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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Note

Yandere alien Bucky x astronaut darling

I find this request very unique! I’ve never actually thought about this before, so thank you for bringing this creative idea <3

P.S. The action takes place in the future.

The Reason

Pairing: alien!Bucky Barnes x astronaut!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, death of minor characters, allusion to breeding and non-con.

Words: 2985.

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When you finally managed to open your eyes, everything was pitch black for a couple of minutes. Your body hurt so much as if someone threw you into a well, then pulled your dead body out, and threw it back in. The oxygen mask on your face felt heavy as hell.

You easily recognized the monotonous sounds of life support system since it wasn’t your first space mission. Damn, what had happened? Did you finally get that significant brain damage Dr. Strange was so concerned about? You didn’t remember blacking out so violently after your last spaceflights. This one wasn’t even your longest.

When you saw the room, you stared at the unnaturally high ceiling that you couldn’t blame on your blurry vision. It just didn’t look the same. Did they move the Adaptation Center to a new building or something? Did Dr. Strange mentioned it before? You couldn’t remember, really. You didn’t think he did.

Despite the fact that you felt weightless, moving your body seemed nearly impossible as you struggled to move your legs. Shit, and there you thought those magic drugs NASA offered you last time were way better than their usual treatments.

Wait. You didn’t finish your mission. You weren’t returning to Earth yet as you had around 6 more months to spend in space. Had something happened? Did Dr. Str-

Oh yes. Dr. Strange was dead. You still remembered his face when Sergeant Barnes, an extraterrestrial from Theseus-17, had shot him right in front of you.

When you saved them from their greatly damaged spacecraft, it was five of them: Steve Rogers, the Captain, their leader; Tony Stark, the Pilot; Bruce Banner, the Doctor; Vision, the Pastor, and James Buchanan Barnes, the Soldier. All of them simply used human analogues of their true names, but the members of your crew didn't protest: since Theseus-17 was incredibly far even for your highly technologically advanced spaceships, you knew very little of its inhabitants. Apparently, they attempted to establish a good relationship between your races - especially since you had so much biological similarities. In fact, they might be the closest to humans among other species you had ever encountered before, you thought.

Well, it was true, but you failed to see they would use it to their advantage to the fullest.

They were a militaristic alien race with predominantly male population controlled by stratocratic government. Their planet was three times smaller than Earth, but their technological advancement was unbelievable, especially compared to human's: it allowed them to invade several other small planets and colonize them in the past. However, due to some extreme DNA mutations, their female population was declining decade after decade resulting in zero births over the last five years. The Hydrarirans, as they called themselves, were rapidly facing extinction, Steve told you while explaining the reasons why they were so far from their home.

You had a pretty long talk after Bucky had shot Dr. Strange, and Tony strangled Wong. You barely remembered what had happened next, though you could guess you ended up being drugged by Hydrarians. Fuck. Did you send a signal back to Earth? You couldn't tell. Well, you certainly remembered Dr. Strange sending a message about saving the crew of Theseus-17 spacecraft. If you went missing, it would be a clear sign of something going very wrong.

But you still were God knew where. Gradually becoming extremely nervous with each passing second, you looked at the countless wires attached to your body and started to pull, forcefully taking them out of your skin and silently crying - you didn't remember feeling so much pain since the times of your first space mission. Violently throwing away the oxygen mask, you crawled on the bed until you fell to the floor with a loud thud. Shit.

You stayed there for a couple of minutes, afraid Hydrarians would quickly discover what you were doing, but since you heard nothing, you crawled further from bed to a wide glass wall, your vision still blurry. Where were you? It didn't feel like a spacecraft. It felt like you were brought to an unknown planet, and when you saw two red suns shining in the black sky, you realized it was exactly like Steve described his planet to you.

No, no, it couldn't be. Theseus-17 was God knew how many light years away. Their ship wasn't in the condition to fly you there so fast, yours even less so, and you certainly hadn't been put in a cryostasis. However, how well did you know what technology these alien freaks possessed? What if they could be using some teleport able to cover enormous distances? It could easily be an option.

Crawling further to the window, you had finally reached it and touched its cold surface. It certainly looked and felt like a glass beneath your palm.

The black meadows you stared upon were nothing like the ones you saw from a window of the little house where you spent your childhood. This place was wicked, evil. You could feel it in the air as you inhaled that strange, sickly sweet oxygen or whatever it was. No wonder their women couldn't handle living here, and you wouldn't last here either. It was clear what you were brought here for, and even the thought of it was repulsive to you. How dare they? How barbaric were these freaks, intending to use human women as some breeding machinery? If their military experiments made them facing extinction, then let it be, you thought, horrified and disgusted at the same time.

You rubbed your droopy eyes, feeling the wetness on the back of your palm as you tried not to cry, thinking what were your options except to submit silently to your abductors. How were you going to navigate a ship back home? How were you going to steal a ship? Actually, how were you going to leave this damn room, considering that your body was almost unable to move because of the time you spent in space? Recovery would take quite some time, unless Hydrarians had advanced medical support for cosmonauts. You hoped they did, because spending months to recover while staying with these savages wasn't an option.

Huh, it was better to listen to your mom and become a doctor. Now you'd be sitting in your cabinet and listening to concerns of elderly ladies, not being locked away on a planet with no female population. You had hard times imagining what they would do to you if you end up being thrown in a crowd of mad men yearning for intimacy for years.

Rubbing your eyes again, you exhaled loudly. You were in deep, deep shit.

When the white wall beside you suddenly moved to the side, allowing a tall, menacing man in a black military suit to enter, you held your breath, watching Sergeant Barnes walking into the room. You thought of his metal hand with a red star engraved on it - he could snap your neck with one swift motion if he wanted to, though he could probably do it with his flesh hand, too. Certainly, he was both skilled in combat and cybernetically enhanced, so escaping with him guarding you would be extremely problematic. You'd prefer to meet Vision instead of the grim Soldier.

"What are you doing, woman?" Barnes asked as he saw you on the floor with your back pressed to the glass wall, your arms bleeding from violently tearing the wires of the life support system out of your body. Apparently, you didn't look as good as he expected you to.

"A woman has a name." You said sternly, watching one of your abductors marched through the room and trying your best not to tremble. If he was raised in a stratocratic society, he valued power and strong will more than anything else, probably, so you had to pull yourself together.

“I am sorry.” He suddenly said, bowing his head as he stood right in front of you. “If it pleases you, I will refer to you by your name only, Y/N.”

You blinked, your vision still unfocused and blurry - a part of you was thankful for that since you couldn’t see Soldier’s face clearly. You doubted he looked very friendly, despite talking to you with some respect.

“Don’t touch me.” You commanded as he leaned closer to take you back to bed, his shiny combat boots touching your bare leg just slightly, making you shiver involuntarily.

“We have medication to nurse you back to health, but you still need the life support system. Please, do not resist.” Sergeant Barnes once again tried to pick you up, but you grabbed him by the wrist instead, silently staring at his pale face half-covered by that black mask he wore.

The man got silent and froze on the spot, looking at you with a strange glint in his eyes. He certainly didn’t seem menacing or angry, but there was something in him you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Why wasn’t he upset by your behavior? Soldier didn’t try grabbing you forcefully, nevertheless.

Could it be your contact, then? You might be the first woman to touch him in years. Thinking of it, the very next moment you recoiled, crawling away to increase the distance between you two.

Maybe the man was disappointed, but you couldn’t see it with that blank expression he wore as he suddenly sat down on the floor close to you, and then took his mask away, showing you his rather handsome, yet gloomy face. He looked... human, and it truly scared you.

“I know you think we are a threat to you, but we are not.” He said calmly, watching you. “I will not hurt you. I promise.”

You were ready to laugh at that. “You’ve killed my crew, people who I’d been working with for years.”

“Yes, and I am sorry for that. It was necessary.”

Necessary. What an interesting word he found to describe what he and his comrades had done.

“Don’t you understand what will happen once people from Earth learn about you and things you did?” As he cocked his head to the side, his dark uneven hair falling on his shoulder, you realized he wasn’t scared at all. “We can wipe you out of existence. Even if all of your kind are soldiers, there are billions of us, humans. You aren’t a threat.”

“We are not trying to be one.”

He extended his hand in attempt to touch you, but you recoiled and crawled away a bit further, narrowing your eyes at Sergeant. Whatever he was doing, it couldn’t be good for you.

“Please, do not be afraid. Right now you are the most precious being on our planet, and anyone trying to hurt you will be beheaded at the very least.”

Of course, you were. If Captain told you the truth, you were the one and only young woman on Hydra. You would be treasured, but you dreaded what they would do to you. Even thinking of it made you face twist in revulsion.

“What makes you think using me like a cattle won’t hurt me?”

“A cattle?”

For a few seconds Soldier got silent, and you realized he was searching the meaning of this word - now you managed to see a strange device on his ear that looked like an old Bluetooth garniture or something. Then the man looked at you with a surprised expression on his face, and you felt an urge to bite your tongue to stop thinking how human he appeared now.

“I assure you, you will never be degraded to such an inferior being. On the contrary, we can give you anything you wish for. I know the status of women on Earth is still far from being equal to men’s, but you are godlike to us.”

Carefully lifting his hand again, Barnes had took a shiny black glove from his flesh arm and showed you his hand with five fingers, spreading them for you to see he was as human as you. For the first time you felt like you wanted to cry, and bit down on your lower lip. God, why? Why did he look just like any other man? Why was he trying to seem kind to you? It would be so much easier if he was hurting you, pressing your face into the floor and binding your arms.

“I swear to you on the name of my mother, I will do anything in my power to make you happy.”

Apparently, it was some sacred oath, judging by the way his cold blue eyes gleamed, but you weren’t buying it. Make you happy? The one and only thing he could do was letting you go back home, to your own kind, and allow you to forget what had happened above your ship, the image of Dr. Strange with a wide hole in his chest still making you clench your fists.

“Why are you so sure we are a good substitute? If your own women weren’t able to survive here, what makes you think human females can?”

“Because our extensive research proves it. Moreover, a couple of human females have already been living here for several years.” Your face became distorted with horror at his words. “Captain’s wife was even able to give birth to two healthy children this year. They are the first children to be born on our planet in the last five years.”

“Humans will destroy your planet. They will kill all of you when they learn you’re kidnapping our women!”

“We are already in contact with your kind.” Dropping the glove to the floor, Barnes attempted to smile at you, confirming your suspicions he barely knew how to do it. “It is true, you are much greater in number than we are. But all of us are warriors with far more advanced technology and abundant resources. We will be able to damage your planet heavily before you eradicate each and every of us.”

The more he talked, the harder it was to follow - without the life support system, the lack of oxygen was making it harder for you to breathe, impossible to focus as you started breathing heavier, louder than before, but still refused to come back to bed, staring at the man in front of you with disgust and fear. God, it was better to suffocate than stay here with him.

“Do you know we possess twenty times more the amount of Vibranium you humans do?” Crawling closer to you like a spider, Soldier was watching you with both great interest and concern written all over his face. “We also have tritium and plutonium, too, as well as minerals you do not have on Earth at all. We are ready to trade them for something humans have in abundance.”

You were close to vomit, your eyes tearing up as you rubbed them furiously. You tried convincing yourself no one knew you were going to be captured by ruthless aliens. Of course, no one on Earth knew anything about that. There was no agreement between Theseus-17 and Earth to trade women for Vibranium and other resources. It would be direct violations of human rights and...

And it was very likely of humans to do, considering the lack of resources you had been facing over the last couple of decades.

When you started weeping, horrified of the things awaiting you in the nearest future, Sergeant finally reached you, wiping away your tears with his flesh hand. His touch was very subtle, gentle even, as he tenderly pressed his finger to your cheek, feeling the warmth of your skin. His hand was warm, too.

“It’s not true.” You cried, turning your face to the glass wall and leaving wet marks on it. “They’ll come for me... I won’t become s-some shared property.”

“Of course you will not,” he shushed you gently, enveloping you in what seemed like a hug, lowering your head to his shoulder. “You will be a queen to me. I will treat you right, I swear.”

“You?”

Stilling, you bit down on your tongue, feeling the metallic taste filling your mouth as you drew some blood. Concentrating when your brain was lacking oxygen wasn’t easy, but you could still breathe, inhaling deeply, trying to calm yourself. He said something about Captain’s wife, didn’t he? He said she gave him two children. He said you wouldn’t become a shared property.

Dear Lord.

“I won’t be yours.” You whispered through tears, pushing the man’s chest in desperate attempt to keep him away from you. “I’m not your possession. I won’t be yours!”

You saw him frowning at you, his expression growing darker, more impatient, enraged even as you crawled away from him, your legs too weak to hold you. Oh, he didn’t like you looking at him like that when you realized you were given to him like some prize he won in an amusement park.

But Soldier wasn’t having it. Had you ever thought what it cost him to spend years in combat to earn his privileges, his right to travel among the best of the best? Did you know how much time he travelled across multiple universes to find exactly what he was searching for? Huh, you couldn’t even imagine what he felt when the team got coordinates of your ship, when he saw you for the first time on hologram, smiling and laughing at jokes of Dr. Strange.

Grabbing you forcefully and lifting you off the floor, he raised you in the air above his head, making you silent in fear of being smashed against the floor.

“I have fought for you.” He let out a guttural growl like an animal. “I have killed for you. I have earned my privilege to have you, and no one can challenge my right. You are my woman, and you will stay here with me.”

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#bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #yandere #mcu #mcu fanfiction #requests

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twistedlymad · 4 years ago

Text

Kingdom Hearts Crossover (Ft. Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel and Sebek) (Special Ft. Sora, Donald and Goofy)!

Oh my, this certainly took me some time. I’m so sorry for it too, because you see, I’m not really a part of the KH fandom, I mean, I know what characters are there and all but I don’t know the plot

So for you all, my dear readers, I did research. A lot of research. I went from wiki to wiki to videos! I tried to weave the best story I can muster with my limited knowledge of Kingdom Hearts!

I thank you all once again for waiting for me and I do hope this stories lives up to your expectations everyone! Thank you for requesting this dear anon! It was lovely writing this crossover uwu (Plus there’s 3.5k++ words here)

Have a lovely day everyone!

Story is under the cut!!

“Stupid Headmaster…” Mumbled a certain little furball.

You and Grim were cleaning the Mirror Chamber one day, it was a punishment given to the two of you due to Grim who got into a fight with some upperclassmen because they just so happened to buy the last Deluxe Tuna Sandwich during lunch break. The furball had wanted to sneakily swap the sandwich with his bun but he was caught midway. A small fight occurred but thankfully Crowley had managed to stop the fight before it got uncontrollable.

However, no one got away scot free, the upperclassmen were tasked to clean up the laboratory after Professor Crewel’s classes for a day while you and Grim were stuck with cleaning the Mirror Chamber and taking care of the mirrors for a day.

“You have no right to talk here Grim…” You said in response to the mumblings of the furball.

“But, I was quick! I wouldn’t have got caught if it wasn’t for that one student behind the target!” Grim said, you just sighed and gently knocked the furball on his head.

“You should’ve just had the bun instead of pulling anything. Seriously, I’m beginning to think I’ve given you too much freedom, I should restrain that a bit… How does having tuna for breakfast for two days a week sound?” You asked with a small smirk.

“TWO DAYS A WEEK? NO! YOU CAN’T TAKE MY TUNA AWAY FROM ME!” Grim yelled out with widened eyes, looking straight at you.

“Then, let’s quickly finish the job in peace, please.” You said and went back to sweeping the floor. Grim hummed a hum of agreement as he grabbed a nearby cloth and began to wipe a mirror.

The two of you worked in silence, wanting to get the job done quickly and go back to your welcoming dorm. But, after sweeping for a while, you heard Grim let out one of his infamous yelps.

“Fgnaaaa!”

You sighed and set your broom aside before turning to the furball.

“Grim, what’s wron-“ You stopped your sentence midway as you saw the mirror began to glow brightly.

“Grim, what did you do?!” You frantically asked the furball.

“I didn’t do anything! The Mirror glowed on its own!” Grim responded as the mirror started to shake slightly, the two of you slowly backed away from the mirror.

And all of a sudden, three figures came flying out of the mirror, you and Grim managed to quickly dodge away before the figures hit you. The figures hit the ground and groans of pain can be heard.

“Goofy… What did you touch?” A voice asked from the pile.

“Gawrsh, I don’t know, all I did was walk near this Mirror-” Another voice replied, but was cut off by a third voice.

“It’s always Goofy who gets us in these situations.” The figures began to slowly get up.

You and Grim were still staring at them in shock, your minds were trying to figure out what had possibly happened. After hearing what the second voice had said, you were slightly convinced that it wasn’t Grim who messed up this time.

Yet, you weren’t sure what to think of these figures, after all, you didn’t know if they were friends or enemies.

The figures then slowly stood up and brushed themselves off with their backs facing you, as they did so, you managed to get a good look at them. It did give you quite the shock when you realized they were quite an odd bunch. Standing in front of you was a boy, a duck and a tall figure? Your hands immediately went to shield Grim, you weren’t taking any chances, especially with such an odd bunch.

“I think we should really ask Yen Sid about that mirror…” The boy said as he rubbed his head. The trio continued to bicker for a little before realizing that they weren’t alone in the room. The trio immediately ceased their chatter as they slowly turned their heads to face you.

You gulped a little as they did so, you couldn’t get any words out of your mouth as you were afraid of what their next course of action was, your brain was already silently working out possible escape plans if they happened to be enemies.

Grim noticed that you’ve frozen up and came to your aid in asking the strangers questions.

“Yanno, who are you guys? And what’re you doing here?” Grim said, emerging from your shielding hands.

“Woah… A talking cat!” The boy exclaimed as he saw the furball. Grim immediately ticked by hearing his comment.

“How dare you? I am not a cat! Fgnaaaaaa!” Grim said and used his signature fire magic on the figures. As he did so, the figures managed to dodge out of the way… Well, except the duck. The fire magic hit the duck and caused his butt to catch on fire.

The duck immediately runs around the chamber, screaming incoherently, like a madman. Your eyes widen at the sight as Grim only smirks at his ‘accomplishment’.

“Donald! Wait! I’ll put out the fire!” Said the boy as he summoned a large key of sorts in his hands and pointed the key towards the duck. The key glowed as a splash of water was then thrown towards the duck from said key. You were amazed at this, never had you seen this key of sorts, let alone the magic that was used to put out the fire.

“Thank you Sora… NOW! YOU!” After thanking the boy, the duck immediately faced you, pointing his finger towards Grim.

“Fgnaaaa!” Grim immediately jumped to action, but, before he could do anything, you had stopped him.

“Grim, stop.” You said and picked him up into your arms once again, securing him in his place.

“I’m sorry, Grim’s like this sometimes.” You apologized to the figures, the boy immediately shook his head.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called your familiar a cat.” The boy apologized in return.

"No, it's fine." You said with a smile and petted Grim's head in hopes of calming the furball down. "So, what brings the three of you to Night Raven College?" You asked the trio.

"College?" They asked you in return, shocking you slightly.

"Why, yes, Night Raven College, a prestigious magic school in Twisted Wonderland." You continued your statement.

"Twisted Wonderland?" They asked you once again, making you stare at them with widened eyes. How could they not know the place, let alone the world that they were in?

Then, it hit you, what if they weren’t from here? What if they were like you, from another world and they have no memory of their home world? That would explain the unusual magic that the boy had just used..

“I assume you are all not from here then?” You questioned and the trio replied to you with shaking heads. You nodded in return, looks like your theory was correct, they weren’t from Twisted Wonderland.

“Well, what are your names then?” You asked the trio.

“I’m Sora! And these are my friends, Donald and Goofy!” The boy introduced himself and his friends to you. You smiled and nodded.

“Nice to meet you Sora, my name is (Y/N).” You introduced yourself.

“And I am The Great Grim! The greatest mage that has ever graced your eyes! Be grateful!” Grim said proudly from your shoulders, you shook your head and knocked the furball’s head lightly.

“And this is Grim.” You said to Sora. The latter just nodded and smiled at you.

“Nice to meet you all.” Sora said, bowing slightly.-

“Same goes to you and welcome to Night Raven College.” You smiled in return. “Now, let’s head out to find the headmaster, maybe he has a way to send you guys back to your home world.” You said and the four of you walked out of the mirror chamber and headed towards the headmaster’s office.

Along the way to the headmaster’s office, you had to pass through mainstreet as it was the fastest route from the Mirror Chamber to the office. As you passed through, you had taken it upon yourself to introduce Night Raven College to the newcomers.

“There are a total of 7 main dormitories at Night Raven College. Each dormitory was modelled after one of the Great 7.” You said as you reached the statues of the Great 7. You then started to introduce every dormitory that Night Raven College had offered on its campus.

You told them about the set of 810 rules that Heartslabyul had to follow, the rough fights and high ego of Savanaclaw, the hard work of members in Mostro Lounge in Octavinelle, the chaotic everyday scenarios of Scarabia, the advanced technology of Ignihyde and the mysterious aura of Diasomnia.

“The Mirror of Darkness will not only determine which dormitory a student will be staying at based on their souls, it will also determine whether or not you are to be enrolled at Night Raven College as well.” You ended your small little introduction of the dormitories. “Of course, the Mirror of Darkness is the same mirror that transported you guys here, maybe you guys have the traits of being a student here.” You added with a small laugh.

“Gawrsh, all these dormitories seem so different from each other and so unique!” Goofy said in awe.

“They’re all so interesting! Each dormitory was based on different aspects of different legends.” Sora nodded as he continued to look at the statues of the Great 7.

“That’s great and all, but, I have one question.” Said Donald. “Why do you only have statues of villains?”

“Now that you mention it Donald, yeah! All these dormitories are based on the villains that we fought, especially her.” Sora said as he pointed towards the statue of the Witch of Thorns. You and Grim shared a look of confusion.

“What do you mean by villains?” Grim asked.

“More importantly, you’ve met with the Great 7?” You added on.

“Yes, but they’re not as magnificent and great as you described them to be.” Goofy said, making you and Grim tilt your heads in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You asked. The trio shared a few glances between each other before nodding their heads together.

“You see, in our world, these 7 legends of yours, are villains.” Your eyes widen at Sora’s words.

“So you’re saying that the Great 7 exist in your world?” Grim questioned the trio.

“A-Hyuck! That’s correct!” Goofy said. Sora then began to tell you all about his, Goofy’s and Donald’s adventures, how they traveled between worlds, ridding them of the Darkness that once inhabited in said worlds and restoring Light in them, how they met with different allies to aid them in battle as well as different enemies who tried to interrupt their plans.

“In our world, these legends will do anything to get their desires. The Witch of Thorns, or as we may call her as Maleficent, has even used a magic called darkness to achieve her goals as she leads all these other legends.” Sora said. “And their goals are usually evil.” You nodded slightly after hearing Sora’s adventures with his friends. Truth be told, you were introduced to a new side of the Great 7. Ever since you arrived at Twisted Wonderland, you were given the impression where the Great 7 were these all-powerful beings that everyone absolutely respected and adored.

“But, that shows that they work hard and are willing to do anything to get their goals done though.” You said. “We can’t just focus on the content of their goals and not their hard work.”

“Well, when you put it that way-” Donald started, but he was cut off by shouts and yells of students running past the 5 of you.

“Huh?” You questioned as you watched the panicking and chaotic students.

“(Y/N)! Grim! There you are!” A familiar voice yelled out your names from afar. The 5 of you turned your heads to the source of the voice. Running towards you were two of your best friends, Ace and Deuce. The two slowed down their running as they approached you.

“Ace? Deuce? What’s going on?” You asked the breathless boys.

“There are these black, dark creatures roaming around campus and they’re attacking the other students!” Ace panted out. “Epel, Jack, Sebek and our upperclassmen are fighting them right now and they sent us to get you.” Deuce added on. Sora and his friends shared worried glances as they heard Ace’s description of the creatures.

“But, why find us? Where’s the headmaster?” You asked the Heartslabyul duo.

“He’s busy evacuating some of the students as we speak.” Deuce said as his eyes shifted their focus to the trio that you were just talking with. “Who are you guys?” Deuce asked the trio, but Sora, Donald and Goofy were too deep in thought to answer.

“Do you think it’s them?” Goofy asked his friends.

“The description matches them perfectly.” Donald replied.

“Maybe. We have to check.” Sora concluded. The trio nodded and turned to face the two Heartslabyul dorm members.

“Can you lead us to these creatures?” Sora asked Ace and Deuce, his, Goofy’s and Donald’s faces showed grim and serious looks. You were slightly taken aback, even though you only knew them for a little bit, you could tell that something wrong is happening right now. Deuce and Ace looked at each other before nodding and nudging you guys to follow them.

After running a while, you guys arrived at the field. Magic spells were flying from everywhere! The critters that Ace and Deuce had described were littered all across the field as well. You held Grim closer to you and took a step back upon seeing this, never have you ever seen anything this chaotic. Epel, Sebek and Jack were in the midst of this chaos, trying to fend off these creatures.

“Epel! Jack! Sebek!” You yelled towards them. The three first years heard you and immediately turned to look at you.

“(Y/N)!!” They said, throwing off the creatures and rushed over to you. You could tell that they had tried their best in fending off the creatures as they were tired and out of breath.

“These things… There’s… Too many of them.” Epel panted out as Jack and Sebek furiously nodded their heads. You took a look around the chaotic field once again.

“W-What are those?” You stuttered.

“I knew it, it was them after all.” Sora said. You and Grim were puzzled when you heard that.

“Sora? You know what these creatures are?” Grim asked the boy.

“Yes, they’re called Heartless.” Sora said. “Their goal is to seek and consume hearts as well as seek darkness to overthrow the Realm of Light.”

“Which means, they’re bad guys.” Donald said and Sora nodded.

“But, why are they here?” You asked.

“We’re not sure, Heartless tend to linger everywhere.” Sora answered.

“And right now, our job is to stop them.” Goofy said.

“How do we do that?” Ace asked. Sora only smiled and summoned his key-like weapon.

“Just hit them with magic, they should disappear after doing so.” Sora said and lounged at a Heartless, the boy then swung his blade at the creature, making the creature disappear in a puff of darkness.

“See?” Sora said. Ace and Deuce simply nodded.

“Well, Deuce, looks like your cauldron magic is gonna become useful.” Ace said to Deuce with a smirk.

“And for once, your wind magic is used for good.” Deuce retorted. You and Grim could only roll your eyes at their antics.

“Save your love-bickering for later you two yanno?” Grim said and you, Sora, Goofy and Donald snickered. Epel, Jack and Sebek were trying their best to not laugh as well. Ace and Deuce immediately turned their heads to face Grim.

“Why you little-” They started but you cut them off.

“Guys, I think we should focus on clearing these creatures first, save the bicker for later.” You said and they only pouted and huffed.

“Hmph, fine.” The two Heartslabyul members said.

“Now, let’s go kick some Heartless butts!” You said and the others cheered along you. After your little cheer, the 10 of you charged together into the battlefield between mages and Heartlesses.

You all worked hand-in-hand in vanquishing these creatures with Sora, Donald and Goofy leading the way as you guys backed them up. Your group had magic flying out in all directions, hitting the Heartless that once surrounded you and making them vanish into puffs of darkness. The boys always kept their magic pens at the ready, firing at each and every Heartless they encountered and with your clear instructions, they were able to shoot clear shots at the creatures. With this teamwork between the 10 of you, it didn't take too much time for you guys to rid the field of its newcomers.

Once Sora had swung his weapon at the last Heartless, you guys all jumped with joy, wide and bright smiles plastered on your faces.

"We did it!" You cheered with your friends. Sora, Donald and Goofy joined in on the cheer.

“Great job everyone!” Sora said and you all just smiled in return.

“Hmm, yes, excellent job indeed.” A new voice piped up from behind you. You and your friends immediately turned your heads to face the source of the voice.

"Headmaster!" You and your friends yelled out as you saw the Headmaster standing behind

"Such teamwork from you all, I am truly touched…" The Headmaster said, wiping a tear away from his eyes. You and your friends deadpanned at the sight. You heard someone clear their throat and turned to see Sora, Donald and Goofy staring at you with confusion plastered on their faces. Only then did you remember that you had wanted to find the Headmaster in order to find a way home for them.

“Ah, Headmaster Crowley. I was just looking for you.” You spoke, catching the attention of the headmaster.

“Hmm? What is it (L/N)-san?” The headmaster replied.

“You see, these three came to our world through one of the mirrors in the Mirror Chamber.” You said and gestured to the trio. “We were searching for you to see if you knew a way for them to go back.”

Crowley then took a look at the trio, inspecting them. His eyes then eventually landed on Sora’s weapon, as he did though, his eyes widened in amazement.

“My, is that…” Crowley paused for a moment. “Is that a keyblade that you’re wielding there?” The headmaster asked, pointing towards the weapon in Sora’s hands.

“A key what now?” Ace asked.

“A keyblade is a weapon that can only be wielded by certain chosen individuals who are strong of heart.They are commonly used to fight off darkness as well as unlock any lock in the world. These blades are imbued with magic as well.” Crowley explained. “It is certainly a rare sight to see one, let alone seeing a child wield such a powerful weapon.” Crowley smiled towards Sora.

“Ah… Thank you?” Sora said nervously, slightly tightening his clutch on his keyblade.

“No need to be afraid. I will not try to steal your keyblade, after all, I have no use for that weapon.” Crowley said with a reassuring smile to Sora.

“Ah, well, thank you.” Sora replied whilst dismissing his keyblade.

“Now, I believe we can find a way home for you, please follow me back to the Mirror Chamber.” Crowley said and turned to walk towards the Mirror Chamber. You gave Sora and his friends a smile and started trailing behind the headmaster back to the Mirror Chamber along with them and your friends.

When you all arrived, Crowley told Sora to step in front of the mirror and asked him to think about his home planet. Sora did as he was told, shortly after, the mirror glowed a bright white colour, engulfing the Chamber with light. As the light faded, you could see that there are sandy beaches on the other side of the mirror.

“Destiny Islands!” Sora said out loud.

“Well, step through the portal and you’ll be home.” Crowley said to the trio. “I have to go now, do help me to give Yen Sid my greetings.” Crowley continued and walked out of the Mirror Chamber. Sora, Donald and Goofy were just staring blankly at his leaving figure.

“He knew Yen Sid??” Donald asked.

“I didn’t know either, in fact, Yen Sid has never mentioned him.” Sora replied and turned to face you and your friends.

“Well, I guess this is goodbye, it was nice meeting you guys!” Sora said.

“Who knew that we had different opinions on certain stuff.” Donald continued.

“A-Hyuck! Yea! It’s really nice to learn that we all have our own opinions on the Great 7.” Goofy said with a smile.

“It was lovely to meet you guys as well.” You smiled at Sora, Donald and Goofy. “Thank you for your help in defeating those creatures.” You bowed slightly to them.

“It’s no problem, after all, it was our duty to do so.” Sora said, rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, we wish you the best.” You said, waving a little.

“Feel free to drop by anytime!” Grim added on.

“Thank you.” Sora said as he, Donald and Goofy turned to face the mirror.

“May your heart be your guiding key.” The trio said as they stepped into the mirror, rejoining their friends in their own world.

~Bonus~

During the fight against the Heartless, Ace at one point got competitive against Donald.

Donald was clearly doing better at vanquishing the Heartless, so the duck taunted the Heartslabyul first-year

Ace got all angry and frustrated, due to the taunt and frustration from vanquishing the Heartless. He let his frustration get to him and yelled out: “BUT YOU’RE JUST A DUCK!”

“A duck?! WHY YOU LITTLE-” insert angry Donald noises here

It took you, Grim, Sora, Goofy, Deuce, Epel, Jack and Sebek to stop the fight between the Heartlabyul dorm member and the duck.

Oh don’t worry though, the two got a good earful from you, so all is well.

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littlesparklight · 4 years ago

Text

Cruelties of the Heart

It wasn't the glittering pressure of Iris that woke Menelaos up. Rather it was Knossia stirring from under his arm, slipping out of the bed with a whispered 'wake up, my lord', sliding out of the room with a bow to Iris while she dressed and Menelaos had barely sat up. He looked from the nymph, escaping out and certainly about to disappear into her fountain again, then to the goddess, near touching the roof where she stood in the middle of the room, her golden wings shedding a light all of their own and enhancing the morning's rose-gold light that fell in through the windows.

Menelaos shook his head, not awake enough, not quite quick enough, to even begin to guess why a goddess should come here to Crete to see him. Unless this was about Helen, for Helen was the daughter of Zeus, and the king of gods and men would surely be concerned about his mortal daughter's welfare if something should've happened.

"Has something happened to Helen?" Menelaos spoke through the too-thick beat of his heart that had taken up space in his mouth, hand frozen partway through his distracted comb-through of his hair with a hand. His hair was not important, if Helen was in danger.

"Son of Atreus, honoured husband to Helen, daughter of the dark-misted son of Kronos; up and back to your ships. Light-footed, radiant Aphrodite has stolen through your house, uniting Paris and Helen. Your guest took your wife with him as he left in the night, and Helen went with him, the sanctity of your marriage bed despoiled."

Silence rung beyond the echo of Iris' words, hanging there with damning weight even as the goddess herself disappeared out the window with a rainbow shimmer. There was a weight on Menelaos' heart, an ache in his gut, and hot, liquid weight flooded him as soon as the silence settled, the goddess' presence no longer pushing all air away from her.

Helen wouldn't.

Helen - had looked at Alexander of Troy with stolen, wide-eyed glances, lips pressed thin even before she knew he'd spied her looking. Helen had taken the gifts Alexander had offered her with a comely little blush to her cheeks, yes, but with all due decorum. Helen had wondered aloud, in the privacy of their rooms, as to the beauty of their foreign guest. Had teased him - he'd thought - if the effect of Alexander passing through the corridors of the palace, leaving sighs in his wake, was any similar to the effect she left in her passing, however small such a similarity could be.

Perhaps it hadn't been teasing. Perhaps it had been Helen confessing to more than understanding of the effect she could have by watching someone else. Perhaps it had been Helen confessing she was as affected by such beauty as the rest of the world was to hers, but carrying it she could hardly fall in love with herself.

Menelaos stared down at his trembling hands, slowly tightened them into fists, and ignored how his vision blurred.

Helen wouldn't.

Except he'd left her alone, because he'd trusted her, and who trusted the beauty of one's wife to other men? Who trusted the beauty of a man such as Alexander?

Collapsing back, Menelaos didn't even flinch as his head met the wall, and clutched his face, biting down on any embarrassing noise. Anger might come later; at the moment he was too heavy for anger, too weighted by tears for the insult to spur him to any action at all. He couldn't move, sorrow and dull, echoing pain carving chains straight out of his heart and keeping him on the bed. He should get up, but the enormity of both his own emotions and the situation kept him there, unable to decide what to do.

It wasn't until the door opened and Agamemnon stepped in that Menelaos realized he'd sat there for hours - the sun had long since passed from shy morning light that lit up his borrowed room into afternoon heaviness that threw the room in shadows.

"Menelaos---" His brother paused, staring at him. The shadows made him huge, taller and broader than he was, more similar to the towering, unpleasant ghost of their father, especially with that scowl on his face. It immediately eased up into a soft-mouthed breath drawn as Menelaos found the strength to drop his hands and meet Agamemnon's dark-eyed gaze. His brother crossed the floor in three steps, hovering now, as a thick-maned lion hovers over his young cubs daring a trip out of the lair their mother has kept them in, to drink from a sweet, cold pool and for the first time exposed to the dangers of the open sky and shielding grass, which could yet hide dangers. "What's paining you? Sitting here in the darkness - what news could you even have received when no herald or messenger has come past Idomeneus' hall?"

"Gods need not use stairs and doors, Agamemnon," Menelaos said, finding some thread of wryness, his mouth following a stumbling step behind but not quite managing a smile to match his tone. "Storm-footed Iris, messenger of Zeus, came to me."

He closed his eyes, gritting his jaw until he could speak, for where there'd been tears there was now a flare of white-hot rage.

"Alexander of Troy left with my wife in the night, stealing my marriage bed of its precious contents and robbing my house of its greatest jewel." Reaching out blindly, he didn't need to fumble for Agamemnon's hand to close about his. "Agamemnon--- what do I do?"

He knew what he wanted to do, but the idea was vast, and though the threat itself might - should, surely - be enough to threaten Troy to give up its stolen loot, if it didn't, the price could be high. It seemed a terrible thing to ask of the sons and lords of Achaea by his own authority.

"There was an oath sworn," Agamemnon growled, his voice as if that of the Thunderer himself, "we call on it. I won't have you disrespected this way, dear Menelaos."

They were finally to do this.

Finally, after the wrong city, after being scattered and remustering over five years, and quietly, full of useless, gentle hope, Menelaos hoped that these five years were part of the ten Kalkhas had interpreted that the war would last for. It could be, couldn't it? Why shouldn't it? They might not have been engaged in armed combat for more than that assault on Mysia, limping back to try and find their way and then scattered by the storm, but it was one link in the chain, a part of the war, as disappointing and empty as it'd been.

This time there would be no further disappointments, no further derailments. Odysseus had gotten Achilles off from where he'd ended up on Skyros, and Telephus would be showing the way; they were all gathered, it was only a question of setting off in the morning.

So, for today, there was celebratory hunting, and Menelaos found himself smiling as he had little energy to do lately when Agamemnon's spear was the one to take down the deer they'd been chasing.

"Better than the virgin huntress herself, wouldn't you say?" Agamemnon proclaimed, his voice ringing with giddy pleasure of success and rustling the leaves of the trees around them, proud as any young boy being given the chance to take down his first quarry, the older hunters stepping back to allow him his first taste of glory and experience.

Menelaos choked on his breath, hidden underneath the laughter around them. Cold punched his chest, seized his tongue and froze it still, even as lava bubbled up, scalding his stilled tongue with the need to speak, to shout at his brother. He glanced around, but all the men present - Nestor still in his tent in the Pylosian contingent's camp, too old to comfortably keep up with the rest of them and not deprive them of all but the most unworthy, old or diseased quarry - were laughing, thoughtless with success, with the coming riches and renown to be gained.

All but Odysseus, standing at the fringe, rubbing his chin and jaw.

Briefly, their eyes met, and Menelaos wondered, considering Odysseus' reluctance during the first muster, if he wasn't pleased. If so, it wasn't visible on his face, and Menelaos could only marvel at the man's ability to keep himself contained. They broke their gaze to look up as a disturbing wind made the branches dance, scraping against each other like a harpist only the Receiver of Many would employ at his grim court.

In the distance, clouds towered up and the winds were soon tearing at both clothes and hair, driving the grass flat and threatening to pitch them all to the ground.

III

The tent was silent save for Menelaos pacing with a particularly pinched expression on his face Agamemnon well-recognized and wasn't much in the mood for.

His little brother's temper was rarely roused, but when it did so it could be fierce and take little heed of others - and most often it rose against Agamemnon himself, despite how quiescent Menelaos was at the best of times, despite how hard he worked to keep his younger brother satisfied and safe and unharmed. Sometimes, Menelaos could be the worst sort of dog.

"I'm not sacrificing my own daughter," Agamemnon snapped, staring at his hands. Hands a goddess would have him murder his own beloved, oldest daughter for. That he hand this task, this foul thing, over to someone else was as unthinkable as doing it at all. If it should happen, he would do it himself, but it wasn't going to happen. But if it didn't happen, then their name would be left besmirched, his brother's home and person insulted and left to be laughed at, and the glory and gain to be won, surely beyond counting, lost.

To be sure, leaving your wife with an unknown guest in your halls was reckless and foolish, too trusting of both strange man and beloved wife, but Alexander of Troy had been a guest - it was unconscionable that he should then repay his host the way he had. More than that, the host had been Menelaos, his little brother. The memory of coming into the room Idomeneus had given Menelaos and seeing him on the bed as if all life and vitality had left him still hurt.

"I didn't say you should," Menelaos growled, whirling around but pausing in his pacing to stare at Agamemnon from across the tent, brown eyes ablaze and the light from the lamps catching bloody in his pale, red-blond hair. "Blessed gods, brother, what do you take me for? There has been enough death in this house, I wouldn't ask any more of you!"

Slowly, Agamemnon tightened his hands into fists, though that didn't so much hide the tremble in them as subsume it, setting his very blood to vibrating, his veins pulsing in answer until his skin was buzzing from fingertips to armpit. Menelaos wasn't lying, of course. He didn't want Agamemnon hurt, or to hurt him, both for perfectly normal, brotherly reasons as well as to hold the darkness that always lurked at bay, fangs bloody in the dark, waiting. But there was, still, an edge to his words, in his voice, like a knife hidden under the well-appointed, beautiful dress of a woman plotting as only women could, resorting to subterfuge for that was both their nature and their need.

"And yet you have more. Out with it."

They stared at each other for a beat, a pulse jumping in Agamemnon's jaw to match the one at Menelaos' temple, and then his little brother grit his teeth, usually so very warm eyes narrowing. There was a time those eyes had looked at him with nothing but beseeching need, searching him out for every little bruise that tender heart had suffered, knowing not the worser pains Agamemnon had gone to lengths to shield him from. Maybe if he had refused to help his brother in winning Helen and redirected him towards another potential wife, they wouldn't be here. On the other hand, what was the chances no one at all wouldn't have tried what Alexander of Troy had, even if Helen would have been married to Achilles?

"I will not ask you, and I won't demand it, but I wouldn't even have to if you hadn't opened your mouth! What were you thinking! A deer in her own sanctuary, and even if not, you claimed yourself better than one of the Deathless Ones instead of thanking her for the kill, and now I should be left with nothing but ruin and laughter, completely aside from not knowing what I'm leaving Helen to?"

"From what you told me of him, that boy could not force her if he so went to her bed when she would be sleeping and could put up no resistance." This was not acknowledging the real source of Menelaos' anger, but Agamemnon felt little desire to admit to it. Of course, he could not sit there and watch his little brother flinch as if he'd slapped him, looking away and seeming to collapse in on himself.

"Helen wouldn't have gone willingly," Menelaos whispered, hands tremblingly tight in fists at his sides, and Agamemnon bit down on the next few words, knowing Menelaos knew she must have, for he'd accused her of that to Agamemnon himself on the way to Sparta from Crete, furious and hurt for a blazingly glorious moment. The problem was Menelaos' anger could never quite be sustained for long whenever it was roused, and now he had retreated into soft-hearted pain and the security of insisting the ridiculous, woman-mad pretty boy had forced Helen from Sparta and to the ships.

Grunting, Agamemnon drew breath to - redirect the conversation, if not apologize, but Menelaos got there before him, and he should probably have expected the shape of the retaliation.

"What do you care for, in the end? For me, at all, when you insult a goddess just as we are about to set off, my grief finally to be assuaged, and you're unwilling to repay her the respect you lost her, even as cruel as her demand is? Or only for wealth and glory, which can be easily discarded at the slightest opposition, considering the wealth of Mycenae? If this was about wealth and renown, you know I wouldn't be here, and I would be urging you against the whole of the gathered sons of Argos and the Danaans if they were the ones howling for your daughter's blood for favourable winds to win them their promised glo---!"

"So you would have me sacrifice my daughter for you? One half of my heart for the other?" Agamemnon bellowed, surging to his feet, and knowing not what hurt more - that he might be considering it exactly for that, or that Menelaos was leveraging himself this way.

"No!"

It wasn't much of a consolation that Menelaos seemed horrified, even when that had been exactly what he'd implied in his anger. Choking on something hot and wet, Agamemnon halted in his advance, but Menelaos came to meet him, clutching his arms and now meeting his eyes unflinchingly. If Agamemnon only could do the same, but he was staring over the top of Menelaos' head, the lush, soft tumble of half-wavy hair still in disarray from their walk here through the rising storm winds. He hadn't noticed he was shaking, and not just his hands.

"I would rather we not be here at all, Agamemnon. I would rather not be responsible for the lives of all these men, young and seasoned both, rather not be the reason they're here, and the deaths that will come of this already pains me." Menelaos grimaced, jaw, lips, tight, which hid the briefest of trembles to his usually soft mouth. Agamemnon couldn't remember when he last saw his little brother smile, and something hurt within. It was far too reminiscent of when they were younger, when Menelaos had been slender as a whip and creeping quietly around, tense as a fawn walking out into the open for the first time, following its mother but fearing any nearby hidden wolves and its sharp, slavering jaws, thirsty for tender flesh and young blood, so as to not arouse their father's anger. "And I don't want to see Iphigenia's blood on the altar, for the pleasure of cruel gods who care more for their Trojan sacrifices than the golden laws of hospitality the son of Kronos himself guards. But I can't just turn back, either. What sort of man would I be, then, to neither defend my wife or punish the crime, to let a far lesser man take something so precious from me, away from Achaea and Sparta itself, where Helen belongs?"

Menelaos closed his eyes, shaking his head. "And I know the chance she left unwillingly is slim, but if there was even the barest of risks of that, how could I leave her to suffer continually at the hands of the man who stole her?"

When he opened his eyes again, Menelaos was stiff as he squeezed Agamemnon's arms and said nothing more, merely watched him with a tense, dark look that had become far too familiar in the last five years. Even the slave woman he'd gone to pains to find for his brother had not ever stirred even the smallest edge of Menelaos' usual smile, though she did delight him, he knew. And if they - he - did nothing, how long could he expect Menelaos to be respected on Sparta's throne? How long until he would have to field disrespect against both of their thrones, against his brother personally? He did not want to see him in more pain, but Iphigenia...

Agamemnon's heart quavered, and he lurched forward, clutching Menelaos to himself, and if there was a wounded noise that escaped him, at least it was hidden in his brother's hair.

"My daughter. How can she ask for my daughter, even if she kills women, young and old, at whim?" Agamemnon groaned, but could not deny Artemis had a right to her recompense, as little as he was going to admit it. The words had been said, and he had been the one to say them, and he couldn't imagine disbanding the army, as close to it as he'd been before Menelaos had shouted at him over the wind that they needed to talk things over. But talking things over had merely put his brother right in front of him, his brother who'd been grievously insulted and maltreated, his brother who Agamemnon was still furious to see losing both spark and smile since Helen had left.

"I don't know," Menelaos murmured, wrapping his arms around him. "I don't know."

His brother, and his daughter.

Agamemnon closed his eyes, but could not escape the memory of Iphigenia's glowing smile as she sang at dinner the evening before they set off for Aulis a second time, proud for her father, for the glory they were to win, respect rewon. His darling, sweet-faced Iphigenia, with her dark, curly hair and bright eyes, who'd liked to 'provoke' him into chasing her when she was younger, growling like the most ferocious of wolves and herself shrieking in horrified delight.

Agamemnon shook until he was still, digging bruises into Menelaos' shoulders, wetting his hair, and then he took a breath.

"We could put it to a vote," Menelaos offered, then, and eyes still closed, Agamemnon pulled back to shake his brother a little.

"I am not putting my daughter's life to a vote among the council. If I am doing this, I am doing it by my own decision, by my own hand, as it was my own words that landed us here. Nothing more, nothing less!"

His daughter, and his brother.

In the end, the decision, as heavy as it was, as cold as it made him, was, perhaps, foregone.

* An attempt at using both the hints of variant traditional material where Agamemnon and Menelaos’ relationship isn’t as simple as the older brother eclipsing the younger and Menelaos giving way to Agamemnon in all things, but without turning Menelaos (or Agamemnon, for that matter) into some terrible villainised version of himself as seemed to have been popular to make of him in a number of plays. Also to deal with Agamemnon coming to the decision to sacrifice Iphigenia.

#the iliad #trojan war #menelaus #agamemnon #lightart

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miss-ingno · 4 years ago

Text

Triple Duke Coup, 1/?

Fandom: AH RPF/AH Kings Ships: Fionsay, Alfreyco, Mavin Words: 5.5k Tags: king au, prince!Alfredo, princess!Fiona, mage!Trevor, sorcerer!Lindsay, elf!Gavin, bounty hunter!Michael, action, mystery

Summary: When his uncle, the Duke of Luzon, stages a coup, Crown Prince Alfredo has to flee the castle, leaving his sister behind to deal with the mess. But what could have caused the sudden shift in power?

A/N: inspired by the Coup card games and all the Triple Duke jokes, especially that one video where everyone had two Dukes in hand 😂

kinda ran out of steam on this, so posting in hopes of getting new motivation from your reactions 💖

Read here on Ao3. Chapter 2 |

***

The doors to the throne room opened, the herald announcing the men entering in quick succession. Alfredo straightened in his seat to the right of his father. The supplicants consisted of the three dukes, the most powerful nobles in the land after the crown. For them to show up uninvited, a united front… Something was going on. Something big.

The oldest of them, the Duke of Luzon, rose first out of his bow without waiting for the king’s permission. From the corner of his eyes, Alfredo saw his father’s lips thin.

“Your Majesties, your Highness,” the duke greeted, inclining his head.

“Uncle,” Alfredo murmured. “What-?”

The king held up a hand, and Alfredo fell silent, glancing between his father and uncle, taking in their grim expressions.

“What brings Your Grace to Our domicile?” the king asked, his words sharp and mien severe.

The duke jutted his chin out, meeting the king’s eyes in open challenge. Behind him, Alfredo could hear his silent shadow hiss.

“The recent matter we discussed in letters, Your Majesty.”

Alfredo’s brow furrowed, unsure what his uncle was referring to. He was old enough to be at least present for most ruling decisions, as part of his training as crown prince. He hadn’t been part of this. Which either meant the matter was trivial, or...

His father glowered down at the duke from his throne. “And We have decided. The matter is closed.”

His uncle scowled at the words. The other two dukes stepped up to stand at his shoulders.

“We,” his uncle started, gesturing to his companions, “that is, their Graces and I, politely disagree, brother.”

Another hiss, and Alfredo glanced over his shoulder to meet Trevor’s eyes. That hadn’t sounded polite at all.

The king rose from his chair, shaking off the queen’s restraining hand on his arm.

“You dare question your king?” he growled, crossing his arms. “You dare challenge Us?”

“We dare call your judgement into question, dear brother,” the duke stated, and the court held its collective breath. “You have grown weak in your age. Soft. Your decisions are not for the best of our people.”

The king’s face turned dark as a thundercloud. “Do you now, little brother.”

“We concur,” said the duke to his uncle’s left, drawing all gazes on him. “The dukes of Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao are in agreement. Your Majesty has failed our people.”

A murmur went through the court, nervous rustling of clothes mingling with whispering voices to combine into a wave of noise. A hand landed on Alfredo’s shoulder, and he glanced up at Trevor, who in turn was staring at the dukes intently.

“I see,” the king said, voice dark and forbidding. He took the steps down from the throne, walking up to the duke, their eyes locked. “You wish to play with forces outside of your control, little brother. Turn back now, and I will forget the words you spoke here.”

The king’s voice was quiet, as private as one could get in the echoing chamber of the throne room. The duke’s response, in comparison, was loud and bold, for everyone to hear.

“You put me in an impossible position, my king. But I have made my choice: I will stand up for our people, even if that means going against my own blood.” The duke’s grim expression softened around the edges, and he lifted one hand to cup the king’s cheek. “I’m sorry, brother.”

“You-!”

The king coughed, bending forward until his head rested on the duke’s shoulder, the crown tumbling from his head and landing with a loud clatter on the stone floor. The queen shot up from her throne, and the crowd gasped.

“Even if it means spilling said blood,” the duke murmured, voice loud in the ringing silence.

Alfredo sat frozen in his chair, eyes wide as he watched his uncle take a step back, blood spurting across his robes as he pulled the dagger out of the king’s chest. His father stumbled, falling to one knee in front of the dukes, gloved hand coming up to press on the wound.

“You…”

“You have betrayed your people, brother,” the duke announced, gentling his tone as he continued. “You left me no choice.”

“Guards!” the queen yelled, and the shock-still room burst into sudden action.

The other two dukes drew their blades and stood back to back with his uncle. His mother ran down the steps to kneel by his father, the hem of her dress soaking up blood immediately. She helped him up into a crouch, trying to pull him back. The two guards by the throne joined her, and Alfredo started rising from his chair as well, hand settling on the grip of his ceremonial sword.

“Something’s wrong,” a voice whispered in his ear, and Trevor’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

“Hell yeah, something’s wrong! No shit, Trevor,” Alfredo hissed back, trying to shake him off. “Uncle just sta-”

His mother’s scream tore through the noise, and Alfredo’s head whipped around to see a sword sticking out from her back, the guard’s gauntleted hand still on the grip. The other guard turned their sword on them, pushing the traitor back with a yell and a furious swing of their own sword, but it was too late. Alfredo met his mother’s wide, shocked eyes before she crumpled to the floor, coming to lay right next to her dying husband.

He didn’t have time to process the sight, however, as a cold, tingling feeling slid over his skin. One second, he was half-raised from his chair, the next he stood behind it, his hand on Trevor’s shoulder rather the other way around. And not a second too soon, as an arrow lodged itself into the back of the chair, inches from Trevor’s head.

Trevor stood, shaking off Alfredo’s hand, a motion that hid his gesture signalling Alfredo to retreat.

“Uncle,” Trevor called out with Alfredo’s voice, hand on the hilt of a sword that doesn’t exist because it’s still on Alfredo’s hip. He steps down from the platform, and all eyes turn to him. “This is treason.”

“No, nephew,” the Duke of Luzon said, his tone mild, even as blood still dripped off his dagger at his side. He walked around the dying king, skirting the spreading puddle of blood. “It’s a coup.”

“Potatoes, potahtoes.” Trevor waved him off, coming to a stop at the bottom step. “What do you intend to do next, if I may ask Your Grace?”

“I will politely ask you to step down, of course,” his uncle explained, tone dripping with condescension as he stopped in front of him. “You may be young, nephew, but you ain’t naive. Surely you understand it’s for the best?”

Trevor didn’t budge, despite his uncle’s looming. “And if I don’t? You did just kill my father, the rightful king.”

The duke affected a sad expression, but his eyes remained flinty. “Then you leave me no choice, nephew.”

The blade glinted as it caught the light, still covered in his father’s blood as the duke - his uncle - shoved it into Trevor’s side, thinking it was him, that he was stabbing his nephew. Alfredo stumbled away from the throne, his back hitting the wall. His hand fumbled over the bricks to his right, even as his gaze was glued on the spectacle.

Trevor grinned up at the duke as the knife passed harmlessly through his chest, his body turning to smoke.

“Shadow,” the duke snarled, spitting at his feet.

“You really thought I’d make this easy for you?” Trevor taunted him, his voice slowly fading from Alfredo’s cadence to his own. “Really?”

Alfredo’s sweaty palm finally landed on the right stone and he pressed it back. With a click, the wall behind him shifted, letting him slip through a thin slit and vanish from the throne room. His eyes met his uncle’s just before the wall slid shut, and he could hear the shouting on the other side, muffled as it was.

With a flicker the torches flared to life in the narrow passage, Trevor stepping out of the shadows and pulling the nearest torch out of its bracket.

“Go, go, go,” he urged, pushing Alfredo ahead of him. Alfredo didn’t need to be told twice, falling into a loping run.

“What about Fiona?” he called back to Trevor, though he didn’t waste time looking back. He knew Trevor would always follow in his footsteps.

“Your sister went out riding this morning.” Trevor reached forth and tugged on Alfredo’s cloak, nudging him to take the next left. “She should be safe for now.”

“Until she comes back, not knowing what happened,” Alfredo bit out. “Presuming her escort isn’t in on this coup. Shit.”

He came to a sudden stop, punching the wall next to him.

“Not now,” Trevor muttered, hooking an arm through his and dragging him further down the passageway. “Run now, break apart later.”

“Uncle just killed Father!” Alfredo burst out, stumbling forwards a couple steps before catching up with Trevor. “Mother-”

“-was stabbed in the back by her own guard, yes, I saw,” Trevor finished for him, whirling around and pressing Alfredo up against the wall. “Focus! We need to get you out of here.”

“We need to warn Fiona,” Alfredo snapped, pushing at Trevor’s shoulders. “There has to be someone-”

“We can’t trust anyone!” Trevor shouted, throwing up his hands. “Don’t you get it?”

“Shut up!” Alfredo hissed, shoving Trevor into the opposite wall. “Of course I do! Fuck!”

He held Trevor there with one arm crossed over his chest, his free hand dragging through his hair, snatching on the circlet denoting him as crown prince. He pulled it off, staring at the silver band rather helplessly.

“We need to hide that,” Trevor mused, fingers brushing over the polished silver. Then he reached out to tug at Alfredo’s silken tunic. “That, too.”

“Alright. Right.” Alfredo closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “What about Lindsay? They like Fiona, right?”

Trevor hesitated. “Normally, I’d say we can trust them without a doubt, but…”

Alfredo sighed and nodded. His uncle had somehow managed to subvert even the queensguard, the most loyal to the throne. Still.

“Can’t you send her a message?” he begged, as they started down the narrow hall together, voice dipping into desperation. Trevor paused, shooting him a considering look over his shoulder, and Alfredo pounced. “Please, Trevor. I- I need to know she’s safe.”

“It’s risky,” Trevor pointed out, rounding the corner ahead of him. Alfredo followed on his heels.

“I know.”

“If someone in her escort is in on the coup, they’ll see.”

“I know.” Alfredo reached out, tugging on Trevor’s sleeve. “I know, Trevor. I just- I can’t lose her, too. Not after...”

Trevor stopped in the middle of the hallway, whirling around to glare at him. “And I- we can’t lose you!”

Alfredo reared back in shock at the unexpected outburst. Trevor’s chest was heaving and he closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. Then his eyes snapped open and he pressed the torch into Alfredo’s hands. “Fine.”

Alfredo watched as Trevor’s eyelids drooped, the white growing cloudy. His fingers twisted into various shapes as he muttered under his breath, words Alfredo couldn’t understand. Tendrils of shadows stretch from the walls, the ceiling and the floor, reaching for Trevor’s fingers, curling around pale skin and each other. Trevor’s eyes snapped wide open, glowing a deep, dark red and he exhaled the last part of the chant, grey smoke escaping his lips. The shadow tendrils rose to meet the dark air, mingling until the form of a bat took shape.

Without taking his eyes off the spell, Trevor jerked his chin in Alfredo’s direction. He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Father- The king is dead,” he told the bat, watching as the smoke flickered, creating the illusion of wings beating. “At the hands of the Duke of Luzon. Uncle- the duke is holding the throne.” Alfredo swallowed, fingers clenching around his royal circlet. “Be careful.”

Without looking at him, Trevor raised his hands and exhaled, blowing the smoke away. The bat faded through the wall, its false wings flapping.

“Let’s hope no one sees that,” Trevor muttered, taking a faltering step down the hall. Alfredo was at his side in the blink of an eye, supporting his weight. Trevor grimaced, pushing at him half-heartedly. “I’m fine. Just need a moment.”

“You’ve expended a lot of magic,” Alfredo observed, ignoring Trevor’s attempts and slinging an arm under his shoulders, bracing him. If Trevor’s reserves were low, they’d need to be extra careful not to get caught. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

They slipped out of the secret passage into the servants’ corridors, the ones that let the castle’s staff move through the place unnoticed and unseen. Trevor stopped leaning on Alfredo the moment they stepped out, grabbing his hand to tug him down the left hallway. Alfredo entwined their fingers and squeezed, eyes flitting about. They passed several maids hurrying down the halls, averting their gazes the moment they caught sight of the duo. Alfredo’s stomach twisted into worried knots, wondering if they would tell.

Trevor dragged him into a room with four bunk beds, falling to his knees next to one the nearest chest. He tugged on the iron lock, muttering a few words under his breath, and a tendril of shadow slipped from under his sleeve and into the lock. Seconds later it clicked open. Trevor dropped it to the floor without a second glance, throwing the chest open and rummaging through the clothes inside.

He tossed a dark grey tunic Alfredo’s way, pulling a cream-coloured one out next. He chucked his dark robes and pulled the white tunic on, and Alfredo followed suit. He set his turquoise tunic down on the bed, the silver circlet on top. Once he slipped the grey tunic over his head, Trevor lobbed a bundle of brown cloth his way. Unfolding the cloth, it turned out to be a cloak.

“We can’t just leave that here,” Trevor mused, tapping a finger to his lips. Alfredo followed his gaze to the things he discarded on the bed.

“It’s just stuff, though.” Alfredo shrugged. “Like, I get it’s got like symbolic weight and what not, but it can be replaced.”

“Not if we don’t want you replaced. Which we don’t,” Trevor shot back, mouth twisting thoughtfully. He crossed his arms and gave Alfredo a pointed look. “Two options: we leave it here for your uncle to find and risk him using them-”

“He’ll just have a new one made anyway,” Alfredo pointed out. Trevor grimaced and inclined his head in acknowledgement.

“-or we take it with us and risk being discovered.” He tilted his head first left, then right. “On the upside, we could prove your identity when we come back.”

“Will we?” Alfredo asked, biting his lip. At Trevor’s questioning glance he clarified, “Come back, I mean.”

Trevor’s expression grew grim, his brow a determined line as he reached out to squeeze Alfredo’s shoulder.

“We won’t let the dukes get away with this, will we?”

Alfredo clenched his jaw and nodded sharply. “We won’t.”

Trevor returned the nod, his grip tightening on Alfredo’s shoulder. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, sharing in that promise. Then Trevor’s hand dropped away and he turned, pulling a leather satchel from the chest. Alfredo rolled his tunic around the circlet and stuffed it to the bottom of the satchel, Trevor adding another tunic on top to hide them away.

And with that, it was time to leave.

Alfredo met Trevor’s eyes, reached out to intertwine their fingers. “Let’s go.”

They left the way they came: through the servants’ hallways and secret passages, even as guards combed the castle looking for them. Hoods pulled up to hide their faces, they stuck to the shadows and managed to slip away unseen.

***

The King is dead. Long live the Dukes Three.

***

Gavin ducked his head, dodging through the crowd. The tavern was full, loud and sparsely lit, perfect for blending in. He brushed up against people, fingers quick and clever, pocketing whatever he could reach without looking up, mumbling excuses as he jostled people. The door was up ahead, only a couple more bodies to bypass before he walked free-

A hand on his elbow stopped him in his tracks, whirling him around to come face to face with his captor.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going," the man growled, a truly awful scowl on his face. Gavin pushed his lower lip out and pouted.

"Aww, Michael, boi, c'mon."

The scowl grew darker, but his eyes flicked over the crowd, the obvious way the nearest strangers were leaning in to eavesdrop. With a low snarl, Michael tugged Gavin through the door and into the stables, which really was more of a canopied trough attached to the side of the tavern.

“I told you to stay close,” he complained, pulling Gavin up to the trough and planting himself between him and the street. He held his bound hands up and wiggled his fingers at Michael in reminder.

“Not like I could go far with these.”

The strips of leather lit up as Gavin pulled his hands apart, tightening around his wrists until they touched again. Michael glanced at him from the corner of his eyes and grunted, before focussing back on the saddlebags he was rummaging through. Gavin slumped against the bar their horse was tied to, pouting.

Michael rolled his eyes, giving the horse’s hind a friendly pat as he finished.

“Will you shut up if I let you ride Hidalgo?”

Gavin dropped the pout immediately, tilting his head as he pretended to ponder the suggestion. Michael snorted and pulled down the stirrup.

“Get on, idiot.”

Michael helped him up into the saddle before untying the horse and tugging him away from the stall. Hidalgo huffed a soft protest but followed obediently. Gavin watched Michael as they walked down the streets, heading for the gate of the small town they’d found themselves in.

“No luck at the inn?” he asked, keeping his tone light. Michael grunted in reply, not answering before they’d left the gates - and the guards at the gate - behind them.

“They didn’t have any work to trade,” he finally said, his voice gruff and shoulders up to his ears. “Besides, their ale tasted like shit.”

Gavin hummed agreeably and didn’t push it. The sun stood low on the horizon, drenching the meadows around them in red hues. If his internal map was correct, this was the last town before they reached the capital, they wouldn’t find anywhere else to rest for the night. Gavin eyed Michael, noted how tight his shoulders curled, the tension of his spine. Pointing out the obvious didn’t seem worth it.

They’d been getting along surprisingly well, considering their circumstances. Gavin wanted to keep it that way.

Michael stayed silent while they entered the woods, the tightness slowly easing from his shoulders, though he still had a distinctly grumpy air. Gavin went from watching him surreptitiously to keeping an eye out for a good campsite, aware that he could see better in the low light conditions than his human companion.

They were well past the treeline when Gavin noticed them.

"Uh, Michael?"

"What?" the man grumbled, turning to look over his shoulder at Gavin, who stared past him. Ahead, half-hidden between bushes and shadows, were vaguely humanoid shapes. Gavin couldn't quite make them out in the dim darkness of dusk, but the light reflected in their eyes, enough to give them away. Gavin counted at least eight, though some sixth sense told him there were more than that.

"We should head back," Gavin suggested, eyes scanning the underbrush. A twig snapped behind them, and Gavin tensed.

"To the inn?" Michael scoffed and shook his head. "I already told you-"

"No, boi," Gavin interrupted, an ominous feeling sitting in the back of his neck. "Out of here. It's not safe."

Michael stopped and frowned up at him. "Look, I get it. This must be hard for you, your last days of freedom and such. But the bounty clarified alive, so I don't think-"

"Michael, boi." Gavin huffed exasperatedly, tugging on the reigns and turning the horse sideways to offer him at least some cover. "It's not about that."

"Then what-" Michael sounded just as exasperated.

"We're surrounded, boi."

Michael stared at him for a long moment, expression closing off. Then his eyes darted to both sides without moving his head, but he clearly couldn't find anything. His brow furrowed and he uncrossed his arms, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.

"Look, buddy. You don't have to like it, but we're gonna camp out here tonight," Michael said out loud, projecting his voice across the clearing. Then he stepped closer and lowered it, "How many?"

"Too many." Gavin jerked his chin subtly to indicate where the bulk of them were hidden. "Ten, maybe more." Then he, too, raised his voice to complain, "At least take these off me for a couple hours? I can't feel my fingers anymore."

Michael was contemplating it, Gavin could see it in the twist of his mouth, weighing the risk of Gavin fleeing versus his help in this fight. But they had run out of time to make decisions as a crossbow bolt flew across the clearing, burrowing into the tree behind Gavin. A warning shot.

Michael drew his sword.

Five of the ambushers stepped out of the trees in a half circle around them, the rest remaining in their hiding places. Gavin glanced at the apparent way out, wondering what traps had been laid for them. He could make out two more of their opponents lying in wait, but there was a sizable gap between them. Triprope? Or a net, perhaps?

"Who are you?" Michael demanded, stepping between the visible group and Gavin. "What do you want?"

"Your bounty, hunter," the leader replied, his tone calm and bored. "Hand over the elf, and you won't come to any harm."

Michael jutted out his chin and raised his sword. “And if I don’t?”

“Then we will take him whatever means necessary,” the leader declared and snapped his fingers. Anticipating their next move, Gavin rolled off Hidalgo on the far side, coming to a crouch just as more crossbow bolts sailed through the air. His gaze darted once more to the gap in the group, eyes narrowing. They were expecting him to make a run for it, weren’t they?

Well, he didn’t intend to make this easy for them.

He peeked through Hidalgo's legs, watching as Michael met the leader strike for strike, metal clanking against metal. Michael was obviously the more skilled of the two, quickly gaining ground, until two of the other attackers swiped at him from opposite sides, forcing him back. But Gavin didn't have time to watch how Michael fared, as three more of their ambushers slipped around the side to corner him.

“Surrender, elf,” one of them called, a wide grin over their face as they twirled their sword showily. “There’s nowhere to run.”

“Not bloody likely, you prick,” Gavin muttered, though he held up his bound hands as if to surrender. From the corner of his eyes he watched them fan out, assured in their easy victory. But just before the speaker could step into sword range, Gavin darted forward and under, poking Hidalgo’s belly in the spot he knew the horse hated.

Predictably, Hidalgo rose up on his hindlegs in protest, hooves kicking through the air and forcing their attackers back.

Gavin rolled under the horse’s belly, getting dangerously close to those hooves, and came up on the other side close to Michael. Hidalgo, meanwhile, came back down and kicked out his hindlegs, hitting the bandit standing behind him straight in the chest, denting in their armour and making them fly into the trees.

Scrambling to his feet, Gavin took in this side of the clearing, mentally marking the position of the marksmen littered amongst the treeline, crossbows loaded and at the ready. Michael was fending off attacks from two angles, while a third sword fighter circled around, watching. As they stepped behind Michael, while the bounty hunter was distracted parrying an attack, they found an opportunity and darted in.

“Watch out, boi!” Gavin yelled, alarmed.

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael pushed up the sword he’d blocked with his own and ducked under, leaving his attacker in the line of their comrade. The bandit didn’t have time to pull his attack, their short sword driving into their fellow’s stomach.

“Thanks, Gav!” Michael called, not even looking his way as he engaged his third opponent while the other two were distracted, pushing him back into the treeline until a rain of crossbow bolts forced him back.

Meanwhile, the confusion around Hidalgo had calmed down, one of their ambusher’s having caught the horse by the bridle and was working on moving his stubborn ass out of the middle of the clearing with the help of one of their compatriots. The person who got kicked was still out of commission and probably well out of it for the rest of the fight, but that still left two of the bandits free to advance on Gavin once more.

“Well, shit,” Gavin muttered under his breath as they both raised their weapons.

Gavin dodged under the swing before catching a sword between his wrists. The magical bindings shone in resistance, holding strong against brute force. The bandit had barely enough time to register what happened before Gavin took advantage of their shock, using the unbreakable leather to twist his hands around and disarm his attacker. The sword clattered to the forest floor, and Gavin gave it a quick kick out of reach.

Then Michael's back collided with his and Gavin stumbled a step forward before bracing himself against the bounty hunter.

"They're after you," Michael grit out in between grunts of effort as he parried two attacks at once.

"Isn't everybody?" Gavin quipped, jumping up and using his back against Michael's to steady himself, kicking at the bandit in front of him. One of his feet connected with the man's gut, the other a little lower, forcing him back.

"These ones are a pain in the ass about it," Michael commented, stepping neatly around Gavin and intercepting a sword strike.

A hail of crossbow bolts thudded into the ground at their feet in a neat half circle forcing them back. Gavin glanced at the bandits they'd taken out of the battle, being helped by a handful of unarmed ones. And yet they were still outnumbered.

The quick look around also revealed they were being herded towards the traps, slowly but surely.

Michael seemed to reach the same conclusion, deflecting a new rain of crossbow bolts to step closer to Gavin.

"There's a gap in their defenses behind us," he murmured, bright eyes on the advancing sword fighters.

"Trap," Gavin told him sharply, and Michael nodded as if he expected it.

"On my word," he said, lowering his voice until even Gavin with his enhanced senses could barely hear him, "you run. I'll distract them."

By springing the trap, Gavin presumed.

"No way, boi," he hissed, fucking behind Michael to give him space to swing his sword, even as they retreated, each step closer to the trapped underbrush. "I'm not leaving you behind!"

Before Michael could reply, their attackers stopped playing with their prey, three of them ducking in and out to slash at Michael from multiple sides, stealing all his focus. Gavin tried his best to help without hindering Michael, grabbing dirt to throw into one attacker’s face and trying to trip another to give Michael a chance.

For a moment it seemed to work.

Then Michael lost his sword.

It flew in a high arch, time seeming to slow down. The last rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon made the blue sheen almost glow purple before it clattered to the forest floor with a dull thump, the sound swallowed by the much heavier thump of Michael hitting the ground, all three attackers piled on top of him.

Gavin stared at them, wide-eyed, taking an unconscious step back.

A twig snapped under his foot.

Everyone’s eyes turned to him, except for one. Michael's gaze dropped to his hands, the line of his brow smoothing out while his mouth twisted in determination. Gavin realized what he was going to do a second before he did, the magic word slipping from Michael's tongue like a sibilant hiss, hidden under the noise of the attack.

The rope shone a brilliant blue-white - then fell to the ground, dull brown leather blending into the leaves.

"Go!" Michael shouted, struggling against the two people pinning him to the ground. The third stood up, pointing their sword at Gavin.

"Surrender now, or the bounty hunter dies."

Gavin grimaced, stumbling several steps backwards. He could feel the triprope go taut against his heel and froze.

"What makes you think I care?" he spat, fingers brushing over the bush at his left. He just needed to buy a little time…

"He's protecting you, isn't he?"

Gavin shot the leader an unimpressed look. "He's a bounty hunter. The only thing he cares about is money."

He could hear Michael wince at the words and felt a pang of guilt how callous he sounded. It wasn't like he actually believed his own words, but he needed the group to think Michael a worthless hostage.

"Besides," he drawled as his fingers curled around a loose branch that seemed sturdy enough, "I hear I'm worth much more alive than dead."

The leader glowered at those words. "Look, elf, enough of this farce. Come with us quietly, and we'll even scrounge up some dinner for you."

Gavin tilted his head, grip tightening on the branch, skin tingling with magic at his beck and call for the first time in weeks.

"No, thank you."

"Then you leave us no choice." The leader gestured with their sword, and Gavin braced himself. "Get him!"

Michael started struggling harder at the command, but Gavin had to watch the people rushing him. It was clear that they made more noise and showy swings of weapons to scare him into running, hoping to herd him into the net trap a couple feet behind him. However, Gavin had other plans. The branch in his hand elongated and straightened out with a push of magic, and Gavin twirled it in his left hand, cutting the trip rope and triggering the traps.

In the cacophony of swirling leaves disturbed the net, he vanished from view.

But he didn’t go far. From his spot in the crown of a nearby tree, Gavin watched the chaos his disappearance caused unfold. The bandits ran around like a disturbed anthill, poking through the underbrush and yelling at each other. One of them confronted their leader, clearly unhappy about how things went.

It was the perfect time to get the hell out of dodge.

Gavin couldn’t. Not yet.

Using his branch-stick as a pole, jumped from tree to tree, timing each landing to coincide with the noises the ambusher made in an attempt to root him out. Michael was dragged off to the side to be out of the way, his hands and legs wrapped with rope for good measure. Gavin considered the problem from across the clearing. If he could somehow free Michael and get them both to Hidalgo…

However. There was one problem. Gavin’s eyes flit across the clearing, trying to catch the blue sheen of Michael’s sword, and his heart sank as he found it sheathed at the leader’s belt. No way was Michael gonna leave his sword behind.

A different plan, then. Half their attackers were still out of commission. If Gavin could manage to whittle away at their numbers further… Michael could definitely take the leader in one on one combat. From the snippets Gavin caught of their fight, Michael was both the stronger and more skilled fighter of the two. Now, if he only-

The branch under Gavin’s feet shifted with a resounding crack.

Fear jolted down his spine as Gavin looked back, only to see the bough had a deep split running through it. Under his weight, the branch strained to hold onto its roots - and failed. Gravity did the rest. Gavin cursed, jumping into a roll forward as the branch broke away, managing to soften his fall. He rolled up into a crouch, stick held up in a defensive position-

-in the middle of the clearing.

The bandits all turned at the noise to stare at him.

“Goddammit, Gavin!” Michael groaned, his head hitting the tree behind him with a loud thunk.

Gavin glanced around, shifting on his feet. None of their attackers had gone far, and there was at least four uninjured ones. And unlike Michael, Gavin wasn’t much of a fighter, though he did have an ace up his sleeve. Magic sparked at his fingers, roots shifting below everyone’s feet.

The second-in-command seemed to notice the movement immediately, but instead of attacking they sidestepped their comrades to come up at a bound Michael’s side, roughly grabbing his curls and holding their sword to his throat.

Reluctantly, Gavin dropped his stick and raised his hands in surrender, adopting an innocent mien.

“Whoops?”

#achievement hunter kings #ah kings #ah alfredo #ah trevor #ah michael #ah gavin #king au #ah lindsay #ah fiona #fic rec #ragehappy #ingno writes #triple duke coup #tdc #fantasy au

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courtorderedcake · 4 years ago

Text

Things I'm Typing Thursday - @courtorderedcake edition

Trying to motivate myself to write more.

From Hallow, chapter XXIII

Emma hadn’t left her room in days, only appearing for meals where she acted as a grateful guest. Taking a bite or two of food, a careful mask of diplomacy on her face, Killian watched her push around the rest before taking her leave.

“If you’ll excuse me, I still have not recovered from our trip here.” Bowing slightly, she turned before any of their company could offer anything. He recognized fleeing when he saw it. Leaving the table to follow her, he gave a nod to Ingrid, cloak rippling behind him.

Knocking on her door in the smooth polished stone rooms, Emma called out from the other side, voice shaking.

“I’m feeling ill, please -”

“Emma. Open the door.”

“I’m alright, I’m about to take a nap actually -”

“Open the door, please.” He heard her sigh, and the door unlocked. Up close he was surprised how well she had covered her distress. Her eyes were red rimmed, cheeks stained. With the door open a crack, she returned to her bed and laid down curled away from him.

From MTFB, chapter 6

Dr. Hopper's words might have been a pack of mosquitoes for how they buzzed around Emma's head and tried to bite her in the ass before she could process she had even been a snack.

"Give your happiness a chance."

Happiness? It wasn't exactly like she was used to having the feeling in her life, and if not for her found family of friends, she most likely would not have believed it actually existed. She tries though, because her baby deserves the best she can get, and Emma will be as damned as any Demon if she can't make that happen.

(The problem? It's HARD - frustratingly, annoyingly, and deliciously difficult.)

From Riptide Sequel... 🤫

Esper adores her father from the moment she can smile up at him with a gummy grin that mimics Killian’s own. Both twins take after him, both have dark, thick, hair that curls down Esper’s fair shoulders, they both babble with their hands animatedly moving or rocking on their feet, have the same crooked smile under their mother's gift of green eyes and scrunched noses. Esper is content to watch the stars, to listen to his deep voice rumbling over heartbeat and sea as she falls asleep. It's his name she yells when the nightmares come and a monster chases her.

It's her Mum she calls for if it catches her, the violent bursts of her own screams as cerulean flames moved like ghosts in her palms. The feeling of making them is electric, terrifying truly - as terrifying as the original nightmare if not more. It's Mum who teaches her magic; to turn shadows into light filled bubbles or how to produce controlled flame that licks the tip of one finger lazily.

The memory of Mum holding their hands to the open air watching as above swirls of rainbow magic light a starry sky is a favorite and fond moment of time. It's something Esper finds herself using to conjure greater magic, pushing herself further with every spell. Emma Swan may have been the greatest wielder of light magic on the seas, but Esper Jones is not to be outdone. Wielding and weaving chaos magic with elemental summoning in ways that no one has dared, she learns quickly. It's under her family's careful watch and with their connections that she learns from the best around the realms, visits to castles and trips across the world bringing more knowledge and experiences.

It is with pride that her Mum tells her that she has caught the attention of the Apprentice’s Academy, the college of magical arts created by The Middlemist Sorcerer himself. Her father isn't elated. Her father is pensive, and refuses to sit while they discuss her leaving to train

From Lt. Duckling A/B/O fic (Unbeta'd)

The man with the hook hadn't broken a sweat during his mad scramble away from the castle, moving like a cat as he carried her in shadow to the docks and then onto a ship. Emma couldn't see him, her chin and cheek pressed firmly to her captors shoulder, nose against the back of his neck. He smelled wonderful, and she knew that it was another cruel trick of nature that her kind was attracted to their predators. It was frustratingly barbaric to know some sense of her agency was replaced by want, and she resolved to bury the feelings deep, instead contemplating her feelings on if she was to survive this. If she wanted to survive.

Her parents would do everything possible to ensure her return, knowing this was a death sentence, but they had no idea who had taken her or why. Especially a smuggler like this pirate, who probably docked somewhere secret to bring in their goods. If Emma had time, a day or two, her parents would probably find her if luck was on their side. If she had hours… That would be it. Instead of dread, she felt a numbness creep through her skin. This life she was living, it wasn't a life any longer. Maybe this was fate providing her relief.

He gave orders as she drifted in thought, the smell of salt air and lemon oil only enhancing the spice, leather, wood and soap that lingered on his collar. It was rare that Emma was nostalgic about Neal, but the press of someone against her was a comfort she had no qualms longing for. If she had a way to ask she would have begged her parents for a companion just for the platonic touches like this, the ease that it brought when Emma longed for her mate and wept over the broken bond. Just to be near another heartbeat, feeling shoulder blades and muscles under her breasts, the way it calmed an ache that this life had burdened her with -

“What is it? A doll?” Someone asked, jerking her from her wonderings.

“No. I don't know what she is, but it's not a doll. She's breathing, and seems to have awareness. I'm going to take her to the soothsayer and ask for more answers. For now she can stay in my quarters.” Her captor’s voice was a rumble she could feel against her chest, his hand undoing the carefully tied knots to take her off his back. Holding her gently, he curled her against his chest. Emma could see the buttons undone on his linen shirt, coarse hair overflowing. Her mouth went dry while her mind chastised her for absolute weakness.

“The captain needs a trifle to amuse himself with? How about a chance with the crew for the beauty?” A man hooted, and her captor lunged, as if forgetting he was holding her.

“If anyone touches her without consent, they will have spat on my quest for revenge and thus me. They will be rewarded in death.” His eyes burned like a cold flame, the man who had been so lewd quickly turning tail at the display of temper. Emma held on to the glimmer of hope that she might succumb to rest with her body unused by these unscrupulous men. To want was one thing, the reality was a grim and dark other. At least he would keep her In the promise of some safety.

In a way, she was glad for her body's woefully designed biological impulses, for this at least. Only the Alphas on board, like the captain, could shut off her mind with the waft of pheromones or commands of pleasurable actions. If the captain decided to act on any devious intentions while she was captive, she might be able to imagine herself finding him attractive in another time or place. This was neither, but she let herself take him in.

The light of dawn made him look like one of the sculptures she had often gazed at when passing temples, angels, gods and goddesses cut from stone with unmatched artistry. His jawline was covered in stubble and his eyes were blue, but in the light she could see the different colors of his hair, the scar against his cheek, and the grim determination that burned just behind the ice in his irises. Even smelling like rum and with red around his eyes from it or lack of sleep, he did not seem drunk or unkempt, just touched by wind's invisible hand. Emma blinked several times in the growing sun, letting him survey her carefully before he adjusted her in his grip again. Walking down a set of stairs, he opened a door and placed her on a bed before walking to a desk.

@elizabeethan @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @ohmightydevviepuu @donteattheappleshook @thesschesthair @thisonesatellite @carpedzem @teamhook @jrob64 @mariakov81 @theonceoverthinker @wyntereyez @cocohook38 @bubblegum1425 @stahlop @laschatzi @profdanglaisstuff @winterbaby89 @gingerchangeling @peglegsjones

#courtorderedcake #captain swan #captain swan fanfiction #cs ff #February #cssns #cs #cs au #cs fic #CS TIT

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bloodycassian · 3 years ago

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Enemies and Allies - Reader + Night court. the concept:

enemies forced together in alliance to save their courts. Politics, tension, "Once we're done here I will be the one to kill you." slow burn reader x an Illyrian? Not sure who yet

Part 1 of a possibly reoccurring fic.

You never liked dealing with other courts, but Rhysand and Tamlin were possibly the two worst high lords to deal with. Helion would have been up there too if he wasn't so damn charming. And Beron didn't even count, considering he was your uncle. He was annoying automatically. And a damned fool for not showing up to the funeral. Tamlin was a brute shoved into power much too early. You could tell just from the way he carried himself. No nobility, no grace. Just the brutal beast that lurked under his skin. The way he didn't bother leaving any flowers along the coast line was further proof of his childish ways. Rhysand was the polar opposite. The epitome of arrogance, grace, poise and political power. All words and strategy, enough to make you double take every time he opened his mouth. Constantly on the lookout for hidden meaning or loopholes in his word choice. He made your heart race with stress. His spymaster and general though, were like two neutral, yet menacing gargoyles on either side of him. They were unsettling, especially with the shadows that crept over the spy. You tried not to stare at those curling around his shoulders, or the dull siphons that laid on each of their hands. Or the wings. The wings would have been the worst part if there weren't other winged generals at the funeral. Peregryns guarded their high lord, one at each side much like Rhysand. Only they radiated sunshine, and light and goodness. Still terrifyingly deadly, though. Their polished armor and ceremonial scepters glinting from the overcast skies. "A funeral should be a celebration... of the life that was. Please, join us." Tarquin said, voice thick. His mate's lip quivered. The ocean crashed against the sand, scooping up the flowers left to honor his son. Your heart squeezed at the tone change in his voice. The way he struggled to hold himself together for his court. Vivienne turned from the crowd, and Tarquin followed. Her dark hair moved like water over her thin frame. They held each other for a long moment while the Summer court guards ushered guests to the large open beach house. You hesitated, looking out towards the ocean as it roiled. The dark water churned, seagulls overhead made no sound as they passed. "Its been a long time, Autumn." The sultry voice was enough to make your skin crawl. He had kept the nickname since he'd met you. And in the two hundred years since. He did not forget such a remarkable introduction. Especially of someone who had your kind of power in an opposing court. His eyes flashed with amusement when you turned, plastering on a charming smile. "I would have preferred longer, but the Cauldron works in strange ways sometimes." You retorted, and began walking away from him, grinding your teeth when he followed with ease. He laughed and nodded. "Indeed it does, with the passing of Tarquin's only child." the not question was leading, looking to see if you knew anything of the murder. Anger spread though you at the subtle accusation. You couldnt let it show. You had to keep your calm. Or he would surely suspect something of you. You could practically see the accusation scene play out when Night court invaded Autumn on Summer's behalf. Claiming that Autumn had killed the boy. "A parent should never outlive their own child." You said mournfully. You knew from experience how it ruined families after such a loss. When you snuck a glance at his face, you could have swore you saw pain there. A longing that you didnt understand coming from him. It almost made you feel bad for him. You jolted yourself, forcing your mind to focus upon on your steps in the sand. He paused for just a second before opening the bungalow door for you, inviting you to the wake. All courts dressed in mute tones of their colors, not one dared to raise their voice above the hushed murmurs. Rhysand gave a nod to his two generals in the corner, standing like statues. "I'll be seeing you then, Autumn." His eyes met yours and you swore you saw something linger there. Before you could tell him to knock it off with the nickname, he was weaving his way across the room to the two Illyrians. Stopping every so often to give grim smiles to the families of Summer Court. His actions seemed genuine in nature. You dared not reach out a mental hand to him though, knowing you might not return with it intact. + "And what of Night court?" Beron's slurred words were familiar. The old man had been wasting away in his own filth for years. After the Lady of Autumn disappeared, he had nothing left to keep him in line. His sons - Eris namely- made the important decisions in the court, but he still acted as ruler. The figurehead for important events and nothing more. He had also become obsessed with the innate abilities of all the other high lords. Constantly comparing his own lingering power with the others. In two hundred years, his body had seemed to begin to wither. Directly after your birth, some said. And cursed you for their ruler's demise. After the shame of being one of the few courts to refuse to help win the war, Beron had given up completely. Still power hungry, but no longer driven. "Night court seems to be fine. Not shaken by the murders." You surmised as best you could after your short interaction with the High Lord. "Was it's high Lady there?" He asked with a grunt of a laugh. He was always undermining the role, laughing whenever you mentioned seeing the lady of Night. "She was not. I believe she was taking care of the babe, as the two generals were there." He shook his head, his gray hair falling in his face. "As a female should." You fought not to cringe or bite back at him. Even if he was your uncle, Beron would be a fantastic target if there was, in fact a murderer loose in Prythian. You shooed the tratirous thought away. "Tarquin and Vivienne send their regards." You said, hoping he would allow you to take your leave. You glanced around to the cavernous space that encapsulated the dark throne room. The banners on the wall seemed lacking in color. Years of dust likely growing on them. The cracked stone floor showed its age as well, moss growing in the corners. He refused to let anyone touch up the dim room after his wife had gone. Echoing steps sounded behind you. You turned on your heel calmly, but gripped your sword. Ready to defend your High Lord if needed. Your mouth fell open at the sight of The Morrigan striding down the long hall. Eris on her heels behind her. She was a beacon of light among the dull ancient stone walls. Eris had a wicked grin on, eyes locked on his father. + "The Queens have been killed." She announced, no wavering in her tone. Your stomach hit the floor. Beron said nothing, didnt show any reaction in the slightest. As if he already knew. "And they sent you so I could be assured the court of Nightmares isnt lying?" "They sent me because I saw to their end personally." Eris even glanced at her with the tone she used. She leveled a look at Beron. He waved a hand, as if the Night court commander hadn't just announced that the biggest enemies to Prythian were dead."Cut off the head of the snake and more appear." He coughed after the shrug, his breathing labored. Eris hid a pained look that you knew all too well. The denial of his father's life coming to an end in front of him. You could have balked at him for the outright insult but kept your mouth shut. "High Lord.." you began, wanting to consult him on the weight of the situation. He glared at you, that familiar piercing stare that told you to stop whatever you were doing. As a child, that stare was enough to make you behave. You didn't dare think of what more than a stare Eris had to go through during his childhood. Eris' jaw clenched before he began "Father, the Queens no longer pose a threat. This would be the perfect op-" "Enough, boy!" Beron's voice echoed in the hall. Your cousin's face went red with shame. Fear settled in your stomach. If Beron had no plan for moving forces to the continent to stablaise, there would be a power struggle. Even you knew that. "You assume I dont have a plan. We can discuss this when there are no wandering eyes or ears present." His tone was softer, but still laced with that High Lord's authority. Mor's eyes could have killed them if she had the ability. She snorted, and turned on a heel to leave. Her footsteps echoing in the long hall. "The Night Court's whore, going back to where she belongs." Beron mused to himself. She stopped dead in her tracks. Eris' face went pale when she turned. Your palms went sweaty at her eyes, like two daggers looking at him. She held up a hand. Light flashed, and suddenly there was a razor thin spear flying through the air. You ran at The Morrigan before you knew what you were doing. Your hands were a flurry of movement as you tried to keep her down. Eris just watched, unable to move as he watched death race for his father. A wet splatter, and Beron's chest was punctured by that golden spear. His mouth leaked blood, his eyes closing. Eris was rooted to the spot. Your body locked up, and Mor shoved you off of her with a grunt. She wasnt trying to win the fight, she could have obliterated you in a second if she was. You felt like you weren't in your body. She stood, wiping the blood from her face. You didnt remember hitting her that hard. Your mouth was dry, mind buzzing. Mor waved her hand again and the spear was gone. "Have all the power you want, Eris. Our deal has been struck. Send your forces to Rask by next week." She scowled at the body on the throne. The male you had just wished death upon. The reality of it made everything fuzzy. Eris was still pale, his eyes not looking away from his father. "We will see you there." He said, voice weak. Distant. You could only faintly hear Mor Winnow away. The roaring in your head was overwhelming. Your uncle dead on his throne. A hysterical laugh bubbled from Eris' chest. Only one, before you could catch his gaze and see the silent tears streaming down his cheeks. + "You killed the Queens and my father without consulting me first. I hardly think our deal was struck." Eris had been strange after his father's funeral. But for the first time since, you saw a glimpse of the old him. On the move to Rask, he had been that hollow shell he seemed like. Btu as soon as he laid eyes on Morrigan waiting at that tent, he seemed to put on more of a show. Inside the tent seemed too small. It was enormous, but with everyone inside it was too hot. Too cramped. The sun beating down did not help. The two Illyrians in the corner leering at you and Eris was not helping either. "A deal's a deal young Lord. I suggest you choose your words more carefully next time." Rhys winked. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to hold back your tone. "You murdered him. I am being blamed for not guarding him well enough." Your reputation in the court had fallen. Several Royal court members had been rumoured of your position inside the court, if you should be banished because of the death. None of them knew what actually happened. You and Eris had agreed on a believable story though, whoever had murdered Tarquin's son also reached Beron the night of the funeral. "I did not murder him. My lovely cousin however, did." Rhys drawled with a cat-like grin. It made you see red. Azriel grinned behind him. Those creepy shadows of his seemed more transparent in the sun. Mor glanced to you, her eyes not betraying anything she felt of the kill. You were hoping she would show some remorse for the death. Heat roiled in your stomach at the lack of care. "Dont act so upset, Autumn." Rhys waved a hand, and you felt those clawd mental hands whisk across your shields. You snarled at him, reaching for your sword. You knew you couldnt win, even on your best of days. That didnt stop you though. Eris placed a hand on your arm. The two Illyrians had their siphon shields glowing in front of their high lord instantly. Rhys laughed calmly despite the tension in the room. "You did give Mor quite the cut however, and burn it seems. Call it revenge." He folded his hand on the desk, wiping away dirt that wasnt there. Azriel's siphons burned brighter. His wings tightened behind his back. Mor still showed nothing, only looking from her cousin to Eris. Tense, her shoulders and posture radiated the worry. The tension of the room. Eris' jaw locked. He pulled you, willing you to let it go. You weren't proud of the fight with Mor. You wanted Beron to have at least died in an honorable way. But in the recent years with him hardly leaving his seat at the throne or his room at the castle, it made the chance of him seeing battle again nearly impossible. "Maybe I should have done more." You muttered, sheathing your sword. The shadowsinger stepped forward, chest pushed out. His lips pulled back in a snarl, "Do not-" He began, voice a low threatening growl. "Azriel." Rhys said calmly, voice like honey. You grinned at the Shadowed one. Rhys sighed and waved his tattooed hand in the air. Wine glasses appeared on the table he sat at. "Let's begin the real discussion at hand." He said calmly, pouring a glass. You glanced to Eris. He hesitated, but strode forward, taking a glass and downing it. + Eris was nearly drunk by the time you helped him out of the tent. After the long hours of dribble and stale conversation about diving resources, you couldnt blame him for having a few extra glasses of wine. He tripped on the rug going out. You caught him, but noticed shadows lingering around his torso. "Get. Off." You hissed, Not looking back. The shadows lingered for just a moment, then skittered away. You heard something like a sigh come from one of them as you led your cousin to his tent.

#reader insert #enemies and allies #acotar #acotar fic

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immortalcoelacanth · 4 years ago

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Little Nightmares 2 Oneshot: The Choices We Make

I PROMISE I’M STILL WORKING ON ALL MY FICS!!! I just got into that mood and had an interesting introspection of the ending and I couldn’t stop myself from writing it down.

With that being said, there are spoilers for the ending to Little Nightmares 2 here, so if you wanna avoid that I recommend not reading!

Word count: 1559

Summary: She could feel his fingernails sinking into her flesh as he clung to her. She could feel the board underneath her creaking and groaning with their shared weight. She could hear the static of the television, her freedom, buzzing so very, very close behind her.

She could feel nothing but disgust for the boy that had been her “savior.”

Stupid.

Moron.

Idiot.

These words repeated themselves over and over in her mind as she glared down at the boy clinging to her hands. Bones that were not as fragile as they appeared ached under the strain, her wrists unused to supporting so much weight, but she refused to let the pain show. Even as his nails dug into her flesh and drew blood, her face remained shrouded in darkness, impassive and blank.

It was what she preferred, of course. Hiding her eyes from the world and letting no one see. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all. The Viewers did not have them, the televisions had taken them.

Their eyes.

Their souls.

They were weak.

They had stupidly exposed the most vulnerable parts of themselves and suffered the consequences. Been changed by a power they could never comprehend, a strength they lacked, all because they had allowed themselves to fall into the tower’s trap. Their weaknesses had been exploited.

Six refused to be weak.

She would be strong, had to be strong in this world. Being weak would get you killed, or worse. She wanted to survive, to fight and live and break free of the fear that encompassed her life. One day, she would be able to stop running, stop hiding, but for now she had no choice.

She had to wait until she was strong enough to fight back, but until then she had to keep herself alive. A struggle in the best of circumstances, and something that was practically impossible when you had a deadweight dragging you down. Like a brick that had been chained to her ankle as she struggled to stay above the water, always seconds away from drowning and never any closer to freedom.

Mono was weak.

It was something she had noticed right after meeting him. The fact that he had bothered to free her, as if she had been incapable of freeing herself, and the worry that had been clearly expressed made it clear that his emotions ruled him.

He had been concerned about the girl humming her tune and playing her song, stopped whatever he was doing to swoop in and save her from whatever horrible fate awaited her. At least he had proven his worth by helping her get that ladder down and finding the key, but she did not need his help. She did not need him anywhere near as much as he needed her.

The smile that would cross his face as he looked at his presumed companion as he forced her to tag along on a journey that she had never agreed to, his mask everchanging and slowly showing her more and more of his personality.

It was disgusting.

Almost as disgusting as the hope that would fill his eyes whenever she caught him after an especially far jump. Previously, his face had been obscured and hidden by his collection of headwear, eyes safely hidden, but now?

Now the whole world could see them, see how brightly they shone with joy at the fact that she had caught him once again, like she always had.

How dare he.

How dare he smile, be happy, as everything around them crumbled. How dare he become emotional while hanging between life and death. How dare he act like everything was going to be fine once she pulled him up.

How dare he assume she would save him, assume she would save the one who had brought so much angst and fear into her life.

He was the one responsible for everything!

Everything bad that had happened to her had been because of him. She had been captured because of him. Been dragged on this horrible journey because of him. She had been attacked and injured more times than she could count because of him! Battered and bruised, crushed and left tasting blood.

His hand always clamped around her wrist and tugging her along, chaining her to him. His voice always calling out to her, demanding her attention.

He was needy.

He was clingy.

He was weak.

It was only when she first watched him touch that television, seen how he had instinctively moved towards it, communed with it, that she realized how much trouble she had gotten herself into. He had been oblivious to how she recoiled once she broke him free of the television’s influence. She had seen the door, the eye, and quickly put the pieces together.

He was being manipulated, clear and simple.

How could he not see the trap he was falling into? The road that would lead to his demise, how could he not question it and what he was doing?!

It was obvious!

So, so painfully obvious…

Instinct was important to survival, but so was asking questions. Why was he being drawn towards the city? Why was he able to commune with the televisions in such a way?

What was behind the door?

He never asked, never bothered to slow down and think during any step of their journey. He had just stubbornly kept moving forward no matter what obstacle they faced or how grim the situation became.

Like the hunter who had been shot by one of his own guns, like the doctor who had been lured into the furnace and burned alive, neither of their foes had stopped to question their actions or think about what was going on. They blindly followed their instincts and it had led to their demise.

And here Mono was, following in their bloody footsteps.

At least the teacher had known when to stop, known that her prey had escaped her. She had not followed the instinct to hunt, to kill, and had left that encounter with her life intact even though she had been one of their most aggressive pursuers.

Even during their escape, he had been weak.

He had allowed his injuries to slow him down, and the tower had closed in on him. Eyes that focused on him, and him alone, and watched as he struggled to jump over the newly formed gaps, stumbled over the bridges of flesh that appeared before him. He was slowing her down.

He had always been slowing her down.

In this world you had to be strong. You could not show weakness. You could not hesitate. You could not depend on others as the world would just take them from you, leaving you alone in the darkness.

Six liked being alone.

There was no one else to hurt her, or be hurt by her.

She liked the darkness.

It was easier to hide, to wait and watch.

The shadows that hid oh, so many monsters. The shadows children had been taught to fear. The flashlights that cut through the gloom and made her eyes ache at the intensity of the light. He had taken the safety of the darkness from her more than once.

She liked her song, her shadows that stretched out before her and made a shape that was far taller than she could ever hope to be. A form strong enough to fight and take what was hers.

Twice now her song had been stolen from her because of him, him and his selfish desires. She did not need him to save her, she did not need him to help her, and she had been put in that situation, the tower, because of him.

She hated him.

Hated him for how weak he was. Hated the audacity he possessed to think that she had ever agreed to help him. Hated that he had assumed that she cared about him as anything more than a helpful partner. Hated the fact that, on the edge of freedom, he dared to drag her down into the darkness with him.

The tower would never let him go. His fate had been sealed long before he entered the city, and he was an idiot to think it would let them escape.

There was no future for her as long as Mono was by her side, his life was chained to this place. There would be no freedom, and she would always be weak.

Resolution steeled her nerves, tensed her muscles, and she lifted her other hand. Not to pull him up, nor to push him down, but to instead move her hood and brush her bangs out of her eyes.

Eyes that had been hidden from him since the start of their journey.

Eyes that burned with malice and hatred.

It was amusing, watching the realization of her feelings dawn on him and seeing the hope fade from his eyes. The shadows that dimmed his eyes and brought her salvation. It made her feel triumphant, even as her shoulders burned and her gut ached-

To survive you had to be strong.

You had to fight.

You had to do whatever you needed to, no matter the sacrifice.

She would survive.

His mouth opened, as though he were aware of what her decision already was, the start of him pleading for his life, but she was done with him. She had made up her mind ages ago on what to do with him the moment she was able to.

The choice to break free from the weight that dragged her down. The weight that was holding her back.

And, so…

Six let go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I am so very eager to see all the different theories that are gonna come out and all the cool details and symbolism people will discover as times goes on. I doubt anyone will know for sure what was going on in Six's head when she let Mono go, but I am ready to see the content that comes out of it, angst and otherwise.

Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

#my story #fanfiction #little nightmares 2 #spoilers #little nightmares six #little nightmares mono #introspection #angst

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pro-fangirls-unsocial-life · 4 years ago

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The Duty of a Captain

A/N: Hello everyone! I would like to introduce you all to Doc. One of my ocs! I know that I usually post a character “outline” first, but I really felt like introducing him this way would be the best. If you guys want to know more about him after this, please feel free to ask! I love getting questions about my ocs! Also a big thank you to @captainrexisboo and @bad-batch-of-fics for listening to me ramble on about Doc while I was making this!

Length: ~1300 words

Warnings: mentions of death but nothing too serious for Doc... yet😇😈

Finally.

It was finally over. Another battle that should have had minimal losses that turned into a massacre. Over half of the battalion, nearly eight thousand men, killed because of the actions of one person.

No one dared to disagree. They were all too terrified to even think of challenging the direct orders from their general. So, they marched forward into the battle. Some holding out hope that this time, it would be different. All knowing that it wouldn’t be.

Doc didn’t know why he felt hope this time. He had no reason to. He had no reason to believe that this time would be any different. But something told him that he would survive and that something big was going to happen and that when it did, it would be a good thing.

Something big had happened, but it was far from being anything good. Seeing all of the destruction and misery and death as he walked through the aftermath of the battlefield, Doc couldn’t shake the hopeful turned anxious thought from the back of his mind.

Why hadn’t the feeling gone away? Was losing so much not enough? Did their effort to win this planet fail? Was there still a battle to be fought?

“CT-5770,” a voice boomed out, pulling Doc from his thoughts.

Doc shook his head and looked around, his eyes falling upon the Jedi who was storming up to him. He straightened his back and pulled his helmet of, bringing it to his side. “Yes General,” he acknowledged.

A datapad was shoved into his chest, his hand scrambling up to grasp it. “I want these requisitions for new clones done first thing! Then I want the mission report so that I may look over it before addressing the Jedi council. You may continue with your other work once that has been finished,” he finished with a dismissive wave before turning and walking away.

“Wha- I,” Doc began sputtering. “Wait, General Krell! I don’t understand!”

Krell stopped and turned to look at him with disgust. “And what don’t you understand you feeble minded clone?”

Doc straightened again and swallowed. “I- I don’t understand. I’m just a private sir.”

Krell’s lips turned up into a snarl-like smile making Doc have to suppress a shiver. “Not anymore. Congratulations,” he said as he turned. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, the grim smile not yet leaving his face. “-Captain.”

“Captain,” he shakily breathed out.

All at once, the realization of what had happened came crashing down onto Doc. His mind began to spiral as he thought about all the men that had to have died for him to have been promoted to captain. Every lieutenant. Every sergeant. Every corporal. He wasn’t even one of the highest-ranking privates. How many of them had died along with the others? And the captain. The captain he had been serving under for almost four months now. The captain that everyone thought was going to last.

He had been promoted from lieutenant after a battle all to similar to this one. A battle that had cost them countless lives when it should have cost them barely any.

Doc looked down at the datapad he was clutching in his hand, his breath coming out in a sharp exhale. He was shaking.

No. No, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening. He was just a private. He was just a clone. He’s nothing. He is not worth enough to be a captain.

Slowly, Doc looked up to find the visors of all the troopers around him focused on his face. One by one, they all removed their helmets to reveal their eyes that were filled with sorrow and “I’m so sorry”’s.

They all knew what being captain meant. It was a death sentence for whoever was unwillingly promoted to the position, especially when the one taking it up had not been given any kind of specialty trooper training.

Doc looked back down at his still shaking hand, taking a breath as he tries to come to grips with his new reality. He was so distracted by his thoughts, that he did not hear the light footsteps that approached him from the side.

“Sir,” a small voice questioned beside him.

He turned, seeing the face of a shinie that had been sent to the 904th just three weeks ago.

He hadn’t earned his paint yet but, looking at all of the men in the 904th, you wouldn’t be able to tell that any of them had.

All they were allowed was a single blood red line down the center of their helmets and an outline around their visor. After all, that’s all that was needed to identify that they were a part of the infamous 904th battalion. The battalion that won so many battles under the command of Jedi General Pong Krell. The battalion that lost more men than any other.

Doc shook his head. “What is it,” he asked, trying to keep his voce steady as he gazed at the terrified trooper in front of him.

“He’s just a kid,” he thought. “Can’t be older than eighteen physically.”

He was one to talk. He was only twenty. Because men were lost so regularly, Kamino would send thousands of new troopers to replace them, each time the men arriving becoming younger and younger.

The shinie had yet to say anything. His eyes now finding solace on the ground at his feet.

Doc switched the datapad in his left hand over to the one that had been holding his helmet at his side. He placed a hand on the shinies shoulder, prompting him to look up at Doc. “What is it trooper?” He kept his voice low and soft, trying his best to offer what little comfort he could.

The shinie sniffled, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “W-What do we do now? I-I mean,” he stuttered, trying to strengthen his voice. “What are your orders, sir?”

Doc looked around at the men who had now surrounded them, all of them with an expectant look on their tired faces. He lightly squeezed the shoulder of the man in front of him before stepping back and taking a deep breath.

“We are going to gather all of the field equipment and bring it to the gunships. Everyone try to find,” he stopped for a moment, feeling his chest tightening at what he was about to say. “Everyone try to find what is left of your squads and carry out your usual post-battle orders. And then,” he looked around, making sure that Krell was not within earshot. He lowered his voice slightly. “Once we get back to the ship, the older troopers will quietly give the shinies the geode protocol. Congratulations to all of you.” He gave a soft smile, trying to reassure the saddened men around him. “You have all just earned your paint.”

With that he gave them all a nod and put his helmet on. They all began to move away and group up with the remanence of their squads.

Doc watched them. Seeing them group together and look around at the few troopers that remained. Putting their helmets on and foreheads together, silently crying for the brothers that they had all lost before moving to complete their orders.

It was then Doc decided something. He would not let this keep happening. He felt all of his pain and anger bubbling up inside of him. He may not have wanted this position, but he would be damned if he wasn’t going to use it. He would be damned if he did not try and save as many of his brothers as possible.

He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky, closing his eyes. “I promise,” he thought. “I promise I will make you all proud.”

He nodded to himself, solidifying his promise to his fallen brothers. Then, bringing the datapad in his hand up to reading level, he began his work.

#my oc #clone trooper oc #clone trooper doc #doc #my writing #the duty of a captain #CT-5770

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honouraryweasley12 · 4 years ago

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Remembrance

At Shell Cottage, Ron and Hermione grieve a fallen hero. In doing so, they must face some truths long-hidden and make a decision about their future.

Also on FF.net

The sunlight streaming through the window provided ample light, but the sprawl of words in front of her were hazy, Hermione's own thoughts preventing her from focusing. It was rare for her to have such difficulty, especially when she was reading for sheer enjoyment. Her recovery had taken a lot out of her, and she'd been pouring her remaining energy into the planning of their next task.

A lull in the strategizing was a welcome change, yet she felt unsettled. Like she should be doing something more meaningful with the precious respite they had been granted. Time seemed to slow at the cottage, her first real breather since August.

The book lay still in her lap as she stared at the window, her eyes misty as she recalled the blur of empty oppressive days and narrow escapes, living in fear and paranoia.

So much had happened, the most recent as terrible as anything she could recall physically, and certainly the worst thing she'd ever personally experienced—the wiping of her parents' memories an extremely close second.

The torture she had suffered was not something easily forgotten, being so close to her own demise shook her to her very core. She found tears would come unbidden, as they were presently, at the most random times. Her hands had started trembling, and any loud noise startled her. Through it all though, she had found her source of comfort and healing.

Ron.

She smiled and wiped the wet trails running down her cheeks. The pretense between them had been shattered. That night had been a wake-up call that anything could happen, and it spurred them both, especially Ron, into action. They were no longer afraid to be openly affectionate and supportive toward one another. She didn't care about being vulnerable in front of him, if it meant an embrace and the soothing warmth of his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

It was their silver lining.

She sighed, putting aside the book. She wanted to embrace his attentiveness as much she could, until their time ran out. It wouldn't be long now until they had to abandon the safe haven of Shell Cottage and attempt another incredibly dangerous mission.

Their so-called plan was foolish at best, fatal at worst. It was high risk but also high reward, their first real lead on a Horcrux in ages. The chances were grim, but at least there was a sliver of hope. She didn't want to think about that now, especially the myriad of potential outcomes.

The urge to see him seized her. Gingerly, Hermione got out of the bed and shivered, her skin erupting in gooseflesh as a gust of cool sea air blew into the small bedroom. She eyed the jumper he'd thrown over the back of the chair, where he'd been spending time with her at every possible opportunity. Debating for a second, she slipped it on and took a deep breath, his scent a balm for her frazzled nerves.

Slowly making her way down the stairs, she could hear muffled voices from the small living room. Turning to the kitchen, she found Harry, staring hard at the white wood of the quaint table as he turned that lucky shard of glass over and over in his hands, a reminder of what they had suffered through.

She almost couldn't bear to look at her friend in such a state of despair, opting instead to glance around Bill and Fleur's kitchen. Something was missing though—or rather someone. Ron was usually around to keep Harry's spirits up, so it struck her as odd that he was alone.

A sudden panic gripped her, her heart pounding in her chest. Where was he? Had he left? Her hand flew to her chest and she tried to take a calming breath, despite her obvious stress.

No, he wouldn't do that again. He'd promised her, and she believed him. The demons that had been plaguing him months ago had been pushed away with the destruction of that insidious locket, at least for now.

She hated that this was her first reaction, still scarred from his last departure. The bruises on her heart were a sickly yellow, healing but not completely gone.

Stop it, she chastised herself silently. He had more than made up for it since his return. Even now, after she'd been through such a painful ordeal, he was showing such consideration and concern for her. A deft touch that she never would have suspected he possessed. This is how she thanked him? By doubting him, yet again? By dwelling on a mistake she knew would haunt him forever?

She felt disgusted and angry at herself. He'd come through for her innumerable times, the doubt the last vestiges of lingering hurt. She didn't trust anyone more than she trusted Ron, that much she knew.

Harry, who suddenly looked up from his stupor, raised his brow at the large letter 'R' emblazoned across her torso. He must have noticed her misery and nodded his head towards the door. "He's outside."

"Thank you," she whispered, watching her friend's face as it fell into deep thought once again, the weight on his shoulders crushing him.

Pushing open the door of the cottage, she stepped out, squinting from the bright light. Too many days of darkness had taken its toll, the freedom of simply being outside, in the open, felt foreign. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the harsh rays and began walking toward her source of comfort.

Ron was crouched down, all limbs and fiery red hair, messed from the breeze. He had matured, they all had, far too quickly. His transformation upon his return had shocked her, but her self-erected barricade hadn't allowed her to express it.

She hugged herself as she walked up, the too-long arms of his jumper enveloping her thin frame. It was a poor substitute, having felt his warm embrace more in the past few days than she had over the previous seven years.

He stirred slightly as she approached, stilled by her hand on his shoulder. His weathered plaid shirt was soft under her fingers. She almost laughed at how easily they'd transitioned to something more than they'd ever been. How natural it felt to just give in and touch him without fear of rejection. The years they spent skirting their feelings seemed rather silly now.

She waited, giving him time. She was learning not to rush him. That he would often take a minute to organize his thoughts the way he wanted to, rather than feeling the pressure of replying before he was ready to. It was just the two of them on the bluff, with the churning sea below. Nothing else existed except the memorial in front of them.

The crudely carved stone held a heartbreaking epitaph. Such simple words for someone who had made the ultimate sacrifice.

Ron sniffed, his voice rough. "He was so fucking innocent."

She squeezed his shoulder in agreement, watching from above as he twisted a pair of worn socks in his large hands. After a moment, he gently laid them down at the feet of the plot and placed a stone on them to keep them in place.

He cleared his throat before continuing, his voice wavering. "I wish I could do more, besides giving him Bill's old socks."

Her eyelashes prickled with tears at seeing how deeply Dobby's death was affecting him. Beneath her hand, his body shook for a moment and calmed. After taking a deep breath, his voice broke the silence, quiet but firm.

"I've thought—for a while now—that if the time came, I'd sacrifice myself to help Harry. So many have. Maybe that's all I would be good for. The expendable Weasley. Seemed like I was made just for that purpose. Now..."

She held her tongue, wanting to admonish him for even considering something like that, to extol his virtues, and tell him how truly broken she felt during his time away. How much he meant to her, Harry, and everyone that knew him. Something stopped her; she was curious to hear where he was going with this.

He glanced up at her, his piercing blue eyes filled with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"Now, I... I don't feel as if I could, knowing what I might be leaving behind... what could happen if I dared to think I could make it through this."

That one look told her everything. Everything. His remorse, his fear, his love for her. She was the reason he wouldn't do something foolishly heroic. Even though he already had in rescuing her.

She could see his continuing struggle, his anguish. The waves of tension were palpable, his muscles straining under her fingertips.

"It feels so wrong to want something, to want happiness. Look at Harry—he's given up everything for this war. I bet if he could sacrifice his life to end it, he would in a heartbeat."

Seeing his pain so openly caused her chest to tighten. She wanted to wrap him in a hug and spirit him away. Just the two of them, hidden from the rest of the world.

Her voice was soft in her ears. "It's not selfish to want to live, Ron. To want something more after this war. There's a life beyond this that I dream about, too."

As he watched her, she tried to convey everything he meant to her through her eyes. That the life she imagined included him, could only be with him.

He gave her a slight nod, as if telling her he understood. Slowly, his hand reached up and met hers, their fingers loosely intertwining.

"I'm scared, Hermione. Scared for Harry and my family. Mostly terrified for you, of losing you. Almost did."

He looked away, but Hermione knew what he meant. She shared the same fears, unvoiced but ever present.

Ron sniffled again and let out a quiet cough. "Those were the worst moments of my life, in Malfoy Manor. I felt so bloody helpless. There was nothing I could do."

She didn't mean to say it in the moment, but it slipped out. "We're even now."

His neck twisted up and he stared at her with wide eyes, his expression one of incredulity. "You can't mean..."

She nodded, her eyes wet. "When you left, I was so afraid I'd never see you again. I was utterly heartbroken and there was nothing I could do. Whatever the locket was doing to you was a form of torture, too. It must've been for you to leave. That wasn't the Ron I know."

He protested, his grip on her hand tightening slightly. "You can't compare the two! You didn't choose to be tortured, and you still didn't give in. You weren't the stupid git who left!"

In that moment, she knew in her heart she forgave him, that he had come back and ultimately saved her. She was hit by a sudden realization.

"Don't you see? It doesn't matter anymore! Whatever happens, we'll find each other again. My voice brought you back, and you were there to rescue me!"

She felt his posture slump.

"I didn't though, not really. I couldn't even take your place." Ron's voice dropped to a whisper, almost lost in the breeze. "I couldn't stop them from hurting you."

"It was an impossible situation, but you saved me, Ron. Everything you did that night saved me. Your screams for me, the way you fought them, getting me here safely. Harry told me—"

He shook his head. "I got lucky, so fucking lucky. Dobby was the real hero," Ron said, staring back at the carved stone. "Hermione... he died... so... so you could live. He didn't have to help us save you. If it was Harry he was worried about, he would have just brought us here first and then maybe tried to rescue you. But he didn't. Without him... I would have lost you."

His words rung in her ears, a horrific truth. "He died... so you could live."

She hadn't thought of it that way. In her head, she’d equated the loss of Dobby with another loved one protecting Harry. The impact of it hit her, and she stumbled back a step. Ron was on his feet in an instant, pulling her to him as they cried, together. Mourning the loss of such a selfless, compassionate soul. Releasing the pent-up emotions of almost losing one another. Ron held her tightly and she was reminded of Dumbledore's funeral. This time, however, Ron dropped loving kisses into her hair.

She pressed her face to the flannel of his shirt, her tears soaking into the cloth. She held onto him, anchored to the cliff by his strength.

"Dobby was so incredibly courageous. Gods Hermione, I don't know what I would have done if he hadn't saved us all. If he hadn't sacrificed himself."

"He saved me, Ron. But so did you."

He looked down at her, brushing away her tears with large unsure thumbs. Their eyes met, the gaze between them deep.

"Sod it!" He suddenly declared. "You-You are the most important thing in my life, and if you hadn't survived..."

She pressed a finger to his lips, causing them both to shudder. "I did, and I intend to finish this and have the life I want. With you. But..."

"Not until this is over."

She nodded. "Alright, Ron?"

"Yeah," he agreed, but he couldn't resist pulling her against him once again.

They stood there for a moment longer, silently paying their respects to the one who gave them a chance.

"I swear Hermione, I'll never forget what he did. I'll never be able to thank him or repay him."

"All we can do is honour his memory and keep fighting."

Ron nodded his head in agreement. It was all they could do for the future they both so desperately wanted.

As they turned to head back to the cottage, she thought she heard him whisper a final thanks to Dobby.

They were quiet as the walked down the cliffside, their hands clasped. A new determination had overcome them. They were going to fight. They needed to be as brave as the departed elf.

As they reached the cottage, Ron playfully nudged Hermione, the amusement obvious in his voice. "You know, maybe SPEW wasn't such a bad idea."

"It's S.P.E.W!"

#romione #ron and hermione #ron x hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger

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tartagilicious · 4 years ago

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love is blind / lucien x reader

so. due to recent events, lucien is now tied for #1 on my list. I wish I was kidding 😪 i’m at ch34 and at this point in the game whoever's on the screen immediately has their heart in my hands. It's such a mess. inspired by his infamous quote, “love can make you blind. right now, you still have time to run.” // w.c: 1821 // requested by anonymous:

“hiiii ! can i request mc x lucien where he’s crying (omg idk if he can cry already) thank you ! if you can’t then i understand”

[tribulation by matt maeson]

In, out. In, out.

Each unsteady breath you take reminds you of the chaotic situation you’ve gotten yourself into. Lucien stands in a similar condition next to you, supporting himself on your apartment’s door frame as his eyes flicker up to you untimely.

His expression falls. You look exhausted.

Your hair is an unbridled mess, and the distance you ran certainly shows in the way your chest heaves. But what catches his attention the most is the way your eyes squeeze shut, as if wishing something away.

Lucien’s face contorts as a thousand emotions run through his eyes. He never wanted this for you. Not any of it. But the man you gave a chance to exists only in your perfect narrative, while in all others, he exists as Ares -- a gruesome identity neither of you can evade.

He reaches out tentatively to brush your hair, damp with sweat, from your face. You whisper your quiet thanks before meeting his eye, and Lucien can barely guard his expression when he recognises the fading terror in your gaze.

“___…”

He trails off quietly, his voice a rare self-deprecating tone.

“I’m sorry. I should have known better than to take you there.”

The destination he speaks of, a large camphor tree standing in the same place it had when you were children, is your safe place. Even up into your adult years, it always has been -- you just didn’t think anything would ever change that

Only, the Special Task Force was unfortunately thorough in their attempts to weed you both out.

“It was just luck that they found us, not your fault.” You shake your head, gaze softening as you place your hand over where his has slid to cradle your cheek. “Besides, a little running doesn’t hurt anyone does it?”

Your hopeful joke falls on deaf ears.

He seems to be bothered by something despite your reassurance, but you don’t have to ask to guess what’s on his mind.

“Lucien.” You say his name quietly but firmly, successfully garnering his attention. “ I don’t blame you for any of this, and I’ll say it as many times as you want to hear it. If sticking together means danger for who we are -- then I've accepted it a long time ago.”

Lucien is silent for a long moment, and when he finally speaks again, his voice is hoarse.

“My little fool…”

His smile is small, but the sight of it relieves you.

“When have you started looking at me with such eyes?” He murmurs, his thumb swiping in a tender motion over your cheek. The fear previously taut in your expression melts like an ice cube under the sun as the seconds pass, leaving a suitable tender glow in its place.

“Lucien....” You laugh silently as you shake your head, leaving his rhetorical question unanswered. Time is fleeting as his glossy eyes hold yours, though it crawls by in the world you’re reduced to; one where your vision is zeroed in on the man in front of you alone.

His thumb’s motions abruptly stop as his gaze flickers down, eyelashes only slightly shielding the tears you know he’s trying to hide. Something inside of your chest weakens at the sight of it, but in response, you don’t freeze much like you expect yourself to.

You instead use both hands to reach out to him, leading his eyes up to yours. You notice your own eyes growing misty as they lock once again, yet you don’t so much as pause -- because in that moment, there’s no room for hesitation.

“I love you,” Your head tilts forward slightly as his teary eyes widen. It seems you aren’t completely incapable of surprising him after all.

But, Lucien suddenly pushes out a self-pitying laugh, hesitantly tilting himself away from your hands. “I’m sorry, but I’m not someone that deserves love, ___. Especially not yours…”

“Don’t say that,” You make an effort to reach back out, but your hand pauses midair when you notice Lucien’s expression. It’s not one of a man who is resolute -- not quite yet.

“I hurt you, ___. I betrayed you. Do you really want to love someone like that?” His eyes carry the weight of his words beneath them, and for a moment, you don’t know what the right response is.

Your brows quirk bitterly. “You talk like I was the only one to fall in love at the wrong time.”

Lucien doesn’t respond in words, yet the way his hands slowly fall away from your face says enough. He turns away as if the simple action will mute your voice.

“Do you want me to remind you of all the times you saved me?” You ask, head tilting as your eyes bore into the side of his face. “Of how you continued to keep an eye on me even after you turned your back on me? And how you returned to me even after that--?”

You end exasperatedly, eyes finally fully meeting Lucien’s firm ones.

“I fell in love with every part of you.” You shake out a whisper, plagued by the silence that fills the room afterwards.

“...A murderer?” He speaks after what feels like eons of silence, his lips curled into a pitiful smile. “A liar and a manipulator? Is that the man you love?”

“Ares has held me in the same ways Lucien has.” You spit.

The dark entryway is so quiet that you’re able to hear cars on the streets levels below.

“No matter what identity you take on, you will always remain the same person to me.” You sigh and continue in a softer manner, hoping an extra nudge will push him in a positive direction.

Yet, in his eyes, you see all of the sadness of the world. Reflected in his gaze are the stars in the sky and the lights in the distance, all with those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore.

“You shouldn’t trust me so easily,” He whispers, guilt still prominent in his voice even as he begins to walk deeper into the apartment. The sudden lack of warmth makes you shiver, though, Lucien seems too preoccupied to notice.

“Then give me a reason not to trust you.” You blurt, the underlying meaning of your words daring but sincere. Lucien’s steps falter, as if your grim suggestion has hit him right where you intended. “If you’re as ruthless of a person as you say you are, then show me that you mean it.”

“I’ll accept what you say only then. But until the day that happens, Lucien, I won’t--”

A guttural sound escapes Lucien’s throat, and for a brief moment, you’re stopped in your tracks. His face is completely obstructed from where you stand, and the only visible continuation of his reaction is how he cards his fingers messily through his hair.

You don’t dare speak and ruin the delicate silence -- while it’s fairly obvious Lucien isn’t angered by your words, there’s nothing more you could possibly add. The decision he makes will be reliant on his own contemplation alone.

Supporting yourself quietly on the wall behind you, a gentle breath joins your eyes in a patient demonstration. Lucien’s back is utterly still, making not a single movement to allude to even a detail of his stance. Between gaps of silence and hints of his breathing, you drown in the atmosphere for what feels like an eternity before he speaks.

“...I would never hurt you.” He finally says this croakily, his voice somewhat weak from disuse.

Your tensed shoulders fall as you smile at the floor, nodding even though he can’t see you. “I know.”

You begin to make your way over to where he stands, searching for any reaction as you do so - but, no matter the distance you close, there is none. There’s a brief moment when you stand in front of his back that you’re unsure of what to do, even if the staggering beat in your chest reminds you of just who you stand before.

Lucien remains still even as your delicate arms run around his torso, landing evenly to rest in a familiar intimate position.

“...I trust you.”

His broad shoulders stiffen visibly, as if your words are not those he wanted to hear.

“You’re very persistent, ___.” Lucien’s voice is small, lined with a laugh that seems slightly more open than before -- though it may just be your own speculation.

You murmur out a reply, words muffled by his sweater. “Apparently, I have to be.”

The body in your arms seems to be trembling slightly, though he doesn’t speak for a long time. The silence you’ve created remains still before he takes a deep breath. A far part of you considers drawing back your arms for fear of having crossed a line, but the moment you try, Lucien suddenly places a decisive hand over yours.

Your breath hitches as the pads of this thumbs wander curiously over your palms and wrists, thoughtfully tracing the familiar nooks. It feels like ages pass by until you notice Lucien’s head turning back to look at you, his body shifting in your arms as you take in his faintly swollen eyes.

“Lucien…” You trail off, expression deflating as your frown instinctually deepens.

There are too many mixed emotions in his eyes, but in the end, uncertainty blooms into a faint light.

“You don’t have to be.” His soft words allude to what you’d mentioned beforehand. “Your hand over me is much stronger than either you or I know.”

You don’t know how to react to the information he’s given you, but politely, you decide to disregard it. There’s no need for unscrupulous pushing -- love isn’t something to be forced.

“Then you have to listen to me.” You plead softly, your hands leaving the carefully situated position around his torso and slinking into his own hands. “I can’t even begin to explain how much you’ve done for me, either as Lucien or Ares. But, you separate these identities so much that you seem to forget they’re both you when it really matters.”

Your lips raise up in a telling hopeful smile, forcing him to realise the significance of your words. “And because I love you, that means--”

You don’t even get the chance to finish your words before being taken tightly into his solid arms, bound in place by the soft yet intelligible beating of his heart against yours. His embrace takes you by surprise, almost forcing the breath out of you, but at that moment, only a faint sadness remains in your chest.

You can’t even fathom that you were originally supposed to be enemies, much less only acquainted by your dangerous labels alone. Because the man that holds you gently in his arms, as if you’re a butterfly he’s afraid to let fly away, is so much more than that.

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karmotrinedreams91 · 4 years ago

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Nine Legacies: The Balefire Rekindled Masterpost

Prelude: Magic’s resurgence has changed almost every aspect of life. The “mundane” world cannot deny magic’s existence, and is both fearful and all too curious about its capabilities. Despite public and private pushback against the forces of Olde and Arcane, society must come to accept the presence of Fae and other magical phenomena as something “normal,” just as it did during the golden age of magic. But with the benefits of magic’s return comes the many horrors fueled by it: Vengeful dead have begun to rise, monsters stalk the lands, and legends of old reveal their long denied truths to the “modern” world. Luna Nova itself faces one these emboldened threats now, as a shadowy coven that has plagued the legacies left behind by The Nine Old Witches for centuries plots their destruction yet again. The New Nine and their companions stand firm against the darkness, but it will be the dare-devil firebrand Amanda O'Neill, and the reserved and calculating Constanze Amalie Von Braunschbank-Albrechtsberger who must first answer the call of Olde Legacies. When fate calls them to action, they waste no time in taking up the torch, and light Luna Nova’s way to a brighter tomorrow.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429150/chapters/62068246

Author’s Note: Hello, and thank you, first off, for reading this post! I hope that I’ve piqued interest! To explain further though, Nine Legacies: The Balefire Rekindled, is the first installment in a series of fanfiction I plan to write, titled under the series name Nine Legacies, as one might expect. This fic, and all of the fics that follow it in the series, are/will be a deep expansion and exploration of the Little Witch Academia world. The main focus of the OG series/ovas was never world building. It was focused on Akko and her journey, and that’s amazing. The original series is possibly one of my favorite and most beloved pieces of media. But it leaves much for the viewer to ponder on, doesn’t it? Who were the Nine Olde Witches? As in, who were they as people? What were they like? What was life really like during the golden age of magic? Where do the Fae come from? How did magical societies organize themselves? How will they do so again now that magic is returned, and how will non-magical, or “mundane” society, as I call it, react to such a sudden paradigm shift? These questions and more are what drove me to write this fic/series. It’s not just an exercise in world building, of course. While that may be one of my great loves when it comes to writing, Nine Legacies is primarily a story about Found Families, love (for the self and others), and how those two things are tested by a world around us that, at times, feels wholly uncaring and apathetic to your very existence. It deals in the above themes as well as in political struggle, fighting for the right to live as you are, with trauma and how to overcome/live with trauma, and especially with the first installment, Balefire, with Vengeance.

It features some horror elements, lots of action, and cosmic horror elements (IE Lovecraftian horror elements; think Cthuluhu, if you’re not aware).

(Credit for above image goes to Alexis Kennedy, and all of the artists who worked on the Weather Factory game named: Cultist Simulator)

It’s not all gloom and doom though; I’m not here to write an unsatisfying story. It may be gritty and grim at times, but I try to balance that out with humor and fluff, both dark humor, and much more light hearted fair that you’d expect from LWA. And yes, it is VERY gay (I’m a trans lesbian woman, if this wasn’t extremely gay then I would have failed myself). This might sound like quite the departure from what you usually read for LWA, and it probably is, but I hope that this is an enjoying and stimulating experience! While it is very much my own canon, I’ve based just about everything I’ve done with the setting on the original series’ material, as well as materials adjacent to the canon, such as mangas, light novels, and the OVAS.

This series will be a four-five part installment of novel length fics. Nine Legacies: The Balefire rekindled, is currently, as of August second 8/2/2020, unfinished, as I write chapter 20 of what will like be 27-28 chapters in total, and it is already the third longest LWA fic on AO3 (archive of our own) at 442,068 words. I began properly writing this fic in full in January, for reference, and started planning out the whole story/what I wanted out of it in november of 2019. I try to update every other week, or every week if possible, and do weekly/two weekly updates on my progress, all posted to this tumblr.

Lastly, and most importantly, there are two things to note about Balefire, and about Nine Legacies as a whole: I give antagonists their own scenes and perspectives quite a bit. I feel it is imperative to my story that the antagonists all get screen time to help better flesh them out. And secondly, each installment in the series will focus on 2-3 of the “New Nine” witches (The New Nine in this case being Red, Green, and Blue teams. Chariot and Croix are NOT New Nine in this, but will play important roles for various characters throughout. Think of them more as mentors for the New Nine). Balefire specifically focuses on Constanze and Amanda, but it also sets up the plots and development for just about every other New Nine witch, and you can expect to see other OC characters in important side roles that will develop and enhance the story, as well as lesser used characters from LWA, such as Wangari making appearances as important side characters. I can’t say much more on the specifics, but I’ll leave this section off with something to entice you: ALL of the Nine Olde Witches (as written by my own canon, essentially) will be fleshed out in full. Their origin, who they were, why they were important, all of that is crucial to the story, hence the series title, Nine Legacies.

“Perhaps they, the new blood.... Perhaps they hold the strength to rekindle our flame.”

I hope all of this has you interested and ready to read! ITS FINISHED NOW! All the main chapters are done, but I intend to go back and do a FULL re-edit, with criticisms, suggestions, and corrections in mind from YOU GUYS, the readers. PLEASE: Never hesitate to send me asks, comment, leave kudos, etc. ALL of that stuff shows me whether or not I’ve done good work, and even if I haven't, telling me HOW I may have failed will always be helpful. I want to make this the best fic it possibly can be, but I can’t do that without reader participation.

Without further adieu: Nine Legacies: The Balefire Rekindled

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22429150/chapters/53589904

#lwa #Balefire LWA #Nine Legacies LWA #Little Witch Academia #fic #fanfic #au #read on ao3 #long reads

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chase-the-windandtouch-the-sky · 4 years ago

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I saw a headcanon (I can’t find it, please link me to if you know it so I can give credit!) that Nicky always hands Joe guns because he’s a terrible shot goes through bullets faster than anyone. I thought that was one of the funniest reasons for all the shots of Nicky handing Joe guns, I had to write this. Please excuse my obsession <3

The van rolls over some rocks, Nile almost falling over. It’s small moments like these when she realizes that she really is only twenty-four and is surrounded by people who’ve lived hundreds of years. Nicky and Joe barely move from where they’re next to each other, Andy doesn’t say in her stance, and Booker merely grunts with annoyance in his sleep. Joe catches her slip up and a broad smile stretches across his face, crinkling his nose with amusement. Nile shoots him a look back, daring him to say anything.

“If you sit cross-legged, it lowers your center of gravity.”

It’s Nicky of all people who speaks and Joe lets out a loud laugh, the corner of Nicky’s mouth turning up. “Nicky, are you making fun of me?” Nile asks, too shocked to be embarrassed.

Joe beams at his love. “I think he might just be.”

“What would the Church say?”

“I was never a good Catholic priest anyway.” Nicky says, unable to stop the smile from stretching across his face.

“No,” Joe says endearingly. “You never were.”

“Ugh, someone put me in exile again.” Booker groans from the corner, his arm thrown over his face.

The two share a private laugh with each other, even Andy cracking a smile.

They were traveling across the desert, where Copley said a village had been taken over under the guise of religious freedom, but was swarmed with mercenaries doing all sorts of horrible things. Nile noticed how Nicky’s jaw clenched when he hear that particular detail, the shame of the Crusades apparent on his face. Nile noticed how Joe stayed close, every once and a while whispering something in his ear.

Once the van rolls to a stop, Nicky gets up sharply. Nile startles. “What—”

Swinging open the van, Nicky kneels, bends to look through his scope, and fires off a few shots. He catches the casings in his hand and stands, nodding to Andy.

Andy hops out of the van.

“What just happened?” Nile asks, blinking. She feels like she just missed an entire fight and she was sitting right there.

“Nicky makes sure we don’t get rained down on before we even get in.” Booker groans, hoisting himself up to his feet. “It happens more than you think. It’s just easier this way.”

It’s a bit hard to understand that the same man who was teaching her how to bake bread and would wax poetic over a Degas with her had such a cold side, but then again, he’s almost nine hundred years old. Nicky reaches in his pocket and pulls out a small pistol, handing it to Joe. Joe takes it without commenting, Booker snorting. Nile isn’t sure why exactly that’s funny, especially since Joe has a rifle of his own, as well as his scimitar. But the man takes it and pockets it, Nicky eyeing his rifle one last time.

The five of the move across the plain quietly, marching along as the village slowly comes closer. The scene is more grim than Nile is prepared for, the villagers being shoved as those with assault weapon shout. She can’t quite understand what they’re saying, but the fear in the children’s eyes is prevalent even from her vantage point. “You stay with me,” Andy whispers, shifting uncomfortably in her vest.

“Shouldn’t you be sticking with me?” Nile asks.

“You’re still new. You stick with me.” Andy turns. “Joe, Nicky, you take the south. Booker, you’re with me and Nile.”

“What are you thinking, boss?” Joe asks, frowning at the scene. “Budapest, ’23?”

Nile doesn’t ask when. She’s always wrong.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Joe beams at Nicky who nods back in his hoodie, a warm smile on his face as he looks at his love. The two quietly flank to the left. Booker snorts. “So, what do you think? Four?”

“Too many soldiers with guns. I’m thinking seven.”

“What do you guys mean?” Nile asks. “There’s way more than seven soldiers here.”

“Not talking about soldiers.” Andy says, checking her own weapon.

“Then what are you talking about?”

Andy doesn’t respond, standing up to show that her part of this conversation is over. She turns to Booker, who just chuckles. “You’ll see.”

The world gets quiet, then loud and violent.

Nile was never used to war, and hoped to never be. As she watches Andy with her cold movements, she’s afraid she would be at one point. She and Booker run ahead, taking out a few soldiers, but she notices it’s a bit light here. “You’re okay,” Nile says gently to one of the villagers, frowning. “Where is everyone?”

There’s a shout and then a flurry of gunshots. Nile flinches, whipping in the direction of the noise. “That was fast.” Booker muses.

“They’re getting faster.” Andy offers, standing and marching toward the noise.

“It helps that they’ve stopped making out in the middle of battles.” Booker groans.

Andy smirks.

By the time the three get to the scrum of fighting, it’s in full bloom. Watching Joe and Nicky fight side by side is a thing of beauty, the two of them moving around one another, as if they were an extension. When Joe swings, Nicky ducks. Nicky gathers guns and hands them to Joe without looking, as if he knows he’s out of bullets before even he does. Perhaps he does. Nile notices Joe uses the gun a little less than Nicky, often choosing to switch to his scimitar when the figure is close enough.

“Let’s get in.” Andy states, unsheathing her labrys and marching down.

“Can’t let those two have all the fun.” Booker says, clapping Nile on the shoulder. “They’ll be insufferable.”

“They’re already insufferable.” Nile mutters.

Booker lets out a genuine, sharp laugh. “God, I’m glad you’re here. Let’s do this.”

The two run into the fray themselves, Nile doing her best to keep the civilians away. It’s then when she noticed Joe and Nicky had drawn the soldiers away from the village the best they could, the fighting far away from the houses built there.

Nicky grabs a rifle from one of the men he just took out, offering it behind him to Joe. “No out yet,” Joe grunts.

“Yes, you are. I’ve been counting.” Nicky offers.

Joe turns to shoot, and then the gun clicks. Sighing, he tosses it aside and takes the one Nicky’s offering. Booker runs past Andy. “That’s already past four, you win.”

“When will you learn, Book, I always win.”

That’s when Nile sees it.

In the midst of the fighting, Nicky never leaves Joe for too long, quietly offering one weapon after another, while keeping his eyes focused on the fight ahead. Every time Joe pauses, frowning at his gun, Nicky is there with another one, offering it to him.

When it is over, Nile feels the exhaustion in her bones and the blood of others on her. She hates it, it feels sticky, and she feels a desperate need for a shower. “Peace be with you.” Nicky utters to the growing group of villagers that are around him. There are children hiding behind the legs of their parents and Nile feels bad. She can only imagine what sort of sight this was, the five of them attacking. Then, an elderly woman steps forward, her eyes old and wise. She marches up to Andy, who is pretending she doesn’t have a bruised ribcage for everyone, but even Nile can see through it. The woman grabs Andy’s arm and clutches, saying more than words could ever.

Andy nods in response, her usually hard eyes softening.

Like that, the group moves out.

Once they’re settled, everyone grabbing rags from their packs to wipe the blood from their faces, Nile finally asks, “What’s with the guns?”

It had been quiet in the van, exhaustion hitting everyone. Then Booker bursts out laughing. “One job,” he says, turning to Joe. “All it took.”

Joe says something back at him in Arabic, but his tone is light despite being mildly annoyed with Booker. Even Nicky quirks a smile, looking down at his rifle as he is wiping it down. “Ah,” Joe groans, waving his hand at Booker after his rant. “It’s an over exaggeration.”

“You see, Joe is a terrible shot.” Booker offers to Joe’s arguments.

“I am not a terrible shot, I just may not be as consistent as Nicky and he feels the need—”

“—because of this, Nicky over the years has come up with a plan to keep him safe.” Booker laughs. “He discovered quantity of guns were better than quality of shot.”

“What?” Nile asks, finding herself laughing. “Why wouldn’t you just teach him.”

“It would not matter.” Nicky says with a shrug. “And he is not terrible, he is just better with his hands.”

“You know I am.” Joe says with a wink. The two dip in, Joe catching his lips and bringing his hand to the back of his neck, as if they aren’t close enough.

Booker rolls his eyes and shares a look with her and Andy. When the two finally break apart, Nicky smiles. “My dear Yusuf is too alive for it. I would never want him to learn how to be still. He is always moving and always light. I would not change any of it.”

It’s Nicky who initiates the kiss this time and Nile sighs. It seems a lot of her immortal life will be listening to Joe and Nicky wax poetic to each other and then kiss.

“You owe me 300 euros, Book.” Andy says offhandedly.

Booker grumbles when he pulls out his wallet, tossing the bills at her. “Next time, I want in on the action.” Nile says with a grin.

Booker snorts, crossing his arms and leaning back against the seat. Joe brushes a streak of blood from Nicky’s face when they pull apart, and Nile can’t help it. She smiles, closing her eyes as the van filled with the most important people in her life lived on.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #tumblr drabble #joe #yusuf #yusuf al-kaysani #nicky #nicolo #nicolo di genova #nile #nile freeman #booker #sebastien le livre #andy #andromache the scythian #just for fun

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fullmetalscullyy · 4 years ago

Text

the way it was - chapter 27

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

read on ao3

1914

cross your heart and hope to die

promise me you'll never leave my side

“Roy –”

His eyes flashed as they jerked away from the door. His glare was intense and Riza felt taken aback by it, even though she knew it wasn’t directed at her. She couldn’t get over that burning hatred in his eyes for Bradley.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t even a question. Given the anger festering and rolling off Roy in waves, Riza didn’t think she’d be able to stop him even if she tried. She wanted to, just to give his body more time to recover, but the effort would be fruitless.

Roy’s hands clenched into fists by his side. They tightened their grip as he strode over to her with purpose. It looked like he was ready to walk out the door right that second. Roy against the world, blood still smeared on his abdomen and shirtless.

“How dare he –”

“Calm down.” Riza’s voice was as gentle as her touch. A hand was pressed to his cheek and the other moved to rest upon his bare chest, right above his heart. It beat furiously underneath her palm, speaking of his fury and indignation. His emotions were raging but it would do him no good to leave now, guns blazing, in a fit of rage. He would not win that battle.

Immediately, Roy stilled. Blinking, he looked down at her, as if suddenly breaking from a trance. His eyes closed for a second, giving himself a mental shake before opening them. In those dark orbs anger still festered, but it lurked behind his grim acceptance of her wish.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“How dare he threaten you,” he seethed quietly. His hard stare was back on their door, jaw locking as he restrained himself.

“I thought it sounded like a threat too,” Riza admitted.

Her stomach turned at the thought because that meant they may be onto Roy and his mission to take Bradley down. With no way of being able to confirm if that were true or not, her unease skyrocketed. The memory of Bradley’s one eye on her, pinning her in place, made her skin crawl even more than it had before. She shuddered gently, and Roy noticed.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised vehemently. His head jerked, looking away from the door, so he could rest his determined gaze upon hers. His hands gripped her elbows securely.

Expression suddenly turning thoughtful, Roy cocked his head in thought while his posture relaxed. Riza could see the cogs working inside of his head, running a mile a minute. She could tell his thoughts were racing as he tried to come up with some kind of strategy or promise to her.

“Perhaps living with my mother for a bit –”

“Roy,” Riza snapped at him, her hands falling to her sides in indignation. He jumped, eyebrows tugging down into a frown. She wasn’t going to run away from him at a moment’s notice. If push came to shove, they’d get Mia out to Chris’, maybe, depending on how the situation evolved, but she wouldn’t abandon him. They wouldn’t abandon him. Especially not now.

“What?” His reply was curt, irritated that his train of thought had been interrupted.

“I won’t let anything happen to you either.”

Riza softened her tone and her shoulders, letting everything negative flow out of her in a breath. Although annoyed he’d jumped and taken such a large leap, it was because he was panicking. Not obviously, but she could feel the sweat on his palms and could see he was bristling with nervous energy. Roy may need action but that was not the correct course.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“You should –”

“Oh –” Riza interrupted him but had to cut herself off before she really let her irritation show. She stepped back out of his hold and threw her hands up into the air to try to dispel her frustration. “Stop it. Maybe, Mia could go,” she relented, turning back to face him, “but that’s something we would discuss properly, and not in a fit of panic. We don’t even know what that conversation meant yet either,” she reminded him, “but I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighed in frustration. “Stubborn one, aren’t you?” He muttered it, narrowing his eyes, but Riza heard the affection in his tone.

“Of course,” she nodded, unashamed, “but so are you, remember?”

Another sigh left his body, his chest heaving as he inhaled, his exhale long and drawn out as he calmed himself.

“Together,” he confirmed. “We’ll discuss it together.”

“Of course we will.” Angling her head, Riza pecked his cheek. “Be safe going back out there,” she commanded, her tone becoming serious.

“Always.”

She raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. Recent events painted that promise as a lie.

“Listen,” he argued lightly, suddenly defensive, “I didn’t know Gluttony was going to turn himself into a black hole. None of us could have prepared for that, so technically,” he raised a finger into the air, “that wasn’t my fault.”

Riza patted the skin above his heart. “I… don’t even want to ask what that means. Just…” She sighed heavily, dropping her head. She didn’t know what to say. Every time she’d said goodbye to him today, it felt like she was saying goodbye forever and Riza hated it. Her stomach churned, almost painfully, like it did every other time, except this was worse. He would be walking into the belly of the beast, completely alone.

Before she could dwell for too long Roy’s fingers held her chin lightly, lifting her head back up to face him. Slowly, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers. His touch was light but Riza wanted more. As soon as she deepened the kiss, Roy responded, as if he’d been waiting on her to initiate it. His arms snaked around her back so he could pull her body as close to his as possible. It was difficult with her pregnant stomach, but Riza appreciated the gesture. Her hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails biting into his skin in her desperation to have that closeness with him.

They parted, breathing heavily, foreheads resting together. If Riza could restrain him completely, she’d keep Roy here in this moment forever. She wouldn’t let him leave to go fight unknown by himself. It would have made her feel better if he’d take some back up, but it was late, and Roy wouldn’t call on his team at this hour for their support. Not that they would be able to do much anyway. If Bradley wanted a meeting with Roy, he would give him that, but Bradley would ensure it was private.

“I’ll always come back to you,” he promised. One arm was removed from her back and came to rest upon her stomach. “To all of you.”

“I know,” Riza nodded slowly so she didn’t jostle his head too much. Pulling back, she smiled up at him. “Do you want a ride to Command?”

Roy shook his head. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

“I love you.” She gave him a quick kiss before he could pull away from her completely to go and get ready to leave.

The bed was cold and empty without Roy. Riza tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. Her brain was whirring as she tossed and turned, unable to remove the sight of his scars from her mind’s eye. Her heart hurt for him. He must have been in so much pain after doing that to himself… A single tear rolled down her cheek as her eyelids fluttered closed.

Blearily, Riza’s eyes blinked awake at six o’clock. It arrived a lot quicker than expected. There was little light from outside, the turning of the seasons drawing out the nights to make them longer. A quiet groan left her throat as she blinked the sleep from her eyes, the lids feeling heavy and pained from lack of sleep. Her fingers found her forehead, rubbing it gently as she gave herself a few more minutes to relax before getting up.

Roy hadn’t come home through the night. Riza didn’t know what to expect when he left, but she’d hoped she’d at least see him in the morning. Her stomach twisted with worry. Rolling onto her back, Riza’s arm bumped against a pillow restricting her movements. It was Roy’s. She’d moved it in her sleep, probably to hug it against her. It wasn’t the first time she’d done so and wouldn’t be the last either. Subconsciously she’d clung to a poor substitute for her husband, but at least the smell of him was still on the fabric. It brought her a slight hint of peace.

Staring up at the ceiling, going over everything in her mind, Riza felt a flutter in her stomach. Blinking, she paused, the sensation halting her thought process. Then there was another. A smile spread across Riza’s face and a hand automatically moved to rest atop her stomach.

“Good morning to you too,” she whispered to their child, caressing her skin.

There was a tiny kick in response and Riza lay there for a few moments longer, enjoying the tiny movements. It helped calm her and soothe her worries for the moment.

She knew she needed to keep calm and level-headed for the baby, and for Roy’s sake too, but it was so hard. It was difficult not to worry when she couldn’t see him with her own eyes, protect him with her own hands, and watch his back like she’d promised she would. Increased stress and anxiety would not benefit their child in the slightest, but she also couldn’t let it go. Not when he was essentially being targeted by the head of the State Military and God knows what else.

Perhaps she should take up yoga. At least for a brief escape from her own mind.

Riza huffed at the idea. As if she had the time. With Mia at school during the day, all her time was taken up by doing coursework for her teaching degree. Now their daughter was older, Riza didn’t want to waste any time with Mia when she was home, so she made sure to try and complete everything necessary before Mia returned from school.

Pulling herself up from the bed, Riza busied herself and her mind with the preparations for the day. She could either be active or lie there and dwell on Roy’s unknown situation for hours.

“Morning Mum,” Mia greeted tiredly, joining Riza in the kitchen. A small hand rubbed at her eyes as Hayate padded to wait beside Mia, looking up at Riza expectantly. He was waiting for his own breakfast.

“Good morning, Mia,” Riza called over her shoulder, rising onto her tiptoes to reach for a glass for Mia’s water. “Head through to the dining room. I’ll bring your toast through to you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, eyes half closed.

Riza placed a plate in front of Mia, manoeuvring around Hayate, who’d chosen to sit right beside Mia’s chair at the table. He was still looking up at Riza expectantly, waiting to be fed, but made no noise. He was patient as he watched Riza move around the room.

“Did you sleep well?” Riza bent at the waist, kissing the top of her daughter’s head.

“Uh hu,” Mia nodded tiredly. “I’m still sleepy.” Her declaration bordered on a whine, and Riza could sympathise with her.

“I know. You’ll wake up soon though. And you can have an early night tonight when you come home from school. That will make you feel better tomorrow.”

Like every child, the thought of going to bed early horrified Mia. That would limit her play time, and she would never want that. Mia’s spine straightened immediately, and her eyes were forced open wide in an effort to not appear tired in the slightest. “Oh…”

“We’ll see how you feel when you come home,” Riza added, although she knew Mia would play it off as not being tired as soon as she stepped in the door.

“Okay,” Mia nodded. She looked around the room, her head craning from side to side earnestly. “Where’s Dad?” She sounded so disappointed to not see him and, once again, Riza could sympathise.

“He left to go to work early,” Riza replied. It wasn’t a lie. Leaving the night before for work was certainly early.

Mia didn’t think too much more of it. She shrugged as Riza stooped to provide Hayate with his food bowl and fresh water. “Okay.”

After a brisk walk to school in the cool autumn wind, Riza was just sitting down to do her coursework when the phone rang. Placing down the hot mug of tea, freshly poured to warm her up, Riza walked through the house and prayed this call was Roy finally getting in touch with her.

“Hey,” Roy greeted through the phone. He sounded incredibly tired, but happy to speak to her. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you too,” she replied, smiling to herself as she remembered saying the same greeting a few hours ago to their little one. Riza leaned her shoulder and temple against the wall beside the phone and cupped her stomach. Her own relief was palpable in her voice.

“Sorry for not calling earlier. I knew you’d be getting Mia ready for school.”

“That’s okay. You’re calling now.”

“Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” she confirmed.

“Good, good.” He trailed off and Riza waited expectantly for something further, but Roy was silent.

“How are you this morning?”

“Oh, yes, fine,” Roy reassured. It certainly didn’t sound it but Riza wouldn’t ask over the phone. After Bradley’s warning the night before and Roy not coming home it was obvious something had happened. However, he was alive and talking to her. That was all she needed at the moment. She wanted to talk to him, not Colonel Mustang.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“Normal time.” His tone was firm, determined. “It’s been a busy morning,” Roy added, “but I’ll have everything done by the end of the day. I wouldn’t want to miss coming home to you.”

Riza smiled. “Pre-warning, if you’re late, your dinner will probably end up burnt or eaten.”

“All the more reason to get home on time then, right?” She could hear his grin through the phone.

“Exactly. Either that or Mia will feed it to Hayate.”

“Don’t let that dog steal my food!”

Riza laughed at his horrified tone. “Then you better be home for six.”

“Oh, I definitely will now,” Roy vowed. “I’m not letting the mutt steal my dinner for a third time,” he muttered darkly, mostly to himself.

“It’s a hard life for you, isn’t it?”

“The hardest life,” he groaned dramatically.

“Okay,” Riza relented, “I will keep his paws off your food.”

“I would love you forever if you did.”

“You mean…” Riza smirked, twirling the cord around her fingers as a wicked idea occurred to her. “You weren’t already going to love me forever?”

Roy paused for a beat, left stumped.

“Hm,” Riza hummed, “maybe Hayate will be let up at the table tonight while we wait on you…”

“Riza Mustang, you know I will love you for all eternity,” Roy practically purred through the phone.

“Oh? Hm, I’ll have to see it to believe it,” she shrugged.

“Just wait until I get home,” he vowed.

His comment made her snort. “That’s a bit inappropriate for the work phone, isn’t it?”

“I just call it as it is,” he chuckled.

“Okay then, Mr. Love, I’ll let you get back to it. I can’t take up all the time of such a high-ranking officer.”

��You can take up all of my time any day, Riza.”

“I’m sure those in charge will love that.”

“What can I say, you’re worth it.”

The side of Riza’s mouth tugged into a smile. He was so sweet. Her love for Roy washed over her, pooling in her chest with such a warmth that she wanted him home right that second so she could see and hold him.

“What are you up to today?”

“Roy,” Riza laughed quietly, “you need to go back to work.”

“Indulge me,” he replied, but she could hear the hint of pleading in his tone. “Just this one question. I’m on a break anyway.”

Riza raised an eyebrow at his poor deflection but didn’t question it. She missed him and wanted to talk to him. “I’m supposed to be studying and doing coursework, but I’m talking to you instead. You’re making my tea cold.”

“Oh right! You have that exam coming up soon, right?”

Riza nodded. “I do. Hopefully, the little one doesn’t come before it, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind. It would give me more time to study for it.”

“You will ace it,” Roy replied confidently. “I have every faith. Even if you didn’t study for it, you would.”

“You’re sweet.”

“And you’re smart as hell.”

“And you should be going back to work.”

“Okay,” he replied sullenly. “I’ll let you get back to your work too. Can’t have you drinking cold tea,” he quipped. “Have a good day, Riza. I love you.”

“Love you too, Roy,” she chuckled.

The phone was placed back on the wall. Letting out a breath, Riza let her relief swallow her whole. He was okay. Roy had sounded tired and strained. Something had definitely occurred through the night, but he was his regular self as they spoke. What had happened though, still remained a mystery. She was sure she’d find out when he returned home. It was enough to know that he was well.

* * *

Hayate’s ears perked up suddenly and he paused while playing with Mia. Riza lifted an eyebrow to his reaction, waiting to see what had gotten his attention. He barked once, abandoning Mia to walk towards the door of their living room.

“Hayate!” Mia called indignantly, annoyed he’d stopped playing their game.

He stopped at the threshold, barking once, at the same time there was a knock at the door.

“Hello, Edward,” Riza greeted. She was surprised to see him. He didn’t often call on them without reason, so she was already wondering what had happened for him to appear.

“Hello, Mrs. Mustang.” He cleared his throat but Riza had noticed the slight catch in his voice when he spoke.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, please.”

Mia’s eyes lit up when they both walked into their living room. “Ed!” Her cry was happy and excited as she rushed over to him. “Hi!” Eyes sparkling with excitement, she looked up at their unexpected visitor.

“Hi, Mia,” Edward waved. His posture relaxed and an easy smile overtook his features, banishing the unease Riza had sensed in him upon arrival.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ed,” Riza remarked. “What can I do for you today?”

Riza caught his quick glance at Mia. Edward hesitated, pausing with his mouth open before snapping it closed again. His hands clenched into loose fists by his side and that agitation was back in his demeanor.

“Mia?” She called over to their daughter but not before giving Edward’s anxious body language another once over. “Ed and I need to discuss something privately for a little while. Would you mind going into the garden to play with Hayate so we can have some privacy?”

Edward’s eyes snapped up to Riza’s, but her attention remained on her daughter as she awaited an answer.

“Okay, Mum,” Mia replied happily, nonplussed and unaware of the tension residing in her friend. Her head cocked to the side, looking up at her mother. “Is everything okay?”

“Perfectly fine, Mia Bear,” Riza grinned. “We just have some adult things to talk about, that’s all.”

Mia shrugged and turned to look for her dog. “Come on, Hayate! Let’s go into the garden and play fetch!”

The dog’s ears perked up at the mention of the word ‘fetch’, his little tail wagging quickly as he agreed with a happy bark. They both ran for the kitchen and Riza heard their back door open and close with a slam.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Riza walked into the kitchen, reaching up to the cabinets above her head to grab a mug for herself. She sensed that whatever Edward was here to speak to her about would take a little while.

“Oh, uh…”

“Tea? Coffee? Water?”

“Coffee, please,” he replied.

“Head through to the table,” Riza directed, nodding her head towards the set of doors that led to their dining area. “Make yourself comfortable and I’ll be through in a minute.”

“Okay. Thank you, Mrs. Mustang.”

Rolling her eyes fondly, she smirked. “Just call me Riza, Ed,” she added softly.

There was a pause and he stopped walking. “Right. Sorry,” he apologised sheepishly.

“No harm done,” Riza reassured. “Mrs. Mustang is my mother-in-law, not me.” She laughed quietly to herself when she remembered the same conversation she’d had with Winry and Mia not too long ago.

“So, Edward,” Riza announced, pulling out a chair across from the young alchemist. “What can I do for you?”

Movement from Riza’s right caught her eye. She saw Mia run by the window of their kitchen. If this conversation was not for her ears, at least they’d be able to tell if she came back into the house. Anticipation had been itching at Riza as she prepared their hot drinks, desperate to know what had caused such visible discomfort and apprehension in Edward.

“Have you heard the most recent news? From Central?”

“No…” Anticipation was replaced with trepidation. “What’s happened?”

“The Colonel hasn’t told you yet?” He blinked at her, completely thrown off that Roy hadn’t shared this big news. Disapproval flooded his expression, tugging his eyebrows into a deep frown.

“He left late last night to go to Central Command,” Riza explained, stirring her tea calmly and removing the tea bag to place it on a tea plate she’d provided for herself. “He didn’t come home either.”

“Oh.” Edward’s eyes widened with what looked like realisation, then his shoulders slumped. His disapproval quickly faded.

“I’ve spoken to him since then, but something tells me this ‘big news’ probably wasn’t safe to share over a military phone that may or may not be being monitored.” Riza watched for his reaction. Edward’s shoulders stiffened at her calm but firm tone. “Am I correct?”

“Yeah, that’s actually… That was a smart move.” He looked like he’d been scolded, and his agreement was mumbled, like it was such an effort for him to agree that Roy was right on something. Riza ignored it. Whatever was going on was so much bigger than all of them and she was more interested in the sudden, apparently very big, development.

“I’m sure whatever Roy needs me to know, he’ll tell me,” Riza added. “We’ve both been through this together from the start and I don’t anticipate him keeping anything from me now. We’ve been through too much for him to stop now.” Riza forced the image of the scars on his abdomen from her mind.

“I – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insinuate he would –”

Riza waved off his apology. “It’s all right, Edward.”

“Wait. From the start…” His head cocked to the side and Riza watched him silently as he considered something. Taking a sip of her tea, she watched as his eyes widened. “Wait. Given Mia’s age you… You were with him when he was in Ishval?”

So, he’d given it some thought and finally put two and two together.

Riza nodded. “I fell pregnant before he left. Mia was born just before he returned.”

Edward paled as another realisation dawned on him after hearing her statement.

“Roy didn’t want to leave, but obviously he had no other choice but to go with the military.”

“He didn’t have to leave you both,” Edward interjected, appalled when there was no need to be. “He could have stayed!”

Riza took note of the way he spoke. Ed was bordering on being angry at Roy on her behalf. It was a stark reminder of just how young he was. While being hailed as a child prodigy he’d been built up to think he was incredibly intelligent and knowledgeable. And Edward Elric was, Riza didn’t doubt that and wouldn’t take it away from him, but his views on the world were so naïve. She smirked to herself sadly remembering how Roy had proposed his dream to her after her father’s death. They had all been naïve when they were that young, but that didn’t mean Edward had to follow in the footsteps of their mistakes.

“You and I both know it’s not that simple, Ed, and it never will be. Especially after enlisting in the military. They own you,” she added, nodding at him, “and they owned Roy too. Wherever they call to, he would have to follow. Same as you.”

“It’s not like that,” he protested. “Al and I get free reign of the country. We’re not stuck in headquarters.”

“Because Roy makes sure you get the freedom you need,” Riza replied. “I don’t know the exact ins and outs of it, but he fought for you to become his subordinate before you joined so that you could.”

Edward paused, sitting back in his chair in surprise. “He did?”

Riza nodded. “He knew that if your secret got out you’d probably be taken away and interviewed relentlessly about your ability to go through the gate, especially so young. Alphonse would’ve been removed from your side to be studied. A soul being bonded to a suit of armour is a very interesting and curious set of circumstances, especially for the military.”

His body jerked in surprise, looking affronted. “How do you know about Al and I?”

“I told you when we first met I’d already heard all about you. I meant it.”

“It was supposed to be a secret,” Edward scowled.

“Would you trust the person you loved with information such as this? Would you trust Winry with it?”

Edward almost choked on his coffee. He coughed and spluttered, his cheeks heating up, while Riza raised an eyebrow knowingly at his knee jerk reaction.

“I, um, me – I mean, Winry and I – It’s not –”

“Okay,” Riza relented, holding a hand up in surrender. The poor boy would probably have an aneurysm if she continued to push further, but she did hide her smile behind her mug as she took a sip of her tea. He definitely loved her.

“I mean…” He sighed, his face still beetroot red and he refused to meet her eyes. “I see your point,” Edward mumbled.

“Anyway, he couldn’t stay, no matter how much he wanted to,” Riza continued smoothly, going back to their previous conversation. “He had a duty to his country, and he was called up to war.”

“So he was definitely in Ishval,” Edward muttered to himself in grim wonder, sounding glad that piece of information had finally been confirmed for him. However, he stiffened, as if not realising he’d spoken aloud. “Sorry, never mind,” Edward added hurriedly, waving his hands in front of him. “Forget I said that if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t mind talking about it, Edward,” Riza reassured him gently. “It’s a part of our history, after all, and needs to be remembered and discussed. Roy was in Ishval,” Riza confirmed. “As a State Alchemist.”

Edward’s face said it all. It fell, and his mouth hung open. So, he knew enough about the war to have been able to figure some of it out for himself. “Wait, as a State Alchemist? Not just as a soldier?”

“He was a State Alchemist, yes.”

Edward paled further.

“Make no mistake, Edward, Ishval was an extermination campaign, not a war. When Roy returned his eyes had been opened in a painful way. But he bore that suffering, and continues to do so, ensuring people like you in the next generation would never need to. We worked through the aftermath together but it’s still hard.” Riza absentmindedly stared down at the brown liquid in her mug. “The nightmares never really go away. And I helped put him on that path,” Riza added sombrely. “I have responsibility in it too and want to see him succeed in his plans.”

“What do you mean, you have a responsibility?” His voice was incredibly quiet, a far cry from the Edward Elric she was used to. Even the skin of his face had taken on a greenish tinge. Still, he needed to know. He was military and working with Roy against those who’d caused it all. He had a right to know the extent of what he was fighting for.

But he couldn’t know about the tattoo. No one could. Riza shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Know that I did have a part in his course of action though and I want him to see it through to the end, so the military can be removed from power and democracy can take its place.” Her fingers tightened on the mug, knowing what that course of action entailed.

“Democracy?”

“That’s the only way the nation will change. Once he becomes Fuhrer he’ll devolve all power into parliament, replacing the Fuhrer with a Prime Minister. Then, those who committed war crimes in Ishval can be punished, such as the State Alchemists.” The heat from her tea was burning the tips of her fingers, but Riza still didn’t move them.

“But… The Colonel being a State Alchemist in the war means –”

Edward hadn’t really expected to reach that conclusion from this conversation, Riza knew that much. He may have had an inkling it was coming, but it was likely he didn’t want to accept. And why should a teenager want to accept such things? But that was the way of their world and the progress that came from their past actions. Roy wanted to atone for his sins from Ishval and while the thought of losing him completely terrified and rocked Riza to her core, there was no use in fighting it. He bore that suffering so no one else could in the future. It was his decision and she’d support it. She’d never take that away from him, no matter how much her mind screamed and begged her to reconsider, or how her heart rate kicked up erratically and the thought left her gasping for air in a panic. Roy would be executed for his crimes and there was nothing Riza could do to stop that course if that’s what the people called for. It wouldn’t be fair to the Ishvalans who’d been targeted and lost their lives. She’d known this for years but was still difficult to accept when it was brought up. Not that Riza ever really thought of it, but it was a constant crushing weight that lay in the back of her mind, hidden just out of sight. However, she’d learned to live with it, somewhat. That was the price of her giving him the secrets to flame alchemy and inadvertently causing such a catastrophe as Ishval to occur.

Riza just stared at Edward, unmoving and unflinching as he came to terms with her answer. She hated to do it to him, but she wouldn’t lie. Not about this.

“He’ll – He’ll be executed!”

“I know, Ed.” It hurt even more to hear it voiced aloud.

“And… You’re okay with that?” His cry was out of denial and disbelief and Riza tried not to let it get to her too much, but anger flared inside of her like a beast.

“How can you ask me that?” Her tone was cold, but her expression was almost unchanging. She narrowed her eyes at Edward only slightly, but dangerously. She couldn’t help it.

“But – But – Mia! And… And your new baby!”

“I’m well aware, Edward,” Riza repeated, trying to remain calm. Her heart rate was gearing up again, her skin breaking out in a sweat as she tried not to let the panic consume her. “So is Roy. Ultimately, we won’t know what will happen in the end,” she swallowed, “but if that’s what the people call for due to his past actions, then that’s what he will give. Roy feels he needs to atone for his past sins and I would never take that away from him.”

Riza cleared her throat and forced her swallow past the lump in there. Thinking of their children, so innocent and unaware of what may eventually befall their father, almost killed Riza, but she and Roy would work through it together. They’d explain everything to them when they were old enough about what happened in Ishval and the possible outcome of their plan. They wouldn’t hide from it.

“But don’t think for a second we haven’t considered our children and family.” Riza’s tone changed, her voice becoming stronger. “Believe me, Edward, we’ve been discussing this for years and it never gets any easier to deal with. Especially not right now.”

Edward sat back in his chair, dumbfounded. Nothing was said for a few moments and Riza continued to mentally calm herself down as he processed this new information. A quiet sigh left her, finally letting go of the flare of anger she’d felt towards him briefly before.

He’s just young, Riza reminded herself.

“Hey,” a tired voice announced suddenly, cutting off any further conversation they may have. For a second, Riza thought it was Mia and her eyes instinctively moved to the kitchen window, however she was still playing happily with Hayate outside. “I’m home!”

Rising from her chair, Riza left Edward in their dining room to greet her husband. He was home earlier than he promised. It was just past five o’clock. As she approached, Riza watched as he shrugged out of his military jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the floor by the door. Riza felt a similar disposition towards the military in that moment after her conversation with Edward. The top two buttons of Roy’s shirt were popped open, the collar spread so she could see his chest. A tired but happy smile spread across Roy’s features as he opened his arms. Stepping into them, Riza hugged him tightly, glad he was finally home. She needed his comfort after that heavy talk, and reminder that he wasn’t gone from her side yet.

“I missed you,” he whispered quietly into her hair.

Riza gave him a tight squeeze, letting him know she felt the same way. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I was kept in a meeting with Bradley all night so couldn’t come home before I was due in for work.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured, pulling away and pressing a hand to his cheek. “You’re home now. And we have a guest.”

His fingers tightened their grip on her protectively as his eyes shot up and looked away, down the hall. After their last surprise visitor, Riza didn’t blame him for his reaction.

“Oh?” Roy’s question was nonchalant, but his grip tightened still.

“Edward Elric came by to say hello.”

Roy’s shoulders slumped and his hands hung loose on her waist. “Oh.”

“He wanted to talk,” Riza added, shooting him a pointed look. “And we discussed our future plans.”

Roy nodded in acceptance.

“So, sorry. Dinner hasn’t even been started yet.”

Roy tutted and rolled his eyes playfully while Riza just nudged him.

“At least I can fend Hayate off from it myself tonight,” he joked, giving her a quick kiss and another tight hug.

“Good evening, Fullmetal,” Roy greeted, walking into their dining room where he was still sitting, gripping his coffee cup tightly.

“Colonel,” Edward nodded.

“Did you come to steal my thunder and share my news before me?”

Edward glowered at Roy. Riza nudged his side with her elbow.

“Don’t be such a child,” she scolded. “He came by for a chat. And it’s always nice for friends to stop by,” she smiled at Edward, trying to channel that he shouldn’t feel bad for his outburst during their future plans. They’d both gotten a little worked up. He still looked slightly nervous and regretful. “And once you’ve finished acting like a child,” she added, turning to Roy and pointing over his shoulder, “you can go outside and say hello to our own. She missed you this morning too.”

Riza went to pull away from his hold, but Roy didn’t let her move far. He bent his head down, kissing her cheek. “Okay, I’ll go and see her now.”

“We never got as far as your ‘big news’ though,” Riza added, “but you’ve both succeeded in making me incredibly curious.”

“I’ll explain everything when I come back,” Roy promised. “It’s…” He grimaced. “Well, it’s certainly something.”

“Take your time with Mia,” Riza smiled, patting his shoulder twice.

“Mia?” Roy called into their garden, stepping outside into the afternoon sun’s low rays.

A loud gasp reached Riza’s ears before the door clicked shut quietly. “Dad!”

Through the window, Riza saw Mia race by and throw herself into her father’s arms as Hayate barked happily by their sides, his tail wagging and tongue lolling in greeting.

“I should probably get going,” Edward announced. “I don’t want to take up more of your evening.”

Riza shook her head. “I’m always open to visits from a friend, Edward. Don’t worry about him,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “He gets snarky when he’s tired.”

Edward coughed, trying to hide his laugh.

“Although, something tells me you’ve noticed that already,” Riza grinned.

He didn’t answer for a beat. “Maybe once or twice,” he admitted quietly.

“He respects you, Edward. Despite being sharp with you. I do too. You’re working so hard towards your goal, but please…” Riza paused for a second, thinking of a way to word her thoughts correctly. “You’re still young. Rest when you need to. And talk to someone if you feel overwhelmed by everything.”

“I will,” he promised.

“And I’m sure Winry will appreciate a call every once in a while too. She worries and cares about you a lot.” His cheeks reddened, just like they’d done before. “She would love to hear from you and know you’re safe.”

“Yeah,” Edward coughed, cheeks still red. “Yeah,” he repeated, sounding defeated, “I need to be better at that.”

“Just one phone call every now and then can go a long way. Believe me.”

“Okay.” Edward nodded, his spine straightening as he squared his shoulders. “Thank you for talking with me about everything too. I really appreciate it. I’m sorry for my outbursts,” he added sheepishly.

“Not a problem, Edward. Take some time to process everything. I know that was a lot. And whatever is going on, you and Alphonse can always call on us to help,” Riza reminded. “Winry too.”

“Thank you, Riza.”

* * *

“So…” Riza swallowed thickly, processing what Roy had announced to her. “They’re all gone?” She fell back, coming to rest on the couch cushions behind her, stunned.

Roy nodded slowly. The movement was controlled. His shoulders held a lot of tension as he leaned forward. His hands, clenched together, covered his mouth while his elbows rested on his knees.

“Falman to the north, Breda to the west, Fuery to the south,” Roy repeated. His torso expanded with a sigh, which was let out loudly around his fists. “Havoc’s moving back east to live with his family. He’s leaving the military.”

She expected this move would happen for Havoc, but to have the other three ripped from him as well… Now there was no one Roy trusted implicitly inside his office.

“I’m sorry, Roy.”

He shrugged, but she saw the helpless look in his eyes. “It is what it is.”

“It’s shit. That’s what it is.”

Roy snorted then coughed. “Yes,” he agreed with a chuckle. Straightening, Roy wrapped his arm around her back and laid his head against her shoulder. “Yes, it is.”

Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers through his dark hair. Going against the grain, she lifted the strands from the back of his head so they spilled in between her fingers, carpeting the back of her hand with a gentle softness and warmth. Roy hummed quietly underneath her, appreciative.

“We’ll get through this,” Riza whispered. “We always do.”

“I’m just worried about anything further happening,” Roy admitted. The arm around her back tightened its grip.

“Do you have any reason to?”

His body tensed. “You came up in the meeting with Bradley. He insinuated what he could do if I didn't comply.”

Her hand stilled in his hair.

“Please don’t stop,” Roy whispered with a hitch in his voice.

Recovering from another shock, her head turned and looked down at him, but Roy didn’t move. His weight grew heavier against the side of her body. Riza restarted moving her hand through his hair with what she hoped were gentle and soothing movements. He needed them right now.

“What was insinuated?” Riza swallowed. She didn’t really want to know but her morbid curiosity got the better of her.

“Well. The worst thing imaginable.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

So, she’d most likely be killed.

“I’m so sorry.” Roy’s voice was husky, and a hand lifted to press protectively over her stomach. “I didn’t intend for this to happen.”

“Roy, nothing’s happened,” she reminded him gently.

“Yes, but it could. And it was me that put you in harm’s way.”

“I signed up for this remember.” Riza pulled away from him. Grasping his shoulders, she righted his body so he was straight. Staring into his dark, shining eyes, Riza cupped his cheeks firmly in her hands. “I knew from the start it wouldn’t be plain sailing. We both did. And we’re both committed to it. Do they have any reason to harm you?”

Roy shook his head best he could in her grip. “No. I’m important to them for whatever reason.”

“Okay.” That was a big relief to her. “So, as long as you play by their rules, we have nothing to fear?”

“I did that once before.” Something flashed in his eyes as he remembered Ishval. That cut off her feeling of relief immediately. Dread took its place, clawing at her insides relentlessly. “And I don’t want to have to do it again.”

“I don’t want you to either.” She didn’t know what else to say to that. He was stuck. They’d taken his team hostage as well as her, in a way. Her discomfort returned tenfold.

Roy looked like he needed it, so Riza drew him into a tight side hug. His hands clutched at her blouse, forming fists to scrunch up the material. One of her hands gripped his shoulder tightly while the other returned to his hair, running her hands gently through it.

“At least we still have each other,” Riza reasoned, going over everything inside her head. “At least we’re still together. They haven’t moved us apart. And we have our family and our health.”

“If they tried to keep us apart then I really would tell a homunculus where to shove it,” Roy muttered into the crook of her neck.

Chuckling, Riza smoothed down his hair, giving it a pat. “That would be a stupid move.”

“Satisfying, though,” he mumbled petulantly.

“Very satisfying,” Riza agreed. “I’ll support that.”

Roy heaved a sigh, his breath heating up the skin of her neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

His grip on her shifted, his hands relaxing from their fists. “You’re always such a calming force for me.”

“I’m happy to help,” she smiled. “Always. Anything for you.”

“I thought I was in real trouble when I was talking to Bradley. I really did. Then after it… Everyone had received their transfer papers while I was in the meeting. Fullmetal and Alphonse were there too. I’m surprised Bradley didn’t remove them, but he didn’t seem to care about their mission of getting their bodies back.”

Riza nodded. “What happened after the meeting?”

“I wanted to call, but I knew you’d be getting Mia ready for school. It killed me not to let you know I was okay. But I just wanted to say that our phone call helped a lot.”

“Good.” That made Riza ecstatic to hear.

“You can probably expect more of them from now on,” he smiled, finally pulling away from her. “If my phone is being monitored then I want them to be bored out of their mind listening to me profess my love for you,” he winked playfully.

“You sound exactly like Maes,” Riza smiled, a pang of sadness going through her heart.

“Then I learned from the best,” Roy grinned.

The phone rang loudly and suddenly, interrupting their moment. Regrettably, she moved away from Roy’s side and walked through to the hall, picking it up to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Riza!” Rebecca Catalina called cheerily down the phone. “I’m coming to town this weekend. What would you say to us having a girl’s night out?”

It was eerie how well this phone call had been timed. Riza relaxed her shoulders as her friend proposed what honestly sounded like a fantastic idea after a stressful start to the week.

“Rebecca, you read my mind.”

Roy came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pecking her cheek. He didn’t move, just remained there, holding her tightly. Riza appreciated the comfort he brought with him and leaned back into his embrace, savouring the feeling after her long night and day without him.

“Fantastic,” Rebecca cried, “because I am desperate for one. Especially after the juicy gossip I just heard, straight from Central Command!”

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #the way it was #emma writes

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