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avaritia-apotheosis · 3 years ago

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Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years ago

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Suicidal Misunderstanding X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX

“I realize this is incredibly difficult,” the Nautolan Soul Healer said calmly. “But in order for us to help Obi-Wan, we need to determine the cause of his current disconnection with reality. Based on the drug panel, and convenient surveillance, we have, to the best of our ability, ruled out temporary psychosis brought on by a drug interaction.”

Cody stiffened further, not sure how to react to anything anymore. When a brother tried to end his own life, it was usually obvious why.

Sife Aerdo continued on. “There have, of course, been cases of Jedi Seers giveing into their fears of the future, or losing their sense of reality, but every case study involving such an extreme reaction was the result a gradual degradation over the course of many years. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Obi-Wan experienced a vision, and it may have impacted his breakdown to some extent. The more we know, the more successful any attempts to convince him of reality will be.”

Bant furrowed her brow in thought, trying to replay three decades of increasingly vague discussions of nightmares.

”Considering the high profile nature of his position, we cannot rule out some kind of psychological attack, perhaps even a darksider incursion.

Anakin leaned forward intently, the inside of his skull buzzing with white noise.

"All that being said, we must be prepared to treat Obi-Wan’s self harm as the culmination of a long and quiet mental health struggle. He would not be the first in the Order to disguise such a thing with durasteel self-discipline.”

At that, Bant and Mace took a moment to release their feelings to the force, while Anakin raised his shields defensively.

Master Aerdo finally hesitated, before continuing in the same smooth tone. “I would ordinarily prefer to structure this kind of conversation quite differently- allow Obi-Wan time to share his feelings first and invite you each separately to support him in the healing process. But he’s gone from fighting sedatives and force compulsions as though the fate of the galaxy depended on it, to a self-induced coma. All while barely lucid, yet still somehow maintaining Master Class mental shielding. We need to get a better understanding of his mental landscape if we’re going to even begin the process of treatment."

It is necessary to note that everyone in that room had led, in one way or another, a somewhat miserable life. This was the main reason none of them could claim that the next five hours were the worst they had ever experienced.

“But he’s always had terrible sleeping habits.” Anakin said hoarsely.

“Yes, but I think they got worse after Qui-Gon passed,” Bant argued, not sure what point she was making.

“When I pointed out he couldn’t be getting more than three hours a night he told me that he could manage on meditation” Cody offered irritably.

“That’s technically true,” Mace confirmed. “If the Master in question is well-balanced otherwise”

“So its like his eating habits, crushing responsibilities, and repeated exposure to violence, then? Completely fine for a Jedi, in less it’s not, in which case it’s a major red flag?”

“I think it would help to establish a timeline.“

Aerdo actually dredged up old mission reports, leading to the group reluctantly contacting Ashoka for her memories of Mortis.

At her Master’s insistence, she told them everything she remembered, hazy as it was, nervously elaborating on her own memories of falling. To her confusion, Master Windu all but brushed past that, assuring her that the important thing with stepping into darkness was the choice to the return to the light. Anakin bizarrely agreed with Windu. Out loud. Unnerved by the cooperation more than anything, she put her holographic foot down and demanded to know what was going on.

Anakin took the comm-link into a separate room to speak privately.

Upon return, he informed the group (with a visibly red and puffy face) that Kit would be escorting her back from Mount Cala cleanup early, daring anyone to disagree. Windu nodded and the conversation continued on.

Together they rewatched holo-footage of Obi-Wan laughing amongst Ghost company the night before last, and debated reports from psychometric investigators who had scoured the cantina as well as Obi-Wan’s personal quarters for traces of illicit substances. Between that and another drug panel, they were finally forced to conclude that despite the timing, the alcohol at most confused Obi-Wan’s perception of a vision, or possibly simply loosened his tongue.

Bant prodded Cody to repeat every word from the holocar ride to the temple, taking furious notes. Cody was unable to stop the heat that crawled up his face.

Just when the looming horror of Obi-Wan actually preparing to intentionally die started to break over Anakin, Windu interjected.

“You don’t see what I do,” the Harun Kal said grimly. “Something galaxy-sized shattered around Obi-Wan and he didn’t break from it. The closest comparison I have is Master Yaddle’s presence when she meditated on her confinement. He’s chosen to keep going, even when, quite frankly, death would be a release. We’re missing something fundamental.”

“He said there were ‘other dark forces at work.’ Even if the fight was objectively hopeless... there’s no way he would choose to die because of it!” Anakin agreed vehemently, shaking off morbid fears.

“But he did choose to die.” Cody said quietly. And the wind went out of Anakin’s sails.

“Lets go back.”

Anakin gritted his teeth as they picked apart everything ‘unusual’ Obi-Wan had said and done leading up to his visit with Bant.

“What exactly did he...”

“So Plo Koon was able to get a read through his shields?”

“Did he have anything to eat?”

“How did that compare to...”

“When he's mentioned things in the future...did it seem good or bad to you?” Bant asked.

“Bad.” Cody and Anakin said in unison. Remembering the trip to the temple Cody spoke again, “Definitely bad.”

“Right. When we were talking he sometimes used the wrong tenses for things, people. I confronted him on not knowing ‘when’ he was after Knight Skywalker left. He told me that he knew what was real, but he was “enjoying not fully living in the moment” he also said that he intended to “wake up”

“Enjoying? That’s the exact word he used?” Cody asked incredulous.

“He did seem...mostly happy yesterday. Giddy, at points.” Anakin said, slumping in on himself.

Bant looked at her notes once more before addressing the group.

“This isn’t vision psychosis in any manner I’ve heard of before...but I think I might have a theory. He used to have intense visions when we were kids; plenty of us did sometimes, but Obi-Wan would be unable to sleep after. What terrified him more than anything was the uncertainty that he might make the wrong choice- even when the vision was about something good, or neutral. His visions gradually stopped coming around puberty. We just had a conversation about this a few months ago- how relieved he was to only have to manage flashes of precognition. If he had a random, horrifying vision of a terrible future...suicide wouldn’t be his reaction. It’s too final.”

“Even if he blamed himself for what he saw coming?” Mace asked.

“Especially if he blamed himself.” Bant said.

“What’s your theory?” Aerdo prodded.

“What if...what if he was telling the truth when he said he could separate out what was real and what was not? What if there was no distortion or blurring between now and then? What if he was just wrong about which was which?”

“That...would be a very extreme and abnormal manifestation of force-induced psychosis. He has training in distinguishing reality from visions. The continued presence of his mental shielding means that the fabric of his mind can’t be so horrifically collapsed in on itself.”

“What if the vision was actually that realistic?” Bant said, pushing back against the soul healer. “So detailed and vivid that it effectively was a reality in itself, and everything else, all of us...”

“Were just memories” Anakin finished. “It would...actually explain pretty much everything. You said he wanted to wake up and when...when I found him.” He stopped, swallowing. “When I found him, he argued with me...what if he wasn’t trying to hurt himself? If you’re right...that would mean I found him trying to get back to reality.”

“It could explain his behavior in the halls...his desperation to wake...” Sife mused “But it runs counter to every other experience I’ve had with those managing prophetic visions. Master Windu, could that explain the shatterpoints you saw?”

“I’m not certain. It would have to have been extraordinarily real to create the echos of Shattering I witnessed. I don’t know if that depth of vision has occurred before, but then again, many things are possible in the force.”

“You really think he might have been...trying to wake up from dream? By killing himself?!” Cody asked incredulous.

“If that ends up being what happened I am going to give him such shit. That is the worst way to end a vision.” Anakin replied.

“Yes. It is.” Bant said pointedly. “That’s why it’s a last resort, after every other attempt to wake fails.”

They all sat in silence, processing various implications. Cody was unnerved by another terrifying insight into force powers, as well as the idea that the General might vividly remember Cody being inexplicably mind-controlled into trying to kill him. Anakin was trying to understand what this would mean for them, and the conversations he had thought they had had. Did...any of it count, if he thought he was offering it to a hallucination?

“Alright, this is a valuable working idea, but let’s make sure to examine everything with an open mind before we draw any more conclusions. Anakin, what happened after you left the healers office?”

Obi-Wan’s critique of the practicalities of visiting a soul healer could be and was interpreted multiple ways. The incongruity of peacekeepers in war sparked a rehash of earlier discussion. More apologies. Self identifying as ‘crazy’ inspired new debate, especially in the context of the new theory.

“When I saw him enter the fountain room I assumed he had had a brutal run-in with dark force user.” Windu explained. “Based on everything we’ve gone over, I don’t understand when...but some of the more insidious sith compulsions work by taking whatever small anger or hurt you feel and magnifying them until they consume you. If Obi-Wan was already experiencing self loathing...”

Cody sucked in a breath. “Then a Sith mind suggestion would bring him to commit suicide. It...sounds like something he might do, if he was partially in control. Take the blow rather than let himself be used as a weapon against anyone else, even his worst enemy.”

“Hells, it could have been an even vaguer compulsion, driving him to attack the person he hates the most,” Bant added darkly.

Anakin buried his head in his hands, trying to hold it together. He couldn’t afford to lose control or get angry. Hells, getting angry at Obi-Wan for ‘failing him’ when in pain could be the reason Obi-Wan was currently in the healing halls. The man said he loved him unconditionally, then practically had a breakdown over how much Anakin pushed that unconditional love to the breaking point, then killed himself. How was he supposed to-

“Anakin? Are you alright to continue?” someone said.

“Yes. No. There’s more I have to tell you...I don’t know if it will help but - it was hurting Obi-Wan...I...”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time. What happened after you left Mace?”

Apparently even Cody somehow knew more about Bruck Chun than Anakin. Master Windu and Eerin told different sides of the same sad story, which spiraled back into a conversation about Obi-Wan’s inadequacy issues, which somehow devolved into a long rant about Qui-Gon Jinn that Master Windu had apparently been holding back for years.

“My apologies.” He said afterwards, clearing his throat as the group stared, taken aback. “Old grievances. Go on Anakin, what did happened after you got to the ‘secret spot.’”

“He...was skirting around whatever was bothering him...I pushed him...told him I wanted to help...he said I couldn’t...because it was me...because of what I...”

Anakin stood up suddenly, feeling the walls of the room closing in.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I-”

He ran out.

He turned around almost immediately, pacing in the small corridor, knowing he couldn’t leave, simply needing a minute to catch his breath.

Master Windu followed him out after a moment, not saying anything, just standing there. Watching him.

“What!” Anakin finally snapped. “What do you have to say that I don’t know already!”

“Knight Skywalker-”

“Don’t call me that! I DON’T DESERVE-”

Anakin let out a frustrated snarl, punching a wall. The crumble of stone beneath this fist briefly made him feel better, but then he remembered Obi-Wan’s heartbroken expression in the light of an underworldly glow, and the tiny, choked sound he heard when the healers moved him and Anakin just...collapsed, falling to his knees.

Master Windu sank down gracefully beside him.

“Anakin. This isn’t about attachment issues, is it.”

“Not really, no. I mean, maybe you’ll blame attachment but it’s more about...”

“Anger.”

Anakin looked up at that, trying to regain the meditative calm he had felt for a glimmering moment yesterday, right in-between making peace in the cave and everything burning to ash.

“You know that I have had my own struggles with anger. It is how and why I came to develop Vaapad.”

“Yes, but you’ve Mastered your anger. And you’ve never...never given in to hate.”

A beat passed and Windu watched some of Skywalker’s familiar breaking points flicker into view.

“You’ve done something. Something you know the Jedi won’t forgive.”

“Obi-Wan forgave me.” Anakin said, whispering. “He said that even though I couldn’t fix what I did he loved me anyway and I just needed to...to honestly regret what I did and not do it again. I told him I’d get rid of my lightsaber and I meant it and...I thought he forgave me. I was ready to go to the Council with him, come clean about everything. And then I left him alone to get dinner and when I came back...he was holding my lightsaber. My lightsaber.”

Anakin buried his face in his hands, shuddering with creeping cold.

“I’m not going to critique your and Obi-Wan’s attachment to each other right now. I’m well aware that much of the order has turned to personal ties to maintain their stability given the ongoing horrors of war. I am, for many reasons, wary of the risks this brings us, yet it is also true that risks do not automatically mean failure. I myself have mastered my emotions in a different manner than conventional wisdom councils.”

Windu spoke carefully. For all that he and Anakin had similar relationships with the force, they rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject. At a certain point, Mace had accepted that the volatile young man was determined to find the worst possible interpretation for anything he said. And Mace was not the order’s most patient diplomat.

“As for your crime, whatever it is, l will tell you this: Unless you choose to renounce the code and leave our number, you will be treated as a Jedi Knight, subject to our protections, as well as our judgement. You will receive appropriate mental counseling. If you are judged to be a danger to those around you, your actions will be curtailed and monitored, possibly through temporary confinement. The Jedi do not believe in punitive measures for their own sake, but you may be required to provide restitution to those you harmed, perhaps indefinitely.

Silence hung perilously between them. Windu watched a tremor run through the unfathomable kaleidoscopic of shatterpoints that had orbited Skywalker since he was a boy. A small one broke inward, and an attached tangle of larger, darker ones fell away, crumbling to dust. The rest faded from view, invisible for the moment. A choice had been made, some decision that closed off at least one path to the darkside.

“There’s no one to make restitutions to.”

“...You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

“Let’s go back inside- I don’t want to do this twice.”

They returned to the increasingly hated meeting room.

Anakin spoke in an outpouring of words about love and hate, about misplaced revenge and now uncertain forgiveness. When he finally finished, the room was deathly silent.

The three Jedi sat quietly while Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess this is why Jedi have the no attachment rule, huh? I admit I never really got it, but I suppose even if I-”

Bant abruptly lunged up, fumbling to bring her lightsaber to Anakin’s neck. Everyone jumped to their feet, except for Anakin, who stared at Bant with a wretched expression.

“MASTER EERIN! This is not-”

“Did you do it?” she asked, ignoring the Master of the Order.

“Bant!”

“It was my first thought after I saw him. We all rushed in expecting a fight, or a bomb, only to find you, insane, and him with a hole next to his heart. I didn’t want to believe it of course, but you’ve always had a violent streak that Obi-Wan, force help him, couldn’t quite soothe away. A fight gone wrong. Master Windu said it was suicide, and I believed him, and I’ve been trying to make sense of that ever since. But Mace found you after, didn’t he? After you felt guilty? Did you think he was going to turn on you?”

“Bant Eerin, you are dangerously-”

“No.” Anakin whispered.

“Obviously I might be why. But I didn’t- I couldn’t. I know I’m not good but I can’t even imagine- holding a saber against him like that. Kriff, do you not get how much I can’t handle losing people I love? I was insane when you saw me because I saw someone trying to kill Obi-Wan and I couldn’t even fight them.”

Bant held his gaze for several lingering seconds, deactivated her saber and dropping it with a clatter. They stared at each other, breathing heavily and not blinking. She returned to her seat, moving jerkily. “I apologize Knight Skywalker. That was uncalled for.”

“I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes” he responded lowly. Bant made a tiny, unintelligible noise in reply.

Cody collapsed back into his chair, holstering his blaster. “Alright then...so after you finished sitting in the fountain room...what happened next?”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re handling Anakin’s confession somewhat dispassionately. We’re simply surprised.” Mace said slowly, returning to his seat at the same time as Master Aerdo fell into theirs.

Cody shifted uncomfortably. “The vod were trained in a wide range of enemy suppression tactics. While we’re extremely glad the Jedi have never asked us to employ them, I’m not...unfamiliar with this scale of deliberate slaughter. At least in the hypothetical, sir.”

“I see.” Aerdo said. “That is a valuable insight to have, thank you. Knight Skywalker-”

“Just...call me Anakin. Or Skywalker.”

“Anakin. When did this happen?”

“About two years ago, immediately before the First Battle of Geonosis.”

“And have you had any similar experiences with giving into the darkside since?” they asked placidly.

“I don’t think so but...we went to war the next day and....I don’t know if I’ve stopped fighting since it- since I did what I did.”

“Hmm. Anakin, would you mind stepping outside the room and waiting in the corridor for a moment please?”

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and quietly walked out the door while the Masters decided his fate. He leaned back against a wall, desperately wanting to see Padme.

To his surprise, the door opened barely a few minutes later, and he was politely invited back in.

“Anakin.” Master Windu spoke. “Thank you for telling us this. It’s an important insight into Obi-Wan’s feelings right now, and I recognize that you could have kept it a secret. As Head of the Order, and with the advice of a Senior Soul Healer, I have made a decision. You will be assigned a personal soul healer, who you will start seeing tomorrow. Commander Cody pointed out that over nearly two years of continuous warfare, you have maintained some of the the lowest trooper casualty units of any division, by a significant margin if we evaluate based on mission risk level. Your civilian and enemy casualties will be reviewed, but even considering constant war, since your massacre of the Tuskens, you have clearly managed to at least... direct your violence away from the innocent. We do not consider you a threat to the inhabitants of the world. For the time being, I see no real benefit to limiting or tracking your behavior within the temple or on planet, but you are barred from leaving orbit. I have decided to delay a full reckoning before the council until such time that your former Master is well enough to provide his own opinion. Give me just cause, and I will have you confined to a force-suppressing cell. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, bowing in acknowledgment. All things considered, it was...honestly better than he expected.

“Now, as Cody” Windu paused. “My apologies, as the Commander was saying-”

“Cody’s fine, sir” Cody said, wrung out in a way different from anything Kamino had trained him for.

“...I think we can all consider ourselves on a first name basis at this point.” Bant said with a snort. She paused. “That includes you Anakin. I really don’t know how to handle what you did but kark it, I don’t want to hate you. For myself.”

Everyone nodded.

“As Cody was saying, what happened next?”

Peace. Comfort. Hunger. A warning in the force...

“I tried to pull the saber back but his finger was already on the igniter...”

“You probably saved his life. Even a second later-”

“I know, that’s almost the worst part.”

“-his neck”

“Why would he change weapons?”

“What if-”

“He said what to you and Healer Che?”

“That has to support the detailed vision idea, think about-”

“I’m sorry, Emperor?”

“I think we’re done.”

Anakin stared blankly at Sife. “But we didn’t figure anything out.”

“Not conclusively, but we’re unlikely to make any more progress, you’ve given me enough information to preform a meaningful meditative scan, or guide a conversation, should Obi-Wan wake, or navigate through his mind, should we decide to make a more decisive attempt at his shields.”

“Master Aerdo... I leave the final judgement up to you, but I strongly urge you to make a more decisive attempt. I am more convinced now than I was...” Mace glanced at the chronometer “five hours ago that this was motivated by a specific, external stimuli, likely dark. Do you disagree?”

“No.” they said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to underestimate how much underlying factors might have contributed to his response to stimuli, including underlying factors that none of you were aware of.”

The Nautolan Soul Healer stood up, tucking their hands into their sleeves to address the room with classical Jedi serenity. It was a little irritating.

“In any case, we all need to sleep, eat, and meditate. Master Eerin, you have the rest of the day off, I've cleared it with Master Che already. Master Windu, I leave the final judgement up to you, and I am aware that your duties as Master of the Order are unceasing, but I urge you to take some time to center yourself before returning to the council. Commander Cody, I would be more than willing to arrange soul healing for you or any of the Vod, please let me know. Anakin, you will receive a comm later today with further details on your future healing sessions.

They bowed low, then glided out the door.

Bant stood next, bowed individually to each soul, and sped walked out.

Commander Cody cleared his throat awkwardly, “Mace- what should I tell the troops? We’re supposed to have command briefings later tonight.”

“If anyone asks about General Kenobi, tell them its classified.” I’ll schedule a briefing on the subject. Now go find Captain Rex and take care of yourself, that’s an order.”

Cody saluted, first to the high General, then to Anakin.

Finally it was just Mace and Anakin.

“Is there anyone who you trust who I can call to stay with you.” Master Windu asked.

“I can manage on my own” Anakin replied, not willing to give the Master of the Order anything else he could use against him, even after everything.

Master Windu held back a sigh.

He continued once more, making a deliberate attempt to soften his tone. “Anakin- I know we’ve had our differences, but this is not a trick, nor a trap. You’ve suffered a series of great shocks in the last 24 hours and handled them with immense maturity. I myself am struggling to deal with the emotional fallout.”

Anakin looked up at that, surprised. He didn’t seem to be struggling, but maybe that was what made him a good Jedi Master...

“As I told you before, I am not going to begrudge you the comfort of attachment. I’m rather convinced it would do you more harm than good at this point. I don’t want you flying right now, and you don’t have to be alone. I hope we have come to a better understanding today, but I doubt my presence is suddenly a comfort, though please correct me if I’m wrong. Now is there someone I can call?”

Padme ended her call with Master Windu extremely discomfited. She had barely heard from Anakin since he ran out on her the night before last to take care of an apparently extremely drunk Obi-Wan. He had messaged her a few times that night, promising to make it up to her, but had been comm-silent since. She had been starting to get worried, and now the Master of the Order was asking her to pick him up from the temple. Fortunately, she had already cleared most of her meetings for the week well in advance (Courascant leave usually meant THEM time, not that she was jealous of Obi-Wan, of course).

The speeder ride back from the temple was silent. All Anakin would say was that he would explain everything once they were in ‘a secure location.’

The door to the apartment had scarcely closed behind them when Anakin fell into her arms, shaking.

“Anakin, talk to me love, what’s wrong?” She gently guided him to the couch, arranging him so she could hold him protectively.

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

She let out a harsh gasp, “No! He can’t have, he would never-”

“I got to him in time, but Padme... he was holding a lightsaber to his heart. It was...really close” He burrowed deeper into the folds of her dress, and she gripped him fiercely.

“Oh gods, is he-”

“He’s physically healing, but he’s still...not all there. I spent all of today locked in a room, trying to figure out if it was a Sith Attack, or an insane vision, or..or me”

“Anakin! What do you mean ‘me’ - Obi-Wan loves you, you-”

“I know.” Anakin interrupted her again, knowing he was being unfair; he was just too exhausted to be patient.

“He told me loved me. He...he...found out about what I did to the Tusken village, You should have seen his face, Padme, he was horrified, but he still told me he loved me, and he was willing to forgive me, even though he shouldn’t”

“Of course he forgave you,” Padme whispered. “You’re not a monster, Anakin, I know you would never do something like that again.”

"And then after we talked, I left him alone and he-” Anakin choked out into her dress.

Tears ran down her face, heart breaking. “That’s- that’s horrible. Anakin...it must have have been a attack, Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that.” she said urgently.

He pulled away, horrified. “I made you cry. I made Obi-Wan cry too. I’m sorry- Padme please, promise me you won’t-”

She grabbed the sides of his head.

Her nails bit into the soft skin behind his ears as she pulled him down so they were face-to-face, vowing, “Never. I swear by the force itself, I will never choose death over life.”

He let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Now you,” she demanded

“As long as I have anyone to live for, I swear by the force, I will never choose death over life.”

She pulled him the rest of the way in for a bruising kiss. He lifted her, and they desperately clung at one another as he carried her to bed. They continued like that, clinging and grasping, until exhaustion carried him to sleep. She pulled the covers over top them both and curled around him defensively as the day slowly faded away.

Part XI

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #prequel trilogy #potentially triggering #discussions of suicide #references to self-harm #star wars au #bonding? between #Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker #? in my #hurt/comfort fic #? It’s more likely than you’d think #also I struggle with fix it stories that just never address the big tusken elephant in the room? of course i want everyone to #live happily ever but theres a certain scale of atrocity that i feel u gotta address 2 get there #ugh this chapter got reallly long and im just gonna post it ok? ok.#meh #a lot of this fic is just people mentally going What The Fuck at various registers with different inflections #Because that’s not an inappropriate response to time travel in general! and star wars canon in particular.#star wars au no 27

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shirophantomvox · 4 years ago

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Analyzing Illumi Zoldyck's Character

Chrollo Analysis | Hisoka Analysis | Killua Analysis

What’s up y’all! Sorry for being away for the last few days. I needed a break from social media because I am so tired of seeing toxic, self-righteous people on my TL. Anyway, quite a lot of you liked my posts about analyzing HxH characters and somehow comparing them to VLD characters. Today, I’ll be talking about Illumi Zoldyck and I’ll try to compare him to a Voltron character. I know many people have already analyzed this character before, but it wouldn’t hurt to add to the discussion some years later. If you want me to write about anything else, send me an ask! The formatting of this post may be different than the one I wrote about Hisoka Morrow (click his name to view that post).

HERE WE GO!

In the first season, all of the characters are contestants for the Hunter’s Exam. I say contestants because this is a contest to see who can win without any injuries and can keep up with each host. I forget what number stage they were at, but I do know they were at the stage where each opponent has to fight each other. They are declared the winner if their opponent forfeits or gives up mid-match. (Off-topic, but) I am going, to be honest; Gon was my favorite character but his flaws began to show, annoyed me, and later led to his horrific downfall (based from YouTube clips). He didn’t know when to stop and kept pushing himself over the limit. Anyway, Killua and Gittarackur are set to fight. This is when things take a turn for the worse.

Gittarackur is a form of a disguise for Illumi to mask his identity. His face is long; nearly (and reminds me of) in the shape of a Tiki. His face also reminds me of the Witch Doctor mask from Scooby-Doo and Hell-raiser. He has several pins stuck in his face to maintain the facial features of Gittarackur. On the flip side, if he removes the pins, his biological form is revealed. Once he does this, Killua is nearly paralyzed; he cannot believe his eyes and I’m sure the trauma he endured at home hit him like a sack of rocks. Illumi then tells Killua that he wants him to return home, that he cannot maintain a friendship with Gon, stated that he was going to kill Gon, but realizes that if he does so he will be disqualified and will not obtain his Hunter’s license.

I’m assuming the cops aren’t a thing in this reality and the only way for them to “destroy” under the law is by obtaining the license. What do you think? I rarely see police officers; all I see are the Mafia and every they suck compared to the Zoldyck's and the Phantom Troupe. Shit, it seems like they’re the police but have twisted motives.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a fictional character or not, first impressions matter and he bombed this one...even for a villain.

But you did this for what?

How can you hypnotize (by using Nen) your own brother into killing another opponent because he doesn’t want to become an emotionless zombie like you? At least, that’s my perception. Telling your brother to run every time he faces an opponent that he knows he cannot win against is the sickest shit I’ve ever seen. I know I’m jumping around but another thought popped into my head. As the seasons go on, Illumi expresses an odd way of loving his younger brother and to him, that means to make him suffer in the same way he had to. It seems like Illumi is jealous of Gon in a way. (I’ve seen clips on YouTube) Killua takes Alluka to the hospital to heal Gon. Illumi has stated several times to Hisoka that Killua was hiding rules from him and that he still wanted to get rid of Alluka. Although it is clearly stated why he wanted Alluka gone, I still think that Illumi was jealous of Gon simply because his younger brother preferred to be with a friend instead of him. This is why he emphasizes “You cannot have friends. Either they will betray you or you’ll betray them.”

As I read and watched as the seasons went on, I noticed something about Illumi and his family. We all know that the children were raised by their parents. Specifically, their dad is a trained assassin. I can’t remember but I think Zeno is their grandfather who is also an assassin.

I view him as a character that has suffered from abuse and trauma in order to mold him into an assassin. He is emotionless, doesn’t really care for others, has an odd relationship with Killua that he doesn’t have for his other siblings, and is a hypocrite. Killua can’t be friends with Gon but every time the show cuts to him, he’s with Hisoka? Something is fishy there. Are they more than friends? OK, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. Here's the physical analysis below.

Face

When masquerading as Gittarackur, his face has several pins in them and his hair is in a rock star form of Mohawk that is purple. I’ll give him 10/10 for uniqueness, yet it still reminded me of Hell Raiser.

I’ve noticed that when he is in public he is in costume. Why doesn’t he reveal himself in public? I’ve researched this and no one could answer this question. My guess is that he is a verified hunter and assassin. How can you carry out your missions if everyone knows what you look like? Without the pins in his face, it reverts back to his natural state. To me, his large eyes and long, shiny black hair are his distinguished features. Although he may be my least favorite character, he does have pretty eyes. Haven’t you all heard of “I got lost in his/her eyes”?

Yeah, that can be said about him. Most definitely. He rarely smiles and when he does, something BAD is going to happen. I saw him laugh crazily once Alluka began the healing process, the Nen (I guess) rose from the hospital and got on him. This scene reminds me of how Haggar reacted once the Komar’s quintessence bounced from Voltron and bounced onto her. Wow, these supernatural abilities make y’all feel that good?

Clothes

Gittarackur and Illumi wear the same clothes, which should be a clear giveaway that they are the same. Illumi wears a neural green short jacket that has yellow pins in them, a light green shirt underneath, and green pants. His shoes remind me of loafers with a heel on them, something my grandmother would wear.

I’ve said this before and I’ll say again, these bad-ass men in this show are very stylish and seem to be in shape more than I am. Although Illumi irks me, his fashion is great and this is why people prefer him to be their favorite character. Shows should always produce characters that are memorable; that is the key to a long-lasting fan base.

In conclusion, this anime (for the most part) has well-rounded characters that make the plot interesting and wanting more.

Illumi and Lotor are somewhat similar. They both grew up in abusive households and lost some sense of sensitivity, common sense, and were often “misguided” by their own selfishness. Illumi wants a better life for Killua by constantly brainwashing him into thinking that he cannot have friends and his can only find happiness through killing. Zarkon raises Lotor to be a prince that shouldn't work with planets and should destroy them. This explains why he used deceased Alteans from the colony, drained their quintessence, and didn't give them a proper burial. Lotor IS just like his father but Killua IS NOT like Illumi. Ironic, huh? As we all know by now, Lotor is the son of Honerva (Haggar) and Zarkon. After the rift accident, he became an emotionless, ruthless monster that colonized and destroyed planets just to gain their quintessence. He taught this to his son and once he was old enough to think for himself, he refused to act in such a way. Although he was exiled and said he wasn’t like Zarkon, he was; but worse. Lotor studied and gained knowledge about Altea and its people while using Allura to gain the secrets of Oriande. I say he used her because he knew from the moment he met her that he was harvesting Altean quintessence. While fighting the white lion, he yelled “Victory or Death” which is a common catchphrase the Galra use when they are in battle. In fact, the Galra have been victims of trauma from Zarkon. Zarkon’s ruthless ways of ruling had no other motive except for obtaining quintessence so he could live forever. Silva’s way of raising his children was done to mold them into assassins. Since he was taught this way he did the same thing to his children. Zarkon, Silva, and Zeno think that their ways of parenting are necessary for survive in life when it doesn’t have to be that way. Illumi and Lotor have experienced this horrific parenting and deal with it in different ways. Illumi is oddly obsessive of his younger brother and Lotor is a fucking liar.

This analysis was fun! Next, I’ll be analyzing Killua and Keith Kogane.

If you’d like to see more posts like this, send me an ASK!

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harmonizingsunsets · 4 years ago

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I'd Rather Go Blind & Let My Body Go Numb Than To Lose You Or The Weight Of Your Love

Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins. Fanart Credit here.

Read on Archive here.

Anthony never thought he'd be the kind of husband who needs to know where his wife is at every moment of every day.

(To be fair, he never thought about being a husband much at all until the season he'd pursued Edwina only to fall maddeningly in love with Kate).

But here he is, sitting on the couch with his feet drumming loudly against the floor, staring intensely at the door.

On the table beside the couch sits a cup of tea, cold and untouched. Anthony had someone from the kitchens prepare it for him, but his nerves made him unable to stomach anything.

Anthony looks a mess. He'd been raking his hands through his hair for the past two hours. He'd also slapped his cheeks once or twice to stay awake.

His jacket lay discarded and wrinkled on the ground near the door. He feels guilty, knowing one of the maids would have to press it. However, he can't gather the desire to move from the couch and retrieve it.

Instead, he's glued to the couch as he considers where Kate is. A hundred different scenarios run through his mind—each scenario worse than the last.

For the past month, Kate has been disappearing at night. He hears her footsteps tiptoeing past his study when he stays up to work. He feels the weight from her side of the bed lessen as she stands and departs from their bedroom when she thinks he's fallen asleep.

At first, Anthony questioned her about it. Kate would always make up an excuse about needing fresh air or going to see Edwina. But he knows her well enough to know when she's lying.

However, Anthony hadn't ever called Kate out on her deceit. He feared the truth, especially how it might crush him to hear it.

But he couldn't take the not knowing anymore. So when he heard the door close after Kate told him five minutes prior that she was retiring to bed, he made his way towards the front of the house. Anthony watched at the window as a carriage rode away. A hole had formed in his stomach, making him feel hollow. He then sat down on the couch so he could catch her when she returned.

Finally, after what felt like ages passed, he hears footsteps approaching the door. He quickly jumps up from the couch and makes his way to the foyer. When Kate steps through the door, her eyes widen.

"Anthony!" she exclaims in surprise, putting a hand to her chest to steady her breath. "You're up late."

"So are you," Anthony says, crossing his arms and blocking her way.

"I was only walking around to get some fresh air."

Anthony raises a brow. "Really, for two hours?"

Her eyes shift anxiously from his stare. "Has it really been that long?"

"Yes," he answers through gritted teeth, anger rising within him.

"Oh well, it was such a lovely night the time got away from me." Kate stands on her toes, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Sorry for worrying you."

As she tries to retreat, Anthony's hand lurches out to grab her elbow, pulling her back to face him.

"I've had enough, Kate," he sighs tiredly. "Where were you?"

"I just told you, I was—."

"You've been going out for fresh air at odd hours of the day for the past month. You'd think you'd have your fill by now."

Kate fidgets. "Well, it hasn't just been out to get fresh air. I've been attending engagements. I have a life outside you and this household, you know."

"Oh, I know that, but your engagements don't usually take place after dark and don't require you sneaking out of the house to attend."

"Darling, everything is fine," Kate says, pulling her arm out of his reach and giving him a nervous smile. "You've probably been working too hard. Let's go to bed."

As she tries to walk away again, Anthony pulls her back. But this time, he holds onto both of her arms, forcing her to meet his eye.

"Kate, I know you—perhaps more than you know yourself, and I know when you're lying to me," he says, his voice turning softer—more fragile. It's as if he's a vase that could shatter at any moment. "What I don't know is why."

"I promise that what I have been going out and doing is not anything scandalous or dangerous." After letting out a long breath, a laugh bubbles from her throat in amusement. "Honestly, where I've been going to is nothing to fret over. You're acting as if I'm having an affair or something."

Anthony's heart sinks in his chest. No matter how ridiculous the prospect sounds, he can't help but whisper the question that's been plaguing his mind these past few weeks.

"Are you?"

Kate's mouth falls open, her face paling. "Anthony, how could you think that?"

"It's the only explanation I can think of," he says, stepping away from her and beginning to pace. "It explains why you've been coming back so late and being so evasive these past few weeks."

"Anthony—."

His legs go weak at the affection in her voice. Anthony falls to his knees in front of her and takes hold of her hands.

"Just tell me, Kate, I cannot bear it," Anthony says, hating the way his voice wavers. "I cannot bear the thought of you finding pleasure in someone else's arms. I cannot bear you leaving our bed because you'd rather be in another's. I cannot bear the idea of someone else touching you, loving you, or kissing you."

He brushes his lips against Kate's knuckles, causing her breath to hitch. Anthony pulls his lips away, but just so his fingertips can swirl circles on her palm. When his thumb skims over her pulse, he feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Most of all, I cannot bear the thought of you loving someone else." Anthony swallows thickly, feeling a lump forming in his throat. "I'd die right now if you told me all of this was true."

Anthony has always feared time. He used to compulsively reach into his pocket to grasp his father's watch. Each time a hand on the clock ticked forward, he felt as if an ounce of his soul got sucked away.

But since Kate came into his life, that fear has dissipated. Suddenly, he didn't spend each moment of his life calculating how much time he had left. Instead, Anthony began counting things other than seconds.

He counts the number of Kate's smiles. He counts the number of laughs they share next to one another at the table surrounded by his family. Anthony counts the number of kisses that were slow, stirring an aching feeling in his chest. He also counts each hungry and passionate kiss that sets every inch of his skin aflame.

Most of all, Anthony counts how many times he's lost count around her. He gets lost in the timeless and wonderful enigma that is Kate Sharma.

Anthony feels that fear of time creeping up on him again. But now, he's not afraid of time passing and leading to his demise. Instead, he's terrified that Kate's time of loving him has run out. Maybe, she's found a more deserving man to spend the minutes with than him.

When Anthony braves a glance up at Kate, he expects to see pity. But instead, he's surprised to see an entirely different emotion reflected in her eyes.

Love.

Pure, unconditional, steadfast love.

Kate gets down to her knees in front of him. But she doesn't let go of his hands, holding them tighter.

"None of that is true, Anthony," she says firmly. "I love you, have only loved you, and will only love you."

Her words release a breath of relief from him. But, he still can't help doubting this, not knowing how else to explain her odd disappearances.

Kate must sense his train of thoughts. She smiles gently, moving one of her hands up to graze his cheek.

"I love you so much that I've been waking up in the middle of the night so I can give you the perfect present."

Anthony blinks in confusion, feeling the room that had been spinning become still.

"What?"

Kate laughs, and she rests her forehead against his. "Do you know what tomorrow is?"

It hits Anthony like a whip. All the clues that he'd gathered up to form a horrible conclusion were, in fact, clues that lead to a more justifiable and pleasant one.

"Our anniversary," he answers dumbly.

"Yes," she nods, her face beaming with a giddy kind of delight. Anthony feels lucky that he gets to see it. Her expressions are free without restraint only when she's comfortable with someone. He's glad to be one of those treasured few. "We've made it a year, can you believe it? It seems like only yesterday, I was stepping on your toes at a ball, and you acted like a madman when I got stung by a bee."

Anthony frowns, his forehead creasing. "I did not act like a madman."

"You did, but it led us to where we are now," Kate says, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "Married and happy."

"I'd like to think it would've happened with the bee or not."

"I'm not sure. You were quite thick-headed about how in love with me you were."

"Oh, I'm the thick-headed one?" he scoffs. "After the night you fell in love with me, you gave your approval for me to marry your sister. How thick-headed is that?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd ever feel that way about me," Kate defends, rolling her eyes. "But I know very well now that you do. You show me with every kind word, every touch, every…" her words drift, cheeks reddening, "Well, you know."

Anthony smirks. "No, I do not know. Please elaborate on everything I do to you that gives you pleasure in vivid detail."

"You're insufferable," she grumbles and puts her hands on her hips. "I have a good mind not to tell you the true reason for my disappearing and keep you stewing in jealousy."

"I don't think you'd like the result of my increased jealousy."

"I don't know, your scowl was fierce, and the fire in your eyes was quite the sight," Kate teases, tracing her thumb over his furrowed brows. "Very becoming, actually."

Anthony stands and pulls her up with him, leading her to the couch. "Why have you been disappearing?"

"As I said, our anniversary is tomorrow, and I was getting your gift ready," she explains. "It's almost midnight. Perhaps I can give it to you a little bit early. I had one of the servants waiting outside for my return. They came in through the back entrance and have already snuck it into your study to reveal as a surprise for tomorrow."

"How sinister of you, plotting with our staff against me."

"Nothing sinister about it. I asked, and they agreed to help me. Unlike you, they think I'm perfectly agreeable."

"Obviously, they don't know you well enough to fear the wicked inner workings of your mind as I do."

Kate stands, gracefully sticking out her tongue and making him laugh. Anthony follows her down the hall into his study. She makes him close his eyes. He feels like a fool, stumbling into the room with Kate chuckling behind him. But, he feels guilty for thinking Kate could ever be unfaithful and indulges her wishes.

He waits for a few moments, hearing her moving something across the floor, before he asks, "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Alright, you bloody impatient man, open your eyes."

As Anthony takes his hands away from his eyes, his heart stops in his chest. He gawks at the painting on a canvas stand in front of him.

"Kate," he utters breathlessly.

Kate chews on her bottom lip, hesitantly watching him observe the painting—no, "painting" doesn't seem like the right word for what it is.

It's a masterpiece, an almost perfect depiction of Kate.

The artist captured the exact fraction that Kate's lips tilt up when she smiles in amusement. Anthony often sees that expression pointed towards him when they're engaged in one of their bantering matches. The color of her brown eyes is just as deep in the painting. They're full of so much that Anthony still wants to explore even after a year of marriage.

In the portrait, Kate's shoulders are bare, the sleeves resting low on her arm. The bottom of the picture shows the scarlet bodice of her dress. But the most alluring part is how the brown curls of her hair flow freely down her neck, cascading like a waterfall.

Anthony has a strong distaste for her bonnets and how society demands she wears her hair up in public. Anthony loves running his fingers through her hair, which probably is why she posed for the painting with it down. That minx knew it would stir a feeling within him that no one else but her has been able to elicit.

"I hired Sir Granville to paint it," Kate blurts out, nervous from how long he's remained silent. "I wanted him to paint it in a private setting because it's a bit…."

"Breathtaking," Anthony answers.

"I was going to say suggestive, but breathtaking is a good adjective," Kate grins bashfully. She steps towards him, her eyes glowing through the dim light of the room. "It's a portrait for your eyes only, no one else's."

Anthony ducks his head. "I'm sorry that I thought you were...I just—."

"Foolishly got jealous of a person who doesn't exist? Yes, yes, you did."

He runs his fingers against the frame of the painting. "I have a mind to hang this in the common area, so everyone can see how lucky I am."

Kate's eyebrows snap together. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he asks playfully.

"It might encourage some men to meet the woman behind the painting," Kate notes with a mischievous glint in her eyes, pretending to consider his proposal. "Who am I to oppose admirers?"

Anthony's smirk fades. "You wouldn't dare."

"Ah, there's that handsome scowl," Kate points at him in triumph.

He swoops forward, his arms going around her waist. "You're maddening."

Kate's smile widens as she looks up at him, looping her hands around his neck. "You love it."

"You're right. I do love you. And, I love this portrait," Anthony adds, bobbing his head towards the painting. "Perhaps I should hang it in here. It can serve as a reminder of what's waiting for me when I finish my work."

She leans up a bit on her toes, her hands traveling lower down his back. "You know, I could come down to your study to remind you."

Anthony begins moving his hands as well. As they skim up her body, brushing her breast, he relishes in the sound of her moan. Anthony leans closer, pressing kisses down her neck until he gets to just the right spot. Kate's fingers curl tighter onto his back as his lips apply pressure there, and her body gravitates further against him.

"You're far too distracting," Anthony murmurs against her skin. "Perhaps, the portrait is too dangerous to be in here. I'd get nothing done."

"Exactly." She leans her face back a margin, so Anthony can see that enchanting tilt of her lips the artist depicted. "Why do you think I commissioned the painting in the first place?"

"To torture me?"

"All is fair in love and war," Kate says, grinning at him. "And hasn't our relationship always been a bit of both?"

In response, Anthony kisses her deeply and thoroughly. The sound of his pocket watch ticking starts to fade away. It gets replaced with the sound of his heart, which beats for Kate more than himself these days.

#kateandanthonyweek #kateandanthonyweek21 #katexanthonyweek #kate x anthony #kanthony #kathony #Katexanthonyweek21 #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #bridgerton series #bridgerton books #bridgerton netflix #Anthony x kate #simone ashley #fanfiction #Bridgerton #fanfic #bridgerton fanfic

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silentexplorer18 · 4 years ago

Text

Lies: A Feitan Portor Short

Summary: In a cruel twist of fate, the world prevents you from lying to your soulmate. Each question acts as a truth serum, pulling the answers from your lips. Unfortunately for two secretive individuals, the inability to lie is more jarring than finding a soulmate.

Pairing: Feitan Portor x Female Reader

Warnings: Insults, allusions to fighting and injury.

Word Count: 1,000+

Note: Hello fellow Feitan fans! :) This is the first of (hopefully) many Feitan fics to come. I’m still on the Chimera Ant Arc at present, but I couldn’t resist trying to write something for the mysterious Fei.

Prompt: This fic was inspired by the prompt “You cannot lie to your soulmate,” by @sentence-prompts.

Read on AO3 ▪ Masterlist

It had been a fool's job. You knew that as soon as you'd taken it. But there was nothing else you could do. At the end of the day, you needed money. And being a bodyguard for a wealthy, stubborn girl was the price you had to pay to live another day.

Although you were involved with the team, Squala had recommended you take to patrolling due to your unusual Nen abilities. More often than not, it led you to danger rather than repulsed you from it. Every hour, Melody or Squala would call for information on your location, reminding you of your job to protect Neon. With that information, they would move accordingly, attempting to avoid your immediate vicinity for fear you were close to someone or something unsavory.

Thankfully, the unconscious leash that led you to trouble had always existed. Rather than fight it, you'd trained to work alongside it. You'd grown strong, clever, light on your feet, but that wasn't always enough.

You should've turned around that day, walked to the other end of town. Instead, you followed your heart toward an old part of town, feeling the eyes on you well before you could see them.

In your defense, you put up a valiant fight. You zipped through the streets, excelling in hand-to-hand combat against a foe cloaked in darkness, almost impossible to see. It had been a misstep, an over-rotation, that led to your demise. Then he was smirking down at you, the urge to torture already tingling in his fingertips. But he didn't kill you.

Not at first.

The building was dusty and the chains were heavy, but that didn't matter much. There was no way to escape, especially not with the man standing before you, staring you down with a chilling gaze. This would be the end of your life, you were sure of it. But you'd fight to keep your secrets to the very end.

The worst part was the audience, though you didn't imagine that would stay the worst part for long.

"Who you work for?" the man asked.

You shook your head 'no,' before, "The Nostrade Family," fell from your lips. It was the truth. Your eyes widened. You'd told him the truth.

He noticed the panic in your eyes. Figured. Dying people often sold out their closest friends for another few minutes of air. You were no different. He'd make sure you remembered your decision accordingly.

However, before he could, you spoke. "What's your name?"

"We're wasting time," Nobunaga grumbled.

"Feitan." His eyes widened, expression nearly matching your own.

Shalnark sighed, glancing down at his phone. "Nobunaga's right. We should finish and find Uvo."

"When’s your birthday?" you whispered to Feitan, eyes boring into him in a desperate challenge.

"I not know." The words twisted from his tongue before he could stop them.

"Are you going to kill me?"

He stared at you with squinted eyes, as though trying to decide, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. He cursed, clenching his fists at his sides before he spoke with resignation. He’d realized who you were to him, that was enough. "You go home."

Nobunaga whirled around at that. "What the hell did you just say?"

"What's going on?" Shizuku asked, looking up from her book in confusion.

"Feitan, now isn't the time to mess around." Shalnark watched in confusion as Feitan glared at you, feeling as though he was missing something important.

You clued them in, eyes filled with surprise and worry, focused solely on Feitan's eyes above his dark bandanna. "Lie to me."

"Not able."

You bit your lip, voice nearly trembling. "Is this real?"

Across the room, the boy's eyes lit up in understanding. "It's rare, but can happen," Shalnark explained. "Usually people don't find their soulmates. At least, not without some help from Soulmate Hunters. Finding them on the street like this is almost impossible."

"Feitan has a soulmate?" Shizuku's surprised gaze met Shalnark's confused one. "I guess I always figured he couldn't care enough to have one."

"Supposedly everyone has one."

"I have soul, Shizuku."

"Barely," Nobunaga grumbled.

She shrugged. "I suppose that means you would have a soulmate, then. It just seems so unlike you."

Shalnark stared at you, glancing at your face, your worried expression, before turning back to Feitan. "What should we do now?"

"Having a soulmate is a liability," Phinks interrupted, jumping down from the ledge to join the conversation.

Machi rolled her eyes. "What, so you just want him to kill her? He doesn't even know her name yet."

Phinks turned to her. "Which is why now's the best time to do it. I mean, it's Feitan. It's not like he won't get on without her."

“He has a point,” Nobunaga agreed.

The group began to debate in earnest, a chill running through your chest.

Feitan stepped closer to you, gaze less harsh than you anticipated. "You have name?"

You nodded, stating it quietly in fear of disturbing the others.

"Pretty." He nodded to himself, swiftly slicing the ropes at your wrists. He caught you with a hand before you could fall forward completely. "You leave now. Go home."

"What about…" you trailed off, glancing toward the Troupe members now staring at you. Nobunaga's hand was resting on his sword. Machi's hands stayed planted on her hips. Neither looked pleased.

"She leave." He stated, as though it were that easy.

Phinks shook his head, glaring at you as though you’d brainwashed his companion.

"No. She could tell anyone about this place," Nobunaga argued.

Shalnark reached into his pocket. "No fighting. We'll flip a coin."

"Tails."

"Head."

It was heads. You were free. It was decided.

You looked at him uneasily. You'd never imagined finding your soulmate, let alone like this. But now he was here, and you didn't know what you wanted. He was a thief, a criminal, a coldhearted person. But he was your soulmate; that had to mean something.

"Will I see you again?" you asked, trying to ignore the glares from those around you.

He shook his head, once, conclusive. "You live. That poetic enough."

That was that, then. He wasn't yours and you weren't his. It was all a matter of business, with a bit of humanity sprinkled in. You'd never realize how rare that was for him, how rarely he found something beautiful enough to spare. But he’d found it in you.

"I'm sure you can find me again if you need me, Feitan." You didn't look back, couldn't stand the thought of looking back on an empty heart, on your soulmate’s uncaring gaze.

"Yes."

And he would find you again. Because when a thief wants something, he takes it. Love being no exception.

Masterlist

A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :)

#feitan #feitan x reader #feitan portor #feitan portor x reader #hxh feitan #hunter x hunter #hxh #phantom troupe #silent writes

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mimssides · 3 years ago

Text

Never Met You

Chapter 5: Defence

To protect those who they love is an act of strength and kindness. To protect they need rest themselves. They shall rest.

It was late and the palace was asleep. The rose maze was peacefully quiet and the moonlight bathed the world in a silver shimmer. It was beautiful.

And lonely.

Roman could not help himself. He had known Janus for so many years who loved and adored him. He had Virgil by his side who kept him sane and safe. He had Logan who had put up with all the unreasonable decision he had ever made.

And yet, as Roman sat down in the middle of the maze beneath the rose arch on the bench, he felt void. He had for all his life felt a certain longing for something that was not there. It had become worse in the last few weeks, especially since Janus had been mostly preoccupied with meetings and aiding Logan with his duties. He knew something was off and he was glad when they finally approached him and asked if he could go to Sictes to get some allies.

He would get going tomorrow, and while he didn’t like to leave Janus back, he knew it was the most reasonable thing he could do right now. It also was easier for him to not be in the castle. It made the void hurt less in a way.

Stillness.

Roman’s heart began to race. He jumped on his feet, feeling the tip of cold metal barely scratching the middle of his back. Twirling around, drawing his sword, which was sharp despite Janus’s protests, and facing a figure in black, face hidden behind a black mask.

An ambush.

The ambusher stormed at him but Roman dodged and evaluated his situation quickly. There were more people coming, he could hear the scurrying around now that he was listening for it. His chances could be worse. He knew the maze like no other, better than the gardeners even, and they were not aware that he was able to hold himself in a fight.

Dodging. Duck. Go for the legs and shove to the bushes. One distracted, a second and third one came from the opening to his left and one had jumped over the bushes in front of him. They were trying to corner him.

They would not succeed, Roman decided. With a grunt he manoeuvred himself towards the one on the left, went for his wrist and made him drop his sword. Next, he focused on the one in the front and-

He barely managed to pull away as the first ambusher grabbed him by the arm. Roman panted. No, he wasn’t exhausted yet. But they have been cornering him and he did not know how to get out of this situation anymore.

He couldn’t go like this. He couldn’t lose like this.

“HeeEEllooOOO!”

The squeaky maddening scream had the ambushers turn around. Roman used his chance and fled to the side as someone barrelled into the one in the middle and threw them right into the thorns. Without thinking Roman turned to the closest ambusher and began to duel them.

In the corner of his eyes, he saw the third one approach him from behind, calculating already how he could fight that one off.

“I’ve got your back! Worry about what’s in front of you, Romy!”

There was something in Roman’s chest. It was warm and loud and wild. It made him grin and go for his attacker, made him move quick and nimble, made him light as a feather and made it almost playfully easy for him to fight them off, as he cut them into their right shoulder.

They whistled. At once the two others moved away. Roman was about to follow them, but he stopped as a hand was put on his right shoulder and held him back. And just then the three ambushers were gone in the shadows.

The night was quiet again. As if nothing had happened. Roman could be dead now and no one would know until the gardeners would find him. Janus and Virgil would not find him, would only see the dried blood beneath his form, his lifeless corpse rotting amongst the grass and thorns.

“It is okay. We are okay, Roman. Breathe. Slow and steady. Slow and steady does it.”

In front of Roman was Green, standing in the faint moonlight. He had stepped in front of him, had put his other hand on his left shoulder and was asking him to calm down. And Roman did calm down. He had to. He had to quiet down and get out of the maze. They were still out in the open and needed to get away.

But first he had to focus on calming down. It would be fine. Never in his life Roman had found himself calming down so quickly but he was not going to question it and nodded at Green who waited for him to give him the green light to proceed. The two hastily went back to the castle.

When they were barely in sight of the guards, Green already called for them. Ordered them to immediately search the castle walls, the gates and passage ways to the door. No one was to go alone and they needed to search the rose maze this instance. They were about to dismiss his orders when they spotted Roman behind him. They froze on the spot and Roman told them to follow his orders.

The castle awoke. Roman and Green went inside, immediately heading towards the backroom in the servant wing. Roman had never told Green that they should go there but Green found the way nevertheless. On their way Roman requested the guards to wake the king and tell Janus and Virgil to “retreat��. They would know where to look for them.

Meanwhile, Roman and Green slipped by the guards and servants eyes, along the shadows and hallways rarely someone used. Roman knew them by heart. He had explored them when he was younger and studied every corner after the day it had happened. He needed to know where he could hide in a dangerous situation and after all those years the fear and terror had kept him from forgetting a single detail.

The backroom was in the last corner of the castle, a dead end where no one went when they were trying to escape or hide themselves in. And still, Roman had chosen this room to be his safe haven. There was security in an unlikely hiding spot and he sat down on a wooden chair as Green positioned himself next to the door. He was looking over to him and scanning the room all while listening at the door for whoever was to come in. They were quiet and waited.

Roman wasn’t quite sure when it happened but after some time, he had begun to analyse the intruders’ behaviour. He thought about how they entered the premises, how they fought and how they had focused on him. The conclusion he got to did not sit well with him and he was glad when he could change his focus on the door as he heard someone approach from the outside.

He knew the steps and before he could say it Green opened the door and let in Janus followed by Logan and Virgil. The king had still a rather sleepy look in his eyes and was wearing a nightgown but tensed immediately as he saw Roman sitting on the chest. Worriedly, he looked over to Green, hands pressed over his chest and motioned Virgil to close the door.

“There was an ambush.”

The terror on Janus’s face was indescribable. Without thinking he rushed over to Roman’s side, kneeled down in front of him and cupped his face between his hands.

“How? When? Why were you not in your room?”

Virgil’s voice was booming despite his low volume. Roman straightened up and softly pushed Janus’s hands out of his face. He then pulled Janus to sit next to him, while putting his arm around his shoulders.

“I could not sleep,” Roman explained and observed with one eye, how Green led Logan to sit on another box as the king trembled under the stressful revelation. “I did not mean to alarm you and went outside to catch some fresh air. They came for me in the rose maze. Green came and fought them off. It cannot be longer than half an hour ago.”

“You are not allowed to simply leave your room without informing us! Not in times like these!” Virgil hissed towards the prince.

“I can be killed in my own room just as easily as in this rose maze, Virgil. It makes no difference, if they want, they will find me anywhere.”

Virgil’s face froze and Janus gripped Roman’s arm, exclaiming loudly: “Roman!”

“This changes nothing. I will go tomorrow. We need the backup. Now more than ever.”

“You are most certainly not leaving! We haven’t even found out who did this yet! It might as well be someone from Sictes who allied with George to find you! I will not send you into your death.”

Janus had tears in his eyes as he begged for Roman to stay. He begged for his friend to be reasonable and approachable, to not fall back into habits that could have him hurt or even killed. And Roman just looked at him with those determined eyes and this heavy look. This look that made it clear that he would not just stop.

“This was not someone from Sictes,” Green broke through the moment and all eyes landed on him. “It was an Raganian blade these attackers wielded. But it was not someone sent by King George directly, otherwise they would not have tried to kill him.”

“Wha-” Janus stuttered but Green continued.

“It is smarter to take the prince hostage, instead of killing him. It would force us to act quietly and would keep the other kingdoms from interfering out of concern for Roman’s wellbeing, while killing Roman would lead to a guaranteed uproar in Sictes as well as in Kainen. And while King George is proud and overconfident, he is far from stupid. This is not a risk he would take.”

Another pause. Logan sighed and buried his head in his hands. He went mentally through what he had heard Green and Roman tell them just now and tried to puzzle the picture together. The timing was eery, he had to consider if there was a mole among their midst. Even so, it could have been a coincidence. What was not a coincidence though were the attempt on Roman which could have also caused his own fall, since he only was holding this position because of Roman’s order.

“So, it most likely was an operation contrived by someone in George’s court who went behind his back?” Logan concluded and glimpsed up to Green who nodded.

“Yes, that is it most likely. The way these people moved hints towards special training for a secret force, and their weaponry and clothing were perfectly tailored for each of them, which hints to a benefactor of high standing who could pay and arrange those things to be given to them secretly. They knew what they were doing and probably had scouted the area. Still, that they found Roman in the maze could mean that-”

Roman continued Green’s sentence as if they had coordinated it: “-they found me through magic. Yes, I came to that conclusion as well. They should not have known that I was not in my room. I haven’t been outside in the maze for the entirety of my stay. They should have looked in my room first, but they haven’t been there, as otherwise Virgil would have caught them.”

Silence stretched over the five men in the room for a moment. Outside, far away in the halls, the guards were bustling around, servants running and following the instructions Green and Roman had given them a few minutes prior.

“Why were you outside?”

Logan’s voice was not sharp but still cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter. Green, who the question had been posed to, opened his mouth but was promptly cut off by Janus adding: “We need the truth here. Only the truth will let you leave this room alive right now.”

Roman froze. No, how- Green was not the traitor! He knew he wasn’t! Janus was wrong to assume that Green was a mole just because he was out in the night without reason. Because he somehow had the perfect timing in rescuing him. Because he somehow had known that the swords were Raganian and their fighting style one of a secret force.

Oh, no.

Then Green dropped on his knees before the king. There was a look of deep devotion, certainty and the uncharacteristic hint of shame in his face. Roman watched Green’s hand twitch as he lifted it towards Logan’s knee but stopped and put them onto his own thighs.

And Green spoke: “I am aware that my knowledge of the situation and the details surrounding it are suspicious. If you need me gone, I will be happy to rot in your prisons or decapitated on your demand, Your Majesty. Because I know the reason, I have to give you will not be able to cease your worries, but I shall give it to you nevertheless.”

He took one last breath as he bowed his head and resumed his answer.

“I – I am plagued by nightmares, have been for many, many years. They are senseless and violent and bloody. Cruel with no rhyme or reason to it. I am quite used to the imagery but once in a while they get especially troubling and I found myself having such dreams far too often lately. I try to get to bed late because of this, but tonight I forgot the time and wandered to the gardens. They were quite beautiful in the moonlight and it was then that I heard the ambush. I know this is not a sufficient answer but it is the answer I-”

“I believe you,” Logan spoke the words which Roman thought.

Roman watched with a smile as Logan tapped Green under the chin and the guard looked up with big disbelieving eyes. For the first time since Roman had come back from his journey Logan did not look like he was as tense as an overstretched spring.

“You do?”

Logan grinned and nodded. He eyed Janus from the corner of his eyes and saw him pressing his lips together in displeasure. The guard had spoken the truth and Janus could confirm it despite the sour taste the whole situation left on his tongue.

“Yes, I do,” Logan confirmed now verbally. “You did not lie, the Royal Advisor could tell so much, and you have yet to make a single mistake in front of me or the others which would lead to me distrusting you. And I have to admit that it is quite a relief for me to learn that I made a good choice by having you by my side.”

***

“I don’t think, I’ll ever get used to this,” █████ said as he looked at the crown in his hands.

He and Roman had met up in Roman’s room after the mourning festivities had ended and all of the castle had quieted down. Now it was only the two of them, █████ leaning against Roman’s side. Roman had put his arm around his shoulder and was staring at the sparkling crown in █████’s hands as well. The faint candle light threw dark shadows and Roman tensed up a little. █████ noticed and pressed himself closer to Roman’s side.

“Neither will I,” Roman said after a few moments and took the crown out of █████’s hands and set it on the night table.

They looked at each other for a moment. Roman opened his mouth to say something but stopped and instead signed “I’m sorry.” Talking was still too much of a task for him, after a whole year of silence. █████ just shook his head and put his arms around Roman’s torso to squish him in a hug.

Minutes passed by and eventually Roman wiggled out of █████’s embrace. Quietly, he got off the bed and motioned for █████ to follow him. He followed and the two went to the bay window, which Roman opened and promptly climbed out off. Perplexed █████ stared at him for a moment before he followed as well and climbed down the ivy vines which grew beneath Roman’s window.

When █████’s feet touched the ground, Roman took his hand and pulled him along in a hurry. █████ let him do so and simply observed the dark surroundings until they ended up in the rose maze.

Months later Roman would finally explain to █████ how he had spent many days out in the gardens and familiarized himself with the gardeners and how they maintained the bushes and the maze. Thus, he knew exactly at which spots he could hide the wooden swords, which he pulled out of the bushes close to the middle of the rose maze. But at this particular instance Roman did not explain █████ what he was doing and simply handed him the wooden sword.

“What is the meaning of this?” █████ asked without taking the sword.

Roman sighed and looked up to the sky. The moon wasn’t out anymore and stars were sparkling up there in the prettiest lights.

Roman licked his lips and looked back down meeting █████’s eyes directly.

“I’m scared that they’ll come for us me.”

█████ stiffened. He heard the unsaid I’m afraid they’ll come for you.

“I want us me to be prepared. They don’t teach us me to fight properly and I want to know how. I want to train. I want us me to be able to survive.”

A moment passed. █████ took a deep breath and then the sword. For a few minutes Roman explained the basic fighting stances he had seen the soldiers and guards practice, until he began to simply show them as talking got too hard for him. They didn’t stay outside for much longer and soon went back through the window.

Many nights like these would follow but that night █████ and Roman did not think of the future any longer, huddled together in Roman’s bed and slept peacefully for the first time in a year.

***

Roman had never been so relieved to hear somebody admitting that they had nightmares. Green’s words had done something in his mind and for a moment, a very small split second, the loneliness in his chest shrunk a little.

“Alright, then. Green’s good but we still aren’t through with you Roman. You will not leave tomorrow,” Virgil said stubbornly.

Roman shot up from his seat and balled his fists.

“You cannot decide this!”

“No, I can’t but I won’t accompany you to your fucking death, Princey! And you know that I am doing you a favour. You are smarter that this!”

“I am not stupid or naïve!” Roman all but shouted towards his friend and tried to get a grip on himself.

Instinctively Roman stepped back, his back touching the wall of the chamber and he watched through the group gathered around him. Janus’s expression was apologizing but stern, he was on Virgil’s side, no doubt. Logan was unreadable but Roman knew that in the end Logan was a strategist and him leaving the castle after what had happened tonight was far too risky. Yes, Roman understood their stances, but the problem was that he was useless except for diplomacy missions. He could not help prepare an army, he could not plan infrastructure or safety plans. The only thing he was, was a pretty face and a charming voice with some good social networking skills. And in the castle that meant nothing.

“Your Royal Highness.”

Roman’s view was blurry but he managed to look at Green who spoke softly: “You are quite brilliant with your words and your charm. And I don’t doubt that you could get through another ambush. But remember that Sictes has no guards like we do. Remember that their walls aren’t as thick as ours and their history hasn’t been filled with assassinations and bloodshed. We shall not bring danger to other kingdoms if we needn’t, Your Royal Highness. We cannot bring the doom to other places just to safe our neck. I know that at heart you are too caring to do something like that.”

It was not the words exactly. Nor was it the phrasing or the intonation. But never in his life had Roman felt his father’s presence shining so much through a person. And with everything that had been happening tonight he felt his hold on himself crumble. Trembling he sat back down on the chest, pressed his hand over his nose and mouth and tried to not cry like a small child because this man somehow reminded him of his father.

Of course, Janus shimmed closer to him and asked what was wrong. Of course, Virgil knelt down next to him and calmingly pressed his hand against his thigh. It took a minute until Roman was calm again, he managed to keep himself from crying and brushed his two worried partners off.

“I see your point. I know it has been a close call and I understand the risks. I just wished I could be of use somehow. Here I can’t do anything,” Roman explained to Green first and then pushed his focus towards Logan.

Logan raised his eyebrows and shook his head. Swiftly he crossed his legs and told Roman: “I can think of a few things you could help me with. Tomorrow we can talk about it in detail but for now I will remind you that your mere presence and smile will let the people hope. They have lost your father and mother, the first to finally bring some sort of peace and prosperity to these lands, and you are the result of their believes and strengths. You are what remains and no matter how good of a king I am, they need to know that their prince is alive and well. They need you alive and so do I. So, thank you for staying here. It will be a great relief.”

Roman nodded and Green and Janus announced that they were now going to check in with the patrols that were sent out to see if it was safe for both king and prince to get back into their sleeping chambers. Virgil would stay with them and keep them safe.

The door fell into its lock as Green and Janus left. Virgil eyed first Roman and then Logan for a few moments. He said nothing as Logan stood up, his legs shakier than usual. He only reacted when he suddenly leaned against the wall to keep himself upright.

“Logan?” Roman asked as Virgil helped Logan regain his balance and led him to the prince.

A little floppy Logan sat down next to him and rubbed his temple.

“Just some light-headedness. Nothing you shall worry about. Now, what had you moved so deeply by Green’s words? I have rarely seen you in such a state and I would like to know what brought it up.”

Roman kneaded his hands and opened his left one. He had thin long fingers, long nailbeds. He was told that they were the hands of his mother. But his complexion and facial structure were his father’s. A memorial to them both.

“I don’t know what it is with him but-” Roman looked up and found the courage to meet Logan’s eyes- “he reminds me of something I can’t quite pin down. And just how he spoke, the way he addressed me, it was as if my father was here for a moment. He just. He really reminded me of him there and while it was painful to remember, it was also unspeakably comforting.”

Logan was not a touchy person in general. So, when he hugged Roman it came a bit as a surprise. What was even more surprising was the fact of how much Roman leaned into the touch. He buried his head in the nape of Logan’s neck and Logan let him do so wordlessly. They parted when Virgil remarked that he could hear Janus and Green come back.

The area had been scouted and a few traces of the intruders had been found close to the eastern wall but otherwise there seemed nothing to go off. Janus had the guards patrol the walls and would initiate a closer look on the kingdom’s borders as soon as the next morning broke. Though for now Logan and Roman could retreat to their rooms, with heightened security of course.

“Thank you very much, Janus. Would you and Virgil accompany me? I wanted to have a word. Green, please bring Roman to his sleeping chamber,” Logan ordered and slowly stood up.

Virgil quirked his up but wordlessly moved up to his side and opened the door for him and Janus. Green followed with Roman and they parted in the hallway to get to their respective wings. Roman looked at the guards standing alongside the walls, the servants bustling around with sleep still in their faces despite the hustle in the castle.

“How late is it even?” Roman mumbled to himself when they finally go to his wing.

Green opened the door to his chamber and said in the same moment: “Half past 1, Your Royal Highness.”

Roman blinked. That was indeed rather late. He gulped and walked towards his room. In the doorframe he stopped and turned around to look at Green. For a moment he mused and then he had made up his mind.

“Would you terribly mind to come inside for a moment? I know your day has been long but I doubt that another few minutes will make that much of a difference.”

Green’s lips twitched but he bowed his head and followed Roman inside. Easily, Roman strode across the room to his little sitting corner and told Green to sit with him. The guard followed and sat silently waiting for Roman to say what he wanted to say.

Roman straightened his pants for a moment and looked over the ruffles and dirt that had been caught on bottom of them. It was rare for him to get this dirty. Not because he didn’t want to but because he was kept from doing so.

“You didn’t tell them that I fought alongside you. Why?”

Green shrugged.

“You said I fought them of, so I assumed you didn’t want them to know that you fought as well. And I had never heard people talking about your sword fighting skills, so what I saw was most likely something you learnt in secret. And while Janus would react delightfully appalled to you hiding this from him, I did not want to be a tattletale. You’ve got your reasons and I respect that, Your Royal Highness.”

Roman listened closely and saw how Green gesticulated during his speech. The movements of his hands were peculiar, not random and agitated but had a method to it. Like the signs he had made up during his year of mourning Roman’s mind added. Green had handled his panic more masterfully than Virgil had after five years of knowing him. He had used nicknames for him, had included himself when he told Roman they were fine.

“Thank you,” Roman settled with instead of voicing any of those observations. “For the secret keeping, the saving and for talking some sense into me. The gods know what would happen if I had kept fighting Virgil and Janus on this. Eventually this would have escalated a lot worse than it did, and I have no intention of hurting these two.”

The look and grin Green had on his faces told Roman that he had known so even if he hadn’t said it. How odd. This stranger being able to just understand him so effortlessly did not worry or bother him nearly as much as it should.

They sat there in silence a little longer. Roman’s head was buzzing, his chest felt heavier but more fulfilled than usual. He again and again eyed this new guard. Thinking about what Janus had told him about Green. About the kid he saved, about things he knew but shouldn’t know about.

Green meanwhile decided that he needed to get Roman to sleep. Calmly, he said to him that they should probably head to bed now and got a silent nod as an answer. He stood and turned away as the prince went to change into his nightclothes and watched as he silently crawled into his bed. He was about to bow and turn away, when a question kept him in place.

“Will you stay?”

Green looked over his shoulder. The faint light of the candle next to his bed illuminated him in a flickering but faint glow. He looked so much smaller and fragile than he should.

“In the room?” Green asked with furrowed brows.

Roman’s voice was quiet as he said: “Yes.”

And in the castle. In our lives. Here, with us. Roman added in his mind but the words were stuck in his mouth. He didn’t know why but with Green here he felt just less lonely.

To his luck, Green didn’t question him. Instead, he simply nodded and sat down on the bench to the foot of his bed. Roman thanked him again and asked if he should blow out the candle.

“You may,” Green said and the room was coated in darkness.

___

Link for AO3, Taglist, Masterlist, and next Chapters are in my first reblog!

#intrulogical #remus sanders #roman sanders #platonic creativitwins #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #fighting #talk of murder #panic attack tw #attempted assassination #eir writes #please reblog #Never Met You

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warlordgab · 4 years ago

Text

Fairy Tail Chapter 417: A NaLu moment?

“Use a picture. It’s worth a thousand words.”

- Arthur Brisbane

This theoretical analysis is a request from some fellow NaLu fans...

Several readers assume the conversation between Gildartz and Natsu in the chapter 417 is something relevant to NaLu. What does the FT story tells us about it?

To answer that question we can take a look at what happens before and after that chapter. I could use the anime adaptation as a source of information, but I couldn't find a confirmation of Mashima working on that episode so I cannot use it as part of this analysis

What were the circumstances before Natsu's encounter with Gildartz? The Fairy Tail guild with some help of Sabretooth members managed to pull off a victory against a really powerful dark guild composed of Etherias created by Zeref

But, it was a battle with several close calls...

Some moments after meeting Zeref himself, who left a cryptic message to Natsu, nearly the entire guild gets trapped by Tartaros' Alegria. After Lucy saved the guild, Natsu/Lucy and co. almost get drowned/killed by an enemy's ability. And then we have anti-magic bombs nearly depowering everyone in the continent, which thankfully didn't happen thanks to another unexpected intervension.

You probably get the idea...

But, the thing that affected Natsu the most during that battle was seeing his "father," the person he sought for so long, getting mutilated by Acnologia as he bid his farewell to his son Natsu. Losing a parent is already a pretty painful experience, and seeing a father die while being powerless to help him is quite a traumatic experience

After the whole ordeal, Natsu decides to go to a 1-year training trip only accompanied by Happy. He doesn't say goodbye to any of his guildmates before going, but he felt the need to leave a letter to Lucy telling her about this trip.

We already know how that went from Lucy's side, who tried and failed to reach Natsu, and even though she said she felt alone, she didn't leave with any other guildmate or friends after Fairy Tail got temporarily disbanded. We could talk about how the one person she wanted to be with the most was Natsu, but that's not the point of this analysis/theory (I'd wish it was lol).

During his trip, he ran into Gildartz...

...and some crazy shenanigans ensue

Some time later, Gildartz finds Natsu not being able to get any sleep that night. Which led to the panels that we’ll discuss in this post.

Which we’ll do after going over what happened after this chapter...

To make things short, Natsu, Lucy, and Happy reunite. But then Natsu gets the new that the guild disbanded shortly after his leave, and eventually takes a look at Lucy’s efforts to track their guildmates...

...without realizing it, Lucy’s actions motivated Natsu to bring back Fairy Tail.

He reassured Lucy along the way, doing his best to ease her fears and dispel her concerns. (There are some underrated moments there)

Now that we have context, we can finally get to the meat and potatoes of this post: “enigmatic” scene from Chapter 417

The scene has no dialogue, the storytelling for this chapter relies solely on visuals.

That makes it difficult to determine what they were talking about. But, we can only use the context the story gave us, and read Natsu’s reaction to get an idea of what he was saying.

We know that Gildartz realizes Natsu couldn’t sleep that night, he walks to him, and then we have this moment. At first, Natsu seems troubled, like he’s starting to get something out of his chest.

At the second panel we see a mix of emotions, he seems sad, flustered, and somewhat self-conscious.

Would it have something to do with the death of his father? Maybe, people deal with loss and grief in different manners. Even the smallest of detailes reminding them of their dead loved ones is enough to make a man (or a woman) crumble

Still, Natsu dealing with mixed feelings is also consistent with his reluctance when deciding to leave a goodbye letter to Lucy.

More often than not, Natsu drags Lucy to his crazy adventures, a trend that occurs so often that Lucy eventually felt bount to Natsu. They even earned the title of the most compatible team from Fairy Tail.

But, this time, instead of getting Lucy to come, he decided to go without her. Are we seeing in his face shame, guilt, and/or regret due to this choice? It’s possible, and it would fit nicely as well.

But, what argument could we make to support all of this? The unique “war” they experienced against Tartaros... let me elaborate on that:

What did Fairy Tail went through so far?

They repelled attacks from enemy guilds. Prevailed against the likes of Oración Seis. Team Natsu survived Edolas. They bested Grimoire Heart, a guild led by a former master of Fairy Tail. They dominated several parts of GMGs until getting their rep back after 7-years of absence. And even survived a multiple dragon attacks.

They managed to win and/or survive most of these encounters with minimal loses along the way. But, the conflict against Tartaros pushed some Fairy Tail members to the edge magically, physically, and emotionally. And as explained earlier had several close calls

Natsu not only saw how his father got killed, he also saw Zeref as a threat, but somewhat understood there was a large gap he had to overcome if he wanted to protect his loved ones from Zeref.

The narrative of the story implies Natsu’s decision of that 1-year training was to avoid losing the people he held dear. And we already saw what happened when he thought he lost Lucy...

However, even with this narrative on our side, it’s difficult to establish a connection between Natsu’s scene at chapter 417 and any possible grief or regret for Igneel or Lucy.

What about what happened right after the 1-year training?

We know Natsu was delighted for spending time with Lucy, and a little frustrated at the fact Fairy Tail’s got disbanded. And we also know he only took action to reunite the guild after Lucy inadvertently gave him the impulse to do so. But, making a connection between these developments and chapter 417 is even harder, even if we factor how Natsu played the role of emotional support for Lucy.

It’s easier to consider what happened before that scene as a potential cause for Natsu’s reactions.

The ambiguity of the moment makes it hard offering a clear-cut answer about it, but the context at least reduces the matter to two choices that are not mutually exclusive, and one of them implies NaLu.

In conclusion, is the chapter 417 scene a NaLu hint? It’s possible, but not certain. The panels convey several feelings and emotions, and the context helps us limit the cause, but we don’t have enough evidence to provide a more concrete answer.

#fairy tail #nalu #natsu dragneel #igneel #theoretical analysis #theory?#chapter 417

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etherealluminescence · 4 years ago

Note

Hellllloooo!!! Your work is really goood! May I request a little headcanon? I'm an My Hero Academia fan and this concept kind of humored me, I don't know if I should consider this an AU but how would the brothers react to an MC who is a hero in training student with a flashy quirk! You can choose what quirk she gets and feel free to choose any gender, Thank You!

Hey anon! I’m fine with AUs so don’t worry. I’m a major BNHA fan myself, having been a fan for around three years. This kind of excited me because I got to write about the two fandoms I really like together. I’m just gonna do GN! Sorry if the explaination to the quirk is a bit long;;

Retagging because it removed the tags for me**

| MHA!AU | Brothers react to a flashy quirk GN!MC

The quirk is one I’m using for my OC which is a pretty flashy one I would say!! I hope you don’t mind I reference my own OC’s quirk. But it’s :

Gale attraction

A subdivision of air manipulation. The user can suck air towards them, break it apart, send it forwards, all in small or large consistencies, but they have to have something as the center of gravitation, that makes the air get suck towards it, or apart from it. My OC uses a long sword that can curl and compact, and straighten out to become long, so that’s why I consider this quirk flashy, since he slams a large sword at people’s directions and suddenly sends them flying. The MC in here does the same. Ex of how it works : The user uses slams their sword forward facing the opponent, and sucks in the air around them by using the sword as the center of gravitation, and lets it out in one go forward, causing a large blast. It all happens in the span of a few seconds, so it’s hard to see.

Lucifer

Lucifer knew that you had a pretty powerful quirk since you attended UA, you were a third year in class A, according to his documents when he was picking a student. However he couldn’t tell what exactly was your quirk because Diavolo just said to pick your paper and Lucifer couldn’t be bothered anymore.

When you arrived in the devildom you were immediately confused. You thought it was a villain’s quirk, since you were just in a battle, and you began to use your quirk.

Why did the villain’s partner suddenly your their quirk? Did they want to run now? Where are the other heroes who were with you, or did they have other illusions?

You didn’t know who these people were in front of you, but you assumed it was an illusion so you kind of attacked Lucifer with your quirk.

The strong wind expelled out your blade at the speed of light as you swung in his direction. Lucifer managed to transform into his form and stop your quirk from doing damage to him with his wings, but it was just a barely able to.

He didn’t have much time to think, but he thought that you were going to be difficult, and your quirk was actually strong enough to cause him to be pushed back a few centimetres. Wow.

He tried not to be impressed with you, because you cannot act like that in devildom. You were lectured like crazy and Diavolo laughed it all off.

After a few hours Lucifer gave you a simple compliment of “You have a strong quirk, don’t disappoint.” And you were actually feeling pretty proud from that.

Lucifer actually acknowledged you, and told you that he did. He told you that you were strong, even thought he looked like he was going to murder you all day and throughout the meeting.

Mammon

Even though Mammon was your guide, he had no clue you were a quirk user. When he finally hears you say you wish to train your quirk he’s just like?? You have one?

After assuring him you do, he asks to see it. You say your quirk isn’t a toy you can fool around with, and can cause some serious damage.

He thinks about it during the night and finds a way to make money off of it. You want to train... and he can place bets.. he can register you in a tournament where demons fight each other using their power or weapons if that’s their style... and well you could well lose and he takes the money from betting on the demons!!

Mammon explained to you his idea, but left out which side he was betting on. He had zero faith in you since he didn’t know you attended UA, and didn’t know how strong your quirk actually was.

You happily agreed since you figured you could go all out against a demon, since they are tough.

When the first round came, the majority of people bet in the demon’s favor, rather than your’s. You couldn’t care less since you really wanted a good workout.

As soon as the “one” came out of the referee’s mouth, you pulled out your sword and twirled it straight in a matter of seconds, and immediately sent a blast towards the demon’s direction.

The demon formed an “X” shape with his hands and dug his heels into the ground thinking you couldn’t blast him too far if you were just hitting the ground. Maybe your quirk was making the ground shake or something weak.

But what he didn’t see was the giant gust approaching him till it was too late. His eyes were glued shut from the strong blast affect and he was sent flying. He was far out of the rings, and looked like he was bleeding.

Whoops-you-did-not-think-a-demon-would-injure-so-easily

You tried to play it off cool but it was obvious you were frantically worrying about the demon.

At that moment, Mammon was convince to always bet on you. He immediately yelled allowed “That’s my human!” despite not even betting on you at first.

He is overly proud especially when you win since no one can tell what exactly your quirk was, you working way too fast.

He’s always clinging to you now and if someone harasses him he will be like “My human can kick your ass!! Fight me (them) if you want to taste dirt.”

Leviathan

Oh my goodness oh my goodness oh my goodness is this happening.

Levi is internally freaking out when he firsts meets you because you’re a hero in training!! Heroes are literally so cool and you’re a person not only with a quirk but attending THE U.A. high.

He wants to immediately know your quirk and how it works so he can replicate any scenes and do cosplay stuff, or say he knew a pro hero before they were famous and people made merch of them.

As soon as you two were alone, curtesy of Mammon not wanting to pay his debt back, Levi told you to come with him.

He took you to his room and nervously asked you to show him your quirk, he was super excited and was nervous at the same time and tried not to show either of the emotions.

You happily agreed because you love showing your quirk to friends, family, and fans.

You proceeded to take off your large jacket, and he saw a sword on your belt’s side. He immediately thought it would be powerful because you had a weapon.

You tell him to enjoy and watch the show. You twist your blade and it goes from curly to a long straight and thin blade. He’s sort of in awe at what a cool concept it was for a weapon to hide and yet easily open.

The fun had only begun, you concentrated, closing your eyes, with the quiet surrounding you, you proceed to swing your blade forward, aimed towards one of his less filled up walls, and blast an air strike.

You open it up to see you damaged and broke the wall, and the furniture in the next room over from the amount of air you gathered and blasted. But Levi didn’t care about his broken room, he was gushing at how cool you were.

You run a hand through your hair and give him a smile, telling him that it’s your job. “A hero should always go all out for their fans.”

Levi now wants merchandise of you asap and will be your first fan in the club and will become the president of it because of how epic that was, and if that was just you showing him your quirk just how awesome would you be in an actual fight?

Needless to say Levi clung to you for your entire trip in devildom.

Satan

Satan had read about how humanity has slowly gained quirks, or strong powers. They were all unique, with some common ones, and they had all sorts of uses. Sometimes the human could even look non human or become a different state of matter.

He was a little bit interested in seeing your quirk, he wasn’t going to lie. During the council meeting they were told that you are a UA student, but never mentioned your quirk, so he could only think of what it could be in his head.

When you finally came, he tried to be discreet about watching you from afar to see if you would use your quirk.

You didn’t want to just randomly cause havoc, so you didn’t use your quirk at all for the first few days. If people asked you what it was you’d just reply with “Something flashy, I guess?”

What was that supposed to mean? Even detective Satan couldn’t figure it out considering the vast quantities of quirks there are in the world.

Finally, he approached you after school his curiosity getting the better of him. He asked you to show him your quirk, and he was pretty polite. He told you he was interested in how human bodies work these days after reading so much about quirks.

You obliged, but tell him you’ll have to go to your room to do it since you left your sword there, not wanting to destroy school property.

This led Satan to believe your quirk is sword based, and you can use the weapon to slice through anything. He felt pretty proud with that conclusion.

Boy was he wrong, standing in the aftermath of what you just did. You both went into your room and there, you picked up your sword and straightened it out, aiming at a wall, you slammed it down, bursting the air forward and broke the wall with it.

You were mentally cursing as you casually fixed your sword’s state, and brushed off your shirt, as if there were dust on it. You didn’t mean to break the wall, but it just happened. What on earth did you expect?

Satan was stunned, these walls were pretty sturdy, so he thought. Not only that, but his hypothesis was completely wrong. Your quirk wasn’t the sword, was it?

Satan’s ultimate reaction to it was that he’s curious to know what exactly your quirk is, and how it works.

He questions you all the night about how it affects your body, like do you have to concentrate energy to your fingertips to control what is your center of gravitation? Could you use yourself as a center of gravitation? Would it hurt if you did? Where did you get that sword? Could you-

The questions kept coming at you that the two of you spoke until dinner. No one could find you and Satan in any other rooms, so Lucifer checked your’s. He immediately noted you and Satan are together but WHY is there a broken wall.

Oh you forgot about that.

Not to worry, Satan takes the blame. He says his anger got the best of him and that you were calming him down. You have a friend in Satan.

Lucifer could tell it was you since you had a very long sword in your hands, and that it probably had something to do with your quirk, but let it slide since Satan insisted of taking the blame.

Asmodeous

Asmo had finally convinced you to come to a club with him. In insisted he would take care of you if you couldn’t take care of yourself, bugged you for days.

He really wanted to boost his popularity being with the first quirk user in devildom, while bragging about your achievements, it’s his way of saying he is fond of you.

After going to the club, you and Asmo seperate a bit because he got dragged off by succubi, so you ended staying in the corner.

Of course you can’t do that in a club, someone will always approach you. A tall demon tried to get you to dance with them. No matter how many times you rejected, they kept going.

They were probably thinking they could intimidate you into dancing at least and then try something, but you were not a pushover. Asmo finally spots you and is worried and tries to rush over through the dancing crowd.

After the demon tries to grab your wrist you reached behind your belt and pulled out a small curly sword.

The demon was laughing since he thought you were going to attack him with a small sword. That wouldn’t even leave a minor injury. Instead, you step to the side so he’s not directly in front of you, and slam the sword to the side.

As it straightened, you collected air towards it and slided it up then down in it’s direction. You released the air collected as you slammed and a strong gust of wind exploded.

Even the demon was sent flying, crashing into a now-damaged pillar. Sighing, you twisted your sword into it’s curly state again, and put it away.

Asmo was rushing to you in awe. You just defeated a tall and scary demon by yourself!! He knew you had a strong quirk, but not enough to take down a giant demon.

When he finally made it, he took your hands in his and asked the basic questions, like “What’s your quirk? How did you do that? Can I post a selfie of us on devilgram while you use your quirk right now?” And it progressively got to

“Are you wrists okay? Are they still beautiful? Do you want me to apply lotion?”

The entire club was also in awe and staring, but you couldn’t really tell over how dramatic Asmo was being. It was an everyday occurrence to swing your blade at someone, but maybe the demons don’t have epic fights like you thought.

Needless to say Asmo is impressed and wants to brag about you and your amazing quirk to the world and how you two are closer than best friends.

Beelzebub

“Ah, Your name was Beel, right? Would you minded if I trained with you?”

You were the one to approach him first. You really wanted to keep up your training schedule while in the devildom, and hoped that the gym he went was similar to humans, or at least had a practice space.

He was ecstatic to have a training buddy, so of course you can come. You asked him if the gym had a room with training dummies or something similar, and he said there’s a free practice room with dummies you can break if you want.

You were super excited to use the dummies especially if you can break them because you might have to stop after two or three blasts if you couldn’t break them.

While at the gym you two did regular things at first, benchpress, whatever fit people do. Then you came into the training room.

You were tiny compared to Beel so he didn’t think you could do that much damage. But oh buddy. He was wrong.

You brought out your sword and twisted it straight, and stood at a very far distance. Beel was confused to why, but watched regardless.

As you swung your sword down, you collected air and then released it forward, splitting the air into two different sides for a double blast, a new technique to dispel air you’ve gathered you’ve been working on.

Beel could only see it for a matter of seconds as the wind flew past him in milliseconds, before it reached the training dummies in around five to six seconds total.

He was amazed because the training dummies were broken. The one on the left and right, which you were aiming for.

You didn’t expect them to break easily, so you turn to Beel as if saying what now with your eyes. He’s immediately patting your head and telling you that you’re amazing, and keep going.

Such a tiny person can have so much power because of their training;; such amazement and respect for you.

Afterwards he treats you to a meal and you take become close friends and gym buddies, encouraging each other not to give up on your workouts or training.

Belphegor

Belphie had never once seen your quirk, even if he tried to kill you once. You didn’t have your weapon on you at that time and couldn’t do anything.

He also didn’t attend classes often, being asleep at home. But today was a rare day he attended, and he stuck to you like glue, claiming he needed to spend time with you since his brothers hog you.

It was all going well until a demon you knew approached you. He wanted a rematch for last time and claimed he was stronger now, after two months.

Belphie was confused and you explained that while you were at school here, you’ve been challenging the top demon delinquents to get the title of strongest.

He’s just like “wowww. you really don’t have a sense of danger, do you?” The answer is you don’t. You were fairly confident in your abilities.

He stops leaning and hugging you to lean against the wall as he watches the two of you fight. If anything happens to you, he will kill the demon.

He figures it’s gonna be long and drawn out since you’re just a small human, but was he wrong.

Before the demon could move, it was over in seconds. You swung your blade down and as it expanded, you collected the air around and then sliced it sideways in the demon’s direction, giving a horizontal blast of air that he couldn’t dodge.

You called yourself the champion and pat yourself on the back as Belphie is stunned. You really just defeated a delinquent demon with your quirk in seconds, huh?

Belphie tells you you’re alright for a human and rather than pry into what it is, asks if you can prank Lucifer with it.

He’s pretty nonchalant but knows that you can take care of yourself now, and feels a little better with that knowledge since he can’t be with you 24/7.

You’re both going to trip Lucifer on small bits of air occasionally when he’s super tired just to see him lose it.

#obey me #obey me hc #obey me shall we date #obey me swd

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polaristranslations · 3 years ago

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The Tenth Box

■ ■

By the way, Torai Kudaki.

When do you feel that you have "lost"?

When do you become conscious of your defeat, become aware of your inferiority, and recognize your loss?

Ah, you look as if you're wondering why I'm asking something so obvious, but this can be a pretty fundamental question in life—to the extent that whether or not you can prepare a good answer to this question can have great influence over your life. And I'm not exaggerating.

We should think of it not in terms of losing, but winning?

It's not defeat, but victory that has great influence over your life?

Indeed.

Or rather, that's an excellent point.

That has to be the case, Torai Kudaki, especially for someone in your position—it's fundamentally the right thing to do to look at things optimistically. No, I don't have any ulterior motives in using the word "fundamentally".

Don't flare up at me like that. It's the right thing both fundamentally and practically.

In the first place, it's not like you can perfectly divide right from wrong, and thus the world is quite hard to understand—it may be correct to define things based on winning rather than losing, but if you only pursue what's correct, you'll end up like me.

You don't want to end up like me, right?

Of course, you probably don't want to end up like Kumagawa Misogi, either—well, it's basically all about balance. A person that thinks only about winning should also think about losing, and a person that thinks only about losing should also think about winning.

Let's return to the initial question.

When do you feel that you have "lost"?

Unlike the Formation Game that I played with Chinu Namaji at this point in time, the real world is not made up of such easy-to-understand rules—there didn't exist any umpire that could definitively lay down judgment as to who the winner was and who the loser was.

You could think that you emerged victorious, but other people may see you as having lost. You could be filled to the brim with a sense of defeat, but other people may think that you were clearly the winner.

That doesn't happen?

Well, I don't know about that.

However, in the case when you learn from your defeat, then you could say that defeat was necessary for you to win later on, and thus that defeat was an integral part of your victory—and, on the other hand, if you grow too arrogant after winning and decline because you stopped putting in the effort, then you could say you lost because of that victory.

That's right.

It's an extreme example—however, there aren't very many examples that aren't extreme, in the same way there aren't very many lives that aren't extreme. My life is certainly rather extreme, and, Torai Kudaki, your life is rather extreme as well.

Well, even so, I'm definitely not saying that you shouldn't be concerned with short-term wins and losses and instead focus on the long-term—after all, there's no one that concerns themselves with short-term wins and losses more than me.

How can we be concerned with future wins and losses without being concerned with short-term wins and losses? The most important thing is to have a perspective that can see both the near and the far.

In what? Well, in life, of course.

And in a competition, as well.

Speaking of which, for reference, I think that I have lost when I think that I have lost. No matter how I try to force logic and requirements on it, that would be the ultimate conclusion I arrive on.

No matter how much someone explains to me that it will benefit me in the future, no matter how much I am told that it is practically like winning, no matter how much I am told that I lost the battle but won the war—to me, I lose if I think I lost.

In life, and in a competition.

The one who thinks they lost is the loser.

It's not really logical, is it.

So, in accordance with those words—against Chinu Namaji, I lost in that illogical way. Not to mention, it was an overwhelming defeat.

Strictly speaking, it wasn't that I lost, but that I was made to feel that I lost—that was what happened.

■ ■

The Formation Game.

I shouldn't need to explain the rules of the game that Chinu Namaji presented to me—a perceptive person should not only be able to predict the details of what kind of game it would be, but perhaps even make up the appropriate rules themselves.

Well, if I had the chance to nail down the details of the game, then it could have been even more thrilling, making my skin crawl with excitement—but in that situation three years ago, the rules were only based upon what Chinu Namaji thought of.

In hindsight, I feel like there was room to be a bit more creative with the rules, but for now, this was what it was—although, for her, there was probably no need to be creative.

There was no point in making the game interesting.

Chinu-senpai—it wasn't like she wanted to just play around with me.

"The rules are, let's see..."

I'll abbreviate Chinu-senpai's explanation a bit.

She said something along these lines.

"Within an hour from now, each of us will choose five team members—well, let's go with having no alternates. You can only choose from the students that are still here at Hakobune Middle School. I'll make it so that it's against the rules to call or text a student who's already left the school to come back—that randomness will make it more like a game."

"......"

I listened quietly.

Naturally, I was able to more or less predict the rules based on the name of the game, but that didn't mean I wanted to make a careless mistake by skipping the explanation. I wanted to be serious when it came to matches like these—I wanted to be sensitive.

"As for gender... Hmm. Well, it would be more interesting if we could mix it up... Like, you can only have up to three boys, or you must have at least one girl, or something like that. However, when it comes to sports, mixing boys and girls together can lead to accidents, after all. Since this is just for fun, let's limit the players to girls this time, seeing as both you and I are girls."

From her tone of voice, it seemed like Chinu-senpai was making up the rules as she went along, but it was hard to tell if that was really the case or not. She was a clever girl, so I wouldn't be surprised if she'd already come up with this much as soon as she told me the name of the Formation Game.

Well, there was no point to being too distrustful of her.

I just had to be careful to not get caught in a trap.

"In exchange, it won't matter what year they're in. You can make a team of all third-years or all first-years—of course, you can mix it up, too. But let's try to avoid any professionals—in other words, any former basketball team members cannot be scouted."

"......"

That was a bit of an unexpected rule.

It should be easy to understand why it was so unexpected—after all, Chinu Namaji herself was a former basketball team member... Really, it wasn't clear to me at all what happened to the girls' basketball team, but it seemed for certain that there was some sort of connection, some history, between her and the other former basketball team members, which meant that she would have had an advantage when it came to the game.

Well, who knows.

Since this was just for fun, I could understand the logic behind excluding those specialized in basketball from the possible team members. In the same sense that pros couldn't enter in amateur matches—however, I felt that the rule was a bit too strict for something she supposedly thought up just now.

Strict... Or perhaps, rigid.

That's why, at this point, I interjected.

"Couldn't making amateurs play basketball against each other also lead to accidents? This may be a bit of a foolish thing to say, but I think that some, if not all, of the members should be people that have at least gone through proper training..."

"I'm not saying that you can't get people with experience. I don't mind if you find someone who's played mini-basketball in elementary school, or someone who plays street basketball out on the town—but, but but, former girls' basketball team members are not allowed."

Because it's awkward for me.

That's what Chinu-senpai said.

"......"

Well, I didn't know what to say to that—if I tried to delve too much into the matter, it would probably make things even more awkward. After all, I needed to win this game in order to figure out what was going on with the girls' basketball team. That was how I felt.

Well, if I had to guess, it would be that there was some kind of internal conflict within the girls' basketball club, which led to the club splitting up and ceasing to exist in a near-catastrophic way—since it was practically devoid of people now—so it would be "awkward" to meet again because of a game like this.

If it was like that, it wouldn't just be awkward, it might even be depressing.

I was guessing on my own and convincing myself on my own, but even if I was on the mark, my way of thinking had been a bit shallow—I probably could have been thinking a little more deeply about the situation facing the girls' basketball team and the incident that occurred.

"...So can I understand it as, choosing your acquaintances is not allowed?"

"No, no, not that. I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that choosing former members of the girls' basketball team is not allowed. Specifically—"

After that, Chinu-senpai listed the names, classes, and seat numbers of some students. They used to be in the same club, so it made sense that she remembered their names, but it was a bit discomforting to learn that she completely remembered their classes and seat numbers as well.

Well, it was a discomfort I could ignore.

"—Those students are out. Other than them, anybody you get is fine. Ahaha, well, they'll have to be girls, so it won't be just anybody—Japanese sure is hard.[?]"

"......"

"It doesn't matter to me how you decide who to scout, either—you can choose your friends, or you can feel free to bring completely unrelated people, if you manage to come to an agreement on the conditions."

"Conditions?"

"Well, it's not like someone you don't know will agree to come with you just because you asked them, unless there's some sort of condition, right?—maybe you'll take over cleaning duty for them, or you'll do their homework for them... You'll probably have to pay some sort of price in exchange."

"Uh-huh... I see. Basically, compensating them for agreeing to be scouted for this game."

"Right, compensation. Of course, if there's some benevolent student who'll agree to come for free, then you won't need to pay compensation then... But anyway, let's be wholesome about this."

"Wholesome?"

"When scouting for members, unethical behavior will not be allowed."

"......"

Unethical.

It was somewhat ambiguous wording, but I could guess that it probably meant that violence and anything illegal was prohibited—Chinu-senpai was essentially proposing a sportsmanlike game.

"Five people in an hour... Scouting five people, huh? It'll be pretty close."

As I said those words out loud, I could feel my heart becoming agitated at this game that I was experiencing for the first time—although, it was inevitable that a restless person would get tripped up.

"So, what happens after that? The match between Team Chinu and Team Kurokami? Would we be playing a normal game of basketball?"

"Well, how would you define 'a normal game of basketball'? No, they'll be people unrelated to our situation, so I don't want to get them too involved—let's set the rules of the game to be something that can fit into a break period. A five-minute game without halftime? Since the people you can scout aren't limited to those with sports experience, I think we should cut it down to a short length of time. Since there are no alternates, there will naturally be no substitutions allowed, and no time-outs, either—on the off chance that someone gets injured, we'll put a stop to the game right then and there. I don't want this to be an unreasonable game. We'll use the full court... No, maybe we should go with the half court? Ah, but actually, it might be harder for amateurs to understand half-court rules..."

From then on, Chinu-senpai began fleshing out the smaller details, but I think I can spare you the rest—in the Formation Game, the team formation was the main part, so that was up to where I could participate as a player.

My and Chinu-senpai's role in the Formation Game was not even that of a coach—since scouting the players was the main stage of the game, a closer comparison would be us being recruiters.

Finding players.

Discovering players.

Inviting players.

And forming the team—if I had wanted to, I would have included training the team in the content of the game, which would have made the game even more exciting, but Chinu-senpai provided neither the time nor the rules to do so. Whether she thought it would complicate the game more, or she thought it would be an unnecessary waste of time counting backwards from the time school closed for the day, or she didn't even think about it at all—it wasn't very clear.

"—Something like that. Any objections?"

After her explanation, Chinu-senpai opened it up to questions—although, it wasn't like I could ask if there was enough leeway for a change in the rules. Other than that, I didn't have anything in particular to ask—it was simple.

There were no objections.

If anything, I was beginning to feel as if I wanted to get into this fresh new game as soon as possible.

"I have no objections. Then, let's begin."

"Let's begin?... Whoa, whoa. There's no need to measure it precisely, but... All right, let's say the thirty-minute mark is our starting point. From there, we'll gather members for an hour. And at the next thirty-minute mark, we'll have them play a five-minute game... Is that okay?"

"Yes."

"If you manage to win, or rather, if your team manages to win against mine, then I'll answer any question you have—whether it's about President Kumagawa, or about the girls' basketball team, or anything."

"Yes. I'm fine with those conditions."

I consented—a ready affirmation.

And, naturally, I didn't ask at all about what Chinu-senpai would demand from me if I lost, nor did I even begin to imagine—that was the ready affirmation I gave.

■ ■

When do you recognize that you've lost—when do you feel as if you've lost?

It's a question that has great influence over your life.

However, if you think about the trick to competitions in life—and rather than this being what I think, it's more about how Chinu-senpai thought—then it's important not to think of winning and losing, and especially losing, as self-centered.

Chinu Namaji.

Chinu-senpai would later say this.

She would say this without sounding too proud or too condescending—as if it was a matter of fact, just as if she were stating the fact that the ground would get wet if it rained.

"The best way to win—is to win without letting your opponent know that you've lost. Ideally, it's wonderful to make your opponent think you've won even though you've lost. If you think you've lost, then you've lost—but if you don't let your opponent think you've lost, it doesn't necessarily mean that you didn't win."

"Winning" and "losing".

Aren't opposites, you see—

So said Chinu-senpai.

Those would be the last words I would hear from Chinu Namaji.

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anonthenullifier · 3 years ago

Note

So…how’s that next chapter of post hoc going?

It’s coming along. I’m 2/3rds into it. Ideally it’ll be done in a week (or so), but until then, here’s a small look at the chapter. 🙂

________________

The composed email lazes on his computer screen, so carefree and unassuming despite the threat inherent in its existence. “Just click send.”

“I am working my way to it.”

Wanda’s raised eyebrows doubt his resolve, the ring on her right index finger clinking out her impatience against his You know what gets on my nerves? Myelin mug. “Want me to do it?”

“No, because then you will see the recipient’s name.” They had established in their original IRB that he alone would have access to the names of their participants, a necessary risk since someone has to code for individual level characteristics and be able to connect the gifts with the RSVPs. Once data collection is completed and all data coded to Wanda’s liking, he will deidentify it all so she can analyze it without compromising any personal information of their participants. Given their current predicament, he even had to remove her access to the email account. Regardless of this agreed upon protocol, it has not stopped her from slyly trying to get him to slip up. “I will have the courage any moment now.”

A pointed sip of her tea actually helps, marginally, his nerves splitting between the email and her undivided attention, though one is more pleasant than the other. “Treat it like a bandaid.”

Not psychologically unsound. The fact he is cogitating so much on sending the email is itself a cognitive issue of impact bias where he presumes (wrongly) that it will be emotionally negative enough that he is now seeking to avoid it. In reality, he knows it will be much like the bandaid Wanda is suggesting. If he just sends it and then seeks out distraction or some other task, the negative emotions will not only be less intense but have a shorter duration. He just needs to trust his psychological immune system. “Very well,” he accepts this is the best path forward but he still reads the email one more time, making sure that the tone is one of sharing information and not desperation given they are informing their participant of the fact that a scheduling error has led them to move their wedding to a state park pavilion an hour away. This will not ruin their study, and even if it does harm the data, they have strategies to ameliorate the impact. The world will not end, even if his heart seems to think it will. “All right...” Vision slowly clicks the send button “here we go,” and there is no taking it back now.

“I’m proud of you.”

The hand patting his shoulder is already activating his coping mechanisms, his right leg crossing over his left as he swivels his chair to face her. “Before I stumble into the depths of rumination,” something she finds far more amusing than he does, “perhaps we can find something not related to our study to discuss.”

Whenever faced with a task, Wanda’s eyes wander in thought. He always imagines she is tracing the threads of topics and trying to find the one farthest from where he thinks she will go. “I’m beginning to suspect my work with Hank is an attempt to rekindle his failed marriage.”

“Fascinating.” Of the core group he spends time with, Vision is always the one absent any gossip. In a way this should be uplifting to his moral standing and staunchness to not belittle others, but then it leaves him in the quandary of wanting to remain aloof while also very much fascinated by what Wanda is dangling before him. Information gathering does not have to be synonymous with gossiping, as one is passive and the other active. “What makes you reach that conclusion?”

“Okay,” the mug descends onto his desk with an excited thud and Wanda leans forward, hands ready to gesticulate her way through the information, “so Janet van Dyne, his estranged wife, is one of the foremost quantum computing minds and has started doing a lot of work on quantum time travel.”

“Oh I dislike time travel.” Because the rules are never followed and the consequences are rarely sensical.

“You’ll be happy to know she hasn’t achieved it yet.”

“I am much relieved.”

Wanda scrunches her nose for a half second before continuing, “But what she has been working on is a computational model of whether the butterfly effect would actually exist in quantum time travel.”

An effect he knows she dislikes and yet she is invigorated at the thought. “To make sure I am following, you are saying that she is trying to mathematically establish whether going back in time and fiddling with the past would actually impact the future?”

Wanda nods, the sheer enjoyment she gets from the topic leading to an antsiness that shifts between turning her mug a couple degrees at a time, pushing her hair behind her ear, and varying the positioning of her legs. “So far she’s found evidence that if we view time with a quantum lens, it actually might correct itself when small changes happen and that the original timeline might remain resilient enough to outlast the change.”

“Does this not inherently contradict your own work?”

“Not entirely,” an ounce of uncertainty shoulders into her voice, “quantum chaos still exists but she seems to suggest it acts differently with competing timelines and reality could have a self-correcting mechanism.”

It all seems a bit too muddled for his ability to comprehend the difference. “What is it that you and Hank are doing that is meant to fix their personal timeline?”

“He’s been insisting on us doing a lot of different quantum walks,” she explained this to him some time ago, complete with a diagram of a quantum tree. It is all about the pathway photons travel to get from one point to another, but not linearly. All of the branches intersect and so their studies are about predicting when jumps between branches occur and how to determine movement. In his mind it is like the subway, how there are various lines that intersect at any given station and that you could take four travelers from station A and ask them to find their way to Station F. They could all take the same series of trains or switch between lines, maybe even one travels by bus or foot for a time. Most people would only ever consider the start and the end and determine the journey must be linear, even when it might not be, especially if there are delays or lines shut down. No doubt it is far more complicated than that. “I mean a lot of different ones to try and disprove her findings. I only found out because I noticed he’d been publishing commentaries to her articles and using our data as support for his arguments.”

“How precisely is challenging her work meant to win her back?”

Wanda finishes her tea but doesn’t let go of the cup, her fingers tracing the glossy raised letters, “Hoping she’s intellectually turned on by it?”

There are researchers in his own niche area that have a similar, albeit non-romantic (he presumes) dynamic of obsession to always counter each other, to always craft a study meant to disprove the theoretical underpinnings of the other’s work. It’s why conferences can get dicey when the alcohol is free flowing and debates erupt over empathy and selfishness and how to delineate the two movitations. “I cannot speak for Janet, but it seems a bit more depressing than romantic.”

“At least it’s distracting him from his ant obses—-“ The tell tale chime of their study’s email disrupts her, “What do you think we got this time?”

“Let’s see,” he switches to the tab and in place of the usual notification from their wedding website there is an email sitting there with the sender as Tony Stark. Physiologically his heart remains firmly in his chest, but figuratively it plummets through the floor, “It is from our participant.”

In the time it takes for the comment to be processed and her, “That participant?” Vision has already read the response twice, his eyes going back for a third read through to make sure he has not found himself in some alternative universe created by his neurons firing too quickly.

#Ask anon #Replies #post hoc #Scarlet vision

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rachetmath · 4 years ago

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Optimistic Realism: Support Character Purpose

This may be my last rant about this show. As usually it’s my opinion and if you agree then like or reblog, your choice. If you want to add on to this or have a question then comment. If you disagree, fine, but afraid to leave a comment. Read this at your own will and time.

I know I been talking about RWBY a lot, mainly about Jaune Arc, however I am going for a new approach. I am going to discuss what I feel should have been implied in the show between team RWBY and JRN from the beginning and how it should have played in volume seven. And that is with in the title, Optimistic Realism. It’s basically a combination of optimism with realism. But, before we discuss this, let us first know what they mean individually and see who fits in with that definition.

Optimism as stated on the internet, "Is believing no matter how bad things get there will always be a bright future ahead." Basically, staying positive. Team RWBY fits this definition considering each of them are based on characters with these traits. We have seen that in volume one through three on their missions and during the fall. They always go with the flow and stay positive even when things seem impossible. Even in volume four and five they had to regain some of their courage in order to continue forward but to win the battle at Heaven. In volume six, even put their positivity to test, considering what they learned about their world and Salem. Knowing that information crippled them allowing the Apathy to take over, and them barely making it out alive.

Now for realism. Basically "Having to deal with a situation at hand, to the best of your ability." Team JNR fits this well because their based-on warriors. Warriors in order to get stronger they must train, and gain experience while going through hardship. In volume one to three Jaune had to get stronger because of world he chose inhabit. Pyrrha had to deal with being outcasted by her peers and teachers. Ren and Nora do to the fact that they have no home to return to, being hunters was the only thing they had going for them. When the fall happened Pyrrha died leaving team JNR broken. In volume four, Jaune mourns over Pyrrha just like Ren with his home. In volume five, team JNR were ready to fight Oscar the moment he mentions Ruby’s name and Jaune still attacked Cinder, all for realistic reasons. And in volume six, team JRN like team RWBY were upset with the information they were given, and in order to continue, they realistically have no choice because one; Pyrrha died for this. Two; they came to far to fail. And three; might as well not let the next generation have to deal to with Salem. Even volume seven they act real. Jaune and Nora may have stated facts about James’s actions but due to the situation at hand they still followed orders.

Now before I continue let me explain what I believe a support character's job is. Support characters do not just heal or defend the main character. The support characters help the main characters by being stronger, smarter, or have a better since of their emotions than they do. They do not have to be cool or invincible. Zoro, from One Piece, is Luffy’s second in command because he asserts authority. And Nami is third because she can make a plan for the crew to follow. Luffy is too carefree to do any of that. Edward, from Full Metal Alchemist, has Scar, Winry and Mustang. Scar because he knows more about alchemy than Ed does. Mustang considering, he is a soldier of the military, knows more about the complications of city affairs and knows when to take necessary action over being pacifistic. And both are more powerful than Ed and Al are. Winry despite not doing much continues to encourage Ed to get stronger, to see his goal through, and goes anywhere Edward may be to help repair his arm and leg. Basically, the support character's job is not just to be some cheerleader, but serve as guidance and guardians, people who act in the main characters best interest even when he or she may not know it yet. Or if it is mixed in with their own.

Now with that out the way, let us discuss how optimism and realism could affect their actions in volume seven. Yes, James was acting like a nice guy, however it ran the risk of us hating our main characters for their actions. To me, volume seven was like Clover said, "The right choice is the hardest to make." However, his words hold no weight when we the audience had no choice but to side with James because the other two factions were doing nothing but stealing and lying in his face. So here is how I would in some levels re write volume seven.

In volume seven, let us keep half of everything the same. The group become professional hunters, Penny is framed, Jacque still wins the election, Robyn goes criminal and Yang still tells her everything. Instead of team RWBY and JNRO thus far doing nothing, they should have been more active. Now after Yang tells Robyn the truth and lies to the Ace-ops about her getting away, returns to Atlas to their dorms, only to have everyone waiting for them. Ruby decides to talk somewhere private where James or anyone outside their group could not hear them. Truth of the matter is Ruby and the others were already suspected of Yang and Blake, since one, Yang never backs down from a fight and two, Blake has a history of rebellion. The two know they cannot hide, so they admitted to what they done. This led to an argument amongst them with Weiss and Oscar taking Yang's side and Ren and Nora, not so much, until Ruby and Jaune silence them, demanding they return to their dorms and discuss the matter tomorrow.

The next day, early in the morning, Ruby and Jaune decided to talk about the matter themselves. This led to them arguing with each other. Jaune using levels of facts while Ruby uses levels of reasoning and opinion. Both continued to yell at each other until they reach a conclusion. Ruby and Jaune both agreed what Robyn is doing is wrong, but they cannot deny James recent actions to be affective either. So, they made an idea to mix their teams together with Jaune going after Robyn and Ruby staying in Atlas trying to talk with James. Jaune teams up with Nora, Yang and Blake considering all three of them want to help Mantle. Ruby gets Ren, Weiss and Oscar, since Weiss knows Atlas, Ren sides with James and James will not let Oscar out of his sight. Now the real fun begins.

Jaune and his new team JNBY, goes around the streets of Mantle along with Penny to fight grimm and come up with a strategy to capture Robyn and the happy huntresses. However, Jaune wanted to be clear that he is not trying to arrest her but persuade her to surrender and go talk to James. He tells them while Ruby and Oscar tries to reason with James and investigate Weiss's father, they will be watching for Tyrian while chasing down Robyn. Basically, they are trying to make two factions come together and fight against a common enemy. Jaune and his team later manages to capture Robyn only for the citizens to shame them and demand they let her go. Jaune does release them out of their cuffs, however, remember, Jaune is representing realism, so while the crowd is cheering and Robyn celebrates her victory, Jaune makes it clear to her on what is happening. Jaune using facts, expressing his experience and asking questions in which Robyn could not answer, made her think for moment that something big is coming and she will not be able to protect the people from it. Basically, Robyn was sorrowing up in the air, only for Jaune to slam her back into reality and making her choose a realistic approach to solving a matter, even if the people may not agree with her. Putting her in James’s shoes.

Ruby and her new team RWRO, goes on missions to defend and find resources for the new tower. Oscar would continue trying to talk to James but also trains. Weiss tries to figure out if her father had cheated the votes only for Jacque to stop her at every turn. Ren was still being true to James, reports to him but keeps their secret about Jinn and Salem from him. At first, Ren was about to squeal but when James heard what team JNBY were doing, he became skeptical about it and order his men to keep an eye on them. Even willing to fight them if they pose a threat. When Ren heard this, he started believing James may not be as noble as he thought he was. So, he kept his mouth shut and informs Ruby on what is going on. Ruby then informs Jaune in return that way James's soldiers do not get in their way. Finally, when she hears team JNBY captured Robyn and persuaded her to talk to James, she was happy but after the links James went through, because of his suspicions, she decided to tell him the truth. Once he heard everything, he was furious and more importantly scared. However, Oscar using his words persuaded him to see things through. James accepts the truth and was willing to talk to Robyn. Good timing too because team JNBY were about to fight the Ace-ops.

This is when we can consider James a villian or an anti-hero. James turns from being a reasonable man to an unreasonable dictator when him and Robyn meet face to face. Robyn agreed to his demands to return all the stuff she stole as long as James continues to protect Mantle. However she still wanted the wall to be repaired, and the security to be moderate as Atlas so no one can gain control very easily as they did at the rally. James refuses, believing it to be a waste of time. This is where Ruby and Jaune get angry. Jaune tells James what was on his mind about Robyn, believing what Robyn states is fair considering half of the soldiers down in Mantle are robots, and she was willing to return what she stole and maybe assist them in capturing Tyrian. But James believing in his military might does not listen. He then told his Ace-ops to take Robyn away, only her to pull off one last trick up her sleeves. She fired a heavy flash arrow grenade, blinding everyone and escapes.

After that, Ruby and others were in the training room, trying to practice, only to feel apathetic. They felt defeated. Qrow and Maria tried to cheer them up but decided to let them be. Ruby apologized, thinking she never should have told James anything, only for Yang to say the opposite, stating at least he knows what’s at stake. Jaune questions her statement based on what they already saw so far, feels James has no clue at all, only for Oscar to calm him down before he goes too far. Weiss asked what they are going to do now. Nora suggested they just leave and go to Vacuo, Ren suggested maybe stay in Mantle and try to keep it safe, only for Ruby to tell everyone to be prepared for the worst. The gang were surprised and turns to Jaune, only for him to nod his head in agreement. Jaune stated facts, if they turn on James, they will be wanted national criminals. If they go about recklessly it could makes things worse than they already are. And if they do not know what Salem could be planning then they might as well be setting Atlas up to be destroyed. Everyone despite how cruel they feel, understood and decided to keep training and prepare for the next day.

And that is all. Salem never shows up, James still wants to continue with the new tower, Robyn is relevant and RWBY and JNRO are now fully active. Basically, what I hated about the seventh volume is it was completely one sided. James was the only good guy, the main characters were not active but reactive to their situations, and Robyn was just some nobody who could have served a purpose in story. Nobody but James was given any sort of character. And those who did get some character, did not deserve it. Like Yang, who was supposed to have more of a problem with keeping secrets especially from James.

So, what do I want out of all this? Simply, give everyone a role to play other than the main characters. The main characters do not have to do everything. If team JNRO can relate to or handle a situation better than team RWBY can, then let them do their jobs. Team RWBY can still be stronger than them but they cannot always be wiser or more decisive than everyone else. They can be reckless but give a group like Jaune, Ren, Oscar and Nora an ability to grab them by their hairs or the collar of their shirts and know when to tell them; Jaune to Yang: "Calm down and think."; Ren to Blake: "Focus."; Nora to Weiss: "It's okay."; and Oscar to Ruby: "Slow down and listen." Team JNRO unlike team RWBY suffered the most out all the characters. Jaune lost Pyrrha because she was stupid to go back to fight Cinder. Ren and Nora lost their homes and families because hunters were never there. And Oscar literally had to leave his home behind and may never see his aunt and uncle again, since he could die or fade from existence. What I am saying is give support characters room to breathe and grow so they can continue to do their jobs. Which is to act in the main characters best interest.

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

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THE KNIGHT BUS

A/N: Wow, I hardly had any author's notes in the last two, and so far I've had really stinking long one's in every chapter of this. I love it! I'm enjoying commenting back as much as you guys seem to be reading, so here we go Guest: (sucks in deep breath even though I'm typing.)

I'm glad you like the way I do Lily. I always pictured her more fun-loving than a lot of people seem to, she married James Potter for crying out loud, she has to have some sense of humour, but she's also fiercely overreacting in protecting people. Lots of you have noted that she does seem a little too forgiving of Snape in this series, and I promise that will start wearing off real soon in this book. She was big on it in the first book, mostly due to her instinct and flashbacks of how they treated him through their school years. He didn't have much to do in the second book, so there wasn't much time to show that she really was getting sick of how he treats Harry. Mostly when she berates the Marauders, it's more of a trying to rein them in type thing, rather than outright disapproving of them.

They don't know that the person who broke out was from Azkaban. It appeared on the Muggle news, and so their first instinct really was to think it was just a muggle who shared the name.

Sirius doesn't keep track of his family; I think he states in the fifth book that he didn't even find out Regulus died until he got out of Azkaban. I certainly don't see him keeping up with him to know now. If you want other candidates, Bellatrix before she got married (and who doesn't go to prison until after the downfall of Voldemort), maybe his Dad since we know so little about him, etc. but again they were mostly joking and fixing a random name to someone they knew.

I am just as bad at math as JK, so my idiocy for not double checking dates was my fault. I will go back and fix it saying that this takes place during '80 the year Harry was actually born. The part about the Fidelius charm only lasting a week, is something I genuinely forgot but did go back and check and Fudge himself saying that the charm barely lasted a week, thank you for pointing that out, but it doesn't change my timeline of events that they go into hiding just before Harry's first birthday, but I suppose they didn't actually use the Fidelius Charm itself until the week before Halloween, why it wasn't used at once and that subsequent thing won't be touched in this particular story, or any of these books, because I've no idea honestly and the character's wouldn't either. I like Guest's idea though that Dumbledore was researching stuff about the Charm in the meantime while they were lying low.

I know in canon it says that all four past people who are present were full-time members of the Order, but I cannot see Remus or Lily just 'living' off of James and Sirius. So, since I can't decide yet what kind of 'work' any of them are doing for the Order, the only thing we really see them do in the book is guard the Prophecy, they're kind of on hold for the reading, and I might touch as I go on what they do more specifically if I come up with any good ideas. I know Remus specifically 'spies' on the werewolves on Voldemort's side, but I really can't see James and Sirius letting him do this too much, they'd throw a fit. James and Sirius together could kick up enough of a fuss he couldn't do it too often, while an after Azkaban Sirius probably isn't in any kind of good position and couldn't do as much to stop anyone from doing anything.

I'm afraid I'm still refusing to answer any and all actual question like the one Guest asked, that's as the story goes, and in the chapter below coincidentally. HAHA dang this is probably the longest A/N ever, and I'm sorry if it seemed a little rambly. It's probably a bad reflection on my writing that I couldn't just sit down and explain this in story...but oh well.

HPHPHPHP

"Honestly Harry," Lily began, shaking her head from side to side, "I'm afraid to ask, but how come you've never ran away before then?"

Harry just sighed miserably as he answered, "the Dursleys ignored me more than anything else growing up. They never sat around insulting me like she was, that's why I lost my temper. I guess I'd just never been driven that far before."

"Best thing to happen, honestly," James nodded in total agreement, "mind you, I hate what led to that, but if you never go back, that will be the happiest part of this."

"Where's he going to go though?" Remus asked in concern, stating the one thing that really could make this an awful situation very quickly. "Ron and Hermione are out of the country, and even if they weren't, would they really just let him move in like that?"

"I'm positive they'd let him live there," James scoffed, "the Weasleys let him stay most of last summer, right?"

"He could stay in the Leaky Cauldron," Sirius offered, "I ran away from home a few times and stayed there, always went back eventually but it was a good place to cool off for the weekend, especially when James did go out like this."

"But does Harry think to do that?" Remus prompted.

"Well let's find out," Lily shrugged, turning to her chapter.

It took Harry several blocks before a new emotion made him stop, panic.

"Completely understandable," James nodded.

His mind couldn't seem to find a way out of this mess. He was alone in the Muggle world, and he'd just done some of the most obvious of magic, which probably meant he was going to be kicked out of school as well.

Remus cut in, saying, "Harry, you do know now you really shouldn't be expelled for that. It was uncontrolled magic."

"Do they actually know the difference though?" Sirius asked, more puzzled than actually concerned. This crime really wasn't that bad, it certainly wasn't the worst he'd heard of. "Between wandless magic and, ah, wand magic."

"No," Lily frowned, "but once they come upon the situation, and hear Harry's side of it, there shouldn't be punishment. In fact, I'd like to think the Ministry will actually do something to get Harry out of there."

Harry remained quiet, ignoring that pull in his gut that said his Mom's words weren't ringing true. Out loud he responded to Remus' original question, "yeah, now. Back then, not so much."

Harry had just broken the law, and really wasn't sure why the Ministry hadn't yet appeared to take his wand away.

"Actually kind of hoping for that here soon," James sighed, "now that Lily's said it, it seems obvious that the Ministry's going to come and see what happened and then take Harry somewhere else."

Sirius frowned, biting at his lip and trying not to argue. He personally had little to no faith in the Ministry, and he had a really bad feeling they might just try to brush this whole thing over and simply leave Harry there again once they'd fixed this situation. The after effects of which would plague him no matter what really did happen.

Harry shivered in the cold weather as he glanced around himself, mind spinning in all directions. All he could think about now was that he was a criminal, and would be cut off from the magical world. He knew Ron and Hermione would help him out given the chance, but they were both out of the country, and he had no way to get a hold of them.

"You're starting to depress me," Lily sighed, an old now familiar pang back in place as she realized no one was really there for her boy in this moment when he needed them most.

He didn't have any Muggle money either.

"So, no one ever did tell you about the Gringotts exchange then," Remus pointed out something he'd noted back in the first book.

"Nope, no one had told me then, and even if they had I might not have anyway. Didn't want the Dursleys questioning why I suddenly had money on me." Harry reminded, frowning and suddenly wondering why he was getting a mounting feeling of apprehension. Alone on Magnolia Crescent, the night that he had been most desperate to leave the Dursleys...why did this feel so important to him. The longer he sat here, wondering if he was going to have to go on the run...did that remind him of someone.

Lily cut off his train of thought by reading.

Harry did have some wizard money in his vault, but he could never drag his stuff all the way there, unless...

"Oh please tell me you grabbed your broom," James frowned in concern.

"Yes, it was inside my trunk," Harry nodded. Remembering vividly back during the summer of his first year when he had been packing away all of his stuff and worried about how to carry his cauldron, when he realized that the trunk would magically expand to hold quite a bit of stuff, even if it was so heavy he could hardly lift it.

He glanced at his wand, and came to the conclusion that if he was already expelled,

"Please stop saying that," Sirius huffed, "you're starting to depress me now."

"Can't help it," Lily pointed out as she continued with a bit of curiosity now, wondering what cockamamie plan Harry would consider doing before the Ministry got a hold of him.

he could just continue to do more magic to get himself out of this. He'd enchant his trunk to be light enough he could rope it to his broom, throw on his invisibility cloak and fly to London to empty out of his vault, and then what? Go on the run the rest of his life?

"While it's not an awful plan," James snorted, "you're either ignorant or forgetting a very important detail."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"The trace," Remus pointed out, "that allows the Ministry to find you until you turn seventeen. Plus, and no offense Harry, you really don't know enough magic that you could make it on your own anyways."

Harry nodded in understanding, not exactly up to arguing the point. While his thirteen-year-old self might have argued the matter, he also hadn't known about the trace back then and hadn't realized just how easy it would be for him to be found.

He did not enjoy this future, but he could hardly sit here forever lest a Muggle policeman come by and ask why Harry had luggage full of spell books and a broom.

"That would be a story," Sirius agreed light-heartedly, "though personally we never exactly stuck around long enough for them to ask any questions."

"When did any of you get a run in with Muggle police?" Lily demanded suspiciously.

Sirius went a little shifty eyed and declined answering, while James laughed with far too much unease and said, "don't be silly Lily, he was joking."

Lily snorted, they weren't even trying to hide the fact that they were kidding, but she was too curious about the book to really interrogate them now. She'd wait until later.

Plan decided, he went rummaging through his stuff to find his cloak, when he felt a tingling go up his spine. He stood up straight and glanced around himself, the lone streetlight showing no one else around.

"Well this can't be good," they all muttered at once. Harry already had an impressive track record when it came to getting into bad situations. And now, here he was, alone and feeling off again. One glance at Harry now showed they weren't wrong about being worried either; he had a frown already in place as he remembered exactly how he had been feeling at that time.

He went back to his stuff, only to stop again at once, wand now in hand as he glanced more suspiciously at the dark surroundings. He thought he caught sight of something moving between the gaps of the houses.

Lily already wanted to stop and bite at her lip in worry. Way too many horrible things could be lurking behind her boy. The boys were all thinking of their joking comments about a convict being around, and violently berating themselves as they realized their joking may have come true.

He strained his eyes in the shadows, trying to make out if it was just an animal, or something worse. He lit the tip of his wand with the spell Lumos, which shone so brightly that Harry was momentarily blinded as it shone off of the garage door, but he just had time to make out the shape of something very large, with watchful eyes.

Lily's voice was heading into outright fear now, even if it was just a stray animal she didn't like that it was scaring her son.

Harry though, was frowning in remembrance. Wasn't he supposed to have a good feeling about this? That was his first reaction, but he knew his thirteen-year-old self had acted in fear at this startling sight. He wasn't even for sure what he had seen then...

He took an automatic step back, fell over his luggage, and ended in the gutter with his wand arm thrown out to catch his fall. There was a very loud BANG from just to his right, and Harry barely had time to roll back onto the sidewalk before wheels landed where his head had just been.

The whole time Lily had been reading that, her voice had continued to edge higher in fear. She was almost quaking in terror; the book almost slipped from her grasp. She still wasn't quite back to normal after that horrid dinner scene, and Harry coming so close to death right after that caused her to want to fling her arms around her son and hold him as close as she could.

For a moment Harry was sure he'd been knocked silly as he looked up at a triple deckered bus, which was bright purple,

"Thank Merlin," Sirius breathed, his eyes lighting up at once as he recognized the description, and then he released a bark of laughter and said, "you just called that by accident."

Harry was rubbing at his head and looking marginally embarrassed as they really did give a light chuckle at that, but his mind was still on the thing he'd seen. It was a dog, but massive. Why was this so important to him? It must just be a stray, so why should he care?

Lily was the only one who still looked on edge about the matter, Harry had never said what he'd seen in the dark, but now that the Knight Bus had appeared, surely everything was going to be okay now.

with the label The Knight Bus on the side. Before he had time to process this fully, a young man was stepping off in uniform and announcing himself as Stan Shunpike, a conductor for the bus, then he saw Harry still on the ground and asked why he was down there.

"Nice of him to notice," James said lightly.

Harry got to his feet and said that he'd fallen over, and Stan asked why he did that.

"Just seemed like a fun thing to do obviously," Remus snorted.

Harry snapped back he hadn't done it on purpose.

"Wow, getting a bit snippy there Pup," Sirius laughed.

Harry suddenly jerked; he looked like he was on the verge of something really important. Back when they had told him about their decision to be Animagi, and the subsequent animals, he hadn't thought much on the matter. It did explain the random nicknames, and beyond that he'd never questioned it. Now...

Lily hadn't seemed to notice Harry wasn't paying much attention to them, she was still stuck on the fact it had yet to say what Harry had seen to startle him so badly. So for once she didn't take note of her son in the room now eyeing Sirius curiously, but instead read.

Harry then turned to look behind him, but there was nothing there where the headlights clearly shown. Stan asked what he was watching, and Harry explained that he'd seen a humongous black dog.

Now that finally struck a chord with everyone in the room. Sirius looked like he'd just been clubbed over the head. Harry was still eyeing him like he'd never seen him before, no that wasn't right. He was staring right at him like he was trying desperately to remember something...

"So, err," James began, looking from Harry to Sirius and back warily, "who wants to count the odds of this?" A guy named Black had been heard from on the news, and a giant black dog which happened to be Sirius' animagus form, had been seen around Harry.

They still didn't believe in coincidences, but none of them really knew what to make of this. Because if that was Sirius, then that meant that first of all he was still alive! That alone made their heads spin, because what force on Earth would keep him away from Harry for all of these years. Which brought up the most confusing part, had it really been him on the news? Was it Sirius who had escaped from a prison, meaning Azkaban itself? How would anyone even go about doing that? They had been kidding earlier in even suggesting it was a relative of his, since it was impossible to escape from that place. Was it simply two unrelated instances and they were just trying to over-read it?

Sirius looked likely to pass out, not finding this remotely funny anymore. The possibilities were endless and far too horrible. Lily and James were eyeing each other, unsure what to make of all this. The past few times they jumped to a conclusion, they weren't always right. Remus was beside himself; lost in questions he wasn't sure he wanted an answer to anymore.

Harry wasn't helping anyone, he hadn't spoken a word through all of this, simply sitting there watching Sirius. His mind and gut were at war with each other the longer this continued. He knew him, he had been so sure of that, and simply from the small amount of time he had interacted with him now he was convinced Sirius was as close to him as his own parents. He should be happy at the very thought of Sirius being alive, his gut told him that. So why was something very dark and bad building up inside of his mind even as he sat there? A pounding headache was forming again, not knowing what to think or even what instinct to trust.

Finally after a very long, drawn out silence where no one offered anything, Lily finally convinced herself to just read on. Coincidence or not, she had a very nasty feeling they would find out sooner rather than later.

Stan didn't seem all that impressed, he was still watching Harry and asked what was on Harry's forehead. Harry reacted by brushing his hair in the way and saying nothing while trying to cover his scar.

"Can't blame you for that," James muttered, not even slightly distracted from his best friend's odd mentioning, if it was even that at all.

Harry knew that if the Ministry was after him, he didn't want to help them along.

Sirius finally came out of his torpor to release a surprised snort, shaking himself firmly like a wet dog. He was being paranoid, they all were. So why didn't he believe that? Well Harry eyeing him every other second now wasn't helping the matter. Out loud he said, "credit for trying anyways."

Stan then asked for Harry's name, and he gave the first one that came to mind, Neville Longbottom.

"At least it wasn't Ron's, you don't exactly resemble him," Lily agreed, trying in vain for some normal mood again, though none of the boys looked remotely up to it.

Then Harry changed the subject to asking about the bus, and where it led? Stan promptly explained it would take him anywhere except underwater.

"Where would I even go underwater?" Harry asked loudly, not having meant to pitch his volume like that, but hoping to distract himself from the way his head seemed to be developing its own pulse.

"Err, guess you could go visit mermaids or something," Remus blurted, finally pulling him away from his thoughts.

He told Harry, in a very thick accent, the different prices for the ride, and extras such as hot chocolate, or a little more for a toothbrush.

James finally made a brave stab at humour again, saying, "Lily Flower, please never try and mimic that accent again. You're doing a horrible job."

Lily took a small moment to stick her tongue out at him, but didn't bother defending herself. It's not like she could skip what Stan was saying.

Harry paid his dues and loaded his stuff onto the bus, and instead of seats inside he found beds. Stan set him up right behind the driver's seat, a man named Ernie Prang at the wheel.

"Is he still driving that then?" Sirius asked, dully, and the others were slightly concerned to see that he hadn't really bounced back yet. Sirius was pretty well known for not letting things get to him for too long, so the fact that he was clearly still upset and distracted by all of these horrible implications about him wasn't boding well.

No one answered him, mostly because it was a rhetorical question anyways.

Then Stan took a seat behind the driver, and told Ernie they were good to go. There was an equally loud BANG as the one that had arrived, and Harry was tossed onto his bed with the speed of force.

That finally earned a half-hearted chuckle from them, knowing all too well the sensations of riding that bus for the first time.

Stan was still eyeing Harry curiously, but Harry asked first where they were. Stan said somewhere in Wales, and Harry asked how come the Muggles couldn't hear the bus.

Harry closed his mouth sheepishly, finally distracted from his impending thoughts and was fixing to ask that himself. Lily smiled indulgently at him before reading.

Stan just laughed, saying those Muggles never saw anything proper, while Ernie told him to go and wake a woman whose stop was coming up.

"Well that didn't really explain it," Remus said lightly.

"It's okay," Harry said quickly, "magic makes it hard to see and hear, got it."

Well Harry hadn't stayed distracted long. He was already over his curiosity at this new magical object, and the brief feeling of wanting to object why this was okay but Mr. Weasley's car was illegal, and back to wondering why he felt like this should be the most important night of his life. He still had no answers though, and so he didn't want to delay the reading much.

Harry began watching out the window as Ernie spun crazily through the streets, while cars, mailboxes, and street lights all jumped out of the way only to go right back when they'd passed.

Harry raised his brows in surprise, he did find that pretty amusing, but not enough to interrupt again.

Stan came back down the stairs with an elder woman, and the bus screeched to a stop. While Madam Marsh tottered out, slightly green from the trip, Stan tossed her luggage out after her,

"Well he's a polite one," Lily snorted.

and then they were off again. Harry spent the next while sitting on his bed, but knowing he could never sleep. He was too busy thinking about if Marge had stopped floating around the Dursleys house yet.

That gained a weak laugh from the group, happy to have something to distract them and that delightful mental image worked fine.

Then he caught sight of Stan holding a copy of the Daily Prophet, and the large image on the front was of the same man Harry had seen on the Muggle news.

"Wow, wait!" Remus said in surprise. "So the person who did escape, was a wizard?"

"But, how is that even possible?" James demanded. "No one should be able to escape from Azkaban, no one!"

Sirius looked almost mildly amused as he said, "well, props to them for being the first one to do it."

"Knock it off Sirius," Lily snapped, getting a little huffy at once at such a prospect, "it's not funny, this could be a problem."

"Quit fretting Lily," Sirius scoffed right back, "so it's weird, kind of freaky, and I'm going to insist still cool, but it's probably nothing to do with Harry."

Lily wasn't the only one who disagreed with that, Remus also had a bad feeling that trouble seemed to go out of its way to find Harry, and an escaped prisoner who shared a name with Sirius seemed almost likely by this point. Remus had met Sirius' family only once, and it had been far from a pleasant experience, one he would never wish on Harry.

James dearly wanted to side with Sirius, but he still didn't like the uneasy way his son was acting now, it didn't bode well.

Stan looked back at the front page,

Lily froze dead in her tracks as she looked down at the name, the first name, of this convict. Harry didn't even need to ask this time, one furtive look from his mom to his godfather and he knew his answer. James wasn't having it though, he tore the book away and glared down at that name like it was the worst trick in the world.

"Someone's dead," he snarled, his hands beginning to shake so hard the book was in danger of being broken all over again. "Whoever the hell framed you for whatever the bloody hell you ended up in there for, they are beyond dead!" He got to his feet and began pacing the length of the couch, continuing his violent mutterings about how his best friend had been set up for something.

Sirius said nothing, he looked almost mummified, and for a horrible moment Remus thought he'd stopped breathing. "Ah, Padfoot," Remus said gently, since James was still yelling at the top of his lungs and Lily and Harry were watching him wearily. Sirius was still losing colour, and were his lips tinged blue? Remus poked him, hard, in the ribs which only elicited the smallest of reactions that he sucked in air through his nose finally. He still wasn't reacting though, just gazing straight forward with a look of utmost horror on his face.

His friends had seen him in quite a few ways, so excited he couldn't hold still, so angry he couldn't spit out the words, and one single moment before this where he had been terrified. Then though, Sirius had done the opposite and had sat around talking almost nonstop in an effort to show how 'not afraid' he'd been. This shell-shocked display was something none of them had seen before, and it was beginning to scare them all.

"Sirius," James said loudly, finally having noticed he was the only one shouting. He waltzed over and placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

The man jumped like he'd just been electrocuted; suddenly his eyes went flying around the room like he had no idea where he was. Blinking so fast there was no way he could really be clearing his vision, he stammered "s-sorry. Zoned out there, what was that?"

"You kind of went mental there for a moment," Remus told him kindly, trying to put some warmth into his voice that Sirius didn't even register.

"Di-did I?" he muttered, and then he shook himself like a wet dog with a rabid cat on its back. When he was done doing that, he looked around again with far more sense, and his eyes landed on Harry. Sirius swallowed hard, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. What exactly he was trying to say, apologize for being absent, ask him if he knew what had happened, or anything else for that matter just wasn't getting past his lips.

Harry took pity on him and addressed both of those questions, "I'm not mad at you Sirius. I've only known you for a few days and I know you'd never do anything to get sent there." Harry very carefully avoided using the word of said prison; Sirius still looked likely to faint at any moment. "I still don't know what happened either, I just knew I remembered you. I'm not afraid of you though, and don't you think I'd be afraid of someone who I knew was a mass murderer?"

"Murderer?" Remus repeated eagerly, as Harry immediately dissolved into grimacing and rubbing at his temple as words slipped out that he had no knowledge of. Just this small little dig and he was already back to that horrid pain that sent white hot flashes through him.

Remus retracted at once, very much wanting to find out exactly what Sirius had been accused of, but unwilling to persist Harry in the matter. It was ridiculous after all, Sirius was a hot headed idiot on a good day, but he would never do something like murder. Or, well, maybe he would...

Harry cut in with another question instead, "but how did you know where I was? I didn't really think you'd ever been to the Dursleys?"

Sirius didn't really answer, he still looked like he was in a daze, and Lily answered, "the Order knows where Petunia lives, her address anyways. I've it listed under people who should be contacted if I die, which I need to fix," she added to herself with a mutter, ignoring the flinch that caused James for the suddenly very real threat. "It's how Dumbledore and McGonagall even knew where Petunia was living back in the first book. It was dangerous though," she finished with a sharp look at Sirius, "for him to still go there. Any fool who knew you would know you'd go and seek out Harry."

Still this gained no reaction from Sirius.

James was still grumbling mutinously as Lily finally convinced him to take his seat, the parents still eyeing Harry with some concern. Experience had already told them if he continued in this way, his body would rebel and he would end up crumpling to the ground in pain, so Lily was now very eager to keep going and read. James only shut himself up for now so that he could see what exactly was going on here.

where the name Sirius Black plastered across the headline.

Sirius convulsed slightly, hearing his name like that. He had been, well not content per say, but had accepted that he must have died shortly after James to have been absent so long. Now that he found out where he had been, he pondered whether he'd just as soon be dead. Then he grit his teeth and began mentally pummeling himself for that thought. He was alive, which meant that he really could get out and find Harry. It all came together very clearly in his mind now. Whatever he had been accused of doing didn't matter, how he had even gotten out didn't matter. That black dog Harry had seen, it must have been him! Which meant he would finally be able to do what he'd always swore he would, look after his godson. The why's and how's didn't even matter, so long as he could just do one simple thing and keep an eye out for him.

Stan laughed, saying he'd been all over the news, yes even the Muggle's and Harry should keep up more. He handed Harry that section of the paper, and Harry began to read,

Lily released a very shaky breath, mixed feelings twisting inside of her as she realized she very well might just find out what had happened, and almost not wanting to find out. Whatever it was, this wasn't going to be pretty, but she pressed on anyway.

about this man who had been held in Azkaban was still on the loose. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was trying to stop the public from panicking, and denied any knowledge of how the escape had even happened. Everyone had been warned to keep an eye out for this deranged man, who'd been locked away twelve years ago for killing thirteen people with one spell.

Some kind of life finally reappeared on Sirius again, but it wasn't the kind anyone wanted to see. He laughed, and it wasn't his usual jovial cheer, this already had an edge of madness tinging it as he leaned as far away from everyone as he possibly could.

Remus punched him on the shoulder, hard.

"Ouch," Sirius whined, and Remus sighed in relief to finally have gotten a normal response out of him. "What was that for?"

"Shut it," Remus snapped, "and quit acting like an idiot or I'll do it again."

"How does someone so scrawny hit so hard," Sirius muttered, slumping back down, and wondering if he could get away with listening to this on another continent.

Remus hadn't really meant to hit him that hard; he had actually been projecting his own annoyance at himself in that throw. How could he have thought something like that of his friend, even for a second? Yes, Sirius had made quite a few threats against members of his family, even Snape from time to time, but he'd never meant them! That accident when they were kids was just that, an accident. He'd forgiven Sirius for that a long time ago, so to even consider him to do something like that now felt like a betrayal.

"This is foul," James snarled, looking far more likely to rip someone's head off than Sirius himself in that moment, "how could anyone think you'd done this!"

They were all stumped. They of course knew Sirius quite well, but to the general populace he was simply a name attached to one of the pure-blood households. It really wasn't much of a stretch at all to think a Black would pull this off.

Lily wanted very much to sit around questioning how all of this had gone in trial, what kind of evidence had been used against Sirius in the matter, but since no one here actually knew the answer she didn't even touch on the question. She gave all of the boys a pitying look, but with James' almost comforting words still in mind she read out the full charge.

Harry looked at the picture again, of the man with such sunken features it was a wonder he was even breathing.

Sirius then balked and shuttered all over again, remembering Harry saying how non-human he had looked. He'd heard stories about how that place sucked the life out of you, but it was more unpleasant to picture yourself like that.

Harry had only ever seen pictures of Vampires before, but he would have put money this man looked just like one.

Remus jerked away from Sirius in surprise as he made a pitiful noise deep in his throat, and then bent towards him in concern all over again. "Sirius, I think you stopped breathing again."

"Sorry," he muttered, "just trying to picture it, and it's not much fun."

James was bouncing in place in his seat, still with that manic energy that he needed to go curse someone into oblivion for this slandering, and also dearly wanting to go sit next to Sirius now and hug the life back into him. They could hardly blame him for reacting like this, but it was still creeping them out how he had yet to regain any of his normal coloring and actually seemed to be getting paler the longer this went on.

Harry handed back the paper, Stan not even fully looking at the picture as he commented on what a creepy looking man he was. Harry was stunned as he asked that Black had really killed thirteen people at once, and Stan was nodding along, adding details that he'd been caught doing it in broad daylight, with witnesses all around.

"Bollocks," James hissed, "a big, rotten pile of steaming-"

"James," Lily sighed, "we're all mad at this, but I want to hear it anyways."

James' upper lip curled in a sneer, he didn't look like he was going to back down one bit, until Sirius finally gave an intelligible sentence again and said, "let it go James. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you find this so ridiculous, but I want to hear this too."

"Might help us figure out who really did do it," Remus added on quickly.

James huffed and crossed his arms, while Harry simply sat there nodding along with his Mom. He knew the answer to this. He had never been so sure of anything since he'd woken up here, and he dearly wanted to find out now because it felt majorly important to him. Like something bad had happened, simply because he hadn't known this information...

Ernie added on that Black had been a well-known backer of You-Know Who,

Lily couldn't read that sentence without snorting in disbelief, while the other four boys made choking noises of disgust at such a ridiculous accusation. "Where is he even getting that from? He didn't know you," Lily demanded of the book.

Sirius gave her a wan smile, pleased she seemed to find this as outrageous as anyone else. Sometimes he wondered how much she really did like him, considering how often she threatened, yelled and berated him. And now her snarky little joke from before actually seemed to have come true. Watching her now though, he no longer had a doubt in his mind.

Harry corrected Voldemort without thinking about it.

"Well this should be fun," Remus noted absently, noticing Harry still didn't seem to realize he shouldn't be spouting that name without thinking about it.

Ernie jerked the wheel of the bus so hard in shock, a whole building had to jump to the side.

"Still love that you do that so casually," Sirius said a little too loudly, obviously trying to force a devil may care attitude. The others didn't buy it, but it was a nice attempt.

Stan looked likely to faint from shock, demanding to know why Harry would say that name! Harry apologized, saying he'd forgotten people didn't like that.

"You forgot?" James laughed lightly, not anywhere near over his shock and anger that his best friend had survived, but enjoying Harry's unintentional humour all the same.

Stan wasn't buying it, still rubbing at his chest from shock, and Harry tried to change the subject by repeating that Black had been a supporter of You-Know-Who.

Sirius went so bug-eyed all of a sudden, Remus had to stop himself from reaching out and grabbing hold of him to make sure he really didn't fall over this time as Sirius nearly shouted, "oh bloody hell!"

"What?" James yelped in concern, Sirius was more than scaring him now with these awful freak out moments he kept having.

"This!" he snarled, and it finally looked like he was edging back to his normal self, except now he was truly pissed at something as he continued to nearly shout. "This is the first thing Harry hears about me! He's grown up not even knowing my name, and the first thing he ever hears about me is that I, I'm a-"

"Oh Sirius-" Lily muttered, while Remus really did look like he was fixing to hug him. Sirius was in no mood, he had built up enough steam that he was going to keep going until someone forcibly muted him.

"Don't any of you apologize! I've dealt with a lot of crap so far, but this!" He continued in this way for so long, he actually started to go hoarse, but none of them stopped him. They felt he more than deserved it.

When he finally did subside, now absentmindedly rubbing at his throat and looking far calmer and more himself, Harry was quick to cut in, "if it helps at all, I know you now."

Sirius grunted, though maybe he didn't verbally reply because his vocal cords were still coming back, but, after a quick look from James, Lily decided to keep reading now before Sirius got his voice back.

Stan agreed, telling Harry about how some of You-Know-Who's other followers had been caught right after his downfall, and had come in without much of a fight, but not Black. Others said he was his second in command, and was even going to take over for You-Know-Who.

"The fact that anyone believes that is sad," Remus sighed. "I've heard of some pretty nasty Death Eaters, and even they don't have the gall to go around saying that, they'd be killed by Voldemort himself."

"Most likely this is all rumours that happened after Sirius was framed," Lily pointed out, "details were exaggerated; the worst of it always comes after the act itself."

"Glad you two think this is so interesting," James huffed, since Sirius' indignant look clearly said he was thinking that, but he was still rubbing his throat and couldn't say it.

Remus looked slightly offended for a moment that James thought he meant it, but then he backed down when he realized it was more of a really dark joke.

Lily didn't deign them with a comment at all; she just kept going and hoped for more actual evidence than slander.

Then he told how Black had been found in a Muggle neighborhood, and that he blew up the street rather than go in, killing twelve Muggles and one wizard.

"Ah, how would someone go about making that look like me?" Sirius said in mild concern, finally getting his voice back and seeming to lose it all at once.

"There are several ways," Lily frowned, "but my main issue is then what happened to you?"

Remus snapped his fingers and said, "what if the person who did this simply made themselves look like Sirius, then the Ministry came and got him after the fact."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone blamed him for something he didn't do, because of his name." James agreed, hardly looking pleased that they might have figured this out, since he still wanted to murder the fool who had thought they could frame his best friend and get away with it.

Harry was pondering how he felt about this. For some reason, it didn't feel right. There were huge chunks missing, and the set up his family had offered wasn't quite right, but as always he just wasn't sure how to best put those pieces together.

Then he told of what Black did after the fact, he sat there and laughed. Just sitting in the streets laughing when the Ministry showed up and properly arrested him, probably because he was mad.

"Mad in the emotional sense," Sirius sniffed. "I like to think I'm a little saner than just standing around after something like that ouch-" he cried again, giving Remus the stank eye. "Why do you keep hitting me? You're supposed to be the nice one."

"You don't get to joke about this," Remus told him with one of the sternest looks anyone had ever seen. "Not this Sirius."

Sirius opened his mouth, a nasty little retort already in place, when he shut his mouth just as quickly and nodded his ascent. The joke had slipped out before he thought about it, same as most of his jokes really. Now though, looking at his friends, he recognized it was only going to make this worse.

Then to everyone's surprise, Lily spoke up, "don't be too hard on him, Remus. You know he plays off things to show how aloof he thinks he is. If making stupid jokes helps him to cope, don't beat him for it."

"My jokes aren't stupid," Sirius snapped at once, then he went bright-eyed and cooed, "aw, Lily, that's the first time you've ever defended me."

"Don't get used to it," she smirked at him.

James and Remus didn't really look happy, feeling they'd rather strangle someone who made light of this situation regarding their friend, but so long as Sirius was the one doing it they couldn't really say too much.

He'd spent the rest of his life in Azkaban, though Ernie reflected that if he wasn't mad before he went in there he most certainly was now, of course he did deserve it.

"Someone certainly deserves that place," James agreed, "but it's too good for what I owe them."

There was a big cover up from the magical community, telling how the big explosion had been some sort of gas leak, but now Black was out again, and he was the first to ever have done it, and nobody knew how.

"That is still a very good question," Sirius nodded to himself, cocking his head to the side and actually considering the matter. "Or why I didn't do it earlier, like as soon as I got there. Why now?"

"I got nothing," Remus shrugged.

"Can we not think about this," James moaned, "I really don't want to think about this anymore than I have to."

Harry frowned, he had honestly wanted to hear if his family had any theories on the matter, but his Dad now looked as ghastly as Sirius had before. His anger seemed to be subsiding, and James was starting to push past his outrage at Sirius being there, to Sirius being there. Alone in that dark, creepy place where no one would normally survive more than a few years, and Sirius had been there for twelve!

The others recognized this as well, and Lily was quick to move on.

The two elders were still talking about how terrifying that prison was, and Harry couldn't help but reflect how this conversation would go in a few weeks when word got around that Harry Potter had broken wizarding law. Would he end up in Azkaban to? Were Ernie and Stan going to be sitting around laughing then about how he'd blown up his aunt and made a run for it?

That released a startled laugh from Remus. They had just found out something major, life altering even. Nothing this bad or emotionally horrifying had come up since the first chapter of the first book, and here Harry was. Thirteen and caring nothing for his would be Uncle's state, but simply still worried about something as petty as accidental magic. It wasn't really funny, but it made him laugh anyways.

Sirius was dearly tempted to punch him then, more for payback than actually wanting him to stop, but he was already trailing off and Lily was still eager to keep going.

Harry had broken the law, just like Black.

Sirius made to open his mouth again, but this time it was Lily who cut him off and said, "don't. I do not want to hear some stupid joke about that one."

Sirius huffed, she had just defended him and now was the one stopping him from saying 'he takes after me' but on retrospect, that really was a little too dark of humor even for him.

Was inflating Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban?

"Not even close," James shuddered in disgust, wanting to vomit all over again at Harry going anywhere near that place.

He'd never been there himself, but he'd heard nothing but terrible rumours about the place, even Hagrid, the strongest man Harry knew, had all but begged not to be sent there.

While it did keep things in perspective for Harry, Lily dearly hoped this was the last time that horrid prison would be mentioned, because now every time it was all three of her boys winced at the very thought of the place.

The trip wore on, and the scenery outside continued to change around as passengers got off. At one point Stan went to go get Harry his hot chocolate, but managed to spill it all over him at the next take off.

"What, it didn't have a lid?" Sirius asked absently.

"Not the best time to drink that anyway," James shrugged. Their light commentary still seemed to be lacking, and they were now beginning to wonder how long it would take before they could actually sit around and absorb this new information.

When Harry was the last one aboard, the Knight Bus set off for the Leaky Cauldron, daybreak beginning on the horizon.

"Wow, you were on that thing all night," Lily said in surprise.

"You said the ministry would be tracking me," Harry frowned, "how come they wouldn't have caught up by then?"

"You would have been moving around too fast," Lily shrugged when it looked like none of the boys were, "so by the time you were pinpointed, the bus would have been off again. I'm sure they'll catch up to you before you leave Diagon Alley though."

Harry frowned, not looking remotely comforted by that. The horrid news of Sirius had distracted him now, but his thirteen-year-old self was still firmly upset by the matter with Marge, and even more so if he was going to be forced back to the Dursleys for the rest of the summer. He might have been the only one thinking about this though; the others were clearly still out of it.

Harry's plan was still in place, now deciding what he would do after he got his money.

"Could go see the country," Remus joked, "might be fun for a while anyways."

Lily just ignored him, knowing full well Harry wouldn't be able to get that far.

The bus came to a stop, and Harry was getting help from Stan unloading his stuff when a voice behind called out a greeting to Harry.

"Who do you think that is?" James asked, finally an actual distraction from the fate of his best friend.

"He knew Harry by name," Lily puzzled, noting just the first name and not his full name like some awestruck person might have, "you think they sent someone who knew Harry personally?"

"Well you tell us," Remus pointed out.

Harry nearly dropped his stuff in shock as he saw the Minister of Magic.

"Say what!" The ones without the book yelped.

"Surely the Minister himself wouldn't have come after you?" James said in surprise.

"Well why not?" Remus acknowledged once the shock had worn off. "He is the famous Harry Potter after all. He might have gotten some special attention for his bit of acting out."

"I keep wanting to forget that honestly," Lily sighed, "but I guess it does make sense."

He came forward and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, while Stan was caught off guard, saying how he'd thought this was Neville. Fudge looked at him curiously as he corrected that this was Harry Potter, and Stan shouted that he'd known that all along.

"Sure he did," James scoffed, now frowning as he realized Sirius seemed to have gone quiet again. He was still obviously paying attention, but normally that would have been his line.

Fudge turned back to Harry then, inviting him inside and then asking the bartender, Tom, for a pot of tea in one of the rooms, hand still firmly holding onto Harry's shoulder.

"That's starting to annoy me," Lily frowned, "where does he get the right to hold onto you like that. He doesn't think you're going to make a run from him does he?"

Harry just shrugged; he had no idea about the Minister's motives.

Stan and Ernie were coming in from behind, carrying Harry's stuff, and Stan asked why Harry had lied, still calling him Neville.

"Is he going to keep calling you that?" Remus asked, slightly amused.

"I'm okay with this," Harry smiled weakly, "it's better than being treated like famous Harry Potter."

The Minister dismissed the pair, and Harry was led away into a private office where he was seated, and then Fudge introduced himself and his title.

"Glad you already knew that, or this would have been even more awkward," James nodded.

Harry had already known this, having once seen him in person, but as he'd been hiding under his cloak at the time, he didn't think Fudge needed to know that.

"It might have been a spot funny if you had though," Remus pointed out.

"Still glad he didn't," Lily frowned at him, "it's too odd to explain."

"Could have seen him in the papers or something couldn't he," James shrugged, still keeping an eye on Sirius who was still being far too quiet for his liking.

Then Fudge turned to telling Harry that he'd been quite worried when Harry had run away from his family's house, something terrible could have happened, he had been starting to think...but then changed the subject.

"Started to think what?" Harry asked with interest.

"I've no idea," Lily frowned, "perhaps that you were going to head out somewhere else and it would be harder for them to find you."

No one offered anything else, but they did wonder if Harry's name really was the only reason Fudge was there. What else could it be though?

Telling that they had deflated Marjorie Dursley,

"Still one of the best sentences I've heard all day," Remus muttered to Sirius, and then frowned when he only gave a weak grin back.

and that her memory had been changed so that she didn't remember a thing,

"Almost a pity," Lily sighed, "might teach her not to go spouting such crap to a child."

"I love you," James grinned at his wife, adoring that she had only beaten him by a second on saying that.

concluding that no harm had been done. He then looked over Harry with a warm smile, like an uncle watching his favourite nephew.

Which caused Remus to sniff in disdain. He, much like Lily and James, seemed to find it personally offensive when anyone compared themselves to Harry's family, only a few exceptions came to mind. It bothered him all the more when Sirius didn't even flinch at the sentence.

When Harry said nothing, Fudge did say that Harry was probably worried about the Dursleys reactions, and while they had been angry, they were willing to let Harry come back next summer,

"No," James moaned, putting his face in his hands now.

"My sentiments exactly," Harry sighed, unable to think of anything else to say to that.

"Here I thought you'd finally gotten away from those..." Lily trailed off into a few foul mutterings before clearing her throat and reading.

but Harry protested he never wanted to go back there again! Fudge was shocked, saying that he was sure Harry still loved them, erm, deep down.

"Like the pits of hell deep," Remus huffed, "where fondness equates to hatred."

"Poetic," Lily noted.

"And true," Harry agreed.

Harry in no way agreed, but didn't argue the point. Fudge then spoke about what Harry would do in the meantime, and suggested he just stay here at the Leaky Cauldron for the remainder of his vacation. Harry interrupted by pointing out, what about his punishment?

James made a funny choking noise like someone had just elbowed him in the throat. "Did you really just ask that? Harry, why on earth would you?"

"It didn't make sense," Harry shrugged, still finding this odd now as he explained, "every other time I'd done magic, I'd at least gotten a warning. Now, here I had done something really serious, and nothing."

Harry had used that word on purpose, he had been trying to elicit a reaction from Sirius like everyone else, but the man still seemed so out of it he wasn't going to bite. James and Remus exchanged very worried looks, wondering what had made him bounce back so hard when he'd been trying for a moment to come out of it, while Lily offered an explanation. "Perhaps because they went there themselves and saw what happened? No one could possibly blame you for your actions, the way they were treating you."

Harry didn't really agree, but he wasn't going to argue the point either.

Fudge gave an uneasy laugh, saying why would he do anything like that? Harry insisted that he'd been told off last summer for a house-elf doing magic in his house, and the Ministry had warned him he'd be in real trouble if it happened again.

"Are you trying to get yourself kicked out," Lily demanded of her son.

"I just wanted an explanation," Harry reminded.

"Well, they didn't know a house-elf had done that last summer," Lily reminded him, "and they say expelled as a severe warning. You still haven't done anything bad enough for that to be a real threat."

Harry nodded in acceptance.

Fudge brushed him off though, trying to say that things were a little different now, given the fact that, well- then he blurted that Harry shouldn't want to be expelled?

While most of them simply put this down to Fudge being really bad at explaining the system to Harry, none of them noticed Sirius finally reacting again, by his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Harry agreed he didn't, then Fudge declared there was no more need to talk about it. He got up and left, but Harry still couldn't believe this. Then he reflected it was odd enough that the Minister of Magic himself had even shown up here.

"I think you're reading too much into it," Lily told him lightly, "it's really not that unusual for someone to have come after you. Maybe not the Minister himself, but still."

Harry still wanted to disagree with her on that, there was something he wasn't quite remembering that would prompt said Minister's motives, but he had no clue as to what.

It really didn't add up that the Minister would come after wayward school children to deal with this. Fudge came back then, saying that Tom had a room for Harry, but then Fudge requested that while he stayed there, he shouldn't go into the Muggle world.

"Who's he to tell you that?" James scoffed, finally dragging his eyes away from Sirius to look at the book in annoyance. "It's none of his business where you go."

"I don't really blame him for this," Lily shrugged, "he is underage by all accounts, so it's not that weird for wanting to keep him in a smaller, magical community."

Harry agreed, but did ask why.

"Glad at least Harry questions it," James huffed, still rather annoyed by that.

Fudge just said that he didn't want Harry to get lost again, it was better for now, then he trailed off again.

Sirius narrowed his eyes further, taking note of that as much as Remus and James noticed him doing it. Was this really what was bothering Sirius so much, the Minister appearing? Sirius hated the Ministry, which had only increased, they were sure, because of what they had just found out, but this seemed a little odd for him to have such a dislike of someone who really hadn't done anything wrong yet.

Sirius declined telling them what was really on his mind. Which was that, like Harry, he was wondering if there wasn't something more going on right there, something to do with a supposed supporter of Voldemort suddenly breaking out.

Harry then randomly asked if there was any news on Black, and Fudge flinched in surprise.

Far from looking pleased, Sirius slumped back in his seat and grumbled something under his breath Remus didn't catch. He noted the act though, and he and James shared another look, hardly wanting to wait until the chapter was over anymore to get him to talk.

Fudge tried for a laugh that didn't work, saying that they had nothing yet and the Azkaban guards were quite angry about it all,

"Can Dementors be angry?" Lily asked, never having considered this. "I've never known them to hold an emotion really."

"They can certainly express themselves if they wish, just not the way you're thinking," Remus offered, realizing in that stretch of quiet he was expected to answer. He didn't look up to elaborating, which was odd enough for him, so Harry didn't ask what a Dementor was.

Fudge made to leave then, but Harry jumped in with one last question, reminding that as a third year he could go to Hogsmeade,

James smirked then, happy his son still had a way of distracting him from something like his best friend acting weirder as time went on. "You would ask something like this after the night you've had."

"I had to put up with all of that crap, and I still didn't get it signed," Harry shrugged, "it was worth a shot."

but no one had signed it for him. Fudge tried to stall by saying he wasn't Harry's parent or guardian of any sort.

"He's got a point," Lily frowned, hating the way this was turning out for him. "I hate to admit it, but it really doesn't look like you're not going to get to this year. You'll have to try something else with those Muggles next summer." The taste those words left in her mouth made her wish she could bite her tongue off so she'd never have to hear that again.

Harry tried to protest, pointing out his position, and that if he gave him permission,

"Too bad it doesn't work like that," James agreed absently.

but Fudge declined, saying this may be all for the best for now. Then he did leave.

Since they were watching for it this time, James and Remus noticed Sirius give an imperceptible nod at yet another action from the Minister. Remus, growing sick of trying to guess what Sirius normally would have said himself anyways, asked, "how much is there left Lily?"

She checked and told him, making them all feel a bit relieved, more than ready to take a break after this monster of emotional baggage had been dumped on them.

Harry was lead to his room, to find Hedwig inside.

"How did she know to go there?" Lily asked in surprise. "I thought she went to Ron in Egypt?"

"I've no idea," Harry beamed, more than pleased anyways.

Harry was as surprised as anyone while Tom explained that she'd just arrived a few moments after Harry, then he left. Harry sank onto his bed, staring around this room and the perspective freedom, without any Dursleys, for the next two weeks.

"No," Remus corrected himself from earlier, "that's the best sentence I've heard yet."

They all nodded in agreement with that.

He was tired though, so he slumped down onto the bed and fell asleep without even taking his glasses off.

"That's the end of the chapter," Lily declared, closing the book with a sharp snap of disgust.

Harry, who had noticed Sirius acting odd just as much as his Dad, decided he'd like to try and get a happier subject going.

"Err, so, about that police thing?" Harry asked hesitantly, since Sirius still looked a little vacant and Remus looked like he might not speak again for some time. James was shifting his weight around in so much unease he was practically bouncing in place, but decided to answer anyway. Yes Lily might get mad, but it was better than sitting around thinking about...

"Sirius and I were out doing some business for the Order when we realized we were being followed. We were on his bike, and so we hit the concrete since we were a lot bulkier in the air on it, and not ten seconds later we got the Muggles chasing after us, lights flashing. Still we gave them a chase around, hoping to lose both pursuers, when Sirius shouted back that he was going to pull over and for me to get ready. Of course I had no idea what that meant, but since he was steering I couldn't argue when he lead us into a dead end."

He glanced back over at his best friend, and while it was clear Sirius was listening, he still didn't look up to interrupting and stating his side of the story. More than concern was beginning to tighten up in James, that expression was really starting to scare him, but he finished off the story anyways. "So we were kind of cornered and being chased by two parties. The three Death Eaters who were chasing us above kept circling lower and lower, so we chatted up the cops until the Death Eaters finally lined themselves up and tried charging at us. We used the cop's cruiser as a wall, they crashed into it, and we bolted out of there before anyone recovered. Got the Ministry out there later to deal with the Memory charms and such. We didn't even get in trouble for the whole thing." He ended, sounding quite pleased with himself.*

He then turned to Lily, expecting a barrage of questions. It was clear from her expression she was annoyed she'd never heard of that before, and was going to demand to know exactly how old they had been, what they had been doing for the Order, etc. but she didn't. She remained just as quiet as everyone else. The silence dragged on into near uncomfortable levels until James finally took the book from Lily, checked his chapter, and then closed it and put it down, wondering what he could say.

HPHPHPHP

Finally! The Big Reveal! Hope I did it justice guys.

*I recognize in reading that fun little thing you can find at ( headsup. freeshell drumsticks/) that it states the boys are in their late teens, maybe just seventeen, but that means Sirius got his bike well before I said, so I went back and changed that. Hope you enjoyed the short, and started crying when you realized there's really not going to be a prequel.

More A/N, I know you guys are all sick of my words by now, but this is also something I need to address, a few people have pointed out that Snape heard the Prophecy and started this whole mess and Dumbledore immediately went to the Potter's and put them into hiding, but to that I say you really think his first thought was the Potter's? Dumbledore was running a war, and when this came to him, I like to think he had to actually look around even outside the Order to establish that only two current families fell under this threat, the Potters and the Longbottom's. Even after this, no due date is literally exact so he probably still would have waited until he was sure these two families were the ones. Even then, I still insist they wouldn't have immediately gone into hiding. If the Potter's had gone into hiding while they were still pregnant, then how on Earth did the rest of the world know Harry (and Neville) even existed if they were in hiding literally so much of the first year of their life. I don't think I'm making any sense...and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter you've been dying for so I'll stop talking/typing now.

#The LIfe that Never LIved #Harry Potter #fanfiction #James Potter #Lily Potter #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #reading the books

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simwoman2002 · 4 years ago

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Silent Revelations

Summary: “I wasn’t able to save her this time, and now I will bear that guilt and sorrow for the rest of my life. A jolt of minor shock runs through me when I feel a tear run down my cheek. I cried when she was killed, but I believed that I had shed all of the tears I had then. I was quite obviously wrong.” Kassandra and Phoibe family feels and angst. Also, SPOILERS!!!

I ride through the hills, Phobos carrying me with light feet as we make our way up the road toward a landmark that I have spotted upon the top of the mountain. At a distance, it appears to be a temple of Zeus.

I feel that this is the best place for me to go for the purpose I intend to fulfill. I do not intend to worship for I am long past the point of any kind of spiritual atonement. It is not a self-pitying statement, but rather an establishment of pure truth.

I see a shadow passing alongside me, cold and unforgiving in its dark movement. I cannot discern its exact shape, but I know that it is nothing alive that is following me.

It is something deeper and more troubling. Almost like a ghost of the past coming to haunt me in some way or another. I welcome it with grimness and stoicism. I know I cannot alter its path and determination to seek me out, because it is rather a shadow of my mind. It has come to bother me and me alone.

The top of the mountain is growing ever nearer. I am in no great rush, but I maintain a steady pace simply because I am so unaccustomed to any sort of peacefulness. It is misthios instinct to keep moving forward.

The sky is starry tonight, but the moon is nonexistent. However, I can make out the vague shape of it in the sky above me. It is fitting. A life has waned recently, and it disappeared much too soon from the earth.

Phobos slows to a walk in the wake of the temple, and I pull on the reins gently, bringing him to a stop. I dismount carefully and stroke his neck thoughtfully, my mind not truly focusing upon my actions. He nudges me gently with his velvety nose, snorting quietly. He seems to almost sense my feelings.

It makes sense that I get along with animals better than people. They are so much more trustworthy and loyal than the human race. And they are not so easily disappointed or angered.

With one final pat, I turn to face the temple and I begin to climb up the side, hauling myself up the architecture. My movements feel a bit more sluggish and laborious tonight. Perhaps it’s because of my solemn mood.

I pull myself upon the roof, habitually steadying myself. But it isn’t that steep of an incline. There is a small elevated bit of the building that appears to be accessed from the inside of the temple. It appears to be some sort of topside place of worship. It must be for the rich and powerful of the area, because it is only big enough for about three people to comfortably fit and it has various expensive offerings.

It is odd, considering the fact that everyone is supposedly equal in the sight of the priests. Since it is not able to be seen from the front of the temple and is barely visible around the sides, its presence is likely not known by the poorer members of the community.

It will do for my purpose. I will only be here for one night. Perhaps not even that long.

The platform is not very high up, but nevertheless, it is tall enough that I cannot simply step upon it. So, I leap and grab the edge, hoisting upward so that I land upon my feet with relative ease.

Once I am up, I stop for a moment to enjoy the view. There are dots of fiery light upon the ground sprawling below the hillside, but the aspect of the view I am most particularly drawn to is the stars. They twinkle and glow and it almost seems as if I could grow lost in the vastness.

I lower myself to the floor and feel the sweet feeling of relaxation upon finally relieving my feet of their sometimes-overwhelming duties.

Silently I sit tonight, contemplating all that has happened in my journey. My father is not truly my father, my brother is still alive and is now the primary weapon of a group that is bent upon the destruction of Athens and Sparta, and I am only a ship’s ride away from seeing my mother for the first time since I was a child. And to think that not so long ago, I led such a simplistic life where all of my family was deceased or, at the very least in some instances, dead to me.

It is true that I have once attempted the journey to my mother’s home from what is left of Athens. But I stopped at a nearby island with an excuse upon my tongue concerning additional drachmae after Xenia’s lofty fee.

Perhaps what is closer to the truth is my desire to just quietly exist alone. In the midst of constantly having to defend myself from prostitutes, cult members, and Spartan as well as Athenian soldiers alike, I am exhausted, and I do not want any sort of interruptions.

I do not desire companionship and I will likely never want a lover. But I am lonely all the same. What I most sincerely seek and desire is a family— a taste of the sweet nectar that was my life before. I have the opportunity to gain part of my old family back. All it takes is the courage to set foot upon the Adrestia and head out for Naxos.

But there is still that one piece that remains that can never be placed back in the puzzle. A piece that is still freshly upon my mind and honestly is the reason I am here tonight.

Sweet, poor Phoibe. This raw pain is foreign to me. It is so similar to when I believed I lost Alexios, but it is different as well.

I have done so many things of moral questionability, but I must wonder why a child had to atone for my wrongdoings. Why did it have to be Phoibe of all people?

We used to do so many things together. She always was like a gnat. A small, annoying gnat that one couldn’t help but pay attention to. But I loved her dearly. I was always fiercely protective of her. I trusted her to stay out of trouble well enough, but I guess I always thought that if she did get into trouble, I would be able to save her every time.

I wasn’t able to save her this time, and now I will bear that guilt and sorrow for the rest of my life.

A jolt of minor shock runs through me when I feel a tear run down my cheek. I have never cried. Never as an adult or a teenager. I cried when she was killed, but I believed that I had shed all of the tears I had then.

I was quite obviously wrong.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Kassandra, Kassandra!” The woman in question looked up from her task of carving, raising an eyebrow carefully at the little one that was a whole five-years-old running toward her. The child came to a stop, breathing heavily, but smiling all the same.

“Yes… Phoibe?” Kassandra hesitantly asked.

“You won’t believe what I just found out today!”

“There is very little you can tell me that I will be surprised about, but go on,” she gestured with her hand for the girl to continue, finding the child’s enthusiasm quite endearing despite the fact that she would never admit it aloud.

“Okay, sit down, because this is going to be seriously crazy,” Phoibe warned with more seriousness than was to ever be expected for a girl of her age. Kassandra chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Phoibe was cute, and at the same time, a little concerning to her.

“I am fairly certain that I’m already sitting down, child. Now tell me what you need to tell me.”

“My caretaker is really a man.” Kassandra nearly choked upon that news. She had known Helen for a long time and had done a great deal of jobs for her. All that time, Kassandra had never gotten the inclination that Helen was anything but a woman. A careless, self-absorbed woman, but a female nevertheless.

“And how did you come to that conclusion?” Kassandra questioned, genuinely curious as to what Helen had done to make the child think that she was a male.

“She has no breasts and her voice is deeper than any woman’s I’ve ever heard.” Kassandra’s eyes widened a bit as she listened.

“You are aware that she’s married to a man, yes?” Kassandra couldn’t help but interject.

“What if it’s all a disguise to hide her true self?” Phoibe proposed, her little face scrunched in thought. Kassandra chuckled and shook her head, her fond exasperation evident in the sigh that quickly followed.

“Phoibe, you need to think a little less about these things and focus on something else. Ela, have you stolen anything as of late, you thief?” Kassandra asked, trying to distract the young girl from her current embarrassing and slightly too nosy subject.

Phoibe immediately lost her previous train of thought and her face lit up in a sly smile that was quite honestly terrifying when upon the countenance of a child as small as herself.

“Yep!” Kassandra internally let out a breath of relief.

“Tell me, then. What do you have?”

And the girl proceeded to explain the various things she had managed to steal throughout the course of the week during the time that Kassandra had not seen her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“I wish I had an eagle,” Phoibe said for what Kassandra was completely certain was the five thousandth time in her short lifespan.

“I am well aware,” Kassandra patiently replied, flashing her golden-brown eyes in Phoibe’s direction. However, Phoibe was much too joyful to pay any attention to Kassandra’s quiet and slight annoyance.

“Oh, if I had one, we would do wonderful things! We would go everywhere together. I would feed him and give him a nice nest and pet him and---”

“You are aware that birds are not like dogs, right?” Kassandra interrupted, quirking an eyebrow in questioning.

“Well, of course! But you still have to take good care of one!” Phoibe replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world before continuing in her monologue about her hypothetical bird caretaking techniques.

Choosing to tune out Phoibe’s chatter, Kassandra focused upon the task at hand. She sliced the fresh meat held in her hands, looking it over to ensure that there were no bones in it that could choke Ikaros. After it had passed her inspection, she looked to the skies, giving a sharp whistle. Phoibe stopped in her excited babbling as she froze, following Kassandra’s gaze.

To Phoibe’s pure enthrallment, Ikaros flew in, landing on Kassandra’s arm.

“Hello, old friend,” Kassandra greeted, gently stroking underneath his chin. Ikaros leaned into the touch but eyed the meat nearby on the table greedily. Kassandra allowed a small smile to grace her lips. She reached over to the meat, but just before she took it, she could not help but acknowledge the little girl standing near her that could not take her eyes off of the bird.

Kassandra looked between the meat and Phoibe, considering something that she had not quite thought of before. She wondered if it would be a good idea, but if it brought the child joy, then there surely could not be any harm in it…

“Do you want to feed him?” Kassandra hesitantly asked.

“Can I?” Phoibe questioned, her eyes sparkling, and Kassandra felt the expression squeeze her heart a little. She huffed slightly, trying to rid herself of the odd feelings.

“Sure. But the true question is may you?” Kassandra corrected, deciding that she would tease the girl slightly.

“Kassandra,” Phoibe groaned impatiently but with the definitive sound of pure delight still in her voice, and the mercenary sighed deeply.

“You may,” Kassandra finally conceded with a laugh in her voice and a slight twinkle in her eye that she knew would betray her lightheartedness. However, despite her average seriousness, she could not help her amusement in regard to the girl.

Phoibe took the meat in her hands gently and Kassandra moved her arm slight so that the bird was a bit closer to the small girl. Kassandra took Phoibe’s hand gently and guided it toward his mouth.

“Be careful when you reach out. Hold the meat in your hand and allow most of it to stick out from your fingers so he doesn’t confuse your fingers with fresh meat,” Kassandra explained before carefully letting go of Phoibe’s hand.

Phoibe carefully proffered it to the bird, and Ikaros took it from her easily and without a hitch. As soon as he had Phoibe grinned excitedly, almost unable to remain still as she watched him. Kassandra smiled slightly, trying to keep from allowing too much of a grin to find its way onto her lips.

“Woah!!! Did you see that?! Did you see it, Kassandra?!” Phoibe excitedly asked, and Kassandra chuckled lightly.

“Yes. Well done,” Kassandra nodded in approval, and Phoibe’s chest puffed proudly with the praise. Kassandra gave the bird the remainder of his lunch, and Phoibe watched in awe as he flew away.

“Wow… I wish I---”

“I know, Phoibe, I know.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hey, Kassandra! Where are you?” Kassandra leaned over to peer down from her perch atop her house where she had been looking at the stars and carving.

“Is there something you need?” She barely managed to withhold the smile that threatened to break across her face upon the sight of the eight-year-old girl staring up at her with such amazement in her eyes.

“Wow! How did you get up there?”

“I climbed?” Kassandra replied coolly, raising an eyebrow at the excitement on the child’s face.

“Could you teach me?” Phoibe asked eagerly, bouncing in place with enthusiasm. Kassandra quickly descended the walls of her home, landing on the ground with a barely audible thud.

She found it cute that the child was so enamored by the simple ascension of a structure. It truly wasn’t that extraordinary, but she guessed that Phoibe hadn’t ever really seen Kassandra climb her house before. Phoibe always came midday and never at night or early morning when Kassandra was most often on the roof.

“I will help you climb, but may I first ask what you are doing here so late?” the mercenary questioned, stepping closer to Phoibe as she silently assessed her.

Phoibe just shrugged and grinned wickedly as she looked up at the tall woman.

“I will answer that after we’re on top of your house,” Phoibe told her as she went around Kassandra so that she could examine the wall. Kassandra groaned. Of course she would use a con. Kassandra supposed it was probably all part of the charm that came with her.

Kassandra turned to face the wall as well, approaching it soundlessly. She resisted the urge to chuckle as the child started putting her feet on certain stones jutting out of the wall only to nearly fall on her behind after stepping up.

“First of all, you need to get a firm hold on the wall with your hands,” Kassandra demonstrated carefully, gripping the rocks tightly with her calloused hands. She subtly noted Phoibe’s wince as her softer, more easily penetrated digits took hold of the wall.

“Good,” Kassandra praised, one of her few and far between moments of expressing her satisfaction with what the girl did. “And now, pull up and right yourself with your feet,” Kassandra instructed, effortlessly doing it herself. Phoibe awkwardly followed her lead and Kasandra silently resolved to keep a close eye on the child as they climbed so that the little one wouldn’t fall.

“From there, you simply continue to find places to grab with your hands and secure positions for your shoes,” Kassandra instructed, and Phoibe nodded carefully, furrowing her brow in pure concentration.

They ascended slowly, and Kassandra resisted her initial urge to quickly scale the side of the house. It was such a familiar journey that her instinct dictated a certain amount of speed.

Kassandra’s hand finally met the edge of the rock lining the top of the roof and she paused for a moment, hanging there as she watched the girl below her. She felt a sense of pride rise in her chest as the girl was successfully making her way up the wall.

That was quickly replaced by intense fear as the girl faltered in her ascent. Her hands slipped from the rock, and she started to fall backwards.

Kassandra reached down in a lunge, swiftly wrapping her hand around Phoibe’s much smaller wrist. Phoibe gasped as she looked at her rescuer. She then broke out into a huge grin that was somewhat sheepish.

Kassandra rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help the small quirk at the corners of her lips.

“Ela, up you go,” Kassandra spoke, heaving upward mightily and allowing the girl to grab the edge of the rock. Phoibe held on tightly and she slowly tried to pull herself up.

Kassandra easily climbed the rest of the way and then she offered her hand to the small girl. Phoibe gladly took it, and Kassandra picked her up high, placing her on the roof. Kassandra then sat down so that she could see the starry sky, picking up her recently left behind carving of an eagle.

Phoibe then sat down next to Kassandra, looking up with a heavy sigh of something that was surely a mix of relief and exhaustion. Kassandra raised an eyebrow but remained silent as she waited for the girl to speak, knowing that something must be perturbing the girl for her to keep it from the mercenary in such a manner.

“Kassandra, have you ever wondered about your parents? Well, your mother, I mean,” Phoibe suddenly questioned, and Kassandra knew that the girl had made the assumption that Markos was her father. The older girl simply blinked, somewhat taken aback by the inquiry but ultimately somewhat willing to address the issue in her usual blunt manner.

It was true. Kassandra didn’t like to speak about her parents. However, she was not one to hold back the truth. Especially to Phoibe when it was matters that did not involve serious issues too old for young ears to overhear.

“I… My mater is gone,” Kassandra answered. And her father might as well be gone. However, she did not voice that particularly resentful thought aloud. Truthfully, she didn’t know what had come of any of her family except for the poor baby boy that she had so terribly failed.

“I… Well, I had a dream tonight,” Phoibe finally told Kassandra, and she looked at her carefully, her brow furrowed in one of those very occasional open expressions of concern for the little one. Kassandra knew it wouldn’t take long for the girl to break, but it was still odd that she had so soon.

“It was about my parents,” Phoibe continued. “We were all happy together, and… Well, it was so wonderful. We all lived in Athens, and my pater was a great playwright, and my mater was a magnificent seamstress,” Phoibe described, a large smile on her face as she described it all. However, that happiness quickly dissipated as she lowered her gaze sadly. Kassandra slightly furrowed her brow, looking down at the girl and tilting her head just barely.

“And that is when I woke up,” Phoibe finished sadly. Kassandra sighed lightly, looking up at the stars. The young woman quite honestly was not sure what to say in comforting. She never was too good with words. She was always a woman of action.

“Kassandra?”

“Hmm?” Kassandra made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a hum in reply.

“I know that Markos raised you, but… what about your mother?” Phoibe questioned.

“Do you ever… Do you ever dream of her?” Phoibe continued, and Kassandra paused, fighting her initial urge to keep her silence as all of the many nightmares surrounding that fateful night flooded her mind. However, she forcefully shook herself from those thoughts, knowing that to keep quiet for too long would raise suspicion. Besides, the child needed comfort.

“Yes, I do,” Kassandra replied somewhat guardedly, but she knew she needed to find a better manner in which to make Phoibe feel less sad.

“Would you tell me about one?” Phoibe questioned so innocently in a manner that was so opposite of her usual conniving self. It was in these rare moments that Kassandra truly saw her as the small child she was. Kassandra took a deep breath, trying to think of one of the more pleasant dreams that she had. Perhaps one with her mother. Unfortunately, none came to mind. So, therefore, she took a memory that she had of her mother, deciding that it would be the best option that she had.

“Well,” Kassandra started slowly, recalling a particularly meaningful and happy one that she had. She could feel Phoibe’s gaze glued to the side of her face as she spoke.

“We were out in the middle of a forest. A gorgeous forest alight with the rays of the midday sun,” Kassandra began, calling the memory more fully back to her.

“Everything was lit up in a golden haze,” Kassandra described, moving her hand in a sweeping motion before her to demonstrate the entire effect.

“I was out hunting, and I was creeping up behind a boar. I hesitated too long before making my kill,” the young woman spoke slowly, telling her story with the proper reverence that such a sweet memory deserved.

“But before I could make my move, a broken spear came flying toward the boar, landing just close enough to it so that it ran away,” Kassandra explained carefully.

“Who threw the spear? Or did your dream end?” Phoibe questioned with a large yawn, and Kassandra smiled slightly, recalling the memory.

“No, it did not end. It was my mater,” Kassandra told her with some mirth in her voice.

“And was the broken spear the one that you carry?” Phoibe curiously asked, her voice sleepy. Kassandra hesitated, deciding that it would be best to simply keep this from the young girl.

“Probably similar to it,” Kassandra finally settled on explaining it in that manner. It was the best option that she had, and she most certainly did not want to directly lie to the child.

“And when she came out from behind a nearby tree, showing herself to me, she said that hesitation only hastens—”

“The grave?” Phoibe guessed, and Kassandra raised an eyebrow, looking at the little girl curiously.

“Yes. How did you know that?” Kassandra asked with a bit of a smile curving the corners of her lips.

“You have told me that many times. This dream must have really impacted your life,” Phoibe jokingly spoke, yawning widely again and sounding very tired indeed, and Kassandra shook her head.

“Something like that. But she then complimented me on my form and resolve before commenting on my hesitation,” Kassandra recounted, and it was then that she realized that she would need to revise the end of this tale. If she were to uncover the fact that at that moment was when her mother gave her the spear of Leonidas, it would give away the fact that Kassandra was indeed not retelling a dream but rather a memory.

“And then we decided to hunt together, chasing after the boar with both of our broken spears. And then I woke up,” Kassandra finished her story, feeling a little strange since she had to conjure a random story in her mind. She was, after all, not a poet.

“Sounds like a wonderful dream,” Phoibe pointed out, and Kassandra nodded solemnly.

“I wish I could have seen your mater,” Phoibe admitted, letting her head fall against Kassandra’s shoulder. Kassandra stiffened slightly, immediately looking down at the girl. Phoibe was quite obviously very tired and had decided that Kassandra was a great resting place.

Kassandra was completely at a loss as to how to handle the sudden contact. Kassandra had become accustomed to the fact that any physical contact was either in the form of unwanted advances or in the form of some sort of violence.

But this… This was actually nice. Kassandra was not too sure how to react, but the weight of Phoibe’s head against the muscle of her shoulder was actually quite comforting, and she found it to be rather endearing.

Kassandra swallowed lightly, afraid to move in case the girl would awaken, and she just settled for looking at the stars above them. She loosened herself and allowed herself to simply enjoy the warm touch.

And when she finally laid down with Phoibe resting against her, it was the first night in quite a long time that she had actually had a restful sleep.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I sniff hard, trying to hold back the stream of tears and the mess resulting. I cannot allow myself to grieve outwardly over this any longer.

The time for tears has passed. She is gone. The poor girl is gone, and there is a blackened hole within my heart that has been left behind in her wake. It is another broken shard of me that I shall never be able to regain.

I swallow, closing my eyes before looking to the sky.

“Aniazo. I shall forever, sweet child.”

And with that small admission, I climb down from the temple and depart.

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