#i know her cloak is uneven but she put it on herself and shes only four

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education, Chapter 28

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Minors DNI

Chapter 28

Eddie, Robin, Steve, and Dustin rose slowly to unsteady feet, already feeling the bruises beginning to form from Vecna's repelling attacks. Their throats were hoarse after screaming for Leia to stop crossing the threshold, but to no avail.

Eddie could barely stumble forward as the earth seemed to spin beneath his unsteady feet, nevertheless, he heaved himself up and strode on with a dark glare of vengeance written across his face. Dustin intercepted him with a firm hand to his chest though Eddie just winced and kept pushing toward the vermilion gate.

“Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Okay...not ideal, but listen...LISTEN. We have a contingency plan. We have to follow it. Alright?”

Eddie heaved and shuddered silently, furious and wild-eyed as a bull. That glowing portal was his red flag and its reflection smoldered in his eyes. After a long moment of Dustin's white-knuckled grip on his shoulders, he relented with a pained and furious scream that made every one of them jump.

Nancy spoke, quiet and measured, “We have to wait, just a little while longer. Mike has to tell us when El makes contact. She can tell us if Vecna is distracted or not. We have to be sure before we go in to drag him out.”

Of course, they all had been over this dozens of times by now, but in the heat of the moment, with threadbare nerves, they all needed Nancy's cool voice of reason to remind them.

-----

Let's go somewhere more comfortable, shall we?

The deep raspy voice rippled through the psychic plane like undulations over black water. Leia's awareness of Vecna's rough physical clutch slithered away as she found herself in a black empty void, alone and suspended in the mental ether.

The darkness began to shiver and take shape, into the grimy, smoky shadows and uneven angles of The Hideout. It was empty. No patrons, no bartenders. Just the dingy floor creaking with her cautious steps, and the stark beams of stage lights making columns of the smoke. On-stage, a single white-clad figure stepped out from the deep shadow, into the spotlight. His blond hair made a halo as he lowered himself off the platform and stalked towards her, penetrating eyes never averting, like a bird of prey; hyperfocused. The glare of him hurt her eyes.

Henry put his hands in his pockets and cocked his head in a suddenly casual gesture as he said, “You know, Leia. I really miss this form in the waking world. I was rather handsome, wasn't I?”

Leia only grimaced in his blinding glare and looked away. She had just been thinking that he glowed like an angel. Of course it's a deliberate image...megalomaniac, she thought, and he heard her.

He smiled. “Hrmm...you know, Lucifer was supposedly the most beautiful of the angels, before he was cast into hell. All for daring to question God...all for wanting free will.”

He bent over, his shadow eclipsing the soft round moon of her face. “Sound familiar?”

Finally, she spoke. “You make it sound so innocent and righteous and poetic, Henry. You murdered people...children...in cold blood. Your own family, other victims just like you...”

“Not like me!” he suddenly bellowed and Leia felt her pulse skyrocket at the sudden fury in his voice. A vein rose beneath his fair skin and his lips twitched around gritted teeth. He was suddenly an animal again; a hungry one. Then he softened abruptly, cradling her cheek in his cold, bony hand, forcing her to meet his eyes. “And soon...not like us. It's only a matter of time.” As if on cue, she heard the warped chiming of a grandfather clock, echoing incongruously through the rundown hall. He paused then added, “Besides, who said I was only talking about me?”

----

Eleven stood back. She had watched the scene unveil itself from the cloak of darkness at the edges. She listened carefully gathering her strength before striding forward and saying in a loud clear voice, “Number 1! We have unfinished business, and you're out of time.”

El brought her hand forward sending an invisible shockwave of force against his skull, forcing him to stumble back. El gestured to Leia to say back, and she obeyed, scuttling behind the psychic prodigy, allowing her to do battle with her greatest adversary.

As Eleven fought, she distantly registered the crackling of a walkie-talkie as Mike hissed out, “Guys, she's in! El's inside.”

------

The ragtag band jerked their heads up in a flurry of renewed energy as the set crackled into life and Mike's message fizzled out to them on the night air.

Nancy ran up to take the lead. She surveyed them as calmly as a battlefield general. She ordered, “Steve, Eddie, we go first.”

As she stepped toward the tear, she placed her shotgun nearby on the grass and handed off molotov cocktails and lighters to Dustin and Robin; blades for Eddie, Steve, and herself.

She nodded and pointed forward and her soldiers obeyed.

------

Between blows from Eleven and his own telekinetic blasts, Vecna felt the pull of the others entering the upside down. The message vibrated through the spiderweb of his physical lair and into his mind. He chuckled, the sound deepening with a menacing bass note as he returned to his monstrous countenance. He flicked his hand, dragging El up and suspending her in the air, splayed like a pinned insect. He held her there, and came close to her face, while his gigantic clawed hand snaked its way around her throat.

“Oh Eleven, I can feel your friends coming to play. You couldn't possibly think I would be surprised? I know what you're planning...and it's no better than the plans you had as children.”

Eleven panted for breath as blood trickled from her nose with the psychic exertion. Mike watched it nervously from his post beside her. Her sleeping eyes twitched and the red stream fanned out into the saline water.

She twitched in Vecna's grip, finally blasting herself free in a great burst of energy.

“Yeah? Well, I've gotten stronger and I have strong friends. You're weak and your alone, Henry.”

She swiped her arm, sending the monster hurtling against the rickety floor. His head hit with a sickening crack, and he roared in a pain. The strike ricocheted through his psychic form to pierce his physical body with agony. Vecna felt his iron grip on the puppet strings falter, and he roared in frustration.

“Eleven...” he growled, eyeing the now wide open double doors and the glaring red exit sign above it. “You've let my pet escape. That was very very rude. It's time for you to learn better manners.”

-----

Leia's head ached as she tumbled, landing with a jolt back into the waking watery world of the upside down. Vecna's dormant wiry form still locked around her, and the stream of fiery air still blasted down her throat from where he had bound their lips together. She writhed and twisted, nearing a panic, wondering if it was too late, if she had already been morphed into a creature of the upside down. The syrupy fluid, though heavy and dense, was surprisingly easy to see through. Twisting her head as far as it could go, she spotted figures, human figures far below, where the portal gaped; her friends.

She doubled her efforts. As she watched her friends taking hurried kicks to swim to the distant surface for air she also kicked and fought to travel with them. Eddie met her eyes for a pained moment, about to swim towards her on his way up, but Steve grabbed his arm to drag him back, towards the surface.

Good. Thanks, Steve. You need air first, scoundrel, or you can't help me. God, he looks so afraid but he's here anyway.

Seeing the desperation in Eddie's eyes gave her a burst of energy to resist the stiff branches tangled tightly against her. For all her work, only a minuscule gap formed between her arm and Vecna's tentacles. Though her arms were pinned to her side, she now found space to wiggle her elbow back and forth and roll her shoulder. With a sinking dread, Leia realized what she would have to do to get out.

She took several deep breaths, though the fire scorched her lungs, and steadied herself to pull. A snapping sensation radiated down her arm before the pain slammed into her, now dislocated, shoulder. Leia tried to muffle her scream, still acutely aware that it would echo directly through Vecna's own mouth, alerting him out of his trance. Her left arm was in agony at the slightest movement, and yet she had to move it; squeeze it closer against her body to become small enough to slip from his grasp. Little by little she wiggled herself free, terrified that any moment those cruel, milky eyes would snap open.

Leia was finally free, all accept for the latch of her mouth against his. There was only one way to do this that she could think of, and only one chance, and of course, without his life support she wouldn't be able to breathe until she surfaced...if she surfaced.

She stole one last deep breath from his lungs and slowly drew a dagger from her bandoleer. In on swift motion she plunged the blade into the side of Vecna's head. Leia knew it wouldn't hurt him much. She just needed him to wake up and flinch away from her mouth.

It worked. He screeched and reeled back, releasing her; shriveled lips and tendrils writhing away from their attacker. The horrible sound reverberated through the liquid as Leia swam up and up and up (as best she could with one useful arm) towards to glimmering sheet of the surface.

@veemoon @sweetsigyn @little-wormwood @elegantkoalapaper

A/N: Thank you all for your patience with the long pause. Life was doing a number on me, but I'm back with what I hope will be a satisfying endgame. Still thinking of making an "Eddie and Leia's Anti-Vecna Playlist". If you're interested in a mixtape of songs from the story, let me know. I love you all! Thanks for reading.

Peb

[fractured-shield]

Happy fathers’ day to Idhren Athealin in particular, I love him dearly

full text below the cut

Then he was off, with a quick wave over one shoulder. Just two nights before, she’d stood at this same crossroads with him and Oenith, and countless times before that. How was she supposed to know then that it was the last time it’d be the three of them for gods knew how long?

And now it was just her, and—damn it, she’d probably said the wrong thing again, and by the time she got to visit Condel and Oenith would have their own lives in order and she’d probably still be an annoying brat, childish for her years, and—

Her papa coughed lightly to get her attention.

Right. It’s late, I need to get back, and he’s got to walk the whole way back to the Palfrey and Hearth.

“…Sorry.”

He didn’t answer, but as they started walking again he put his arm around her shoulders—lightly at first, like a question, like he expected her to shy away from it. She wouldn’t think of it.

They kept walking. It wasn’t much further, but she found herself walking slower than usual.

“How are you holding up?” He broke the silence finally, once they were a few houses away.

Therien turned back. She didn’t know how she was supposed to answer that. “Good..? I mean, kind of tired. But I’ll be ready to leave tomorrow, don’t worry. —It’s that house, by the way.” 

“That’s not what I meant. It’s a sudden change. It’s alright to be unsure.” He stopped as she did, letting go of her shoulders and stepping back to look at her better.

She could feel her expression crumple, as hard as she tried to hold it together. I don’t want to seem like a child—but if I can be honest with anyone, it’s my papa, right? 

“I—I’m so nervous,” she said before she’d finished deciding whether she wanted to say anything at all. “I just know everyone’s going to fuss over me tomorrow, and it’s the Sixth Watch, so I don’t know any of them, and I’m going to say something stupid or, or have trouble with my horse or something and make a fool of myself, and I’m already so much younger than all of them and so bad at everything—”

She was stopped short by the feeling of her papa’s hands on her arms, warm and solid, and she hadn’t even realized she’d screwed her eyes shut until she opened them again. 

“They won’t bother you too much,” he said, straightforward and reassuring. “They’re far better behaved than the Third. The horse you’ll be riding is named Natha, and she’s very calm. Hal and I will be with you the whole trip.” 

It felt better than any empty assurance that everything would be perfectly fine. But that was only half the problem, wasn’t it?

His fond smile dropped once he saw she was crying. She raised a hand to scrub at her eyes angrily and looked down at the cobbled street, kicking angrily at an uneven stone.

“I—I didn’t get to say goodbye to Oenith properly, and it was hardly any better with Condel, but Oenith and I argued—she was angry that I waited so long to tell her, and she was right, I was stupid about it, I’m always so scared and I always do the wrong thing—” 

Her papa pulled her against his chest to still her rambling words. She could feel her tears dampening his shirt as they fell, and she tried to hold on tighter, catching her hands in fistfuls of his cloak, heavy wool and smelling of leather and medicinal herbs. 

“Shh,” he soothed. “If it helps at all, I think you’re being very brave.” 

“No I’m not,” she shot back miserably. 

He didn’t try to argue, only held her more securely, which made it clear enough what he thought. It wouldn’t have helped to try to convince her anyways, she admitted to herself. She wondered how he always seemed to know exactly what to do. 

He didn’t say anything at all for a long while, only held her in the middle of the dark, empty street as she sniffled into his shirt. Once her tears had slowed, he pulled her back to arms’ length. He brushed back the ugly wisps of hair that never liked to stay in her braid, treating them like they were the finest lace of spun gold that was in fashion with the Sovereign’s court, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. 

She gave a wobbly smile, trying to be as brave as he thought she was. 

[nyotasaimiri]

Arc Two (redux) 60

(we’re about halfway through my pre-done chapters!)

Nyota crouched next to Esther to better see the words on the small screen. Really, hunkered down might have suited better to the moment. She always felt her own bulk so sharply beside humans, and even more against small, frail Esther. Her hand was so large—focus, she told herself, and tried not to think of Esther’s tiny fragile-seeming hands.

“She’s quite observant,” Esther was saying proudly. She indicated the footnotes on her screen. “I was too absorbed in the runes to check the carved faces. How fascinating! What in the world does she mean by ‘too perfect’ on these?”

Nyota waited several moments for Esther to answer her own question, then realized it was not rhetorical. She leaned in to study the screen better. It took her a good while more to realize the answer. “They are too flawless,” she said slowly. “They don’t look like people, just… ideas. The perfect idea of an avian, floran, glitch…”

Esther frowned and nodded, listening but not yet sure. “Go on?”

Nyota pointed at the apex carving. “This apex… it has quite a few traits we consider highly attractive. The shape of the brow and cheekbones, the full curve of their nose... But I have never seen them together on the same person. Except… in propaganda. It is similar to old propaganda, from when my parents were young.” She took a breath and mastered herself. “It looks like Big Ape.”

Esther looked up at her sharply. “You don’t mean—”

Nyota shook her head, dispelling the idea. “I do not think it is him. But… it is a composite image, you see? The images they used for him were an apex ideal. The carvers had the same intention.”

Understanding dawned, for a moment. “But the Novakid image,” Esther asked, “she said that one was different? How?”

Nyota touched the screen and flicked the image aside to look at the next one. Her finger traced down the carved novakid’s chin, over the faintly-traced tiny marks left by ancient tools. “The sculptor left their scars,” she said softly.

That drew only confusion. “I didn’t know Novakid could scar,” Esther said, thoughtful. “But then again, we know so little about them.”

“They can,” Nyota reassured her. It felt odd to push the nostalgia aside to force her words into order; she did not like the oddness. “One of Lumen’s shoulders is paler than the other, from a thicker shell that formed where he recovered from a serious wound, decades ago.” Her hand traced the statue’s ‘scars’ again without thinking. The artist had removed only thin shaves of stone, but it still showed uneven edges like a wound that healed wrong. “I think the sculptor carved this from life, not imagination. It looks like Marcy thought the same.”

Esther nodded slowly. “Did they simply not have a large number of Novakid around to compare?” she mused. “Or perhaps this one was a close friend?”

“That, we can’t know without more information,” Nyota told her. A smile tickled out of her thoughts. “They must have had quite a knack to get this one to sit still long enough. Even Lumen rarely stays in one place for long.”

Esther chuckled. “Oh yes. It was a delight having your Sonny here before, but goodness was it tiring just watching her! I don’t know how Arjun manages.”

Nyota tried her best to put on her most solemn face. “Many months of practice.”

The effect was slightly spoiled when a chuckle squeezed out to join Esther’s laugh.

Esther’s mood sobered into a sigh after a few moments. “All of this is lovely speculation,” she said, “and it will surely help us understand the ancient builders more, but we still do not know how to open the gate to look around inside.”

Nyota started to answer, and felt herself drift. She did not see Esther’s startled stare. She saw Hadley beside her, the cloaked figure, an extended hand.

“There are still doors you have yet to open. Doors like that will need keys.”

“Are you quite alright?” Esther’s eyes looked huge behind her glasses as Nyota looked down again, wide and worried. “I thought you wandered right off there. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

Nyota sighed and shook her head. “Perhaps not,” she admitted. “I should go rest, and check on Hadley. She was injured in helping me reach the gate. I’ll come back later.”

“Take care,” Esther told her, and patted her hand. Nyota was again struck by just how small her fingers were.

Sentimental, she sighed to herself as she went down the stairs. She would never have—well, no. That was false. She had been fascinated by the tiny humans on that USCM vessel so many years ago… and by Marcy, not so long after. Her first sights of a world beyond the Miniknog. But she really was tired if her mind was wandering so far.

“Sleep,” she murmured, trying to convince herself. “Answers can wait.” The teleporter at the edge of the Ark hummed to life as her ship received her signal. It sent a tell-tale tingle shivering through her fur, and brought a slow smile. “Besides, Hadley would never forgive me for asking without her.”

 She felt something was wrong the moment she set foot on the ship.

[nicocastillo]

cantfightmoonlight​:

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Keep reading

·✥· 

Ah. Well, that explained the scars, he supposed. He hadn’t made any guesses about them, or even thought about them much, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed at the beach. Just assumed it was private and she’d prefer to keep it that way, which he could understand. Her past, her history, that was all her own story to tell if or when she chose to. As they sat down on the bench, Nico unzipped his paramedic’s jacket and wrapped it around Jasmine’s shoulders, a better protection from the wind than her thin cloak and dress. His mind was hitching on the word again. I’ve been using black magic again. So, she hadn’t for a while, but she did before. Break glass—or worse, herself—in case of emergency?— His chest felt tight, filled with emotions that didn’t have an easy explanation or target. Better to stick to what he knew, than be distracted by the many things he didn’t. 

Examining the fresher cuts as he unzipped the med kit and pulled out some gloves, he quipped in a light tone, “And let me guess, you didn’t have time to sterilize the blade?” Tilting one of her wrists to see better, his eyes picking up the edges of the cuts, he saw how uneven they were. Most had already clotted, but one in particular needed a little more time before it could be cleaned. “Or was it even a knife? Some of these are pretty messy—infected cuts are no joke, you know...” He was stalling, staying busy with the task at hand, and put gauze and pressure where he deemed necessary. It left him silent for a minute, in his thoughts, not ready to voice them.  

There were other things he say, could chide her for—that she’d done this at all, was the top of the list. But he’d seen the shame in her eyes, even if she hadn’t spoken it aloud. And as much as he hated seeing her hurt like this, what was he going to do? Call her out for being reckless? Would that actually help anything, or would it just hurt her worse? He didn’t have wise words, or any kind of moral high ground to judge the choices she’d made. All he had was over a decade of medical knowledge, antiseptic solution, and an emergency kit. And for now, he hoped that would be enough.

“Arms out, if you don’t mind.” He took the cap off a bottle from the kit. “Just a rinse first. I’ll wash them, and then we’ll see how bad the damage really is.” He let the saline sluice down her wrists and onto the ground, making sure to get the worst of the dried blood. He held each of her hands to steady them and then used some gauze and a bit of the rest of the bottle to clean some of the blood from her fingers and palms as unbothered as if it was just motor oil from fixing her R.V. or dirt from the garden behind his house. “This part will sting,” he warned. As he began to clean the cuts with steady hands, he kept his gaze on what he was doing but listened for her breath, so he would hear any sharp intake. He figured it was probably the only complaint he would get from her. 

Finally, he let himself speak a real opinion, beyond the medical side of things. “You didn’t need to go off on your own.” He met her eyes then, for just a moment letting himself show how worried he’d truly been. “Whatever you need to do, whatever rules you break.... you don’t have to handle it alone.” He cleared his throat and dropped his eyes again. But as he reached for the bandages in his kit, a small teasing grin emerged. “Is this why you didn’t join the coven? I figured you were just being anti-social... maybe a bit anti-establishment, I dunno.”

[jestersmonochromeeyes]

Yes, I am very sweet

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Aredhel, Reborn

This is a fragment that I started putting together a long time ago, and it stops in the middle, but my writing isn’t cooperating right now so I’m posting it as-is for @tolkiengenweek . It’s a sequel to my two previous Aredhel pieces (but not my Aredhel and Eöl one, which isn’t in continuity with it). Hopefully I’ll manage to follow up on it.

********************

Aredhel leaves the Halls, permitted to return to life for no reason that she can comprehend. She has not sought mercy for herself, though she has asked it a thousand times for her son and been met with a deafening silence. She chooses to return because Fingon is doing so, and he might not be able to bring himself to go if he left behind both of his siblings as well as his dearest friend. Turgon should have returned - would have been permitted to return, yeni ago, not tainted by kinslaying as his siblings are - but he is being stubborn, out of some mix of reluctance to face the survivors of Gondolin and reluctance to face the Lord of the Waters.

They reenter life to be almost immediately caught in their father’s embrace. Through all that follows - returning to Tirion, reunion with their mother and cousins, an apology to the Lady Eärwen that clearly terrifies Fingon more than any battle he’s ever fought in - the world seems faded and distant to Aredhel, as though some part of her fëa had never left the Halls. She cannot stay in Tirion, she cannot seem to hold the thread of a conversation with anyone, even her parents and brother. She knows, distantly, that she loves them, but it all seems so far away.

Her aimless feet take her to Valmar, and she find herself at the one place in the Blessed Realm that is shunned by Eldar and Ainur alike, climbing from the foot of Ezellohar to the two broken skeletons that were once the purest light in the universe, and as she collapses to the grass she feels, for the first time, a connection with the world. How did you do it? she whispers. How do you continue when what you hold dearest has been turned to darkness and ruin and ash? And something connects within her mind, something that never did through all the years in the Halls, never did during her return to Tirion, though all the reunions and necessary, distant apologies. Her feet carry her south and east, to the seashore and the white city, the city of pearls.

She does not go to the throne room of the king and queen, but to the docks, cloaked and hooded and unnoticed, seeking for faces she remembers. She finds one, working, holding a small curved knife in her hand that she uses to shell oysters.

Aredhel raises her hood, sees the Telerin woman start at the sight of her, and falls to her knees. The knife stops its work, poised in midair.

“What are you doing here?”

“I…I wished to apologize. To say that I was wrong.”

“So? What does that mean? What will that mend?” The woman lays down the shelling-knife, goes to a ship, and picks up another meant for carving wood. She lays the blade to a piece of wood lying nearby and the hands, their movements so smooth and deft when shelling oysters, begin to shake, leaving jagged, uneven cuts, leaving it useless. “I built the ships your people so wantonly destroyed, shaped them as you Noldor shape steel, and now I live again, but that which gave me life has left me. We did not hoard them and hide them in vaults, we sailed them and lived aboard them until they were more our home than the shore, and all you left to us were blood and ash and tainted memories.” The tremors through her body come in waves now, and her voice is choked. “My life was the least of what you stole from me. And now you seek what? Absolution? Resolution? This does not end for me. Why should it end for you?”

Aredhel hunches in on herself. “I surrender. What would you have of me?”

“Why come here, and not to the king?”

Olwë wouldn’t do anything to me - for Uncle Finarfin’s sake, if not for my own. He wasn’t who I attacked. He wasn’t who I killed.

“I thought you had more right. I…I know what it is to be betrayed by one whom you trusted. I know what it it is to see what you love dearest cast into ruin. And if I had - him - apologizing to me, truly and sincerely, as I am to you” - her voice breaks - “I would bury a knife in his guts.” She is shaking. “I came here because I didn’t know what else to do. Only that I needed to do something. I surrender. Say what you want from me, and you will have it.”

The Telerin woman just looks tired. “I don’t want your blood. What use would that be? I don’t want you locked up. What good would that do anyone? You cannot give back what you have taken. You cannot restore what is destroyed.

“Leave us in peace. Go.”

Aredhel goes.

....

She flees to the wild lands she once loved, which no longer feel so narrow as they did in the years of her youth, before Gondolin and Nan Elmoth and the Halls, before she knew that duty was a chain and love was a chain. Fear, too, is a chain, as she find when she wanders into the woods of Oromë where she once hunted with her cousins and stops, trembling, as the treetops cut off the sky, frozen, her thought a thousand miles away in drowned lands where the forest went from wonder to horror to prison. She works her way stumbling back to the light, her arms clutching at branches and tree-trunks to pull her onwards, until she emerges again into the free air.

She goes, instead, to the open plains, where she can run and ride and hunt, and take joy in feeling alive again, with a heart that beats and mouth that tastes and limbs that ache. In time she returns to the forest, first to edges and sun-dappled clearings, later to the denser woods in autumn when the leaves turn yellow and brown and fall to create openings where light and warmth enters, and nuts and fruits and berries surround her at every turn. Regaining the woods in summertime takes longer, where leaves create deep pools of shadow, and it is longer still before she wishes to be in the woods after nightfall, looking up at the stars.

(She no longer wears white. She dresses in greys and browns and tans, and in plain or woodland she might be mistaken for part of the landscape.)

She cannot say, for certain, how much of her escape is driven by avoiding walls, and how much by avoiding people, avoiding the need to hear or speak of (or hear people deliberately and delicately not speak of) a son she cannot defend and will not condemn. Did she shun the woods because they felt a cage, or because it felt that at any moment a pale-skinned, black-haired boy might step out of them with a present for his mother of hazlenuts or newly-caught game or skillfully-carved wood? A boy who is gone, who is become something she cannot and will not name.

Fingon finds her, from time to time, with uncanny ability, though he was never her equal as a woodsman. They share meals, wanderings, conversations light or serious. He does not tell her to return, though he speaks often of their parents and at times ventures to say how much they miss her. She does not know how to explain. Fingon can feel that their positions, failing and pardoned and returned and grieving for the lost, are the same, but it does not feel so to her. He fell in battle, and with a host of heroic deeds to his name. Her father fell in combat, the greatest one in the history of Arda. She died because she trusted the wrong person, loved the wrong person, ran off, was irresponsible and impetuous as always, led an enemy back to the one safe home she still had; her place in the First Age’s history is the dislodged rock or careless shout that starts an avalanche. Turgon has never blamed her for Gondolin’s fall, but that is because she never spoke to him while they were in the Halls, never knowing what to say. I am sorry that my son existed? She isn’t. She isn’t. She isn’t. She is only sorry that his father orphaned him, left him alone among strangers in a strange city with no parent to guide him.

One morning she awakes at her campsite to find her father there, tending the embers of her fire. She does not know how he has found her; he is gifted in scholarship, in diplomacy, in governance, in craftwork, in all the arts of war, but not in woodcraft or tracking or the arts of the wildnerness (save, by necessity, of keeping thousands of people alive in bone-chilling, soul-numbing temperatures).

They speak a little of other things, of her life in the woods and his in Tirion, but he cannot long restrain the question he has come to ask. “Aredhel, can you not come home?”

She offers the easier explanation first, the other being too painful to place in words. “I don’t want to go back to be pitied as a failure.”

“We all failed, dearest. Every one of us.”

“You did not. Not like me. You died fighting Morgoth and every Elda and I expect every Vala respects you for that. Fingon died fighting a balrog. My younger cousins died in battle. Even the philosopher did better than me! I was one of the most eager to go, I killed people in order to go, atta, and I have nothing to show for it, no achievements, nothing to boast of, and I will not go back to be petted and pitied and patronized, I won’t -” and she knows she still sounds like a spoiled child even now, when the others have grown wise and thoughtful and penitent.

Her father simply looks at her, long and quiet, as if trying to perceive all the words she has left unspoken, and they finally struggle to her lips.

“I don’t want to know what they all think of him. I do know what they think of him. I don’t want to be consoled for what my son did or became by people who didn’t know him and can’t understand him, and to know they are thinking of it every time they look at me, I’ll hate them for it and it will break out and I’ll cause trouble for everyone again - ” she’s stopped looking at her father, not wanting to see in his eyes his opinion of such a grandson, not wanting to feel the wrath against him that would come from it. “Why does everything I love fall to evil? My son, Tyelko, Curvo, my - ” she cannot bring herself to say husband, “- him? Do I have no judgement, no discernment? Am I being punished? I loved him when he killed me, I love my son and my cousins yet, and I don’t want to explain or to justify or to live among people that hate them -”

She is weeping now, and her father pulls her into an embrace. “You did not deserve this, Aredhel. Not what happened to you, or what happened to your son.”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is quiet now. “I think, sometimes, it is all of a piece. If you do evil to gain something, whether it be ill in itself or not, it will burn you when you find it. As with my cousins and the gemstones. I killed to gain freedom from limitations or constraint, and when I took it it burned me.”

[ashleyswrittenwords]

Common Thieves

Short WIP of rewritten scenes from a certain Disney movie and adding Zelda because I’m an adult so, no, you can’t stop me. 

I sat on this one for too long... time to let it out into the pasture.

Common Thieves

A trio of carriages rolled passed a sign reading: “East Necluda”. Underneath the letters were etched markings that indicated three miles before the region border.  The entourage of soldiers accompanying them lit up the night around them.

The trail hadn’t been maintained in several years, a testament to the rural inhabitants and the reputation the road had built in the recent months. Still, the party pushed onward steadily – even as the sun slowly abandoned them. Lines of guards walked along with the first carriage with a several mules hauling oversized trunks.

Days of traveling brought a silence over the men and ripped any urge to paint their boredom with banter. Other the occasional curt direction to the work animals, the only noises either came from their marching or the muffled conversation in the vehicles they surrounded.

“Does it look like I am a mere peasant?” a vibrant hiss came through the first caravan – it was decorated with Gerudo drapes of rich color, shimmering even in the darkness.

Inside, the weary looking fellow with his helmet resting on his hip flinched as the hisser sneered.

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he spoke fast, “I only mean to inform His Highness that we passed the last town two hours ago and in order for His Highness to rest it would entail putting up camp.”

“Putting up camp?!” the larger of the men reared back. His gold-laced fingers gripped the chair. “Absolutely not. I will not be treated like some poor panhandler on the side of the road. We will ride through the night.”

The guard paused for a short moment, shrinking at the gaze he received before bowing his head. “At your word, My Lord.”

Another man, skinnier than the lot, appeared beside the superior and stared with the wide eyes of admonishment. His words were spoken quick and high-pitched, “Do you have any idea who you are addressing?”

“I-” the guard looked between the two with uncertainty.

“Why, the Royal Advisor Ganondorf Dragmire. ‘Lordship’ doesn’t shine a match to the nature of his reputation!” he gasped and held his book of notes closely while making grandiose gestures. Loose papers fluttered to the caravan floor. “He has proved himself to be above such title! Illustrious is he, respectable is he, most honorable – absolutely, and not to forget how handsome is he--”

The royal advisor patted his acquaintance on the shoulder with more force than necessary and smiled chivalrously. “Never mind that, sergeant. We will ride through the night.”

The sergeant cleared his throat, “Yes, Your… Highness.”

As he exited the moving carriage, the flaps closed behind him and through them had commenced a series of muffled arguments that had become the norm during marches.

Another armor-clad man reared his horse beside the sergeant with another horse in tow.

“Well? What does he want to do?”

The sergeant scratched his red beard and let out the sigh that was building in his chest, then took his horse’s reigns with short words of thanks. 

His partner raised his brow, “That bad, huh?”

“Gods, I don’t want to hear it Kriss. Inform the lads that we we’re riding straight to Hateno.”

When he spoke, he tried to copy the intimidating scowl of the royal advisor but his compatriot still grumbled with annoyance as he twisted his horse in the opposite direction.

Their travels matched the demeanor of wartimes, and though they technically were, this party wasn’t avoiding frequent rests for the sake of catching the enemy and nor was their pacing any faster with the amount of luggage they hauled. It was well known through the garrison that this was the equivalence to a royal tour and it should be treated as such – yet no one spoke it above a whisper.

“Sir!”

It was a younger man, barely out of boyhood. He was scraggly, even his stance was uneven when he drew his heels together for a salute. The boy faltered in the process as his ill-fitting armor rattled from the movements. The sergeant withheld an eye-roll, lazing over his saddle to give the kid a forlorn look.

“What is it, Short-Stack?”

“There’s a traveler coming towards us,” he swallowed nervously, gesturing vaguely ahead. “What should we do?”

Momentarily, he looked up at the partially starry sky and sighed once more. “Well, does he look like he’s armed? Dangerous at any degree? Use common sense, son. The last time it was another fur trader.”

Short-Stack fiddled with his gloves and spoke with varying degrees of confidence. “Um, no sir. Sir, it appears to be a woman and-and we haven’t encountered one and I was wondering what the procedures were and--”

“A woman?” the sergeant blinked, promptly ignoring anything more the boy had to say.

His eyes flickered to the dulling sky and motioned his horse to approach the head of the party. As he did, the snickering of those walking ahead abruptly ended. About one-hundred yards away was a cloaked woman, so unmistakably feminine that the sergeant had to do a double take.

Her approach only emphasized what they say from far away. Though she was dressed modestly, it was obvious to any man that she was well-endowed. In her hands was a glowing, recently lit lantern that swayed playfully with her hips.

“Hello, boys!” she called out, giggling afterward and pulled her cloak closer to herself.

The men around the sergeant whispered excitedly and he gave a hard stare to them before straightening in his saddle and trotting in front of the group because, after all, he was the sergeant. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this woman-traveler couldn’t be in some state of concern.

She paused as he approached and blinked owlishly up at him.

“Madam,” he said, dipping his head slightly, “It’s getting rather late, can I ask what you’re doing out at such a time?”

The woman made a noise of surprise and looked over her shoulder as if the sun had snuck passed her. “Oh dear…” she pouted, “I knew I should have left earlier. Why, I was hoping to reach the next inn by sundown!”

“The next inn is two hours minimum on foot,” he recounted with astonishment. Then, pretended to think. “It just happens, my lady, that I am the leader of this particular garrison.”

She gaped, “Is that so? That’s most impressive, sir! Whose company are you escorting this fine evening?”

A smile crept up his face and he nodded smugly. “The Royal Advisor and a few members of His Majesty’s court.”

“Is that right?” she nodded, coming to terms with his words. “I suppose I must be on my way, then. I wouldn’t dare impose on His Lordship.”

A shout of outrage sounded behind the sergeant and he stiffened at the realization of his mistake.

The royal advisor had a distinct voice that shouted without needing to raise his voice. His assistant clambering out of the stopped carriage with much difficulty. Before the opening closed, Dragmire voiced his complaints without abandon.

“Sergeant! Ghirahim, I want his head or it will be yours, by the gods--” The rest of his sentence was muffled as the thin man left him.

The one named Ghirahim hurried to slick back his white hair and scrambled to the front of the carriage. He first gave the horses a wary look before turning his attention to what was impeding them. With a fit of outrage bubbling, he stopped himself mid-word to address the woman.

“And just who are you?” Ghirahim seethed. She went to explain only to be interrupted by his flailing hands. “Actually, you are irrelevant. No matter of concern to the given issue at foot. Sergeant-!”

Then, the woman gasped.

“Is that not the royal advisor to His Majesty?” she covered her mouth daintily, looking past Ghirahim.

The sergeant nearly jumped out of his saddle at the sudden presence of the man, who seemed set on a fit of rage and decidedly settling to a curious indifference at his impediment. The woman pushed by Ghirahim and gave a small curtsy.

The royal advisor didn’t look at the sergeant when he addressed him. “Who is this?”

“A woman, Your Highness.”

He scowled heavily in his direction, “I know that. I meant who she is!”

“Franny, My Lord!” she spoke with excitement, ignoring the assistant’s gawking expression. Franny dipped into a curtsy. “It is quite the honor to be in your esteemed presence Lord Ganondorf. You’re held in such high favor around these parts, as I’m sure you know.”

Ghirahim attempted to cut through while maintaining a concentrated glare. “How dare you grace His Highness with your impertinence!”

The advisor smiled, not taking his eyes off the woman. “Am I now? It is unsurprising, however I do enjoy hearing it from your lips.”

“Sir,” Franny giggled, “If I’m not being too impertinent. Between you and I, I am in the business of telling one’s future. You see, I know now that this must be of the goddess’s divine will to have us meet!”

The assistant blanched. “Absolutely not! Your Highness, I beseech you to ignore this wickedness.”

“You will beseech me to do none of the sort,” Ganondorf dropped his grin momentarily to wave away the smaller man. “Do forgive this man’s ignorance. I must admit, you have me captivated.”

Again, she laughed and took his awaiting arm. Before the advisor led her away, she pushed her lantern into the assistance chest without another thought of his boiling anger. Ghirahim huffed and moved to follow them with his tail between his legs.

“Sergeant,” he bidded coldly.

The trio disappeared into the caravan and immediately the officer frowned.

Something was off, surely.

“Sergeant?” a dainty voice called out. His attention was immediate. An unmistakable face stared back at him with a quizzical brow. “Why have we stopped?”

“A short reprieve, Lady Zelda,” he smiled, nodding her way. The lady was halfway down her caravan’s steps when she called to him. Her kindness was appreciated and the sergeant wasn’t about to anger her by blubbering that they were held up because of His Lordship.

She hesitated outside her caravan, opting to watch the stars instead of retiring once more. The sergeant took a moment to watch her idle; she was a beautiful, youthful, and owning every bit of the curiosity that came with those traits. Her father was right to keep an eye on her, he thought to himself.

Some minutes went by and the men began snickering when noises began coming from the royal advisor’s carriage. Disgusted, the sergeant ordered them away while suddenly realizing the promiscuity that may have been outlining that woman’s proposition.

But the noises grew louder that even he couldn’t keep his eyes off the vehicle’s abhorrent jostling and reprimanded the few that stayed behind it. After all, he wasn’t entirely foolish – who knows what the advisor would do if rumors were milled around.

A few more minutes and – wait wasn’t the assistant in there as well?

“Guards!” a shrill voice screamed.

From behind the caravan ran a rather large form. It spooked the sergeant’s horse and from there all hell broke loose. The officer could hardly gather his bearings. The men around him stared with wide eyes at the carriages and then back to the sergeant with dumb idle.

“Gods, damn it all – GUARDS!”

Blearily, the officer began shouting orders and like ants the men were clambering into the wagon. The driver hurried to calm the horses amongst the scurry, especially when several men in armor ran into the forest. The sergeant dismounted quickly to find the royal advisor and his assistant bound by their feet and hands, left only in their underclothes.

“Don’t look!” Ganondorf screamed as Ghirahim blubbered incoherently on his side. “Do not look at me!”

The sergeant stood aghast. The cabin was scraped clean – from the gold trim of the windows to the velvet pillows – all had been taken. Most egregiously, the trunks of Akkala long coats had been taken as well and were being mourned over in low sniffling.

“We’ve been,” Ghirahim sobbed through short breathes before continuing, “We’ve been robbed! Robbed! Your Highness!”

“Shut up and stop crying, you imbecile!”

The rest of the evening hours were the longest the sergeant had ever lived through. The woman, who had evidently turned out to be a man, was far gone by the time patrols began. It was also said he was accompanied by a Goron with the strength of eight men, but he hadn’t believed it until the wanted posters were found when they arrived in Hateno.

The illustrations were pinned throughout town on every surface the royal guard could find at the insistence of the royal advisor. Those blue eyes were unmistakable from that night, though the green cap had been absent, and the scowling Goron bandit beside him matched up with his men’s description perfectly.

That had been the royal advisor’s first encounter with the renowned outlaw Link Woods.

[lazywiteralex]

Day 17: 500 Words from main project

I love having a main project again, kinda wish I had a plot in mind 🙃

Anyways...

START

Mika checked the list Kane had written up for them. "Okay I think the only things we still need to do are 'Drop Miguel’s cloak in the nearest fire pit and purchase a new one' thank the Gods, and 'Get all blades sharpened by the blacksmith, don't forget to tip them' yeah no shit Kane,"

"Language, Miss Mikaela. You shouldn't say such things, especially towards Master Kane,"

She laughed and ruffled his hair, "Sorry kid, I'll work on it around you. But no telling Miggs that, he'd never shut up about it," she folded the list and stuffed it in her pocket. "Oh and will you call me Mika already? Or at least drop the 'Miss'. It's so formal, weirds me out,"

"Well you are my senior, the monks at the priory always taught..."

"Alois?" Mika turned to look at him.

Alois's eyes were wide and downcast. He stepped closer to her and gripped her cloak firmly.

"Hey kid, what's wrong?" she asked, her eyes scanned over him looking for any sign of injury.

His breathing was uneven and he pressed closer to her. "By the blacksmith," his voice was a childish whisper, full of terror.

Mika looked up and her heart dropped into her stomach. Less than three yards from the blacksmith's forge sat a caged wagon. Inside huddled together were half a dozen demi-humans, all chained together. A slave was in town. Several of the slaves looked no older than Alois. Mika pulled Alois to her other side, placing herself between him and the wagon. She wrapped one arm protectively around him.

"Do not leave my side, keep your head down and don't speak. If I need information from you I'll ask yes or no questions and you'll tap me once for yes and twice for no. Do you understand?"

He tapped her arm once.

"Good. Give me Kane's sword, the less attention you attract the better. He didn't happen to put a marker on you did he?"

Two taps.

"Yeah I thought so. Alright we'll make this quick,"

She guided them inside the blacksmith's shop. He was a large man with a bald head and short graying beard.

"Good afternoon malady, how can I help you today?"

"I need my weapons sharpened, a broad sword, two short swords, and a dagger," she placed the weapons on the counter.

"An interesting errand for such a delicate young lady,"

"My companion is securing lodging and tending other errands, this is mine. Have them done by morning," her tone was flat, no hint of her usual charm. 

"I'm a busy man, you know. Having them done that soon will cost you extra, 13 silver pieces,"

She glanced at the display rack, "Throw in that steel dagger with the red gem and I'll give you 20,"

The man smiled, "A woman of taste, you've got yourself a deal,"

"Boy go fetch my purchase while I pay the man," she ordered, nudging Alois. He quickly scurried to the rack.

"An obedient servant you've got there, quiet too,"

Mika counted out the money and held it out towards him. When the blacksmith went to take it she lifted her hand away and leaned in. "That slave trader outside, is he a regular in the area?"

The blacksmith smirked, "Why looking for another one?" He eyed Alois who had returned to his place beside Mika. He slid the new dagger into the empty holster on her hip without a word.

"Answer the question or I take my business elsewhere,"

"Jeez, you're a real hard-ass aren't you? Yeah he has a trade line from here to Jindal up north,"

Mika dropped the money in the man's hand. "Thank you, my companion will be back for our blades. And don't try anything funny, he doesn't need a sharpened blade to take your head," she turned on her heel, her arm back around Alois's shoulders. 

[zodiyack]

Love Reunited (Love On The Run - Part Two)

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst reader has a bad bitch moment, fluff, threats + mentions of murder, no proofreading

Words: 2,114

Summary: In the heat of the moment, Y/n says something that pissed Klaus off. Elijah does the only thing he can and tells his wife to run for her life. | The only thing standing between Klaus and forgiveness from his older brother is Y/n and her freedom.

Taglist: @matth1w​, @redspaceace-writes​, @fandom-puff​, @darling-i-read-it​, @dpaccione​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @simonsbluee​

Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

Part One.

Ever since Klaus’ resentment for Y/n, and the sworn death sentence he’d given her, chased her out of New Orleans and into constant relocation just to be safe in hiding from her husband’s brother, Elijah had developed a new feeling. He began to loathe his little brother. Though he’d claimed to have detested his brother many times before, this time was different. Even so, that wasn’t the only thing different about this time. 

This time, Klaus knew he was fucked.

He’d cried for forgiveness over the past few years, yet Elijah ignored him every single time. One of the, scarcely occurring, times he actually spoke to Klaus about his apology, he’d brought up the situation with Y/n, quoting the hybrid word for word.

“You did say, ‘live with Elijah’s hate,’ did you not? So, why can you not just live with the burden of the reality that I in fact do, and will always, abhor you, Niklaus? Or are you just so diabolical, so selfish. that you merely cannot fathom losing the one person whom has vowed to stay by your side, always and forever? The one person who can tolerate you.”

“Elijah- ple-”

“So long as my wife is on the run from you, running quite literally for her life, you will never be reprieved.” Everyone who knew Elijah knew that he always kept his word. “I give you my word on that.” Always.

“Please, brother! I’ll do anything for your forgiveness-” He was genuine. As Klaus begged, practically on his knees with tears stinging his eyes, he was a hundred percent genuine.

Elijah turned his head, finally facing his brother with full attention and interest for the first time in a painful handful of years. “Free Y/n.”

“W-what?”

“Free my lover from this condemnation you have unjustly sentenced her to and allow her to walk away from your grudge without harm and without the risk of you creating blackmail material of her actions that you have unreasonably deemed intolerable.”

“Anything else?” He was only kidding, but Elijah wasn’t.

“You’ll have to collect her from whatever location she’s at currently. And please Niklaus, do so without any violence on your behalf.”

He chuckled for a second. Then his smug, carefree, expression morphed into one of uneasy guilt. “You’re...serious?” Elijah held his stern manner. Klaus took his lack of response as a yes and sighed, “Alright. Consider her free.” then he turned to go hunt for Y/n and earn his brother’s pardon.

“If you lay a hand on her,” Klaus halted in his tracks, eyes darting to the side as though he could see his brother clearly despite Elijah being directly behind him, “be it a hair pulled from her head or even a tiny meaningless spiteful threat, there will be splinters for you to pull out of your skin for years. And though it will not permanently kill you, I shall drive stake upon stake through your chest and never feel remorse for any part of it.”

Klaus almost wanted to scoff, laugh it off and tell Elijah he’d never actually do that but a part of him wondered if he really would. If his own brother would end his life for anything done to Y/n. Deep down, he knew Elijah would have a rage that would overflow and cause terror and destruction in it’s wake.

He knew the wood couldn’t kill him. He’d do it over and over again, for the next centuries to come, and the centuries after those have passed, the cycle never ending. A never ending cycle of a living hell. And a hell that he knew would be well deserved for it would only come to such a punishment if he did anything to hurt the love of his brother’s life. An easy mistake to avoid ...if your name wasn’t Niklaus.

“Understand?”

Klaus wondered what happened to the old him; the merciless, blood thirsty, cruel and sinister hybrid, the one true immortal being, now showing mercy to, and retrieving, someone who’d crossed multiple lines in his eyes. Whilst she did have a point, he chose never to say so. He chose to ignore all attempts to draw the light in him into the world. He chose to ignore all pleas for his goodness in fear of his softness- his weakness getting the people he loved hurt.

But it was time to push past that, for if he didn’t, there wouldn’t be any people for him to love.

He swallowed and redirected his narrowed eyes to the door. His jaw clenched and his breathing became uneven. “Understood, brother.”

Niklaus was a stubborn man, and he knew it. But he would do anything, very close to literally anything, to gain his family back. To atone for his mistakes over hundreds of decades. To plea for redemption from their bad sides. And although Elijah would forgive him with simply letting Y/n return to his arms once more, Niklaus new his pleading wasn’t quite over yet.

Y/n wouldn’t just forgive him so easily. She wouldn’t, and because he knew that, he wasn’t surprised when she narrowed her eyes at him and furrowed her brows before releasing an avalanche of years, years of which felt horribly elongated, of pent up rage upon him instantaneously without any form of hesitation.

He found her with the help of witches, and quite easily seeing as moving from place to place as quickly as possible would require avoiding any type of relationships with everyone. She didn’t have anyone to preform a cloaking spell, but she did have great strength as a back-up strategy.

A note, placed by the barkeep, was subtly dropped in front of her, the words written in blue by the pen he’d snatched from a barmaid’s apron as she walked past. Two little words sparked her curiosity almost immediately. Her head snapped up and turned left and right, looking for who the mysterious messenger, whom she hoped was Elijah. Much to her disappointment, the person who suddenly placed a hand on her shoulder was a different Mikaelson.

Y/n grabbed his hand and flung it off of herself harshly. “You?”

“Don’t sound so disgruntled, love, I am here to collect you after all.”

“No. I won’t be going anywhere with you.”  Venom entwined her words as she referenced him. She clenched her jaw and swiftly turned to face the bar again. The scrunched up napkin was thrown over her shoulder. He opened it, “come home” sprawled messily across the soft material.

Klaus felt the anger wash over him but promptly remembered Elijah’s words. He calmed himself with a few deep breaths before clearing his throat and trying again. “I’m afraid I can’t take no as an answer.”

“And I’m afraid I would rather stake myself than go literally any place on this green fucking earth with you.” Y/n spat through her teeth.

Her blatantly obvious execrating feelings for him amused Klaus, a small grin appearing on his lips as he tilted his head. “Do you even know where I’m taking you?”

“To hell, most likely.”

Klaus, unsurprisingly, had a snarky retort ready on his tongue, but she was already out the door and taking a sneaky head start for her run to the farthest place from Niklaus possible. He was on her tail within seconds and cornered her in the woods. A smug leer, not uncommon to see upon his features, promptly slid onto his face.

“What the hell do you want, besides to kill me?”

“You to come with me.”

Y/n paused, as if she were considering his demand, then rolled her eyes. She tried to step around him, “Like that’ll do me any good-”

“It will.” Klaus stepped in front of her, blocking her way once more. “C’mon. From here on out, your sentence is over, you can return to New Orleans-”

“And how do I know you mean the words you speak? How do I know you shall stay true to whatever comes from your mouth?”

“You know me, I-”

“You’re quite correct, Klaus. I know you. I know that you are not infamous for nothing. You lie, deceive, torture, humiliate and do so many other things to people underserving of your cruelty! How should I forgive you when you have yet to adhere for the hurt you’ve infected innocents with?”

His gaze dropped, guilt creeping over his face. He knew what he did to those people.

“Do you even feel bad for what you’ve done?”

Not really. Not all the time. Hardly ever at all if he were to be honest.

“Do you feel the need to morn those you have wrongfully sentenced to death? Those you have sent to the deepest pits of hell based on erroneous judgement?”

She came for his throat, each fact that was spat from her mouth verbatim.

“You are callous and you are heinous! You wonder why your siblings hate you, and yet you constantly do vile things to people! You have erroneously punished people over and over again. You swear you will change, many times, and they believe you but then the next thing they know, they’re in a box for a couple decades. And you think they need to plead for absolution?”

Hundreds of years spent seething in hostility for her brother in law, all ranted in this one moment hit Klaus like a bus, taking the air from his lungs and sending a feeling deep into his gut like someone had just swung a baseball bat into his stomach a dozen times. But she wasn’t finished yet.

“You want to ask for my exoneration? Well you have years, and I mean fucking years, to make up for.” She laughed sarcastically. “To absolve you from everything you’ve put me through, everything you’ve taken from me, everything I’ve fucking missed because of you- to absolve you from all of that would take many years of penitence and work to fix what you have done. Are you really prepared to do that? Are you, Niklaus fucking Mikaelson, ready to take a lengthy withdrawal from your wicked and corruptive reign of evil to earn my remission?”

He hated the fact that she teased him for it, rubbed it in his face, but he knew he deserved it. Klaus knew he deserved every harsh and bitter word she spat at him. He had a thousand of years of blood on his hands, the true number of all the lives he’d snuffed out still paling in comparison to the amount of power that radiated from Y/n, the amount of guilt and remorse she’d forced onto his shoulders with simple words.

“You are no fucking king,” she sneered, “at least, not compared to me.”

Silence made the air heavy with tension as the minutes passed by. Then, she sighed heavily and spoke, slicing the thick tension with an imaginary blade. “I will go with you,” he looked to her with relief, “but I meant every word I said. You will have to work to ensure your vindication. And it will not be an easy task.”

“I understand.” Klaus bowed his head, submitting to her and trading in his crown to prove his worthiness of her forgiveness.

She happily accepted it.

“Y/n?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. Last he’d checked, he hadn’t been bitten by a werewolf or hybrid, nor had he inhaled or consumed any witchy substances that would make him hallucinate. He didn’t pray much, but in his head, his thoughts muttered over and over, “please be real.”

“Elijah!” Her eyes lit up the second they met his form. She surged forward, lips colliding with Elijah’s for the first time in years. He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her round.

The world faded to an irrelevant blur. It felt amazing to be home, to be in his arms once more, to be free of Klaus’ ridiculous furry, free of the ill intentions previously directed towards her. Minutes had went by and yet, neither of the two noticed a single thing.

Years that had passed by soon drifted away, like they weren’t apart for any of it. Like time had hit pause when she’d left his arms and resumed when she returned to them. It felt as though time froze whilst the two embraced. The moment could’ve lasted an eternity had Klaus not cleared his throat to announce his presence.

“So uh...brother...have I earned your forgiveness?”

“I suppose you have.”

“And Y/n? Have I made progress on clearing my name with you?”

She made eye contact with Elijah, exchanging a small grin before returning her eyes to Klaus and nodding slightly. “You’ve got a ways to go, but you’re off to a great start. Thank you, Klaus.”

[deiliamedlini]

In Plain Sight

Summary: The Kingdom of Hyrule has a strict no-magic policy; any magic user could be put to death if they’re found out... even if that person is the Princess.

~Generic AU. Zelink. Mild/moderate violence range.~

Word Count: 8436

Or on Ao3

~~

“Keep it secret. Keep it hidden. From everyone, especially your father.”

Zelda kept her hands behind her back, her mother’s voice echoing through her memory as she stared at the pyres in the distance, flames roaring with the vengeance that her father poured into every witch hunt. There were three this time, and Zelda was grateful that they were far enough away that they couldn’t hear the commotion that always accompanied such events.

“This is barbaric,” she whispered, as she did every time she was forced to attend.

“This is justice,” her father, King Rhoam whispered in return. “They are a blight. The greatest evils in this world are caused by these creatures, and they must be purged.”

Zelda said nothing, simply sighing and keeping her eyes on the ground until it was over. The grass wasn’t terribly interesting. It swayed in the wind every now and then, but there was little else to occupy her. She counted the intervals between gusts. They were uneven and unequally spaced out until they stopped all together.

She glanced up. The spectacle was still taking place, and she needed to stay entertained to get through this.

Biting her lip, she took a brief glance at her father before curling her finger behind her back and immediately feeling the wind return, a bit stronger so it could caress her face and move her hair and whip at their royal cloaks. She turned into it and closed her eyes, letting a smile rest on her lips as she felt the magic in it as poignantly as if it were a physically tangible thing. She knew this was something only people like her could feel.

She hummed in contentment, lost in the distracting feeling.

“Wind’s picked up, eh?” her father mumbled, tugging his flapping cloak against him.

Zelda felt a prickle on the back of her neck, which always happened when someone was watching her, and her eyes immediately glanced around until she found the source of the attention, because her father’s eyes were rapt on the scene in the distance, even when he spoke to her.

One of the knights, her favorite, in fact, had his eyes on her, softly watching her enjoy the breeze. She never mistook the gleam in his eyes as anything other than simple attraction, as she was sure he’d noticed in the way she lazily watched him go about his tasks as well.

So when their eyes met, they both smiled at each other for the briefest moment, forgetting where they were and who was around before he regained his better senses first and proceeded to look straight ahead at attention, as he was expected to.

“Can’t we leave yet?” Zelda asked, letting the wind die down slowly so as not to seem suspicious.

“Stop asking me, Zelda. You’re a Princess, and you must endure long events without complaint.”

“Yes, court hearings and council meetings. But watching people die? Please… I…uh…. I have a delicate heart,” she said quickly, unsure what else could get her out of this. “And these events so easily break it.”

King Rhoam looked at her and sighed. If nothing else, he did love his daughter. He had a terribly odd way of showing it, but he did. And to him, she was still just a fragile child.

“Link!” he called, and Zelda’s favorite knight stepped forward. “Take the Princess back to the castle.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Link said, bowing first to the King and then to Zelda as he followed behind her.

When they were far enough away, Zelda visibly shuddered and turned over her shoulder for a final look at the smoke in the air, praying that no one ever found out her secret, or she would be up there herself.

Her father loved her, but there was no doubt that he hated magic more. Other royals in the past hadn’t been exempt from the law. Her own mother had been one of them, and her grandfather had carried out the sentence himself.

Zelda had been under more scrutiny in her youth when they were watching to see if she’d inherited her mother’s magic, but Zelda heeded her mother’s words and kept every impulse to herself, fighting not to use it at all. Now, it practically called to her, begging to be used, like a siren calling a sailor into the sea. She simply couldn’t help it at times.

At night, she’d pray to the Goddess, begging Her to take away Zelda’s powers. She wanted to feel safe in her own home, and to lose the one thing that made her special. She wanted to be normal. Ordinary. Unassuming. Uninteresting. Safe.

The Goddess never listened, and Zelda’s magic only grew stronger over the years.

“I hate those events,” she muttered to Link as he hurried up beside her.

“I know.”

“Why do you do it?” she asked, glaring at him.

Loyal to a fault, Link was one of the knights who was responsible for bringing in many of the magic users who’d eventually be put to death. It was an order from the King. And Link never refused an order.

“His Majesty commands that I do so.”

“What if I command that you stop?” she asked, already knowing his answer.

“I’m sorry, Princess. Your father’s commands supersede your own.”

“I know,” she whispered as they reached their horses. Link helped her onto hers before they both made their way across Hyrule Field.

Zelda was in no hurry to get back, and Link matched whatever pace Zelda set.

“But why?” she asked again, a little more frustrated. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, and for some reason, she expected his answers to change.

She’d long since commanded him to ride and walk beside her when they were alone. She welcomed his company when she had it, and him walking behind her always frustrated her while trying to hold a discussion.

“If I don’t do it, I’ll be killed, and someone will replace me. My noncompliance will not change a thing. And if I can be honest, Princess, I’d rather be alive to be your guard than die in vain protest. Your father doesn’t care for me. I won’t be a martyr. I’ll just be another fallen soldier.”

The trees passed them by, and they rode into the wide expanse of the truest part of Hyrule Field, where the mountains in the distance were unobstructed by trees or castles or buildings. Small streams took the place of lakes, and the field was calling them closer with the light colors and gentle swaying grass.

“Have you ever let anyone go?” she asked, turning to him.

He looked at her with wide eyes. And though he knew her better, it almost felt like she was attempting to trap her into admitting something that could get him killed, and he immediately defaulted to defense, like the soldier that he was. “I would never! My command is to bring in all magic users for questioning. From there, it’s not in my hands. I cannot disobey my orders. If anyone found out, I’d be strung up beside them.”

“’If anyone found out?’” she asked curiously and uncompromising. She could see him squirm, and she didn’t care. She wasn’t trying to trap him, and her curiosity had gotten them both into far worse situations in the past. “What if you could guarantee that no one would ever find out. Would you do it?”

Link shook his head and made a contorted face that betrayed his stress. “I don’t know. It’s not a situation that will ever happen, so I don’t need to consider it. Besides, I am loyal to the monarch of Hyrule. I will not disobey, no matter my beliefs.” He turned to see her disappointed expression, and it pulled at something inside him that he often tried to ignore. He longed to comfort her, but this conversation could be treason. So he spoke true words that were still carefully cultivated to keep him safe. “Now, if you command me to stop when you’re Queen of Hyrule, I’ll have no choice but to gladly obey that command.”

Zelda smirked at him, blushing under his stare but let the conversation drop and returned her attention to the field. Too much prodding was suspicious, but she was allowed this much after watching the deaths. There was nothing suspicious after coming back from such a horrific event.

Suddenly, Zelda gasped and signaled for Link to stop and dismount with her. She ran over to a tree that stood alone in the field and fell to her knees, crawling over to the base of it. “Link, look!” she called behind her.

Two Silent Princesses bloomed fiercely, their blue and white petals enticing her over with the force a predator might attract prey. And with this flower, her absolute favorite in all Hyrule, she would happily be its prey and stare at it, study it, observe it.

The hair on her neck pricked again, and she knew that Link was looking at her, not the flower.

It wasn’t an unpleasant or even distracting sensation. She felt it so often as the Princess that she was able to tune it out in larger crowds. But when there were fewer people, she was more attuned to the feeling. And when she was just with Link, she felt it often.

“Link—” she said, twisting around to beckon him over, unsure if he simply hadn’t heard her. But she felt her cheeks immediately burn when she realized that his gaze was decidedly not near her face.

His eyes darted up to hers immediately, but there was no denying that he’d been caught. He grabbed the hair at the back of his neck and fisted it tight, cursing as he felt himself flushed and ready to die a little. Suddenly, the grass became terribly interesting, because he couldn’t stop staring at it, unwilling to let himself look at her again because she already knew where his focus had been. He debated apologizing or holding on to that last sliver of hope that she hadn’t actually noticed.

Zelda let out a nervous chuckle as she folded her hands in her lap while she sat back. But once she felt the nerves pass, she waved her hand dismissively and held one out to Link to encourage him to join her. “Come here.”

He was more than grateful that she didn’t bring it up. Link even debated taking her outstretched hand to let her pull him beside her, but after that, he couldn’t let himself slip around the Princess of Hyrule once again, and he knelt beside her, one knee down like he was bowing.

Zelda wished he could get comfortable around her, but she couldn’t blame him. He’d gotten too comfortable for a moment and been caught just seconds ago.

One thing that she liked the most about Link was that he often forgot himself around her. He treated her like a person, and not just a figurehead. And Link felt the same, basking in the rare courtesy that someone showed him. Zelda knew he was just a human, fallible, and imperfect.

They were each other’s haven when the rest of the world expected too much of them. Link was not a pawn, and Zelda was not a princess. They were simply friends.

“There’s two of them,” she said instead, hoping to take his mind off of things, to coax that easy friendship back out of him. “They’re so beautiful. It’s a shame how fast they wilt when indoors.”

“They’re your favorite,” he said simply, running a gloved hand over the petal. It wasn’t a question.

“They are. You knew that?”

“I do.”

She stared at him for a while longer before accepting that he wasn’t going to elaborate on how he knew. This wasn’t the first time she’d dragged him from his horse to look at flowers, mushrooms, bugs, or even frogs, so there was nothing to give her away by her reaction. He simply knew. He knew her.

Resting her chin in her hand, she stared at the flower. “Convince me not to run experiments on one of these in an attempt to domesticate it. Convince me to leave them both here.”

“I’d never think to try to deter you from your research, Princess.”

She grinned in his direction before biting her lip, one final consideration before she uprooted one of the flowers carefully from the ground and returned to her horse with Link beside her.

Days passed with little success in her experiments. The flower was withering quickly, and the edges especially were shriveling. Link returned to his other duties, and she to hers.

Nearly a week after taking the flower, it was near death, and she wished he had convinced her to leave it where it belonged.

“Princess?” Link’s voice called from outside her door.

Zelda stood up from her desk and looked around, flicking her fingers at some clothes until they moved into her closet, and then again at the bed that she’d taken a nap in that the maids had never fixed—unbeknownst to them that she’d slept at all. The blankets returned to their pin-straight smoothness, and the pillows carefully arranged themselves. She stood in front of her door and waited for them to stop moving before turning the handle for Link.

“Hello,” she said pleasantly.

“Princess,” he greeted and stepped into her room, looking around.

It was a nightly inspection for anything amiss, something her soldiers had done since she was a little girl. She was used to the invasion of privacy for the sake of her safety by now, but when it was Link on guard, it always gave her some time to talk to him, even if it made her slightly embarrassed to have him go through some of her things. But shame was something she’d long-since set aside when it came to this nightly ritual. At this point, half the guards in the castle knew what was in her room from this task.

He began in her closet, looking intently enough to make sure there was no hidden assailant, but fast enough to avoid invading her privacy too much.

“How was training?” she asked curiously.

Link chuckled and turned to her, calling her out on that question. “Why do you ask? I saw you come by.”

She blushed and tripped over her foot before steadying herself. She hadn’t realized he’d seen her. She bit her lip, following beside him as he made his way around her room. “Well… from a knight’s perspective, I mean.”

He stopped his search for a moment to look at her, his eyebrow raised suspiciously, and—dare she even think it—a little bit flirtatiously. The corner of his mouth lifted slowly. “It was fine, Princess.”

He returned his attention to his search, walking beside her desk, his eyes trailing along her open books, quills, the wilting flower, and her bag. He then looked under the desk before moving on.

“I’m so bored,” she whined, leaning against the wall beside him. “Give me more details than that. Humor me, at least.”

“You’re bored? I couldn’t tell,” he snorted, this time a full smile gracing his face. “Unfortunately, there are no details, Princess. It was just… fine.” Then he got onto his knees to look under her bed.

With him on his hands and knees and his upper half hidden under the bed, Zelda understood the appeal of letting her eyes linger low on someone one considered attractive. Though it was not for the first time that she admired him, she did connect her thought back to the way she’d caught him just a week ago staring at her.

She crossed her arms, and both cursed and praised whoever had come up with the form-fitting design on the royal guard uniform pants. He wiggled a lot too so he could see all angles under the bed, and Zelda bit her lip as she indulged in the moment, probably more than Link had the other day when she’d caught him ogling her. Zelda was, after all, a scholar who loved to observe her specimens.

Link always moved quickly in everything he did. It’s why he was primarily appointed to guard her so often: his reflexes, his skill, his speed; he was all but a machine. It was no surprise that he was quick to search under the bed as well, always courteous to keep her privacy as untouched as possible. So, he efficiently removed himself from under the bed and turned to Zelda before she had the time to look away.

Blushing viciously, Zelda, unlike Link, managed to keep Link’s gaze, undeterred by being caught. Link had gone red, but as he pushed himself to his feet and started to walk to her windows, he let his arm brush hers, a sly grin on his face to match her own.

Zelda bobbed her head to the side triumphantly, following him to the balcony, as she always did.  He looked over the edge, and Zelda looked as well, wishing she knew exactly what ‘signs’ he was looking for. Was there meant to be a person on her roof?

She felt that sensation on her neck again, only this time, she let herself pretend not to notice until she’d swept the entirety of the roof with her eyes before meeting his.

They were soft as they watched her.

She turned towards him and hesitated for a moment. “So? Am I in danger?”

“You’re safe, Princess.”

“Thank you. Will you be in for the morning round? Or are you going to see your mother?”

“How do you know—”

“You mentioned it a few weeks ago.”

His eyebrows went up. “You remembered?”

“I do listen when you speak, Link.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, I’m most likely going to ride out for the day, but I’ll be here in the morning.”

“Okay,” she smiled, following him back into the room as he made for her door. “I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Link,” she said, closing the door.

She leaned against it and took a deep breath to steady herself before returning to her workbench and her wilting flower.

“I shouldn’t have done this to you,” she whispered to it as if it could hear her apology. She set to stroking the petals gently, and as she did, color went back into it, straightening the stem out, returning the petals to their softness and former glory, flourishing and beautiful and alive. It made her giggle, as magic sometimes did when it felt good. Breathing life back into something always felt particularly special.

She stood up, satisfied, and closed her eyes to picture an outfit as she ran her hand just in front of herself. When she opened her eyes, the clothes she’d been wearing had swapped places with the pajamas on her chair, and she was comfortably ready for bed.

The magic was practically bursting from her, and once she ducked under the covers, she passed a ball of light between her hands, letting it hover as she did. It soothed her and let her release a lot of her magic at once, which made it easier to control in the long run.

Once she’d tired out, she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Until hours later when there was a knock on her door.

“Princess?”

Zelda groaned and cracked her eye open, scowling at the bright sun coming through her window. “Is it morning already?” she called back, faceplanting her pillow.

She could practically hear Link chuckle. “Unfortunately, it is, Princess.”

“Ugh!” she groaned, covering her eyes with her arm. “Give me a moment.” She closed her eyes again, and at once she felt her heavy eyes thank her, completely at peace, as if she could fall immediately back to sleep.

“Princess?” he knocked again.

She sat up with a start. She knew Link would never knock twice in a row after she asked him to wait. “Link? Did I fall back asleep?”

This time, she was positive he laughed. “I believe you might have.”

“I’m so sorry,” she hissed, grabbing her robe off the bedpost and wrapping it around herself, stumbling for the door. “I’m sorry,” she said again when she opened it, nearly falling into Link as she tried to get her sleep-addled brain to work.

He came into the room and looked around. “No need to apologize. This can’t be the most fun wakeup call to have to go through each day.”

She cleared her throat and carefully waved her finger quickly in front of her, ensuring that her breath didn’t smell of sleep before she spoke. Link turned to her and she felt the prickle on her neck, but she was still bleary eyed as she tried to talk to him. “It’s understandable. Ever since Twinrova, I don’t hate this routine as much as I used to. Though I would like a little bit more sleep in the mornings.”

Her eyes finally cleared enough to realize he was staring at her, his eyes looking her over in a way that she’d only seen a few times from him, and mostly when he thought she wasn’t looking. Last time he’d looked at her like this, she’d been wearing a ballgown.

This time, she realized suddenly, she was standing beside Link looking a mess. She’d normally remembered to tame her frazzled bed-hair or change clothes before the guards entered in the morning, but she’d forgotten. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but it was the first time she’d forgotten with Link as the guard. And he was the only one that she blushed around.

She was in her light robe, her heavier ones put away for the season; her shirt was too small on her, riding up over her stomach, but she welcomed that and a pair of shorts in the summer heat. Feeling her hair, she gently smoothed it down, though she could feel the wild tangles from a fitful, warm night. She tugged the robe closed and bit her lip, blushing as she closed her eyes and turned away, cursing herself again.

“Sorry,” she finally said, when she had the courage to look back at him. “Excuse my appearance.”

He took a deep breath and cleared his throat, finally coming back to himself. “You look…” he didn’t finish, and laughed softly to himself as red spread along his neck. Then he simply nodded at her and hurried to her closet to start his routine.

When Link’s back was to her, Zelda covered her eyes and groaned, wondering if she could tell him not to look at her long enough to at least switch into pants rather than shorts. But then she would be announcing that she’d be changing behind his back, and that made her feel distinctly less comfortable than simply enduring her embarrassment from looking like a bridge troll.

Link passed her, his eyes sweeping over her almost subconsciously before he kept up his search. He reached her desk and stopped, his fingers trailing along the stem of the Silent Princess.

Zelda watched him as she tied her robe closed rather than holding it before going over to him. “That’s the one we found last week. My experiments are slowing the decaying process.”

“Slowing?” he asked carefully, rubbing the petal lightly. “Was this here last night?”

“Ye—” she started before she froze. Last night, it had been withered and shriveled. And Link was keen enough to know that. Her heart raced until he finally glanced over at her, curiosity burning in his eyes, his hand still on the flower.

“No,” she finally said. “I had a different flower here that I was looking at. One that didn’t survive an experiment. I worked a little longer after you left.”

He stared at her for a long moment, but not with the same look he’d had when he’d seen what she was wearing. This was distinctly pensive, and she could see the wheels in his brain spinning rapidly. For once, she cursed that he was smarter than everyone gave him credit for. He thumbed the flower one more time before circling around the room to get to her bed.

She followed behind him so he couldn’t see the absolute stress on her face, or the way she kept fisting the roots of her hair as she thought about her carelessness.

He knelt down, and turned to her, catching her in her worried state. He froze on his knees, his brow furrowing. “Are you alright this morning, Princess?”

She let go of her hair and nodded. “Just tired. Are you excited to see you mother? When was the last time you visited her?”

Link took a deep breath and shrugged as he looked under the bed. “I’m not going. I was called on another… assignment.”

Assignments. That’s what they often called apprehending magic users.

Zelda sat on the bed and heard Link groan before he pulled his head out.

“Sorry,” she said quickly.

Link leaned an elbow against the bed and watched her from his knees. She grabbed one of her fringed pillows, needing something to distract her hands until she finally turned to him. “Is there any situation that you’d defy my father and just not do it? Just let them be in peace, or refuse to go despite your orders?”

“No,” he said, too quickly.

“What if it was just to make me happy? Would you do it then?”

That stopped him, and he hesitated, staring at her as he thought. She could see the conflict warring in him. He was like her in that he truly didn’t want to apprehend magic users unless they posed a threat, like anyone else. But his loyalty to the crown… it went beyond his loyalty to her, and she knew it. The answer to this question would only hurt them both, and she knew that too.

“No,” he finally said, looking away, ashamed of his own answer. He stood up without another look at her and went to the window and balcony.

She didn’t follow him this time, sulking on the bed instead, as if she’d expected a different answer from him. And when he returned, she looked back at him. “Do you think they’re all evil, like my father does?”

“No,” he said, again too quickly, too certainly. “I think we’re all capable of great evil, magic or not. The measure of a good person is one who doesn’t succumb to the pull of that evil. Magic isn’t involved in that decision.”

“So, you think I’m capable of great evil?” she asked, only partially teasing him.

“You’re the only exception,” he said with a grin.

She smiled and nodded, but it was laced with sadness. “Thank you. Be safe while you’re out there.”

He nodded in return. “I should be back by about midafternoon.”

“Okay,” she sighed, and he left without another word. Her head slammed back into the mattress and she longed for a way to protect more people like her.

She glanced at her desk where she could see her Silent Princess and groaned. She could barely keep herself safe. How could she protect others?

Zelda was sorely reminded of her powerlessness when her father made her go to the magic user’s ‘trial’ the next day, a trial that was preceded over by the King himself.

She stood on the balcony with Link behind her as she watched her father in his throne, head of the proceedings. There was never a fair trial, and the accused were almost always found guilty.

This time though, it was a little harder to deny.

“You are sentenced to burn at the stake until dead,” her father said after hearing everything he needed to. No matter how many times he said it, it was still spat with as much resolve and vigor as the first time he’d uttered those words.

“No!” the man yelled, rattling the chains around his bound wrists.

Link took a step forward as the room shook with the man’s rage.

Literally.

“No!” he screamed again, this time, his eyes darting to Zelda and then back to her father. “You and your family will die for what you’ve done to us!”

Zelda sucked in a breath and shuddered, but she gasped when she felt Link’s hand slide into her own. His other hand was on the sword at his back, always ready to move.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and he tightened his grip reassuringly, which she returned before they both watched the man’s fit before the throne as soldiers tried to get near him, only to be thrown back against the wall by the unseen force of his magic.

Biting her lip, Zelda debated whether or not to intervene, but her decision was made for her when she saw the man turn his attention to a display of weapons that began to shake loose and hovered at the ready, like projectiles.  

Zelda clenched her free hand, holding on to the weapons to prevent him from flinging them anywhere. It was difficult to hold so many objects still, but she kept them tight as she felt his magic tug against hers.

He was visibly rattled by the intervention, his head whipping around to try to find the source. But the distraction gave a guard the opportunity to try to apprehend him.

The man went to jerk his head, to send the guard flying, but Zelda dropped the weapons and curved her wrist, holding his head still so the magic was derailed, and the force hit the wall instead, sending a picture crashing to the ground, but not a person.

Gasping in shock, the man tugged at his chin. But the magic was like a hand, and he followed it straight to her eyes. He scoffed, his wide and accusing glare chilling her to the core.

Her hand fell and she let go of him, her heart stopping completely in that moment. He knew it was her.

She and Link tightened their grip on each other as soon as the man’s attention went to her, but the man let out another scream. This time, flames roared from his mouth, and straight towards Zelda.

She didn’t realize she was on the ground until she saw the flames above her. Link had her cocooned between him and the stone balcony, his head shielding her from the worst heat of the fire.

His reactions were fast though, and he pulled her to her knees, dragging her beside him to get her off the balcony. Zelda noticed a flag above had also caught fire, but Link had her out before she could discern any other damage. He didn’t care if the whole castle caught fire; Zelda was his priority.  

He pulled her behind him as other guards ran into the room, likely to deal with the fire. But that wasn’t Link’s responsibility.

He grabbed a passing guard. “Hey, tell the King I’m bringing the Princess back to her room for safety.”

“Sure, Link,” she said before hurrying into the throne room.

Link said no more until he’d practically pushed Zelda all the way back to her own room. Zelda was still rattled, and she let him guide her as her thoughts were stuck on the way that man had looked at her. What was he saying now? She couldn’t focus on the halls or the doors.

So she was beyond surprised when Link gently placed a hand on her cheek and let the other run through her hair.

“Are you okay?” he breathed, looking her over for any wounds or injuries. “Were you burned?”

“No, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.” He stopped and stared at her, eyes wide as he breathed through an unfamiliar sensation that threatened to steal the air from his lungs.

Link had been a royal guard for years. He’d worked closely with Zelda for quite a while. But he’d never been in a situation where she’d actually been in danger. Sure, he’d cleared bandits off the road, or taken down a bokoblin hunting party before they could reach the Princess, but he’d had those situations entirely under control. This? The flames had nearly hit her. If he’d been any slower…

“Thank you,” she whispered, stopping his train of thought when she took the opportunity to lightly brush back some of his hair that had fallen loose of his ponytail and into his face. She tucked a strand behind his ear and let her hand trail along his skin while he watched, too nervous to move with her that close.

Her door swung open, and Link was in front of her with his sword drawn before she could even gasp.

But he quickly sheathed it and dropped to his knee, head bowed as King Rhoam rushed in and grabbed Zelda.

“Are you okay? They’re taking that demon away now for an immediate execution. He was raving, threatening you. Saying it was your fault as they dragged him away. Link, I want you to stay alert for the rest of the day and night. Don’t leave her side, do you understand? I don’t trust him, even in death.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Good. I’m going to deal with that monster. I don’t want you there today, Zelda.”

“Okay,” she muttered as Rhoam stormed back out of her room, slamming her door violently.

She was glad she wasn’t going to be there. Rhoam was going to make it hurt.

“He said it was your fault?” Link asked, his brow furrowing.

Zelda shrugged and leaned against her desk, staring down at her Silent Princess. “He said it was the Royal Family’s fault. He must have meant me indirectly.”

Link moved up beside her, his eyes lingering on the flower as well before she felt the prickle of his gaze. “You’re trembling. You should sit and breathe. Deep breaths.”

She sat on the bed and pulled her legs up, adjusting the bottom of her dress over her knees. “I wish I could have been born normal.”

Link knelt beside her. “If you were normal, we’d never have met, so I’m glad you’re not.”

She smiled as he misinterpreted what she meant. She let him. He was cute, his eyes still wide with worry. “Yeah, that’s a perk.”

Link was on her heels the rest of the day while she did her tasks and entertained herself in the library. He was quiet and far more watchful, and Link’s orders were reiterated to him by the King that night at dinner.

Rhoam pointed his fork threateningly in Link’s direction where he stood. “You do not leave her side tonight; do you understand?”

Link now stood in the corner of her bedroom, staring at the wall like a punished child while she changed.

“My father was literal, huh? Not to leave my side,” she mused, opting for a longer pair of pants this time.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled.

“Are you going to sleep at all? Swap guards?”

“No.”

Zelda crawled under her blankets. This wasn’t the first time a guard had to be in her room overnight to watch for a threat either, but again, it was the first time it was Link. “You can turn now.”

He hesitated before carefully looking at her. “I’ll just patrol the room throughout the night. Any footsteps you hear will likely be mine, so try to sleep through it.”

“Okay,” she said, familiar with that speech from the past.

He nodded awkwardly before heading out to the balcony. He turned to her once more. “Goodnight, Princess. I’m glad you’re okay.”

She smiled at him, trying to reassure him that this was normal for her. “You as well, Link.”

But she couldn’t sleep.

She heard his footsteps, sure, but for the most part, she was distracted by that prickle on her neck brushing over her often, letting her know that Link was watching her. Each time, her heart sped up, and she cracked her eyes open if she wasn’t facing him. She was usually better at ignoring it, but she had a feeling it was distinctly because it was Link, and she was hyperaware of him anyway.

She’d finally drifted off, but she awoke again some time later. The prickle was there, but it was different, and almost entirely foreign to her. In fact, she knew he wasn’t looking in her direction because of how different it felt. This wasn’t the same sensation at all. Her hairs stood up on her arms and the back of her neck, and she was immediately tense. But she sat up and opened her eyes, blinking the sleep from them and rubbing them as if that would wipe away the memory. Perhaps it had been a bad dream that stirred her.

Then she felt Link looking at her. That was familiar.

She turned to where he stood half in, half out between her room and the balcony, leaning against the frame. He was silhouetted by the light of the night sky, so she couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t need to.

“You alright?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Just felt weird. Probably a bad dream. It was so strange.”

“Okay. Don’t wake yourself up taking to me,” he chuckled.

“I like talking to you.”

He smiled at her, his teeth catching the moonlight before he turned his head into it. “You too, Princess.”

She watched him for a while, admiring the way the light framed him and drew her eye. Her chin was against her pulled-up knee that she hugged close to her. It was strange to realize that she could watch him for so long without feeling bored or embarrassed, enjoying the many different ways the moonlight caught his face.

But then, she felt her neck prickle again, and she sat up straight. Link turned at her sudden movement.

“Link, come here!” she said, too frightened to whisper.

He was by her side in an instant, sword drawn from her tone. “What is it?”

“Someone’s watching from the dark,” she breathed, this time, too hushed for anything but Link’s ears.

“Where? Did you see them?”

“No, but they’re there. Trust me.”

He glanced at her for a second before he nodded and held his sword ready in his hand while he searched the room slowly and carefully.

But the feeling never went away from her neck, even when he wasn’t looking. She covered her mouth, unnerved by how strong it was. Like they were right behind her, breathing on her skin, drawing every goosebump out of hiding.

She shot forward with a shriek, crawling to the end of the bed before turning to stare at the empty space in front of her. The sensation was burning.

Link was at the foot of her bed, sword raised, waiting for the threat.  

She could feel it, this time right in front of her, hovering just in front of her face. She whimpered and started to crawl back until she’d run out of room, and then leaned back into Link while he watched her, confused. To him, there was nothing. There was no sensation, no prickle on his neck, no goosebumps. The only fear he felt was because Zelda was in such a panic. He almost wondered if maybe she were still dreaming.

“Zelda?” he whispered, one hand snaking around her waist to support her as she kept moving backwards until she was flush against him, even pushing him off balance in her attempt to keep moving back.

“It’s here. It’s right here. Link… please…”

He held her tighter, his arm completely wrapped across her waist, his eyes fluttering around the empty space on her bed. But he could feel her shuddering violently. And he trusted Zelda, even if he didn’t know what for.

In a single motion, he spun Zelda off the bed and thrust out his sword into the air.

An inhuman figure screeched out into the darkness, taking shape as it writhed in its pain.

Link jumped back at the sudden appearance, but he recovered fast enough to push Zelda back when the creature slinked onto the floor and began to crawl toward them. Link stabbed it again, and it howled.

“Where are the guards?” she yelled as Link kept pushing her towards the hall.

But at that, he stopped her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her behind him instead. They’d have come in with all the noise. Either they weren’t outside for some reason, or they were killed.

The creature calmed down again and stood taller than any person Zelda had ever seen. Link stepped forward with his sword, and this time, the figure sidestepped his stab and backhanded Zelda, sending her crashing into the wall with inhuman force before turning its attention to Link. Sharp claws pried at the chain-link armor Link wore while he struggled to get up, screaming as the claws began to pierce straight through the armor and started tearing at his skin.

Zelda blinked and crawled away from her wall, pushing the hair from her face so she could see. And she could see Link bleeding.

“Link!” she screamed, her hand flying out on instinct. The figure was thrown back as she released her power, and Link sat up, one hand over his wound as he stared at her in shock.

She stumbled, her head throbbing from the impact, but she made her way to stand over Link while he gawked at her.

These consequences were ones she was willing to deal with later. She wasn’t going to let Link die just to keep her secret.

The creature hissed and crawled up on to the wall before flinging itself at Zelda, taking her down to the ground with ease. Its sharp fingers, no longer a full claw, dug into the skin at her neck and she tried to pry it loose with her magic, which was stronger than her actual grip. But the creature was strong too.

Until it was screeching again.

Fingers slackened their hold on her, and Zelda looked up to see Link’s sword through its head as he clutched his bleeding wound. It slithered back and rematerialized on the other side of the room.

Link stood over Zelda. “You okay?”

She checked her skin, her hands coming back bloody. “I don’t know yet.”

It let out a roar as its shape changed again, and suddenly there were tentacle-like appendages, one going for Zelda and pinning her down, and the other clawing at Link’s armor again, the tip a sharp point that was relentless in its attempt to reach a vital organ.

Link screamed, stabbing futilely at the tendril as the metal of his armor kept being torn away like chipping paint.

“Link!” Zelda yelled again, managing to gather enough magic to push the creature’s arm off her. She scampered to her feet, slipping in a small pool of blood before she stood between the creature and Link, flinching back nervously.

She closed her eyes and drew from Link, feeling his gaze on her, feeling his presence. Feeling his wound. She was exposing herself for his sake, and that drew her powers behind her, rearing up.

Her eyes fluttered and her head throbbed, but when she opened her eyes, the creature was outlined perfectly for her rather than a dark mass of limbs, and she sent a burst of bright light at its center, holding it there until it became too much for them both. But she shook with effort, keeping it there a moment longer.

And the creature burst apart into darkness, disappearing like smoke.

She collapsed, and heard Link hit the floor right behind her.

Despite his injury, Link’s eyes were wide on her.

“You?”

“Me.”

The door burst open, as if the creature had been holding it shut, and a hoard of guards poured into her room, followed shortly by the king himself.

“Zelda!” he yelled, pushing past everyone. “What happened?” he shot a look behind him, “Get the physician! They’re hurt!”

Zelda turned to Link, her eyes wide and fearful. He clutched his wound tightly and forced himself to his knee, to bow before the king.

“We heard screams. What happened?” Rhoam asked again, looking around in an effort to find a body. “Was this magic, or did someone escape?”

Link turned to Zelda over his shoulder and saw a tear run down her cheek as she looked at her father, and then at Link.

“It was magic,” Link breathed, realizing just how much it hurt to talk.

“Someone was in my daughter’s room?”

“They…” he froze and turned back to Zelda and then to Rhoam. “It came through the wall behind the Princess’ bed. It was a figure at first, and I stabbed it, but it completely reformed as something else, like it wasn’t really alive. Each time, it got a bit stronger and then…” he stopped and winced, taking a breath and another opportunity to look at Zelda. She was shaking.

“It had the Princess down on the ground, its… arm thing on her throat. And I stabbed it through its head, which made it… well… die, I suppose. It turned to nothing and disappeared. Once it did, its hold on the door must have released because that’s when you came in.”

Zelda’s eyes were locked on Link, wide and afraid and surprised and thankful all at once.

“Link,” she breathed before relieved tears started to rush down her cheeks, and she threw herself into his arms. “Thank you.”

He returned the gesture, biting down the pain it was causing him to do so as one of his arms still covered his bleeding wound. “You’re safe,” he whispered, and she tugged him tighter at the secondary meaning.

Rhoam put his hand on Zelda’s shoulder comfortingly until the physicians ran in and began to take care of the both of them.

That was the last Zelda heard of Link for two weeks while he recovered. She’d spent about a week of that time recovering herself, but it wasn’t until the night shift when she heard his voice sound out behind her door.

“Princess?”

“Link!” she called, hurrying to the door and whipping it open. “You’re back? You’re okay?”

He nodded and patted his chest, as if that proved that it no longer hurt. And with that, she pulled him against her and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“Thank the Goddess!” she breathed, letting go to close the door and to back away from him, to give him space from her. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I… you must… I’m… do you remember what happened?”

“Yes.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

That almost made her more confused.

“You didn’t tell my father. You said you wouldn’t disobey his orders, even for me. You were meant to tell him about me. What I am. What I can do.”

“You were never the one in danger while I was obeying orders.”

“You’re not… afraid of me?”

He took a step forward and held out his hand to her. “I could never be afraid of you, Zelda.”

She smiled, relief flowing through her just before the rush of butterflies hit. She took his hand and squeezed it, and a deep, unfamiliar longing settled over her. For the first time since her mother died, someone knew about her. And he wasn’t running.

“How long?” he asked. “Have you had… magic?”

“Forever. My mother helped me before she was killed.”

“You had it then? When they ran all those tests?”

She nodded and let go of him so she could sit on the bed. He sat on the other end.

“I saw the flower. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Was my story that easy to see through?”

“No. I believed you.”

“Just like you did when I told you that thing was in front of me. Why?”

He ran a hand along his face. “I don’t know. I just trust you.” He chuckled to himself. “A lot makes sense now: your attitude towards the deaths, the flower, that day with the horse…”

“You noticed that?”

He grinned. “The tournament?”

She grimaced. “Yes, but he was going to kill that man!”

“That dinner a few months ago?”

“Okay, but she deserved that!”

“My mother getting better?”

Zelda looked away and nodded.

“Thank you. You risked exposing yourself for my family.” He scooted a little closer. “Did you actually do something to that fire breathing guy?”

“I did.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m dangerous,” she scoffed, glancing at her door as if her father might pop out at any second.

He reached out and ran his knuckles lightly along the side of her neck where a discolored scar marked where the creature had grabbed her. “I trust you.”

She flinched before settling into his touch. “I think it goes without saying that you can’t tell anyone. My trust, and my life, rest entirely in your hands. And as uncomfortable as I am with that concept, you’re possibly the only one I actually trust with my life.”

Link smirked and blushed, but he tried to play it off. “You don’t trust your other guards?”

“I do, but if anyone other than you had been in here with me, I believe they’d have told my father about me.”

“Well,” he said, standing up. “You don’t have to worry about me. I wouldn’t tell the Goddess herself if She asked.”

He looked in her closet, remembering he had an actual job to do.

Zelda followed him, as she usually did. “If the Goddess asks, you’re allowed to tell.”

“You don’t even need guards, do you? If I wasn’t there, you’d have been fine.”

“Well, I couldn’t find it, so I did need you to stab it. And you’re a very good distraction.”

He stopped and raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Oh, no, I meant you were good at distracting it! Not that you’re a distraction to me.”

One of his full-toothed smiles graced his face. “I didn’t take it that way, but now I know.”

Groaning, she regretted how often she talked, especially to him.

The path around the room was familiar to her by now, so as Link went to check under her desk, she waved her finger and pushed the chair out of the way for him.

He froze, and it was her turn to be triumphant.

Link gently placed a hand on the chair and glanced under the desk before pushing it back in, determined not to look at her, not to give her that satisfaction.

But she already had it.

[queen-scribbles]

In the Aftermath

Thank you, anon, for the excuse to write a hurt/comfort thing I’ve had rattling around the back of my brain for a while now. (also, as always, *insert both is good meme*) Cafune(the act of running your fingers through the hair of someone you love) and marcid(incredibly exhausted) Big-time spoilers for the end of Greedfall, if anyone’s avoiding those ;)

---

Get back up.

It was the advice Kurt had most thoroughly drilled into her head, whether shouted from halfway across the training yard or said with quiet, gruff encouragement as he hauled her to her feet; Get up, Green Blood, we’re not done yet.

Her heart pounded in her ears, the stony ground dug into her back, her breath kept hitching on a near-sob. She highly doubted this sort of situation was what he’d had in mind when giving such advice, but it still helped.

She needed to get up. Needed to get back to... everyone else. (To him.) Tell them it was done, the danger was past.

A spike of grief pierced through her weariness, and Vesper sniffled as she rolled on to her side. Away from Constantin’s lifeless body. (Her doing.)

Get back up.

The thought galvanized her, and she rose first to hands and knees, then pushed through the heavy weight of exhaustion to stagger to her feet.

She felt more than heard En ol míl frichtimen’s voice, reverberating the air and the very hollows of her chest. “Thank you, On ol menawí. I know your sacrifice was great.”

She didn’t, couldn’t look back. Vesper gave a sharp nod, tears stinging her eyes, and mustered the energy to start for the exit. Her legs ached and she could feel her hair sliding loose, the encircling braid sagging against her shoulder, but she kept going.

It took three tries in her current state to scale an embankment that would barely slow her pace on a normal day. And the effort of standing was enough to make her sway and brace a hand against the wall. But she kept going.  With stumbling steps and ragged breaths, she pressed on toward reunion with her friends. To tell them it was safe. To see that they were safe.

Vesper paused at the thought, at the sudden fear they might not be, and it was in that moment she caught the scuffing of footsteps, rushed and uneven, coming from the mouth of the passage out. She made it a few more weary, stumbling steps in that direction before the approaching figure came into view.

He halted as she had a moment ago, and a sharp, shaky exhale echoed off the walls. “Vesper.”

“Kurt.” Everything else faded away under a brief, blinding blaze of relief, and Vesper stumbled across the remaining gap between them. He staggered, just a step, at the force of her crashing into him, and his arms were around her in a fierce and equally relieved hug by the time she sagged against his chest.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Both too overcome, she supposed, as she clung to him like the world would end if she didn’t.

Kurt was the one to ease them apart, but not far. Just enough to scan her face as his hands brushed her jaw, shoulders, arms, waist checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” Vesper managed, voice wobbling. It wasn’t entirely true; there were a few places that would very likely bruise over the next few days. But her only serious hurt from this fight wasn’t physical. “Kurt, I...”

He paused his examination, hands on her elbows, and followed her gaze to her gloves, the right one heavily stained with dark blood. “Constantin?” he asked, voice rough, tone gentle.

A choked and ragged sob was all the answer she could give, but it was enough.

Kurt’s jaw tensed and he wordlessly pulled the gloves off her hands, dropping them to the ground as he wrapped her in another hug.

Vesper let herself melt against him, trusting in the steadying strength he offered.  “I killed him.” The words came out numb and saying them didn’t make it feel any more real. It was just a nightmare, she’d wake up and have more time.  “I wanted to save him,” she whispered hoarsely. Naïve fantasy it may have been, she’d still hoped, and failure had her voice unraveling into sobs. “Like damn near everyone since coming to this island. From beasts, bad decisions, or whatever else, we’ve saved so many people, Kurt, why not him, too?!”

Kurt’s hold on her tightened, one arm around her shoulders and the other hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. There was a heavy pause before he murmured against her temple, “I don’t know, Green Blood.”

It was a fair answer, and what she expected, and the only proper response she could give was a fresh wave of sobs, poorly muffled against the side of his neck. He just held her, neither speaking. She was vaguely aware of a faint bump and her knuckles brushing stone as one of Kurt’s shoulders came to rest on the tunnel wall.

Vesper’s tears were just beginning to abate when there was the echo of more footsteps and Aphra’s voice, rough with smoke, “De Sardet?”

“Here!” Kurt called back for her, briefly tightening his embrace once more before Vesper stepped back, sniffling and wiping at her tears with the backs of her thumbs. There was no hiding the tracks they’d cut through the grime on her face, but she could try for at least some composure speaking to her friends. The silent assurance of Kurt’s hand lingering on her shoulder helped immensely.

It wasn’t much of a surprise when Sìora was the first to come into view. “Are you alright?” she asked, hurrying forward, eyes full of concern.

Vesper took a deep breath and inclined her head in a half nod. “I’m not hurt.” She was proud of how little her voice shook. 

Sìora squeezed her arm. “We will see to your cousin, carants,” she said softly.  “You worry about yourself.”

What composure Vesper had managed to gather buckled under the compassion in her friend’s voice, and she was blinking back tears again as she nodded wordless thanks.

Sìora sent a significant look at Kurt over her head, and Vesper sensed his nod in response as his arm slid around the back of her shoulders again. He nudged her toward the tunnel mouth while Sìora and the others filed deeper into the cavern.

They only made it a couple steps, however, before Kurt’s gait went briefly uneven and he was just a little too slow biting back the accompanying hiss of pain.

Vesper wheeled on him, grief overridden by concern. “Are you hurt?” she demanded, voice cracking as she realized she hadn’t checked yet and took her turn running a worried eye over him.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” he said, catching her hands to still them.

“Kurt.”

“Those big lizards got in a couple good whacks before we put them down,” Kurt relented, “but it’s nothing worse than bruises, and it was this or them trample Aphra.”

She stood a moment, hesitant to believe he wasn’t downplaying for her sake.

“Oh, my sweet Excellency.” Kurt released one of her hands so he could tip her chin up to meet his gaze. “I’ll mend. No need to fuss.”

“And... if I want to anyway?” Vesper asked softly, voice shaking with exhaustion.

He kissed her forehead and ran his fingers through her hair to tuck it back from her face. “Later. For now, Sìora had the right of it; we should worry about you.”

Concerned as she may have been, Vesper found herself too tired to argue, and let him resume guiding her down the mountain to their camp. She still noticed how heavily he was favoring one knee on their way, and quietly hoped he didn’t put off taking care of himself, either. Especially not for her sake.

The air in the camp was subdued, and while she did receive a few grateful glances, Vesper was relieved no one seemed to be treating this as a victory. Even with what he’d done, she didn’t think she could have borne seeing Constantin’s death treated as cause for celebration. They'd barely reached her tent, Vesper just ducking inside, when a young man in heavily battered Coin Guard armor approached.

“Beggin’ pardon,” he began, clearing his throat, “Captain, Commander Sieglinde wanted to speak with you a moment.”

Kurt’s scowl bordered on legendary, even for him. “Commander Sieglinde-”

“Can expect him shortly,” Vesper interrupted, resting a hand on his arm to forestall the thunderous protest in his eyes.

“Green Blood-”

“She’s still your commander--and friend--Kurt,” she pointed out as they watched the messenger scurry back to the Coin Guard encampment. “You should speak to her. It sounds like it won’t take long, and I’m not so tired I can’t remove my own armor. Go.”

He hesitated, reluctance to leave her clear on his face.

“I promise I’ll be alright. I’ll clean up some and still be here when you get back.”

Kurt sighed and cupped her jaw with one hand. “You’re sure?”

Vesper covered his hand with hers and nodded. “Sure.”

He held her gaze a moment longer, then turned with a half-growled sigh to go find Sieglinde.

Vesper watched him a moment, still concerned about him walking on that leg (was it bad enough to count as a limp? she’d say so, but he didn’t want her worrying about him), then stepped into the tent.

Someone had decided she was important enough to have one of the low cots, shared from another faction because she never bothered for their regular excursions. She dropped her swordbelt and blades, (badly singed) cloak, and sturdy leather jacket on the cot, her arms heavy and slow as the exhaustion crept back in. Or tried to; she didn’t want to sleep, not yet, and pushed it away as she washed best she could in the basin of water and undid her hair. She sat on the ground rather than shove her gear out of the way on the cot, and leaned against the frame as she stared unseeing at a tuft of grass, trying to convince her brain to focus.

Her thought were so foggy she wasn’t really sure how long she sat staring at nothing before Kurt came back, but it was enough time he was out of his armor as well. He paused in the tent’s doorway at the sight of her, but Vesper spoke before he could.

“How do I tell my uncle?” She broke her dead stare at the ground to look up at him. “What do I tell my uncle?”

He crossed the tent and sat next to her. (Slowly, and she saw the wince he tried to hide). “Another worry for later. Once you’ve had some sleep.”

I don’t want to sleep. “Then it’s worrying about you again,” Vesper said with a significant glance at his “just bruised” knee. “Because if I don’t fill them with something, my thoughts will drift to topics that may well drive me mad.”

Kurt studied her a moment. He knew what she meant, she was sure. What else could she have done, or done differently, or not done to change... what happened. (nothing, but she knew that. She’d helped clean up or cover for enough of Constantin’s messes to know he was very capable of making his own decisions. She just didn’t want to hear that right now.)

Finally he gave her a look that was... not quite a sympathetic smile, but definitely understood. “Come here.” He pulled her over into his lap and Vesper went without resistance.

She paid careful attention for any sign of injury beyond his leg; tenseness or wincing, but there didn’t seem to be any. He shifted a little against the corner post of the cot, but that seemed more finding a comfortable position than something hurting. Exhaustion pulled a little heavier with that assurance as she settled against his chest.

Kurt’s chin pressed the top of her head and his arms came to rest around her middle. “...If it’ll help, you can worry a little.”

He didn’t even sound grudging about it, but the giggle that wanted to escape at that concession came out as more of an almost-sob. It was followed by another as she twisted sideways to tuck herself even closer, his heartbeat in her ear.

The sound of it made her chest ache with relief all over again. “I’m just glad I didn’t...”

Lose you.

Kurt wrapped his arms around her more tightly, one rising to card his fingers through her hair. “As am I,” he murmured, voice quiet as hers had been.

The thought flitted though that they’d be more comfortable on the bed, but tucked safe and close as she was, Vesper had no desire to move. And despite her best efforts, the exhaustion finally won, pulling her deep under tides of sleep.

 Thankfully, the nightmares she’d been dreading didn’t follow.

(Yet.)

---

(It’s not until they wake up in the morning, still sitting on the ground, and Kurt literally can’t bend that knee bc it’s gotten too stiff that Ves remembers she knows magical healing, whoops )

(and don’t talk to me about the parallels of Sìora helping with Constantin’s funeral after Ves helped with her mother’s bc it gives me too many emotions)

[i-love-side-characters]

Do You See It Differently?

Pairing: Various Relationships

Characters: Various Keeper of the Lost Cities Characters, One-Time OCs

Genre: Angst

Summary:

“Once you’ve seen there is another perspective, you can never not see that there’s another point of view.”

― Ellen Langer

TW: Death, Character Death, Injuries, Blood, Disease Mention

Word Count: 1.8k words (1,817)

Additional Notes:

You should be proud of me, this is all canon!

Or at least based on canon events

Okay you shouldn't have expected so much of me

This is terrible i am so sorry

no beta we die like nixx's happiness when me and pyro are coming up with angst

Tag List: Let me know if you want to be added/removed!

@bronte-deserves-better @councillor-bronte-is-best-boy @cadence-talle @an-absolute-travesty @bookwyrminspiration​ @keefeinnit @mallowmeltz​ @ultralazycreatorfan @everyonehasthoughts @mistythegenderqueermess @imaramennoodle @rainbowtay-11 @we-need-more-empathy @catboyruy @we-wont-dissapear @we-have-no-bananas-today @loverofallthingssmart @a-lonely-tatertot @thesandsofdawn @enbies-and-felonies @fire-sapphics @jadenightthewriter @alabestrine @sunlight-in-a-bottle​ @damischs @pyrokinetic-loser @pyrarayn @towishuponashootingstar

Read below the cut!

you've read the stories.

the ones with the obstacles beyond compare.

the true loves and dramatic battles.

the heroes, valiantly fighting against evil.

they're inspiring tales, to be sure.

but have you read the other stories?

the ones about the villains?

about the families?

about the kings?

about the children caught in war?

those, my dear, are the stories that truly matter.

they are the stories that go untold.

they live and die with them.

and that, is the true tragedy in this tale.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

"careful!"

her lips twisted into a smirk, dark eyes tracking her daughter sprinting through the city.

"brilla! come back here!"

the little girl laughed, turning smoothly and running back into the arms of her mother. "mommy, did you see how fast i was?"

"yes darling, you were so fast!"

she squealed, wriggling out of her arms, running back into the crowded market.

"ms. sakh?"

she spun around, squinting at the amour-clad guard. the queen seal glowed brightly, it's shimmer enhanced by the golden city. "yes?"

"if you could come with me." his voice stayed even, solid. a queensguard through and through.

she didn't move, twisting to see her daughter playing in the peace fountain. two guards shadowed her, not interrupting, but keeping a trained eye on the little girl. "what's wrong? what happen?"

the queensguard shook his head. "the queen needs to see you, ma'am." he reached out, gently steering her towards the glittering palace.

she glared at him, wrenching her arm away. "tell me what's going on."

his face darkened, eyes filled with sadness. "i'm so sorry to tell you this, ma'am. but at 4:30 today, your wife, brielle sakh, was killed on duty at an elven residence in the lost cities."

the woman's eyes widened, her basket falling to the floor in a dull thud. tears spilled over her cheeks as she stepped back, shaking her head. "no. not brielle―"

"i'm so sorry." he said, reached out again, gently guiding her toward the palace. "let's go."

it seemed darker somehow. the palace. the city. it no longer shimmered bright and gold. the shadows shifted and grew, twisting darker and darker, until they lunged forward and swallowed her whole.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

he stepped out onto the stone balcony, glaring out over the city.

he could feel every pulse in his body, the tattoos scrawled across his head. they shouldn't carry weight. the elder kings decided that they didn't want the weight of a crown on their heads. that's why the tattoos became what they were.

apparently their plan didn't work.

he could feel the weight of every black swirl, every black scar.

and he could see them too.

he had already visited the hospital. he watched the shamans cover another body. children's limbs mangled, mothers and fathers crying. soldiers standing stiff, black eyes watching every body leave the room and desperately trying to convince themselves that they didn't know who was underneath the white sheet.

and now he was watching hundreds, thousands of black bodies digging at the rubble, each one helping the other rebuild.

"dimitar."

the queen walked over to him, placing a rough hand on his shoulder. "you need to sleep."

"no, i don't." he twisted away from her, feet pounding down the stone steps. the cool wind thrashed his cloak back. mud squelched under his feet, sharp bits of debris cutting into his gray skin.

they bowed as he walked by, some clapping their arms to their chest, but all looking with black, unfathomable eyes. he cut through the crowd, stopping in front of their leader. "romhil― ro."

"father."

he nodded, drawing himself tall. "get back to work."

he bent over, ignoring the ache in his back as he moved the debris. he was with his people now, not with the others. and it was a sight to see. a king, shoulder to shoulder with a peasant.

and only one thought caught the king's mind.

this can't go on.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

the pages felt heavy. rough.

it was his favourite book. he had memorized it's every detail. the roughness of the cover, worn after years of use. the last few pages, lighter than the others due to a lack of paper. the gold lettering, smudged where his the oils on his skin had touched. and it was the book itself too. the way the words flowed, like music, ensnaring you and pulling you in further.

he smiled and stroked the cover, noting the ink stains from over a thousand years ago. his sister had done that. he'd yelled at her for weeks.

he stood up, nearly tripping over the stack of scrolls tossed on the carpet, wincing as the document's edge tore clean off. he'd have to get it repaired.

dust flew in the air, the delicate rolls dusted in gray. they had been sitting there for ages. maybe it was time to read one again.

he reached down, shaking off the dust and settling back in the armchair, twisting himself until the lumpy chair was perfectly supporting his body.

and then he was thrown into the story again, grabbing him and pulling him in closer, until there was no world, just him and his words.

the sun rose and fell, and rose again, and fell, and time didn't matter anymore because he was safe.

and then he wasn't.

a sharp knock sounded at his door, making him flinch and drop the newest tome. it slammed onto the ground, knocking over empty cups and crushing papers.

"uh― i'm― i'm coming! just uh― give me a minute!" he yelled, hands shaking as he stacked the books as best he could. "coming! i'm―" he gulped, hurrying to the door. "i'm here, i'm― bronte?"

"fallon." the councillor said, trying to smile. "may i come in?"

"no. i mean― it's quite a mess― you probably shouldn't. councillor."

bronte nodded, his jeweled crown glowing dimly in the evening sun.

"what do you want, bronte?" he sighed, desperately trying to comb his hair back.

he sighed, running a hand down his face. "did you know about luzia, fallon?"

"what about luzia?"

"that she's been committing treasonous acts that violate several treaties and―" he hesitated, and then, much more softly. "and could put her in exile?"

his soft, dark eyes met piercing blue ones. even though the councillor was younger, he still cowed the other. he stumbled back, slamming the door closed, turning back inside. his dark eyes scanned over the room, the piles of papers, the overturned mugs, the drawn curtains, the mess, the chaos.

how the mighty have fallen.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

it was a sharp sound, echoing off the walls. she smirked, throwing another stone towards the ground. and then a deeper echo, the echo of footsteps over the hard stone.

she tilted her head, her dark hair falling over her pale face.

two footsteps. one ridged and firm, the steps of a guard trained from birth to kill. the other was uneven, accompanied by the soft clink of chains.

she shook her head, shoving the sound out her mind.

but it came back.

the footsteps pounded into her brain, her mind analyzing each shift in the pattern, a click of a chain at a different time, a step falling a second too late. a breath too heavy. a rustle of armour.

a low hiss escaped her throat, pale skin breaking as she clawed at her arms. she closed her eyes, but it was still bright, too bright, loud, too loud.

and then the smell. the sweaty, musty odor, mixed with the sharp smell of blood. but something else―something different―

she tilted her head back, lips curving into a lazy smirk. the fragrance wafted inside, the salty smell of the sea, the scent of the wind. outside.

the guard appears first. black eyes, a controlled stare. near seven feet tall. deadly weapons at his side. scars ripple down his face, down his neck, two inches wide and dark against his scaly skin.

he barely paid her any attention, turning around to motion to the others. back was the click of the chains. two more guard appeared in the door, with someone else between them.

someone new.

she watched them carefully chain him to the lumenite wall. they didn't know what they had just done. what they had just started. they just stalked away, leaving just the two of them.

their eyes met. his lips curved into a smirk, nodding at her from his own little cell. it was hard to keep herself from smiling. she had grown old here. lived and died here. seen nobody come in and nobody go out.

it seemed that would change.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

she gasped for air, bolting up in bed. this wasn't new. another nightmare, more fires, more sugary smells. another night without them here.

small tears trickled down her cheeks, landing on the silky sheets.

it had been a weeks.

she threw off the covers, crawling out of the bed, letting her feet sink into the soft carpet. light streamed into the dark bedroom, moving gracefully with the watery sky. the roads of the city were empty now. everyone was asleep.

"except you." she muttered, glaring at the city.

she couldn't say she hated it here. it was gorgeous, not to mention luxurious, and the people here couldn't be nicer. but it wasn't right.

she hummed under her breath, sliding down to the floor, smiling as a large ball of fur slunk over to sit on her lap.

"hey there marty." she whispered, stroking his fur. "i bet you miss home, don't ya? they don't have temptation treats over here."

he blinked his large, dark eyes at her, meowing softly.

"yeah, it's weird for me too. but we're safe." she said, sending a commanding glare the cat's way. "sophie's got us covered, alright?"

another soft meow pierced the silence.

"mhm. i completely agree. she is definitely in love with that teal-eye guy."

the lights flicked off outside, the sounds of shuffling feet echoing through the room.

she nodded, giving the animal a small kiss. "yeah, it's very interesting. and don't be scared. mom and dad are fine, i promise."

now the lights in the streets were turning off, bathing the city in a blanket of darkness. "they'll be fine."

she climbed back into the bed, pulling the sheets tightly around her. shadows danced over the gray-purple walls, fading into the darkness of the night.

she hadn't made a wish like this since she was 6. her grandma, and something called cancer. all she had known back then was that it killed people. that was 7 years ago. and now she was wishing again.

hopefully this time it would work.

•·················•·················••·················•·················••·················•·················•

so now, what do you think, my dear?

do you still think the king is a monster?

that the recluse does not care?

that the child is safe?

do you see the others in this tale?

do you see it differently?

[thinking1bee]

When It Reigns Part 13

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Kryptonian!Reader, Parent!Reader, Parent!Kara, Estranged Parent, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Humor, Bad Dreams, Memory Loss

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

Lena walked into her brother’s lead lined mansion moments before the sophisticated cloaking device turned the entire structure invisible. It was a rather genius idea, something that Lena would rather die than admit to that homicidal maniac. No one knew of its existence besides Lex and their mother. The only reason why she had access to it was because of L-Corp. After assuming ownership of the Luthorcorp company and rebranding it L-Corp, Lena went through all of Lex’s private files and found the blueprints for this. Curiosity got the better of her and followed the coordinates to the massive, but empty, plot of land that noted. At first, she thought that the mansion hadn’t been built yet, and was just about to leave, when she noticed the breaker box near the telephone pole. Why was there a box when there was nothing out here? After flipping the switch, the mansion materialized right before her eyes.

She never made a habit to visit there. Too much of it reeked of Lex, and there was this creepy portrait of their mother whose eyes seemed to follow you around the room. That was more than enough to convince her not to go back. However, with everything that happened with you, Kara, and Angel, she made an exception. She hid Angel here after picking her up from the arcade and she left her personal driver to look after her. Of course, he was sworn to secrecy and paid handsomely for his troubles. Now, Lena walked the halls as she searched for Angel.

“Angel?” she called out. Lena heard the clacks of the crutches as she rounded the corner and waved shyly. Immediately behind her was her driver.

“Take the rest of the day off,” she said to him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Angel watched him leave before coming closer to Lena. Her eyes got big when she saw the bruise on her neck.

“What happened to you???”

Lena offered a small smile. Her neck was throbbing, and Kara had been right about the painkillers. She took some before leaving her lab, but they weren’t strong enough. She would need something a bit more potent.

“I had a little accident at the lab.”

“Are you okay?” Angel asked. Lena nodded, though the movement did agitate her injury.

“Yes. I’ll be fine. How about you? How’s the leg?”

“It itches so bad. I wish I had a stick or something to shove down there and just scratch the crap out of it.”

Lena chuckled as she put down her things. “I can only imagine, but you’re not in pain?”

Angel shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, did you know Gary used to be a chef? He made me homemade ravioli! It was so good!”

Lena did know in fact. Prior to hiring him, she had an extensive background check ran. She wanted no unwanted surprises and if she even had to dip into his medical records, then so be it. So yes, she knew that Gary used to be a chef. She also knew that he had pancreatic cancer. Secretly, Lena was paying for his treatments while also sending additional money on top of his regular paycheck so that he could take care of his family. Lena smiled.

“Well, I am very happy that Gary has taken such good care of you. I should do something for him.”

Angel smiled for a second more before her face fell. Lena watched as she rubbed her arm sadly.

“What’s wrong?”

“When can I talk to my moms?” Angel asked.

Lena could hear the worry in her voice, and she could feel the anxiety roll of from her in waves. Being here for her must feel like an expensive prison, and Lena felt bad. But it was necessary for her protection. You and Kara would want her as far away from the danger as possible.

“Your momma just wants to keep you safe. She knows you’re here.”

“Then why hasn’t she called?”

Honestly, Lena didn’t know why, at least not for sure. She could guess but Angel deserved more than just speculation. Lena wished that she could just tell her the truth about everything but how would it help?

“I wish I could tell you, kiddo.”

Lena was about to say something else when her phone chimed. She reached into her bag to grab the device and saw that she got a text from Kara.

I found Y/n. Keep Angel safe.

Lena sent a quick message back before she turned back to Angel.

“We have some time to kill. Is there anything that you want to do?” she asked. She at her bag and phone down as she took off her heels.

Angel watched her movements closely before smiling.

“Can we watch the Wizard of Oz?”

Lena smiled. “Of course! I love that movie.”

She turned on her heel and left for the living room. Angel watched her leave too, her eyes shifting to her phone quickly as a plan formed in her mind.

***

Kara had just seen Reign and was quick to whip her phone out of her boot to text Lena. The moment the text was sent, she put the phone away and flew to where Reign was destroying a building with her laser vision.

“Stop this now!” Kara commanded.

Reign smirked before turning to face her. Now that she wasn’t wearing her Worldkiller suit, Kara could easily see that it was you. She wore your face, and she was twisting it from a face associated with love and warmth, to one that struck fear in people’s hearts.

“Oh, your back.”

Kara didn’t know what to do. While she knew that you weren’t Reign, she also didn’t want to fight you. You were in there somewhere and she didn’t want to hurt you. Her heart ached at the predicament she faced.

“I can’t let you do this, Reign!”

“Really? And what will you do to stop me? Fight me? Would you really do that knowing that Y/n is still here?”

Kara clenched her fists, her eyes blurring over with frustrated tears.

“Don’t make me do it,” she whispered broken heartedly. “Please don’t.”

Reign laughed maliciously. “How pitiful. The Girl of Steel begging me not to fight? You have been in my way since day one. It would pleasure me immensely to see you break!”

There was no way around it. She would have to fight Reign and risk hurting you in the process, but she wanted to try one more thing.

“Please Y/n, please!” she begged. More tears fell down her cheeks. “I know you can hear me. Please fight her!”

Reign laughed again. “Yes, please Y/n. Come save the day!” she said mockingly.

Kara steadied herself and squared her shoulders. She wiped the tears away roughly. If this what Reign wanted, then she got it.

So be it.

***

You were wonderingly aimlessly through the forest. How long has it been since you were here? Minutes? Hours?

Days…

Years…

You didn’t know anymore. Wait…

Why were you here? You stumbled over a branch and fell on your hands and knees. The twigs and uneven ground bit into your palms as you breathed from exertion. Sweat trickled down your forehead as your vision swam. Were you always alone? You looked around at the fog and shadows. They stretched on for miles and miles, and it felt like you’d been walking for a lifetime. You had the feeling that you weren’t always alone. You were here with someone.

What was their name..?

What was your name? How come you didn’t know who you were? Something like that would be very important. You knew that you had a life outside of this forest. You had a wife, Kara. And you had a daughter.

What was her name..?

At that thought, you felt your heart do a flip and you got up shakily to stand. You have a wife. You have a daughter!

You have a daughter! You have a daughter! You have a daughter!

What is her name?!

Your breathing increased as panic overtook you. You had to keep moving. You had to keep moving forward and you had to remember your daughter. Right, left. One foot in front of the other.

Think, Y/n. Think!

“Why can’t I remember her name?!” you screamed. You were crying now, your hands grabbing your head roughly as you struggled to remember.

It was this place! You were losing your mind! It was making you forget everything that you were. It was killing you slowly.

Say your daughter’s name! You know it!

“Angel!” you finally screamed. “My daughter’s name is Angel!”

You dropped to your knees and grabbed a piece of fractured rock. Using it, you wrote Angel’s name over and over on the trees and boulders. You scrawled her name on everything, the tears blurring your vision as they fell freely. You wrote like your very life depended on it. You had to stay strong. You had to survive this because if you didn’t, Reign would win, and you wouldn’t see your family ever again.

Part 14

[harrytpotter]

RIGHT PLACE, WRONG TIME — Part IV

Plot: Y/N finds herself trapped in a time in which she doesn’t belong only to learn that maybe that was her place all along.

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slightly sexual scene with mild cursing.

A/N: Gif isn’t mine (took it from google, so please, if it belongs to you let me know so I can credit) and since my mother language isn’t English, I apologize for any mistakes in advance! :)

As the weeks went by and you still haven’t heard back from Dumbledore, you did your best to avoid James. You hardly even saw him and when you did, you barely spoke two words with him. You knew he had asked Lily why you were shutting him down because she told you and did ask that herself. You couldn’t exactly explain the reason why it was better for everyone and why it was the right thing to do, so you started shutting her and all of your friends down as well. Not as hard and as completely as you did with James, though. You were growing more miserable and lonely every day, wishing you could just go back to the future time where life was way more gentle and kind at you. It was the fourth night in a row that you had purposely skipped dinner to avoid seeing James. You were at Hagrid’s cabin, paying a visit to your dear friend and trying to cheer yourself up a bit.

“Yeh sure yeh don’ wanna eat anythin’, uh Y/N?!” Hagrid offers you a plate full of homemade cookies.

“I’m still stuffed from lunch, but thanks Hagrid!” You politely decline his offer, a warm smile on your face. Hagrid excelled in many things, but cooking wasn’t one of them.

“Alright, then! So yeh gonna tell me why yeh look so bummed?” He shoots a concerned glare at you.

“Just stressed out with school stuff, no biggie,” you smile reassuringly at him.

“James was just here the other day an’ he didn’ look quite alright ‘imself as well,” he shrugs.

“School is particularly hard this year I suppose,” you frown, getting up. “I should probably go, it’s getting quite late. See you, Hagrid!” You hug him goodbye.

Despite clearly having more to say about the previous subject, he hugs you back, leaving you breathless for a while given the strength he put into it. “Take care, Y/N!”

On your way back to the castle, you decide to make a little detour to the kitchen so you could help yourself of some leftovers from dinner.

“You’re one hard woman to track, love,” James’ voice startled you in the middle of a pitch-dark hallway.

“Merlin’s beard, James! Do you always have to sneak up on me like that?!” You whisper, taking your hand to your pounding heart.

The moonlight suddenly flooded through the windows, as the moon came out from behind a particularly massive cloud, and you saw a piece of paper clutched on James’ hand.

“I thought you had swore you’d never use that to keep tabs on me,” you point at the marauder’s map with your head.

James sighs heavily. “I know, but that was before you shut me down completely out of your life for no good reason. You’ve been even distancing yourself from Lily, Marlene, Sirius, Remus, everyone, Y/N! I’m worried about you. We all are. What’s going on with you, babe?” He cupped your face with his free hand and stared worryingly into your eyes, frowning. You could tell his mind was racing, trying to figure out what could possibly had happened to you.

You look away from his gaze and close your eyes, trying to come up with an excuse. Despite the little moment you two had shared in the astronomy tower, none of you had exactly being vocal about your feelings.

“You know what? We should make a trip to the kitchen and steal some chocolate pudding, what do you think? I bet some sugar in your system will make everything better!” He smiled brightly at you, starting a warm wave inside your chest.

“I believe it’s worth a try,” you smile sweetly back at him, unable to turn his puppy eyes down and doing your best to ignore the annoying butterflies in your stomach. You see, that’s the problem of finally admitting your feelings to yourself after keeping them hidden for so long: despite your best efforts to brush them off and hide them again, your body keeps giving you constant and awfully vivid reminders that they’re there.

***

The house-elves were happy to give you some snacks and sweets as the two of you entered the kitchen. You and James sat next to each other on the big island that laid in the middle of the room, eating, joking and throwing food at each other. Just like old times. The two of you didn’t leave the kitchen until you were both feeling stuffed.

Heading back to the Gryffindor tower, you were giggling at something James had said when you both heard footsteps nearby. Realizing he had left his invisibility cloak back in his dorm, James quickly pulled you to a very dark and hidden spot in the nearest corner of the hallway, behind an armor and beside a large shelf. Amidst the rush of having to improvise, he ended up with his both hands on your waist and his face almost glued to yours, since the space was limited and neither of you could move. His breath was uneven, just like yours, as he stared at your lips with a longing look on his eyes. Without thinking, he crashed his lips into yours, beginning a fueled, passionate kiss. You were immediately sent at a state of pure euphoria, all of your senses intensely and solely focused on this moment. Every inch of your body felt ecstatic, as if it had been waiting for this to happen for your entire life. As the boy deepened the kiss with a burning roughness you were already out of your mind, intoxicated by the feeling of having him touching you, kissing you. James slid one of his hands to your thigh and squeezed it slightly whilst taking his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, light bites and soft hickeys.

“Fuck, Jamie...” you suck the air between your teeth trying to suppress a moan, for James’ amusement. You could feel the satisfied grin he gave whilst his lips still sucked the skin of your neck, this time a little harder than before.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks you mischievously, even though he already knew your answer.

“Don’t you dare to!” You shot desperately at him and pulled him closer, tangling your hand in his hair and pulling it roughly. You heard him gasp in surprise and pleasure and you bit your lower lip satisfied.

You honestly didn’t know what would’ve happened if it wasn’t for Filch’s interruption. “I know there are students out of bed! I heard giggles! And I bet it’s Potter, Black and Lupin!” He exclaims, breaking you and James out of your desire-driven trance. You quickly took James’ hands from your body and recomposed yourself.

“Argus, please, we’ve been looking around this hallway for the past fifteen minutes and didn’t find anyone! Just go to bed for Merlin’s sake!” You heard the annoyed voice of a sleepy Minerva McGonagall.

You and James stayed behind the armor for a little while after the two of you had heard their voices fading away, just in case.

“So, I think we need to talk about what just happened,” he says with a wide smirk, scratching his head.

“Nothing happened,” you’re quickly to point out. The guilty was eating you alive as you thought about Harry and Lily.

“Oh, but it would’ve, love. It really would,” he shoots you a cocky grin.

“Look, Jamie...” you start, lowering your head as you were unable to look him in the eyes. “That can never happen again, okay? Never.”

“Come on, love...” he says, getting closer to you and holding your chin gently between two fingers, lifting it so you could look at him. “You can’t deny that something is going on between you and I. And it has been for quite some time now,” he says tenderly, leaning in slowly.

You frown sadly and turn your head away, holding back the tears of hopelessness that were starting to form in your eyes. “What’s wrong, love? Don’t be afraid,” he cups your face with both of his hands, leading your gaze back at him.

Seeing the hopeful look he had in his eyes nearly broke you for good. “I can’t do this, Jamie...” you whisper weakly, not even remotely resembling the strong and fiery girl you’re known to be.

“Why not? Look, if that’s because of Lily, you have nothing to worry about. I never really liked her and I know you know that. In the beginning I was motivated by the challenge and a bet Sirius and I had made, of course, but then... about two years ago I realized who my heart had really chosen. I did nothing because I was too much of a coward, I’m afraid,” he states.

The tears were now rolling furiously down your face, despite your best efforts to control them. “James, please stop talking.”

“I need you to hear me, love. Just listen to me, would ya? Please,” he smiles nervously at you.

“You’re not making any sense, for Merlin’s sake! You belong with Lily, that’s how it’s supposed to be! You’ll fall in love, start dating, get married and have a kid!” You frown hopelessly.

“Y/N, did you hear what I just say? I can’t be with someone I don’t love! And I know you’re not saying that for Lily’s sake because she doesn’t fancy me either!”

“You wouldn’t understand, but believe me when I tell you this, Lily is your soulmate! Besides, I’m seeing someone,” you didn’t wanna lie to him nor hurt him like that, but you had to take his mind off of this somehow.

His face dropped as he let go of you. “Oh... That makes sense. You don’t want anything to do with me because you’re already in love with somebody else. I don’t blame you, I knew you wouldn’t wait around forever for me to man up,” James shrugged. “But you could’ve just saved your best mate here the embarrassment by mentioning it earlier, couldn’t you love?” He grins sadly, putting his hands at his pockets, and turned around, leaving you alone with an aching heart in the middle of the dark.

***

It had been a week since your little episode with James and now he was the one avoiding you. You knew you should clear the air with him, but you thought you could use this time to get your head straight and focus on what you really needed: finding a way out of this pace of time. Despite the fact that you were making things right with Lily and Marlene, your friendship with the marauders was going downhill. Sirius and Remus barely speak to you anymore since they were always by James’ side and you did break their friend’s heart. You sigh whilst looking yourself in the mirror after getting ready for your classes: you were the perfect depiction of misery. Heading down the stairs to begin your day, your feet suddenly stop when you hear a familiar voice coming from the common room. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you couldn’t face them right now.

“Come on, Prongs. Lighten up a bit, would you?” Sirius’ voice sounded concerned.

“I am very good Pads, can’t you see?” James answers him bitterly.

“I think you should talk to Y/N again, tell her how you really feel. You should try to work this out with her, mate,” Remus advises.

“I’ve already tried that, Moony! She didn’t care!”

“From what you’ve told us, you just reassured her that you don’t have any feelings for Lily. Have you tried telling her exactly how you feel about her?” Remus asks wisely.

“What good could it possibly make? She‘s already in love with someone that’s not me,” James sighs.

“I find it hard to believe,” Sirius states. “It’s just so obvious that she has feelings for you, I don’t know how your blind, stubborn self can’t see it! Plus, we’re her best friends and she never even once mentioned some guy she fancied to us.”

“That’s not the kind of thing a girl discusses with her male friends, Padfoot,” Remus says as if it was obvious. You imagined him rolling his eyes at your friend at the end of that sentence.

“No, but she would’ve mentioned it to Lily and Marlene...” James says with a realization tone.

“What are you waiting for? Go ask them then and find out who’s your competition!” Sirius exclaims vigorously. “That, of course, assuming that he’s real and Y/N isn’t making it up just so she can get herself rid of you.”

“I thought you said she had obvious feelings for me a while ago,” James says nervously.

“Don’t mind him, Prongs. He’s messing with you. Just go find Lily,” Remus says and you can hear the three of them exiting the room through the portrait hole.

“Bloody hell!” You curse at yourself, knowing very well that Lily would cover for you, much for her dismay, but you’d need to come up with a plan soon because James wouldn’t be fooled by that forever.

You wandered through the castle’s hallways with your mind racing, deciding to skip breakfast so you could think about your current situation. That seemed to be all you were doing lately. In fact, all you really wanted to do was scream in frustration and punch someone in the face. It was beyond unfair having to choose between a kind of an all-consuming feeling that happened once in a lifetime and the sake of your friends and their future as individuals and as a group. Being here was becoming heavier and heavier each day that went by. How much longer will you be able to resist James and deny your feelings? How much longer will you have to torture yourself? What if Dumbledore couldn’t fix whatever caused the time-turner to malfunction? What if you were bound to be trapped here for good? All of a sudden you felt sick to your stomach as a last and despairing thought crossed your mind: what if you had to witness James and Lily fall in love with each other? You felt like throwing up, so lost in your own distresses that you only noticed you had stumbled upon someone when you were both on the floor.

“Merlin’s beard, I’m so sorry!” You say whilst getting up.

“I think you forgot your head back in the tower, L/N,” Amos Diggory joked, sitting.

“I suppose I did,” you smile sheepishly at him, offering your hand to help him stand on his feet. “Again, I’m really sorry. You okay?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” he winks casually at you. “You don’t seem quite alright yourself on the other hand,” he adds, noticing the worried frown on your face.

“Oh, about that, I...” you start, stopping suddenly when you noticed James standing at the opposite end of the aisle, frowning at the sight of you and Diggory alone in an empty corridor, your hands still in the Hufflepuff’s. “Please just go with it, I’ll explain everything in a minute,” you whisper to Amos, as you grin widely whilst staring into his eyes and resting your wrists on the back of his neck, pretending you hadn’t seen the marauders glancing at your direction.

“Alright, I think I can carry on with whatever this is, but I have to say I’m genuinely intrigued,” he lifts a brow at you, grinning and leading his hands to your waist.

Before you could say anything else, James passes by the two of you like a hurricane, Sirius and Remus on his trail. You swore you could catch a disappointed look from Remus as they followed their friend.

“Potter seems to be in a bad mood today, doesn’t he?” Amos drags your attention back to him and you’re met by a suspicious look on his face. “I’m willing to bet you know why.”

“I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to suck you into my personal drama, I just... I don’t even know what to say,” you lean against the wall, sighing heavily.

“Try me, L/N. I’m a pretty good listener if you ask me,” he shrugs, leaning next to you. “Besides, you can trust me not to spill your secrets around,” he winks at you.

“I know you’re trustworthy, Diggory,” you smile at the thought of how much he reminded you of your late friend Cedric Diggory, who also happened to be his son. “You’re a Hufflepuff.”

He laughs genuinely at your joke. “Bring it on then, L/N.”

“Alright,” you sigh. “So, I don’t know if you can tell, but I kind of have feelings for James...”

“Yeah, I might have noticed that. And so did the entire school,” he bumps his shoulder into yours. “But go on.”

“I thought you had said you were a pretty good listener?” You raise your brows, crossing your arms in your chest.

“Sorry, please, continue,” he encourages you.

“Anyway, I do have feelings for him but I can’t act on them for a number of reasons that I can’t really talk about,” you close your eyes, resting your head on the cold wall. It felt good to take it off your chest for once, and opening up about this felt liberating.

Diggory stared at you confused. “Pardon me if I’m intruding, but I’d say your chances with the guy are pretty good. I mean, it’s quite clear that your feelings are reciprocated. For example, that day during quidditch practice when he saw the two of us talking... he did look pretty annoyed to me and today, well, you just saw what happened,” he shrugged.

“I know that he harbors feelings for me as well, and that’s the point. He can’t. We can’t have feelings for each other. I’m not his destiny and neither he is mine,” you tilt your head to your right a little so you could look at Amos.

“How can you possibly say that? We never know what tomorrow has in storage for us,” he states.

“Except that I do, and that’s exactly why I can’t encourage his feelings nor my own,” you sigh hopelessly.

“I suppose that’s the part you can’t discuss?” He smiles sympathetic at you.

“Exactly,” you frown sadly.

“How can I help you?” He asks suddenly. “Well I suppose that’s why you flirted with me a while ago, right?! You don’t strike me as the kind of girl who’d randomly throw her arms around a guy’s neck in empty hallways. Specially having told the guy in question that she has feelings for another one moments later,” he adds mockingly after seeing the confused expression on your face.

“Right,” you frown sheepishly. “I kinda told James a few days back that I was already seeing someone, right after he kissed me.”

“Wow, harsh,” he frowns playfully.

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t know what else to do, I sort of panicked,” you shrug.

“You can count on me. But before I leave to class, I just need to ask you something. Is this secret motivation of yours really worth the trouble of sacrificing a potential relationship and a few friendships over? Think about it, L/N. See you in transfiguration in a few,” he says before disappearing into the castle, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

——————————

Taglist: @treestarrrrrrrr @fanfic-enthusiast-collector

[drabbles-of-writing]

There Goes That Moonboy

This, so far, is NOT part of a series lmao

AO3

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Overwhelmed.

Amity felt that a lot.

And this time, it wasn’t even Luz’s fault.

Well, none of Amity’s stress was her fault. It was the fault of the spell she’d infected herself with. Or something like that. Amity couldn’t really think of all the details at the moment.

She didn’t even know what she was thinking of at the moment.

Failure? Work? Belos? Lilith? Magic? Loneliness?

She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that she was feeling a lot of it. And she wasn’t enjoying any of it.

Panic attacks were nothing new to Amity.

She’d started getting them well before Luz came back. Granted, they were smaller then.

With the added stress of holding Luz captive, things hadn’t exactly been going well for her.

Though holding Luz ‘captive’ was really just holding her at the Owl House and bribing Hooty to keep her inside when nobody was around.

It worked most of the time. Most.

And honestly, it didn’t do much to calm Amity. What with Luz’s frequent trips between the Owl House and a jail cell. And with no signs of the human becoming her old self again.

She was used to the escapes, the blood, the cackles, the crazed looks, the sense of dread.

At least, she thought she was.

,

Amity slammed the door to her office shut, leaning against it as her heart raced.

‘It’s coming,’ Her head said.

‘What’s coming?’ She replied.

‘It’s coming!’

Amity reached out for something, anything. She stumbled around her office before hitting the chair to her desk. She gripped onto the back of it for dear life, her breathing uneven and heavy.

She was sweating profusely, and her arms and legs were trembling. Her legs almost gave out underneath her before she stumbled into her chair.

Amity put her elbows on her desk and held her head in her hands, gasping for breath as her throat tightened.

Her head hurt, the light of the candles were too bright, and she felt almost detached from her own body.

Amity shot out a hand and knocked over the candle. It sputtered and died instead of catching anything on fire, thankfully. Leaving Amity sitting alone in darkness.

The witch took in sharp breaths, feeling tears spilling down her cheeks. In an attempt to calm herself, a rumbling engine-like purr started in her throat. She kept it low but consistent, praying it would ground her.

One moment she was discussing the new guards with Lilith, the next, she was nearly falling over as a feeling of panic enveloped her.

Lilith had asked if she needed help, but Amity only waved her off. She couldn’t show weakness here. Not even to her.

Especially not to her.

Amity didn’t know how long she sat there in the darkness. With her eyes squeezed shut and her head screaming indescribable terror at her.

What she did know was that eventually, it started to calm. It slowed, and Amity could finally get in a real breath without feeling like she was suffocating.

And still, she didn’t notice the door opening. She didn’t notice the figure reaching for the kris dagger off the wall. Or them stopping and abandoning it completely.

She didn’t notice the figure pausing, just behind her chair with a tilted head, one eye glowing an eerie gold.

“Hecate?”

Amity yelped and jerked upwards. She whirled around and fell out of her chair in the process, crashing onto the floor with her limbs in a tangled mess.

Luz stood over her, her face betraying that of curiosity. For once, not of the morbid kind.

“Luz!” Amity exclaimed, rushing to her feet. “What are you doing out of your ce--your room? I thought I put Wrath in charge!”

“Bonebreaker wasn’t there.” Luz said simply, her regular eye flicking over Amity’s face.

Amity must’ve forgotten. She was probably on the way to ask him to guard Luz when her attack hit. Of course, what wonderful timing, she thought bitterly.

Luz was in her regular ripped and worn outfit, very reminiscent of her old clothes. But they were blue instead of purple, and a gold clip at the front held a torn up cloak over her shoulders.

It was almost comforting to see she wasn’t trying to sneak around in a disguise this time.

“Why are you crying?” Luz asked, confused.

Amity shot a hand up to her face. Sure enough, it was still damp from her relentless crying earlier. There were even a few renegade tears still coming from her eyes.

“Oh, it’s-it’s nothing.” Amity said, quickly trying to wipe at the tears threatening to spill over. “You should go back to your room. I’m--”

Luz lifted a hand, reaching for Amity. Why the witch froze up, she didn’t know. She let Luz brush her hand over her cheek, holding a breath.

Luz wiped at the dampness on Amity’s face for a few moments. And looking at her mildly worried and diligent expression, Amity could almost forget how broken her human had become.

It felt...nice.

Amity leaned into Luz’s touch before she could stop herself, pointed ears drooping. Her eyelids fluttered as well, shutting briefly.

Titan only knows how she managed to resist the urge to purr aloud. For once, not to calm her stress.

She felt Luz’s hand pause for a minute before cupping her cheek and stroking a thumb under her eye. Amity lifted a hand to gently grab at her wrist, relishing in the contact.

“Hecate?” Luz said quietly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Amity’s eyes snapped open.

The witch pulled away at breakneck speeds, nearly falling over again. She pulled Luz’s hand away from her face. She could feel her cheeks lighting ablaze.

Luz was still staring at her, in an expression Amity would call polite confusion.

“Er, yeah, yeah,” Amity said quickly, glancing away. “M’fine.”

She realized she was still holding Luz’s hand and abruptly let go, holding her hands behind her back.

“Mm, c’mon, Hecate,” Luz said, her slightly unnerving smile slowly coming back to her face, like her worry had never even existed. “We’re friends, aren’t we? You don’t have to lie to ol’ Azura.” She said, giving a wide grin as her golden eye flickered.

“I’m...I’m not.” Amity lied, avoiding her gaze. “Please, let’s just get you back to your room.”

“Okay, okay.” Luz relented, her shoulders relaxing as she raised her hands in defeat. “I’ll get something out of you yet, Hecs.” Luz said cheerily and possibly vaguely threatening.

“Sure, whatever,” Amity sighed, sagging in relief.

She saw Luz’s hand inch towards the kris dagger on the wall as they tried to walk out. Amity twirled a finger in the air and lifted a crumpled piece of paper with her magic and tossed it at Luz. It hit her arm and discouraged the human from grabbing it, withdrawing her hand with a grumble.

“Not a chance, Luz.”

,

Amity wasn’t too surprised when, barely two hours later, the alarm had been raised of Luz’s escape. It was a weekly occurrence at this rate.

Nothing could hold that girl for long.

Calling it an ‘alarm’ would be overplaying it at this point. It was more like a warning. A heads up to be on the lookout for her.

Amity had retreated to her office to see if it had been broken into. It wasn’t uncommon for Luz to sneak in, either to cause mischief or steal something Amity had confiscated, usually her dagger or staff.

The witch was surprised to find that the dagger was right where she left it. All that had changed about her office was that there was a note taped to her desk.

Meet me in the woods. You’ll know where I am.

She had drawn a smiley face sticking out its tongue at the end.

Amity, thoroughly confused, and perhaps a little concerned, folded the note and put it in her pocket.

She grabbed her mask before leaving the office. She informed a guard that she would be out searching for Luz, and to tell Lilith not to worry.

Barely a few minutes later, she was flying out of the Emperor’s Castle by her staff, sitting sideways on it with both feet hanging off one side.

Luz was right. It wasn’t hard to find her at all.

,

The floating balls of light were a clear indication where Luz would be. A part of Amity felt peaceful at seeing Luz’s first spell again.

She landed just inside of the clearing Luz had chosen and paused. She got a good look at the place.

It was where she and Luz had defeated Grom, just over a year from today. She could see the tree far off on one side of the clearing, still imposing and covered in blossoms.

It felt so long ago now.

Luz was standing by the edge of the cliff, facing the sky. It was well into the night, and the moon was but a sliver. The light spells surrounding Luz blended into the sky like stars.

Amity took off her mask and tucked it into one of the large pockets of her cloak. She got rid of her staff in a flash of magenta magic, but remained on standby.

“Luz?” Amity called, slowly walking into the clearing and gazing around at the lights.

“You came!” Luz, chuckled, turning around. “Knew I could count on you,” She said, summoning her staff that Amity really needed to confiscate.

Amity gasped and recoiled at the sight.

Luz’s normal pupil had transformed into a crescent, mimicking the moon behind her. If her single golden eye was unnerving, this was worse.

The gold glow of her left eye had become star-like speckles, the rest of it an inky blackness. If you were a romantic, it looked as though the night sky had been placed in Luz’s eye.

“You’re eyes!” Amity breathed, rushing over and stopping just short of touching the overly proud human. “Oh great Titan, are you okay?” She worried.

“What? I’m fine,” Luz blinked, like it was no big deal. “It’s just from the spell. It’ll go away eventually.”

“Spell?” Amity repeated, taking a step back. “What spell?”

Luz’s smile widened, and a faint glow came from her staff.

“This one,”

Luz lifted her staff and slammed the end against the grass. The ground underneath Amity lit up and she gasped, realizing now that Luz had carved a massive, faint glyph into the dirt beneath them.

Amity summoned her own staff, expecting the worst as a white and blue light enveloped her.

Instead, the lights around them began to shift and turn, shrinking and becoming near exact replicas of the stars.

They swirled around them for a moment before dispersing into separate clumps.

Amity momentarily lost her breath at the sight.

The lights had transformed into the constellations From the ones she knew by heart to ones that belonged to a different realm. They danced and spun around her, making her feel like she had been dropped into the sky itself.

“Well?” Luz said, startling Amity when she came up next to her. “Whaddya think?” She asked hopefully, a wide smile plastered on her face.

Luz’s eyes unnerved her still, but they held a type of joy she hadn’t seen on Luz in so long. Even her eerie grin almost seemed...genuine.

Amity smiled softly and offered a small chuckle. She let her staff vanish.

“I love it,” She said faintly, looking back towards the constellations. “Thanks for this, Luz.”

Luz appeared surprised. Though she made no comment as Amity watched the constellations dance among them.

“Out of curiosity, what exactly did you have to do to make this spell?” Amity asked, a hint of fear lacing her tone as she barely spared a glance back at the human.

“I didn’t kill anything, don’t worry.” Luz said, waving her free hand. “I know you don’t like when I do that, so I decided to be nice today.” She said, sounding proud of herself. 

“Even if it is a lot more fun, and easier, to get the magic from other creatures.” She mumbled under her breath.

“Well,” Amity sighed, finally looking back. 

Two constellations that looked like dogs ran by her, illuminating her in the darkness.

“I appreciate it.” She said, her frame finally loosening and allowing her to relax.

Luz faltered for a moment, her coy and righteous look turning to that of what Amity could only describe as shy. Which was practically unheard of for Luz.

The human blinked and the stars in her left eye glowed faintly, moving slowly among the blackness.

“Yeah,” Luz said, her voice strained. She quickly cleared her throat and shook her head. “I mean, of course! I couldn’t leave my dear Hecate with nothing after the sad state I saw today.”

“I told you, I was fine.” Amity huffed, her face falling.

No matter how much she wanted to pretend it was all okay, Luz would always bring her back to reality.

Hecate.

How she despised that name now.

“Sure, sure.” Luz said, walking around Amity and holding out her staff to the lights.

“Have you ever seen the stars that make serpens?”

“No, I haven’t.” Amity shook her head, playing along. “What is it?”

Luz’s staff glowed and a constellation shaped like a massive snake flew down around them, it’s tail tapping Amity on the nose and startling her.

“I don’t quite remember where I know this one,” Luz said, drifting a hand in the lights that made up the snake and watching them part around her fingers. “But I like it. Reminds me of you, what with your snake staff.” She teased.

Amity giggled and could feel a faint heat coming to her cheeks.

“I don’t know how Fang would feel about that,” She said. “He might complain.”

“Eh, let him.” Luz shrugged, turning her staff and letting the snake join the other constellations.

Amity looked back towards the cliff face, reminding herself of what had happened here.

The tree shifted in the breeze, still pink and thriving. She must’ve stared at it for a bit too long, because Luz suddenly popped up right in front of her.

“What’re ya looking at?” Luz asked, missing Amity’s undignified jump as she followed her gaze towards the tree.

“Oh, just...you know, reminiscing.” Amity said, studying Luz’s face as she inspected the tree in the distance.

“...do you remember making that tree?” Amity asked, hesitantly.

“I made that?” Luz said disbelievingly, glancing back at Amity. “Hecate, please. I’m the Good Witch Azura! I think I would remember if I made a tree like that.” She brushed off.

“Well, I’m Hecate, and I say you did.” Amity insisted. “It was about a year ago. After we defeated Grometheus together. Do you remember Grom?”

She didn’t know why she was trying so hard. She knew that insisting upon reality only made Luz retreat even further into her Azura shell. It was already a miracle she allowed Amity to call her by Luz, her ‘nickname,’ as she’d call it.

Perhaps a part of her wanted to at least try.

Or maybe she was just getting desperate, like Lilith said she was.

“Grometheus?” Luz repeated. “I think I named a pixie something similar to that. I can’t remember, but it’s wings were very nice earrings while they lasted.” She said gleefully.

“No, no, not a pixie,” Amity shook her head, deciding to ignore the morbid implications. “The monster under Hexside. Grometheus the Fear Bringer. Please, this has to sound at least a little familiar.” She begged, and Luz finally looked at her, though she clearly wasn’t paying much attention to her words.

“I was chosen as Grom Queen, and you volunteered to take my place, remember?” Amity said, standing before Luz. “You...you were my fearless champion.” She said, straining with the effort to keep her voice from breaking.

Luz’s face changed to that of perplexity, frowning a bit.

“Fearless champion?” She murmured, getting lost in thought.

“Yes, that was you!” Amity said, perking up excitedly. “You fought Grom. It, er, didn’t go as planned.” She admitted nervously. “You fled the school. And I couldn’t leave you like that, so I faced Grom with you.” She said, faintly smiling at the memory.

“It...it was fun.” She said fondly. “We both insisted that we were gonna at least fight him dramatically. I was surprised you could dance at all.” She conceded. “And, and after we defeated Grom, this tree was made, and we--”

“You were afraid,”

Amity paused, finally focusing in on Luz again. She was looking at her, thoughtful. Her head was turned and she seemed as surprised at her words as Amity.

“I...what?”

“Your fear.” Luz clarified. “It was rejection, right?”

Amity stared, stunned.

“I remember,” Luz said quietly. “I thought about that one for a while.” She continued, her gaze glazed over as she stared at nothing at all. “I wondered how important someone could be that your greatest fear was their rejection.”

“...of all the things,” Amity nearly laughed at the absurdity, shaking her head. “You remembered my fear?” She smiled sadly. 

“Of course you would, your Luz. The girl who forgot her own name but still remembered her favorite spell.” She said wistfully.

Luz came back to the present. Her eyes blinked and the crescent and stars vanished and returned to normal. The constellations winked out of existence, being replaced with flickering light spells that were close to dying out.

“You’re crying again.”

Amity raised a hand to her face. And sure enough, there were tears falling.

“Oh,” Amity said, almost numb. “Sorry,” She apologized, hurriedly drying at her eyes. “I guess I just didn’t think--”

Luz lifted a sleeve and wiped at her cheek. Amity, just like before, went still. She let Luz wipe away the dampness. It was a few moments before she spoke.

“Don’t apologize,” Luz said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Those words, as small as they were, struck Amity’s core.

For five months, all Amity had been doing was apologizing. To Lilith, to Belos, to the wardens, and to Luz herself. Pleading and feeling sorry for Luz had become a routine.

And despite all that...Luz held no resentments. Not for anything.

Amity grabbed Luz’s wrist in a tight hold, already feeling herself beginning to shake.

“Hecate?” An alarmed Luz said.

Amity squeezed her eyes shut and held Luz’s hand close, fresh tears pouring from her eyes as she tried to hold back sobs.

Great Titan, she was a mess.

Her shoulders slumped with the effort and she lowered her head.

She couldn’t hear what else Luz was speaking, everything was ringing.

She felt herself being enveloped in something warm and a bit scratchy.

Amity lifted her head and stared at the tree for a moment before looking down, seeing that Luz was hugging her tightly.

“Luz?” Amity choked out.

“It’s okay,” Luz said, more of a statement than anything. “Everyone has a bad day or two.”

She said them so casually, so sincerely, that Amity was almost convinced she’d imagined the horrors she’d seen for all those months. That she was back with her old Luz again, and everything really was okay.

Amity clutched onto Luz tightly, her eyes shutting as she felt tears freely fall down her cheeks. She buried her face in Luz’s shoulder to muffle her sobs, trembling.

“You’ll be okay,” Luz said, cupping the back of Amity’s head. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Amity couldn’t find it in her to be bothered by what that could’ve meant.

[tcstu]

January’s Honorable Mentions

This month’s piece generated some incredible stories. I chose this work of art believing there were numerous tales buried within it, and I was not disappointed. Each entry took a completely different perspective on what is happening in this scene. If you enjoy one of the Honorable Mentions below, please let the writer know. I’m sure they would love to hear from you.

As a reminder, I celebrated the new year by featuring one of my favorite artists, @hydraart​​. If you’ve been following this contest, you may remember that this artist was also featured in January of 2019 and 2020. This seems to now be a New Year’s tradition, and I am happy to be able to continue it this year. If you would like to see the pieces previously featured by this artist, you can view them here:

January 2020

May 2019

January 2019

The piece for this month was titled, “Hide and Seek.” Here it is along with the Honorable Mentions for this month:

(These entries are listed in the order they were received and do not reflect a system of ranking.)

Untitled

Written by: @emilyelizabethfowl​

Ten

She couldn’t tell whether the breeze she felt came from nature or from Its wings.

Nine

At least she didn’t have to worry about the smell betraying her hiding spot.

Eight

Sound, however, was a different matter entirely.

Seven

But her legs were starting to feel numb…

Six

It certainly wouldn’t hurt to move them, just a little, would it?

Five

Just a teeny tiny little bit…

Four

Slowly, carefully, she stretched her left leg.

Three

Then, bringing it back, she stretched out her right one.

Two

But she did it too fast, too carelessly.

One

Losing balance, she fell down. Her elbow knocked into the giant sheet of metal she was hiding under, the sound carrying far.  

Zero

Barely seconds later, giant talons dented the metal, ripping it away easily.

Found you!

Aw, shucks.

She stood up, turning to face the creature.

“Best three out of five?” she offered.

It’s already past your bedtime. A deal is a deal.

Ah well. It was worth a try. She climbed the creature’s back, clinging tightly to the feathers longer than she was tall.

She’d win their next game for sure!

“Eleanor And The Great Bird”

Written by: @evanthenerd83​

“Do not move,” Eleanor whispers to herself, thin frame curled inward.

The flapping of wings drowns out her panicked breathing. Dust swirls around. Bits and pieces rain down, and they sound like bullet casings striking metal.

Eleanor could recognize the sound anywhere. It is as familiar as her grandfather’s wartime movies. Black and white visions of the dead.

“Do not move,” Eleanor reminds herself, eyes scanning the words scratched into the steel.

The great bird passes overhead, and the entire shard shakes with its might. She bites her lip. A moment of terrible silence.

It is circling around. Coming back.

“Do… not… move,” Eleanor repeats, unaware that it doesn’t matter.

The shelter is just a jagged piece of roof. It isn’t big enough to hide her, not all of her. Not her shadow.

And unfortunately, the sun is burning in her direction.

The great bird has locked on.

The great bird makes one last turn…

Sit Com

Created by @daalseth​ ( Doug Aalseth )

"Ma!!" came the anguished cry.

"What is it?" replied his mother, her voice drenched in fatigue.

"Billy smashed up my 172 scale model Medieval Human Village."

"Now Tommy..."

"It wasn't me," shouted Billy. "I wouldn't do nothing with your stupid model."

"Yes it was," shouted Tommy waving his wing at the table. "That's your feather laying right there."

"Nuh-huh."

"Uh-huh."

"Nuh-huh."

Their mother rubbed a talon against her throbbing forehead. It was going to be a long day. Maybe it was time to just kick the little bastards out of the nest? She looked at the two chicks arguing. "No," she said softly, "I'll give it one more day."

“Whatever It Takes”

Written by: @winterrose42​

I dug my fingers deep into the ground as I curled tighter into myself, squeezing my eyes shut in a vain effort to concentrate. This had to work- in the end it’s all I could do, whatever God that’s left forgive me. I could feel the beast looming impossibly large behind me, breath wuffing over the ruined plains like winds before a storm. A low growl thundered from its throat and I dug harder even as my fingernails protested and bent from the dirt being shoved underneath them. I couldn’t fail. I had to find them, and to do that I needed to make it out alive. To do that…

I felt it suddenly, claws slicing easily into the dirt deep enough that I’m sure someone could make a bomb shelter of it later. The tips of its heavy wings brushed the uneven ground, dragging stone and steel along as they swayed in rest. Feeling the pull of its head was the worst; it had seen me that much I knew, darting from toppled building to ruined tower to hastily put up shelter as  fast as my legs could carry me had not been fast enough. It’s great shriek had nearly deafened me as it shook the earth landing just a few yards away from where I had crouched. The few warriors who had gathered to head off the beast- they all knew in their hearts they hadn’t a chance of making it.

That’s what I kept telling myself as the beast’s arm raised and came crashing down to sweep away fallen debris and lean to steel sheets and scattered weapons, armor and men alike, leaving them to try and bury themselves yet again. Collect their wits and reorganize perhaps. I couldn’t afford to give them that chance. Setting everything in motion the wings swept back, the arms came up, the eyes focused forward, sharp beak opening wide with vocal chords straining to make its signature call- and so it was done.

All at once I severed the connection, feeling impossibly small and weak and useless once again as the ground shook like an earthquake with the speed at which the beast fell, screaming its indignation at being puppeted for as long as it had, intelligent eyes snapping forward to those running for better cover, myself sitting still and forgotten for the moment in light of more easily accessed prey. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, whispering out a prayer of forgiveness to carry on the artificial wind for those who cared to hear it.

Eventually the shaking ceased, noise quieted, beast placated if only for a moment making it possible to crawl out and stand up though I dared not turn around. Sticking to the irrational belief that my imagined carnage was worse and therefore I was absolved of blame I squared my shoulders and turned west.

I had survived and would continue to do so through whatever means necessary. I would survive. And I would find them.

Maran-do

Written by: @spoldhamindieauthor​ (S.P. Oldham)

Maran huddled beneath the toppled roof of a ruined dwelling, sitting now upon the ground, broken and battered. All of the buildings in this tiny hamlet told a similar story; one of destruction and wrath.

Maran heaved a silent sigh. He had sent out Maran-do, his mind partner, when the day was still bright, her task to bring down anyone he had not dispatched. Very few would be daring enough to try to evade her. It would take a remarkable being indeed to slip past Maran-do unnoticed, avoiding her wicked talons. He had never known it happen yet.

Maran-do hung in the air now like a dark, oppressive shadow. She had been the foretelling of death for so many souls, Maran had long since stopped counting.

He had never imagined she would foretell his own death, too. Maran frowned, trying to recall such a thing happening before. What could possibly cause a mind-partner to turn upon its host? It was unheard of.

He knew the tiniest movement would be enough to alert her to his whereabouts. Resisting the urge to break cover and run, Maran struggled with ordering his thoughts. That was the biggest problem. Maran-do was inside his head as well as outside it. She knew his own mind better than he knew it himself.

How could he possibly escape? Wherever he went, Maran-do would go with him. Why had she turned on him? In a rare moment of self-pity, Maran gave a sniff.

It was enough. He could feel the air outside shifting, darkness looming over his hiding place like an unstoppable, oncoming storm. For the briefest instant, Maran felt the terror and utter helplessness so many had known before.

A large talon tapped impatiently before him. Inside his head, the words ‘Come out, come out, wherever you are’ blossomed into life like clouds of puffed smoke, Maran-do taunting him with his own phrase.

“Why?” Maran breathed, “Why do you turn upon me?”

More words of smoke, ‘I am to be mind-partner to a greater one than you, little Maran,’ using the childhood endearment, ‘Your mind is weak. You take much pleasure from death and killing. I belong to a greater mind than yours,’ she repeated.

She raised her foot. Maran flinched as, above him, the beams and planks of the rough wooden roof began to splinter. Instinctively he crouched, making himself smaller, as if he could avoid being crushed.

He had just enough time to wonder how she could survive without his mind to host her. Then he was gone; snuffed out like a bare candle in a blizzard.

Maran-do stretched her wings, letting out a silent shriek as her head turned to the west. A new host awaited her, a new name forming in her mind even as she rose from the earth. A path of flight was shown to her fathomless mind, stretching like an umbilical cord across the skies.

Maran was dead.

So was Maran-do.

Tethered

Written by: @wildler

I heard the spirits before I saw them—their strangled moans carrying through the smoke-stained air. Carys whinnied beneath me, her ears twitching in all directions.

“Easy girl,” I murmured, stroking her neck. “Only a little further. Should be the next clearing.”

The sound continued, growing stronger as we pushed closer to where the village was rumoured to be. I tugged the hood of my cloak from my head, sweat sticking my hair to my neck. It seemed my limited healing skills had arrived too late to be of use—but my other skills—well, perhaps I would return to the king with something more substantial than rumours at last.

We entered the clearing, the devastation hitting me like a sword to the gut. Homes had been scalped, gutted and burned. Their charred remains left crumbling into the earth. Spirits inhabited the ruins. Flickers of human outlines that cried out as they relived their violent, final moments of existence. Their fear keeping them tethered to this plane.

I dismounted Carys and pressed my hands to the ground, shuddering as the sweat on my neck turned cold. A haze of panic blanketed the site like thick smoke, making it impossible to get a sense of the events leading to its ruin. I sank my fingers into the soil and focused my will, trying again.

Sounds and smells came rushing at me, distorted screams on a hot jet of air. My eyes sprang open to find the spirits staring in eerie silence, their gaze passing right through me to something on the horizon.

I heard the presence before I saw it—a monstrous shriek carried on a blast of flame.  It was an end too terrifying and binding to escape.

And so, I relive it again.