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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Merlin’s previously hidden horrific past comes to light;

The gang learn that everything they know about Merlin is a well-constructed façade when the truth about his “Military” history comes out.

TW: Child soldiers, abuse + torture, lots of blood and death and nightmares, potential PTSD?

When King Arthur had received the official looking letter requesting an audience about troubles with the border, he’d thought nothing much of it; the tone of the letter didn’t lead him to think there would be any serious conflict.

He replied to the Essetirian Lord, figuring it would end up being a simple issue of river boundaries or overstepping patrols, they could discuss it and fix the problem amicably, and then part ways without issue.

Arthur wasn’t a fan of the way Essetir worked; they were far too authoritarian for his liking, and they were known for their use of slave labour, terror tactics, and child soldiers, but peace had been harboured between the Kingdoms, so he could hardly complain.

The fact that Arthur didn’t see it as a big deal, means he didn’t mention it to Merlin until the day of the Lord’s arrival, and even then, he didn’t mention the Lord’s name, or where in Essetir he came from.

Merlin may have seemed a little tense at the mention of Essetirian Lords, but Arthur shrugged it off, figuring high taxes and village raids probably left him with a mistrust of authority from his home kingdom.

Arthur was sat in his throne, crown atop his head, when the Lord arrived. His roundtable knights and a few select members of his council sat in their own chairs at the side of the room, and Merlin stood dutifully beside him.

He preferred to have a small audience when first greeting foreign authority, hence only having nine people, including himself, in the room.

Arthur trusted Leon, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, Guinevere, Gaius, and Merlin, to subtly analyse and scrutinize the visitor for anything troubling, and report back to him truthfully later. Arthur trusted his wider council, of course he did, but experience with these particular people told him they were better equipped to handle any sort of conflict or worries.

Which means when Merlin quietly took in a sharp breath, tensed up, and stepped back to be behind him when The Lord walked in, he immediately noticed.

He makes no motion to question him though, assuming that perhaps this particular Lord had passed through Ealdor at some point, and made a mental note to question Merlin later.

The Lord bows deeply, and raises to meet Arthur’s gaze with a wide, friendly smile:

“I am Lord Severin of Essetir, I appreciate your quick response to my letter, and am grateful for the invitation to your beautiful kingdom, My Lord.”

At first, Arthur had been curious, and mildly concerned, but Gaius’s sharp intake of breath and stiffening back at the mention of the Lord’s name, tip him right over the line into being officially worried.

Did this particular Lord have some sort of reputation Arthur was unaware of? He, again, makes no moves to suggest that he had noticed Gaius’s reaction, and instead returns the Lord’s smile:

“Of course, you’re more than welcome. Guest chambers have been set up for you, if you would like to stay for a few days? I can imagine it was a long journey.”

The Lord nods, and keeping his smile, says:

“Thank you, I had planned on booking a room for a few nights, but if you’ll have me?”

Arthur nods in return, quickly speaking before the Lord can thank him again:

“Of course. Is the border discussion a lengthy issue, or something we can resolve quickly now? I have my most trusted advisors with us, should there be a political issue?”

Lord Severin shakes his head roughly, giving Arthur a sympathetic shrug:

“In all honestly, My Lord, as far as I’m concerned there isn’t an issue, but a few of my men were worried, and the only way I could see to resolve it was an official meeting to reassure them.-”

Arthur smiles, gesturing for him to continue:

“-Over the past several years, multiple Camelot Knights have been seen crossing the boundary, and spending a few days at a time in a small border-village on the Essetir side. I am under no impression that anything underhanded is happening, but a few of my inferiors were getting twitchy about it.”

Arthur once again hears Merlin take in a shaky breath, and furrows his eyebrow in curiosity:

“Which village?”

“It’s name is Ealdor, My Lord.”

Arthur smiles widely in understanding and nods his head, relaxing:

“Ah yes. A highly ranked member of the castle staff has family there, and depending on how dangerous the journey is predicted to be, I’ll often send him with a knight escort when he visits home.”

Lord Severin nods his head, before tilting it curiously and saying:

“Might I ask which member of staff? I spent some time in Ealdor a few years back, colour me... curious.”

The smile on his face is a little sharper now, but Arthur hardly sees the harm in telling him; he’ll only be here for a few days at most anyway.

Arthur gestures a hand behind him:

“Merlin.”

He looks back and frowns, questioning his decision, when he sees Merlin staring blankly at the floor. He’s statue still, but Arthur can see the way his jaw tenses, and the paleness of his skin.

He turns back to see the Lord staring up at Merlin with an inquisitive expression. Just as Arthur resigns himself to say something, a look of wolfish realisation crosses the Lord’s face, and he speaks softly, as if to himself:

“Merlin from Ealdor, eh?-”

His grin turns even more wicked, and his volume rises:

“-I was under the impression that you had died, my dear boy.”

Arthur furrows his brows in confusion, and Merlin, without raising his gaze, quietly replies:

“No, My Lord.”

Severin chuckles, a hint of cruelty in the noise, but before he can say anything Arthur asks:

“You know each other?”

The Lord looks to him, as if only just remembering he was in the presence of a King, and smirks:

“Know each other? Why, Merlin was once one of my best. You’re astoundingly lucky to have a bodyguard with such incredible skill, My Lord. I was sad to lose him.”

Arthur glances at Merlin, who seems somehow even paler, before looking back to Severin in confusion, tilting his head:

“Merlin isn’t my bodyguard, he can barely carry a sword. He’s my personal manservant. Perhaps you have the wrong man?”

Severin shakes his head resolutely, before staring at Merlin:

“No, that’s him, I would recognise him anywhere. Like I said, I was sad to see him go.”

At Arthur’s continued confusion, Lord Severin gives him a patronising smile, quietly saying:

“Perhaps a demonstration is in order-”

He turns back to Merlin, speaking loudly this time, as Arthur and the others look on in bewilderment. Gaius however, looks increasingly worried, rather than confused.

“-Step forward, Merlin.”

Merlin, without hesitation, walks stiffly forward, standing to attention just in front of Arthur, hands straight by his side, and his gaze unwaveringly forward, focussed on the wall behind Severin.

Arthur stands from his throne, moving to stand by the council chairs so he could see Merlin’s face. What he spies however, is a tense blankness that he’s only even seen in the brief moments when Merlin thinks no one is looking at him.

The Lord rolls his eyes condescendingly at Merlin:

“You know I hate it when you stand so stiffly Merlin, it’s bad form. Stand at ease.”

Again, without hesitation, Merlin kicks ones of his legs out slightly, and moves his hands to be tightly clutched behind his back, shaking almost imperceptibly. Still, he does not change his expression as the gang look on worriedly.

“Are you armed, Merlin?”

Merlin gives one firm nod, before saying in a monotonous voice:

“Always, My Lord.”

Severin gestures vaguely with his hand, muttering:

“Show me.”

With that, Merlin taps his right wrist to his hip before flicking his arm out to the side, and with the movement, a dagger slides from a hidden holster under his sleeve, and falls gracefully into Merlin’s hand.

Everyone in the gang, bar Gaius, was taken aback, They’d known Merlin for years, ten in the cases of Arthur, Leon, and Gwen. How had they never known that Merlin was always carrying a weapon?

The Lord looks only mildly impressed as he holds a hand out, crooking his fingers towards himself slightly. Merlin throws the knife gently, his aim perfect as the handle lands in the centre of Severin’s palm.

He passes the blade from hand to hand, humming thoughtfully, before saying:

“It’s not very well weighted, incredibly poor quality, but-”

With that, he looks back up at Merlin, the wolfish grin having returned to his face, but the gang only have a second to be confused before the Lord pulls his hand back, and hurls the knife directly at Merlin’s head.

The velocity at which the blade moves through the air... well, a slower man would have died. But Merlin is apparently not a slow man.

With his focus still on the wall somewhere behind the Lord, he whips his hand up, quicker than lightening, and catches the handle of knife with the blade just an inch away from his eye. Only then, does his gaze move across to the dagger, and he brings his hand down, slipping it back into it’s holster as if he was entirely unbothered by what had just happened. The Lord finishes his sentence:

“-anything can be a weapon in the hands of a killer. Back to your post, Merlin.”

Merlin bows slightly, and moves back, expression still blank as the gang stare at him with various expressions of shock and confusion.

Arthur moves back to his throne, careful to keep his face blank, though struggling not to stare at Merlin worriedly, before he says:

“Well, that was quite a display. Any other uh... stories to tell, Lord Severin?”

The man shakes his head, laughing, and replies:

“No, Your Majesty, that is all. I will reassure my employees that the visits to Ealdor are purely personal, and order them to leave it be.”

Arthur gulps and frowns slightly at the sudden change it topic, wanting desperately to look back and check on Merlin, but not daring to, as he replies:

“Of course. I’m afraid I will not be able to join you for dinner tonight, or breakfast in the morning, though I extend my invitation for you to visit the training grounds before noon. I have my best scheduled for tomorrow.”

As he says this, he gestures to the five roundtable knights, who all wipe the confusion off their faces as the Lord glances at them. In actual fact, none of them were scheduled to train tomorrow morning, but it had become habit over the years for Arthur to use them as a subtle display of strength whenever a visitor unnerved or worried him.

Severin looks back to the King, giving him a nod as he accepts:

“I would love nothing more, My Lord.”

Arthur smiles tightly and nods before dismissing him, his harsh gaze not leaving the Lord’s back until the door shuts behind him.

The moment he’s left the room, Arthur stands up, dizzyingly quickly, and steps around the throne to question Merlin, only to find that the manservant gone, slipped away through the servant’s door.

He speedily goes to follow him, wanting to get to the bottom of whatever the hell that was, but Gwen’s desperate voice halts him:

“Stop! He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it right now, we should leave him be-”

Arthur turns around and goes to retort, but Gwen cuts him off:

“-and besides, no one knows this castle better than Merlin, he’s long gone. If he doesn’t want to be found, then he won’t be found. Leave him be for a while.”

The King desperately wants to argue, but he begrudgingly nods, knowing that Gwen is right. He frowns at the desperate and questioning looks that Lancelot sends to Gaius, unaware that Arthur is looking at them.

Gaius shakes his head slightly, and Lancelot visibly relaxes, only to tense again when Arthur asks:

“Lancelot, Gaius? Do you know what just happened?”

The knights averts his gaze after giving a brief shake of the head, the Physician looks to Arthur, clearly mentally debating on the best way to answer the question. He gulps before speaking slowly:

“Other than Merlin’s mother, I am the only one to know the truth. However it is a very... personal, and frankly traumatising, topic for Merlin, and I don’t feel it’s my place to tell you. Might I request that you allow Merlin to keep his distance from Lord Severin?”

Arthur looks like he wants to argue, but the warning looks he receives from Leon and Gwen stop him, and he once again begrudgingly nods:

“I... fine. But I’ll want to know eventually. If I’m to have dealings with this Lord, I need to know if he’s involved in anything troubling."

Gaius sighs and nods:

“It is... nothing that Essetirian Lords aren’t already known for, My Lord.”

Arthur tilts his head in confusion, that doesn’t sound like it bodes particularly well but... he’d already agreed not to pry. Gaius was clearly trying not to let too much on and trying to hide how freaked out he was. Which also didn’t bode well.

Arthur copies Gaius’s sigh, nodding to himself as he gestures vaguely at the group and tiredly says:

“Alright, you’re all dismissed. Keep an eye out for Merlin, and I want to know where that Lord is at all times. There was a servant in the corridor waiting to take him to his rooms, so I would appreciate it if one of you could go check he made it. I want to know if anything happens. Rest well tonight, I want you at your best for tomorrow.”

Everyone gives a decisive nod, Leon stalking off to follow the Lord, and the others separating out to complete their normal tasks. Half-heartedly mind you, as all of them were more focussed on trying to wrap their heads around what had just happened.

None of them saw Merlin for the rest of the day, or the next morning. They would have been more worried, but nothing was missing from his room, a few of the castle staff had reported seeing him briefly, here and there, and the Lord had yet to try anything untoward.

When Arthur had gotten to his room that night, dinner was ready and waiting, the room had been tidied, his sleep clothes had been folded and laid on his pillow, and the hearth had been lit.

The next morning was the same. Arthur woke to to see that his empty dinner tray had been replaced with a full breakfast tray, his clothes for the day had been laid out, and his desk had been organised with a list of today’s duties left in the centre.

Arthur huffed at Merlin’s absence. He hadn’t gotten that much sleep last night, the more he thought about what had happened, the more restless he became.

There was a lot of things to worry about.

Gaius being openly shaken and worried was especially concerning. The man was usually unflappable, so whatever it was... it was bad.

And what had Lancelot been so scared about? He seemed genuinely confused but he still knows something.

And what Merlin had done with that knife...

Arthur could understand Merlin hiding a part of his life, just not mentioning it, especially if it was as traumatising as Gaius let on, but to actively lie?? To put up a clumsy, useless front with no prompting?? That was most certainly worrying. “Incredible skill” Severin had said. “One of my best”, what does that even mean??

He had called Merlin a Killer.

Still, Arthur didn’t call for his manservant to be summoned. The man was clearly after some privacy, and despite Arthur’s powerful curiosity, Gaius’s fear and Merlin’s disappearing act held him back, at least for the time being.

After finishing some paperwork, Arthur headed down to the armoury, to be met by a squire who had clearly been waiting for him. At Arthur’s confused expression, the boy tells him that he had been instructed by Merlin to help The King with his armour, and that he would be round later.

Arthur nodded, hiding his confusion. Merlin was usually incredibly protective of Arthur’s armour, BUT he said he’d be coming by later, so it wasn’t as if he were fully disposed for the whole day. Hmm.

Perhaps he was simply trying to avoid being in close quarters with Arthur, alone. Being stood at the side of a field whilst the Knights sparred was hardly the same as helping Arthur dress, one-on-one.

Still, Arthur didn’t call for his manservant to be summoned. If he weren’t so worried about Merlin, he’d be childishly proud of himself for being so selfless and caring.

He met the other five knights on the training field, satisfied to see them all in full armour, preparing for full-contact sparring. Apparently they all wanted to intimidate this Lord just as much as Arthur did. Now all they had to do was wait for the guy to show.

But Merlin appeared first. No one noticed him for a little while, but Gwaine getting distracted in the middle of a fight and allowing himself to be tripped by Elyan, certainly bought everyone’s attention to the raven-haired servant stood at the side of the field that had caught his eye.

Merlin’s expression was the same as it was yesterday. Meaning: expressionless, blank.

He doesn’t react at all as the knights stare at him, and only nods slightly when Arthur raises a hand in greeting, despite not looking directly at him. Leon’s quiet-

“Sire?”

-breaks Arthur out of his stupor, and he mutters back:

“Leave him be. He usually stands much closer than that, so he’s clearly still not in the mood to talk.”

Elyan furrows his brows as he finally helps Gwaine to his feet, before saying:

“He knows the Lord is meant to be here. If he wanted to avoid him, why come?”

Arthur shrugs but Lancelot looks surprised, and speaks as though the answer was the most obvious thing in the world:

“He’s protective of Arthur. No matter the history between Severin and himself, if he thinks the Lord is dangerous he wouldn’t allow Arthur to be in his presence without being there as well.”

Arthur frowns and huffs, but doesn’t say anything as the others nod their heads. He gestures for Leon to step into the ring with him, conscious of the fact that they had just been stood around talking.

Luckily, Severin showed up just as Arthur and Leon started to get into the swing of things, and the other knights could tell the exact moment the two of them noticed the Lord, stood about ten feet to Merlin’s left; the fight got much more... vicious.

A pro of having worked together practically their whole knighthoods (and before, for Arthur), was that Arthur and Leon could give their absolute all in matches against each other, and not have to worry about miss-stepping or accidentally hurting one another.

The sparring sessions between them often drew large crowds, but Arthur had ordered the training grounds cleared this morning, meaning that the four other knights, the Lord, and a much tenser-looking Merlin, is all their audience consisted of.

Finally, the fight came to an end, Arthur victorious as he knocks Leon to the floor. They shake hands, and Leon has to hide the swell of pride in him at the man he had trained for managing to beat him, before they make their way over to Lord Severin, closely followed by the others.

The Lord claps his hands, a wide smile on his face, and Arthur stops himself from looking at Merlin when he sees the man flinch slightly at the noise.

“Very impressive, My Lord. Your knights truly are something to behold!”

Arthur gives him a strained smile:

“Yes, I take a lot of pride in the strength of my best.”

Severin’s eyes widen, and his grin once again turns sharp. Arthur has a feeling he isn’t going to like what the man says next:

“Well, if we’re talking about the best, might I suggest that your... ah, manservant, shows off his skills? I imagine we would all find that mighty entertaining, especially considering you were previously unaware of his abilities?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, glancing at Merlin. The King was taken aback when Merlin held his gaze for the first time since before the Lord had arrived yesterday.

Arthur answers, without looking away from Merlin, and regrets his words the moment they exit his mouth:

“I’m alright with it, but only if Merlin agrees.”

Merlin widens his eyes, only slightly, but it’s enough to show Arthur that that was the wrong thing to say. Whatever the history between Severin and Merlin was, the manservant was unable to say no to him. Arthur hadn’t given Merlin a choice, he’d allowed Severin to dictate Merlin’s answer.

The Lord claps his hands again, wolfish smile growing as he loudly proclaims:

“Brilliant! I will divert to your judgement, on who his opponent should be, My Lord.”

Merlin clenches his jaw, turning and walking towards the spare swords. He grabs one from the rack, and enters the ring, standing stiffly, waiting.

Arthur frowns at Merlin’s sudden, easy capability, before nodding at Lancelot. He was reluctant (NOT jealous) to admit it, but he and Merlin were very close, if anyone could pretend to fight Merlin convincingly without actually hurting him, it would be Lancelot.

Lancelot returns his nod, understanding his King’s thought process, before looking to Merlin with a concerned frown on his face:

“Do you not want any armour, Merlin?”

The Lord laughs as Merlin mutely shakes his head, answering for him:

“Oh, he won’t need it sir knight, like I keep saying, he’s quite skilled.”

Lancelot still looks reluctant, but at Arthur’s stiff nod and the questioning tilt of Merlin’s head, he walks into the ring and stands opposite his best friend.

He gives Merlin a nod, and hides his worry when Merlin just stares at him blankly, his stance turning loose, but sword held tightly in his hand.

Arthur signals for them to start, and Lancelot immediately has to take a rushed step back as Merlin moves quickly forward, swinging his sword up.

Lancelot just about manages to block the strike, but the strength of the hit has the bones in his arms vibrating, and his shock gives Merlin just enough time to twist his body, taking another swing before Lancelot even processes what’s happening.

The second wide arc of Merlin’s sword knocks the knight’s arm to the side violently, and he stumbles back, only just managing to keep hold of the blade. Merlin takes advantage of Lance’s newly exposed chest, and using the last of his momentum, brings a leg up and lands a harsh kick to the centre of his chest-plate.

The force throws him back and he lands sprawled on the floor several feet away.

The others knights gasp as the Lord jovially laughs and Lancelot stares at the sky in shock. All in all, that spar had lasted about five seconds, and consisted of Merlin swinging his sword only twice, and kicking him so hard he dented his armour.

Lancelot hadn’t even had time to think before it was over, and was still wide-eyed when Merlin wordlessly pulled him to his feet, frowning as he runs a hand over the damaged metal.

The other knights are still staring in shock as Lancelot lifts a hand to put it on Merlin’s shoulder. When the servant flinches backwards, he lowers his hand again, but still whispers:

“Gods, Merlin. Where the hell did you learn to fight like that?”

Merlin’s frown deepens and he clenches his jaw as he glances at the amused Lord, before stepping back, out of Lance’s reach.

Before anyone can say anything, Severin loudly exclaims:

“That’s my boy! I knew I could count on you to have not forgotten your training. How about you?”

He gestures to Elyan, and the knight looks to Arthur for confirmation. Merlin stays in the ring, waiting, back to being expressionless. He hadn’t even broken a sweat during his fight with Lancelot, didn’t even look out of breath, and Arthur’s morbid curiosity gets the better of him as he nods at Elyan.

The knight stepped into the ring, taking Lancelot’s place opposite Merlin.

Arthur gives the signal to start, and Elyan is the first one to strike this time, but Merlin moves easily out of the way, with speed and grace that no one had ever seen him express before.

Honestly, Arthur thinks the first fight might have been a fluke, because this time, Merlin spends the first twenty-five seconds blocking and dodging, making no offensive moves, and staying well out of Elyan’s way.

But Merlin makes the swap quicker than anyone can see, going from defence to offense in the blink of an eye, and within seconds of the change, Elyan is on the floor, Merlin’s sword at his throat, and his own sword lost somewhere to the side.

Merlin had moved so quickly, Elyan hadn’t really any clue how he’d ended up on the floor as he blinks up at the previously thought-to-be clumsy manservant.

After a moment, the knights once again shocked and the Lord once again cheerfully laughing, Merlin leans down and pulls the knight to his feet.

Elyan nods his thanks dumbly before picking up his sword, and heading over to the side lines, still looking confused as his brain tried to catch up with the last thirty seconds.

Merlin had, once again, not even broken a sweat, and Arthur gulps as he looks at his manservant. On the surface, he seemed... absent. Like he wasn’t really aware of what was going on, and was just waiting for it to be over. But upon closer inspection, Arthur could tell that wasn’t true.

Merlin’s stance may have been loose, but the position of his feet and the grip on his sword showed that he was fully prepared to jump into a fight without hesitation. That, the clench of his jaw, and the focus in his eyes as he stared back at Arthur, told The King that Merlin was fully aware of his surroundings.

Severin’s laugh petered out, and he points a finger at Gwaine, looking at Arthur as he questioned:

“My Lord?”

Arthur nods, and Gwaine huffs angrily. He gives The King an incredulous look but, perhaps a little selfishly, Arthur was curious about the extent of Merlin’s... abilities, so he ignores it, and Gwaine reluctantly walks to stand in front of his friend.

Merlin’s gaze drifts from Arthur to Gwaine, and he tilts his head slightly, adjusting his stance, his expression remaining in the same blank position it had been through all of the matches.

Once again, Arthur finds himself signalling the start of a fight between his best-friend (slash love of his life but like... shhh) and one of his most trusted knights.

Neither of them make a move at first, they just circle each other slowly, Gwaine’s sword raised, but Merlin’s pointed to the floor as he makes a point of keeping his stance fluid.

The Lord claps his hands together, just once, but the loud noise triggers an immediate reaction in Merlin and he pounces forward.

Gwaine takes the defensive as Merlin throws hit after hit, each one precise and specific. Gwaine is stronger than Merlin, but Merlin knows this, striking quickly and needling holes in Gwaine’s defence, moving back before he has time to launch a counter attack.

This fight goes on a lot longer than the last two, but Gwaine quickly begins to tire. At the first stumble in the knight’s step, Merlin takes a pace back, and presents his opponent with a miniscule opening.

Apparently it had been deliberate; the moment Gwaine follows him to take a swing at the gap, Merlin feints to the side, and lands a single blow that knocks Gwaine to the floor.

He chuckles darkly as his chest makes contact with the grass, realising immediately what his mistake had been. He rolls to his feet, holding his sword-less hands up in surrender. The man is breathing deeply, and even Merlin looks slightly more tired than he had before, but only slightly.

Leon lets out a deep breath, and all the knights seem to realise simultaneously that... at no point had Merlin not been in full control of each fight, setting the pace exactly how he wanted it, and taking advantage of each of their weaknesses perfectly.

Lancelot was reluctant to fight Merlin, so Merlin threw a few quick hits and had him on the floor before the knight realised he didn’t have to hold back.

Elyan had seen Merlin’s speed against Lance, and had therefore rushed to try and surprise him. Merlin took the defensive, biding his time until Elyan eventually made a mistake, and struck so quickly and harshly, he only needed one move to take him out.

With Gwaine he’d done the opposite. The man was much stronger than Merlin, so he couldn’t let him get a hit in, only allowing the knight time to defend and not attack. He waited for Gwaine to get tired and distracted, waited until he was moving automatically before presenting a tiny weakness that another knight might have missed. Gwaine fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

Gwaine resists the urge to clap Merlin on the back, proud smile quickly dropping to a frown when he sees the still blank look on his face.

The Lord doesn’t even have to request another fight before Arthur nods at Percival.

Percival looks a little less reluctant, everyone now clearly knowing that Merlin could more than hold his own; if anything, he looks a little nervous for himself, despite being six inches taller and much heavier.

This fight is a lot more quick-paced. At Arthur’s gesture, they both immediately jump into it, fighting for dominance with speed and strength. Once again, Merlin’s opponent is much stronger than he is, and Merlin tires more this round.

Percival lands a heavy to kick to Merlin’s chest, and he goes sprawling backwards, but he keeps a hold of his sword and uses the momentum to gracefully roll back onto his feet.

Before Percival has time to raise his sword again, Merlin takes advantage of the new distance between them and sprints towards him. He drops quickly, sliding between Percival’s legs, sword held close to his body as he reaches an arm out, grabbing the giant’s ankle on the way through.

His sudden grip forces Percival to take a step forward to correct his balance, but before he can turn around, Merlin quickly stands and shoves his whole body weight against his back.

The force of the shove paired with the instinctual step forward tips Percival’s centre of gravity, and he topples to the floor, rolling over to see Merlin already stood above him, panting, his sword aimed at Percival’s throat.

The other knights gasp slightly as Merlin steps away at Percival’s raised hands. They had been certain that Percival, with his size, would be the one to beat Merlin.

Apparently not.

Lord Severin is once again laughing, and Arthur (and the others) are becoming more and more confused. Merlin had beaten four of Camelot’s best in a row in about ten minutes, and was only slightly out of breath.

This was not just a bit of combat training, this was... more. This was harsh, ingrained, years upon years of practice.

Arthur and Leon remember when Merlin first arrived in Camelot, only sixteen, and dread grows in their stomachs as they realise the implications.

They’re quickly broken out of their stupors as Percival walks slowly over, still catching his breath, and The Lord loudly bellows:

“Well, that’s four out of six. We might as well go for the whole collection, what do you think, My Lord?”

Arthur takes a deep breath, he has to remember that there is politics involved here as well; he can hardly accuse the Lord of anything. But the arsehole was also clearly aware that this had been a power move on Arthur’s part, and it had completely backfired. Backing out now would... not look good.

The King gives another strained smile, gesturing Leon forward after glancing at a still blank Merlin. The manservant had already caught his breath. Damn.

Leon moves into the ring and settles into position in front of Merlin.

The dark haired servant furrows his brow, tilting his head the same way he had at Gwaine, as if he were assessing his opponent. After just a moment, he schools his face, and adjusts his feet slightly, his stance seeming a little stiffer than it had been previously.

If the others thought the last four fights were brutal... well... this was a whole new level. Camelot’s First Knight held nothing back, now confident in Merlin’s abilities (and his own, to stop at a moment’s notice if it looked like Merlin was about to get hurt), despite the fact that the man still wasn’t wearing any armour.

This match lasts a while, both of them swapping between defence and offence, the tide changing with almost every step.

Both of them are tiring, Leon was still recovering from his spar with Arthur, and Merlin hadn’t exactly had much time to refresh between his other fights, even though he won them fairly easily.

But eventually, the match ended with a loud clang ringing out as Merlin’s sword flies from his grip.

At least... they thought it had ended, for about a split second, before they realise that Merlin looks completely unfazed.

Arthur glances to the Lord briefly, to see the man grinning with a mix of possessive pride and cruel hunger, before looking back at the ring, and widening his eyes in shock.

Merlin had quickly shaken out his hands, forming fists before darting in closer to Leon. The fact that Leon still has a strong grip on his sword doesn’t seem to bother Merlin at all, and he dodges the blade as he lands three quick hits to various weaknesses in the armour.

Leon takes a stumbled step back, surprised at the quick change in direction that the fight had gone, and that step is just enough to give Merlin space to swing a harsh elbow out to the side. The connection between his elbow, and Leon’s wrist, is sharp enough that the knight drops his sword automatically, and Merlin quickly turns his back on him, moving in close as he grabs his arm and throws him forward, over his shoulder.

Leon lands harshly on his back, winded slightly, and Merlin rolls to the side, coming up with the knight’s sword in his grip. He quickly spins around, and Leon finally catches a breath just to open his eyes and see Merlin stood above him, sword at his throat.

Leon stares up, completely shocked, hearing Gwaine mumble-

“Merlin just won a sword fight... without a fucking sword.”

-and Lancelot mutter:

“He beat Leon?”

The Lord is once again laughing, and the sound is beginning to grate on everyone’s sanity (everyone bar Merlin, who still looks blank and absent) as Merlin pulls Leon to his feet, wincing apologetically as the knight rubs his own back.

Leon puts on a strained, but fond smile, as Merlin hands him his sword, and mutters:

“Well done, Merlin, very impressive.”

Which had apparently been the wrong thing to say; Merlin flinches back, drops his expression once again into blankness, and steps away to pick up his own sword.

Leon frowns, walking towards the other knights and the Lord as Merlin deposits his sword back in the rack. His movements have lost the cat-like fluidity he had when fighting, and he’s back to being stiff and tense, eyes averted to the floor, jaw tightly clenched.

The knights look on in worry, still confused, but having mostly gotten over the novelty of Merlin being able to fight, and focussing more on how the hell he’d kept it a secret for so long. On top of trying to figure out how he’d learnt in the first place.

Lord Severin frowns sarcastically, tilting his head at Merlin as if he were a child, and saying:

“Aren’t you going to spar with your King, Merlin? I thought we were going for six out of six?”

Arthur frowns at him, looking between the Lord, who looks like a vicious beast hunting his prey, and Merlin, who’s looking a lot like that prey.

Merlin takes a deep, shaking breath at his questions, raising his head to meet the Lord’s gaze for the very first time. Arthur can see the fear in his eyes, and takes a subtle step towards him, to stand between Merlin and his hunter. Merlin glances at him quickly, almost fearfully, and gulps as he looks back at Severin, stuttering out:

“I... I won’t fight Arthur. Not for you, I... I don’t fight people for you anymore.”

The Lord tilts his head and smirks:

“My, how you’ve grown up. You never would have spoken to me like that as a child-”

Arthur can hear the other knights gasp, and is grateful when Leon holds Gwaine back as the man takes an aggressive step towards the Lord.

“-though I doubt King Arthur is as strict of a master as I was.”

Arthur’s frown deepens, but before he can say anything, Merlin snarls out:

“Arthur is nothing like you.”

His sudden change in demeanour takes Severin by surprise, but only for a second; his look of shock falling back into a condescending smirk once more:

“Hmm. Probably why you’ve gone so soft. Honestly Merlin, you were once the best, now you refuse to make your opponents bleed. Oh, how far you’ve fallen.”

Arthur has heard enough, and he steps in front of the Lord, between him and Merlin, and without breaking gazes with the vile man in front of him, loudly says:

“You’re dismissed for the afternoon, Merlin. Go grab some lunch, we’ll see you later.”

Arthur still doesn’t look back as he hears Merlin walk quickly towards the castle. The Lord gives Arthur an assessing gaze, smirk remaining on his face, before saying:

“It would seem that you’re quite... protective, of your staff, Your Majesty?”

Arthur gives him an incredibly strained smile, not even aware of how tightly he was gripping the hilt of the sword at his hip as he replies in a low voice:

“Hmm. Something like that. Well, we’ve solved our border issue, and you’ve seen my knights in action, so unless there’s anything else?”

Severin tilts his head, and raises an amused eyebrow, clearly understanding Arthur’s meaning:

“No, that’s all. Your city is wonderful, however I’ll be leaving very shortly I’m afraid, within the next few hours. I have men to reassure.”

With that, the Lord bows deeply, and stalks back towards the castle, thankfully taking a different route than Merlin. Normally Arthur would call him out on the rudeness and impropriety of turning one’s back on a King, and leaving without being dismissed, but at this point, Arthur just wants him gone.

The moment he disappears round a corner, the group lets out a collective sigh, all of them looking troubled. Elyan is the first to speak:

“I’ve travelled through Essetir, I’ve heard the rumours. Do you think that Merlin...?”

His question trails off, but it’s obvious what he was asking. Leon answers once he realises that Arthur isn’t going to say anything:

“He was sixteen when he came to Camelot. To have that sort of extensive, ingrained training... he would have to have been.”

All of them let out harsh breaths and Gwaine curses viciously under his breath, before grinding out:

“Permission to follow Severin back to Essetir and slaughter him somewhere in the woods, sire?”

All of them look expectantly at Arthur, but he still stares in the direction Merlin had walked as he sighs, and replies quietly:

“No. His men know he came here about some sort of issue. If he never makes it back, it doesn’t matter how well you set the scene, it’ll start a war-.”

Gwaine grumbles something about stupid rules under his breath, but relents. He definitely perks up slightly at Arthur’s next words:

“-However. If we ever come across him during any sort of conflict, feel free to use more force than technically necessary. For now... we need to find Merlin.-”

The others nod vigorously, and gather closer as Arthur continues, finally looking at them:

“-Leon, Elyan, go and find Gwen and Gaius, at this time they should be running medications around to the knights’ barracks, then meet back in the courtyard. We can’t split up to find Merlin, because we’d have no way to tell each other if someone found him, and I don’t want to risk leaving him alone because he might disappear again. We’ll have to search together, hopefully Gaius will have some sort of idea, because Gods know he won’t have gone to have lunch like I told him.”

Everyone murmurs their agreement, and without another word, they all head back up to the castle.

Leon and Elyan had found Gaius and Gwen exactly where Arthur said they would, and all eight of them are soon gathered in the courtyard.

The knights quickly explained what had happened. Gaius looked unsurprised, though increasingly worried with every word, and it was only the Physician’s genuine panic, and the dent in Lancelot’s armour that convinced Gwen this wasn’t some big prank.

Arthur looked at Gaius expectantly, and the older man thought for a moment. He sighed, before saying:

“When he first arrived in Camelot, Merlin had... a great many nightmares. The first time, I found him under his bed. The second and third times I found him curled up, hidden away in a cupboard that he had emptied out. After that, I reorganised so the cupboard was permanently empty. He hasn’t used it in years, but I never got round to refilling it. If... if I had to take a guess at where he is, I’d say there.”

Everyone nods and the group begins to make their way to the Physician’s chambers.

On the way, Gwaine expressed confusion at Merlin’s apparent love of tight spaces, but Leon quickly piped up:

“It’s a fairly common response to trauma, I’ve seen it in the occasional knight after particularly bloody battles. Some people become terrified of tight spaces-”

Gaius interrupted, informing the group that it was called “claustrophobia”.

“-but some people find it comforting. I guess Merlin likes feeling protected on all sides?”

The physician nodded grimly, and quietly informs the group that it might be best for only one or two people to approach Merlin, and for everyone else to stay back, so as to not overwhelm him. The knights reluctantly agreed, Percival announcing that Gaius and Lancelot were the obvious choices.

Lancelot protested:

“No, you should’ve seen his face when he saw the dent in my armour, it’ll just freak him out even more. Arthur should go, he’s the only one Merlin didn’t beat to a pulp.”

Gaius agreed, and Arthur nodded as well, though reluctantly.

They quickly found themselves outside the Physician’s chambers, the door left open slightly. With one last worried look to each other, Arthur pushes the door wider, and steps through, quietly calling Merlin’s name.

Gaius goes to point the cupboard out, but two quiet knocks from inside alert everyone to it first.

The knights and Gwen gather dutifully to one side of the room, still in sight of the cupboard should Merlin open the door, but far enough away so as to not crowd him.

Arthur sits himself down in front of the cupboard, and Gaius perches on a bench a few feet behind him.

The King whispers Merlin’s name again, and knocks gently on the wood. After a few seconds, the door opens, and Merlin slips out, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his knees just about brushing against Arthur’s.

He is once again blank-faced, and everyone’s eyes are drawn to his dagger being twirled and twisted skilfully between his fingers.

His eyes are focussed on the blade, and Arthur resists the urge to reach out and touch him, knowing that he was already on thin ice, being this close to him. He talks gently, his voice quiet, though still loud enough for the others to hear him:

“He’ll be gone by evening, and he won’t ever be coming back.”

Merlin nods, only slightly, but it’s enough to let Arthur know that he’s at least aware of his surroundings. The servant gulps before whispering:

“Don’t let him take me, please.”

Arthur bites his lip to stop himself from gasping, and slowly, ever so slowly, moves a hand to rest on Merlin’s knee. When Merlin doesn’t flinch away, Arthur squeezes his leg slightly before moving his hand away:

“Never. None of us would ever let him take you away, Merlin. You never have to see him again; you’re safe here, we’ll make sure of it.”

Merlin nods again, and Gaius hands him a goblet of water. He takes only a small sip before setting it aside, but it’s a good start; the Physician figured that Merlin almost certainly hadn’t eaten, slept, or drank enough in the last twenty-four hours.

After a minute or so of silence, Merlin replaces the dagger in its holster, and clasps his hands tightly in his lap, staring at his intertwined fingers.

He clears his throat slightly, and the gang wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or more worried, that he looked sad as opposed to blank, as he quietly speaks, still staring into his lap:

“Essetir has always been a fan of... of child soldiers. We thought we were safe in Ealdor because we were so far from the capital, but they came when I was seven. If I fought back or tried to escape, they threatened to burn the village down, so I just... did what I was told. The lessons were... we were trained against each other, except every match was to the death. Hundreds of children... killing other children, until only the best remained. Gods there was always so much blood.-”

Everyone bar Gaius had to make a concerted effort to hold in their tears and gasps of rage. Arthur took a deep breath and put his hand on the floor next to Merlin, not touching him, but an obvious offer of comfort if Merlin wanted to take it. Gwen grips her brother’s hand tightly, and Leon has to stop Gwaine from drawing blood from his palms with his own nails.

Merlin takes a deep, shaking breath, and puts his hand on the floor next to Arthur’s; not taking it, but just about brushing thumbs:

“-Children were... we were tactically useful. We were dressed in civilian clothing so we could slip in and out of places, killing people and stealing things and setting traps and fires, without being noticed. And if we were noticed, people would hesitate. They would hesitate just long enough for us to... to kill them.-”

Tears were falling freely from at least half the room’s occupants now, everyone else not far off.

Merlin moves his hand further towards Arthur’s, and he takes it without hesitation, running his thumb over Merlin’s knuckles softly.

The servant lifts his gaze falteringly, and Arthur gives him a weak smile, and nods as he prepares to continue:

“-I was good. I mean I was really good. I was given all the most difficult jobs; I had a higher body-count before I hit twelve summers than you do now. All the army generals, and the particularly rich Lords, and even... even Cenred when I got older, took an interest in me. They thought I was the best thing since the start of civilisation, because I was small and weak-looking, and I had a sad face and big blue eyes. My... targets, never wanted to defend themselves against me. They... they all died for their hesitation.-”

Tears overflow from Merlin and Arthur’s eyes at the same time, and The King can hear Gwen’s quiet crying behind him. He knew without a doubt that the knights would be crying too, he didn’t even need to look. All of them normally had such strong stomachs for violence but this... this was so much worse, and it was Merlin.

Merlin gulps, and his grip on Arthur’s hand tightens:

“-I escaped when I was fourteen. I don’t know why it took me that long, I guess I was just... lost. Lost in the orders and the missions and all the... all the death and blood. I was sent to burn a few buildings down and I just... set the flame and ran. There was nothing but ash left at the end and no one could find me so it was assumed I had gotten trapped inside and died. I wondered around in the wilderness for a while. I was pretty self sufficient by then but I didn’t want to go home, in case they went looking for me there. To be honest... I barely remembered where my home was,-”

His voice drops to almost a whisper, and the others have to strain to hear him:

“-I... I couldn’t even remember what my mum looked like.-”

His voice rose again as he glanced quickly at Gaius, and at the older man’s reassuring, though mournful, smile, he looked back at Arthur:

“-But I found my way home after about ten months. I figured out pretty quickly who my mum was, she barely let me go for weeks.-”

At this, Merlin thankfully lets out a weak chuckle, but the tears still fall, and he squeezes Arthur’s hand once more.

His faces falls back into despair as he continues, and everyone knows that there’s still bad to come:

“-It was... difficult. I didn’t trust anyone, I didn’t know how village life worked, how normal human interaction worked. I knew how to speak and read and write but... I had barely said a word in eight years so I stayed pretty much silent. It was... odd, to be allowed to speak freely, move freely. It was... terrifying. More so than what I had before, in some ways, because... I had nothing. There was nothing to me. Could you imagine how hard it was? To be fifteen and to have no personality? No likes or dislikes... no understanding of how the world outside of war works? Understanding nothing but how to be a good soldier?-”

Arthur shakes his head, lifting his other hand to rest gently on Merlin’s knee, and only dropping it there when the tearful man nodded slightly.

The crying from behind The King had slowed, but not stopped, and Merlin continued:

“-I suddenly had to find out who I was as a person, minus all the blood and death and missions. I had to figure out what was... socially acceptable. What to smile at and what to frown at. I was... a completely blank slate. I was barely even a person. Just killer’s hands with a body attached.-”

At that, Arthur gently took Merlin’s other hand as well, and made a point of stroking them softly.

“-Just after I turned sixteen, I was sent to Camelot. I’d just about figured out the basics of interacting with people, I could fake it pretty well at least, but being in Ealdor... I couldn’t relax. I just expected them to come for me again, that any day an Essetirian patrol would show up and drag me back and burn the village down. Officially, I was sent here to learn to be a Physician, to learn to heal instead of kill. Unofficially... no one said it, but everyone knew, I was sent away because I wasn’t coping. I needed a change of scenery, being in Ealdor was making things worse, and with Gaius here, I would at least have a little support.”

Arthur gives him a smile, but before he can say anything, Percival takes just a small step forward. He speaks in such a soft tone; strangers would think a man of his stature incapable of expressing:

“And now you have all of us, Merlin. No matter what.”

The others nod, and even Gwen wipes away her tears to give him the widest smile she’s currently capable of. Merlin looks at her and frowns slightly, tilting his head as if confused.

After a moment’s hesitation, Merlin gives her a weak smile in return. When he looks over to Gaius, the Physician nods approvingly, and his smile widens, just slightly.

With that, the whole group seems to come to the same conclusion, at the same time: that Merlin had essentially just asked if smiling was the right thing to do.

Gwen was crying, and clearly upset, and Merlin understood that. But then she smiled. He’s been away from his... military roots for long enough now that he knew the right response, genuinely felt the right response, but with everything being uprooted and old wounds being exposed, he needed the reassurance that his reaction had been socially correct.

Arthur clenches his jaw tightly, thinking back on the ten years worth of interactions he’d had with Merlin. How he’d always kept his cards close to his chest; was rarely outwardly angry, and got happy over the simplest things: flowers and books and fluffy animals.

He thinks about how terrifying it must have been. To have to learn to be... well... human. To have to learn how to perfectly imitate human behaviour until he developed his behaviour.

Merlin takes another sip of his water before taking a deep breath. He looks to Gaius, determination in his face, and at the Physician’s hesitant smile, but firm nod, Merlin takes a deep breath and looks back to Arthur:

“There’s more.”

Arthur frowns, and tilts his head. What else could there possibly be? He hears one of the others take in a sharp breath, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Gaius look to the offending knight, and give another firm nod.

Arthur gulps, and nods at Merlin, encouraging the man to continue:

“I had to do all of that whilst... whilst hiding the magic I was born with,-”

A chorus of gasps go up around the room, and Arthur tenses slightly, sitting up straight, but not letting go of Merlin’s hand. The King sees the fear in Merlin’s eyes, and the way the goblet shakes in his hand, and gives him an uncertain smile. Arthur isn’t as surprised as he thinks he should be.

“-because if they found out, things would get worse. Cenred had enslaved sorcerers as well as children in his army. If he’d found out how... how powerful I was, even as a child, I never would’ve escaped.”

Arthur nods his head absent-mindedly, once again thinking on his ten years of friendship with Merlin. It... made sense.

Gods how terrifying....

To have all of that happen as a child, to finally find your way home just to find that you aren’t safe there either. And THEN to be sent to Camelot of all places. How terrifying, to have the safest place for you to be, be the city where the violent persecution of your people originated.

Arthur clenched his jaw before looking back at Merlin. He still looks scared, and Arthur squeezes his hand, firmly saying:

“I swear to you Merlin, in the name of Camelot, that you will never have to be afraid again.”

Merlin’s eyes widen, and tears begin to fall again as he tilts his head. Arthur gives him a smile:

“Come on, Merls. How could I possibly believe magic to be evil when you were born with it? There’s not an evil bone in your body.”

Merlin’s face falls, and he looks as though he’s going to argue, but Arthur beats him to it, speaking before he can even open his mouth:

“And we all know it.”

Merlin looks up again, speechless and teary, as Leon steps forward:

“The laws will change, Merlin, and you’ll be safe and free. And if the council have a problem with that... well...-”

Leon looks back at the other knights, all looking as determined as he is. He grins, and wipes the remaining tears from his eyes as he looks back to the bewildered servant, grinning Physician, and fondly smiling King:

“-I’m sure we can persuade them.”

Merlin returns his grin, and Arthur is more than relieved to see that Merlin doesn’t have to double-check his reaction this time.

THE END!!

Wowie that was a ride. I honestly wasn’t even planning on writing a magic reveal in this but it just sorta... happened... oops

Same as always lads, you wanna write it all proper? Go for it, credit and tag me :)

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hockeyforthefirsttime · 4 years ago

Text

Nolan Patrick- Coaches Niece

A/N: this feels like a mess, and probably is, however i hope someone enjoys it originally it started out as a 4+1, but like i said, messy

Word count: 6.1k

TW: some angst, mentions of cheating, arguing

Pairing: Nolan Patrick + Fem reader

You are headed to Philadelphia for college, as well as for staying with your uncle. He is a man of few words, but he always means well. When you land in Philly and he is at the airport to pick you up, you are a little surprised. You suspected that you would have to hail a taxi to get to his place, but he sent you a text saying where he is in the airport. You are a little relieved, when you realize you don’t have to sit in a car next to a stranger for however long.

It is currently 6:37 am, and you haven’t slept a wink on your flight, so you drowsily head for the luggage claim. The other people from your flight are there as well. One of them is a kid in a flyers jersey, number 19 to be precise. He can’t be more than eight years old, but he has been babbling about hockey the entire flight. You know from him that the Philadelphia Flyers have a match coming up during the weekend, so when you walk out a little behind him and his parents, you aren’t surprised that your uncle is looking at them with a distant smile. Until he sees you. The smile, it’s more there as he walks up to you and takes the suitcases from your hands.

“Hey, it’s been a while kiddo. How was the flight?”

He greets as he pats your shoulder, careful to not overstep any boundaries.

“Hey Alain, the flight was okay. Some kid was gnawing half the plane’s ears off with Flyers trivia though, didn’t sleep much.”

You hum a little teasingly. Knowing the fact that your uncle is actually head coach for the team.

“Better get used to that kiddo.”

He chuckles as you walk to the parking lot together. He opens the trunk of the car and lets you help him put your suitcases as well as your backpack in. You don’t miss the overstuffed hockey bag that lies there as well.

“Now, I know you probably want to go home and get settled or maybe sleep, but I’ve got morning practice with the team, so you’re just gonna have to suffer through it.”

That would explain the hockey bag. You just nod as you unlock your phone and start scrolling through the messages and snaps you’ve missed on the flight.

----

You’re sort of used to being around hockey, but when you enter the Wells Fargo Centre at roughly 8am, you would rather be at home to be honest. The arena is a bit cold and you’re glad you brought a hoodie inside, as well as your beanie. They are both pretty plain; you hope to blend in with the seats.

“Okay, I’m gonna go through the locker room, but you can find a place anywhere near the ice okay?”

“Sure, Al.”

You say as you pull the hood of your hoodie up over your head, and go in the direction he pointed out for you. You’re rounding a corner when you crash into something hard. For a second you’re wondering if you’ve gone even more blind, but soon knock that thought away. The wall is actually a person, and from his dropped bag, you’re guessing that he’s one of the team players.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

He says with his slightly hoarse voice, whilst bending down to pick up his stuff.

“No worries, partly my bad as well.”

You give the man a tired smile and head for the door that leads to the rink. You take a seat near the penalty box, propping your backpack up in one chair and lay flat out on the other chairs, so that your head is resting on your backpack. You don’t think anything of the run in with the player.

Unbeknown to you, he thinks of you. He just raises the question to his coach, who looks at him with disapproving eyes as he enters the locker room five minutes late.

“It’s my niece, she is going to be staying with me for a while, so you might see more of her around here, Konecny.”

This piques the interest of the single guys on the team. All except one. He doesn’t really care about girls right now, just wanting to make sure he does the best he can on the ice. That is until he sees the figure laying near the penalty box. His heart does a little clench when he sees this girl that is laying there seemingly unbothered by the ruckus the other players are causing.

You’re not exactly unbothered, but you try your best to keep it all under wraps. You don’t NEED any hockey players screwing you over. Not again. But you should have known, rowdy hockey players will always be demanding attention. And without fail you give it to them.

Your eyes are drawn to the players joking around on the ice, doing warm ups and various reps that your uncle keeps yelling out. The session is nearing the end and the players are all chanting for a practice game, and your uncle concedes, saying that nothing prepares you for a game like actually playing a game.

You sit up, deciding that trying to sleep is going to be futile, and decide to watch the training session, just to entertain yourself. You can’t recognize anyone, more specifically the guy you crashed into earlier.

Following the puck with your eyes, you admire the players chasing it, their technique is pretty good and while they aren’t as serious or quick as they usually would be, you can tell they are still as swift. They aren’t wearing numbers for training, but there is one guy that seemingly always comes closer to your side. You don’t take notice of it at first, but after he crashes into the wall separating the ice and the tribunes, you take a closer look. Starting to follow him around the rink, reading his play. It even seems like he has realized this, that he has caught your attention, because he now plays more all over the ice.

Hes tall, and you can see darker tufts of hair peeking out from underneath his helmet. There seems to be only one other player who has noticed his askew skating. They are currently playing on opposing teams and as they come closer to your side of the rink, you recognize one of them as the man you crashed into earlier. He body checks the taller man into the wall, playfully. You can see his lips moving as he chirps something into the ear of the taller man. You don’t hear it though. But you see the little smirk he sends in your direction.

------

You often come to the Flyers games if you can, and today after a series of away losses you really feel like supporting the team and your uncle. They end up winning against the capitals and some of the guys decide to invite you to celebrate with them, as well as to get to know you better. Even though it’s a wednesday you still say yes, as classes start later on thursdays.

You are waiting outside the locker room as first reporters exit, coaching and staff and later team members. Lately you have been texting TK, the guy you crashed into on your first day in Philly. It was actually him who had invited you out to celebrate, so now you were here standing outside the locker room, just waiting for them to emerge.

“Hey Y/N! How are you?” You look up from your phone and see TK and the taller man from the first day. You now know him as Nolan, or Nols, just to annoy him.

“Hey TK, I’m good, congrats on the win!”

You smile up at him, going in for a congratulatory hug. He lifts you up in his strong arms and spins you around once before setting you down. Nolan just looks at you a bit awkwardly, right hand rubbing his neck.

You ride with the two of them to the bar. It’s filled with the two of them recapping the game and the radio on low. You just sit in the backseat smiling at the two boys talking about the stuff they do best, always trying to do better. It’s a stark contrast to your ex. He usually blamed everything on everyone else.

While everyone is piling in the doors to the bar you enter last with Nolan, who has held your door open, and stuck by your side as you walked to the door. TK was quick out though, eager to get drunk in celebration.

“So what did you think of the game Y/N?”

He almost mumbles in that deep dark voice of his.

“It was a pretty good game, everyone played decently well.”

You smile at him as he opens the door to the bar. It is filled to the brim with people in orange, not only team players, but a lot of fans as well. It scares you sometimes, almost being in on the insanity that is hockey.

“What does pretty good mean?”

He wonders out loud.

“Well, you had some mishaps as well as shots and passes that should have worked out, but overall a good game.”

He looks at you curiously.

“You sound just like coach Alain.”

Trying to supress the laughter that threatens to escape you isn’t as successful as you’d like for it to be, but you think you manage to hide the smile on your lips.

“You have a pretty smile.”

Nolan mumbles, and you almost miss it as you walk over to the bar.

“Hmm?”

You question out of reflex. Looking up at the tall man, you expect him to repeat what he said, just for good measure as you almost missed it due to the loud music playing.

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

He says, ordering a beer. You just shrug, ordering a cider.

“Put it on my tab.”

He says to the bartender. You smile to yourself, but don’t comment on it.

“Well, I’m gonna go play some pool. You’re welcome to join if you want to, I promised TK a round before he gets too drunk.”

You could swear his face falls just a little bit as you mention his team mate, but you try not to overthink it as you make your way over to the tables where the team has gathered. You notice that Nolan has hung back a little. Not following as closely as he did when you entered.

You arrive at the pool tables just in time for a new game. You and Ghostie decide to play against TK and Carter, hoping to win.

Turns out, Ghostie is absolutely terrible at pool. Which means that against the goalie and the forward, you’re barely keeping up even with how much training in pool you have. It doesn’t help that the chirps go to Ghostie's head. Which makes him, if possible, even worse. Just for funsies you throw in some as well, just to mess with him.

Suddenly half the team starts cheering and TK yells out.

“Heyy Patty, just in time to save the damsel from playing another round with Ghostie.”

“I’m not that terrible.”

Ghostie protests.

“My back is literally breaking from carrying the team. I’m sorry man, but you're going to the bench.”

He hangs his head comically low, and you pat it, as he hands the pool cue over to Nolan. He proceeds to wink at you with that stupid smirk all over his face.

That was the birth of the meanest pool duo the team had seen in a while.

----------

You’re in the middle of a lecture when your phone lights up with a snapchat notification. You have turned vibration and sound off, but your eyes are still drawn to the device. As they have been doing for the last few days. Professor Ericsson has been drawing on about the Hidden Markov Model for ages explaining the same thing over and over, going in circles making things more confusing than it has to be. That’s why you decide to pick up your phone with your sweater covered hands and open the snap.

It’s Nolan, he’s sent a message in the chat.

Hey, want to meet up and play some pool later? Just to make sure were on top of our game next time the team goes out?

You smile a little, looking at the screen.

Sure, but I’m in a lecture now, I’ll text you when I’m out.

You type out the message carefully before hitting send, before flipping the phone upside down so you can’t see the response before you leave class.

Professor Ericsson keeps you five minutes past his time, but luckily it’s the last class of the day and you are amongst the first out the door. Tired of all the talking, you plug your music in and open snapchat as you head towards the library.

- Oh shit, sorry

The message reads and you smile to yourself.

- No worries, out now tho:)

Your coat is off and you sling your backpack to the floor before sending a second message.

- What bar? when?

The response is almost immediate after. You can’t help the little butterflies in your stomach, but you sure as hell can try to ignore them.

- John’s at 8?

He suggests, and you can’t think of any place or time better, so you agree and start studying the Hidden Markov model, trying to get it as well as the examples. Knowing yourself you set an alarm for seven, just to make sure you remember to meet up with Nolan. You have just gotten into the flow of things when said alarm goes off. That is also when you realise that you haven’t got a ride to the bar.

- Hey Nols, mind picking me up at the university? If you’re passing by.

You vaguely know where Nolan lives and hope he hasn’t left yet.

- Sure, on my way!

It’s an actual snap this time, a short video of him opening and closing his door with the text in the middle of the screen. Snapping a picture of yourself with a thumb up, you deem it as enough of an answer. You pack your backpack again and head for the main entrance. It’s cold out and frost is lying heavy on the ground. You pull your scarf higher up so it covers your nose.

Soon Nolan is pulling up and you get into the car, slinging your backpack into the backseats of the SUV.

“Hey, thanks for picking me up Nols”

You smile as he pulls out out of the campus and onto the road.

“No worries, I was gonna pass by either way.”

He answers, as you take in the inside of the car. It smells of energy drink and shampoo, which is explained by the red bull in his cup holder and his wet hair. He’s wearing jeans and a gray hoodie. You assume the jacket in the back is his.

“Straight from practice I’m guessing?”

You ask, looking over at him.

“Yeah, Alain was tough today. Fair warning, I think he might be in a bad mood when you get home.”

Nolan mumbles the last part, seemingly a little embarrassed. That’s when you remember you’ll have to let your uncle know you might be home late, just so he doesn’t get worried.

“That reminds me, I’ll have to shoot him a message.”

You say as Nolan parks the car. He exits before you, after grabbing his coat from the backseat. You type the message for your uncle and hit send. When you hear your door opening you’re a little surprised to find Nolan grinning down at you leaning lightly on the door.

“C’mon, we don’t have all day.”

He smiles. You exit the car, making sure you have your wallet and hear the door shut as Nolan slams it closed and locks the car. Together you walk into the bar. The bartender gives you a nod as you head for one of the open pool tables.

“Want anything to drink?”

Nolan asks politely as he hangs his coat on the back of a chair.

“I’ll just take a sprite, if you don’t mind.”

He nods and heads off to the counter to order. Meanwhile you grab a cue and line up the balls correctly in the triangle. The table is well used, evident by the green felt that has been worn white in some spots.

“I don’t mind if you drink, you know. Even if I don’t.”

Nolan says as he returns with one glass of coke and one with sprite. He sets the glasses down on the table closest to you.

“Nahh, I don’t like myself when I’m drunk anyway, plus I have classes in the morning.”

Nolan nods his head in an understanding way as he grabs a cue for himself.

“Want to split? Or should I?”

You smile, standing at the opposite side of the table to him.

“I’ll split if you don’t mind.”

He answers and goes to the right side of the table, and lines up his shot. You shake your head before you can even begin to admire him. Instead focusing on the game, seeing as he lands one solid into a pocket and the rest of the balls spread sort of evenly across the green felt. You nod in admiration; he still knows how to play.

“That’s good! Let’s see if you can keep it up.”

Chirping him seems to be the easiest way to carry conversation, without it getting too deep. Because if there is one thing you’ve learned about competitive boys, is that you don’t want to have a full blown conversation in the midst of a game. And the fact that he misses his next shot makes it a little more interesting. It goes back and forth like that for a while, you chirping him, and him chirping you.

You’ve played three games now, and even though it's him in the lead with one point, and you don’t want to lose, time is ticking and you should get home soon.

“Okay, this is not finished, I’m still gonna beat your ass in this game.”

You grumble on your way out to the car. Nolan just smiles at you, shaking his head.

“You know, the car isn’t gonna be cold enough for you to wrap that scarf around your head every time?”

He mumbles close to your ear, making you stop your movements as heat rises to your cheeks. He opens the door to exit the bar for you, and immediately you see a shiver run through his body as the cold winter air slithers in.

“No? But it’s still cold outside though, don’t you think?”

You say lowly as you lead the way back to the car. You’re feeling snug and warm, wrapped up in the gray, knit infinity scarf. Nolan never ceases to surprise you with his manners as he opens the passenger door for you, letting you enter the car first. As he closes the door for you, you lean forward and adjust the AC to low, just to mess with him.

The entire ride to Alain's apartment is filled with Nolan huffing and pulling the sleeves of his hoodie over his knuckles. You guessed right when you thought he was stubborn. He hadn’t even looked at the AC controls, so determined that the car would heat up soon. You are pretty sure he regrets tossing his coat to the backseat again.

He is pulling up on the curb of the apartment complex, and for some reason you don’t feel quite ready to leave, but you know you’ll have to.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a good time.”

You smile, looking at Nolan. A soft, almost shy smile is on his lips.

“Yeah, me too. We’ll have to hang some time later.”

He says, looking directly at you. Maybe hockey boys aren’t as bad as you thought. You pick your backpack from the backseat and open the door, but before you close it completely you turn and look at Nolan with a mischievous look in your eyes.

“And Nols? You should probably turn up the heat on the AC.”

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

Studying is probably the most tedious fun thing you do. Because, while you love system engineering, it’s a tough major and some of the classes are kicking your ass. So when your phone rings repeatedly you take it as a welcome excuse to take a break. However, you regret it just a little when you see Travis’ face light up the screen.

“Waddup, you complete and utter nuisance?”

You answer him before he has the chance to say something first.

“Wazzup, you nerd.”

He smiles back at you.

“Not nerd, it’s called college degree.”

You shoot back at him, playfully.

“You mean to say that my work isn’t actually work?”

Travis acts hurt, you can see the joking glint in his eyes though.

“Yeah, but I can see that it pays your bills though, so let’s call it a job…. for now.”

He laughs while looking at something in the background, before looking back at you.

“So, what big engineering theme are we working on today?”

Travis asks like he cares. You know he doesn’t though so you don’t bore him with small details.

“The Hidden Markov Model, it has to do with probability and stuff like that.”

You can hear rummaging and someone talking in the background of Travis’ end. He looks up at someone before you hear them speak.

“Who are you talking to?”

You could recognize that deep voice anywhere, even though the crackling of your speaker. Of course Nolan is around.

“Your girlfriend.”

Travis answers with a smirk on his lips. Nolan doesn’t show up in the frame, but from the way Travis gives you a cheeky little side eye, you’re guessing Nolan is giving him a death stare.

“Shut the fuck up Teeks.”

You just chuckle, not thinking it is anything serious.

“I don’t date hockey players anyway.”

It’s meant to be light hearted, really, and you don’t think anything of it as you speak up. But when Travis looks at you, slightly shocked and Nolan does appear on the screen, you suddenly feel a bit judged.

“Wait, really?”

Travis questions, looking at you curiously, you don’t notice the way he side eyes Nolan though.

“Yeah? I don’t get the big deal?”

You are confused to be honest. Why would they care about who you date anyway?

“Well, why won’t you date any hockey players?”

Nolan asks. He is trying to play it cool, you can tell. And you have to wonder, if you have sent the wrong signals.

“‘S just, I dated this Penns player a while ago, turned out that he was too busy for me, or never really cared for all I know. He ended up cheating on me while he was away for some games.”

The feeling of something gathering in the bottom of your stomach makes you feel sick, you would rather not bring all this back up again. It doesn’t help, when you look back up at the screen and see Nolan with furrowed brows and Travis looking generally uncomfortable.

“It’s stupid, I know. And I shouldn't judge people based on him. Anyhow, how are we feeling about the game tomorrow?”

You try to shift the conversation to something else. Of course you haven’t got that much luck.

“We’re playing the Penns tomorrow, you do know that.. right?”

Nolan utters, and all that goes through your head is FUCKFUCKFUCK. Because how in the everlasting fuck could you forget that they were playing the Penns tomorrow? It’s all Alain has been talking about for the last couple of days.

“I completely forgot that’s who you were playing.”

The sigh that slips past your lips doesn’t go unnoticed by the two boys.

“Well, I’ll be in the stands cheering for you boys.”

Smiling feels heavy and you can tell they don’t really believe it. The silence between the two boys is confirmation enough. And it lasts for a second, until Nolan breaks it.

“Who was it?”

He inquires. The question itself feels a little prying, but by the way he mumbles it you know it’s not intended to be.

“Does it matter?”

You ask, voice almost cracking, hoping he will budge.

“Yeah it matters, he hurt you.”

And he speaks so clearly, there really isn’t any question about it. And in a moment of weakness and hurt you let it slip.

“Marcus Pettersson, okay. No biggie. I’m gonna go to bed now you should too.”

You add before hanging up.

----------

You barely sleep last night, and the sleep you get gives you nothing at all. The hours spent at university are only manageable because of two cans of red bull. For some reason it makes you think of Nolan, about the smell of red bull in his car alongside the shitty shower gel scent that filled up the space. For some reason, the moment you pop open the can, you think it suited him.

“Wanna come out later?”

Alex from your last class asks you as the two of you exit the lecture hall. Usually you would have said yes, considering Alex is pretty cute and you have been harbouring a crush on them for the last few months. However the excitement you thought you would feel is not there. No, because your first priority tonight is a fucking hockey game.

“Thank you for asking, but I have some other plans I have to follow through with, but maybe some other time?”

You smile at them as you both head towards the main doors.

“No stress then, I will definitely keep that in mind.”

Alex winks at you before holding open the door. You exit together, but each of you head for opposite directions. While they start to head for their car, you start towards the main entrance, where you hope your Uber is waiting. He is in fact not, so you take the time to plug in the earbuds and turn on some music.

When the correct car pulls up, you greet the driver and let him know you’re ready to go. After ten minutes you’re at the Wells Fargo Centre, and you pay, as well as rate the driver five stars.

Using one of the side entrances you start to make your way towards the rink. You’ve been around enough for people to recognize you, but it still feels weird walking around here and hear greetings all around the place. Even if you’re wearing the hoodie, people seem to know who you are.

“Hey sleepyhead.”

But you don’t expect to hear that voice. Not yet. You have barely closed in on the wardrobes. He isn’t supposed to be here. He is supposed to be on the rink warming up. Shit.

“What do you want, Pettersson.”

You almost snarl as you turn around to look at him. He doesn’t look as mean anymore, and the voice he uses isn’t as arrogant.

“To say hey?”

He questions as you look at him, raising your brows.

“It’s been a while.”

He adds, trying to sound innocent. You don’t buy it for a second.

“It’s been a while for a reason.”

You scowl at him, trying to walk away before this turns into something you don’t want to be involved in.

“Wait! Please.”

Marcus says, making you turn around.

“I married her you know.”

He confesses to you softly. And that’s what breaks you for the day. With the little sleep, last night, and him ripping at your old wounds.

“I fucking know Marcus, and that's the worst part! You told me you didn’t want anything serious, you told me you couldn’t commit like that. And not even a year later you’re married! Okay. I get that, I didn’t have to be the one. But I know I deserve the respect of being broken up with in a proper manner. So truly, I know, and I don’t care about it.”

Angrily you wipe the tears that have dared to slip down your cheeks, and nothing is upsetting you more than the fact that he can still make you cry.

“I just wanted you to know, I hope I haven't ruined you for anyone else.”

He almost whispers, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Don’t think so fucking highly of yourself, I’m for no one to ruin.”

You seethe and walk away for the last time. Some of the players from the home team are still outside the wardrobe, which is placed after the away teams. You can spot Carter and Kevin, even Claude is out here. But while your eyes only glide over them, your eyes stick to Nolan. He looks at you, knowing you just lied through your teeth to Marcus, and you hope to some sort of entity that he doesn’t out you for it. And he doesn’t. Even if he looks like he wants to say something.

You brush past the team, up to the VIP booth that has a bathroom connected to it. You look into the mirror, and see a distraught person looking back. With tears streaked through the concealer you used to cover up the dark circles under your eyes, they now seem more prominent.

Digging into your backpack you find some makeup wipes and clean your face before going to your usual spot in the regular stands. You sit there and wait for the game to begin. And when it does, it’s an intense one.

Your uncle seems to be happy for it, cause the guys are playing impeccably. Their passes are powerful and their skates cut across the ice faster than you’ve seen in a while. First period is pretty even though. Both teams are passing great, but at the end the Flyers pierce thought the Penns' defence by having Travis tackle Marcus and Nolan sending the puck flying into the goal. You jump in excitement as the horn blares across the stadium, although you see the angry way the Flyers are playing.

Second period is the same, however the Penns seem to be gaining on the Flyers and not before long, Crosby scores on Carter. While the other side of the rink bursts into celebration, you sink down into your seat, next to the Flyers' penalty box.

A few minutes before the second period is over, Travis is sent to the box beside you. He gives you a worried glance, which you meet, but then you spot fans standing up in their seats and start yelling. You’re worried, and that worry is not unfounded, because Nolan has dropped gloves on fucking Marcus Pettersson.

You don’t notice it, but your every action is viewed by Travis. He watches with hesitation as you sink down into your seat, and then with surprise as you get up and put your hands to your mouth just as the first hit from Nolan lands in Marcus’ gut. Marcus folds a little, but manages to aim a hit towards Nolan's head. Never in your entire life have you been more happy for helmets. One referee has come over to them and is trying to get in between. Nolan lands a final hit before they each get pulled to their own team. Nolan gets called for a body check and is sent off the ice for five minutes.

Nolan is currently getting checked out by the physio team, and with his previous head injuries, you have to admit that you’re worried. Not one thought isn’t about him and his head, possibly his fists as well.

Before a sane thought can strike your brain you rush to the checkout room. Travis gives a small smile, before entering the ice again. You fly by all the security with a hidden pass you have kept underneath your shirt, and knock on the door before you think twice. But the second it takes them to open the door makes your head spin. You know what it looks like and you don’t want those rumors for either of your sakes. He probably doesn’t even want you there either.

You’re just about to turn around and leave, when Catherine from the physio team opens the door. She looks equals parts shocked and confused when she sees you.

“Hey, Y/N, he can’t really see anyone right now, as we’re still not finished with his check up.”

“Oh, that's okay.”

Your mind is going in overdrive, hoping he hasn’t heard who’s at the door. You don’t have such luck.

“Hey, it’s okay, let her in.”

His voice seems to calm you down. Something about how smooth his voice is. So you take a careful step into the room. Nolan, thank god, seems to be doing alright. His cheeks are tinted pink and he has a slight smile on his lips. That’s also the moment you realise he is shirtless.

Catherine walks up to him and you have no idea how she keeps her cool.

“Now, just stare straight ahead, please.”

She tells him, and his gray gaze settles on yours. Not wavering for a second, not even when Catherine shines a flashlight into his eyes. After a few seconds she puts down the flashlight.

“You seem to be all good, Patrick.”

She takes the hint, from your twiddling thumbs and Nolan's intense stare.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She says as she closes the door behind her.

“I’m.. Nols, I was so worried about you.”

You decide to say, not knowing if there is a better option. He just pats the spot beside him on the bench, indicating for you to sit next to him.

“You know, I’ve been waiting to do that for quite some time.”

And for a second you feel a little angry with him.

“You’ve been waiting to possibly not be able to play again?”

The question comes out incredulous, and you don’t know how he could risk it like that. He sighs.

“No, I’ve been waiting to knock Pettersson on his ass for a while now. He is, if possible, the the most frustrating defenseman ever.”

He admits out loud. You can’t help but sigh as you know where he is coming from.

“That’s not the only reason though.”

Nolan mumbles, and you can feel his hand next to yours.

“I kind of figured.”

You whisper, letting reality sink in. But, just as you’re about to explain, Alain walks into the room. Things never seem to go in your favour.

“You good to go Nolan?”

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees you.

“Yes, sir.”

You feel Nolan automatically straighten his back, ready to get out there again.

“Y/N?”

Your uncle asks confused.

“I’ll just head out Al.”

“I expect an explanation when we get home, miss.”

You nod your head, and a feeling of blood rushing to your cheeks almost overwhelms you as Nolan squeezes your hand discreetly when you get up.

-----

The Flyers end up winning on overtime, with Laughton scoring the second goal. And while all the players go out, you decide you need to talk to your uncle. You’re sitting in his car waiting for him to do his last few rounds, when Nolan shows up outside your window. He is quiet, when he should be riding on a high from winning. However when you open the door and step out into the frigid air, a warm smile makes its way onto his face.

“What are you gonna tell your uncle?”

You ponder the question for a few seconds, unsure of what to answer.

“I don’t really know. How do I tell him that I want to date one of his players?”

And that’s the one and only second you regret saying anything at all. Nolan's face moves from a slight worried smile, to a full blown smirk, confidence rolling off him in waves, and it’s worth all the chirping. Because he finally looks like he should after a win.

“You want to date me?”

You don’t want to smile, but when he wiggles his brows excessively, while getting closer to you, you can’t help it.

“Fuckin’ yes, okay? I’m sorry it took me so long to realize, Nols.”

He chuckles and wraps you up in his arms, and you positively melt right there. His arms around your shoulders and yours around his waist.

“I wanna date you too.”

Nolan mumbles into your ear, his deep voice vibrating through your head.

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick blurb #nolan patrick fluff #nolan patrick fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #Philadelphia Flyers #flyers fic #19 #nolan patrick angst

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goldenruhn · 3 years ago

Note

hi! what are your thoughts on Azriel's bonus chapter? the contrast between the first part (Elain + Rhys) and the second one (Gwyn + Clotho). Specially the contrast with the behavior of his shadows with Elain and than with Gwyn + the contrast in meaning of "a thing of secret, lovely beauty" (the necklace x the image of Gwyn). And the possible meaning of "something restless settling in him" + "something sparked in Azriel's chest".

Hi nonnie! The great thing about being in Australia is we don’t get the bonus chapters so once again I had to hunt it down. I would also like to highlight that I do not ship Elriel but will do my best to keep my personal bias out of this response! Also, no harassment/bullying, if I see any you will be reported to tumblr. I’m not 100% sure if this is anti azriel but if any of his fans find that so let me know and I’ll change his tag to the anti tag?

Overall my thoughts are on this chapter is that it was nice to see the point of view of Azriel because he is character that’s often in the shadows (no pun intended) and I did like getting a bit more insight into him but it also left me feeling uncomfortable. This got incredibly long so I’m sorry to everyone who is planning on reading the mess of words below! Stay hydrated during this adventure!

What I find interesting at the point of Azriel and Elain running into each other is when Azriel receives the gift from Elain and mentions his own gift.

It’s interesting that he says that, that in that moment he’s concerned about the mate bond between Lucien and Elain and almost worried to overstep some form of boundary but as we know that concern leaves just moments later after the gifting. Another important key is that his shadows skittered back at the sound of her of her soft breath, that they are prone to do that when she’s around. With that information I would have loved to get just bit more on why? Why do they skitter back when Elain is around? Is it because he’s shy? Is it because he has feelings for her? But then, why does that not happen around Mor considering that he’s been in love with her for 500 years. Do the shadows recognize the mate bond between Elain and Lucien and this is their way of telling Azriel to back down but he doesn’t listen to them? I hope that we’ll get more information on this in later books, especially after we see how his shadows react around Gwyn.

We see in the scene of him putting on the necklace around her neck that he knows it’s wrong. And all of a sudden he doesn’t care. During this point, I also think it’s safe to assume that Lucien can feeling something going on. I mean, he’s only a level away and the bond is right there. I refuse to believe that he didn’t feel/sense something was going on in those brief moments.

Now, this is part where I start to get uncomfortable with this whole gift scene because they just shared a tender moment and all of sudden he’s thinking about her her breasts and sex, how is c**k strained against his pants. It’s just a jump that happens out of nowhere and is just such a book/movie scene that I can’t find it romantic? Also, for him to believe he could have just this moment is false as we’ve seen his history with Mor. He’s been in love with her for 500 years and for him to think just kissing Elain would somehow ease his urges is silly from my point of view.

Let’s now move to the interaction with Rhys. Like, this boy really tried to play off what could have just happened? Azriel ignores it and just states “what if the cauldron is wrong?”, also ignoring Rhys’ questioning of Mor (which is silly that Azriel would completely ignore that and not hint at anything). Next is another part I don’t like. Where he states the following:

Personally to me, it hints that he only has feelings for Elain because she was given to another, but also almost stating like she’s an object using the word ‘given’. Mates aren’t given, they are in my eyes blessed to be with eachother. And to also say that Lucien doesn’t deserve her? Give me one good reason Azriel why he doesn’t? What makes you so much better than Lucien? What makes you deserve her? Not to mention the idea of a blood duel, because that would get Elain falling right into your arms. Also, does Azriel really think Lucien is the kind of male that would ask for a blood duel? I think it shows how little both Rhys and Azriel know of his character if they think that. Let us not forget that he hasn’t thought about a future outside of just sleeping with Elain, and I’m sure the same goes for Elain on a future with Azriel.

Gwyn/Azriel ft Clotho. 501 years later we have made it to the next part, Gwyn’s appearance in this scene and the reaction of Azriel.

Gwyn’s scene is started by saying the shadows did not warn him. Now, if they warn him about others why did that not warn him about Gwyn being present? Next, we have his shadows peering over his shoulders to look at her. The shadows want to look at her, compared to them skittering away when Elain simply took a breath. Compare this also to when Gwyn breathes out, one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. With this, someone could argue that the shadow mistake the visible breath as another shadow but then that mean’s his shadows would do this on a regular basis, yet this is the first time we have seen this. There is something about Gwyn that makes his shadows curious, that makes them want to dance.

A moment to discuss the whole, “do you sing?” scene. If that doesn’t make you giggle a little you have an ice cold because that was kind of cute.

We also have the cutting ribbon scene, where once again his shadows are calm, content just sitting on his shoulder and watching her. You can’t deny that this isn’t important. It is now the third time we have a mention of his shadows, and each mention has been positive, compared to the two negative times with Elain, the women he has feelings for. Oh but wait, as he’s leaving her he could have sworn his shadows sung in answer. Very interesting that his shadows are reacting like that to Gwyn, I don’t believe they’ve done that around Mor either so there is something there for sure. On a slightly darker note, I’m curious to know how his shadows reacted to him saving her if they are acting like this now?

Now, this is the part that causes much controversy within fandom: Azriel giving the necklace to Clotho to pass onto Gwyn. I see many people saying that giving Gwyn a rejected gift is a low blow, and the fact that he thought he wouldn’t see her as more than friend could point not to nothing romantic. However, he also only thought of Elain as someone to sleep with and hadn’t thought about a future with her. A slight similarity in not seeing what the future holds with a potential friendship with Gwyn and a possible romance with Elain, which is interesting because is Azriel just not a guy that looks to the future? Though, with this we also see that something sparked in his chest upon hearing what Clotho said about the gift making Gwyn happy. I wish we had more of that, a little hint of what that spark could be. Though, we also get to know that he is picturing her wearing it, thinking about her how her eyes will light up at seeing the necklace. We cannot ignore also those last two lines. Buried the image deep down, where it glowed quietly. A thing of secret, lovely beauty. I think this hints at something, whether it be a possible friendship or romance, it hints at something.

I also find it interesting how in that moment of imagining Gwyn wearing the necklace he completely forgot about Elain wearing the necklace. The only thing in his mind we the look in her eyes, which bought a smile to his face.

Azriel as a character is interesting, however, I wish his actions with Mor, Elain & Gwyn where perhaps better thought out. For him to be in love with Mor for 500 years and then suddenly move onto Elain and now the possibility of Gwyn? I just think SJM could have done so much more with these. Some form of acknowledgement of his feelings on Mor, even just a small glimpse during the bonus chapter would have also been wonderful because we don’t really hear it from him. I also believe that’s one the reasons why some people don’t like Azriel. Which is fully to blame on SJM and her shitty writing about these three different relationships he holds with each of them.

Once again, no bullying/harassments will be tolerated.

#azriel #acosf #elain archeron #gwyn berdara #fey: rants

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dragonfiremage · 4 years ago

Text

Nightmares

Summary: Zuko is suffering from nightmares and it’s affecting his duty as Firelord. You finally do something about it.

Author’s Notes: This is part of my Kyoshi Warror! Reader X Firelord!Zuko drabble series) Hope you guys are having a great weekend.

The air was particularly chilly tonight, the wind whipping all around you as it howled and played with the tendrils of your hair. As the tassels of your Kyoshi headband whip at your face for the hundredth time that evening, you sighed in annoyance blowing it out of your face one more time. You leaned against the palace wall, the stone digging into your back as you glanced around the perimeter briefly before allowing yourself to relax completely. There was no starts out tonight - just the dark inky night sky while the moon hid behind some clouds. The palace grounds was unusually quiet that evening only adding to the tension that's been building for the past few days.

You quickly glanced over your shoulder and through the balcony doorway where Firelord Zuko slept in his bed. There had a few more break-ins this week and, unfortunately, it had been happening outside of your nightly shifts. Frowning as you recall back to the other Kyoshi Warrior's reports you read this afternoon, they all reported similar things - Zuko was being unusually short-tempered with them, he was falling asleep in meetings, and he was constantly not paying attention. You chewed on the inside of your cheek deep in thought, wondering what could be causing his moodiness - more than usual, that is.

Pushing yourself against the wall, you turned to patrol the rest of the balcony that wrapped around the wall. As you were about to spin on your heel to turn around, you hear it. It’s a hushed sound, almost like a whisper. You paused mid-step and waited to hear the sound again.

Silence.

'Probably just the wind,' you thought. Even so, you kept your senses on alert in case you heard the sound again as you continued to pace around the balcony. As you were about to walk away from the balcony, you hear it again.

A whimper, followed by a stuttering breath. The sound came from the bedroom and your eyes trail to the bed and the faint online of Zuko's body. Even from where you stood, you could see him toss and turn, the sheets tangling around him.

You hung your head, cringing when it suddenly dawns on you. Zuko was suffering from a nightmare - and he had been every night for the past few days when he would go to sleep. You deduced that these nightmares were probably fueled by the recent break-ins. It would explain his recent behavior - his lack of sleep led to feeling more tired and stressed more than usual. That would also explain why he's been falling asleep during meetings with various subjects and definitely his increased in moodiness.

You sigh and untie your cloth belt, placing your sword and Kyoshi fans against the balcony door as you entered Zuko’s bedroom. As you walked around Zuko's bed to his side, you watched his features, illuminated the by single candle by his bedside table. He looked peaceful while he slept, but the crease between his brow and the light perspiration on his forehead told you all you need to know that he was far from peace.

Kneeling by the edge of the bed, you placed your crossed arms on the mattress as you watched the Firelord sleep. You frowned when you felt the slight tug of guilt blooming in your chest. Tonight was the third night in the row you've observed Zuko suffering from nightmares. You haven’t brought it up to Suki yet, figuring that maybe Zuko could handle it on his own. After all, nightmares were personal matters.

But after piecing the things together, you felt guilty for not bringing it earlier. Some strands of hair had slipped over his face and covered part of his face, almost like a half-hidden mystery for you to discover. Gingerly, you lift your one of your hands to brush some of the strands away, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You then let your hand trace his features delicately - over his brows, down his nose, across his jaw.

You stared at him for a moment longer, your cheeks flushing at the sudden realization of how close you were to him as your hand hovered over his face. Spirits, you thought, he was so handsome.

Zuko looked so peaceful while he slept, his face unmarred by the stresses of the day. You often forgot he was young for a Firelord. You couldn't imagine the weight he carried on his shoulders let alone try show the world that the Fire Nation has changed. If there was anything you could to lessen that weight, you would do so in a heartbeat.

Since starting your new position as a nightly guard to the Firelord, your relationship with him bloomed rather rapidly but deeply. He was very quick to open up to you, some nights he would spend sitting out in the balcony with you as he talked about his day or vent about things that were bothering him. You would sit next to him quietly as you listened to the timber of his voice and offered advice when he asked.

But there was always some kind of tension though. Your friendship teetered on a fine line between friends and being more than friends. Jokes that were a little too suggestive, eyes that lingered longer than should have, touches that seemed more intimate...Not to mention, every time he was near, you felt the flip in your stomach and when he catches your eyes, your mind was sent reeling. You weren’t sure if the feeling was mutual, but you certainly knew how you felt about the Firelord.

What you felt for him was definitely more than what a friend should have, but you refrained from ever taking it any step beyond that. After all, he was your superior and the Firelord. It was precisely for that reason you didn't know how to deal with see his nightmares. It seemed like a very personal matter and you didn't want to overstep your boundaries, fearing that it might ruin what you two had. Simply put, it wasn't your business.

“No…please.”

Zuko’s mumbling pulls you out of your thoughts and you watch Zuko as he continues to toss and turn around the bed. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn't have gotten involved, but his nightmares was impeding on his ability to be an effective Firelord so you have no other choice. You stood up from your kneeling position and leaned over to gently shake him awake when he suddenly whispered before swinging up his arms as if getting ready to send a fireball.

“No, please! Don’t…don’t hurt her."

Your eyes widened at the sudden realization that Zuko was about to firebend so you quickly forced his arms down to his sides and put your weight on him. Awkwardly maneuvering so that you can face him, you reached to cup his cheek as you whisper softly, “Zuko...shhh...hey, it’s ok. Wake up, Zuko.”

Zuko slowly blinks his eyes open, his golden eyes connecting with yours, dazed. His eyes were heavy with sleep, but when he suddenly realizes the position you're in his eyes widen as he asks lowly, “(YN) - what’s wrong?”

He sits up and you let him after making sure he was fully awake. He tilts his head at your frown and brings to brush his thumb on your jaw when you don't reply right away. You blink up to him and you give him a reassuring smile as you slip your hand onto his, noting that his hand was still shaking.

“Zuko, you were having a nightmare…Is everything ok?”

Zuko's eyes widen briefly as he stares down where your hand was brushing his knuckles before reluctantly pulling his hands away to rub his eyes out of sleep. He knows he should tell the truth and tell you he's been having nightmares. But he wasn't ready to share the contents of his nightmare with you yet. It ranged from his father breaking out prison and reclaiming the throne, to Azula escaping the asylum and hurting everyone he loved and cared about - including you. Tonight, he had dreamt he saw Azula take you as a prisoner and use you against him. Azula was about to use her signature lightning to hurt you when you had woken him up. He remember feeling so shaken at the thought of not reaching you in time.

Zuko had woken up to your worried face, your hand stroking his cheek softly. He had to force himself not to pull you into him and press those worries away, but he instead sat up against his headboard. He didn’t want to make you more worried or make your job harder as it is; so he simply just pats your hand and reassures, "It was nothing. I'm fine now."

You sigh as you hang your head with a shake. It was now or never. Whispering lowly, you looked up back at him with a raised brow, "Excuse me, my lord, if step out of line. But I know you've been having nightmares. After all, I'm supposed to look after you. Not to mention, I keep hearing complaints about your irritable mood from Suki and the rest of the warriors.”

Zuko shakes his head with a smile on his face, laughing through his nose, “Nothing ever escapes you, huh?”

You laugh easily before squeezing his hand again. “No, it doesn’t, Zuko.”

The easy way his name rolls out your tongue makes him inhale sharply. It was always “sir”, or “my lord”, or “my king.” So anytime his own name came out of your mouth, it made him crave it just a bit more. Zuko briefly trails his eyes over your face noting how the candle on his nightstand made your features glow - from your striking eyes to the curve of your soft lips that looked so tempting.

“I did have a nightmare, but I’m fine now. I’m actually wide awake now,” Zuko sighs as he brushes his hair with his fingers as his sigh turns into a yawn. He blushes as he covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

You smirk at him and Zuko feels his stomach twist at the sight of your painted lips. He wondered how soft it would feel under his own? Zuko inwardly shook his head at his thought.

He was awake right? Right.

Snorting at him, you reply “And I’m a platypus bear. You need sleep, my king. Suki mentioned that you will be meeting with the Earth King today so you need all of your energy.”

As you move to stand from the bed, however, Zuko’s hands shot out and tugs at it, making you tilt your head at him. “Did you need anything?” You ask.

Zuko shook his head. “I...I just feel wide awake. I don't think I can go back to sleep at this point.”

You put a finger on your chin as you wrack your head with ideas to help the Firelord sleep, before a blush spreads across your face. When you were younger, you often had problems going to sleep. Anytime that would happen, your mother would read out lout to you and, as if magic, you would fall right asleep. Her gentle, soothing voice would always lull you back to sleep. You meet Zuko’s eyes expectantly and you sigh with defeat.

“Alright, I have an idea." You rose from the bed as one of Zuko's brows raise in curiosity.

Zuko crosses his arms, an amused smirk spreading across his lips. "An idea? That's a first..."

You turn sharply at him to glare playfully, "Oh shut it. Anyways, when I was younger, my mother would always read to me whenever I had troubles going to sleep. Wanna give it a try?”

Zuko hums in thought and says, “Doubt it’ll work for me, but how can I pass up such a great opportunity. It’s not everyday the Firelord gets to have someone read them to bed.".”

You laugh through your nose, shaking your head as you walk up to the bookcases that adored the wall. Zuko watches as you look through his bookcase with a lazy smile. He almost felt delirious from the lack of sleep and wondered if he was truly still sleeping. As you continued to look through the books, Zuko let his mind wander back to his nightmare.

He still felt some of the traces of anxiety from his dream lay heavy in his chest and he clutched at the sheets when a flash of your face in pain hits him. A slight wave of protectiveness washed over him. He understand that in your line of work, you could get hurt anytime. Even worse is that he knew you would put your life on the line for him.

And that frightened him.

You would do anything to protect the Fire Lord. He felt the fine line of their relationship, always teetering to something more. But the fear of you getting hurt because of him was the only thing preventing him from pursuing the relationship even further. No matter how much he wanted to.

Oh, how he thought about being with you. Zuko would wake up every morning with you in his bed, instead of by his balcony as you guarded him all night. He wanted to eat dinner with you, instead of watching taking a bite from his plate before giving the plate to him. He wanted to take you to the Jasmine Dragon and have tea with his uncle instead of you reading over his itinerary and checking the tea shop's perimeter. He wanted more.

But for now, Zuko decided to just admire you from afar and hoped that you would stay by his side until he was ready to tell you his true feelings. He watched fondly as you turn and cock your head at him, brows raised, “I didn’t know you liked fairy tales, my king…”

Zuko rubs the back of his neck with embarrassment before sharing, “Actually, I found it among my mother’s things. I wanted to keep everything that was here in tact.”

Your heart tugs at hearing Zuko talk about his mother and you smile tenderly. “Lets read it then."

As you make your way to his bed again, Zuko scoots over a bit and makes room beside him on the bed. Warmth spreads across your cheeks when Zuko pats the space next to him. You were about to refuse when you finally gave in to that part of you that so desperately wanted to throw caution to the wind and just openly express your feelings for him. It took a lot of willpower to keep your composure as you kick off your boots and remove the Kyoshi armor, leaving you to your green dress uniform. You sit next to him shly, before Zuko sighs with exasperation and wraps his arms around your shoulders to pull you in closer. He puts the blankets over both your laps and looks at you expectantly.

You breathe through your nose with amusement before clearing your throat, “Comfy?”

Zuko looks at you with a tired, lopsided smile. “Yes. Well, come on, let’s get on with it.”

Shaking your head, you flip to the first page and start reading.

“Once upon a time…" ------

Zuko was fighting to stay awake as your soothing voice lulled him to sleep as you continued to read out loud from the pages. He had somehow scooted so that his head laid on your lap as you stroke some of his hairs away. You would occasionally stop to flip the page before going back to your ministrations. You were so warm that it made him feel safe. He finally surrendered and let his eyes, that were heavy with sleep, drop.

You stop the mid-sentence as you hear a slight snore coming from Zuko, his eyes closed with sleep. Brushing your hands through his scalp, you hear a slight groan and your cheeks flush at the deep sound. You shook your head out of stupor and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “You need to sleep, m’lord.”

Zuko just hums as he cuddles more to your side. “Mmhm, you’re comfy.”

You laugh quietly, as you slowly pull yourself out of his grip, Zuko curling into your previous spot. Your heart tugs at his peaceful expression, glad that his nightmare seems to no longer plaguing his mind - at least that’s what you hoped. Carefully marking your place in the book, you place it on his bedside table before pulling the blanket under Zuko’s chin and tucking it around him, before staring at the Fire Lord with a soft smile.

You smile as you brush some of his hair away as Zuko mumbles something incoherent under his breath as you lean over.

Zuko was on the brink of sleep when he feels the brush of your fingers through his hair and a smile tugs at his lips. He sighs when he feels your soft lips on his forehead, your lips brushing against his skin as you whisper, “Goodnight, my lord. May you sleep well tonight.”

And Zuko falls into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

------

The next morning, Zuko finds himself alone in his bed. He swore you were with him last night but shook his head and concluded that it must have just been a dream. He looks over at the balcony door where he sees you standing up straight as if you haven’t moved all night. He yawns as his arms stretch upwards, finally feeling rested for the first time in days. The nightmares that he had been having were truly taking toll with his sleep. Zuko stretched his arms up high as he let out of satisfied groan when he felt some of bones crack. He wondered how he was able to get such good sleep until he sees a familiar book on his bedside table, and the memories of last night comes rushing back.

Zuko remembered you waking him up from his nightmare and then reading to him. He must've fallen asleep after that. He glances over at you again and notices that you’ve shifted your weight a bit. He knows that you know that he’s awake. Grabbing a robe by his bed, he put it on as he walks out of the chilly air of his balcony.

He stands beside you as he looks over the palace grounds and then up at the sky. Feeling the energy from the morning sun waking him up. He glanced over to you and greets, “Good morning.”

You glance over at him and give him a small smile. “Good morning, my lord. Should I get the maids to get your breakfast now?”

Zuko ponders briefly before smiling over you. "That would be great, (YN)."

You politely nod to him, glad to see he looked more rested than the previous day. As you were about to turn on your heel to go back to the main hall to find a maid, Zuko's hand on your arm stops you. Glancing down at his hand, a blush reaches your cheeks. With a questioning brow, you ask, "Is there something wrong?"

The Firelord looked sheepish, bringing a hand behind his neck and rubbing it nervously. He wanted to take that firs step and this was his chance. It was now or never. A pink tint rises up to his cheeks as he Zuko shyly suggests, "Actually, I was hoping you can come and join me for breakfast."

Your cheeks redden even more as your insides rush with excitement. Biting your lip, you look up at his through your lashes before replying, "I would love that."

------

For more, read -->

When We First Met

Under the Moonlight

#atla zuko x reader #zuko x reader #firelord zuko x reader

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miss-bvnny · 3 years ago

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Yet another fan tweaks up TLK 2 and TLG: Todd Howard Expansion Pack

PART DEUX part 2 let's do this boys

Alright, so picking up where we left off, Kopa has been living in the Oasis for a bit while he heals mentally from Zira almost killing him. Zira and her blood children Nuka (Son of Scar and Zira) Vitani (Son of Zira and Mpendwa), and Kovu (Son of Jibu and an unknown male) were banished to the outlands with a third of the lionesses from Simba's pride who insisted on following Zira. Got it? Good. Let's keep moving:

Time has passed, and Simba and Nala are in NO rush to reinstate Kopa as the future king. He still has no wish to become the crown prince once again, as the thought is still...perilous to him. He's not sure about it, and....quite frankly, it makes him uncomfortable to think about. Simba and Nala understand, and do not force anything on him. Yes, the lack of an heir IS concerning, but...they know an answer will come with time. Nala remembers the way Scar used to pressure Zira and the other lionesses to find him an heir. She doesn't want the same pressure on her son. Simba agrees. But hey, sometimes we find an answer without meaning to.

Things are tense for a while, as Zira and her followers constantly sneak into the Pridelands to steal food and water whenever they need to. Simba enforces more rules and punishments for anyone caught trespassing, not being afraid to get harsh if he needs to. Zira is a persistent threat, and he's going to deal with her as such. It takes a while for things to calm down, and even then Simba and Nala are both restless (YES both of them because Nala being so passive in TLK 2 pisses me off, especially if you think about it in context to the story I'M trying to present). Regardless...things eventually calm down. Simba and Nala try for...another cub, about when Kopa would have been Simba's age, when he left the pridelands as a cub. THIS cub will one day be the crown ruler of the Pridelands, and they're going to be SURE to protect this one and keep her safe. Safe especially from the outlands and the outsiders. Kopa returns once or twice to see his parents and congratulate them on the new addition to the family. YEAH I see he was there when Kiara was born (Just like how Nuka and Vitani snuck across the border to watch the ceremony and report to Zira about it later. actually this is a good time to mention I consider all the deleted TLK 2 scenes totally canon, before going forwards). Kopa continues to visit, and loves his little sister as she grows up. We can just...say Kopa wasn't visiting the day she and Kovu met when she was older. Zira sees this as a chance to use Kovu as a pivotal figure to get her final revenge on Simba, standard TLK 2 stuff, you know how it goes. So anyway, even though Kopa has no desires to be the crown prince again, he IS thinking about moving back home. When word reaches him about the fire and Kiara almost getting hurt, his urgency to return is quickened. He makes the journey alone, and returns just in time for the final battle against the outlanders in the rain. He joins in, there's a sort of comical POTC 3 bit where he and Kovu catch up after all this time, and he sees Kovu and Kiara are in love, and ultimately they win when Zira refuses to let go of Scar and kills herself out of spite. Vitani and the other outlanders rejoin Simba and his pride, seeing the error of their ways following after Zira. They all vow to do their part in the pride and respecting the circle of life, everyone getting happier and healthier as they acclimatize to Prideland ways.

Not long after this, Simba and Nala are going on another moonlight hunt, when they hear a cub crying out in the night. They go to investigate, and see a lone newborn lion is all by himself. He smells neither of the outlands OR the pridelands, and they're unsure of who this little one is, or where he came from. But...it's a cub, and they can't just leave him behind. Simba and Nala adopt him as their own son, and name him Kiongozi (Or...just Kion for short).

Now...the lion guard (The actual team, I mean) is not really a thing in this rewrite. Vitani and her ''lion guard'' biker gang lesbians are instated simply because Vitani and her team want to express thanks to Simba by looking out for trouble, and to make sure Zira's not still somehow prowling around near the borders and waiting for a chance to strike. Like...YEAH if they saw an animal in trouble, they'd probably help, but they don't exist to stop predators from eating other animals because that's stupid. They don't overstep their boundaries when it coms to policing other animals in the pridelands, they just...want to make sure Zira's not around. Plus, I'd be lying if I said Vitani wasn't also secretly checking to see if Nuka was anywhere. She's having a hard time getting over him. Luckily, she befriends Kopa and he sympathizes with her, as..he's still got a lot of stuff from the past he's dealing with inside.

So, with Kiara as the future queen, Kovu as her consort, and Kopa acting as an advisor to his sister, there's...nothing much for Kion to do.

Kion is....kiiind of a little brat lmao. He thinks he's got a right to boss Pridelanders around because he's a member of the royal family, and often plays ''Lion Guard'' with his group of animal friends. He's basically trying to copy Vitani, but going about it in the wrong way by getting involved with the affairs of other animals and being a little know it all telling them what to do. He's...gotten in trouble several times, and Simba is TRYING to teach him that's not how a prince behaves. He understands Kion's hunger, but..there's a difference between a fair ruler and someone who bullies others for power. it takes Kion a while to understand this, but he DOES try, even if he gets it wrong a few times.

AAAAND that's....PRETTY MUCH it???? Really this was more about fixing continuity errors, making Kopa and Kion fit in a bit more seamlessly, stuff like that. IDK, lemme hear yuour thoughts if you got em.

#the lion king #the lion king 2

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paleononnie · 5 years ago

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Could you expand on your thoughts about Jamie and Tyler’s current friendship? I was late to the Bennguin show and have only been following them for about a year. Although we don’t get as much content of them, I still get the impression they have a great love/respect for each other. Jamie seems to have a strong desire to keep his life private, probably because of fans digging/overstepping boundaries. If they still hang out outside of “work”, we may never know because Jamie doesn’t want us to see.

Sure. So based on things we do have knowledge of, just as one example, Tyler said in an interview with the guys over at The Ticket, we know that with the Jim Lites/Horseshit debacle they were already planning to meet up to ride together to go for acupuncture, they just met up earlier to discuss what had happened which yes, is work centric but we know they still do things outside of official functions. While they didn't do it this past year (Jamie and Katie wore a couple's costume this past year, Tyler didn't go) they did dress up for the annual Halloween party as Mario and Luigi which if they now supposedly disliked each other or were worried about appearances, I can't imagine them going out of their way to come up with matching costumes still if the relationship sucked. I'm also reminded of Tyler's fond expression when Jamie hit his career milestone and "congrats bud" (the gifs of it recently came across my dashboard again hence, why it came to mind) or him telling him to smile when he got a goal this season.

Is it as often as before Kate came into Tyler's life or Katie had come into Jamie's? Or even when they lived in the same building? No, not at all but I think people have to take into account as they've gotten older, priorities have changed for the both of them. I think sometimes people forget that we're coming up on Tyler arriving in Dallas 7 years ago. That's a lot of time when you're in your twenties for change. Jamie's going to be 31. I think the simpler answer is the correct one.

As for Jamie's natural reticence, he's always been like this. This isn't something new. I can recall a discussion from when he was a rookie about him doing the autograph line after practice and fans saying that he came off sullen and standoffish. But that's also people forgetting that was the practice after he had the fight with Iginla. Another time, I saw a season ticket holder was mad because he didn't engage them after a game because Jordie was in town and they were walking together. I think people expect him to be something he just never has been and has clearly been uncomfortable with and then they're ultimately disappointed. They need to understand the Stars knew this about him before they made him Captain and honestly, there are plenty of interactions with fans that are more than fine (ie: I think everyone has seen the interaction of the little girl climbing on to the bench beside him in the locker room to get her award or bless, the Casino Night where he was hilariously three sheets to the wind) just that he is not "on" all the time.

When it comes to reporters, same thing. Scott Burnside and his petty campaign to malign Jamie now since he wouldn't behave like a trained seal to Burnside's inane and infinitely "in love with the sound of his own voice" questions is gross. Mike Heika is starting to skirt the edges of it too I'd noticed before we all found ourselves living in a dystopia and Jamie had been giving him the same short answers. It's also why you get great answers from him with Razor or Mark (gawddammit, why can't I remember his last name all of a sudden? As soon as I hit post it'll come to me, I know it) because neither treats him like he's an idiot.

And I can't stress this enough, I think the worst thing about that dredge water blog shenanigans is that all that nonsense is going to make Jamie even *less* likely to engage with fans because of the utter shitshow people caused. Think Jamie is going to share anything after nutters sent messages to his potentially permanent ex girlfriend demanding answers to their private business? I hope the 15 minutes of infamy was worth it. Truly.

Anyhow, that was wordy! I hope that I answered your question? If there's something else just let me know!

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melissaloveskatie · 5 years ago

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Somebody just sent me this 😂 I guess they were one of the few ones who noticed canadagraphs reported my Instagram for posting his pictures although I gave him credit .

I‘m not sure but I think he probably did it cause he is butt hurt about the fact that when somebody asked about why Melissa and Chris don’t like him and I told the person the rumors I had heard in the past 🤷🏻‍♀️ that’s very touchy and whiny for someone who considers himself a “hound” 🙄

Now all I can think about is : If they were unfounded rumors, why the ridiculous reporting, then? 🤔

Here is what I wrote; and again, this is all the things I’ve heard over the years (2017 to present) most of which are seldom mentioned on social media unless someone rants about his stupid watermark . That being said, I’ve come across this topic plenty of times in Wassapp groups and on dedicated Facebook pages.

Also the fact that 4 or 5 actors from the CW can’t stand him and by HIS OWN RECOUNTS ( see pictures ) At the very least TWO downright HATE HIM makes me there is some truth to these rumors cause one really has to be one humongous piece of shit to be able to make the actors from either of these shows to dislike you or hate you 🤷🏻‍♀️

Answering to a follower asking what stuff I had heard about the Canadagraphs dude

@isca_vella

there are two versions of the story. One told by #hideouswatermarkdude and the other by people close to the cast members as well as fans and crew members.

The guy’s version ( allegedly)is basically that Melissa used to interact more with fans and that the security detail around her was not as tight or downright aggressive when it came to not letting him take pictures of her in the past but that all changed when Chris enter the picture. According to what he has commented throughout the years he mentions something about Chris telling Melissa that he was selling her autographed pictures and that he allegedly acquired them in a less than nice way. Supposedly the source is an old blood from his own authorship which I do recall someone mentioned in the past although I don’t recall him mentioning something about Chris’s telling Melissa the reason he didn’t like CG was because he was profiting from selling her autographs . NOTE: * again, these are rumors acquaintances mentioned they’ve either read from his own tweets and blogs or from a 3rd party * The other version is the one that supposedly people that work around the set as well as some fans have mentioned which is basically that #hideouswatermarkdude ( Canadagraphs ) obtained his images by paying kids/teens to approach Melissa and ask for autographs but to the point of being too noticeable. Also that he was very pushy so Chris got pissed and asked the guys from security to make sure he didn’t overstep his boundaries. Apprently ever since then , Mel has reduced the amount of people she interacts with and how many photos she signs, unlike the other folks from the cast like Katie, chyler or Nicole who have no problem approaching or being approached by fans while on set and signing photos. According to other people who follow him on social media, #hideouswatermarkdude in the past had compared Melissa to their co stars and said that she should be more like them which is dickish of him considering it was his behavior that made Melissa keep to herself more often than not ( this of course if in fact he said such things) . Also it has been mentioned on certain Facebook groups that the guy blames Chris and makes it sound like he brainwashed Melissa that Chris tries to micromanage her. 🤷🏻‍♀️. In the end for what I’ve seen and heard, it is true he is well known by most of the people that work at any of the CW sets and that he is left to his own devices for the most part; except on the supergirl set where the security tries to keep him away as much as possible. That’s why he speaks so highly of the security people form every show EXCEPT Supergirl’s ... there are two or 3 guys that work there that really can’t stand the dude. There is more to it but , that’s all I can say about it ————————

Serves him well people are finding pictures without his watermark . 🙄

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #melissa benoist #kara danvers #katie mcgrath #kara zor el #alex danvers #chyler leigh #meltie

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cleverwolfpoetry · 6 years ago

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Psycho-pass The Movie Novel Chpt. 6 Part 1

I’m back to post. Sorry for the long delay, but a private project took a lot of my time. Now the project is over and I’m free to focus on the movie novel. I want to do it till the end, so for the one interested, I haven’t given up!

We letf Akane and Kougami finally reunited and an angry Nicholas with a failed mission.

translation by cleverwolfpoetry @ https://cleverwolfpoetry.tumblr.com/

PLEASE, NO REPOSTS OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR.

Note before reading: sentences in italics represent the character’s thoughts. Sentences between square brackets […] are voices at the phone.

“…so, the operation was a failure. And you’re saying that the Japanese agent Tsunemori is missing?”

“She even acted like she was aiding the guerrilla. She overstepped her place completely”

Standing in front of Chairman Hang’s desk in the office inside his official residence in Shambala Float, Nicholas was giving the report on the failed operation.

“Be that as it may, she was a foreign guest totally in your custody. This is a question of responsibility”

Hang said coldly.

“But…!”

“I’m kidding”

A joke? He couldn’t really laugh. Nicholas was boiling over with anger, but he didn’t show it externally.

Hang went on.

“The Japanese government understands the current condition of this country. They wouldn’t have sent her alone so easily if she had been the kind of person whose death was problematic for them”

“…it’s a really regrettable outcome”

“If anything Colonel, you must prepare yourself for the unexpected even more”

“Uh?”

“It’s possible that she’s been sent here precisely because she’s the type of person who’s not expected to die at this level. I’m looking forward to reading the next report”

Despite being bewildered by the Chairman’s meaningful words, after saluting silently Nicholas left the office.

−−− what is the Chairman thinking?

Nicholas pondered while walking along the corridor of the official residence. Lately, he had been understanding Hang’s thought less and less. Despite being a puppet of the Japanese government, the Chairman had insinuating manners and the actions that even the National Military Police couldn’t keep an eye on were increasing. MYSTERIOUS CARGOS COMING ON A REGULAR BASIS FROM JAPAN*.

(If I piled up any more mistakes …!)

Chairman Hang may even leave me out.

Nicholas Wong, the effective strategist of this country. ----Though, knowing too much about Shambala Float’s secrets is a double-edged sword. If the Sibyl System started working completely, the possibility that I’ll be left out can’t be denied. Even Sem, that soldier who was so excellent, have been dismissed simply because of an injury received during a military operation. That was the perfect pretext to be able to do it, as he was inclined to doubt of the Government’s course of action. Sem, left unable to even receive medical treatment and thrown away like garbage, is now the leader of the antigovernment guerrilla… I feel like the last few years the Government and the National Military Police have been repeating severe misjudgments.

--- well, what can I do? Even if I have to clean up for a puppet, it’s my own important job.

(What about using that man?)

He’s expensive but I have no choice.

If all goes well, I might be able to sweep away the guerrilla on the way.

--- the calm surface of the sea reflecting subtropical sunlight and a subtle sound of waves raising. A single islet floating in the Nansha archipelago*. There, an unsuitably rustic pier had been set up on a white sandy beach that seemed to sparkle. Moored at the pier, a heavily armed high-speed boat.

On a small hill which advanced several hundred meters in the inland, a colony of Livistonas* grew thickly. A Provencal style mansion stood there, cutting open a part of the palms. The appearance of a leisure home in an aristocratic colony. A mercenary corp had built a great resort on that island. The countries all over the world which hadn’t imported the Sibyl System had essentially fallen into ruin, but their piece of land was the only one different. A paradise of mercenary aristocracy protected by half century weapons−−− the newest “at that time”. Everywhere in the isle, young men and women from the southern countries, taken away by force, had been put to work forcibly.

One man was relaxing on the open deck of the mansion, in a spot that had been reached by the shade of the trees. Seated comfortably in an armchair with the long legs crossed, he was reading a French book, tasting it bit by bit.

- Peau noire, Masques blancs -

He was a muscular black man, with an intellectual look. His right arm and left leg were prostetics made of a special alloy. While reading, he was tasting Bourbon whisky now and then, holding it in his mouth.

His name was Desmond Rutaganda.

The king of this island. Rutaganda, the mercenaries’ king.

His portable terminal flashed in receiving a call.

“…mm?”

Closed the book, he started the voice call.

Through a hologram, the face of Nicholas Wong, a profitable customer, was casted from the portable terminal.

[I have a urgent job I’d like to ask you. You will be rewarded generously, of course]

“That would be welcome. Everyone here has too much time on their hands”

Rutaganda stood up. He took off the reading glasses and put them on the table. From the open deck he could look out over the beach. A beautiful beach −−− however, when staring at it well, one could see the targets used for practicing shooting lined up there. On wooden posts put up in the ground, some slaves who had taken a defiant behavior were fastened as a warning. After being tied up tightly so that they couldn’t move, they had been aimed at parts that hardly kill if hit, like the abdomen and legs, and filled with bullets. The slaves who had been shot from several hours and when long from several days were in great pain. Illuminated and dried by the sun, they would have become shriveled corpses exposed to the sea breeze.

[There are two Japanese people among the guerrilla who’s based their headquarters near the ancient ruins. A guy who joined that bunch of people and an inspector come from Tōkyō to arrest him. These two… I want you to take care of them]

“Apart from the guerrilla man, an inspector too? She’s an agent of the Japanese government, right?”

[She might stick her nose into our business in the future. She’s a hindrance]

“God grief, since you’ve gotten mixed up in the Sibyl, you only pass us annoying requests”

[Thanks to Sibyl, we’ve gotten our hands on the paradise called Shambala. If you guys want too, you could live a civilized life here. How long are you going to play the savages on this small island?]

“At the level of the individual, violence has a detoxifying effect. It takes away the inferiority complexes and changes the contemplative and desperate attitudes of native people. Violence makes them fearless and restores their dignity in their own eyes*”

[…what?]

“Don’t you know Frantz Fanon?”

Rutaganda smiled.

Nicholas with a rather offended face,

[We are investigating on the detailed whereabouts of the targets. As soon as we find them…]

“It’s not a problem. Mercenaries have a unique intelligence network. Most of the informations can be bought with money and valuable goods. Of course, I have to bill you with necessary costs separately”

[…]

“I need permission to land for the military aircrafts and the recognition code of the IFF* system…

For more translations, visit me at https://cleverwolfpoetry.tumblr.com/

NOTES TO THE TRANSLATION:

*MYSTERIOUS CARGOS COMING ON A REGULAR BASIS FROM JAPAN: I wrote it in capital letters because in the book this sentence is written with dots above the kanjis to underline it.

*Nansha archipelago: The Spratly Islands (Chinese: 南沙群岛 (Nánshā Qúndǎo), Malay: Kepulauan Spratly, Tagalog: Kapuluan ng Kalayaan, Vietnamese: Quần đảo Trường Sa) are a disputed group of islands, islets and cays and more than 100 reefs, sometimes grouped in submerged old atolls, in the South China Sea. The archipelago lies off the coasts of the Philippines, Malaysia, and southern Vietnam. Named after the 19th-century British whaling captain Richard Spratly who sighted Spratly Island in 1843, the islands contain less than 2 km2 (490 acres) of naturally occurring land area spread over an area of more than 425,000 km2 (164,000 sq mi).

The Spratlys are one of the major archipelagos in the South China Sea which complicate governance and economics in this part of Southeast Asia due to their location in strategic shipping lanes. The islands have no indigenous inhabitants but offer rich fishing grounds and may contain significant oil and natural gas reserves, and as such are important to the claimants in their attempts to establish international boundaries. Some of the islands have civilian settlements, but of the approximately 45 islands, cays, reefs and shoals that are occupied, all contain structures that are occupied by military forces from Malaysia, Taiwan (ROC), China (PRC), the Philippines and Vietnam. Additionally, Brunei has claimed an exclusive economic zone in the southeastern part of the Spratlys, which includes the uninhabited Louisa Reef. (from Wikipedia)

*Livistona: Livistona is a genus of palms (family Arecaceae), native to southern, southeastern and eastern Asia, Australasia, and the Horn of Africa. They are fan palms, the leaves with an armed petiole terminating in a rounded, costapalmate fan of numerous leaflets. (from Wikipedia)

*“Peau noire, Masques blancs”: in English Black Skin, White Masks, is a 1952 book by Frantz Fanon, a psychiatrist and intellectual from Martinique. The book is written in the style of auto-theory, in which Fanon shares his own experiences in addition to presenting a historical critique of the effects of racism and dehumanization, inherent in situations of colonial domination, on the human psyche. Black Skin, White Masks applies historical interpretation, and the concomitant underlying social indictment, to understand the complex ways in which identity, particularly Blackness is constructed and produced. In the book, he applies psychoanalysis and psychoanalytic theory to explain the feelings of dependency and inadequacy that black people might experience. That the divided self-perception of the Black Subject who has lost his native cultural origin, and embraced the culture of the Mother Country, produces an inferiority complex in the mind of the Black Subject, who then will try to appropriate and imitate the culture of the colonizer. Such behavior is more readily evident in upwardly mobile and educated Black people who can afford to acquire status symbols within the world of the colonial ecumene, such as an education abroad and mastery of the language of the colonizer, the white masks.

Based upon, and derived from, the concepts of the collective unconscious and collective catharsis, the sixth chapter, "The Negro and Psychopathology", presents brief, deep psychoanalyses of colonized black people, and thus proposes the inability of black people to fit into the norms (social, cultural, racial) established by white society. That "a normal Negro child, having grown up in a normal Negro family, will become abnormal on the slightest contact of the white world." That, in a white society, such an extreme psychological response originates from the unconscious and unnatural training of black people, from early childhood, to associate "blackness" with "wrongness". That such unconscious mental training of black children is effected with comic books and cartoons, which are cultural media that instil and affix, in the mind of the white child, the society's cultural representations of black people as villains. Moreover, when black children are exposed to such images of villainous black people, the children will experience a psychopathology (psychological trauma), which mental wound becomes inherent to their individual, behavioral make-up; a part of his and her personality. That the early-life suffering of said psychopathology – black skin associated with villainy – creates a collective nature among the men and women who were reduced to colonized populations. (from Wikipedia)

*At the level of the individual… and restores their dignity in their own eyes: quote from Frantz Fanon’s The wretched of the earth.

*IFF:

friend or foe identification system.

#psycho pass translation #psycho pass movie novel #chapter 6 #Chuan Hang #Nicholas Wong #Sem #interesting glimpse on Sem's past #Desmond Rutaganda

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om-nom-berries · 7 years ago

Text

How to Make a Fan Comic

The ask I received from @griffindorfightingheart earlier (which I answered here) got me thinking about fan comics and how much is generally understood both about this scene and even how one might go about making a fan comic. I thought I’d talk a little more about it because I want encourage more people to get into making fan comics. So come on over and let me tell you a story...

First, I’ll tell you about how I got into making fan comics, which was my discovery of doujinshi...

Doujinshi (or Dōjinshi, which Wikipedia tells me is the proper English term but I’ve been using the first term since before there was a wikipedia article for it so lol). Zelda doujin via History of Hyrule was my gateway drug. I discovered the site many, many years ago and was impressed to see that fans in Japan were just making their own comics. GOOD comics, too! I started collecting them via eBay, talking with fellow fans who also collected them, etc. It was so impressive to me and I decided I wanted to make comics too.

But I couldn’t afford to get them printed.

I also didn’t know how.

Starting Off Small

But I could figure out how to make a webcomic! Sort of...

I got some help and I was able to start a Zelda webcomic in 2003, which may as well be fucking ancient times at this point. It’s not pretty to look at (I gave the comics from that site to History of Hyrule so you can always check them out), but they gave me a start. I worked on that site for a few years, got busy with school and life (my mom got cancer in 2005 so that was a big distraction) and then started to do some original comics.

Get an Artist Alley Table

In 2007, I finally decided to try to go to my first anime convention as an artist, and tried for a table at Anime North. I was successful (there used to be less demand and therefore easier to get a table back then), and finally had the impetus to make a printed fan comic. I actually made two that year: one based on Ocarina of Time, and one based on Twilight Princess. My friend @renlikesstuff helped me get them printed (dude do you remember that lol?) and I was able to debut them there. Sure, I printed way too many copies, but it was a great learning experience (yes, I did eventually sell out of those copies, but I did print way too many).

Friends R Good

I just want to point out that having friends in fandom, especially friends that enjoy the fandom in similar ways (ie: write fan fiction, make fan art, etc) are invaluable. You can support one another but also are there to help you with your ideas (what is a realistic goal, for example).

Legal Stuff

Are fan comics illegal? In most jurisdictions, if you don’t have the permission of the copyright holder OR it’s a parody (legal protected in many countries but not all countries), then yes, it’s illegal. But generally the enforcement of copyrights is left to the copyright holder. To be realistic, the only dangerous bootleg stuff out there are, for example, plane parts (yes, this is a thing and really fucking scary), or medical equipment (that could harm or kill someone). A fan comic, unless you’re selling thousands of copies, isn’t really hurting the copyright holder (if said copyright holder is a large, multinational corporation). Even still, some large companies have been known to crack down on fan works (usually as a result of rampant bootlegging. See: Disney).

If you’re in a fandom, the discussion of fan art, bootlegs, etc may or may not be A Thing, depending on how the copyright holder deals with fan creations. Some copyright holders may be independent, and some may be large corporations. You must be mindful of the laws where you live and sell your works, and of how the copyright holder feels (or doesn’t feel) about any kind of fan works.

You must also keep in mind that a copyright holder can choose to enforce their copyright at any time. Generally, if they feel you’ve overstepped a boundary, they’ll let you know by sending a simple Cease & Desist notification (usually by email) or just have your web host take down you creation without warning (if said host has a way of reporting it). No one’s going to come to your house or school or work or blow down your fucking door over this shit (I mean, if you live in a democracy, because some people do live in countries where freedoms are more restricted and sometimes this shit does happen over what others might consider very basic actions).

Actually Fucking Drawing Something

I could write a metric assload of stuff about making a comic. But I won’t, because people have already written a lot about it. Instead, here’s some links to get you started:

notes from a 2011 presentation that Love Love Hill did at Anime North about making comics/doujinshi

comic process and tutorial notes from Love Love Hill (listen to them for they are wise)

resources for printing, payment services, etc from AAtoast

creating a comic - basic process

About printing:

Printing is expensive!

At least, nice printing is. If you don’t have a lot of money, you can do zine-style stuff, where you’re using a basic photocopier and a long arm stapler (to do what’s called a “saddle stitch” binding). If you have a little bit of money you can hire a printing company to print the comics for you. I’ve done both, and here’s the pros and cons:

Printing and Stapling Yourself

Pros:

Cheap af

No surprises re: quality control

Cons:

More work

You may need a long arm stapler (but some people do super short comics that are foldable which is cute too)

Has to be shorter (bc long arm staplers will only staple through so many pages before you need to get a stronger industrial one)

Printing with a Professional Printer

Pros:

Quality result

Access to perfect binding (when you have it bound by glue)

Cons:

Expensive

Not all printers can do book binding or have experience with comics

You often need to pay extra to get the comic pages set up for printing if you don’t know how to use something like InDesign

Actually Fucking Sell Something

When you finally have a print comic, you can sell it! Knowing WHERE to sell it is just as important as actually selling it. You want to make sure you’re presenting to the right audience.

I’ve done direct sales, mostly, either in person or online using Paypal as the payment handling.

When you’re selling online, keep in mind the cost to mail the comics (postage, packaging). Packaging is important because you want the comic to arrive in pristine condition. I usually get plastic bubble mailers and then put the comic in another plastic baggie so that there’s no chance of moisture getting in there. Also, I put in a nice little thank you card signed to the person who bought the comic. Handwritten notes are always a kind and appreciated gesture that people will remember.

Where to sell? If you have enough followers on Tumblr, you can do ok, especially if you’re already known in the fandom. If not, some larger fandoms run comic anthologies (either print or digital). I’ve seen people also sell on Etsy and Gumroad. I’ve used Gumroad but not Etsy. Keep in mind that using 3rd party sellers like Etsy and Gumroad and Ebay make it much easier for copyright holders to take notice of you, and they might assume you’re just a bootlegger making a ton of money off this.

Which brings me to my final point:

Don’t Expect to Get Rich Making Fan Comics

You’re not going to make much money selling fan stuff. That’s just the reality. If you’re really REALLY good and persistent then yes, maybe you can do the convention circuit or get a popular Patreon or something. Some have. But it’s rare, and those artists that made it work did put a ton of effort into finding something that worked for them and also mix in original art and extras.

If you’re getting into making fan comics, make sure it’s because, first and foremost, it’s something that brings you joy in creating. It doesn’t have to be an expensive hobby, but it should bring you some measure of joy. I’d say that’s the most important thing.

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3ternalove-blog1 · 7 years ago

Text

Chapter 15

The soak in Lord of Numerous Treasure’s spring was somewhat relaxing. In fact, it was too relaxing till I totally forgot to stop A-Li from drinking too much of the fruit wine that Ye Hua instructed. In the end, I send him back with Nai Nai - telling her not to fuss over A-Li and that he will be himself after a good sleep.

“This is my first time at the Celestial Palace” - I said to the maid that was attending to me. “I’m not familiar with the ways here. Please lead me to the Crown Prince’s study”

“Please follow me, High Goddess” - the maid happily comply.

The maid guided me to the main entrance of Ye Hua’s study.

“High Goddess, this is Crown Prince’s study” - she said. “If there is nothing else, I’ll excuse myself” - she bowed.

“Thank you”

I walked into the courtyard, admiring the architecture of the place when I heard voices coming from his study. It sounded like someone..

Don’t tell me I have the luck to stumble upon someone else amusement.. I thought to myself.

I made a U-turn at the entrance of his study.

Ye Hua might be calm and indifferent but he is young after all.. All the maids in Heavens are quite pretty. It must be a torture to read reports all night long. If he lift his head and sees a pretty maid as a painting by his side serving him..

I started shaking my head in disbelieve to what my thoughts were next.

Bai Qian, what are you imagine about? This is not the Ye Hua you know! - I scolded myself.

“Qian Qian” - I suddenly heard his voice calling me from his study. “What are you doing coming and going like that?” - he asked. “I’ve finished the inscription on the fan. Come in and get it” - he added.

I let out a huge sigh. It made me curious to who is in the study with him.

I took a peek at the two shadows I saw from the blinds when I walked in. Ye Hua, ignoring the fact that there were others there, handed me the fan with a smile.

“Here” - he said.

“What’s happening here?” - I asked him, knowing well the identities of the two that were on their knees.

Su Jin turned to me with a shock. I pretended I don’t know her and triple checking my anger as I saw that she was still using my eyes. Beside her, Miao Qing is still sobbing.

“Your eyes are very pretty” - I told her.

“Su.. Su Su..” - that’s all Su Jin could mumble.

Yes, that’s me, Su Jin. Surprise to see me alive and well, are you?

Ye Hua, still keeping quiet, took my hand and pulled me with him.

With a stern voice, he addressed Miao Qing. “Princess Miao Qing. I truly have no place for you at Xiwu Palace. Return to the Eastern Sea tomorrow morning. If you do not overstep the boundaries again, I will not peruse the matter of the past. Consider it a repayment for saving A-Li’s life”

He then turned to Su Jin. “Su Jin. You seems to value this friendship very much. If you can’t bare to part with Princess Miao Qing, why don’t you ask Heavenly Lord to issue you a decree to have you married off to the Eastern Sea?” - he suggested.

Su Jin looked at him in disbelief.

That was a good stab, Ye Hua. I cheered in my mind.

Miao Qing crawled over to Ye Hua, tugging his robes. “Your Highness, I was momentarily possessed. That’s why I drugged the soup to try to seduce Your Highness” - she begged.

I couldn’t watch. Ye Hua should known better what he gotten himself into when he agreed to let her come to Xiwu Palace to be a maid.

“Your Highness, no matter how much you punish me, I won’t resist” - she sobbed louder. “Even if I have to be struck by 49 bolts of lightning everyday, I won’t be afraid. I only ask that Your Highness don’t make me leave Xiwu Palace! My life only wish is to served by Your Highness’s side and serve you for the rest of my life” - she cried.

Ye Hua just stood there like a statue without looking at her or said a word.

I really wanted to walk out of the room. I have no say in Xiwu Palace since I’m not married to Ye Hua officially yet. On top of that, Miao Qing was just digging her own grave even deeper.

I took a few steps before Miao Qing started tugging on my clothes, begging me.

“Your Highness! Your Highness!” - she cried. “Last time I mistook you for another. You helped me once. Please help me again” - she begged.

I looked at Ye Hua. He gave me back a look that was telling me “It’s your call”.

I sighed. “Since Princess Miao Qing has knelt in front of me, it would be inappropriate for me to refuse her” - I said, looking at Ye Hua again. “I must say a few words” - I added.

“Go ahead” - Ye Hua said.

“Actually, this really isn’t only Princess Miao Qing’s fault” - I said to him.

He looked like he’s bracing himself for a lecture from me.

“You knew that she has feelings for you, yet you brought her up here to Heaven. I know you did it to repay her for saving A-Li’s life. You also let her escape her marriage arrangement. You thought she would return to the Eastern Sea once she comes to her senses. But that doesn’t mean she thinks the same” - I looked at him, feeling sorry for some weird reason.

Ye Hua, this is something you got to learn. I know you vowed to love only me and me alone, but that doesn’t mean the other thinks that way.

“She must have thought that you’ve fallen for her too” - I added. “Since you’ve given her that idea, and you being a man of honour making such a slow move, she must have felt to make the move herself” - I explained to him.

“But in the beginning, she said she would be contented being a maid in Xiwu Palace” - he defended himself.

Ye Hua, my dear husband. You could be really sharp at many things, but I guess you’re naive at many things too.

“How can you believed the words said by a woman in love?” - I asked him. He gave a shy smile.

I turned to Miao Qing. “Listen to me. You better hurry back to the Eastern Sea” - I said to her.

One last look at Ye Hua, I walked away. Before I could walk out, I heard him say.

“She.. is my wife. As well as the only lady in Xiwu Palace. Since she has said it, you should return to the Eastern Sea, Princess Miao Qing”

I smiled to myself.

Ye Hua caught up to me at the courtyard as I was making a decision to turn left or right to my chambers.

“Xiwu Palace is so huge. Would you be able to find The Hall of Beautiful Youth?” - he asked.

He still remembers that I’m bad at directions?

“I probably can” - I lied.

“I’ll guide you” - he said without emotions. I wondered if he’s mad at me for giving him a lecture in front of those two just now?

Without saying anything, I just tagged behind him. Upon reaching, I broke the silence.

“Er.. till here is fine. I know my way around here now”

Instead of walking away, he walked right into the grounds of my hall.

“I really can find my way now” - I insisted.

He turned to me. “I escorted you here not just to lead the way for you. I wanted to ask you a question”

"What is it about?”

“Why did you tell the princess to return to the Eastern Sea?” - he asked.

Huh?

“Didn’t you want her to return to the Eastern Sea as well? - I asked him back.

“Is that the only reason?” - he asked me back.

Why is this guy asking all these weird questions?

“I don’t know how to answer you, now that you have asked me that” - I told him truthfully. I really thought he wanted to get rid of her, so I just helped a bit.

He turned away and said “As I expected”

“What did you expect?” - I asked him. He’s really acting weird suddenly.

“I shouldn’t asked you this question” - he said, sounded angry. “I asked you into the room because I wanted you to be jealous. But I didn’t realized you were just putting on a show”

Huh? What is he talking about? Putting on a show?

He came closer to me. “In your heart.. I have no standing” - he claimed.

I looked at him, surprised. I did not expect him to say those words.

“Bai Qian” - he said. This is the first time he called my name in full. “Does your heart only have room for one person? - he asked.

Yes! I screamed in my mind. And that person is you!

“How long will you wait for him?” - he added and storm off.

HUH? Wait for WHO? This is getting confusing. Who is he thinking I’m waiting for?

“Ye.. Ye Hua!” - I called after him but he ignored and disappeared.

That night, I couldn’t sleep at all. I tossed and turned with his words keeps haunting me.

In your heart.. I have no standing. Bai Qian, does your heart only have room for one person? How long will you wait for him?

#three lives three worlds #eternal love #Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms #fanfic

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silvokrent · 7 years ago

Text

Gears in Motion - 3

What better way to start off the orn?

At precisely 7:00 AM Prowl stood in front of the door to his office.

Even though his shift didn't start for another hour the tactician had long ago fallen into the habit of showing up early for his work. Today, an additional thirty minutes earlier than usual, given the mountain of datapads he knew awaited him on the other side of the door. Knowing how long it would take to go through all of the files gathered on his desk, he'd opted to forgo his morning Energon and proceed directly.

Didn’t mean he was necessarily looking forward to the prospect.

Cycling a vent of air, Prowl keyed open his door and stepped inside.

And did a double-take.

He was pretty sure that there had been at least several piles in his inbox and on his desk when he'd locked up for the night, with several more stacked on his filing cabinet.

So why, then, were half of them missing?

A prank was the first thought that occurred to him, and he had to physically bite back the desire to seethe. As if planning that game wasn't bad enough, someone had the audacity to distract him by making him hunt down his errant reports?

Snorting, Prowl strode around his desk and picked up one of the few remaining datapads―a mission statement which required a second signature―and gave it a precursory glance, worried he might find something tampered with. Instead, much to his amazement, the screen lit up directly at the bottom of the page, where Optimus Prime's elegant scrawl could be clearly seen underneath his own.

With a sudden inkling in the back of his mind, Prowl proceeded to look over the next datapad―and sure enough, this one (an inventory notice for the armories) was signed off on too. Every report that had required dual authorization from at least two officers had been given the go-ahead.

Suddenly, several hours' worth of overview and peer corrections had been done.

To top it all off they had been arranged on his desk and/or filed alphabetically by department.

For a long, bewildered moment the tactician could do little more than stare at the unexpected charity.

Again Prowl looked over Optimus' signature. The logical conclusion was that at some point in the night the CO had come in and proceeded to go over the paperwork, filling in what needed filling in, before taking the datapads specifically for his briefings back to his own office.

A bemused smile tugged at the corner of his lips, an honest, unrestrained gesture. Of course the Prime would have thought nothing of it, even with his own duties to attend to. That was just who he was.

The Second stood from his chair and exited the room, walking down several doors and poking his head inside the familiar office.

"Prime, sir?"

His leader looked up from whatever he'd been working on. He blinked in mild surprise before offering a welcoming nod. "Yes, Prowl?"

The tactician straightened. "I wished to thank you for assisting me in my work the night before, despite the inconvenience to yourself. It gives me the opportunity to see to my other duties." Had Prowl not turned to leave at that very moment, he might’ve seen the shock on the CO's face. "That is all, sir. Thank you."

Not willing to overstay his welcome, Prowl continued on his way.

"But…," Optimus said to the empty room. "But I didn't do any of that."

He got the call on the fourth orn following the Crystal City Massacre.

In direct relation to the attack work had steadily been piling up. Reports were constantly coming in as the departments sent intel back and forth, in effort to compile what little they had. All of it was underscored with increased urgency and an emphasis on fortifying outposts. There was an understandable worry over whether or not Autobot bases would be targeted next, none more vocal about it than Red Alert. Despite the numerous officer meetings that had been held since their return, they had absolutely no clue what the Decepticons were trying to achieve through Crystal City's destruction. Theories were volleyed back and forth, with a few halfhearted proposals proffered up to fill in the gaps. At the end of the orn the only thing Prowl had to show for it all was a sizable pile of datapads and a growing headache that had acutely placed itself directly behind his right optic.

He was halfway through authorizing ammunition transport to Simfur when an incoming communiqué interrupted him. Pausing mid key-stroke, the tactician calmly hailed the caller over his radio. This is Autobot Prowl.

It's Ratchet. The exhaustion in the medic's tone was nearly palpable. His voice sounded coarse and rough, like someone had taken a sandblaster to it. Requesting your presence in the medbay immediately.

The unexpected summons was enough to halt Prowl's typing. Narrowing his optics slightly, the tactician stared into his monitor. I was unaware that I was on the roster for a medical checkup. Did you schedule me for a malware upgrade?

No, although I should probably do that sooner than later. The survivor from Crystal City was just brought online. He wants to speak to you.

That was why he was being deterred from his work? A brief flicker of annoyance passed through him. Nonetheless he politely demurred, While I'm pleased to hear the good news, surely he would want to speak to Optimus? After all, the Prime heads our faction and could explain his situation better—

No. He asked specifically for you. First thing he did once he stopped panicking and was lucid again was ask to speak with the mech who saved him. According to First Aid, you were the one who found him. Given what the kid's been through I'm not about to deny him slag. Get down here now. That's an order.

With that said Ratchet cut the line.

Sighing faintly, the SIC signed off and pushed away from his desk. The trek through the base down to the medbay was an uneventful affair. Yet as he neared the CMO's domain he found himself taken by a sudden apprehension. One of the many qualities which he thoroughly lacked was adaptability, hence his overcompensated planning skills. In any given circumstance Prowl functioned best when held all the cards in his hand, had adequate time to prepare.

But this?

There had been no warnings, no heads-up. Just an order to haul aft downstairs and talk with the sole survivor of a genocide. It made him feel unsettled, even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of being thought less of. He didn't know what to say. He had nothing, and had been told nothing. Couldn't Ratchet at least have had the decency to give him some kind of warning, or at least hint as to why the Neutral wanted to speak to him? A roiling churn in his tanks made the tactician feel somewhat sick with apprehension. Ruthlessly he shoved the feeling aside and slid past the crystal doors.

Medbay proper was filled with a half dozen medics scurrying about, either running back and forth with tools or tending to the few patients present. He spotted First Aid and Hoist at a glance, and caught a glimpse of Pīpō heading inside an adjoining storage closet.

A flash of red and white at the corner of his optic had him switching direction toward the ICU. Ratchet was just emerging from one of the private surgical suites when he caught sight of his commander approaching. Lips thinning, he beckoned Prowl over. "Good. You're here. He's through this door." The medic gestured to the room from which he'd emerged. "I don't think I need to tell you he's been through a lot. Just...be gentle with him. Your usual charming self should suffice."

Prowl arched a skeptical brow at that. His expression then schooled itself into its regular calm, serene air. "I will be careful, Ratchet. Nor will I do anything to deliberately upset him. You have my word."

"It's not your word I'm worried about so much as your definition of 'tact,'" snorted Ratchet. "It's not what you say, but how you say it. Keep that in mind."

"I will not overstep my boundaries," Prowl assured. "Although I must admit, I'm pleased to finally hear that you've begun practicing what you preach. Your patients must be doubly ecstatic."

A surprised chuff of laughter left the medic as he lightly flicked Prowl on the chevron. "It keeps them honest, and me sane. No one's complained about my methods yet. And Sideswipe doesn't count, so don't even go there."

Prowl refrained from returning the bout of amusement, although he did briefly incline his head. "I wouldn't have bothered. I'm of the opinion that Sideswipe benefits from your ire, even if he doesn't necessarily retain the lesson from the experience."

"Tell that to him and his slagging brother." It was there, just barely, but the growl held the faintest trace of affection. It vanished before Prowl had the chance to dwell on it, as Ratchet turned that suddenly baleful stare upon him. "Don’t start badgering the kid for information. Whatever he’s going to say, he’ll say. Got it?”

Prowl didn't directly respond, instead choosing to nod in acknowledgement before he stepped inside the ICU. Once the doors hissed shut behind him he turned to face the mech bundled on the berth.

The scorch marks he recalled from when he'd found him had obviously been sanded down. Old, damaged armor had been repaired, with only weld marks showing where gaping wounds had once been. Optics formerly dim with low energy now glowed fantastically bright. The Neutral shifted, and the motion caused his doorwings to fan out behind him.

Correction—doorwing.

Instead of two back-mounted panels there was only one. The damage had obviously been extensive enough to ruin the hinge or the entire wing itself, warranting its removal. Without the second appendage the 'bot looked off-kilter and exposed.

As soon as Prowl had entered the small mech had jerked upright, like someone had come up behind him with an electrical prod.

"Good afternoon." He watched Prowl with wide optics as he dragged a chair over and took a seat a respectable distance from the berth. "My apologies for taking so long to get here. My name is—"

"Prowl," the other mech supplied. He glanced down at the hands folded in his lap. "I remember who you are. You found me."

That caught him slightly off guard. Given how disoriented he'd been when he had discovered him, Prowl doubted how much the young survivor would have retained from the encounter.

"I know this is a superfluous question, but how are you?" There. Nice and simple. A safe place to start.

The gray Neutral looked away. "I'm not really sure how to answer that, since I don't really know what to feel."

Never mind, then.

"Is there..." Prowl cleared his intakes. "Is there something that I may do for you..." There was a question in his voice, an unspoken request for a designation.

"Bluestreak." The Neutral shyly looked his way. "My name is Bluestreak."

"Bluestreak," echoed Prowl as he committed the name to memory. "Is there anything that I may provide you with, or bring you?" With his rank at least he was afforded the luxury and the ability to offer him whatever he wanted, within reason, of course.

White optics abruptly turned back to him. "Everything I want I can't have," he rasped, and the words thundered through Prowl like the pounding of a waterfall. His friends, his coworkers, his exclusives, anyone he'd ever known was dead. That waterfall was frothing with blood.

He berated himself viciously for the thoughtlessness.

Again, white optics turned to stare at him, and for the first time the tactician saw a hollowness, in addition to the physical pain and fear. Ghosts danced behind the lenses, specters sifting in his gaze, all the haunts and horrors as much a part of him as they were the wreckage that lay hundreds of miles away. Looking for all the world like they couldn't wait to claim the last victim.

Vaguely ill, Prowl wondered how long it would take before this one died, too.

Neither spoke for a minute.

"Thank you," Bluestreak blurted out.

"For?"

"For saving me," he said simply.

"You're welcome."

Again, uncomfortable silence, with neither mech willing to look the other in the face.

"If you wish to talk...," Prowl began, clearing his intakes, "if there is anything I can do to help, I am only a comm. line away. Please do not hesitate in calling me, should you require my assistance." He sensed that there truly wasn't much more he could do, and felt a prickle of regret knowing how little he'd done. At least he could leave with the knowledge that he'd offered what he could.

The SIC made to stand from his chair.

"Wait!"

Prowl slowly sat back into the seat, facing him with hands folded in his lap. "What is it?"

Beyond the slither of fear that shone in Bluestreak's expression, there was another emotion. Prowl found that he couldn't put a name to it. "Who did this?"

There was no mistaking what he meant.

"They call themselves the Decepticons." Finally, something that the SIC could give him. Information. Closure, perhaps. "Their leader is a mech who goes by the name Megatron."

"They have red optics," murmured Bluestreak. His empty but not-quite-empty stare bore into his. "Yours are blue."

A rather obvious thing to say, but Prowl resisted the impulse to correct him. "Yes."

After lingering for a moment on some unknown decision, the Neutral lifted his hand. Gray fingertips lightly grazed the dermal metal just below Prowl's cheek, and he resisted the reflex to pull away. Something in the survivor's mind seemed to click at the contact, and his optics widened.

"You're real," he breathed out.

Lacking a proper context for the strange phrasing, Prowl couldn't find anything to say to that.

But on some instinctive level that defied words the pieces were coming together. Like a dreamer sloughing through the wisps and tendrils of dusk looking for the part that wasn't in his head, the touch was breaking through the barriers. Separating where the harsh nightmares ended and the waking world began. At last there was an anchor in the eye of the hurricane. The world that had been spinning so frighteningly fast on its axis had finally, finally, come to a stop.

Of all the things Prowl had expected, the last was seeing his reflection superimposed over a sudden rush of color in the previously white optics. The residual traces of Neutrality faded out in the spirals and glass, replaced with an intense blue.

His hand remained hanging between them.

"Can I join the Autobots?" Bluestreak begged. "Please?"

Against all damnable logic, Prowl couldn't find an explanation for reaching up and resting his hand atop the other 'bot's. "Of course."

If being an Autobot was the farthest thing from being a Decepticon, then Bluestreak gladly made that choice.

#transformers #transformers: g1 #transformers fic #gears in motion #my posts #bluestreak #prowl #optimus prime #ratchet #first aid #hoist

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