#honest to god the first thought in my head was I Am Swearing Fealty

[jennycalendar]

Okay so this is possibly the most celia post of all time but i actually haven’t looked at any pictures of jenny calendar in quite a few months and i just saw one and actually yeah. Yeah. I understand now why eight years of my life went to that woman. If they put her in red lipstick every episode it would have been eighteen

[sif-the-tsunami]

When I Was His Wife

“Well I was looking forward to/ staying here forever/ ‘cause you asked me to/ Didn’t think I could do better/ So I settled down/ in this ten cent town/ it’s about to break me.” These are the Best Years of my Life- Pistol Annies

This is the follow up to “When You Fall Apart” Which is one of my favorites that I’ve written.

(there is Sy just carrying the weight of all of my own internal chaos)

A/N thank you for everyone who encouraged me to write this, I adore Sy as a character. He seemed like someone who could pull off the impossible. I made some choices in here that not everyone will agree with. Tell me I’m wrong in the comments an we can discuss it there.

Pairing: Sy and Josephine

Warnings: again all of them. discussion of infidelity, Discussion of child loss, discussion of unprotected sexual intercourse, headbutting, day drinking, self medicating, therapy, swearing fealty on ones hunting knife, discussion of knife play, I’m probably missing something

 Everything is going below the cut this time to save anyone who doesn’t like this kind of stuff from unpleasantness.

word count just shy of 7.5K

Thank you to @inlovewithhisblueeyes for letting me bounce ideas off of you, love you sweet girl

tagging: @oddsnendsfanfics @willkatfanfromasia @rocket44 @feralrunaway @littlewrenofrivia​  @summersong69​  @coffeebooksandfandom​ @klaine-92​ @nothingright​ @cavillsim​ @watery-lane​ @above-average-ass-bitch 

unbeta’d

I slept for the next two days, Mama only woke me up long enough to drink some water once she started worrying about me. She managed to wrangle my out of my clothes and into one of Daddy’s shirts we got him that she left in the drawer. My phone was dead, but thankfully Mama and I had the same kind so I could charge it today. What fresh hell was going to be waiting for me on my digital leash? I lay there for a while, the murmur of conversation in the other room was comforting. Mama left a fresh glass of water some time recently, it was still chilly with only a little condensation forming around the sides. The ache in my chest was almost unbearable. The hole in my heart was Syverson sized, being sober made the edges of that abyss feel even more raw and pronounced. I don’t know if my liver could handle me drowning my sorrow much more, but I would give anything to not feel it. I need to make this feeling of worthlessness go away.

When I finally decided to rejoin the land of the living, Mama and my brother Teddy were talking at the kitchen table, discussing about if they should come with me to go get my things or if I should call the sheriff’s office to be monitored. I stayed behind the corner long enough to let them finish what they were going on about.

“If I know Jo well enough, she’s going to need someone to keep her from burning the whole house down with him in it tied to a chair,” my brother chuckled. “She’s been taking care of herself for years. You should have seen how she handled one of these girls who came up to us once on Post.

“Jo was loading up the car when this prissy little thing came walking up, she must have thought she was some kind of hot shit. You would have been so proud of her Mama, the girl said to her that she had been sleeping with James during their deployment. All Jo said back to her was ‘You’ve both been back for something like three months, right, have you seen him since?’ Little Miss Hot Shit stuttered and said ‘Well not yet,’ like she had been really holding out that he was going to. ‘He doesn’t have my new phone number.’ Jo just tiled her head to the side. Smiled at her real sweetly and told her, ‘Baby girl, he’s not going to. He knows how to find you. You were just a rental car to him, sweetie bell. Ford Fiestas are fun as hell to ride but let’s be honest, you aren’t going to pick a Fiesta over the Mercedes Benz you have at home. You aren’t the first and you sure as hell won’t be the last, now go on and get out of here before I ruin the rest of your day like you tried to ruin mine.’ One of the other officer’s wives came up to her and said she was amazed that she handled her so well without breaking Miss Prissy Pant’s face. She just said ‘I’m too pretty to go to prison, Kathy.’ And we hoped in the car. You raised one tough lady, Mama.”

“How many times has that happened, Theodore, I need to know.”

“She has only told me about four women meeting her face to face. The two pregnant girls who got knocked up to get out of their deployments, Prissy Pants, and one who thought that James was in love with her. She evidently broke down in tears on the tarmac when Josie jumped into his arms and he swung her around. But she would get letters tucked into the windshield of her car for months whenever he returned from deployment.”

“You two kept this from me for years, why?”

“Jo said that this was her problem, don’t you remember how you handled it when her first boyfriend ran out on her on prom night? She cried to you and Dad, and you just told her that no one is worth weeping over. She’s just been trying to make you proud, Mama. Daddy might have known because I know they had a really nasty fight about a month before he died.”

I walked out after that. Mama’s eyes were red, “Good morning, baby, do you want pancakes? Bacon and eggs? What do you want, Darlin’?”

“Coffee would be a good start.” I rasped. “Can I use your charger?”

“It’s right here. Cream and sugar?”

“Black as my sense of humor, please Mama.” I said, Teddy chuckled again. I reached over and squeezed my brother’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

“I got to look after my little sissy.” He replied using what he called me growing up. “So what are we doing to get over Jimmy?”

“I was thinking tattoos and day drinking?”

“Atta’ girl, Josie. Fuck that douche canoe.”

As soon as my phone was able to turn on, it sat on the counter vibrating for the next five minutes.  Six missed calls from James. And seventy text messages. A few from stores I shop at, but the majority were from my husband.

“Ugh, I just don’t feel like dealing with this right now.” I said as my mom put my coffee in front of me.

“Just leave him on read. I doubt he’s hurting for company.”  Mama said, in almost a snarl. I looked through a few messages. The last one was from this morning. Sweetheart, I’m worried sick about you, I miss you. Please talk to me?

“Ted, do you want to go with me to Walmart so I can get a couple day’s worth of clothes, I am just not ready to go back and I can’t live in Daddy’s old shirts.”

“Of course, we can get some booze while we are there.”

“Get yourself a bathing suit while you are there, honey, its going to be beautiful today and you can go for a swim.” Mama added.

I texted James back finally as I finished my coffee. I’m sorry I worried you, Sy, I have literally been asleep since I got here. I’m not ready.

I understand. I’m sorry, I should have seen how much I’ve been hurting you. I swear to God, I really do love you. Please, let me know what I can do for you.

Yeah, you should have, James. You should have seen how bad you’ve been treating me. You can drop off the face of the earth, that’s what you can do for me, I think spitefully. Thankfully, Mama washed my yoga pants and tank top. It would have to be alright for now. My brother let me wear one of his extra flannel shirts he kept in the back of his car. An hour later, Ted and I were at the store, picking up chips, dip, and cheap champagne. Mama loved mimosas, so I thought it was the least I could do. I grabbed a couple of sun dresses and a bikini, if I was going to be gone for a few days, I was going to come back home looking refreshed, radiant even, and not like the hot pile of garbage I was feeling like. I made a small detour to the cosmetics department, got myself a couple of face masks, hair dye, and sun screen.

“Really? Dark brown, Josie?”

“That’s as close to my natural color as I can, I’m tired of the blonde highlights. I think after this I might just let it come in. Grays and all. Who ever loves me next is going to have to just deal with me as nature intended.”

“I’m proud of you. Do you think you will leave him for good?” He said, Ted has always been very protective of me.

“Well, I certainly can’t leave him for evil, can I?” Making him laugh. One the way outside there was a truck near the front of the store with a sign that read “Puppies for sale.”

“Teddy, we need to see these puppies.” I gasped. Walking up to the truck bed I saw the sweetest little German Shepard puppies. I reached in and they all started flopping all over the place trying to get pets and love. Maybe a puppy was exactly what my hurting heart needed. We haven’t had a dog since Aika passed away. It was looking like I would never have a baby but maybe this was the kind I needed. Puppy snuggles would definitely make that Syverson shaped hole less painful.

“I’ll buy you a puppy if you divorce James.” Ted said to me, half joking.

“Shit, I can afford the puppy, pay for the divorce.” I jest back. “How much for one of the precious babies?”

“$500 a pup, mom has a pedigree, but daddy was the neighbor’s sneaky bastard.” The woman also petting the puppies said. “Mama is in the front if you want to meet her, daddy is very friendly as well.”

I start laughing uncontrollably. With tears in my eyes, I ask if any of the puppies are girls, and she pulls   out a beautiful little one with floppy ears and the biggest smile I had ever seen on a dog. Oh yeah, she was meant for me.

“I’ll take her, do you take checks?” I think I’m ready to start healing.

*****

“Josephine, that son of a bitch you call your husband is here to see you.” Mama shouts from the house. It’s Sunday afternoon now, Teddy and I have exhausted all the snacks and mimosas hours ago and now we were sobering up by the pool. My new baby girl is laying next to my sun chair, chewing on her bone, wearing a pretty pink collar.

“Well, might as well let him out here.” I shout back.

“Are you sure, I can kick his ass to the curb if you want me to, baby.”

“Its okay Mama, I can handle him myself.” Sy walks out in the back yard a couple minutes later. I’m guessing Mama threatened to stick him in a meat grinder.

“I deserved that.” He said, looking thoroughly admonished. “You changed your hair, it looks really good...

“Oh bless your heart, James. That’s not even half of what you deserve.” Ted spoke up before he could finish, not moving his face towards him. He lay there in his swim trunks and dark sunglasses.

“Oh great, all three of you have been drinking. I can tell this is going to go well...” James sighed. “Who is this cutie pie, did your Ma get a new dog?”

“She’s my dog, her name is Stella Rosa.”

“I don’t think anyone asked you to come, Colonel Sanders, what are you doing here?” Ted snapped.

“Hey, I got this, okay? I’m a big girl, please, go in the house. The fuck are you doing here James?” I lift my sun glasses up.

“She’s a very sweet pup. Yeah, you are a good girl for your mama, aren’t you? I came to see you. I want to bring you home, baby, I miss you.” He’s checking out my fresh tan in my new bikini. Subtly, but he does it.

“I’m not ready. I’m not even ready to talk to you. Why would you think that I even want to come home?”

“I don’t know, I asked myself that the entire drive here. I don’t know what I’m even going to do with myself when I go home alone. Pussycat, I can’t begin to think of life without you. I know I fucked up. And I know I can’t take that back. You asked me the other day what I kept that was special just between us. I should have answered you then. All those nights where you fell asleep with your head on my chest, the evenings laying in the back of the truck looking at the stars after driving around trying to find the best nachos in town. And, baby, no matter where we go, yours are always the best. No one else ever got moments like that. You are the only woman I want to slow dance with in the middle of the night.

“You are the only person in the world that I would wait four hours in the freezing cold to get the best brisket in Austin for because you were craving bbq when we were still, you know...” He paused. I don’t think he ever stopped blaming himself for what happened. His knees were never the same after that accident, and usually whenever he stood up from kneeling, they clicked and popped painfully. He leaned a little closer spreading his legs and reached down to pet Stella. She seemed a little leery of him. It is easy to be cynical given the circumstances, but there is something about the way he is talking to me, I haven’t heard him be this earnest in years.

“When was the last time you were with someone other than me?” I can’t bring myself to look at him. I keep my eyes anywhere but on him. My body aches so badly for him to just wrap his arms around me. I miss him.

“When I got held up in Kuwait for two weeks in December...”

“December? You mean when you missed my fucking birthday. Goddammit James...” And the ache is gone. My heart shattered again. He’s going to make me cry again.

“Hey, it was after your birthday, and it was a hate fuck because I was mad that I broke yet another promise to you.”

“That doesn’t make it better.” I snap. “How many that deployment?”

“Just the one. And she’s someone who I knew was more discreet because we had that arrangement before.”

“I swear on my Daddy’s grave that if you are lying to me right now, I will end you Syverson. You couldn’t have waited a few more days?”

“I had no idea when I was going home. We boarded that fucking plane three times and had to turn back because there was a problem with it. I was two seconds away from tearing apart the first Private that so much as looked at me sideways. It felt like, at the time, the less terrible choice.”

“They sound both pretty shitty to me. You are a fucking adult James, you have to be able to control yourself or at least be responsible for your actions. If this is what you think love is, I would rather you hate me.” I stand up. Stella wags her tail excited to get away.

“Josephine, please...” He grasps my wrist, not hard, but there wasn’t anyway I was going to be able to get out of his big hand.

“Please what? Please stay so you can keep treating me like this. There are some people in this world who have no problem playing second or third fiddle, they are just thankful they are in the band. But I deserve to be your first chair, or I don’t want to play at all.”

“Mama wants to know if the jackass is staying for dinner.” Ted shouts at us.

“He going!” “I’m staying!” we yell over each other. He’s not looking at me, he’s not even looking at the pup. His eyes are somewhere else, mentally for a second he is somewhere else also.

“Baby…  I… You have always been my first chair. There is no one else on earth like you. I have never done anything with these women as an act of love. It was always been, and I mean always, just a way to scratch an itch. Every time I was gone, every time things got bad, getting to come home to you was the thing that keep me going, Jo. You have been my safe harbor for the worst parts of my life.”

“James… That doesn’t excuse what you’ve done. You aren’t the man I fell for anymore. This isn’t healthy.” He let go of my wrist, and rubs his face. Those beautiful eyes of his have seen so much. For the first time I think he actually looks… broken. Is this the remorse I have been wanting to see? I try not to keep scores, especially when it comes to my loved ones. But for the first time since things went sour, he looks like I hurt him as much as he has hurt me.

Maybe there was love between us once. However there are just two broken hearts for now.

“Come on in the house, I can at least feed you before I send you back.”

“I think I will just go,” he says it quietly. “I don’t want to be a burden on you.”

“Don’t be like that, I am still cooking like I’m making dinner for you, so its way too much for the three of us. Come on in, I made carnitas.”

“I’ll be in, I just need a minute.” He refuses to let me see him cry if he’s not waking up screaming, even after all this time. Whenever we could have a healing moment, he pushes me out. I went inside, and started setting the table.

“Are we poisoning his tacos?” Teddy asked me.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve heard today.” Mama interjected.

“No, and don’t start anything. He’s eating dinner with us, don’t either of you make him feel bad. I already did that.” Sy walked in at that moment, those blue eyes of his rimmed with red. He looked defeated. The four of us ate our dinner in silence. There was a time where he would have made some kind of comment about eating me out when we had tacos. He looked at me once during the meal, I think he remembered it too. He offered to clear the plates when were all done and sat in uncomfortable silence. The cockiness I had grown accustomed to over the years was gone.

He carried himself like this when we lost our baby, he can’t take that kind of humility. At least not with me.

“Sy...” I waited until the others were out of the room. “Do you still want me to come home with you?”

“Not if it means all we are going to do is get a divorce. I can’t see you every day knowing that I will never get to be yours again. I let them do a lot of terrible things to me over the years, but that… that I can’t handle.” His voice cracked. “If you want out, I will give you everything you ask for. I won’t fight you. But please, give me a chance to fight for you.”

“I don’t think you are exactly in a position to make that that request.” I lean against the counter across the room from him.

“No, I’m not.” he half smirked, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Look, I’m not saying that this can’t still all explode in our faces. But I miss my best friend and that has always been the best part of us. It will never be the same as it was before, it can’t be. However, if you are willing to work with me, I am willing to see if we there is any salvageable. If nothing else, we both need therapy very badly. We can’t just shrug this off. The second that it goes back to where we were, I’m gone.”

“Okay. I’ll do it.” He sniffs hard, and his breath is broken up, tucking his arms against himself. Usually its in authority, this time hes just trying to hug himself. I gesture him to come over and I hug him. He wraps his arms around then envelopes me. Leaning his head on mine, he whispers “I’ll do whatever you want, my darlin.”

I told my mom that I would be going home, she sighed at me. “Do you think this is the best idea?”

“I don’t know, Mama. I think I just want some closure. I told him if he so much as sneezes out of line that I’m gone. Forever. There will be no more chances.”

“Well, baby, I trust you. You are always welcome back here if you need to get away.”

While I’m packing my stuff into the shopping bags I had, I hear a sudden crack and Sy groans then swears. “yeah, I deserved that too.”

“What the fuck did you just do, Theodore?” I yell coming out. Ted was still holding my husband’s hand, and Sy was holding his face. “Did you… just headbutt him?”

“Yes, I did. My sister my might be willing to move past your mistakes, but I’m not. However, I’ve always been the petty one in the family. Hurt her again, they will have to dig your nuts out of your chest cavity, do we understand each other?”

“Yep, perfectly.” Sy grimaced. There were very few men that he would not retaliate against. Teddy, at 6’5, and years of horse wrangling, was one of them. Sy was build like a brick shit house, but so was my big brother. I thought we were old enough to not resort to violence, I have been wrong before.

My probably, potentially, soon to be ex-husband put mine and Stella’s things in the back bench of his truck. I held her in the crook of my arm as I climbed up in the cab. He gently shut the door for me, I noticed his shiner was going to be pretty gnarly in the morning.

He climbed into the other side as I set little Stella down on the floor. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it was a cheap shot, I’ll be fine. At this point, I don’t want to rock the boat with your brother and Ma. She tore me a new asshole before I got outside today.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t changed your mind, say to hell with me and that I’m not worth the hassle.”

“Josephine, I might not have made the appropriate effort to show you how much you mean to me, but you are worth it.” The Syverson shaped hole in my heart roared. Why couldn’t he have been this way all along?

We talked about the girl at the movies, and how she was one of his new officers. She might have come on to him, but he never engaged with her outside of work related things. He told her several times that he wasn’t interested but she was persistent. I halfway apologized for trying to decapitate him with a tequila bottle. He acknowledged that this was a long time coming.  This was the most we had talked about anything deep for months. I don’t know if it was too little and too late though.

The rest of the drive home we made a plan of action. He would move into the office and would stay in there until I invited him back into my bed. We would start couple’s therapy as soon as we could. He would also start seeing a therapist individually. Before we got into town I also told him my final request for our reconciliation. I wanted to see other people. I had been with him since I was nineteen, I have never faltered in my devotion to him. I wanted to see if he was really the one for me.

When I got home, I poured out the rest of my alcohol, save for a bottle of champagne I was saving for our anniversary. He took Stella outside to go potty and came back singing her name “Stella bella, who is a good girl? Your Mama picks good puppies, yes she does. Good girl, Stella bella.”

Stella came prancing back to me with her tail wagging happily. He walked up behind me, and grazes the backs of my arms gently with his knuckles, leaning down to kiss my neck. “Not yet, Sy. I don’t want us to complicate things more than they already are.”

“Josie, what do you mean?”

“I don’t want to have sex with you until we start therapy.”

“So you want us to stop having sex, sleep in separate rooms and at some point you want to start seeing other men.” He starts nodding. He lets out a deep sigh and closes his eyes. “Okay, it that’s what you want to do. I was thinking about getting my stuff out of the bedroom so I can try to get some sleep. I love you, Pussycat. I’ll see you in the morning.” And with that, James went to bed. He was snoring on the couch in the office by the time I went to go lay down.      

****

It took us three weeks to get into see a couples therapist. It felt a little validating about my decision that we shouldn’t sleep together until we have really decided to try or not. She had me stay behind and talk with her for another half an hour the first time we met.  She asked me why I wanted to save my marriage with Sy if he’s hurt me for years.

“I don’t rightly know,” I told her. “Maybe its because when we are good we are so damn good. Before we were married, I was warned, I knew that things happened overseas and I shouldn’t take it personally, he’s just a man and not a saint. I never have had a doubt in my mind about if he’s been faithful when he’s been here until recently when a woman he knows started acting weird around me. The love we had was so passionate, like sometimes he thought that if he couldn’t put his hands on me I would disappear. I don’t think I will ever find someone who can love me like that again.”

The therapist suggested that he starts getting treated for PTSD and anger management while we all were working together. I would also have my own separate sessions to work on my own issues. It took a few months but I started seeing small differences in how he was handling things at work that pissed him off. He was able to defuse himself more easily. He became more open with his feelings. I think it helped that we both stopped drinking. We could be a little volatile when we had a pitcher (or three) of margaritas.

There were days with our sessions where we leave emotionally exhausted and not speak to each other the rest of the day, some of them ended in peals of laughter, others where I would cry for most of it. We discussed the infidelity at great lengths. I don’t want to rehash the details but it was definitely one of the bad days. But it seems that the root cause was him using the only the other women for comfort after fairly traumatic events. It’s why it only happened on deployments. He needed to feel something other than pain.

The lack sexual intimacy between the two of us made James start to get creative to initiate closeness between the two of us. He started helping me make dinner on the weekends, or he would bring me my coffee in the morning the way I like it. Mama and Teddy started coming over occasionally for suppers. It was nice to have the house filled with laughter. We started talking again like when we first started dating. He would take the time to go with me grocery shopping.

He started asking me out on dates again. Myself, him and Stella would drive out to the country, with a picnic basket that he would even prepare himself and we would go star gazing like we used to. I loved seeing the effort, but that hole still ached in my chest the whole time. The pieces should have all fit together, but here I was still not sure I could commit to him for the rest of my life.

On one of these dates, he asked me what I thought about him retiring. He had been in for almost nineteen years at this point and had far exceeded is expectations for being in the Army as an officer.

“I kind of just want to sell off all our extra shit and buy a really nice Air-stream. We can pull it with my truck. Just travel up and down the continent, I know you always have wanted to see the Northern Lights, we can just go anywhere. Me, you and Stella would visit where ever we could find a parking spot.”

“That sounds nice, Sy.” It came out a little half hearted.

“You don’t sound convinced, sweetheart.” He said, started sounding concerned.

“Hun, I don’t want to have a fight right now, so please just let me get this off my chest.” I sigh. And then I told him about the pain in my chest that I’ve had since my night in jail. That sometimes, like tonight, it was only a dull ache. That other times the edges are still so sharp that it feels like the pain was going to swallow me whole. He sits up, jaw dropped.

“Why haven’t you told me this before? I… Jo… son of a bitch.” He groans. He lays back down, the same defeated tone came back that I hadn’t heard since Mama’s house. “I’m trying my best, Josephine, but I feel like I have one hand tied behind my back… you will never love me again, will you?  I can grovel, and beg. I don’t know what else I need to do. I know what I want to do, but it will just hurt you more.”

“What do you want to do, Sy?”

“I want to kiss every part of your skin, remind your body that I worship it. I want to pin you to the wall of our hallway and make love to you. I want to go to sleep with my nose buried in in your hair, and wake up sliding inside of you. I have since you came home. Hell, I always want to do that with you. But that can’t be the only thing that keeps us together.” He looked over at Stella sprawl out.

“I didn’t say this to hurt you, hun. I just wanted to be honest with you.”

“I know, I… just don’t want to cause you more misery. I really thought we were, you know, heading back in the right direction.”

“We have been, and honestly, I think if we threw in the towel now, it would cause more harm than good.” I say as the tears well up in my eyes. For the first time since I was taken away, I straddle his hips. He sits up and I place my hands on either side of his face, then lean in to kiss him. He kisses me back with the same hunger. I missed him. The ache dulled a little until he pulled away.

“Let’s get going, Jo, I want you so fucking bad. I want to take you here and now, I want to make you scream my name and damn anyone who catches us. We need to stop this, the agreement was that we wouldn’t. Fuck I’ve missed how you taste.” He said before stealing one more kiss.

*****

The next week was awkward to say the least, the therapist was pleased about the kissing and that I opened up. She said that it was possible that the pain would go away, but that he and I needed to remember that it was like I was grieving. In the mean time, we should continue to take it slowly because we both needed to be sure. The following few days he was distant, and the ache returned in full force.

With his PTSD treatments, he was having less nightmares. It was the best thing I could ask for. There were still times where he would yell in his sleep but they had become farther and farther apart. It was a night after he had his individual treatment, he had come home talking about how he felt the night of my breakdown. He came home and told me a little bit, how he had never seen me so angry before, thrashing about like a caged animal. He hated himself for pushing me there. That night, in the darkness of the small hours, I woke up from being dead asleep hearing him say my name in a panic. He then repeated sounding more and more scared. “Josie, oh my god, Josie, no. I’m sorry Jo, I didn’t mean to. JoJo!”

I rushed into the office, he was jerking violently in his sleep about on the couch. I turned on the light near his head. When these dreams happen, his eyes were usually opened, it creeps my out every time. I start to gently wake him up, saying his name and touching him as gently as possible. It took a few moments but he came back to me.

“Jo, Jesus fuck, you’re alright?”

“Of course I am, sweetheart, what happened? I’m right here, I’m okay, you are okay, everything is okay.”

“I dreamed we were back in the kitchen, you were under me. Screaming and whipping about. I had to restrain you more then I accidentally broke your neck and you died in my arms. It felt real, baby, I was holding your body and then the sheriff came and that’s when you woke me up. Oh my god. I fucking can’t. I can’t anymore. I need you, Josie. If something happens to you, oh fuck.” I have never seen James sob like this. He pawed at me until I was wrapped in his arms. I slipped my arms around his neck and held his head to mine. His sobs were hard. We sat there until he let it all out.

“Come on, big man, let’s get you into bed. Come with me. I’ll stay with you all night.” He nodded at me and followed me to the bed we used to share. I wrapped him up in our fluffy blankets. He snuggled into me and was asleep in moments. I stayed there in his arms until he woke up. The Syverson shaped hole hurt less that night.

When he woke up he started crying again. He held me and started kissing my face. “Thank god. I thought you coming to me last night was another dream.”

“No baby, I’m here.” He sniffed hard and squeezed me closer to him. We went back to sleep for a few more hours and when we got up for the day he moved his things back into our bedroom. We might not have started other marital acts but we both started sleeping better having the other person in bed. It had been almost six months we started trying to reconcile.

*****

It had been an interesting couple of months while we started the transition for him to retire. Soon it was only a matter of days. The dates had continued, the kissing had continued, but something was keeping me back from being able to say that the next step was what I wanted. Therapy continued, and we would be seeing her for the next few months. Before I left my private session she asked me if I had given myself a deadline. She was concerned that I might keep dragging it out and that would just make both of us miserable. I told her I had an idea and that I planned on pulling the trigger soon.

Sy’s superiors were setting up a retirement ceremony for him, followed by a dinner with the upper chain of command. He wasn’t looking forward to it, Sy just wanted to be out and done. He came home one day while I was watching a show based on a book series I had read when we first were married. The redheaded Scot swore fealty to his wife, offering to pierce his own heart with a dagger if he should ever rebel against her again.  

“What’s this you’re watching?” He asked.

“Outlander, it just picked back up again from a season break. It’s pretty damn close to the book.”

“So is this what the ladies like these days, men in kilts offering to off themselves if they fuck up?”

“Women have liked men in kilts since I can remember. Why do you think we go to the Renn Faire every year.” I wink at him. “But yeah, I’m sure that does it for some people.”

“Well shit, Pussycat, it’s the only thing I haven’t done.” Sy walked out of the room and came back with his favorite hunting knife. It had been his dad’s once upon a time. The handle was made out of buck horn. In his warn and dusty uniform, he knelt in front of me on the living room floor. His beautiful blue eyes looking into mine, “Well, this isn’t iron, and it definitely isn’t holy. However, I will swear on it either way. Josephine, you are the only woman I have ever loved, you are my best friend, and I adore you. I will never do anything to make you doubt that love or loyalty again. If I ever do anything that makes you feel like you are less than the beautiful, smart, incredible, sexy creature that you are, you can sink this right in my heart. I will even hold it there for you so all you have to do is press it right in.” He finishes with a tongue click as an exclamation.      

“James, you didn’t need to do this. You know I am weird about grand gestures.”

“No, I think I do. I said my vows to you on our wedding rings and I wasn’t able to keep it. But, I will never break this one. If I can earn your love back, I will never do anything to make you regret giving me this chance to be your man.” He still held the knife against his chest with one hand, and placed my hand over his with the other. “So what do you think, baby girl? We still have a long way to go, but I can’t think of anyone else I would rather struggle with.”

“I think you just put yourself in a position that I could just end you now if I wanted to.” I say with my usual sass.

“Yes, you could. I don’t think you will though.” He said smiling, his voice was husky and deep as usual. I love that easy smile of his.

“Is it wrong that I want to get on your lap and make out with you while I hold this against you.” His eyebrow raised. “Maybe more than just make out with you.”

“Oh, don’t you tease me now, sweet thing. I don’t want to start anything you won’t finish.”

“Who said I won’t finish it, Colonel Syverson?” His eyes grew as big as dinner plates.  

“Wait, do you mean it?” He choked.

“Yeah, I do mean it.” I laughed. Before I could get up, he had hiked the skirt of the dress I was wearing up to my hips, pulling me to the edge of the sofa, revealing that I had skipped a certain garment that day. “I had an idea for after supper, but if you want we can do this now…. Oh fuck I’ve missed this.”

Before I can even finish my sentence, he was going to town with his tongue on his favorite part of my body. He remembered everything that made me squeal in delight. From the lack of sex on both of our ends, he was able to get me off easily. My body was desperate for his touch. He stopped once my body was trembling, kissing one of my thighs from my apex to my knee. He suddenly grunted and bit down on a tender part. He started panting and kissed the spot he bit.

“I’m sorry, sugar, I didn’t want to only last for two or three thrusts. Fuck, I have missed this pretty pussy. You taste so good.” He had a handful of his own cum and looked around for a tissue. Without a word, I grabbed his hand and licked it clean, keeping eye contact with him the entire time. He moaned out and then stood up. He took his shirt off, and lifted me up off the couch. I knew this hurt his back and knees but I wasn’t about to chastise him for wanting to be romantic. He carried me like we were on our honeymoon back to the bedroom. He lay me down as gently as possible then finished stripping himself. I took my dress off leaving myself exposed to him in a way that I haven’t in almost a year. Sy joined me on the bed, open and vulnerable to me. I loved those thick thighs and torso of his, he always eclipsed me.

“Hello ladies, nice to finally see you again.” He purred as he licked and sucked on my nipples. He leaned to one side and massaged my breasts with one of his hands. “Glad to see you that you missed me too.”

Before long, I could feel his erection pressing against my thigh. He spread my legs and rubbed himself against my opening. He leaned down and kissed my neck before sliding himself inside of me. I moan his name as he gently started making love to me. Bearing his weight on his elbows, he kissed and nipped at my neck.

Breathlessly, he told me how much he missed my body, how much he loved me, how lucky he was to have me. As his tempo increased, he started to whisper in me ear.

“Josephine, tell me what you are.” I looked at him confused. “You are my wife, I want you to tell me that you are my wife.”

“I’m your wife, James.” I tell him as lovingly as possible.

“Louder, baby.”

“I’m your wife.” I said loud and clearly. The Syverson shaped hole in my chest is gone, finally. Replaced with the warmth of knowing we were going to be able to survive this.

“Even louder, Jo.” I yell it out and he thrusts harder and deeper. “Keep going, beautiful, I want the whole neighborhood to know.”

I screamed it as he started pounding me harder, building his orgasm. As my own starts its crescendo, I screamed his name and arched my back as he pulls my hips down on himself and spilled into me. He lay down beside me, twitching and jerking a little. He kisses all the parts of my skin that is available to his reach.

“I think we should order a pizza for dinner tonight,” He says after a few minutes of catching his breath. “So we can stay in bed and make love again.”

“Or, and hear me out. I put my dress back on, you get dressed and we go out for sushi with your cum dripping down my thighs. What do you think about that?”

“Shit, I missed you being a damn freak like that. Do I we get to have more fun tonight if I say yes?” He chuckles, then kisses my hand, “I still want you to ride me with my knife pointed at me some time tonight.”  

“Aren’t you scared I’m going to cut off a nipple or something.”

“You, with a knife? To be honest, cutting off my nipple is the least of my concerns. How do I know if this just isn’t a whole plan to lure me into complacency with sex and sushi, then you just murder me in my sleep.” He rolled onto his back and whined for a second, but got up. He put on a pair of khaki shorts and a black Metallica t-shirt as I got into my dress again.

“God damn woman, you are so fucking sexy.” He tells me as he opens the door on my side of the truck and leans down to kiss me again. As I climb up he give my butt a little tap just like he used to and closes the door for me. The ache I’ve been feeling these long months has subsided. Sitting across the cab from me, holding my hand, he asks if we want to go look at travel trailers this weekend. For the first time in a while, I feel like everything is going to be alright.

[mugiwara-rosewolf]

Hiiii💚hope ur have a good day/night if it not to much to ask can i have Zoro with a female reader who to shy to confess her feeling for him. You could end it anyway u want 💚

Hello Anon! I loved the concept you sent me, but it turned out a *little* different than I anticipated. If this isn’t what you were hoping for, feel free to Bop me in the DM’s and I’ll try again. Hope you enjoy!

Timid Confession

Zoro x Shy!Reader

6 Romantic Do’s and Don’ts--Swordsman Edition

(Warning: mild cursing. Stupid pirates.)

There comes a time, when every soul on Earth must be open and unbearably honest with another. A time when you must expose yourself. A time where you must open the ribcage of your chest to reveal the butterflies in your stomach, the fluttering of your heartbeat, and the way your breath hitches when a certain silhouette walks by. There comes a time when you have no choice but to lay your life--mind, body and soul--on the line and take a risk. In theory, this is something you know quite well. As a warrior of the Straw hat crew, this willingness to put everything at risk for your dreams is an everyday reality. But what about when that risk is a person? Surely the basic gist is still the same...right?

Wrong. Johnny and Yosaku used to laugh about this a lot--to your face--about how you are an absolute disaster outside of battle. The stoic, competent warrior shown on your bounty poster would vaporize as soon as you sheath your sword. Otherwise, you were a bashful, stumbling mess. And once a certain moss-haired hunter joined the crew...you were finished. With the flash of his sword, he caught your attention. With his wicked-sharp slit of a smile, he punctured the deepest parts of you. Your fate was sealed. Roronoa Zoro would be the death of you. 

Everyone seemed to know what this strange phenomenon was, but to you, it was a goddamned mystery. It was a miracle that you were ever able to speak more than a dozen words to him on any given day. When your paths diverged for the first time, it was almost a relief. But from then on, there was always a gap in your plans. An empty bunk on your ship that used to be filled with snores at the most random hours. Your chest always ached at the memory. 

It was in that space of absence that you realized--you loved him. The thought alone was enough to turn your whole world turned topsy-turvy. Then the Baratie happened. Then Mihawk, then Arlong and then--this peculiar straw-hat pirate, this boy that Zoro had sworn his fealty to--invites you along on his grand adventure. After all the things you’d seen and done, seeing the anticipation glistening in Roronoa’s eyes...how could you say no?

Life since then has been the wildest ride you could ever dream of. Marines, mercenaries, Giant whales and dinosaurs--it’s like something out of a fairy tale. And during all that time, one thing hasn’t changed. Zoro. Your heart pounds in your chest when you hear his footfalls approaching. Butterflies swim up to your throat every time you hear his voice. butterflies in your stomach. Your breath hitches, just from the way he looks at you. There were so many nights, hunkered down with Johnny and Yosaku in some tavern somewhere, where you wondered what you would say to him. To Zoro, if your paths ever crossed again. 

Now here you are, reunited, chasing your dreams together. And yet you still can’t speak, let alone freaking breath in his presence. It was a nightmare. Stuttering every line, palms sweating, knees trembling, face catching fire--every possible symptom under the sun now seemed to increase ten-fold. How the heck were you supposed to genuinely bond with the man you loved when you could barely talk?

Nami was the first to catch on. Of course, she was. Her suggestion was to trick him into confessing his feelings for you. The moment she said the words you just stared at her. You swore right then and there this lady was crazy. Like, ‘dingo ate my baby’ crazy. There was no way in any of the Blues that Zoro had feelings for you. How could he? Every interaction was stilted and awkward. The only reason you two fought well together was that you’d done it before. God, how you’d missed it, in the time he’d been away. You quickly shook yourself free of the thought.

 “Z-Zoro doesn’t work like that,” you’d told her. “Anything underhanded is either--is either gonna fly over his head or piss him off. I-I can’t, I can’t do that…” 

The second time was Chopper’s idea. He hadn’t meant to overhear, but his curious little ears were very sensitive and… “well, I want to help you and Zoro”. 

Which--okay. Zoro and Chopper adore each other. The swordsman is always co concerned and gentle with the young doctor. But he never belittles your resident reindeer for his age or size. That was something you already admired about the elder swordsman. He maintained gratifying respect for everyone in the crew--even Sanji. Nevertheless. You found it very endearing that Copper wanted to help you confess your feelings. As you soon discovered, however...that sweet, innocent winter reindeer had no clue about human romance whatsoever. 

“Well, that was a waste-a--” 

“Wonderful lesson in reindeer culture!” You interjected. Cutting off the cat burglar before she could finish her sentence. “But, uh, m-maybe there are other ways I can go about...er, ya know.”

And so, Nami called in reinforcements. Usopp the Liar. The long-nosed sniper was dragged into the room by his ear. Nami recounted the situation as I hid my face in my hands. His eyes practically sparkled with excitement.

 “Ooh! Okay! I have a great idea! How about I go up to Zoro and start bragging about you, ya know, all the awesome adventures you went on before you saw each other again. Then he’d know just how awesome you are and he’d have to ask you out. I mean, he’s already in lo--” 

“L-loudly snoring in the galley, I’m sure,” you excused quickly, shaking your head. “But if you interrupt his nap, all he’s gonna do is skin you alive.” Ussop visibly paled at the matter-of-fact statement. “I don’t--I don’t want anyone else getting hurt on my behalf so let’s just--I’ll figure something else out.”

Leaving the little pow-wow below decks, you bump into none other than your beloved’s worst enemy--Sanji, the ‘Ero-Cook’. “Ah, Y/N!” He cried in jubilation.

“Sanji!” You squeaked out. Your sudden alarm gave him pause.

“You look distressed, mademoiselle,” The observation alone was enough to turn his expression into a stormcloud incarnate. “If that damned Marimo broke your heart, I swear--”

“N-n-n-n-no!” You hurried to reassure him, waving your hand before Sanji could start kicking anything. “That’s not it at all! I mean, we were talking about--but he didn’t--I mean, he wasn’t even--” after so many fumbles you eventually just gave up, heaving a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing. I’m just bad at being brave.”

“I don’t believe it,” The cook’s immediate reply has you looking up at him in surprise. You saw him pull a cigarette from the pocket of his suit. “Not in a million years. You are one of the bravest angels sailing the seas, Y/N--whatever it is that scares you, they should be ten times more afraid.”

“You still talking about Zoro?”

“Damn right I am,” Sanji growled, his vitriol for Zoro overpowering his typical decorum. His lighter flickered to life as his eyes met yours. “It’s a gentleman’s job to court a lady, make her feel precious and desired. That brute can’t tell romance from a brick wall.”

“Whatchu talkin’ bout bricks for?” Another voice queried. Both you and Sanji turn. There, at the other end of the hall, is your captain. “Bricks got nothin’ to do with Zoro.”

“L-Luffy,” You stammered. “I thought you were at the figurehead, with Zoro?”

“I was, but then he decided to nap somewhere else. So I came here.” Luffy stated clearly, hands perched proudly on his hips. He looked between you and Sanji again, still curious. “So, why you guys talking about Zoro and bricks?”

“Because that’s how dense he is,” Sanji retorted. “Moss-head can’t tell that our darling Y/N is head-over-heels for his dumbass.” a trail of smoke slithered from between his gritted teeth. 

At the mention of your name, Luffy turned and cocked his head. “But your head is below your heels. Isn’t that how people work?”

“M-most of the time, yes,” Sanji let out a sigh and a low curse. You bit your lip a moment before electing to explain. “But that’s not--what he means is, er, that I....uh, oh how do I explain this? Um. I want to tell Zoro something. But I’m not sure how.”

Your captain stared blankly at you. As if you’d smacked yourself in the face with a plank of wood and he couldn’t sure why. “Why are you so scared?” He asked, point-blank. “Whatever’s the most you thing to do, do it that way. Don’t worry about anything else, Y/N.” 

Both you and Sanji shared a glance. The cook’s narrowed eyes told you he was a little bit sceptical. But he shrugged. He knew better than to question your captain’s logic. You, on the other hand, felt as if the sky had suddenly opened up. The next time you looked back at Luffy, your smile was as bright as the midday sun. “I think...I think you got the right idea, Luffy. I’ll give it a shot!”

Walking past both young men, you found your way to one of Zoro’s favourite napping places. Nami’s orchard. When you find him there, time seems to pause for a moment. The wash of the waves against the ship, the scent of the sun and the salt of the sea. That tang of citrus and those bright spots of colour in the trees--all those things seem hushed now. All you see is that head of mossy green hair and the entrancing rise-and-fall of his breath. You found a rake near Usopp’s garden boxes. It was like you had told the sniper earlier. If you prod a sleeping swordsman, you’ll get skinned alive. That is if you stand within swords-length. 

Blades of grass softly crunch under your shoes as you tip-toe your way to the tree where Zoro is resting. When you’re close enough to reach, you turn the rake over in your hand; electing to poke him with the wooden tip instead of the metal points. If he felt the metal he might mistake it for a weapon and a genuine threat. Goodness knows you and your old bounty-hunting crew had plenty of threats to your sleep over the years. 

One poke. No response. Two pokes. A groan and a slight shift. Then the snoring returns. You poke him three times; poke-poke-poke. He groans and shifts, his brow furrowing at the disturbance. But he still doesn’t open his eyes. You huffed to yourself. You really thought the three-pokes would work. Three was Zoro’s favourite number, after all. Patience fizzling along with your nerve, you finally jab him in the side. 

“Zoro!”

The swordsman jolts awake. He looks up, seeing the broomstick near his shoulder, and traces it to you. “Why are you poking me with a rake?” 

The moment his eyes land on you, all your fizzling patience and brazen nerve seem to vanish into the air. Butterflies surge from your stomach in a tidal wave, suddenly clogging up your throat. Your heartbeat jolts in speed at the sudden onslaught. The rake clatters from your hands as you flounder in embarrassment. “T-to, to avoid being fileted by a grumpy swordsman.”

Zoro huffed. “Put that thing away,” You hurry to do so. It is a vain hope that you might beagle to drain the warm flush from your face by the time you return. All the while, your fellow swordsman scrubs the sleep from his face with one hand. “Why’d you wake me up?” 

“I-I, I wanna talk to you.” You abruptly drop yourself into the grass beside him. Standing above him in this orange grove somehow made you feel weird. If you were gonna have this conversation, you felt you needed to be on the same level.

“Okay, then talk.” 

“Er, okay. So…Zoro, I-I mean I’ve been meaning to tell you that I--” you hesitate. But this time you swallow the lump in your throat, summon your courage--and expose your beating heart. “--I love you.”

Zoro is silent for a long moment. His eyes never waver from where you now sit beside him. Swords propped on his other side, he has his arms wrapped around his knees. Ever since he woke up, his expression hasn’t changed. He just looks at you, plain and straightforward as can be when he says; “Okay.” 

You splutter. The single word response is nearly enough to throw you into conniptions. “Wha-what do you mean just, ‘okay’? I’ve been agonizing over how to tell you how I feel for-for ages! And all you have to say is ‘okay’?!” 

The swordsman snorted. “Like words are the only thing that matters. Your actions speak for you, Y/N. I thought my actions made it clear that I--” 

“...You what?” You blink, watching the spark of a blush rush vividly across the swordsman's’ cheeks. 

“I-I love you, dammit! There. You happy now?” 

The instant those words reached your ears, your smile bloomed like a sunflower. After all the ideas and voices and fears you’d heard today, you could hardly believe it--they were right! After all the years preparing for this moment, you could finally look someone in the eye and speak your truth. “I couldn’t be happier.”

[entamewitchlulu]

How to Catch a Dragon

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh Arc V

Pairing: Pendulumshipping (Yuya/Reiji), Lustershipping (Masumi/Yuzu)

Characters: Reiji, Masumi, Yuzu, Yuya

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: none

Summary: Magic is illegal in Maiami after the magicians of Heartland killed Princess Ray -- or at least, that's how the propaganda tells it. Prince Reiji knows better, and if he wants to have a chance to stop his father from ripping apart the very fabric of the world to bring his daughter back, he is going to need a little more magic at his disposal than he has.Unfortunately, the best source of magic in the world comes from dragons. And dragons are difficult to find -- and even more difficult to master.

commission for @czoedy!

Ao3

Although she took every bit of her job immensely seriously, she knew that getting this shift meant that she was considered the most useless knight on the entire force.

Masumi ground her teeth, shifting from one foot to the other.  Her armor clinked softly against the chainmail beneath.  She didn’t break formation, though, standing at attention, her lance at the ready, and staring out at the dark, winding back road that led up to the very far end of the city gates.  There was nothing but rocks leading up towards the mountains — no one would ever mount a serious assault over those.  Only fools traversed the hills — not only were they a terrible place of uneven footing, sudden pitfalls and dangerous cliffs, and took days to get across, but you just didn’t pass through without attracting the attention of the fae.

No, this was the kind of job you gave to someone you wanted to get out of the way, and Masumi knew it.  Fools.  She ground her teeth again, cracking her shoulder blades.  All because she’d dared to show how good she was in a practice match.  All because she’d humiliated the captain — not that that was her fault.  The captain ought to train better if he didn’t want an only recently sired girl to defeat him.  She could do so much more good on the front half of the guard, or even guarding the royal family — gods knew they needed it, what with all the trouble they’d caused lately...

Her thoughts ground to a halt as she heard the soft, almost imperceptible footstep in the courtyard behind her.  Immediately, she stood up straight.  She lowered her lance into both hands, aimed towards the ground for now, but easy to lift up and impale at a moment’s notice.  Her breathing stilled to such a silence that she could hear a mouse skittering over the stones.  But she didn’t hear the footstep.  Had she imagined it?

The tiniest scuff of a shoe, a soft intake of breath — it was right beside her.

Her brain roared with thoughts of magicians and fae and magic, and without thinking, she swung the butt of her lance about, and struck.  It hit something invisible in the air beside her, and she heard someone’s breath catch and cough, heard the sound of someone collapsing to the ground.  She swung her lance back around to the point end first and pointed it towards the sound, as the magician’s spell broke apart and the cloaked figure appeared beside her.

“On your feet!” she commanded.  “In the name of the Crown, you will state your business!”

The figure coughed a moment more — she must have caught him right in the diaphragm with her first strike.  It took him a moment, and a quick poke of her lance, for him to raise both hands over his head and slowly stand up.

“If it’s the Crown you invoke, then I’m afraid I do have the right to decline.”

Masumi’s mouth dropped open.  Her eyes widened.

The man pushed the hood back from his face, keeping his hands otherwise up, and dark eyebrows raised over his bespectacled eyes, up into his slick, gray bangs.

“Your Highness?” Masumi said, letting her spear drop to the ground.  She fumbled for a moment, caught between disbelief, shock, and annoyance, and unsure of whether to be angry or respectful.  “What — what in the gods are you doing out here, sneaking about?”

His Highness Crown Prince Reiji smiled blandly.  He let his hands fall back to his sides, fixing the lay of his cloak and the position of his glasses.

“How unfortunate for me,” he said.  “I thought for certain they’d put someone of little skill back here.”

He glanced her up and down, and it took Masumi a moment to realize that he’d...sort of complimented her.  Hang on, that wasn’t the point.

“I know it’s not my place to ask, sire, but — what are you doing here?” she asked.

Reiji glanced towards the gate, and then at Masumi.

“I was hoping to sneak out,” he said.  “I should think that’s obvious.”

“But — why?”

Masumi didn’t know very much about the prince.  She’d met him a few times, in passing.  He’d be present, quiet and unemotional, during her siring ceremony.  She’d seen him watching the knights practice a few times, and heard him speaking to the captain of the guards here and there about what sort of patrols were going on in the city proper.  He was said to be quiet, scholarly, and was well-liked among the people because he was often seen among them, speaking to them and actually listening — he continued to hold court petitions long after his father had stopped making public appearances to focus on the war effort.  But she didn’t know him. And she definitely hadn’t known he was a magician — how could she?  Magic belonged to the enemy, Heartland — it was banned.  Illegal.  The prince himself still shouldn’t be above that law, not since it was said that his sister, the Heir Apparent, had been killed by magic.

Reiji glanced back and forth across the courtyard.

“Ser Kotsu, is anyone else in this vicinity?” he asked.

Masumi blinked, startled that he knew her name.

“No,” she said.  “Not to my knowledge.”

She scowled at him then.

“And there shouldn’t be.  Including you, milord.”

Reiji fixed his glasses, considering her for a moment.  He glanced her up and down, checking her grip on her lance, and then glancing at the gated off exit.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me through the gate.”

“We’re — your father the King instituted a lockdown,” Masumi said, incredulous.  “Unless you have some letter of note explaining why you’re sneaking about — and for that matter, for why you’re using magic —”

“If I ordered you to step aside and let me through, telling no one I was here, would you obey?”

His voice cut her off midsentence, despite being much lower and softer than her own.  Despite the cool, level quiet of his voice, she heard it plainly — and the warning in it.

She hesitated.  Well...he was the prince.  She’d sworn fealty to the nation he ruled.  But she’d also sworn an oath to uphold the law, and currently, the law set by the king, higher ranked than he, was that no one was allowed to enter or leave the city without permission.  Considering Reiji’s response, it didn’t seem he had such permission.  Still, refusing his orders could also come back to bite her.

As she struggled briefly with the idea, Reiji tilted his head down to fix his glasses again.

“I’ve put to you quite an impossible question,” he said.  “I apologize.”

He took one step backwards.  Masumi didn’t move from her place in between him and the gate.  She glanced at it, and then back at him.

“What’s so important that you’re leaving in the dead of night, shrouded in magic, and trying to sneak away without permission?  You’re the prince.  Can’t you get permission — your Highness?” She added the honorific hurriedly.

Reiji considered her more deeply this time, his stance suddenly very rigid.  He glanced at the gate again.

“Ser Kotsu.  Let me ask you one further impossible question.”

“And what’s that, Your Highness?”

“When you took your oaths, did you swear yourself to the king and the Crown?  Or did you swear yourself to the people?  In other words, Ser Kotsu — were it a choice between the Crown and the people, whom would you put your life on the line for?”

Masumi’s lips parted.  He was right, it was an impossible question.  She was a knight of the Crown, sworn in by the king — but she’d joined the forces to protect people like her friends and family and neighbors and...and, well, if she was honest, she would protect them first, if it was a choice.  But she couldn’t exactly say that to the Crown — even if he was only the prince.

Reiji waited with remarkable patience for her answer while she struggled with what to say — what answer was he looking for?  She couldn’t read him.

She gave up after about twenty seconds of deliberation — she had never been one to stay silent on what she thought, and she wouldn’t do so now.  Even if it could land her in trouble.

“I swore on the Crown,” she said, “but my first duty is to the people of this kingdom, and serving them.”

Reiji let out a long, low breath, like air releasing from a kettle.  He tugged his collar open just a bit.

“Good,” he said, surprising her.  “In that case, Ser Kotsu, this is not an order: this is a request.  I request that you accompany me on a mission of great, and discreet, importance.”

Masumi considered him back a moment, this time it was her turn to do the look up and down, at his scrawny frame and soft hands.  He certainly looked like he needed an escort, even if he was a magician.

“Am I allowed to ask what the mission is?” she asked.

“Only that if we do not complete it,” Reiji said, “it is likely that this kingdom, and its people, will all be razed to the ground.”

His voice brokered no time for questions or disagreement — it thrummed with an authority that she expected from the Crown, but also with a concern and worry that surprised her.  She hesitated only a beat longer.  Then she swung her lance around to her back, strapping it back on, and turned towards the gate.  Using the key around her neck, she unlocked it, and wrenched it open as quietly as possible.

Then she turned to Reiji.

“You know,” she said, “you could have started with that.”

*

“You need to be more careful.  There could be more traps — even ambushes.  You’re a prince, you know, Your Highness.”

“Next time I think I may be about to step in a rabbit’s snare, I will let you know.”

Reiji suppressed a small smile at Masumi’s clear irritation, the scowl on her face at his quip.  He carefully extracted his foot from the small rope that had snatched at his ankle, leaving the spent snare off the path.  Masumi’s concerns were, of course, understandable — he had taken her on as a bodyguard, and it was her job to fret.  But there was no way anyone would know that he was even out here.  His usual personal bodyguard, Tsukikage, was doing an excellent job of covering for him, or pretending to be him with an illusion when absolutely necessary.  As far as the kingdom was concerned, Crown Prince Akaba Reiji was suffering a bad cold.  No one would expect to find him tromping about in the forest wilderness with an unknown knight.

Still, Masumi’s single-mindedness — and her bluntness — was part of the reason he’d decided to bring her along on impulse.  The other part was not trusting her enough to not say anything about seeing him, and liking to keep her close.

But she was honest.  And she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, even to someone who ruled her.  It was an admirable quality, and one that would hopefully serve him in this fool’s errand.

He rolled the stone in his pocket while Masumi insisted on forging a bit ahead, looking suspiciously at trees and poking bushes with her lance.  The stone sparked and warmed slightly, revealing to him the magic within it, but he did not siphon any off.  The invisibility spell had taken quite a bit of his reserves already, and he would need what remained for his quest.

“Be more careful,” Masumi complained as she returned to him.  “If Heartland knew you were out here...their magicians would have you and I both killed in an instant.”

“Magic isn’t so instantaneous,” Reiji said.

Masumi gave him a suspicious look.

“And of course you would know all about that.”

He didn’t respond.  His use of magic had likely concerned her, but he didn’t need to tell her all — or any — of his secrets.  She walked alongside him a moment longer while they made their way through the thin forest trail, barely more than a deer trail.

“So you can use magic,” she finally said, cutting straight to the point.  Straightforward, he thought again.  It was what made her so unsuited to getting along with the other knights, who preferred their subordinates to be quiet and not ask questions.  “I thought it was illegal.”

“A clever trick for my father to have an excuse to seize every available source of magic in the kingdom,” he said.

He offered nothing further — and he would not, unless she asked the right questions.  For a while, she didn’t speak.  Then she let out an annoyed sound.

“Maiami Kingdom has never had magicians,” she said.  “They’re from Heartland.”

That wasn’t a question, so Reiji didn’t respond to it.  He checked the height of the sun filtering through the trees, trying to guess at what time it was, and what time they would arrive at the village.

“How do you cast that spell?  The invisibility one.”

“You wouldn’t be able to do it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Masumi actually glowered at him, and he couldn’t help but turn his head away to smile slightly.  It was almost refreshing, how little respect she had.

“I don’t have any need for magic,” she said.  “But if I’m going to protect you, I’d like to know what I have to work with — if you could make yourself invisible during a fight and hide somewhere, it would make my job a lot easier.”

Ah, there it was — an understandable reason for her to ask a question. 

He dug into his pocket, and withdrew his stone.  Masumi frowned at the small, red ore, glittering with chunks of black glass within it’s somewhat rounded, but still rough, shape.  He was slightly surprised to see recognition flare in her eyes.

“Heartish ore,” she said, “now where did you get a hold of that?”

Reiji tilted his head with surprise.

“You know of it?”

Masumi shrugged as she stepped over a rock.

“My father was a jeweler,” she said.  “Once, a noble asked to have one cut for him.  It was the rarest stone my father’d ever worked with, and the most money he’d ever made.  It paid for my way into the knight’s academy.”

Reiji nodded, impressed.

“So you know of its rarity.”

“I do, of course,” Masumi said with a sniff.  “But I don’t see what it has to do with magic.”

Reiji turned the stone over in his hand, feeling the heat of the magic without taking it into himself.

“It’s found only in Heartland, and it’s the most refined source of magic in the world.”

Masumi’s eyes widened.  Her lips parted.

“It’s magic?  But...it’s just a stone.”

Reiji shook his head.

“Magic is a natural force in this world.  Magicians are people who can draw that power from the world, and redirect it to perform spells.  People are born with the talent, or they are not.”

He tucked his stone away.

“There are many ways of drawing magic from the earth, but none is so raw and full of magical energy as Heartish ore.  One small stone the size of mine can power a magician for a decade.”

“Magic comes from rocks?”

“Most often, yes.  Old ores absorb and hold magic more easily than other materials.  Old wood holds some, but rarely more than enough in a piece for more than three or four spells.”

Masumi shook her head, clearly not getting it.

“So you have enough energy there for a lot of magic, is what I’m hearing.”

“I’ve been using this stone since I was young,” Reiji admitted.  “So I no longer have the vast store I began with.”

“Enough for whatever this mission is?”

I hope so, he thought.

“Yes,” he said aloud.

Masumi nodded, clearly content with the answers she’d received, and not looking to ask for more.  For that, Reiji was glad.  Any more questions, and he’d have to begin to lie, or evade.

He couldn’t yet tell her how his father had seized every bit of ore in Maiami.  How the war with Heartland had nothing to do with their magic killing his sister, that his sister had never even been to Heartland — and every bit to do with the Heartish ore he was desperate to collect, the vast stores of it he had squandered away beneath the castle, and the plans that Reiji had found scribbled in shorthand that had taken him weeks to decipher.

And he absolutely could not tell her about the kind of magic that was performed by draining people’s souls.

It took an astonishing amount of magic to bring a person back to life.

Reiji looked up from the trail again, checking their position.  A moment later, the trail turned, and as they went around, the sun broke over them.  Masumi shielded her eyes, stepping up beside him in the break in the trees.  They looked down over the valley, with rolling green hills and bobbing flowers, a bright blue sky hanging idyllically over head, with the mountains on the other side framing it, nestling the valley, and its tiny village dotting the earth far below, in a protective embrace.

Masumi looked confused.  He was not about to enlighten her.

After all, the truth would be too terrifying — his father was a magician beyond the realm of understanding with the magic he’d collected.  Reiji could study and train for years and have no means of defeating him.  Heartish ore was the strongest source of magic in the world, and Akaba Leo had more gathered together than a mountain could hold.

Well, actually...Heartish ore wasn’t the strongest source.  Magic was a living thing, after all, and the kind of magic that calcified in rock, while strong, was stale, as far as magic went. 

No, there was one way Reiji could hope to outmaneuver his father — with a source of living magic.  Magic that would not deplete — magic that refreshed itself perpetually, magic that was pure and raw with the life energy of the world itself.  There weren’t many sources of living magic left in this world, however, not since the unicorns had returned to the world from whence they came during the Great Migration, and taken most of the magical creatures with them.  Finding such a source, if it had been easy, would have likely been his father’s first choice.  But he believed there was no such source left in this world, and focused only on the remnants in the earth.

As they gazed down at the faraway village, Reiji hesitated before beginning down the valley.

Then they heard the distant, echoing roar.  

It was far away, but the mountains made it vibrate, made it shake them to their bones.  Masumi shuddered, but Reiji closed his eyes, letting the feeling wash through him with a feeling of relief.  The stories were true, after all.  He’d finally found rumors that weren’t just gossip.

When he opened his eyes, Masumi was staring at him with utter disbelief — with almost a betrayal in her eyes.  Well.  There had been a reason he hadn’t told her his plan before inviting her along.  Even the bravest knight would have reason to quiver before...

“You never said anything,” Masumi said, “about a dragon.”

*

Hot.  So hot.  Everything is so hot.  It’s hard to breathe.  Throat is raw and choking and the smoke, it’s everywhere, ugh, ugh, ugh...

Everything hurts.  Where...where am....

Help...help me, help me, help me...

*

Reiji didn’t even bother to hide his face when they came into the village, a fact that drove Masumi mad.  Not only was there apparently, a gods-damned dragon in these mountains, but having the Crown Prince himself marching into a village where everyone could see him??  This was a nightmare for even someone trained to be a bodyguard, and Masumi was trained to be a knight.  This damned prince...why had she let him talk her into this?

“Please relax,” Reiji said, smiling blandly and raising a hand in greeting to a farmer walking past with his card.  “You and I are simply a wandering scholar and his mercenary friend.”

“They’ll recognize you,” she said.

“Out here?  Doubtful.  Very few from this village have come as far as the capital.”

Masumi glanced at a pair of gossiping women on the side of the road.  They gave Reiji a passing glance, but their eyes actually lingered for longer and with more surprise on Masumi.  She did stick out more in her armor, even if Reiji had made her take off her crest so that no one would recognize her as a Royal Knight.  Perhaps Reiji was right.

Didn’t mean she was going to relax, though.

Reiji wandered down the street, stopping to look in windows or to wave at passersby, and Masumi wanted to yell.  Where were they going??  Why was he meandering so much??

Finally, Reiji glanced up at a wooden sign swinging above a tavern — The Declawed Dragon, it read.  He made his way over to the door and walked in, Masumi on his heels.

There were few inside; it was the middle of the day after all.  A couple of teenagers were playing cards on one of the tables, and a haggard looking old man huddled at the counter.  Behind the counter, a pretty girl was wiping out glasses, her bright pink hair pulled into a pair of twin tails.  She hummed softly to herself — even from here, Masumi could hear the sweet notes of her voice.

Reiji went straight to the counter, sliding into a seat.  Masumi took the one beside him, and the girl looked up with a bright, cheery expression.

“Welcome!” she said, putting down her glass and rag.  “How can I help you?”

“I would be glad of some water; we’ve had a long walk,” said Reiji.

“Coming right up. And for you?”

Her smile was the brightest, loveliest thing Masumi had ever seen, and for a moment, she was rendered speechless.  Then she caught herself, and cleared her throat.

“The same for me, thank you,” she said.

The girl smiled and nodded, turning back towards one of the kegs and filled two glasses with clear spring water.  She placed them back on the counter in front of them.

“We don’t see a lot of soldiers around here,” she said, eyes on Masumi.  “I’m Yuzu, by the way.  And you?  What brings you all the way here?”

Masumi hesitated — the girl didn’t seem dangerous, but it was always better safe than sorry.

“She’s been kind enough to accompany me on my research expedition,” Reiji said smoothly, skipping the answer of Masumi’s name.  The words drew Yuzu’s eyes to him, and Masumi was somewhat disappointed that those deep blue eyes were no longer looking at her.

“Oh?” Yuzu said, eyes lighting up.  “I hope you can tell me a little!  I love hearing the stories of everyone who walks through here.”

Reiji sipped his water before answering.

“The truth is, I’m researching the old legends of dragons,” he said.  “And I’ve heard rumors of one around here.”

Yuzu’s smile slipped.  All at once, all the brightness seemed to drain out of her.  

“Ah,” she said.  “Well, you wouldn’t be the first.”

She picked up her glass again and began to clean it out.  Masumi and Reiji exchanged a glance.  Before either could ask, though, she started talking.

“A lot of folks have come around here asking for dragons, hoping for treasure and hoards.  But dragons...they aren’t just legends around here now, you know, sir.”

“Is that so?” Reiji said calmly, as though he didn’t know that he had come here to find a real, living dragon, and not just study their myths.  Gods!!  She could still hardly believe he’d dragged her out here to hunt a dragon??  They were dangerous, sure, but how did one dragon threaten the lives of the entire kingdom? “I’ve heard stories of a dragon called...Zarc.  One who used to live in these mountains as a protector.”

Yuzu’s eyes grew even sadder.  She slowly put her glass and rag down, and leaned back against her kegs. Her eyes lifted to the two of them.

“Maybe a long time ago, that was true,” she said.  “But...well, it was only a legend for so long.  Until...”

Her eyes got even sadder, and she seemed to crumple in on herself.  Masumi leaned forward.

“My lady, are you all right?” she asked, concerned.

Yuzu smiled, but she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

“The truth is, sirs, there is a dragon about here, but whether or not it’s the Zarc we once told stories about, I don’t know.  All I know is that...well.”

She bit her lip, and shook her head.

“My best friend went missing around the same time it appeared,” she said.  “Almost two years ago.  We...all we found was blood.”

Her smile was tight and sad and she looked like she was ready to fall apart.  Masumi felt her heart break for her.

Reiji, however, fixed his glasses, a strange light coming into his eyes.

“That’s very tragic,” he said, calmly.  “I’m sorry.”

But that sentiment wasn’t the one that was in his gaze.  Masumi was starting to guess what that look meant — he had just figured something out.  

“Have...there been any other losses?” Reiji asked.

The bar girl ducked her head away, and despite her attempt to hide it, Masumi knew she was wiping some tears away.  When she turned back, she had mostly composed herself.

“No,” she said.  “Well, except for a sheep or two here or there.  The hunters still find deer ravaged by it.  But it’s stayed away from the village since then.”

“I see,” Reiji said, nodding slowly.  “I’m very sorry you had to lose your friend.”

“Thank you,” she said.  “But it’s no good to talk only of sad things.  He wouldn’t want me to mourn him forever.”

She seemed like she might be ready to say something else, but the doors opened, and boots clomped onto the old wooden floor, and a bright smile split her lips as she pasted back on her customer smile. 

“G’morning, Yuzu.”

“You’re here early today,” Yuzu said with a laugh as she moved down the counter to meet them.  

Masumi took advantage of the moment to shoot Reiji a glance, but he didn’t look at her.  He was mouthing to himself, brow furrowed, as though he were doing math in his head.  She poked him in the arm, and he stirred.

“Well?” she said in a low voice.  “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

His eyes flickered to Yuzu, and then to Masumi.  He set a coin down on the table, finished his water, and stepped away from the bench.  Masumi hurried to follow him, shooting a glance back towards Yuzu before they were back outside in the sun. 

Reiji glanced about them, and then stood off to the side of the door, just under the shade of the awning, so that they wouldn’t be blocking the door.  There were few people around, and none close enough to hear them.  Reiji waited for a small group of men to walk into the bar past them before he turned to speak.

“While that was hardly hard evidence of the dragon, it seems likely that it is nearby,” Reiji said.  “Unfortunately, from this conversation, I’m still not sure what type of dragon it is, which will make tracking it more difficult.  I assume due to the environment that it is likely a hill dragon, and thus will probably not be able to fly —”

“No, no, no, shut up,” Masumi said, aware of how disrespectful she was being and not caring.  “You dragged me out here to fight a dragon?”

“I brought you here to help me catch one.”

Masumi’s mouth fell open.  Her eyes bulged, and for a moment, her head spun.  

“Oh!  Great!  Let me just go and get the snares!” she said, throwing her hands over her head.  “Are you out of your mind, Your Highness?”

“There are magics that can bind the dragon to me,” Reiji said, still as frustratingly calm as ever.  “All I need from you is to distract it while I cast those spells.”

“You want us to track down, and distract a man-eating monster?”

Reiji pursed his lips then, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Odd, don’t you think?” he said.

Masumi blinked.  Her hands fell back to her sides.

“What’s odd?”

“Only one human casualty in two years.  Even a wolf that gains a taste for human blood is more than likely to strike again within months of the first attack.  But a dragon doesn’t feel safe enough to come near the village for more than a few livestock?”

Masumi’s brow furrowed — she had a feeling he was trying to get at something, but it felt like it was going over her head.  That...was strange, though, now that he was pointing it out.  She opened her mouth to ask him, straight out, what he was trying to say.

A yell rang out from inside the bar, and glass shattered on the floor.  She whipped around to the sound of bodies striking the ground, boots hitting hard, and another scream.

“You put her down, you damn —”

“Let go of me!  Let go!”

Another scream and a thud, and Masumi had yanked her sword from her scabbard — Reiji’s hand had dove into his pocket, for his magic rock, probably, but she moved herself in between him and the commotion, eyes fixed on the door.

A man came barrelling backwards through the door, leaving the door swinging open on its hinges, and crumpled down the steps.  A second man came through the door on his feet, brandishing his blade around — his lips curled with distaste, looking annoyed.

Her hands tightened on the hilt of her sword when he limped through the door, sword in front of him — and Yuzu’s wrists clamped in the other.  

Yuzu twisted and struggled to get free, yelling and kicking at his shins, but he had a firm grip on both her wrists in one hand, dragging her out the door.

“Let her go,” Masumi said, stepping forward.  “Let’s calm down, all right?”

The man’s eyes shot to her, breaths ragged.  He snarled as he spun his sword towards her.

“You’ll stay out of the way if you know what’s good for you,” he said.  “‘Less you’d like to get on the caravan with her.”

Masumi’s throat tightened as she realized the meaning — but gods, slave traders?  Stealing girls in broad daylight?  What had become of this kingdom?  

Yuzu’s eyes were wide with fear, her face bone white as she struggled in the man’s grip.  He kept her behind him with his sword out in front, eyes fixed on Masumi.  Two more men followed after him, blocking Masumi’s way towards Yuzu.  

Masumi kept her stance, jaw tight as she tried to decide what to do.  If she got into a fight here, it could put Reiji in danger.  But she couldn’t just let this man get away with this, either — it would be against her oaths to defend this kingdom.  What was Reiji even doing — 

Reiji let out a tiny, choked sound behind her.  Before she could check what for, his hand had snatched her shoulder, and he was yanking the pair of them backwards — 

Just before the awning caved in, and a deafening roar filled the air.  

Masumi’s ears popped from the splitting sound — the air was suddenly hot, so warm that it almost felt as though it were singing the hair on the back of her neck.  A faint crackling ran through the air, sparking over her armor like static.  Reiji yanked on her again, and she was forced to duck just before something huge swiped over her head.

As her head spun, she forced herself back to her feet again, still gripping her sword.  

She had to stop, though, and only stare — just like everyone else was.

The dragon was huge — the size of two draft horses high and four long.  Huge, curving white horns of different sizes sprouted from a slender head, glittering scales like rubies coating every inch of it.  It stood on two legs, with more large horns sprouting from its back instead of wings, jewel like orbs sprouting from various points of its body, and two shorter but strong looking arms tipped with deadly looking claws.

The man holding Yuzu reacted first.  With a loud yell, he threw his sword as far as he could.  It clattered on the ground, and the dragon’s head swung towards it.  At the distraction, the man snatched Yuzu up, threw her screaming over his shoulders, and bolted.

The sound of Yuzu’s screams drew the dragon’s attention.  Masumi’s blood ran cold.  Oh, gods, no —

Yuzu screamed and kicked at her attacker — and the dragon attacked.

With a mighty roar, the creature lunged forward.  It butted its huge head against the man’s back, sending him flying.  Yuzu went flying too, hitting the ground and rolling.  Masumi snatched up her sword and ran at the dragon, yelling a battle cry.

It wasn’t even paying attention to her — it’s red and green eyes were fixed on the man who’d tried to take Yuzu, and as he scrambled to his feet, the dragon’s head lunged forward — teeth tore into flesh and a scream cut through the air.  The dragon’s tail whipped around as it flung the man from his mouth, tail smacking hard into one of the other slave traders and sending him flying into a wall.  Yuzu tried to get up, coughing and choking on the dust, and the last of the three tried to snatch her.  The dragon was on him in seconds, teeth crushing the man in less than a breath.

But now the dragon was crouched directly over a frozen Yuzu, blood dripping from its mouth as it flung the now dead man away.  Masumi reached the beast, swinging her sword hard at its tail.  Her sword merely clanged off its scales, and the tail caught against her chest, sending her back a few feet.  She only needed its attention — and yet, it seemed unconcerned by her attack, still crouched over Yuzu.

“Is this enough of a distraction for you?” she screamed at Reiji as she moved to strike the dragon again.

She wasn’t the only one, either.  A woman charged from the bar with a pitchfork, yelling.  He stabbed it at the dragon’s underside, catching it beneath the arm and it screamed — blood dribbled from where the pitchfork had struck.  It must have weak points!

The first man who’d been thrown from the bar was on his feet now, too, brandishing a shovel, running at the dragon’s other side to strike at it.  

Now the dragon was getting agitated, tail lashing so badly that Masumi had to hit the ground to avoid it.  She heard the clang of weapons against scales, yells of other villagers heading for them.  She pushed herself up again — and Reiji immediately shoved her back down, as the dragon’s mouth opened wide, and let out a stream of pure green light that rushed over their heads.

The light hit a building behind them and exploded.  Masumi threw her hands over her head while debris and rocks tumbled over her head.  She coughed, choking on dust.  Her ears rang.

As her hearing returned, she realized that the cloying heat had disappeared.  She swallowed thickly, pushing herself up on her fists.  Her heart clamored against her ribs as she looked around.

The dragon was...gone?  No, she could see the wreckage that led towards its escape, and in the distance, the glitter of rubies — was it that fast??  No wonder it had snuck up on them so suddenly.

Her chest tightened as she realized that something else was missing.

Yuzu.

She reached up and grabbed Reiji by the collar.

“Are you happy now?” she coughed at him.  “It’s taken another human.”

But somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see how unconcerned Reiji appeared to be, even covered in dust and debris.  He extracted himself from her grip, and sat up on his knees.

“Yes,” he said.  “It has.”

His eyes glanced over the dead bodies of the slavers, still crumpled on the ground.

“Interesting though, that it did not simply take the meal it had already had in its grasp.”

Masumi’s heart thudded in her chest and ears, and she couldn’t be bothered to interpret his cryptic words.  She pulled herself up to her feet, using her sword for support.

“Gods,” she swore.  “I don’t care.  We need to go after it before it kills Yuzu.”

Reiji only nodded, sweeping to his feet.  A strange look of awe had entered his eyes, though, as he stared after the dragon’s wake.  Masumi ignored it, yanking her sword from the ground and sheathing it.  She started walking, not waiting for him.

*

Run run run run run don’t look back oh it hurts it hurts so badly, but can’t stop can’t stop, must run —

She’s still screaming she must be hurt oh no she’s...oh what is he...what is doing...

He has to...get away.  Has to...get her away.

Has to protect protect protect protect

It’s so hot it hurts has to protect it hurts it hurts it hurts

*

A jeweled dragon, Reiji thought, trying to restrain his excitement — Masumi might very well strike him if she realized how he actually felt about their encounter with the dragon.  But a jeweled dragon!! This was beyond any of his hopes and dreams.  Jeweled dragons had been rare even when dragons were plentiful — and like Heartish ore retained more magic than normal stone, a jeweled dragon produced much more magic than any other dragon.

He cleaned off his glasses for the third time — he still couldn’t seem to get all of the dust off of it.  Every step up the mountain was another step closer to being able to end his father’s reign.  Every step was a step closer to peace.

Masumi forged ahead with much more speed than he — she was quite worried about that girl.  She certainly was the very picture of a knight, with her devotion to protecting the innocent.

“The girl will be alive,” he called to her.

“Oh, like you can be sure,” she snapped back at him.  “We need to hurry!”

The forest was getting thicker this far up, and the ground more treacherous.  It was easy to track the dragon, however — it had left singed footprints in its wake, and broken branches all over the ground.  Reiji stepped over a few more of them.

The dragon likely wouldn’t have run very far — it was laden down by the girl, and clearly a young dragon judging by its size, meaning it would tire quickly.  And, Reiji thought with some concern as he looked over the droplets of blood that scattered the dragon’s foot prints, it was injured.  It would need to rest soon.

His calculations turned out correct.  It wasn’t long before the air began to grow heavy with a thick heat.  Masumi pressed on without concern, but she must be starting to sweat in her armor — Reiji had to pull his scarf from his neck and tuck it into his bag in order to stave off some of the heat.

Several trees were broken in half on the other side of the path, leading away and into the forest.  The heat grew stronger and thicker, making it almost hard to breathe, and a strange sense of dread grew in Reiji’s stomach that he knew didn’t come from within him.  Masumi seemed to be feeling it too, because she actually hesitated before charging into the woods, face tight.

“It’s the dragon’s aura,” Reiji told her, coming up alongside her.  “They grow thicker when they are frightened.  The heat comes from this dragon’s connection to fire — the fear is a natural dragon skill.  It’s meant to cause us to turn away.”

Masumi grit her teeth.

“It will have to try harder than that.”

Despite the clear fear in her eyes, produced by the dragon — and the tight panic that had spiked in Reiji’s chest as they got closer — she kept walking forward.  She was strong, he thought with approval.  He was glad she had come along after all.  On his own part, he needed to tease out a thread of magic from his stone in order to chase away the unnatural fear.

He heard the dragon before he saw it.  The heavy, ragged breaths and the lash of its tail against the air, the crackle of heat against the leaves that were starting to come close to burning.  Masumi drew her sword, throwing an arm out to hold him back.

The dragon crouched low to the ground, staring at them with its two colored eyes.  Its tail lashed nervously.  There was no immediate sign of Yuzu...no, wait, there she was.

Yuzu was curled on top of a tree trunk, white faced and trembling, but otherwise, seemingly unharmed.  Just as he had expected.  Masumi began forward almost as soon as she saw her, but Reiji grabbed her shoulder.  He kept his eyes on the dragon, running his tongue over his dry lips from the heat.

Softly, uncertain of the pronunciation, he spoke in a low, gentle draconic.

The dragon’s head twitched forward.  Reiji tried again.

“Hello,” he said in draconic.  “Can you understand me?”

Masumi twitched with surprise at the sounds coming from Reiji’s lips, but Reiji ignored her, staring at the dragon.  The dragon’s eyes were fixed on him specifically now.  A soft rumble rose up in its chest, and after a few moments, he recognized them as properly pronounced draconic.

Hurts.

“I understand.  You’re hurt.  Can I...come close?”

He struggled to remember enough words from his limited studies.  The dragon only stared at him.  A soft whine escaped its throat.  Reiji stepped forward, around Masumi, and the dragon’s head lowered, the heat spiking.  He stopped.  

Could this dragon be the legendary Zarc that lived in these mountains once upon a time?  It seemed too young for that to be so, but dragons could be young for a very long time.  Zarc was said to have been a jeweled dragon.  He decided to test it.

“Are you Zarc?” he asked.

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and the heat spiked again.  A low, angry hiss roiled up through its throat.  Reiji saw the glow of the dragon’s breath weapon rising up its throat, and Masumi swore, grabbing him and throwing him to the ground.  The pair of them hit the ground just as the flash of light coursed over their heads.  Trees were felled in an instant, crashing to the ground on either side of them.  Masumi rose to her feet and charged while the dragon hesitated between blasts.

“Ser Kotsu, wait,” Reiji tried to shout, but his throat was thick with dust and he couldn’t cough it out.

He heard Masumi’s sword strike the dragon’s scales with a massive clang, heard the dragon roaring and its tail lashing around.  He sat up to see it lunge at Masumi — she deflected its teeth with her sword, but was thrust back several feet.

I need to bind it to me, he thought with a rush of panic as the dragon’s fear aura broke through his meager magical defenses.

He pulled himself up to one knee, holding his ore in one hand and beginning to mutter spells and equations.  Magic began to glow around him, painting sigils against the air.  He wrote the spells across the space before him, painting runes and circles, the rituals that would bind him and the dragon.

The dragon screamed as Masumi managed to get in a slash on its unprotected belly.  It staggered backwards, stopping itself before it stepped on Yuzu.  Damn.  He’d forgotten about her.  To her credit, despite the terror on her face and the dragon’s aura that likely pinned her down with panic, she scrambled back off of the stump and hurried backwards, out of range of the dragon’s tail.  When she saw him, she began to edge around the clearing towards him.

Still painting the spells, he stood, moving around towards her.  Masumi rolled under another lunge from the dragon, but she was slowing down.  The dragon snatched at her, and the sword went flying from her hands.  She dove in the opposite direction of her sword, drawing the dragon towards her.

The spells were beginning to glisten against the dragon’s scales, now, but it didn’t seem to notice.  Reiji was close, he could feel it, he was nearly there — 

He reached the end of the spell and hesitated then — he...he couldn’t finish it.  He didn’t know the dragon’s name.  He needed its name to complete the spell.  And if it wasn’t Zarc after all, he’d have wasted all the magic he had left.  The connection would not be able to be formed.

They all might be killed.

Think!! he ordered himself, clutching to the edges of the spell before it could unravel.  If it’s not Zarc, then what is it?  Do I have enough magic to cast a truename spell to find out?

Think — he had to think.  Masumi grabbed up her sword again and yelled, clanging it against her armor to draw the dragon’s attention towards her.  It was working; if the dragon knew what spell Reiji was casting it likely could shake it off.  But he was running out of time!  What did he know about the dragon?  It was young.  It lived in the mountains where the dragon called Zarc used to live.  It was a jeweled fire dragon.  It had only just appeared two years ago, and it had killed only one human — and then it had disappeared until now.

The human it had killed had been...

Reiji’s eyes snapped to Yuzu, who was now within inches of him.  He reached out towards her, seizing her by the arm.

“Your friend’s name,” he demanded.  “What was it?”

“I — what?” Yuzu asked, eyes wide with shock.

“Your friend!  The one killed by the dragon!  What was his name?”

“I don’t understand how that’s —”

“If you want us to survive, then give me the name!!”

Yuzu’s mouth hung open for a second — almost a second too long.

“Yuya,” she gasped out then.

Reiji released her and whipped both hands back into his spell.  He wrote the name into his spell, quick fingered, weaving the magic around him.  He bolted forwards, then, ducking right in between Masumi and the dragon, ignoring her startled gasp and the spike of heat from the dragon’s breath about to cast over him.

“Yuya!” he shouted, as he flung the net of the spell over the dragon.

For a moment, it seemed like it wasn’t going to work.  The spell wavered, trembled in his fingers, and threatened to fall apart.  The dragon’s throat glowed with the light about to wash over him and strike him down.

And then, all at once, the air trembled.  The dragon stumbled.

And when it fell forwards, it was no longer a dragon, the air pinching and warped dizzingly about its shape.  Reiji threw his arms out just in time to catch the young man who collapsed into his arms — he was surprisingly heavy, and Reiji had to lower himself to the ground to support him.

His body was hot to the touch, but it began to cool as his eyes fluttered, his breath caught.

Yuzu let out a thick, wounded cry.

“Oh my gods,” she swore, collapsing to her knees and clamping her hands over her mouth.  “Oh deities.”

Reiji let out a long, slow breath — he could feel it, now, the pulsing connection between him and the boy now in his arms.  It was like a rope tied to his soul, feeding back warmth into him.  Pure, raw magic.  A store unlike any he’d ever felt before.  And even more curious — he felt almost as though something were flowing back from him and into the dragon, too.  But he didn’t produce magic — so what was he giving back through this connection?  He’d have to do quite a bit of research.

But for now, he turned to a gaping Masumi, and a trembling, sobbing Yuzu.

“I am going to make the educated guess,” he said, “that this is your missing friend.”

*

For what felt like the first time in years, Yuya opened his eyes.

His head panged with a faint headache, and his body felt heavy, but other that that, he felt...all right.  As though he’d just come out of a devastating fever.

The first thing he saw, as he cracked his groggy, sticky eyes open, was a face he did not know, looking over him.  His eyes caught on the deep purple irises behind glasses, and his breath caught.  His eyes widened and his lips parted. 

He had never met this man before, and yet...he felt the strangest sense of a deep connection with him.  Like something was anchored to his soul between them.

“Yuya!!”

The voice was familiar.  The man who held him helped him sit up, just in time for someone to throw her arms around him.  He grunted, body whining from the movement.

“Oh my gods, Yuya, you’re alive you’re alive you’re alive — ”

“Y...Yuzu?” he said, coughing.  “Ugh...what...where am I?”

He groaned, and then noticed something else.  He flushed.

“Why am I naked?”

Yuzu immediately popped off of him, blushing a bit as well.  He felt fabric drape over him, then, and blinked up at the man sitting over him — he’d just draped a long red scarf over his shoulders.  It was big enough to completely cover him, so Yuya tugged it around him.

“T...thank you,” Yuya said.  “Um...what...happened?”

“Move slowly,” the man said.  “You’ve been a dragon for a very long time.  It will take your body some time to adjust.”

“Right...I mean, what??”

Yuya’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open.  He swung his gaze between the man, Yuzu, and the lady knight he’d just noticed was standing over them as well.

The man fixed his glasses, shifting up to a better position.

“I would wait until you’d recovered to explain more fully, but I sincerely doubt we have that much time,” he said.  “Let me introduce us.  This is Ser Kotsu Masumi of the Royal Court.  And I am Akaba Reiji.”

Yuya’s eyes bulged.  He shot a look at Yuzu to see if she’d heard the same thing he did.  His eyes shot back to Reiji.

“You’re...the prince?” he said.

“Yes.  That isn’t the important part at the moment, however.  Tell me, Yuya — what is the last thing you remember?”

Yuya hesitated.  His head was still spinning about the idea of the prince being right here, and while Yuya was...well, not wearing anything to boot — and this was the prince’s scarf he was wearing!  But he tried to think, because he was confused too.  What was the last thing he remembered?  How had he ended up here?  

For a moment, all he could remember were faint, blurred impressions, like a dream barely remembered upon waking.  He remembered heat.  But before that...

“I’d....I’d gone up the mountain a bit,” Yuya said slowly.  “I was going to check for blackberries, see if they were ripe yet.  But then...”

He furrowed his brow, trying to think.

“I saw something...weird, in the sky.  Something...glowing?  Then there was this...heat in my chest.  I think...I passed out?”

He wrinkled his nose trying to think.  But he couldn’t remember anything else.  To his surprise, however, Reiji was nodding.

“The times match up,” he said.  “That was around the time my father was performing his first experiments.”

Reiji sat up straighter, flicking his bangs from his eyes.

“Are you going to explain what’s happening??” Masumi said suddenly with a snap that seemed unlike how a knight should speak to a prince.  “Or are you going to continue to be cryptic?”

Reiji actually smiled slightly at Masumi’s outburst.

“I will not bore you with the details. However, from what I understand, you, Yuya, are a descendent of dragons.”

Yuya stared at him, mouth hanging open.  His head spun.  What on earth was happening here?

“But how is that possible?” Yuzu said.  “Dragons — Yuya is a human!”

Reiji shook his head.

“When the Great Migration occurred many centuries ago, most magical creatures left our world to return to their own,” Reiji said.  “However...not all of the dragons left with them.  There were legends that some of them used their great magic to transform themselves, to hide and live among humans.”

He tilted his head at Yuya.

“It seems likely that you descend from some of those dragons — the blood runs within you.  Some years ago, my father was experimenting with massive quantities of old magic, resulting in magical surges that ran through the kingdom — it’s likely that one of those caught you up in it, forcibly activating your dragon blood and reverting you to your true form.”

Yuya shook his head slowly.  This barely made sense — and yet...he remembered the heat.  He remembered being hurt, too.  And...scared.  His head pounded.

“I’ve been gone for two years?” he mumbled.

Yuzu crouched down next to him, squeezing his shoulder.  She looked like she was going to start crying again.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.  “But you were out there all this time...”

She swallowed, pressing a hand to her mouth.  Then she smiled at him.

“You saved me, you know,” she said.

“Huh?  I did?”

“You must have heard that I was in trouble.  As a dragon, I mean.  You came to save me...”

Yuya’s lips parted.  He hardly remembered being a dragon, and yet...at least he hadn’t hurt anyone.

“So what happens now?” Masumi said, folding her arms.  “We came up here to catch a dragon, and he doesn’t look like a dragon anymore.”

“Why did you want to catch a dragon?” Yuzu said, eyes widening.

“He is a dragon,” Reiji said.  “Regardless of his form, he’s a dragon.  And...well.”

He looked down at Yuya, and Yuya met his eyes — he felt that strange spark of connection between them again, lips parting.

“The reason you were able to transform back now, is because I have bound our souls together,” Reiji said.  “We are connected, now.  And I would ask for your assistance in a dire matter regarding the safety of the kingdom, if you would be willing.”

Yuya only stared at him.  But Yuzu grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him close to her.

“No way!” she said, glaring at Reiji.  “I only just got my best friend back, and you’re going to try and drag him off?  I won’t let you!! I won’t let you use him!”

“I am offering a choice, not a command,” Reiji said calmly.  “Our connection aside, I will not force him to do anything.”

“He’s just finally gotten back to himself and you’re springing this on him!  Let him rest!  Let him go back home and see his friends and family!!”

“We don’t have that much time, unfortunately,” Reiji said, still calm and level.

Yuzu looked like she was getting ready to yell some more, but Yuya reached up and gripped her arm gently.  He smiled at her when she looked down at him, brow furrowed with worry.  He turned his gaze to Reiji.

“I want to hear you out,” he said.  “One way or another, I think you saved me.  And if...if people are in trouble, then...I’d like to help, if I really can.”

He bit his lip, and then looked down at himself, blushing.

“Um.  I think I’d like to get some clothes on, first, if that’s all right.”

Reiji’s lips twitched, and Masumi seemed to only have just now noticed his relative lack of coverings, eyes widening before she quickly looked away from him.

“I think we can arrange that,” said Reiji.

Yuya shifted forward, pulling the large scarf around him a little more to cover himself, when Reiji’s half smile suddenly slipped.  His head tilted quickly to the side, brow furrowing.

Before Yuya could stand, Reiji had grabbed hold of him and Yuzu both, shoving them both down to the ground.  Yuya heard the flurry of arrows shooting right over their head, heard Masumi swear and draw her sword, and then Reiji was up and on his feet, his cape whirling about him.

“What’s going on?” Yuzu shouted.

Reiji swore — he made complex signs in the air with his hands, but nothing happened, and his face tightened.

“We were followed,” he swore as he whirled to Yuya.  “It’s my father’s soldiers.  They’ve likely come for you.”

Yuya’s breath caught.  Reiji was the prince, which meant — the king was after him?

“I didn’t see anyone follow us!” Masumi yelled, as she grabbed Yuzu under the arm and helped her to her feet, pushing her towards the trees away from the attack.

“My father employs magicians,” Reiji said tersely as he copied Masumi by dragging Yuya up to his feet.

“But — why me?” Yuya yelped.

“If I must hazard to guess, it’s likely my father waited for me to secure you — all he has to do now is drag me back and force me to transfer our bond to him.”

“And then...”

Reiji’s eyes were dark, and Yuya was afraid to ask what would happen then.

“What do we do?” he said.

Reiji sucked in a breath as another flurry of arrows flew over their heads — Yuya stumbled over the stones in his bare feet.  He glanced behind him and his heart skipped a beat to see the armored soldiers almost on their heels.

Automatically, he grabbed for Reiji’s hand, and for the pulsing, invisible connection between them.

“You said you can use magic!” he said.  “With my help!  Can’t we get away with that?”

Reiji’s lips parted, and his eyes widened.

“We can,” he said, “but it...it’s not easy, and you’ve only just transformed —”

“I don’t care!  We have to do something, or — or we’re all going to die!”

Yuya swallowed thickly — he was still so confused.  So lost.  He’d been gone from his home, from his life, from himself for two years.  He didn’t know what was happening.

But one way or another, he was positive that Reiji had saved him. And he wanted to do something to help.

Reiji seemed to catch it in his eyes, because his jaw tightened, and he nodded.  His hand squeezed Yuya’s.

“Focus on me,” he said.  “Focus on the idea that you want to lend me some of your power.”

Yuya nodded — he clung to Reiji’s hand, thinking hard.  He imagined a fire in his chest, a pulsing light that flowed down his arm — and he felt it.  He felt the tingle in his fingers, gasping at the spark that passed between their palms.

Something came over him — a warm, soft something, much like Reiji’s soft scarf draped around him.  It wasn’t like the heat that had consumed him in his last memory before he’d woken up here, but rather more like the gentle warmth growing across your skin after draping a blanket over yourself.  Yuya closed his eyes, and breathed out.

I want to lend you my strength, he thought.  So that I can protect everyone.

When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer holding Reiji’s hand.  He was standing far over him, in fact, much taller than he had been before.  A heat thrummed through him, but it was calm and collected, unlike the blinding heat that had consumed his mind and made him unable to think.

Yuya sighed out through his suddenly long teeth and snout, stretching out his long tail, and his new body felt as natural to him as his old, his mind perfectly in place.  Power thrummed through him, and he could feel Reiji, felt his soul as though it were nestled against his own, a cool presence that anchored him to himself even as he was sheathed in scales.

He turned his eyes to the soldiers who had all, as one, frozen.  Their swords clattered to the ground, and mouths hung open with shock.

Yuya let out a plume of smoke through his nostrils, and felt the heat of his flames grumbling in his stomach.  But he would not release the weapon of his breath that nestled inside him.  He was not the one fighting.

His power rushed through Reiji, and he heard Reiji gasp softly as though he were directly beside him.

Reiji’s skin glowed.  When his hands moved, it left painted, glowing lines in the air, as he painted the symbols and circles that would guide the magic that Yuya lent him in the way that he wished.

“Hold on to Yuya,” Reiji said, and Yuya lowered his body so that Masumi and Yuzu, briefly having stared at him with awe, scrambled forward to put their hands against his scales.

Reiji and Yuya’s power wove together — because Yuya felt it, Reiji had a power within him too, like a coal that had yet to be stoked, something that Reiji perhaps didn’t even realize was within him — but Yuya’s flames were encouraging it to begin to flame up, and the two fires within them merged until Yuya couldn’t tell where he ended and Reiji began.

When Reiji spoke next, the words that came from his lips were so ancient that Yuya shuddered — even he did not know what they meant, and his body as it was remembered a different language than his native one.  But they made the air shake, and several of the soldiers fell to their knees. 

I don’t want to hurt them, Yuya thought, suddenly, with panic.

Reiji’s flames paused a moment.  For just a breath, Yuya thought Reiji was going to try and rip the fire out of him.  That he was going to forcibly drag Yuya’s power from him and use it to cut these people down right in front of him.

But it was over in an instant.  Reiji’s desires aligned with Yuya’s.

Neither do I, Reiji’s voice echoed in his mind.

He cut through the air with his palm, and something cracked, like a lightning bolt striking the earth.  Yuya roared.

When next he opened his eyes, he was human again, and staring at a scenery he had never seen before.  He was also, thankfully, wearing clothes — nothing more than a simple tunic, leggings, and boots, but enough to be comfortable.

Reiji stirred beside him on one side, and Yuzu on the other.  Masumi was already sitting up, arms folded as she looked about.

“Where...are we?” she said.

Reiji coughed.  His eyes fluttered behind his glasses.

“I thought perhaps it would be to our benefit to...retreat,” he said.  “Considering how much that magic knocked the both of us out...I’m glad I did.  We will need...much more practice.”

His eyes caught on Yuya’s as he sat up, and Yuya’s breath caught as well.  His body trembled with the strain of the magic they had just cast — and with awe.

He sat up, and squinting, looked down at the sun setting over the faraway mountains.  He didn’t know where they were.  He had no idea where to even begin thinking about what had just happened, or...what he was.

But he breathed in, and he breathed out.  He stared at his hands, his human hands, and thought about the scales that lived beneath his skin.

He looked to Reiji, and Reiji looked to him.

“I’m sorry,” Reiji said.  “I took you very far away from your home.”

Yuya wasn’t surprised to find a smile growing on his lips, but Reiji’s eyes widened slightly.

“Well,” he said, turning towards him and resting his head on his hands.  “Start telling me what the next part of this adventure of ours, is.”

Reiji blinked, lips parting.  And then, almost hesitantly, he smiled.

“I think,” he said, “that that can be arranged.”

[ihaveastorminme]

anatomy of a second language

iv. alive and together

"I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do."

   - F. Scott Fitzgerald,More Than Just A House

“How do we know that he really has Rickon?” She hers herself ask after a moment of tense silence. She breathed deep and folded the letter and passed it to Petyr who sat at her left, instead of giving into the impulse to tear it in half.

“We don’t.” Willa Manderly said before anyone else could. “It’s more likely that the Boltons are lying, your grace.”

Willa’s grandfather had not been able to contribute any men, seeing that they would be meeting the Manderly forces in battle soon. Whether they would be fighting with Sansa’s forces or the Bolton’s she still did not know, despite Lord Manderly’s promise that his men had orders to yield when the wolves came. Perhaps it had been to prove this point that Wylla had insisted to come with her, along with some of her cousins and loyal men. They had offered themselves for what amounted to voluntary hostages… or perhaps spies, Sansa thought, looking to Littlefinger. He’d kept a close eye on the Manderlies, she knew.   

“And if he’s not lying? What if we attack, and Roose Bolton kills my brother?”

“Our people inside Winterfell say no new prisoners have been brought in for weeks, your grace.” Robett Glover said, his deeply lined face serious. “Our people inside Winterfell say no new prisoners have been brought in for weeks, your grace.” Robett Glover said, his deeply lined face serious. "Before that, no one had heard so much as a whisper of your youngest brother. If he had managed to capture the prince, Bolton would have announced it for all the North to hear."

“Still no word from Sir Davos, however.” Wylla said, sounding even more despondent than usual.

Sansa sighed.

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing troupes and supply lines. She was told of the position of their forces, of the men and women joining them as they marched and Sansa listened closely, though she did not understand all of it. It was hard not to be overcome: she had expected to retake her home by force, but it seemed that the whole of the north wanted a Stark back in Winterfell almost as desperately as she wanted to go home.

Over the table she met Petyr Baelish’s eye. Maybe she would not owe to him as much as she thought she would.

More often than not she looked to Jon. He spoke little but when he did, everyone listened. The northerners treated him with respect, where she could feel that their address to her was more out of courtesy. She could understand why: they did not expect a girl to be able to understand their talk of military strategies, and perhaps they were right. She knew nothing of how one should go about winning a battle on the ground. About how to choose where to make a stand, how to engage one’s enemies in an open field or anything like that. But she did know about tactics; she knew how to go about winning engagements with beyond winning battles.

She knew for instance, that they had to watch themselves as they marched north, and make sure that Moat Cailing remained well manned, because once the Ironborn were done with their Kingsmoot, they would start to raid. When she pointed this out and got a fierce smile from Alysanne Mormont.

“There is another matter to discuss, your grace.” Robett Glover said just as the council came to a close. Sansa looked away from the map of the north where their troops and their position has been laid out.

No one had called her by a royal title, until the northerners did so. It had been Petyr’s idea, and Sansa understood why. It had been famously known that it had been Robb’s own bannermen that had crowned him, declaring independence. No one but the north could crown her queen - or should - if she wanted her rule to be as legitimate, certainly not the Lords of the Vale. They could declare for her, if they so wished, but they could not name her.

Sansa straightened and linked her fingeres together on top of the table. “Yes, lord Glover.”

“I must first beg pardon for the offence I am about to give.” Lord Glover said then, dark eyes meeting hers.

Sansa felt Jon stifen by her side and resisted the urge to look at him.

“Speak freely, my Lord.” Better to have it out, Sansa thought.

“Before I left White Harbour, I received a raven from my brother Galbart, who sailed into the Neck with Mage Mormont. They had orders from King Robb to take back Moat Cailin.”

“I am already aware of this.” Sansa said when Glover paused. They had just spoken of this, she thought as she glanced at Alysanne Mormont. She too had acted under the same orders, from her mother.

“My brother also told me that the late king made a will before he left for the Twins.”

Sansa stiffened. She had been expecting it to come up, she had been prepared; but not like this.

“In his will, the King in the North legitimised Jon Snow, who was also named heir after him.”

“And he wrote me out of the line of succession, because I was forced to marry Tyrion Lannister.” Sansa said stiffly. “Is that right?”

Glover clenched his jaw. “Yes, your grace.”

“My mother wrote me the same.” Alysanne Mormont said then, her tone apologetic. “Your uncle Edmure and the Blackfish were witnesses, as well as the Greatjon and Jason Mallister.”

Sansa turned to Jon, whose face was as if set in stone. She could not tell if it was because of anger or any other emotion. She could not read him, but then he looked at her and when he spoke, his words left no room for interpretation.

“I’ve already told them I don’t want it. Any of it.”

She would be lying if she said that did not surprise her. Perhaps she should not have let her confusion show, but she could not help it.

“Truborn children come before legitimized bastards.” His grey eyes blazed and his mouth was set in a harsh line. Yes, he was angry. “You are here and Rickon may yet be found. Until he is, you are my queen. I will swear my fealty in front of a the first heart tree we come across, if you like.”

Sansa shook her head. That’s not what she’d meant at all, but she could not say that in front of all these people. She could not take his hand, and ask him what was the matter.

… She dearly wished this utter refusal did not make her so suspicious of him, but that was not how she had been trained to think.

“You heard the man. Besides, Queen Sansa was never truly married to the Imp. She did not consent and apparently neither did he, and the union was never a true one.” Mychel Horton says, a little more loudly than he should have. Harry, who was sitting next to him and who was Mychel’s friend, Sansa knew this, nodded but had the sense not to speak.  

“Surely the north does not mean to be beholden to Lannister scheming!”

“As an independent kingdom, should the North even recognize the authority of the seven over their Queen? Most of the country does not keep to the seven at all.” John Royce said then and there were more noises of assent from the men around her. Beneath the calmness of Royce’s voice however, Sansa could feel his irritation. She’d known of course that the Vale men would support her claim over… over Jon’s. She was promised to the heir of the Eyrie; speaking of her as married was an insult to their faces.  

Sansa looked at the Lords around her, and into Petyr Baelish’s eyes as well. He was watching her without blinking. He knew better than to intervene for her here.

“Lord Glover, what is your opinion?” She finally asked, interrupting the discussion around her.

“I am here to fight and die, if need be, to see a Stark back in Winterfell.” Glover said, pale eyes fixed on her. “To avenge the Red Wedding.”

Mailed fists hit the table hard.

Sansa tilted her head a bit to the side. “But?”

“But, I also believe King Robb’s will is his last command. I cannot pretend i don’t know it, and I cannot brush it aside.”

Sansa nodded faintly. “No, you cannot. And neither can I.”

From the corner of her eye she saw Jon turn to look at her. She’d startled him - and not just him.

“Sansa-”

Sansa put her hand over his arm. “I heard you, Jon, but this is not just about what you or I want. Robb was king, his will has legal repercussions. It has to mean something.”

“Robb made that will under circumstances that forced his hand.” Jon turned to look at the men and women around him. “The queen was a prisoner, when she was forced to marry. Her family did not consent. She did not consent. The ceremony was not executed in the eyes of our gods and now there are two armies, the Neck, a direwolf and myself between her and anyone mad enough to try to pursue the validity of this union. Circumstances have changed.”

“My queen.” Wylla Manderly said, speaking over the buzz that Jon’s words had created.

“My lady.”

“Did I understand the lord correctly, before?” She asked, looking at Mychel Horton. “Did the Imp also not consent to the marriage.”

Sansa held back a smile. Wylla Manderly was smarter than Sansa had thought. “He did not.”

“Is that why the marriage remained unconsummated?”

Under her hand, Sansa felt Jon’s arm flex with the strain of keeping still and silent to such a a question. It was only then that she realized that she had not moved her hand away, and once she did, she slowly withdrew both hands on her lap.  

“Wylla! If your grandfather were here, he would remind you one should not speak to one’s queen in such a way.” Alysanne scolded, but Wylla Manderly kept looking at Sansa, undeterred. The question was crass enough, but asked with wide eyes and a note of honest curiosity that would make one dismiss it for mere naivete. Sansa knew better.

“If my grandfather were here, he would want to be precise.”

“Would he want you to be impudent?” Lord Norrey asked then.

“Others will ask too. It is in the mind of half the men in this room, though they dare not say it. We might as well just have it out.”

“Others may ask, Lady,” Jon said slowly. There was something exceptionally cold about his face and the way it was set in anger. Sansa almost did not know him. Almost. “But since the queen has already answered, I would be bound to demand to fight any man who would doubt my Queen’s honor by asking again, and then let the gods decide the truth of it.”

Wylla Manderly grinned in the face of Jon’s threat. “And do you plan to fight all the northern Lords that don’t want a woman to lead them, Lord Snow, even if she is Ned Starks truborn daughter?”

The table erupted in shouts, and Sansa was sure she was the only one who heard Jon’s quietly spoken ‘If I have to.’

Yohn Royce rose to his feet. “I would rather fight and die for Ned Starks daughter, than any lord or King alive.”

“I will not have my honor question by an insolent child!”

Sansa did not really hear them. She was looking at Jon and he was looking back at her with an expression on his face she could not read. She doubted he could understand from her own silence how her heart ached to hold him, in that moment. She told herself to doubt all this devotion that came from nowhere, but he was her father’s so. He was her brother. He too probably wanted to go home as much as she did. Who should he not be as devoted to their family as she was?

Sansa rose from her seat slowly. It took some moments for everyone to notice but they did, and she waited for them to quiet down so that she could speak.

“Thank you, my Lords.” She said once they did. “The answer to lady Manderly’s question, is that i cannot be certain of Tyrion Lannister’s reasons for defying his father. I only know what happened, not why.”

“I doubt he did it out of decency.” Wylla grumbled. Some of the lords snorted at that, and Sansa allowed them a smile.

“I don’t know if i could say so, lady Manderly, but out of all the Lannisters I knew, Tyrion Lannister was the only one who was not cruel.”

“Well, then that really does mean the marriage is void, does it not?”

It was interesting how she had brought the discussion to this point. Interesting and terribly clever. No one could disagree without calling Sansa a liar, or asking for proof she was indeed a maid. Sansa doubted anyone would dare with Jon looking for all intents and purposes like he might murder the first man to speak of her that way.

Those green eyes on Wylla Manderly’s face shone with more than just mischief.

“By all legal criteria, it does, my Lady.” Littlefiger said, speaking for the first time.

“There is one last thing that I want to discuss before I leave you to your duties.” Sansa said as she sat down again. She let a moment pass, so that everyone’s attention was back on her. “Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow. I want them both captured alive.”

No one objected to that, at least.

“Ramsay is likely the one heading the bolton forces coming towards us, your grace.” Norrey said, as he glanced back at the map laid out in front of them.

“Nevertheless, I want him captured alive, if at all possible. I do not want the likes of him or his father dying in battle.” She explained. “All those they have hurt deserve to see them punished for their crimes, not just killed. The dead demand justice, my lords. And so do I.”

“As the queen commands.” Alysanne said.

ii

As all the Lords were leaving, Sansa caught Wylla Manderly’s eye. “A word, my lady.”

She was not refused, of course. Jon did not leave either, even as the others filed out of her tent and into the cold outside. Sansa waited for all of them to leave, before she let herself smile.

“That was very clever.” She finally said, and Wylla grinned. Her teeth were white and though the front two were crooked, they did not take away from the loveliness of that smile.

“I am a clever girl.”

Jon huffed. “If you’d been a man-”

“Yes, yes, you would have dueled me in front of the whole army and my head would have flown from my shoulders.” Wylla said as she rolled her eyes at him, and Sansa bit her lip so she wouldn’t laugh. “I understood you the first time, Jon Snow. But i think the queen would much rather I asked those questions, than any of those miserable lords out there, don’t you think?”

She was looking at Jon, but it was Sansa who replied. “Yes, I do.”

“See? Things were cleared out, there was no dueling and nobody died. I would call it a win.”

Sansa looked at Jon and was surprised to find him looking unimpressed. “How very neat.”

Wylla shrugged. “Not usually, but I can think on my feet. When I don’t lose my temper, that is.”

But then her face changed, becoming serious. Those round green eyes took on a light of their own.

“I know you doubt my grandfather, your grace.” she said, voice low. “And you have reason, with Manderly men in Winterfell with the Boltons, and others about to come upon your army. I know you think you don’t know who to trust, but I promise you, we are your men. Stark men.”

Sansa nodded. “Yes, I’m starting to see that.” She stepped forward and took one of Willa’s hands. “Will you ask your cousins if they’d like to share my tent tonight? I would love to spend the night among you.”

Willa Manderly’s smile was almost wolfish. “They’ll say yes.”

“They will if you have anything to do with it.” Jon grumbled.

“Oh stop being so dowr Jon Snow.” She laughed. “If anything, today will finally put to rest all the questions about where you stand, since anyone will be too scared of you to bring it up again.” Wylla curtsied. “My queen.”

“My lady.”

“Lord Snow.” She added then, unexpectedly, with a smile that Sansa thought was almost flirtatious.

“Get on.” Jon said, but it was not severe. If anything he sounded amused.

When the flap of the tent closed behind Wylla Manderly’s dark grey cloak, Sansa turned to Jon with a raised eyebrow.

“That was rude.”

“No more than she deserves.”

She could have told him he needed to remember better manners among ladies, but instead she smiled at him. “I think she likes you, Jon.”

He just blinked at her, like he did not understand. Sansa decided to take pity on him and not to tease him about the green-haired girl that might or might not want a kiss from him yet.

“Lady Brienne, you may leave us.” She said instead.

“Shall I send for some food, your grace?”

“Yes please, and for Jon also. And make sure you rest for the rest of the day.”

Brienne startled. “Your grace-”

“I’m with Jon, and I’ll have Ghost. There’s no reason to worry. You can’t watch over me all the time, Brienne.” Sansa added a bit more softly. “Even you need to rest sometimes!”

“Very well, your grace.” Brinenne bowed and left them.

Sansa reached for the pitcher on the table and poured some more ale before handing it to Jon.

“She seems devoted to you.” He said as he took it. Once she sat, he took the chair closest to her, and for that she was grateful.

“She is. She saved my life back in the Vale.”  

Jon’s eyes were steady on her, in a way she remembered from childhood. He’d always been so watchul, so quiet.

“Thank you, for what you did before.” She said, voice so low it was almost a whisper. “You didn’t have to.”

“I did.” He set the cup down and when he looked at her again, he was almost smiling. “If i don’t protect you, Ned Stark’s ghost might actually come back to murder me.”

Sansa tried to smile, but couldn’t hold it for long. Neither could Jon - the memory of their father must be as painful for him as it was for her. It had been years, but that pinch inside her heart had not gone away.

She leaned on the table, a bit closer to him. “Why don't you want to be legitimized?”

“I’d rather keep my name, if it’s all the same to you.”

It wasn’t the words exactly, It was the way he spoke them. Like there was something beneath them that he was not telling her, some meaning she would be able to grasp if she could just lift the edge of the curtain and peak behind it.But she did not know how to - she did not know him.

“Jon…” She looked down, to where her fingers were interlaced in front of her. She had the courage to look at him in the eye when she spoke again. “You must know that I would never resent you for Robb legitimizing you. You’re my brother.”

He winced and leaned back, almost as if he wanted to distance himself from this conversation, so Sansa rushed on, afraid he’d interrupt, needing to make amends, somehow. She had just found him - she didn’t want to lose him.

“I know I wasn’t the best sister when we were children-” she pressed on.

Jon seemed startled. “That’s not-”

“But I promise to love you better, if you let me. If you can forgive me.”

He moved as if he meant to reach for her hand, but then changed his mind halfway, hand closing into a fist on the table and then opening again. But his face was open when he spoke. “Sansa, there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Forgive me!”

He huffed a laugh. “As the queen demands.”

Sansa pushed at his arm, smiling. “Shut up. I’m being serious.”

This time he did really smile. The change it brought to his face was stunning.

“I will forgive you if that’s what you want. But you said it yourself; we were children. I promise you, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Sansa snorted. “Oh yes. I was delightful, wasn’t I?”

He did reach out then, catching the end of ehr braid between his thumb and forefinger. “Doesn't matter. You were a child, same as I. Younger than I.”

He let go of her braid and wrapped his hands around his cup.

“I know it musn’t have been easy for you, being called the bastard of Winterfell.” The looked he gave her was startled. “I didn’t know before, but I do now. I was a bastard for a while, too.”

Jon’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“I thought of you often, during that time. It gave me courage.” She laughed at his surprise. “Dine with me tonight, and I’ll tell you about it. And you also must tell me everything.”

She reached for the cup he was drinking from and he didn’t hesitate to hand it to her.

“Everything? Are you sure you want to know?”

She took a sip and then made a face at the sour taste. She didn’t regret it though because it made Jon chuckle to see it.

“That’s wine you brought from the Vale.”

“It is, but I never liked wine anyway.” Sansa said as she cleared her throat and handed him back his cup.

“I think the point is to get drunk from it, not like it.”

“Whatever the point is, i always seem to miss it. And yes, I do want to know everything. Starting perhaps with how you left the Night’s Watch.”

His face fell a little.

“I was dismissed. I have a letter from the Lord Commander to prove it, with the signatures of five witnesses.”

Sansa took his arm. “I believe you. But I know that at some point someone is going to bring it up and dare to demand your head. I want to be precise in my wording, when I offer to take their head instead.” she explained calmly.

He looked at her like he did not know what to make of her words, but Sansa only smiled in return.

“You’ve changed.” He said then.  

“Haven’t you?”

Jon’s nod was minute, but his eyes were so sad she wished she could take the words back.

“Tell me.” she said instead, gently. There was something about him that told her she should be gentle. Beneath the hardness he presented to the world, there was a brittleness she felt. Something that was one brush away from crumbling. Perhaps if he shared it, they would carry that weight together - secrets hurt less once you shared them, Sansa knew that all too well.

[406ink-blog]

Time Stands Still Ch. 6: The Lion in Winter (also on Ao3)

Summary:  Jon and Daenerys finally make it to the small council meeting and Jon reveals to everyone that Jaime Lannister has arrived in Winterfell. Bran has had visions of Jaime's past in order to ascertain where his loyalties lie. Jaime antagonizes Jon at the small council meeting, Daenerys disarms the situation. Jaime swears an oath of fealty.

The members of the small council had already gathered by the time Jon and Daenerys arrived, along with several other of their trusted advisors.  It’s grown into a rather large council, Jon reflected.  They went immediately to their seats at the head table.  Jon turned to one of his household guards and told him to fetch the Kingslayer.  “My lords,” Jon said, and everyone hushed, “as I’m sure you’ve all heard, Jaime Lannister arrived early this morning from the south.  He has informed me that his sister Cersei intends to break faith with our armistice.  Rather than sending her armies north with Ser Jaime, she has instead sent for the Golden Company in Essos.  While we wage war on the Night King and his army in the north, Cersei, with the help of Euron Greyjoy and the Golden Company, intends to come against us from the south.”  Everyone broke out into discussion all at once.  Jon pounded a leather gloved fist on the table, and everyone settled down.  “We have two matters before us – what is to be done to defend the north, the realm, on two battle fronts, and what is to be done with Ser Jaime Lannister.”

“Take the dragons south and burn the bitch,” rasped the Hound.  “And feed that cunt brother of hers to the big black one.”

“My lords, my brother has risked his very life to flee the capital and bring us this news.  Had he not done so, we would have no idea what Cersei had planned.  We should consider ourselves in his debt,” Tyrion drawled in his lackadaisical manner.

Yohn Royce spoke up, looking down at Tyrion in disdain, “You cannot trust one Lannister, let alone two.  They are likely in league together.  Your grace,” he looked at Jon directly, “I suggest they both be put under guard in a black cell.”

The room erupted into shouts for-and-against Yohn Royce’s suggestion.  Tyrion looked horrified, his mismatched eyes darting to-and-fro, as though he were looking for a champion in the event this came to a trial by combat situation.  Lord Royce took notice and sneered, “No sell swords here to save you this time Imp.”

“No one is being taken as prisoner, Lord Royce.  For the time being, Jaime Lannister is our guest.  We will ask him to surrender his weapons and he will be free to move about the castle,” Jon ground out in a clipped tone.  He needed to regain control, but his statement just caused the voices to raise an octave higher.

He’s beginning to lose his temper, thought Daenerys, watching the delightful twitch of his jaw muscles. She’d seen a similar twitch before - her brother Viserys’ jaw used to do that.  It had been a warning sign that the dragon was about to wake.  He is more Targaryen than he knows.

“Enough!” Jon roared.  All eyes on the king, everyone stopped talking at once.  The silence was palpable.  The hall suddenly looked very much like Winterfell’s crypt with everyone frozen in place.  Jon took a breath - his nostrils flaring, his shoulders hunched, eyes nearly black – he cut an imposing figure, looking larger somehow than his 5’8”.  Daenerys felt a rush of moisture between her legs at the power and rage he was emanating.  He spoke: “I am the King you chose.  Daenerys is your Queen.  Our decision is final. The Kingslayer is our guest, not our prisoner.  He has a role to play in the wars to come.  Right now I have no reason to mistrust his information or his motives.”

Jon glanced at Bran before continuing, an unspoken agreement passing between them.  A few days earlier, knowing Jaime would be coming north with the Lannister forces, Jon had asked Bran to find out what he could about the Kingslayer, if there were any potential concerns they should be aware of.  Bran had seen it all – Jamie being knighted at Harrenhal by Ser Arthur Dayne, his betrayal of King Aerys, Jaime pushing Bran from the tower out of ‘love’ for his sister Cersei, the fact that the three golden-haired Baratheon children were in actuality Jaime’s get, the vow sworn to Catelyn Stark that he would return her daughters to her, the loss of his hand, his recue of Lady Brienne, his honest intention to bring the Lannister armies north to fight the army of the dead, and the betrayal of Cersei that led to his imminent arrival at Winterfell.  Bran, for his part, had told Jon that everything that happened had been meant to be – including his fall from the tower, and that the ink was dry on the pages of the past.  Jaime Lannister had a role to play in the wars to come, he’d told Jon.  They knew the truth, and it would stay between them – for now.

“Tyrion Lannister is the Hand of the Queen,” Jon continued.  “His is a position that deserves respect and you will treat him as such.  No one is going into a black cell.  If the Kingslayer – or anyone – betrays us, I will pass the sentence and I will swing the sword.”

At that moment, the large wooden doors swung open, sending a “thud” echoing through the cavernous hall.  Ser Jaime Lannister strode in, clad in a cut crimson leather jacket and black leather riding pants. Gone was the golden armor adorned with the Lion of Lannister, but he still had the look of a demigod.  The thick oak doors closed behind him with another loud “thud.”

Jaime walked up the center aisle between the empty trestle tables, each booted step echoing on the polished stone floor.  He stopped before the high table where the King and Queen were seated with their council.  He regarded them both with dangerous cat-like green eyes.  “I’ve just come from your sister, Sansa, Your Highness,” he said to Jon in his usual sardonic tone, adding a sweeping bow at the end.  “The hospitality of Winterfell is truly unsurpassed.” He saw the rage boiling in Jon Snow’s eyes, just below the surface.  Feeling more himself, his lips twisted in a gratified smile.

Jon began, “You dare …” but Daenerys, placed a hand on his arm and turned to look in his eyes.  The look lasted only a second, but Jaime saw something unspoken pass between them.  It only confirmed Jaime’s suspicions – suspicions Jon had aroused at the Dragon Pit when he announced he had pledged himself to Daenerys Targaryen.  The time had come for Jaime to do the same, he knew.  No time like the present, he decided and dropped to one knee; he drew his sword, now singularly focused on Daenerys as he swore, “I am yours, Your Grace.  I will shield your back against every creature, living or dead, and give my life for yours if it comes to that.  I will defend your right to the Iron Throne and all the lands of your father.  I pledge you my sword, from this day until my last day.  I swear it, by the old gods and the new.”

Jon had expected as much from the Kingslayer – arrogance and an oath of fealty to his queen, but it did nothing to quell the thinly veiled fury roiling through his veins at the insinuation he’d been with Sansa only moments before.  He looked around and noticed for the first time that Sansa was indeed absent.   The only thing keeping him from seizing Jaime Lannister by the lapels and beating him bloody was Daenerys’ hand on his arm.

“Thank you for your loyalty Ser Jaime,” Daenerys said.  “Before I accept your oath of fealty, I would ask you a question:  It is my understanding you served my father as kingsguard, and that you also took his life?”  She paused, and felt Jon’s muscle tense beneath her fingers.

A brief look of concern flashed across Jaime’s face, unsure where she was going with her line of questioning.  “Yes, Your Grace, you are correct on both counts,” he answered.  There was no hint of conscience or regret in his words.  She could respect his honesty.

“My father was an evil man, Ser Jaime.  You did the realm a service when you drove your sword through his back, by putting down a mad dog.  The question is, are you willing to do it again if need be, if called upon by your queen to do so?”

She was referring to Cersei, he thought.  His twin sister, the mother of his children.  Would he be willing to put her down as he had put down mad King Aerys?  Unbidden, his vows flashed through his mind once more.  He thought of duty, honor, and loyalty to his family and what it had cost him.  He looked up, saw Brienne standing behind the queen, her face an unreadable mask.  Her eyes flicked to his, then straight ahead once again. Fuck loyalty, he heard her say in his mind.  “Your Grace, no matter what you ask of me, I will answer the call.  I will answer with fire and blood.”

Adding the Targaryen words was a nice twist, Jon had to admit.  Unfortunate that Jaime didn’t know Jon was also part Targaryen.  They were his words as well now.

Jaime now chanced a glance at young Brandon Stark, sitting to the left Jon Snow in a wheelchair.  He’s obviously a cripple, but in truth, it’s a miracle he survived, Jaime thought.  He had been certain Brandon Stark would’ve revealed him as the man responsible for his fall from the tower, but it seemed this particular bit of information would not be forthcoming.  Jamie considered that perhaps the boy didn’t remember what had occurred.

“Then rise Ser Jaime,” she said, “and take your rightful place by our side.  Under the direction of the King in the North, you will command our armies.  I would name you Master of War."

[concussed-to-pieces]

Lamb; Part Two

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Bray Wyatt, Luke Harper/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday, tally-ho! Tagging our Wyatt Family Specialist @hardcorewwetrash as well as the fearless @toxiicpop and @oraclegazes. Trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For choking, dubious consent, attempted rape and the usage of intercourse/rape as a threat.]

Part One

Erick was injured and Luke was despondent. Ever since Randy Orton had reappeared on the scene it was like Bray couldn’t get enough of the shiny new toy he’d been gifted. Luke confided in you more and more since Bray was a little preoccupied, admitting that he didn’t trust Orton in their family at all.

“He makes me nervous.”

You could understand his fear, all anyone had to do was look at Orton to understand. His lineage of titles and vicious methods were written all over his body.

You didn’t care much for Randy yourself, if you were being totally honest. He had a strange habit of watching you when he thought no one was looking, his head cocked to the side and eyes narrowed. Unlike when Luke and Erick did it though, Randy was obviously sizing you up.

It bothered you to the point that you told Luke about it, who then told Bray about it. You had never heard Bray speak so harshly to Luke, but it seemed his patience was wearing thin with the other man.

“He’s a conquerin’ oaf, my brother. The serpent has his quirks but without Braun and with Erick still recoverin’ we need a strong, directable beast that will fill in. Stop worryin' so much, Harper.”

You hated the rift that grew between Luke and Bray as the weeks marched on, as Bray spent more and more time with Randy. Bray had Randy wrapped around his finger, so it seemed, going so far as to have the man swear not to touch you, “As long as you are the master, Bray.” The phrasing of Randy’s promises of fealty made you incredibly nervous, though. Because…

What would happen if something went wrong?

He may have promised not to touch you but that just seemed to make Randy watch you all the more, the stare of a hungry predator your nigh-constant companion. You overheard he and Bray speaking one night and your blood ran cold as Orton ranted about not being involved in the worship sessions with the lamb.

“Whatever that even is! Don’t you trust me? Haven’t I served you well? Why keep secrets from me, Bray? Aren’t I part of your family?”

“My child, you still have much to learn.” Bray’s voice was so quiet. “Our worship of our lamb is not some cheap ritual, some table-knocking séance or stabbing pins into cloth. It is a binding of everything that we are to everything that we could be. An experience of heaven on earth, a way to touch God in every form.” He sounded almost sad.

“Why can’t I engage in it, then? Aren’t I ready?”

“There is immense misery in you, boy. The damage you would cause could be irreparable and I am not willin' to take that chance.” Bray said firmly. “You must give it time. Time to let the dark in your soul abate, instead of fester like a cancer. You don’t understand-”

“You put the darkness there in the first fucking place!” Randy exploded. “Playing mind games, always with your fucking mind games! Or did you forget that part, master?”

Your skin crawled at the notion of Orton putting his hands on you like Erick was permitted to, or Luke or Bray. You definitely hadn’t signed up for that. The thing that really got you was the fact that he seemed to believe he deserved to be included right from the start. Although from what you’d heard through the locker room, that was par for the course when it came to Randy.

You weren't sure how much Bray had told him about what they would do to you. Hopefully, whatever Randy's game was, it wasn't long term enough for it to matter to him.

...

You wound the cable slowly and carefully across your palm, down over your elbow and back up again. You and the other wranglers would take shifts with cord winding and unfortunately, it was your turn. It had been a long, action-packed night but the end was in sight. You yawned widely, wrapping the velcro strip around the bundle of cable. Put it in the crate, grab the next tangled mess, rinse and repeat.

If there were footsteps, you didn’t hear them. Somebody suddenly grabbed you from behind and wrapped the cable around your throat to kill your scream, grunting in your ear when you started to struggle.

They didn’t say anything and you couldn’t get your head back any further without giving them unrestricted access to your neck, so you couldn’t even try to see who it was. All you could deduce is that they were wearing a hoodie; sleeves covered their arms and the zipper dug into your spine when they tightened their grip.

Your vision began going spotty and you fought harder, kicking your legs and reaching up to try and rake your fingers across the face of whoever it was. To no avail though, you felt your body crumple, your lungs starved for air, and you surrendered to the beckoning blackness without even meaning to.

...somebody had taken your hand, stroking it gently. There was a soft voice, quietly humming and then it faded to nothing. You dimly heard Luke talking but you couldn’t understand what he was saying. The cable around your neck loosened, twisted, and then was slowly unwrapped. Oxygen flooded your body and you almost passed out again, just barely clinging to consciousness.

“He's still here, see! I told you!” That was Randy. He sounded furious.

“Luke what have you done?” Bray was quieter. A hand caressed your forehead. “Get away from them, don’t touch them! I trusted you, they trusted you! How could you…why would you do somethin’ so malicious, Harper? Answer me!” Bray demanded.

“I found them like this! Do you seriously think that-”

“When Randy told me of your treachery I didn’t want to believe it, Luke. ‘Not one of mine,’ I said, but apparently I was very, very wrong.” Bray spat, “why, Harper?”

You started to get feeling back in the tips of your fingers, and you reached blindly for Bray.

“My dear, my dear, what has he done to you?” Bray murmured. “Are you still with us, little lamb?”

You struggled mightily to open your eyes, hardly managing it. Luke looked frantic with worry, twisting his plaid shirt in his hands. Randy was hovering over Bray's shoulder, still in his ring trunks. You coughed, slowly becoming aware of the ache in your chest. “I--”

“Save your strength, kiddo.” Randy grunted, moving to grab Luke by the neck of his tank top. Luke didn't struggle, just bowed his head and waited for the punch that dropped him to his knees. You made a noise of distress, fingers scrabbling frantically over Bray's arm as you tried to pull yourself upright. Luke!

“Hold it, Randy. Easy. Not in front of the lamb.” Bray scolded, cradling your body to his chest and then getting to his feet. “We are taught that mercy is the best punishment. To permit someone to live with their sins.” He sounded so cold, like he wasn't even talking about a real person, a person that he called his brother.

“Bray-” A coughing fit rattled your body.

“Not now, my dear. You're safe. Just rest.” Bray kissed your forehead, murmuring something under his breath.

The bone-tired sensation struck so quickly, your eyes sliding shut practically of their own volition. Tears trickled down your cheeks. You weren't really sure why you were crying, but it seemed appropriate.

…

Luke resurfaced three nights later, tapping on your bedroom window.

You rolled over at the noise and almost fell out of bed when you saw the shadowy figure at the window, squeaking in surprise. “It's just me, lamb.” Luke reassured you through the glass.

You quickly got up, moving to unlock and open the window. “What are you doing?!” You scolded as he carefully climbed over the windowsill. “If Randy catches you-”

“I've already taken my licks from that shithead, thanks though.” Luke grunted. His face was still a mess of fading, greenish bruises. “The first one was free, second one will be on him. How you healing?” He asked, gesturing to the marks on your neck.

“Bray says they'll fade.” You self-consciously pulled your shirt up a little.

“Look, you know it wasn't me that did that, right?” Luke mumbled after a minute of awkwardly staring at the floor. “I swear up and down, on anything you want, it wasn't me. Randy said you wanted me and-and I found you lying on the ground, cable around your neck. I...I thought you were dead for a second.” He admitted. “I was just...I was in shock, I dropped to my knees and got that shit off your throat and you were breathing but I-”

“Why did you let Randy clobber you, then?” You asked in confusion.

“Bray approved it.” Luke gave you a sad little smile, made even sadder by the state of his face. “If I’m that bad of a brother that he believed the snake over me with hardly a second of thought, I probably deserved to take that punishment.”

“You’re…” You shook your head, thoroughly irritated. “So fucking ridiculous. You didn’t deserve to get your butt handed to you if you didn’t do anything, Luke. And I don’t think you’re the one that did it.”

“Oh I know I’m not the one, but if Bray thinks I am, it’s probably easier for-” Luke paused, cocking his head and pressing a finger to his lips. You tilted your head as well, swallowing hard when you heard the barest shuffle of steps in the carpeted hallway.

Shit.

Luke lunged for your closet door. The sight of the tall man folding himself into the cramped space would have been funny at any other time, but all you could think about was what Randy might do to him if he caught him here. You moved to the window, your hands shaking on the sash as you fumbled with the lock.

Your bedroom door creaked open, the noise sending a chill down your spine. “Hey kiddo.” Randy said quietly. “Thought I heard something, figured I’d check in. What are you doing?”

“I um. It was hot earlier so I left the window open but now I’m cold, was just trying to…” You trailed off as a large hand closed over your own. “You know you’re not supposed to touch me, Orton.”

“I'll shut it for you. Don't want anything getting in.” Randy's smile was downright unnerving. You stepped back silently while he closed the window and locked it again with one hand. “Now, here's something I don’t understand.” Randy sounded genuinely confused. “What’s so fucking special about you? Why you? I mean yeah, you’re fuckable, but that can’t be all.”

You hated how close he was, hated that he hadn't let go of your hand. “Please, Randy. You’re not supposed to touch me.” You reiterated firmly.

He ignored you, his fingers digging into your wrist tighter and tighter. “Their little lamb.” Randy spat. “The way Bray talks about you, you’d think you were made of solid gold. It did take me a while to figure out that you were who he was talking about when he rambled about that lamb shit. So what, you guys have some giant hillbilly orgie or something, a guy in every hole, right?”

You slapped him across the face, startling not only him but also yourself. You realized your breath was coming in jerky pants; your whole body felt hot. You were furious. “How dare you.”

Randy’s look turned ugly and you flinched when he raised his hand. “Psh, that’s what I thought. You talk a big game, even though all you are is the resident crazy-cult landing strip. Shit, how lonely were you that you’d take an offer like that?” He smirked.

He’d struck a nerve with that one. You felt all the fight drain out of you, leaving you with your shoulders slumped. “Go away, Orton.” You said softly.

His hand caught your chin and he pulled your face up. “I know Harper was here. You tell him the next time you see him, that you’re mine and Bray’s now.” Randy growled.

“I can revoke my consent at any time. Bray said that I could.” You whispered, your heart sinking when Randy shook his head.

“Not with me, kiddo. And if you do, I’ll revoke that belt from your master. You know, the one he’s worked so hard to get. You don’t want that, now do you?” Randy practically cooed, his hand brushing the hair back from your face in a mockery of a tender gesture. He then grabbed a handful of hair at the back of your head, forcing you to look up at him again. “Got it?”

You bit back the whimper you wanted to let out and glared defiantly back at him, not saying a damn thing. He released you after a few tense seconds, backing away. “Sleep good, little lamb.” His grin made your stomach feel queasy.

You sat on the edge of your bed after the door closed, doing your best to stop from shaking. You felt Luke’s weight settle onto the bed beside you, his hand hovering nervously over your shoulder.

“May I touch you?” He asked, carefully gathering you up into a hug when you nodded. You couldn’t help your tears then and Luke made a noise in his throat, stroking the back of your head. “Shh, I’ll think of something. I’m not gonna’ let him do that to you. If Bray loses the belt, he loses it. He wouldn’t want to keep it at the cost of your consent.” Luke reasoned. “It would tear him up on the inside. I…I don’t want that. I don’t want Orton to hurt you or Bray. I’ll think of something.” He said firmly. “I promise.”

You just nodded helplessly into his shirt.

…

Luke’s plan was apparently, “be as much of a pain in the ass to Randy as possible”, the bearded man returning at a house show two days later to batter Orton with a chair. Bray railed at Harper, who played the aloof, smug character that seemed almost a mockery of Orton’s own.

“Why have you strayed from me, my brother? Why do you torment your Family?”

Luke offered no answers, simply sliding out of the ring and sauntering off. He continued to make a nuisance of himself, popping up at the most inopportune times to cost Randy his matches, making a fool out of the Viper every chance he could.

Bray was confused and hurt, continuing to try and reach out to Harper. Randy however was furious, the anger constantly simmering under the surface and getting the best of him whenever Luke made an appearance. Bray attempted to instruct Orton, tried to redirect some of his rage to no avail.

Randy was kept so busy being paranoid about Luke you seemed to have fallen by the wayside, and you heaved a sigh of relief for every night that passed without him mentioning ‘worshipping the lamb’. If you were lucky maybe he would forget the whole thing.

“I don’t understand.” Bray said softly one night.

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. It was your shift to deal with winding the cords yet again, and you were currently struggling to get some forgotten article of clothing out of the bottom of the crate so you could put more cable bundles into it. “What?”

He gestured vaguely around. “Luke. Why won’t he come home? Why is he like this? I…he is the prodigal son and I would welcome him back with open arms an’ yet he hasn’t come back. We lost Braun. Erick's recuperatin’. I need him here an’ he’s just toyin’ with Randy. He won’t talk to me, why?” Bray asked.

You finally got the black fabric free, shaking it out absently and then your motions slowed. It was a hoodie, filthy from being stuffed in the bottom of the crate and hauled in and out on the road. But it was a black hoodie.

With the RKO symbol on it.

You froze with the hoodie in your hands, that night dashing to the forefront of your mind. Luke had been in his plaid shirt. Randy had been in his trunks. But the sweatshirt he’d worn to the ring…

Your eyes widened and you opened your mouth to say something to Bray. Here was your proof to get Luke off the hook! Randy must have known that you'd at least seen the hoodie, he probably had tried to get rid of it and then-!

Your excitement was cut short by Randy rounding the corner. You were starting to wonder whether his face had any other look besides constipated. You quickly closed your mouth and stuffed the hoodie back into the crate.

Randy’s eyes flicked down to the sleeve hanging out of the crate, and then up to yours. He knows, he knows I know! Your brain screamed. You did your best to carry on like nothing unusual had happened, taking the next loop of cable and starting the slow task of winding.

“Bray. Master.” Randy said, abruptly honey-voiced.

Bray instantly looked up, giving the other man a tired smile. “Yes, sorry. I was in my own head.”

“I…am I ready? Please. Please, we need to be...uh, united if your victory is going to be assured.” Orton begged.

Your stomach started to feel queasy. Oh no. Bray looked thoughtful, climbing down off the stack of shippers and laying a hand on Randy’s shoulder. “My child, there is still such terrible darkness in you--”

“But the lamb is...well, according to you the lamb is the purest thing in the world. Wouldn't that kind of purity be beneficial?” Randy was grasping at straws. You took grim satisfaction in knowing that he was unsettled by all this.

“I am not the master of the lamb. They choose their own. Isn't that right, my dear?” Bray looked to you and you hastily shoved your hands into your pockets, trying to hide how hard the rest of you was shaking, trying to hide how loudly you wanted to shout no, no, a thousand times no!

Randy was watching you closely, his eyes narrowed and a smirk on his lips. You finally mustered up a weak, “o-of course, Bray,” your voice squeaking slightly.

“My dear are you alright? You sound like you're comin' down with somethin'.”

The ride to the compound was near-silent. Nausea bubbled up in your throat every time you thought about what was going to happen. Luke's words came back to you, offering some small comfort. “If Bray loses the belt, he loses it. He wouldn’t want to keep it at the cost of your consent.” Could you live with that, though? Were you strong enough to endure what would come? Could you even manage to be convincing? At least enough so that Bray wouldn’t call the whole thing off. What sort of sacrifice was Bray’s happiness worth to you? He had given you a family, which in turn gave you affection, support and stability.

And then of course, there was the other side of it. In refusing Randy, you would also refuse Bray. If only you could get Bray alone, away from Orton for five minutes so you could explain! Explain Luke's belligerence, your own terror. Surely Bray would see your side of it. Not to mention maybe he'd rip Randy apart for trying to strangle you. Why had Randy tried to...

Of course, to get Luke out of the picture. He'd framed him, it had all been a set up to get Bray to turn on him. With Luke gone, there was no one to take up Bray's time, no one to save him from the slow poison that was Randy. You felt so stupid.

Randy’s eagerness was practically a tangible being, the muscular man chomping at the bit as Bray lovingly stripped you of your clothes. You wondered momentarily what it must be like to believe that this level of assault was the way to make someone obey. Orton obviously sought to break you in the most humiliating way he could think of, so that he could carry on weaseling underneath Bray’s skin totally uninhibited and keep you in fear of more 'punishments' in this same vein. The fact that Bray would be present during this just added a chip to his ever-growing pile, ensured that you wouldn’t struggle.

Bray was all kindness and soft words against your ear but you couldn’t focus, could barely muster up any kind of noises in response to his touches.

“You're mine and Bray’s now.”

The moment finally came, when Bray urged you to lay down on the bed. You closed your eyes, breath coming in short, panicky gasps. You heard the rustle of clothing and you knew, you knew that Randy was getting undressed. The fear built in your chest, you prayed for Luke to come crashing through the window or Erick to come in fists flying, something, anything, but no, there was no help for you here. Just you and Bray and the man who was trying to destroy your family from the inside out.

You needed to be strong right now, because you would not let that happen.

You felt Randy’s weight come down on the bed beside you, Bray still softly kissing you, teasing your body with his fingers. But nothing could distract you from the monster next to you. Do it for Bray. You told yourself as Randy forced your legs open. Do it for Erick. Randy’s hands greedily groped at your thighs, nails raking over the skin. Do it for Luke. Everything felt wrong and bad.

Do it for your family.

Abruptly you were struck with the need to vomit. Now. “Bray-!” You gasped, gesturing to the trash can next to the bed. Bray immediately stopped and picked it up, looking concerned.

“My dear, are you-?”

The meager contents of your stomach came back up and you retched loudly. You felt Randy flinch and then he moved away. You wanted to cry with relief, a few tears squeezing their way out as you puked.

Bray stroked your hair, trying to soothe you. “Oh my dear, I knew you weren’t feelin’ well. How brave you were to try an’ carry on for us.” He murmured.

“For fuck’s sake Bray, I was about to-” Randy began.

“No, we need to stop. They’re not well, Randy. I offer no apologies here. There is no ‘I’m sorry’ when you don’t want or are unable to engage in this.” Bray said firmly.

Randy snarled and you trembled all over. You felt hot and sick and you just wanted to hide underneath a rock for five hundred years.

“You have somethin’ to say, Orton?” Bray was deadly serious, his hand never ceasing that back and forth motion through your hair.

“Well I was…looking forward to this. You sure I can’t just-”

“Randy.”

“What, it isn’t like I’m putting my dick in their mouth! Bottom parts work just fine, why can’t I-”

“What you’re suggestin’ is somethin’ I will never be party to. Get out.” Bray snapped. You closed your eyes again, resting your forehead on the edge of the trash can. “I said, get. Out.”

“You fucked up, kiddo.” Randy sneered, making you heave again. “You know what happens now.”

“Randy!” Bray stood, clenching his fists. “I suggest you obey, lest there be something heavier on your soul.”

“Oh there’s no worry about that, master. Enjoy your evening.” Orton got dressed quickly and slammed the door when he left.

You started to cry, hysterical, gulping sobs that left you breathless. Bray urged you into his lap so he could hold you tight, rocking you back and forth like a small child. “My dear, I’m so sorry you don’t feel well.” He apologized, just making you cry harder. The nausea had vanished with Randy, leaving you feeling more heartsick than anything else.

“I’m sorry.” You finally choked out. “I’m sorry Bray. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t-”

“You’re sick, it’s not necessary, my dear. You never need to apologize for that.”

“No I mean I literally could not do it, I’ve been p-panicking so hard about it, I-I couldn’t.”

“Panicking?”

“Randy was the one who attacked me.” You felt your heart break. Say goodbye to your belt, Bray. I ruined everything. “He framed Luke to get him away from you, to isolate you. He wants…he said if I didn’t, he would…” Your voice kept petering out as you thought about the threats. “I didn’t want you to lose your belt because of me, I thought I would be okay. I don’t know why I started puking. C…Call Randy back, if you call him back maybe he’ll still-”

“Lamb if…you wouldn’t lie to me, I know you wouldn’t.” Bray’s whole body went still. “You’ve been dealin’ with this by yourself?”

“Luke has been running interference. He figured if he kept Randy off balance, he wouldn’t…Luke was trying to keep me safe. I couldn’t tell you, Bray. I--” Your words were cut off by Bray growling.

“That snake, drivin’ a wedge between my family an’ I! What kind of leader am I, that you were scared to come to me about this?” He asked, seeming infuriated with himself. “Where is Luke? Do you have any way of gettin’ in touch with him? I-I need him here. My dear, I can’t believe that you would have endured Orton just so I could keep some material possession. I…you truly are such a selfless lamb.”

“You worked so h-hard for it, though!” You hiccupped, rubbing your eyes.

“It’s meaningless in the long run, my dear. Just simple shine for the masses to latch onto.” Bray dismissed his hard work with nothing but a casual wave of his hand. “Orton and I were destined to do battle. I had thought we would fight with a bit more respect to spread between us, but knowin’ what I do now…”

“What are you going to do?”

“I need to find Luke.”

…

You would never understand how some of these charisma vacuums managed to convince a camera crew to come with them and stream their antics to an arena. You saw Randy’s face pop up on the Jumbotron and you huffed, bending your head and making sure that all your cables were in order at ringside.

Randy’s voice washed over you, you weren’t really paying attention to what he was saying. You were more than used to the way people would ramble with a camera on them.

“…resting place of Sister Abigail.”

Your head jerked up so quickly you heard your neck pop in protest. Bray looked horrified, kneeling in the ring with his arms outstretched to the giant screen across from him. “Randy, no!” He yelled over the rising murmur of the crowd. “Don’t do this, please!”

That awful grin spread across Randy’s mouth as he held up a can of gasoline. Your eyes widened. What was he doing, had he completely lost it?!

Bray started weeping like a child, his arms still reaching to the screen. He begged Randy to reconsider as Orton poured a trail of gasoline around the chair that had always rocked by itself, the one out in the shed. You had accepted it without question when Bray had shown it to you, feeling oddly comforted by the slow, methodical motion. You would never dare to sit in it, though.

You were in shock, just watching while Orton struck a match and ranted about never being accepted into the family, about how Bray would hear Abigail shriek one more time as she burned. Then, the Viper dropped the match.

Bray completely lost it and you suddenly couldn’t breathe as flames licked hungrily up the sides of the shed. You could smell the smoke, feel the heat pressing down on you like a huge hand. A terrified scream rang in your ears and then Bray was dragging you to your feet, clinging to you fiercely and sobbing, “no, please no!” into your hair.

You were the one screaming, you realized faintly, right before you passed out.

…

“...gonna’ be okay.” Luke’s voice brought you back around, a gentle pressure on your wrist.

“I…We can’t lose them, Luke. I’m…dammit, I’m so sorry, my brother. If only-”

“Hey, you didn’t know. It looked bad. You were just trying to keep them safe. Don’t worry about it.”

You opened your eyes. “We have to stop meeting like this. People are going to talk.” Your throat was so dry, you had to swallow a few times before you could get the words out.

Luke chuckled, squeezing your hand. “Welcome back, little lamb.”

“Christ, he nearly ended you.” Bray said softly, running gentle fingers over your cheek. “Our strong lamb.”

“What happened? I’m sorry I screamed, I didn’t even know I was the one making the noise.” You whispered.

Bray shared a look with Luke and then sighed heavily. “Randy burned down something I hold very dear, we hold very dear.”

“Abigail’s chair?”

“It was far more than that, but in a nutshell, yes. We…we could have lost you, lamb. No belt is worth that. I’ve told Randy I’ll fight him, on the grandest stage. He is so ordinary, he craves the fanfare just like the rest of these tiny folk.” Bray snorted. “I will fight, and I will lose. But I will also put the fear of ancients in that boy, and that will lay this ugly business to rest.”

“But your belt-!”

“I already told you it means damn little to me. Useless shine. All it does is give me a higher platform to preach from.” Bray reached across you to put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “You two and Erick, you are what matters to me. I’m sorry I was so enraptured with the speed and strength of the serpent.” Bray looked even more serious than usual. “I swear I will never doubt you again, my brother.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Bray.” Luke leaned over to bump his forehead into Bray’s. You sat up, wiggling when Luke put an arm around your shoulders and nudged his nose against your own. “Bray mentioned…of course, this is if you’re amenable, he told me what Orton tried to do. Bray said that I may worship you.” Luke looked almost shy. “Bray will be there. And as usual, you can revoke your consent at any time. You know I’ll stop.”

“We could have lost you, my dear. I thought we had, for a minute.” Bray added. “We would beg for reassurance.”

“I can say no?” You needed to ask, even if you felt dumb for doing so.

Bray looked perturbed. “Of course, always. There is no benefit in forced worship, in intimidation. Only in freely given praise. In thankful respect an’ honor will we find our blessin’, my dear.”

“We would never…we’re not here to hurt you. We love you.” Luke said simply.

Your breath caught in your throat at how matter-of-factly he stated their affection, like it was a totally normal thing. You felt tears well up in your eyes and you quickly ducked your head to hide them.

“Lamb.” Bray murmured, tucking a hand underneath your chin to tug it back up. “There will never be another situation like what happened with Orton as long as I draw breath. That I promise you.”

“I never thought puking would get me out of a tight space.” You managed to joke, brushing the tears away.

Bray shook his head, not seeming to find the humor in the situation. “I’m so sorry, my dear.”

“I just didn’t want to let you down.” You confessed quietly after an awkward minute of silence. “I didn’t…if there was a way for me to help keep you safe…”

“That price was too high, lamb. We are very grateful that you were willin’ to go to that length without even bein’ asked, an’ with no reward of your own in sight. It’s…it’s a mighty comfort to know how selfless you are.” Bray took your hand in his own, kissing your palm and then your wrist. “Let us take you home, lamb. Let us worship you as you deserve.”

“We’re your family and we will protect you as fiercely as you would protect us.” Luke squeezed your hand again. “Just like she would have.”

Tears threatened to overwhelm you again as Bray helped you up and you leaned into the larger man for a minute, just letting yourself be held. Luke wrapped his arms around you from behind while you laid your head on Bray’s chest. “Sleep, lamb. We’ll wake you when we’re home.” Bray promised, kissing your forehead and murmuring into your hair, “Rest, and fear no more.”

You obediently closed your eyes, used now to the tugging sensation of sleep that drew you into its own warm embrace.

A voice calling your name roused you from the doze you’d fallen into and you mumbled, “Five more minutes, m’ still dreaming.”

“Rise an’ shine, my dear. It is time.” Fingers stroked through your hair and you hummed, snuggling into the warm body beside you.

Luke’s laugh was husky in your ear, hand resting gently on the skin exposed where your shirt rode up. So different from Orton. But then, you hardly needed them to touch you to know that they were different from Randy. Luke’s beard tickled across the skin of your neck, kisses pressed to the area making you giggle. You felt him smile against the back of your neck and you reached down to cover his hand on your hip, twining your fingers through his.

“I’m okay.” You answered the unspoken question, opening your eyes to Bray looking at you with a concerned expression. “I know it’s you guys. You would never hurt me.”

Bray’s face softened and he kissed your forehead, hands working on unzipping your sweatshirt. You were immensely grateful that they’d left your clothes on until you woke up. You didn’t even want to think about what waking up naked might have been like if you weren’t prepared for it.

Luke unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down to your knees so you could kick them off. He hesitated when it came to your panties, like he was waiting for permission.

“Absolutely.” You said firmly, wiggling your hips back at him. You heard Luke’s sharp intake of breath and you were almost positive that you’d surprised him with your resounding consent. Bray smiled at you gratefully and you kissed him, kneading your fingers into his undershirt sweetly.

“I should have known somethin’ was wrong when it came to…” Bray paused, clearing his throat. “You’re never distant when it comes to worship and yet that night-”

“Please, don’t make me think about that right n-ah, mm, hi Luke.” You said breathlessly, whimpering when his fingers spread your pussy open and started gently sliding back and forth over your slick folds.

“How are you already so wet?” Luke growled, sounding more than satisfied. “Accepting our worship willingly. Fuck. Fuck, Bray, we’re so lucky.”

“Don’t I know it, Harper.” Bray agreed, pushing your shirt up over your bra. “Do the honors, Luke? These beg for sweet freedom.”

Luke unsnapped your bra and Bray quickly shoved it out of the way, cupping your breasts greedily. “Our perfect lamb, so perfect in every way. God, we will cherish you always.”

“I like the sound of that.” You half-moaned the words as Luke barely dipped a finger into you, teasing little circles at your entrance. “Please Luke, please please don’t make me wait.”

“Oh you can’t beg, lamb, that makes it so much harder to be slow.” Harper said softly. “Another?” A kiss landed on your shoulder blade.

“Give them somethin’ to stoke that ache in their belly, Luke. Worship them with your fingers.” Bray ordered. Luke immediately obeyed, two fingers pressing in and curling downward. You whined at the feeling, shifting your hips back to take them deeper. Luke gritted out a swear, stroking over your clit with firm, insistent motions.

You squirmed, rocking your hips and chanting pleas as Bray teased your breasts with light, barely-there touches, as Luke fucked you with his fingers. You missed the solid presence of Erick to anchor you, holding onto Bray’s shoulders instead. Your release was close, tortuously within reach, if only Luke would go faster-!

“Erick will be back soon, my dear.” Bray said, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Back to help us worship you.” Luke chimed in, sounding a little short of breath. “Back to help us love you.” His touch suddenly intensified, fingers spreading and then curling hard inside you. You bucked against him as you came, moaning into Bray’s mouth when he kissed you.

“What a blessin' you are, my dear, what a beautiful display you always give us.” Bray praised.

There was a soft noise from behind you and then Luke groaned. “Christ, you taste wonderful. May I...may I worship you again, lamb?”

“Luke don't tease me.” You begged, all but writhing against him. “I want you, I want you, please, more-”

“Lamb.” Bray's voice had gone soft, so soft. “You are beautiful when you're like this, drippin' an' longin' for my brother's soothin'. Don't keep them waitin', Luke, take your blessin'.”

“I...I just wanted to be sure. I didn't ever...I worry, is all.” Luke mumbled. You heard the zipper of his pants come down, the noise filling you with excitement instead of dread. “Want you to know it's us, I understand that can be a problem for people who...well, when bad shit happens to them.”

“I know it's you, I know you'd never hurt me.” You took a deep breath. “Thank you, Luke.”

“S'nothing, consideration is a small price to pay for what you give us.” Luke replied honestly, tilting your face back so he could kiss your forehead. “I'm going to move your leg up now. Remember you can tell me to stop at any point and I will immediately. 'We're not as backwoods as people think.'” And with that soft callback to the very first time you'd engaged with them, Luke wrapped his arm around your leg and slotted your knee into the crook of his elbow. He hesitated for another breath and then you reached down, taking his cock in hand and lining it up with your entrance.

“P...Please.” Your voice cracked. Luke and Bray groaned almost in unison, the sound sending a hot wave through your body, still alight with your first orgasm.

“Our precious lamb, our sweet lamb, you bless us with your selflessness, your willing spirit. Let us give you completion. Let my brother bring you to ecstasy again.” Bray crooned as Luke finally, finally slid himself past your entrance.

Harper moaned and dropped his forehead to press against your shoulder blade, panting through his teeth as he smoothly rolled his cock deeper into you. You shifted your hips up and back, taking him as far as you could. This, this was what it should be like. You felt safe and loved when Bray lowered his mouth to your breast and made you sob out as he grazed you with his teeth, there was no fear, no this will hurt, no queasy feeling in your stomach. Just the tingling rush of desire, of affection, because your family is here.

“You are so tight, little lamb, how the hell do you take me?” Luke gasped, obviously not really expecting an answer.

“Because I want to, because I love you, I love you all so much.” You whimpered and fucked yourself back into the apex of Luke's hips, fitting the two of you together seamlessly.

Bray's face held a wonder that was amazing to see, his eyes gone wide. “You love us, lamb? Truly?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I-I love you all, you're m-my family-” Your voice wouldn't stop hitching every time Harper bottomed out in you, hungry thrusts that made your body tremble in anticipation.

“I want you to come, lamb. I love you, we love you, we want you to come.” Luke's hold on you tightened; you could feel the strength he kept in check. He, Bray and Erick could easily break you yet they didn't, they didn't, they never used that strength to hurt you, only to cherish and protect. “Come apart for us, let us give you completion, please.” Luke begged, groaning loud in your ear when you started to come with a muffled cry. “Yes, fuck yes, fuck yes, our precious lamb.” The deep tone of his voice rolled over you, soothing even through the lightning pulses of your orgasm.

“Luke, ask them.” Bray ordered, pressing his forehead to yours and urging you to keep your eyes from closing.

“Christ, fuck, lamb, may I...may I come inside you?” Luke panted, laughing breathlessly when there was barely a second of hesitation from you before you were nodding wildly.

You licked your lips, finding your voice again. “Yes, Luke please, please.” You begged, loving the low moan he let out at your consent, the way his hips twitched against you.

Bray smiled warmly. “Thank you for your permission, my dear, thank you for lettin' us worship you.”

Luke came with a heartfelt groan, murmuring, “You're the best I've ever had, the best I've ever fucking had.” His fingers stroked through your hair and he tipped your head back so he could kiss your forehead again. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He whispered reverently. You arched your back and he shuddered, chuckling, “Go easy on me, lamb. We been through a lot the past few weeks, you and I.”

“My poor brother, my sweet lamb.” Bray seemed on the verge of tears, tangling the two of you into a tight hug. “You have both endured so damn much because of me bein' a fool. I only hope you can forgive me someday.”

“Done.” You said simply, feeling Luke nod into your shoulder. “It's already forgotten, Bray. We love you. Even when you're dumb.”

Bray's laugh was a little watery but still jovial. “Your view of things is always so refreshin', my dear. I...thank you. Thank you both. My wonderful family.” He nuzzled his nose against your own, taking hold of Luke's shoulder again. “My incredible, strong family. I can hardly wait to set Orton to rights, knowin' that you two an' Erick are behind me every step of the way. It's...it's truly an honor.”

Despite your earlier nap, exhaustion pulled fiercely at you and you yawned, closing your eyes and nodding sleepily.

“Don't move, I'll go get something to clean you up.” Luke said quietly, pulling away. You drifted off, starting back to consciousness when you felt the warm washcloth between your legs. “Only me, little lamb. Only me.” Harper soothed, Bray's arms around you anchoring you to where you were.

Bray kissed your forehead, murmuring something against your forehead and then beginning to hum that old, familiar tune...

He's got the whole world in his hands.

[wendynerdwrites]

Recovered Jonsa Fic #10: Jon’s Targaryen Vein

Another Fic recovery

Prompt: Show verse prompt if you're so kind? Jon's Targaryen vein starts showing while he falls for Sansa.

At first, when the dreams come, he tries to convince himself that it is Ygritte he sees. She has flowing red hair. And while he never saw Ygritte in silks, he told her that he’d like to. So he tells himself in the morning, when he wakes to sticky linens and sweat-slicked skin, that he dreams of Ygritte.

In so many dreams, he’s chasing her. Her back is to him, and she’s laughing. Jon spent so much time either chasing Ygritte, or feeling like he was.

There are moments during the day when Sansa will say something, do something, that will make his breath catch or his palms sweat. The Lady of Winterfell is on his council, and she often says things that he agrees with so strongly he feels winded. He tells himself that it’s because her decisions and opinions remind him of Father. He tells himself that the reason his heart flutters when she enters a room is because he has her back when he thought he’d never see his family again.

Then one night, during a dream, he shouts out to the woman running from him that he’s going to tear her pretty silk dress off of her. And the woman stops laughing and shouts.

“If you do, I won’t fix any more of your clothing!”

Ygritte didn’t sew. If someone tore something in their raiding party, another member, Longspear Ryk, mended it.

It’s not Ygritte’s voice, not Ygritte’s accent. It’s not Ygritte.

Jon stops short in his dream and realizes he’s in the Great Hall of Winterfell. What are they doing here? The woman stops running too, and turns. And Jon realizes she’s much taller than Ygritte was. He sees her large blue eyes and full, pouting lips. He sees the direwolf embroidered on her bodice. He sees the greater swell of her breasts.

He sees Sansa. And his ardor only rises. “I will not. I would remove your gown gently,” he tells his sister.

She laughs and challenges him to prove it. Next moment, they’re in his bedchamber, surrounded by candlelight, and he is pulling the ribbons of her bodice through the bindings as he lowers her down upon his furs.

And he wakes, sitting bolt upright, still hard, panting. And he knows he’s been lying to himself.

When he sees his sister at breakfast, she looks at him with concern. “Jon, are you well? You look… different, somehow.”

“I’m fine!” He informs her, too eagerly, as he takes his seat and grabs for some poached eggs. A white, tapered hand lays itself upon his wrist and he nearly jumps.

“Are you sure?” She asks, looking into her eyes, “You’d tell me if something were amiss, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course!” He lies through a stiff smile. She does not look convinced, but she drops it.

The day is torture. His sister is elegance incarnate. Every movement has a steady grace to it. She speaks with eloquence and conviction. And even in the dim light of the wintry North, her auburn hair manages to gleam like polished copper.

Jon almost wishes this were mere lust, but it isn’t. He’s been in love before. He knows what love is. He experiences it now. And it is not the love one feels for a sister.

He realizes now that deep down, he’s felt this way for a while, and merely lied to himself. To be honest, many of Sansa’s positions, which Jon held in such esteem, are not what Ned Stark might have chosen at all. They lack an adherence to tradition, they are pragmatic, yet innovative. Some are less than altruistic. For instance, she pressures the Vale Lords to bring Robert Arryn north to swear fealty to Jon. She is also blackmailing Littlefinger for his money and connections.

She is doing what is best for the North, perhaps, but they are not Ned Stark’s methods.

Jon realizes that they are hers and his, and that he agrees with them, even the morally grey ones.

The next night, his dreams pick up where the last let off. He dreams of full, white breasts, a red-haired cunny that tastes like a pomegranate, Sansa’s voice calling his name.

The day after, Lord Cerwyn asks for a private audience with Jon and requests to begin courting Sansa. Jon refuses at once, and spends the next week glaring at the young man.

He is atop the ramparts one afternoon, trying to clear his head, when his sister arrives. She looks furious.

“You told me we had to trust each other. Yet you won’t trust me!”

“I trust you more than anyone!” He protests.

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s amiss?!” She demands. “You’ve been lying to me!”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “What isn’t amiss?”

“There’s something new, Jon,” she insists, coming close, “Tell me.”

“If I did, you’d run from me. I’m a bloody monster.”

“If this is about your resurrection----”

“---No.” He shakes his head. They’ve been over that. He’d told her of his disgust with that. The unnaturalness of it. The fact that Melisandre did it with her magics. That Shireen Baratheon’s death may have contributed to it. Sansa assured him it was not his fault,t hat he wasn’t a monster. And, for reasons only clear now, that proved enough for him. “It’s about…”

“....About?...”

He clenches his fists and looks at her angrily. “It’s about you!”

She steps back and her eyes widen. “Me? But---”

They are interrupted by shouts from the gates. A page appears moments later. “My King! My Princess! It’s a miracle!”

The miracle turns out to be Bran, alive, riding upon the back of Howland Reed’s daughter. Their younger brother arrives with stories to tell. Many stories.

It is three days later that Sansa visits him privately, in his solar. Jon stands over his fire, staring into the flames, clutching a cup of mulled wine. Melisandre once told him to look into the flames to see his destiny. He just sees flames. But he supposes that’s now fitting, considering.

A soft hand lands upon his shoulder, and he looks at her reluctantly. Her face is kind, concerned. “Are you well, Jon?”

He shrugs. “I’m conflicted.”

“Jon, you remain king. You realize that, don’t you?”

“That is not my concern.”

She gives a sigh of relief. “Then what, Jon? Is it… Your parents?”

He closes his eyes. “It’s one thing. I may be a child of rape. My whole life the man I believed to be my father lied to me and everyone else. I may end up drawing a new threat to Winterfell if this dragon queen we’ve heard of fears me challenging her claim to the Iron Throne---”

“---Daenerys was always going to be a threat. Our--My father was instrumental in overthrowing her family, we’ve declared ourselves independent. None of that is your fault.”

He sighs, but smiles slightly. She is right. “I suppose. Tell me, Sansa… Am I still a Stark to you?”

“Yes.”

His stomach sinks. “So I am still your brother to you?”

At this, she hesitates. “Brother, cousin, what does it matter? You are a Stark, and the person I care for most in this world.”

There’s a pause, then her eyes narrow. “Jon… The thing that was bothering you before Bran arrived. You said it was about me. What was it?”

He closes his eyes, looks away, and takes a long drink from his cup. “I wish you would not ask that. It is perhaps what I am most conflicted about.”

“I think, if anything, I’ve proven I am skilled at helping you resolve conflicts. Especially ones which already involve me.” She runs her hand down his arm. “Come now, Jon, tell me.”

Jon empties his cup. “Let’s just say my feelings for you began to hint at my true ancestry before Bran arrived.”

There’s another pause, this one more pregnant than the last. Her hand withdraws.

“You mean…”

“Aye.” He sets the cup upon the mantle and turns to her. Her face is unreadable. “I’m in love with you.”

She folds her hands in front of her. “I… I see…”

“I’m sorry,” he tells her, “I realize this must horrify you.”

Sansa looks at her hands for a moment, then up at him. “You--- You would think it would. But… Perhaps all that time with Cersei Lannister affected me more than I realized. Or perhaps I’ve simply been driven mad. But… For someone like you to want me so… it doesn’t upset me. In fact, it… Oh, gods! It makes me happy!” “Happy?!” He nearly stumbles back and bangs his head on the mantle. He must be dreaming.

Sansa steps back and hugs herself. “For years, I’ve had men look at me, want me. And those who have been most blatant have nearly always been… unkind, aggressive, even evil. I can’t help it, after so many years, feeling it might have something to do with me. But you… You’re good. You’re brave and gentle and strong. And you’ve never lied to me. I do not think you would not tell me you loved me if you didn’t truly, especially given our… circumstances. And even now, you’re gentle. You’re speaking to me. You want me in the way I’ve always hoped to be wanted. Perhaps it is wrong of me, but… Yes. This makes me happy.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, then looks up at him. “I just wish I knew I felt for you.”

Jon finds that this upsets him far less than he imagined. If anything, this makes sense. “I understand, Sansa. And you don’t have to love me, you realize that, right?”

She nods. “But I want to.”

That makes his heart jump. He steps forward and takes her left hand in both of his. “That’s… that’s enough for me.”

[allaboardtheloonyexpress]

My Thoughts on the Season 7 Spoilers By awayforthelads

I will be dissecting the spoilers from Season 7 by awayforthelads, with some gripes and other thoughts. (Yes I believe it. It sounds like classic D&D.) Spoilers will be in bold, my commentary unbolded.

1. Bran crosses the Wall, meets with Edd. Sam and Bran figure out Jon's heritage. He is apparently a legitimised Targaryen named "Aegon".- This makes it seem that to D&D, the only purpose of the Bran and Sam plots are to discover that Jon is secretly the rightful king. It is essentially praise for our Lord and Savior Jon Snow! They have their own stories, their own discoveries to make! Not everything rotates around Jon Snow! And I just hate general hymns to how awesome Gary Stus are in general.

2. "Sansa wants to give the lands of those who betrayed Jon to those who supported him, but Jon (in first episode) refused to hold the children of the Karstark and Umber families responsible for the actions of their fathers. This doesn't please Lyanna Mormont (or Sansa) but Jon basically just tells her to deal with it - he doesn't plan to rule the North the way it always has been."- First of all, I find it annoying that Jon Snow is being inconsistent with violence. After his resurrection, he killed the leaders of the mutiny against him. Next of all, Sansa is right here. If Jon is going to be King in the North, he needs to make an example of those who betrayed him. The Umbers in particular should have tried to raise the North for Rickon. The Karstarks can be forgiven, but not the Umbers. Considering that ruling by love didn’t do jack for House Stark (unlike in the books), it seems like the Lannister method of ruling by fear should be at least tried.

3. "At the end of Episode One, Dany and her fleet land at Dragonstone. Nobody says anything. She walks up the steps to the keep, and we follow her through the building until she reaches Stannis' old War Room. She looks out the window at the land ahead that used to belong to her family. She picks up one of the chess-like pieces on the table and looks at Tyrion, who has followed her up. She says one line: "Shall we begin?" End of Episode"- I am probably the only person on Tumblr who wanted Daenerys to stop off in Volantis before going to Westeros, but I think her time in Essos is essential for her journey from idealistic hero to destructive conqueror. What’s more, her relationship with the Red Priests is a really important character thread that needs to be addressed.

4. Dany and Jon meet. Dany demands he bend the knee, which he refuses. Evidently, he discusses the WWs, but she doesn't believe him. Tyrion insists that Jon isn't crazy. Dany respects Jon immediately, Jon to Dany maybe not as much?- I think Dany is being made more foreboding this season, less of a hero. But again, important parts of her journey are being cut out. Her time in Essos (and her alliance with Victarion Greyjoy) are important parts of that. She’s not just evil because.

5.  Gendry's in Kings Landing making weapons, and he is found by Davos.- I personally like that Arya and Gendry are probably going to get together. But I don’t like how they’re presenting him. For one, Gendry is in King’s Landing? Where there is a bounty on his head? Really? I know I am going on a tangent here, but I think he should have shown up in Season 6, specifically when Arya was stabbed almost to death by the Waif. Have him find her and nurse her back to health. The explanation will be he was picked up by a Braavosi ship, and he has lived in Braavos as a blacksmith ever since. That would be fun for the Gendrya shippers like myself. (Although I don’t think it’s happening in the books.)

6. Sansa sentences Littlefinger to death, which Arya carries out. Arya uses Walder Frey's face to hold a banquet and poison his sons. Makes sure the women are dismissed, first. Will happen in the first couple episodes.- My problem here is D&D seem to have a love of violent actions by their female characters. (calling it “feminism”) Examples include Dany burning the Khals, Arya murdering Walder Frey, Sansa feeding Ramsay to his dogs...

However, they make sure that these actions have no consequences or real punch. (i.e.: sending away the Frey women. There is also an assumption here that all Frey women took no part in the Red Wedding and all Frey men planned it. Olyvar, Alesander, Perwyn. Who are they?) Thus, these scenes feel like fan-service, violence for the sake of butts in the seats. They have no message, unlike Martin. We also never question the morality of the cast.

7. The Wall falls at the end of the episode. The Night King attacks the Wall with the reanimated Viserion. He now breathes blue flame.- This is legitimately cool. But D&D have a history of making cool scenes that don’t have good context or character development. Like Michael Bay.

8. Euron kills 2 of the Sand Snakes, imprisons Ellaria and makes her watch as Tyene dies a slow death from poison. Euron's fleet destroys Yara's and he takes her prisoner. Theon abandons her, jumps overboard and is rescued by some Iron Born. Jamie travels to Highgarden and Olenna drinks poison. The claim is this happens when the Lannister armies sack High Garden. She admits to having killed Joffrey, and Jamie allows her to drink the poison. Jamie returns to King's Landing in time for the dragonpit meeting.- This all seems to be shooing off the Dornish and the Tyrells. This smacks of lazy writing trying to get rid of other plot points, rather than wrapping them up in a tapestry as Martin does.

9.  Littlefinger tries to play Arya and Sansa against each other, using the letter Sansa wrote to Robb (at the behest of Cersei and Littlefinger) to swear fealty to Joffrey. Sansa figures out she's being played with Bran's help.- Because God forbid Sansa achieve anything on her own. God forbid she be her own character and a vital part of the team, rather than a pretty field for Jon to plow at the end of this.

10.  There will be a flashback scene to Rhaegar and Lyanna's wedding. Sam and Bran figure out Jon's heritage. He is apparently a legitimised Targaryen named "Aegon".- Of course Jon Snow is perfect in every way. He’s not even a bastard! Never mind that this ignores the running theme that feudal social structures (including hating bastards) are stupid and repressive. This is honestly as offensive as the old trope:

Hero: Oh, I can’t marry my love because I’m black/Jewish/Romani!

Other Person: But you were white the whole time!

Hero: Oh. Okay then.

I would call this show “bad fan fiction.” But fan fiction is honest about what it is. Even with bad fan fiction, they tell you this is not canon, and half the fun is seeing what the author thinks would be affected by the changes they impose, or how they think certain characters would go together. Fan fiction is by nature, an author expressing him/herself creatively.

This show lies by presenting itself as an “adaptation” of A Song of Ice and Fire. The books are a series with strong themes of moral nuance, our sick obsession with militarism and violence, and the undervaluing of femininity. The show might as well be directed by Michael Bay, because as of Season 5, the villains are cartoons, violence is not only common, but fun, and every woman either has to flash her tits every five minutes or act like a man! And worst of all, it is expressed in such a cliche fashion no one can call it creative! It is just a creatively bankrupt tale told for money, and it makes me sick.