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duskandstarlight · 4 years ago

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Embers & Light (Chapter 28)

Notes: Happy Sunday every one. Thanks for last week's comments. They were so lovely and I love to hear from you all!This chapter is the one lots of you have been waiting for... not smut, but THE conversation. I hope you enjoy it... And sorry about the typos in this chapter, I can't look at this chapter any more! I'll try and scan over it tomorrow...Lastly, just a head's up that I might not be able to post next Sunday. Work is super busy this coming week and I haven't yet started the chapter. I'll try my best, though :)

Oh, and for those of you who ask every week, I post Sunday evening UK time between 7-10PM. I will rarely change and if it’s late, it’s because I’m still working on it :)

Also, sorry, there should be italics in some places but I am done editing so Tumblr will get what copy and paste has done!

Twenty-Eight Cassian POV

Lorrian and Cassian walked silently down the hall, following the servant who was scurrying in front of them. The sound of their footsteps rang around the hallway in an echo that was almost haunting, and if it wasn't for the meeting that has just adjourned—the Rite meeting which that was whirring around in his mind—Cassian would be contemplating how quickly he could organise their departure despite the wishes of his High Lord.

As distracted as Cassian was, he had still committed every corridor to memory. Every twist and turn as the house tunnelled into mountain rock. Up the wide staircase, right, second left, first right, next left…

Deeper and deeper they moved into the mountain. No doubt to ensure that the General and Colonel felt as uneasy as possible. No Illyrian liked being unable to escape through a window and step straight into the skies, and from what Cassian could tell, there would be no windows or doors that led them straight out into the heavens. Only endless crystalline rock and shadow.

Lord Marsh’s property always had been unusual in that way. Even though it was positioned on the wide ledge of the mountain pass, suspended high in the sky above the rest of the Ironcrest camp, the house did not stop when it hit the mountain wall. Instead, it tunnelled inside of it, providing a lodgings that was a vast, confusing labyrinth that was too easy to get lost in.

It was why Cassian had been so loathe to stay the night. To stay any longer than necessary.

Cassian could only thank the Cauldron that Rhys and Feyre’s presence had not been required. Neither of them deserved to be trapped inside a mountain again. Cassian supposed he could count his lucky stars that their presence had not been necessary. Would not be able to bear their anguish, even if they did their best to conceal it.

“Your rooms,” the servant announced suddenly, with a bow that was so deep Cassian wouldn’t have been surprised if the male’s nose had scraped the floor.

They had reached the end of the hallway, and in front of them was a heavy wooden door set into an arch.

Even through rock and stone, Cassian could sense Nesta. Knew she was located somewhere to the left with Frawley, thanks to that magnetic pull which never seemed to cease, even just for a moment. That was the one thing Nesta hadn’t been able to stop. She could constrict their bond as much as she liked—could freeze him out so nothing could travel up and down their twisted tether—but it didn’t stop him from being able to sense her. It was as if he was hyper alert to where she was. His body moved when hers did. His heart did its best to beat in tandem with hers. And when they were near, everything in him had a tendency to relax, as if he no longer had to worry.

Cassian didn’t know if Nesta felt the same. Would never know, given that they did not discuss their fate at all.

Lorrian bid goodbye to the servant as Cassian stepped through the door and into a hallway that was equally as dark. Two doors flanked the short, cramped hallway and Cassian took the immediate left, pushing the door that was ajar so it creaked wide open.

Unlike the rest of Marsh’s residence, the room was cast in a light that was almost unforgiving, betraying the dark ominous furniture and the gloomy crystalline rock thanks to bobbing faelights which Frawley had magicked to illuminate the room. To his left, fire raged silently in the grate, and ahead of him, in a huge stone bay straight ahead of him, sat Nesta.

The carved out rock was fashioned as if it were a window—an irony, given how deep underground they were—and Nesta’s back rested against the far left-hand wall. Her knees were bent, and her long legs, which were hidden beneath her skirts, stretched across expanse of the ledge. She was facing Frawley, who was sitting on the huge Illyrian bed which took up most of the floor space.

Cassian just had time to catch Nesta’s unfettered expression—the tight, bracketed mouth and the downward pull of her brows— before it was wiped clean.

“What happened?” she demanded, as Cassian cast a shield which threw the whole suite into an impenetrable sound bubble.

Her eyes bore into his, and across the surface, silver roiled like liquid mercury. Despite her careful expression, he felt her worry and Cassian wondered just how much he had accidentally hurtled down their shared bond whilst he sat in that meeting to have her so concerned.

“They’ve cancelled the Blood Rite,” Lorrian announced grimly, from where he had entered the room behind Cassian.

Nesta’s eyes snapped to Lorrian. Confusion twisted across her features, but she did not say anything.

“That,” Frawley said after a moment’s pause, “is very clever.”

Begrudgingly, Cassian nodded. Because it had been clever. None of them had seen it coming. The Solstice luncheon, which invited all of the nobility across Illyria, had been enough to ward away any suspicion when it came to the lordlings presence. Rite representatives were chosen privately by each camp, so there was no way that Cassian could have known that the lordlings who had recently met with Kallon planned to fill many of the positions. Nor had it crossed Cassian’s mind that the Rite meeting might have been pulled forward only for it to be cancelled, especially given how steadfast and stubborn Illyrians were when it came to tradition.

But, even if Cassian had asked Az to find out what representatives had been chosen for the Rite that year, they never could have predicted that Kallon intended to instate a hiatus on the most important ritual in Illyria’s long history—a political manoeuvre that would make the Night Court look even worse than it already did.

“How did he get the lords to agree to it?” Frawley asked, as she watched her husband sink down into a chair that sat in the right hand corner of the room next to a dark, looming wardrobe that only served to make the room feel even more cramped. “Those princes will usually be damned if they listen to a word the other says.”

“The Rite representatives,” Cassian announced with a heavy sigh, wishing he too would give in to the temptation to sink down and sit somewhere. Next to Nesta, ideally. “All of them were lordlings who met with Kallon all those months ago. And the worst thing about it all is that Lorrian and I swayed the vote in Kallon’s favour. He played us and we walked straight into his damn den. It made us look as if we were agreeing with him for the sake of politics, rather than because we thought it ourselves.”

Which was the irony of the situation, Cassian thought to himself grimly. Cassian had been worried for a long time about the unnecessary loss of further lives due to the Blood Rite. Had been losing sleep over it, just as his nightmares continued to plague him whenever he did succumb to the clutches of the unconscious. There was already so much ash of flesh and bone on Cassian’s hands from when he had deserted his legion for desperate screams. And now… he was existing on stolen time—a time which had been bought by a female who at the end of it all, had not accepted his heart.

“Every word of Kallon’s appeal resonated with the Lords,” Lorrian told Nesta and Frawley as he ran his hands over his face… over his dark, close-cropped hair and the nicked scars on his scalp. “He played upon the sentiment that is already festering inside so many of the Fae in Illyria. That the Night Court uses our warriors for their own gain in war but does not care about them in the interim.”

“And then Kallon presented them with the damn sword,” Cassian growled, clenching his fists at the memory.

Frawley’s eyes gleamed so brightly her irises turned glacial blue and amber. “You saw it up close?” she asked, leaning forward so eagerly from where she was sitting on the mattress that she near folded in half. “And what did you feel?”

“Ancient magic,” Lorrian replied grimly, even as his wife continue to stare at Cassian. “My own magic spiked at the sight of it. It was…” he broke off and shook his head, “It was odd. All of the lords could feel it, I am sure of it. Not one of them disputed that it was Enalius’s.”

Cassian remembered the way his siphons had throbbed and the ruby star over his chest had pulsed so fiercely it felt like a second heart—as if it were answering a silent call that even he couldn't hear. Only Nesta’s power had made Cassian feel like that before. It didn’t matter if it was silver fire or healing light, Nesta’s magic called to him, chanting and moaning until he thought he might combust from it.

But Cassian did not say any of that. Had barely dared to admit it to himself, let alone voice it out loud. So, instead, he flared his siphons and rummaged through the travel bag which appeared on the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed.

His fingers found the book without having to search for it, his callouses brushing against soft brown leather. He pulled out Heroicis, the gold-lettering on the cover shimmering as he flipped it open to peel back the delicate pages.

It was easy to find the illustration of the sword. Cassian had stared at the drawing so many times the book wanted to be opened to that page.

He placed the book down on the vanity. “It looked exactly like that,” he announced wearily, waving a hand to the illustration. “Except the jewel is missing.”

The rustle of clothing sounded as three Fae moved towards him. Cassian did not turn but he scented all three of them. Lorrian’s gentle rush of heat and sandalwood. Frawley’s damp forest earth after rain and air streaked with fire smoke. And then Nesta. She had drawn up to his left, but he would have known where she was in a room without scent or sight. Yet, he allowed himself the privilege of scenting her all the same, as that rush of her became sharper and more focussed, like a blade narrowing to an essential point: jasmine and vanilla and Nesta.

Rivalling most Fae in height, Nesta’s head barely reached his shoulder. Cassian desperately wanted to wind his arm around her and pull her close, but out of the public eye they were no longer pretending. He didn’t want to push the boundaries that were already so brittle. Would not disrespect Nesta by overstepping the mark. Not unless she indicated she wanted it otherwise.

So, Cassian pushed away the stark vision of him moulding her to his body, or the way he had bowed earlier to press his lips to her knuckles. Tried not to ponder over the temptation of brushing his lips over her cheek by the end of their visit…

“I did not expect a General to carry epic poetry,” Frawley drawled in amusement, but there was an edge to her voice that told Cassian she was holding something back.

Lorrian snickered at his wife and did what Cassian had yearned to do to Nesta—he dropped a kiss to the top of her white head. The Colonel had used his siphons to peel back his armour as soon as the door had closed behind them. With it, his arm had disappeared, and the Colonel looked more like himself.

“Well, witch,” Cassian demanded with forced lightness, “is this an accurate depiction?”

“It is the only illustration I have ever seen that is correct,” Frawley said simply, her head cocked to the side so the white of her hair fell in an impossibly straight stream. The strands shimmered pearlescent in the light. The colour was almost otherworldly.

“Did you find anything out from the females?” Lorrian asked. He was rubbing over the stub of his limp, as if it was causing him phantom pain, his expression drawn tight.

The change of subject wasn’t as abrupt as it seemed. Cassian knew why Lorrian was asking. If they found anything incriminating against Kallon or the Ironcrest clan, it would aid them in stifling the rebellion that at this point seemed inevitable.

A fierce flare of pain wrangled through Cassian’s gut and his head snapped to Nesta, but she was staring fixedly at the book.

Lorrian had also turned sharply to Nesta, his eyes wide. His hand dropped from where he had been trying to ease the pain from his arm and his expression, although surprised, was free of any discomfort.

“Thank you,” Lorrian said quietly.

There was a pause that stretched out too long. All of them were silent, but Nesta dipped her chin without turning her head.

“The females didn’t speak beyond polite conversation,” Frawley began, steering all of their attention from Nesta. “But I did mention the kerit attacks on the widows camps.”

“Did you pick up any emotion?” Cassian asked Nesta.

“Yes,” Nesta replied, but her shrug dismissed the notion that she may have felt anything prominent. “Fear, disgust, anger towards the attacks. Most of it low level.”

Cassian frowned. “I suppose the attacks have not hit Ironcrest. They have not experienced the damage first hand.”

“There was a spike of horror and despair,” Nesta told him. “From someone. But I couldn't place it. It came from behind me and by the time I had turned the emotion had gone.”

Cassian stared down at Nesta. “Did you scent it? The insignia behind the emotion?”

Nesta shook her head. “All of the scents were jumbled. I got a flash of something, but I couldn’t—” Nesta stopped abruptly and her beautiful face twisted into a dissatisfied grimace. “If I sensed it again, I might recognise it, but—”

Already Cassian knew she was punishing herself. He refrained from putting a hand on her shoulder in silent reassurance.

“Even a Fae with years of practice would find it difficult to associate the source of an emotion in a crowded room,” Frawley said with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if she too knew that Nesta would not stop the self-blame. That it would rage internally until it consumed her. “You do not have eyes in the back of your head.”

“And from Kallon?” Cassian asked, even though he suspected he already knew the answer, and that he wasn’t going to like it.

They all watched Nesta’s lips tighten into a thin line. Eventually, she said, “He likes my power.”

Cassian knew that expression. Knew from the way everything had gone very quiet that she had frozen him out so he would not know how the promise in those yellow eyes had turned triggered Nesta’s trauma.

But the problem was that Cassian had learnt to notice the slightest change in Nesta’s expression. Had catalogued every movement in the four months they had lived together, even when he didn’t know what it meant.

Frawley’s brown eye flicked to Cassian. Even behind the brisk facade, Cassian could tell she was worried about Nesta. Cassian wondered what they had spoken about whilst he and Lorrian had been gone. “What time is this dreaded dinner?” she asked.

“In an hour,” Cassian grimaced.

“And do you think the princeling will be carrying the sword with him, now he has confirmed the rumours?”

Lorrian grunted a laugh. Cassian wondered if he, too, was thinking of the way Kallon’s eyes had gleamed triumphant. How tempting it had been to smack the princeling around the face. “I think we can count on it.”

***

An hour later, the same servant escorted the four of them down the warren corridors to dinner.

Both Lorrian and Cassian had discarded their full-scaled armour for tunics layered with a stainless steel cuirass over the top. That, coupled with plates and fingerless leather gauntlets on both of their hands, allowed Cassian and Lorrian to showcase their siphons. The light-weight pieces of armour were made of the usual Illyrian scales, and whilst the armour was more ornamental than for the purpose of fighting, Rhys had worked his magic so it was as indestructible as carbon steel, if not more.

Lorrian’s right arm was back and glowing. Cassian understood why his friend wanted to face the vultures with all of his limbs, but he wished he could take Lorrian’s shame away. He supposed there was nothing to be done but to hope that time led to acceptance. Already Lorrian had come a long way. Had even started training with Cassian without his arm, learning to wield a sword with his left-hand should the occasion every call for it.

It was that willingness to adapt that reminded Cassian why Lorrian was an exceptional warrior. Why he would conquer where others would fail. The Colonel would be prepared for every scenario. Would know how to balance his body with and without a limb.

Opponents would not expect it. It would give Lorrian the upper hand in battle, rather than showcasing a weakness that anyone who knew about his limb would expect.

It meant that if Lorrian’s siphons ever became drained, that he could still fight.

Nesta and Frawley had also changed for dinner, even though the witch had grumbled at having to dress up for company she would rather obliterate from Prythian. Unsurprisingly, Nesta had only grown more divine with a change of clothes, but she had barely spared him a glance as she looped her hand through his arm.

Which, Cassian thought, had been just as well, because he had not been able to stop his eyes from darkening and his wings from rustling at the sheer sight of her.

Now, Nesta held onto him as they followed the backs of Lorrian and Frawley from where they walked in front of them. The two of them had fallen slightly behind, most likely because of their hesitancy to fling themselves back in the path of the vultures that were Marsh and Kallon.

And, Cassian admitted, because he had purposefully shortened his stride so he could glance surreptitiously at Nesta—at the dark, deep forest green of her long-sleeved dress, which had actually stopped Cassian’s heart and made his breath catch in his throat. Something which he knew Lorrian had clocked but had decided not to mention— thank the Cauldron.

The top half of the velvet material wrapped around Nesta’s every curve, before it billowed out softly at the hips into an A-line skirt. At her chest—which was bared rather than hidden away—the silver chain of the pyrite necklace fell tauntingly below the v-neckline.

Cassian thanked his lucky stars and the Gods combined that he could not glimpse her cleavage.

“Want to go home yet?” Cassian murmured, breaking their silence.

They had barely spoken since the luncheon and certainly not alone. Nesta had not commented when she had emerged from their bedroom. Had not mentioned the single bed that had taunted him when he had first entered to change.

Cassian had ensured they were not in the room at the same time. Was actually terrified to close himself into such a small and cramped space with her.

The way in which Nesta did not look up at him as he spoke told Cassian that she was very far away. Her huffed breath was practically inaudible, and she had an almost unreachable air about her that told him that for some reason, her trauma had caught up with her.

So, Cassian did what he did best. He decided to rile her.

“You’re going to have to lower your shields,” he warned her.

The slightest of frowns graced Nesta’s expression as they came to the end of a corridor and entered the vast landing that graced the first floor. Here, the flagstone floor was layered with a carpet runner that was dappled in brown and white, like the feathers of a hawk-crested eagle. “I’m aware,” Nesta clipped, that chin of hers raising as her back straightened.

Cassian brought a hand up to cover hers. Anything to get her to look at him. “You can stay in the room if you’d prefer,” he said quietly.

Those tempting lips thinned into a straight line. She turned her head away from him, so he could only see the intricate braid that weaved a halo around her head. “No, I can’t,” Nesta replied shortly.

She was not wrong. Cassian would not leave her deep in the mountain where he could not protect her. Even if that meant taking her to a place where her trauma would intensify.

He hated himself for it.

“I won’t let him harm you. I won’t let them touch you.” The words came out fiercer than he had intended, even if his voice was a low rumble.

There must have been enough urgency in his voice, because finally Nesta twisted her head to look up at him. Those eyes were a little less hollow. “I know,” she replied simply. Her eyes slid to a spot past his head. “I might harm them, though.”

A dark, please laugh issued from his throat, even as he wished that mercury would slide over the frosty blue of her irises. Nesta had issues summoning her magic when she succumbed to the numbness, and Cassian did not want her in this Gods damned awful place without her power at her disposable.

“I look forward to seeing it,” he responded smoothly, but his heart fell as she turned away from him again.

Desperation clawed at his insides—at the bond which was constricted by ice—that the next words left him without contemplating the gravity of them. “Are you wearing that dress to taunt me, Nesta?”

Nesta’s eyes snapped to his so quickly that everything in him jolted. A dim light throbbed in the depth of her gaze. “Excuse me?”

“This dress,” he said in a low confession, “has become my favourite thing.”

An unamused snort, even as a glimmer of embarrassment forced its way down their bond. It was fleeting and barely there, but Cassian felt it. Grasped for it. “Your favourite thing is chocolate.”

“My favourite thing is you,” he corrected, scarcely believing his loose tongue. He made his eyes glint playfully. “Chocolate is a close second.”

“In fact,” he mused after a moment’s pause. “The two together—”

“In your dreams,” Nesta snapped, her words coming out so sharply and with such aggression that both Frawley and Lorrian’s heads whipped round to stare at them.

Cassian grinned wolfishly, watching Lorrian shake his head at the obvious fire in Nesta’s eyes. The fire that Cassian was doing everything to rally.

Both of his friends had noticed Nesta turn silent in the hour before dinner, but neither of them had uttered a word. They understood the peaks and troughs—the challenges of life when things became too hard.

“That comeback again, sweetheart? I’d have thought you’d have something more original by now.”

“You are insufferable,” Nesta clipped. And at her hands… a wisp of that mist.

“Do you not like being complimented” Cassian taunted, stifling the way his blood soared at the faint pink that stained her cheeks—another blessed reaction.

Together they descended the elaborately wide staircase, moving slowly to accommodate for Nesta’s skirts. Usually, Cassian had no time for impractical attire, but he had long learnt that Nesta could wear whatever she liked and he would accommodate it, no matter how ill-thought-out.

Nesta’s grip on his arm tightened into a death grip.

She was not looking at him again. Deliberately avoiding his gaze, even as his eyes did not once stray from her face, his legs carrying him blindly as he furiously scanned her for expression.

Finally, Nesta said with a quiet that did not lack in intensity, “A compliment isn’t true if it’s designed to be a distraction.”

Cassian huffed a breath of laughter. Of course, she had seen right through him. Yet…

He dared to lean towards her, to close the distance between them so he could murmur into her elegantly tipped ear. “It was a distraction,” he confessed honestly as they turned down the corridor that led off to the right-hand side of the foyer, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true, does it?”

Blue, smoky eyes latched onto his, Nesta’s chin tilting upwards to meet his gaze. It was a torturous form of bliss, the movement bringing her face far too close to his. She stared at him and he stared right back, even as his heart thumped hard against his ribcage.

He lowered his head further. Watched Nesta’s eyes widen ever so slightly as he closed the distance between them. She had stilled completely, halting them just outside of the dining room.

This time he allowed his lips to ghost her ear. Let the Illyrian roll of his tongue and savoured her suppressed shiver. The spark of something which wound itself around his ribcage. “After you, amore.”

Cassian made himself wink as he straightened up, as if he were entirely unaffected by her proximity.

And then he steered her into the dining room.

***

Dinner was worse than Cassian had anticipated, and by the time the four of them arrived back at their suite, none of them were bothering to hide their exhaustion. The door had barely shut behind them when Frawley brusquely announced that the sword which had been showcased at the dinner was undoubtedly Enalius’s, before she disappeared into her room with Lorrian following closely behind.

The first thing Cassian had done upon entering he and Nesta’s shared room was to flop onto the bed. Dealing with Lord Marsh was trying at the best of times, but tackling Lord Marsh, Kallon and the other arrogant lords, as well as the drama that came with it… Cassian had been fighting a headache all day and the pressure was now a keen, insistent throb behind his eyes.

That, coupled with a tense dinner that had slowly chipped away at his pain threshold, had Cassian desperately wanting to slide beneath the sheets and succumb to sleep.

To Cassian’s surprise, Marsh had not been present at dinner, and from the way that Kallon sat unfazed at the head of the table, Cassian gathered that it was not an unusual occurrence.

Kallon had held audience with an ease that had rivalled Rhys when he was playing cruel High Lord during a visit to the Hewn City, and apart from the shadows of servants lining the walls, no other lords and ladies had been present at dinner. It had been a surprising move. Cassian had expected Kallon to parade and taunt in front of the watchful eyes of the Illyrian nobility, who would no doubt disappear later to whisper into others ears…

But, instead, it had only been the five of them. That had been enough to tell Cassian that whilst Kallon might have no qualms in wielding words as vicious as Nesta’s, he also did not believe he could control the tongues of those he was dining with. That he knew that despite the sword that lay gleaming on the gilded cushion further down the table, that they his company had the capability of maiming him if they saw fit. Something which Kallon could not afford given his victory earlier that afternoon.

This fear came to a conclusion halfway through their main course, when Kallon deigned to insinuate that females were not designed to wield a sword.

“Are you saying,” Nesta asked with a deathly sort of calm that had Cassian tensing, “that you do not deem females worthy of protecting themselves?”

“I think that the Night Court should protect the entirety of its court so the females don’t have to worry about protecting themselves,” Kallon had responded swiftly, his sharp knife slicing into his bloody steak as if it were nothing but butter.

“What you are saying,” Frawley corrected, her voice brusque and hard, “is that you do not see females as having any other purpose than bearing younglings.”

“Is that not their purpose?” Kallon had challenged. He paused, surveying all of their faces with a grim sort of satisfaction, before he had pressed on, “Is that not what is needed for a race who has lost more males in this war than it has seen in hundreds of years?”

“A female’s worth is not found in their ability to reproduce,” Nesta had responded coolly. Her voice, Cassian had noticed, had dipped into the deathly sort of calm that usually preceded an outburst of flame. “In fact, I have not met one male in Illyria who is more worthy of learning how to wield a weapon than the females in Illyria’s camps.”

“And does that sense of worth extend to the males around this table?” Kallon had replied, his yellow eyes gleaming at a sudden opportunity. Like the rest of the residence, the dining room had been dimly lit, illuminated by faint faelight and the fire that raged in the hearth. It meant that shadows had crept across the walls and table as Kallon leant forward to where Nesta was sitting at his right. “I assume not, given your tendency to fuck anything that moves.��

The sentence was as abrupt as a slap to the face, but Nesta did not move. Did not give any indication that the princeling’s words had hit home, even as Cassian’s gut had wrenched.

“It is funny,” Nesta had mused icily, her voice as cold as the fiercest Illyrian winter, “that you should try to shame me, especially given that if I was a male, I am sure you would be praising me for such a consistent pursuit of pleasure.”

Carefully, Nesta had set down her goblet, her eyes boring into the princeling’s with such intensity that Cassian had been surprised that the male hadn’t burst into flame.

Other than Frawley’s snort of agreement, nobody had dared to move. Time had passed. Time in which Cassian vowed to remain steadfast to his silent promise that he should not interference unless it was absolutely necessary. Even as Kallon did not back down.

Together, they had all watched the princeling settle back into his chair with the relaxed sort of ease that had Cassian wanting to castrate him. “Perhaps then, I should surprise you by showing you my room in case you fancy pursuing some real pleasure later—”

“That is —” Cassian had started to snarled, banging a fist on the table just as Lorrian had growled, the sound a low, deep warning—

And that was when the entire room had glowed silver, the magic snapping around the room with such ferocity that it was like a whip cracking against bare skin.

When Nesta’s magic dropped—when Cassian’s blood had reduced to a simmer rather than boiling—Cassian realised that exercising her magic had been the perfect excuse for Nesta to silence the fire that had been crackling fiercely in the grate behind them. The fire from which Cassian had spent the entirety of the meal trying to shield her from as best as possible, his wing curled protectively around the back of her chair.

Even so, the showcase of Nesta’s power had been startling and undeniably effective. As Nesta’s temper had flared, that silver fire had ignited in the grate, swallowing the orange flames as mist wreathed up her arms, eddying around her at such speed that it began to seep across the table towards Kallon.

And the whole time Kallon’s eyes had gleamed. Not with fear, but with the kind of awe that Cassian felt when he’d first witnessed how magnificent Nesta was.

It had taken everything in Cassian not to leap across the table and rip the princeling’s head from his body. From the way Frawley was gripping Lorrian, it had seemed as if his friend felt the exact same way.

But to Cassian’s surprise, Nesta had only let out a low, cruel laugh which had sliced through any of Cassian’s intention to intervene.

Instead, he had watched, riveted as those eyes of pure mercury raked up and down Kallon’s body with a look of unbridled disgust. And when Nesta had spoken, her voice was as terrifying as the promise of death, “I would never deign to lower myself by sharing a bed with you,” she told Kallon, “and I certainly hope that no other female has been forced to endure it.”

Infuriatingly, Kallon had only let out a musical laugh rather than a snarled retort. “And I suppose you would rather pair yourself with a male who has nothing to give you—not a title or a name, only the promise of a cheap necklace. Perhaps that is why you seem to have no true inclination to secure your future with him.”

Then, Kallon had slowly dragged his eyes to Cassian. “I would have thought your role in leading the Night Court’s armies would pay better than that, General. But I suppose you can’t take the bastard out of the slums.”

It had been at that point that Nesta had found Cassian’s hand under the table. It had been the most careful of movements—unnoticeable to anybody but them. The clasp of her fingers around his and the easing of the pain and fury in his gut had been the only thing that had stopped him from either beating Kallon to a pulp or leaving the meal in a rage.

Both of which would only have allowed Kallon to emerge triumphant… So, they had eaten in the sort of tense silence, speared sporadically with the odd ferocious comment. And at the end of the table, that damned sword had lain on the gilded cushion, gleaming magnificently in the firelight, calling to Cassian’s power in a way that pulled at his skin…

Now, recollecting the monstrosity of the evening, Cassian wanted to ward away the feeling of unworthiness that still lay bitter on his tongue. There was also a sense of foreboding that he could not shake. A terrible knowledge that whatever he and Nesta had constructed between them was something false rather than true.

There were so many cracks they had hastily tried to ignore. So many past actions that had been pushed to the background rather than being acknowledged.

Cassian didn’t know what would happen if they were addressed. If it would fling the two of them so far back into the past that it would shatter the present.

Yet… it seemed inevitable. A hulking, looming presence that clung to them like a shadow.

But for now… Cassian wanted lightness. He wanted to know that he and Nesta were ok. So he waved a hand tiredly at the room, and said, “Sorry we have to share.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta replied finally, as if she had been so far away it had taken her a while to rope herself back to reality.

Cracking open an eye, Cassian watched her close the bedroom door behind her. She had closed their bond as soon as they had left the dinner table. Cassian did not know if it was a deliberate move to shut him out, or just an attempt to sever any emotion. He knew she must be feeling raw. Lowering one’s shields did that, especially for Nesta, who felt more than everyone else. Azriel had warned him of that. Had confirmed what Cassian and Feyre had always thought. That Nesta’s gift expanded outside of the power she had clawed from the Cauldron. Something which had always existed inside of her but which had been magnified further when she was Made.

“I wouldn’t want my own room here,” Nesta elaborated when she caught him studying her.

Cassian watched Nesta’s ever perceptive eyes scan the room: the simple, whitewashed walls and the pine furniture. The room was of moderate size, although Cassian would wager that it wasn’t Lord Marsh’s biggest guest room. That silent rebuff hadn't gone unnoticed — not that Cassian cared. He had endured far worse conditions, after all.

Most of the floor space was taken up by the Illyrian bed, which was big enough for two sets of wings. Now, Nesta hovered beside it as if she were unsure what to do next. It was the most awkward he had ever seen her.

“By all means,” he drawled tiredly, waving to the other side of the mattress. He folded the wing that he had spread onto the other side—her side—of the bed, “I can sleep on the floor. Just...give me a moment.”

Ignoring his invitation, Nesta floated over to the dressing table instead. Propping his head under a bent arm, Cassian watched her as she started to slowly take the pins out of her hair.

For a long while, the clink of metal on wood was the only noise that filled the room, and Cassian was just about to ask Nesta how many gods damned pins she used, when she started to slowly unspool the hair from the top of her head. Jaw slightly slack, Cassian watched in awe as Nesta parted the thick strands of the braid with well-practiced hands. When she was finished, she began to brush it out, until the light brown strands shimmered gold in the faelight and the teeth no longer snagged on knows.

Cassian wondered if any male had ever seen her do this: the simple act of getting ready for bed. He hoped not. There was something intimate about watching Nesta let her hair down, as if every pin that came out of her head removed a little bit of that mask, revealing a younger, softer version of the hot-headed hellcat he usually had to contend with.

“You’re staring.”

The words clipped through the silence, as sharp as a cutting knife.

Well, perhaps she wasn’t a softer version, after all.

Cassian’s eyes slid to Nesta’s in the mirror. In the dim faelight, the blue of her irises had given way to a stormy, mesmerising grey. He made his lips pout, even as he imagined running his fingers through the soft strands. “Your hair looks prettier than mine.”

The faintest of smiles tugged at Nesta’s lips. It was slightly wicked, the only warning she gave him before she tossed him the ivory-handled brush.

Cassian’s hand snapped up, catching the brush inches from his face, his eyes never straying from hers.

His grin was triumphant and when Nesta rolled her eyes at him, the gesture so uncharacteristically playful, satisfaction burned through every pore, every fibre of his being.

How far they had come.

“Then brush it, you stupid brute. I won’t deny that it needs it.”

Cassian laughed throatily—the first true laugh he had let loose that day. “I thought you liked my rugged looks?”

A soft, unimpressed snort. “A wholly made up notion.”

He watched Nesta rummage through her travel bag and pull out a white cotton nightdress and some toiletries, before disappearing into the adjoining bathroom. He brushed his hair whilst the water ran and then peeled off his clothes, baring his skin to the chill air.

The glare Nesta sent him when she reemerged would have sent a lesser male scarpering. It made him wonder how any of the males she had bedded had even made it home with her in the first place. She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, which only emphasised the swell of her breasts beneath the cotton. She was still wearing the pyrite, and the metal shone mockingly against her creamy skin—silver flecked with gold.

The sight of it so close to her cleavage had him biting back a groan.

Mother Above, he had to get a grip if they were going to sharing a room all night.

“You can’t wear night clothes like a normal person?” Nesta hissed at him.

With a taunting grin, Cassian rested a hand on a hip, highlighting his tight undershorts. He refrained from flaring his wings—largely because the space did not accommodate for it. “I usually sleep nude sweetheart, which would you prefer?”

And then, not waiting for her to start on him, he headed straight for the bathroom, making sure their skin brushed as he passed.

To his delight, Nesta’s angry snarl chased him until he closed the bathroom door firmly behind him.

When he reappeared five minutes later, Nesta was already under the covers with her nose buried in a book. Silent, silver flames licking fiercely up the chimney from the open fire grate. The heat was fiercely warm and very welcome, especially given that this deep underground, there was little warmth to be found. The heat sunk deliciously into his skin, and Cassian flared his wings slightly to fight the goosebumps that were scattered across the sensitive membrane.

Since Nesta had lit the torch at the widows funeral, she had taken to lighting the fires throughout the house, and Cassian had become so used to the glow of silver flames in every fire grate around the house that he barely bat an eyelid.

It warmed him, though, to see the house alight with silver and warmth. To see Nesta unafraid and relaxed. To see her sit near the fire, rather than as far away from it as possible.

“I didn’t see you sneak a book into the bag,” Cassian commented, as he pulled a blanket from the wardrobe and pulled on some loose pants. He had been teasing her before about sleeping in his undershorts. He’d mainly wanted to pull a reaction from her, to see how she would respond to his bare skin.

Her hiss had been satisfying enough. Not that Cassian hadn’t hoped for more. A too long glance, or even better, a blush.

Nesta didn’t glance up at Cassian as she turned the page. “You should know better than to think I’d travel without a book.”

He watched her eyes move across the page, utterly absorbed. Her long hair fell over her face and unconsciously she tucked the strand behind an elegantly arched ear. A signature move of hers, however unconscious, that he had yet to name. It was fast becoming one of his favourites.

Nodding, Cassian reached for the pillows on his side of the bed to distract himself from looking at her. Her next words made him pause.

“Just stick to your side.”

Nesta did not look up. She gave none of her focus to him yet she must have been watching him out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t mind,” he reassured her after a moment.

A flip of a page. “There’s no room for your wings down there.”

She was right. It was a tight enough squeeze for his body let alone the wings on his back, and the blanket would do little to protect him from the cold flagstone floor. Cassian had endured far worse of course, but the thought of tucking his wings in that tight all night... well, he’d suffer for it tomorrow. And even though he knew sleeping an arms length away from her would be torture of a different kind...

“Thank you,” he conceded softly.

No acknowledgement, yet… this was progress. Only months ago, Nesta would have made him sleep on the cold just to watch him suffer.

A contented groan escaped him as the mattress moulded to his sore back. He rolled onto his side, flaring his wings to settle behind him and examined her.

The faded paperback Nesta was reading was well-worn. Many of the pages were dog-eared and Cassian knew that he’d seen her curled up with it before. He craned his neck in an attempt to try and read the title on the spine. He would bet good money it was a love story. No, he would bet his entire wealth that it was a love story.

It was quick, but he caught Nesta’s darting glance. It was enough for him to break the silence.

“Why do you read romance novels?”

A burning question Cassian had wanted to ask her more times than he could count. On both hands.

Not that he didn’t have his own theory on that.

“Why do you read books about war?” Nesta countered.

A slow, taunting smile. “I asked you first, sweetheart.”

Nesta rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Why can’t I read them?”

Cassian bit back a growl of frustration. “You can read whatever you like. What I mean is why do you enjoy reading romance novels so much?”

Nesta bookmarked her page with a scarlet ribbon—a gesture at odds with the earmarked pages—and placed it on the nightstand with a sigh. “I revoke my offer, you can sleep on the floor.”

“But what about my poor wings,” he whined.

“Feyre’s right, you really are Illyrian babies.”

Cassian scowled. “I’m full of testosterone, thank you very much.”

Nesta snorted. “Rumour has it that Azriel has the largest wingspan.”

The soft snarl that tore out of Cassian’s mouth surprised even him. He hadn’t made the noise deliberately, it had been completely unconscious, just as much as the next words out of his mouth. “Would you like me to prove you wrong, Nesta?”

His voice had turned low and husky without his bidding, as if it had done so purely on instinct. Maybe allowing himself to get in the same bed as Nesta had been a mistake. The scent of her was enough to cloud his judgement and this close... He could have his mouth on hers in seconds.

“I’d like anything but, actually,” Nesta clipped, completely unfazed by his act of dominance. “Besides, males seem to forget that it’s style over substance.”

Propping himself up on an elbow, Cassian leant towards her. He arched an eyebrow at her, his expression cocksure. Somehow, his headache had completely vanished. “Lucky for you, I have both.”

Nesta’s groan was one of long suffering. She reached to undo the clasp of the chain around her neck.

“Don’t take it off.”

Nesta’s head snapped round to his, his sudden command at odds with their banter. He held up his hands, the two ruby siphons glinting from where they sat firmly on the leather straps.

“We’re in that much danger?” she asked.

Cassian sunk back down onto his side, “I’m not taking any chances, and... I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re not wearing it.”

Nesta’s lips parted slightly but her hands slowly withdrew from her neck. The stone glinted briefly against Nesta’s skin and then she extinguished the lights.

The soft flicker of silver that glowed from the hearth was the only reprieve from the darkness that fell across the room. Cassian wondered if flames would go out when Nesta fell asleep or if they would keep on burning.

The sheets rustled as Nesta got comfortable. In the following silence, Cassian could make out the reassuring thump of her heart. It wrapped around his own, the feeling a comfort until his breathing slowed and his muscles relaxed.

“He’s horrible,” Nesta said suddenly into the darkness.

“Marsh?” Cassian asked, but he knew who she meant. Wasn’t sure why he didn’t say it out loud.

“Him too, but I meant Kallon.”

Cassian grunted in agreement. Then, he dared to say, “He’s taken a liking to you.”

Revulsion forced its way down their constricted bond and into his gut.

Cassian didn’t need to look at Nesta to know her expression was hard. “He’s a pig-headed Illyrian brute.”

A flicker of a smile tugged at Cassian’s mouth, despite the subject. “I thought I was a pig-headed Illyrian brute?”

“Then I’ll have to rework my insults for you in light of recent events.”

Cassian barked another true laugh. Would Nesta ever stop surprising him? He suspected that if they were to spend a lifetime together, he would never grow bored. Would never be tempted to look in another female’s direction.

“I feel both triumphant and expectant,” he confided, before he sobered. “You didn’t have to defend me, earlier. I’m used to the comments. It doesn’t matter what I do, but my race will always see me as a bastard first and a General second. Being coupled with you is not something they will ever believe I deserve.”

More rustling of the sheets as Nesta turned onto her side to face him. Through the shadows, Cassian’s Fae eyesight could make out Nesta’s eyes staring directly at him. Even in the muted light, they were mesmerising. “I had a pretence to upkeep,” she replied shortly, as if that explained everything. But then her voice became so quiet that his ears strained to hear her. “You’re worth more than them.”

Usually, Cassian would have teased Nesta for voicing something so groundbreaking, but in this room—in this shared bed—the words dissolved on his tongue. He was momentarily speechless, so much so that the silence became awkward and weighted. His family had attempted to address his insecurities before, but it had never been enough to quash the beliefs that had been drummed into him from a young age. Cassian, too proud to succumb to the seriousness of the conversation, had brushed his family off until they left him well alone.

Azriel was the only one who truly understood; it was why he had never seen himself worthy enough to pursue Mor.

By the time Cassian summoned the courage to open his mouth, Nesta was already speaking, “How do they know about the war?”

The question made his heart stop. Not just because Nesta had mentioned a subject they usually stayed well clear of, but because, for the first time, she was addressing what had happened between them on the battlefield.

“I don’t know,” he admitted softly, ignoring the way his heart had begun to hammer in his chest. “By the time the healer had mended my wings everyone was talking about it. I think a conversation must have been overhead by a healer.” He paused, hoping Nesta might speak again. When she didn't, he added, “I was… very angry when I found out.” He palmed a hand over his face to try and soothe away the nerves that were humming agitatedly inside of him. He had done his best to ignore the whisperings behind his back.

It hadn’t been hard at first. The aftermath of the war had taken all of his attention. He had barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone digest the gravity of what others had found out. Not that he had gotten the gist of it in drabs: the entirety of the Night Court knew of how they had defended one another; how Nesta had been willing to die with Cassian when she could have run.

They did not know what he had promised. That he had kissed her, even though they were calling it the greatest love story in centuries. Cassian would never forget how Nesta had lain over him when she’d had the chance to run, and the urgency to her voice—the way it had cracked—as she had said; I can’t.

It was those two words which hounded Cassian the most, because even now, he did not know whether Nesta had said that because she hadn’t wanted to leave him, or because she had no choice.

“I assumed it was my sister and her loose mouth.”

Nesta’s words startled Cassian, bringing him back to the dark room rather than the muddy battlefield where his body was broken but his heart was full and aching. And in truth, Cassian had expected Nesta to draw a line under the conversation by ignoring him and feigning sleep, the next morning a fresh page where they need not bring up the previous night’s discussion.

Despite the dark, Cassian nodded, even though he was unsure as to whether Nesta could see it.

He had considered the same about Feyre. Not on purpose, of course, but by mistake. Feyre had been a witness. The original witness. “One thing I’ve learnt growing up Fae is that there are eyes and ears everywhere,” Cassian said eventually. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t prefer having my business kept to myself.”

Cassian knew Nesta was fiercely private, far more than him. Was it that invasion coupled with the monumental pressure that came with being spoken about by Fae and humans alike, as they whispered about the greatest love story in Prythian—the lowly bastard and the human Made Fae—that had been the final straw for her? Or had it been the death and destruction which had slammed the door shut on something as naive and fanciful as love?

The desperation to know—to understand—was so fierce that Cassian could not stop himself from asking what he had never dared, “Is that why you wanted nothing to do with me?”

A long, stony silence that eventually began to simmer with anger. Cassian did not know if it was the audacity of him having asked or for bringing unwanted memories to the surface.

Finally, Nesta clipped, “I wanted nothing to do with someone who treated me as second best.”

The icy dismissal in Nesta’s tone had goosebumps rising on Cassian’s bare arms. Recently their conversations had been a torturous, delicious heat rather than frosty, but this delivery… it made Cassian feel as if he had stepped back into the past.

They were going there then. A conversation Cassian never dreamed they would have. Yet here they were... and suddenly he was so terrified it would ruin everything he wished it would stop, even as he asked in a low voice, “In what capacity?”

Snapped words like the crack of a whip. “In every capacity. Let me go to sleep.”

“Nesta,” Cassian pressed, not caring that it was dangerous. Desperate to try and understand why they were not together when his entire body was begging him to close the distance. He knew she must feel it too. Hoped that she did. That it was not just a wishful fantasy on his part. Cassian had always thought their chemistry undeniable. It was what scared him.

It never went away, the wanting.

“What do you mean second best?” he urged.

“The fact that you do not know shows how stupid you are,” Nesta replied coldly, turning away from him, signalling that the conversation was over. Through the shadowy dark, Cassian could make out the slope of her shoulder and the outline of her curvaceous side. The spill of her hair, a tempting drape across the pillow.

He curbed most of the desperation that wanted to creep into his voice. “You are speaking of Mor.”

An abrupt snort of confirmation.

“Mor is my family,” Cassian said carefully, even though he knew his words would not convince Nesta.

“Your dynamic is not familial.”

“Not at the start, no,” Cassian admitted, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. To give himself distance. Because he could not bear to stare at her turned back as she tried to shut him out. “We slept together once when we were very young. It has never been repeated.” He blew out a long breath as he ran a hand over his face, trying to smooth over his pained expression. “She used me to lose her maidenhead. I don’t know how much you know, but Mor was mutilated by her family for it—she was dumped in the Autumn court with a note nailed to her womb for her betrothed to find her. It collapsed her marriage proposal and I have been responsible for that mutilation every day since, not least for driving a wedge between me and my brother.”

As he trailed off, the blankets moved and to his surprise, Nesta’s shoulder dipped slightly towards him. He’d clearly piqued her interest. “You mean Azriel.”

“Yes,” Cassian admitted bitterly. “I slept with Mor because I was a jealous prick and Az was besotted with her. His diverted attention made me feel like I had lost my brother and I thought it would make him move on.” Loosing another sigh, Cassian rubbed his tired eyes with the heel of his palms. “I grew up alone, so when I moved in with Rhysand’s mother and Azriel joined us… he and Rhys were the closest I had ever had to a real family. When we were a three, it was the first time I remembered being truly happy. Mor threatened that, so I did what I thought would remedy it. I was a naive, arrogant prick and bedding Mor is a regret that I have lived with ever since.”

Pausing, Cassian took in a deep breath. He’d never voiced any of this out loud before. It had always been something he and his family did not discuss out in the open, not until recently with Mor, anyway. And he had not gone into so much depth.

He hoped that Nesta understood what it had meant for him to be happy for the first time, when before that he had been miserable and alone. Nesta herself had confessed to Frawley that she did not know when she had last felt joy, but then Cassian had felt it the other day, the sensation so wonderful in her stomach he felt as if he had been knocked of breath. He had flown to find her, followed that tether between them that was more visceral than he had ever felt it, before he realised that this was not his moment to experience. So he had turned around in the skies, headed back home, waited to see Nesta later. Her face had been flushed and she was dirty from a day of helping in the widows camp… but her face, it was free of that mask. With it, her expression was less severe and the light in her eyes made her irises a shade lighter. It was the most beautiful thing Cassian had ever seen. And when she had seen him, she had smiled without thinking. As if he, too, brought her joy.

It had been a quiet smile. Secret. His.

But where could Cassian even start to begin explaining the mess of the love triangle between Mor, Az and himself? Of the guilt he felt for a few minutes of pleasure which nearly costed Mor her life.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I felt so much guilt over what I had done—over what happened to Mor and for betraying Azriel like that—I spent the next five hundred years doing everything I could to make things easier between them. Azriel doesn’t think he is worthy of Mor and Mor isn’t interested. So I stepped in when I could… I eased the tension. I let Mor use me as a buffer and it just… it became a bad habit. We fell into an unusual friendship. Mor can be very protective of me.” He sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “I can see how things were misconstrued. I think about it a lot, Nesta. I think about it all the time.”

Only silence met his confession.

“Things won’t be like that anymore,” he pressed on. Because he needed Nesta to understand that Mor was not in the equation—that she never had been—even though he was sure he and Nesta would never be anything but two Fae forced into close quarters. “Mor has finally been honest with Azriel.”

No reply. Nesta had turned preternaturally still again, as if she weren’t breathing.

“Nesta?"

“What.”

It was only one word but it was more vicious than anything she had said to him in months.

He felt his blood heat as he propped himself up onto an elbow. “Are you going to say anything or are you going to ignore me and pretend this conversation never happened?”

Nesta’s body moved slightly beneath the sheets as her muscles seized up. “I don’t think any of it matters now, so it’s not relevant.”

“It has always been relevant to me.” Cassian’s voice came out as a low hiss, his self-control snapping as his vulnerability became too much to bear. He threw a protective bubble around the room, sound proofing them inside. For the sake of their pretence, he couldn't have Fae ears overhearing their conversation. And… he could not bear Lorrian and Frawley overhearing something so painful. “You terrify me, Nesta, because I have never been so fucking captivated by anyone in the whole five hundred years I have been alive. From the very start you were different and it scared the shit out of me. My entire family knew it, too. I’m not a fan of everyone knowing my business, either, believe it or not, and they witnessed you putting me down at every step.”

Nesta’s snort was so cold that his entire blood heated fire. He was thankful for the dark to conceal how red his face has turned. He wanted to throttle her at the same time as he wanted to press her into the mattress and slant his mouth on hers. To show her that even now he only wanted her. That Mor meant nothing. Hadn’t for centuries. That he’d royally fucked up in so many ways that he didn’t even know how to start apologising.

“If you cared so much, perhaps you would not drop my hand when your friend enters the scene or gift her lingerie whilst I am in the same room. You are disgusting,” she spat.

Then, Nesta was facing him again with such sudden speed that Cassian braced himself for an attack, but Nesta only propped herself up onto an elbow. Her hair fell like a curtain over her shoulder, the flare of silver from her fingertips lighting the room with a sudden brightness.

“You asked why I read romance novels,” Nesta said, her voice having dropped suddenly into a quiet fervour that was no less chilling. “I read them because I was engaged to a boy who turned out to be cruel and I have watched a five hundred year old male discard and ignore me as he pleased. I would rather read about love than be in it. After all, I recall you saying that I was not worthy of love.”

“Sweetheart—” Cassian croaked. The blood had drained from his face and he knew that if he were to look in the mirror all he would see was a haunted ghost of himself. “I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to say that. You were so empty. I couldn’t reach you and so I lied. I thought you’d get angry at me, but instead you just walked away.”

“You are not unloveable,” he told her fiercely, when she remained silent and so fiercely sad his heart clenched. He had not known that she was engaged to that human filth. “You are the exact opposite. If anything—”

He stopped abruptly. Took stock. Her light was still glowing around them, illuminating the room in an ethereal mist which he would have considered beautiful if the two of them hadn’t been consumed by such agony.

“You’re not unloveable,” he insisted vehemently, after a moment’s pause. “And love doesn’t work like that. You can’t choose not to love, sweetheart. You know—”

“We decide how we act on it, that’s what matters,” Nesta interrupted, that mist sparking momentarily into flame before it was eaten by shadow.

And that was the crux of it. The truth behind the words—the calculated response that told Cassian that Nesta had thought of this over and over again. He would not change her mind when it came to him, because it all boiled down to her ability to choose. And he was not a choice. He had been thrust upon her. They were history rather than present. Would always be that way, it seemed.

Cassian fell onto his back as the gravity of the realisation crushed him with such force that for a moment, he felt as if he was choking.

“It was wrong of me to do those things,” Cassian said quietly, forcing out the hoarse words through the tightness in his windpipes as a result of the crushing disappointment. “All of it was wrong of me. I know that, Nesta. You may think I’m old but around you I find myself a teenager. On Solstice last year I didn’t know how to deal with the situation so I ignored you before you could do it to me and then regretted it later. I hoped you would speak to me. I hoped—”

That you would change your mind. That you would want to be with me. That you would stop fucking all those males. That you would forgive me.

But Cassian did not say those things. Instead, he said, “Look, we just need to pretend to be together for one more day and then you don’t have to think about being tied to anyone ever again.”

Silence.

That as all he needed to move. Logic told him that he should stay put—that he should remain calm and rational rather than affected—but the pain was too much and he found himself sitting up and pushing off the covers. He needed distance. In this room all he could scent was her—jasmine and vanilla—and it hurt, to be so close and know that he could not comfort her without the knowledge that she’d set him alight.

Cassian had thought he’d drawn a line under it all. Thought he’d accepted that he was content to co-habit with her and resist the undeniable pull between them for the rest of his days. But they had taken such big steps forward recently. Had thought things had continually shifted until all it boiled down to was their connection, which ran far deeper than twists of rope and a damn Cauldron.

At times, Cassian had even thought Nesta had wanted him to touch her. Had almost leant in to him. Walked close, stayed close.

Snorting, he discarded the memories, angry at himself for having wished for something that he had tried to put to rest.

“Where are you going?” Nesta’s words were sharp. The fanciful part of him detected alarm, but Cassian pushed it away. He knew better.

“To sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Again, Nesta moved with that extraordinary speed that Cassian should have accounted for. He had seen her in the sparring ring, had witnessed her move so fast that she was almost a blur. Only he could move that fast.

A mist-wreathed hand closed around his wrist with a strength that had his heart beating in his mouth and his siphons flaring. “Stay.”

Cassian ran a shaking palm over his face, pressing the heel of it to his eyes, hoping the pain of it would ground him. “I can’t,” he lied.

“You can,” Nesta said shortly, but there was a quiet plea lacing her voice. “You will.”

When Cassian didn’t move, Nesta tugged on his arm, urging him to join her back on the mattress. “Please,” she breathed, and this time Cassian did detect panic, as if Nesta had not bothered to conceal it. “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re the only—”

To Cassian’s dismay, Nesta broke off as her eyes filled with tears. When she spoke, her words were barely audible—small, “I like my life at the moment. I’ve never liked it before.”

Something cracked inside of Cassian, the sound internal and akin to the smashing of china.

“I don’t want anything to change,” Nesta continued. “I don’t want to have to move back to Velaris. I want to stay with you where I feel safe.”

Her expression cracked. The tight line to her mouth trembled and a frown twisted across her features. A tear slid down her cheek. “I said awful things to you,” she admitted.

“Yes,” Cassian conceded with a sad, tremulous smile, because even now he did not want her to hurt. “And I said awful things to you.”

“I wanted you to leave me alone. You scared me.”

“I know,” he replied. Because he understood what she meant. How even though his blood sang when she was near, he was equal parts terrified. “You scared me, too.”

“I needed to make you leave.”

“I know,” he repeated again. Because he knew that, too. Knew she had purposefully driven him away. She had wanted to hurt and be consumed with trauma. To finally feel nothing. To make sure the those she cared for were safe from her.

A broken sob had Cassian cupping Nesta’s face before he could help himself. Her skin was unbelievably soft against his calloused palms. He brushed a thumb over the arch of her cheekbone. “Nesta,” he breathed, waiting until she looked at him, until blue and hazel clicked into place. “I want you to stay with me. You never have to move back to Velaris, not if you don’t want to.”

Nesta did not reply. Did not move away. He bowed his head until his forehead was resting against hers, wanting her to know that he was sincere. That he wanted her to stay not because that’s what she needed to hear, but because he didn’t know what life would be like without her in it.

“I like living with you,” he told her again, because he knew somehow that she didn’t believe it. “I don’t want you to leave, either.”

Then he pulled her to him. She didn’t resist, her body pliant as he wrapped his arms around her. Cassian could feel Nesta’s heart, the sound pattering to meet his, as she wound her arms around his bare waist.

Her furled fists rested lightly against his skin, the pressure welcome and wonderful as she finally held him back.

“So, you won’t sleep on the floor?”

Such a small voice. Vulnerable and trusting. A voice she didn’t use with anyone but him.

“No,” Cassian assured her, knowing that staying was something he would never refuse. Something he couldn’t. “I won’t sleep on the floor.”

When he lay on the edge of his pillow closest to hers, Nesta settled beside him. She found his hand beneath the blankets, her fingers threading through his.

The initiated contact had his blood thrumming and he resisted the urge to pull Nesta back to him and wrap her in his arms.

An indeterminate amount of time passed.

Cassian listened to Nesta’s breathing as it became even; the slow, relaxed beat of her heart. The sound of his, thumping in tandem. Watched her eyelids flutter shut and her features soften. Felt how her fingers remained entwined with his.

“We would have crashed and burned. I would have dragged you down.”

Quiet, sleepy words. A confession, really, and Cassian stilled in surprise at the honesty that was not spat or wringing with deadly venom, but level. And if Cassian allowed himself to be rational, he knew that Nesta was right. Despite the thorny, overgrown path they were trampling down, it had all been necessary. Trauma, internal conflicts, self-doubt, complicated relationships… there were so many things that the both of them had needed to face before they could be truly content. What was it Cassian had said to Rhys when his brother had asked about his happiness? I’m working on it. He still was, but with Nesta beside him, still holding tight to his hand, Cassian found the world a little brighter, despite the shadowy future that lay ahead of them—a shape that had not yet taken form.

So, Cassian allowed a small smile to creep onto his face. “Maybe I’d like to be set alight.”

A soft snort. “That doesn’t mean you should.”

Then, Nesta’s fingers squeezed his. Soft breath travelled across the pillow to caress his cheek. “Goodnight, Cassian.”

He wondered how many times Nesta had actually said his name without being in mortal danger or when she had needed to get his attention. His name sounded intimate on her lips, a whisper of a prayer across the void that he hoped was narrowing between them.

In his mind, Cassian raised her hand again to press a kiss to her knuckles, even as he merely tightened his hold on hers.

It was in that moment of calm that Cassian vowed that he would change Nesta’s mind. That he would spend this gifted time showing Nesta that they might be strung together but that he had chosen her, if she would have him.

In the flickering silver light, Cassian felt Nesta began to slip into unconscious. Felt her fingers loosen their grip on his, but he held on tight, and said, “Goodnight, Nesta.”

Tags: @arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775 @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints @san-y-a-blog

#embersandlightfic #nessianfic #nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar fanfic #acotar #acosf

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renegadewangs · 3 years ago

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Van Zieks - the Examination, part 7

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Back to the second game we go for The Return of the Great Departed Soul! (Part one, this is another two-parter case)

Episode 2-3: The Return of the Great Departed Soul

So now, chronologically, six months have passed since The Unspeakable Story. Susato returned to Japan at the end of the first game and hasn't returned yet. Ryu was reprimanded for all the perjury and the questionable McGilded defense, so he had his right to stand in court revoked for now and instead had to focus on studying English law some more. He's done so quite patiently and now he feels he's ready to return. He just needs to get Stronghart's permission first. Meanwhile, the Great Exhibition is happening in Hyde Park, pulling in visitors and scientists from all over the world. Exciting! (S)Holmes hands Ryu a newspaper with an article on the exhibition, talking about how the brighter things shine, the darker the shadows cast behind them. By now, Ryu is fluent enough in (S)Holmes speak to know this means he should flip over the newspaper. There, we find an article of an entirely different sort.

So not only was Van Zieks apparently attacked, Ryu shows horror and concern at the notion. No hard feelings from our wholesome boy! (S)Holmes explains that London's finest criminals often find ways to get acquittals from trials through bribery, threats, sham witnesses... We saw this in McGilded, of course, so we know all too well how dangerous that can get. But since the Reaper and his curse are immune to such tactics, when a ringleader or fellow ends up being 'taken' by the curse, retaliation can occur. So it's established that this isn't the first time Van Zieks has been attacked by a group of thugs. Fortunately, Van Zieks is an “accomplished combatant” who doesn't take these attacks lying down. Unfortunately, the thugs were carrying guns this time. Uhoh.

This warms my heart, it really does. Van Zieks has been a terrible scumbag, but Ryu doesn't think he's gotten his comeuppance at all. He's genuinely concerned for this man and intends to find out more about his condition. So since he was planning to meet with Stronghart and ask for attorney permission anyway, it's the perfect opportunity to also ask about Van Zieks! Iris decides to tag along because she wants to visit the Great Exhibition. Let's shove the newspaper in Stronghart's face as soon as the game allows it.

The phrasing of “number one prosecutor” is interesting, but then... We never learn of any other (living) veteran prosecutors in this country, so of course Van Zieks would be number one. Stronghart says there's no need for concern; Van Zieks would not be so easily dispatched. Street ruffians are no match for him, since he's a very capable fighter. Seems like that sword he carries around isn't just for show after all. As for why he was attacked this time... Well, a month ago Van Zieks prosecuted a leader of a criminal organization. Nice to know he didn't just return to retirement and instead got back to work like a normal person without cherrypicking his cases based on what Ryu's doing. The defendant was acquitted, no doubt thanks to large sums of money being shifted around behind the scenes, but he still met a dramatic end just yesterday during an accident at the Great Exhibition. The man in question was Odie Asman, and the one now being detained on suspicion of murder without a defense attorney is Professor Albert Harebrayne. Albert's case has just been assigned to Ryu, so we're sure to find out more about Asman as we go. As as final touch, Ryu asks Stronghart why he continues to use Van Zieks as a prosecutor. Since the criminals are becoming fearful of the curse and attacking him, it's dangerous to Van Zieks himself. Stronghart explains that he has two reasons: Firstly, Van Zieks is the best prosecutor in the capital, bar none. And secondly, any deaths that have occurred outside the courtrooms after his trials have nothing to do with him. (S)Holmes alluded to the same thing, saying that Van Zieks had a rock-hard alibi for each and every mysterious death.

“So he will continue to prosecute on behalf of the Crown. ...Unless he wishes otherwise, of course.” With that, Stronghart admits he needs to get going since he's already 11 hours late to his next appointment (fsdkjfls). Ryu asks where he might be able to find Van Zieks and is told to head to his office. So even after being told that Van Zieks is just fine, Ryu is still concerned and wants to discuss the matter with the man himself. Let's gooo! Naturally, the first thing out of Van Zieks's mouth when he catches Ryu and Iris in his office is to wonder what the heck they're doing here.

So there's several things of interest in the office, with the game automatically addressing the biggest one: Van Zieks has an apprentice now! It's a mysterious, rigid dude wearing a hood and a mask who is absolutely not familiar to us, nope. We don't know him. Gosh, what a mystery. Van Zieks doesn't seem to know who he is either, instead just referring to him as his apprentice and nothing more.

Ryu sees this as an opening to ask about the attack on the Reaper that was in the newspaper. Van Zieks admits that he too is very interested in the true identity of the Reaper. “Assuming, that is, such a fabled fiend genuinely inhabits our great courtrooms.” The conversation halts for a moment so we can examine the office and this is the best opportunity for humanizing traits we've gotten so far, so LET'S DO IT! The enormous portrait in the back is the first thing to peek at.

Iris says whoever painted it exaggerated the subject's handsomeness, which in turn is reminiscent of Napoleon ordering the painter to make him look more attractive. That's super vain and not an attractive quality in a person at all. I laughed the whole way through that bit of dialogue and Van Zieks, who was in earshot the entire time, gets his feathers ruffled.

When Ryu asks who it is then, Van Zieks doesn't reply. BACKSTORY ALERT! Examining the chalices and bottles on the left leads to Van Zieks explaining the hallowed bottles are filled with the finest grapes from the finest vineyards he visits (so it is grape juice!!!) and he personally oversees the chalices being made by the finest crystal craftsmen in the world. Right, so not only is he filthy stinkin' rich, he's a perfectionist. Iris points out that Van Zieks throws the chalices and bottles around like they're worthless, to which Van Zieks says:

“Before you open your mouth next time, you should consider the poor artisans whose work you defile.”

As it turns out, passive aggression is contagious now. Ryu replies with a “So it's my fault? Silly me! How could I ever have thought otherwise?” and honestly I love that he's got enough guts to say this out loud. Our boy is growing a spine. Examining the wine casks has Ryu and Iris theorize about how there might be dead bodies in there, which once again ruffles Van Zieks's feathers.

Snrk. Examining the big diorama in the middle of the room has Ryu and Iris wonder whether Van Zieks can't go to the Exhibition in person and this is his way of dealing with that, which has Van Zieks snap that it's obviously an investigative aid. He even has pets of sorts in his office, in the form of a couple of bats hanging from the curtains. Alright, so the game's definitely humanizing this poor man now. No matter how many crazy stories Iris and Ryu come up with about him, there's usually a very innocent explanation to debunk the eerie myths. Something particularly interesting happens when Ryu shows Van Zieks his defense attorney armband. Van Zieks asks what the reason is for showing it to a British prosecutor, to which Ryu admits that he doesn't quite know. Van Zieks is silent for a bit, then says that he understands. “There's merit in reminding yourself of who helped you become what you are today.”

As he says it, he reaches for his prosecutor's badge and if you're aware of the backstory, you'll know he's thinking of Klint. More importantly, this conversation puts Ryu and Van Zieks on the same level. Ryu is always thinking of Kazuma, who 'helped him become who he is today' and the armband signifies this, along with the sword. Similarly, Van Zieks lost someone very close to him and he's walking the path of prosecutor in his brother's memory. Ryu thanks Van Zieks for understanding and it's very significant that Van Zieks understands in the first place. Remember, in the first game he was under the impression that a Japanese person could never understand a British person and vice versa.

Showing Van Zieks the newspaper article has him looking a bit embarrassed, pointing out that a reporter must've been nearby and he'd been careless to let himself get photographed. Either way, all the thugs responsible have already been apprehended. The investigation into Odie Asman's activities meant that their arrests were already imminent anyway, and some hoped to kill Van Zieks before that happened. Much like McGilded, Asman used his wealth to buy his way towards an acquittal in court, but “he got his comeuppance in the end.” Which is strange, right? Very suspicious. Van Zieks asks whether Ryu believes he has some sort of divine ability to make an accident like that happen. Ryu admits that would be far-fetched, and thinks to himself that even if Van Zieks were the Reaper, he'd have to be innocent of this particular death. We also learn that Van Zieks is familiar with Professor Harebrayne, the suspect in the Asman incident. When told that Ryu will be taking on the defense, Van Zieks is shocked.

Van Zieks goes on to explain that he knows Albert quite well. They were at university together. While he's lived in Germany for quite a few years, Albert is actually from a respectable British family. And despite Albert being in the science faculty and Van Zieks in law, they got along quite well. Now he's in pretty hot water for that Asman accident.

Hm. I don't quite know what to make of this reaction. I think what's going on here isn't that Van Zieks is rattled because Albert is being defended by a Japanese person, but because he's being defended by a rookie attorney who was just disbarred for six months for accidentally encouraging perjury, false witness and crime scene tampering in a court of law. Yes, Ryu has won his trials every single time, but it came at a price. Aside from this, there's one other thing Van Zieks knows about Ryu: he'll pursue the truth, no matter what. This means that if Albert indeed didn't succeed at inventing teleportation, it'll be revealed in court because exposing shams is Ryu's whole deal.

We learn that Van Zieks will be the one to prosecute Albert tomorrow, which is curious to say the least. Ryu wants to know why he'd do something like that, with Iris pointing out that so long as the Reaper is the prosecutor, Albert is doomed. Van Zieks replies that he's a Crown prosecutor and a mortal like any other; he's no demigod. In other words, he doesn't believe the curse to be a real curse. Iris points out that everyone who's been prosecuted by Van Zieks has died (which is already objectively wrong), to which Van Zieks replies that he usually prosecutes the vilest wretches of society.

… Harsh. Ryu points out that Soseki wasn't a vile wretch though, with Iris chiming in that Gina's also turned her life around and she's working very hard now. Van Zieks admits that things have changed ever since meeting Ryu- which of course has to do with Van Zieks's need to face Ryu in court even in mediocre trials rather than pursue his usual corrupted targets- but the point is that if any of those vile wretches died in mysterious circumstances, it was “at the hand of their own kind”, not Van Zieks's. So basically, he believes that they were killed because they were dubious people engaged with dubious activities, not because of the Reaper's curse. Not only that, but ever since the rumors of the Reaper began, the number of serious crimes in London has decreased significantly. Even the most hardened criminals can be made fearful of their lives. Therefore, if his pseudonym of the Reaper can serve a useful purpose, he'll “adopt it gladly and with honour”. Ryu repeats that which he already told Stronghart; that it's putting Van Zieks in danger.

He really is a prosecutor on the edge with nothing to lose, huh. So what Van Zieks is basically saying is that he doesn't care if he dies, so long as he spends the rest of his life serving the 'useful purpose' of carrying the Reaper moniker to intimidate the vilest of society. But is that really all there is to it? (Spoilers: It's not)

There's a bit more talk about the mysterious apprentice here, with Van Zieks explaining the man was placed in his care under Stronghart's orders. He's wearing a mask on Stronghart's orders and also doesn't speak to anyone from outside the office on Stronghart's orders. HM. Van Zieks claims that Stronghart isn't one for “meaningless follies”, therefore he must have a good reason. This implies that Van Zieks believes in Stronghart's judgment almost blindly. To round up the conversation, Van Zieks asks about “that Nipponese man. The one arrested twice in succession six months ago. With the stoop. And the moustache. And the jitters.” Looks super offensive at first glance, but I gotta admit, after six months I wouldn't remember Soseki's name either. Better to describe him than to guess the name and get it wrong. Still though, just because it's not super offensive doesn't mean it's not offensive. Just saying “the one you defended six months ago” would've done the trick. Either way, Ryu says he's doing just fine and a letter from him arrived by post just the other day.

So this is interesting. Earlier, Van Zieks claimed in his own words that he doesn't believe in the curse and those who died had it coming to them, but he's still inquiring after Soseki. Perhaps not so much because he's worried about Soseki himself, but because he's curious whether this man has successfully escaped the curse so far. He would know that for a fact about Gina, but the only way to verify Soseki's status is to ask Ryu about it.

Time to leave this glass cage of exposition and meet the defendant in person! Albert spouts a whole lot of dialogue about how his machine is treated differently depending on whether the case is treated as an accident or as murder. If it's murder, it can be examined up close and that's what Albert doesn't want. It has to be treated as an accident so that it'll be protected from prying eyes through The Special Dispensation for Scientific Equipment Act (wow that's a mouthful). Of course, that's not entirely what we're interested in. Let's ask about his friendship with Van Zieks! Ryu asks what he was like back in his university days and the answer surprises him.

HAH, wonderfully written exchange, this one. Albert goes to describe him as “the little darling of the Van Zieks family, with all its great aristocratic origins”. So Van Zieks has some very noble blood in him. We could've already guessed this from his title of Lord, but apparently it's a bit more serious. I could derail here with wild theories about his family originating from the Netherlands and having migrated to the UK around the time the first king of the Netherlands, Willem I van Oranje Nassau, rose to power in 1813. Willem changed the way nobility works to some degree in the country and not all noble families would've agreed with his way of doing things. But anyway, point is, Van Zieks is a big shot. Albert says that it was kind of a shock to him when he came back to Britain and discovered 'what Van Zieks had become'. He heard that there was 'a very big event' that completely changed Van Zieks after his graduation, but doesn't know what it was because he was already in Germany at the time. So here we have some more traces of that backstory and we have enough pieces to start sticking some things together. We know Van Zieks was once betrayed by a friend and we now know he was a very modest, pleasant gentleman when he was young. Whatever happened must've been very harsh indeed to turn him into such a sour lemon. Either way, Albert doesn't seem to know yet that Van Zieks will be the prosecutor and Ryu doesn't have the heart to tell him.

So let's investigate the crime scene! Here, it's confirmed that Gina Lestrade is indeed just fine and now in training to become a detective with Gregson. Cute! So eventually we get to talk to Gregson about Van Zieks and how he's acquainted with Albert. Gregson is overdramatically shocked to find out that the two of them are old buddies.

Remember when Van Zieks took a five year hiatus and nobody had to mysteriously die from the Reaper's curse? Those were the days, eh Gregson? Now he's even prosecuting his own friends willy-nilly. Gregson states he has no idea what goes on in Van Zieks's head (a sentiment we've heard before in 1-4) and goes on to bring up the newspaper article about Van Zieks being attacked. When told that our good old pal the Reaper is just fine, Gregson utters a very uncomfortable “glad to hear it” which honestly had me wondering whether he'd preferred Van Zieks to die.

Up until a certain someone gets killed and stuffed into a suitcase, I'd reckon. Gregson says that Van Zieks is a top class prosecutor, but not even he can always push the right verdict through. “Sometimes justice can't win.” Gregson explains that naturally, Scotland Yard suspected Van Zieks at first and assumed he was taking matters into his own hands. There was a very thorough investigation and the outcome was that Van Zieks was in no way related to the mysterious deaths. So that's three people now who all insist Van Zieks couldn't possibly have committed the murders. Gregson says he's willing to stake his reputation on it, even. Of course, Gregson would know for sure, wouldn't he? But the narrative is telling us over and over that Van Zieks himself isn't the Reaper, with even Van Zieks himself implying he'd like to know just who the Reaper is. There's a conspiracy happening that Van Zieks is the centerpiece of, with the narrative really pushing the mystery aspect of it. The writers want us to care about the truth of the Reaper for sure.

OOOH that's meta! Ryu, being nosy and overly invested in Van Zieks's life, asks Gregson whether he knows about the 'incident' which changed Van Zieks after graduation.

Okay he clearly knows. Even a first time player can tell from this single reaction that Gregson's lying. The mystery thickens! At the end of the conversation, when Gregson's gone off, Iris recommends asking (S)Holmes about it instead. Safe bet, since (S)Holmes continuously knows more than he's letting on. To the house of wax we go! When asked about it, it's clear that he does know something (and is described as suddenly clamming up), but before he can explain there's a distraction in the form of Madam Tusspells and we have to sit through a mostly-unrelated Joint Reasoning segment. It leads into a conversation about a mass murderer known as the Professor. Ten years ago, there was a series of murders which rocked the capital right around the time Van Zieks graduated from university. Five people were killed before the man was caught and executed. This fifth victim was Klint van Zieks, Barok's older brother.

I really, really dislike this phrasing because Van Zieks was already studying law to begin with. He'd just graduated as a prosecutor; his brother's death had nothing to do with him pursuing that path. Anyway...

OOOH that's meta! So remember way back in the first essay when I said the backstory is optional? Well, here it is. The Great Ace Attorney is going all in for it. It's being tied to the ongoing plot, just as pretty much all the main prosecutor backstories are. Edgeworth's backstory is tied to Von Karma being the final boss, Godot's backstory is tied to the Fey lineage, Klavier's backstory (I say this lightly) is tied to Phoenix's disgrace... Now Van Zieks's story is tied to the serial killer who ruined so many lives a decade ago. And technically, we already have all the puzzle pieces we need for the next twist; we know Van Zieks was betrayed by a Japanese person who was his friend. So really, we can now say with absolutely certainty that the man arrested and executed back then was a Japanese buddy of Van Zieks.

The investigation segment is pretty much over, but the game has one more scene for us. This is something Ryunosuke won't witness, but the scriptwriters deemed it so important that we're ignoring Ryu to focus solely on the two characters involved. And cutting away from our main character is something that usually doesn't happen in Ace Attorney. Even when characters like Phoenix or Ryu are out of commission for whatever reason, a new 'main character' takes over for a second and we see everything from their point of view. I can think of only one other scene viewed without Ryu there, which happened in 1-5 just before Susato had to leave London. So what we have here is a very private moment between Van Zieks and Albert.

AWWW... The scenes in the office were great and all, but this right here is perhaps the most humanizing exchange we'll ever see with Barok. The reason for that, I think, is precisely because Ryu isn't there. He's alone with an old friend now, which means he can let his guard down more than he usually would. Even so, it's worth noting here that he doesn't look directly at Albert. He stands with his back to him the entire time and I'm certain this is intentional, because they could just as easily have rotated him into that sideways view that's often used in dialogue and courtroom scenes. He made his way down to the gaol to speak with his friend after ten long years, but is reluctant to look right at him. The conversation itself feels rather distant as well. Albert is delighted to see Van Zieks, but the sentiment isn't returned vocally. Van Zieks points out that they're meeting again “in prison of all places” and that the court will decide Albert's fate tomorrow. When Van Zieks raises a warning, Albert says he already knows his friend will be prosecuting and doesn't appear bothered at all at first. He does try to raise a question in the form of “Are you really...?”, but ultimately drops it and says that he knows Van Zieks has his best interests at heart. Van Zieks says he wouldn't entrust the trial of his friend to anyone else, and Albert thanks him for that. So my first guess upon taking in that dialogue is that Albert wonders for a brief moment whether Van Zieks really is the Reaper/really is cursed, only to shake it off because he considers the man his friend. Van Zieks seems to know it's risky to prosecute Albert, but deems it more important to handle the case himself than to let someone else do it. This, as we learn later, has to do with the Special Dispensation for Scientific Equipment Act and the protection of Albert's scientific secrets.

Next day, we're at the Old Bailey! In the defendant lobby, Ryu is once again told by Albert that the true goal to aim for in this trial is to protect his scientific hypothesis. So hypothetically speaking, the ideal outcome here would be to prove the death was accidental and that the kinesis was a success at the same time. (S)Holmes and Iris don't believe Albert's theory to be sound though, instead saying it couldn't possibly be done. In the courtroom, Ryu faces off against Van Zieks once more for the first time in six months! The judge is quick to point out that Odie Asman is a name familiar to him; a man who was prosecuted only a month ago by Van Zieks. When he asks whether this death is the work of the Reaper, Van Zieks instead describes it as “divine retribution”, but also “a direct result of the actions of the accused, Professor Albert Harebrayne”. The prosecution asserts that the instantaneous kinesis demonstration was a success. He himself can't say for certain whether it's a sound theory, but it's being investigated by the British government since it was deemed to have potential and the prosecution's case aligns with the notion that there was indeed instantaneous- You know what? Let's just call it teleportation. That's easier to type.

Unfortunately, Van Zieks doesn't want to follow the accident angle. Instead, he outright accuses his old friend of murdering Asman using the totally-functional-teleportation-machine-which-totally-worked to be the sole benefactor of a scientific grant. Harsh. Very harsh. I don't entirely understand why he didn't pursue the accident angle instead, but then, I don't quite know enough about law. My guess is that as the prosecution, he's not allowed to. Scotland Yard found enough evidence at the scene to substantiate a murder plot, especially that damning screwdriver that Ryu so graciously handed to Gregson, so that's what the prosecution has to go with, maybe? It's up to the defense attorney to debunk that down to an accident, then, so in essence Van Zieks is counting on Ryu to 'defeat him' and prove the murder aspect wrong. It would align with the conversation Albert had with Van Zieks in prison, where he said that 'it was a terrible accident and the young Eastern man acting as his defence assured him that he can prove it'.

So speaking of that screwdriver, Albert tries to discredit it himself by saying that if he had stabbed Asman on the stage, there would've been a whole lot of blood. Van Zieks pours himself a glass of wine and 'congratulates' his friend on a good rebuttal.

“Here's to you, Albert!”

Albert laughs it off sheepishly, saying he's nothing compared to “Barok” (awww, first name basis), but a chalice is immediately flung. Van Zieks says Albert neglected to mention one crucial possibility, which is that the lack of blood is explained by the notion that the screwdriver remained in the victim's chest to plug the wound. Therefore, since the demonstration was totally a success, the screwdriver was teleported along with the victim. Ryu thinks to himself that he had no idea the victim had been stabbed and wonders whether Van Zieks kept that information to himself to keep the upper hand on purpose. This whole thing jars me a little, because the screwdriver is brought up relatively early in the trial during the very first cross-examination. Is not mentioning it during the opening statement and waiting for Gregson to bring it up three minutes later really the same as 'keeping it to himself to gain the upper hand'?

Either way, Ryu counters, saying that the screwdriver was found at the stage and therefore didn't teleport at all, with Gregson serving as an official witness to this location. It's pretty clear from the next dialogue that Gregson never told Van Zieks where that screwdriver was found.

“That you contravened the Special Dispensation for Scientific Equipment Act?”

Gregson is immediately up in arms, but it's fine. There was no investigation needed to find a screwdriver lying in plain sight. So now Ryu decides to tighten the screws. He claims that if the prosecution can't explain the inconsistency (the screwdriver being found on the stage but no blood being there so clearly it must've plugged the wound), the testimony is unreliable. Van Zieks doesn't reply and Ryu thinks to himself that he looks stumped, but uh...

He just looks annoyed to me. The person to object next is not Van Zieks, it's Albert. He says that metal can't be teleported with the machine, so it only makes sense the screwdriver stayed behind and there's no inconsistency at all. Van Zieks suggests: “Clearly we should hear the accused's explanation. … Or should I say, this brilliant scientist's explanation?” And I think here in these two sentences we have the crux of the issue. Albert wants to be treated as a legitimate scientist above all else. Even if that means he's branded a murderer, so long as his hypothesis is protected and the confidentiality stands, it makes no difference to him. This was likely discussed with Van Zieks the night before as well. Albert is apparently willing to die for the sake of his scientific principles and... Well. I'm sure Van Zieks can understand. He's willing to die for the sake of serving the Reaper purpose. In a way, this means the defendant and the prosecution are in cahoots together, which is another first in Ace Attorney history. The two of them are fighting to keep the hypothesis of teleportation intact and if Ryu manages to prove that it was an accidental death, then great! Unfortunately, the second that screwdriver was discovered, the chances of that became slim to none. It was murder, plain and simple. On a sidenote, I found this little gem:

I'm counting this as humanization, because the underlying sentiment here is that despite his haughty better-than-thou attitude, Van Zieks is still friends with someone so very scatterbrained, his name is forgotten sometimes. Even Ryu is taken aback by the purity of the friendship.

Heh heh... Time to cause some more havoc by informing the court that Asman's metal-rimmed glasses were still on his face and since Albert already said metal can't be teleported, his hypothesis is a load of tosh. The jurors go up in arms about it, saying the machine should be stripped down and examined. The game gives Ryu the option to either raise an objection or 'wait and see', but this is another one of those fake choices. Waiting and seeing just leads to a bit more dialogue between the jurors before Ryu steps in of his own accord. He says Albert would have no reason to build such an elaborate fake machine and put on a public display for murder, but Van Zieks counters with the very good reason: Money. The jurors are even more outraged, calling him a fake scientist who's only in it for the guineas, and Albert begs them to believe that his science is built upon a sound hypothesis. Van Zieks comes in to 'save the day' (sort of).

“The fact remains that the victim was transported instantly to the Crystal Tower. Which means that the experiment... was a success.”

And I gotta say, this next bit is just very enjoyable to me. The way it's written is so great.

HEH HEH.... Van Zieks has some more witnesses to summon who saw the incident from some 'very special seats', but let's end the essay here for now and pick it back up next time!

#dgs #dgs spoilers #tgaa #tgaa spoilers #barok van zieks

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salenakingston · 4 years ago

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Mystery March Day 21 - One of Us

(This is by far the most involved prompt I have done for Mystery March, and so I hope it turned out alright. There will be some more detailed author’s notes at the end of the writing, as there’s no possible way I can fit them all here before it. Just let me express how much of an inspiration you all have been! ENJOY!)

I said, even if I told ya

It all started with an idea, as most every work of art does. Concepts were put in place, branching off from that one base idea. From there, others came together to help get this little project off the ground. Characters were fleshed out, just as the world they lived in where. The team worked hard on everything planned, a true passion project.

When the first video dropped, we were all invested. We fell in love with the characters, story, and music. We couldn’t wait to see more, and despite all the time having to wait, it has always been worth it. Great works take time, and even with a team as dedicated as this one is, they fueled our own passions with previews, updates, character and worldbuilding, merch, and as of the most recent video, a branch into another medium to further tell their story. Their group continued to grow, bringing on more talented individuals, including voice actors.

Fours videos under the belt and one more still to come, they pour their heart and soul into this series, though they are not the only ones who do so. There’s a theory in our world known as the ‘multiverse.’ It is said that all these universes living side by side with one another create everything that exists. Can the same not be said for this team and all the fascinating works of art that came out of this one little series of four videos?

They've been looking for you and only you

It’s a tale of three friends and their dog, all stemming from a terrifying incident inside a cave. One lost their life, one lost their memory, and one lost their arm. What of the last member of their group? He lost his identity. Karma for his trickery would come back to haunt him. Guilt came to consume another, and the last to make it out alive was left wondering what was even going on.

Revenge fueled the one that came back, determined to get back at the one ‘friend’ that managed to cut his life short, and reunite with the love of his life. What started with a chase through a mansion led to the appearance of a tree woman searching for the trickster. The ghost refueled hijacks a truck, gunning down for the familiar van he once drove for all of them.

The woman catches up, shattering the glass wall protecting those in the front seat. The ghost blows the back tire that causes the van to crash. Two encounters branch from this point, one shrouded in the past, and another in the pursuit of revenge. Blonde and blue-haired humans nearly falling at the hands of their captors.

But they survive.

The dog’s true form revealed, the battle commences, blood spilling. As one disintegrates, an opening is left over for a familiar evil to take hold. White became black, demonic nature taking over the once noble being. The three friends left being the ones to bring him free of this grip. What are they to do? It’s all left to be seen...

Darkness is my signal

Not too much is known about this blonde, though despite the change to his physical appearance, there are parts of what defined him that have not changed. He’s had to adjust his lifestyle, but seems to have made the most of his new life. He may have even found some comfort in a bit of an unusual source. Anything to keep him from the self-isolation he seemed content to bring upon himself because of his condition.

So what are you to me, what are we to you?

The cave incident plays out like normal, there is one major change in the timeline of events. The blonde is sent tossed over the cliff along with his best friend, the entity that caused all their problems still trapped inside his body. When the ghost reformed, his anger was washed away at the sight of his friend suffering the same fate, or so he believed. Once free, it was nothing but a rough struggle to hold onto sanity, not just for one of them, but both.

One to keep calm, helping his friend to try and stay lucid.

The other fighting the terrifying entity inside him for control, while changing his body to fit the demon’s needs.

The blonde won, but at what a cost? Green skin covering his body, feet and hands sporting yellow-tinted claws. The posture of his own feet changed, causing him to have to learn how to walk all over again. A tail with a tuft of orange hair, and two large wings attached to his back. Last of course, were the horns on his head, and the blacked out eyes with amber pupils. He was in despair over the turn of events.

At least he had his best friend to help him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. Well, this, and the series of events that came to follow. The two were eventually united with their final friend, but their not-dog wasn’t convinced of the blonde’s mind. It didn’t matter that he didn’t act like a demon, as he still looked like one, accepting the pain brought on him.

Drastic measures were taken to ensure freedom of the ghost, no matter how unnecessary it was. Adjustment takes time, and a good talk was what the four of them needed.

But are you one of us?

Are you one of us?

What seemed like a simple task, well maybe not simple, but one that was plausible spiraled into a long drive across the country in search of a cure for the ghost’s condition. All it took was one ingredient: werewolf blood. Seven weeks after the start of their trip, two were starting to lose hope, the last of their trio determined as always. A blur running across the front of their van was enough to bring their hopes back up, chasing down what looked like a big wolf.

To just miss it. It seemed like another dead end for their search.

Until the blonde was all alone.

The wolf jumped out of the shadows, teeth sinking down into flesh. Were it not for the arrival of the kitsune, who knows what would have happened. The injured one was brought back to his friends, patched up, and taken in for proper treatment. A headache marks the night of the full moon, a night when werewolves are said to be forced to transform. What will happen for them? Most left to the whim of try blue ghosts deemed as blueberries. We shall see where their questions and actions take this new werewolf and his friends.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Tales of legends are passed down, but come from a place of truth. Those that speak of a king gifted a sword with a beautiful, glowing, purple gem just before the silver of the blade. This is a gift from the Lady of the Lake, and one not to be taken lightly. It comes as a surprise when the weapon turns out to be sentient, and the two not always getting along.

Sometimes the king can be a little harsh on his partner.

And sometimes the sword can refuse to work in situations where his help would be greatly appreciated.

They must learn to work with one another if they hope to overcome the obstacles placed in front of them. The question is can this be done, or will they continue to bicker with one another?

I know that this sounds crazy

An unfortunate case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time causes the members of the separate mystery solving groups to be body swapped with one another. A kid stuck with adult hunters that deal with magic, as well as otherworldly dangers, and an adult stuck with a bunch of kids that seem like they may be in way over their heads. The ultimate goal is for the two groups to come together, and find a way to swap the souls in each body back to their original home.

Easier said than done.

One gets to learn the truth of a horrifying incident, something that tore friends apart, and damaged the people of their group beyond some repair. A kind heart is offered to them despite all this, helping to try and ease the burden even if he has nothing to do with them.

The other sees first hand what kind of trouble a group of kids can get themselves in. His own problems arise, and in typical fashion, does not wish to push them onto anyone he’s been stuck with. It’s a little harder to convince some of this new group of the world he has seen, and learned from; but, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s to still help those around him, and lend a hand when a mystery comes along their way.

Two outsider perspectives looking in, and it’s a matter of what adventures they will have before and after they come together again.

Waiting for this moment, can you see me?

A whirlwind of emotions, pushed only further at the hands of abuse, a blonde is left to flee from his own home to try and preserve himself. He fled through the states, ending up at another corner of the US. His mind might have been broken, but that didn’t stop one person from becoming the most important in his life, nor the three that came to follow from their union. The haunts of old were constantly clinging to him, no matter how careful he was so that none could find him, and even when those fears returned, he never let them get in the way of his family. There was an understanding between them.

But all that fear came crashing back when one single letter was hand passed to him by his former friend’s father.

Even terrified out of his wits, he found the courage to pack up some of his family to return to his old home. The past came back in full force, as well as the reveal of a curse that only seemed to have the power to vanquish. The people that treated him the worst came back to him for help. The same blue-haired girl who’s father delivered the father nearly brought the end of three children with her partner in crime. The wraith that made his life a living hell came back trying to act as if there was something he could do to make up for what he had done.

And the demon that caused all this to happen in the first place was now roaming free...

'Cause I know that you're out there

Almost as if the reset button had been hit, the blonde wakes up thrown into the past, a time when his best friend was still alive, but… it wasn’t the same. The blonde was still the same one from the future, and new friends that his past friends would know nothing about showed themselves. How was he meant to be like his old self when anytime he looked at the purple wearing man, all he saw was the vengeful ghost out for his life?

Events aren’t meant to play out the same way, and they don’t. Despite this, some things can not be changed. The demon still found his way to the same host, though what he chose to do was different. Even with all the chaos, at least the one man didn’t lose his life.

And he gets a front row seat to what his blonde friend had to go through in the future he once came from. It hurt. Emotions still rang high, even if the circumstances are not the same.

This darkness is my signal, come and find me

Sometimes the past can be changed and have one new timeline play out, but what if that same man from the future was now thrown into multiple iterations of the same events, each one spent trying to make it a perfect outcome for all four of them? Well… after a few rounds it didn’t matter if he got to be part of their ending. All that mattered was fixing things for the other three. That was his assigned duty.

Death ended each try, waking the man back up in his bed, whether that be at the hands of someone else, or himself. He just needed more time, plan, and make sure he got it right. He could do it, he was determined to do so.

No matter how much it was tearing him apart.

And when enough was finally enough, it was up to the three left to try and convince him that even with pain, they could continue on with their lives. He didn’t have to keep fighting anymore. He could take an ending that hurt, but one they could heal from, rather than spending so many years trying and trying, all to end with a repeat.

As having to remember all of that hurt.

Are you one of us?

What started out as just another night of sleepwalking led the blonde to the steps of a very familiar mansion. Fleeing from an unseen threat caused him to swallow his fear, taking the first step inside. There was no greeting this time, save for the slamming of doors behind him. The only light provided was a light purple of three candles, lifted by the only hand he had. A journey up a flight of stairs and down the hall, coming to a plaque with his name on it.

Entrance strangely granted to him with the twist of a knob from a hand that wasn't there.

The night spent in a bed, waking up to find he had become a prisoner. It seemed death was what would come to him, whether it be at the hands of his former best friend, or by his own. After all, there was a reason his room was on the second floor. Revelations come to light with the appearance of a certain green arm… wearing a familiar, black wristband.

Friendships ruined, for another reason than before. Another friend found searching for him. Both started for selfish means, but it was selflessness that sent him back into the house, even though an evil from the past threatened them once more.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

It’s not everyday that some dive into the past of these character’s lives, but what would happen if one young, scared blonde came across an ancient tree? One that was alive in more ways than one. A strange feeling washed between the two of them, a bond made from the day the blond fled into her woods to hide from the one hunting him. He came to her more than once, and yet every time he did, she sought to rest his soul.

And soon, the tables had turned. Now she was the one in need of rest, though she did not realize it yet until she got the same comfort she once gave to the blonde. His pack adopted her, and he took care of her rot. Names of a powerful thing to these beings, and they knew each other by that power word.

This was not the end of their story. The three friends and dog were reunited, of course the blonde being the one to decide to choose the home where his wooden friend resided. There’s no denying that he was still healing, but he found the courage to try and seek it for himself. The bluenette grew curious about the tree in their backyard, and the final finds an outside source to try and round his curious status.

Are you one of us?

The once ghost only turned out to be half deceased, but the hatred still remained. Whether he liked it or not, the blond was at fault; but, he had a plan. One that was sure to fix everything. Find the true cause of their misery, proof that he was just as much a victim.

It was a plan that split their group apart. The dog chose to go with the man on his search, while the bluenette stayed with their half dead friend. The hunt is on, but who’s to tell how the story is to go on from here. Will they each succeed with their goals? We shall see.

Are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

The ghost finds himself in the company of others like him. Not ghosts, but skeletons from various worlds. The logistics of how this came to pass is a mystery, though he does not seem to find these details too important. Separated from his ‘friends,’ he finds new ones in this strange group of individuals. They seem to naturally bounce off one another, though some still have trouble catching the ghost’s triggers to his anger. Thankfully, most situations involving this aren’t left to fester.

Their local hang out at Manny’s place is full of stories, interactions between these liked characters. Some funny, some more serious. Whatever the case may be, even if he’s not in the same place as most other ghosts like him, he’s found a place where he can fit in.

Are you one of us?

A prince and a noble of green came together, an unholy union that was meant to lead to a prosperous life. Perhaps, but only for one half of that pair. Concerns were dismissed, comfort was sought by an evil man from the one he supposedly loved, and the other tried to find what little comfort there was in his constricting hold. It took the support of two outside his kingdom, and two strangers that wormed into his life to stand up to the terror in his life.

And yet… even with their help… and his desire to lend his help in return…

It wasn’t enough.

A life ended, but the king came back. He was not about to give up on the kingdom he always poured his heart and soul into. Years he seemed to be alone, though one by one, four beings came into his company. He still had those that aided him in life, but now he had more to add to his family. A pink rabbit, golem, a purple imp, and a dark girl with a skull marking. Each had their own story, and a place with him.

And he would see to their safety as much as anyone else in his kingdom.

Tell me, are you one of us?

Said, are you one of us?

Some characters are unique to the world, not all always branching off the main four. Of course, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some made with connections to them in mind. Each is special, and built with as much care as anyone else…

Whether it be a cousin to the blonde, gray with orange highlights rather than the way around, a darker aesthetic, but still similar style to his cousin. A tattoo pattern along his left arm.

A green haired ghost, one met when the group of friends were out together. Something seemed about ready to suck her inside, the ghost reaching out to save her. She seemed to stick with them since.

A young woman dressed in red, blue, and brown. Golden pearls hang from her neck, and a black shawl wrapped around one shoulder. A brown cat accompanying her and group at times, and one that seems to have a power of her own hidden just underneath.

Are you one of us?

Some characters branching off the core four, and even some of those that were created as their own entity for this series chose to build their stories and characters with one another. Their worlds cross over to one another, relationships naturally build, and so too do the special elements and plots to separate them from one another. Each one of them is equally unique.

Whether it be from the multitude of different colored ghosts, each of them centered around their own story and emotions.

A blue-haired girl with one strand that is lighter than the other. A snowflake twinkled in her left eye, and a roller derby team she has been dedicated to for years counting on her.

The same mechanic, though with more visible scars to the incident in the cave. So much love and care to give, even to those in other worlds, even if the gray faes take a little too much pleasure in bringing him grief.

A black robed king, living far beyond the grave, glowing locks of hair flowing through the air. He’s been seen before, but this one on another plane, a chance to interact with others outside his grown family.

Are you one of us?

This amazing group of people, as well as many others come together over a series we all love and cherish. We create our own works of art, but not without credit to the original source. From this point and on, we only seem to grow as a collective, continuing to create as we wait, and surely even after the series comes to a close, it will hold a special place in our hearts. So long as we are all here, we shall continue to spread our joy over mystery skulls animated, supporting one another, no matter how small or big someone may be.

We extend our open arms to one another, and to those new to this fandom...

“Said, are you one of us?”

-----

(Author’s Notes: Seriously, this fandom has been an amazing inspiration, and I’m so happy to be able to take part in Mystery March. There was no other good prompt to really do this for, and I thought this would be a clever way to give tribute to the many amazing people and ideas/stories they have come up with. I tried to keep things short and vague for some, as there are some things I don’t want to give away, so you can check them out if you haven’t. I know there’s no possible way I could get everyone, but I tried to get as many as I’ve fallen in love with and not repeat anyone twice (even though I think I broke that rule twice). Again, thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoyed this.

Credits: (In order of appearance)

@mysterybensmysteryblog, @heilos, @artsyfeathersartsyblog, and the rest of the amazing team!

@lottafandoms (Vampire Arthur)

@ectoimp (Demon!Arthur) / @providentially-demonic (The Devil and the Dead Fic)

@askmysteryskullswerewolfarthur (Werewolf Arthur)

@heilos (King Arthur)

@phantoms-lair (Mirror’s Gaze Fic)

@braveskyered (Knights Fic)

@pi-cat000 (Time Travel Idea Fic)

@thefandomcassandra (The Future Fic)

@tyigra (House of Strays Fic)

@hecallsmehischild (Rest Nestling/Explain it like I’m a Tree Fics)

@neversleepagainau

@atomi-cat (Boneheads)

@ask-twoyearsafter / @kanaiekla (The Cruel Irony of a Prophetic Love Fic)

OC’s: @nerv0usm3chanic (Lucan), @binaconfusa (Frog), @lauritanaomystery (Laurel)

RP Blogs: @splatterlewis, @lamentinglewis, @frenzys-furnace, @bluescarfvivi, @punsandfuturekingsmen, @diviinc)

#MysteryMarch2021 #mystery skulls animated #msa au #my writing #my submission #long post

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 4 years ago

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I am Iron Man

Main Masterlist

Tony Stark x Daughter!Reader and Avengers x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: I know it has been a while since I have posted but hooray! I’m not dead, I’ve have been really busy with moving and school work but I will try to start working on more fics. I hope you enjoy this as this was originally an quick imagine but I felt that there should be more. So any request or comments my door is always open.

No one’s POV

Steve stumbled to his feet staring out at the army, one man all on his own

“ap-...-comin-...-ot” A voice crackles out of the comms Steve shakes his head, trying to focus on the voice. Slowly, the sound returns the words ringing out clearly.

“Cap. On your left.” Sam calls out as a portal opens behind Cap causing him to turn and T’challa, Shuri, and Okoye walk on the field while Sam flys out of the portal circling the group. More portals open up as more familiar faces walk out.

Now with men and women ready to fight to save the universe Thanos stares back at them.

Mjolnir is called into Steve’s hand

“Avengers...assemble.”

Across the field as the gauntlet get farther away from Thanos as he is thrown into the air and slammed back down by Wanda

“Rain fire.” Thanos groans outmatched by the witch Corvus Glaive pushes Groot off of him glancing at his leader “But, sire, our troops”

“Just do it!” Thanos yells having his armor destroyed by Wanda. The sanctuary guns aim down onto the battlefield as hell rains down. Wanda looks up quickly building a force field but still getting knocked off her feet. Sakaarans and Jabari and many other heroes go flying.

One of the cannon blast hits the riverbank water now gushing as the bank threatens to collapse “Um, is anyone else seeing this?” Pepper calls out.

Tony, Brue, and Gamora turn to see the bank spilling over. Strange conjure a rune to keep the water from bay of the fight. As the battle continues Peter holds the gauntlet as he is surrounded by outriders

“Activate instant kill!” Peter yells out causing his suit to sprout out legs killing the monsters attacking him. As more attack Peter slowly gets overrun Steve notices throwing Mjolnir “Hey, Queens! Heads up!” Peter latches onto it with his webs getting thrown into the sky but the web is blasted off.

“Hang on, kid. I’ve got you.” Pepper grabs onto him passing him off to Valkyrie

Peter lands onto the Pegasus back as they ride closer to the van “Hey, nice to meet yo-aaaaah!“ They are hit by a blast sending Peter to the ground more explosions keep Peter stuck in the same place as more debris rains down onto the heroes.

Rocket and Groot dive for cover quickly Groot wraps his branches around them both. Suddenly the fire stops as the cannons aim towards the sky and begin firing.

“What the hell is this?” Sam calls out flying over the field. “Friday, what are they firing at?” Tony asks hovering over look up

“Something just entered the upper atmosphere.” The A.I. replies

A comet heads straight for Earth as many fear for what it is. It suddenly veers towards the ships splitting into two as one goes through the bottom and the other goes through side it blowing up the ship. Appearing from the top is Carol Danvers and Y/n Stark the face of her own suit coming up “Hell Yeah!” she cries out throwing her hand up.

“Is that..” Steve calls out looking at Tony as he begins to smile. “That’s my girl.”

Reader’s POV

Both of you and Carol land in front of Steve and Tony

“Dad!” you rush into his arms hugging him. Tony pulls you in pressing a kiss onto you head. “Sunshine I’ve missed you.” You smile stepping back looking at Steve “Cap.” You give him a mock salute.

“Stark, how did you even get here.” Steve looked between you two. “Kree technology is far more advance mix that and a little Stark magic, a boom Space traveling Iron suit. Pretty cool right.” You smile, Tony ruffling your hair.

“I’m not gonna try and comprehend that but we are gonna need an assist.” Steve said

You and Carol look at each other “Roger Roger.” You smirk flying up and landing in front of Peter.

Both you and Carol land in front of a dazed Peter clutching the gauntlet “Uh, hey. I’m Peter Parker.”

“Hey, Peter Parker. You got something for me?” Carol smirks Peter hands it over, staring out at the approaching horde. "I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all that”

Wanda lands next to you guys “Don’t worry, kid” Peter turns to see Okoye “She’s got help” As you fire up your suit you begin walking out towards the ridge with Carol leading the group Shuri, Gamora, and Nebula appear joining the group. Valkyrie lands next to the group leading her horse towards battle, Pepper lands next to you as Hope sizes up and now all the women make their way towards Thanos’ army.

Wanda and Valkyrie fly up taking out the chitarui leviathan, while Gamora and Nebula stabbing and killing a chitarui gorilla, while the rest of you fight of upcoming aliens and creatures to get close to the van.

Firing at outriders you get thrown back causing Carol to turn back and shoot at the one about to grab you. “Go Carol get to the Van!” You yell waving her to go as you and Pepper turn back to back taking down outriders.

Scott kicks the doors of the van open as the portal comes to life motivating Carol as she tears the army apart as she flies closer. Right about as she is about to reach it Thanos throws his sword at the portal causing it to explode throwing Carol, Thanos, and everyone by it back.

You get up from the blast seeing Tony, Steve, and Thor fight for the gauntlet. Thanos squeezes the crushed gauntlet on him but Thor and Steve grab onto him trying to pull it off, but get thrown off, Tony rushes over but gets thrown off as well. Quickly flying over to Thanos before he can snap Carol grabs his hand as you blast him in the leg causing him to fall down.

Thanos throws you back causing you to scrap against the ground. “Carol!” you cry out seeing her get thrown back by the power stone. Rushing over you fire at him causing him to stumble. Thanos throws a punch which makes you dodge blasting at him with your repulsors and firing missile after missile.

Thanos finally gets the upper hand grabbing you by the neck slamming you into the ground, ripping off your faceplate before pounding his fist into your face.

“No!” Tony yells out trying to get over to you but is thrown back

Trying to defend yourself was useless as you are slammed further into the ground. You get lifted up blood spilling down your face as you struggle to keep your eyes open “I admire you, you are just like your father.” Thanos says before throwing you off to the side. Steve rushing over to you as you try to push yourself up but fall back down.

Leaning on Steve you look and see your father rush towards him grabbing onto the gauntlet before getting thrown off.

“Dad...” You wheeze out trying to get up but are pushed back down “Stand down Y/n” Steve tells you.

Thanos lifts his hand in the air to deliver everyone's fate “I am...inevitable.” he snaps his fingers but nothing happens. Everyone watches as Thanos turns the glove over and see that the stones are gone.

You look over and see your father sitting up as the gems slide up his arm to his hand making his own gauntlet. Tony flinches as the power surges through him “Dad.” You try to get up but are held back

Tony looks smiles at you before looking at Thanos

“And I...am Iron Man.”

The tidal wave turns to mists as everyone is overwhelmed from the blast of power. Sitting up next to Steve and seeing Sakaarans, Outriders, and Chitauri turn to ash. Thanos army beginning to fall down and fade away like many of you did five years ago.

You watch as Thanos turn and see his army fade away. He sits on a pile of stone and then fades to ash. Looking back you find your father missing “Dad?” You call out Steve helping you up as you both try to look for Tony

“Y/n” You hear Pepper call out she you look and see she has tears in her eyes

“Pep” you whisper as she ushers you over where Peter is getting pulled away by Rhodey. You gasp looking over at him his entire right side was burned as he wheezes, his eyes dazed.

You sit down next to him “Hey, Friday, what’ve we got?” You mumble “Life functions critical.” You look down as a tear slide downs you face. A hand wipes it away

“Hey Sunshine.” Tony rasp “Please don’t go.” You cry into his chest his hand petting your hair “I’m sorry.” he whispers tears sliding down his face. Pepper comes over and sits next to you.

Pepper grabs Tony’s free hand “Tony, look at me. We’re going to be okay...” He stares at her, tears welling. She touches his face, then leans in to kiss him.

“You can rest now.” When Pepper pulls back, she sees his eyes, fixed and glassy.

“I love you dad.” You hold onto him as his hand on your head becomes lightly until it falls of your head onto the ground. You cry when his hand falls off letting you know the worse has happen. Your sobs flood the battlefield as you cling to your father’s body.

Slowly you were pulled away by Pepper and you turn to cry into her chest. Pepper holds onto you struggling to be strong in front of you. Everything goes quiet. All around, the heroes drop to a knee the full weight of what’s happened dawning on them.

Tony Stark is gone.

“Everybody wants a happy ending. But it doesn’t always roll that way. Maybe this time. I’m hoping if you play this back, it’s in celebration. I hope families are reunited, I hope we get it back and something like a normal version of the planet has been restored. If there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe, now. If you’d told me ten years ago that we weren’t alone, let alone to this extent, I probably wouldn’t have been surprised. But come on... Who knew what epic forces of dark and light would come into play? For better or worse, that’s the reality our children get to grow up in. They throw themselves into his arms.”

This was your first time you had be home and it didn’t feel like home anymore, you, and many of Tony’s close friends and family were sat in the living watching a hologram that was filmed prior to his death.

“That’s why I thought I’d probably better record a little greeting, in the case of…an untimely death on my part. I mean, death at any time is untimely, but...this “time travel” thing we’re going to try to pull off tomorrow has me scratching my head about the “survivability” of it all. But that’s the hero gig, right? Part of the journey is the end and I know that Y/n is out there helping people out in space which I couldn’t be more proud of.” hearing your name causes you to look up and smile. Tony continues running a hand through his hair before standing up and moving closer

“What am I even tripping for? Everything is going to work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.” Tony looks out at the his family “I love you 3000,” directed towards Morgan before somehow looking straight at you, “and I love you Sunshine.” He switches off the camera, vanishing. Looking straight at the Iron Man helmet and you feel nothing, Pepper kisses Morgan’s forehead and grabbing your hand as you both trying to process everything.

You hold Morgan hand as you, Pepper, and Morgan descend down the porch stairs. Pepper holds a wreath of flower as your fellow avengers follow behind you. Standing at the edge of the deck Pepper kneels down and rest the flower in the water resting on top of it was Tony’s first arc reactor with “Proof That Tony Stark Has A Heart” a gift Tony got from Pepper when you were eight.

Pepper stands up and her and Morgan make their way back inside people given there condolences. Most of the guest had went back inside but some stay as you are still frozen in place and numb by everything. Carol gives you a hug while T’Challa, Scott, and Hope give you their condolences before walking back. The guardians each give their sorrows before leaving. Sam, Bucky, and Wanda each give you a hug but you stay still they give a frown to each other before walking back.

“I’m sorry Y/n it was the only way.” Strange says placing a hand onto your shoulder before walking back. Peter and his aunt come up to you Peter squeezing you hand “I’m sorry Y/n” he mumbles before following his aunt.

Rhodey, Clint, and the rest of the avengers left realizing that there was not use to get you to talk. Until there was only Steve left, he walks over to the edge of the deck as Tony’s wreath slowly drifting further into the lake.

“Y/n, I know that Tony wouldn’t want you to become like this now that he is gone and you are going to have to move on sometime.” he goes to grab your hand but you whip around causing him to see your sunken eyes and bloodshot with how much crying you have done.

“You of all people Steve do not get to tell me I’m gonna to have to move, when you caused a civil war over you not-dead best friend. I don’t hate Bucky but you of all people should understand what I’m going through.” You spat out each time you spoke you shoved him back until he is at end of the deck closer to the house.

“I will never be able to move on. He was my main supporter and was always there for me and now he’s gone and I will never be the same.” You choke out, Steve frowns pulling you into a hug as you cry more into his shirt as it slowly gets wet.

After a few minutes you are all out of tears you step away rubbing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “Sorry I ruined your shirt.” You sniffled pointing at ruined shirt. He shrugs buttoning up his blazer “It’s fine.” flashing you smile that makes you feel better about it

“Soo... is this the end for the great Captain America?” you smile nudge him causing Steve to laugh.

“Yeah, I think it’s time for this old man to get his dance,” He confesses and then he sniffles “Oh my god are you crying.” You laugh causing him to quickly wipe his tears.

“No it’s just allergies.” he clears his throat all choked up You smile both of you looking out at the water “You know since you’re stepping down Sam would make a pretty good Cap.” you said

Steve nods before smoothing his jacket “Maybe, so you ready to head inside,” he nods towards the house, “Uh yeah just give me a minute and I’ll be in.” You say straighten out your shirt.

Steve squeezes you hand before turning and heading inside leaving you alone on the dock. You walk further to the edge of the deck and look out onto the lake the sun slowly setting casting a glow on the water

“I’m gonna miss you.” You say out loud. “He knows,” A voice replies making you turn and see Nick Fury standing a bit away from you. “When I asked him to join the Avengers the only reason he joined was you,” You look down at your shoes hearing his footsteps get closer, “He joined to protect the people but also to protect you, you were his everything and he knew when he was gone that you would be able to make the right decision.” He placed a hand on your shoulder before holding out a folder with Shield printed across it,

“And I know that if anyone else were to have this title it would be you.” You flip reading the subject ‘Avengers: Next Gen’ with names listen ‘Kamala Khan, Marc Spector, Jennifer Walters, Yelena Belova, and Shang-Chi’ “And what does this mean with?” you ask Nick smirked

“You tell me Y/n or should I say Iron Man.” You looked back and the file, “Wait bu-” you turn back and see that Fury is gone, “He always does that.” you smile

The Next Avengers,

New Hope...

And you were Iron Man.

#avengers masterlist #avengers x reader #x stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #steve rogers x stark!reader #avengers x stark!reader #iron man #avengers endgame

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queenxxxsupreme · 5 years ago

Text

The Worries of a Mother

A/N: I neeeeeeeeed dad!Geralt in my life okay. Also don’t give me shit because Geralt is sterile. I know he is, I just chose to ignore it for this. You can fight me if you don’t like it. Requests are open:)

You hummed softly to yourself as you moved about the kitchen. You looked up to gaze out of the window in the kitchen. You could see your son, Bram, playing in the front yard with a few other kids.

He was adjusting well to the new village. You’d just recently moved in to your home after being forced out of your previous town by angry villagers. They believed your husband, a witcher, had stolen from them.

Something rubbed against your legs. You looked down to see your house cat rubbing against you, purring loudly. You knelt down to pet the cat. Just as you made contact with its fur, there was a loud knock at the front door.

You stood up and looked back to the window you’d seen your son through just a few moments ago. He was nowhere to be seen.

You went to the door and pulled it open to see a group of men. A few of them were looking across your yard. You followed his gaze and found that they were looking at Bram playing with the other kids. You immediately felt uneasy.

“Hello, gentlemen. What can I do for you?” You put on a friendly smile.

“Lars Van Dijick.” The man closest to you held his hand out. “I own the tavern just down the road. You are?”

“Y/N.” You shook his hand.

“Y/N. What a stunning name for such a beautiful woman.” Lars looked pass you, eyeing the inside of your home. “Is there a mister that I could speak to?”

“He’s busy at the moment. You can speak with me though.” You offered a little stiffly.

Lars looked at you, obviously a little shocked that you’d decline his desire to speak to your husband. He cleared his throat and nodded his head.

“Very well. Your boy….” He trailed off, turning to look at your son. “Has he got something wrong with him?”

You locked your jaw and fought the urge to immediately curse the man out. Bram did stand out in a crowd. Even if he was the normal size of a child his age, he had hair so blonde it was nearly white. But being that his hair was oddly colored and he was smaller than every other child his age, he was often subjected to bullying.

“I am surprised you’d ask me that so bluntly, good sir. You don’t know me.”

“He’s just asking ‘cause we don’t want our kids effected by your offspring.” A second man spoke.

The heat in your veins rose and bubbled. Your fingers curled into right fists by your sides.

The sound of a floorboard behind you creaking told you that your husband was making himself known. You could feel his presence behind you, massive and towering.

“Is everything alright, dove?” His low, husky voice calmed you down a little. You turned your head to look up at Geralt of Rivia. His hand slipped around your shoulders, comforting you. He could feel your distress and frustration rolling off of you in waves.

“We were just having a conversation with her.” Lars clearly was uncomfortable at the sight of the witcher.

“I believe I heard you say you’d like to speak to me.” Geralt gently ushered you to the side. You got the hint and moved to stand behind him, peaking around his large bicep so you could watch the men. “Now’s your chance.”

Lars fell silent, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“We don’t welcome your kind here.” One of the men towards the back spoke up. Geralt’s darkened amber eyes flickered to that man. “You’re nothing but bad news.”

“I will be if you insult my son once more.” He practically spoke through his teeth. “If you don’t want your bastard children playing with him, then keep them the fuck away from my home.”

The group disbanded, clearly losing whatever courage they thought they had.

Your husband glared at the men until they were out of your yard, closing the fence behind themselves.

You placed your hand on his bicep, rubbing his arm.

“You think they’ll do anything?” You asked him quietly.

“If they know what’s best for them, they wouldn’t.” Geralt let out a soft sigh. You rested your cheek against his arm, your fingers brushing over his bare forearm. The sleeves to the tunic he wore were pushed up to his elbows.

You looked to your son, who was happy and content playing with the other children.

“I only hope that the locals warm up to him.”

You said nothing in reply.

“It’s me they should be repulsed by.”

“They aren’t repulsed by him, love.” You shook your head softly. “They’re just curious. He…. He is different but different isn’t bad. He’s just like his father.” You kissed his arm. He hummed. “You’ll keep an eye on him while I finish up in the kitchen?”

He nodded once. You moved around to stand in front of him. You cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb across the corner of his lips. This took his attention away from your son for a moment. He looked down at you, a warm smile coming to his lips.

You could sense his agitation. He was irritated with everyone, with how they treated his son. He carried such an immense amount of guilt just because he thought he was the reason Bram was different.

You placed your free hand on his chest, rubbing soothing circles against the material of his shirt with your thumb.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.” He dipped his head down to seal a kiss on your lips.

You softly patted his chest, glancing over your shoulder to look at your son one last time before you disappeared into the house.

***

The sun was beginning to go down. It was time for Bram to come inside for dinner.

You made your way towards the front door. Geralt had gone to the barn out in the backyard where your horses were kept. You knew he liked to spend time with Roach when negative thoughts brewed inside his head.

You stepped out of the house, pulling the door shut behind you. Your eyes flickered around the front yard in search of your son and the kids he’d been playing with. The sticks they were using as swords were on the ground, almost as if they’d dropped them.

Your heart started to beat a little faster as you flooded with concern. Every time Bram was out of your sight, you could feel the butterflies in your stomach, tormenting you. The thought of anything happening to your precious child made you sick.

“Bram!” You called his name, taking a few steps down the cobble path that led to the main road resting just across the front yard.

He didn’t respond. That was very unlike him. He always answered you when you called. It was also very unlike him to leave the front yard without letting you know.

Maybe he was around back with Geralt.

***

You moved quickly, needing reassurance that your son was safe. The barn door was open.

“Geralt!” You didn’t mean to sound so frantic.

Sensing your panic, he left Roach’s side and moved towards you.

“Have you seen Bram?”

He didn’t answer you but a look of concern washed over his features.

“Oh gods-,”

“Don’t do that.” He cut you off, closing the space between you two. His hand cradled the side of your head while he looked behind you out into the field that rested outside of the barn doors. “He’s going to be okay.”

Tears were already forming in your eyes, blurring your vision. You brought your hand up to hold Geralt’s bicep, your fingers unintentionally digging into his arm.

“What if those men-What if they did something to him?”

Geralt said nothing to you at first. He just gazed down at you with those golden eyes you loved so much. He dipped his head down to kiss your forehead firmly.

“Go back to the house. I’ll find him.”

“I want to help you.”

“No, you need to stay home in case he returns.” He let you go and moved to fetch Roach.

Just as you were leaving the barn, you heard a scream come from the woods that rested beyond your backyard.

You looked over your shoulder to your husband. He took off in a sprint out of the barn, heading in the direction of the noise. You followed, though you were slower than him.

***

When you caught up to Geralt, he was leaning against a tree, his eyes focused on something ahead. Breathing heavy, you moved to stand next to him.

There was a creek not too far from where Geralt stood. On the other side of the creek was your son. He and the other children he’d been playing with were playing in the mud. Your son’s white hair was patched dark brown with mud and his clothes were covered in the same substance.

Bram was the first to look up. A bright smile crossed his lips as he saw you two looking down at him.

“Hi!” He waved his dirty fingers at you two.

Geralt gave him a soft smile and nodded.

“Come along, Bram.” You called for him, needing him closer to you. Worry and anxiety still swirled in your stomach. You always carried a fear that someone would do something to your boy simply because he was different or for who his father was. “You need to get washed up before dinner.”

Bram stood from the mud puddle he’d been playing in and moved carefully through the creek. He slipped on a rock and stumbled a little but he managed to catch his footing.

You saw Geralt flinch like he’d fly to your son’s side and rescue him from the gentle waters of the creek should he fall. You placed your hand on his arm, giving him a gentle squeeze.

As Bram approached you, you held your hands out to pick him up.

“But mommy! I’m dirty!”

“I don’t mind, love.” You smiled at him. You picked him up and hugged him tightly.

“Mommy! You’re squeezing me!”

You released him and settled with holding him on your hip. Geralt followed behind you as you made your way back through the woods towards the house.

“Did you have fun today?” Geralt asked Bram.

“Yes! The kids are nicer here than the ones at our other home.”

You smiled, content with having your messy son in your arms and your husband walking alongside you.

Geralt placed his hand on your back. You turned your head to look at him. The corners of his lips turned up in a smile.

Taglist: @riviawitch3r @notyouraveragemochii @dev1lbella @rosyghosty @merendis @lalalalemonade11 @wayward-dream @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @tshuuls @havenoffandoms @queen-sands @crazzyter @katiejmac @bucky-did-nothing-wrong @jennylovelyheart @stretchkingblog97 @itsallyouhavegotinsideyourhead @hm-fck @mactho @msgeorgiarae @tragicmisfits @randomzxx @alwayshave-faith @rahdaleigh @lizliz3107 @turtlefordestiel @d14n4ol @asix122747483 @minervalavender @agniavateira @hina-chans-stuff @dressed-up-heartbreak @persephonehemingway @bitterstar88 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @ayamenimthiriel @romancebibliophilia

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #oneshot #dad!geralt #dad geralt

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arsnovacadenza · 4 years ago

Text

Jeanpoleon fic- Punch-Drunk Love

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Characters: Jean, Napoleon, Mozart, mentions of Sebas, Theo, & Yukari (MC)

Pairings: Jean x Napoleon

Word count: 2388

Rating: T (because drinking)

Napoleon strode in the direction of the dining room. He had just returned from the thermae.

For once, he was completely awake and wasn't drawn into getting back to bed. Perhaps he could pass the night away in the company of wine? Sebastian just talked to him this morning about a possible new batch of wine they've never gotten before.

A new wine to taste? Curious. Napoleon thought. Too bad I have no one to share it with tonight.

But before his thoughts went any further, he began picking up faint, echoing voices as he walked nearer to the banquet hall.

"....I think you're a little too close."

"I think you're imagining things."

Did Napoleon just hear right?

Someone's in the dining room, and from the sounds of it, they seem drunk.

This early in the evening, no less.

So he picked up his pace, his curiosity growing as the voices became clearer.

"Jean, I really do think you're too close."

"I think you're imagining things."

Jean? Slurred? Napoleon unconsciously sped up his power walk, He knew Jean couldn't hold his liquor. Last time, he nearly climbed all over Theo for God's sake!

Back then it was amusing. But for some reason, Napoleon felt that this time he needed to check on Jean and whoever he's drinking with. Without realizing it, the former officer had broken into a sprint.

"It's completely abnormal for our cheeks to be smushed together like this," Mozart muttered as he pushed futilely against Jean’s chest.

"Aren't you the one who's being abnormal?" Jean's lashes brushed against the corner of Mozart's eye.

"Why?" Mozart slurred back.

"Well," a part of Jean's thigh almost rested on top of Mozart's. "Why are you grinning like that?"

"I don't think," the white-haired man tried to break away from Jean's wine-scented breath. "I'm any different than norma-"

"What is going on?"

Mozart's eyes immediately flew to the entrance of the dining room, where Napoleon stood with a hand on his hip. Good God, that hideous cape of him is looking more and more like a curtain with each passing day.

"Mozart? So it was you?" the former emperor's voice boomed oddly against the composer's ears. He tried to dislodge Jean since this scene was getting ridiculous, especially now that's somebody walked in on them."

"I what? There's Jean here if you can't tell," Mozart snapped back. Jean seemed to be lost in his haze, not even realizing that Napoleon had arrived on his scene.

Napoleon, on the other hand, was thoroughly stunned by the scene before him.

They were both sitting with their chairs pulled up against each other, Jean slinging an arm over Mozart's shoulder and pressing one side of his body against him. Mozart himself was apparently too intoxicated to put Jean back onto his seat. Even stranger, the man was smiling ear to ear despite his previous irritable reaction towards both Jean and Napoleon.

As he approached the couple, however, Napoleon's eyes fixed on Jean in a mix of fascination and astonishment.

Napoleon knew he had always been beautiful, but he'd never seen his pale skin stained with a red so rich. The soldier's head was tilted, displaying the curve of his slender neck. The underside of his sharp chin was all bared for the former emperor to see.

Napoleon stared at Jean's lips, lush and glistening from the alcohol. He often wondered why God would grace such features on a man.

Jean's otherworldly beauty betrayed his vigorous physique and excellent combat abilities. Napoleon himself would have to admit defeat if Jean were to utilize all of his vampire strength to fight.

Napoleon shook himself free from those thoughts as he addressed the drunken couple. "Mozart, why did you invite Jean to drink? You know how he responds to alcohol."

Mozart stared up at him defiantly, his grin only making him look more mischievous.

"He asked for it. I agreed so long as he'll keep me company," he answered almost smugly. "Are friends not allowed to drink wine together?"

Napoleon regarded Jean, who detached his face from Mozart's in favor of sitting himself fully on the latter's lap. Isn't this a little too far for even friends?

Napoleon had been the first to react when Jean clambered on Theo. Back then, he was embarrassed and apologized to the brothers afterward (Vincent only laughed and assured that it was fine). While he had watched the scene with amusement at first, his instincts won over when Jean started pressing younger Van Gogh’s face onto his chest.

Even Mozart wasn't as reactionary. What was he, a substitute parent to Jean?

But his reception towards what was happening now made him beg to differ.

He should've been alright with Jean drinking under Mozart's watch. He trusted the man. Jean might come across as naive, but he always kept to himself and never let his trouble burden others. Having a figure like Mozart around was an added safety net, much to Napoleon's relief.

Mozart was helping Jean explore his curiosity as a good friend would. There was no fault in that. He remained docile even when drunk, turned more amicable even. So, where was even the harm?

The problem didn't lie on Mozart. It was Jean.

It had already been borderline frightening when the reserved beauty suddenly let himself loose and ran his hands over another person. Moreover, even a man as sturdy as Theo couldn't free himself from Jean's death grip. The sight could've turned obscene if Jean launched himself on Yukari instead. Napoleon winced at the prospect.

Only now was he able to see the true extent of Jean's drunken behavior. Snuggling up to people, completely letting his guard down, and unknowingly flaunting his allure at unsuspecting spectators.

Jean settled himself back down, now with both legs dangling from Mozart's lap. His hand was now smoothing over Mozart's chest. All while nearly burying himself in Mozart's hair.

Napoleon's free hand gripped the handle of his sword rigidly. This can't be right.

He didn't realize that he was awash with a completely different sort of haze. Yes, it had been Jean's unknown side that caught him off guard, but it was something else entirely that tugged viciously at his heart.

There was just something in the way Mozart grinned right at him as he let Jean climb on his lap, cheeks almost rubbing together.

Are you jealous, Napoleon? his eyes seemed to speak. I bet you are.

Napoleon was appalled by his own reaction. Who's the drunk one here?

Without thinking, he bent over the two and scooped Jean right from on top of Mozart, unsurprised by the latter's lack of response. He secured Jean's position into a bridal carry.

Mozart lazily leaned back on his chair and eyed Napoleon coolly. "What gives you the right," he muttered.

Napoleon looked down at him with a stern look on his face. "Nothing," he answered briskly. "Just decency."

With Jean safely tucked in his arms, he turned away with a swish of his cape.

Napoleon was in a panic as he strode down the hallway, his hands full of Jean.

Napoleon was in a panic as he strode down the hallway, his hands full of Jean. The man kept rubbing his head against Napoleon's jacket, which made the walk even more awkward.

I have to deposit him somewhere quickly. Napoleon's brain whirred. But where? I don't want to climb up his tower, or we'll both fall.

Without thinking, he returned to his room. With much difficulty, he managed to turn the knob and opened his door without displacing Jean from his position.

After shutting the door with a foot, Napoleon fumbled his way to the bed and gently deposited Jean on his unmade covers. He let the man's feet dangle from the edge of the bed to prevent the boots from dirtying the sheets.

Beside the man, Napoleon sat down in a slump.

How did my evening turn out to be like this? He buried his face in his palm. When I thought about heading out to drink, this wasn't at all what I had in mind.

He snapped from his reverie when he heard a groan from the man next to him. Jean was curling up, obviously comfortable in a bed that's not even his.

Sighing, Napoleon moved over so he could remove Jean's long boots. His previous exasperation melted away as he smiled at Jean's face, still unaware of his surroundings.

Right, I'll spend the night in the attic, then. Napoleon mused. For once, he should sleep in a comfortable bed.

But just as he prepared to turn away, Jean's voice called out to him softly.

"S-stay." He slurred hoarsely.

Napoleon looked back at his vulnerable form. So Jean had been mindful this whole time.

"No worries," Napoleon replied. "I'll call Mozart here. Just wait."

But Jean's still gloved hand was already pawing at the air. "No need... Napoleon, come. Here."

How did he know it was Napoleon?!

Nonplussed, the man whom Jean called stood rigidly and returned to the bedside. Not knowing what to do, he grabbed the beckoning hand with his own.

"You realized it was me?" he whispered, face hovering over the man's prone body. "Jean, I thought you were too delirious to notice."'

Jean's eye gazed up at him. "Your voice...Napoleon." He slowly pulled the hand even closer.

And laid it on his chest, keeping it there. "I heard it...in the dining room."

Napoleon wasn't even sure which was more awkward: his hand on Jean's chest or knowing that Jean was aware of being carried in his arms into his room and laid on his bed. How did this withdrawn ex-soldier become so sticky?

"You!" Napoleon exclaimed. "Never mind. Let me take off my boots first."

If he were to spend the night this way, he'd better make himself as comfy as he could. After kicking his boots away, he hoisted Jean's body so his head would rest on the pillows.

Not knowing what to do, Napoleon sat back against the headboard. He was so overwhelmed with the whole situation it made him dizzy.

Jean tugged on his pants. Napoleon peeked at the man through his fingers. "What do you need?" he asked tiredly.

Without answering, Jean grabbed at the collar of Napoleon's shirt and attempted to drag him down. "Beside... me."

Napoleon, at any other time, would've relented and given him what he wanted without much fuss. But unexpected emotions had racked him tonight, and Jean’s simple request made his face burn hotter than ever.

"Y-you should take that cape off, first." Napoleon never stammered, but he just did. "Your overcoat too. Else you'll be sweating."

With Napoleon's assistance, they managed to take off Jean's cape and outer shirt. It soon joined with Napoleon's outer garments on the floor. The pair also discarded their belts at Napoleon's suggestion.

Now comfortable, Napoleon allowed himself to sink on the bed beside Jean. He hadn't been planning on sleeping, but he was in no mood to talk to the drunken soldier either. He laid on his back, feeling not at all sleepy (though he wished that he was).

Meanwhile, Jean was inching closer to him, completely abandoning the concept of personal space. His arm flailed around, not quite decided on whether it should cling to Napoleon's shoulder or his waist.

Eventually, it rested on the skin of Napoleon's exposed chest. Humming with satisfaction, Jean nuzzled into the side of Napoleon's neck. His silken hair felt soft and ticklish at the same time.

"Mmmm....." Jean breathed against the shell of his companion's ear. "So warm."

"I just got back from the thermae," Napoleon whispered back. "Now, go to sleep. Don't try anything funny."

Grunting, Jean propped himself of before falling on top of Napoleon. This time, he draped his legs over Napoleon's, encasing them in a hook. The man underneath him questioned whether the open palm over his chest could feel the mad drumming of his heart.

He struggled to free his arm from getting crushed under Jean's body in vain. Defeated, Napoleon tried embracing the other man instead, making it so that Jean's weight rested entirely on his body.

It didn't feel all that bad, having somebody else sleep on top of you.

And this is Jean, of all people. Never in my lifetime have I ever imagined that I'd be sharing a bed with Jean fucking d'Arc. And he —it’s a he! Who would have thought! —turned out to be this gorgeous too. Just what is wrong with my life?

What is wrong with me?

Before long, he could hear Jean's soft snore. He'd calmed down, at least for now. Napoleon allowed himself to card his fingers through Jean's hair. "What an evening," He huffed. "Looks like there's no other choice but to join you."

Napoleon shuffled so both were lying on their sides. Gritting his teeth, Napoleon pulled Jean closer, fully aware of the warm breath that’s caressing his jaw.

“See you in the morning, Jean.” Napoleon whispered. “Bonne nuit.”

And so, the French soldiers bid farewell to the night and rested quietly within each other’s arms.

But that’s a secret we’ll keep between us, right?

The next morning, Sebastian came to check up on Napoleon and went “HoLy SHiT”.

#ikevam jean #ikevam napoleon #jeanpoleon #ikemen vampire #drunk on your love story event #riri tries ikevam #I'm so dizzy I need to lay down

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lobster-tales · 3 years ago

Text

Falling Back in Love With You

Chapter 3 Summary: Link and Mipha travel to Rito House, intending to pick up their representative from the archery club. Revali, however, proves to be a problem.

This work is available here on AO3. Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Link switched on the radio, not to disrupt the comfortable silence between Mipha and him, but to enhance it. Rhoam always left a blues album in the CD player. The van rolled past empty halls and dormitories, vacant fields and courts. Very few students stayed at the university through the weekend.

When they reached the edge of campus, Mipha asked, “Did you have fun last night?”

Link shrugged, casting her a clueless look.

“You don’t know?” Her eyes widened. “Oh, you don’t remember?”

He shook his head.

Concern entered Mipha’s voice. “I didn’t realize you drank that much… Do you even remember when I was there?”

Link pinched his fingers together, a small gap between.

“How much? Do you remember that game we played? With the cards?”

He nodded.

“Do you remember…” She let out a slight chuckle. “When we got the card where everyone has to drink while holding hands?”

Link smiled to himself, recalling the group’s laughter, someone spilling soda on their shirt.

“And… After everyone else put their hands down, you still held my hand?”

His blood froze. Link kept his eyes forward, tracing the details in his mind. He hoped to find something else, something easier to explain. Now that she mentioned it, though, he did remember. Mipha’s hands were small and cold, and he was warm from the punch.

She sensed the change and bit back her disappointment. Mipha gazed out the window instead, watching the neighborhood pass by. The van turned into Rito Street, and she knew she was running out of private time.

“I know… I’m not sure…” Mipha tried to put her feelings into words. “I just wanted you to know that I… I liked it. I liked holding your hand. Whatever it meant, or even if it meant nothing at all.”

Link tried not to react, but he knew his uncertainty was on full display.

Mipha steeled herself. “I guess… if it’s not too much, I wanted to ask you something?”

His curiosity got the better of him, and Link glanced her way.

“I’ve… wanted to ask you for a while now.”

The navigation app beeped on Link’s phone, alerting that they were at their destination. He pulled alongside a blue house, putting the van in park. The action startled Mipha.

“Oh, we’re here.” She straightened in her seat, reminded of the task at hand. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up now. I’ll wait until after the budget proposal.” Her thin red lips pulled into a smile. “Come on; let’s go find Revali.”

A broad-shouldered man perched on the front step of the blue house. His intimidating presence was offset by the accordion in his hands, his bright blue mohawk, and the easy look he gave the two of them. “Hey Link, hey Mipha,” he said, the instrument sighing between his fingers.

Before Link could wonder if this was Revali, Mipha said, “Good morning, Kass. How was your show last night?”

“It was great, thanks for asking. Blew the roof off of ole Rito House.” He indicated the blue building behind him.

Link felt memories flicker. He remembered how the building’s facade looked at night. The front door was opened only for performers, while the rest of the crowd gathered in the backyard.

Kass’s heavy eyeliner crinkled as he smiled. “What can I do for you?”.

“We’re looking for Revali,” Mipha said. “It’s a sports club thing.”

“On a Saturday?” Kass lifted his chin towards Link. “Aren’t you hungover?”

Link nodded bashfully, then pointed his index and middle fingers forward. He pivoted them up and down towards Kass.

“And you’re in a rush?” Kass shook his head. “What a day. Well, come on. I doubt he’s awake. Hang out while I check his room.”

Footprints from the night before were still visible on the ancient wooden floor, tacky where drinks had spilled. Link’s gaze traveled over the furniture, decorated by stains and red plastic cups.

“He’s not in his bed,” Kass said, reappearing at a hallway’s entrance.

“What?” Mipha asked, frowning. “Like he’s not here?”

“Well, not in the house,” said Kass, unbothered. He made for the back door, waving them through.

The backyard was similarly dirty. In one corner of the yard, an abandoned workshed sat with rusty tools inside. The other corner held an unused child’s playset, the wood just beginning to rot. The structure had a plastic yellow slide, two low swings, and a ladder that led to the covered platform in the center. Inside the playset, a body slept soundly, obscured from view by a pile of blankets.

“There he is!” Kass was the first to step forward, clearing his throat. “Revali?” He took hold of one of Revali’s legs, sticking out over the edge of the wood.

Like a snail, Revali withdrew the limb, curling into the fetal position as he growled, “Go away.”

Kass shook his head fondly. “Your friends are here to pick you up.”

Mipha asked, “Did you get Zelda’s texts?”

“Her what?” he grumbled, still hidden from view.

“We have to go to the school.”

“But it’s Saturday.”

“Yes, I know,” Mipha said patiently. “But Ganon changed the meeting. We have to go today.”

Revali rolled over to face them, his dramatic eyebrows and angular nose visible beneath the blanket. “And that’s my problem?”

At the sight of Revali’s features, memories flooded back to Link.

Link and Zelda joined the throng of students in the backyard of Rito House. They lingered on the outskirts of the group, apprehensive. Link’s mind was still fuzzy from the punch at the lifeguard apartment, and Zelda felt out of her comfort zone amongst the partygoers. A few people waved and some even approached her to talk. Link discovered that several were in the student council under Zelda’s leadership, and others knew her from classes or from the sports clubs.

“Princess, welcome!”

Zelda winced and turned to face a student wearing a light blue scarf, his navy hair wind blown on top and gathered into short braids at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t call me that, Revali,” she said.

Revali cocked an eyebrow. “My apologies, but you are the student council president, not to mention the daughter of the dean, therefore-”

“Ex-dean,” Zelda corrected sharply, her fists clenching.

Sensing he had gone too far, Revali backed off. “Very well, then I shall stick to ‘my lady’.” His green eyes settled on Link, mouth curling. “And I see you brought your bodyguard.”

“Link is my friend,” Zelda said. “You remember him from the fencing club?”

“Of course,” Revali said, circling them with one hand on his chin. “You know, some would argue that fencers are the natural rivals of archers such as myself.”

“What?” Zelda asked, exasperated. “Who would argue that?”

“Like I said, my lady,” Revali took his place in front of them, peering over his shoulder. He lifted his arms to each side, showing off his muscles beneath his sleeveless turtleneck. “Some.”

Zelda rolled her eyes. “We’re all part of the sports club program, Revali. None of us are rivals.”

“Indeed,” he sighed. “However, it’s no secret that anyone can swing a little sword around. But it takes true skill and precision to fire an arrow, to pierce a target directly in the center.”

Link huffed, insulted by Revali’s coarse description of fencing. Zelda saw his expression change and said, “Fencing takes skill and precision too.”

“Oh please,” Revali scoffed. “Fencing is a brutish and violent sport. All of their members just want an excuse to beat on each other with weapons for hours at a time.” He raised his head high. “But archery is only for those with a refined taste, my lady. In fact, I wouldn’t debase it so much as to call it a sport; it’s more of an art.” He smirked at Zelda. “You know, my lady, we could use an elegant palette such as yours among our ranks.”

Zelda’s annoyance melted away, and she smirked at Revali. “Actually, I’m already a member of a club.”

Revali froze, looking between the two of them. “Oh? Perhaps volleyball, with Lady Urbosa?”

“Nope.” Zelda crossed her arms, triumphant. “Something more brutish and violent.”

Link stifled a laugh, but Revali was unamused. He pursed his lips, bowing his head in surrender. “Well perhaps… not every fencer is…”

A voice interrupted from the back porch, saving Revali from further embarrassment. “Kass is on in five!”

Zelda took Link’s hand and led him towards the back door, calling back to Revali, “See you after the show!”

They entered the crowded living room, one side of which had been cleared out to make space for the stage. Once they had picked a spot along the wall, Zelda collapsed into giggles. “Oh, that was priceless! What a-” She stopped, and found more tactful words. “I mean… Don’t get me wrong, he can be cool, but he’s just so... eccentric.”

Link grinned. He knew her well enough to understand her real meaning, and he agreed. Zelda stifled another laugh and said, “I’m going to find a restroom. Wait here for me?”

He nodded, and she disappeared into the crowd. Link stood alone against the edge of the room, watching Kass tune his accordion through the wall of bodies.

A voice hissed in Link’s ear. “You think you’re so clever, swordsman.”

Link jolted and met Revali’s piercing gaze. The archer narrowed his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you strut about, acting like you’re better than me. You may have Lady Zelda fooled, but I see right through you.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “So, what do you say we settle this? Once and for all? I have a bottle of rum in the cabinet; I can secure us some shot glasses from the house owners.” Revali stuck out his hand. “How about it, swordsman? Do you accept my challenge?”

Link paused. He had never competed in a drinking contest before, and was unsure of how much alcohol he could handle. The other, and perhaps the most pressing concern, was how Zelda would react once she found out.

Revali sneered at his indecision. “Ah, so you are a coward. I figured as much.”

Then again, Revali had relentlessly insulted his passion, and Link found that he couldn’t turn down an opportunity to put him in his place. Just as Kass began the first song, Link grasped Revali’s hand.

“Yes, Revali, because it affects your club,” Mipha said.

Link blinked back the thoughts, focusing on their exchange.

“Just like it affects the fencing club,” she said, indicating Link. “And the swimming club,” she pointed to herself. “And all of us. If Zelda doesn’t have any sport club members there, then the budget proposal gets rejected. That means no new bows, arrows, gear, anything. The practice gyms-”

“The archery club doesn’t use the practice gyms,” Revali scoffed. “We have to go off campus. Our gear still works, and if anyone wants something new, they can buy it themselves.”

Mipha’s mouth curled into a rare sneer. “Revali, this is important. Just come with us.”

“Nope.” Revali rolled over once more, pulling the blanket tight around his body.

Link, Mipha, and Kass exchanged glances. Kass shrugged helplessly. “Maybe you can ask someone from a different club?”

“On such short notice?” Mipha’s shoulders lowered in defeat, and she pulled out her cellphone. “I could ask my friend from the sailing club… If she left now, then maybe she’d make it on time.”

Time. Link removed his own phone to check. 11:20.

Whoa. How did that happen? He glanced at Mipha, who was still scrolling through her contacts. We don’t have time for this.

Link examined the playset. He nudged Kass, pointing to the slide. A grin spread across Kass’s features and he nodded in approval. He moved into position as Link climbed onto the playset, standing over Revali.

Still wrapped in blankets, Revali glared up at Link. “What do you think you’re- Aahh!”

Link shoved Revali’s body through the opening that led to the slide. Unable to stop his descent, Revali fell into Kass’s arms. Kass hoisted him over his shoulder, shooting Link a thumbs up with his free hand.

Revali protested loudly and without dignity. Kass hauled him through the fence gate, then tossed him into the backseat of the van. Suppressing a chuckle, Kass winked at Link and Mipha. “Just bring him back here when you’re done. My kids are at a sleepover, so I’ll still be around.” He moved back to his position on the front porch step, picking up his accordion once more as he called, “Oh, and good luck!”

#loz #botw #loz fic #link #zelda #mipha #revali #my fic #commission

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worryinglyinnocent · 3 years ago

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Fic: Forged Through Fire (12/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

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Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [Nine] [Ten] [Eleven] [AO3]

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Content warning for this chapter: Moderate blood and gore.

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Forged Through Fire

Twelve

“Is that so, Mustang?”

Riza’s immediate reaction to hearing Bradley’s voice behind her was to grab a pistol, turn, aim and fire. It was a clean shot in his shoulder and it should have at least slowed him down, but he didn’t even break stride, and her heart started to pound in her ears as she saw the telltale red crackle of alchemy at the bullet hole. Whatever the doctor had done with Hohenheim’s blood, it had already started to work.

Roy snapped, a column of fire shooting down the corridor towards the Fuhrer, who simply reached up with his sword and slashed at the water pipes in the ceiling, dousing the flame and drenching Roy’s spark cloth, rendering his alchemy useless.

On instinct, Riza fired again, trying to slow him down if nothing else, but it had no effect save seeming to anger him as he raised his sword again, and Roy grabbed her hand, pulling her along down the corridor at a breakneck pace. All they could hope to do was to try and outrun him, but these corridors seemed to be interminable. She hadn’t realised just how deep Marcoh had brought them into the building when they had first come in; she had been trying to memorise the route back if they’d ended up needing it, at the same time as keeping an eye out for anything that might have caused them a problem. She hoped that Marcoh had made it back to the car after he’d met up with Havoc.

Riza forced herself to keep moving on burning legs, racing down the corridors beside Roy. They were almost at the entrance that they had come through with Marcoh, and Roy slammed the door open. She didn’t know what would happen once they were out in the open, but whatever it was, surely it would be better than being trapped in a building about to collapse in a flaming heap with a completely insane and apparently immortal Fuhrer chasing them. She knew that it was too much to ask for the others to have got out in the car and come screeching around the block to rescue them at the last minute, but she could always hope for a miracle.

The lights on the staircase had gone out and they stumbled up blindly in pitch dark, still very aware of Bradley’s footsteps behind them. Riza didn’t dare to turn and see, but something in the back of her mind was telling her that Bradley was slowing down. Maybe he wasn’t as fit as they’d thought he was; or maybe the initial boost he’d got from the immortality had worn off.

Riza flung the top door open, squinting in the sudden bright full moonlight. They’d made it outside, and now it was a race towards the gates and the road and the prayer for deliverance.

There was a garbled shout from behind her, and the thud of someone falling to the ground.

“Roy!”

She turned, but Roy was only a step behind her, perfectly safe, also looking behind him in horror as Bradley picked himself up off the ground. Riza had to stop in her tracks at the sight of him.

He was bleeding heavily, not just from the bullet wounds she had inflicted in his chest that had healed immediately at the time; it was pouring from his mouth and nose as well, dripping down his face from the corners of his eyes; dark red and sparkling with alchemic energy that seemed almost angry in its intensity.

He tried to put on a final burst of speed towards them now that they had both come to a dead halt, but it only made it a couple of steps before falling onto his knees, spewing a fountain of blood and landing face down on the ground.

Riza looked at Roy.

“What the hell just happened?”

“I think his body must have rejected Hohenheim’s blood after it started to heal him up.” Roy’s face wrinkled up with disgust as he made his way over to the body. “Either that or the blood rejected the body.”

“Roy! Be careful! Don’t make this into a horror novel scene where he’s not dead and he grabs your ankles!”

Roy picked up Bradley’s dropped sword and poked at the man a couple of times before bending to take a pulse, shaking his head.

“He’s dead.”

“Good. Now let’s get out of here before the entire building goes down!”

Smoke was billowing up from the subterranean levels now, and Roy didn’t need further encouragement. They both started running towards the gates, grateful that Marcoh had not locked them again after they’d come through earlier. They kept pounding down the street until they stopped in alarm when a car screeched to a halt in front of them and Riza had to double take when Hughes leaned out of the driver’s seat.

“Need a ride?”

They threw themselves into the back as Hughes floored it away from the laboratory.

“How on earth did you manage to sneak out of the shop and where did you get this car?” Roy asked.

“Well, Gracia helped with the sneaking and Falman’s going to make a career out of forging car requisition orders.” Hughes grinned at him in the rear-view. “Don’t I get a ‘thank you for saving our asses’?”

“Thank you for saving our asses, although I don’t know who’s going to save yours once we get back and Madam Christmas gets hold of you.”

Hughes laughed. “I shall simply remind her that I brought her darling nephew back to her in one piece.”

“Hmm.” Roy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how much mileage you’ll get out of that.”

In spite of everything that had happened over the course of the last several minutes, Riza had to laugh. It felt good to laugh. They weren’t out of the woods by any stretch of the imagination. Bradley may have been dead, but there were a bunch of generals under him who would not be so easily unseated - although, if Roy’s description of the chaos unfolding at Central Command was anything to go by, perhaps that wasn’t a foregone conclusion. There was the small matter of Kimblee shoved in the ammo closet back in the armoury (although surely someone would have found him by now), and all of the destruction that had been wreaked through the Fifth Laboratory.

Right now, though, that wasn’t a problem. That was something that they could think about later. The most immediate problem had been rescuing Hohenheim, and Riza could only hope that he and Havoc had managed to get out with the rest of the exodus in the fire alarm. Her mind was set at ease as they rounded the corner a few blocks from the laboratory and Armstrong came into sight, their original car parked up next to the phone booth he was in.

Hughes leaned out as they pulled up alongside, and Riza could see the others in the car. Hohenheim appeared to have passed out again, covered in Marcoh’s coat like a blanket, but since the doctor didn’t seem to be too concerned by this, Riza decided she wouldn’t be either.

“It’s ok, the cavalry’s already here,” Hughes called. Armstrong stared at him for several seconds.

“Not to worry, false alarm,” he said into the phone and hung up, getting back into the driver’s seat of the car. Beside him, Havoc was killing himself laughing.

The rest of the journey back to the shop was made in relieved silence - Hughes asked what had gone on but accepted Roy’s wish to leave the tale until they were all together in one place to avoid having to repeat the details several times. It did not take them long to reach the shop; most of the traffic was going in the other direction towards the laboratory, and the two cars parked up in convoy a couple of blocks away. They could return them tomorrow; with all the commotion, Riza was sure that no one would notice them missing for a while.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear off now, and Riza could feel the tiredness beginning to settle into her limbs as they all made their way inside and down the stairs into the bar. She hadn’t realised just how physically demanding that trip through the vents and all the subsequent excitement had been until now.

“Van!”

Trisha was across the room in the blink of an eye, throwing her arms around her husband and burying her face in his shoulder as she burst into tears of relief.

“I’m all right,” he murmured. “I’m all right, my love. It’s all going to be all right.”

The rest of the group moved away towards the bar counter, letting them have their moment. Madam Christmas was already pouring out generous measures of spirits for the returning rescuers.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” she said to Hughes. “For now though, I’ll let it slide.”

Riza just managed to make it over to a booth before her knees gave out, the weight of what had just happened finally coming down on her. She couldn’t quite believe it; if anyone had told her it second hand she would never have believed them. Secret laboratories, immortality experiments, the Fuhrer now dead. It didn’t seem real.

“Hey.” Roy slid into the booth beside her. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I just…” She leaned in and kissed him. If there was more hunger and desperation in it, then it was out of sheer gratitude at not having lost him despite the dangers they had faced.

“Yes,” Roy said softly as she finally released him. “Yes, I think that sums it up.”

Before anything more could be said, there was a joyous bark as Fuery came down into the bar with Hayate, who bounded towards Riza, tail wagging so hard it was in danger of falling off.

“Someone could have told me they were all back!” Fuery exclaimed. “Why am I always the last to know these things?”

“We knew you’d be back inside soon enough.” Hughes waved away his affront. “Come on. We need to hear all about the daring rescue, and also how come the Fifth Laboratory is now even more in ruins than it was before. It was smoking when I drove past it, so I think Roy probably has some explaining to do.”

Roy sighed; the moment was over, and they weren’t going to get any peace until the story was told. Hayate took advantage of the confusion to jump up onto Riza’s lap and start licking her face. She had to laugh.

“Hayate, I was only gone for a few hours.”

“He must have known you were going into the lion’s den,” Roy remarked, scratching Hayate’s ears and receiving grateful licks of his own.

“It’s ok, Puppy, I’m home. We’re all safe and sound.”

Hughes and Madam Christmas brought the drinks over as everyone began to gather around for the tale of what had happened in the laboratory. A few refills later, the entire room was speechless.

“Well.” Hughes was the first one to speak. “I think I speak for everyone when I say let’s never do that again ever. And I think we definitely dodged a bullet when it comes to Bradley. That man was all kinds of creepy I want nothing to do with, thank you.”

“Amen to that.” Breda raised his glass. It was a mark of how much the story had gripped him since he hadn’t noticed that Hayate had got down from Riza’s lap and was now snoring happily on his feet.

Riza looked around at the people around the table; a scrappy, rag-tag bunch on the face of it, with nothing in common between all of them except the bar that they were sitting in, but they had grown into a strange kind of family nonetheless. These were the people that Riza truly considered to be her family. She would always miss her mother, that went without saying. Her memories of her father would always be sour. But this family she had found and made for herself would always pick her up and have her back, no matter what. Just as she would always have theirs.

“To the future.” Roy held up his glass in a toast. “Whatever the hell that might be. Here’s hoping it’s better than the present.”

The sentiment echoed around the table, and Riza glanced sideways at Roy, knowing that now he had the opportunity, he would make that future as better as it possibly could be.

Gradually, with the excitement and horror of the day slowly catching up to everyone, people began to make their way back to their own homes in dribs and drabs. Breda and Fuery were staying to man the radios in case anything horrifically unforeseen happened overnight as a result of the Fuhrer’s death, and it was unanimously decided that Hohenheim and Trisha should lay low at the bar for their own safety, but soon enough, it was just Riza and Roy left at their table.

“I guess I should go as well.” Roy sighed, but he made no move to leave, his arm still tight around Riza’s shoulders.

“You sound like you can’t think of anything you’d like to do less.”

He chuckled. “No. I’m enjoying this moment. I don’t want it to be over.”

“Me neither.” Riza paused, thinking back to the previous night. “You know, you don’t have to leave. You can come up. And… maybe not sleep on the couch this time?”

He looked at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m way too exhausted – physically and emotionally – to do anything that’s not sleeping. But I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want you to stop holding me.”

A few years ago, Riza didn’t think she would ever be in a position like this, where she would want to stay in someone’s arms forever, and moreover, that she would be comfortable admitting that to them. Now though, she had Roy. She had always trusted him, and he had proved himself worthy of that trust over and over again, but there had always been a part of her that had shied away a little, trying to remain aloof and not admit to herself just how much she wanted and needed him. She was so used to having to be self-sufficient that it had taken her a long time to accept help, and an even longer time to accept love.

Roy kissed her softly, warm hands cupping her face.

“I would love to stay.”

To say that the few days following the Fuhrer’s death had been frantic would be an understatement. Although the city had not quite descended into complete anarchy, Riza had been convinced that it was heading that way at times, to the point where she and Madam Christmas had boarded up the shop windows just in case. The government was flailing in chaos without the leader who had run it with an iron fist for so long, and the few more competent and logistically minded generals were scrambling to pick up the pieces with what they had available. Roy and the others were rushed off their feet with contradictory orders, and as such, it was only Riza and Rebecca who were around at the bar to see Trisha and Hohenheim off with Marcoh.

“As much as we’re really going to miss you, I think that you’re making the right decision,” Rebecca said. “Let us know when you’ve got yourselves sorted out with a place to live and we’ll box up all the stuff from your apartment and get it sent on.”

“We will. It shouldn’t be too hard. I grew up in Resembool and I haven’t been gone long enough for it to have changed much. The people there know me, and they know Van. We’ll be safe there; it’s the kind of place that bands together to protect its own, no matter who they are or what they might do.” Trisha smiled. “Besides, we were always going to make the move back there at some point. I don’t want the little one growing up in a big city.”

“Congratulations, by the way. I guess you probably didn’t intend for everyone to find out via Madam Christmas banning you from going on rescue missions, but you can take to heart that half of them probably didn’t twig what she meant.”

Trisha laughed. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for everything,” Hohenheim said. Physically he was back to his usual self again, but Riza didn’t want to think about the mental scars.

“We’re family. It’s what we do.”

They got into the car with Marcoh – Falman had conveniently mislaid the requisition paperwork and in the confusion no one was likely to miss it for a while – and Rebecca and Riza waved them off.

“I think there’s something inspiring about that relationship,” Rebecca said as they made their way back towards the shop. “It can’t exactly be easy for them with Hohenheim being, well, Hohenheim, but they love each other so much that they make it work.” She paused, turning towards Riza with a wicked grin. “Speaking of relationships though… Don’t think I don’t know that Roy’s been staying over rather a lot recently.”

Riza rolled her eyes. “The shop is closer to Central Command than his apartment. It’s just practical.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Rebecca!”

“Hey, I’m the last person to judge. I’m just happy that you two are on the same page and you’ve got your act together and decided to go for it. I’ve been watching the mutual pining ever since I’ve known you both; it’s been painful and hilarious in equal measure.”

“Yeah. I think that we decided that life’s too short not to try and be happy in it. Especially given everything that’s been going on lately.”

As they rounded the corner towards the shop, Riza saw Roy standing outside with a bunch of flowers. He knew very well that she didn’t own a vase, but she liked the sentiment anyway.

She had decided to take that chance on love, and on the prospect of a better future, and she couldn’t be happier that she had.

#FMA:Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Fic: Forged Through Fire

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missblissy · 5 years ago

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Rebirth (Chapter Six)

Alastor X Human!Reader ((Reincarnation!AU))

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

((THE TAG LIST IS CURRENTLY DOWN UNTIL I CAN FIX IT!! PLEASE UNDERSTAND THAT I AM TRYING TO DO EVERYTHING I CAN! I PROMISE TO HAVE THE TAGGED LIST BACK UP FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER)) ((HERE IS THE SONG THAT ALASTOR SINGS))

“You want to summon... A demon? You do know that goes against literally everything I stand by?” Sage stared at you with narrow eyes. She didn’t seem too pleased that you had asked.

And you weren’t too pleased that three years of friendship turned out to be a twisted lie, “I don’t think I know anything about you,” You said with a little to much attitude, “I thought you were a chemist that traveled a lot for work. Turns out my best friend is actually a magical witch that kills demons for a living!”

Sage knew she had hurt you, you could see it on her face. You expected her to snap back like she normally would. But she showed complete control, she took a breath in and then out, “I am under an oath to not to share this information with anyone outside my bloodline. I’ve have broken that one and only rule twice. For Van, and for you. I’m supposed to kill you now,” Her words were so cold you almost thought she would. Sage did nothing but give you a stern look. You felt like a child under that gaze, she was only four years older than, but she had the energy of 100-year-old pagan, “I’d rather die for it than let either of you be harmed in any way shape or form. Sharing this information with you has put our lives at risk. So long as you play dumb when you need to, everything will hopefully be fine, but I can’t promise that. So you can see why I kept this from you for so long. I hope you understand it wasn’t to lie or deceive you. It was to protect you. But now the only way for me to protect you is to tell you everything you need to know.”

You suddenly felt immature and bratty. She was right. You were blind to the bigger picture and you felt a little dumb, “I’m sorry,” You said, “I just felt... I don’t know. All of this is so crazy. I feel like the who universe is lying to me and you were apart of that. I know your intentions were in the right place,”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. There was a mutual understanding and you both silently agreed to move on, “Why do you want to summon a demon? I need to know your reasoning before I share this information with you.”

You could understand her concerns, “Well, what if I were to learn how to summon Alastor? Maybe for a trap?” You told her with a warry voice.

“Well, I wouldn’t doubt it if he had this place tapped in any way. He’s probably listening to us right now. I doubt he’d dare to step out though.”

“Why?” You were curious to see why she was so confident.

“Because I can kill him. And he knows that. He’s too proud and important to let something like that happen. Because if I kill him, Eon will die too. I have a divine weapon that my father passed down to me and his father before him. The Morning Sword, the same sword Lucifer lifted towards God in his rebellion and the same sword he lost when he fell from grace.”

Holy shit. You had to see this sword, “Where is?” You asked, “Can I see?”

Sage smirked slightly, her blue eyes sparkled a little. She nodded, “Sure,” With a quick wave of her hand, a sword started to manifest before your eyes. It was made of silver and gold, with its own source of blue light leaking between the designs. It fell quickly into Sage’s hand and she swiftly turned it and placed it before you. The blade rested in her open palms, “This sword destroys any soul it comes in contact with,”

“Why isn’t it hurting you then?” You asked, not sure if you wanted to touch it or not.

“Souls are protected deep within our bodies,” Sage explained.

You reached out and placed a finger on the glowing blade. A little zap of electricity pricked your finger. You were just about to take the sword in your own hands when a little buzz went off. Sage pulled out her phone, gave it one look, then sighed heavily.

“I have to go,” She said while the sword fizzled out of existence. She opened her mouth to explain but you cut her off.

“I understand. Demon stuff.”

Sage’s smile was small but wholesome, “Everything you need is in this bag,” You had almost forgotten that it was sitting next to you, “I’ll text you, okay?” She quickly got up to her feet and soon she was at the door, “Let Van know if you need anything too. I’ll see you late, (Y/n),”

You waved at your friend and watched her go. You were alone again and you felt a chill. You remembered what Sage said, about Alastor having this place tapped.

You wanted to see him, and you hated admitting that to yourself. The book had answered some questions. Things like who you were when you were a demon. You were called The Crybaby Demon, and you were the Gate Keeper of Hell. You married Alastor seven or eight years after meeting him. Eon technically owned your soul but since you were reincarnated, he lost his power over it. And even how you met and fell in love with Alastor.

It was hard to see him as the same demon who was trying to trick you into going to hell. It was more like... someone desperately trying to get back to their life. Or afterlife in this case.

You stood up from the couch. You looked around slowly then felt stupid as you called out, “Alastor...?” Nothing happened. Maybe he really left for good?

Suddenly Buck came out from hiding. He slowly walked from your bedroom and his tiger eyes watched your every move. That's when you remembered that... Buck had something to do with all of this.

You felt silly as you reached your hand out. Buck rubbed his cheek against your fingers and purred loudly, “Can you bring Alastor here?” You asked quietly.

And that’s when you felt it. That energy that caused your hairs to rise. The soft stale static fizzled in and out of your ear. He was here. What happened to that big screaming portal? Or could he hide that from your eyes too? You looked around and followed the waves as they pulsed from where ever Alastor was hiding. You faced the windows between your kitchen and living room.

You saw the curtains flutter slightly, then you saw a shadow flash across the floor, “Alastor?” You called out with a weak voice. You weren’t sure where he went.

As you started to take a few steps back, you felt a cold chill on the back of your neck, “You called~?” His voice was loud and muffled at the same time. He spoke through that filter, that old microphone voice. You spun around and saw Alastor grinning at you, “Hello, my darling dear.”

You were frozen for a second. You almost forgot that he was a demon. A murderer. And if you could remember correctly... a cannibal. You gulped, then spoke weakly, “Hi,” You started, “I... I wanted to see you,” As you admitted that you saw Alastor’s smile grow, “I’ve been reading the book you left. And... I want to know more about who I was. Parts of the book won’t appear for me- even with my blood! They just stay blank,”

Alastor chuckled then began to walk in a circle around you, “I’m aware,” He grinned loosely, “I can’t get all the pages to show for me, either, so I can’t help you there,”

“I thought it wouldn’t work for you?” Didn’t the book say it was cursed or something so Alastor couldn’t read it?

“I found a way in. But the book only shows me what it wants me to see, the same for you, darling, what did it show you?”

That didn’t make sense... The book only showed you passages about Alastor. If it showed him something different than what he saw... “It only showed me things about you,”

Something sparkled in his eyes and he took a step towards you. Leaning down into your sights, “What could you ever want to know about me?” His eyes were wide and wild as they flashed an emotion in them that you could barely pick out.

Your heart raced and you felt a little frightened, “You... were my husband?”

“I was,” He hummed lowly.

“You loved me?” You had to hear him say it. You didn’t know why, but you just had to.

“I did,” Alastor took a step away from you, a smaller smile on his face, “I still do,” You felt something twitch in your chest. Something old and unknown to your mind yet familiar to your soul, “And I know you don’t love me,” Alastor when on, “But I want to change that!” He rocked on his heels then snapped his finger. Suddenly he wasn’t a demon anymore. He was a human, a young man in casual attire, “If you’ll let me, that is, my dear. I want a chance at being in your life again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy,”

He peered at you through his round glasses. A natural smile rested on his face. He held a hand out towards you. A part of you wanted to take his hand in yours and see what would happen. Another part tould you to run. He was still a demon. Weren’t they supposed to trick you with pretty words?

You shook that thought away because you knew Alastor loved you. The book showed you that he loved your soul more than anything in this world. When you looked up at Alastor’s face, you could even see a small flash of pleading in his eyes. You lifted your hand and barely graced your fingers on his.

As soon as your skin touched his, Alastor grabbed your hand quickly and pulled you to him. You were brought close to his embrace. Warmth radiated off his body and soon you were swept away into a magical place. Music started to play, you realized it came from Alastor.

Alastor was dressed in a dark deep crimson red suit and matching bowtie. His glasses were gone and you were dressed in matching a long and elegant dress, the same shade of red as Alastor’s suit. He hummed lowly then you watched him sing. His voice was staticky again as if he was singing on an old radio show, “Alooooone~.... At the edge of a universe humming a tuunnee..... For merely dreaming we were snow...Mhmmm..” He leaned in close and you felt something spark in your heart and travel to your cheeks. Alastor was face to face with you, only inches away, “A siren sooouunds!!! Like the goddess who promises endless apologies of paradise... And only she can make it riiight~” He gave you this look, still inching closer, he sucked in a breath and sang on “So things are different tonight!”

Pianos and music leaked from an unknown source, Alastor pulled you through a portal that you didn’t even see open and suddenly as an orchestra of music played you found yourself in a city you had never seen before, “We’ll go toogeetheerr... In flight!”

It was as if you were in a magical movie. Stars began to fly around you as you realized you were in a graveyard in a hot and muggy city. Alone. With Alastor. He sung away every problem and worry that came to your troubled mind. His voice was so hypnotic and beautiful. It was like you were under a spell as he grabbed your hand in his and began to dance with you. You watched little ghosts appear from behind gravestones that rose above the ground. Gaves were stacked into each other, with statues and cross decorating them. Little ghosts of all kinds fluttered around as little sparkly stars flustered to life.

“It's Now & Never!” He began to sing again, a smile on Alastor’s face, “A reverie endeavor... awaits somnambulant directives to take the helm!” Suddenly the two of you spun so quickly that everything faded into a blur, “Believe me, darling! !The stars were made for falling!” And like that all the little stars he made began to fall, “Like melting obelisks as tall as another realm~!”

You were still in the graveyard, mesmerized the galaxies that started to form out of seemingly nothing. Music still played and Alastor was dancing some kind of tango with you. A smile grew on your face, you couldn’t stop it. You didn’t know he could be so whimsical and magical. He even started to sing in French (or that’s what you thought) and you had no idea what he was saying but it made your heart race in your chest.

Suddenly he was singing in English again, “It feels like flying~!” You saw his demonic face flash for only a second, “But maybe we're dyyiiing~! A cosmic confluence of Pyramids hologrammed!! She knows you heard her, staging music murder in line before the show began to be where I am!”

The music changed it’s beat and once again Alastor was leading you through the graveyard. Trees grew all over, most of them were weeping willows. Fireflies began to come out of hiding and they were soon spinning into a swarm, obviously, it was Alastor’s doing. The fireflies shot up into the sky and blew up like fireworks. You could hear the voice of a woman softly singing in the background of the music as jingle bells chimed away. You could barely even understand what the voice was singing. Alastor’s voice drifted into the background but his mouth never opened beside the flash of a toothy grin here and there.

As the music slowed down, Alastor had brought you to a large weeping willow tree that protected a gazebo under its long viny branches. It sounded like you could hear the ocean but you knew it was just a trick.

Alastor quickly brought you close to him, close enough that your chests were touching, his arm snaked around your waist while the other held your hand up in the air. He started to waltz with you, looking down with dark brown eyes and a loving smile on his face, “You look quite divine tonight~!” The fireflies were back, flickering away as they spun around the both of you as you waltzed together, “Here among these vibrant lights! Pure delights surround us as we sail! Signed, yours truly, the whale! Joy mirage's kingdom come...No one left at stake~! Now that existence is on the wake, let's see what we can make!”

The two of you slowed down, only swaying now. You barely even forgot that Alastor wasn’t a human, he was a stranger to you. But the way it felt to have your hand in his was totally intoxicating. There was a wave of energy that flowed from him and straight into your heart.

Is this what love felt like? To have someone love you unconditionally and for all of eternity? You couldn’t tell and you weren’t sure if you were ready to know. You just couldn’t stop that little smile on your face as you looked up at him. Alastor was only humming a tune now while giving you the softest smile you had ever seen on his face.

You had no idea, but this was everything Alastor had been waiting for. A moment like this was priceless, it was almost like he had you back for real this time. He knew not to rush this though, he knew that he had to do this right if he was to ever get you to come back to him.

The fireflies started to fly away save for a few dozen that flickered away under the gazebo roof. Alastor’s body against yours was warm and beating with a pulse of life. His radio heart swelled with love and you could have sworn that he was more human than demon.

You looked up to him with questions in your eyes, “Where are we?” You finally asked.

Soft music was still playing, you could hear it coming from Alastor’s body. He hummed and gave you a little spin then brought you back to him, “New Orleans,” He said quietly as if this wasn’t freaking huge.

You gave him a look, a raised brow, “Didn’t you say you were from here?”

He nodded his head, “I’m actually buried a few rows over,” Why was he so casual about this?

You nearly shook your head as you took a double-take on what he said, “Wait.. like... your body?” He nodded his head again and that soft smile was still on his face, “Can... Can we see?”

The two of you were standing still now. Alastor let go of your hand only to snake his arm under yours, linking you together by the elbow, “Sure, I don’t see why not,” His voice was low and sounded like the purr of a cat... or demon.

You walked with him, still linked by the arm. This graveyard was so beautiful. It was filled with old statues with patches of moss and dirt scattered across them. It was dark and the sun had set but it’s enchanting colors still scattered across the sky. It made a painting of blues and pinks and purples. You could smell the heavy scent of roses drifting in the wind.

As you neared a tomb at the end of a road, Alastor slowly came to a stop. The headstone was destroyed on top of the grave liner, shattered and broken into rubble. It even looked like someone cracked open the concert vault and had stolen the bones inside. The second grave next to it was also broken apart and vandalized. You looked at him with worried eyes but he didn’t seem fazed.

“I-... I’m sorry,” You started to mumble.

Alastor quickly waved his free hand back and forth, ushering your to stop your worrying, “I’ve already killed the fools who desecrated mine and my mother’s graves. Worry not, my little doe, it’s what one gets for being a serial killer,”

You had almost forgotten about that. It was hard to imagine that Alastor was an infamous serial killer, cannibal and radio show host.

Lucky for you, google existed and you had done a little research on Alastor. You looked at him as you brought a finger to your chin, “It was.. La-...Lafloor?” You tried to remember what that damn google search said.

Alastor chuckled and suddenly his voice took this deep, southern creole accent, “Alastor Narcisse LaFleur,” It sounded like he was speaking a totally different language, but it was his name. He gazed down at you fondly, amused at your lack of understanding, “I was a radio show host most of my adult life while murdering 51 people in the course of seven years,” He spoke fondly of his life, a look of pride on his face, “However one day I got a tip from a dear old friend that my cover was blown. I ran from the police,” He started to chuckle, “They almost got me, but I got pretty far and POW!,” Then he pretended to shoot himself in the head with a smile, “I did it before they could.”

What a cruel and ironic way to go. Life had a funny sense of humor. You could not understand why you felt so bad for him. You reached out and dared to touch his arm, but you stopped just short. He had noticed your advancement and gave you a look, “Do not feel sorry for me, my dear, I’m already dead!” At least he made you chuckle, “Please, I’d love to leave this place and take you somewhere nice.”

The idea didn’t sound half bad, “Sure!” You wanted to see where this would go. You couldn’t stop craving the attention he gave you. Something wild and unknown to you called out to be by Alastor’s side and you gave into that call. Perhaps it had something to do with your soul, you guessed, maybe it was because your soul knew Alastor better than you did. That gut feeling you normally ignored grew larger and more apparent.

You were curious to see what Alastor had instore, you were still linked with him by the arm as the two of your quietly strode out of the graveyard. You couldn’t stop the smile that crawled into your face as you happily gave into the magic and wonder that was Alastor. What else could he possibly have in store? Well, you’d just have to wait and see~

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autisticfangpyreclub · 4 years ago

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Gold stained hands, red stained teeth - chapter 1

I finally managed to start writing the vampire au i posted literally a year ago, quarantine does that to ya. Enjoy!

(@kyra-plays sorry it took so long for me to start writing this fic!)

“We’re here!”

Kai grunted as he was shaken awake by the car jostling to a halt. He sluggishly sat up in his seat and looked out the window. They were parked in front of a huge iron gate, overgrown with vines and moss. “This is the place?” he slurred, shaking his head to try and wake himself up.

“Yup,” Nya replied. She tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto his lap. “Check it out, I’m gonna go get our tickets.”

She hopped out of the car, and ran over to the ticket booth. Kai yawned, and clicked the light on in the car. The piece of paper had every spot on their haunted building tour written on it, along with a small blurb about each location. He skimmed through the names until he found where they were.

“Castle Garmadon…”

It had been built in the 14th century, allegedly by only two people. A woman and her husband, rumoured by the local townsfolk to both be vampires.

He could believe it when he saw what the castle looked like. It was ginormous, towering over the iron gates surrounding it. The castle sat atop a cliff that overlooked the town below, and it gave the entire countryside a dark and gothic vibe. It looked like something straight out of dracula.

“There you are!”

Kai jumped at the sudden hand on his shoulder, but relaxed when he saw it was only Jay. “Hey, when’d you get here?” Kai asked.

“Just now,” Jay said, gesturing at the blue van that was parked beside Nya’s car. “Zane’s trying to drag Cole out right now, he’s having a bit of a freak out.”

They both turned their heads to see Zane tugging Cole by the arm, trying to pull him off the car door. Cole lost his grip just as Zane gave a hard yank. Kai winced as they both fell backwards onto the concrete ground, that was still wet from the recent shower of rain. “What’s going on with them?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Jay crossed his arms and leaned back against the iron gate. “I hear Cole’s got like, a really bad fear of vampires.”

Kai couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Seriously? Why?”

Jay shrugged. “No clue, think he just watched too many horror movies as a little kid,” he raised an eyebrow and scanned the parking lot, “hey, where’s Nya?”

“Hey Jay!” Nya grinned as she ran over to them. “I got our tickets,” she handed a ticket to Jay, and then one to Kai, “apparently we’re the only visitors they’ve had in months, so we’ve got the whole place to ourselves to explore!”

“Awesome!” Jay pumped his fist in the air. “Free reign to touch anything we feel like!”

“I told you in the van Jay, we must respect this castle,” Zane chided, approaching them with a mopey looking Cole in tow. “Look with your eyes, not your hands.”

“Ugh, fine. You brought the go pro right?”

Zane sighed, then reached into his shoulder bag. He pulled out an awkwardly large camera, and strapped it over his forehead. “I don’t know why you insisted on this head mount.”

“Panoramic shots Zane, panoramic shots!” Jay shot back, “now lean down so I can adjust it.”

Kai chuckled to himself watching Jay attempt to jump to Zane’s level. His focus drifted towards Cole, who’s eyes were darting back and forth between the gate and the castle, while his hands clenched the sleeves of his jacket. He was rocking back and forth on the spot and muttering something ineligible to himself.

“You good Cole?” Kai asked him, reaching a hand out to grab his shoulder.

Cole flinched and snapped out of his nervous rambling. “What? Oh, I’m fine,” he waved his hand nonchalantly, “just… the castle is so big, it was making me a little, uh… unsettled, yeah, that’s all it is…”

Kai didn’t really believe that, but he didn’t want to hassle him. He just gave Cole a pat on the shoulder and left it at that. The five of them showed their tickets to the guard at the gate, and walked into the courtyard.

Those piercing red eyes had to be the creepiest thing about the paintings Cole was surrounded by. It was bad enough that the old castle looked like it was going to collapse any moment, or that it reeked of death and mold. Of course, of course it also had to be infested by vampires. Vampires who loved having their portraits painted, apparently.

“I think these ropes kinda ruin it for me,” Kai said while prodding at one of the velvet ropes that formed a barrier around the paintings. “The illusion of walking through a historical castle thing I mean.”

Cole turned around to glare at him. “Are you seriously not creeped out by all… this?”

Kai gave him a quizzical look. “I can’t really see anything creepy about it.” He walked over and slung his arm over Cole's shoulder. “It’s just an old building dude, nothing to be afraid of except like… maybe asbestos.”

“There is no asbestos in this castle Kai, the maintenance staff thoroughly check and upkeep the entire building twice a year,” Zane said. He was taking pictures of everything using the go pro Jay had thoroughly adjusted several times now. Jay himself was admiring the two giant swords affixed to the wall, along with Nya who was taking pictures with her phone.

Cole pushed Kai off him. “I’m not scared, I’m just saying it’s creepy. I mean, why do all these paintings have red eyes?”

“Because their vampires, duh!” Jay yelled over to them. Kai shot him a glare, and he looked away sheepishly. “I mean, that’s the most popular theory…”

Jay yelped as Nya shoved him in the shoulder. “There’s no such thing as vampires, stop trying to scare him Jay,” she said.

Jay winced and shuffled away from her while rubbing his shoulder. “I wasn’t! Just stating the facts!”

“I agree with Nya, there is simply no scientific evidence at all that backs up the existence of vampires, or any supernatural phenomena at all for that matter,” Zane said flatly. “No matter what conspiracy theorists say to try to defend their opinion, nothing can rationalize it,” he looked pointedly at Jay while speaking, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, we get it science man,” Jay said, “in other words, Cole needs to stop being a baby.”

Cole sputtered. “Shut up! Can we just get this whole haunted building tour over with?” Cole sighed while shaking his head. “I can’t believe you guys forced me into this…”

“Excuse me? We all agreed to do this together!” Jay scoffed at him. He absentmindedly scratched at the peeling wallpaper, then frantically tried to hide a chunk he pulled off in his pocket before Zane could yell at him.

“That was before I found out one of the spots on the list was a vampire infested hellhole!” Cole spat at him.

Kai gave Cole a gentle pat on the back. “It’ll be alright man, if you get scared I’ll just let you hold my hand okay?”

Cole scowled. “I don’t need to…”

A loud creaking sound suddenly echoed through the building. Cole screamed and grasped onto Kai’s hoodie for dear life.

“Uhh…” Kai glanced over at Cole, who was cowering and hiding his face in Kai’s shoulder. “You good man?”

In a realization that nothing was coming to kill him, Cole pulled away from Kai like he’d been burned. Jay was laughing like a maniac in the background, and he even heard Zane chuckle softly. Nya just shook her head and walked past them.

“C'mon guys, we’ve only got about another hour and there’s still way more castle to see,” she said, pulling Jay by the arm who was still laughing so hard he was gasping for breath.

Cole felt his face heating up. He pulled his shirt over his face so that no one could see how red he was. Or how much he was still sweating. “Uh… Kai, I think I might just take you up on that offer…”

“Y’know, I hear the electric lights in this place have always been here, because the people who lived here were so old they had knowledge from the golden age about electricity that was lost to time,” Jay remarked, as they passed by a marble bust lit up by a light on the ceiling.

“That’s impossible, electric lighting was unheard of during the 15th century, and people barely lived past their thirties, much less thousands of years,” Zane replied.

“Unless they were vampires…” Jay hummed.

Cole shuddered, and squeezed Kai’s hand. As embarrassing as it was to be holding Kai’s hand like he was a little kid going through a haunted house, it was… comforting. Jay was being the absolute opposite of comforting, he was being a pain in the ass.

“Hey Cole, you cold?” Jay asked with a taunting grin. “You're shivering so much, it’s like you just saw a ghost!” He poked Cole on the cheek, and snickered when he let out a frightened squeak.

Cole grit his teeth, and grasped Kai’s hand tighter. Kai took notice of this, and pulled him in closer. “Shut it Jay, give it up already,” he snapped.

Jay stuck his tongue out and ran ahead of them. The castle was like a maze of hallways, staircases, and small rooms filled with nothing but aged looking statues and paintings. They hadn’t found anything like a kitchen or a bedroom yet, but they had walked through a faintly coppery smelling wine cellar.

“This place is less a house, and more an art museum,” Nya mused, gazing up at the idyllic painting of the night sky above her. “Oh hey, there’s a hole in the wall...”

She pulled out a book that was tucked inside the small crevice in the wall, and flipped it open to a random page. “How to grow the finest lavender… the most efficient way to cultivate your vegetables… slugs, snails, and other wretched fiends found in the garden,” she read aloud, being reminded of the decently kept flower patch they passed in the courtyard. “They must’ve really loved gardening…”

The hallway they were in now was long and narrow, with red carpeted floors and black stone walls covered in scratch marks. The carpet was stained and tattered, and the floorboards sounded like they were screaming when they were stepped on. The hole Nya had discovered wasn’t alone, many more littered the wall and even the floor, Jay having discovered one when he tripped and fell on his face.

“Odd…” Zane hummed, “this hallway seems much less cared for than the rest of the castle…”

“No kidding, this floor is gross…” Nya groaned, stepping over a particularly large dark stain. “And where are the windows? I actually haven’t seen a single one anywhere.”

Jay stopped in front of a painting of a raging ocean, and put a finger to his lips as if in thought. “Maybe… the ones who lived here didn’t want any sunlight getting in,” he said.

“Jay!” Nya yelled at him.

Cole shuddered, and hid his face in his hands. “Oh god, it all makes sense… red eyes, no windows, creepy castle… look, there’s even a glass full of blood in that painting!” he said and pointed towards the painting in question.

Most of the paintings of people in the castle were of the same person, and this one was no exception. He was young looking, and had blonde curls that hung over his eyes and just barely touched his shoulders. He had dark brown skin, and freckles that covered his entire face. He wore a black high collared cape that was fastened by a golden flower-shaped brooch. A green ribbon was tied around his neck. The most striking thing about the boy was his bright red eyes, but despite the unnerving colour they had a gentle look to them. He also did indeed have a glass filled with… something red in his grasp.

“It’s likely wine,” Zane said.

“Or blood!” Cole yelled back at him.

“Or… maybe it’s tomato juice?”

Zane and Cole both gave Kai a blank look. “Seriously? Tomato juice? This isn’t bunnicula we’re talking about Kai,” Cole said, “he’s a REAL vampire, not some kids cartoon.”

“Kai, tomato juice had not yet been invented at the time this painting was done, and Cole, I’m telling you vampires are most certainly not real, please calm yourself,” Zane said, irritation seeping into his tone.

“But why the red eyes then huh? Explain that!” Cole slapped a hand onto the painting, eliciting a gasp from Zane.

“Cole!” he yelled, “that painting is centuries old, it’s a priceless piece of history-“

“In my personal opinion,” Jay cut in, stepping in between them and leaning on the rope, “I think the whole legend is legit.”

Zane glared at him. “Jay, don’t start this again-“

“Seriously, this family lives in this huge mysterious spooky castle, no one ever sees them go out during the day, they barely interact with anyone, and then some guy with a silver sword-“

“Wait, why is the fact that it’s silver important?” Kai asked.

“Because vampires are weak to silver Kai, keep up!”

“I thought that was werewolves?”

“Well uh… uh… they're both weak to it alright?!” Jay stuttered, “anyways… he has a silver sword, and he kills the whole family, AND he cuts their heads off and sticks a wooden stake in all their hearts… why?”

“Because he was an asshole?” Nya helpfully supplied.

“Because they were vampires!” Cole yelled, “and they got what was coming to them, thank god…”

“Exactly,” Jay said.

Zane rubbed his temples, and let out a pained sigh. “You two make my brain hurt sometimes.”

“Hey, if you guys are done can we please just keep going?” Kai groaned. They ignored him, and only started arguing louder. He clapped his hands over his ears to block them out, and turned to Nya and nudged her. “Hey, you wanna just go on ahead?” he asked.

Her face scrunched up as she mulled it over. “I’m tempted but…” she glanced over at Zane who was physically restraining Jay from touching the painting, and shook her head. “Someone needs to keep them in check.”

“Fair enough… you mind if I…?”

“Go for it.”

Kai quietly snuck away from the scene of Jay loudly pointing out all the obvious vampire clues in the painting while in the clutches of Zane’s arms, and walked deeper into the mysterious darkness of the castle.

The many twisting and turning narrow hallways eventually led Kai to a small, dusty room. It was completely empty. “Aw man, dead end…”

He walked into the room anyways, his eyes drawn to the swirling flower patterns on the green walls, a contrast to the pure black walls of the hallway he came in from. The ceiling was also unusually low, not low enough that he had to duck, but low enough that he could feel his hair brush against it.

“Kai!”

Kai turned around to see Cole running towards him, Jay, Zane and Nya tailing behind him. He came to a screeching halt in front of the door, gasping for breath. “Kai, why the hell did you wander off?!”

“Because you were all held up arguing, I got bored. Wait, were you worried I got like, murdered or something?” Kai asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cole’s cheeks flushed. “No, you just get lost really easily, so I thought-“

“He was totally scared you got murdered, that’s why he was running,” Jay said, “hey, what’s going on in here?”

Jay pushed past a fuming Cole, and walked over to the back wall. “Huh, this is weird… ooh! I bet there’s a switch in here for a secret passage!”

He started pressing his hands into random spots on the wall, musing aloud to himself as he did it. “Not here… not there… guys, come in here and help me look for it!”

“Jay, that sounds dum- ow!” Cole banged his head against the low ceiling. He dropped to the floor, and tried to rub the swelling pain away. “Why is this entire castle built so bad?!” he groaned.

“Ah, the tough life of a mountain sized man,” Kai laughed.

Cole brushed the dust off his pants as he stood back up. “Well, better than being as short as Jay I guess.”

“I HEARD THAT!”

“Let’s just not spend too much time here alright? I’m starting to feel claustrophobic…” Cole said, trying to avoid touching the rotting wood on the doorframe as he shuffled out of the room.

Zane ducked his head as he entered. He gazed around curiously before joining Jay by the back wall. “I doubt there’s a secret passage, but there is something fascinating about this wall.”

“What is it?” Nya asked as she walked in, closing the door behind her. She laid a hand against the wall, but pulled away at the icy cold feeling against her palm. “Yeesh, must have been fun to live here during the winter. Not.”

“Yes, I noticed the temperature as well, but that’s not what I mean,” Zane pointed to a tiny spot on the wall. “Look at this.”

She leaned in to see what he was looking at, but all she could see were squiggly golden lines. “Uh… what exactly I am supposed to be looking at?”

“What’re we looking at?” Kai said as he leaned in over Nya’s shoulder.

“We’re looking at a line of writing in an ancient language, native to Ninjago, spoken by only a handful of people in modern times,” Zane replied, zooming the go pro in to get a better shot. “And lucky for us, I know this language… don’t take that ancient languages class Zane, they said, you’ll never have any use for it, they said-“

“So uh, what does it say?” Jay asked, having given up on searching for a secret passageway.

“Huh? Oh, right…” Zane wiped the dust away from the lettering, and cleared his throat. “It says, ‘reveal my sanctuary’, but then again, I could be-“

Almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, a bright green light began emitting from the wall. All four of them drew back in alarm, Kai tripping over himself and landing on the floor.

“Wha- Zane?! What’d you do?!” Jay yelled, backing up until he bumped against the doorframe.

Zane didn’t answer, his mouth agape as he stumbled back from the light. The door creaked open, and Cole popped his head in. “Hey, what’re you guys yelling about- WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The light suddenly vanished, and in its place was a golden door. The room was silent as they all stared at it. Jay coughed.

“So… who’s gonna go open it?” he asked, still keeping himself as far away from the door as possible.

“None of us!” Cole shouted. “Who knows what’s behind there?” He shakily crept back into the room, and hid behind Zane. “I mean, what if there’s dead bodies that have been rotting in there forever… or worse?”

Zane nodded, and gave Cole a gentle pat on the head. “I agree with Cole, I think it’d be best to ask a facility member about this.”

“And miss the chance to go somewhere we’re not supposed to be without anyone knowing?” said Kai, who without anyone noticing already had his hand on the doorknob.

“NO KAI DON’T-“

He ignored Cole, and slammed open the door. He flipped on the light switch, and was greeted with a colourful sight. This new room was very spacious, and anything but empty.

Shelves covered in glass figurines and ornate jewelry boxes lined the walls, and a giant display case bursting with dolls and plush toys stood against the far wall beside a cabinet filled with wine glasses and bottles. There was a half open wooden wardrobe with gold flowers painted on it, with many lacy and sparkling dresses and capes hanging inside. Green flowing drapes hung from the ceiling, framing a large portrait of the blonde haired boy with two others, a dark-haired solemn looking man, and a woman with red hair and a soft smile.

Kai’s mouth dropped as he stared at the beautiful decor in wonder. It was like being in the room of a disney princess. Well, aside from the coffin that was laying in the center of the room.

“Wait, what?” Kai did a double take. A… coffin. It honestly looked more like a bed with the drapes hanging over it, but it was undeniably a coffin the more he stared at it. “Woah…”

“What’s woah?” Jay peeked over his shoulder, then gasped sharply. “I can’t believe it! I was right! Hey Zane, come in here!”

All of them huddled around the coffin, except for Cole who stayed in the doorway. “Oh my god… is… that a-“

“Coffin? Yup,” Nya said, running a hand along the golden patterns on the coffin's lid. “This is so creepy…”

Cole felt like he was going to throw up. “This is so bad… this is so bad you guys- KAI!!”

Kai flinched and dropped the lid of the coffin. “What? I just wanted a peek.”

Zane’s eyes were wide with amazement. “This is incredible… we may be the first ones to discover this historical treasure… although I do agree that we shouldn’t open it,” he added, “not because of vampires, but because there is likely a decomposing body inside.”

“Gross…” Nya gagged, and stepped back to take a photo from a safer distance from the dead body.

“You seriously still don’t believe me?!” Jay shouted, while violently gesturing to the coffin. “This is all the proof you need!”

Zane narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Hardly. This doesn’t indicate anything other than the fact that this room served as a crypt of some sort, probably for a beloved family member.”

“It’s obviously a vampires bedroom!” Jay retorted. “Probably the blonde guys, since the other two were a married couple so they’d have a two person coffin-“

Nya snorted. “A two person coffin? Those don’t exist.”

“Well I for one think it’s a great product pitch!”

Kai wandered behind the coffin and gazed up at the portrait. The family seemed to really love getting their picture painted. They’d probably lose their minds if they were around when cameras were invented.

He really couldn’t see anything scary about the family though. The blonde kid especially, he just looked like a normal teenager, who just happened to have red eyes. There were plenty of normal human beings who had red eyes.

“I’m just saying there’s no way you can prove that vampires aren’t real.”

“False, I can prove it quite easily with-“

“Guys, give it a rest!” Nya groaned in exasperation. “Look, why don’t we just open the coffin for a minute so we can find out once and for all which one of you is right.”

Zane and Jay looked at each other, then both nodded in agreement. “Sure, why not?” Jay shrugged.

“While I hate disturbing such a beautiful artifact, or any possible remains inside, if it can end this tiresome discussion I agree it is the best course of action,” Zane said.

“Great!” Kai cheered, throwing his arms up, “I’ll open it-“

“NO! NO NO NO ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Cole shrieked as he barreled into the room and blocked Kai’s path. “Do you all wanna have a vampire suck the blood from you like a human juice box? BECAUSE THIS IS HOW THAT HAPPENS!”

“Cole, chill! It’ll be fine! If there was a vampire inside there, don’t you think they would have tried to kill us by now?” Kai asked, gripping onto Cole’s shoulders to try and keep him steady.

Cole glanced down and bit his lip. “Well… it’s daytime, so they might be sleeping-“

“No offense Cole, but you just did a whole lot of screaming,” Nya pointed out. “I think they’d be awake by now.”

“That’s… true… okay, fine,” Cole relented, “you can open it, but before you do…”

He walked over to a small wooden footstool that was laying on its side, and broke a leg off it. Zane let out a strangled cry. “How many times do I have to tell you people, this castle is a piece of history that IS NOT TO BE DISTURBED!”

“This thing is going to protect us,” Cole said while swinging the wooden piece around like it was a sword, “from something far more dangerous if disturbed.”

Zane rolled his eyes and backed away to give Kai room to pry open the coffin. He slid the lid off, and shoved it onto the floor. A choked gasp came from his lips when he saw what lay inside. He stumbled backwards, and was just narrowly caught by Cole before he fell over.

Cole felt his entire body shaking as he looked from the coffin to the also shaking Kai in his arms. “What?! What is it?!”

“It’s… it’s a…”

Jay finished his sentence for him. “HOLY SHIT, it’s a guy!”

Cole dropped Kai ungracefully onto the floor. “WHAT?!” He gripped his makeshift wooden stake tighter as he peered into the coffin.

The boy from the paintings was lying inside the coffin. His hair was a tangled mess, and he had a wooden stake lodged in his chest, but it was definitely him.

The room was dead silent, until Jay loudly cleared his throat. “Well Cole, somebody beat you to it…”

Cole fell to his knees, his stake clattering onto the floor. “Oh god… oh my god… thank god he’s already dead-“ Cole was hyperventilating, “thank god, oh god-“

“Hey, you wanna say sorry for dropping me anytime soon?” Kai asked dryly from where he was still lying on the floor. “No? We too focused on the dead guy?”

“Kai, this is serious!” Nya snapped at him.

Zane also fell to his knees, but for a much different reason. His quivering hands carefully pulled the boy’s shirt up to check his injuries.

“This poor boy died recently…”, he whispered, “several fresh cuts and stab wounds… he’s so cold…”

“Don’t touch him!” Cole yelped.

Zane gave him an icy glare. “Cole, please, put aside your superstition for one moment and grasp the reality of this situation!”

“What’re those stains on his shirt?” Nya asked, pointing to the red and gold splotches on the white blouse he was wearing.

“The red I’m assuming is blood,” Zane replied, “but those gold spots… paint maybe? I’m not sure…” he gently brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes, his heart aching when he saw the bruises covering his face. “Who could do something like this…”

Cole was about to say something before he received a nasty look from Nya, so he shut his mouth and clenched his fists instead.

Kai cautiously prodded at the stake lodged into the boy's chest. “Yikes, that looks like it hurt… hmm,” without thinking about it very much, Kai grabbed onto the stake and yanked it out of the body. Immediately a river of sparkling golden liquid poured out of the wound.

Cole fainted. Kai dropped the stake and grabbed onto him before he hit the floor. “Dude, snap out of it! Don’t bail on us yet!”

Cole’s eyes fluttered. “Vampire… stake… really bad…” he mumbled, drifting between being awake and being unconscious.

“He’s lost it,” Jay said flatly.

Kai lifted Cole down and laid him onto the floor, then looked down at him with a smirk. “By the way, that’s how you put someone gently onto the floor.”

“Shut up… I’m sorry…” was the last thing Cole said before completely passing out.

“Great, Cole’s blacked out, we just found a dead guy and Kai got his fingerprints on the murder weapon which means he’s totally going to be implicated…” Jay stopped mid rant and hummed thoughtfully to himself, “unless we don’t report this to the police-“

“Jay! How could you even suggest that?!” Zane yelled in shock, “he has a family!”

Jay sputtered, but then bowed his head in shame. “Your right, that was shitty thing to say… but… if he is a-“

“If the word vampire leaves your mouth at any time during the foreseeable future, I’m going to stab YOU with a wooden stake,” Nya said coldly, glaring daggers at Jay whilst already dialing 911 on her phone.

“Wait, just, hold it one minute,” Jay stuttered, “how are we supposed to explain this to the police? Hey we found a body in this old tourist attraction that barely gets any visitors anymore, actually according to the lady at the ticket booth we’re the only ones who have gone in here in like months! But there’s totally nothing suspicious about that guys, no way, haha, we’re just a bunch of innocent college students amiright? Oh god we are fu-“

“OW!”

“What is it now Kai?!”

Kai clutched his hand and hissed in pain. “I tried picking up the stake again, but I got a giant ass splinter! Look!”

He waved his hand in Jay’s face. “See? It’s huge! It’s like a whole twig is stuck in there!”

Jay batted his hand away. “Then pull it out, genius.”

Kai grimaced. “Uhhh… I’d rather not…”

Zane grabbed Kai’s uninjured hand and pulled him over to him. He sat Kai down on the rim of the coffin. “Sit still, I’ll pull it out.”

Sitting still was unfortunately not one of Kai’s strengths. He squirmed as Zane tried to pull the sliver of wood from his palm, accidentally kicking him in the knee when the pain flared up. “Ack! Sorry, it just… stings a lot- OW!”

“It hurts because you're moving around, please try not to kick me again… almost got it… got it!”

“AGGH!”

Kai quickly pulled his hand away as a drop of blood trickled down his palm. It dripped from his hand onto the boy's lips, slipping through the tiny part in his mouth.

And then the boy’s eyes opened.

Blood. Need blood. Thirsty. Thirsty, I’m so thirsty… need blood, blood, blood…

Lloyd gasped as air flooded back into his lungs, and his cheeks were filled with intense warmth. He breathed in slowly, and almost started crying at how good it felt to finally breathe again. He was alive. He was alive… but he was so thirsty.

Blood. Blood, I need blood now.

His stomach was aching with hunger. He felt like he was about to die again.

No, can’t die again. Blood, blood… I smell blood…

His vision was blurry from his burning hunger. Shadowy figures were leaning over him. He could hear them yelling at each other, he had no idea what they were saying. Their blood smelled delicious. He felt an urge to bite tingling in his jaw, in his fangs.

Blood, delicious blood…

His fangs… they were back. He remembered something from before dying. He could remember them pulling out his fangs… ripping out his treasured fangs, stealing them… as a prize from the hunt. They stuck silver blades into him when he struggled, blades that burned through his flesh and scraped against his bones. And then… and then they…

“Kid, can you hear us-“

He managed to use the little strength he had left to focus his vision, and was met with the sight of four humans looming over him. Lloyd screamed, and frantically tried to push himself away from them. “Leave me alone! Please!”

He tumbled out of his coffin, landing on the floor with a thud. His sharp nails scraped against the floorboards as he tried to get up and run away. It was no use. He fell back onto the floor in exhaustion, and curled up into a tight ball.

“Please, I’ll give you anything you want,” he sobbed, “just please stop hurting me!”

“None of us are going to hurt you kid, we promise,” he heard one of them say.

Lloyd nervously moved his arm aside to see who was speaking to him. The man who had spoken had tall pointed hair, and was dressed in a red… robe of some kind. He didn’t look like a hunter, but he also didn’t look like anyone Lloyd had ever seen. He took a shaky breath. “Who… who are you?”

The man kneeled down in front of him. “I’m Kai. You?”

Lloyd sniffled, and wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “Ll… Lloyd…”

“Hey Lloyd, nice to meet you. Here,” the man reached into his robe, and pulled out a small cloth. He handed it to Lloyd, who cautiously accepted it. Holding it in his hand, he realized it was a handkerchief. For him…

At that moment the dam behind his eyes burst, and the tears seemed to endlessly flow out of him. To be treated with such a simple kindness broke him after what he had endured. The overwhelming situation and the aching thirst still inside him was clouding his senses and leaving him vulnerable. Much too vulnerable.

Bite him… drink his blood…

“You poor thing,” another one of the humans, this one taller than all the others, crouched down beside Kai. “My name is Zane, what happened?”

“I… I… It was… they…” Lloyd could barely remember what happened. He didn’t want to remember what happened. All that he could recall was running, and feeling the agonizing sensation in his chest, and then darkness…

“Endless darkness…” he mumbled. It was still inside him. Gnawing away at him.

Blood, blood I need blood I need it NOW-

He hissed, startling the humans who lunged away from him. Lloyd slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Did you see that?!” the short human in the blue shirt cried out, “he has fangs!”

Oh god, now they knew. They must’ve thought he was human like them, but now they knew he wasn’t. They were going to hurt him, they were going to kill him, no… no, god please…

“Hey, hey hey it’s okay…”

Kai softly shushed him and wiped away a tear that had fallen down his cheek with the handkerchief. “Your safe now Lloyd, no one is going to hurt you anymore,” he soothed.

“You… you mean… you don’t hate me?” Lloyd asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Even though I’m… a vampire?”

“Dude, I fucking knew it!” the short human shouted. “Take that Zane-“

“Jay, so not the time,” the only human who hadn’t spoken yet said. She had long black hair, and her sleeveless shirt showed off her built arm muscles. She out of all the humans was the most intimidating.

“Of course we don’t hate you dear,” Zane said, “but when you say vampire… do you really mean…?”

Bite someone now, drink their blood. Do it. Do it NOW.

“Stay with us kid, it’s going to be okay,” Kai placed a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, but jerked away when Lloyd shuddered. “Sorry, I should’ve-“

He could barely even force himself to speak at this point. Kai’s hand was so warm, and his neck was so close…

BITE HIM DRINK HIS BLOOD DO IT NOW-

His thirst was only getting worse with each passing moment. Pushing away his intrusive thoughts was becoming excruciating, and it was showing on his face as sweat dripped down his temples.

“Please don’t come any closer,” Lloyd begged, covering his face with his hands. “I’m not safe to be around right now…”

Kai backed away, but his gentle expression didn’t waver. “We’re not going to leave you like this, your obviously hurt really bad.”

Bad was an understatement. The gouge in Lloyd’s chest had only partially healed, and blood was still oozing out of the wounds left by the silver knife. If he could get even the tiniest bit of blood…

Jay coughed. “Uh, Kai, if the six hundred year old vampire says he’s going to go crazy, then maybe we should-“

“SIX HUNDRED?!” Lloyd gasped, clutching his chest in shock. There was no way he had seriously been dead for that long. “Oh god… I’ve missed so many… oh god…”

“Uh, well… I mean I might’ve miscalculated the exact amo-“ Jay clamped his mouth shut as he shrunk under the glares from every other human in the room.

Six hundred years… but then that meant… that meant… they were dead. The ones who had done this to him were dead. It felt horrible, celebrating that someone was dead. But…

Kai seemed to catch onto what he was thinking. “The people who did this to you are long gone, lucky for them,” Kai clenched his fist into a tight ball, “because I would’ve made them feel ten times more pain…” he growled.

“And then I would’ve made them feel twenty times that, and ground their asses into the dirt,” the black-haired woman added, her eyes lit up with intensity.

“And I would’ve… uh,” Zane stumbled, “defended you the best I could, because no one should ever have to suffer such horrible abuse.”

Despite the pain, Lloyd could feel a warm sensation filling his chest. These people, whom he had only just met, were treating him with kindness he wasn’t accustomed to from those outside of his family. Perhaps… vampires weren’t as hated now, in this new time period. What a lovely time it must be.

Jay, who was still trying to avoid anyone else’s eyes, found himself staring at the glass cabinet behind the coffin. It was filled with bottles of ‘red wine’, a.k.a, probably blood. He pried it open, and took a bottle out. It was cold, and caked in layers of dust. “Hey uh, this isn’t… human blood, right Lloyd?”

Lloyd’s eyes locked onto the bottle in Jay’s hands. His pupils dilated. “Give me that… please.”

Jay gulped. “Uh, sure…” not wanting to get too close, he tentatively rolled the bottle over to Lloyd, who snatched it up faster than he could blink.

The cork was thrown heedlessly aside. The blood inside the bottle was ancient and spoiled, but Lloyd savoured every last drop. He only stopped once to take a gasp of air, chugging the sweet red elixir until the bottle was completely dry.

He sighed with relief as the ravenous voices in his head quieted. Almost immediately, his wounds began healing. The bruises on his skin disappeared, and the gouges and cuts in his flesh vanished without a trace. His full senses returned to him, his eyes grew sharper and his ears twitched as he took in every bit of sound around him.

Kai helped him to his feet. “I’m guessing you're feeling a bit better now?” he asked, taking in Lloyd’s now completely healthy looking appearance.

Lloyd grinned, fangs on full display. “I’m feeling wonderful now, thank you.”

“Woah!” Jay ran over and leaned in close to Lloyd’s face. “Those are so cool!”

“My… fangs? Really?”

Jay bounced up and down on the spot, barely able to contain his excitement. “Totally! Sorry about how I acted earlier, I was just surprised, but this is so awesome! You're a real vampire!”

“O-Oh…” Lloyd blushed, and looked down at his feet. “Thank you-“

“I have so many questions! Okay, one, do you burn in the sun, or is it just like irritating? Oh, and is the garlic thing real? No wait, when you turn into a bat where do your clothes go- hey!” Jay grunted as the dark-haired woman pushed him aside.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like this about everything,” she said, “I’m Nya by the way, it’s nice to meet you.”

Jay ran over to Zane, and pulled a notebook and pencil out from his shoulder bag. He ducked under Nya’s arm and sat down on the rim of the coffin. “Okay, as I was saying-“

“Sunlight burns us, but we don’t burst into flames or anything, garlic makes my tongue swell up, and…” Lloyd pondered the last question for a moment, “y’know, I’ve never actually thought about that… I assumed they just disappeared… then reappeared.”

Jay paused his furious scribbling of notes. “What? But how does that work?”

Lloyd shrugged. “Don’t ask me! Wait, let me show you something…”

He stretched out his arm, and smiled as a green flicker of light danced across the palm of his hand. For a moment he had feared his powers hadn’t returned yet, but the sparkling flicker growing into an orb of bright light in his hand assured him otherwise.

Jay, as well as Nya, Zane and Kai watched, mesmerized. Lloyd shaped the orb into a diamond, then into a flower, and then in a burst of light dissolved it into a shower of tiny sparkles that floated through the air.

“This… doesn’t make any sense,” Zane said, gazing up at the ceiling that was now lit up with hundreds of star-like lights.

“Does it have to?” Nya replied, smiling as a light landed on her nose. She sneezed, and it drifted until it landed on her finger. “This is so beautiful…”

Lloyd spun around the room, letting out more bursts of sparkles each time the lights dimmed out. He abruptly came to a stop behind the coffin. “Why… is there a sleeping man here?”

They all looked at each other. “Shit, I forgot Cole was still passed out,” Kai said, rushing over to go shake Cole awake. “Cole! Wake up buddy!”

“Hnnngh… huh?” Cole blinked wearily. He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. “Whuhhappened?”

Kai swallowed stiffly. “Don’t freak out, but-“

Lloyd blew a tiny sparkle to Cole. “Greetings sleepy human!” he giggled.

Cole’s face turned pale as he caught sight of Lloyd’s fangs. ”Y… You… your a… vamp-“

“Yes, I am a vampire!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH!!!”

#ninjago #lego ninjago #vampire au #lloyd garmadon #ninjago lloyd #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago nya #ninjago kai #ninjago cole #ninjago au

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lennydaisy · 4 years ago

Text

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER ONE.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

“Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks Season 1- FEM OC! and ?

Here's the Prologue in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!

There is something that I should probably tell you: My Dad went missing at sea nine months ago looking for a shipwreck. Heavy, I know. My dad has always been obsessed with the waves and their secrets. Going above and beyond with his research just to understand the smallest corners of the ocean. I still remember the day he told me about this amazing ship called ‘The Royal Merchant’ like it was yesterday.

Bursting through the tarnished door of the Château, kicking my shoes off as I rushed into the kitchen, “Dad! Look what my friend made me,” I announced causing my dad to jump, smacking his head on the cabinet that he was tucked within, screwdriver in hand.

“Ow. Fuck!” he hissed and I gasped at the man, pointing accusingly at the jar which reads 'Pay up, Chuck!’. Grunting, but not objecting, he pulls out a dollar, stuffing it in the jar before turning around staring at my innocent face.

“You have a mark,” I giggled and gestured his whole face, “There,” and he just asked “Has it damaged my handsome face?” which I instantly shake my head at saying, “Of course not.”

“That’s my girl,” he ruffles my hair causing me to huff and swat away his hands as he pulls out a chair now looking eye-level at me, “And what’s this?” he asked, gently taking the delicate origami boat out of my small hands.

“It’s a boat,” I stated the obvious, “My friend and I are going to sail it tomorrow at the boat race,” I said proudly with my hands on my hips

“Oh really,” he raised his eyebrows at me, brushing his fingers over the pink initials on the side of the 'boat’.

’M&T’

“Yes. My friend has a remote control boat that he’s going to race and I want to take part too, so he made me this,” I confess, eyes sparkling at the boat my dad’s fiddling with, “It’s good isn’t it?”

My dad just looked at me, “Do you really want to enter the boat race?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for any sign of uncertainty.

“Well yeah,” I tilted my head, “Do you think I’ll win?”

“Can I show you something?” he asked ignoring my question which I scrunched my nose at, but nodded none the less. My paper boat still in hand, dad made his way over to his office and I followed behind cautiously, stopping at the door, peering in at him as he sits at his desk, “Come in Ladybug.”

Placing my boat at the head of his desk, he beckons me over, tapping the photographs he pulled out. It was a ship. I had never seen a ship like it before. It had huge, white sails that were propelled forward with the weight of the wind. Painted coal black with the most luxurious gold lining along the sides, but what stood out the most was the angel. At the bow of the ship, there was the most beautiful sculpture, its wings spread and arms wide, welcoming the waves that it cruised through.

“Wow,” was all I could say and my dad seemed to understand the overwhelmingness, “Amazing, isn’t it?” he asked and I nodded agreeing wholeheartedly.

“Imagine sailing that in the boat competition,” I dreamed, I could see it then. Me, standing tall and proud, captains hat on my head, sword in hand as I order us forward, trusting the directions of the angel.

“That would be something,” he muses tapping my nose as I was causing condensation to gather on the photo with how closely I was examining at it, “But sadly this ship sank a long time ago.”

The news shocked me. 'How could such a breathtaking ship just sink?’ I thought, so I asked just that.

“Well, sometimes ships don’t always make it through their voyage,” he reasoned and I looked at him with careful eyes, “Maybe it was pirates?” I suggested.

“Pirates?” he laughed, leaning back in his chair, watching with amusement as I darted around his office reenacting the scene of a Pirate trying to steal the ship, “Argh! Where be the gold?” a pencil held accusingly in his direction.

“At the bottom off the ocean.”

His abruptness caused me to lose character as I stared at him in curiosity, “Wait, really?” I jumped on his desk, my act is long forgotten as I swung my legs back and forward. He just nods, eyes wrinkling with a wide smile.

I grabbed his hand, shaking it, “Then what are we waiting for? Let go get it,” my innocence was nothing short of entertaining for my dad, “It’s a little harder than that, ladybug,” he answered, my shoulders dropping at his response, “And what would you do with $500 million in gold, huh?”

$500 million!? Ignoring my initial shock and answered back with the utmost certainty, “I’d go, full Kook.”

He chuckled at my honesty, reaching down for the old box that was sitting beside his chair. Pulling off the tape and rummaging through the brown tissue paper as I sneezed at the dust that danced around in the air.

He pulled out a boat. It was like a replica of the 'Royal Merchant’ with a bit of character. Its blue paint peeling off the sides and the single sail sitting askew at the mast. Passing it gently to me he said, “I want you to sail this at the boat competition tomorrow,” he announced as he timidly waited for my reaction.

“I know it’s old and not remote-controlled-” placing the boat beside me, I lunged forward pulling my dad in for a hug. The hairs on his chin digging into my shoulder caused me to back away slightly, “Thank you, Dad,” I whispered.

Picking up the boat, I stared at it proudly.

My own Royal Merchant.

“I call it… the 'HMS Pogue.”

I miss him.

Life was so much easier when I was five. No worries or responsibilities. Life was just… good.

Three months after he went missing the police declared him dead, but John B and I weren’t giving up. Until I see a body, I’m not signing anything.

As for mom, you’ve probably had a better chance of seeing her than I have. She left when we were three years old and moved to Colorado. At least John B said it was Colorado.

Then there’s the legend himself, Uncle T. I say legend because I haven’t seen him in years, for all I know he might not even be real. Since dad vanished he is supposed to be our legal guardian. However, he’s currently in Mississippi for construction, 'Building an Empire’, as he explained to me over the phone, or did he. No, he really did, something about him 'making his way up in the world.’Good for him, I guess?

So, for the time being, it’s just been, Johnny Boy and I. A pair of unemancipated teenagers who have been living on our own.

“It has come to our attention that you’re two unemancipated minors living on your own,” Cheryl says sighing, taking off her glass staring us down as if daring us to tell her otherwise.

John B and I exchange looks before turning back to Cheryl who looks at us expectingly, “No,” John B laughs scoffing at her 'assumption’. She tilts her head at John B, turning to me waiting for my Input, “Sounds false,” I say, going back to clicking the rather expensive pen that I nabbed off her desk.

Rolling her eyes at the pair of us, “What I need from you two is honesty,” reaching over in an attempt to snatch the pen out of my hand. I just hold it my above my head out of her reach with a childish smile. Sighing, she slumps back in her chair, “I want to help you. That’s what we want, right?” she continues.

“Yeah, we’ll be honest,” John B nods as I hold up three fingers, “Scouts honour,” I smile at the lady.

Letting out another sigh, 'God, she sighs a lot,’ she begins to write, “When was the last time you both saw your uncle?” she asks.

Not even having to look at my brother, I already know what he was going to say, “34 minutes ago,” we both announce. Cheryl glances up from her papers, squinting at our synchronization, “And when was the last time you saw him?”

“Two hours and 43 minutes ago,” I say again in sync with John B who shudders at the fact that I knew exactly what he was going to say. Shrugging off his wide eyes, I stare at Cheryl who places down her pen, hands now clasped professionally on her desk, “We’re going to come out tomorrow, to speak with your uncle. If he’s not there, we’re going to move forward with foster care.”

With that, John B and I stand up moving our way to the door, my knees slightly shaking at the lady’s words. John B holds the door open for me but pauses when Cheryl calls out, “I can assure you, both of you, we will find a safe and loving home,”

Turning back once more, “You don’t want this back, do you?” I ask, dangling the turquoise Tiffany pen catching her attention again.

“I’ll collect it when we come by tomorrow,” she dismisses.

'Right. Tomorrow.’

“How did you do that?” John B questions as we walk towards the van, “Do what?” I ask, sticking the pen behind my ear.

“Know what I was going to say to Cheryl,” He answers fishing the keys out of his pocket, “Because we’re psychic, remember?”

Feeling the lack of presence beside me, I turn to see John B just eyeing me down. Shrugging my shoulders, I reply, “You think out loud,” referring to John B’s concerning amount of mumbling before arriving here.

“I do not,” he mutters walking up to the driver’s side of the van, “also, you weren’t a scout,” he calls out.

“I know,” I admit, “It just made me feel less bad about lying.”

Sitting in the uncomfortable heat, my back sticking to the ripped leather seats, my head running with thoughts, I ask, “Do you think they’ll split us up?”

Looking out the rolled-down window all I see is passing houses and blurred faces. I see people with no worries and I can’t help but feel helpless in my situation. We have no control over anything that happens. Sure we can run, but how long is it until we run out of breath?

Sometimes I just wish we could go back in time, back to when my biggest problem in life was arguing with Pope that it was a useless skill knowing the first thirty numbers of PI. It’s impressive, super nerdy, but still impressive, and also completely useless. ’See, I still can’t get over it.’

“Is that what you’re so worried about? Us being split up,” he questions, now understand why the first five minutes of the drive home was unnaturally silent.

“Well yeah, doesn’t it scare you too? The thought of living with another family who have no idea who we are and take pity on us because our dad went missing,” my voice cracking slightly at the mention of dad. Even after nine months, it’s still hard to believe that he’s just… gone. Things like that don’t just happen. Not here. Not now.

“Hey,” he says rubbing my knee, I stop picking at my bracelet, looking up at him with damp eyes, “Foster care is the last place we’ll be going, okay?” Despite the niggling at the back of my head, I sheepishly nod at him now feeling stupid for getting upset about something that I knew John B would never allow to happen.

“And beside’s if they did split us up, which they won’t 'cause we’re not going to foster care, you’d for sure be given back after they realise how much of a pest you are,” I couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, rubbing my hand under my nose, “Oh, I’m the pest?” I cough, leaning my back against the door looking accusingly at the boy.

“100%. You know what your problem is?” looking in my direction quickly making sure I was still listening to him, a knowing smirk covering his face, “You love me too much and you can’t bare the thought of living without me.”

I know what he’s was saying was meant to be joke, but it holds truth behind it. I don’t know where I would be without John B. Say its because we’re twins and we naturally have that bond together, but he has been a constant rock throughout my life. He has always been there, not only from birth.

From when he learned how to walk before me and would attempt to lift me by my head urging me to do the same. From our first day at school, when we walked hand in hand through the gates. From my first relationship that didn’t last longer than a day because I got him to hand the poor boy a note saying 'I wanted to break up’.

I don’t know why I thought this would be any different.

John B didn’t have to be my friend. He could have just left it at 'sister’ and that’s it. But he didn’t and he never would. I might be his sister first and foremost, but secondly, I’m also his friend. A friend that he can tell anything to. A friend who he can lean on when times get tough. A friend who will always be there for him. I support and love him as a sister and as a friend.

He’s my rock.

“I really couldn’t,” I admit knowing fine well that if John B wasn’t here I wouldn’t want to know who I’d be. I’d be a completely different person and that’s a person I’d rather not meet.

“Don’t get all sappy on me now,” he says pulling up to the Château, bringing the van to a stop. Pushing open the door, I stop when I hear him confess, “I couldn’t live you either,” he smiles at me.

“Look whose being sappy now,” closing the door behind me, making my way round to the front of the house.

“Hey, you’ll be alright on your own for a bit yeah? I’m going to head in town, see what’s up with the storm,” he calls and I just nod and eagerly ask, “Can you bring me home Reese’s cup? Kie ate them all.”

“Pretty sure it was you who ate them all, but sure Mace,” he honks the horn as I wave him off down the road.

The Château. Home sweet home. Well, as sweet as an old fish shack on the marsh can be. It might not look like much, but if you can look past the peeling wallpaper, leaking ceiling, tatted coach, and a terrible internet connection, you’d see a home.

Kicking off my shoes, I welcome in the smell of burnt toast courtesy of John B this morning. 'It’s not burnt, just lightly crisped,’ he said. If you would consider a chard slice on bread to be 'lightly crisped’ then he’s an expert at making toast.

I’ve had a tough day, more like a tough year, but I digress. My dad’s missing, mom’s out of the picture, my uncle is M.I.A, and now the bride of Frankenstein is threatening me with foster care. I deserve a gold star just for not going insane yet.

Pulling out dad’s stash of old records, my eyes flicker until I set sight on the album. 'Elvis’ Gold Records Vol 4,’ smiling fondly at the faded cover, the corners hanging together for dear life with the number of times its been played.

Tactfully, I place the record on the turntable of dad’s '54 Garrard oak record player. Gently I blow on the record until the static scratching fades and Elvis’ soulful voice fills the room with an energy that I can’t help, but dance to.

'You look like an angel, walk like an angel,’

I prance around the room, mumbling the lyrics under my breath, swaying my hips slowly, losing myself for just a moment within the strumming of the bass. Just as fast, I’m jumping around the living room like Tazmanian Devil, flipping my hair as I pretend to be playing the instruments as the chorus drops.

'You’re the devil in disguise, oh yes, you are the devil in disguise,’

I grab the stick of deodorant, using it as a microphone as I yell the lyrics, pointing at my reflection like a rockstar. My eyes instantly closing as a glare of light reflects into my eyes, 'It’s the paparazzi, they’ve found me,’ I thought.

I was wrong.

Squeezing one eye open, still posing in my rockstar stance, I spot the reflection a hysterical JJ hunched over on himself, phone in hand as he runs the other through his hair, “Pope was right, you can’t sing, or dance,” he wheezes, wiping away the streaks running down his red cheeks.

Sighing, I place the deodorant back in its place, turning to face the boy, my eyes follow him as he types away, nose buried in his phone, 'So much for my big break.’ Flicking off the record, I hear the sound of my singing protruding from JJ’s phone, the boy still laughing at what he had just witnessed.

“You better not show that to anyone,” I threat, holding eye contact with him and he nods, “Don’t worry May, this is for my eyes only,” he sniggers waving his phone around soon shoving it into the back pocket of his shorts.

“Why are you here anyway?” I question watching JJ kick his feet up on the couch, arms crossed leisurely behind his head. He nods in the direction of his disregard bag that he dumped in the middle of the room, “Well, as you can see, I packed a bag and-”

“And now you’re in my house… why?” I interrupt still failing to see the logic behind him being here. He was here this morning and he was back already?

“Storm Aggies hitting tonight and I know how much you hate storms so, naturally here I am” he excuses, “To protect you,” he explains but I just stayed focussed on the boy with raised eyebrows.

Eventually getting tired of his own excuses, JJ sits up, legs in a basket, picking at the rings on his fingers, “My dad’s been on a three-day bender,” he admits and trails off, “I just don’t want to deal with him right now.”

’Welp, now I feel like an asshole.’

Of course, I know about JJ’s home life and all the terrible shit his dad, if you could even call him that, puts him through. I realised pretty early on in our friendship when he showed up at the Château one day with a shiner. When my dad opened the door he was instantly alarmed at the spurt of colour invading the young boy’s face, but JJ being JJ just brushed it off and said he fell.

My dad wasn’t stupid and had his speculations about JJ’s father, often seeing the drunk man stumbling around the marsh, but he didn’t want to question the boy as he had no idea what he goes through behind closed doors.

That night when JJ went home, dad told both John B and I that we should never go to JJ’s house on our own, but never actually telling us the reason why. As you can probably guess, I didn’t listen to my dad’s wishes, and what I learned that day changed the way I saw JJ.

It was weird. I had never gone this long without seeing the boisterous blonde.

Last week JJ promised me that he would take me to see his dad’s boat. ‘The Phantom’, he called it. After recently seeing how interested I had gotten into boats and ships he wanted to show me his dad’s most prized possession.

So, there I was, sitting at the curb outside my house, two ice-cold ice pops in hand, a strawberry one for me and an orange one for JJ, waiting patiently for the boy in question.

My tongue and lips were tinted pink as my wonderous eyes watched the passing cars and letting out the occasional 'awe’ when dogs strutted past.

'Where is he? His ice pop’s melting,’ I thought as the cold condensation ran down my hands, evaporating as soon as the drips hit the burning tarmac.

'He wouldn’t ditch me, would he?’ I instantly shook away my doubts, 'JJ would never do that, don’t be stupid Mason.’

Sparing a glance over my shoulder I saw dad and John B getting ready to head to the marsh in hopes of catching some drum. When I saw the boat head out into the water, I brushed myself off and ran in the direction of JJ’s house.

Now, I knew that my dad told me never to go there, but I wasn’t planning on chapping his door, I would just hopefully meet him halfway. Maybe he was late?

JJ’s house wasn’t far from mine, I was practically a straight road. Something you’ll notice about the cut is the further you venture in the more, how should I put it, Pogue-like it gets, and JJ’s house was no exception to this.

Having not seen a glimpse of his blonde locks, I wandered down the dirt drive aside of the house.

That’s when I heard it.

Whilst stepping through the long grass, dodging the scattered litter, broken beer bottles, and petrol canisters. I paused. Too scared to move.

“Where do you think you’re going, boy?” I heard a gravelling voice slur, I assumed it was his dad. As skillfully as possible, I tiptoed to the wall of the house, leaning over slightly to peer in through the screened porch.

I don’t know who I saw that day but, it wasn’t my JJ.

My JJ had this aura of mischief around him. My JJ had boisterously messy hair and wild eyes sparkling with strength. My JJ was my knight in shining armour, but the boy I was looking at was… broken. An empty shell. Not at all JJ.

“Out,” was all he said. That’s all he said.

What I saw that day stayed with me forever. I couldn’t watch it. The sight of JJ being tackled to the ground by his dad caused me to gasp, ducking back against the wall, trembling fingers over my mouth as all I could do was listen with numb ears.

I can’t remember how long it went on for, the cries and pleas seemed to play on repeat. The slamming of a car door and the kickback of dirt hitting my shins brung me back to that sad reality. Watching the car speed off with damp eyes, I wobbled my way around the house.

“JJ,” I whispered trying not to frighten the boy, but ultimately doing so when the screen door let out an ear pinching screak.

Once lying on his back, but now he stood defensively before me, eyes wide, “May? What,-” he chocked, using the back of his hand in an attempt to wipe away the blood that crept its way onto his white teeth, “what are you doing here?”

He attempted to shield his face from my wavering eyes, but I still saw. I saw his swollen lip. I saw his bloodshot eyes. I saw the handprints around his neck.

I saw him.

“We were supposed to hang out today,” I reminded him, but instantly shook my head and took a step closer to him as he took one back, bumping into the cabinet causing a cluster of empty beer bottles to smash against the floor.

Crouching down, mumbling something like 'his dads going to kill him,’ he attempts to pick up the shards of glass, hissing as they stuck to his fingers.

Still timid with my actions, I spoke up, “Go grab a first aid kit,” as I looked around the messy living room for a safe way to clean the glass, “I’ve got it,” but the boy just cried.

In front of the broken glass sat a more broken boy, head buried in his hands, knees up to his chest that heaved with panic. It hurt to see JJ like this. It was like seeing what happens behind the curtain and it frankly terrified me. The thought that this had been happening to my best friend and I had no idea.

I was so used to JJ being there for me that I didn’t stop to think 'Who was there for him?’ And that makes me a terrible friend.

I ignored the screaming of the old floorboards under my weight. I ignored the feeling of the glass digging into my knees. I ignored, despite how difficult it was, the guilt that ached my heart.

I just hugged him.

My JJ.

From that day forward I promised myself one thing: that I would never be innocently ignorant of what is going on around me.

Life isn’t always sunshine and daffodils, with peaceful doves and poetic words. Life can be cruel and unfair for a variety of reasons, majority none of our own, and that’s where friends come in. All you have to do is show them that sometimes the grass is greener on the other side and sometimes it isn’t, but that’s okay because as long as you’re there for them, the tiniest shed of light can grow a flower.

“You’re gonna have to start paying rent dude,” I joke in hopes of lifting his spirit and it partly works as the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, “But hey, you’re always welcome here, alright?”

JJ knows that I would never turn him away, but sometimes he just needs that little bit of reassurance. No matter what, our door is always open, for anyone really, who might need a break from their life because I can guarantee that once they see the shitshow that is my life, they’ll realise that they’re not alone.

Holding eye contact with me, he nods sheepishly, “I know,” causing bliss to erupt in the pit of my stomach.

But shy JJ never lasts very long. That smirk that I know all too well tells me that I’m in for a ride tonight, “Besides, with this fresh, juicy bait that I have on you now, you’d never let me leave.”

There he is, that’s the JJ I know and love.

“You might single-handedly be the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” I just poured a bit of my heart out to this boy and what does he do? He laughs in my face, but I can’t help but giggle at the sight of his eyes popping out at my sudden confession, “Might!? There’s someone else!?”

The night that Storm Agatha hit the Outer Banks was filled with nothing but playful banter, the chugging of many beers, and a friendly, not so friendly, game of Go-Fish.

Whether it was intensional or not, JJ made me forget all about the whirling winds that subtly shook the Château. Instead fogging my mind with his failed attempts to try and cheat himself a win.

I could deny it until the cows come home, but there’s no point.

JJ is my knight in shining armour.

He’s my JJ.

But, I’ll never tell him that.

Chapter One: FIN!

Oft, two flashbacks in one, sounds goos to me. There will be a lot of these throughout this story. I feel as though it helps me establish Mason’s current relationships with those around her, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.

What did you think?

I didn’t mean to hit you with fluff, angst, and then fluff again, but I’m proud of this chapter, even if its just the very beginning and we still have a lot to go through so, saddle up troops.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter <3

Also, if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

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@xshinytrashcanx

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