#his mortal self's attitude is as if that's what ch wants

[jenovahh]

The Honey Pot - Ch. 24 - The Beginning of the End

Collapsing on the bed, you silently wish that your body will cease to function and you will smother yourself into unconsciousness. It wasn’t a healthy way to cope with your current predicament, which was to say, you weren’t really coping at all.

At least, not in a way that’s healthy.

Ardbert’s words echo in your mind, to seek help, but your own voice echoes over his own. That you could not possibly seek any help for your self-imposed depression that working under Varis has brought you.

You’re miserable, truly, having to deal with his pompous attitude and constant flirting every single day. Having to push back the gnawing dread of trying to formulate a plan that will allow you to take him down, for good. You had said it yourself before, that you were a fighter, that such scheming and planning were not your forte. Nearly five months had passed since you had begun working for Varis, making it spring again. The election would be this summer. You were running out of time.

You had no way of gathering any photo evidence of Varis’ crimes. Even the times you had tried to casually act as if you were bored on your phone and snap a picture, you found that it would mysteriously be unable to take photos. Granted it was a company issued phone, making the camera and microphone inaccessible whenever you so much as entered Varis’ presence. A voice in your mind whispered to enlist the help of Cid, that surely he had a device that could go undetected by Varis’ technology. However your own lack of knowledge about such espionage stilled your hand, not knowing what kind of countermeasures Varis could have in place.

You didn’t doubt Cid’s ability, he was after all able to make a device that hid your conversations from your boss, but after learning the burden Cid had weighing him down since his younger days, it made you even more hesitant to beseech him for any more help than he’s already given. It was up to you now; you had been put in this mission by yourself, and you would see it through on your own. Estinien had already gotten killed for getting involved with you, and you could not bear to see anyone else die.

You missed the companionship of your friends, of Ardbert, not even able to give him a passing smile whenever you strolled past each other in the mornings as you took your respective employers to work, and you prayed that Ardbert knew in his heart of hearts that you hadn’t meant to abandon him too.

Varis’ grip on you had only tightened, and you see now that Zenos didn’t mean you wouldn’t last under his rule. Varis was not any crueler than Zenos necessarily; he was more demanding. More restrictive. More possessive.

From dusk to dawn did you belong to Varis, hardly able to move on your own without having to tell Varis about it. Your leash only tightened with more secrets revealed to you, to where it felt like you couldn’t even go relieve yourself without having to ask permission like you were in grade school. Even at home you always felt watched, making you even start to wonder if your room had been bugged, or if some sort of hidden cameras had been placed. Your paranoia led you to start only getting dressed in your bathroom, praying that he wasn’t enough of a creep to hide a camera in there.

In the mornings you would shower, though you would leave it running for a while as you jotted down what notes you could before tucking the notebook underneath a loose tile in the floor. You would hop in the shower then, preparing for another harsh day, dressing quickly as to not seem too suspicious. Standing in your usual pantsuit, you take a deep breath as you gaze at your haggard reflection. Any trace of happiness is absent, replaced only with a mindless drive to see this through to the end.

Grabbing your things, you head out your room to meet up with Varis, accustomed to how much time it takes for you to eat your breakfast so that you don’t have to spend any extra time in the morning with him. You spurned his offers to eat breakfast with him, lying that you enjoyed the extra time to sleep in now that you didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn to train with his son.

“What’s the plan for today?” You ask nonchalantly, asking only out of habit than actually caring what he does. Even the campaign trail had grown monotonous, finding yourself stuck in more budget spending meetings than you ever cared to attend in your lifetime.

“A meeting here and there, and depending on how long things take, I will have you attend an important dinner with me.” Varis sighs, already typing away at his phone.

A dinner is not foreign to you, but that your attendance is up in the air is. “Will you be sending me home?”

Varis stops his fiddling to glance at your seriously for a moment. “It depends on how I feel. This guest is particularly important and while I have grown to trust you more Honey...there are still things I must keep within a tight network. I trust you understand.”

Keeping your face neutral, you bow politely, though your mind is running malms a minute. “Of course, my lord.”

Standing straight once again, you find he is smiling appreciatively. “Excellent. The nature of this meeting is important, which is why I require a bodyguard of your caliber to be present. I’ll say that it will most likely give me a certain...edge, with the election.” Smirking, he begins to head out to the car. “In fact, I am willing to say that it will practically secure my victory.”

Not liking the sound of that, you do your best to not frown outwardly, following him outside. “It must be truly magnificent if that is the case.” You comment, opening the door for him as he slides inside.

“I suppose you could say that.” And he says nothing more. Hopping in the car after him, you remain silent as well, watching the city pass by in a blur as you try to think about what he could possibly do that would ensure his victory. Varis had his charismatic persona, but for what you knew about Lord Hien, he would be a tough opponent. Lord Hien was up for reelection, but he was just as charismatic, if not more so than Varis. He was well liked by the people and genuinely had their best interests at heart. He had his shortcomings, but was overall a good leader.

Which meant that if Varis wanted any true shot of winning, he had to fight dirty.

It was just a matter of figuring out how dirty.

You spend so much time in your thoughts the whole day that night comes soon enough, spring’s warm breeze caressing you even though your suit. The warm weather helps your mood somewhat, relaxing you as the car rolls through the city, going to whatever gods forsaken restaurant Varis is taking you to. You made sure to eat a bit of dinner before departing, not wanting to be tempted by the overly rich food.

Arriving, you step out, seeing the restaurant is just as fancy as you had thought, not that Varis would accept anything less. Varis steps out and you scan the area, finding no immediate threats. The chauffeur pulls off and you lead Varis inside, the maître d' greeting Varis extravagantly, showering him with praises of what an honor it was to have him choose to dine at their establishment. Repressing your urge to roll your eyes, you follow the host toward a private room, keeping an eye on tables as you pass by, noting the faces of a few familiar businessmen.

The private room is actually at the back of the restaurant, complete with a small balcony leading outside. Ornate glass doors were swung wide open allowing fresh air to blow in, styled in Ishgardian architecture, now that you had finally realized it was an Ishgardian restaurant. Varis takes his seat at a rectangular table, too small to host a party of people but too big to eat solo. You notice that there’s only one other chair, making you wonder just who it could be that would turn the tide in Varis’s favor.

The question burned on your tongue like tea you drank too quickly, desperate to know, but you willed your patience to hold out a little longer. No doubt that Varis could sense your curiosity, try as you might to hide it, but he was content to let you stew a little longer as you waited for your guest to arrive.

Only five more minutes pass before there is a knock on the door, one of the waiters announcing that said guest had arrived. You give up any sense of trying to seem aloof and face the door, ready to claim you were ready for a potential threat if Varis decided to question you.

“Let them in.” Varis calls, taking a sip of water from the glass upon the table.

The waiter nods, opening the door so that the guest may step inside. A tan hand extends into view, clapping the waiter on the shoulder in a show of over-familiarity, before the body it belongs to comes through the door.

You can’t control your reaction fast enough to fix your face, seeing that oh-so-familiar uniform come into view. The uniform of the Kugane police and the man who wears it gives a boisterous laugh at the waiter’s fumbling. Hair much like Varis’ own is tied in a small bun atop his head, somewhat blonde, but the coloring is so light one would think it white at first glance. A strong jawline gives way to a stellar smile. However, that is not what captures your attention the most.

Upon the man’s uniform lies a shiny, silver badge, listing him as Ilberd Feare, Deputy Chief of Police.

Stranger still, is the tingling on the back of your neck. It had been absent since that day you and Zenos fought and he had shown you that strange power. You still had no clue what it was, but it allowed him to surpass mortal limitations, given how he implied that he was no longer mortal at all.

“Why do you look so afraid? Unable to come to terms with the fact you’ve been fucking a literal monster?”

As Ilberd turns, he makes eye contact with you, giving you an inquisitive look at the shocked expression on your face. Coughing, you try to play it off, noticing his raised eyebrow as Varis stands to greet him. “Ilberd, I’m glad you could make it.” Varis welcomes, extending his hand in an offer to shake it. In perhaps the greatest show of camaraderie you’ve ever seen from Varis, Ilberd shakes his hand and the two hug as men do, Ilberd giving Varis a beaming smile.

“Good to see ya too, Lord Varis. Sorry for takin’ so long. Had a few hang ups at the office, didn’t even give me the chance to change into somethin’ a bit more presentable.” Ilberd chuckles, the two men finally releasing each other. “I see you’ve got a new bodyguard in rotation. Though it’s been a minute since we could meet up.”

“This is my bodyguard, Honey. A more recent find, she’s been with us for over a year now, though she started off as one of Zenos’ finds. In time, she came to her senses and decided to work for me instead.” Varis preens, chest puffing out the slightest bit as he gestures to where you’re standing.

You take little note of it however, the humming growing stronger as you and Ilberd make eye contact. Something in his eyes tells you he feels something too, making you wonder if he’s like you; that he possesses the Echo. Something within you tells you that’s highly unlikely, meaning that something else must be going on.

Remembering yourself, you bow politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You greet, feeling his eyes still upon you. Tilting his head, his eyes narrow as he takes a few steps toward you. Arching a brow, you stand completely still, refusing to let him unnerve you. “Is something the matter?”

Ilberd remains silent, beady eyes focused on you, brows pinched together in concentration. “You seem familiar somehow. Like I know you.”

Your heart plummets for a second. You had hardly interacted with him during your time on the police force being a rookie and all, but that doesn’t mean he’s not seen your face. Better to play it dumb, hoping it doesn’t come to mind.

“Like maybe I knew you as a kid, or something.” He continues, as if he hopes to jog your memory before his own.

Taking the unintentional lifeline, you shrug casually, revealing nothing. “Lord Varis did pluck me from the streets. Maybe you remember me running away from you once or twice.”

Ilberd appears unconvinced, but can’t seem to place your face well enough to bother refuting your claim. “Maybe so. Though I’m surprised Lord Varis would pluck someone off the streets just to be his bodyguard.” Ilberd hums as he finally turns to take his seat at the table.

“I must give credit where credit is due. Zenos did the hard work of rehabilitating her with proper manners and etiquette.” Varis smirks, joining Ilberd at the table. You don’t bother hiding your eye roll as Varis motions for the waiter at the door to come over. “I have merely reaped the rewards. Her prowess is unmatched and it is only right that she is mine.”

Tempted to gag, you move to head near the door to stand guard.

“Ah, Honey. I must apologize, but I will need you to stand outside. Do not fear for my safety, Ilberd may not match you in skill, but he is still more than capable of dealing with any threats.” Varis instructs, waving you off. “If you are famished, feel free to sit and eat.”

Warning bells go off in your head at that; just how strong was Ilberd? Most high ranking officers were not particularly known for their combat prowess, gaining the luxury of sitting in an office a majority of the day as they barked out orders. That Varis trusted him enough to protect him in your absence…

Something wasn’t right.

There wasn’t much you could do about it now, merely nodding that you had heard him and stepping outside. Hopefully they wouldn’t talk for too long, but you requested a small chair to settle in just in case they did, the hum on your neck persisting the entire night.

“You are free to do as you wish, today.”

Blinking, you tilt your head almost like a puppy, not sure you heard correctly.

“I’m...free today.” You repeat, just to be sure.

Varis rolls his eyes and gives a dramatic sigh to match, placing down the bourbon he held in his hand. Dressed the most casually you’ve seen him, he looks every bit the picture of wealthy relaxation, though his hair is still bound in a low ponytail as usual. Wearing a simple pair of reading glasses, he tilts them down a bit to look at you over the rim.

He had requested your presence in one of the rooms on the upper floors, usually off limits to you. It seemed like a man cave, but someone as wealthy as he would never refer to it as such. A fireplace sat in one corner, while shelves of books lined the wall. It was somewhat a study, if not for the large flatscreen TV mounted on one wall, complete with surround sound. It made you wonder what the other rooms on this floor looked like.

“I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” Varis huffs, drawing your attention back to him where he is seated in a leather lounge chair.

“No, I heard you, it’s just,” you fumble, shuffling your feet a bit, “forgive me if it seems a bit hard to believe, my lord.”

Smirking, he tilts his head slightly, giving you a once over. “I am not a tyrant.” he hums, standing to his feet from the plush chair he sits in. “I would offer that you may spend your day with me, however I have been needing some time to myself due to the election being right around the corner.” Grabbing his glass he takes another sip, face impassive despite the strong liquor running down his throat. “Spend your day as you wish. In fact…” a cruel smirk twists his lips, golden eyes peering over the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. “Perhaps you may even want to go into the city. I hear there is a rally today for Hien.”

“You want me to scope out the competition?” You ask, unsure just what he is trying to imply.

“Certainly not.” He scoffs, moving to turn the TV on, the first channel displaying the stock market. “I have others to do that for me. Your only job is to protect me.” Turning back to you, he gives you a conniving grin. “I had merely offered the opportunity just to see how much more superior my campaign is to that buffoon’s. If you wish to do something else with your time, then you may do so.”

Unsure what to make of this, you merely nod in acknowledgement, turning to head for the door. “Well, it’s appreciated. I could use a small break today.”

“Of course. Never let it be said I did not pay attention to my employee’s needs.” Varis thrums, chest puffed out as usual. “I will see you perhaps later today. Do be careful out there, Honey. If you do go to the rally, make sure to not get too close, or stay too long.”

Waving a lazy goodbye, you slip out the door, immediately heading downstairs to change out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. Spring is in full swing, and despite how shitty things are right now, the warm weather does wonders for your mood. Pulling one of the few floral print dresses you bought for yourself out of your closet, you quickly change, finding a pair of sandals with a wedge heel to match. Looking at yourself, you feel pretty cute, wishing you were getting dressed to go out shopping with Y’shtola and Lyse after a long week of work, and not having a day off from your potentially psychopathic boss.

Thinking about work would do you no good, so you push it far from your mind, making room instead for you to wish Zenos was able to see you in your cute outfit. You had spent so much time before things had gotten complicated trying to get away from him on your days off, and the one chance you would have to be near him, he wants nothing to do with you. That makes you sadder than the thoughts of your friends does, so you quickly rush out to the garage and page a chauffeur to take you into the city.

Yuyusho of course is happy to help, going as far as complimenting on your cute dress and making a dramatic scene of telling you how pretty you look “now that you’re out of that stuffy suit” he had said. You were embarrassed by his praise, but it also served as a confidence boost, not having received any such attention about your looks since Estinien had passed. Zenos wasn’t the flattering type.

Making casual conversation as you head into the city, there isn’t a cloud in the sky, but it’s not blaring hot either. Green has returned to the decorative trees lining the sidewalks in city limits, and flowers at store fronts are blooming beautifully. The sight warms your heart a little, feeling an overwhelming sense of normalcy as Yuyusho pulls to the side of the road to let you out.

“You sure you don’t need me to stay?” The Lalafellin man asks, adjusting his suit slightly.

“Of course not. I doubt you wanna sit in a car all day. I don’t know how long I’ll take and I wouldn’t want you sitting around waiting on me while I’m deciding if I should get the blue dress or the green one.” You grin cheekily, feeling strangely high spirited. Interaction with others really was something you needed.

“All right, but stay safe out there, Ms. Honey. Just gimme a call no matter the time!” Yuyusho beams, rolling up the window and driving away. You wave goodbye as he heads down the road, slinging your purse over your shoulder. You had Yuyusho drop you off in the Rakuza district, one of the more low end shopping areas in the city. While your paycheck more than allowed you to afford nicer things, there was something comforting about coming here, remembering days of fawning over cute dresses you knew you’d have to save up to afford. Palming your purse, you know that shopping here, you wouldn’t even have to check the price to buy anything you wanted.

You let yourself indulge, walking past the shops and stalls, strictly window shopping until something fascinating catches your eye. While it was tempting to buy all the things your heart desired, you weren’t exactly living a life where you could party and strut all day, every day. That, and the fact is you weren’t thrilled with the idea of having to lug it all around on your day out.

You spend the first hour or so doing a bit of light shopping, occasionally weaving through stores that caught your eye, buying a trinket or too that you could finally afford. Collecting jewelry you knew Lyse would love or pins for Y’shtola had been dying to add to her collection. Throughout it all your friends were at the forefront of your mind, hardly able to spare a thought for yourself. Once satisfied, you stop at a nearby cafe to grab some lunch, ordering a simple panini and a small soda to sip on as a treat to yourself. Eating outside you enjoy the feel of the sun warming your skin, thinking you might just spend some more time walking about the district before calling Yuyusho to pick you up.

Walking down the street, you hear the faint sound of what must be a large crowd. Curiosity piqued, you follow the noise at a leisurely stride due to your heels. As you round the corner you see the street has been blocked off to any cars or other motor vehicles, the sidewalk lined in balloons the color of the Hingan flag. The crowd seems incredibly large, and you notice a few stalls of street food and small carnival games put together. Unable to resist the urge to see what’s going on, you begin strolling down the street, watching parents be tugged around by their children to the next stall. The sight is heartwarming, prompting you to stop by and get a rolanberry crepe to nibble on despite still feeling full.

As you continue down the sidewalk, you notice a few more banners hanging from the sides of buildings, seeing that they campaign for Hien’s reelection line the street. Grumbling at how you played into Varis’ palm anyway, you find yourself too nosy to turn back. Everything looks relatively normal so far, the buildings a bit shorter and built in traditional Hingan style. You spot a security guard here and there, a few dressed like mall cops, obviously there for crowd control. Your eyes do happen to glance over a suited guard or too, their sunglasses so darkly tinted you wouldn’t be able to see if they were looking back at you.

Despite being all over the news (twice), no one seems to pay you any mind, allowing you to make your way down to the stage that lies at the end of the street. Holding the largest amount of balloons by far, you notice the crowd gravitate that way as the host appears to march toward the microphone.

“Good afternoon people of Kugane! I hope you’ve all been enjoying the rally!” They call, the crowd cheerfully responding as the host grabs their attention. “I can’t hear you!”

The crowd roars in your ear as you carefully push your way through the crowd as it becomes more and more packed the closer you get. Shifting toward the edge, you find the small wall of a fountain to stand upon, mindful of your footing and glaring daggers at anybody who would think to try and look up the skirt of your dress.

“The turnout is far more than we anticipated! We’re super grateful for your attendance!” The host goes on, gesturing to the crowd. “While Lord Hien regrettably could not attend today due to unforeseen matters, that does not mean we do not have an excellent lineup of guests here for you today!”

The crowd cheers again, not at all saddened by Lord Hien’s absence. Shifting on your feet a bit, you reach down to get out of your heels, sighing immediately with relief. Though you stand a little shorter now, the stage is still within sight. The first guests are introduced, some local activists you know within the city. They give their speeches on how Lord Hien has benefitted them and all he has done for the city, the crowd respectfully silent as people both young and old take to the podium. You can’t help but feel a little inspired by their speeches, praying that there will be more rallys like this one that show that Lord Hien is the better vote.

As another speaker takes the stage, the tingling feeling returns. Turning around you see no one behind you, and a quick scan over the crowd does nothing to ease the feeling. Frowning, you try to scan with a bit more depth, but all you see are unfamiliar faces. You don’t feel as if you’re being watched, but despite your best efforts, you can’t shake the feeling of something being off.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, for our guest of honor in light of Lord Hien’s absence! Chief of police, Raubahn Aldynn, with Assistant Chief Merlwyb Bloefhiswyn!”

The bad feeling is forgotten as the host’s words register, head snapping to face the stage once again as sure enough your former employers take to the stage. Both of them are dressed in uniform, Raubahn’s braids framing his face handsomely despite the cap upon his head. Merlwyb stands behind him as they wave to the crowd, the two of them making an imposing duo with their height. Your heart lurches at the sight of them, wishing to see if you could at least get a little closer to them, desperate for them to see you.

So that they knew you were all right.

“Greetings, citizens of Kugane!” Merlwyb booms, her voice loud enough on her own without the loudspeaker. “It is my pleasure to stand here today and speak honestly about Lord Hien in his absence. As you all know, I originally hail from Limsa, arriving in Kugane as a little girl,”

Merlwyb’s voice is comforting, reminding you of hearing the rumors all rookies do of their bosses. Merlwyb had been rumored to be relentless and unforgiving, but in truth her officers were at the forefront of her mind, and all that she enforced was to make sure that as many officers made it back safe to their families. Her voice carries what feels like hope personified, the entire crowd enchanted by her speech as he informs them on why Lord Hien is a good candidate.

The humming grows stronger, to where you can no longer ignore it. You start to feel a little sick, wondering if maybe the panini you had eaten gave you food poisoning, but you knew in your heart that was not the case.

Something was wrong.

How you wish you didn’t have this stupid ability, unable to simply enjoy a rally like the rest of the normal citizens. It felt suffocating, and you did your best to suppress it. No matter how hard you tried, it wouldn’t go away, agitating you beyond belief. What the fuck is wrong with me? you grumble inwardly, once again scanning over the crowd. It has to be some kind of false alarm. No one in the crowd looks suspicious. Security is posted around the perimeter. Nothing looks out of the ordinary.

Except...a glint of something catches your eye.

Across the street, your instinct tells you to look up, practically unable to with how the sun hangs high in the sky. Shielding your eyes with your hand, your eyes follow the five story building up to its top floor, where you spot a body shrouded in shadow. Grunting, you fish through your shopping bags for a pair of sunglasses you had bought for Y’shtola, fumbling to get them out the box. Sliding them on you can see a bit clearer now, able to make the form of the man a little better. Pale strands of platinum blonde hair tied in a bun become clear, paired with tan skin.

Ilberd? But what on earth is he doing here?

Apprehension claws at your gut, knowing something is definitely not right. Was Ilberd here on account of Varis too? Just what was it that they discussed?

Unsure what to do, you can’t look away from Ilberd’s place atop the building, unsure just what it is he’s doing. He seems to just be watching from a strange viewpoint, occasionally talking into what appears to be a walky talky clipped to his uniform. It is strange that he would be here in uniform at a rally for the opposing party. Surely he could casually attend in everyday wear just the same as you?

“But I have talked your ears off long enough! I must pass the microphone to my colleague and friend, Chief Raubahn.” Merlwyb announces, the crowd cheering loud in your ear.

At that same moment, your heart drops.

Your eyes widen as you watch Ilberd pull out a rifle and set it on the ledge of the building, aimed straight for the stage.

No.

Abandoning your belongings, gifts and all, you leap from the fountain, uncaring who you stumble into. “Please move out of my way!” you scream, pushing through the crowd as best you can. Stealing glances at the building you watch as Ilberd pulls a mask over his head, hiding his face from view. Civilians curse at you as you try to push your way through the crowd, heart racing in your chest as you try your damndest to reach the stage.

He’s loading the bullet.

“Raubahn!” You scream, just one voice in a crowd of many.

He’s attaching the scope.

“Raubahn!” You screech, throat straining with the effort. You’re almost there. The stage is just in front of you.

He’s lining up the sight.

“Hey lady,” the security guards grab for you as you reach the barrier between the crowd and the stage, holding you back.

“Raubahn!” You shriek, struggling against the guard holding you back.

“Hey, you can’t pass,” the guard grunts as he struggles to hold you back, others seeing his struggle and coming to help restrain you.

“Please you have to let me through! Chief Aldynn--” You scream, near hysterics. “A sniper,”

“What are you saying--”

You are too late.

It all happens at once.

Your eyes turn, the hum turning into a burning sensation as you turn back toward the building, able to see the mysterious red glow in Ilberd’s eyes even from this distance. You watch as he pulls the trigger with unnatural stillness, ensuring he won’t miss his shot. Time slows for you as you turn back to Raubahn, screaming like a banshee, for him to duck as security tries to drag you away. Merlwyb finally takes notice of you, but it’s late, it’s too late.

The bullet pierces his heart.

He begins to collapse, his words caught in his throat, and just before you can scream anything else explosions go off around the perimeters, making your ears ring. They are strongest at the spot you had just been standing, almost going as far down the street where the stalls had been. Both you and the security guards are shaken by the aftershock, rubble and glass flying everywhere as buildings begin to collapse. You are thrown to the ground, covered in scrapes, tears in your eyes as you look horrified at the stage.

You do not hear the cries of terror as you push yourself off the ground, climbing over the barrier with what strength you had left as smoke begins to cloud the area. The stage has collapsed on itself, screams in your ears as you try to make your way to where you pray Raubahn is.

“R-Raubahn,” you call, not feeling the pain of broken glass in the soles of your feet. “Raubahn,”

“Rookie!” Merlwyb calls out, sounding near tears herself.

Making your way toward her voice, you stand in shock as she kneels beside Raubahn’s still body, his chest no longer moving. Merlwyb clutches his hand with tears in her eyes, uncaring of the pool of blood she kneels in. Time is still for a moment as you stare at Raubahn’s lifeless body.

“What’s your name rookie?”

Crossing over to him, you fall to your knees, your mind still processing the shock of the moment.

“Actually don’t tell me.”

Picking up his hand, already it has started to grow cold.

“You can tell me when this mission is a success.”

You drop his hand from yours numbly, staring at his pained expression with no small amount of despair.

Before you can cry out at how unfair everything is, the hum returns, your eyes scanning the area before landing on Merlwyb.

No. You would not lose her too.

“Chief Bloefhiswyn. We must go.” Standing to your feet you snatch her by the hand, urgently pulling her to her feet in a surprising show of strength.

“Rookie,”

“We have to go or they’ll get you too!” You ground out, tugging her in the direction of collapsed rubble. Nodding, she dries her tears and follows behind you, the two of you making your way through the smoke and debris as sirens begin to echo through the district. If you’re feeling that tingling again, Ilberd surely is scouring the ground trying to finish the job, but you won’t let him. You had to make Merlwyb disappear. Grabbing your phone from your purse, you toss it to the ground making sure you can’t be tracked.

The two of you make a break for it in what feels like the opposite direction, your feet bleeding but you pay it no mind. It’s still too smokey from the fires of broken gas lines and buildings on fire to see your footprints of blood. You run on pure instinct, eventually making it out to a side street and down an alleyway. Merlwyb was too tall to not be sighted easily, so you had to make the best use of her long legs to just put distance between you and the scene.

The hum becomes a light tingle until it dissipates entirely, and only then do you dare to rest. Slowing to a stop you reintroduce your lungs to air at a normal pace, falling to your knees once more as you tune out the sounds of sirens in the distance. Tucked away in a small alley, this should keep you hidden long enough.

"Rookie,"

"Honey." you cut her off, chest still heaving. Gazing forlornly from your place on the ground tears begin anew. "Please."

Nodding, she comes to crouch by you cringing at the sight of your feet. "Your shoes,"

"It was my day off," you rasp, wishing you had some water. "I was out shopping when I came across the rally. I took my heels off because my feet were killing me.” At that moment your adrenaline high leaves you and you crumple to the ground in pain, curling up into a ball.

"Let me get the glass out your feet." Merlwyb winces beginning to delicately pull what shards she can see from your feet. Pulling out some hand sanitizer, she looks at you warily. "It's not much but hopefully it'll kill the germs til we can get you to a doctor.”

Nodding, you only flinch a little at the sting of alcohol on your open wounds. Merlwyb makes quick work at tearing off a clean part of your dress with a pocket knife, wrapping your feet as best she is able.

"Thank you, chief." you cough graciously, finally moving to sit up.

"I should be thanking you." Merlwyb sighs, fingers twitching in agitation. "Twelve knows I’m surprised to see you here. Complete radio silence for over a year. We'd been worried--" Merlwyb stops herself breaking out into a sob, knowing who she was referring to when she said we.

It is strange to see the strong woman break down like this. You knew she had no shortage of lost men and other hardships, but in this moment she was just as scared and afraid as you were.

And that's just ignoring the fact she watched her friend and colleague be murdered before her very eyes.

You knew Varis was vile, but now he was truly bordering on evil. That dinner had been about plans to kill Raubahn. Or was it to kill Hien but due to the lord's absence they had to settle?

Frowning, you scoot to prop yourself against a wall, taking deep breaths as you try to think. If Varis had no qualms about having the Chief of Police assassinated, then it would be easy work to have Merlwyb killed once she took Raubahn’s place.

You had to make her disappear.

"Chief Merlwyb."

The woman glances at you from her place on the ground, having finished her sobbing but looking no less sorrowful.

"We have to hide you."

Immediately the chief you knew came to the forefront, her milky eyes filled with vengeance. "And let whoever is responsible for this walk free?"

"I know exactly who is responsible. " You snap, baring your teeth. "If they will kill Raubahn they will kill you too! We have to hide you!"

Pursing her lips together, you can see that she finds no fault in your initial reasoning. "But Raubahn,"

"Safety first, Chief Merlwyb. As long as you live, we can eventually get the police force to back us. But we have to play our cards right and if the last year has shown me anything it's that I'm crap at it." You huff, eyeing her toolbelt. "Is your phone still working? Your personal one?"

Pulling it out, she quickly enters her passcode, her phone chirping as it lights up. "Yes."

"May I see it?" you ask politely. Handing it to you, she watches as you punch in a few numbers and bring the phone to your face.

“Who are you calling?” She asks, coming to crouch by the wall.

“A friend.” You sigh, perking up as the phone stops ringing.

"Hello?"

"Cid?"

"Honey? What are you--"

"Getting myself in trouble as usual Cid. And I need you to bail me out."

Finding a taxi that will even get a malm within the wreckage would be hard work you think, but Cid makes it happen. Both you and Merlwyb dive into the back, noticing the driver looks terrified beyond belief, and it takes a few calming words to get the driver to calm down.

You instruct the driver to get you to Cid’s place, watching the fire and smoke shrink into the horizon as you leave the city limits and head toward Cid's sprawling home. Merlwyb remained silent the entire trip and you were content to leave her to her thoughts, your own too muddled as you desperately tried to come up with a plan.

"By the Twelve, Honey, what's going on?" Cid calls as the taxi pulls up into the estate. Hopping out you run into his arms, something he's clearly not expecting, but his arms wrap around you all the same as he feels your tears soak his shirt. "Honey,"

"He's a monster, Cid." you sob into his chest. "Varis, he...he killed…" Your weight begins to sag in Cid's arms as a wave of nausea overcomes you.

Your world goes dark as the stress of the day's events finally catch up with you, passing out in Cid’s arms. You're thankfully not unconscious for too long, waking up in a cushiony bed while you're hooked up to an IV.

You had no idea Cid had a whole hospital room on the grounds but a second look shows you its just a guest bedroom with medical equipment hastily shoved into it for your sake. As you try to sit up you find your feet are wrapped up, but you feel no pain, reaching down to undo the wraps starting at your ankles.

"Oh you're awake-- ma'am please don't take off your bandages,"

Caught, you leave your bandages alone as the doctor seems to page for Cid while he gives you a once over now that you're conscious. It's a game of twenty questions until Cid shows up, Merlwyb in tow who looks just as worried.

"Honey!" Cid breathes, clearly relieved as he rushes to your bedside, taking your hands in his. "You dropped like a rock when you got here. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit." You answer truthfully, warmed by his concern. "But otherwise okay for having lived through that mess."

His expression turns grim as he faces Merlwyb, something unspoken passing between them. Merlwyb nears your side as well, towering over your bed. "I have apprised Cid on what had happened downtown. Once I began to explain, he began to quickly put two and two together and tell me a few things of his own." Regret enters her eyes as she finds herself unable to look at you. "I had no idea the...troubles you’ve been facing undercover. Neither of us did."

Averting your eyes, your fists clench in the sheets, your mind playing the image of Raubahn dying before your very eyes over and over again. You should’ve been faster, you should’ve known--

“He...he was worried about you, Honey.” Merlwyb continues, her own voice wavering.

“Didn’t you two see me on TV? I thought that would’ve showed you I was alive.” you mumble solemnly, wishing they could give you a moment or two to wallow in your own self pity.

“We did, but he was...worried for different reasons entirely.” Merlwyb continues, clearing her throat, shifting a bit closer to your bed. “He...he knew you Honey.”

Brows furrowing in confusion, you finally meet her steady gaze. “He knew me? I mean I was his subordinate,”

“No, not in the way you think.” Merlwyb interjects, reaching for your hand to take it in her larger one. “He knew you, Honey from when you were younger. He had realized too late, and before we could even try and call you back to abandon the mission, you were already in too deep. There was no contacting you.”

Even Cid looks concerned now, and you clasp Merlwyb’s hand, unsure what she could possibly mean. “My memories from when I was a kid are fuzzy. Especially when I was really young.” You whisper, nearly crushing her hand. “How did he know me?”

Merlwyb holds herself back for a moment, but eventually comes clean. “When you were but a child, there was a girl who took care of you. She had run away from home with you in tow, and upon landing in the city, he was the first one to help her.”

“He knew Minfilia?” You ask with a tremor to your voice, no longer seeing Merlwyb, long repressed memories doing their best to resurface.

“He did. He knew her, just as he knew you. And he knew that you were special.” Swallowing, Merlwyb clutches you tight, unsure of how you’ll react. “He knew you had the Echo.”

Cid gasps at that, blue eyes landing upon you in shock. You look just as shocked as he, but for different reasons entirely. “You mean he knew I had the Echo...and sent me to Varis?”

“No, no. That’s what I’m saying, Honey. He did not realize until it was too late.” Merlwyb chokes out, voice thick with emotion. “He had so many sleepless nights, worried sick about how he sent you into the wolves’ den. It tore him apart knowing that he had put you right in that bastard’s hands after he had worked so hard to ensure you disappeared and wouldn’t be found again for your own safety after Minfilia disappeared.”

“Thal’s balls…” Cid breathes, running a hand through his hair in disbelief. He seems as if he forgets you’re in the room for a moment as he mumbles to himself. “It all makes sense. No one can move that fast, be that ruthless in a fight. Gods…”

Frowning, you debate on whether telling Cid you had barely known any sooner than he did than in this moment, but decide against it. Staring hard at your hands in your lap, you stew in your thoughts, thinking hard about your next move. It was becoming clearer that you were not going to make any headway on your own. You would need help, as much as you didn’t want to bring anyone else into this. But you could risk no one else dying. Varis wasn’t even satisfied in killing Raubahn; he had to also murder and injure innocent civilians.

A righteous anger fills you, fire in your eyes as vengeance for lives lost becomes your driving force. You would end this violence, at any cost.

Even if it meant your own pride.

Ripping the tape from your arm, you gingerly, albeit hastily remove the IV from your arm, unraveling yourself from your makeshift hospital bed. “Honey? What’re you doing?” Merlwyb asks, quickly moving out of your way as you swing your legs off the bed, ignoring the pain that shoots up your leg as you land on your feet.

“I’m going to end this.” You hiss, flinging open drawers in the dresser on the furthest wall, finding them empty.

“Honey, you’re in no state,” Cid interrupts but the look in your eyes silences him immediately.

“I don’t care if I’m not. But I can’t afford to keep wasting time. I’ve been trying to do this on my own and--” You slam the drawers closed, the loud click scaring even you. “I need your help. I can’t do this alone like I’ve been trying to.”

The two stare at one another before looking back to you, Cid choosing to speak first. “You mean...you’ve been trying to take down Varis on your own?”

Nodding, you head to fling a few more drawers open, searching for any extra clothes. “I’ve been collecting evidence for months; locations, meetings, conversations. But because I’m too slow, because I couldn’t get away--” you stop yourself, knowing you toe the line of having a full on meltdown. When all this was over, you could cry all you wanted.

“Why didn’t you ask sooner?”

Those words are like a bucket of cold water, Cid flashing you one of his winning smiles. Edging closer to you, he slowly wraps his arms around your body, holding you close. “I never had the courage to do it alone either, Honey. I did not unload my burdens on you with the intention of you shouldering them.” Running a hand through your hair, he clutches you tight. “But together...this is a fight we can win. Even I would have never suspected Varis to go as far as this. And I’ve had enough of letting my own fear cloud my eyes to the suffering of others.” Pulling away, he rubs your shoulders, squeezing you tightly. “Just say the word. And all I have is yours.”

Nodding as you can’t trust yourself to not bawl at his support, you glance at Merlwyb over your shoulder who gives you a smile of her own. “You have more than exceeded my expectations, Honey. And I would daresay you outshined Raubahn’s as well. Whatever resources I still have are yours.”

Hope blooms from deep within, that with these two on your side, surely you could do something. You were still short on time with the election practically three months away, but you would make it work. You had to.

“Thank you...both of you.” You sniffle, dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand. “Cid...do you have some sort of cell phone I can use to stay in contact? Something inconspicuous?”

Snorting, he gives you a clap on the back. “Do I? Who do you think you’re talkin’ to?” he grins.

His smile is infectious, and you can’t help but give him one in return. “Then I’ll get dressed and return to the estate. There’s just one missing piece.”

“Oh?” Merlwyb inquires, tapping a finger to her chin. “Who did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, you wince preemptively. “Zenos.”

“Excuse me?” The two say in unison, just as you had feared.

“You want to enlist the help of his son?” Merlwyb growls, and you deflate a little at the intimidating picture she makes. “He is just as bad as his father, he has,”

Cid raises up a hand politely to silence Merlwyb, who is stunned by the action, not used to being ordered to be quiet. “I understand.” Cid says, and somehow those words with the look in his eyes tells you all you need to know. “I don’t know how you will get his support, Honey. But I suppose even you have your way of warming the prickliest of hearts.”

Thankful for his understanding, you grab his hand and squeeze it in thanks.

"We'll see about that."

You return to the Galvus estate under the cover of nightfall, having heard that Varis was most likely out celebrating his success. While sickened by the thought, it gave you the window you needed to get back into the mansion without being questioned.

The majority of the staff has left, which is good. You knew that this would get loud, and the last thing you needed were more rumors circulating around the estate and making their way toward Varis’ ears.

Heading down the hall, you make your way to the gym, somehow knowing Zenos would be there. From what you heard, he had been sent out less and less as the election neared, and would train in the gym for hours with nothing else to do. You held fake conversations in your head about how this could all go down, trying to mentally steel yourself for the inevitable argument, only to nearly psych yourself out of it.

It’s too late to back out now. Far too late.

Reaching the gym door, you wrench it open, head held high as Zenos turns to you immediately. Sure enough he was in the middle of doing weights, blue eyes narrowing on you as soon as you walked in. Breathing in a confidence you did not feel, you move no further into the room. “We need to talk.”

“Haven’t I already told you there’s nothing you could tell me that would be worth hearing?” He snarls, dropping his dumbbell to the floor, uncaring how it leaves a noticeable dent. “In fact, I told you the next time I saw you, it would be to kill you. I recall you being able to read.”

“And I recall you not acting like a little bitch, being able to talk things out like a functioning adult.” You spit back, remembering to breathe. You weren’t going to get anywhere insulting him. “Look. I didn’t come here to talk shit. I came because I need your help, Zenos.”

He looks suspicious, and if anything, angrier. “If you do not leave in the next three seconds, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Good, this was going great. “I’m not leaving. Not until we’ve talked--”

Fast as lightning he advances, moving to grab for your neck but you dodge him, ducking underneath. Knowing the only way you would get him to listen is after you’ve knocked him unconscious, you move to strike at his throat but he backs off, putting space between you. Moving fast for someone his size, he kicks for your head, your arms coming up to block his attacks. You’re still a bit sore from the explosion earlier, but grit your teeth and bear with it.

Even now he fights to kill, showing a ruthlessness you had only seen when he was out on a hit. You’re a bit more prepared this time, emotions in check as you know why you are fighting. He seems to sense this, growing agitated a lot faster than last time. “So you came to fight then.”

“I came prepared to beat some sense into you.” You snap back, using his momentum against him to fling him backwards, your hands still guarding your front in case he tries anything dirty. “I just want to talk, Zenos please. I want to apologize,”

“You can apologize by dying.” You watch horrified as his tattoo beneath his shirt begins to glow, knowing it was a possibility, but praying he wouldn’t do this to you again.

“Zenos, wait,” you urge, unsure if you should try to stop him or run while you still can.

“You came prepared to fight did you not?” He laughs, his sclera slowly turning pitch black, his beautiful blue eyes overtaken by a haunting red. “Then surely you came prepared to die.”

Once again he’s faster than light, even if you know he’s coming, your eyes aren’t fast enough to keep up. His speed is inhuman, and even if you tell yourself to be ready for his onslaught, you cannot keep up with him through normal means.

The back of your neck tingles into a persistent hum, gnashing your teeth together as you barely miss one of Zenos’ grabs for your throat. No! I will not use this borrowed power on him. I will not disappoint him with the knowledge my own strength isn’t real-- you think, wincing as you block another punch, feeling as if he had hit hard enough to break your arm in half.

You’re losing stamina fast, and Zenos shows no signs of stopping. If anything he looks even more determined to kill you this time, hell bent on making sure he fulfills his promise to end your life. “You’re fading fast, Honey.” he taunts, kicking your feet from under you, laughing as he sloppily tries to crush you underfoot as you barely manage to roll out of the way. He’s toying with you now, knowing that the battle is already won.

“I’ve...still got fight in me.” you grunt, wondering if he’s dislocated your shoulder. He stops his pursuit for a moment, allowing you to just look at him. He looks crazed and feral, his glowing eyes the stuff of nightmares, and yet you can’t help but think he has never looked happier in this moment, knowing that the battle high is singing through his veins.

“Enjoying the battle is the same as truly reveling in it.”

Why do those words come to you now, when you stand at death’s door? He’s not wrong; you are fading fast, nothing but pure adrenaline keeping you upright. You’re positive you’ve reopened the wounds in your feet, which isn’t helping you at all.

You couldn’t die here.

“Zenos,” you try again, meeting his resentful gaze head on. “Listen to me. Please.”

Cracking his knuckles, he slips back into a fighting stance. “The only thing I want to hear is your final breath.”

Tears sting at your eyes, hopelessness churning through you like a boat lost at sea. What do you say that will get through to him? He’s so convinced that there’s nothing you could say to him that will matter, that no amount of explaining will change his mind.

Through talking, Zenos rushes you down, poised to kill. Blinking tears from your eyes, you can feel helplessness take root as your body feels on the verge of collapse, crying out as Zenos slams you against the floor giving you a rush of deja vu, hands caging your throat. Clawing at his hands, you scratch with blunt nails, kicking beneath him but he pins you down with his weight.

“Finally…” he breathes, cinching his hand tighter around your throat.

Gazing up at him through cloudy eyes, you see nothing but pain and hurt.

“If anyone can get through to him, it is you.”

The humming begins to burn, your grip on his hands growing stronger.

No. You would not let it end like this. You would revel in those battles with him, you would bring him happiness, you would make him understand that you cared.

“You will find the right path. You always have. That has not changed about you.”

Snarling like a cat, you throw Zenos off of you, watching as he barely manages to catch himself, barely standing on his two feet.

Hopping up, strength flows through your limbs as the tattoo on the back of your neck flares an angry red, flexing your knuckles as you pull yourself to your full height. The shock on Zenos’ face is priceless, his eyes wide with confusion as he sees the fire in your eyes.

“Zenos yae Galvus...”

With the same unnatural speed he had shown you, you stand before him in an instant, watching as his breath stills at your sudden proximity.

“...you fucking idiot.”

Decking him in the face, you watch as he stumbles to pick himself up off the floor, clearly unsure what to do with himself. The look on his face can only be described as stupefied, his mind somehow not catching up with the recent developments. Stalking after him, he quickly gets to his feet, letting instinct take over as he moves to defend himself, throwing himself at you like he had so many times before.

If you couldn’t see him before, you could certainly see him now.

It’s like watching something in slow motion; it’s almost laughable. His speed pales horribly to your own, able to deflect his punch and knock him to the floor. He looks as confused as last time, his lip busted as it wells up with blood, hand roughly dragging over it. Confused and angry, he glares at you as he launches himself at you once more, roaring with anger. “How?!”

You barely move an inch as you catch his fist, grasping it within your own.

“How?!” He yells, trying to pull his fist from your grip. “The Resonant is all powerful! I am--”

“What you are, is an idiot who doesn’t know how to listen!” You yell back, slamming him into the floor with the same force he had done to you. You climb atop him quickly, fisting your hand in his shirt, jerking him up to your face as you pin him down. “I’ve been trying to talk to you for months!”

“I don’t want to hear any of it,” he growls, threatening to push you off him but you slam him back into the floor, jabbing a finger in his face.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to, because I will make you.” You seethe, staring into the eyes of a beast. “Who else would come waltzing their happy ass back to you after you’d threatened to kill them, huh? Who else would stick by you, cry themselves to sleep feeling terrible for going back on their word?” Clasping his jaw with one hand, you hold his gaze to you, unwilling to have him look anywhere else. “No one! No one except me, because I care about you! Because I belong to you!” Overcome with emotion you press your lips to his in a harsh kiss, Zenos stiffening beneath you for a moment before eventually relaxing, his arms coming to crush you to him as he returns your kiss with equal measure and more.

As your tongues dance together, you know you will have to do more than a kiss to show him just how much you missed him, just how much you cared, but anything worth having had to be worked for.

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch. 8

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. Alfie takes Mae out to celebrate a milestone in her magical work. It turns into an evening of deep conversation and bonding, learning about one another.

Warnings/Tags: Language.Magic/Supernatural.FLUFF. Bonding. Talk of being soul mates. Support/Love. Talk of confidence issues and mild bad memories.

Click on my screenname then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

“Go throw something on that makes you feel like celebratin’ and we’ll go out ‘n do just that.”

It was a simple enough request. But one Mae was having a hard time with. She watched the grass and soul gather in the antique tub's drain, washing the sweat from the sun off her warm brown skin. Wiggling her yellow-painted toes, she took a few deep breaths to ease the sense of anxiety building and give the many potted and ivy plants in the bathroom a good dose of co2.

She stood before her full-length mirror in her room whose colors all deep jewel tones made her feel at peace. A mix of malachite, amethyst, and a pop of color with citrine soothed her as she adjusted her dress. Mae wasn’t the “going out” type. Like most, she had a dress that had been dormant in her closet for ages. The one that you bought on a whim when you had some manic episode where you swore you’d start going out and dating and having fun like everyone said you should. But it just sat in the back of your closet. A reminder of money wasted and goals not met.

She frowned, her dark curls against her shoulders only covered by the thin straps of the bold red dress. Her hands moved across her body, a pudge to her stomach, her hips wide from her pear shape and her breasts barely enough to fill out the cups of the dress. It reminded her of the “hot girl” dresses in 90s movies from when she was younger. Cinched in a baby doll cut and the rest hugging her body in a way she was unfamiliar with showing off. Her denim cut-offs and a tank or shop t-shirt were her go to outfits. She never purposely dressed up to seem more attractive, it was function over fashion for her at this point in her life. The last time she’d gotten “dressed up” had been when Ruth and Nancy set her up with a “nice boy” from their church. What a bust that had been.

She let herself take a deep breath to gather what confidence she could and it only deflated into a sigh. She let her head fall back and made silent protests with clawed hands and an angry face before stomping and glaring at her reflection. Why couldn’t she just feel...good? She was a so-called powerful witch but all she saw looking back at her was an unsure girl. Not the confident woman she wished she was. Her chest aches a bit, a pit in her stomach as sadness came and went, flashes of failed attempts at dates and moments others killed her hard work at feeling confident in one single comment.

“Okay…” she exhaled forcefully. “This is as good as it’s going to get.” She flops her hands to her hips and decides maybe a cardigan would be an acceptable addition to the outfit. She could cover up a bit, but it wouldn’t look like she was trying to hide. Yeah. That’d work. She found comfort in the extra layer, adjusting it over her cleavage as she exited her bedroom.

Alfie stood relaxed and confident as always. He looked up to her, hazy blue eyes under a heavy brow of ginger tinged hair. He blinks slowly and watches her unsure movements. He could very literally see the dark haze of uncertainty around her but only a blind man couldn’t see how shy she felt.

“Why’ve ya got a sweater on? It’s blazin' out.” Alfie asks with a furrowed brow as he sees her usually sunny disposition missing.

“If you think it’s hot now I have some bad news about the summers in the south.” she answers back, a clear deflection.

“I know it’s hot enough to melt ya bollocks to your leg down ‘ere but that’s not what I asked now was it?”

Her face falls into a defensive expression. “It’s part of the outfit.” she says and averts her eyes from his.

“Mae. Now, what would be the point in lying to me? When I don’t even have to get into that noggin of yours to read it.”

“None I guess.”

“So why are ya?”

“Because I don’t wanna get into it,” she states with an attitude-filled head shake. “I’m just trying to...get through this night out you wanted to do.”

“Nope.” he says with a clap of his hands and moves her over to the couch. He squats in front of her and stares her down. “We don’t lie to each other Mae. Not only is it pointless it serves no purpose for growth. And that’s why we’re together. So I’ll ask again.”

“Just read my mind if you wanna know so bad. Since you can just poof everything into existence without trying.” she snaps back.

“You’re acting like a teenager, Mae. You’re a grown woman.”

She glares at him because he’s right. “I’m wearing it because I want to hide. Is that what you want to hear?” she blurts out.

“The truth yes but I never want you to feel poorly.” he pats her knee. “Why?”

She huffs out, feeling her face be red with embarrassment and hurt and anger. “Because I don’t… I’ve never worn this and it’s tight and I’m not… I don’t wear things like this because it’s something hot girls wear and I’m not that.”

“No, you are not.”

His eyes blink and go wide at his response.

“You are a beautiful woman. Not some slaggy young thing. You are of substance. Of...principal and power.” He sees the tears prickle up in her eyes from her rush of emotions. “You also look lovely in that dress. Red suits you. It’s a shame a woman like you would lack confidence when you owe the world nothing. You gracing these mortals with your visage is a gift they do not deserve.”

“You’re just being full of shit now Alfie.” she groans.

“No. No Mae darling I am not. I said no lies did I not? I stand by that.” he raises her chin with his calloused index finger. “I understand that your big big soul is feeling lots of things in this little human body of yours. I know you’ve been hiding it from me and I commend you for trying to handle it all on your own. But the purpose of us existing my love is to NOT have to deal with these burdens alone. Now tell Alfie what is wrong so he may mend it.” he leans in to kiss her forehead and hug her. It was too much for her little heart to handle. “Let it out little one.” he shushes as she sniffles and pretends she doesn’t want to sob and wail.

“I just feel so… boring. So not confident and I don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. Nothing is where I want it. I don’t look how I should. I don’t-” she hiccups and he wipes away her tears.

“Says who? Who told you you had to look any certain way? Some old rich white man behind a desk who doesn’t give a shit about you and only wants your sorrow to make more money off of things you don’t need based on self-hate? Who do these negative emotions serve eh? Not you. And you are all you have to be concerned with. You are as you are. As you are is how you should be. There is no “supposed to” in reality, Mae love. There is only a culture that hates women. And you are so very fuckin' far above their standards and expectations I cannot even begin to tell you. You are otherworldly. A soul full of sunshine and vulnerability. Things most humans hide from. You are growing and with that comes those damned waves of emotions. This is why we do the shadow work, yeah? We accept all parts of us, and release what no longer serves us? I’m not just talkin’ out me arse love. I promise.”

“You...really?” she sniffles.

“Not to force any standards of beauty upon you my darling little sunspot but you are the most beautiful soul I have ever encountered and will ever encounter. To me you are perfection and I hope one day to make you see that as well.”

She begins to cry again and he takes her back into his arms. “You’re so nice to me-ee-e.” she stutters.

“Only honest pet. You created life with your thoughts today Mae bug!” he squeezes her upper arms. “You are so powerful. And you’ve barely scratched the surface. Now let's dry those tears, right? Let’s take off this shroud of negativity you call a jumper.” he chuckles and takes it off her and then pats her cheeks with it.

“It’s a sweater you cockney bastard.” she lets out a giggle that he answers with an amused snort.

“There she is.” he bops her on the nose. “A smart mouth and cheeky disposition was something I always did favor in a woman.” he muses and helps her up from the couch. “And you are a clever little thing. Far too smart to feel so low about yourself.”

“Thank you.” she says quietly.

“Now chin up pumpkin. We are going to go out and have a wonderful time, yeah? Celebrate your progress and the simple fact it is a beautiful evening and we just so happen to exist at the same time. That’s enough cause for a drink and a good meal.”

“You’re… very good with words.” she says as he fusses with her curls and wipes away any running mascara from her eyes.

“Thank you. Ol’ cockney bastard like me has to have something going for him, eh?” he grins.

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

Mae sat back and enjoyed the breeze in Alfie's antique car that resembled more of a boat to her. It was long, a bit excessive but it did suit him. Something quirky for a man that looked like some sort of mystical cult leader in dress and charm. He could feel the calm around them now. The late evening air humid but the breeze made it tolerable. With her head laid back in a nest of curls and her eyes closed the golden light of the sunset highlighted the round highs of her face. A round heart-shaped face with doll eyes and high cheek bones and a button nose sat in the middle of all the delicate softness. He smiles softly, glancing over and seeing her take in the day's last touch of sunlight as it sets.

“You seem to be doing better.” he speaks softly and pats her knee to break her from her half-hearted moment of meditation.

“I am.” She answers softly.

“You seem like the type to enjoy solitude and silence more than the company of others.”

“Yeah. When I was young I wanted to have ‘my’ people so bad. My own little group. But then I got used to being alone. Now I prefer it.”

“When other's lower vibrations drain your energy it’s hard to want to be around that. We can work on shielding. But tonight is about a good time. What is a good time for you Mae? What is that moment you just sit and relish in and appreciate?”

She tilts her head in thought. Blinking slowly she tries to find her happy place. “In the morning on Sundays. I’ve slept well and have the day off. I’ve got my favorite mug and I’m in my little spot in the sunroom. It’s raining and Percy is asleep on the bench. My music is playing in the kitchen. Outside is quiet and all you hear is the rain. You can forget you live around people on those mornings. Everything foggy and dewy and the sheets of rain run off the glass ceiling.” She lets out a content exhale. “That’s my favorite time.”

“Lovely innit. Life’s simple pleasures.” He mused and scratches his chin. “I believe I can work with that.” He nods. “I know a little hidden beer garden I believe you might enjoy. We'll go there.”

“A beer garden?”

“Yeah.” He says obviously and confused by the questioning inflection in her voice.

“What’s that?”

He turns and blinks rapidly at her for a moment before looking to the road. “You dont-?” His brows furrowed in question. “You don’t know what a beer garden is?”

“Would I be askin' if I did?”

He lets out a small snort of amusement. “‘Spose not. A pub-a bar outdoors. This one's in the old part of the city.”

“I don’t go there much because of the tourists.”

“No tourists where we’re going. Not exactly Bourbon street.”

“So an outside bar? Do they call those beer gardens? Weird.”

“Well, I think you not having tea in every restaurant is weird.”

“We got sweet tea.” She grins.

“We are not having this argument again Mae. That abomination is NOT tea. It’s sugar water in a cowboy hat.”

She lets out a giggle that warms him, recalling an almost argument on sweet tea and good British char one night before bed. Mae didn’t see what the big deal was. But she was promptly informed by Alfie it’s because she was a bloody yank so she never would.

————————-

The place he took her was off the beaten path. A small old white building with a courtyard in the middle with small iron tables and canopies. It was quiet and rustic and full of plants along the walls and in decorative planters. It felt green and wet and lush and alive and she felt oddly at home. A gentlemanly pulling out of her chair before he sat, his crystal pendants glinted in the sun around his neck. They lay at the edge of his vest, a dark and worn fabric over his usual worn in white button ups.

“Order whatever you like darlin' this is a treat for you.”

“I’m gonna order sweet tea.”

“Cheeky bugger.” he smirks and keeps his eyes on the menu.

“I’m not sure.” She says quietly.

“When I say order what you like I do mean you could order the whole fuckin' thing.”

She blinks and thinks a moment. “What if I actually did?” Her big curious eyes have a smile to them as she looks his way.

“I wouldn’t have to worry bout cookin' dinner for a tick then would I?” He answers with a playful nod her way. “I think I’ll go with seafood.” He says after a long pause. “No point in wastin' bein so close to the water eh? Perhaps calamari to start. Fried, of course, because you lot can’t just leave things be.”

“Never had that.”

“Hmmph. Guess you will be tonight.” He affirms with a nod.

“We could get the variety appetizer. I haven’t tried escargot either.”

“A day of firsts calls for a night of the same.” He declares confidently to her. “We are here for you Mae. Indulge.”

———————————

They sit among multiple plates and drinks, the frosted glass of the table growing cool as the sun sets and the garden lights and music turned on. A little candle was lit on the table for “ambiance” the waitress said with a wink. Mae tried to hide a blush but ALfie felt the ruffle of energy come from her and hid an amused smirk.

“Can I have some of your-?”

“Yes, of course, scoot ya bum over here.” Alfie chuckles and pulls her chair next to him. With their arms pushed together she lets out a small but audible content sigh. She continues to pick at his appetizers and he at hers. A vibrating calm between them as they touch.

“Nice innit?”

“It’s really good.” Her answer is muffled by the food in her mouth.

“The food is yes but not what I meant.”

“Wat.” She says with stuffed cheeks and wide questioning eyes.

“This.” He holds his hand out palm up on the table.

She looks at it and blinks.

In his head, he hears. “What the fuck?” And he laughs.

“Put your hand over mine Mae bug.” He chuckles as he holds her hand a few inches above his own. She holds in and swallows, she gives a small shiver in response. He touches his fingertips to hers.

“It tickles.” She giggles and slaps his hand.

“Not into tickling?”

She shrugs. “Not really? Not really had it done before.”

“How’s bout this?” He asks with a nod of his head, lacing their fingers together and resting

“Mmm.” She hums and smiles at him. “That you or the alcohol?”

“Can’t take credit completely. Can’t feel it myself without you.” He says it matter of factly but he feels the sentimental response like warm honey through his veins.

She studies his face a moment and then their hands, taking her time and connecting and disconnecting, tips then palms, moving to put as much skin to skin as she can. With their arms and shoulders pushed against one another, she speaks softly in realization, “It's when we touch.”

He makes a grunt of agreement. “What’s it feel like for you?” His curiosity gets the better of him.

“It’s...good.” She says after a pause.

“You can be more descriptive than that.” He scolds playfully.

“Than what’s it like for you?” She sass's back and takes a drink with her free hand.

“There was a place...long long ago I lived alone. Which is what I preferred. I got away from my old life, a pipe dream to be sure. But it was the happiest I had been before...this life. Feels like that relief. But without the loneliness.” He looks at her and she once again has tears in her eyes. “Oh come now love do your eyes ever dry?” He laughs and dabs at her cheeks.

“That’s better than I could ever put it.” She says and smiles. A sniffle and she squeezes back. “It’s our souls right? They missed each other this much? It’s like I feel warm down into my bones.”

“We missed you more than even my silver tongue can express.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I must’ve missed you too. Because this feels…” she smiles sweetly and puts her head on his shoulder, only feeling more contentment. “Feels right.”

“Like morning sunshine. Warm and dare, I admit,  happy.”

“Probably Like a good hug or like when Ruth makes me a pie when I’m sad.”

“I do suppose that would be rather good.”

“The best.” She smiles as she rests her cheek on him. “Man… people are missing out. This is like drugs.” She softly laughs.

“Why did you say it's probably like a good hug? Odd way to put it.”

“Well… people say hugs from people you love or miss are the best.” She pauses. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had one of those.” She admits.

“I admit I don’t know how you aren’t beloved by everyone. A sunspot like yourself should know of everything good and pleasurable in life. You deserve only the best Mae. And if I can help it I’ll help you feel the love you’ve deserved. Show you how to open up. You are a white witch after all, you radiate love.”

“Guess it’s all going out and not stayin' in” she mumbles and gives him a half-smile. It was a rather good observation.

“So many things you haven’t done yet” Alfie muses as he feels her inexperience in her thoughts.

“I can… feel you up in there.” She pulls away and shakes her head, curls bouncing. She shivers. “That’s so strange I can… feel you in there now.”

“You’re learning how to.”

“It kinda… feels like you’re scratching an itch in my brain.”

“Because I mean no harm, only help.”

“Does it hurt if a bad person is trying to get in my head?”

“For a sensitive little bean like yourself, I would assume so. It’s all about intention. As I’ve said. I see loneliness and fear of missing out and I want to alleviate it. So with good intention brings good feeling.”

“What are you seeing?”

“I don’t want to upset you, darling.”

“It’s my head it won’t upset me.” she snorts.

“I see you alone at a school dance. On the bleachers. Watching everyone else dance together.”

“Yeah. That is a bit upsetting.” She shrugs. “But a long time ago.”

“It was...the first time you felt a real romantic rejection and alienation.” He squints his eyes as he saw a small underdeveloped Mae in an out of style hand me down dress hiding tears as a boy she thought might’ve liked her looked at her and laughed with his date that was the opposite of what she looked like.

“Yeah… it got easier after that.”

“Shutting out everyone else isn’t easier Mae it’s self-sabotage.”

“Well.” She says thoughtfully. “It made it hurt less.”

He looks down at her with understanding. She was so full of life and emotion and she was robbing herself from fear and it made him sad for a moment to see her potential being stunted due to the hateful actions of others. “I’m here to show you how to master your emotions to unlock your potential, love.”

“That sounds...exhausting.” She looks down at his hand and rubs its embrace with her thumb.

“Nah. We can start small.” He insists with a look around. “Let’s start by checkin' something off your list.” He implores as he begins to rise.

“Like what?”

“I’m going to give you that dance.” He states obviously

“I don’t...I’m not a dancer.”

“Neither am I?” He laughs. “It’s about the experience. With it grows your confidence. It’s simple, I’ll show you.”

“I know HOW I just…” she glances around. “I don’t wanna in front of people.” She whispers

“I can fix that. Make it so no one notices us.”

“You can do that?”

“I can do most things you could ever imagine.” She looks around the small courtyard and weighs her options. He stood with a steady hand outreached .”I could even SHOUT ABOUT HOW ICED TEA IS SHIT...and no one can hear.” He grins.

Her eyes go wide but see's no one even glances their way as she rises to her feet. “Are we invisible?”

“No, just an illusion of the mind.”

“Can I be invisible?” She asks as he pulls her to the open center of the patio space.

“I can show you how to be very elusive. Although I don’t know why you would want to be.”

“Because I’m shy. Crippled with anxiety. Full of trauma. Where do you want to start?” She answers honestly but with a chuckle.

“We’ll start with this.” He pulls her close and minds his hands to keep it PG. She was skittish enough without adding physical affection to the mix.

She slowly gives in to his affectionate embrace. A simple back and forth and distanced as she’d wanted in her memory. He can feel the remnants of hurt the memory left around her, her yellow energy turning blue. “I know it means nothing when a man says these sorts of things, and only time will prove it to be true but you don’t have to worry about me rejecting your true self Mae. You do know that?” She looks up at him, knowing she must’ve been very bad at hiding her fear. “As cliche as it is we were made for each other and I have no intentions of abandoning this partnership.” He pauses and she lets out a heavy sigh. “I know love it seems like everyone has left you that’s said that. But I won’t yeah?” He gives her cheek a gentle playful stroke.

“Thank you. For trying to help me.” She says softly, feeling a warmth that wasn’t from the summer evenings still wet heat. “For being nice while I’m… still all...fucky.” She grins and lets out a soft laugh. “I know I’m grown but I feel like such a child sometimes. I’m kinda glad you can read my mind because with feel like I don’t even know what’s going on in there sometimes.”

“You’re going through a...magical puberty Mae and you’re doing wonderfully. I only celebrate things worth it and today-and your work was. Excess innit? Folks like us aren’t meant to be about it. It’ll go to our heads.”

“Good thing I don’t have to worry about that.”

“Your powers are just beginning and you’ll grow as they do. You’ll come to understand yourself and the things you’ve been through as lessons. You have so much power within you little one you’ll be astounded one day looking back at your life before. We have so much to gain, and it’s worth these emotional outbursts your human self insists on having.”

“You make everything sound so fancy and purposeful.”

“It’s just the age and accent dear.” he grins.

“You’re very wise.” She insists with big soft eyes. “I’m glad you’re my person. I need someone to keep things straight like you do.” She leans in and hugs him but doesn’t pull away.

He smiles down at her, a flutter in his stomach for this small gentle creature being accepting of him despite the dark monstrosity he had fancied himself for so long. “You’re too kind Mae.” He places a kiss on her bouncy head of curls and settles into a comfortable embrace.

She sighs and surprisingly to him cozies up to his chest. “I like these Feel Good drugs” she grins as he holds his hand to her bareback with her head on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Course. Always will be.” they both feel it warm and encompassing them both. A moment of being on the same page and the barriers between them thin.

———

They stuffed themselves on seafood and local beef and ease was between them now that hadn’t existed before. A bit of honesty went a long way with Mae. Her nature was very trusting in general and optimistic, so Alfie's reassurance left her feeling much more relaxed than she had in a long while. Alford was practiced at restraint as Mae was not. So he could not only feel but see in her eyes as they parted for the night to go to their rooms that she didn’t want to separate. He found it very endearing of her to want him around. He would as always have her make her own choices in her own time. Make her ask for the things she wanted. So instead of making the giant step of sleeping in the same bed, platonically, mind you, he simply whispered a soft intention as she snuggled into her own bed and yearning for that comfort he gave her now.

“Sleep well little one and may the morning find you as sunny as it.”

She hears him in her head and sighs, a happy one this time.

“Goodnight Alfie.” She murmurs, trying to send the thought his way and not knowing if she succeeded. But she had.

@jaegeeeeer​  @brianaisasongbird​ @hardygal69​ @emerald-bijou​ @captstefanbrandt​ @coolgh0st​ @tinastarkandco​ @xstylishmileage​   ​ @peakys-mystic @likedovesinthewnd​

[elmidol]

Where the Body Burns - Chapter 2 (NSFW)

Read on AO3

Read Ch. 1

(Banner includes art for fic by @clumsycopy )

[Inspired by Fix Your Attitude by @kylorengarbagedump and Keeping Your Promise by @strongtwiheart ]

Chapter Summary: Kylo Ren senses your thoughts and has you prove yourself worthy.

Words: 5,100

Chapter Warnings:  dubcon; possible blasphemous thoughts/themes

Exaltation

 Beeping preceded a whirr, suction, hiss, and then the pattern returned to the beginning. Some gods reigned over life and others chose to favor death. You stood above the bed in medbay staring down at the body of the slumbering officer who teetered between the two. Which god would claim him? That was a question not even the medics, droid and human, could yet answer. The horror that had flooded through the hangar upon witnessing the assault had less of an impact for many after it had been revealed what the man had been praying for. The Force remained a mythical power that most did not understand. What was known or believed by the majority who entertained its existence was that those capable of wielding its power could sense things others could not. This included intention and disturbances. The officer lying prone on the medbay bed had not been the first to pray that Kylo Ren would be humbled or even perish in an upcoming fight. Nor would he be the last. Within the First Order, Kylo Ren was one of the few who had tasted a sort of godhood that others could only dream of. He would never be a god of mercy.

Some pilots arrogantly believed that they were the master of the galaxy because they could fly amongst the stars. They sought to touch godhood. Weightlessness went to their heads. The power of weaponry twisted their minds and built upon the egos that had started to inflate when they had slid into the cockpit of whatever vessel they could. The slang was flyboy. Cockpit. It was not only the male gender that could claim their wings--although this did vary on the planet in question as to the ease the gender granted--however the focus did remain. TIE pilots had a high mortality rate. It was more dangerous and addicting than spice in many respects yet just as deadly. A quicker death, in fact. The lack of drawn out, long term consequences was a siren’s whisper.

 You wondered for another time which god or gods the officer had prayed to, this man who would be incapable of proper speech due to the mutilation of his tongue and teeth. Bacta surrounded his mouth in a way not dissimilar to the salve that had been used on your lips after your promotion. The order for the salve had been submitted by Commander Kylo Ren himself, and it had arrived alongside a new badge. You toyed with the identification badge whilst staring at the wounded officer. An IV fed the saline solution to keep him hydrated. Earlier a droid had injected painkillers through the IV, although as to the exact drug used that remained a mystery.

 All these men and their false gods working to own the stars that stretched across the vastness of space. Even this officer, who teetered on the edge of oblivion, ignored the signs that his actions were foolhardy; on each occasion that one shook their fists in defiance of true greatness, it was akin to a child stubbornly rejecting the existence of air. Unseen but felt. Some paid for these foolish endeavors at dismantling the truth of Kylo Ren's power with their lives. This officer had paid with his tongue--and you had paid with your name.

 The new identification badge bore the same alphanumeric combination as your previous one, however in place of your birth name was a single word: Spacedust. The gluttonous god gave you a taste of his malevolence as a promise to destroy you should you disappoint him. Unlike this officer, however, you had been granted a sign of what you took to be respect: Commander Kylo Ren had not robbed you of your voice, and furthermore had demanded to hear his name with it. As though your tongue was meant to worship him. He demanded praise from you. To deny him was to reject transcension. Your wings would be clipped if you failed to obey this merciless god whose wrath was swift.

 You touched your shoulders with arms crossed over your chest in a weak embrace that failed to offer a semblance of warmth. The air in medbay was stale and with a chill. Two blankets covered the injured officer. One of the nurse droids smoothed out wrinkled each time it came by. You touched the edge of the top blanket, once more bunching it together towards the officer’s abdomen. His eyes dashed back and forth behind their lids. You, bent at a sharp angle, peered at his face for signs of consciousness. A single flicker would have captured your breath. Disappointment wafted through you. Straightening, you turned on your heel and headed towards the transparisteel doors that slid in opposite directions from one another to permit you leave.

 The transfer into Kylo Ren’s direct command entailed that you left this base when he did. Likewise there would be no climbing into a TIE fighter unless flying alongside him and the others in the unit. As it was, due to Supreme Leader Snoke’s orders, you were grounded. It was enough to drive any pilot crazy, and this offered a glimpse as to why it was Commander Kylo Ren had been wound so tightly since his arrival. His disdain for those lives that kept him anchored to this planet grew until he lashed out against and even killed those when their failures provoked his wrath. Since the incident in the hangar bay, however, the Commander had been like a shadow. Elusive and hardly seen when not looming over others. The rage within him had quieted whilst not disappearing entirely.

 Windows stretched across this wing of the base to allow in sunlight that warmed the area. It was a welcomed difference after spending a quarter of an hour at the officer’s bedside. The sight of TIE fighters dancing across the sky as they patrolled caused your heart to skip a beat. Your chest swelled with increased envy for the pilots of those vessels. Previously that would have been you; this was your former rotation, the pilots that had been in your squadron in the skies now without you. You paused in your steps and traced the path that the lead TIE would take with your eyes seconds before the ship followed it. The leader pilot was the same as when you had been in that squadron; a man born from a prodigious family of former Imperials that had served the Empire Two of his five siblings had perished in service to the First Order.. His skills were impressive, and it had been against him that you had always measured yourself as a means of self improvement. You wanted to close the gap that existed between the pair of you.

 Memories of the Commander in his TIE Silencer cut through the previous thoughts. You jerked your gaze away from the window, resumed walking, and considered that you would be graced with the new challenge of measuring yourself against the best pilot the First Order had to offer.

 Stormtroopers numbered fewer in comparison with the officers on the base. A sea of white prompted you to swerve in favor of seeking the darker colored uniforms wherein you could blend. Standing apart did not fluster you normally. It was the knowledge that somewhere the shadow lurked; to draw his attention before you were ready would offer him the higher ground when your footing was already rocky at best. While not in his presence you could pretend that you retained a name of your own. For years you had worked hard, pushed yourself beyond your limits for recognition by the other pilots on each base that you were assigned to. Each pilot began training in childhood, and most grew up on Star Destroyers. You had been an exception, which was one of the reasons that planetary assignments often came your way. When it came to interacting with First Order personnel, you were kindred spirits with neither the stormtroopers nor the officers.

 This was better exemplified when the officers in the sea you had selected to join parted, rippling away and leaving you bare. Though just as replaceable--more easily replaced in your opinion--the officers considered themselves above TIE pilots, whom they viewed as expendable pawns. Such was the paradox, that you were a being they revered and envied due to your capabilities in a TIE simultaneous to being faceless and subhuman. A fictitious hero that sprang to life as a symbol of the First Order’s might, little different than Commander Kylo Ren. He was the anomaly, you supposed. 

 A scan of the faces in the parting crowd revealed a mounting fear. You searched for the source of their agitation, which when revealed caused you to cease walking. The shadow had blended into the background for you, though now that you had glimpsed him you wondered how his presence could have gone unnoticed. His power was a dark wave crashing over you. It drowned out your ability to breathe for the seconds it took you to recover after that jolt of surprise upon seeing his masked visage. Tendrils of an unseen force, an indescribable feeling, crawled up your spine. This was not fear, you realized, but something else. The unnamed sensation spurring you into action anew. Your feet began to carry you in the direction of the godlike being that had stripped you of your former life.

 “I see your mind has finished its introspective blathering.” There was no recoiling from him though mentally you reeled at the notion that he might have been in your head. Limited knowledge of the Force left you susceptible to minor paranoia. You were aware of Commander Kylo Ren’s abilities to peer into the minds of others during interrogation, however not how he completed this feat. Said man stepped forward and gestured with his hand for you to follow.

 It was with amusement that the observation of white and black seas meeting swam into view when the two had the alternative option of allowing Kylo Ren amongst them. The contrast allowed you to discover that they had embraced you, along with other TIE pilots, more than you had given them credit for. Your lips inched upwards in amusement that you swiftly quashed. Commander Kylo Ren carried himself forward in long strides that, while not struggling, took effort on your part to complement. His robes failed to billow behind him as he walked; you understood here that the functionality of his belt was not simply to hold his lightsaber. Regardless, it was astonishing that his feet failed to catch on the stray material given his speed. You trained your eye on the soles of his boots, your gaze interrupted on each occasion the robe swished past.

 Familiarity with the base offered the final destination without the Commander needing to verbalize his intentions. Windows appeared with less frequency the nearer to the hangar bay you arrived. Sunlight increased in strength and volume, and you lifted your chin to take in the outdoors that were exposed by the open doors. There was no indication that a storm similar to the one experienced days ago would appear. You turned your head without pausing in your steps as a means of keeping the clear sky in view until it was obscured by the rows of TIEs you passed. Again did the Commander’s feet hold an allure. Your pulse quickened as the robe skipped along the sole. At the final moment, it pulled away and Kylo Ren did not trip on it.

 You were led to the secluded section of the hangar bay where pilots not in uniform could change into one of the spare flight suits that was available. There was no further prompting required. You stepped around Commander Kylo Ren when he stopped. His hands were rolling into fists then relaxing in alteration. The leather provided a crunching squeak that you echoed minutes later with your flight gloves. You were careful to ensure the life support gear was fully functional. Exiting the small room, you found your helmeted reflection in Kylo Ren’s visor.

 “Hmm.” That grunt was the only sound that escaped either of you and it had come from him. Subsequent to the release of this noise, Commander Kylo Ren lifted his arm and flicked two fingers towards himself. You stared at the back of his hand. Moved only after he did first. The line of TIEs contained predominantly TIE/fo models though it was peppered with the occasional TIE/sf. The Silencer drew the eye. Alongside the sleek, new model was one TIE/fo that you could instantly tell was prepared for flight. “You think you can outmaneuver me.”

 It was chilling how perceptive he was. You sucked in air through your nose to limit the noises that escaped you. The difference in size between the TIE/fo and the Silencer hit on a new level as you walked between the two ships in an attempt to rid yourself of the mounting discomfort that had arisen when Kylo Ren had spoken those words. It was nearly triple in size. The TIE/fo ran a length of 6.69 meters in comparison to the 17.43 meters that the Silencer boasted. The access hatch to the Silencer was located behind the seat and led into its cabin. There was no such room in the starships that you had piloted. To outmaneuver this? You at last faltered and thus lost the inner battle that had been waged; you shuddered, knowing all the while that Commander Kylo Ren was tracking your every move.

 The proposed challenge had stemmed from his abilities to sense your thoughts, or at least your intentions, on the day that you had lost your name. You rolled your fingers inwards towards your palms, curling them and creating a tight fist. To yield now without making an attempt to prove your capabilities, subpar though they may be in facing this specific task, would further rob you of any respect that you had built in the years you had piloted for the First Order.

 “I can last longer than the Resistance pilots you have taken down.” Murmuring these words bolstered your confidence. The confidence that resided in you from every past mission surged forward and flooded your entire being. The spreading warmth enlivened your spirits, a grin crawling across your face. You half twisted to consider your Commander. “Are we leaving atmosphere?” A jolt of apprehension quickly seeped into the mix. Your stomach felt as though it executed a somersault before beginning to settle once more. Commander Kylo Ren gave an almost imperceptible nod.

 He was wrapped in a calm mood that prevented the others in the hangar from reacting to his presence as they had mere days before. Yet they were not the ones who would be acting as prey in the vastness of space.

 Successfully suppressing a second shudder, you climbed into the cockpit of the TIE that had been prepared for you. You gripped the flight controls with both hands after sealing the access hatch and checking the cockpit display. The readouts confirmed a lack of obstructions in the ship’s path. Powering the starfighter, you looked to your left and observed Kylo Ren climbing into the Silencer. You snorted as you returned your attention to the TIE/fo. The earlier bout of envy was eliminated. The skies opened up after screaming past the open hangar bay doors. You twirled in a loop that was more for relaxation than serving any true purpose. Then obeyed the demands of your superior by aiming for the stars.

 In comparison with the TIE/sf models, the TIE/fo was more limited with the distance it could place between itself and its assigned base. You had ample fuel to run this exercise with Kylo Ren, however that was the extent of what would be accomplished before a refuel was necessary. The limited fuel within the starfighter had caught your attention when first you had boarded. The First Order was not going to waste resources, however, and you attributed the fourth of a tank cap on this mission to that.

 The TIE could take a beating; its plating assisting in preventing it from breaking apart as you left the atmosphere. Day became a sea of black that was punctuated by an assortment of stars. More often than not you ignored their existence when flying to instead pay heed to whatever target you happened to be pursuing at the time. Until the Commander joined you, however, you took advantage of the calm to scan the heavens. It made you feel small instead of large. The merciless being that had better tasted potential godhood was on his way. Your lips parted. Widened eyes scanned the stars briefly before settling on the sensors of the TIE’s control panel.

 A blip on the radar offered a caress of icy tendrils along the back of your neck. The Silencer was closing in more swiftly than any Resistance ship you had ever faced. Gnashing your teeth together in defiance, you increased the pressure on the grip of your flight controls, thrusting them forward to send your TIE through space.

 The first laser fire zipped past your viewport too far off the side to have been an accidental miss. A warning shot. Swearing, you jerked to the left, executing a triple spin that had in the past shaken ships off your tail. Not so for the Silencer, which mimicked your moves. Rather than fear, excitement erupted. Its heaviness weighed on your chest, and laughter bubbled up, escaping you in a single bark.

 “He’s insane.” You ran your tongue along your lips. Peered through your visor at the scan and glanced up in time to see another blast miss you--this time only because you had moved the TIE. You had outmaneuvered him with that, even if only a little. Pride surged through you; it was the downfall of man more often than not, but you entertained the deadly sin with another laugh and wide grin.

 The next shot clipped your wing, causing an alarm to blare at you in acknowledgment of the damage taken. The flashing discontinued when you skipped a gloved hand along the sensor. You had sustained worse in skirmishes with the Resistance.

 The TIE Silencer zipped past, its momentum rocking the TIE/fo. You jerked your right hand towards your body without loosening hold on the controls and while keeping your left hand in place. The correction righted the TIE without overcompensation. Goosebumps spread along your flesh under your flight suit. You directed your TIE straight ahead in pursuit of the Commander. Your thumb skimmed the weapons control. The tingling along your spine felt in the hangar returned. It was more potent. You rejected its threat to your nerves and pressed on, your thumb squashing the switch that released a weak blast.

 Unsurprisingly, the Silencer avoided the hit with an elegant spin. You witnessed by the first half, much too distracted by Kylo Ren’s return fire to keep your gaze trained his ship. You rolled, however the superiority of the Silencer in comparison with the TIE/fo made itself known. The wing of your ship sustained more damage. This time the flashing red refused to quiet. A second hit rocked you along with your TIE. A third. You growled low in your throat. There was no fourth strike. Soon your TIE registered that its major systems were not compromised. It would not erupt in a ball of flame. The red faded away into blackness. Despite this, you had nevertheless lost the game. Your TIE was dead in space.

 “Eject.” The command was warbled by his vocoder and filled with static from the transmission. You glowered at the display on your ship, aware that your TIE was disabled. There were no warning lights to indicate impending doom. “Now or you will die.” He left the connection open so that you could hear the tell-tale sign of him readying to fire. Your pulse quickened, respiration erratic as you listened to him switching to a more powerful weapon. “Now.”

 You squeezed closed your eyes whilst submitting to his tyrannical rule; memories of the officer’s oral mutilation cut you to the core as your body was jerked, rocking with the propulsion of ejection. You had heard tales of deaths during ejection from ships. Had witnessed, during your training, mutilations that included loss of limb. Exercises had prompted you to eject from TIEs in both simulations and real ships. You well knew what to expect, which sensations should be experienced. This decelerated pace was not it. Your already irregular heartbeat worsened. Nausea crept through you, bile rising and acid lapping at the lining of your stomach. You were looking downwards--upwards? sideways? it was space, so who could tell?--at the blossoming flames that consumed the wreckage of your TIE.

 Had you not ejected, you would have been spacedust. Your mouth was agape as the first gag rocked your entire body. An invisible force that should not have been present in space tugged you towards the side and dragged you away from potential injury. Your breathing soon registered in your ear. It cut through the all-consuming silence of space. The sea of stars amongst which you swam--no, you floated, lost, at the mercy of some powerful being you could not see. Tears sprang into your eyes; this foreign sense of helplessness rocked you to your core. Impaled by insecurity, you opened your mouth to speak only to choke out nonsensical syllables. He could leave you there to die a slow death. Becoming spacedust would have been a mercy.

 Merciless, you thought for the millionth time in reference to the Commander.

 A sleek shadow crept underneath you. Mind requiring three seconds to process what it was, you gagged around a sob that you had desperately tried to swallow. The gulp was painful as a result. You endured this discomfort similarly to the increased pressure that locked around your limbs and dragged you towards the access hatch of the TIE Silencer. Near enough to reach it, the power relinquished its grip on your arms. You unlatched the belts that had kept you attached to the ejector seat. Your heart hiccuped in your chest, apprehension that he would release you and let you drift off without the seat enveloping you like an all-consuming flame. The burning in your stomach and the pressure on your chest from the worsening panic was causation of your sudden vertigo.

 “You’re so afraid.” Commander Kylo Ren’s voice was louder now than it had been before. Decorated by genuine confusion and curiosity, it stilled the roaring inferno as though it was a welcome stream of water that doused all flames. The statement had reminded you of who you were, of the training you had endured since childhood. Why were you afraid when this had always been a possibility--when worse things had been possibilities? This was but a lesson in trust and obedience.

 Your hands scrambled to find the latch on the hatch. The trembling in your limbs embarrassed you. This new heat was as unwelcome as the previous. You scowled, eyebrows knitting towards one another. Kylo Ren shifted the grip of the Force onto your hips. Had he not, it would have been excruciatingly awkward to climb into the Silencer after opening the access hatch. He dragged you into his ship as much as you worked your limbs to pull yourself within. Only once you were within were you freed from his invisible touch. This was where your positive gravity pressure boots took over, keeping you anchored to the floor of the Silencer even as Kylo Ren executed a spin in the ship. You could feel your inner organs swooping as he flipped the Silencer.

 Commander Kylo Ren did not look over his shoulder though you walked over to him. Your legs were more unsteady than you would have liked. You pressed your lips into a thin line. A fresh wave of frustration rolled forth. The timing of the explosion in comparison with your ejection meant that he had fired before you had hit to be released. Had you failed to obey him, you would have died. Kylo Ren had nearly killed you. You glowered at the back of his head.

 “You nearly killed me.” His breathing sounded like static, an indication of amusement that felt like a knife to the abdomen. There was pleasure surrounding it. “Is that how you get off?”

 You observed his right hand abandoning the TIE Silencer’s control to land out of sight, presumably in his lap. A step closer. Peering over his shoulder, you saw proof of the sadism in his actions against the decimated TIE. Your breath caught in your throat. Kylo Ren palmed the bulge he had exposed by drawing aside the front of his robes. “Yes.” The single syllable made you swallow the saliva that had gathered in your mouth. Your throat bobbed, feeling thick and full. Commander Kylo Ren bent his fingers. The tips disappeared from your view, hooking around the underside of the tent in his pants. “Perhaps you should thank me for my mercy.” He at long last turned his head, albeit only a fraction. You peered at your own visor in the reflection of his. Neither of you were human here. He was a cruel god of death and you were barely living, a step above spacedust.

 The memory of the lightsaber’s crossguard impaling the officer’s mouth presented itself to you. A jolt ran through your body. It started cold at the base of your spine and warmed as it drifted lower. Pooled into a wetness that escaped from your body, which clenched at the thought of the Commander’s power, the power that had refused to give you up to death. You lifted your hands towards your helmet, unfastening it and allowing the vacuum seal to break. If Kylo Ren opened the hatch, you would perish while he would live. Another jolt, this one electrifying your system as it spiderwebbed throughout your limbs. Your fingers were tingling. You wiggled them whilst shuffling forward as best you could, lodging yourself at his side.

 You reached for the exposed front of his pants. Leather sliding underneath leather. He momentarily squeezed you, a physical pressure not so unlike the grip you had felt when he had used the Force to anchor you. Biting your bottom lip, you lifted your eyes towards his visor and were struck with how you appeared in that reflection without your helmet.

 “Worship me with your mouth, with your tongue.” You observed your own eyes widening as the man behind the mask spoke. The thing that threatened to frighten you most of all was not that he had somehow learned thoughts you had not given voice to; it was the detachment with which he spoke, punctuating just how insignificant he found you to be. You ripped your hand away from him and stood. Your eyes trained on that visor and its cold, unforgiving gaze. “This is how insignificant you are.”

 Kylo Ren pushed aside the front of his pants and freed himself. Against your better judgment--more accurately, without thought--you glanced down. From that point on you could not look away. Commander Kylo Ren wrapped his gloved hand around his shaft, the thumb skimming up along the vein as he stroked his pulsating cock. What impressed you was not merely the size of him but his skill as well. The TIE Silencer did not wobble even as Kylo Ren released a shaky breath. The little exposed flesh of his abdomen tightened with his next stroke. You placed your hand on the back of his seat to steady yourself. The warmth situated in your belly grew in intensity. It spread, your inner walls clenching around nothing as Kylo Ren bucked his hips to fuck into his own touch.

 Beads of precum were smeared on the reddened head of his cock. His hand paused, lifted, and extended towards your face. The power that had anchored you now gripped your throat like a vice. You were brought to your knees before him, slammed to the floor of the TIE so roughly that your mouth sprang open in a cry of pain that was warbled, muffled by the leather clad fingers slipping towards your throat. You gagged around them. Felt your jaw pop with the intrusion of his large hand, three fingers thrusting back and forth as they gathered your saliva. Drool slipped past them and spilled down your jaw to the floor. Commander Kylo Ren grunted and, his hand lubricated to the desired amount, withdrew.

 He masturbated more quickly now, using your spit to slick his cock, moving his hand up and down inch by inch then as swiftly as possible. “Perhaps you aren’t completely useless.” His breathing was uneven, his words shaking as he spoke. The sound of flesh smacking into leather, into the wetness of your spit. You pressed your thighs together. Cursed your body for reaction, the traitor that it was. “Fuck.”

 The speed of the TIE Silencer did not compensate for Kylo Ren’s own capabilities. Had you blinked, you would have missed the movement of his hand as it shot towards you. He gripped the back of your head, shoved you down onto his cock, which hit the back of your throat. The sudden intrusion shocked your body. Your limbs jerked, knees hitting the metal of the seat you were made to kneel beside. You grabbed hold of Kylo’s thigh. Your mind barely processed that he was in your mouth when you tasted him. His cum filled your mouth then hit your face as you jerked backwards. That he had not kept his hold on you was, to you, spiteful. He had wanted to observe his hot cum hit your face in streaks. You glared up at the visor that was pointed down.

 Temptation to spit his load into his lap faded as he touched the tips of two fingers under your chin. You swallowed. Ran your tongue along your lips, moved your hand to his lap and trailed a single finger up and down his softening length. “You’re an ass.” You tucked him away back into his pants.

 Returning to the cabin of the TIE Silencer, you grabbed a spare cloth to clean evidence of your activities. It was difficult to stand straight with the ache that remained between your legs. Suddenly names were inconsequential in comparison with this experience of transcension. To touch the stars and cheat death. To make a powerful being come undone and feel him shudder beneath your tongue. You cupped yourself through your flight suit and stuffed two gloved fingers into your mouth, aware that the leather would taste the same as his. Falling to your knees, you threw back your head and held in reverence the gift you had been given.

[syntaxeme]

Sugar is Sweet (and So Are You) ch. 2

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter] [Read on AO3] [Support me on Ko-fi] Rating: T Summary: Plagued by jealousy toward the men Angel sleeps with, Alastor comes up with a plan to keep Angel from having to work the streets. He wasn't planning on becoming an actual client, but having Angel all to himself might prove too sweet to give up--for as long as he can afford it, that is.

— — —

Alastor wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself after his conversation with Angel, but he felt he should be doing something. After some time of pacing around his own room, running his mind in circles trying to figure out what was expected of him here, he was forced to concede that he simply didn’t have the information necessary to make that determination. So he would have to seek someone who did. He went down to the lobby to sit at the bar with a visibly-hungover Husk and asked for his usual—gin and tonic, hold the gin.

“Husker,” he ventured carefully, swirling the tonic water in his glass. His friend (though he used the term loosely) grunted in response. “Would I be right to assume you’ve had some experience with. Er. Filles de joie?”

“First of all, dial down the volume,” Husk grumbled flatly, squeezing his head between his hands as if that might alleviate his headache. “And second, speak English.”

“You know. Working girls. Ladies of the night. Cocettes? Streetwalkers?” How many ways could he say it gently?

“Hookers.”

“…yes.”

“Sure,” Husk agreed with a shrug, resting heavily against the bar. “But what’s it to you? Since when d’you care about that kinda shit?”

“Oh, I don’t. In so many words. But I’ve always been a curious sort, and since I don’t have any personal experience of my own, I figure a secondhand account is better than none,” Alastor explained. The two had known each other long enough that inquiries like this weren’t entirely out of the ordinary, as there were plenty of things about society—mortal or demon—that Alastor had only seen at a distance. Husk, on the other hand, had seen and done quite a lot in his years and could be very helpful when he chose to be.

“Don’t know what you’re gonna do with it, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. Whaddaya wanna know?” He groped absently along the bar for the tumbler of gin he’d withheld from Alastor’s drink and tossed it back all at once, then immediately got dizzy and regretted the sudden motion. “Just. Keep it down.”

“It’s my understanding that escorts, like many other professionals, have regular clients,” Alastor answered, lowering his voice slightly, more because he didn’t want to be overheard having this particular discussion than for the sake of his friend’s comfort. “But I’m not sure what sort of relationship that constitutes.”

“Like you said, a professional one,” Husk told him. “It’s a job, and a client’s a client. No matter how many times ya see ‘em, that doesn’t change.”

“I see. So…that dynamic isn’t likely to develop into something else?”

He let out a dry laugh. “Somethin’ else like what? A gal doesn’t date a john if that’s what you’re askin’.” He was answering almost automatically, not bothering to question where this curiosity had come from. “I hear when a guy starts gettin’ ideas like that, most ‘workin’ girls’ are pretty quick to cut him off.”

Which was exactly what Alastor was afraid of, considering what he knew of Angel Dust. But then, maybe there was a difference if the escort in question had only one patron. Maybe whatever he was getting into with Angel didn’t have exactly the same rules. “In a slightly different vein, then, what about…” Even saying the word felt like an admission, like an embarrassment. But he truly needed some sort of reference point before he got into this, so he had no choice. “Sugaring. The sort of arrangement where—”

“Yeah, I know how it works,” Husk said, waving him off. “Not my thing, though. Too much commitment.”

Well. That was a positive thing, wasn’t it? In terms of what Alastor actually wanted from his interactions with Angel? Commitment, as far as he was concerned, meant exclusivity, which his jealous tendencies certainly appreciated. “Commitment. On the part of the client, you mean?”

“Sure. Once you tell ‘em they can rely on you, they’re gonna. And that means you hafta be able to deliver. Money. Presents. Dates. Whatever she wants, you hand it over.”

None of that sounded bad to Alastor, not if it was Angel he was spoiling; if his previously-idle money could provide enjoyment or satisfaction for the object of his affections, why not let it do so? ‘Dates’ would even mean they were enjoying time together. How could that be negative? “And in return…?”

Husk shrugged again. “She sleeps with you and pretends she likes you. Ain’t worth it if ya ask me.”

Alastor’s eager smile faded slightly. ‘Pretends’? That could be an issue. Even if he hadn’t yet expressed it, the attention and affection he wanted from Angel was the genuine sort, not something motivated purely by money. Maybe he was being greedy in hoping for something like that, when the point of this plan had simply been to stop Angel sleeping with other men. But after the spider’s welcoming attitude and that kiss earlier, he was now starting to hope (a four-letter word if ever there was one) that more might come of it.

As he was trying to decide how to word his next question, the lobby elevator dinged, and Charlie marched out of it, dragging a fully-clothed but obviously reluctant Angel Dust by his wrist. “Don’tcha have night classes or somethin’ I could take? You two givin’ out drinks at this thing?” he grumbled, trudging along behind Charlie without otherwise protesting. When he caught sight of Alastor, his expression shifted from annoyance to a sweet smile. “Hey, boys. Room for one more?”

“Come on, Angel, it’s bad enough that we’re late already,” Charlie scolded.

“What she said,” Husk muttered, his ears turning back and downward at the voices ringing through the lobby. “Get to your fuckin’ meeting already.”

As they walked past on their way to the conference room, where Vaggie and several of their other patrons were already gathered, Angel paused to steal another kiss to Alastor’s cheek, causing Charlie’s eyes to open wide even as he casually strolled past her. The Radio Demon refused to look anywhere near their proprietor, grasping his glass tighter and trying to pretend he didn’t notice her eyes boring into him. She must have taken the hint eventually, as she disappeared into the conference room and shut the doors to begin their meeting, allowing the tension in Alastor’s body to dissipate, at least somewhat.

“Y’know, no one could blame you if ya smacked him when he does that shit,” Husk pointed out, still dispassionate, illustrating with a swipe of his own dangerous claws. “After a couple times, he’ll get the picture, trust me.”

Now this was unusual. Alastor couldn’t recall ever having felt so violently vengeful on the behalf of another person before. He’d never borne Husk any ill will in the past. That said, the thought that he had at some point struck Angel instilled in Alastor a powerful urge to tear out his feathers one by one and then stab them all back in.

“I’m sure violence isn’t necessary,” he said instead, forcibly shoving those images to the back of his mind and reminding himself that Angel had proven more than once already that he could take care of himself. “Maybe he just needs a proper focus for his energy…”

“Hey, if you wanna volunteer, be my guest,” Husk snickered without smiling.

Their conversation was interrupted by an unfamiliar demon nervously slinking into the lobby, looking to check himself in. Alastor quickly shifted into salesman mode to secure another patron and get him set up in his own room. After a whirlwind tour of the establishment, which put him back in his element and did wonders to take his mind off any other concerns he might have at the moment, they made their way back down to the lobby.

“And if I’m not much mistaken, Charlie and the others should be finishing up another session just now,” he crowed, still leading the new arrival with an arm around his shoulders and gesturing to the conference room doors. “She’ll want to welcome you personally, of course, and discuss your goals and expectations for your stay.”

His prediction didn’t come a moment too soon, as the double doors swung open to release the handful of lesser demons who had been gathered for Charlie’s group counseling session. Alastor led the newest member of their merry band of misfits to the princess to call her attention. “Charlie, this fine fellow is—remind us of your name, my good man.”

“Knix,” the burly gent answered, apparently having some trouble with looking anyone in the eye.

“A new arrival!” Alastor concluded, and Charlie beamed at the thought, as always.

“Welcome to the Hazbin! I’m Charlie, and that’s Vaggie”—she indicated her partner, who was straightening up the conference room on her own—“and we run the group meetings. How did you hear about us? What inspired you to come in? Tell me everything there is to know about you.” While she was haranguing the poor fellow to within an inch of his life, Alastor conceded that his work was done and took a step back to watch Charlie’s protégés disperse to their own rooms.

He recognized one self-involved feline named Davronius, a rabbitlike misanthrope simply called Io, an elegant and aloof owlish demon who went by Donatella—but no spiders. Odd, considering how often Charlie held Angel Dust up as her ‘star pupil,’ the exemplar of the hotel’s efficacy. And he typically basked in the attention it got him. Maybe he was still talking with one of his fellow recovering sinners? What a ridiculous thing for Alastor to be jealous of. And yet…

A flash of color darted between the guests and into the conference room, then back out only a moment later. Niffty stood to one side of the doors, her face screwed up into a pout, her eye darting around the room to seek out imperfections. She must have been in a mood, further evidenced by her scurrying over to the stairs to fuss at a guest who was leaning against the banister. Once he had backed off, intimidated despite her tiny stature, she whipped a handkerchief from her pocket and started to polish his fingerprints off the otherwise-pristine wood.

“You know,” Alastor said, strolling in her direction, “the banister can’t serve its purpose if you won’t let anyone touch it.”

“Well maybe if they washed their hands once in a while, it wouldn’t bother me,” she answered testily. “Besides, Vaggie already cleaned up after the meeting, so I don’t have anything else to do. I have to do something.” That was a fair point; there was too much energy in her little form to stand still for long. If she tried, she might spontaneously combust.

“And the entire hotel is already spick-and-span from top to bottom?”

She shot him what he had come to recognize as her version of a glare. “What d’you think I was doing during the meeting? We only have sixteen occupied rooms, and all the empty ones don’t get messy. You don’t even let me go in your room, so it might as well be fifteen. The new guy just got here, so it’s basically fourteen! And now Angel’s not here leaving dirty dishes in the lobby or doing target practice in the common area—”

“N҉o҉t҉ ҉h҉e҉r҉e҉?” There was a scratch of static in Alastor’s voice that he tried to will away as he asked casually, “A҉ng҉el ҉isn’t here? Where is he?” There were only so many reasons he would leave, and considering his recent track record, Alastor was quick to assume the worst.

“He left with some lady while you were upstairs with the new guy,” Niffty explained, flicking her handkerchief briefly in the direction of Knix, who was still in mostly one-sided conversation with Charlie. “His manager, I think.”

That statement was confusing for a few reasons. First, the only person Alastor knew of who could be called Angel’s ‘manager’ was a fellow Overlord named Valentino—a man. Furthermore, Angel had mentioned some time ago that he and Valentino were no longer working together, and Alastor had noted the improvement in his mood since.

But most importantly, the manager issue shouldn’t have applied at all, considering what they had agreed upon earlier in the day. His time shouldn’t need to be managed. Or if anyone is managing it, it should be me. He realized immediately how possessive and controlling that idea was and chastised himself for it. Yet it didn’t change how he felt. This day had come to involve entirely too many feelings, the way he saw it, and he was beginning to get exhausted. Since Angel wasn’t there to explain himself at the moment, Alastor was sure to drive himself up a wall fixating on the problem—unless he had something else to do.

“Do you know what always lifts my spirits when I’m distraught, dear?” he mused, glancing in Niffty’s direction again.

A delighted smile lit up her face and banished any lingering frustration. “A good meal?”

“That’s exactly right. In fact—Charlie!” he called, striding across the room to meet his co-manager with Niffty on his heels. “I hate to interrupt your onboarding discussion, but would you be so kind as to let all our guests know that I’ll be serving dinner this evening?”

“You’re cooking? That’s great! I’ll make sure everyone’s there,” she assured him. With a sly smile, she pointed out, “You sure seem like you’re in a good mood today. Any particular reason for that?”

“When am I ever not in a good mood? Especially when we have a new guest to welcome.” He gave a brief pat to her head, refusing to acknowledge what she was implying, and swept off to the kitchen with Niffty to occupy himself with something he knew how to control.

[webcricket]

Winter’s Eye

Pairing: AU!CastielXReader Word Count: 1525 (Ch. V) Story Summary: Season 13 canon tells you how AU!Castiel’s story ends, this is how it begins. The deranged and damaged iteration of Castiel we met in the apocalypse universe - an obedient soldier to Michael’s cause barely in control of his vessel’s frayed and erratically firing nerves whose inherent kindness toward humankind appeared entirely obliterated - wasn’t always an unfeeling angelic weapon of interrogation. Once, he sympathized with the plight of humans; one, he loved. Chapter Summary: Coffee and a conversation - neither the reader or the angel suspects how a sweetly simple start will lead to heartbreaking complications.

Series Masterlist

V.

Castiel notices the alteration of a week’s long routine immediately upon entering the cabin; his final armload of tinder teeters when he perceives in his preliminary survey of the space he expects to see you occupying the you-sized void located beside the stove.

Every morning prior you huddled as a human pillow fort there; blanket draping your bulwark frame, despotic frown armoring your aspect, you dwelt near the heat source prepared to catch his eye as soon as he sought for yours to commence his daily plea for armistice to end that siege of silence.

The composure ruffled for a moment by the dread of a renewed isolation returns to the angel in the galvanizing sound of a heartbeat resonant somewhere within; casting his focus backward along the wall, he hones in on the owner of that soothing pulse.

On this morning, you sit at a rustic stout log-legged table constructed from the lacquered cross-section of a hundreds of years old oak not unlike the one you nearly perished under; the rings signifying the tree’s longevity multiply like ripples of a stone tossed in a stream, so tightly stacked as to be indiscernible from infinity itself. Situated beneath a square western facing window, gauzy gingham curtains pinned aside permit both a wash of light and the wintry view an entrance.

You seem lost in the vista; outward gaze unperturbed, your lips purse to cool the coffee raised to them. The dimmed gold diffusion that suffices for a sunrise these days radiates in halo effect around your profile.

Of secondary - albeit curious - concern to the relief he feels in what appears to him to be a positive and heavenly amendment of attitude in a heretofore dourly resigned disposition, a second untouched mug occupies the tabletop. Dwelling out of your easy reach, the significance of the surplus cup puzzles him.

Even more so unnerving to him is the enigma of the chair opposite you shifting suddenly asunder the table; in his distraction, he perceives the movement as occurring seemingly of its own volition rather than relating to the slide of your socked foot inviting him to fill the seat.

“I made you a cup of coffee,” is all you say, outward glance through the glass unbroken.

Balancing the heaped wood long enough to pivot and let it loose in a controlled, but raucous, roll from his arms onto the stack adjacent the door, he mostly manages to stifle the shock subverting his angelically stoic sensibilities over the scene.

When he wheels round, your focus is fixed on him; amusement hints in laugh lines skirting your mouth and a glint of mischief in your gaze.

He doesn’t drink coffee, but he’s astute enough to understand the gesture is more than just a cup of coffee - it’s an olive branch. He brushes off the bits of bark and incorporeal clumsiness clinging to his vessel and crosses the room in a brisk stride.

Sinking onto the seat, spine rigid, he clasps his fingers on the glossy ringed surface in an effort to affect an appearance of relaxation; fidgeting in their ill-feeling fitment, he ultimately relegates the difficulty of the calloused and uncalm digits into his lap and out of your sight.

“Um-” peering into the mirrored surface of the murky brown drink, bright block of window light shimmering your reflection thereon, he recalls the human proclivity for niceties in lieu of satisfying outright an inquisitiveness to know what caused your reconsideration of his charity- “thank you.”

You wince a little at that; the judder of the table undulates your image in his cup. It’s you who should be thanking him. You wouldn’t even have coffee if he hadn’t resupplied the cupboard a few days ago from God knows what resource he found in his wanderings.

All subtle trace of gaiety flees from your features; your chin bobs once under the burden of the guilt-ridden acknowledgement. Bringing the rim of the mug to your mouth, you sip, swallow hard against the throat thickening reminder of your boorish behavior, and permit a sliver of apologetic humility to emerge as a quiet murmur. “It’s the least I could do.”

Following your cue, glad to give one of his hands a useful purpose, he takes a tentative sip from his cup. The heat and acidity of the molecular explosion tickles his vessels tongue. While the impression is by no means a pleasant one, it’s one he bears out by forcing a compact semblance of gratitude into the curvature of his standard pout.

“It’s-” he clears the cough contracting his lungs- “uh-”

“It’s terrible.” You chuckle, allaying his stuttered struggle to maintain diplomacy. “Trust me, the taste improves with cream and couple pumps of cinnamon dolce and vanilla syrup, but even the Starbucks on every corner business model couldn’t survive in the present market climate.”

Your attempt at levity face plants in the slow-motion tilt of Castiel’s head and introspective tapering of his lashes that tell you he doesn’t get that particular reference.

He watches you endure another self-deprecatory gulp of the scalding stuff. “I’ll take your word for it,” he determines, although the doubt deepening his tone insinuates he’s not at all convinced.

No longer able to mince matters of caffeine with those regarding his celestial origin - the elephant in the room trumpeting caution in affront to your humanity - you set your mug and elbows before you to put his intent, once again, to the test.

Intensity shines in your irises as you lean forward on your seat, asking, “What’s really your deal anyway?”

He doesn’t so much as blink those blues at the rapid difference of direction from the realm of the mundane to more mortal concerns. He also misconstrues your meaning by offering a curt correction that, “Deals are for demons.”

You clarify. “I mean, what’s an angel doing patrolling out in the middle of no man’s land?”

The drop of his gaze and slouching of shoulders betray his discomfort, yet no immediate reason springs to his mind to evade providing an honest answer. “It’s a punishment.”

“For what?”

Pain dampens the countenance that rises to resolve on yours. “Pride.”

Your brow quirks, “Pride?”

He nods; hesitance to speak aloud for the first time about his past and how much to share stymies his tongue. He runs a broad fingertip along the outline of a blackened ring on the tabletop, relaying the outermost layers of his remorse as he absentmindedly follows the ashy line.

“When I realized angels were purposely abetting the breaking of apocalyptic seals, I rebelled. It was already too late to stop that seizure of power which was set so precipitously in motion, but I thought absolute disaster might be mitigated. Many of my brothers and sisters died because they followed me believing we had a chance to save this world for humanity. We– I- failed. And now-” He averts lashes wetly damned by sorrow to the window and all the barren ‘and now’ plainly evidenced beyond it.

You slump backward into the chair, astonished by the unguarded anguish of a being whose species as a whole you lately considered as incapable of feeling genuine emotion. “This … this isn’t what I expected.” The muffled acknowledgement of his outstripping your expectations isn’t one you necessarily meant to utter aloud.

He sniffs against the well of tears he thought long ran dry and looks once more at you. “I don’t think this is what any of us expected.” He judges the confusion contorting your forehead at his restatement as a want of further elucidation rather than his misunderstanding yet again what you’ve said. “That is to say except maybe the Apostle John, but he always was something of a catastrophic thinker. None of us could have guessed the Book of Revelation would prove so, well-” he pauses to exhale a sigh redolent of regret at not heeding the warning- “prophetic.”

“I meant you. You’re not who I expected you to be,” you add fuel to the foray of misperceived meanings hovering in the air between you. “That’s a good thing,” you reassure the fret of his brow; a small smile brews on your lips as you raise your cup. “So what happens now? I know you said angels don’t do the whole deal thing, but this seems a little unfair, you taking care of me. What do you get out of it?”

Mimicking the casualness of your sip, he picks up his mug and swirls a mouthful; there’s a subtle sweetness he could grow accustomed to underlying the molecules this time. Adams apple bobbing as the coffee trickles down his gullet, he says, “More of this, I hope.”

“Stale coffee?” you tease; sloshing the grainy dregs around the bottom of your emptied cup, the porcelain emits a hollow thud when you set it on the table.

Tone softened by a sincerity of want toward your continued company, he corrects, “Conversation.”

“I think I can do that.” You accept terms that, despite their being undemanding on his part in exchange for his invaluable protection, leave the angel feeling he’s gotten the better end of the bargain.

Next Chapter: VI

[flightfoot]

Memories of Godly Selfishness Ch. 2

Here’s the second chapter of “Memories of Godly Selfishness”. Here’s the first chapter, if you missed it.

This was inspired by an idea I had several months ago. At the time I wrote it in the form of an analysis, The fight with Otis and Ephialtes in MoA takes on a whole new meaning in the context of ToA. But now that I can actually write pretty well, I wanted to take a crack at the idea in fanfiction form. Enjoy!

When the world solidified, we were surrounded by a chaotic scene. Fireworks of some sort were going off over our heads, though I was more concerned by the Giant in front of us... until the roof above him fell and crushed him.

I looked around wildly, trying to figure out where and when this was. I saw Piper sitting down, badly injured next to a barely conscious Nico. I instinctively started towards them, then froze. Someone else was already on his way. A young man with blond hair rushed towards them.

Jason.

My mind stopped working, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. I started forwards as if in a trance, but only got a few feet before Meg grabbed my arm. I looked back at her, not understanding. Jason was here! Why didn’t she want me to go to him? She looked back at me with uncharacteristic gentleness, stating quietly, “Apollo, this is the past. You can’t interact with Jason. This already happened. He’s gone now.” Her grip loosened, allowing me to continue to Jason if I wished. I didn’t move. Meg was right. I could only observe.

Get it together Apollo, I scolded myself. You don’t know what this memory will show, so you need to brace yourself.

I looked around some more, trying to determine when and whose memory this was. If there were Giants around, then it would likely be taking placing during the war with Gaea last year. Meg wasn’t involved with that, so it couldn’t be her memory, and I only remembered facing Giants at the very end of the War at the Parthenon, and we certainly weren’t at that point in time, which meant...

I glanced back at the third member of our party. Percy looked tense, ready to pull out his sword and start slashing at a moments notice. I glanced around, and sure enough, there was another version of Percy present in the past here, standing in front of a weird machine, looking out at everything that was going on... which was a lot. One of the Giants - Ephialtes I believed, from what I could dredge up from the depths of my memory - was already reforming, dragging himself out of the pile of his own dust, his head, arms, and shoulders already reformed.

On the other side of the room, the rubble from the roof exploded, showering debris everywhere. I ducked instinctively as a piece of it the size of a basketball rocketed towards me, only for it to pass right through me.

Ah. Yes. I couldn’t be hurt here, not by the past anyway. It could only inflict emotional pain, not physical damage.

“Percy! The controls!” Jason yelled. Past!Percy unfroze, pulling out his sword and slashing at the control panel with it.

“No!” Ephialtes wailed. “You’ve ruined the spectacle!”

Percy started turning around to face him, but it wasn’t fast enough. Ephialtes swung his spear at him.

I lost control of my legs, crumbling to the floor. Distantly I heard screaming emanating from somewhere. It took a moment to realize it was from me.

“APOLLO!” Meg yelled at me. It felt like I was hearing her through a fog. “APOLLO!” she screamed again, kneeling in front of me, blocking my view. Slowly, I focused in on her face, the terror and worry in her expression, the tears in her eyes... all directed at me.

Slowly, I came to my senses. This was the past. Percy was alive and next to me in the present. I looked back wildly to make sure of that fact. Percy was still standing perfectly still, staring at the scene in front of him, looking like he wanted to rip someone’s throat out. I shivered at his expression, but at least he was alive.

Meg cupped my face in her hands, an unusual show of support from her. “No one died here. You KNOW that. You saw them later. They survived this.”

Shakily I drew breath, and attempted to get to my feet. Meg helped me up, supporting me until I could stand up straight on my own. I wobbled a little, but didn’t fall.

I could do this. I had to. I had to know why Percy, Meg, and I were drawn into this flashback. The last flashback sequence I’d been in had been highly painful for both Meg and I, but we’d learned a lot - especially me. Seeing how I used to act and how people reacted to me had solidified my determination to never be like that again. And Meg had learned that people she cared about may have been assholes in the past, but still genuinely cared for her and wanted to rectify their mistakes. I wish she hadn’t had to learn that way, though.

I only hoped that this flashback wouldn’t be as harrowing for Meg as the last one had been. Let all the pain fall on me. I deserved it. She didn’t.

I gathered myself and looked around. past!Percy and Jason were side-by-side, looking tired, but still determined to save themselves and their friends. Piper and Nico were over by the dais on the floor, barely able to move.

Ephialtes smiled at past!Percy and Jason. I shuddered. “Tired, Percy Jackson? As I said, you cannot kill us. So I guess we’re at an impasse. Oh, wait... no we’re not! Because we can kill you!”

That’s right. Giants could only be killed by a demigod and a god working together. And they’d all survived this fight. Which meant that a god must’ve helped out somehow. But who, and how?

I looked around, as if merely willing for a divine being would make it happen. Alas, I saw no sign of a god.

His brother Otis picked up his spear. My eyes locked onto it as he spoke, “That is the first sensible thing you’ve said all day, brother.”

The giants pointed their weapons at past!Percy and Jason. Jason growled, “We won’t give up. We’ll cut you into pieces like Jupiter did to Saturn.”

past!Percy joined in on the attempt at intimidation. I was pretty sure they were trying to convince themselves more than anyone else, “That’s right. You’re both dead. I don’t care if we have a god on our side or not.”

“Well that’s a shame,” a voice cut in. I perked up. I KNEW that voice!

A platform lowered from the ceiling, revealing a man with a pinecone-tipped staff.

BACCHUS!

I smiled, hope blooming in my chest. They had a god on their side now! They’d fight together and defeat Otis and Ephialtes, at least long enough for everyone to get away safely.

I glanced at Percy, expecting to see him smile now that help had arrived. Instead he narrowed his eyes to slits, breathing heavily, his face contorted into an expression of hatred and disgust.

My heart sank. What had happened? Bacchus had helped... right? He must have. They wouldn’t have survived otherwise. So why did he look like he wanted to turn the wine god inside-out?

I very hesitantly called to Percy. I didn’t want that expression, that anger turned on me, but I needed to know.

“Percy, what happened here? Why do you look like you want to rip Bacchus apart with your bare hands?” I asked carefully.

Percy gave me a withering look. I tried not to whimper. I didn’t think it was truly directed at me, but Percy was REALLY mad, and he couldn’t just turn that off. Through gritted teeth, he muttered. “Just. Watch.”

So I did.

Bacchus glanced over at Ephialtes, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Really, Ephialtes? Killing demigods is one thing. But using leopards for your spectacle? That’s over the line.”

I gritted my teeth at the casual attitude towards the demigods’ lives, but didn’t react beyond that. That was typical, as horrible as it was. I didn’t think that would cause this reaction from Percy.

Ephialtes looked terrified of Bacchus, making a small squeaking noise as he stuttered “This- this is impossible.  D-D-”

I missed being able to make my enemies quake so much. But at least I wasn’t scaring my friends anymore, which was nice.

Bacchus cut him off before he could stammer at the rest. “It’s Bacchus, actually, old friend. And of course it’s possible. Someone told me a party was going on.”

Ephialtes quivered, attempting to intimidate Bacchus, and failing. “You- you gods are doomed! Be gone, in the name of Gaea!”

“Hmm.” Bacchus grunted, not looking the slightest bit afraid.

He waved at all the various junk that the Giants had evidently set up, now scattered around the area. “Tacky. Cheap. Boring. And this...” here he pause to examine some sort of rocket-like machine. “Tacky, cheap, and boring. Honestly, Ephialtes. You have no sense of style.”

On that, I agreed. Ephialtes didn’t. “STYLE?” I have mountains of style. I define style. I- I-”

“My brother oozes style,” Otis said, helping his brother out.

“Thank you!” Ephialtes cried.

Bacchus stepped towards the giants, causing them to stumble back as they tried to put some distance between themselves and the god. After seeing them try to kill Percy and Jason, it was gratifying to watch. “Have you two gotten shorter?”

Apparently one thing Ephialtes couldn’t take was height jokes. “Oh, that’s low. I’m quite tall enough to destroy you, Bacchus! You gods, always hiding behind your mortal heroes, trusting the fate of Olympus to the likes of these.”

Jason raised his sword. “Lord Bacchus, are we going to kill the giants, or what?”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Bacchus said. “Please, carry on.”

I blinked. Then I blinked again. WHAT. He could NOT be about to do what I thought he was going to do. We’d be on the chopping block too if the giants succeeded, it made no sense NOT to help as much as he could. Simple self-preservation should have been enough motivation, even if compassion wasn’t Surely I was the only one who had been THAT idiotic about helping the Seven.

Past!Percy was also shocked. “Didn’t you come here to help?”

Bacchus shrugged, not seeming to care much. “Oh, I appreciated the sacrifice at sea. A whole ship full of Diet Coke. Very nice. Though I would have preferred Diet Pepsi.”

“And six million in gold and jewels,” past!Percy muttered under his breath.

My eyes nearly bugged out of my skull. That big a tribute?! I hadn’t had that large a tribute in one go in centuries! That HAD to be worthy of Bacchus’s help.

“Yes, although with demigod parties of five or more, the gratuity is included, so it wasn’t necessary.”

“What?”

I shared past!Percy’s confusion. He’d gotten an awesome tribute, just take it and help them!

“Never mind,” Bacchus said. “At any rate, you got my attention. I’m here. Now I need to see if you’re worthy of my help. Go ahead. Battle. If I’m impressed, I’ll jump in for the grand finale.”

If they’re WORTHY?! They had both proven their ‘worthiness’ ages ago, between all the quests they did for us gods,  with how they had helped to save us time and time again, with barely any recognition, even a ‘thank you’. They were far more worthy of help than most of the gods were. I growled lowly. I was beginning to understand why Percy had looked at Bacchus with so much hatred in his eyes.

Meg stared at him too. Abruptly she declared, “He’s stupid.” I didn’t disagree with her.

Meanwhile, past!Percy was still trying to figure out what it WOULD take to get Bacchus’s help. “We speared one. Dropped the roof on another. What do you consider impressive?”

“Ah, a good question...” Bacchus tapped his staff in thought. Then he smiled. A cold trickle of dread ran down my back. That was the same smile he gave whenever he came up with an interesting new way to drive his enemies mad. I didn’t want to see it on him here, in these circumstances. I silently prayed that Bacchus would see sense and just help the demigods without playing any games, though I knew even then that it was a futile hope.

I felt a tingle on the back of my neck. Percy was shaking even harder, his eyes eyes as stormy as a hurricane. I felt the intense urge to fall to my knees and beg him not to hurt my friends, but fought it off. He wasn’t angry at me this time, and there was no way he’d hurt Meg.

“Perhaps you need inspiration! The stage hasn’t been properly set. You call this a spectacle, Ephialtes? Let me show you how it’s done.”

Bacchis vanished, taking Piper and Nico with him. Jason shouted, alarmed, “Pipes! Bacchus, where did you-”

Jason was abruptly cut off by the floor rising and reshaping itself, the entire area reconfiguring. Meg shouted in surprise, “Percy, what’s going on?! What’s Bacchus doing?!”

Percy yelled back, disgust dripping from his words, “He’s setting up a show. Jason and I are the main entertainment.”

I flinched. This... this was way too familiar. I remembered all those times in the past when I had watched demigods fight, not caring whether they died. No, that was wrong. Wanting them to die in entertaining ways as I ate popcorn. I’d used demigods lives for entertainment myself, and never gave a thought to the demigods’ welfare.

Still, I’d never done anything like this, deliberately making demigods fight for my amusement before intervening. This... this was WAY too far. It seemed familiar though...

From way up above, I heard Bacchus’s voice. “This is a proper show!” he boomed. He sat resplendent in the emperor’s box, clothed in purple robes and golden laurels.

And then I realized.

This... this was just like when Commodus had made Meg and I fight for our lives in his arena. He had treated the whole thing like a giant game for his entertainment, a celebration of his ego and a way to stave off his boredom. Bacchus was acting the same way. He even LOOKED similar, wearing similar robes and headwear, giving that same smug expression, secure in his own superiority, in his ability to force others to do as he wished.

We gods could be just as bad as the Emperors. And not only the more well-known vindictive gods and goddesses (looking at you, Hera), but even the more ordinary gods and goddesses behaved like this. And Bacchus... of all the Olympians, he should have known better. He HAD BEEN a demigod. He should have known, should have been the one to champion demigods’ values. Instead here he was, smiling condescendingly down at past!Percy and Jason, safe from harm while the mortals fought to survive.

I choked down bile as it rose up my throat. I welcomed the burn. It hurt less than the realization of how BADLY we gods had screwed up, how much pain and suffering we had put others through, people far more deserving of adulation than we were.

“Commodus,” Meg stated. “He’s like Commodus.”

“Yes,” I replied, loathing coloring my words. “Yes, he’s just like Commodus.”

I looked to Bacchus’s side and let out a sigh of relief. Piper and Nico were sitting next to him, being tended to by a nymph. I let out a sigh of relief. Perhaps Bacchus was slightly better than Commodus - but only slightly.

pastPercy glared up at Bacchus, joining our Percy’s hateful stare. “You’re just going to sit there?”

“The demigod is right!” Ephialtes bellowed. I’d jumped. I’d somehow forgotten he was there with how caught up I was in my own head, “Fight us yourself, coward! Um, without the demigods.”

Bacchus smiled down lazily. I wanted to punch him in the face. “Juno says she’s assembled a worthy crew of demigods. Show me. Entertain me, heroes of Olympus. Being a god has its privileges.”

Being a god has its privileges. I had heard that sentiment before, both from Britomartis when she insisted that as a goddess, her needs outranked Jo’s and Emmie’s... and from myself in an earlier flashback, when I had agreed that heroes were for running gods’ errands.

We took demigods for granted, all of us. Treated them like dirt, then expected them to bow and scrape for us, be delighted at any scrap of compensation we threw their way.

We were bullies. That’s all we were. Bullies with an insane amount of power, but bullies nonetheless.

past!Percy’s expression was nearly the same as present Percy’s; incredibly pissed off. Jason didn’t look much happier. They didn’t have time to stand around however. The two giants picked up a fake mountain - why had Bacchus included that? - and hurled it at the two demigods.

Jason yelled something to past!Percy, but I couldn’t make it out over the roar of the crowd as they chanted “Fight! Fight!”. They conferred for a moment, exchanging words quietly enough that the giants couldn’t hear them, which meant we couldn’t hear them either.

They charged out of the trench together. I’d hoped they’d come up with a more sophisticated plan than attack-them-until-either-they-or-we-die. past!Percy caused a water pipe to explode, sending gushing water everywhere. Meanwhile, Jason summoned a howling gale of wind. The combined force of the two elements caused the brothers to lose their grip on the mountain and topple to the floor. They had bought time, but not much.

past!Percy yelled loudly “Hey Otis! The Nutcracker bites!”

I had to snort at that one. Even now, Percy was cracking jokes.

Then Otis picked up his spear again. I tensed, breathing hard. It’s okay, it’s okay, he lives through this, I WILL NOT HAVE TO WATCH HIM DIE AGAIN.

The spear sailed far over past!Percy’s head. I relaxed slightly. At least Otis didn’t have it now.

Otis charged towards past!Percy... bad idea, with the body of water behind him. Otis seemed to realize this as well. Unfortunately for him, giants have a LOT of momentum. past!Percy and Jason dodged out of the way, Jason sending a gust of wind to help push Otis into the water. They brought their swords down onto Otis’s head while he struggled vainly to extract himself from the water. He exploded into dust, but even seconds later, he started reforming. past!Percy churned the lake into a whirlpool, Jason sending lightning bolts onto Otis’s head whenever he started reforming.  But Otis kept on trying to reform, and Ephialtes wouldn’t be down for much longer.

“Bacchus, HELP THEM ALREADY!” I screamed at the lazy, selfish, IDIOTIC god. He couldn’t hear me, but it made me feel better. “They’ve done the most they can do on their own, what more do you need to see?!”

“He won’t help; not yet,” Percy growled. “He doesn’t want to lift a finger. He won’t join in unless they’ve already been defeated. He doesn’t care whether we get hurt or almost die in the process. He’s a god, his whims,“ Percy spat out venomously, “matter more than our wellbeing. We’re just demigods - we’re disposable.”

He’s a god, his whims matter more than our wellbeing. We’re just demigods - we’re disposable.  I wished I could deny Percy’s implication. I wished I could say ‘Oh no, we value demigod’s lives, what Bacchus did was horrible and crossed the line, most of us would never have acted like Bacchus did..’ But I couldn’t. We didn’t value demigods as much as we should. What Bacchus did here was awful, absolutely horrible, but I would barely have batted an eye at it when I was a god. I would’ve just watched - just like Bacchus now was.

The fake mountain exploded, Ephialtes emerging from the rubble. He looked PISSED, his snake feet hissing and spitting. I shuddered. As if I needed ANOTHER reason to hate these giants. To make it worse, HE hadn’t lost his spear.

Jason called down some more lightning, but Ephialtes deflected it with his spear. He charged at Jason and past!Percy, forcing Percy to stop swirling Otis’s essence around and to help Jason fend Ephialtes off.

They lunged around him, trying to stab the giant, but he just parried or dodged out of the way of every blow. Jason and Percy were slowing down. Ephialtes was not.

“I will not yield!,” Ephialtes roared. “You may have ruined my spectacle, but Gaea will still destroy your world!”

past!Percy slashed Ephialtes’s spear, breaking it in half. For a moment I dared to hope that Ephialtes would throw it away, would at least pick some OTHER weapon, but no. He held onto his (now considerably shorter) spear, sweeping Percy off his feet with a swipe at Percy’s feet (with the blunt end of the spear at least, so there was SOME small favor there). Percy fell hard, his sword clattering out of his grip. My heart skipped a beat. I knew Riptide would reappear in his pocket in a few moments, but I wasn’t sure that he HAD moments.

I looked over at our Percy, staring at the scene in front of us intensely. He had survived this. I had to keep remembering that.

I switched my attention back to the past. I wished I hadn’t.

Jason stepped forwards, stabbing at Ephialtes’s chest while his attention was still on past!Percy. Ephialtes was not THAT distracted unfortunately. He parried Jason’s strike and lashed out himself, slicing the tip of his spear down Jason’s torso, then kicked him away.

I screamed.

The world wavered around me. I collapsed on the ground, my legs folding underneath me. I was on Caligula’s ship, Piper on the ground next to me, watching in horror as Caligula plunged his spear into Jason’s chest, unable to do anything but observe, useless.  Distantly I heard Piper cry out.

Wait... I actually HEARD that yell. The world snapped back into focus. I looked up. Piper was yelling down from the emperor’s box, her eyes wild and panicked. I had seen those eyes before.

They were the same eyes she had when Jason was murdered in front of us.

She’d had to watch, horrified, as Jason and Percy were almost murdered in front of her, herself too injured and far away to intervene, an uncaring god by her side, just WATCHING. Who COULD help, but who DIDN’T CARE. As I glared at Bacchus, he smiled lazily at the terrible scene, munching on a Dorito chip.

This... this was why Piper had lashed out like she did after Jason died. “You don’t care because you’re a god. You’ll go back to Olympus after you free the Oracles, so what does it matter? You’re using us to get what you want, like all the other gods.” 

She’d seen it before. She knew that the gods didn’t care, that the gods would just use her and her friends, never mind the destruction we left in our wake, not caring about the aftermath.

Not caring that her friend had almost died for a god’s sick amusement.

Not caring that he did die, on a quest that wasn’t even his.

No wonder she hadn’t wanted to see me after that. No wonder she wanted me to leave and never return. At this moment, I didn’t want me around. I didn’t want the reminder of all I had been, of all I had done. Of all I hadn’t done.

My mouth felt dry and sandpapery as I gazed up at the vile being lounging in the Emperor’s seat. He revulsed me.

No... the entire attitude of gods towards the demigods, towards our children, our FAMILY revulsed me. I couldn’t pretend that it was just Bacchus. Most of us had this attitude, this utter disregard for anyone who wasn’t in our weight class. If they weren’t strong enough to seriously harm us, and we weren’t personally attached to them, then why should we care about their lives at all? They were pawns to use and discard as we pleased.

This HAD TO END. It wasn’t enough to just change myself. That would NEVER be enough. For the first time I truly appreciated what Percy had said after the Second Titan War, when he turned down godhood, and asked us to grant his wish instead. I had been annoyed that he would presume to bind us, that he would have the AUDACITY to tell us how to treat our children and each other, though I secretly agreed with him.

But now?

Now I understood. We had been monsters, only barely better than the beings we had rebelled against. I couldn’t blame Luke or any of the other demigods from rebelling. When the people who should care about you, your family barely acknowledges your existence, uses you as they please and throws you away, anyone who promises a better future, a way out, sounds tempting. The alternative was to continue the status quo, and the status quo was intolerable.

Percy had done the best he could, forcing us to send help for our children, to bring them to camp, and to actually claim them. But it wasn’t enough. We had obeyed his wish to the letter, and things HAD improved, but there was still a long way to go.

We had to change. All of us gods. We had to start treating demigods better - and not only our own children, but other gods’ children as well. They were NOT our playthings. They were PEOPLE. They were FAMILY. It was time we started treating them as such.

Time moved forwards, as it inevitably does. Ephialtes raised both halves of his spear above past!Percy’s and Jason’s heads as they lay on the ground, weaponless, barely able to move.

Meg screamed up at Bacchus, fear coloring her face, but her voice quivering with anger, “Help them NOW, you STUPID GOD. They’ll DIE!”

“He won’t help yet,” Percy growled, his voice low and even. I wished he had yelled. It would have been less terrifying. “He doesn’t care.”

“Then how...?” I croaked. I could see no way out of this without outside help.

Then I looked up.

“Oh.”

Ephialtes hadn’t noticed. Otis tried to warn him, but his head still wasn’t full reformed, so it came out as, “Uh-umh-mooo!” which wasn’t very comprehensible.

Ephialtes couldn’t understand him either. “Don’t worry, brother!” he proclaimed, his eyes fixed on both of the demigods, and unfortunately for him, NOT on the sky. “I will make them suffer!”

“Actually,” past!Percy said,” Look behind you.”

Percy and Jason rolled out of the way just before the Argo II fired its first shot at Ephialtes. It didn’t destroy him, but it left him charred and exhausted on the ground. Otis wasn’t much better. He was still trying to gather himself together, but he looked like burnt oatmeal from the arms down.

The ship descended to the ground, Leo at the helm, Hazel and Frank grinning by his side. I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Of course Leo had come through - when had he not?

past!Percy turned around and yelled insults at Bacchus, still lounging in the emperor’s box. Perhaps not the smartest thing to do, but it was satisfying to watch. “Well? Was that entertaining enough for you, you wine-breathed little-”

“No need for that,” Bacchus cut him off. “I have decided that you are worthy partners for this combat.”

“Partners? You did nothing!” both Jason and I yelled. I blinked, startled. I guess we thought alike at times.

Bacchus strolled over to the pile of Otis mush. Bacchus smacked him with his pinecone staff, disintegrating him completely. The crowd cheered wildly, as if Bacchus had accomplished some great feat, instead of smacking an immobile and helpless opponent with a stick.

He strolled and strutted over to the other giant, basking in the adoration of the crowd. I felt sick. What was he trying to prove? And to who? Everyone had seen what had really happened. Percy and Jason had done most of the work, while the Argo II had finished them off. The ONLY reason Bacchus was required at this point, was because of the technical requirement that a god and demigod had to work together to defeat a giant. He hadn’t done anything great, or worthy of applause. He’d barely done anything at all!

As Bacchus raised his pinecone staff (a stupid-looking weapon if ever I had seen one, but I had learned better than to insult other gods’ symbols of power to their face), the crowd roared “DO IT!”

Ephialtes yelled in a panic, “DON’T DO IT!” but Bacchus wasn’t about to listen to him. He tapped Ephialtes on the nose. He instantly crumbled to ashes.

The crowd in the stadium cheered and threw confetti. Bacchus strode around triumphantly, arms open, basking in the applause. “That, my friends, is a show! And of course I did something. I killed two giants!”

Who was he trying to convince? He certainly wasn’t convincing the demigods. THEY had done all the work, had endured all the danger, while he just lounged around. And yet he wanted the credit. Saying that he had killed the giants may technically be correct, but he was exaggerating his role, making it seem like he had done more than he actually had.

Exaggerating his role...

I had done much the same thing over the years, spreading tales of what I had done that weren’t strictly accurate. I had told myself at the time that they were essentially true, even if they weren’t technically true. I hadn’t quite been able to fool myself.

I misrepresented the truth sometimes. Partly I did this to spread a certain reputation around, be seen in a certain way. I didn’t think the truth was enough, so I’d spin things to make myself come off differently.

Sometimes though, I was really lying to MYSELF. After I had defeated Python, I had declared how easily I had bested him, that a single arrow from my quiver had turned him to dust. This wasn’t to make myself look better to my brethren, though I told myself that that was the purpose. Hearing the TRUE story, how I had fought and struggled, had almost been destroyed several times throughout our battle, but had won in the end, would arguably have been more impressive.

But that wasn’t what I had WANTED to happen. I WANTED to tell myself that I had easily destroyed Python, that he didn’t haunt my nightmares, that I didn’t flinch when I heard the rustle of scales on stone. It was my way of rewriting history, of coping with the trauma of that battle.

And I just... kept on doing it. when reality didn’t line up with my needs or desires, I told myself that it was different. That was why I had my motivational pep talk, you are gorgeous and people love you. It was an attempt to persuade myself that it was true.

What did it say about Bacchus that he was attempting something similar, trying to persuade himself that he had been more impressive, had done more than he really had? Perhaps we weren’t so different, in the end.

Still, regardless of his personal issues, he should NOT have taken them out on these young demigods. They had enough on their plates already.

The Argo II landed, Leo, Hazel, and Frank leaving the ship. Piper and Nico struggled down from the emperor’s box as best they could, until they reached the rest of their friends. The Colosseum which had only moments ago held a roaring crowd (granted, mostly of ghosts, but still a crowd) slowly dissolved into mist.

“Well, that was fun,” Bacchus said, looking satisfied. “You have my permission to continue your journey.”

“Your permission?” past!Percy snarled. I had much the same reaction. They didn’t need Bacchus’s approval. Besides, if he HAD stopped them, Gaea would have destroyed us.

“Yes, though your voyage may be a little harder than you expect, son of Neptune.”

“Poseidon,” Percy corrected. “What do you mean about my voyage?”

It seemed that Percy had already moved on from his fury. Of course he had. This was typical for gods; he hated it, but he would be used to it by now.

“You might try the parking lot behind the Emmanuel Building. Best place to break through. Now, good-bye, my friends. And, ah, good luck with that other little matter.”

Bacchus vanished.

What was he talking about, Percy’s journey being harder? Not for the first time, I wished that I had paid more attention to the world around me while I was trapped on Delos. But seeing the pain Artemis was going through, aware of what her Hunters were going through, but unable to intervene, had dissuaded me from doing so. I had been miserable enough as it was.

The world vanished. We were back at Camp Jupiter.

Percy turned to face me, his eyes stormy and full of resolve. He put his hand on my shoulder, looking me squarely in the eye. “Promise me,” he stated. “Promise me that when you regain your godhood you will never do what Bacchus just did. Promise that you won’t just stand aside and use us as your entertainment. That you’ll value our lives.”

A promise, oh-so-similar to the one Jason had extracted from me on the day he died.

How could I not give my word?

I stared back into Percy’s eyes. Beneath the undercurrent of anger, I could sense how tired he was, how afraid that this would all be for not. That even after all that had happened, history would repeat. That the gods would continue on their path. That he and his friends would be toyed with again by those who were ostensibly on his side.

“I promise. If I regain my godhood, I will fight to stop the gods from using demigods only to throw you away. I will not allow this to continue if it is in my power to change it for the better. And I will not forget the worth of a mortal life, nor will I toy with them for my own amusement. How we treated you demigods was wrong. You are our family. We should have treated you as such.”

Percy held my gaze a moment longer, searching for sincerity in my words. Finally he nodded. I saw a sliver of cautious hope enter his eyes.

I took the opportunity to do something I should have done a long time ago.

“I’m sorry.”

Percy looked back at me, surprised. “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have treated you and Grover so badly, back during Grover’s birthday. I sent you two to retrieve my wayward automaton. That should’ve been MY responsibility. I completely ignored your objections, convinced that my needs outweighed yours. To make it worse, I threatened Grover. I saw that memory recently. I was a tool. I won’t do it again, force demigods and satyrs to take on a quest that should have been MY responsibility. It was wrong.”

Percy’s expression softened slightly. “Thanks. Make sure to apologize to Grover too, alright? He’s the one whose birthday was ruined, and he was the one you scared.”

“I will, next time I see him. I’ve got a long list of people I need to make amends to.”

“You do that.”

As he walked out the door, Percy paused and looked back at me. “Oh, and Apollo? I stand by what I said at camp. You HAVE changed.”

He went out the door.

A warm glow filled my chest. Before I hadn’t been thrilled to hear that I had changed. I didn’t want the reminder that I was less than perfect, that I could change like any human. But now? I could think of no greater compliment.

I had changed. I would ensure the other gods changed as well. They had to. I couldn’t let our neglect and abuse carry on. Not anymore. Never again would I sit on the sidelines. 

I would keep my promises to both Jason and Percy.

And I would remember.