there’s far more of them than there are nobles anyway. Just go easy on the sauce – a lot of staff don’t drink on duty, so that budget’s limited’ Drake nodded in appreciation

‘Thanks man’ He grinned, and reached into his back pocket, producing a hip flask ‘I always carry this on stuffy noble occasions anyway’

‘So what are your quarters like?’ Sophia asked. She and Bastien had been allocated the best of the staff quarters, and that wasn’t saying much. Lord Delacouer obviously thought luxuries like en suite facilities wasted on mere lackeys, and they had to share a bathroom with Lewis. Altogether, going to the Cormery Isles was like taking a step back a few decades in time. Riley made a face that told Sophia all she needed to know.

‘I think we picked the short straw’ she said ‘We asked for a double room and we got one – or rather, two beds pushed together and just enough room to walk round them. From what Drake tells me, our host doesn’t think much of commoners, so he really scraped the bottom of the barrel for us.’

‘I’m looking forward to moving on to Lythikos’ Sophia said ‘Of course I’ve been there before, but I think Olivia will be more accommodating than our last visit’

‘I’ll believe it when I see it’ said Drake darkly.

‘I’m just glad we won’t be seeing Lucretia’ Riley said with a shudder, obviously remembering the time Anton had kidnapped them and taken them to Lucretia’s stronghold.

‘I wonder what the old bitch is doing now’ Drake said ‘At least she’s somewhere she can’t do any harm’

-------

‘Good afternoon, your Grace’ Lucretia’s lawyer greeted the old woman as she entered her study. The Duchess sat at her desk, writing. She spoke without looking up.

‘I have some information that concerns both claimants to the crown, and I need your advice, Miss Bouvoir’ she said.

‘I’ll do what I can, your Grace’ the younger woman said smoothly, sitting even though she hadn’t been invited to. Lucretia looked up at last, her piercing gaze making her shift uncomfortably.

‘It have a strong conviction that my niece is pregnant’ she said ‘and as she has refused to meet her betrothed, I can only presume that the father of the child is none other than King Liam’

‘That’s an extremely controversial claim, your Grace’ the young lawyer said in shock. Lucretia sniffed.

‘It certainly is, and I’d like you to look into the implications should it be found to be true’

‘It depends whose claim is found to be true of course. If Anton’s claim is proved, Lady Olivia would be guilty of adultery and possible treason.’

‘Surely adultery is not relevant in today’s society’

‘Not where it involves a Royal heir, your Grace. If King Liam’s case is proved, it is possible that Lady Olivia’s child might be taken into Royal custody as heir to the Crown, but as she is a Nevrakis and has a claim to the throne should either Anton or Liam be incapacitated, it makes the whole matter even more complicated. The legalities of all three cases could be argued for years’

‘What would happen to the child if the King were to legitimately marry another woman, who would presumably be crowned Queen, and have another child?’

‘Again your Grace, the matter would be complicated, and more time would be spent arguing which child was the legitimate heir, but a child with both Nevrakis and Rys blood would have a very strong claim.’

‘Humour me please, Miss Bouvior. What if the child were found to be Lord Severus’s?’

‘I – still can’t say for certain. It would have to be decided in a court of Law’ Lucretia rolled her eyes upward and sighed heavily. She folded the paper she had been writing on and placed it in an envelope, writing a name on it with a flourish.

‘Thankyou Miss Bouvoir. I’d be obliged if you would hand this to my housekeeper in person’

‘You know I have to show any communications to the Guard to be vetted, your Grace.’

‘Of course, they’ll only find instructions on how she should continue to run my estate. I still have property that needs to be managed. It’s not sealed’

‘Very well your Grace, I’ll hand it over as soon as possible’

‘You may be gone a day or so to deliver it. I’d like you to return to me with her inevitable reply. Again, I’m sure the Guard will find nothing of concern. You may go’ Miss Bouvoir rose, reached over the desk to take the letter, and left the room to go and report to the guard at the door of the cottage.

------

‘So Lady Olivia declined the invitation to my event’ Neville Delacoeur sniffed haughtily ‘I’ve a mind to decline her invitation to Lythikos’ The golfing event over, all the guests milled around in the clubhouse lounge, picking at the lavish buffet and sipping champagne. He stood looking out over the greens, and Madeleine stood next to him.

‘I wouldn’t do that’ she said drily ‘I need all the help I can get exposing her as the King’s mistress’ Neville scowled

‘I presume if you expose her, you get closer to being Queen yourself’

‘And I’d be able to reward those who aid me’ she smiled

‘Lord Delacouer’ Madeleine turned smoothly at the King’s voice ‘Lady Madeleine’ he gave them both a little bow. Neville almost bent himself double with his own return bow, but Madeleine barely bobbed. ‘The greens are impressive, Neville – I hope you’ve managed to raise an acceptable amount for the Library in the capital’ The young Duke almost fell over himself bowing again to hear the King using his first name.

‘My secretary is calculating the figures right now, Your Majesty’

‘Please Neville, call me Liam. I well recall attending birthday parties in the Isles when we were younger, and I recollect that you visited the Palace on a few such occasions too. We’ve known each other a long time’

‘Indeed your – Liam’ he said obsequiously ‘I’m honoured that you remember’

‘I hope Lady Olivia is managing with the arrangements for the events in her home Duchy’ Madeleine cut in.

‘Yes, such a pity she couldn’t come’ Neville added ‘I had the suite next to yours prepared, just as you asked.’

‘Olivia likes things done properly’ Liam replied ‘I’m sure her staff are more than capable of taking care of things very well, but she feels personally responsible for everyone’s enjoyment of her events’

‘Admirable’ Madeleine said ‘As am I. It distressed me deeply that she demanded to move rooms at Karlingford’

‘I’m afraid that was rather my fault’ Liam replied ‘Something came up and I needed to be able to call on her at a moment’s notice. Her original suite was at the other end of the property’

‘Olivia’s a strong healthy woman’ Madeleine remarked ‘Surely she could have walked…’

‘Your Majesty!’ Neville’s father greeted Liam, leaning heavily on his cane. He was rarely seen at court and travelled even less frequently, relying on his son to take his place at official meetings. ‘I hope you enjoyed the greens. How unfortunate that Landon beat you by a whisker’ Liam turned to the older man.

‘Superb greens your grace’ he smiled ‘and the better man won – my golf skills were rather rusty’

‘You should come more often my boy, get some practice in. It’s a pleasure and an honour to have you here’

‘I fear matters of State may take up a lot more of my time now, your grace, but I’ll bear it in mind.’ He looked across the room ‘if you’ll excuse me, I must go and talk to Landon, eat a little humble pie’ He bowed to the group and turned away.

-------

Anton blinked himself awake in the enormous four poster bed. He had had strange dreams, one of which involved Olivia coming to visit him in the night, sitting on the edge of his bed. She refused to speak to him, and when he went to touch her, she melted away. He had been keeping up to date with the Charity tour, and knew that the Court had left Cormery and was making its way over the next day or so to Lythikos.

There was an envelope on the dressing table. It had not been there when he went to bed. He got out of bed, pulling on his dressing gown and going across to pick it up. The envelope was blank. He opened it, not noticing a faint cloud of dust that flew up into the air from the piece of paper inside. He opened it out, and discovered a single sentence written on the sheet.

Your wife is pregnant with the King’s child. Your attempt at the throne is futile.

His face changed as rage gripped him, but then he realised that his throat felt odd. It started as a tickle, and turned to a burning sensation. He looked at the piece of paper, only now noticing a slight line of white dust in the crease. He dropped it immediately and jumped away, screaming as an acrid smell drifted up to his nostrils. He ran to the door and wrenched it open, shouting out down the hall.

‘Help me – help! Poison! I’m being poisoned’ He clutched at his throat at the burning increased, and before the guard on duty could reach him, he had fallen to the floor, gasping for air.

------

‘How the hell did this happen?’ Bastien stormed. The King and the King’s Guard had returned to the Palace, now declared safe, and was stopping off in order to pack for Lythikos. Parker was accounting for the disaster at the safe house where Anton had been kept.

‘I don’t know, Sir’ Parker said, rigid with shame and dismay ‘We had the manor locked down tight. Everyone was vetted and observed.’

‘Let’s go over the facts again’ Bastien leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers together. Lewis sat beside him, bleary from being roused from his sleep after a night shift.

‘Very well, Sir. At eight thirty today, Anton came out of his room in some distress shouting out that he’d been poisoned. He collapsed with severe swelling to his throat, and lost consciousness due to his airway being compromised. It was around five minutes before he received medical attention from one of our first aiders, who managed to establish an airway of sorts. The emergency services were called and they sent a helicopter within half an hour. He was airlifted to the hospital in the capital and remains on ventilation and is unconscious.’ He took a breath as Bastien looked at him intently

‘Go on, Parker’

‘On examining the room, a blank envelope was discovered on the floor along with a single sheet of paper. There was evidence of some powder inside which has been sent to our labs for examination.’ He paused ‘There’s something else, Sir’

‘Spit it out, man’

‘The paper had the crest of House Nevrakis printed at the top’

[calumrose]

Trigger [Police/Gang!AU] Chapter 3 || C.H

A//N: Haven’t got very much to say this time which makes a change! So... yeah... here’s chapter 3! Enjoy!!

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: Eloise Gray and Calum Hood, not two people you would ever think to put together. What started as a ploy for power turned into a romance, resulting in the realisation that loving your enemy may not be such a bad thing after all.

Previous Chapters: Prologue / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

26 Days Left

The small café bustled around her; people engrossed in the art of conversation, blinded to the passing of time as they spent their hard-earned money on overpriced coffee and small sandwiches. She sat at the small table in the corner, the cold metal of the chair beneath her squeaking with every adjustment she made to her position, her hand wrapped around the cheapest coffee she could muster the courage to purchase to avoid conversation with a stranger who would make her presence known to be unwelcome in the small business unless she bought something.

Her phone lay on the dark wooden table, the device open on her rather empty Instagram account, the few people she followed sharing photos she had already witnessed a thousand times before, the sight now boring her to the bone. She clicked on the icon which took her to her own profile, her eyes looking over the few posts she had made over the years, the last one being a year after her dad died. The single photo stood out in comparison to the others, the photograph bringing a smile to her face while also conducting nothing but pain in her heart. She had shared a photograph of a happy day; the smiles of both her parents as they stood with Eloise between them on a hill, the view behind them breathtakingly beautiful. The caption was something that she had debated over for hours when she decided to post it, it constantly being edited and changed until she settled on her decision of a simple ‘I miss you’. A small yet powerful combination of words that spoke louder than any actions could for her.

Eloise quickly swiped the app to a close, sighing quietly to herself as she listened for the sound of café door opening, the little bell stationed above the door frame making it an easy thing to track. It wasn’t her usual scene; a café like this one. It was nice but she didn’t belong there, feeling as though she was a stranger in her own city within these brightly painted walls. She had to remind herself that there was a reason as to why she was here, a reason to why she had pushed herself out of bed this morning and ventured into Queens for the second time that week. She sipped on the bitter dark liquid, the patterned mug in her hands warming her nicely as she patiently waited, her foot steadily tapping against the black panels of the floor, the lingering taste on her tongue rekindling why she wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee most days.

The café door squeaked as it was pulled open, the sound of New York traffic momentarily being heard before it was overpowered by the ringing of the small golden bell as the door brushed against it. The suction of the door connecting with the frame once again lingered in the café as two more bodies joined the already crowded business. Eloise’s eyes followed them as they walked inside, the familiar broad shoulders and caramel skin catching her attention as she watched the tall man walk about to the counter to place his order. Her eyes fell to the woman who stood by his side, noting the difference in their height, watching their body language as they joked with one another and discussed the menu in front of them. She had hoped to find him here alone but with another body to grace her presence with, she guessed she would just need to pluck up the courage and get it over with sooner than expected.

She cleared her throat as she stood from her seat, leaving her warm coffee on the table as she took a steady few steps towards the small bannister that separated the seating area from the queue of people who waited to order at the counter. She braced her hands against it, leaning forward slightly as she braced herself to grab his attention. God, what was she doing…

“Hello stranger,” She called out, the corner of her lips tilting upwards at the sight of his shoulders freezing, his body slowly turning in place as their eyes met one another’s in a familiar dance. Fake feelings, Eloise, remember fake it! “I was wondering if I could grab you for a chat quickly,” Her brown eyes fell to the woman who stood beside him, a friendly smile gracing her lips as she nodded over in the direction of the table she was sat at previously, “I’ve got a table where we could talk if you’re not too busy?”

Eloise’s chest released a deal of tension she didn’t even realise was there at the sight of his nod as his smooth voice accepted her offer, “I’d like that.”

The faded sound of his voice could be heard over the crowded conversations of the café as he called to the woman that he came with to grab his order, naming it as his ‘usual’, as he excused himself through the growing queue of customers before walking over and talking a seat opposite where Eloise sat at the petite table in the corner of the café. She couldn’t help but notice his attire; admiring the crisp, white button-up shirt, his black slacks and coinciding black boots which oddly worked with the formal fabrics on his body, the main claimant of her attention though, was the jacket he wore: a charcoal coloured pea coat. The fabric accentuated his broad shoulders, the structured lining of the coat only highlighting his mesmerising stature, making him seem as though he was more muscular than he actually was. He looked good. Actually, scratch that, he looked gorgeous, and Eloise couldn’t deny that.

“I know you said you’d find me, but I won’t lie, I didn’t expect you follow through,” His chuckle echoed in her ears, his gentle eyes finding hers from across the table, “You had me nervous that I wouldn’t see you again if I’m completely honest,”

She grasped the mug of now-cold coffee in her hands, lacing her fingers around the cold ceramic as she stared up at him, “I just wanted to thank you again for the other night and apologise again for leaving you with an almighty pair of blue balls,” She couldn’t hold back her giggle at the final words, “I do feel a little bit bad about that you’ll be glad to hear.” She noted how his cheeks at heated her words, the thought of that night briefly dancing across his mind.

“Speaking of that night, I asked you a question before you left but you seemed awfully rushed and I don’t believe you gave me a proper answer,” He teased, his eyebrows raising as his eyes watched while her own chocolate ones burrowed into his.

“From what I can recall, I told you I would think about it,”

“And I’ve decided that I’m not taking that as a valid answer, sorry, but I don’t make the rules,” Calum smirked, “The CEO of first dates doesn’t do ‘maybes’.”

Eloise had to fight the smile spreading on her face at his stupid response, every muscle in her face pressing against the urge to laugh at his terrible line.

“The CEO of first dates?” She rolled her eyes, “Really? Could you not have just said you would like a straight answer instead of throwing out that god-awful joke?”

“It made you smile though didn’t it?” He noted the corner of her mouth twitch, knowing she was fighting a smile that he had easily enticed, “So that’s a win in my book.” He was still such a smooth talker, although she couldn’t say the same about him when he was drunk.

Eloise wanted to scream at the smug smile on his face, trying to remind herself that he was a police officer, and this was all part of a plan. None of this is genuine, she kept telling herself, it’s all part of a game.

But why shouldn’t she have fun with it? Why not enjoy it while she could? Who was Eloise to deny herself a bit of fun and no feelings. No true feelings anyway.

“I guess for the sake of your reputation I better give you a ‘yes’ then,” Eloise smirked as she spoke, sipping on the disgustingly cold drink in her hands, “Can’t have you handing back a poor report to Mr. CEO.”

“He and I both greatly appreciate your cooperation, and just to show our appreciation, I’ll let you pick where we go for dinner.” Calum’s smirked matched the one wore by Eloise.

“How kind of you,” The mocking tone of her voice only enticed Calum further, “But going for dinner isn’t my style, I don’t really fit into the typical little black dress and fancy suit dinners that I’m sure you’re used to.” It was as if her body was on fire as he stared at her, the heat radiating of her hands almost as hot as the temperature the coffee previously steamed with. “Why don’t you surprise me? I’ll let you take some control.”

The way those words rolled from her tongue had Calum’s stomach doing flips, his eyes flickering for the glimpse at her lips as her tongue poked out at the final letter. Something about the girl who sat opposite him tantalised him, the way her fingers curled around the ceramic mug taunted him, the way her eyelashes fluttered with every blink made him feel things he didn’t even know were possible.

“What time will I pick you up?” The question came from his lips before he had even thought it through, his breath quite literally being stolen at the sight of her.

“Eager, are we? What if I’ve got plans tonight?”

“Cancel them.” It came out as more of an order than a friendly suggestion, his voice deepened as his stare hardened on her. His tone was the perfect mixture of silk and sandpaper, Eloise becoming fascinated by the contrast.

Her eyes held their stare out with his midnight ones, her hand grabbing hold of the napkin that sat scrunched up on the table before she held her hand out for him, “Have you got a pen?”

Calum couldn’t even register his hand reaching into his pocket, searching for the tool before his eyes dropped to her hand scribbling on the white tissue in front of him. She smiled as she pushed the napkin and pen back towards the tall god, standing to her feet as she placed the pen in the pocket of his shirt that peeped out behind his jacket, her teeth gaining a delicate hold on the inside of her bottom lip. “Let me know what time you’re coming, and I’ll send you the address. I guess I’ll see you tonight, lover boy.”

Words hadn’t even had a chance to form in Calum’s throat before she made her way outside and left the café, smirk spread across her face as she turned left onto the busy street of the city. The sun beat down on her face as she walked, Calum’s eyes following her as she soon disappeared out of sight, leaving him sat at the table with nothing but a cold coffee and messy napkin in midst. His let his eyes drop from the chair she once sat on, the ink that littered the scrunched piece material on the table catching his eye as he read the text quietly to himself, registering the pattern of numbers were in fact a phone number. She had left her phone number.

A single corner of his lip upturned as he shoved the tissue into his pocket, smirking slyly to himself at the thought of her. He couldn’t do anything else but smile or smirk when it came to her: a total stranger.

“You look pleased with yourself,” A voice called out, a takeaway cup of coffee being placed into his eyeline as his hands reached up to grasp it, his eyes glancing up to meet with Nikki’s, the woman he had abandoned at the front of the café. “But then again, when aren’t you?”

Calum rolled his eyes as he stood up, taking the food bag from her in his other hand, following her out of the café as they called their goodbyes to the owner before heading back to Nikki’s car. It was their weekly trip out of the precinct for lunch, treating themselves to their favourite sandwich from one of the best cafes in the city.

“What did she want?” Nikki’s voice cut the silence as they climbed into the vehicle. The smell of fresh bread and coffee filled the car rather quickly as their doors closed, the smell being one that Calum loved, a small comfort that made a great impact.

“She has a name, y’know,” Calum smirked as he unwrapped his sandwich, resting his left ankle on his right knee the best he could due to the small space within the car, “And it’s nothing big, I met her a few days ago so it was just a friendly chat.”

“Uh huh,” Nikki’s dark eyebrows raised as she turned in her seat, taking a gentle sip of her coffee from the black takeout cup. She could see the way Calum avoided answering her question in full, admired the effort but wasn’t stupid enough to let him off that easy. “Something about her has clearly got you smiling, Cal, and I want to know what, especially considering she doesn’t typically give people things to smile about.”

Calum’s brows furrowed at her final sentence, his eyes catching hers from the side as he took a bite of his well-compact sandwich. He chewed the contents, turning his head to give his partner an uneasy look, unsure of what she meant. Nikki knew this look; she had gotten to know it all too well over the years.

“You do know who she is right?” Nikki choked out, placing her coffee back into the cupholder of her car, holding her still-wrapped sandwich in her hand, turning further in her seat so she sat with her full attention facing Calum, “Eloise Gray? Does the name ring a bell?”

Nikki couldn’t ignore as she watched the hamster wheel inside Calum’s head began to spin, letting him piece together the few pieces of the small puzzle before a subtle wave of realisation hit him. His mind going back to the briefing he received at the station not too long ago.

“She’s Thomas Gray’s daughter, Calum, she’s a Gypsy King,” The name spat from Nikki’s tongue like a blow-dart, “And with the current case Charlie’s got going on, I don’t think it’s the best idea that you’re seen with her. It’s asking for trouble, and I’m not just talking about if Charlie were to find out.”

He kept his face calm and collected, the realisation setting in of why her name sounded so pretty being spoken from his lips. Not only did beauty drip from her name, or her eyes cause Calum to feel as though he was drowning, he had seen her before without even realising. She was in dozens of police reports that he had looked over and passed to other officers, handing them to the newly established gang unit to sort. He swore he could hear the silent clock of the car radio begin to tick as silence swallowed him, the images of the pretty brunette flashing across his mind like a laser light show.

Calum was aware of the outbreak that would occur if his Lieutenant were to discover his casual sit down with Eloise alone, never mind the innocent drunken night they had shared together. Although they were innocent to bystanders, Calum knew the true extend of his feelings between them; she was a Rubik’s cube he couldn’t solve, and he wanted to keep going back for another try. What puzzled him was that he didn’t under why he kept wanting to go back. Why he wanted to try and crack her. There was a level of infatuation he hadn’t experienced before, and it intrigued him.

“Don’t worry about it, Nik, it’s just a drunken thing that’ll fade into nothing in a few days,” Calum shrugged, picking up a fallen piece of cucumber from his sandwich, popping it into his mouth as he chewed, “Charlie doesn’t need to know nothing that doesn’t affect his case.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing, Cal, if anyone found out you had even spoken to one of those gang bangers you know what would happen,” Her words laced with fear for her partner. Her rough hand coming to rest on his shoulder as she squeezed it, the war going on behind his eyes visible to her as she sat opposite him within the confined space. “She’s dangerous. You need to forget and erase her, don’t let a girl like her flash a smile and make you her lap dog.”

*****

26 Days Left

The drive to his apartment was almost as pretty as him she noted, luxurious tall buildings lining the roads into the Queens; the city coming alive with energy in the early evening. Eloise couldn’t stop telling herself how crazy she was for not cancelling this date when she received his text, telling her that he would pick her up just after seven that evening. She had to remind herself multiple times as she got ready that it was part of the plan that she had to follow through with. She reminded herself that once they got the shipment, she could forget Calum existed and disappear. That’s what kept her willing to follow through with the ploy, the taste of freedom and tranquillity on the tip of her tongue and she was dying to for a bite.

Eloise subconsciously dissected Calum’s attire for the evening, noting that he clearly hadn’t changed from he had finished his shift, coming straight from the precinct to come and collect her. His coat had been discarded in the backseat, the white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the familiar black ink along his arms that lit an unbecoming flame in her stomach. He had loosened the top few buttons of the shirt, although she had noticed from the café, he had never buttoned the top two anyway, allowing for a more rugged and free spirit to be perceived of him as he drove.

She wondered if anyone else knew that he was out a date? Did they know it was with her? Eloise couldn’t help but wonder if the woman from the café this morning had asked about her? What did Calum say? Would she be mad if he didn’t tell anyone? She couldn’t be, not really. All the Gypsy Kings new about her whereabouts tonight, that being because she was technically ‘working’, which wasn’t a lie.

She couldn’t help to feel underdressed compared to Calum, even though he only wearing what he wore to work that day. She compared his white shirt and slacks to her dark jeans and oversized acid-wash black sweatshirt, the lace strap of her bra poking out where the material slumped down her shoulder. She didn’t dress for dates, what she was supposed to wear?

“Should I be worried about what you have planned?” Her eyes glanced at his focused expression before they met the road ahead, watching as they passed by a park, the sound of gentle discussion buzzing around the space from the low volume of the radio. “Please don’t tell me you’re taking me to an assault course to put me the through my paces or something.”

Calum couldn’t hold back his small laugh, shaking his head as he turned down the road to his right, continuing on his journey to their destination. “As much as I would love to see you attempt to jump one of those 8ft walls, I’m not exactly dressed for it, but maybe next time.”

“Next time?” She repeated, smirking playfully as the colour of his cheeks deepened at the realisation of his words, “We’re not even ten minutes into this date and you already think you’ll be getting another one? You’re confident, I’ll give you that.”

“Is that a yes to another date I hear?”

“It’s a maybe,” She responded, slowing down the words as they left her lips, feeling his eyes on her as they recalled their previous brief discussion of ‘maybe’ not being a valid answer.

The road Calum drove down began to familiarise with Eloise, her eyes recognising the street signs and the flowers that decorated the lampposts. She caught sign of a graffiti artist on the corner, a can in his hand as he stood back and admired the work he had created. It amused her, sitting in a car with a police officer, witnessing an act of vandalism, being a criminal herself, and feeling nothing but admiration for the artwork in her sights.

Calum couldn’t stop himself from thinking how different she was from that first sober morning they had together, the distance between them seeming cold as she desperately looked for an excuse to leave. Almost as if she were afraid of what she had done with him that night. But now, she seemed confident, full of attitude and ready for whatever would be thrown her way. She seemed as if she was ready to have fun, to enjoy herself with his company. That’s what he hoped anyway.

She could feel his eyes practically burning the side of her head at her response, his reaction to it delayed due him driving but now that he was parked, he could give his full attention. She removed herself from the car before he had a chance to speak, smirking to herself before closing the door behind her and stepping onto the grass next to his drive. The house brought back memories Eloise could only lie and say she wished to forget, memories of a secret night that no one else knew the true events of. “So, what have you got planned for this first date then? If we’re back at your place and you’re not dressed for an assault course, what could you possibly have in mind? Game night? I promise you I could kick your ass in a round of Mario Kart,”

“Will you get this stupid idea of an assault course out of your head? I can assure you that I have a plan for tonight, and it includes no running and no climbing, I promise you that. And fortunately for me by the sounds of things, no Mario Kart either.”

“Shame.” She whispered, sending a wink in his direction before she turned on her feet, making her way up to the front door of his home, hearing his own footsteps follow closely behind her.

He opened his door to reveal the familiar space to her, a space where she panicked on a different night and had set herself up for the position she was in currently. She walked inside after some gentle coaxing from Calum, removing her shoes and leaving them by the door as she followed him into the open plan living room/kitchen.

“You can make yourself comfortable and there should be some drinks in the fridge, I’m just going to quickly get changed, so I shouldn’t be long.” He excused himself, quickly disappearing down the grey hallway Eloise remembered all too well, the photograph flashing across her mind as she watched his body disappear behind the neutral coloured wall of his hallway.

Eloise stood there alone in the house of the respected detective, her warm brown eyes looking around the walls that surrounded her as she took a few silent steps and admired the home. It was nice, she couldn’t deny it. It was really nice. It seemed so homely, so warm and comforting, the complete opposite to her apartment. She felt as though she didn’t need to worry about the boiler packing in when she stood in this house, assurance being silently given that it would be never a problem, neither would any leaking taps or a broken cupboard door beneath the sink.

Tip tap tip tap tip tap tip tap… The noise clicked in Eloise’s ears, the sound reminding her of nails against a keyboard at a computer. Her eyes searched the room, trying to source where the repetitive clicketing was coming from. She turned around, looking towards the glass sliding door next to the TV, hearing the low repetitive sound as she turned. What was that noise? She turned again, looking towards the dining room table, remembering the individual chair where she found her jacket that morning. Tip tap – there it was again! She sighed as she looked around, her brain not being able to piece together where on earth the tapping was coming from. It was a small bark that vibrated through the room which made her suddenly realise. She leaned over the kitchen island to find a small black and white pooch sitting as he looked down at the metal food bowl in front of him.

It was a dog all along. Eloise released a sigh of relief as she walked around the kitchen counter, smiling as she knelt down next to the pup, reaching her hand out slowly, turning it so he had an opportunity to give her a sniff and decide if he would befriend her or not. In all honesty, Eloise didn’t think he cared at this point. The only thought on that little guy’s mind right now – dinner. She chuckled as he gave an inquisitive sniff, his big cow-like eyes staring up at her with a tilt of his head before he looked back down at his silver dish, brushing it with his nose and causing it to collide with the island, the clashing sound echoing briefly in the room.

“Duke, man, we get you’re hung- Oh, you’re down there!” Calum stopped himself midsentence, registering Eloise sitting cross-legged next to the hungry pup.

“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Eloise spoked as she stroked the dog, Duke’s, head before hauling herself to a stand, lifting his food bowl as she handed to Calum over the island-top, “If I’d known you had a dog, I would have said yes to a date a lot quicker. He’s adorable.”

“You hear that, mate?” Calum laughed, looking down at his canine friend, “You’ve got more lady luck than your old man.”

“He’s your secret weapon.” Eloise joked, giggling lightly as she leaned on the counter and watched as Calum fed the small pup.

She couldn’t help her eyes from drifting over to the pot that sat on the countertop on the other end of the kitchen, her curiosity getting the better of her as she moved towards it, her nose beginning to sense the smell of spices as well as a million other delicious smells that drifted from the pot. “What’s this?” She asked, reaching to lift the lid before Calum stopped her.

“That’s actually leftovers from last night,” He chuckled, “I was gonna order some takeout for us as I don’t have much in the cupboards and it seems easier to order in than make something that I don’t know if you’ll actually like.”

“What are they leftovers of?” She asked him, ignoring his idea of takeout as she lifted the pot lid, smiling to herself as she examined the food inside. It looked so good - definitely more appealing that a cheap takeaway.

“I had tried out a new recipe that I found online. I attempted to make Mongolian beef, and it ended up being edible, but I would still say takeout tastes better.” He tried to tactfully excuse Eloise from the kitchen, subtly trying to place the lid back onto the pot. He seemed to be embarrassed at his attempt at cooking.

“It probably tastes better than anything I can cook,” She shrugged, looking at him with a comforting smile, “Why don’t we just eat the rest of this? ‘T means we don’t need to wait for the food to eventually arrive, we just need to heat this up and cook some rice or something to go with it.”

“El, we don’t have to do that, there’s a pizza place literally around the corn- “

“You can order pizza if you want, but I’m gonna have some of this. Now, where do you keep your bowls?” She walked further into the middle of the kitchen, beginning to pull open cupboards as she searched for a bowl to heat her meal in.

Calum watched on as she searched, her hands collecting utensils that she thought she would need, placing them out onto the kitchen counter. “Am I not supposed to be treating you for a first date? But instead I’m letting you eat leftovers from my own dinner last night.”

“You can try and stop me, but just know it won’t end well for you.” She shrugged; a teasing smile hidden from Calum as she turned to spoon some of the aromatic heaven from the big pot into a smaller one.

He contemplated trying to stop her, to insist that he buy them a pizza, but something told him there was no changing her mind. She seemed persistent in eating what he had prepared the previous night and she seemed happy to embrace his attempt at cooking something new.

“For god’s sake Calum, just eat with me please,” She sighed, a hint of frustration teasing her voice as Calum stood there with his phone in his grip, seeming to still be contemplating ordering some form of takeaway, “Luckily for you I am the master of reheating food, so sit back and let me work my magic.”

*****

Eloise smiled widely as she place her empty bowl down on the coffee table, smiling at Calum as he ate his last few bites. “You’ve seriously got some hidden talent in the kitchen, that was so tasty.” She smiled widely, taking a sip of her beer before she rested it back down on the coaster.

“I’m glad you liked it, it’s nice to have someone else’s opinion who I can actually understand,” He laughed, “Duke will eat almost anything he can get and as much as I can appreciate his excitement by him wagging his tail I have to admit some human validation is nice.”

Eloise took his empty bowl from him, piling with hers before sitting back on the couch, turning so she faced Calum fully, her legs curling beneath as she admired the man sitting opposite her in his laid-back attire. The navy t-shirt he wore hugged his torso beautifully, the skinny jeans clinging to his legs in all the right places as he sat on the couch, head resting against his fist as he rested his focus on her.

“So, how long have you lived in New York?” She asked, trying to kick off a conversation in the hopes of avoiding awkward small talk. “When I met you that night, I noticed your accent was a bit varied, if you get what I mean, there was a hint of something in there that I couldn’t quite work out,”

He couldn’t stop the small chuckle that he let out at her comment. “I moved here when I was 18, lived in Los Angeles briefly before coming here, and before that I lived in Australia for years as it’s where I grew up,” He smiled as he talked about where he had been, “Left Sydney to try and find something new elsewhere, discovered that the New York Police Academy were taking applications, thought to give it a shot, and now all these years later, I’m here.”

Eloise noted the pride he seemed to carry when he talked about where he came from, talking about his journey from where he started to where he is now, elaborating throughout their discussion, talking about his family; his parents who still lived in Australia while his sister who lived in London for the past few years. His family seemed very well travelled, having been all over the world to visit one another and spend holidays together.

She noted to herself that she needed to ask more about his job – it was the whole reason why she was even here. Although she had to keep reminding herself of that every time she cracked smiled at him.

“Being a cop in New York must get pretty hectic. I can’t imagine the kind of things you see on a daily basis,” She spoke out, her hands cradling her beer as she tilted her head and watched while he listened, “This city is full of different kinds of people; killers, drug dealers, rapists, every imaginable kind of scum… this city is littered with them and we live amongst them while you guys risk your lives trying to catch them in order to protect the people who live here. It’s something to truly be admired.” She registered his nod as a response to her words, her sigh shallow as she took a breath and readied herself to ask another question, “What kind of investigations do you lead in your department anyway, if you don’t mind me asking? Do you guys specialise in certain areas or is it just whatever comes your way?”

Was she sounding too interested? Maybe. Did she care? No. She wanted to know what and who she was dealing with. She had a job to do, this was her way of gaining intel; information she could use to her advantage at a later date.

“A few different matters tend to come our way: homicides, narcotics, things like that. We’ve recently expanded the gang unit as well, that now comes through our precinct, so we keep track of what goes on behind the scenes of gangs like the White Wolves, the Calavera’s, the Ryders,” He listed off a few notorious names, watching as her eyes kept in line with his, “The unit specialises in taking down the groups of criminals in the city, and those three are only a selected few of who we’re chasing.”

Eloise’s heart hit rock bottom at his words, praying he didn’t notice her breath pick up as she tried to keep her composure, watching as he sighed and went to take a sip of his own beer that he had grabbed from the table. She knew they would be after the Gypsy Kings as well, silently thanking her lucky stars that he didn’t mention them. Yet.

But Calum knew she was relieved at the absence of her own gang’s name, having noticed as her body language had subtly changed as he talked about the purpose behind the hunt. Calum knew who she ran with and it surprised him that he wanted to tell her that he knew, but was it worth it? To sell himself out all because he thought she was pretty and thought she may actually like him? Was Calum enough of a mug to believe that a violent, pretty, young girl could be attracted to a law-abiding detective? Maybe.

“Why do you want to hunt them out so badly?” She asked, mentally slapping herself as soon as the words left her mouth, “Let me rephrase that, surely some are more dangerous than others, why not just go after the ones who cause physical harm to the innocent? If they aren’t hurting anyone, is it such a bad thing that they give themselves an odd name and call themselves tough?”

“It is when the Lieutenant’s obsessed with them,” He returned, “Especially Charlie, I mean, he’s got this fixation on capturing them all. He claims he wants to make New York a safer city but it’s getting out of hand, I think… I think he needs help, but no one has the guts to tell him he’s taking it too far. He wants revenge against the those who had wronged the city and it seems as though he’ll go to any length just to get what he wants.”

Eloise’s chest hitched at the acknowledgement of the police Lieutenant. His face being one that she couldn’t forget, one that brought back a sickening twist within her stomach as she recalled the times she had been graced with his presence in the past.

“I know someone like that,” She admitted, smiling sadly as she stared down at the bottle in her lap, “Someone who’s so hungry for control, for power, that something which starts of as a reasonable demand becomes such an unhealthy obsession. It causes them to blur the boundary lines of what’s reasonable and what’s flat-out wrong.”

Calum’s eyes noted how her eyes seemed to drift, wondering what she was thinking as she sat there on his couch. Her body tensed as she thought back the times years ago when she was dragged into the station, her wrists burning as they remembered the nipping sensation of the handcuffs, the tight grip of larger hands on her forearms as she was dragged and pushed into interrogation rooms. It felt as though someone had lit Eloise on fire, her chest igniting as the memories flowed through her body as if they were as fresh as yesterday.

The Australian’s eyes watched as her body worked at calming itself, sitting back and watching as he gave her a moment that she didn’t know she needed, his memory travelling back to earlier that day.

Calum sat at his desk, his curiosity getting the better of him as he urged to pull up her file on their system. He achingly denied that Nikki’s words had impacted him in some way, the word dangerous resonating in the back of his mind. But Calum knew better than to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head when his curiosity spiked. He wanted to know just how dangerous she was claimed to be; to see if he should fear the girl who he was supposed to see later that night.

The office was quiet for a change, many of the officers being out on a call or already having taken their lunch break. His fingers worked on his keyboard, his teeth barely nipping at the inside of his lip as he searched through the database on his screen. His eyes briefly scanned the first new names that opened up, sighing as he filtered through the text, finding the file that he debated opening. The click of the mouse dimly echoed in his ears as another window opened on his screen, a picture of a young brunette making itself present alongside a detailed history. Calum couldn’t help but notice how young she looked in the mugshot on screen, her eyes dull and broken, her lip nursing a rather aggressive cut along it, her hair was shorter; the colour still as vibrant as he had been a witness to that morning.

The words in the file then caught his attention, the long list of recorded events blurring together as Calum sifted through them. He skimmed over the word ‘possession’, reading the briefing that detailed that a collection of evidence didn’t hold together at trial and she was released with a non-guilty verdict at 18. Another record was found detailing an altercation when she was 16 in a subway station, being arrested for brandishing a weapon, not many details on that arrest other than she was bailed out by her uncle due to her young age. He read the history of her troubled demeanour, noting her aggression during questioning as well as aggravation towards numerous officers.

The family link caught his attention next, his eyes scanning over the blue hyperlink that stood out on the white page. His hand trailed the mouse over the screen, opening the link before he could argue with himself. His brain kept repeating, ‘If you’re going on a date with a criminal, you should know what to expect’ when really what it wanted to say was something along the lines of ‘You’re crazy. You shouldn’t go’ but her beauty intrigued him, as did everything else about her.

What was so fascinating about a troubled girl? What did she have that made Calum want her?

He was greeted with two newly opened windows on his computer, both labelled as deceased files. He took an uneasy breath, rolling his lips inside of his mouth as he picked the one of the left side to investigate first. He couldn’t hold back the expression of grimace at the photograph of the body on the cold morgue slab, sighing as he quickly minimised it, being left with the detailed document that came with the file. He read over the name, a regrettable sigh of realisation leaving his nose as his eyes followed down, reading the notes containing the tragic story and medical history of the woman in the photograph and how she had met her end. Calum’s heart tugged with sorrow at the thought of a woman, so young, meeting a brutal ending like what he had read. His dark eyes read each word with haste, the detailed description of her injuries bringing images to Calum’s mind he couldn’t bear to picturise.  

Further down the page, he found details of when her body was examined by the medical examiners; stating that she suffered severe blunt force trauma to her head, as well as a bullet to the temple before she was abandoned and left to bleed out where she was found. His stomach erupted in nerves, his mind thinking of his own family and trying to think what he would do in that situation, but he couldn’t even begin to interpret what that would be like. His eyes caught sight of the final few words on the page of the open file, reading them with intent as he pieced together what was in front of him.

The body of Natalia Gray was discovered in the evening of September 17th in 2007 by her daughter, Eloise. The 11-year-old phoned the emergency services, explaining that her mother was hurt and needed help. She mentioned that there had been some shouting as unknown men came into her home, resulting her mother ushering her in a cupboard beneath the stairs in order to protect her. Natalia was DOA. Cause of death depicted as gunshot wound to the head, labelled as murder. Details of examination were handed over to Lieutenant White for pending investigation.

Examination: September 18th, 2007

Calum released a disappointed sigh, scanning over Charlie’s title a few times as he continued down the document, expecting to find further recordings of the investigation into the murder of this woman who he learnt to be Eloise’s mother, but what he found was nothing. The file ended abruptly and had remained unchanged since the input date back in 2007. Why wasn’t it investigated further? If her death was ruled as a murder, then why was there no case file attached? Calum couldn’t help but fear that his Lieutenant’s craze for the Gypsy Kings ran so deep that his blood had turned cold. His distaste clouding his morals as he discarded a murder investigation of a child’s mother, tossing it to the side as if it was an insignificant gum wrapper. He swallowed an apprehensive breath that had hitched in his throat, his eyes staying trained on the lit-up window in front of him as he made the decision to continue.

His fingers worked as he closed the file, removing it from his screen before his dark eyes met the remaining open window on his monitor, letting out a deep breath as he prepared himself to read what he could only imagine would hold the same amount of tragedy as the first file. The name was the first thing to be seen, the name of the notorious Thomas Gray welcoming his brown eyes, as two pictures appeared that were attached to the document; one being a mugshot while the other matched the one of the lady before: his cold face as he lay on the chilling metal table of the morgue. His eyes followed through the endless stream of words, skimming the graphic details of the inhuman acts he had committed throughout the years. Calum fought with the logical side of his brain that battled with the human side, trying to block it out as he attempted to read the file as if he were an outsider looking in on a damaged family, watching as a story unfolded before him.

He noted the numerous narcotics dealings the man had hijacked, the murders he had been associated with, and the endless list of robberies he had conducted across the city and also out of state. Calum had heard the stories of what he had done throughout his time with the Gypsy Kings, the stories circling the throughout every inch of the city, but Calum never expected to see it in writing. Did Eloise know about all of this? He didn’t understand why she was his first thought when it came to this. Maybe because it was her dad? Maybe there was another reason why his heart ached at the thought her suffering with this knowledge…

Calum acknowledged the few straggling officers walking around him, ignoring what he could only dread they would say if they were to see him pulling up old files that had no affiliations with the investigations that he was currently leading.

His eyes caught the closing statement of the examination, letting them draw to a close, his eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as he let out an almost broken sigh, his head hanging low as he broke contact with the screen midsentence. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. The words stung without him realising, his body somehow numb to the pain of his heart as he thought of the girl he barely knew. How could someone witness what she had seen at such a young age, on more than one occasion, and carry on? Calum couldn’t comprehend it.

But neither did Eloise, but Calum was yet to learn that.

He let his head rest in his hand as he continued to read the sentence from where his eyes had broken from, his gut twisting almost painfully as he pushed himself to come to the end of the string of brutal words.

Thomas Gray’s body was discovered in the living room of his own home on 4th April in 2011. He was found by his daughter, Eloise, when she returned from a shopping trip, but the emergency services were contacted by an older male who remained nameless. Thomas was found with a Glock 17 in his hand with the chamber empty, a hole found in the left side of his head that matches the bullets that belong the weapon. Gunshot residue was discovered on his hands and clothes, the impact of the shot coming from a short distance resulting in a quick death. Thomas was DOA. Cause of death depicted as suicide. Details of examination were handed over to Lieutenant White for pending investigation.

Examination: April 7th, 2011.

Again, the notes were passed to Lieutenant White once the examination was complete. And again, Calum found that the file ended abruptly; no further investigation notes and no case file attached. Both deaths seeming to have been brushed under a rug and forgotten. Something didn’t feel right, Calum could sense it. Even the examination date seemed to have something incredulous about it. His nimble fingers worked as he closed Thomas’s file, his brown eyes suddenly meeting Eloise’s younger ones as he was graced with her picture yet again. He must’ve forgotten to close her lead.

Nikki’s warning of Eloise replayed yet again, almost as if now it made some sort of sense. Of course, she was dangerous, she was a grieving young woman who had to grow up without her parents. A young woman who had forgone a great tribulation, one that Calum could only imagine that burdened her with great pain and suffering.

Calum couldn’t help but wonder if she spoke to people. If she spoke to someone about the deaths of her parents or if she even acknowledged them?

Who was he kidding, of course she acknowledged them, you fool!

Eloise thought about them every day, he had no idea of the pain that she suffered for years, it only growing more intense as each year passed. And Calum couldn’t help but to, deep down, have the inkling, the desire to be the one to heal her.

For a man who hadn’t even learnt where in New York the girl called home, he couldn’t stop his heart from wishing to be the home that she searched for.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from her lips as they pressed against the lip of the bottle, her head craning back, giving him a full view of the expenditure of her neck, the faded bruises from their night together still fresh in his mind as he thought of the areas they covered, reimaging the process of painting her skin once more. “What’re you staring at, hm?” She smirked, her eyes sparkling beneath the yellow-toned overhead light.

It was as if something took over him, something took control as he let himself submit to the urge that was burning inside him. Calum’s eyes seem to darken with hunger as he watched her lips move, every syllable announced with perfection, the teasing tone of her voice rippling through him as she looked at him. It was enough to throw him off his game, and boy did it.

“An unhealthy obsession.” He spoke softly, their gazes settling on one another for slightly longer this time, her eyes catching his lips briefly as the tip of his tongue poked out the lick along the bottom bit of flesh. She tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat as casually as possible, praying she somehow didn’t grab any more of his attention as she felt the heat down her back begin to rise as his eyes burned into her own.

Calum couldn’t stop himself, his body and voice moving too fast that his brain couldn’t keep up. He hadn’t felt an urge this strong before, as if something were pulling him towards her, the pull so strong that it was impenetrable. The cliché of ‘it’s so wrong it’s so right’ was rather fitting for the attraction but it was so much more than that. Calum felt the pull to her like a magnet, like a duck to water, it felt so natural to him and he didn’t understand why.

“It’s not good for you, y’know,” She whispered, her voice surprising her as it held up, unable to fight the flutter in her chest as he moved towards her, his hand prying the green bottle from her fingers as he returned it to the coaster on the coffee table, his own bottle being placed next to it, meanwhile his eyes never losing their gaze with her dark ones. “It can destroy you and everything you love if you let it. So, are you really willing to dance with the devil just to get a taste of what you want?”

“I’ll dance through hell a thousand times over if it means I can kiss you right now.”

Their faces were mere inches from each other, their warm breaths mixing together as they froze in place, the tension between them in the room clouding both their judgment. The plan was working perfectly for Eloise but her mind didn’t even cross it, her constant reminders of it being strictly business were nowhere to be heard as her eyes searched his, finding the dark abyss within them and it becoming somewhere she desperately wanted to explore.

Something inside of both of them screamed at them to stop but they couldn’t hear it over the sound of their hearts thrashing in their ears, the world around them seeming as if it was non-existent; all that breathed around them were their bodies as they slowly closed the distance between them. It felt as if her breath was stolen as his lips connected with her pink flesh, Eloise’s heart almost crashing to a halt as his hands cupped her delicate face as he kissed her.

It wasn’t like their first kiss together in the back of the taxi, instead it being much like the kisses they shared when they had laid in bed and held one another, their brains on a gentle buzz from the alcohol they had drank at the club, but even then, this time it was better.

Her hands found the collar of his shirt, unsure of what to do with the limbs, unsure of where to place them. Why did this feel so wrong but so right? Why did Eloise’s head scream for her to pull away, but her heart told her to keep going?

Han’s voice screamed in her ears as Calum continued his gentle assault on her lips. She tried to block it out, playing it off as telling herself that it was part of the plan, that it was the scheme they had arranged. So, why did her heart hurt every time she said it? Why did a piece of guilt eat at her as if she were lying to herself every time their lips connected in a beautiful kiss?

Could Eloise- No of course not… Eloise was loyal to the Gypsy Kings, having devoted her life to their cause – although she didn’t know what that really was. She dedicated every day to making sure the gang moved forward, that their legacy continued to grow. She wasn’t about to let a crush get in the way of that, or was she? Why did the voice in her head scream at her to tell him the truth already, as if she had just placed a dangerous bet down at the roulette table in Las Vegas? Why was she listening? Surely, she couldn’t betray those who kept a roof over her head, she couldn’t rat them out to the police after not even a day of this plan being put into action.

For the amount of times Eloise was told to get out of her head, she certainly basked in it too often.

She let a soft moan slip as she felt his fingers slide with ease into her hair at the back of her head, a gentle sting resonating in the back of her skull as he tugged at it without realising. She couldn’t help the excited shudder than rippled through her as one of his hands found her thigh, the smooth touch gliding up the material of her jeans as it found her waist, the nimble fingers of the handsome Australian slipping beneath the oversized sweatshirt, his warm touch meeting her hot skin in an enticing dance. Eloise couldn’t ignore how her heart rattled within the imprisonment of her chest, the feeling reminding her of how a hammer repeatedly bangs against a nail, the force almost painful against her ribcage.

The feeling excited her but also petrified her; an estranged hum in her stomach at the sensation he created. Eloise allowed herself to get lost in the kiss, Calum’s hands only grasping her waist as he lifted her with ease, settling her in his lap, never allowing a moment for their lips to detach as she pressed herself against him. Their fronts connected as Eloise straddled the handsome detective, her mind blurring as for a moment she forgot where she was and why she was doing this in the first place, allowing herself to become lost in the world of Calum, travelling down an unknown path on an uncharted adventure with no way of knowing how she was supposed to go back. And she didn’t entirely mind.

---

Tag List: @steviemae​

[llucy-san]

Powerful

CHAPTER 8      A3O

“Objection, Your honour!” Hayley cut short her opponent in his riotous monolog after hoisting herself from her seat.

“The defendant is simply flailing with more unsubstantiated proofs.” She fumbled with perfectly written records while her eyes kept gazing at the judge of the case.

“Unsubstantiated facts?!” Mr Hamilton's attorney, who had long been an admirable counsel, scoffed at young challenger, yet Hayley carried on.

“My client is the rightful owner of both the real estates, the apartment on Hampton Street here in Atlanta and also an old villa in Malibu.” She rounded slowly her desk and proceeded toward the judge.

“I would like to add legally verified certificates regarding possessions proceedings during the marriage where only the claimant is registered as the owner.” Hayley looked over her shoulder but still addressing to the judge, “i.e. Mrs Hamilton.”

Judge Jenkins ran her eyes over the document and nodded. “Mr Murphy, do you have any more questions for Mrs Hamilton?”

“No your honour.” The counsellor replied with his ears down like a dog who was denied his favourite toy.

“And you, counsellor Moore?” Judge summoned once her eyes settled at a young woman who was acting perfectly during the course of the trial.

“Yes, I do your honour.”

“In that case, the witness is all yours.” She fluttered her hand and took a seat and continued watching the act while scripting more of her notes.

A soft smile blossomed on Hayley's lips as she set off, step by step, to the jury sitting on her right-side whilst aiming her questions to her client.

“Mrs Hamilton, do you remember when you bought both of uttered properties?”

Claire smiled cheerfully at the same time as she hoisted her head higher. “YES, I do. It was a few months after we got married. We both agree to leave both residences written in my name because Mason wasn't involved in such things before."

“And did Mr Hamilton bestow any financial part to the estates?” Hayley pushed further, her goal of wiping her opponent in this duel was slowly heading where she wanted.

“No. The only thing Mr Hamilton ever did,” Claire fixated at her future ex-husband, who was sitting hushed in a hot chair next to his public prosecutor, “was him dragging any whores he saw from streets straight into my house!

“Madam appellant!” The judge rumbled. “Weigh your words!”

“My apologise.” Claire cleared her throat and fixed her dress after calming down. “I meant women with whom he took. . .pleasures in my property.”

“Objection!” Mr Mason's lawyer barked. “Mrs Hamilton has no evidence that my client has ever been unfaithful to her.”

Hayley peered at Malcolm, wanting to cut him short for a second time with his pathetic defence, however, Claire couldn't hold her anger any longer.

“I have not?! Oh, I do have. Tons and tons of evidence of my husband's betrayal! And one of those proves is sitting right here in this courtroom!”

The judge instructed Hayley to carry on with her questioning after planting the wrathful lawyer back on his seat and hushing the racket in the courtroom with her judge mallet.

“Mrs Hamilton, has the defendant, Mr Hamilton, ever been involved in the renovation?” Hayley pointed briefly at the said man, sitting in a well-dressed suit. From first glimpse an attractive-looking man but it was easy to read from his eyes the apprehensiveness of each Hayley’s blow. All this time he's been twitching in his seat like a restless child who wants to go out.

All eyes were on the ashen blond woman, placed in the witness chair. A brief hush filled the courtroom as the witness bend forward over the microphone to draw attention to her reply as she sank her eyes into her future ex-husband. “Not even a dollar.”

“Objection,” Malcolm roared as he rose from his hot seat yet again. The pure determination coloured his face, the will power to win this duel at all costs. “Both spouses acquire property during the marriage, regardless of who and how much money they contributed. Maybe counsellor Moore should go back to school and clarify the basics of the law again.”

“Counsellor Moore, where are you going with your question?” The judge pulled her thick-framed glasses to the bridge of her nose, tilting her head to the side.

“My goal is, your honour, to show that Mrs Hamilton's family was the landlord of these properties before she married Mr Hamilton. Thus, the property to which Mr Hamilton claims as a share in the divorce isn't his but still the property of the Mitchell family. The only thing he's entitled to is a car and a few valuables he received as a gift.”

The mutter of various voices voting for and against filled the courtroom resembling a nest full of bees. Judge Jenkin's law mallet, however, silenced the buzz time again. “Silence in the courtroom!” She cried out. “Counsellor Moore, you have some more questions for Mrs Hamilton?”

“Not your honour.”

Judge Jenkins nodded. “I can hereby declare the evidence closed. I ask the jury to announce their final evaluation.”

Everyone in the courtroom rose up whilst the Judge rose from her throne and uttered her final words aloud.

Claire couldn't wipe off her huge smile of her face after the words she'd longed for so long. FREE. She's finally free, and she hasn't lost anything her ex-husband tried so hard to take over. The ashen blond woman thanked Hayley briefly for excellent job, but before she left, she added that if she needed a lawyer in the future, Hayley would be the one she was looking for.

“Congratulations, miss.” Hayley turned toward the cold, ironic voice. “It's not every day you see something like this. . .” The man paused, looking for the right words to define Hayley's performance, staring at his without doubt thousand-dollar shoes before lifting them back into her olive eyes. “You know, a greenhorn like you.”

The brunette smiled gently at the corner of her lips at the lawyer, holding out his hand to her. “I would hardly call it "luck" rather thoroughly processed case but thank you.” She shook her rival's hand gently, gazing into his cold and calculating brown eyes.

“And why do you think I’m. . .” The man didn't even let her finish as he expressed his amusement. “Oh, please sweetheart, I would definitely remember such a pretty face like yours and I've been here a while.” His voice carried undertone that Hayley didn't like with every passing second, his gaze made her trivial, but she tried to hide her discontent behind a veil of self-confidence.

“Anyhow.” The man cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders, fixing his elegant, tailored jacket. “You were lucky today, but next time you won't be.” Hayley furrowed at this but the self-assured lawyer carried on with his monolog. “Let's just say the life of a young lawyer in a big city like Atlanta is very. . . difficult to assert themselves. But you.” He took a step closer, his elbow planted on his briefcase on the table and his face cocked closer to hers to emphasize his next words. “Oh, I'm sure John will arrange that for you.” His peppermint breath puffed on her cheeks as his blond hair fell to his eyes. “You know what they say, sometimes everyone needs to let go of steam and occupied themselves with something else.”

“Excuse me?!” Hayley knit her brow. The nerve of him.

But before Malcolm could utter another word, he was interrupted by a voice pleasant to ears as well as a hand on his shoulder pulling the defeated defender back a few steps. Nearly dropping him to the floor.

“All right, mate, that's enough. Leave the lady alone and go about your business.”

Kyle filled the gap between Hayley and Malcolm. Her knight in shining armour was a head taller than Malcolm, and it always raised respect. Not only at school but also outside. No one dared stand up to Kyle Peters because they knew it wouldn't end well for them, not to mention that the Petersons were respected family in Atlanta.

Men of Malcolm Murphy calibre, charismatic, wealthy and thriving may be known in the law community as well as in the Atlanta's elite, but he's certainly not stupid and he knows when to back off. With a quick move, he straightened his jacket o'er, playful smile played on his arrogant lips pretending as if nothing had happened.

“Everything's fine, there's no need to make a fuss, boy. I was just giving advice to this lady; however, I still have places to be.” He reached for his briefcase and straightened up. “Give my regards to John.”

Kyle didn't take his eyes off the man until he disappeared behind the corner of the courtroom. After turning his face to Hayley's, he flashed his boyish smile, a smile that made all the girls buckle to their knees.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Hayley repeated, a tender smile blossomed on her face after their lips met in a chaste kiss. His fingers wrapped around her loose brown lock and brush it behind her ear. “Nicely done, baby boo,” His lips grazed hers in the softest of touches, “you were amazing.”

“Thank you.”

Kyle knit his brow and raised his head a little higher, enveloping her in a strong embrace. “For what?”

Hayley beamed at his behaviour; she leaned forward into his warm embrace to steady herself, her hands slid from his shoulders to his chest while gazing up at his stunning sky like eyes. “Oh, what would I do without my knight in shining armour?” She mused out loud making Kyle chuckled with shake with his head.

“Anytime.” Kyle breathed, kissing Hayley again, practically pulling her into his lap and kissing her hard.

~×~

A city full of hustle and attainment has immersed in night time liberty and entertainment. The clubs glimmered with hues, club music flowed from every corner and the dance floor was teeming with bodies.

“You kidding, right?” Nadia pooh-poohed after finishing off the rest of her champagne - the rest of the champagne bottle to be exact. The same bottle they opened to cheer Hayley's victory. “Did you at least kick his ass?” The redhead stared between her two friends waiting for them to answer her.

Hayley giggled at the rim of her bubbly drink. “No, we didn’t, but-” her lips were pressed together in a tight line to keep from grinning.

“BUZZ-KILL!!” Nadia groaned as she slumped back into her fauteuil and threw her hands in the air, looking down from the VIP salon to the dance floor full of colours and the bodies flocking into one rhythm. The bartenders worked at lightning speed from opening of her bar. One order followed another. The Blue Note is Nadia’s pride and joy. Once she had gotten enough resources, which did not take long, she built her dream bar. The whole bar had industrial look that matched perfectly with the warehouse district. The redhead took another draw of breath into her lungs and peeked at a couple of her longest and best friends, sitting across from her and whispering sweet nonsense like teenage lovebirds. She laid her head in her hand propped against armrest of her easy chair, a gentle smile played on her lips.

“Aren't you two an adorable pair?”

Both Kyle’s and Hayley’s eyes shifted to Nadia, who was watching them with her big smile that didn't bode well, a smile that meant she was up to something, or planning it.

“Okay,” Hayley sighed, ready for what Nadia has to say. “What’s that look for, Nad?”

The redhead grinned like a Cheshire cat as she peeled away from her seat, leaning her hands on her thighs. “I know I’m a strong independent woman, but right now, I could use a little help. I know shocker!” She repositioned in her armchair. “So, I wonder if you could, in that mooshie-gooshie Kyle loving heart,” there was a slight drawl in her voice as she dragged her index finger along the rim of the glass, arrange me meeting with Prince Charming?”

Hayley’s eyes widened and Kyle let out humouring laugh. “A What? Prince Charming?”

“Why?”

Nadia smirked, amused by the way Hayley’s eyes widened at the mention of her boss. “Well. . . You know. . .”

The brunet wrinkled her nose. “Okay, I’m too sober for this.” Hayley leapt from her seat and crossed Kyle's legs. She made a small turn on her heels and set her eyes on her associates. “What else do you want me to bring?”

“Bring something harder, we'll have the night of our lives tonight!” Her best friend yelled over the pulsing music, the alcohol already coursing through her veins, but she still wasn't drunk enough. Hayley nod and leaned over Kyle. She placed her palms flat on his wide shoulders and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “AND what should I bring you?” Her lips brushed across his lobe; her hands glided down his chest in an obvious tease.

“I'll have what you're having, Bam-bam.” Kyle leaned closer and pressed his lips against hers in sweet peck on the lips.

“Okay, I'll be right back.” She kissed him again and straightened up. “Just keep an eye on her for me.”

The club was packed. Again. The red top and black tight leather pants that Nadia had borrowed her felt like a poor choice of clothing, however, her wingman/partner in crime promised her that this outfit was essential for tonight. Walking to the direction of the nearest bar was hard work, but after a moment of pushing and shoving through several layers of people, she finally got to the bar and scanned it through an open gap between people’s heads until she found a bartender and made a hand-order on the house. Having a nightclub owner as a friend pays off.

“Busted!!”

Upon hearing the well-known voice, Hayley’s heart skipped a beat the moment she spun her head toward the source. There he stood; her boss, the colourful strobe lighting strikes of club lights were bouncing off his exquisitely carved face as he stood a good six feet before her, a glass of liquor already in hand. This time, however, wasn’t dressed in one of his posh suits but simple Henley shirt, a pair of dark jeans, an expensive-looking leather jacket appearing particularly divine. His chestnut hair, always slicked back, was now falling into his face, the ends were turning into small curls. Her olive eyes hungrily took in the sight of him, feeling the pull in her chest every time she saw this man. AND there it was again. SHOCKER! The longer he was around, the more she had this feeling.

“John.” Hayley breathed. The nostalgia was settling in and she began to feel a lump in her throat that she failed to clear.

"Hey, Miss avoiding me for three days." His velvet voice was smooth as ever and beat over the pulsating music that seemed to be dying into the background. His enticing cologne filled her common sense and her heartbeat a mile a minute.

“What. . .?” She stopped dead; her brain kept spilling nonsense; her mind didn't want to cooperate with her in what way she wanted to. Not to mention the alcohol still running through her system. “No. I wasn't.” She shook her head, avoiding his gaze. “I wasn't avoiding you.” SHE WAS!!

John arched an amused brow. “Yes you were.” His pearly white teeth showed in one of his charismatic smiles as his eyes gazed over his shoulder. “Darling, I've hardly seen you at the firm these past few days.” He angled his head to one side to make his point. “You've been avoiding me.” He stated.

Hayley blushed, returning to the task at hand. Drinks. Where the hell is that bartender who's got her order?

“I. . .” Hayley couldn't form a single sentence, it’s like this was the only monosyllabic word she could manage. Why does this have to happen around him?

John’s eyes trailed over her; taking in every inch of her person. She could see the hunger clouding his eyes, as he became distracted by the dress she had on.

“I heard about your success today.” Thank God sighed Hayley. Change of the topic. With a gentle nod, she spun back to the bar, where she finally caught sight of the bartender with her drinks. She planted her hands, palms flat on the wooden surface of a bar that was already wet with alcohol and other liquid stuff. Ugh.

“Yeah, it went okay.” She admitted, trying her luck to look him in the eyes but failed, utterly, those eyes and that confident smile are taking her breath away. He's like a hunter who doesn't take his eyes off his prey, and she’s the PREY.

“Claire was over the moon.” John took sip from his drink and turned his whole attention toward Hayley.” Oh, My Lord, Help Me! Hayley mused, taking a lungful breath into her lungs. “She called me as soon as the trial was over and said, and now I quote: “that girl was unstoppable. Everyone in the room was overwhelmed by her performance and even shamed that idiotic lawyer my fucking ex hired.”

Hayley smiled then, her cheeks red, scattered with some kind of dust. A smile he thought he might die to earn again.

“She really said that?” She searched John’s eyes, not realizing how close he was to her. He gave her thoughtful hum before hoisting his drink close to his lips and finished it with a final gulp. The glass banged against the surface of the bar and he straightened.

“Well,” he muttered to himself before seeking for the bartender in the sea of lights, calling him for another round. “Tell me what should I order you. We have to drink your victory somehow, don't we?” Hayley's body tensed at the feeling of his hand rubbing soothingly her back as he whispered his words in her ear.

“I don’t, uh-“ Hayley managed to spill, she wasn’t that much drunk, yet, this was the everything she could string together. It seemed her mouth and her brain weren’t on the same page tonight.

“Nuh-uh, love, no, isn’t answer for me.” His hot breath hit Hayley’s skin as he leaned in close to her ear, his lips brushed against her ear creating rather an intimate step, chills went down her spine.

Swallowing nervously and hoping John hadn’t noticed her irregular heartbeat.  She shot him a genuine smile as she brought her eyes up at him. “Yeah,” she replied, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, or maybe it was the alcohol? She seemed like she wanted to say something, and then backtracked. Her eyes snapped to the source of the new sound before stepping away.

“Gotcha!” Victoria Chase - tall, gorgeous blonde in killer heels, always perpetually flawless with her clothes and makeup whom Hayley can hardly compare with threw her arms around her partner in a bear hug and pressed drunken kiss against his cheek.

The blond eyed Hayley up and down, trying to focus on who is in front of her, an impressed expression mixed with the shock widened at Victoria’s face moment later at Hayley and her outfit.

“Hayley?” She asked in awe. “My goodness, look at you.”

The brunet quickly looked down at what she was wearing. Hang on. Did she just compliment her outfit? She brought her eyes back up and beamed up at Victoria. “Do you like it?”

“I love it!” Victoria smirked into John ear, snuggling to the crook of his neck.

“Thanks.” Hayley muttered before trailing off. She then suddenly remembered why she came here in the first place. “Perhaps you’d care to join us at our table?” Hayley asked, pointing up to the balcony above. She assumed it would be rude not to invite them.

“Marvellous!” Victoria chirped; her gaze flicked from VIP loggia back to Hayley. “Lead the way.”

“Good.” Hayley muttered, hesitantly turning toward the bar and taking the drinks. She yelled back a short thanks to the bartender though she doubted he heard her. She turned to look at the gorgeous pair, John hadn’t moved his eyes off Hayley, and she had the feeling that he was five steps ahead of her on a game she didn’t know she was playing. And as for Victoria, she was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

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[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Supercorp Anastasia AU #1

I have more than one Anastasia supercorp AU, of varying levels of historical accuracy, but this one is mirrored against the Broadway musical, and casts Kara as the youngest and much celebrated daughter of the ruling family, though her much younger cousin Kal is the heir.

Lena is the bastard daughter of a disgraced count, who died shortly after her birth, leaving behind a disgraced wife and son who soon spearheads the communist movement. Though the family’s disgrace was a reasonable response to the unethical and horrific experiments Lionel conducted, his heir Lex holds a grudge against the royal family for his sudden change in circumstances. He calls for their removal, with violence if necessary, and is brilliant and charismatic enough to soon rise through the ranks until he is the head and face of the revolution.

After her mother dies in Lena’s early childhood, Lena grows up on the streets, hungry but smart and resourceful, causing no harm but taking no shit. She doesn’t know her half-brother, but Lex recognizes her easily– she is the spitting image of the family’s former chambermaid, and what parts of Lena are not her mother are all Lionel.

But Lex keeps the knowledge to himself, and remains a mysterious and ominous figure in Lena’s life, the majority of which sees the societal and cultural upheaval following the abdication and eventual execution of the royal family, which plays out much like the Romanoff’s. It’s presumed that most of the family perished, save for the Grand Duchess Astra and her husband Non, who were abroad at the time of the coup, and now remain in exile.

But one child survived– Kara.

With no memory and no clue to her past save for a pendant around her neck and the jagged scars left by the bullets that nearly killed her, Kara works relentlessly to survive a treacherous regime until she can cross a border– any border– and find a new life elsewhere.

In her journey she meets Lena, now a woman endeavoring to escape Russia for Paris, where she and her best friend Jack Spheer hope to attend a prestigious university and study science. They earn money by facilitating forged papers and visas, constantly vigilant of the Red Army and the threat of being outed by neighbors just as desperate to survive.

Kara goes to them in the hopes of finally escaping the country, only to learn that the army has recently updated their visas to be counterfeit-proof– Jack and Lena no longer have the means or technology to manufacture fakes. The only way to get visas now would be to bribe an official into giving them blank ones, which Lena and Jack aren’t averse to, but would leave them too destitute to enroll in university once they reached Paris.

But Lena and Jack are both giant softies, and when Kara tells them her tale, they search for a way to help. Then Jack gets an idea: the Grand Duchess Astra has long offered a reward for the return of her niece. If they can pass Kara off as the lost princess, the reward would more than make up for the cost of the visas, and would get them all out of the country.

Lena is hesitant at first– it’s too risky, and–

“There’s no proof that she isn’t! Look at her! She is the spitting image!”

There’s no denying that. Lena often finds herself staring at their new friend, as though she’d somehow recognize her if she gives just one more look.

“And you know everything there is to know about court life,” Jack continues, sensing Lena’s imminent relent. “And honestly-- even if we don’t have the money to go to university, at least we’ll be out of here.”

Ultimately, Lena agrees to the plan, out of desperation more than anything else. So does Kara. The next year passes in a blur of working/stealing for enough money to cover the extra visa fee, and an endless stream of memorization of names, faces, and etiquettes.

Somewhere in the mix, Lex gets wind that Lena is in the final push to leave– he starts to take an interest, and offers her a job. Lena resists at first, but accepts when Lex’s offer turns dangerous and the money he offers is enough to get them out in half the time. Lex doesn’t know about Kara or their ultimate plan to abscond with her, and believes that he has Lena under control.

It’s not until Lena fails to show up to work one day that Lex learns the truth about everything– that Lena had been using him as deftly as he’d believed he used her, that she’d found a claimant to the throne, and that she intended to return her to her rightful place. He goes after them himself, enraged by Lena’s gall and the risk Kara poses to his position and that of his regime. He strikes out with the intention of bringing Lena home-- and to kill the imposter who would be princess.

Meanwhile, as the trio travels out of Russia towards France, Jack starts to suspect two things: that Kara is more than she seems, and that Lena is entirely taken with her. Kara remembers things– not true memories, but she draws on information she shouldn’t know. Names and details that no one has told her.

By the time they reach Paris, it’s easy to convince Astra’s lady-in-waiting Cat Grant of their suspected truth.

“Not just because of your uncanny resemblance and exhaustive knowledge, which we all know can be fabricated,” the sharp woman delivers, eyeing Kara with a cool gaze before turning her gaze on Lena. “But because of you.”

Lena stiffens abruptly. “W-what do you mean?”

Cat lifts an arch brow, but ultimately obfuscates. “That’s a conversation for another time,” she says. “Astra no longer receives prospective claimants, but should a cultured party such as yourselves wishes to meet her, she will be found at the ballet in two nights’ time. Should you also find yourselves there, I can arrange an introduction.”

That night, Kara suffers a violent nightmare, one wakes her abruptly and sends her sobbing into Lena’s arms, who comes to check on her. It takes several long minutes for her anguish to pass, but when she calms, Kara diverts attention from her tears by asking if Lena ever met the princess.

“No,” Lena says softly. “Not exactly. But I did see her, once.”

When Kara prods, desperate for a distraction, Lena explains how once, when she was nine, there had been a grand parade to celebrate the Tsar’s birthday. The entire royal family had ridden by in a motorcade, and Lena had taken one glimpse at the youngest princess before darting forward with a nicked flower in her hand. She’d dodged between guards and called out the princess’ name, and when their eyes met, the princess gave her the most radiant smile Lena had ever seen before or since.

She confesses, then, that some nights she still dreams of that day, and the smile she received.

Kara swears Lena tells her story so well she can almost feel herself there too. When Lena urges her to lean into it, to add the memory to her own story, Kara begins to tell it again, from her own perspective.

How it had been too hot, and her dress collar too tight. It made her itch, but she’d only waved to the crowds as expected. She talks of catching sight of a ragged girl almost her age– how even dirty and threadbare, she’d envied freedom of the girl’s trousers.

How to her surprise the girl had darted forward, a flower in her hand appearing from nowhere, and dodged between vigilant guards nearly unseen, until she’d gotten almost close enough to catch up with the car. But instead of reaching out to climb aboard, as Kara assumed she might, the girl had stopped short, and bent into a deep bow, presenting Kara with a plain but perfect daisy.

Kara had smiled, and pulled an equally dazzling grin to the lips of the urchin girl. The car had pulled away to be swallowed by the crowds further ahead, but she had kept her eyes on that girl until she was out of sight, and had hoped against hope that they would one day meet again.

When she finishes, Lena is stunned and silent. Under the shocked stare, Kara realizes the details she’d echoed that Lena hadn’t shared– the trousers, the bow, the flowers… the lingering gaze that had filled Lena’s belly with butterflies.

Certainty hits them both at the same time. Kara can barely breathe under the weight of it, and almost bursts into tears when Lena shoots to her feet.

“Lena, wait! I swear I–”

But Lena doesn’t leave. She steps in front of Kara, staring with wide eyes before lowering onto one knee, head bowed and hand clasped against her heart.

“Your Majesty.”

—-

The next morning, Cat Grant visits them for tea. As they sit, Kara learns what happened after the parade traveled on that day. How Kara’s mother, Alura, had seen the exchange between the two girls, and how wide her daughter’s smile had been. How Alura had asked her lady-in-waiting, Cat, to locate the girl, and bring her to the palace to be Kara’s handmaiden and playmate.

Of course Lena would need training and lessons before she could be presented, so she had lived some time with tutors at the Grant Manor, meeting Cat only rarely, accounting for Lena’s lack of recollection (she remembers her tutors, but not Cat Grant). But the coup and the family’s execution had ended those prospects for Lena before they could begin. Lena had returned to the streets, head full of new knowledge and personal experience that the ruling class weren’t all heartless monsters.

“It seems you two found your way back together after all,” Cat remarks with a final sip of her tea. “If you should still desire to study, Lena, I will sponsor your tuition to any university you desire.”

For now, Cat simply takes them shopping. She sets Jack up with suits and a tuxedo for the ballet. Kara accepts any dress that Cat thrusts at her, but Lena seems out of her element. It’s too opulent, too rich, and the dresses are so light against her skin she feels naked.

In the end, she too walks out with trousers and blouses, which Jack teases her about mercilessly. She earns stares on the street, but Kara doesn’t know if it’s because the sight of a woman in trousers is so uncommon, or because Lena is simply breathtaking.

When it comes time for the ballet, Kara expects to find Lena waiting in a tuxedo as sharp as Jack’s, but Kara finds herself the first of them to be ready. Jack joins her minutes later, and they watch in simultaneous stunned silence as Lena descends the stairs in a beautiful gown, a rich green velvet that makes her look regal and imposing. But her features are uncertain until she catches Kara’s eye, and finds a dazzled smile staring up at her, at which point her chest and neck blooms in a crimson blush.

They spend the ballet sitting too close together, hands clasped tightly together as they sit in Cat’s box and stare at the Grand Duchess Astra. Neither of them are aware of the dark glower of a familiar face staring up from the orchestra below.

Astra recognizes Kara immediately the moment Cat announces her, confirmed by the necklace Astra had once given her twin sister, now hanging around Kara’s neck. They both fall together in a cloud of tears and embraces. Lena and Cat slip away to grant them privacy, and Cat watches as Lena’s features slowly fall.

“She’s gone,” Lena remarks softly.

“Don’t be absurd,” Cat chides. “She’s just on the other side of the curtain.”

“She’s a princess. And I– I’m just…” Lena’s mind fills with the curses and shouts that had dogged her entire life. Trash. Gutter rat. Thief. Bastard. Whorespawn.

Cat regards her carefully, and then slips Lena an old creased letter from her purse. “It took me some time to track this down. In fact, it’s one of the reasons I visited Astra when I did, before the coup.”

“What is it?” Lena asks.

Cat scoffs. “I’m certain the tutors I hired informed me you’d learned to read in three languages before you disappeared into the wind. Why don’t you take a stab at that.”

Lena unfolds it, and begins to read the contents of the letter. It’s a mix of situational reports, mindless gossip, and speculation, but the final paragraph catches Lena’s eye.

In her final letter to me, Elizabeta has written that she has delivered of me a daughter. I am told the girl has dark hair and green eyes, and has a smile like the sun. In the year since, I have received no further word, and I fear the worst. I have dispatched men to search for them both, but to no avail. How could there be, when we have no details to search with but her name:

Lena.

She shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”

“This letter was written by Count Lionel, to a cohort in the imperial army. It, and the birth records I tracked down before the fall, confirms that you are the daughter of Count Lionel Luthor. The search he details here constitutes his claim on you.”

Lena blinks as the paper starts to tremble in her shaking fingers. “What does this mean?”

“It means you are of noble blood,” Cat tells her plainly, “and that while a commoner may no longer associate with the princess… You can.”

—-

Cat’s prediction holds true: Lena and Kara barely spend a moment out of each other’s sight. Astra is more than agreeable to formalizing Lena’s position and her inheritance of Lionel’s rights and titles, and Kara insists that Lena be presented to the world alongside her.

A press conference is arranged in short order, and during the chaos on the day of, Lex finds his opening. He slips into the decadent townhome, blending easily with the mix of staff and reporters and security. He finds Lena and Kara sharing a quiet moment together in the solarium, calming each other’s nerves before they face the press.

Lena bolts to her feet in recognition and fear, planting herself between him and Kara, who rises more slowly with confusion in her features. Her hand touches softly against the small of Lena’s back; Lena’s arm extends to one side, corralling Kara to stay behind her.

“What are you doing here?” Lena demands.

“I’ve come to bring you home, comrade,” Lex returns smoothly. “You have been sorely missed in the motherland.”

Lena shakes her head. “I am home.”

She doesn’t mean the opulent house around them, or even Paris– wherever Kara is, Lena is home.

Lex doesn’t intend to give her a choice. He grabs her by the arm and pulls her to him. Lena knows how to take care of herself, but the skirts make it hard for her to move, and when a gun cocks in Lex’s hand, Lena freezes.

He aims directly at Kara’s head where she’s frozen mid-stride in an effort to help Lena. Her eyes go wide and glassy at the dark barrel bearing down on her. Her breath comes quicker and quicker, shortening with every inhale.

On the other side of the trigger, Lex smirks at her. “The false princess… Although, I admit you do resemble her.”

“Stop!” Lena cries. “Don’t hurt her please. I’ll go with you, just let her go, she won’t stop you.”

“Lena--” Kara gasps. “No!”

“I have no interest in bargains,” Lex says. “I cannot suffer the princess to live.”

Lena shakes her head. “Why? She hasn’t done anything!”

“Not yet. Nor did she or her family do anything to help our people while we starved and died in the streets!”

Lena scowls. “Yeah? And what’s changed there?” She wrenches herself free, almost. Lex manages to keep hold of her wrist, but Lena glares at him without fear. “My belly didn’t fill when the Tsars were murdered. I was just as cold as I was the night before and the night after.”

“You know nothing--”

“Face it, Lex! Russia is no better than it was. She traded one autocracy for another-- the only thing that’s changed is that now YOU’RE in power. That’s all you ever cared about.”

Lex’s grip turns bruising, causing Lena to gasp in pain. “I see you learned much from those pretentious scholars.”

Lena blinks. “How do you know about that.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t keep track of my bastard baby sister?” Lex pulls Lena closer. “Did you think I would stand by and watch as she was welcomed to the court that cast my family to the streets?”

“You’re…?”

“Yes,” Lex hisses. “Our father died in disgrace, and yet they would take you, a bastard from the gutter into their arms. It was unconscionable. That was when I knew it was time to strike.”

Fighting tears, Lena renews her struggle. “You murdered an entire family-- started a war-- because you were jealous?”

“They believed themselves gods!” Lex shouts. “They would have seen Russia wither to nothing if it meant keeping their grip on our throats! I have liberated us!”

“You’re insane-- augh!” Lena’s growl stops with a sharp cry, as Lex whips the butt of his pistol against her skull. The cry snaps Kara out of her fear, and the world refocuses around her. She sees Lena sag, staggering when Lex tugs her into his chest and traps her there with an arm of steel tight around her shoulders.

Kara takes a step forward, but pulls back when the gun returns to aim directly at her forehead. Heart pounding, she forces herself to look away from the barrel, instead locking her gaze on Lena, still struggling to regain her senses.

She swallows thickly.

“I know my family made mistakes,” Kara pleads, lifting her hands placatingly. “I don’t intend on repeating them. I am no threat to you or to Russia, and Lena certainly isn’t. Please-- you don’t have to do this.”

Lex pauses, his frame relaxing slightly. “I don’t have to do this,” he echoes. “Funny.”

His finger settles on the trigger.

“That’s what you said the first time I killed you.”

Lena launches herself at the gun before he can fire, sending his shot wide. Kara’s entire body flinches from the flash of combustion, the zing of the bullet that sinks into a wooden beam off to her right. But Lena folds hers around the gun itself, controlling its line of fire as she struggles to take possession of it.

The struggle ceases entirely when a second gunshot cracks through the solarium.

Kara screams.

Lena staggers.

“No!” Lex cries. Drawn by the first gunshot, guards finally spill into the solarium, wresting Lex away from Lena. The gun clatters to the ground at Lena's feet, its muzzle glistening with blood.

Lena collapses, and Kara drops to her knees beside her, giving no thought to their finery even as blood pools beneath them both.

Kara can barely breathe through the flashbacks pressing against her eyelids: suddenly Lena has joined her in Yekaterinburg, and Kara watches as her lifeblood joins that of Kal, her mother, her father… even her dog, Krypto.

But when Lena lifts a trembling hand to Kara’s cheek, the warm gloss of blood grounding her in the present.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” Lena coughs. “Kara–”

“Save your breath, Lena, please. There are doctors, they can help you…”

Lena smiles with paling lips. “You’ve become a part of my story. I– I’m so glad it ended this way.”

Kara tightens her grip sharply, scoldingly. “It’s not over. Not by a long shot. We still have happily ever after.”

“I– found you. Think– that qualifies.”

“Lena–”

“Kara!” Astra rushes into the room, entourage in tow.

Kara looks up with streaming eyes, hand clamped tight around Lena's slackening fingers.

“Please, Aunt Astra. We have to help her, there must be something--” Her voice cracks, and a sob heaves from her chest. “I can’t lose her too!”

—

Hope doesn't return for days. Lena lingers on the brink of life, stubborn even at death’s door. Doctors attend to her day and night, and Kara doesn't leave her side but for the time it takes to refresh herself. But then, finally, the doctors give their final prognosis: Lena will survive.

The damage is great, but Lena is stronger, and motivated--Kara suspects-- by spite and sheer cussedness. After all, if the streets of St. Petersburg weren't enough to kill her, a lousy bullet sure isn't.

It's several days more before Lena opens her eyes, but when she finally does, green eyes blink blearily at Kara as she leans forward intently. She gathers Lena's cool hand in both of her own.

“You’re going to be okay,” Kara promises.

Lena’s brow crinkles with muddled confusion.

“Who…. are you?”

The breath freezes in Kara’s chest as the world slows around her. No… no, no, no not this. Anything but this!

Lena’s features crease into an exhausted smile.

“Too soon?”

Kara chokes on her relief, and punches Lena’s arm indignantly. “Don’t you ever do that to me again! You sick, perverted–!”

“Marry me.”

Kara blinks. “What?”

“Marry me,” Lena rasps again. “Please. I had a whole plan to ask, after the press conference, but I don’t want to risk being interrupted again. Kara Zor-el, Grand Duchess of Russia and queen of my heart– will you marry me?”

Tears burning in her eyes, Kara nods. “Yes, you big dummy. You didn’t think you’d get rid of me so easily did you?”

Lena laughs, then winces in pain. Kara kisses away her grimace, and in a matter of moments they’re both a mess of tears and laughter.

Their happily ever afters surpass that of any fairytale to come before.

[scotianostra]

On May 30th 1291 Claimants to the Scottish throne met King Edward I of England at Norham on Tweed to resolve succession.

This chapter of our history is called The Great Cause, it would lead to a decades long period  of disturbance with some of the most famous Scots taking centre stage with the likes of Sir William Wallace, Andrew Moray and Robert the Bruce, but how did it all come about?.

Our King was Alexander III, a strong and successful king. In the 1250s, still in his teens, he had asserted his independence in the face of aristocratic efforts to control him. In the 1260s he imposed his authority on a debatable frontier. The islands on Scotland’s western seaboard, nominally under the control of the king of Norway, were effectively independent; but by 1266 the Norwegians had been forcibly persuaded to bow out, and the locals were obliged to acknowledge the superior lordship of the Scottish royal house. 

So successful, in fact, was Alexander’s rule, that the latter part of his reign suffers from documentary silence. Contrary to the belief of Walter Scott, who once opined that everybody in medieval Scotland was too busy fighting to write anything down, the hush that descends on Scottish affairs in the 1270s is testimony to the peace that Alexander had succeeded in establishing, this was heralded as a Golden age for our country.

Alexander was far less lucky in his family, first, in 1275, came the death of his queen (and Edward’s sister), Margaret. Then, in the decade that followed, came the successive loss of all their children: their younger son David died in 1281, their only daughter, also Margaret, in 1283, and lastly their elder son, Alexander, in 1284. It was an incredible run of dynastic bad luck, and inevitably raised the question of who would succeed to the Scottish throne when Alexander himself died, for the king had neither brothers nor uncles who might step in and replace him. Prudently, therefore, Alexander – still only in his early forties – elected to remarry. 

In 1285 he took as his second queen a young Frenchwoman by the name of Yolande of Dreux. Imprudently, however, just a few months into their marriage, the king set out to meet his new wife in a terrible storm. On the evening of 18 March 1286 he rode from Edinburgh to Queensferry, crossed the Firth of Forth by boat, and continued along the coast towards Kinghorn, where Yolande was waiting. But she waited in vain. At some point during the last stage of his ill-advised journey, her husband lost his escort, tumbled over a cliff and broke his neck. Not until the next day dawned was his lifeless body found lying on the shoreline at Kinghorn.

The only living relative of Alexander was his Granddaughter, Margaret the Maid of Norway, her mother had died in childbirth, or or would have fell to her, so it was Margaret was sent for. Unfortunately she died on the journey to Scotland in 1290 so with the failure of the direct line of the Scottish royal family this left the throne empty. 

Somehow, the Scots had to decide who should be the rightful king without finding themselves falling into civil war – but who would get to wear the crown? Well two of the most prominent rival claimants, Robert Bruce,  (not THE Bruce, his Grandad) and John Balliol, both seemed to be preparing battle it out, while the Guardians no longer had a clear unifying figure to rally behind. In despair, one of the Guardians, Bishop Fraser, wrote a rather desperate letter about how the country was “disturbed” through a “fear of a general war and a great slaughter of men”, asking for direct help to save the country and determine who should be king. The man to whom he was writing and imploring was King Edward I of England.

Edward I had got on well with Alexander III (his brother-in-law) and prior to the latter’s death, relations between the two countries had probably never been closer. The Scots had turned to him for assistance when Eric of Norway had been reluctant to send Margaret to Scotland and he had succeeded in persuading him, as well as arranging a marriage alliance between Margaret and his own son, Edward of Caernarfon (had she not died, the Union of the Crowns would have taken place after Edward I's death, rather than 1603!) 

He was something of a legal expert and therefore unusually well qualified to arbitrate on what was, essentially, a legal decision. What’s more, he had shown himself a very capable diplomat in European disputes in recent years and was powerful enough to ensure that Bruce, Balliol or any other claimant would not be able to take the throne by force (either before or after judgement).

Don't worry I'm not only saying good things about the man, but I had to point out the logic in turning to the English King for help.

So on the other hand King Edward was not merely a neutral friend. A hard, ruthless and extremely cunning man, Edward undoubtedly saw an opportunity to extend his influence in Scotland. Having already conquered the Welsh and having failed to previously secure an acknowledgement of English feudal overlordship over Scotland, this represented too good an opportunity to miss. And so it was on this day in 1291, Edward called a Scottish Parliament at Norham (northern England), despite the fact that the Treaty of Birgham that he had signed in 1289 guaranteed no parliaments would be held outside of Scotland. Nevertheless, he provided the nobles and bishops with the relevant assurances and they came to Norham, only to be welcomed by an assertion by Edward that he was “Lord Paramount of Scotland” and that before he hear any claims to the Scottish throne, he should be acknowledged as such. Having learnt from his failure to gain such a submission from Alexander III, he had done his research and found all the evidence he could in English chronicles of precedent for the King of England having feudal overlordship of Scotland (something of a thirteenth-century dodgy dossier) and challenged the Scots to prove him wrong.

Robert Wishart (the Bishop of Glasgow and one of the Guardians) rather bravely spoke up against Edward, stating that only a king could make such a submission and therefore it was impossible to do in absence of a king. He also asserted that Scotland was independent of England, to which Edward I effectively shrugged and replied that they could prove their independence by force of arms if they so desired. When Wishart suggested that this was not in keeping with the morals of a Christian Crusader king, Edward was enraged and effectively threatened to lead a Crusade against the Scots!

The talks broke down with neither side managing to get what they wanted – Edward did not get his submission and the Scots did not get a decision on their new monarch. However, Edward changed tack and rather than demanding that the nation of Scotland pay him homage, he required that any candidate claiming the Scottish throne must first pay him homage as an individual, in which they would have to acknowledge that Edward had “the sovereign lordship of the said kingdom of Scotland”. 

Robert Bruce seems to have been determined to be as amenable to Edward as possible (presumably hoping to win the crown through his favour) and was the first to submit, leaving the other claimants no choice but to follow suit or else Edward would have barred them from claiming the crown. Eventually, even the Guardians backed down and gave Edward possession of the royal castles for safe-keeping until a new king was appointed.

13 men came forward and made their claim to be Scotland's King, this was whittled down to three, John Balliol, Robert Bruce and John Comyn (known as the “Black Comyn”), father of The Red Comyn. 

Finally in November 1292 Edward made his decision, John Balliol was to be the next king of Scotland.

Now I have done my own whittling trying to keep this post as short as I can, if you wan't to read more backgroundy type stuff and a lot more detail check out the post here https://erenow.net/biographies/agreatandterriblekingedwardi/9.php

[satonthelotuspier]

❄️ Untamed Winter Fest 2019 ❄️

Day 29 - Frozen - 1.8k

Jiang Cheng watched the gently waving fan as it moved hypnotically, still covering the lower half of Nie Huaisang’s face. He wondered if this was the Nie Sect leader’s version of those flesh eating plants that lured in their prey with pretty colours and tempting smells before snapping closed and devouring what was caught.

The thought made him uncomfortable and he tried to banish it as his eyes lifted and travelled a little further up to find those solemn dark eyes watching him watch the fan.

And really now he was looking for it Jiang Cheng wondered how he, how everyone, had missed that underlying tone of cold cunning in their depths.

But perhaps it was just that he could see it now because he knew it was there; people only saw what they wanted to see, nothing in the world was truer than this.

Nie Huaisang had been a consummate strategist, matching Jin Guangyao move for move, year after year, in a hidden game of chess only one of them had been aware they were playing.

While one man acted the benevolent patriarch of the cultivational world the other played the clown in the background, wept and shook his head when pushed to the forefront and cleverly used his prey as his protection.

Jin Guangyao hadn’t ever seen it coming. That was scheming on another level entirely.

Jiang Cheng considered that they’d come a long way from those silly boys who’d met at the Cloud Recesses and spent their days fooling around, drinking, sharing pornographic books, whilst going about their young lives with their seemingly all-consuming worries.

The worries of children.

Life had chewed them up and spit them out since, and while he didn’t think there was a cultivator of their generation that had come through the last several years unscathed Jiang Cheng had closed himself off emotionally in order to survive, his frozen heart refusing to allow any further possibility of hurt.

He wondered if, like himself, Nie Huaisang would give anything to return to those carefree days of innocence, to be surrounded by his family again. He liked to think he’d not be nearly as ill-tempered with Wei Wuxian as he had been, that he’d appreciate that lively, conceited yet warm-hearted brother of his more, that he wouldn’t waste time bickering in front of his sister and instead just be in her calming company and give her all the love she deserved.

Perhaps Nie Huaisang had the same regrets, wishing he’d not spent so much time avoiding Nie Mingjue and instead been more appreciative of the love and care his elder brother held for him.

***

He would be the first to admit the meeting hadn’t held his attention and he had let most of the discussion flow over his head despite Lotus Pier being the host location, it had been a relief as it drew to a conclusion so he could see the other attendees off to their accommodations.

Afterwards, though it was late in the evening, he found himself in the company of the man who most of his thoughts had been on during the conference as they walked leisurely along the walkways and paths along the lake.

“Jiang-xiong was quite preoccupied during the discussion” Nie Huaisang commented, giving him a quick look from the corner of his fox-eyes.

“It’s the same discussions over and over though isn’t it? Patting themselves on the back for seeing through the Chief Cultivator and having a part in bringing him down” he sneered. The discussion was mostly made up of the smaller Sects due to the current political climate. He had heard Lan Xichen of Gusu had retreated into seclusion after Yunping City; the Jin Sect was in complete shambles despite his attempts to help Jin Ling settle things down, and that only left the Nie and Jiang sects of any size, and the smaller sects were full of their own importance.

They strolled on.

As ever Nie Huaisang was elegantly dressed; he’d always had that interest in beautiful fabrics, intricate braids and hair ornaments and beautifully painted fans. His was the soul of a poet or an artist, not a warrior or a diplomat. And look what he had accomplished.

It was another truism that war made murderers out of even the gentlest souls; one just had to find out what one was prepared to go to war for.

“I thought of the past. Of Cloud Recesses” he broke the companionable silence as Nie Huaisang walked on beside him, his closed fan tapping occasionally into the palm of his left hand.

“They were simpler times” it was almost tentative and Jiang Cheng glanced over, but couldn’t read the reason as the fan flipped open and rose into place to hide his expression, “but no less sincere”

“Do you think of it sometimes?” Jiang Cheng asked, curious how close he’d been in his thoughts earlier.

“Sometimes. Rarely. It’s...raw. I haven’t allowed myself to want the things I wanted then for a long time. I was too focussed, too...consumed. And too dead inside”

That Jiang Cheng understood, hadn’t he acknowledged that frozen part of himself that kept him safe, but emotionally separated from the world? Nie Huaisang came to a halt then and turned to face him.

“Perhaps it’s time we looked forward instead, Jiang-xiong. Perhaps now all accounts are settled it’s time to accept that wanting some of those things we wanted as silly little children in the Cloud Recesses is permissible”

Jiang Cheng didn’t think he quite grasped what Nie Huaisang meant, there seemed to be a message for him, especially in those fox-eyes which stared at him over the top of the fan, but it eluded him.

“It’s perhaps time to let ourselves heal” Nie Huaisang touched his arm with the lightest of contacts, then folded his fan and moved off back towards the dwellings with a, “Goodnight, Jiang-xiong”

***

He spent a lot of time with Nie Huaisang over the following days. Jiang Cheng told himself it was because he was the least annoying claimant upon his time. But he did genuinely enjoy their evening walks which became a staple of the conference. Their talk rarely became as deep or personal as on the first evening, but they never lacked for subjects, and neither minded when silence fell between them when there was nothing that needed to be said.

Jiang Cheng being Jiang Cheng did notice that the other had started to act a little more solicitously towards him, there were often small touches or smiles that caught him off guard, and maybe made his pulse speed up a little. Purely through surprise, of course.

He thought it may be due to Nie Huaisang finding someone with a shared history who had suffered similarly, and who he could talk to about it that made the other move towards renewing their friendship, to which Jiang Cheng had no objections.

He was a little sad when the conference ended and it was time for the other sects to go their own ways. Although only due to the impending departure of Nie Huaisang; he’d happily row the boat away from Lotus Pier himself for any of the other Sect heads. He was at the pier most of the day seeing them all off on their separate journeys.

Nie Huaisang took his leave late in the morning, “Thank you for your hospitality Jiang-xiong, I hope to see you again very soon”

“I hope so too” he allowed himself to agree and didn’t miss the warming of the other man’s eyes in response.

***

Over the following days Jiang Cheng didn’t want to admit how empty Lotus Pier had suddenly become. He continued to take the evening constitutionals that had become the norm with Nie Huaisang but they were lonely and left him brooding more often that not.

He did think deeply on Nie Huaisang’s comment of letting themselves heal and what that meant to him, he felt like the message had carried a very important weight for the other man. For himself he considered part of the healing process would be to forgive and let go  as completely as he could of the hatred he had carried for Wei Wuxian in the years since the Burial Mounds. It was something Wei Wuxian had wished for him as well, as he’d informed Jiang Cheng during a time spent trapped in a cave awaiting rescue together.

They both knew it wasn’t going to be easy, there was no magic fix-all. They had hurt each other deeply. But his family was everything to Jiang Cheng, and knowing he’d been naive and childish enough to be manipulated into betraying the man he had always thought of as his brother left a sour taste in his mouth and a cold ache in his chest.

How they were going to get there, however, he had no idea. Perhaps he could start with writing to Wei Wuxian; he thought he might find it more freeing than having to be honest with his words, which Jiang Cheng was under no illusions he’d be terrible at.

He would think the matter over carefully before he committed himself, however, it was a delicate situation and something that should be approached with forethought.

Several days after Nie Huaisang had left for Qinghe a small box was delivered to Lotus Pier. It was carved with the beast-head sigil of the Nie sect so he had no questions over who it was from.

Inside was a jade pendant carved in the shape of a nine-petalled lotus flower. The petal tips had all been limned a delicate shade of purple and beneath the pendant was a silver bell and a matching purple tassel. It was an exquisite piece meant to be worn on his belt. Something told him Nie Huaisang had been the one to make it himself and that same something itched vaguely in the heart he thought frozen solid from years of grief.

Still, it was a lot of time and effort to spend on a gift to a friend. He would have to be sure to write and thank him, perhaps send a gift back, although he was under no illusion he wasn’t an artist like Huaisang; any gift would have to be commissioned by him only and therefore perhaps wouldn’t come across as quite as sincere?

He was just drifting off to sleep that night when something clicked in his head; he shot upright in bed.

Wait, what had Nie Huaisang meant about sincere feelings from their times at Cloud Recesses? About allowing themselves to move forward and heal, and accepting that childhood wants that were still valid?

His pulse sped up.

Was he being courted?

The conversation JC refers to with WWX occured in my Day 13 prompt for reference but it’s not necessary to have read for the above

[sirro85-blog]

Humans are Space Orcs:

Part 4

Kovac gave a hiss of pain as Petra sutured his shoulder, he glared at his officers and then took a drink from his glass, Petra tapped his shoulder and he tugged his arm back.

"Just Knickers and Footsteps? Nobody else is hurt?" Kovac said a third time.

"Becca has cracked ribs and you have about 4 dozen sutures in your shoulders and arms." Petra corrected him.

"I'm fine!" Snapped Becca standing up and wincing.

"Sutures heal," growled Kovac.

"Staff and Dana are with Knickers, Fluke is with footsteps, we'll make sure someone will sit Shiva. Panther is checking the walls and Sergeant Webb is with the rest of 3 Troop." Captain Dorman said.

"Go look after your men Captain," Kovac said, he glanced at Becca, "once Knickers is stable and in the healing bay get Staff Sergeant King to ok the rapid healing meds for me and Bec, we haven't got time to sit and wait."

Petra tutted but nodded and she and Dorman left the room, Becca moved gingerly to sit on Kovac's uninjured side. Captain Wolf left with the remaining Flet bodies.

"I thought when that kick landed that I was gonna lose you," Becca said, "honestly I was so scared I..." she grabbed his hand and winced at the sudden movement.

"You were amazing, beating an 8 foot kitty with a 15 inch dildo, not a sight I thought I'd ever see." They both laughed and then groaned in pain, Kovac drank more rum and handed the glass to Becca, "they came for me Bec, Footsteps and Knickers paid the price. Footsteps was a good soldier but Knickers...we've been through a lot together I couldn't forgive that she died protecting me."

"I was always so jealous of how close you two were," Becca sipped the rum and said, "That woman, is tough"

Becca leant her head against his uninjured shoulder, and Kovac turned his head to kiss the top of hers. The quiet moment was disrupted by Staff Sergeant Frank King who blasted into the room and brandished a fist at the Major.

"I'm not dispensing AHMs for those injuries, they aren't fucking Smarties, you can take it easy for a few weeks and heal normally!" He stopped after he realised the Major was grinning. "These are serious drugs, you could have a PE, they damage your kidneys long term and can cause seizures, it could be a CVE or an MI...and stop drinking after you've been given morphine!"

"If you're here that means Knickers is stable, so thank you, Frank you know us, you know we won't take it easy, not after this, Bec will push herself with broken ribs and end up with a, uh, hemanuma-thorax."

"Haemopneumothorax!" Staff King corrected instantly then grimaced that Kovac had provoked him, "alright, take them but I want you both in for daily checks and Knickers doesn't get passed fit unless I say so."

Within two days both Kovac and Becca were sitting with their fellow officers, Captain Wolf sat opposite Captain Dorman who had his hands spread out flat in the table.

"I'm not convinced," said Dorman.

"Fuck Mark, how many times do you want to hear it!?" Wolf paused and took a breath, "The Flet Royal family are as protected as any target I have ever seen, and I've seen a few. However every shred of information we have secured says that after the current Queen dies there will be three strong claimants to the throne, and after that over a dozen weaker potentials. To eradicate the threat posed by them, the Queen and all 3 heirs must die, after that infighting will take away any political motivation to see Kovac dead." He paused and looked at Captain Gillespie, "Gilly has confirmed that with every source he has at every level."

Dorman nodded and gave a gesture to continue, "Even the best hit-squad I could put together couldn't get to the four targets. However, Becca has credible sources that say the Flet Imperium is making an accord with the Torasa-Rhul of the Dinah system and one of the targets is travelling to Dinah-5 to confirm the accord. Kovac's contact Theo-Finn-Rhul on Garatvali has confirmed this. This target will be significantly more vulnerable, so our proposal is to send out a multiple to snatch and grab the target and use them to gain access to the other three."

Dorman pulled a face and Wolf threw his hands up, "he's just doing his job Wolf, he has to question everything." Kovac reminded his irate captain.

"No need to be such an old woman about it. All our Intel suggests this attack is too audacious for the Kitty's to expect and that the Flet Royal family will consider that using us to remove their rivals would be a savvy political manoeuvre. If we decide to do this then we have to be precise, we fail this and we show our hand to the royals and probably provoke the Imperium enough that they just blow up the whole planet."

Dorman sat in thought for a moment and then nodded, "alright, it's our best shot, what do we need?"

Plans were made and as soon as Staff had cleared Knickers she found the Major, "I want in."

"You don't know what the plan is, or if we have a plan," the Major countered.

"Of course you have a plan, I served in the 88th, slick drills and all that. I want in." Knickers scoffed.

Kovac looked away from her and then said, "it's Wolf's command, he's making the selection."

Knickers glared her nostrils flared and then nodded. Kovac watched her leave the office and gave a heavy sigh.

"Theo-Finn-Rhul has sent us what we asked for and the Ditiri has given us the information we needed." Wolf informed the Major as he entered the meeting.

"Hate to think what that cost us" Becca said.

"No worries mate, just told him you'd give him a demo of what you can do with a dildo," Wolf laughed.

Becca raised two fingers in the shape of a V a gesture that humans consider an insult.

Wolf crackled, "I offered him your nudes but he wasn't interested."

"Too bad you didn't offer him yours Wolf, he might have charged less after a laugh." Becca countered, Dorman and Gillespie laughed.

"Enough, Wolf it's now or never, we will need to depart tonight, have you made your selection?"

"Me, Panther, Hemmings and Richards, Knickers and Ocampo, Gray and uhh you."

"Kovac! Knickers!" Snapped Becca. " No,! One stray shot and it's all over. Knickers nearly died a week ago."

"She's also the best soldier we have, Hemmings and Richards are our best shots, Ocampo is the best scout I've ever known, there's a reason you always have him on point, Gray lives up to his name, him and Panther are bloody shadows but if this goes south name one other soldier you'd prefer to Kovac and Knickers watching your back, look I don't want to do this with only 8 men but that is how many we can get in so it has to be the best we have.

Becca stared first at Kovac and then Wolf and then moved to sit down. Plans were made and a contingent of 12 more soldiers under Fluke were assigned to accompany the unit as far as possible. Afterwards Wolf waited for Becca.

"I don't like it, anymore than you do mate but he's as good as they come and we'll need that. Bex, if I could do this without any of them I would."

"I know mate, I know," she patted his shoulder and walked away.

Some humans would take the time to say goodbye to those left behind, facing an unknown future they would ensure nothing went unsaid, these soldiers just made cruel jokes to one another, lots were drawn who got Ocampo's Whisky collection and who got to burn Richard's "god awful" record collection.

The evening arrived and Wolf's unit departed. At an appropriate distance the support unit stopped and Wolf and his men boarded the Rhul shuttle to land on the planet. They were silent as they came into land on Dinah-5. It was midday where they landed and Wolf quickly sent Gray and Ocampo out to surveil the targets, an hour later the unit were gathered around a small model forming their plan.

For all the frenetic energy of recent weeks now that these 8 humans were about to embark on the action they were remarkably calm. Wolf had them run a practice drill of the mission before they departed.

Ocampo led the way towards the camp, followed by Hemmings and Richards then Wolf and Panther, Kovac and Knickers with Gray at the rear. They made good progress and soon were on the edge of the camp, over four dozen Flet soldiers stood guard around the site.

Wolf's unit settled in to watch as the Flet occupied themselves. The target was identified and from the general behaviour it became clear that their information was accurate, the meeting had occurred and some time tomorrow the Camp would pack up and they would depart. As night fell Wolf sent his unit forward, Gray and Panther slipped through the darkness, Kovac close behind, the first two sentries were cut down silently, Kovac followed the two through the camp as Wolf and Ocampo followed behind, they neared the command tent when the first guard reacted, he turned toward them, reacting to some slight noise, there was. a moment as it raised it's power lance to it's shoulder and opened it's mouth to speak before it dropped, Hemmings lived up to his reputation as the finest shot in the squad. Kovac caught the Kitty's corpse at a run to stop it making noise.

Panther stalked the second sentry and in a flowing movement stepped up behind it and with a jump clamped a hand across it's mouth and drove her blade between it's ribs, collapsing it's lung to stop it calling out and with a second thrust finding it's heart. She strained to hold up it's weight and gently lowered it to the floor.

Kovac took position at the entrance to the main tent and Panther and Gray slipped inside, now the noise level grew, shots were fired and as the camp came awake Kovac met the now captured Flet royalty.

"Major Kovac, I must admit I thought you'd be dead, the Hyte don't normally fail us, but we thought the survivors may plan this, so we had a little plan in place." She spoke calmly with no trace of an accent.

"We guessed you might, Wolf thinks you have three times as many soldiers on base as we've seen," Kovac replied a slight smile on his face, "You did well hiding them but you have enough food supplies here to feed the 50 or so of you we've seen for a month." Explosions rocked the camp and flames lit the night sky, " I do find that giving Wolf a grenade launcher tends to be one solution to most problems." He looked at Panther, "gag her and get back into the tent, wait for the signal from Ocampo."

Bolts tore through the night and shredded the tent, Kovac dropped to one knee and returned fire. More explosions tore through the night and Kovac discarded his first magazine and hoped their luck would hold out.

When the flare lit the nights sky Kovac could see the success Hemmings and Richards had been having at keeping the Kitty's hemmed in. He remembered the old saying "at night all armies are the same size." More explosions sounded this time more distant and Kovac covered Panther and Gray as they dragged the prisoner out. They hastily retreated and quickly met Ocampo who fired his own RPGs to shield their retreat. They found Knickers in a clearing with multiple dead Flet in it, a shocked looking Hemmings and Richards were with her.

"Holy hell Major can she cycle that damn rifle, I've never seen anyone reload that quick." Hemmings exclaimed staring at Knickers with awe.

"Should see the Major, he was pissing out bullets back there," said Gray offering Kovac a spare magazine.

"Alright! We can suck each other off later, stage one is complete, we aren't out of this yet." Kovac said as distant explosions continued to tear through the night.

"Right, Gray and me with Knickers and Kovac, you three get to Wolf and help him." Panther began.

"Gotta change plans Sergeant," said Kovac.

"We can't!" Snapped Panther looking afraid as more explosions sounded.

Kovac raised his left arm to show his body armour shredded and the plates shattered. "Armour stopped the round but I still broke ribs, I'm not gonna be able to keep up."

"Knickers you go with those two and the hostage, Ocampo go with those two and get to Wolf, I'll get back to the shuttle and at least I can come get you if need be."

Panther looked at Kovac and rubbed her face then opened her mouth to speak, she closed it again, nodded and with Gray's help dragged the bound and gagged Flet away into the night. Kovac nodded to Knickers and then to Ocampo and the other two and walked into the darkness.

Captain Wolf marvelled at Kitty pride as they tried yet again to overtake him in the darkness, so often Flet relied on their natural gifts not their technology; humans could admit their limitations, he couldn't outrun the Flet, he could hem them in with enough grenades as he could physically carry. The tell tale crack of a sniper rifle told him that Ocampo had found him and the two snipers were ready to cover his retreat. He tossed aside his heavy grenade launcher and ran hell for leather into the smoke Ocampo's smoke bombs were producing, the Rifleman signalled him and the two men set about the next phase of their plan.

Hemmings gave Wolf the thumbs up as the third claymore mine detonated, "they're gonna be too pissed to think straight now Sir."

"An entire species of rage monsters, it must be like living on a planet of Knickers," said Wolf.

"I heard that," snapped Knickers emerging from the gloom.

"Excellent, we're all here...where's Kovac!?"

"Injured, heading back to the shuttle," Panther said.

"Shit...Alright, we'll adapt, Gray, Panther, dump whoever that is, get back to their camp, collect the royal from wherever you stashed her and get to the shuttle, Hemmings and Richards get to the shuttle and get ready to watch us in, Ocampo and Knickers you're with me, we're going for a run. See if we can't derail this friendly Rhul-Kitty alliance"

I never understood how humans could think in such circles, that they would kidnap a target and then leave with a decoy seemed bizarre to me but when the Flet realised they had been deceived they were sure to feel even more rage.

The Captain's plan seemed to work well, first Hemmings and Richards signalled on the radio they were in position and then Panther signalled that they had reached the prisoner and were extracting. Wolf, Knickers and Ocampo led the Flet on, the explosions and the claymore had done enough to wound the Flet so they were unable to catch the humans who's superior endurance now began to tell as they led the Kitty's into the final trap.

Wolf set the last two grenades on the tripwire and they turned wearily for the shuttle. A few minutes later blasts rang out and the Rhul were woken by explosions on their camp perimeter and a Flet war party in their midst. Shots rang out in the darkness as Wolf led his men away into the breaking dawn.

A fatigued Wolf jogged into the clearing to meet a frantic Panther, "it's Kovac, he's in trouble."

The Major was slumped against the edge of the shuttle, his breathing shallow and his face pale, "punctured lung." He wheezed.

"Shit!" Swore Wolf.

Kovac nodded at the hostage, "she's, getting her, wish." He gasped and stopped breathing.

[cwnerd12]

1.Judgement Day, Again In the palace lobby, a huge line is formed in front of a bank of employees. Velvet ropes form long lines, and at the end of it, a sign says JUDGEMENT DAY PETITION SUBMISSION. Up at the front of one line, Andrew speaks to a receptionist, “And how much will it cost to submit multiple petitions?” Receptionist, “I’m sorry, but each person may only submit one petition.” Andrew slaps a hundred dollar bill on the desk, “How much?” Receptionist, “I’m sorry, but it’s one petition per person.” Andrew slaps down another bill. Receptionist, “Sir, I’m going to have to call security!” In the back of the room, Adam looks on at the lines, conflicted. He holds a petition in his hand. He sighs, examining the lines, and then holds up his phone, On the screen, a news channel anchor talks, “King David released a statement, saying, ‘Seven months ago, during a time of immense personal darkness, I had a moment of weakness and made a mistake, one which I deeply regret. Miss Sebastiano chose to terminate her pregnancy without informing me, and either way, I respect her right to choose. My devotion to my husband remains as fierce as ever. I wish to move on from this mistake and continue my duty as king without distraction.’ As of yet, Beth Sebastiano has yet to make any public statement for herself.” Adam turns the phone off, and makes a disgusted face. He looks back at the lines, and then picks the shortest one.

Up in the council chamber, David talks, “I don’t want to make a huge deal out of this-” Rose, “It is a huge deal, David. It’s going to come up tomorrow.”  David, annoyed, “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Asher, “I’m sorry, David, but for you, ‘I’ll deal with it tomorrow’ usually means I’ll say something really fucking stupid tomorrow.” Rose, “Just so we know for sure, what are you going to say if it comes up?” David, “That I’m a dumbass.” Rose sighs deeply. David, “That was a joke. I’m going to say that Jack forgives me, and anything further remains a private matter.” Rose, “What if someone asks about her?” David, “She told me not to bother her, so I’m not bothering her.” Asher, “I guarantee, whether you mean to or not, you are bothering her right now. I think it would be a good idea to reach out.” David, “What the hell am I supposed to say, anyway? I already said I’m sorry!” Asher, “I’ll be the one to contact her first, and then you apologize again and offer security and any legal assistance she might need.” David, “All right, just… make sure Jack doesn’t find out about it.” Rose, “Someone is going to try to goad you tomorrow, you need to resist the urge to say something reckless.” David, “I will.” Rose, “Very well. Is there anything else that needs to be discussed?” Asher, “Not that I can think of.” David, “I can’t think of anything.” Rose, “I know you’re under a fair amount of stress right now, David.” David, sarcastically, “A fair amount.” Rose, “But Judgement Day is a chance to show everyone that you are indeed a wise, just, and capable leader. Silas rather looked forward to it because of this.” David, darkly, “Yay for Silas.” Rose, “Try to have a little bit of good humor. Put on a brave face and don’t be such a bitch.” David, “I’ll try.” Rose, “I have to go make sure everything is in place. If there’s anything more to discuss, I’ll leave you to it.” David, listlessly, “Thanks, Rose.” Rose gets up and leaves. As the door shuts, Asher says, “Are you sure you’re up for this, man?” David, “I’ll be fine. Joel’s been helping me go over all the legal shit, and Rose is right. I need to be seen being a king.” Asher, “Are you and Joel on the same page for all the legal matters? I don’t want something like the coup happening again.” David, “Yes, I made everything clear to him, I’m the king.” Asher, somewhat carefully, “And you and Jack are also on the same page, right?” David, “Yes, he knows what happened, and he forgives me.”  Asher, “Okay, good.” David, “Is there anything else for tomorrow?” Asher, “Not really. You still need to resolve the secretary of defense mess.” David, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I swear I’ll find someone, just after tomorrow.” Asher, “Okay. Good.” David, “Anything else?” Asher, “You need to talk to Beth.” David, “She doesn’t want to talk to me.” Asher, “A lot of things have changed since the last time you say you talked to her.” David, “She was pretty fucking clear.” Asher, “I’ll be the one to reach out. It’s better to have a third party be the one who makes contact.” David, “We don’t need to do this.” Asher, “Yes, we do. You need to do this.” David, “Fine. Let’s just try to make it quick, okay?”

David sits in his office, staring down at his phone, full of apprehension. A light blinks, and David picks up the receiver, nervous. He holds it to his ear, “Beth?” On the other end, Beth’s voice, “Yeah?” David falters for words, “Uh… how- how are you?” Beth, “I can’t leave my house and my boss just called me to tell me to not bother coming in.” David, “Oh. I-I’m sorry.” Beth, “What do you want, David?” David, “Um, honestly, a lot of people are telling me I need to talk to you so…” he drifts off, and sighs, “I know you don’t want to talk to me. I tried to respect that.” Beth sniffs derisively, “Are you in the palace?” David, “Yeah.” Beth, a sneer in her voice, “Are you in your office?” David, “Yeah.” Beth, “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.” David, “I am not. I guarantee you, I am not fucking doing well right now.” Beth, “Go cry to your husband.” David, “Can I send you a security detail, at least?” Beth, “What, so they can spy on me?” David, “No. I- I really don’t want anything else bad to happen to you.” A long pause. Beth, “I want a lawyer, too. And a PR person.” David, “Okay, yeah. I’ll send you someone really good, okay?” Beth, “Okay.” David, “Okay…” Long, awkward silence. David, “If you need anything, call me. Or, I guess not me. Call Thomasina Bright, she takes care of everything. Or you can just call me. It doesn’t matter.” Beth, “All right.” Another long, awkward silence. David, “I really do want to do good by you. You don’t deserve all this shit. I’m sorry.” Beth doesn’t say anything. David, “Beth?” Beth, “This is all I’m gonna be for the rest of my life. The whore who fucked the king.” David, at a loss for word, “I- I’m sorry. I really am.” Beth, softly, “I’m gonna go, David.” David, “Okay. Bye.” The conversation ends without another word. David slips back in his chair, feeling thoroughly awful. He thinks for a long moment, and then looks out the window. He sees the sun setting, and gets up.

David goes into the residence, where he spots Jack sitting on the couch and watching TV. David, “Hey, Jack.” He leans over the back of the couch, puts his arms around Jack’s shoulders, and kisses his cheek, “What do you want for dinner?” Jack, “I ordered it. Be up soon.” David, “I wanted to make something.” Jack, “It’s late. I’m hungry.” David sighs, “Okay.” He sits awkwardly for a long moment, and then, “I need to fill the Minister of Defense position. I’ve said all along that I want you to do it-” Jack interrupts him, “No. Not ready. I’m not ready.” David, “That’s fine. That’s perfectly fine. Honestly, Jack, if all you want to do is be a spoiled househusband, you can do that.” Jack, “No. No, not that. I- I’m not ready.” David, frustrated, “Jack, I hate to say this, but when will you be ready?” Jack, “Better. When I talk better.” David, “How much better is better?” Jack, “Better!” David, “It’s almost been a year. Recovery usually stops at around a year. What if this is as good as you’re gonna get?” Jack, “Years! Recovery- years!” David, “Then is it gonna be years before you’re ready?” Jack grimaces. He doesn’t know what to say. David, “I can’t just make you the minister of defense because you’re my husband.” Jack, “I know.” David gently touches his face, “You have a place here, it just might be different than what we first thought it would be.” Jack, “Where?” David, “I don’t know. But we’ll find it.” He looks up at the TV screen, and sees Beth’s face on an evening news segment. They both for a long, painful few seconds. David sighs deeply, and lowers his eyes, “I’m sorry about all this.” Jack, “I know.” David, “It- it happened right after the warehouse with the Amalekites. I had to tell Mom that Robert was dead, and-” Jack, “I don’t want to know.” David, “I’m sorry.” Jack, “You said that.” David, “I mean it.” Jack shuts his eyes and rubs his temple, “My head hurts.” David, “Do you want anything?” Jack, “No.” They sit there for a long, silent moment. David, “Do you still forgive me?” Jack things, and says, “Yes. But I’m angry.”

Later in the morning, Joel stands on the lobby balcony next to the selection bowl, halfway through selecting the day’s cases. Below him hundreds of people crowd to see their petitions drawn. Joel draws a name, “Giffard vs. Teague.” Below, claimants excitedly hug, and then head over to a receiving area. In the crowd, Adam waits nervously. While Joel continues reading names, Andrew talks to a claimant, “I need to be seen today. Are you hoping for a settlement?” Claimant, confused. Andrew whips out his checkbook, “How much do you want?” Claimant, “It’s a lot of money.” Andrew, “I have a lot of money. How much will it take for us to switch places?” Above them, Joel reaches into the bag to draw the final case, “Madison vs. Baggio.” In the crowd, a small group of people reacts happily while everyone around them react with anger and disappointment. Adam keeps staring up at Joel, quiet anger and disgust lingering over his face.

David and Joel go towards the council chamber. Rose waits outside the door. David, “Where’s Jack?” Rose, “He isn’t feeling well.” David, “What? What’s wrong?” Rose, “He has a headache.” David, dismayed, “Oh, goddamnit. Fuck it, I’m calling today off.” Rose, “No you aren’t. People came here today to see their king, and you are going to go out there and be their fucking king!” For a moment, David tries to think his way out of it, but then gives up, “If anything else happens with Jack, we are cancelling today.” He goes out into the council chamber. The sudden burst of light and applause startles him slightly as everyone stands up for him. He puts on a forced smile and goes over to his chair. After he sits, everyone else sits. David looks out at the huge, overwhelming crowd in front of him, thinks for a moment, and then says, “I uh, I had a speech ready, but I think we should just get going. Bring on the first case.” Up in the top row, Andrew tears a check out of his book and hands it to one of the case plaintiffs, “Rest assured, you are doing a true service to your country today.” They hand him their case envelope. Andrew smiles slickly, “Thank you so much.” Still grinning, he turns around and watches with immense satisfaction as a divorcing couple bitterly argue in front of David. Women, “The beach house is where he used to have his so-called business meetings, he doesn’t deserve it!” Man, “I paid for it with my money!” Andrew looks over at the other people standing along the top railing. He sees Adam watching the proceedings. Carefully, he begins to make his way towards him. Andrew, “Have you come to watch the drama?” Adam glances at him, apprehensive, “I guess.” Andrew, “You guess?” Adam, “What do you want from me? Are you even allowed to be here?” Andrew looks down and sees an envelope sticking out of Adam’s pocket, “Case didn’t get drawn did it? What possible legal dispute could you have?” Adam, “It’s none of your business.” Andrew, “It’s about Ryan Hitt, isn’t it?” Adam, irritated, “It’s none of your business.” Andrew, “Of course your name didn't get drawn, they probably threw it out as soon as they got it. Can’t make our brave king look bad.” Adam looks away uncomfortably. Andrew leans in to Adam and lowers his voice, “Do you know anything about the anarchist organizations our Minister of Justice used to be involved with? Terrorists. They had plans that Alek Amal would be jealous of. I wouldn’t be surprised if he put the bullet in Caesar Reinhardt's head.” Adam, “He has an alibi.” Andrew, “Does he? Well that’s convenient.” Adam, “What are you getting out of all this? Why do you want to see me up there?” Andrew, “I only want to do what’s right for my country, and to create ample opportunity to sell magazines.” He glances down at the front row, and sees Rose sitting by herself. Andrew, smirking, “I see Prince Jack isn’t here today. Looks like you aren’t the only person who’s mad at the king.” Down at the table, David makes his judgement, “The beach house is in Mr. Boden’s name, so it’s legally his, and he’s free to do with it as he pleases.” The woman sneers, “Of course a cheater is going to side with a cheater.” Andrew, “Ooooooh!” David, “I’m not the one wasting everyone’s time because I’m so petty and immature I had to get the king involved in my divorce.” Rose facepalms while the rest of the crowd laughs and cheers.

[elaianna]

Treason

"I've introduced you to those with me. Why don't you introduce me to the reason you've brought an army to my doorstep, Lord Highshoal?"

"Why official matters of course, a Lord should not travel without proper protection I'm sure you understand. We simply could not be so careless."

"You have that many enemies, Lord Highshoal? When I was just a Baroness, as you are just a Baron now, I only traveled with a small entourage. It draws less attention. Highly recommended."

That should have been the warning for Elaianna. It should have been at that point that she had told Nallaen to go and find her daughters. It should have been then she begun to warn people over the communication devices to prepare for the worst, to prepare for evacuating those that needed it. Yet she had delayed, trying to get to the root of the problem. She had tried to gather fact before acting too rashly. While a boon in most cases, it was a flaw in this particular one.

"They are for future protection, and yours of course."

"Is that the official business you are here for, Lord Highshoal? To offer me your protection?" she inquired with a passive expression and a tone of neutrality. A wall was up on the Duchess's countenance, not giving the man an inch.

They were his assurance. The furthest thing from her protection.

"Well I would insist on it- you'll need ample protection for your travel." Travel? Oh how fun it was being coy and giving half the story to force her into the trap of asking by what he meant.

"I have no intention of traveling in the near future, Lord Highshoal. I've plenty of business to keep me here," she responded. "Whatever your source was that proclaimed otherwise was amiss. You should take that up with your source of information."

Yet another red flag. The should have, would have, could haves all replaying in Elaianna’s mind as she went over the night’s events. She felt a sickening twist in her gut, having only parting reassurances over the communication devices, and no true knowledge on if Nallaen had been successful in spiriting away her daughters. If only she had acted sooner, then she’d know.

Ah, the time was right. Perfect, absolutely perfect. "Actually-" Lord Umber paused, pulling up his official letter marked with the seal and signature of Lord Stormsong. "Ahem!" The Lord all but announced numerous times with a deep clear of his throat. "By order of Lord Stormsong, protectorate of Stormsong Valley, speaker of Sea and Tides, you are hereby under arrest for treason against the good people and Lord of the Valley." He'd turn the page, place it on the table then slide it forward.

Whether good or bad luck, Thomas was not there. He was at sea. The Lord only had one of the Stalsworth’s. Her husband was still there not just for the House, but their family, and their Company. Some would argue they were one in the same. Such were the immediate thoughts through her mind as she told Nallaen that he hadn’t much time to waste. The girl’s would have to go as they were. Pajamas for the journey. Admirable as it was that he wanted to get the girls in something more travel worthy, time was not on their side.

That was when her guard, Kaitlyn spoke, breaking her usual solemn silence.  EXCUSE THE FUCK OUT OF ME!?" Her hand was immediately on her sword as she was ready to behead him at Anna's word. She just needed that word.

Elaianna's hand rose up and to the side, blindly moving in a single gesture to the general Kaitlyn-sword-area in silent motion to stay her hand. “Find my husband and my children in my absence. They’ll need it. This has just begun,” she requested of Kaitlyn over the communication stones. Their private connection had been her way to plead with her guard to look after those other than herself. She stared at the decree. "What treason have I committed?" she demanded, before her gaze shot back to the Lord, dove grey eyes hard as steel.

Kaitlyn immediately removed her hand, though the look in her eyes was clear. If that fat fuck made a wrong move, she'd end him.

While they could have taken care of the Lord then and there, there was an army at their door. Literally. What would it have cost them? Stormhollow’s people? Nerina? Aberdeen? Elaianna’s compliance was the only way she saw to buy her family and her people time to get to safety. This was her mess, and she had to fix it.

"I believe it says quite clearly right here," Lord Umbert leaned forward. "Betrayal of oath, unlawful claimant of labor crew, occupying lands, aaand...well it goes on, Miss Nesbitt, you get the jist." When Kaitlyn rose her voice in protest the Lord sat backwards, his knight immediately dropping his hand to his own blade while the tidesage beside him took up arms readily.

"Stalsworth," she corrected. "Lady Stalsworth." She looked over the decree before tossing it back on the table. "I swore no oath to Lord Stormsong. In fact, he was rather absent after my inheritance of Stormhollow." Her lips pursed. "As for unlawful claimant of labor crew? ...The unlawful claimant is declared by your Lord. I've denied him my people as slaves.”

"Stalsworth, Nesbitt, it doesn't matter at this point, traitor-" Lord Umbert waves his hand in disgust, done with the drabble he now perceived her as, the veil being lifted from his grand performance. "Your family was granted this land in good faith by Lord Stormsong under their oaths of fealty and you have broken trust, and they are not slaves woman, mind your tongue- they are privileged servants brought to bountiful work with ample returnings for their labor, to which you disturbed. Lord Carston-" The knight behind Lord Umbert nodded, stepping forward at a raising hand. "See the traitor to irons."

The iron bit against Elaianna’s wrists. With her shoulders squared back, even in shackles, she had managed to maintain some semblance of dignity even in the face of the situation. Such posture was gone as she felt the ache in her muscles from hours in the forced position of arms behind her back. She had gotten out of bad situations before though. Surely she’d get out of this one. 

But what of her people?

"Ah but of course one more matter-" Giddy Lord giggle.

Elaianna planted the heels of her shoes into the floor and looked over her shoulder, narrowing her gaze. "What matter?”

Captain Clewance glanced at Lord Highshoal with silent ire, he squinted in anticipation.

Lord Umbert saved the best for last, the desert, the tasty bits, the lip smacking eight-piece tender combo- Producing another document, Lord Umbert unfurled the letter and placed it on the table, speaking of it as if he'd memorized it. “By further decree, Lord Stormsong appoints myself, Lord Umbert Highshoal, to the station of protectorate of the territory of Stormhollow until trial’s end, and/or, replacement deemed necessary. All persons native born or who shall remain in Company or House of the traitor Ellaiana Nesbitt-Stalsworth are hereby further conscripted into service to House Highshoal and the territory of Stormhollow until further notice and are subject to new laws…”

Sabine had dropped all pretense of being cordial as she glowered at the man. When he made his announcement, she lurched to her feet and slapped her palms on the table,"CAREFUL, my lord. Not all who work for the company are subjects of Kul'tiras and to take them would be a mistake."

"Then they may leave my little crumpet, but those that remain in employ work for me now."

"They work for the Duke Stalsworth," Elaianna declared over her shoulder. "And the Duchy's heirs."

"No...they used to, ta-ta my dear."

"They may tolerate you here, but never forget, you're nothing more than dirt on the heel of their boots," she managed to say before she was forcefully shoved out of the room. Once out of the room, she righted herself as much as a Lady in shackles could, to walk with as much dignity and grace as she could, chin in the air. Carston, the tidesage and the handful of men that had accompanied Lord Highshoal inside Stormhollow Castle escorted the Lady through her own halls, and into a carriage outside locked from the outside, for transportation. Kaitlyn followed the men taking her lady away as she wanted to keep her well in sight until it was no longer a viable option. This was the depth of her loyalty.

As Elaianna was 'guided' into the carriage, she gave Kaitlyn a last look. "Thank you, friend." Not Miss Cavanaugh. Not Guard. Not Kaitlyn. Friend. It was then that the door was shut, severing the last look both women had of one another. 

Sabine ground her teeth as she watches the Duchess led out of the room and moved to make her own exit," Right then, I will go and inform them now, then... Lord Protectorate."

Clewance ground his teeth, swallowing indignation. He gathered his papers to distract his mind. “I would have leave as well, my Lord.” Clewance glanced at his men nervously, wishing to be on the sea without delay.

Elaianna would have been all the more restless and plagued with dread if she knew what had happened then. If she had known what happened to her Harbor Mistress and Captain. 

Ignorance is bliss, or so they say.

@atc-wra @tirasiansails @thomasstalsworth @eidrich-crone @korduun @gloryofsteel @wrahaleth (mention of Nerina)

[lalunaunita]

Weekly Sherlock Prompt - Sherlock’s Spouse(s)

I’m on a discord server that has started a weekly Sherlock fic prompt. I haven’t been good about participating, but this week’s prompt came very easily!

The prompt for 01/04/19: Write about the immediate aftermath of Sherlock’s death. It doesn’t have to follow the canon that the show set.

Summary: John fields several visitors the day after Sherlock dies, all of them claiming to be married to Sherlock. He doesn't like it a bit.

Also on Ao3.

Sherlock’s Spouse(s)

John yanked open the door to the flat at 221B Baker Street and stared down at a small woman in a slouchy brown knitted hat, golden curls framing her face, damp handkerchief pressed to her eyes.

“Yes?” he asked, one eyebrow quirked.

“I-I’m Shirley B-Benson-Holmes. I’m Sherlock’s wife,” the woman sobbed, clutching the edges of her cardigan to her.

“Estranged, lost, or secret?” John replied.

The woman’s red eyes opened wide. “Wh-w-”

“Nevermind,” sighed John. “Queue up, please. And wipe your feet on the mat.”

He pulled the door wide and the woman stepped in. A line of women and a few men skirted the edges of the small sitting room.

John checked his watch and cleared his throat. “It’s time for the hourly announcement. Ladies (and gentlemen), Sherlock Holmes had some notoriety, it is true, but this did not translate into wealth. If you are here on the assumption that you will claim some part of an estate, you are wasting your time. Otherwise, you may stay in the line until Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother and a government official, evaluates the veracity of your status as Sherlock’s lawfully wedded spouse.”

John ground out the last sentence as though he’d memorized it, and he had. Mycroft had grilled him on the wording, as though John hadn’t learned a thousand complicated Latin terms in med school.

It was effective. Six women and one man shuffled their feet, checked their watches, put on hats, and murmured something about appointment times, or friends waiting for them, or ovens left on, and cleared out of the flat. John smiled grimly. Sometimes it took two or three repetitions, but in the end, everyone eventually chose to leave.

The latest visitor, Mrs. Benson-Holmes, moved as though to sit on the couch.

“Don’t,” John shrilled, holding up a hand.

She froze in place, then straightened.

“You’re not a guest. You’re a charlatan keeping me from processing my grief in a healthy way on the day after my best friend has died,” John declared.

As the faker in front of him dissolved into fresh tears, John whirled, crossing his arms over his chest and pressing one hand to his brow. He took two steps and entered the kitchen. The queue terminated at the kitchen table. Mycroft sat at one end, holding court over a makeshift interrogation room. A mousy woman nervously clutching a purse sat across from him. At least this one isn’t faking tears, John thought.

Mycroft glanced up at John as he passed through, a grimace that doubled as a smile on his dour face. It was good of Mycroft to entertain the string of idiots, John thought, though he supposed there was a practical aspect. If anyone had a legitimate claim as Sherlock’s bride or groom, best to get it settled right away. Mycroft was certainly one for business first, sentimentality later - if at all. Spending an entire day fielding fraudulent claims about his brother’s marital status was likely to be as sentimental as he would get.

John stood at the open door of Sherlock’s bedroom and knocked. Molly Hooper looked up from a chair in the corner and gave him a tearful smile.

“How are you holding up?” John asked kindly.

He came close and sat on the edge of the bed.

Molly sighed and waved a hand to indicate the living room past the kitchen. “This is all so ridiculous. And hurtful. It’s hurtful.”

“Yes. I suppose it is what it is.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. Just what people say sometimes.”

A smile tugged at Molly’s lips. “You can be really silly, John. You essentially created Sherlock, you know. No one would be visiting the flat today if it weren’t for you. All these women enamored of ‘Local Celebrity, Sherlock Holmes’. Now you’re reduced to a few meaningless phrases.”

“What are you trying to say? Sherlock was my muse?”

“Ha! Maybe.”

Molly scrunched something in her hand. John eyed her curiously.

“What are you doing back here, anyway?”

“Oh, you mean besides hiding from the faux wives club?”

Molly had come by early in the morning to exchange sympathies and take tea. She and John had been utterly stunned by the first knock at 9:00 am sharp. New claimants followed every 15 or 20 minutes as the news stations ran their main headline over and over throughout the day: “Local Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes Dead in Apparent Suicide”. Unable to watch as woman after woman paraded into the apartment, Molly had ducked back into Sherlock’s room as John called Mycroft to figure out a solution.

Now she held up her left hand, giggling. John’s eyes widened. A tiny circle of tin foil fashioned into a ring with a bulb on top glinted on her ring finger.

“Sherlock proposed to me with this ring. I’m going to join the queue. I mean, we were only engaged, but our love was true, and in my heart, we were already married. Do you want one?”

“You’re insane. And yes.” John replied, an open-mouthed grin stretching across his features. Molly bounced onto the bed, settling her knees beneath her as she reached for a roll of aluminum foil John hadn’t even noticed. She ripped off a fresh strip and formed a ring for him, twisting and crinkling it into a circle with a bulb on top similar to her own.

“We used to do this when we were girls and tell each other all the celebrities that had come to town to propose to us,” she murmured as she worked.

John just shook his head.

A few minutes later, the two of them burst into the kitchen, giggling madly.

“Mycroft, throw these people out!” Molly shouted, waving her left hand with a flourish.

The tin foil twinkled under the kitchen lamp. John threw his hand forward as well.

“What in the Queen’s name are you doing?” Mycroft asked, sitting straight and proper at the table.

“We’re joining the queue,” John replied, in the most serious tone he could muster. It wasn’t very serious.

“You’ve gone ‘round the bend, the pair of you,” Mycroft muttered, turning back to the woman at the table.

Molly laughed, a little too loud. John joined her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. They laughed together, harder and harder until John felt Molly drop. His own knees gave way and they sank down to the kitchen floor still holding tight and laughing until their sides hurt. It wasn’t until he felt dampness on his shirt collar that John realized the laughter had become tears.

luna’s tip jar - buy me a coffee

[identitycris1s]

im back

hi just thought id pop in with a status update! maybe i’ll break this down into categories. feel like im doing an email update (ew!) but this rly is probs the best way to structure this post...

work / school (?)

work has been....aite. idk what to say. idk if i have unrealistic expectations of what work is supposed to be, but the idealist in me thinks its wrong to not even try and find something that seems meaningful / is deeply fulfilling. i think im mature enough to get that work isnt supposed to be fun / exciting every single day but bro this daily grind / sense of dread / utter disinterest / feeling of futility / frustration / disenchantment surely isnt the correct state of affairs.....at least let me try and find something that is a better fit, thats more stimulating, that feels more NATURAL to me? i just dont think im cut out to be a lawyer. sure i sometimes like arguing and making my point and i like that everyone i work with is smart and interesting and generally kind and reasonable and i like the prestige of the job and feeling like ppl respect me and i like the decent pay and the humane hours but.....i feel unmotivated to be a good lawyer. i think i find it difficult / disingenuous to always 100% get behind my client and advocate for their best interests. i tend to see things from a zoomed out perspective, like WHY are we fighting, WHY cant we just settle, WHY are the claimants pursuing this absolutely crap and unmeritorious claim and WHY do we have to defend it when its stupid and bound to fail (cos access2justice i guess but still, WHY), WHY cant we just hash things out in a meeting instead of sending emails here and there and wasting time, WHY do we have to answer stupid questions, WHY WHY WHY

and i think public policy is sort of an answer to that....i think theres more questioning of why we do things and why a policy will or will not work, in a macro sense - what is good for society at large. whereas in law (at least in litigation) its how can we just move this case forward and help the client, which is often not the most productive thing to do in a macro sense - very much a zero sum game. i get that shitty / unmeritorious claims still need to be defended against and someone has to do it and I GET IT but i just dont think i want to be that person defending these claims...or bringing them for that matter.....ultimately i cant fully / sincerely separate the overarching sense of futility from the duty to do a good job.

sigh. well at least ive kind of figured out this isnt for me. which is scary cos being a lawyer in this firm is pretty much a career for life - truly an iron rice bowl, i could probably make partner in maybe 4 or 5 years and live a comfortable upper middle class life...but i cant bring myself to do that. i cant bring myself to not give myself a shot at doing something i actually find interesting, stimulating and that i care about deeply. call me crazy! we’ll see where this brings me in 5 years’ time....:) 

anyway most ppl at work (at least in my team) know that im most likely gonna leave soon. i rly only told 2 ppl (my boss cos he had to sign off on my testimonial and G cos she was quitting anyway)...but somehow ppl found out one way or another. i dont rly mind and ppl have been taking it pretty well and have been kind and encouraging (i guess why would they not take it well, im hardly indispensable) but i get a bit antsy thinking - what if i dont get in...then what? do i just put my head down and continue here (BUT IM SO SAD) or do i just quit without any prospects and try to find a policy-ish job??

idk. will have faith that God will put me where I need to be. he is in control of it all and I BELIEVE THIS !!! I am just a bit scared that his plan is different from what i  think i want....but this is just my human instinct and i know in my head that there is no reason to be scared cos his plan is always the better one. head knowledge just needs to translate to heart understanding and real trust / faith.

ermmm relationships...???

i started using...cmb...idk why i find this so cringey. i guess about a year ago i couldnt imagine doing this and i kept thinking EW what if ppl i know see me and they think im a desperate saddo who cant find a bf irl and has to resort to an app EW shes so lame and ugly and gross. and i realised that is so stupid no one actually thinks that way and its very backward and dumb and insecure of me to be thinking that. and anyway as i get older i rly dont quite give a shit what ppl think of me (at least i tell myself that....)

i suppose i was also inspired by csm who has been quite actively using apps and meeting ppl and taking real..strides..(LOL) in her dating life. i used to tell myself hey God will provide u with a mans if he wants u to be with a mans. but also God can use an app to do that...and if i dont step out in faith that he will do something and i dont take any action at all, how is God gonna work?? should i sit at home and expect a man to fall into my lap??

for some ppl it has been way easier, e.g. my parents meeting in uni and falling i love. i always wanted that - the organic relationship, the meet-cute, the friends to lovers thing. (i guess i tried that last one before and it didnt work...) but i think theres no point in romanticising relationships anymore. thats a very modern thing to do and its not necessarily a good thing? like who’s to say a relationship that had organic beginnings is intrinsically better than one that started from an app?

anyway i havent had much luck haha i think its hard to find genuine GCBs (or maybe theyre just not attracted to me....) although recently ive been talking to this one guy B for a week or two and its been...ok i guess. hes rly nice and seemed cool at first - we talked about travelling and hamilton and the office, which was a good start. he is thoughtful and kind and doesnt seem to be put off by my very slow replies (he replies so fast......its stressful a bit) and he does the whole good morning text thing (which i frankly find a bit bizarre, we barely know each other..?? and ive never even met him irl.. but its sweet i guess :))

but DUDE his english seems to be not great - at least thats the impression i get from texting him. which is an issue for me. i dont want it to be BUT IT IS...first red flag was when he said some weird thing about not wanting to wear a mask at work (not a literal mask - like he didnt know if he could be his ‘true self’) and the wording was very strange. then he said “the weekends are almost here” ?? the weekend is not a plural though? then he used the wrong tense a few times and his apostrophe usage was wrong (”Gods’ love” - bro there is one God). he also uses way too many commas which irks me.

i mean i get that text is supposed to be an informal medium - come on look at this post, there r hardly any capital letters and plenty of short forms and hardly any apostrophes but u see its CONSISTENT and its obviously cos of laziness / convenience - but i think his problem is a bit different...u can sort of tell if someone doesnt have a 100% strong grasp of english. those r basic grammar mistakes man...i get that i sound petty and stupid and this isnt a huge deal but i feel like im settling by even talking to him cos this is not something i wld normally tolerate but hey maybe im getting desperate with age :(:(:( urgh 

on the other hand maybe i just need to be more generous with ppl and l have an irrationally high standard for english cos i am a lawyer and my friends all speak well / text well?? maybe im just being too nitpicky?? honestly hes very nice  and communicative and straightforward and seems mature and very God-fearing and idk why hes still talking to me cos ive been a bit cold and slow to respond. hes very patient which i dont rly deserve.....i myself have a million flaws that are probably way worse and egregious (ahem PRIDE...ahem ego....ie the source of this dilemma in the first place...) so maybe i should just close one eye abt the bad grammar.

i also realised how fked up i am - confirmed my suspicion that i am naturally attracted to emotionally unavailable ppl / ppl that just seem distant / out of reach (thats my avoidant attachment style right there). i think there was one day he didnt text me at all and omg...i couldnt stop thinking what i did wrong...like did i piss him off by being too cold for too long...did he get scared off cos i said i wanted to do a masters (idk this seemed like an irrational leap but i was being irrational)..then i started being nicer to him and replied more promptly hahaha turns out he was just rly bz at work that day. omg this pattern is real i think i did this with xj also - was eager to speak when he was in japan but after meeting irll i was just over it... (i am drawn to distance like a moth to a flame and i am repelled by availability like....a fire by a fire extinguisher (??)). yucks i rly hate myself sometimes but yknow what at least im self aware and im trying to fix this...kind of.. gonna hash this avoidant thing out with my therapist at the next sesh.

on the topic of xj i got a bit nostalgic and wondered why we stopped speaking (surprise surprise it was my fault, didnt reply then felt it had been left to long to pick it up again...) went back to look at our texts and aw we rly got along so well, i do miss him as a friend and im sorry about how poorly i treated him especially in dec 2018 / jan 2019 sigh.....i was a real bitch....

anyway im just gonna see how things go with B... if he asks me out i prob will go... just to give it a shot. update if / when that happens!

EDIT - he asked me out lol we shall see how it goes. 

[thearrangment-phff]

XXVI. Cousins and Treason

January 2017

"Are you okay?"

"...What?"

"I asked if you were okay," repeated Harry.

"Oh, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, why wouldn't I be?" Laughed Isabella.

"You've been acting strange all day. We've barely even talked," replied Harry with a concerning voice.

"I've just been sick, is that a good enough answer for you?"

"No. Not if it's the wrong one in the first place. Please just talk to me. Tell me why you're mad," asked Harry.

"I'm not mad! I'm hungover okay?!"

"I don't think you are," contested Harry.

There was a small silence, "I don't know what to feel."

"What?"

"I don't know what to feel about you, about us, or this marriage. I don't know whether I should fall in love with you or hate you for the rest of my life. I don't know why I even agreed to this stupid marriage when I had a clear chance to run for the hills. I don't know what I want anymore. I don't know whether I want to have kids with you. I don't know what I want to do," confessed Isabella.

"You're scared. I'm scared too. We were pushed into this then we had the chance to break things between us. But we chose to be together. We chose to continue getting married even if we've only known each other for 6 months because there's something between us. You know there is or else you wouldn't have let me kiss you that day."

"With lips like those I don't know very many people who would turn down a kiss from you," laughed Isabella.

Harry smiled at this comment, "I've missed those little comments."

"Can we please just call it a night. I can't even process anything," replied Isabella but Harry knew there was something more.

"Just tell me."

Isabella gave a big exhale, "I found out that I'm not the only one getting married this year."

"I'm not following," replied Harry.

"My cousin Marie Gabrielle, she getting married. She called me when we were on the plane over here, and since I didn't answer she just sent me a text. I'm to go to Luxembourg in March to attend the civil wedding. The religious wedding will happen in the summer."

"That's nice?"

"She's marrying for love and she's not the only one. My cousins Tatiana, Dmitri, and Maria are all getting married this year. When I messaged my father about it and he said they are all marrying for love but my second cousin Olga she's marrying like me."

"So, it's arranged?" Asked Harry.

"Yes. She's going to marry Grand Duke George Mikhailovich of Russia. His mother is a claimant to Russian Imperial Throne. She's not happy with the arrangement. He’s 13 years older than her. That's why my parents weren't here today. They are with Olga and it's not looking so good," confessed Isabella.

"How old is she?"

"She's younger than me. I think she's about 22. She loves someone else and they're using us as an example. How things could work between them, kind of like how they are working for us," answered Isabella.

"Are thing working between us? I feel like we take one step forward and two steps back anytime we talk."

"Well things between us are going a lot better than my cousin and the Grand Duke," smiled Isabella.

"That's not good enough for me. I told you how I feel," began Harry.

"And I just told you how confused I am just a couple of minutes ago. We promised each other to take things hour by hour some time ago. We still need to follow that. We also need to go to their weddings," interrupted Isabella.

"All of them?"

"Yes all of them. We need to be there because we are family, but more importantly, we need you to be around my family laughing and smiling like everything is perfect."

"Your family doesn't like me," pointed out Harry.

"Not true. Some of my family don't like you, but that doesn't matter. They will act civilized around you."

"Civilized? Ignoring me is civilized?"

"Yes, it is. They do much worse," replied Isabella in an annoyed tone.  

"Before we left Pa told me that he informed my grandmother of our arrangement. She remembers you from different occasions and she's happy to see you again," informed Harry.

"Remembers me? From where?"

"I'm not sure. There has to be something both of you attended." Answered Harry.

"That's likely true but I can't remember one."

"Well, get some rest. We meet granny tomorrow," smiled Harry.

The next morning Isabella wore a nice long black skirt and nice fitted top. Nothing too tight to offend the queen but nothing frumpy in fear of giving the impression Isabella doesn't know how to professionally dress. Harry attempted to calm her from the 2-hour car ride from London to Sandringham House.

"Why did we meet your father, your brother, and his family in London if your grandmother is in Sandringham?"

"Will, Kate and the kids were with the Middleton's after boxing day. I guess pa just wanted to make things easier."

"Reminds me of the car ride to Belgium," smiled Isabella.

"You looked as if you were dying. I thought at one point you were going to cough up your insides," remembered Harry.

"Thank you for repainting that image in my head. Are you close with them?"

"Who? The Middletons?" Asked Harry.

"Yes, them."

"Never. Don't listen to other people, I was never close with them. I wasn't even close to Kate for a while. Kate and her sister were mean to Beatrice and Eugenie in the beginning and I don't think they ever forgave Kate or Pippa in a way because I sure remember that clearly."

"Oh. I didn't know that. So when will I meet your cousins?"

"Beatrice and Eugenie might be with their mother in New York right now, maybe in a week or two I can arrange for them to come to Kensington Palace to meet you. Peter and Zara might be more difficult. Zara recently suffered a miscarriage so we're giving her time and Peter might be in Canada with his wife's family so we can do something later. Louise and James are at Windsor Castle so you can meet them there later," explained Harry.

"That sounds good. Though can I meet your cousin Zara by herself. Like a coffee in the morning type of meeting?" Asked Isabella.

"I can ask. Why though?"

"Just because. Do I need a reason?"

"...Well, I guess not. I would have assumed you would have chosen to meet Beatrice and Eugenie first since they're closer in age," replied Harry.

"Age doesn't have to do with anything. Many people I get along with are older than me. You're older than me," pointed out Isabella.

"Don't remind me," laughed Harry.

"It's a simple 8-year difference no big deal."

"Says the one who is younger," joked Harry.

"If I was 8 years older than you right now people would have a fit," said Isabella.

"Why would they?"

"Because 8 years older than you would be... 40 since your 32. It would be a slim chance I could get pregnant, not to mention health risks about having a child while being an older woman. People would think that I wouldn't give you children," answered Isabella.

"They would not think that."

"Yes, they would. Despite society evolving other the years, people still have the idea that a woman's only purpose in life is to get married and have children. Though there is nothing wrong with women who get married and have kids just like there's nothing wrong with women who chose not to marry and have kids. I'm going to have people judging my every move," began Isabella.

"Like living in a fishbowl," interrupted Harry.

"Yes, like that. I've always wanted a big family. Giving you a healthy child would be a great accomplishment in the public eye. Your mother was the People's Princess and you Harry, are England's Prince."

"And obviously my brother it the United Kingdom's future king."

"Perhaps. Though things do change. Your great-grandfather wasn't supposed to become king, he was the second born after all. Then if you take into account his own father was the second son and he became king too," acknowledged Isabella.

"Well, that isn't going to happen in my case. My father will be king then William then George. Besides, I'm pretty sure what you just suggested is treasonous," joked Harry.

"I'll be glad to go for the Tower of London for you," smiled Isabella.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt3

Word Count: 2432 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses

One hundred and seventy three emails. There were 173 emails in my inbox on Monday morning. I cursed myself for trusting Erin that I didn’t need to check them. I filled my coffee cup and settled in for what was apparently going to be a really frantic and long morning. As I worked through the first fifty emails, I realized Erin really had been on top of most of everything, as I’d only had to deal with one issue. Mostly I was just filing the emails in the appropriate file. When my phone chimed, I barely heard it. It was buried in my purse, in the bottom drawer of my desk. It chimed a second time.

“Did you remember what we talked about on Friday? Turn the tables on Stark today.” It was Coulson.

“I like the idea of tazing him better.” I responded.

“That is also a good option. But do it in a sexy, over-the-top, camp villain way.”

“Camp villain?”

“Moose and Squirrel.” His response was almost instant. I couldn’t help it, I laughed out loud. My email pinged, bringing me back to reality. I scrolled to the bottom of the window to see what had arrived. It was from Tony Stark. I took a deep breath and opened the message. ‘The Stripper’ started blasting out of my speakers, and an animated gif of Stark himself, peeling off the Iron Man suit opened in fullscreen view. I had a 27” monitor. It was horrifying. And like a train wreck, I just couldn’t look away. When there was nothing left but Stark in a frighteningly tight pair of American flag briefs, the music faded, and was replaced by Stark’s voice. “Can’t wait to work with you this week, Ms. Ellis.”

“Good god. Save me,” I sighed. Coulson was right. I was going to have to out-sexy him. I popped the second button on my blouse reluctantly. I glanced at the clock and opted to work through my coffee break. By lunch, I’d dealt with the first hundred emails. After checking on my room booking for the seminar, I headed to the cafeteria to fuel myself up for the afternoon ahead of me. The special was grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, which reminded me so much of being a little kid that I jumped at it. I was just taking my first bite when Stark sat down across from me.

“Ms. Ellis. You look ravishing today,” he smiled. The man oozed charm and charisma, but having dealt with him so many times before, I knew better than to be lulled into complacency. I pulled out my heavy arsenal, blinking slowly, looking up through my lashes and smiling seductively at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Stark,” I murmured. His smile froze. Good, I’d caught him off-guard already. The next challenge was going to be eating a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup in a way that could be seen as something other than revisiting my childhood. I reached for the pepper, well aware that my blouse was gaping and thus giving him an eyeful. The stunned silence was empowering.

“Will it just be you and I today? Because I can think of better places to discuss sex than a stuffy SHIELD seminar room.” He recovered finally, and his smile reminded me of a hungry lion’s.

“As tempting as the offer is, Mr. Stark, there are some new hires that will be joining us.” I made sure to draw out his name a much as I could. “Aren’t you eating?”

“I hadn’t made it that far. I saw you and had to come say hello,” he stammered. Ha! On the ropes!

“You should get something to eat. It’s a long afternoon, and there’s a lot of really active, close work,” I admonished. His eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, as though he was maybe catching on to my game. Time to dial it back a little. I met his gaze and then let my eyes flick away as though he’d won the stare down. I made like I was checking my phone.

“I look forward to continuing this conversation over lunch. I don’t think I’ve been in a sexual harassment in the workplace seminar since you started teaching them. I have a lot of questions,” he winked and headed to the cafeteria line up. As soon as I saw him staring at the overhead menu, I collected my lunch and headed to the seminar room. There was no way I was going to be able to eat tomato soup without spilling it all down my cleavage and that wasn’t going to play into the sexpot myth very well. I shut the door behind me and ensure it was locked before tucking back into my lunch. Shortly before the hour, a key rattled in the lock and kitchen services rolled in a cart with a coffee pot and snacks. I handed off my dishes and headed to the restroom to brush my teeth, taking my tablet with me, but leaving the conference room door open so the employees taking the seminar could get in. Tomato soup breath and grilled cheese crumbs were also not going to help me turn the tables on Tony Stark. I checked my lipstick before heading back into class. I could hear laughter coming from the conference room as I approached it and could hear Stark telling jokes. I stopped to make sure my skirt was smooth, and my blouse was gaping just enough, fluffed my hair just a little and licked my lips. When I strode into the room, everyone fell silent and stood, except Stark. But they all stared.

I made my way to the front of the room, and sat on the table that was beside the podium, crossing my legs. The SHIELD employees had all stood when I’d entered, which was unsurprising given that they were all fresh from the academy. Stark was in the front row, slouched comfortably in his chair, tapping a pencil on the table in front of him.

“Please sit. My name is Anna Ellis, and I am the acting Human Resources manager for SHIELD. For those of you attending this seminar as part of orientation, welcome. Those of you who are attending because you’ve had an A2-336E filed, please listen this time so we won’t have this conversation again. And Mr. Stark,” I paused, “If you make it to ten, you get to come an eleventh time for free. And as a bonus gift, we’ll chemically castrate you. See me to have your card punched on Friday. It says here you’re up to seven visits already!”

Almost everyone snickered into their hands. Stark kept tapping his pencil on the table. I pushed myself up and uncrossed my legs to stand, leaned down in front of him, paused long enough that I saw his eyes stray to my open blouse and his eyes dilate before snatching the pencil and snapping it in half. I quirked an eyebrow in challenge at him and he looked away quickly.

“SHIELD has a long history as an equal opportunity employer. Our founding members included Agent Peggy Carter, and that was over seventy years ago, when women were being shuffled out of the workplace and back into the home after World War II. There has never been a time in SHIELD history when there haven’t been women in important leadership roles, and as such, it is considered to be exceptionally important that both men and women employed by SHIELD behave in a way that promotes a safe and tolerant work environment. There is a three strikes policy regarding sexual harassment, but Director Fury is currently overlooking a proposal to make it a zero-tolerance policy.” I paused and looked across the room. There were an equal number of men and women in the room, supporting my introduction. “Regardless of the outcome of that proposal, the current protocol for sexual harassment in the workplace once an A2-336E is received is that the incident is investigated, the individual is sent to this seminar, and upon completion, a note is made in their personnel file. Should there be two other incidents of misconduct that warrant attending this seminar, employment in terminated.”

A hand shot up at the back of the room.

“Yes? I’m sorry; we didn’t do introductions, did we? Please tell me your name, and then your question.”

“Andrew Abrams, ma’am. What are the parameters for an A2-336E?” He asked. I scanned for his name on my tablet. He was Operations.

“That’s an excellent question, Agent Abrams. Inappropriate touching is grounds for immediate termination, if the investigation supports the claimant. This seminar is intended for employees and consultants who are deemed rehabilitatable,” I explained. “Now, you might wonder what exactly inappropriate touching covers. If you aren’t invited to touch, it’s inappropriate. Period.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I took a moment to do introductions. There were four agents from Operations, two from science, one from data analysis. Stark rose and faced the other attendees.

“Hi. I’m Tony Stark. You might know me as Iron Man. Or as one of the heroes of New York.” He pulled an Iron Man action figure from his pocket. “See? I have an action figure. I am a consultant for SHIELD, but also a member of the Avengers Initiative. I am here because I keep inviting SHIELD employees to inappropriately touch me. Isn’t that right, Ms. Ellis?”

“Shall I share your email from this morning, Mr. Stark?” I offered, wagging my tablet at him. He winked at me.

“That’s quite all right. If anyone would like to see what Ms. Ellis is talking about, I can give you a private show later. And Ms. Ellis, please. Call me Tony.” He leaned back on his table and looked over his shoulder at me. I had to resist rolling my eyes.

“I’d rather not, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t be fooled by Ms. Ellis’s youth and beauty, folks. She’s a powerful sorcerer from another realm. Completely resistant to charm, mine in particular. Has the heart of a librarian,” he announced. “You should always whisper around her.” He spoke in a stage whisper. This time I did roll my eyes.

“Enough, Tony.” I directed my eyes to his chair and he sat.

“See? Sorceress!” He whispered again.

The rest of the class plodded on. We watched a video that was cheesy in its antiquity. I’d requested funding to have it replaced with a more up-to-date film with more salient examples, but as yet had not received the funding approval. Then we delved into the actual sexual harassment policy. It was dry, and horrible, and boring. And I had three more afternoon sessions of very much the same to go. I decided to cut the class loose a little early.

“Okay gang. This was the worst day, I promise. I’m sure Mr. Stark can vouch for me. It’s 1545; we’re going to break for the day. I’ll see you all at 1300 tomorrow. If you have any questions, please feel free to pop by my office. HR is upstairs, first hall on the left off the elevators. Mine is the big office in the middle of the room.” I uncrossed my legs and slipped off the table, stretching a little. I was a little stiff from not doing anything, and the thought had not escaped me that I might have to continue to run, even when I wasn’t in training.

The new hires all bolted. One swung by the refreshments and grabbed a couple donuts before darting out the door, leaving Stark and me alone.

“Ms. Ellis. You are so much more enjoyable than your predecessor,” he smiled, and slouched back in his chair.

“Well, I am easier on the eyes,” I agreed.

“This is my point exactly. How hard is it to put a beautiful woman in charge of a sexual harassment seminar?” He asked.

“Well, I think the idea is to prevent sexual harassment, Tony. Not encourage it.” I walked around his table and leaned against it, uncomfortably close to him.

“Oh. Is that the idea? This maybe isn’t working then.” He sat up and reached into his suit jacket. He pulled out his phone and starting playing with it. “Is this your number, Ms. Ellis?” He turned his phone to face me. I nodded.

“You’re a man of so many talents,” I smiled.

“Then this is your address?” He flashed the phone at me again. I nodded again. “I’d like to take you out for drinks. I’ll pick you up at 9pm? That’s 2100, for you SHIELD types.”

“I thought you had a fiancé, Tony?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I said drinks, Ms. Ellis. Not marriage.” He stood up, and was so close I could feel his breath on my hair. I straightened up and he turned to leave. I touched his chest, where I was expecting the arc reactor to be.

“What happened here?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. He raised an eyebrow and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a scar.

“I found an amazing surgeon. Got the shrapnel out.” His voice took on a different quality. I pulled my hand back, my fingers curling instinctively to stop myself from touching it. It looked so much like Phil’s scar that I bit my lip to stop the tears that were filling my eyes. I dropped my hand to my chest.

“I can’t, uh, it wouldn’t,” I paused and sighed, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to meet you for drinks, Mr. Stark.”

“Because I no longer have the arc reactor in my chest? I’ve met some weird groupies before, but this takes the cake.” He buttoned his shirt back up.

“No, it’s the scar. It reminds me of someone. And I just –“

“You don’t happen to play the cello, do you?” He interrupted. I looked away, startled by the reference. Stark didn’t know Coulson was alive.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“No reason. I’ve only ever known one other person who had a wound in their heart. Your reaction made me think of him.” He slipped his phone back into his jacket pocket and buttoned it closed.

“We all miss Agent Coulson, Mr. Stark.” I couldn’t make eye contact with him. I was a terrible liar.

“You knew him.”

“We all did.” I flipped the cover on my tablet closed and turned to leave. He put his hand on my shoulder.

“You, ah, didn’t mean that part about chemical castration, did you?” He broke the somber mood. I smiled and shrugged.

“Didn’t I?” I winked and walked away.