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tenroseforeverandever · 7 years ago

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Dear Father Christmas… Chapter 23: December 24, 2038

MASTERPOST

Characters: Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble; OC Therin Thomson; Javic Thane; Gray Thane; OC Tianza; the TARDIS; OC Abby Tyler-Milne;

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love; gun violence; violence resulting in death; life-threatening injury; life threatening situations; life threatening illness; original characters

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: Jackie decides to make Ugly Christmas Jumpers for everyone in the family.

Notes: Wow! Another chapter that got away from me! LOL And boy, did this one put up a fight.

To my betas, @rose–nebula and mrsbertucci: once again, this chapter would not be what it is without you. You gave me inspiration (which I still feel guilty about!) and we had many, many discussions about lots of things to get me through this, including a particularly hilarious discussion about aliens (I’m dying laughing just thinking about it now… I don’t know why I find it so funny, I just do!) Just thank-you, both, for always being there when I need you, and putting up with my whinging. I love you both!

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. The prompt I used today was Santa and/or Elves.

I know it’s the middle of April, but since the weather outside (here in Ontario) is still frightful, I don’t feel too guilty about posting part of my Christmas story. I have eight more chapters to go for the full 31 Days of Ficmas. I’m not sure if I will post any more through the year, or just write them and post them at Christmastime in December. I’ll see how it goes… ;D

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2038

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum never does anything by halves. When Jackie Tyler sets her mind on something, she doesn’t hold back. She gets stuck right in; she takes the bull by the horns and beats it into submission. God help anyone or anything standing in her way. Just ask the Doctor…

(On second thought, best not. He might not take it too well, especially not after… well, you’ll see.)

Anyroad, ever since we welcomed my little niece, Abby, into our lives last autumn, Mum’s been on a knitting rampage. She taught herself. She started out with little things like baby mitts and booties, but quickly progressed to sweet little cardigans and jumpers. And she’s gotten really good! My very favourite one was an adorable navy-blue jumper with the words “I LOVE MY DADDIES!” emblazoned across the front in big, pink letters. Tony and Noah (the proud Daddies in question) loved it too, and dressed little Abby in it all the time, until summer came along, and they were forced to admit it was too hot for her to wear it anymore!

This year, sometime around August, Mum’s knitting took a rather… erm… dangerous turn. Stand aside, Molly Weasley: Jackie Tyler announced she was intending to knit jumpers for all of the Tyler clan, and their significant others, this Christmas.

And not just any jumpers: Ugly Christmas Jumpers.

She only told me and Dad, not wanting to spoil the “surprise” for everyone else. Honestly, we just had to grit our teeth and tell her what a “great idea” it was. It wasn’t like it would’ve made any difference if we’d told her how we really felt. Besides, this way we were likely avoiding the pain of a good hard smack, and months of her patented Jackie Tyler silent-not-silent treatment.

Anyway, it wasn’t like she’d told us about it because she was actually seeking our approval. No, we were to be models, though I rather think guinea-pigs would be a more apt description. Honestly, as Christmas approached, I was seriously beginning to think it would have been better to shut the entire Ugly Jumper Project down in its early stages and endure whatever punishment Mum might have dished out, but at that point, we were in too deep to turn back.

The worst part of the whole process was Mum constantly calling me throughout the autumn to come over to the mansion to try something on, or to bring over jumpers the kids had left behind when they came to visit, so she could compare the sizing with what she was knitting. To be honest it got to be a bit tedious very quickly, but I could hardly say no to her when she was throwing her heart into it. Besides, this way I was able to keep an eye out and nix any design I thought wouldn’t go down very well with the intended recipient.

But, the jumpers were, for the most part, not too bad. They were beautifully designed and made. I was honestly quite impressed. Most of them either featured a cute character like a snowman or penguin or something like that, or they were the traditional Fair Isle design, with rows of little repeating Christmas characters and symbols in garish colours. Regardless of the pattern, all of them had some sort of saying on them, like Joy to the World, ‘Tis the Season, or Let It Snow.

“Soooo, which one is mine,” I asked.

“Never you mind, little madam. For your information, I ‘aven’ started it yet. And even if I ‘ad… as if I would spoil the surprise.”

I suddenly had a horrible thought. Cold dread washed over me. “Erm… what about the Doctor’s…?” Ever since he had revamped her dishwasher to sing Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer seven or eight Christmases ago, Mum had been out for revenge. Not that she would admit it. From the look she gave me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but I knew better.

“Oh, I’m tryin’ to come up with jus’ the right pattern for ‘im. I’ve a couple in mind.”

“Muuuuum, don’t do anything rash, yeah?”

“Oh, honestly Rose, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I’m jus’ tryin’ to create a little Christmas cheer.”

“Oi! I’m the one stuck in the middle of you and the Doctor and your flippin’ Christmas cheer. Me and Dad!”

She ignored me, of course, and did a complete about-face on the topic. “Oh, speakin’ of your Dad… I got his jumper finished. What d’ya think?” She held up a dark green jumper, with a comical Santa body on it. The pattern stopped at the collar, so Dad’s head would be taking the place of Santa’s head (your head, Santa!) The words Ho Ho Ho were knitted in bold yellow letters below Santa’s feet. “I’ll get ‘im to wear a Father Christmas ‘at and all!”

I had to laugh. “Good luck with that!”

“’E’ll do it if ‘e knows w’at’s good for ‘im!”

“That’ll make for more of your Christmas cheer, then…”

“Oh, don’t ya worry; I’ll make it worth ‘is while.” She winked at me. “There’ll be plenty of Christmas cheer and bells a jinglin’ around ‘ere.”

“Mum! TMI!”

“Since when ‘ave you been such a prude? I mean, jus’ look at the way you and ‘imself carry on.”

“Yeah, but there are certain things I really, really do not need to know. And that, right there: that tops the list! Look, I gotta run. Dad’s asked me to give a presentation this afternoon.”

“Oh, well, I suppose… Oh, Rose, wait a mo’. I meant to ask: Charlie, is she seein’ someone regular these days? Will she be bringin’ a date for Christmas Eve? I’ll need to make ‘im or ‘er a jumper too, yeah, whoever they are.”

“I dunno, Mum. I never know with that one these days. I worry… a lot.”

“She’ll be all right, sweetheart. It’s jus’ a phase. ‘Sides, she’s nearly twenty years old. I don’t need to remind ya w’at you were up to at ‘er age… gallivantin’ around with that bleedin’ alien. Not that you cared a fig about my worries!”

“Mum…”

“She’s jus’ like you in so many ways, so bloody-minded.”

“That isn’t helping, Mum! I jus’ hope you’re right… about it being a phase. Anyway, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything definite about her bringing a date.”

“An’ in the meantime, I’ll knit an extra generic sort of jumper, jus’ in case.” Mum must have noticed I was about to protest, because she cut me off before I’d even had a chance to open my mouth. “Nah, don’t worry; Lor’ knows, it’s no trouble. After all, Therin might still decide to bring someone, too, and I’ll need one for ‘er. Best to be prepared.”

“All right. Suit yourself. See ya soon. Love ya.” I kissed her on the cheek and headed out the door, the problem of Charlie weighing heavily on my mind.

--ooOoo--

That night as I was standing at the stove making supper, the Doctor came up and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gave me a lovely kiss behind the ear. It was just what I’d needed. I’d been wound up all day.

“Penny for ‘em? You’ve been doing (might I say) a piss poor job of shielding your emotions.”

“That obvious, was it?”

“Yup.” He squeezed me tighter and gave me another tender little kiss. Even without our telepathic bond, I expect he would have figured out something was wrong. And I really had been sloppy about keeping my worry contained. To be honest, I’d been hoping he’d notice. “You could have just told me if something was bothering you.”

I leaned my head back against his shoulder, giving the sauce another stir. “I know. You’ve just been so stressed lately.”

The Doctor had been called in to help with seventeen frightened and violent Trumhurgi whose ship had crashed in Torquay. They were badly injured, and the Doctor was the only one who had any decent knowledge about their unusual physiology. It had been two months of providing medical care for them, sometimes round-the-clock for several days running. He’d been training Torchwood physicians and nurses as well, but it all took time. In addition, he’d been consulting about repairs on the Trumhurgi ship, and travelling back and forth in the TARDIS, obtaining spare parts and contacting worried family members, carrying their messages and even bringing them back to Earth to visit their recuperating relatives.

I’d been working on the case too, but I was helping out the traumatized humans who’d been caught up in the original crash and the violent, defensive outburst that had followed. Shots had been fired and, by some stroke of luck, there had been no deaths, but it had been a close call. Fortunately, I had a huge, experienced team at my command, so my end of the job had been a lot easier than the Doctor’s.

“I’m all right, love,” the Doctor assured me, as we dished up our supper and sat down at the table. It was the first time in weeks we’d actually been able to eat together. “Besides, by end of this week the last of the Trumhurgi go home in their very own, working-better-than-ever ship! Let’s have tonight be about us.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. Now spill. What’s got you so upset?”

“It’s Charlie. I’m worried. I didn’t tell you about it because… well, the Trumhurgi… but Javic dropped by shortly after all that happened… with news.” The Doctor’s eyes darkened, and his lips tightened reflexively, but he waited for me to continue. “It seems Charlie has been taking a page out of Javic’s book, recently. She’s been, erm… let’s just say ‘embracing her sexuality’… a lot!”

“And he knows this how?”

“Well he ran into her at one of his favourite… spots.”

I sensed the Doctor’s anger flare, white hot. “He didn’t touch−”

“God, no! In fact, he’s sort of taken her under his wing, so to speak. Made sure she’s stayed away from all the dangerous places.”

The Doctor growled. He looked like he was fighting really hard to keep his emotions in check. His eyes flashed at me. It had been a long time since I’d been a target for the Oncoming Storm. It was properly frightening (and more than a bit thrilling!) “And you… you never thought to tell me? This? About our daughter?”

“You were so busy. And it’s not like−”

He launched himself out of his chair with a roar. “You kept this from me?”

Reflexively, I shrank back into my seat, like some timid little creature. “I’m sorry.”

He began to pace, tugging at his hair. Each time he passed me, he opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come out. His mental shields were locked in place and impenetrable.

After five long minutes, I decided enough was enough. It wasn’t my habit to let him intimidate me and I wasn’t about to chicken out now; history told me, it was far better to confront him, not let him get away with his bullying behaviour. “Doctor, stop! Enough. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Oh, so now you want to talk to me!”

“That’s was the point of having this conversation, yeah? Sit!”

He did as I asked, shoving his plate away from him, across the table. I grabbed onto his hand before he could move it, pouring my love through our bond. I was gratified when his shields began to give; it was only a little, but it was a beginning.

“Any other information you want to impart?” he bit out.

“Well… apparently she has one of Wilfred’s Vortex Manipulators, so… erm… she’s dancing through time and space.”

“Bloody hell!” He moved to stand again, but I held firm to his hand. He glared daggers at me. “Let go! We have to−”

“Have to what, Doctor? What do you propose we do? You’re not going to go storming in there like the Great Exterminator!”

“Try me!”

“This is Charlie… intimidation has never worked on that kid, and it’s not about to this time, either. We need to be rational and calm and supportive.”

“Supportive! But she’s−”

“I know. And Javic has been keeping an eye on her. He’s making sure she checks in with him, and he assures me she’s doing… fine.”

“Somehow, I don’t imagine Javic’s definition of ‘fine’ is quite the same as ours.”

I had to admit (but only to myself) I’d been thinking much the same way, though I knew Javic: he’d go to the ends of creation to protect any of us. “Hope’s been keeping in touch with her too,” I offered, hoping to appease the Doctor.

“Well that, that is a bloody recipe for disaster!” His anger flared.

Again, I had to agree with him, Santa. For all that she means well, Hope tends to get a bit bossy with her younger siblings. She’s mellowed over the years, but still… My arguments were crumbling around me. “You’re right. Let’s go!”

“What?”

“Let’s go… TARDIS. You. Me. Chat with our daughter.”

“But I thought you said...?”

“Changed my mind.”

--ooOoo--

Charlie, it turns out, was not thrilled to see us. I hadn’t been expecting a joyous family reunion or anything, but I think it would have gone a lot better if the Doctor hadn’t barged up to the bar where she was cheerfully chatting up some green-skinned bloke, waving his psychic paper around like some crazed maniac and bellowing to said bloke that Charlie was under-aged (an outright lie… on that planet) and if he didn’t want to find himself in a whole heap of trouble he’d better scram. He’d then grabbed Charlie by the arm and hauled her out of the building and into the TARDIS.

To say Charlie was furious was the understatement of the year! She was ranting on about how it was bad enough her “puritanical” sister was on her case, but the fact that we were now interfering in her life as well incensed her to no end. She only finally calmed after I ordered the Doctor out of the TARDIS. I would deal with him later.

In the end, there was very little I could actually do other than let Charlie know we’d both be there for her if she ever needed us. She assured me she was fine: having fun; being careful; and not doing anything too wild (and “bloody hell, Mum, I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you… it’s just wrong…”.) I tried to understand, but I just couldn’t put myself in that mindset, and I told her as much.

“It’s just such a relief to be able to have fun and feel good without any obligations. I have so many obligations, Mum. School, Hand in Hand, work... This makes me feel, well free.”

Oh, Santa, it was then I realized how much that little girl (young woman) had taken on in her young life.

She must have seen the look of horror on my face. She grabbed my hand, and our familial bond snapped into place. She read me like an open book. “Mum, don’t you dare feel guilty. You never, ever pressured me, any of us, to do anything we didn’t want. You encouraged us in the best way possible, you… and Dad.” She chuckled and rolled her eyes at the mention of her father. “This is just my way of letting go a bit, taking time for me. Can you understand that?”

“Course I can, love. I worry, that’s all. Promise me you’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“And listen to Javic.”

“Muuuuum! I know!”

“Now, since we spoiled your evening with that young man, how about we take you out to supper, yeah?”

“That sounds great! And don’t worry too much about my evening. He was a bit of a tosser, anyway. I was just about to walk out when Dad came barging in like some daft Onidsessi on pep pills. Urrrgh,” she groaned, “promise you’ll never let Dad near pep pills. Can you imagine…?”

“Oh, god, your Dad… he’s out there… Not on pep pills, but you know as well as me, he’s quite capable of stirring up all kinds of trouble without them if he gets a bit bored.”

Thankfully the Doctor hadn’t been stirring up trouble. We found him, pacing back and forth in front of the TARDIS doors. Charlie skipped right over to him, stopping him in his tracks and planting a kiss on his cheek. I couldn’t help but smile. We might all drive one another completely mental sometimes, but there was no lack of love in our little family, and this incident had assured me our children always knew we would be a safe haven for them whenever they needed it.

With all our emotions running high, I never remembered to ask Charlie if she was bringing home a friend at Christmas, so Mum could plan an appropriate jumper. At this point, though, I didn’t imagine there would be anyone special, given that she seemed to be determined to stay away from serious relationships for the time being.

I couldn’t have been more wrong…

Santa, I need to run. We’re all at Mum’s tonight, and the jumpers have finally been unveiled. There were a few… complications. And I’m running interference! I’ll try to explain later.

Blimey! There goes the Doctor, now, and he looks far too happy for anyone’s good, especially considering… Look, Santa, I gotta go! I’ll finish this letter up later.

--ooOoo--

Santa, I’m back, but I’m not sure where the hell I’m going to begin. A lot of stuff went down tonight. A lot of stuff.

Mum was just itching to hand out her Ugly Jumper parcels to everyone; I couldn’t get her to sit still, she was so excited. We were still waiting for Charlie to arrive and for Tony, Noah, and Abby, too. The Doctor had gone to collect Charlie in the TARDIS. Mum was bouncing off the walls.

Thank goodness my brother and his family decided to show up just after the Doctor left. Entertaining Abby was keeping Mum rather brilliantly distracted, and it meant I didn’t need to entertain Mum. As it turned out, it was just as well Mum was preoccupied, because it gave her time to ease into meeting Charlie’s plus-one which turned out to be a bit of a shock for her, just not for the immediately obvious reason…

The lovely, familiar sound of the TARDIS filled the room about fifteen minutes after Tony arrived. She landed in her customary corner of Mum’s living room, wearing her traditional Blue Box disguise, but topped with festive snow and icicles, and a colourful wreath on her door. The door opened, and the Doctor stepped out, meeting my gaze with raised eyebrows and a little prickle of warning through our bond. He was being very guarded, not sharing any specific thoughts or images, and that made me distinctly uneasy.

Charlie followed him and was tugging behind her what could only be her date for the evening. The creature seemed to unfold itself from the TARDIS. It was very tall and rail thin. Charlie was holding onto one of its appendages, a hand of sorts, at the end of one of its four upper limbs, formed from an assortment of tentacle-like structures. “C’mon Hrau-Ard,” Charlie coaxed. “You’re gonna love my family! Hell, you and Dad are already like best mates!”

“Possibly a bit of an exaggeration seeing as we only met six minutes ago,” the Doctor countered, allowing Charlie and Hrau-Ard to step in front of him, “but he seems like a fine chap, I have to say.”

It took me a moment to get over my shock. Now, let me be clear, Santa, I have no trouble with interspecies relationships… I mean look at my darling husband, not exactly human for all he looks it. It’s just that Charlie, for all her sexual experimentation has never strayed far from standard humanoid partners before... at least according to Javic’s accounts. That’s why I needed to collect my thoughts before I moved forward to greet our new guest.

“Hello,” I smiled up into the creature’s majestic face. And majestic it was, by any standards… beautiful. Trust Charlie to pick a gorgeous date! A long muzzle, with an expressive mouth on the end, swooped up into a spectacular curved crest above it’s head. The crest had two main parts, a longer one below and a shorter part above. Its face morphed gradually from a rich teal colour at the muzzle to a deep indigo at the tips of the crests and was edged with many sensory tentacles and filaments. Two large purple eyes bulged above the snout, and several secondary eyes protruded from either side of the crests, set on stalks which were each adorned with several metallic rings. “I’m Rose Tyler, Charlie’s mum.” I held my hands out, spread open before me in the universal sign of peaceful greeting.

The creature bowed its head to me and dropping Charlie’s hand, held all four of it’s tentacle-tipped upper limbs out, mirroring me. Its fluting voice emanated from the crests. “Christmas greetings to you, Rose Tyler. My name is Hrau-Ard. It is lovely to meet you.”

“He’s male… mostly,” Charlie informed me, “so it’s okay to use ‘he’ and ‘him’.”

Hrau-Ard piped in, bowing his head to me again, “Those pronouns seem to be the most accurate.”

Before I could respond to Hrau-Ard, Charlie impatiently snagged the hand she’d been holding earlier and tugged him past me. “Well, come on in and meet the rest of the family!”

He hooted in surprise, his long tan-coloured tunic billowing and brushing me as he passed. It dropped halfway down his two legs and contrasted spectacularly with the blues and greens of his skin and had an opening in the back through which a pair of wing-like appendages extended. They were bright turquoise and filmy (too delicate to be proper wings) and vibrated as he moved.

I admit, I couldn’t suppress a chuckle at Mum’s incredulous expression as she met him. She passed Abby back to Noah, and looked Hrau-Ard up and down, offering him all the appropriate greetings. She had come a long way since her “bog-monster” days on the Estate and was extremely well-versed in alien diplomacy. After all, she’d welcomed plenty into her home over the years. But, despite all her training and experience, she was still my mum, and I nearly choked when she repeated his name back for clarification: “Howard? Your name is Howard?”

With a low whistle of approval and if the TARDIS was translating properly, amusement, Hrau-Ard inclined his head, his facial filaments bobbing with the movement. “I enjoy the way you say my name, Charlie’s Gran.”

“Oh, just call me Jackie, please. Howard! Of all the names!”

“Is this name of significance to you?”

Mum glanced nervously over to Pete, who was busy grilling Wilfred and Tianza about the medicinal properties of a Gallifreyan plant he was interested in using in a new Vitex drink. “Oh, ‘e’s jus’ an old mate of mine.”

“Fine fellow! Liked fruit!” the Doctor enthused from the TARDIS door with a broad, toothy grin. “I borrowed his pyjamas and dressing gown once!”

“Well then,” Hrau-Ard bleeped, “I am honoured to be his namesake.”

“Oh, off the two of you go then.” Mum shooed Charlie and “Howard” off to meet Tony, Noah, and Abby. She fixed a glare at the Doctor, who had stepped up behind me. “See, there, Time Lump! A proper alien, tentacles and all! ‘E at least ‘as the decency to look the part.”

“So sorry to disappoint you with my lack of appendages, Jackie (after all, I live my life just to please you),” he snarked back at her. “Fortunately, as it turns out, there’s one Tyler who is rather fond of my one, rather impressive appendage, just the way it is.”

“All right, you two,” I cut off Mum before she had a chance to bite back, “it’s Christmastime, yeah? Peace on Earth. See, the halls are all decked,” I gestured around me, “merry and bright. Let’s try to enjoy ourselves.”

“Ooooh, I’d like to deck ‘is halls, all right…” Mum grumbled.

The Doctor leaned out around me to shoot another barb at Mum. “Is that your resting Grinch face, Jackie, or are you just happy to see me?”

Mum lunged at him, slapping-hand poised and ready. Fortunately for the Doctor, I was still in between the two of them. “Stop!”

“Cuddly as a cactus; charming as an eel… Mrs. Griii-inch” the Doctor sing-songed.

“STOP!” My shout silenced the room, everyone turning to stare at me.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” Charlie cooed at Hrau-Ard, “that’s sorta their normal behaviour.”

“Look what you two made me do,” I hissed at Mum and the Doctor. “Be civil! Honestly!” Fed up, I made to leave the two of them and go to the kitchen to pour myself a well-earned glass of wine, when Mum caught me by the sleeve.

“Blimey, Rose!” she whispered at me. “That Howard fella ‘as wings!”

“Yeah, well spotted! And tentacles!”

“No, no, no! The wings! ‘E’ll never fit into any of my jumpers! Never! And ‘e’s so bleedin’ skinny and all. (Blimey, ‘e makes the Doctor look like a sumo wrestler, ‘e does!) The jumper I made would be…”

“Mum, you don’t need to worry. He’ll understand, I’m sure.”

She burst into tears. “But I wanted everyone to ‘ave… and now ‘e’ll be without something from me… An’ it’s Christmas…”

The Doctor stepped up, concerned. He put a gentle hand on Mum’s shoulder. “What’s wrong? If it’s what I said, Jackie… you know I was just taking the mick.”

“No, no, no… nothin’ like that, ya plum.” She patted his cheek and gave him a watery smile. “I’m jus’ disappointed is all.” She excused herself and rushed off in the direction of the powder room.

“What was all that about?”

“Promise you won’t tell her I told you?”

“Oh, you know I can keep a secret, Rose! Besides, I know better than to cross Jackie Tyler by leaking sensitive information. C’mon, give.”

I explained to him about Mum’s dilemma, how she had knitted ugly Christmas jumpers for everyone (his face blanched, probably imagining what she might have created for him) and now because of Hrau-Ard’s unexpected physical attributes, none of the jumpers she had set aside would ever possibly fit.

“Well, I could help,” he suggested. “She’s probably not going to like it much, and I can’t say I’m much of a fan of it myself, but I have an idea that just might work… if she’s willing.”

--ooOoo--

Everyone was so busy with canapes and punch and cocktails they never noticed Mum and the Doctor bundling into the TARDIS and the TARDIS dematerializing. The TARDIS was proud to be showing off her new “Silent Mode”: there was only a little bit of a breeze to indicate she had ever been there. (My little darling.)

They had only been gone for about ten minutes before the TARDIS rematerialized and Mum burst through the doors, beaming and carrying a neatly wrapped parcel: Hrau-Ard’s gift. To my utter amazement, she turned back to stroke the TARDIS’ doorframe, planting a soft kiss on the blue wood. “Thank-you, sweetheart. You’re a wonder, you are.”

The TARDIS hummed in response, a wonderfully joyous sound, as Mum practically skipped over to the Christmas tree to tuck the present underneath.

The Doctor stepped up beside me, closing the TARDIS doors behind him. “They hit it off like a house on fire,” he told me, “the pair of them, thick as thieves. Turns out when your Mum was ill a few years ago, and I put her in stasis, the TARDIS kept her company in her mind; they became fast friends. Brilliant!” He grinned down at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me against him as we followed Mum to the tree. Then he paused, and I glanced up at him to ask why we had stopped. The grin melted from his face. “Although… I don’t much like the idea of the two of them plotting against me behind my back.”

I just laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Blimey… you’re getting a bit paranoid! How long were you gone in your timestream?”

“Five and a half days, Rose. Five and a half days… with Jackie Tyler on my TARDIS! That’s enough to make anyone paranoid!”

I admit, Santa, I shamelessly started to laugh harder. “How did you ever survive?”

“After the first day, I learned pretty quick to keep my head down. I made myself scarce.”

“Oh, you’ll be all right.” I nudged him with my elbow. “They won’t plot against you…” (…much, I added silently.)

“I heard that!” He arched an irritable eyebrow at me. “Do you realize she’s got her own room, Rose? No, not room, suite! The TARDIS gave her an entire suite of rooms with her own telly and a little galley too!”

“Awww, that’s lovely.” I was warmed through that the TARDIS had welcomed Mum so enthusiastically. My darling husband, however, was another matter. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I’ll protect you from any plotting. C’mon, we better hurry. I don’t think Mum will be able to contain herself much longer.”

Mum was gathering everyone together, so she could hand out her creations, and getting a bit shirty at people who weren’t paying attention, so I dragged the Doctor over by the hand and found a comfortable seat for us.

Content that everyone was present and listening to her, Mum spoke: “I’ve decided to start a new Tyler-family tradition: Ugly Christmas Jumpers! Made by yours truly.” She preened and there was a round of groans from the family and a perplexed hoot from Hrau-Ard. “Oi! They’re not really ugly… that’s jus’ w’at they’re called, yeah. See I’m wearin’ one.” She stood up to show off the jumper she was wearing. It was made of soft, silvery yarn and she had sewn tinsel across the front to form the words “Don’t get your tinsel in a twist,” in cursive script. Of course, she also had tinsel tied around her up-do. She looked sparkly and lovely. My Mum… She’s been through so much in her life, experienced so many odd things, and taken it all in stride; things that would make most people go completely loopy. I love her so much. I was positively chuffed to see her so happy, handing out brightly coloured parcels to all our family.

Dad was the first one to get his present, and he was a real sport about it, donning both his new Santa jumper and the Santa hat Mum had included in his parcel. Everyone burst out laughing when he stood up and smoothed his jumper down over his tummy, and said: “Do you think this makes me look fat? Ho-ho-ho!”

“Oh, sit down, you!” Mum admonished, but I could tell she was pleased as punch.

After that there was great excitement as we all opened our packages. Abby’s jumper was the cutest little thing, with an adorable gingerbread man wearing a Santa hat on a bright, red background. There were miniature gingerbread men down the sleeves and a few white strategically-placed snowflakes. I figure it’ll be a new favourite piece of clothing for her doting daddies!

Javic’s jumper featured a grumpy Santa reading his list of children’s names. The words “I’m at the top of Santa’s naughty list,” were emblazoned underneath. He was ecstatic, claiming it couldn’t have been more perfect. My jumper was… well, glorious in it’s tackiness! And I loved it! Oh, Santa, it was TARDIS blue, and a string of knitted fairy lights trailed all over it. In the middle, the fairy lights formed the words “Merry and Bright” and were lit up with little LEDs. Mum had outdone herself.

Hrau-Ard seemed uncertain what to do with his package, but Charlie soon sorted him out, helping him unwrap the gift. He held the jumper up in front of him, looking around at everyone else trying theirs on. He peered at the design on the front, all of his eyes trained on the bright patterns, and gave a long low hoot.

“Well, are ya goin’ to put it on, then?” Charlie prompted. “Here, I’ll help ya!” Together, the two of them made short work of slipping off Hrau-Ard’s tan tunic and replacing it with the jumper.

Hrau-Ard stood up out of his chair to show his jumper off. It was long, like the undertunic he wore, dropping to mid-thigh, and had perfectly aligned spaces for all four of his upper limbs and his wings.

“The TARDIS helped Jackie with the proper design and style, so it was compatible with his cultural expectations and with his body configuration,” the Doctor murmured in my ear. “She even provided all the yarn, if you can believe that!”

I took a closer look at the jumper. It featured an green-clad elf body on a scarlet background. Like Dad’s jumper, Hrau-Ard’s head took the place of the elf’s head. The words underneath said: “Take an ‘elfie with me!” It was hilarious! We were all in stitches, especially Hrau-Ard, who particularly appreciated the pun in the wording, and was honking with joy, and pulling out his mobile to take ‘elfies with everyone.

I couldn’t help but notice Therin was the only one not laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. He sat on the other side of the room glowering at Charlie and Hrau-Ard and their easy familiarity. Clearly, he hadn’t gotten over Charlie. He still loved her, despite her obvious disinterest in him… at least as a romantic partner. My heart absolutely ached for him as he quietly trudged out of the room, wearing his Fair Isle T-rex jumper.

“I should go check on him,” I whispered to the Doctor.

“Nah, he needs to work this out for himself, love. He can’t change what’s in his heart. He just needs time to come to terms with it.”

“I hate to see him so miserable though… I wish I could−”

“Oi!” Mum’s shriek of disapproval cut through my thoughts. “Where’s your jumper, then, Doctor?”

The Doctor shifted nervously next to me, and I felt his crushing fear in my mind. He picked at the wrapping paper on the package in his lap.

“C’mon then, ya big baby! Open it up! I made it special, jus’ for you.”

“That… that’s what worries me,” he muttered under his breath.

“Here, I’ll help you,” I offered. Honestly, Santa, Mum was right. He was being a big baby about it. Coward every time. “Best get it over with, like ripping a plaster off.”

“I don’t like plasters, and I don’t like the sound of your mum saying, ‘special just for you’. That, right there, Rose, sends my entire brain into mauve status!”

“C’mon, how bad can it be?” Even as I said the words, I glanced over at Mum who was watching the Doctor with a piercing, self-satisfied eye, and I braced myself. “Never mind. Just get it over with, yeah.”

By this time, we had the attention of the whole room, and the Doctor in a less-than-convincing act of enthusiasm, tore away the wrapping paper in one fell swoop. He reached into the shredded paper and pulled out the jumper, holding it up gingerly. Santa, I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. I swear the tears were pouring down my face, and the Doctor was scowling at me.

I better explain. The torso and most of the arms of the jumper were mostly brown. Around the cuffs of the arms, and at certain places over the shoulders were knitted green leaves. Some of them also trailed over the torso and back. When we lifted the arms of the jumper, we found dangling from their undersides none other than beautifully crafted, little knit pears! Pears, Santa, which as I’m sure you know are the fruit the Doctor despises most in the universe… for reasons that have never been very clear to me.

The crowning glory was the gigantic bird sewn firmly to the left shoulder: a partridge.

Mum had given the Doctor a Partridge in a Pear Tree-themed jumper!

Strangely, the bird was not knitted but a small-scale but realistic model, complete with feathers… and that gave me pause for thought, and trust me when I say the thoughts were not optimistic for the Doctor…

“Well, w’at are you waitin’ for?” Mum barked. “Put it on, then?”

“What? You expect me to wear this travesty… this… this pitiable excuse for clothing? Nope. Nope. Nope. Not happening.”

“Oh, just put it on, Dad!” Hope cajoled from across the room. “We’re all wearing them.”

“Yours don’t have pears and a great bloody bird attached, do they?”

“The jumpers are splendid!” Hrau-Ard spoke up with an earnest honk. “This is the most comfortable piece of clothing I have ever owned. And it is humorous too. Doctor, you really should try yours.”

Mum just about melted on the spot at Hrau-Ard’s compliment. “Oh, Howard! You’re such a love. But, you’re just sayin’ that!”

“No, I am sincere, Jackie. It is perfect. I think I like Christmas. And Ugly Christmas Jumpers!”

“Well then, sweetheart, I’ll make you another for next year, yeah?

Howard… I mean Hrau-Ard hooted happily in response, and Mum turned her attention back to the Doctor, by which I mean, she glared daggers at him.

“Oh, all right,” the Doctor conceded, “…if it means I don’t have to listen to any more of your harping,” he added under his breath. He stalked off to the downstairs loo, crushing the jumper in his clenched fist.

“I better go help him out…” I made my excuses and rushed off after him.

I heard Wilfred snickering to Hope, Gray, and Tianza, as I passed them. “Ten quid says they’re off for a snog… or worse.”

Hope just laughed. “No deal, little brother! That’s a sure thing.”

“Oi!” (I’m sorry, I had to protest!) “Enough out of you lot!”

“C’mon, Mum, face it,” Charlie interjected, “you two are an embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Wilfred agreed, “I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve had to spring the two of you from prison for public indecency.”

“Oi, what’s this then?” Mum leaned in for more tidbits of information, and I cleared out of the room as fast as I could.

Exasperated, I knocked on the powder room door. “Doctor, it’s just me.”

He opened the door to let me in.

“Blimey, we’ll have to watch ourselves. That lot are making wagers on whether or not we shag in here, and they’re telling Mum all about our arrests…”

He groaned, sniffing in disdain. “Bloody brilliant! Christmas, an annual excuse for almost completely unfounded gossip and rumour.”

“Exactly!”

“And then there’s this…” He held up the jumper. “I don’t know why I have to put on this preposterous get-up?”

“Because as I recall, a few years back, you mucked about with Mum’s dishwasher. Now it’s payback time,” I reminded him. “C’mon then…” I helped him pull off the (sexy) red jumper he was currently wearing, and I couldn’t resist running my fingers through the sparse hair on his chest. “Tell you what, though: if you’re a good boy and put the jumper on, I will make it very much worth your while…”

“Oh, yes!”

I dropped to my knees in front of him.

“What? Right now?”

“I’ll make it quick… I know all your secrets.”

He growled at me, his eyes darkening. “I’ll be wanting another round later tonight, Tyler.”

“You think so, do ya?”

“Of course, I’ll be happy to return the favour. I’ll make you come so hard, your screams will be heard all the way to Gallifrey and back! Think you’re up for that?”

I gazed up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile and stroked him where he was now straining against the front of his trousers. “You’re on! But the real question is, can you manage not to scream? We don’t really need that lot making any more wagers at our expense.”

--ooOoo--

Sorry Santa, got off on a bit of a tangent there… It happens sometimes, as you’re well aware.

So… where was I? Oh, yeah, so fifteen minutes later, we came out of the loo. With my help (holding the partridge), we managed to get the jumper over the Doctor’s head. He looked very, very, extremely not happy, despite my recent… erm… display of affection. “I feel ridiculous!” he gritted out to me.

“It’s just for a few hours, love.” I patted his arm and took his hand for moral support and made bloody sure to conceal my amusement from him.

As we returned to the living room, out the corner of my eye, I was pretty certain I saw some money changing hands, although, to his credit, the Doctor had kept very quiet and I had checked that my hair and make-up were in order. Maybe they were wagering on whether he’d be wearing the jumper… Who knows?

Anyway, I had to agree with the Doctor’s assessment: the jumper did look more than a bit silly, but everyone cheered and laughed at it. They were having so much fun over it, and the Doctor ended up being a good sport, showing it off, spreading his arms and making silly faces about the “vile” pears dangling from them.

I admit, I kept to myself the fact that I thought there had to be more to it than just a jumper with pears and a big, daft bird. Mum had waited years to get her revenge. She wasn’t about to let him off with something so… simple. I could only wonder what she had planned and when it would happen.

As it turned out, I didn’t have to wonder very long.

It was only a few minutes later when Mum called us all over for supper. She, of course, had place-cards at every setting. The Doctor was sat between Hrau-Ard and Gray, somewhere in the middle of one long side of the table, and Mum and I were directly across from them. Charlie was on the other side of Hrau-Ard; Noah and Tony were sat on either side of Abby, who was in Tony’s old high chair at one end of the table; and Dad was at the other end. Everyone else was scattered randomly around.

As the first course was served, everyone began to chatter to one another. The Doctor seemed quite relaxed, but I couldn’t help noticing the way Mum’s eyes kept fixing on him as he made cheerful small talk to everyone around him. Her lips pursed reflexively every time he stopped talking. She tried a couple of times to get Dad to tell us about something that had happened at work, but he had insisted he didn’t want to talk shop. He was determined to take some time away from it.

“Fine,” Mum muttered under her breath, “just tryin’ to liven up the conversation. Honestly.”

“I thought we were having a lovely time,” I told her. “Everyone’s relaxed and chatting… well except Therin, but you know… What’s going on? You’re up to something. I know you. You never ask Dad about Torchwood.”

“Pfffft, don’t be daft! Course I ask ‘im. And jus’ w’at do you mean ‘up to somethin’’? W’at could I possibly be up to?” With that, she turned deliberately away from me and began speaking to Hope about the progress of the Lunar settlements and asking her how she was finding living on a base. “I don’ know if I could take it, yeah. No fresh air, being cooped up inside all the time. I think I’d lose my mind, yeah.”

The Doctor’s eyes brightened as he responded to her. I was relieved he didn’t end up spewing out something rude about her already having lost her mind years back, which honestly seemed like it would be the natural course of the conversation. Instead, he launched into one of his diatribes about the environmental systems on the bases and how they purify the air.

With a smirk, Mum sat back in her seat to listen.

“…and remarkably, the fundamental design never changes from base to base, year after year. It’ll be centuries before someone gets the bright idea that basic human needs aren’t quite being met by–″ He was cut off when the partridge on his shoulder swung around and flapped its tail across his face. He frowned, spun the bird back around, and began to speak again.

This time the bird nipped his ear.

“Fuck!” he shouted in pain, which of course was mimicked loudly by Abby at the other end of the table.

“You dolt!” Mum snapped. “Now, look what you’ve done!”

“Oi! It’s your blasted bird that bit me! Oi! It just did it again!”

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Giggles erupted from the little girl as her daddies tried to shush her, and everyone had a good laugh.

Except Mum (“Don’t be so stupid! It’s not a real bird, ya numpty!”); and the Doctor, who glowered at Mum but (remarkably) held his tongue.

“Mum,” I hissed at her, “it bit him. I saw it.”

“Bit him? Stuff and nonsense!”

The Doctor shook his head at me, and at his telepathic request, I decided not to pursue it any further.

Abby had calmed down again, her new word forgotten as quickly as it had come, and normal conversation resumed around the table as the main course was served. It wasn’t long before the Doctor had dived into a conversation about the most current medical breakthroughs with Gray and with Hrau-Ard, who was apparently training as a physician as well. They bantered back and forth for a short time and then the Doctor launched into a long discourse about the benefits of some sort of medical scanner or other. About a minute in, the bird wheeled around, slapping him in the face with its tail once more, and another few seconds after that, it bit him again.

“Right! Ow! Again, you bloody– Ow!” He dug into his trouser pockets for his sonic, threatening the bird with it. “Now, we’ll sort– Blimey! STOP! Ow!”

I glanced over at Mum who was chuckling away to herself, while everyone else was up, getting ready to help the Doctor. Oh, she knew exactly what was going on. And I had no doubt she had orchestrated it.

Hrau-Ard had stood up and was holding the bird still, his tentacled appendages wrapped around it securely. He was doing a great job keeping it from pecking at the Doctor’s ear, which seemed to happen every time he tried to talk.

Mum scoffed next to me. “Talks far too much, anyway, that one. Maybe this will teach ‘im to keep quiet and not monopolize the conversation.”

“So, this was you, then? How the hell did you...?”

“Oh, sweetheart, it only goes off when ‘e natters on for too long. It resets again after ‘e’s given our ears a bit of a break.”

“But…”

“Oh, I know a few of the folks down in Tech. They were quite ‘appy to do me a little favour, especially after ‘imself barged in there a month or so back and told ‘em they were sequencin’ somethin’-or-other all wrong.”

“He told me about that. It was all wrong!”

“Well, seems they didn’t like ‘is tone… all ‘igh and mighty and ‘I’m so clever’.”

I flopped back in my chair, and just shook my head. I returned my attention to the other side of the table where the Doctor had adjusted the settings on his sonic and was brandishing it at the animatronic bird.

“Oi,” Mum yelped, “don’t you damage my bird.”

“Priorities, Jackie! Your bloody bird is trying to damage me. Do you realize how hard I had to concentrate to get these ears… not to mention this hair?”

“It is really great hair,” I agreed.

“Oh, shush you!” Mum shot me a scathing look.

“Right then! Allons-y!” Heedless of my mum’s protests, the Doctor activated the screwdriver pointing it at his feathered attacker, and several things happened all at once.

The strangest screeching sound reverberated from Hrau-Ard’s crests in harmonics that mimicked the sonic. He lost his grip on the bird and doubled over, two of his appendages flying to his crests. “This tickles! This tickles! I think I am about to…”

The bird, freed from it’s confines, resumed its attack on the Doctor’s ear, feathers flying everywhere. The Doctor, fumbled his sonic screwdriver, caught it again, and made a quick adjustment to the frequency, constantly yammering and threatening the bird and Mum, not quite making the connection that if he just shut up, the stupid thing would stop pecking him. Finally finding an opening, he pressed the tip of the sonic to the bird’s breast, activating it with a triumphant “Ha!”

Hrau-Ard had resumed his composure once the sonic had stopped but started making that bizarre sound from his crests again once it was reactivated. His facial filaments were absolutely trembling. “It is happening again. I am going to… I am going to…″

The sound seemed to amplify the effects of the sonic. The hapless partridge stopped its attack, but its entire body began to pulse as the wailing hoots from Hrau-Ard’s crest intensified. Everyone was covering their ears, except the Doctor who had turned off the sonic, and was watching in horror, from the corner of his eye, the ominous pulsing of the bird on his left shoulder.

“I am going to��″ Hrau-Ard shouted, and his crests shrieked in a final eruption of noise, and the bird’s body suddenly exploded with a massive blast, sending feathers, sparks, and electronic gizmos everywhere.

“–sneeze,” Hrau-Ard hooted into the silence that had fallen over us all.

A long moment later, just as everyone was catching their collective breath, the Doctor yelped, as cinders from the explosion caught in his hair, causing it to smoulder and burn. “Ow, ow, ow! Blimey! My face! My hair!”

Abby started howling; everyone started shouting; I leaped across the top of the table to get to my poor husband; and Gray, the only one maintaining his composure, picked up a pitcher of ice water and dumped it over the Doctor’s head.

The Doctor sat there, completely stunned, as water dripped from his fringe into his face.

“Oh my God! Doctor!” I pulled his damp body against me, hugging him tight. “Are you all right?” I pulled back from the hug to look him in the face. I took in the angry red welts, the burned hair and…

He must have seen my astonishment. “What? What is it?”

“Your… your left eyebrow. It’s… it’s gone…”

“What? What?” His fingers flew to his brow, where the hair had been singed away. “WHAT?”

“And some of your hair… just up the left side…”

“Jackie Tyler!” he bellowed. He made to get up from his chair, but Gray shoved him back into it.

“Sit still! You have burns. I’ll need to use the dermal regenerator on them.”

“It won’t bring back my eyebrow, though, will it? My left eyebrow too. It’s my most expressive one,” he added wistfully.

Mum had come rushing around the table. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry! That wasn’t supposed to happen. I’ll cut your hair for ya, real nice. And your eyebrow will grow back again in no time, I expect.”

“Yeah, I suppose it will,” he said relaxing a bit. “And more expressive than ever! Makes you think, what would I ever do without eyebrows?” He shuddered at the thought. “And, Jackie, I have to admit, you couldn’t have known that the sonic would resonate with Hrau-Ard’s crests and make the bird explode like that. Though, I have to say, good riddance!”

“It is all my fault. I must apologize profusely,” Hrau-Ard hooted, his wings fluttering.

Mum protested, “Oh, no, Howard!”

“Nah, she’s right, Hrau-Ard,” the Doctor reassured him, “don’t be silly! But now I know not to use my sonic at that frequency in your presence.” He beamed. “Besides, what fun would Christmas be without a little bit of unexpected excitement?”

“At least there aren’t any blinkin’ killer Christmas trees, yeah?” Mum pointed out, as Gray finished up with the dermal regenerator.

“Oh yes! Too true. Looking on the bright side, Jackie. Do it while you can, because you know what…?” He bounded out of his chair, tore the remnants of the hapless partridge from his shoulder, and plucked the Santa hat from Dad’s head. He shoved it over his wet, scorched hair and with a wicked grin spreading over his face, he sang: “Jackie Tyler… you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout. I’m telling you why: Santa Claus is coming to town.”

Oh, God, Santa, the look on Mum’s face. “Oh, you wouldn’t dare…”

“And Santa isn’t happy, Jackie. Really, you better watch out…” He skipped away out of the dining room, heading directly for the kitchen.

Mum took off after him. “You stay away from my appliances. You’re a bleedin’ hellion, you are,” she shouted.

Hrau-Ard honked in alarm and pulled Charlie next to him, wrapping his tentacles around her.

“Don’t worry, love,” Charlie sounded resigned, “you get used to it once you’ve been around this crowd long enough. We’re all a bit mental, but we all love one another.”

So, there it is, Santa. A typical Tyler-Noble Christmas!

I spent quite a while trying to intercept the Doctor before he did any damage to Mum’s kitchen... and other things. I actually found him mucking about in her en suite. Not sure if he managed to do anything before I caught up to him and got him back home, but at least I got to him before Mum did. Like I said before, he looks far too pleased with himself, despite the missing eyebrow and the singed hair. He must have left some sort of surprise behind for Mum. No doubt I’ll hear about it soon enough.

And right now, I’m just waiting for him to “return the favour” he promised me in Mum’s powder room earlier, something about making me scream so loud I’d be heard all the way to Gallifrey. He’s just spending an awful long time in the loo... probably trying out my eyebrow pencils, if I know him. Maybe later I’ll take the TARDIS out, go back a few days, and get him some of his own for his stocking before everyone gets up tomorrow morning.

Happy Christmas, Santa. Give my love to all. Sorry for going off on a bit of a tangent earlier. I was just lying here, waiting for the Doctor and thinking… Oh, I reckon you’re used to it by now, yeah. There’ve been a few tangents over the years and I haven’t had a lump of coal yet. But, just saying, if you feel the urge to leave a lump of coal in the Doctor’s and my mum’s stockings, by all means, go right ahead! I’m all for it!

Love, Rose

#doctorroseprompts #kidfic #tentoo x rose #christmas fic #extreme silliness #fluff #family #hurt/comfort #ficandchips #tenroseforeverandever's fic

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rufousnmacska · 7 years ago

Text

Child of Peace Epilogue 2 - Nesryn

Fanfic master list

full work on ao3

Note - I screwed up. I wrote the Chaol chapter then got the idea to write a separate little head canon about Manon-Dorian meeting Nesryn-Sartaq. Little did I know that head canon would morph into an entirely new chapter. (Alright. I kind of knew. This thing is never going to end, let’s be honest.) The screw up is the chronological corner I wrote myself into with that Chaol chapter. So. This is epilogue 2, but it takes place before the events of epilogue 1.

Also, as I was posting this on ao3, I realized it’s been over a year since I started writing this fic. Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me from the beginning and thanks to new readers who just started!

Dorian strode out of Aedion’s empty tent, frustrated at missing the General yet again. A lieutenant from the Bane said he’d left at dawn for Suria to deal with some of Rolfe’s ships which had recently arrived. Apparently, he wanted to make sure the pirates caused no trouble in the small port city. Dorian couldn’t help but wonder if Aedion had simply needed time away from Lysandra. He felt badly for both of them being stuck in such a difficult situation. But her disguise was the glue to their piecemeal alliance until Rowan returned with Aelin.

He had hoped that when they joined up with Aedion and Lysandra that it would be the real Lysandra again. He’d hoped that Aelin would be here waiting for him and Manon. Instead, they’d brought their witch army to Orynth only to find Aedion and Lysandra at each other’s throats. Her shapeshifting and acting abilities, not to mention her cunning, made Lysandra the perfect imposter. But the growing weight of responsibility and worry for Aelin was wearing on her. And such a haphazard mix of forces – Terrasen foot soldiers and cavalry, the Whitethorn ships, the Ashryvers, the assassins, and the various armies and navies Ansel had thrown together – would be a nightmare for anyone to oversee, let alone a gifted general like Aedion.

At least that had been Dorian’s excuse to Manon when trying to calm her temper in the few weeks they’d been here. But no matter the reasons, Aedion’s reaction to the forces they’d brought with them had been disappointing. Upon first seeing the fields of wyverns and the squadrons of witches, both Ironteeth and Crochan, Lysandra had been ecstatic. Aedion, on the other hand, had looked over the group with stubborn impassivity. Later, Lysandra had confided that she thought Aedion still harbored some ill will towards he and Manon for their roles in Aelin’s capture. For Dorian sending her into the mirror, and for Manon not doing enough to stop Maeve from taking her.

“He blames me too. He actually thinks any of us could have stopped her once she set her mind to something,” Lysandra had said. “She’d resigned herself to the possibility of capture a long time before any of us even knew what was going on."

Although Dorian and Manon had agreed, they still felt some small measure of guilt, and knew Aedion was taking his own out on those around him. Understandable, if not necessarily fair.

That didn’t quite explain his stupidity however. When he’d demanded the witches swear their allegiance to Terrasen in writing… Dorian had to physically restrain Manon. Thankfully, Aven and Petrah had stayed calm enough to simply tell him no before walking out of the meeting.

Which was why the entire aerial force of witches was relocating to the southwest near Perranth. They’d be closer to the Crochans. And farther from an inevitable explosion between Aedion and Manon. But they’d still be near enough to respond if and when they were needed. So, they were leaving tomorrow morning. Many of the witches were pissed off at having to double back over terrain they’d already crossed to get here. Some were upset to leave the large encampment of men and women, a novel source of fun. But he was glad for it. As were the leaders of the witch coalition. It had been getting difficult keeping the witches under control with so many humans nearby. And vice versa. Old prejudices remained, just as he and Manon had feared.

Dorian stopped suddenly in the middle of the road that wound its way through the sprawling war camp. Having just barely missed him, the driver of a horse-drawn cart shouted curses at him and Dorian stepped aside, ignoring the soldier. He stared down an intersecting path at two people who looked like they were lost. The woman looked familiar and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize who it was.

“Nesryn?” She looked in his direction, and after a moment or two passed for her to recognize him, he didn’t feel so bad about not immediately knowing who she was. Neither one was expecting to see the other in this setting. “Rutting gods! It is you!” He ran at her and before she could speak he swooped her into a hug.

When he let her go, she looked awkwardly back and forth between him and her companion. Who was definitely not Chaol. Dorian turned in an anxious circle, searching for his friend.

“He's just landed in Suria,” Nesryn said, her face falling. Dorian’s look of worry startled her into a nervous laugh and she raised her hands defensively. “No! He’s fine, it’s just...” She sighed. “He wanted to surprise you with his return and if he finds out it’s been ruined, he will never forgive me.” She gave the man an odd look, then turned back to him. “He’s got a lot to tell you so... all I will say is that he is healthy and excited to see you.”

Dorian looked between the two of them, noticing their clothing - leathers that were similar to those worn by the Ironteeth witches - their braided hair, and their vibrant, windswept quality, complete with chapped lips and cheeks. He had an odd, sinking feeling that much had happened to his friends in the Southern Continent, and more was to come. More, like he was losing his captain to her father’s homeland, and possibly, to this handsome man waiting patiently next to her.

“And if I order you as your King, you still won’t tell me?” he asked finally, only half joking.

The man’s eyes grew wide and his entire demeanor changed as he glanced to Nesryn. Dorian conceded, “The hug was probably not the most regal of greetings.”

Nesryn’s cheeks were bright red as she said, “King Dorian Havilliard, this is Prince Sartaq, Heir to the Khagan of the Southern Continent.”

The Prince bowed low. “It is an honor Your Majesty.”

Now it was his turn to stare in astonishment. Not just a prince, but the Heir to the Khaganate had accompanied Nesryn back to Erilea. Dorian quickly regained his poise and said in Halha, “The honor is all mine Prince Sartaq. Please forgive me.” He bowed and then offered his hand.

“What am I forgiving?” the Prince asked, a smile lighting his face as he shook Dorian’s hand.

Dorian laughed. “My inappropriate behavior in response to this wonderful surprise. And my atrocious accent.”

“There is no need for either,” the Prince said. “And your accent is excellent, Your Majesty.”

Nesryn rolled her eyes, so quick that he probably wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t so used to seeing it from Manon. “Please, call me Dorian. And the only thing we have no need for is flattery. My Halha is awful. Nesryn can attest to that.”

The Prince’s face lit up even more as he said, “Dorian it is. I prefer going without titles as well. And I’d be happy to help you improve your accent.” He gave Dorian a cocky grin. “Assuming we have any spare time while saving the world.”

Nesryn didn’t bother hiding her reaction this time. “Perhaps there is no need for me to stay. I can go look for Aedion on my own.”

Her eye roll was impressive, Dorian thought, as Sartaq took her hand and leaned down to whisper something in apology. Nesryn glanced hesitantly at him, but Dorian smiled. Undoubtedly, he was in for a hell of a story whenever Chaol got back. And though he was dying of curiosity, he wouldn’t interrogate Nesryn here.

“Actually, Aedion isn’t here.” Dorian said. “But there is someone I’d like you both to meet.” He gestured for them to follow. As he started down a narrower road that led out of camp, he twisted around and said, “Thank the gods she wasn’t here for all of the Your Majesties. I’d never hear the end of it.” He caught the curious look Sartaq gave Nesryn, but she didn’t. She was too busy giving Dorian a smug smile.

He had liked Nesryn from the moment they’d met, but it was obvious that she’d changed a great deal from her journey to Antica. She’d always been straightforward, but also reserved. Quiet. Now, she seemed as if she’d found some piece that had been missing before. Dorian didn’t think that was only due to the Prince who couldn’t keep his eyes off her. It was more like something she’d discovered within herself. A new sort of confidence that went deeper than just being highly skilled at her job. She was still smirking at him and he found he quite liked this new Nesryn. “What is that look for?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Just excited to see the wyverns.”

Sartaq stopped and looked between the two of them. “You have wyverns here?”

Dorian nodded, shooting a mocking glare at Nesryn for figuring out his surprise. “How did you know?”

“How did I know princeling?” she asked, drawing out the last word as if harassing a sibling.

He felt his cheeks heat but the small embarrassment disappeared when she added. “We have a surprise of our own.”

Nesryn knew she should probably stop teasing the King of Adarlan. It was just so easy. And fun. The sight of his jaw dropping when she mentioned the ruks was worth it. But, he was still her ruler. And employer.

That thought made her stomach churn, and she stayed mostly quiet the rest of the way to the wyvern paddock, letting Sartaq describe what the Rukhin could offer in the war, and Dorian update them on the state of Adarlan and the forces under Aedion’s command. Trying to catch them off guard, Dorian threw in a question here and there fishing for more details about Chaol. But neither gave anything away. Sartaq always glanced to her for permission and when she’d shake her head in annoyance, he’d turn back to Dorian with a ridiculously sorrowful expression. To which Dorian would say something like No, no, I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. They were like little boys commiserating over some great injustice she had committed against them. She would have been pissed. If not for them clearly liking each other. And the fact that her heart had swelled with that knowledge.

They turned a corner and Nesryn almost ran into Sartaq, who stood frozen, staring in awe across a field filled with what had to be hundreds of wyverns. She walked around him and gaped too. She’d seen them before of course. But... “Gods! So many...” she breathed.

She’d forgotten how big they could get, some easily three or four times the size of Salkhi. And the colors. Various shades of grays and browns and greens, but also blues and even reds. One looked almost purple. Every few moments one would let out a shriek or rumble a low roar, but it was surprisingly quiet for so many beasts confined to one area. There were witches milling about, checking on injuries or throwing sides of meat at their mounts.

Sartaq broke her focus as he anxiously asked, “Do they all fly for you? Or does Erawan still have some in his army?”

She knew what he was thinking. Seeing them in person, seeing the size difference compared to their ruks… She looked towards Dorian, who also seemed to understand Sartaq’s concern.

“He still has some witches with him, but not as many as we have. Though he has other flying monstrosities within his forces.” He pointed to the trees edging the field and she saw a group tending their brooms. “The wyverns are intimidating. But the Crochan clan held back a large enemy force with brooms and magic until Ironteeth allies arrived.” Turning back to them, he added, “And they don’t fly for me. They fly for her.”

She and Sartaq turned to face a beautiful, white haired witch who was walking towards them, smiling at Dorian. Nesryn recognized her immediately, though she would have known her from rumors and reputation if she hadn’t seen her that day in the Oakwald Forest. Sartaq shifted closer towards her side, eyeing the witch warily. She did have a brutal looking sword strapped to her hip, Nesryn thought with admiration. But the way the witch looked at Dorian should have told Sartaq they had nothing to fear.

“Manon Blackbeak,” Dorian said, “this is Nesryn Faliq, Captain of my Royal Guard, and Prince Sartaq, future Khagan of the Southern Continent.”

Nesryn wasn’t sure how to greet Manon. She knew the wing leader was heir to the Blackbeak Matron. Or, had been. If Manon was on their side she must have broken from her clan leader. But either way, Nesryn didn’t think that qualified her as royalty. A hand shake seemed like not enough though. Thankfully, Manon saved her the trouble of deciding.

“Captain. Prince.” She nodded respectfully to both of them, which they graciously returned.

With a casual shrug, Dorian said, “Nesryn knew you’d end up helping us.”

She glared at Dorian in disbelief. It was one thing to tease him, but she certainly didn’t want to get on the bad side of a Blackbeak witch. Manon’s golden eyes landed on her and she forced herself to meet them. They practically glowed in the sunlight. Having only ever seen Manon from afar, she’d had no idea how truly captivating she was.

Manon looked her up and down then turned back to Dorian and said, “Of course she did. She must be exceptionally smart to manage a guard full of men.” The witch wrinkled her nose on the last word.

She and Sartaq choked on their laughs but Dorian didn’t bother covering up his. When Manon shifted her attention back to Nesryn, she smiled and said, “You favor the bow if I recall? Perhaps you’d like to show some of my witches a trick or two?”

Nesryn exchanged a glance with Sartaq, who winked at her. “She does have quite the reputation,” he said. “But, first…” He looked longingly at the bustling field. “May I trouble you for a ride?”

“Oh,” Dorian said, taking hold of Manon’s hand and leading them towards a small, dark wyvern sprawled in the grasses nearby. “I forgot to mention Witchling. They’ve brought reinforcements.”

Manon whirled around and studied them, seeing their clothes for what they were – flying leathers. Then she stared at Sartaq, her eyes wide as saucers, and whispered, “The Winged Prince.”

Before she could stop herself, Nesryn shook her head and said, “Please be sure to call him that in front of his hearth sister.”

Sartaq elbowed her gently. “And she prefers you call her Neith’s Arrow.”

Manon wasn’t even paying attention, too enthralled by the prospect of having the ruks join their forces. But she caught Dorian watching her with a brotherly smile. He pulled Manon along and she thought she heard him say something about wyverns first, ruks second, otherwise, Abraxos would be jealous. Assuming that was the name of the little wyvern they were now approaching, Nesryn almost pointed out that Kadara and Salkhi would be equally upset if she and Sartaq returned smelling of another beast. But the thought left her mind as the wyvern turned and looked at them.

Its head tilted to examine them, then it huffed out a breath and ruffled its wings. Just enough for her to see the silvery sheen on their surface. If she didn’t know better, she’d think it was trying to show off for them. Its intelligence clearly rivaled that of the ruks, and she wondered if all wyverns were like that. Or if it was just this one. “Abraxos? Is that right?” she asked Manon. Who had walked off to… pick flowers? The wyvern bobbed its head as if answering her and she startled backwards into Sartaq.

“He’s too smart for his own good,” Manon said, returning and surreptitiously handing her a bunch of wildflowers. She nodded for Nesryn to give them to Abraxos then whispered, “He already likes you but this will make him love you.”

Nesryn hesitated, then split the bunch giving half to Sartaq. She held them out, expecting the wyvern to eat them. But instead, the beast closed his eyes and pushed his snout into the petals, inhaling deeply and loudly. He reached a bit further and nuzzled her hand. Sartaq stepped up next to her and repeated the gesture. Abraxos took his time smelling them as well, even though they were the same flowers.

On her other side, Manon said quietly, “He was a bait wyvern, used to train the bigger ones. He’d never seen sunlight or grass until I took him out of his cave.”

That certainly explained the scarring. And the decidedly unbeastlike behavior. Nesryn smiled and stroked his snout. Sartaq stood by, silently taking it all in. She could see the note of worry in his eyes. It wasn’t just about fighting against Erawan’s aerial legions. But he was also worried about fighting with these wyverns. Despite her surety that Manon and her coven would ally with Dorian, she had not expected this. A thousand wyverns. And now, a thousand ruks.

“This is going to be interesting,” she sighed, wondering how Salkhi would do surrounded by giant flying lizards.

“First thing’s first, wind seeker,” Sartaq said as he kissed her cheek and walked around Abraxos, his mood lightened by Dorian’s indication that the saddle was ready. She watched as Dorian helped him with the straps to keep him in place. Manon climbed up and sat behind him, pulling the reins around his waist. Before he jumped down, Dorian gave Manon’s braid a little tug, and she gave him a playful scowl. As soon as he was on the ground, Abraxos stood and beat his shimmering wings, visibly excited to be taking to the air. Maybe the wyverns and ruks weren’t so dissimilar after all, she thought. Dorian joined her and they watched Abraxos as he leapt upwards, soared across the tree tops, and disappeared.

After a moment of silence, he walked a short distance away, leaned against a fence and crossed his arms. She remembered him from before he’d become King. Before he’d been collared and forced to do the bidding of a valg demon. Prince Dorian had always been fastidious about his appearance. Always new clothes, trimmed hair, shining boots. Now though… He certainly didn’t look bad. He was as attractive as ever, she thought. But his plain clothing was much more suited to this war camp than a throne room. And his hair was long enough to curl around his ears. He apparently knew his way around a wyvern, and had settled in with the witch clans. He noticed her staring so Nesryn walked over and joined him. She figured now was as good a time as any to get things out of the way.

Leaning on the fence next to him, she opened her mouth to speak but he asked, “How long do I have to find your replacement?” He looked down at her with a bittersweet smile.

Nesryn was quiet, trying to think of the right thing to say. Eventually, she gave up and just went with the truth. “I feel awful,” she said, continuing to watch the activity in the field. “You naming me Captain… It was so important. Not only a woman leading the Royal Guard, but a woman of mixed heritage. I feel as though I’ve betrayed the trust you put in me.” Nesryn faced her King to find him still smiling at her. She’d never truly expected Dorian to be angry with her. Disappointment. That had been her fear. And yet, there was no trace of it in his expression.

“You’ve done nothing to betray my trust Nesryn. Besides. It appears that you have more important things awaiting you than leading a guard,” he said, nodding in the direction Sartaq and Manon had flown. “As a King, I’m sad to lose you. But as a friend, I couldn’t be happier.”

Nesryn didn’t care about protocol as she reached over and hugged Dorian.

“I should have pretended to be more upset in order to blackmail you for details about Chaol,” he said, making her laugh.

They broke apart and Nesryn said, “I’m sworn to secrecy. But I can tell you a bit about my adventure.”

“Please!” He moved to sit down in the grass. “I expect it will include some romance?”

She felt her cheeks flush with heat and said, “And what about your adventure? I’d like to hear it as well. You’ve clearly been up to… a lot.”

Dorian laughed. “Yes, well. That could take all day. Suffice it to say, I managed to convince a witch to fall in love me-“

She interrupted him with a snorting laugh. “I bet that took a lot of work on your part.”

He looked thoughtful. “Actually, it did...: With a wink, he added, “But it was worth it.”

“Can I ask you something?” He nodded. “Do you intend to make her your queen?”

“There is no ‘making’ Manon do anything,” he said dryly. After a moment, he continued. “Actually, we are mates. Through a witch bond. So… I don’t know in what capacity we'll be together. Only that we will be together.”

“I had no idea witches even had mating bonds.”

A shadow of some memory passed over his face. “We didn’t either until we reached the Crochans. It turns out much of the old histories are wrong.” He looked at her, seeming to decide whether he should go on. “Manon’s father was a Crochan Prince, and she is the heir to Queen Rhiannon.” At Nesryn’s gasp, Dorian said, “She hasn’t accepted the title and they’ve not yet offered. It’s… complicated.”

She knew about the Ironteeth’s centuries old campaign against the Crochans, and knew that yes, it must be extremely complicated. She was amazed they’d managed to make an alliance with them in the first place. “Is she still heir to the Blackbeak coven?” Dorian’s face hardened and she wondered if she’d pried too much.

“Technically she is Matron to the Blackbeaks who broke off to join us. But there is a faction who allied with the Yellowlegs and fight for Erawan. This group,” he waved a hand towards the field, “consists of those loyal Blackbeaks, Bluebloods, and Crochans. But the Bluebloods have their own matron and the Crochans have a governing council with only a few members here.”

“What will she do after all of this? Do you think they will accept her rule?”

He glanced at her curiously. “Why are you so interested in all of this?”

Nesryn blushed, then inwardly cursed her traitorous skin. She sighed, planning to explain, but only able to get out one word. “Sartaq…” Dorian’s eyebrows raised as he realized why she was asking so many questions about ruling and governing.

“Are you two betrothed?”

“No! I mean… No. No.” She fiddled nervously with her hands. She hadn’t meant to bark out that response. “We’ve talked about it. And I am…” She laughed. “I’m very willing. It’s just…” She couldn’t bring herself to actually say it.

But Dorian could. “Empress Nesryn Faliq.”

“Exactly,” she said.

He laid back and propped himself up on his elbows. They sat like that for a while, watching the occasional commotion as a wyvern refused its dinner or snapped at a neighbor who’d gotten too close. Manon and Sartaq had been gone longer than she’d expected. Manon’s desire to see the ruks made Nesryn think they’d go up and be back down within a few minutes. But Sartaq must have convinced her to stay airborne for a while.

“Once Sartaq was named heir he told his siblings that he would refuse to follow tradition. He would not kill them or force them to be sterilized just for his throne to go unthreatened.”

“That’s… good?” Dorian said, and she gave him a dirty look. “No, I mean it,” he added, sitting up. “If he has the authority and desire to end that practice, then he can create a court of his choosing. He can run it the way he wants. Or,” he nudged her arm. “The way both of you want.” Nesryn wasn’t convinced.

“Listen, it’s likely that if we win this war, Adarlan will need to be rebuilt from scratch. Not just the physical structures, but the government as well. And I don’t intend to do things the same way they’ve always been done.” Dorian’s eyes were a bright, fiery blue. She couldn’t help but feel pulled into his hopefulness. “Manon and I have talked about it and we both want things to be different. Better. For everyone. Human, witch, fae, noble or poor, those with magic, those without. Aelin does too. It sounds like Sartaq does, though from what I know of the khaganate they’re already centuries ahead of Erilea in most things.” He drifted away in thought, but before she had to regain his attention, he said, “Ruling, the responsibility of it, the pressure, it’s scary as hell.”

“Is that meant to help?” she asked with a laugh, watching a unit of witches zoom overhead on brooms.

“It’s scary but we aren’t left without choice. We can decide how to best help our people. You can decide how involved you want to be.”

“He can’t,” she said, turning back to face him. “You can’t.”

“No, but he and I were both raised for this. It’s all we’ve known. There’s a difference between living this your entire life, and entering into it as an adult. I’ve accepted it. It sounds like he has as well. The question is, will you? And if so, what will you do with it?”

Nesryn nodded, thinking over all he’d said. She had more questions and worries, but Abraxos suddenly appeared from behind the trees, landing gracefully in front of them. He looked like he was grinning. “Are those…” She squinted. “He has iron teeth?”

“He’s a member of the Thirteen,” Dorian laughed, then froze in thought. “Wait. I think I have some ideas for your replacement. If you decide to go on to bigger and better things that is.”

She agreed that any of Manon’s witches would make an excellent Captain of the Guard, but Nesryn wasn’t sure if she shared his confidence in her. She stood and walked towards Abraxos as Sartaq climbed down and almost ran over to meet her.

“That was incredible! It’s so different from a ruk but yet the same!” He picked her up into a hug and she couldn’t help but laugh. When he sat her down and went back to talk to Manon, Dorian came up beside her.

“You should talk to Manon. Her position is... unique, but it might be good for you both to have someone to talk to about it. And, for what it’s worth Nesryn, I think you’d make a wonderful Empress.” He squeezed her shoulder and went over to join Sartaq and Manon.

Nesryn bit her lip, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her. She watched in amazement as her King, now, her friend, his witch mate, and the man she loved, who just happened to be the future Khagan of her father’s homeland, all fussed over a little wyvern who loved flowers. And on top of all that, she had her very own ruk waiting for her.

With a laugh that sounded more like a sob, she realized neither she nor Dorian had even gotten around to telling their stories.

Sartaq looked up and beckoned her over. When she reached him he pulled her into his arms and whispered, “You look happy my love.”

“I am,” she said. “But can you let go so I can take my first wyvern ride?” He laughed but did as she asked.

Manon strapped her in then settled into the saddle behind her, leaving the reins in her lap. Nesryn turned to give them to Manon but she pushed her hand away. “You hold onto them. Sartaq said you’re as good a flyer as you are an archer.” Nesryn smiled and waved to Sartaq and Dorian as Abraxos reared up and pushed off the ground.

A half hour later, they landed in the clearing near where she and Sartaq had left their ruks. They were tucked within a dense grove of trees, out of sight and away from the camp. When they dismounted, Manon took the reins and bent to look into Abraxos’s eyes. She was silent, but Nesryn had the eerie feeling the witch was speaking to her wyvern.

“It might be easier to bring them to him,” Manon said. “So their space isn’t invaded.”

Nesryn jogged into the woods and returned, slowly leading Kadara and Salkhi by their reins. She wished she’d thought to have Sartaq come along, but they’d decided to do this at the last minute. Kadara listened to her though so hopefully, it wouldn’t be a problem. As they hopped into the field and got their first look at Abraxos, the ruks wheeled back and snapped their fierce beaks. She ducked down low, keeping hold of them, and glancing back towards Manon.

Nesryn almost burst out laughing. Abraxos was on his back, rolling in the grass while his rider watched in frustration, hands on her hips. Kadara was now watching the scene, head tilting back and forth. Her beak was still twitching in agitation, but she was clearly intrigued with what was happening. Nesryn made a split second decision and dropped the ruk’s reins. Salkhi, more timid and waiting to see how Kadara fared, stayed back, his head dipped low but eyes watchful.

The larger ruk began to hop out into the clearing. Slowly, but unafraid. Abraxos continued to frolic, ignoring the approaching bird completely. He stilled when Kadara reached him, letting her smell him. And just like that, Kadara settled into the grass next to him and began to preen. Abraxos huffed loudly and the ruk jumped away, but within a minute, she was back next to him.

Nesryn and Manon shared a humorous look, and she stepped out, pulling Salkhi with her. It took longer, but eventually, her ruk was able to tolerate Abraxos. He was more wary than Kadara, but Nesryn was pleased with the introduction.

“Sartaq told me about how you saved Lysandra with a single arrow,” Manon said out of nowhere. Nesryn fought the blush creeping up her face and nodded. “He told me something else. A story Chaol had told him.” She turned to find Manon’s eyes on her and almost flinched from the intensity of her stare. But she didn’t move as Manon’s hand rested on her shoulder. “You saved Dorian with a single arrow. From Aelin. Before... Before he was freed from the valg.”

Nesryn didn’t know what to say. “We... Chaol didn’t believe he was truly gone. I was there in case Aelin... Well. At that time, he didn’t trust her not to kill him. Even if she claimed it was a mercy.”

Manon bowed her head and touched her fingertips to her forehead. “Thank you, Nesryn Faliq. I owe you a life debt.”

She felt like the moment deserved some special acknowledgment, but no words came to her. When Manon met her gaze, the witch smiled. It was so soft and kind, Nesryn blurted out something she’d been thinking for most of the day. “I’m glad he has you, Manon.”

“I’m glad I have him,” Manon said, then turned back to their mounts. “Oh gods...”

Nesryn whirled, expecting a fight, only to see Kadara nudging Abraxos with her beak and fluffing up her feathers. “Sartaq does call her a mother hen,” she said with a laugh.

Manon rolled her eyes. “If there is one thing Abraxos does not need more of, it’s admirers fussing over him. At least yours has a good head on his shoulders and knows not to feed his ego.”

Salkhi was standing back, but Nesryn could tell by the way he eyed Abraxos that he was a bit enamored of the wyvern. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I think he’s got Salkhi under his thrall too.”

Manon released a long-suffering sigh. But she was still smiling, her entire being radiating love for her wyvern. Surprising herself, Nesryn suddenly thought that she would happily call Manon her queen. And, she decided to follow Dorian’s suggestion and ask Manon for advice.

They ate together that night, exchanging stories of their recent adventures as well as old tales. She and Sartaq were careful not to mention Chaol and Yrene. Though, later in private, Nesryn had given in and answered a couple of Dorian’s questions, reassuring him that Chaol was healthy and that they were still good friends despite Sartaq’s presence in her life.

They were disappointed to hear that the group was leaving the next day to move to Perranth, but it worked out well in one sense. The timing of their departure made it a little easier for Nesryn and Sartaq to claim they had not seen Dorian. Who had sworn not to reveal that he knew about Chaol’s imminent return. Manon would be leaving almost immediately from Perranth to attend to some matters with the Crochans and expected to be gone for a couple of weeks. Nesryn caught her and Dorian exchanging looks that suggested they hadn’t been apart for that long before. She tried to reassure Dorian that Chaol and the Southern Continent forces would provide enough distraction that the time would pass quickly, but he’d only given her a halfhearted smile.

Later still, when she and Sartaq had retired to their tent, Nesryn told him about her conversation with Dorian. She hadn’t admitted all of her fears to Sartaq, worried that he might take it the wrong way. But he understood her misgivings, just as Dorian had. They both had grown up in that world and knew what sacrifices were required. He also knew, he said, that Nesryn could choose how much she wanted to be involved. Which responsibilities she wanted to take on. He even offered to let her run the whole empire.

“That would give me time to go flying with Kadara,” he said cheekily, earning him a smack on the arm. Then, sliding her over to him, he said, “You know I would never go flying without you, wind seeker.”

Nesryn loved hearing him use her mother’s nickname for her. Almost as much as she loved kissing him. Which she did, thoroughly, all night long.

Dorian woke with a choked gasp to find Manon shaking him by the shoulders and calling his name. He took one look at the terror in her eyes, something he’d never seen there before, then promptly rolled over and threw up. She jumped up and was back with a cup of water before he knew it.

“I should have expected it,” he coughed. “I haven’t had a bad one for a while.” When he reached for the water, he realized his hands were shaking.

Manon sat the cup down and took his hands in hers, dipping her head so he could easily look into her eyes. The sight of them, vibrant and glowing even in the low light of their tent, was enough for his breathing to even out. But the tremors remained, even as she pulled his hands to her lips.

He knew she wanted to ask about the nightmare and was relieved when she didn’t. The thought of what he’d seen, what he’d done, threatened to make him sick again. He didn’t think he would be able to put any of that into words.

“I’m going to postpone my meetings with the Crochans,” she said.

Dorian shook his head. “You can’t. It’s too important and I won’t let you jeopardize building a relationship with the council because of a nightmare.”

Manon’s face grew tight with concern. “Dorian.” Her eyes stayed on his. “I saw some of it through the bond. I don’t think you should be alone.”

His stomach roiled but there wasn’t anything left to come up. “I’m sorry,” he said, and stood. But with nowhere to go, he began walking in circles.

What must she think? Seeing images of him torturing his best friend?

Suddenly, Manon was standing before him. She hugged him and said, “You forget that I’ve been in this position myself. And I will repeat your words back to you. You did not do those things.”

He hadn’t moved when she put her arms around him. And he fought the urge to shove her away, fought the feeling that she was contaminating herself by touching him. Getting the blood and filth and horror that covered him onto her.

“You didn’t hurt Chaol,” she said, pulling him tighter.

“I would have,” he choked out, finally letting go and easing himself into her embrace. The tears ran hotly down his cheeks and he struggled to hold back a sob.

Manon ran her hands around his back in soothing motions. “You would not have. You could not have. The valg was in control. Not you. It was never you.” He pulled away to look at her. She reached up and brushed the wetness from his face. “Asleep, you may not be able to tell the difference, but your waking mind can. And I will keep reminding you. Anything you need, remember?”

Dorian stared at her, shaking his head in disbelief. Amazed that this witch accepted and loved him. “Where did you come from?” he whispered.

She shrugged, her lips twitching into a smile. “Blame Abraxos. I told him to take me somewhere safe. The next thing I knew, I woke up on a boat with you.”

“I thank the gods every day,” he said, dipping his head to rub his nose against hers. And I’ll be sure to give Abraxos as many wildflowers as he wants, he silently said to her, feeling her cheeks rise into a smile.

Later, after he cleaned up the mess and they argued about whether Manon would leave in the morning, Dorian watched her as she slept. He’d insisted he would be fine and she’d finally agreed that the meeting was crucial for any hopes of a prolonged peace if they defeated Erawan.

But as the hours passed and dawn drew closer, Dorian had not been able to fall back to sleep. Whenever he shut his eyes for an extended period of time, his head was flooded with horrific images, a mixture of things that had happened, and things that could have been. If Chaol had become his prisoner.

He’d had time. Time during which he’d hoped to heal. But instead, it was only time to remember the things he’d done.

How could he possibly stand before his best friend now? Now that he harbored the memories of torturing and killing Chaol’s men?

Dorian shuddered and forced down the bile that rose in his throat. Manon didn’t stir next to him and for a moment he thought of asking her to stay. He knew she would. But he also knew that sooner or later he would need to face Chaol and what he’d done.

When rosy light began to filter into their tent and Manon woke with a yawn, Dorian pretended that he was just waking too. She kissed his forehead, her lips lingering for a long moment, then stood and began rummaging through her packs. He watched her quietly, letting her presence, her scent, her everything soak into him. Helping make him feel a little bit stronger. Hoping it would be enough to see him through the next few weeks.

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courtingstars · 8 years ago

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Notes for Storming the Castle, Chapter 4

Hello again, my dear AkaFuri readers! These notes are kind of long since I rambled on and on about Disney movies because I’m me. (And now after this chapter everyone knows why I put Disney movies in the Ao3 tags! //laughs)

So we’ll start with the Disney stuff, then I mention a few things about Akashi’s sexuality in the fic, and then the usual cultural notes. (Plus the real-life inspiration for the last scene!) Also as a reminder, I have a Pinterest board with photos that helped inspire the first half of the story.

(Cut for me being an incurable Disney nerd, plus notes about sexuality, love hotels, Japanese convenience stores, and other things!)

On The Disney Movies

I should probably feel bad about putting so many Disney references in a fic. //laughs (I’ve been Disney obsessed since I was little, and I wish I could pretend I grew out of it, but I really, really didn’t). But it seemed like a fitting way to bring up the lighter side of fairy tales, since that’s a major theme in the story.

It’s also worth mentioning that Disney stuff is a popular obsession in Japan! There’s Tokyo Disneyland, tons of great Disney stores, you get the idea. I’ve also seen a few Japanese dubs of the movies, which are excellent. <3

I didn’t plan to go into so much detail, but I wanted to try to make the movie references as accessible as I could. And if you haven’t seen the films, I do recommend them because I am a sappy dork. I chose them to match the story, and hopefully to create some interesting parallels to both Akashi and Furihata.

So first, The Little Mermaid! Random fact: This was the first movie I ever saw in a theater. (Also one of my first memories! I was three.) The songs are great, and it’s an interesting take on the fairy tale. But mostly I just thought it would be kind of funny that Furihata would like a movie about a redhead who has issues with a super-strict father and a hard time fitting in with normal humans, because of course you would Furi. (I mean Ariel was basically the reason all of us 90’s kids were in love with supernaturally red hair, right...? No? Just me? //shutting up now)

(… I would absolutely read a fic about merman Akashi trying to comb his hair with a fork though, I don’t know how that would even be in character BUT I’D READ IT. XD)

And if you haven’t seen the film before or want a trip down memory lane, here are some YouTube clips of parts I mentioned in the fic! The opening, Fathoms Below, has beautiful atmosphere. Part of Your World is Ariel’s most famous song, and I pretty much ripped off the reprise of the song in Akashi’s dream sequence so let’s all crack up together about that visual, haha. I think Poor Unfortunate Souls is one of the best villain songs ever, and of course Kiss The Girl is famous and adorable (and you can see how it ends if you didn’t already know, or you forgot!).

As for Cinderella, it’s so iconic that I feel like I don’t really have to say much about it... I did briefly mention the scene with Cinderella getting ready in the morning, which is pretty well-known (also I want you all to really imagine Akashi and Furihata watching a movie where the mice all sing in those tiny high voices together), but the main thing I wanted to link is the fairy godmother’s song! It is precious and iconic and absolute NONSENSE and I will now always think of Akashi cracking up when I watch it. //laughs I also quoted the song with Cinderella and her prince, So This Is Love, which has gorgeous scenery.

And last but not least, Beauty and the Beast! For some reason I’ve had in mind for a VERY long time that Akashi only saw this Disney movie when he was a kid. (I wrote a really silly GoM fic about my headcanons for all their favorite Disney movies back in 2015, but never got around to posting it. //laughs). In any case, hopefully I made it obvious enough in the chapter why I think it’s an Akashi sort of story. (Because of course in an AkaFuri fic Akashi’s Disney crush would be a book-loving brunette who’s off in their own little world, right? Pfft.) Also, full warning, this chapter won’t be the last time I include a painfully obvious homage to this movie… I apologize in advance. xD

Anyway, one of my favorite parts is the prologue! That chiming music is so epic, and the art is breathtaking. And of course Belle’s opening song in the village is brilliant. Those two clips show off the scenery well, which ties in closely to why I referenced it in the fic. The song Something There is a great example of the way the romance develops. And I could ramble on and on, but those were the main things I referenced, so that’s probably sufficient. //laughs

… Okay and also can we just agree that all happy-ending kisses should end in a magical firework explosion? Yes? Yes. (I may or may not be planning to write a scene kind of like it for, um, a certain fic that isn’t this one… And now everyone will know my not-so-secret influences. //cough)

And if you happen to be in a Disney mood now, I’ll also link a countdown I found of the top 20 best Disney endings, which includes almost all of my favorite Disney films/some sadly underrated ones! (My personal favorites will always be #13 and #7, but I could not agree more about the top five rankings, because I am a Disney Renaissance kid. <3)

On Akashi’s Sexuality in the Series

I mentioned this a while ago, but now might be a good time to mention it again! In my AkaFuri series, Akashi is on the asexual spectrum, but I haven’t used the specific term for his identity in the fic. Partly because this fic takes place when those terms were even less commonly known (back in 2010, which is only a few years after I first came across AVEN, so the idea would have been even less familiar in Japan), and partly because he hasn’t fully discovered this about himself yet.

One of the reasons I started writing this series was that I wanted to try to capture how it feels when you haven’t completely figured out your sexuality yet. That was pretty normal among my friends and I when we were sixteen, for a lot of different reasons. (Furihata will be having a similar experience in the series too, which I’ll get into later!) Anyway, I’ll be exploring these issues in more detail in the next fic in the series, but since this chapter does mention some of the feelings Akashi has been struggling with, I thought it would be good to clarify.

On College Kids in Japan in Relationships

I had a lot of fun writing the scene where Furihata’s brother sneaks back into the house, and since it loosely references an aspect of modern Japanese culture, I should probably mention that here…

It’s not too uncommon for university students in Japan—and other young people in their twenties—to still live with their families. Which means that for the ones in relationships, it can be hard to find some (ahem) private time, especially since living spaces are often crowded and PDAs are discouraged. So it’s very normal for young people in Japan to go out to places like love hotels with their significant others…

… And that’s basically what I was implying, when it comes to where Furihata’s brother snuck off to. //laughs That’s also the context of Furihata’s mother’s lecture, and I tried to capture some of the Japanese norms about sex there as well. It’s tricky to explain how they differ from Western norms, because they’re not more “conservative” or “liberal” exactly, just different. (And they vary a lot depending on the person and what generation they’re from!)

But basically, to sum up, I was hoping to convey that Furihata’s mother isn’t upset about what Furihata’s brother is doing per se, it’s more that she’s worried about him being responsible and “appropriate” while he’s doing it. My impression is that it’s unusual that a parent would broach the subject like she does--but hopefully it’s clear that this is a part of her character. Similar to how she dealt with events in Chapter Three. (And that’s also why a character like Akashi is very embarrassed to have overheard it, poor kid. xD)

Also! For those of you who are 18+, if you want to learn more about the cultural context of love hotels in Asian countries, and what they’re like (answer: epic) I love this comic that sums it up. (The comic isn’t explicit, BUT it’s hosted on a webcomic site—that I personally love—that features 18+ comics about sex ed and sex toy reviews. So please be aware, the ads and some of the site’s illustrations are explicit! And very inclusive, sex-positive and awesome.)

On Elementary School Uniforms

I also wanted to briefly mention one of the cultural tropes in Furihata’s family photos! Japanese elementary students wear bright yellow hats when they walk to school, as a way to make them more visible to prevent accidents.

On Conbinis

This is basically just a note to say that I love Japanese convenience stores. //laughs They’re everywhere, everyone uses them, and the major chains are extremely competitive. So they’re often open around the clock, their services are amazing, and their food is delicious.

Also, here’s a random fact! Kit Kats are hugely popular in Japan, and they have all kinds of unusual and regional flavors, including green tea and wasabi and sweet potato. (Yes, really.) The trend started because of a pun in Japanese that made them a popular good-luck gift to give to exam students. Now they’re so well loved that they even have fancy chocolatier stores that sell ultra-fancy Kit Kats because… Because Japan, that’s why. XD

(Also when I post this chapter, I’m rewarding myself by ordering some hojicha Kit Kats from Amazon, because roasted tea flavored Kit Kats from Kyoto are you serious of course I want that in my mouth.)

On the Inspiration for the Walk with Furi’s Dad

I also wanted to make sure I mentioned one of my biggest inspirations for this fic! Which is that when my sister studied abroad in Japan, she stayed with an amazing host family near Hiroshima.

I’ll never forget all her stories about what it was like, but my #1 favorite is that she was awake one morning and her host dad invited her to come on a walk with him… At which point he put the family cat in a harness and they went out and walked the cat. (Maybe that’s more common in some countries, but at least in the U.S., I don’t know anyone who walks a cat? XD) She tells the story a million times better than I do, but the gist of it is that they wandered around this ultra-tiny parking lot for a few minutes and he showed her the strawberries in their garden and it was adorable and a little strange and the best thing ever. <3

I didn’t have Furihata’s dad walk a cat in the fic, sadly enough! (I decided it would be kind of distracting… Also, the Furihatas don’t technically have a cat in canon. //laughs) But I did put a cat in at the end. Partly because everything’s a metaphor, the metaphors are out of control, someone save me from myself. But mostly because I wanted to include a nod to my sister’s host dad and his family, and how much they influenced this story, by being so welcoming to her when she was so far from home. <3

#kat writes fanfic #long post #storming the castle

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