#i wonder if he learned another language if cal would let him speak it

[adventuresinclientservice]

Do mentors matter?

In case you’re wondering why I’m posting on Thanksgiving, when most of you are celebrating a holiday rather than reading this, the answer is simple:  it’s a holiday in the U.S. but for many for my readers who call elsewhere home, it is not. For those of you who are gathering with family and friends, enjoy and be safe! 

Phi Beta Kappa, the still-prestigious-now-overlooked academic honor society I mentioned in a previous post, got in touch recently to ask if I would volunteer as mentor to another PBK member.  After saying yes, I was assigned a wicked- smart recent graduate of Cal Berkely in search of her first, “real” job.

She didn’t get to choose me and I didn’t choose her, a far from ideal situation, but even so, could I help with this?  

If you look at my website, you’ll see I specialize in “behavior change.” Getting a job and forging a career is among the most meaningful, albeit terrifying, reasons why people rely on coaches like me for help.  It’s exactly the type of behavior change I welcome.

Surprisingly, our early Zoom conversations led to a discovery:  I would learn as much from my new client as she would from me, proving the potency of simple conversation to work through a challenge.  They also reminded me of how often I’ve been the on the receiving-rather-than-giving end of such exchanges, starting with Professor A. E. Clayessens.

Claey – or “Clay” as we called him; no one could figure out how to pronounce let alone spell his last name -- was such a gifted teacher it prompted me to take eight of his classes (yes, eight, meaning 25% of my time) during my four undergraduate years at George Washington University.  Planning to be a lawyer, I was inspired to abandon that to pursue a PhD in literature, intending to become a college professor, an enormous change in my life trajectory.  

Claey’s impact was profound, but what did I learn?  A way to think, to explore, to reason, and to debate, recognizing the power of language to inspire, to motivate, and to lead.

Peter Smith oversaw the editorial group at MacMillan Publishers that hired me for my first job out of college.  The salary was embarrassing, even then -- $125 a week – but Peter was a superb editor willing to share what he knew.  

What did I learn?  Meticulousness and attention to detail, not to speak of the coded language editors use in working with writers, which would prove incredibly useful in the years to come.

When I arrived at my first real advertising agency job, I quickly found myself lost in a jangle of confusion, having no idea what I was doing or why.  Enter Kristen Wainwright, my first boss at Digitas, who remained a sea of calm in a storm of chaos.  

What did I learn?  How to navigate, survive, then ultimately thrive under duress that would doom others.

In those early days at Digitas, I was deathly afraid of having to stand in front of a client, let alone a colleague, to give a presentation.  After one deflating   stumble too many, my confidence under siege, one of the agency’s top executives, John Fletcher, stopped by my office: “You have the ability and talent to be a really good presenter, Robert, you just need to prepare a little better by rehearsing.”  

What did I learn?  The discipline needed to practice, practice, and then practice some more, until I got it almost right.

Of all the people who helped me the one who stood out was Digitas Creative Director Mike Slosberg, so much so I invoke him in my books and workshops, and find myself blogging about the immeasurable value of his counsel.

What did I learn?  So many things, more than I can possibly credit here, but above all, how a well-crafted Creative Brief is critically important to making great work.

In my early days as an unformed, ill-prepared account weenie, the people I’ve cited come to mind as I forged a path that initially became a career, then a vocation, and ultimately a calling.  On this day of giving thanks, I am deeply thankful for all these helpers, and for the many unnamed others who were generous with their time, patient with my shortcomings, and constructively critical yet supportive when I needed it most.  

Do mentors matter?  Of course they matter.  Would I refer to them as mentors?  I certainly don’t think of myself in this way; the term is just a little too lofty.  And I don’t think of the countless people who I came to rely on in this way either.

The term I prefer is friend.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Be Alright (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: You go on tour with Luke and the boys for the first time, but things don’t go as planned as you try to fit in.

Warnings: Angst with Fluff. Anxiety, panic attacks, low self esteem. Language. Hostility. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 6.9 k

Author’s Note: This fic takes place after the pandemic. It deals with anxiety and panic attacks, but please remember that the symptoms as well as what the person experiences it’s always different, this is just how I see and experience these cases. Please, if you want to learn more about them get informed by a reliable source. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Likes and Feedback are much appreciated and you don’t know how much it helps me! ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🌻🦋✨

My materialist // wanna be part of my taglist?

Picture taken from Pinterest

@theshyspy : (...) So I was wondering if you could write something with Luke or cal (whoever feels most natural?) where the reader just gets really anxious and he takes care of her and calms her down? maybe making sure she eats and/ or drinks enough, that she gets some rest, perhaps he sings for her? Idk just some fluff🤷🏼‍♀️ (It’s totally ok if you don’t want to, or don’t feel comfortable writing it !! I know it can be triggering for some people so just leave it if it bothers you in any way!!🙆🏼‍♀️����)

The feeling of an ice-cold touch shook you out of your dreamless sleep. You nearly jumped out of your seat before remembering where you were and what you were doing.

The light came through the small window, illuminating your seats and the small aisle that separated you from your friends. The air conditioner was turned off and you made a mental note to thank Luke later, he knew how cold you get on these travels.

Speaking of “Why are your hands so damn cold?!” You scolded your boyfriend as you rub your eyes, trying to wake up and steady your heartbeat from the scare you just got.

Luke just pressed his lips in a thin line, not wanting to laugh at your sudden reaction but also not to smile like an idiot due to your sleepy state. Even after a 15-hour flight you still looked cute as hell in his eyes.

“Sorry, love,” He said with a smile once you looked at him “I was having a drink, and then came time to wake you up. I didn’t notice my hands were cold”

You murmured some gibberish close to an ‘okay’ and yawned “How long was I out?”

Luke cringed “20 minutes”

“What?!”

It was no surprise, you could never sleep well in places that were not a proper bed. You didn’t want to think about how it would be like to sleep in a bunk next to your six-foot-four Australian boyfriend.

“I thought I slept longer” You pouted “Although it didn’t feel like much”

“Another bad dream?” He asked, placing his head on your shoulder as he intertwined his fingers with yours, slowly playing with them.

“A lack thereof, actually,” You said, yawning again “But don’t worry, I’ll sleep when we get to the hotel”

Luke smiled and brought your hands to his lips, softly placing a kiss on your knuckles as you cuddled next to him.

Your heart was beating loud and you hoped he wouldn’t notice, or if he did then he did not say anything and you were grateful. It was stressful enough to travel on tour for the first time and to know that you might bring him down with your anxious overthinking was not doing great with you.

Luckily, your mind grew quiet as Calum popped his head from the seat in front of you.

“Excited for your first tour?” He asked with a grin. He looked brand new, and as you looked around you realized they all do. For a moment there you had to remind yourself that this is what they do for a living.

“Mmh hmm” You hummed, head still placed over Luke’s while you played with his hair “Kinda nervous, though” You admitted.

“Why?” This time it was Ashton the one who asked, popping his head from the seats next to yours as he joined the conversation “It’s going to be fun! Like a big road trip” He chuckled.

“Yeah but-” Your voice was cut out by the pilot who announced over the speakers your arrival at the airport.

You thought about sharing your fears with the boys, given that this was your first time flying across the world with them you didn’t exactly know what to expect and you were scared to find that out in the worst situations. But then, how could they know? After all, how much pressure could they have when they pretty much secured the love of everyone? You, however, were just the girlfriend and it almost felt like you have to earn that place on tour.

The fans will be looking at them but criticizing you. It’s not like it would be your first time dealing with it since you went public with your relationship, God knows it’s not easy dealing with that But it won’t be just them this time, there’s also the paparazzi, the crew, the boys themselves even if they don’t notice; they are all expecting you to be ready and up for it, perfect all the time. Not to mention the stress of traveling and the schedules, the jet lag and the-

Once again your thoughts were put on pause before you could finish overthinking them as you felt Luke shake next to you. You met his gaze but he was looking to the side, trying hard to stiffen his laughter as Ashton dropped an ice cube into Michael's back under his shirt, waking him up with a jump and a mix of curses.

You shook your head and laughed along with them. You should be thankful for having them, after all, they are your friends and they could help you manage all of those pits of anxiety that started to grow. Anything could happen on this tour and, at least you know that you won’t be bored.

Luke helped you with your carry-out and let you walk in front of him, all while placing his hands on the sides of your waist and walking -or actually more like waddling along with you. You giggled as he placed his head on top of yours, making it difficult to walk for the both of you but he wasn’t going to let go. That’s one of the things you love about him; he is never afraid to show his affection and be close to you, almost in a protective manner. You feel safe with him and you know the feeling is mutual.

You laughed with the rest of the boys as you made your way to claim your luggage, joking around and teasing each other much to the annoyance of the other passengers. You felt how Luke’s chest rumbled with laughter, and in the few quiet moments, you got while waiting for your bags he managed to hold you closer and press little kisses around your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle in his tight embrace. You almost forgot how tired you were from the flight.

Almost. But your body had a different plan.

As your bags were taking their sweet time, you could hear the distant voices of the boys drifting away from you. Slowly, you began to drift away too, your eyelids becoming heavy as you struggled to stay up. Soon enough, the notices became a light buzzing sound inside your head.

“Y/N?” Luke asked as he felt you become heavier on his grip “Baby?” He looked down at your face and saw you fight to get your eyes open and failed to do so as they kept shutting without your permission.

He cringed as he saw your tired face, knowing that he was once again tasked with the job of waking you up. If it were up to him, he would’ve carried you in his arms all the way to the van just for you to get some sleep. But it was common for them for fans to welcome them in the airport accompanied by some paparazzi who tried to get a bad shot out of them and, despite his wishes for you to be completely rested and healthy, he needed to wake you up.

“Y/N, are you alright, love?” He asked whispering in your ear, rubbing his hands up and down your arms hoping that in that way he could somehow share some of his energy with you.

You quickly came back to your senses once you felt Luke’s arms leave your waist and hold you by your shoulders and elbows. A red flush covered your face as you realized where you were standing -and almost falling, asleep.

“Y-yeah,” You said, standing up straight as you pull away from his hold, somehow trying to prove your point “I’m just-“

“Tired. Yeah, it’s okay” Luke reassured you as he came closer and wrapped you in his arms by the waist “I was just like you when I experienced my first jet lag. It will go away”

You scoffed “Yeah? In how long?”

“In like four months when we get home” He teased, immediately bursting into laughter when he saw you glare at him.

You slightly punched his chest, mocking anger. But soon enough you found yourself laughing along “I think I just need to eat something”

Luke stopped laughing, replacing his smile with a concerned gaze “Didn’t you eat on the plane?”

“I couldn’t. I tried to eat while you were asleep, but my stomach just rejected the food so I chose to wait until we were on land”

Luke shook his head and was about to say something when Calum interrupted him to give you both your bags.

“Those were the last ones,” He said “We need to get going”

Luke nodded as he watched him walk away, turning to you once he was out of sight.

You could feel his worried stare, but you just smiled at him as you placed your hand on his cheek “Don’t worry love. I can buy something from here and then eat some real food at the hotel if that would make your worries go away”

He just sighed and nodded. You smiled reassuringly at him and brought him closer to peck his lips “Love you”

“Love you, too,” He said with a love fool grin “Ready to start the tour?” He asked excitedly.

You nodded enthusiastically as you grabbed his hand and started walking along with him towards the gates, feeling ready to face up anything.

Well, you weren’t ready to face up to what ensued.

As soon as those gates opened you were bombarded with flashes of cameras and screams from thousands of people.

Fans were gathered outside the airport gates, waiting for their favorite band to arrive. Of course, this led to the paparazzi being there as well, waiting to get an inside scoop of the boys’ first arrival on their world tour after the pandemic.

There were too many people for you to be able to see more than three meters in front of you. All of them were shouting Luke’s name as he tried to make his way out of there and lead you to safety.

You lifted your gaze and saw how he was smiling at the fans, waving with his free hand as his grip on your hand became tighter. Strangers were approaching the both of you very quickly, pushing their way to the front as they asked and demanded a picture of an autograph.

Your personal space was becoming smaller and smaller as they pushed through you, trying to separate you from your boyfriend’s grip. They bumped your shoulder and kicked your sides with elbows and frantic arms. You felt your voice getting drowned out as you called for Luke, hoping that he could hear you over the commotion and come help you out.

It all happened so fast. Luke let go of your hand by accident for just one second as he tried to look back at you. His heart shattered as he struggled to find your eyes in the crowd of pleas and flashing cameras “Y/N?!” He called, trying to appear calm in front of those strangers, but on the inside he was desperate, kicking himself over and over for ever letting go of your hand.

And then, he heard it “Luke!”

Your eyes were wide and filled with tears as people pushed through you to get to him. His eyes filled with regret as he sucked on a breath and walked towards you, easily making his way back as all of the people who were standing there stepped aside to let him through. No one pushed him, no one yelled at him for stepping into their place. No one dared to disrespect him as they disrespected you.

In a matter of seconds, Luke was standing in front of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You felt like you could breathe again.

“You okay?” He asked, mumbling as he kissed your head. You heard the faintest “aww” coming from the fans witnessing this little gesture and confusing with something cute instead of what it was: he was shielding you from them, protecting you while comforting you the best he could. Yet, all you could hear was Luke’s beating heart as you hid your face in his chest.

“Let’s get out of here,” Luke said, tensing his whole body as he pulled you to the side, not letting go of his grip to your waist as you walked rapidly towards the exit.

You both ignored the calls and flashed from your surroundings. You could feel your breathing becoming heavier as you tried to keep up with his steps, not really relaxing until you saw the van’s door opening and Calum making space for the both of you.

You jumped inside the car and Luke quickly followed, closing the door and letting out a breath he was holding.

“So…” Ashton said, breaking the silence after they drove away “That was fun. Nothing like a little chaos to start the tour”

For the first time in your life, you wanted to punch his face. Your heart was still beating loudly inside your chest and they were all so calm. It truly seemed like they didn’t care that you just went through one of the scariest experiences of your life.

Yeah, you know you might be exaggerating. But it’s your first flight with the boys, first time in a foreign country, first time with a multitude of fans and photographers where they all pushed you to get to your boyfriend. And they were all fine? Like it wasn’t a big deal? And they say it was fun?

The chattering continued, all three of them talking about the fans they saw and how they reacted to them. Joking around and teasing each other for various reasons. No one noticed how your hands were shaking or how you didn’t say a word since you got up in the car.

You tried to steady your breath and to hide your hands somewhere until they were cool. You still feel a sting where one girl elbowed you, knowing it might leave a bruise. You tried to close your eyes and think about nice things to get you off your mind for a while, but all you could see was how Luke drifted away from you, going farther and farther as you lost sight of him; and no matter how hard you yelled his name, your voice was drowned and lost among all the others.

The tears started to pick up in your eyes and you held them back as hard as you could. You needed to be strong, this is just the first stop of the tour and you needed to toughen up if you want to keep up. You just hoped you could do it before anyone noticed it.

Luke was sitting beside you, not participating in the conversation of his bandmates, but rather he was looking at you and how your leg bounced up and down in a rapid motion.

He knew your mind must be going ten miles per hour at this moment. You weren’t used to this whole lifestyle and for that to be your first experience must be nerve-wracking. He wished he could just erase all those bad feelings and bring you the comfort you deserve.

“Hey,” He finally said, softly enough for you to hear as he leaned closer to you. Your eyes quickly snapped in his direction, finding some kind of peace in his baby blue eyes “Are you okay?”

He knew the answer was no, but he also knew you would never admit that, so it was no surprise when you smiled at him and nodded. Only this time the smile didn’t reach your eyes like they always do.

“You know just… a bit tired, that’s all,” You said, not wanting to worry him. But it was a little bit late for that and you noticed that the instant he furrowed his brows and gave you the ‘I know you’re lying’ look.

“Are you sure? Because that out there was pretty crazy and-“

“I’m fine, Luke” You reassured him, scooting closer to him and leaning against his frame. He immediately rounded his arm around your shoulder and started drawing circles on your skin with his thumb “I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I just need you close for a while, is that okay?”

Luke sighed and held you tighter “Yeah, of course, love. Whatever you need. You should try to get some sleep, I’m sorry we couldn’t buy you anything to eat back in the airport”

You look around you. All the boys were singing and joking around, not paying attention to you and Luke; making it difficult for you to just drift back to sleep.

“No, don’t worry. I’m okay. I’ll eat and sleep when we get to the hotel”

You watched the scenery pass by as the car drove you to your destination. You tried to focus on the conversations going around you, but you were too distracted by the beauty of it all.

It amazed you how after such a scary experience could come such comfort; you were surrounded by your best friends and your lover, experiencing new things and memories you knew you needed to treasure forever.

From time to time you could feel Luke staring at you, almost like he wanted to make sure you were okay and you would reassure him with soft smiles and little pecks on the cheeks as the other guys reminisced about their previous times abroad.

Suddenly, the car came to a stop and you found yourselves parked in a huge parking lot. You looked at Luke with a confused expression and he did the same. You didn’t know where you were.

“Uh, why are we stopping?” He asked as Calum and Ashton opened their doors and stepped out of the van.

“Because we are here?” Michael asked, not getting his friend’s confusion.

“This is the hotel?” You asked.

“This is the venue…” Michael said, pulling a lever so he could push Calum’s seat out of the way and step outside “We are not going to the hotel till tonight”

“What?!” Luke half asked, half yelled.

“Yeah, dude. We’re behind schedule so we need to do a quick soundcheck and then hop in the car and go do a couple of interviews in radio stations… did you not read the email?”

Luke facepalmed himself “No…” He lamented as he rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, then he looked at you with apologetic eyes “Oh my god, Y/N. I’m so sorry, love”

“It’s okay, Luke” It was not okay, you really wanted to take a nap and a shower before the show. But you couldn’t have avoided this at any cost and it wasn’t his fault at all, so there was no need to bring him down because of this.

“No! Of course, it’s not okay. You need to rest and eat a proper meal. This is it fair to you and I’m so sorry”

You could tell that he was kicking himself inside his head and you hated to see him all worked up and anxious. It broke your heart to see him so frustrated with himself.

Your palms cupped his face and made him look at you “Luke, baby. It’s fine, I promise. It will be fun! Plus, I can always nap on the couch” But he didn’t look conceived at all “I’ll be fine”

He sighed “Promise you will eat something there? And drink some water?”

You nodded with a smile “I promise. Now go! You have a soundcheck to kill” You winked at him and pecked his lips before jumping out of the van.

“What would I do without you?”

*

After the quick soundcheck, the boys changed clothes and got ready for an afternoon filled with interviews and quick appearances. It was going to be a wild ride, so you opted out of staying in the venue until they got back.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Luke asked for the tenth time.

“Of course she will!” Intervened Ashton “She’s Y/N/N, she can take care of herself”

You rolled your eyes at him and stared back at your boyfriend “I’ll be fine, love. I’ll just stay right here and maybe I’ll take a nap”

“And you know where the catering room is?”

You certainly didn’t, but he didn’t need to know that right now. You would manage well enough.

“Yes, dad” You teased

“Y/N!” Luke mocked a shocked expression “Not in front of the boys!”

You scoffed and lightly pushed him in the chest “You pig! Not everything has to be dirty!”

“You started it!”

“Go!” You laughed, kissing him one last time “Give your fans some content”

You saw the four of them walk through the door and you let out an exhausted breath. This is the first time you allowed yourself to relax since you boarded the plane almost 24 hours ago and you were beyond tired at this point.

How did they do it? Fly across the world and still look like superstars, what kind of deal did they make, and with whom?

You looked around the green room, your eyes landing on your reflection. You physically cringed at the image in front of you; dark heavy bags rested under your eyes and your hair, although pulled back, seemed oily and tangled in knots; your clothes had wrinkles in them and you seriously regretted sending your luggage directly to the hotel, leaving you with this shirt, a hoodie, and your black jeans.

A sigh escaped your lips as you tried to think of nice things; things that would keep your mind out of overthinking every single detail that has gone wrong since the minute you left home. How were you supposed to prove that you belong on the tour if you couldn’t even handle the first day? You needed to gain your energy back before the guys came back, and what better medicine than a little nap?

You moved Ashton’s heavy bag from one corner of the couch and laid on your back, but the awaited relief never came. You tossed and turned in different positions, hissing every time the warm leather glued itself to your skin only for it to be peeled off with every movement.

The sounds from outside of the room grew louder as the crew hurried to put everything in its place on time for the show. People were running in and outside the green room, not paying attention to you laying on the couch trying to find an ounce of sleep as they focused on their tasks.

You don’t know how long it’s been and, honestly, you’re afraid to ask. It was clear that you were not going to get any sleep here, not while everyone’s acting frantic because of a scheduling mishap and not while your mind is still preoccupied trying to keep up instead of relaxing as Luke told you to do.

You tried one last time to get at least a five-minute nap, but it was almost impossible. You opened your eyes with a groan and got up, so frustrated that you didn’t even feel the burn on your skin when you separated yourself from the uncomfortable couch.

The second your feet touched the ground and you lifted yourself on your feet, everything started to spin. You felt how your blood seemed to have disappeared from your body, leaving only a carcass that couldn’t stand for itself, making you fall on your ass back into the couch.

You felt nauseous, but the growling in your stomach reminded you that you haven’t eaten in all day. You had to eat something before you passed out, but the mere thought of eating made you feel even dizzier if that was possible.

You counted to ten, ignoring the way your head pounded with loud warnings and stood up. It took you a few seconds to find your balance again, but once you started walking you felt like you couldn’t stop.

You got out of the room, not really knowing where the catering was but you were determined to get there. You couldn’t let Luke and the rest see you like that, so weak and pathetic. It’s just day one and you are already passing out? How stupid is that!

The loud bangs in your head increased with every step you took, soon becoming voices that screamed inside your mind, drowning every ounce of clarity you might have; turning to the right and then to the left, then to the end of the hallway and back to the right. Did you even know where you were going?

Did you even know why you were here?

It was bound to happen, sooner or later, that Luke would ask you to accompany him on tour. Bet he is regretting that decision now. You tried, you really tried to be the supporting girlfriend, but how could you be of any support when you were the one who needed it? He didn’t come here to be your nanny and yet all he’s done is worry about you! You should be able to take care of yourself, yet you can’t even do that for him.

What a terrible girlfriend you were. He will surely break up with you and send you back home on the next flight. He didn’t need this kind of energy, this cloud of darkness you were becoming, ready to drown out his light with your problems. If only you could do better for him. For Luke.

Luke, the simple thought of him brought you to the brink of tears. You loved him so much, so much that it hurt to love him yet at the same time it was the best comfort in the world just to be standing by his side. You wanted to be by his side and never let go, but you were pushing away from him. Your mind and meaningless needs were separating you from him, telling you that he deserves someone better, more equipped to handle the lifestyle you weren’t ready for.

He is the brightest star in the universe and you are just a firefly, trying hard to be something you’d never be and everyone can see it. The fans see it, the media sees it and even your friends will someday. They will realize that you were nothing more than a girl who just hoped she could be enough but ended up becoming one more burden to carry with.

You couldn’t survive out here, not right now, and not without Luke. You are falling and you feel like if you stay you might drown him with you. You were disappointing him right now, pacing around the-

Where the fuck were you?

The voice inside your head died down as you didn’t recognize the place where you were standing.

You were supposed to be on your way to catering, and you were… but you didn’t know where it was and now you don’t know where you are.

Great.

The screams of the fans reverberated through the walls of the narrow hallway, you only now realize that the doors must be open and the show is about to start. You brought a hand to your back pocket, thinking about calling Luke and telling him your situation and asking him how to get to where they were. But your pockets were flat and your phone was nowhere to be seen, you must’ve left it in the greenroom.

“Fuck!” You yelled, voice hoarse from not having drunk anything since this morning. You looked to your left and there was just a blank wall staring back at you with no way out. You thought about going back, but you weren’t paying attention to where you were heading, so you risked the fact of getting more lost before someone could find you.

Fuck it.

You turned around and started walking, faster and faster. You were almost jogging through the deserted hallways trying to find your way back. You were panicking with every turn, every curve. To the right, then left, then a left, and a right again. You could hear the faintest riff of a guitar, so you speed up your pace. Your exhaustion had nothing compared to the fear in the pit of your stomach, you needed to get back. You needed to be there for Luke, to find your way back.

The desperation you held inside made you ignore the tears that were spilling out of your eyes without permission. You didn’t want to be alone anymore in a place you don’t know. You are sure your mind is playing tricks on you, making the hallways longer and the seconds everlasting, constantly repeating in your head how you were nothing more than a little lost girl who was playing something she shouldn’t. Something she wouldn’t ever be.

People passed you as you turned around corners, your heart beating loud as you recognized some faces from the crew, getting closer and closer to where you were supposed to be.

And finally, you arrived.

You let out a breath, you didn’t know if it was from relief or just a way to drown out the sob that was threatening to come out. You made a move to open the door but you noticed your hands were shaking. A cold feeling ran through your body, making you shiver as you wiped your sweaty palms on the front of your jeans. You were so close but why did you feel so far away? Drifting and drifting further and further….

What was happening?

“Y/N?”

You heard your name being called by a familiar voice. You lifted your head and saw Michael standing at the door of the green room, his eyes scanning you carefully. You swore you could see a hint of fear in them. He quickly moved out of the way, opening the door wider so you could step in.

You lifted your gaze, your teary eyes meeting Luke’s as he stood in the middle of the room, pacing back and forward with his phone in his hand, gripping it so tightly you thought it might crack.

“There you are!” He said, pressing a button on his screen. He was smiling, relief visible on his features as his eyes took you in “I’ve been looking for you, the opening band already started playing and- Y/N?”

Suddenly, everything stopped. Luke’s eyes denoted fear as he saw you collapse to your knees the moment you stepped into the room. He saw everything happen in slow motion: the way you wrapped your arms around your stomach; the shaking of your entire frame as you let out a heavy breath mixed with a sob; and the tears in your eyes as you tried to make sense of what was happening to you.

He acted fast. In one swift move, he was kneeling in front of you, taking you in his arms as he pulled you closer to his chest “She’s having a panic attack!” He said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, but none of his friends moved as they were still shocked by the image of you falling into the ground.

“Michael!” He called, remembering that people act better in an emergency if given direct orders “Go find a doctor. Ashton, bring her something to eat. And Calum, find water and soda. She’s dehydrated and needs some sugar”

All three of them didn’t think twice before jumping out of their seats and running through the halls to find those things for you. But you couldn't hear any of that.

“I’m sorry,” You cried, over and over again “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Shh, love” Luke cooed, lifting you and sitting back down on the couch, placing you on his lap as he rocked you back and forwards “It’s okay love. Nothing to be sorry for, I’m here. I’m here”

You kept crying into his chest, struggling to breathe as every sob seemed to tear your throat in two. You knew Luke was touching you, but you couldn’t feel his hands anywhere as you shook through your cries.

“Baby- Y/N, listen to me. Okay?” He said with a calming voice, completely contrasting how he was feeling inside “Listen to my voice, baby. Breathe with me, okay? One,” He inhaled deeply, his finger tracing a line up your back so you could follow him “Two” He exhaled, bringing his finger down “Good, do that again, please? One, two”

He was trying so hard not to panic along with you. Seeing you so frail in his arms made his heart break into a million pieces. He didn’t know what was going on in your mind or why or what you were apologizing for. All he knows is that he would do anything not to hear your broken cries again, so desperate and hopeless. He would do anything to make sure you are alright and safe.

You imitated Luke’s breathing pattern as close as you could. Breathing in and out every time he asked until you could feel his finger running up and down your spine, his touch finally bringing some comfort to your body and mind as they recognized him. They recognized home.

Your cries died down the moment Michael stepped through the door accompanied by a nurse, Ashton, and Calum who all brought some type of food and drink to lay down on the table.

Luke made some space so the nurse could sit down next to you, but he never once let go of you or stopped moving his finger on your back. He needed you to know that he was still here and he was not going anywhere.

“She seems good,” The nurse said after quickly giving you a check-up “It was just a panic attack. You did well in calming her down” He said to Luke, giving him a pat on the back “I’m gonna leave here some pills for her to take once she eats and drinks something, these will help with the body ache and headache she will feel later and also will help her sleep”

The four men thanked the nurse as Michael closed the door again. All eyes were fixed on you as you rested your head on Luke’s shoulder, eyes closed as your breathing became even and lighter again.

“Is that-? Is that a half-eaten burger?” Calum asked, pointing to the table filled with foods and drinks, and breaking the silence that had set upon them.

“I panicked!” Ashton answered.

“Could you guys give us a moment, please?” Luke asked, eyes never leaving your face as he held you closer. His friends nodded and walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“I’m sorry, bub,” You said, voice broken and soft.

You slowly opened your eyes and suddenly felt like crying again when you met Luke’s gaze. Surprised at the fact that he didn’t seem angry; all you could see in his eyes was a relief.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He asked, voice as soft as yours as he caressed your cheeks with the back of his free hand “You have nothing to apologize for. These things happen and we can’t really avoid them”

“No,” You said, pushing away from him as you separated from his lap and went to sit on the spot next to him.

Luke’s heart broke at your actions, but it completely shattered when he saw the tears picking up in your eyes again.

“I’m sorry for ruining everything” Your voice broke as you started talking “I’m sorry for being one more burden in this tour that hasn’t even started yet. Look at me! Not even a day in and I’m already falling apart! This is not what you expected of me, Luke and don’t try to deny it. I’ve disappointed you, the band, myself-”

“You did not do such a thing” He tried to say, but you weren’t listening.

“Maybe I’m not meant for this” Your words took his breath right out of his mouth, he didn’t like where this conversation was going “Maybe I’m better off at home. At least there I’m not embarrassing myself in airports or with your fans or with your bandmates and crew- I want to be someone you would be proud of but all I do is overthink every little thing that I forget the rest. I tried so hard to keep up, to prove to you and the others and even myself that I could belong here on tour; that I could live this life with ease as you all do and I just keep failing everyone. I love you, Luke. But I can’t stand the thought of slowing you or pulling you down with me, and you don’t deserve to be tied up with some mess like me-”

Your words were cut off by Luke’s lips clashing with yours. It took you a minute to respond and kiss him back, letting all your worries slip away for only one minute. Only one minute where you could pretend that everything was alright.

Luke pulled away first, placing his forehead against yours “You uplift me, Y/N”

“What?”

He cupped your cheeks, making you look at him as he spoke with such care and love.

“You could never bring me down, you are the one keeping me above the water, my love. I deserve to be with you as much as you deserve to be right here with us”

“Luke-”

“It’s my fault,” He said with a sad voice, you opened your mouth to say something but he beat you to it “Don’t try to deny it, Y/N. It’s true. I should’ve prepared you more for what was coming instead of throwing you into the lion's den without a single warning. I knew from the moment I saw your face in the crowd back at the airport that I had failed you, not the other way around. But you stayed, you pulled through and told me that it was okay when it clearly wasn’t. Y/N, you are stronger than any of us and much more caring and loving… I’m so proud of you and that I get to call you to mine that sometimes I can’t even believe it”

He carefully wiped a tear from your cheek, his heart fluttering with joy at seeing you smile back at him “I love you. And if you say that you are not ready for this, then I will book you a flight tonight. I don’t want to see you in pain, my love, even if you try to hide it. I couldn’t stand the thought of being the one who breaks you” He took a moment, thinking over his words “But if you decide to stay. I promise you I will make every single minute of it worth it. I’ll protect you better. I’ll do my best to take care of you the same way you take care of me. You’re my angel, Y/N. And I need you close”

Tears were falling down your eyes again as you pulled him closer into a hug. Luke quickly swung your legs over his lap and held you as tight as he could, almost fearing that you would slip off his embrace if he ever let you go.

You could hear him mumbling something as he rocked the two of you back and forwards again, this time to comfort you both. You pulled your head slightly from his chest so you could hear him better, he was singing the words from “Still”, your favorite Niall Horan’s song.

”Oh, we'll be alright

Oh, it'll be alright”

You always loved when he sang to you, always bringing you the sense of peace you so much needed.

But as you cuddled closer you noticed that not only was he singing, but you could also hear the guitar, the melody, the crowd…

Luke noticed your confusion and chuckled “I asked the opener to cover this song for us; for you. Wanted to surprise you on your first day”

You swore your smile couldn’t get bigger if you tried. Your eyes filled with tears as you chuckled “Well,” You said, sniffing as you knocked your forehead to his “I can’t wait to see what other surprises you got for the rest of the tour”

Luke’s eyes sparkled with the happiness of a little boy on Christmas day “You’re staying?”

You nodded “As long as you want me to”

“Forever, then” He smiled before connecting your lips with his once again. Letting go of all your worries, for all you could feel was love.

*

The concert was going great. You were convinced this was their best show up to date, but you were saying that since the tour began two months ago.

Luke stayed true to his promise of making everyday worth it. Although you knew that every day that you woke up next to him, whether it was in a bunk or a plane or a hotel bed, that it was worth more than enough. You were home, wherever you went, as long as you had him.

You smiled, laughed, and danced along with the songs on your side of the stage, looking proudly at your boyfriend who lived to do what he loved. But your favorite moment of the night was this; seconds before he started their next song, he would look for your eyes backstage and once he’s found you, he would smile at you and say.

“This is ‘Lover of mine’, everyone. Sing with your heart”

*

Tags : @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @bubblegum18 @myloverboyash @nicebasscalum @calumspupils

[puggledy-huggledy-is-not-a-pig]

If You Want To Get Warm You Must Stand Near The Fire (Parts 8 & 9)

Warnings: Angst (most of it mine :P)

Very Important Note: I have been staring at this for hours and days. I hate, hate, hate, writing sex scenes. I just feel so awkward doing it, and I hate it, because I want Hope and Guy to make beautiful love :( If anyone wants to write them for me, I will be grateful, give you credit, send you puppies, or whatever else you ask. For now, after spending hours reading other people’s erotica trying to breathe some life to my fossilised imagination, I’m just going ahead and posting this. I’m not tagging anyone this time, because frankly I’m too embarrassed and cross at myself that I can’t even do this in the privacy of my own mind. If you think it’s not completely cringe worthy, throw me a comment or a reblog. I promise I’ll try to get over myself and tag people next time. Ok you’ve all been encouraging nd lovely so I will stop being a giant infant and tag people for this too. Thanks, and sorry if I seemed to be high maintenance compliment-fishing!

After that day, Hope was amazed to see a side to Guy that she never expected. That night he showed up in her bedroom, smiling like the cat that got the cream; she moved to make space for him and he spent the night draped over her, much to the disgust of Falkor, who had been displaced to the foot of the bed. He did the same again the next night, and the next, and it quickly became a routine.

During the day they would potter along companionably, Guy slowly exploring and learning more about how everything worked. Hope had imagined that he would have a hard time with a lot of modern concepts and inventions, but to her surprise and relief, Guy was stoically accepting of most things. It seemed like, once he had fixed in his mind the fact that this was the year 2020, he just expected that a lot of things would not make sense. Guy, thought Hope, was the most practical man she’d ever met. He was far from unintelligent, but surrounded with all this newness, he didn’t bother with the how and why -he just methodically collected every new skill she showed him and moved on to the next one.

She also discovered that he had a really dry sense of humour, when he let himself show it. He had this habit of looking up for a reaction when he made a joke -Guy was a man who liked an audience, Hope was realising.

He never offered her any words of affection during the days, although in unspoken ways he was behaving very differently than he had before.

From being stiff and distant he became surprisingly tactile, always touching her back, running a hand down her arms, breathing in her ear... Then, every evening, they got in the same bed, had sex, and slept holding each other through the night.

It was a fragile equilibrium, and Hope was finding herself holding her breath. She was very aware that things couldn’t stay like this for too long. One way or another, Guy would have to move on soon.

Chapter 9

One evening, Hope was sitting up in bed with Guy’s head on her lap. She was ostensibly reading a book, but in reality kept peering over the top at his eyelashes casting a shadow on his pale cheeks, his long nose, his thin, clever lips. He was drowsy, looking relaxed, but his fingers kept dancing just under the hem of her shirt.

I’m getting too attached... she thought to herself.

He’s not some stray you can adopt, Poppet, Gran’s voice was in her head again, spelling out her thoughts like she had when she was alive. Hope sighed, and closed her book.

“Guy?”

“Mmmmm?”

“Sing me a song...”

“Mmm.” His fingers travelling higher, playing with her breast. “There are better ways to pass the time.”

“Come on, sing me a song!”

Amused, she flicked his nose, and he glared at her.

“I’m not a minstrel!”

“And I’m not Freddie Mercury, but you still got me to sing.”

“Ah, but that was for your own good.”

“So is this. I’m getting bored, I might leave in a minute,” she teased him.

“I don’t know any songs,” Guy groaned, then gave up when Hope pretended to be getting up.

“Paura pichona,

Perqué plorar?

Lo niu d'ironda

Va s'envolar.

Paura pichona,

Cal pas plorar,

Ambe l'aureta

Lo niu vendrà.

Paura pichona,

Consòla-te,

Lo niu d'ironda

Tornarà ben.”

“That’s lovely,” breathed Hope. “What is it?”

Guy blinked. “It’s a lullaby,” he said, “my mother used to sing it. I didn’t think I’d remember it.”

“What language is that?”

“Occitan. My mother was French.”

“Tell me about your life, before,” Hoped asked him, and Guy was torn. On the one hand, having someone want to get to know him better was a very nice feeling, and not one he was accustomed to. On the other hand he really didn’t feel like going back, even just in his mind. What good could possibly come from it? Everything he had worked for all these years was gone, and all that was left was the taint.

He compromised by shrugging and keeping it short. “Not much to tell. I worked for the Sheriff for years, ran things for him. I was...” (Feared? Loathed?) “...respected,” was what he settled on.

“Do you want to go back?” Hope hated how needy she sounded, but she couldn’t help herself. Don’t go back...

Guy shook his head. “No. Things got... bad. There’s nothing left for me there.” There really isn’t, he thought bitterly. All these years of putting up with Vaisey’s whims and humiliations, all the bits of himself he had had to amputate and shed in the process of rebuilding the Gisborne name and fortune, and there was nothing to show for it all.

“No... family?”

“No.” None to speak of...

Guy had had enough of these questions, now. What difference did it make, picking at the past like a scab? He had lost everything and had to start from scratch before, and, although he would never have chosen it, it appeared he had to do the same again. So be it. Guy was surprised to find the thought didn’t bother him as much as it should have. All the ambition that drove him for so many years had been burnt away, turned to ashes in the blaze that was Marian’s death, and in its place a need for revenge had grown like a twisted, blackened tree that had survived a forest fire. But now, after being away for just a few days, his appetite for revenge had left him. Let Isabella have Nottingham, let Hood have Sherwood. They could kill each other, for all he cared, he was done. I want to stay here... With Hope, Guy realised. Why not? He liked being around her, she had the means to help him, and she responded to him in a way that was very... flattering. She sure as hell was a better choice of someone to throw his lot in with, than Vaisey had been, Guy knew.

No one would accuse him of having a poet’s soul, but Hope reminded him of the sun-drenched fields in France. She reminded him of the Earth. She was generous, and nurturing, and warm, and vast, and heavy, and, Guy thought, she grounded him.

“Your turn,” he said, changing the subject. “And none of those songs about the men you killed.”

Hope giggled. “I’ve told you, that was Freddie Mercury. We’ve got to do something about your musical education.”

“Now seems a good time to start!”

“Right, ok...” Hope scrunched her forehead, trying to think of a song. “I know, this is one my dad used to sing to me when I was a teenager and got in a strop.

#In the crazy world

Anything can happen

If you will it to

I'm just a hazy girl

Blurring all the edges

Only seeing blue

It's a wild hope

A wild hope

A wild hope

Everything will be alright.”

“Wild Hope, hmmm?” Guy murmured against her neck. “I’d like to hear more about that...”

Guy is back in Locksley, about to get married.

“Are you married, Thornton?”

“I was. She died, years ago.”

“Did your wife... understand you?”

“I’d like to think so, yes.” The old servant’s kindly face twists into a mocking parody of itself. “We were both human, you see. So we could understand each other. No one understands you... because there is no humanity left in you, is there, Gisborne? No heart... Just the howling void.

Don’t look inside you Gisborne. You know what they say happens, when you look into the abyss... It looks back.”

Thornton’s face twists again, morphing into Vaisey.

“Lepers, Gisborne... You were always running after lepers. I wonder why that is, hmmm? Could it be -rot calling to rot? Like father, like son, eh?”

Maggots are squirming out of Vaisey’s eyes now, he smiles widely and his jeweled tooth winks at Guy. “My boy...” The Sheriff leans close, his carrion breath stroking Guy’s face like a promise. “I made you. I know you...”

“Nooooo...”

“What is it, Guy?” It’s Marian’s voice, and he opens his eyes and sees her smiling, looking down at him. “It’s just a nightmare, it’s not real.” She strokes his forehead with her cool fingers, and pulls up the blankets, tucking him in.

“It’s not real, none of it was ever real, you stupid boy... Only the sand, the sand is real and it gets COLD, Guy, I’m COLD, it’s COLD where you sent me.”

And the floor turns to sand, the bed turns to sand, it’s in Guy’s mouth, in his nostrils, and everything goes dark.

“Paura pichona,

Consòla-te,

Lo niu d'ironda

Tornarà ben.”

“Mother? I destroyed everything, mother...”

“Shhhh, Fiéu mèus. It’s fine. Nothing is destroyed, just changing. Lo niu tornarà ben, remember.

Look, the door is open. Go out in the sun for a bit, it will do you good.”

# It’s a wild hope,

A wild hope,#

“-everyone deserves to be loved-“

#A wild hope,

Everything will be alright.#

Hope started awake in the middle of the night. Guy was kicking her, tangled in the covers, obviously having a nightmare. She reached over to turn the bedside light on, intending to wake him up, but then he suddenly sat up, calling out her name.

“Hope!”

“Shhh... I’m here.”

Before Hope could ask what was wrong, Guy was on her like a starving man, kissing her desperately, cupping her breasts, pressing against her like he was trying to bury his whole self inside her. He was holding her so tightly that it was almost hurting her, but Hope couldn’t bring herself to care. Something had changed. Guy’s teeth and tongue were all over her, and Hope could feel him tremble. She had never realised how much he held back every other time she’d been with him. Instinctively, she put her hands on his face and kissed him back, keeping her eyes on his. She just felt like, more than anything else, he needed to be seen..

Guy pulled his head back and looked at her. His pupils were so dilated that his blue eyes looked almost black.

“Tell me you want to be with me,” he begged.

“I want to be with you.”

He moaned and reached between her legs, pulled her underwear aside and pushed inside her.

“Say it again.”

“I want to - Oh! - I want to be with you. I want you to stay with me. Guy! I love you...”

He rained kisses all over her face, thrusting, and it was all over so quickly; but that felt right, too. She stroked his face and kissed him, and Guy stared at her, lost for words.

“Hope... You deserve to be loved. I don’t know that there’s enough good left in me to do that.”

She kissed him again, and spoke his words back to him. “Hush. I know it’s hard. But it hurts more if you fight it.”

Notes:

*The Occitan lullaby is this one: https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=3877

Can’t say I’m sure how old it is, but I’m sure Ghislaine would have sung something similar.

*The song Hope sings is Wild Hope, by Mandy Moore.

*Fiéu mèus: my son

Lo niu tornarà ben: The nest will come back again.

Tagging: @whofriend @moony-artnstuff @fizzyxcustard @tigereyesf @guylty @xxbyimm @dumbassunderthemountain @aspookybunny @patanghill17 @ruthoakenshield

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of lives could just come again, ch16

A03 link

Over the Wall

Several moons into that year, Rowan stills in the middle of a sentence, and quietly says,

“I think we have a visitor.”

The visitor, causing Jon’s heart to leap into his throat with joy, turns out to be Ghost. Ghost, dragging a dead doe at that. Ygritte attacks the dead animal with a knife and gusto, and they all eat terribly well for several days, Jon scratching Ghost under the muzzle and feeding him the best bits.

And Ghost is excellent for making the caves warmer at night. Sometimes, he even lets them use him as a pillow.

He even allows Ygritte to do it. She pets his head idly.

One night, when Jon is resting his head on the opposite side of him she is, Ygritte quietly asks him.

“I suppose it would never have worked out. We’re just too different.”

Jon doesn’t respond, but it doesn’t really feel like a question.

“I wanted to see over the wall. I’d wanted that since I was a little girl. We saw it together. But it wasn’t enough. You still left me for them.”

“I did swear a vow.”

Ygritte exhales loudly.

“How long were you a crow?”

Jon thinks back, remembering when he took his vow, and the start of the great ranging.

“A little over a year.”

“Do you think any of them are still looking for you?”

Jon feels his insides twist. Sam, Sam would never quit, but he could be overcome. Commander Mormont, he would never willingly leave a man behind. Pyp and Grenn…

“Maybe a few...but I suppose most of them must think I’m dead.”

Ygritte’s silent for a long time, and eventually it’s Jon who breaks it again.

“Once whatever this is is done, I can take you over the wall again. I can show you the south.”

Ygritte sounds half asleep when she responds with,

“That better be a promise.”

Gilly and the other women spend the days up and about, marking on bits of parchment.

“None of us learned to read,” Gilly tells him, “But Rowan wants us to help her map the caves down here, and I can draw well enough.”

Mapping the caves is just one of the things Rowan does. Her and the others occasionally disappear for half a day, gathering something or another.

In the early days, she led him to the heart of the cave, where the corpse of the old weirwood lay, and where Rowan had planted the bulb of a new seedling.

“This was what I was traveling further south for, to find this little babe of a tree,” she tells them, gently petting the turned earth where it will reach upward for the sun.

Jon reaches into his jumbled memories of his last night with the others.

“My brother...he said the three-eyed Raven taught him to see through the weirwoods.”

Rowan nods.

“We fed him from the seeds of the weirwoods, and that allowed him to see through their wood. It was a poor choice.”

Jon tries to imagine Bran, who seems so small, so young, in his memory.

“You said because he was a child.”

Rowan shakes her head softly.

“Not just that. He was a human, and humans cannot carry the weight of the power these centuries old trunks bear. Even the humans gifted with what you call greensight are often afflicted with illness by it.”

Jon watches Rowan stand, and touch the dead roots.

“My name is not truly Rowan. The common tongue has no word so specific for the sound a rowan tree makes when caught in a summer storm. But our language does. We call it the True Tongue. This is the tongue shared by the children of the forest, the plants and animals and the soil of the earth.”

She looks at Jon, gently, like a grandmother might.

“The only human who is said to have ever understood the True Tongue was your ancestor Bran the Builder. He knew how to listen. This is what makes you special Jon Snow, you can speak, and you cal listen. I’m not going to teach you to see through the weirwoods, I’m going to teach you to talk to them.”

 King’s Landing

It’s just a normal, clear, sunny-but-cold day when Sansa touches Lady on the neck and slips into her skin.

She creeps through the Red Keep, quiet as a septa, neat as a maid, not even drawing the attention of a mouse.

Not even when she winds up outside the Small Council chambers. She doesn’t linger, doesn’t want to jinx this whole thing. Stannis and Renly have both lingered, seemingly lacking will to leave their brother’s side, even as their feuds rear their heads every other day.

It really does incense Sansa sometimes. Was this was raising her and Arya had been like, she wondered. Did Father and Mother fear that they would still be quarreling well into womanhood?

“It makes me sad,” Shireen had told her one day, out in the garden, The flowers had been dusted with snow, their petals beginning to wilt.

“Do you like living with your uncle?” Sansa had asked.

Shireen nods,

“He doesn’t pay a ton of attention to me, but he’s always light-hearted and up for a laugh. Father always went on and on about how irresponsible he was, but he’s always made sure I ate and went to my lessons…”

The younger girl trails off. Sansa had seen her speak kindly with Renly, and seemed happy spending time under Brienne’s guard, but she also saw the whisper of homesickness in her.

She recognizes it with ease, having gone through plenty.

It is Shireen she thinks of while Lady watches Renly attempt to defend his current lack of heirs.

It isn’t fair, not really, Sansa thinks to herself. She remembers the first day at court, when she’d caught a glimpse of Renly holding Loras Tyrell’s elbow that the truth had struck her like a lightning bolt.

Even Shireen had seen it, it seemed.

“I don’t think he likes ladies, well not like other men do,” Shireen had told her in confidence, “He was always quite kind to Lady Brienne, and many men can’t even muster that.”

But still, it was his house duty, she thought. And Stannis, on the other hand, could always be counted on to do his duty. Which must be why he’s here tending to his brother, even as he’s shouted and raged at on the regular.

She’s seen no sign of the red woman, to her relief.

She pulls herself out of Lady, when she hears someone call her name.

The voice turns out to be that of Lady Margaery, flanked behind by many of her own ladies. She is in the garden again, and Margaery is extending her hand to her.

“My apologies, my lady,” Sansa tells her, moving to lift her skirts and stand, “I’m afraid I was somewhere else for a bit there.”

“No offense taken, Lady Sansa,” Margaery replies, her smile seeming natural, though somehow still somehow painted on. “I was merely hoping to invite you to have tea with my grandmother and I.”

Sansa smiles, and allows herself to be lead.

She would be lying if she said she hadn’t been looking forward to see the old Queen of Thorns again. As the years had gone by, her appreciation of the acid tongue matriarch had only increased, along with her confusion as to her motives.

“Lady Tyrell,” she says, “It’s an honor.”

“Oh, dispense with the arse-kissing if you would, I feel I’ve had more than my share being back in this city.”

Yes, that was the Olenna Tyrell that Sansa remembered. She offers her wine and cheese, and she takes lightly of both.

“So,” Sansa starts, finishing a bit of soft goat cheese, licking her thumb, “is this just for pleasure, or did the two of you want something from me?”

The older woman nodded to herself, though it was her granddaughter who spoke up first.

“Well, you have lived here in the Red Keep for far longer than we have been at court. I imagine you’ve noticed my courtship of Prince Joffrey-”

As if anyone could miss it. Margaery was not subtle when she wanted people to notice her. As she called it ‘her courtship’, which she couldn’t imagine most proper ladies doing.

“-and I was hoping you might tell me about him. He has seemed gracious and gallant to me, but I imagine you know as I do, that men have the same carefully constructed masks we women do.”

“And we would like some insight,” Olenna interrupts, “Into why you, a lovely young maid yourself, seem to have no interest in him yourself.”

Sansa snorts softly, then meters her voice very carefully.

“Because he’s a jackarse that’s why. Met him years ago back home in Winterfell, first thing he did was insult my little sister.”

Her voice is casual, light.

“He likes to slap around his younger brother and sister too. I’ve seen him leave nasty bruises on both. “

Only a small fib. Myrcella had once confessed to Sansa that Joffrey hadn’t hit her since she had learned to stop reacting.

“Both of his uncles give him hell about it. I saw Lord Tyrion slap him once for a comment he made about my crippled younger brother. I’m rather fond of all of them, so I take their words over his. You have siblings, my lady, you must understand.”

At some point, Lady has quietly padded her way into the gardens, and sits by Sansa’s side. She pets the wolf on her head.

“And I am very thankful that Lady here hasn’t even caught his eye, if what poor Tommen said happened to his cat wasn’t just a tantrum.”

If he had ever tried it, Sansa thought, she’s not sure she would have stopped Lady from tearing his throat out this time.

Olenna snorts in response to her words though.

“If you’re assessment of the prince is accurate, than I wonder why wouldn’t tried to dissuade us.”

Sansa shrugs carefully, before meeting Margaery’s eye.

“If you think you can handle it, then who am I to tell you what to do? But you should be aware of what you’re getting into. Not just the prince, the Queen is a whole hornet’s nest herself.”

Sansa feels vaguely trapped inside. This whole game, the politics and the alliances. She had grown good at it, she knows, but she’s become so disdainful of it.

After she finishes her cup of sweet wine, she spies Tyrion walking into the garden and sitting at one of the tables they often played cyvasse on.

“If you’ll excuse my early exit, “ she tells Lady Olenna, standing and brushing off her dress, “Lord Tyrion beat me at cyvasse three days ago, and I believe I am owed a rematch.”

When she approaches the table, she notes Tyrion watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“Tired already of more quality company than me?”

Sansa shakes her head.

“Tired of being used as an unwitting informant.”

Tyrion raises an eyebrow. He has the cyvasse pieces out, and is playing with them idly, though not setting them up properly.  

“Seeking advice for the courtship of my dear nephew?”

Sansa smiles wryly. She glances back over at where Margaery sits, with her immaculate hair and gown. Tyrion interrupts her gaze.

“Seemed there was a time you would have wanted the exact place she is in now.”

Sansa laughs bitterly.

“I did. And that wish got me nothing but heartache, abuse and suffering. I was stupid. A stupid little girl with stupid dreams who learned too slowly to even protect herself from her own mistakes.“

Thinking of her younger self, how blind and easily led she had been, nearly makes her want to retch. She shakes the memory off, as she moves to set the cyvasse pieces up. They play nearly in silence until the sun is no longer high in the sky.

“Is it so awful though?” Sansa asks, breaking the silence, in an unusually small voice, “To want to be loved, to want it so much that you let yourself be blinded?”

“No,” Tyrion replies, fiercely, “I don’t think it’s awful at all. Everyone wants to be loved, even if no one admits it. And in my experience, it’s made a great many men and women commit very foolish acts.”

She won’t say to him, won’t admit even to herself, that she’s even sure she would know love anymore. That if it weren’t for her sister, she wouldn’t even be sure if she believed in it anymore.

There’s a flush over their conversation, and Sansa feels a strange warmth bloom in her chest. One she might recognize, if she reached far enough back in her memory.

It’s interrupted, when her father approaches, telling her it’s time for supper.

It’s a simple potato and leek soup tonight, rich with cream and brightened bacon. Over it, Sansa hopes her father won’t bring up the subject she’s been avoiding since they arrived here nearly three years ago.

“You seem quite fond of Lord Tyrion,” he begins, “Any particular reason why?”

Sansa nods softly. She no longer thinks there’s a point in hiding this.

“He was my first husband.”

Ned stares, seeming not to know which word to latch onto. Sansa chuckles. It’s really ridiculous in hindsight.

“It was Tywin Lannister’s handiwork, meant to keep control of the North. We both objected loudly, but didn’t have a leg to stand on to refuse, but we tried to be kind to each other at least.”

She swallows, bitterly.

“I was fourteen, and in retrospect, our complete farce of a marriage was the closest thing to a reprieve I had while I was stuck here, and then…” she trails off, still unsure how to explain the next part, “I didn’t see him for nearly four years, but when we saw each other again, it was the strangest thing...it was almost like we were friends.”

Ned finally cuts her off, with a question.

“You said he was your first-”

Sansa ducks her head, so he will not see her face.

“My second was Ramsey Bolton. He was...not kind.

Ned’s expression of horror is all she needs. She shakes her head roughly again, changing the subject as fast as she can before more questions come.

“Anything new with the council today?”

“Stannis got a raven from the Wall,”

That gets Sansa’s complete attention.

“Who’s in charge now?”

“Alliser Thorne,”

She groans internally. Jon’s words on the man had not been kind. Not that Jon was even there now.

“He’s asking for more men, because wildlings have been attacking the outposts regularly. They sent them to all the Lords.”

Sansa rubs her forehead.

“And of course, Stannis is the only one to take the request seriously.”

Sansa wishes Shireen’s death wasn’t such a black mark on Stannis’s life. That his willingness to follow Melisandre so fanatically hadn’t besmirched him so. He was one of the only men in Westeros who truly seemed to consider the needs of the Realm.

Even before that, she muses, he also killed his own brother, so maybe she was being too generous.

Stannis’s actions end up being overshadowed anyhow.

It’s the middle of the year when Balon Greyjoy dies.

Sansa groans deeply when she learns. This is going to be a mess. She doubts Yara will be able to gather any sort of support without Theon to back her up, so somehow she thinks Euron will end up in charge again. She sends a raven, one of Bran’s that she’s been letting rest on a perch in her chambers and rest, back to Winterfell to try and see if Theon had said anything on the matter at all.

Theon had kept Balon in line, but she doubts Euron has any sort of similar loyalty.

It distracts her though, and she blames that distraction for why she lets someone sneak up on her early the next morning, when she’s down at the training yard.

Thankfully, it’s just Brienne.

“Didn’t take you for an archer, my lady.”

Sansa shrugs her off,

“It’s just for fun. Daughter of one of my father’s friends was a great archer. I thought she looked so elegant doing it. So I asked her to teach me.”

Elegant is pushing it. Sansa might describe Meera in her element as having a sort of wild grace, but she’s not sure she would ever call it elegance. But she is a young woman, with thoughts only of gowns and games, and so she admires elegance.

“For fun? Pulling a longbow takes nearly a hundred pounds of force.”

Sansa laughs, trying to sound blithe. She looses her arrow, and hits the target she has set up. It hits close to the edge, but it’s set further away than she’s set them before.

“You’re assigned to guard Lady Shireen, right? Is she about already?”

Brienne shakes her head.

“The girl is a bit of a late sleeper, and I felt the need for some early morning air before resuming my duties.”

Sansa sets down her bow and sits on one of the brick columns that line the ends of the walkway.

“How is she? I remember when I came here for the first time, I felt so alone.”

“She is..coping. Like she always has. She didn’t have many other young people for friends in Storm’s End, or from her stories, before either.”

Brienne frowns as she continues speaking.

“I fear she may always feel out of place just because of how she looks. I feel coming here, with all the power and attention may only make it worse.”

“This city isn’t a very good place for anyone,” Sansa ruminates, playing with the feather on the end of her bow.

What about you? She thinks, but doesn’t say. Here, Brienne looks the role of a knight, even if she will still insist she is not. She spends her days guarding a defenseless girl for no personal gain, and she will still deny it.

And she has no idea who she would have become.

Joffrey and Margaery announce their engagement halfway through the year. Ned spends the back half of the year with his head between his hands trying to get a grasp on the plans.

“Robert’s not going to make it to the end of the year,” he admits one day during supper.

Sansa purses her lips as she sips her soup.

“I didn’t think so. He looks awful.” Robert’s whole body has become swollen, and despite his famous appetite, he rarely eats anymore.

“I can’t help but feel that planning a lavish wedding while his father dies is in poor taste.”

“He will be king,” Sansa considers, “maybe he wants his reign to start with a celebration. Or maybe Robert wants to see his eldest wed before he passes.”

Ned shakes his head.

“I still can’t wrap my head around Joffrey being king. He doesn’t pay a lick of attention in small council meetings, and on the occasion he does, he lashes out and suggests violence for nearly every issue.”

“He will be an awful king,” Sansa agrees, “But I don’t expect he will be king long.

He probably won’t be murdered at his wedding this time, she thinks, or at least if he is, Sansa doesn’t think she will be the tool of poison. She hasn’t received any unexpected gifts anyway. The Iron Islands are in flux, something tells her Stannis still has his doubts about Joffrey’s parentage, and Littlefinger is still manipulating things (his own wedding to Lysa has just been announced).

And, barring all of that, Varys spoke quietly to her once about the songs of his birds from overseas. The thought of Joffrey being eaten by a dragon does give her a certain sense of satisfaction.

‘You don’t imagine Joffrey will want to keep you as his Hand though do you?” she asks out of the blue.

Ned’s words are rough,

“I can’t imagine. The boy dislikes me, his mother dislikes me more, and they’ve both been vocal about it.”

“Perhaps, once his graces passes, then we’ll be able to go home.”

It’s the only hope they have to hold on to, as the wedding draws near.

Sansa’s not in a good mood the day before. Aside from her general distaste for weddings, she has also just got the raven telling her that she was going to miss Arya’s...again.

Ned is at least as upset about that as she is.

“At least there are still four more of you.”

Sansa is quiet for a long time, then suddenly interjects,

“Robb was married. No one was there but Mother. I don’t even remember his wife’s name. She was from Volantis, I think. None of us got to meet her. The three of them all died the same day.”

Ned reaches out and touches the back of her neck. The gown she’s dressed in for the wedding is a light gray, with long sleeves and a full skirt. She’s tall enough at seventeen that she can now look him straight in the eye.

She stands beside him during the ceremony, and he watches her eyes drift over most of the room.

Joffrey and Margaery say their words, and Ned and Sansa try their best not to roll their eyes.

There are performers after, but scanning the crowd, Sansa lets out a sigh of relief, seeing only one dwarf. The pigeon pie doesn’t choke anyone.

Sansa quietly sips at her wine, and watches.

At one point in the evening, she sees Ned take a sip from Robert’s goblet, and wince. Pycelle is accompanying the King, who is barely holding himself upright. He has not eaten or drank anything at all during the festivities.

“I’ve never tasted anything that strong, I’m almost frightened where he found it,” Ned comments, off hand. Sansa wonders at his words.

Time comes for the bedding. Sansa notices Shireen looking a bit apprehensive, and so grabs her hands and the two of them linger at the back of the mob of women.

“Trust me, you don’t want a hand or eyeful of any of that,” she assures the girl.

The dancers and celebrators still linger in the hall. Sansa notices Cersei still at the high table, seemingly quite drunk. That’s a mess she wants no part of either.  

Her and Shireen sit alone, sipping lightly from one cup of wine.

"Do you like it here at all?" Sansa finally asks her.

Shireen shrugs.

"I like meeting other people. I like seeing things happen even if I can't be involved. Renly told me when he was helping me get my gown and everything for the ball last year that it was a shame a girl like me had been kept from the world for so long."

"Aren't people sometimes mean to you though?"

"Of course they are, but they don't matter. Maybe in this life I'll be alone, but that's why I like my books and stories. That's I think what I'd like to do with my life. I want to write stories, whether they're real or not."

Sansa sees in her eyes a touch of resentment, she figures for her parents having kept her trapped for so long.

And slowly, and very quietly, she asks her.

"If I told you a story, a very complicated one, could you keep it to yourself, whether you believed it or not?"

Shireen looks at her oddly.

"I wouldn't tell a soul."

And just like that, Sansa has another confidant.

It feels like things should change all at once, but it still somehow happens slowly.

It’s a few days after the wedding, while guests are beginning to leave. Sansa is wandering the halls, again in Lady, when she comes upon Cersei leaving the royal apartments, with an empty bottle.

Sansa-in-Lady takes a moment to heel behind a statue in the hall, when Littlefinger comes in her direction.

He barely even stops upon encountering Cersei, he merely nods in her direction.

“Such a shame it is,” he says, eyes on the bottle, “For a man to be leveled by something he loved so much.”

And Sansa finds herself slipping out of Lady’s head, a heavy sensation causing her stomach to sink.

Of course it wouldn’t be hard, the way Robert drank, to spike his cups even more heavily. Even if someone were drinking first from his cups, they wouldn’t likely notice.

A death he may have brought on himself, hastened by someone who desperately wanted him gone.

A death that comes barely a moon after his eldest son’s wedding.

“I have to make funeral arrangements,” Ned tells her that evening, when the are sitting and talking, “And arrange for Joffrey’s coronation.”

“And after that?”

Ned sighs. It seems to be his primary vocalization now.

“After...we’ll find out.”

Sansa stares out the window in her chambers that night. It’s a deep, dark, clear night, and the raven for winter flies through.

[srawesleyghuewrites]

You Don’t Have to Fight Anymore - Chapter 5(Extra)

Series: You don’t have to fight anymore(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

For desktop users: masterlist

For mobile users: mobile masterlist

Pairing: Cal x Mare

Book: Red Queen

Faceclaim: Matthew Daddario as Cal Calore and Lindsey Morgan as Mare Barrow

Word Count: ~ 2,700

Rating: M for language

Prompt:

Maven captured Mare and Cal again, his obsession taking a much darker path when Cal’s fate interferes in his plans. But what if Maven isn’t even the their worst problem? In a crazy night, safety seems like the furthest but still he finds himself at the safest place in the world.

Author’s Note:

HELLO PEOPLE

SOOOOO, here I’m bringing to life the extra angst/fluff PUNtastic extra chapter for the finished series “You don’t have to fight anymore”. It’s a chapter that was incredible to write and I loved every minute of it so I hope you’ll all agree with me(send feedback so that I’ll know)!!!

This officially ends the series and I gotta say it was a pleasure writing about these characters that I love, I might have something else planned for my couple so keep checking because maybe soon I’ll have news about it disclosed on my Tumblr.

Forgive me for any mistakes AND I think the tags are freaking finally working!!!! *yells excitedly* 

Always let me know if you wanna in or out of my tag list and I hope you enjoy it!

@marecalrandomstuff, @darlingod, @war-storm, @samanthaslytherin, @starsabovenewsoulss, @inopinion, @niinazenikk, @calmareforever, @lilyharvord, @queeniriscygnet, @evngelinesmos, @clarafarleybarrow, @aarcherons, @spookymareshmallow, @calorelove, @tiberiascalore, @marecal-trash, @choosemarecal, @quiteliterallyinthis, @nikkiwhitesidesx, @scxrletguardsdawn, @fandxms-uniite, @nxyatr, @daryanavid, @artemishdp, @pinky-saltyocean, @lil-taco-kid, @i-am-the-diana-farley​

Disclaimer: The characters don’t belong to me I just borrow them from Victoria Aveyard!

PUNtastic Adventures

Cal Calore 

Mare.

She is static, her gaze focused on what seems to be recently polished royal heels, the expression on her face is a conundrum. Someone appears next to her and she immediately turns to look at him, from where I’m standing at the gap in the door it’s only possible to see his silhouette but I recognize him as soon as I hear the cold voice.

Maven.

“I still can’t believe that you’re here.”

His arms look pale when compared to hers and he touches her shoulders cautiously, getting closer to her and making it accessible for me to clearly watch his next move, and I wonder if he knows I’m here. The hand that holds her shoulder slips to her rosy cheek and caresses it, Mare doesn’t hesitate like I would expect her to do, if possible she leans her face even closer to his hand.

“I didn’t thought you would find us.”

Mare says with uncertainty in her tone, the hands shaking slightly under his touch and her eyes never leaving his deep blue.

“Mare, don’t be a fool. For you and my traitor brother, I would go until the end of the world.”

“And what are you going to do to him?”

“Are you worried about Cal?”

The sharp way the words leave his mouth shows that they are a clear threat, I try to warn Mare in some way, however nothing comes out of my mouth.

“Of course not! You know that the only person who matters is,” she gets closer to him and puts both of her hands in Maven’s chest, caressing it while she smiles and completes with: “you.”

I close my eyes when she closes the distance between them in a kiss because something inside of me burns, and maybe for the first time the flames don’t feel like power, they feel like pain.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

I quickly open my eyes again, in time to see Mare’s eyes widen as she separates from him and asks: “What?”

“In fact, I think the job was already done this morning.”

Maven speaks naturally, I can see a deep pride inside his cold stare as he says the words words but his expression changes when he notices her panicked face.

“You… killed… Cal?”

Her eyes are filled with tears and her gaze seems more broken than ever, my first instinct is to run in her direction and show her that I’m alive, yet my body stands motionless.

“I thought you didn’t care about him.”

“I…”

She sinks to her knees, landing on her bouffant gown and hiding her face in her hands to muffle her cries.

“Mare.”

I whisper is the only sound I can vocalize and it breaks my heart to see her like that.

“Pull yourself together!”

Mare gets up and stares at him, the tears painting her face when she screams at him.

“YOU COULDN’T DO THAT! YOU COULDN’T KILL HIM! YOU’RE A MONSTER!”

Both of their gaze is fixed in one another,  the anger boiling just below their surface and the next thing I see is Maven slapping strongly Mare’s face.

“MARE!”

I scream even though my voice is gone, trying desperately understand why the hell can’t I do anything. Maybe Maven did kill me and I’m just a ghost?

“Put yourself in your place and learn to respect me, everything I did was for you. For your own good.”

“MY OWN GOOD? YOU LEFT ME AT THE BOWL OF BONES TO DIE AND IF IT WASN’T FOR CAL...”

At the mention of my name another wave of tears falls on her cheeks and I can see the sparks rising on her fingertips.

“IT’S ABOUT DAMN TIME THAT YOU PAY FOR EVERYTHING YOU DID.”

Before she can hurt Maven with her lightning he takes two handcuffs from behind his suit, it doesn’t take long for both of us to recognize the Silent Stone cuffs when he locks it on her hands.

“I didn’t intend to use them but you forced me, I’m so sorry dear.”

Maven reaches to cup her cheek but Mare’s quicker and dives from his touch, the anger written on her chipped her lips.

“I WON’T SURRENDER. YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO KILL ME TOO IF YOU THINK AFTER EVERYTHING I’LL ACCEPT ANY AFFECTION FROM YOU!”

He gives her another slap, this time so hard that it makes her face turn red right away. I punch the door in front of me but nothing moves, no sounds are heard and I begin to think it’s all in my head.

“YOU’LL TAKE WHATEVER I WANT MARE.”

Maven grabs her arms strongly, crushing them until they turn bright red and tries to touch her lips. She gives in a little bit, growing closer to his mouth, and just before their lips can touch Mare spits on his face.

“I think you don’t know me well then.”

There’s a hint of a smile on my face as I’m once again surprise by Mare Barrow’s incredible strength. Unlike me, Maven doesn’t appreciate the gesture and squashes her arms again, throwing her body against the cold palace floor. His hand closes into a fist and he punches her face.

“NO!”

The inertia is driving me crazy and I fight with all my strength to help her but every second I feel more and more stuck. Mare’s still laying on the floor, trying to gain her stamina back to get up when he kicks her stomach and slaps her face one more time, leaving a cut on her face that exposes her red blood.

“MARE!”

My screams don’t have any effect and it’s like I’m in a personal hell, seeing him hurt her and not be able to do anything to help her almost kills me.

“YOU… CAN… TRY… AS… HARD… AS… YOU… WA...NT!”

Mare screams as blood drops from her cut and now from her coughing mouth, Maven probably kicked her too hard near her chest. She won’t last long if Maven continues with this and I’m suddenly relieved when someone opens the door and says:

“What’s going on here?”

Relief passes quickly as it came when I realize who the voice belong to. Elara. Yes, this is definitely my personal hell.

“Mother. I was just informing Mare about my brother’s death and she doesn’t seem to be taking the news very well.”

He smirks to the tall blonde that now comes nearer Mare, her silver finger lingers close to the bruise on Mare’s face and she stains her fingertips with red blood.

“Well, as much as I enjoy torturing red blood rats, I don’t believe your information is correct.”

“What do you mean with that, mother?”

Elara rises her gaze from a fallen and now a very shocked Mare to a very angry Maven, who taps his foot nervously on the ground. Her manipulative smile is present as she speaks softly:

“Killing him would not be punishment enough, but watching this might be.”

Something inside of me clicks the minute I hear the words and I painfully understand what’s happening. They stand in silence for a while, probably wondering if Elara is completely crazy, Maven hating her for not killing me and Mare appearing to be relieved until the queen talks again.

“But why don’t we ask him that, shall we? Tiberias you’re allowed to come in.”

The pride is so clear in those ice blue eyes when she stares directly at me and the strings that just a minute ago tied my body force me to enter the room, causing Mare to get up fast and run in my direction.

“Are you o-ok?”

She touches my arm to make sure I’m real and I brush my thumb against her cheek carefully because of the cut, however I know there isn’t time to cuddle her so I pull her in for a hug and whisper: ‘Run’.

“He’s fine dear, for now.”

“Mother, what are you doing?”

Mare holds me tighter, her small hands squeezing me closer to her and separating far too fast, but if that means she’ll run out of the danger I’m actually glad. When my eyes meet hers I know she’s not leaving me, and I’m not the only one because Maven throws a fireball in our direction, luckily I’m able to catch it fast enough so it doesn’t hurt her.

“You’ll see in a minute, child.”

Elara walks slowly in Maven’s direction, standing at his side she finally turns to me, the same evil smirk spread across her face as it did the night she made me kill my own father.

Mare.

“You have to go, now.”

“The star of the show can’t go anywhere.”

I feel a tingle in the back of my mind and I comprehend that it’s her entering my head, that’s why I squeeze Mare’s hand.

“Mare, GO AWAY NOW.”

“Have you ever seen me run from a fight?”

“Oh dear, there won’t be any fights tonight. Tiberias is simply gonna finish what he already started.”

“NO!”

I growl at her because my voice is already chained to her and once again I’m trapped inside my head, fighting like hell to escape her claws.

“Tiberias, I kept the sword you used the last time, thought maybe it would bring a comfort sensation to you. Now, grab it…. and kill Mare.”

“What?”

Maven says and tries to take a step in our direction but his mother holds his shoulder, squeezing in it in order for him to look at her. I don’t know what she tells him because I’m already holding the sword and walking towards Mare, every fiber of my body screaming and fighting but not being much successful.

“MARE. RUN. NOW.”

Her intense gaze meets mine and I can see the tears already forming in our eyes. She runs away from me but ends up in front of a completely locked door, with all her bruises it takes her a while to kick it open and Elara’s voice forces me get even closer to her.

I notice that neither Elara or Maven are following us, still I can feel her presence inside my mind, making me lift the sword in Mare’s direction as she tries to run faster. Mare has always been a good runner, except that this time she’s hurt and almost without strength after kicking over four doors already.

“Son of a bitch.”

The door doesn’t move even as she kicks it several times and Elara’s power is stronger in my mind, I finally reach Mare and the tears start falling from my eyes knowing what happens next. My worst nightmare coming true right in front of my eyes.

“Cal, it’s me. It’s me.”

I press her at the door, locking her between my body and the solid wood as she tries to push me away.

“Please Cal, you have to fight it! Fight her, for me.”

My voice is gone again and I struggle hardly to stop my arm from lifting, she holds my hand and pushes the sword away from her chest. The blood on her face becoming mixed with sweat from running, I try closing my eyes but Elara sends a clear command ‘watch her die’.

When the sword enters her chest and red blood starts pouring out of if, Mare’s face goes pale and she falls into my arms. My tears touch her face and Mare holds my hand strongly, whispering with the last of her strength:

“It’s ok. It’s not your fault. It’s ok. I love you.”

“Ma-a-are. I’m… so-o-orry. I’m so sorry. I love you.”

Something inside of me breaks and I sob when her eyes close before me, the life leaving her body slowly as does mine. One last scream comes out from deep inside my chest: ‘MARE!’

“Cal. Cal. Cal!”

I jolt awake, the sweat and the tears blurring my vision as I feel a body pressed against mine, small hands pressing my chest in a calming way. Her lips are the first thing I see,  slightly parted and as red as her blood, almost to tempting so I shift my gaze to her own. The brown eyes are searching mine with a sentiment that I’ve seen so little times in her, especially about me: worry.

It takes a couple of minutes for me to stop gasping and I take deep breaths, watching her hand rise and fall in sync with my chest. Mare isn’t not used to caressing people and I know that by the way she shakes beside me, the intense gaze never leaving my face and I smile faintly in her direction, glad that she’s here and that the nightmare wasn’t real.

“Are you ok?”

Mare has a sleepy voice, she rubs her eyes and sits straight yet never creating any distance between us. My fingertips brush her cheek, lingering in her smooth and warm skin as she gives into the touch, her movement reminds me of the nightmare and I shut my eyes closed to ignore the flashes in my head.

“Hey, I’m here.”

“You’re here? You... You’re safe?”

Feels like I’m still dreaming as the words leave my mouth, the pain and the life leaving her eyes are too clear for me to focus on anything rational for a while. Mare’s breathing is steady and someway I think she wants to calm me, the brown deep eyes shining in the dim light as her gaze finally finds my confused one.

“We’re safe.”

It’s just a whisper now and she presses her forehead to mine, using her hand to caress the back of my neck and bring me closer. For once in a long time I let myself relax, opening my eyes to find the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen staring back at me, our lips only inches apart and a tiny smile on the corner of her lips.

“I’m right here Cal.”

Her nose touches mine and she stands like that for a while, we both close our eyes and just enjoy being so close after a long time being apart. The room is silent, only the light of a candle illuminates the space and I can feel Mare’s breath over my lips, causing a sentiment I never thought would feel again emerge to the surface: I feel safe.

With her this close to me I lean in and capture her lips in a gentle kiss, remembering how amazing it feels to have them pressed against mine, I can feel safe again and something tells me it’s because I know that she’s safe. At least for now.

“Feeling better?”

There’s a cocky smirk in her face as I open my eyes, giving her peck on the lips before Mare can create distance between us. Her hand’s still on my chest and I enjoy the opportunity to put mine over hers, interlacing our fingers.

“Definitely. But you don’t have to worry because it was just a night-mare.”

I say the last word with a chuckle and Mare sighs, throwing her head back with disbelief but the corner of her mouth twitches in a smile.

“I expected more from you, you know? I’m pretty sure a silver noble shouldn’t talk like a child.”

She chuckles but notices the tension building because of her word choice, since I’m no longer a silver noble, I don’t even know what I’m anymore. Realizing her mistake she squeezes my hand and I decide to give her the proper punishment.

“Are you cal-ling me a child Mare?”

“Will you ever stop?”

“Yes, of course I will. You just have to give me some mare-it for the great puns.”

Mare kisses me again, this time her lips come crashing into mine and her tongue plays with mine in a heated kiss. When we’re out of breath we finally separate, her hungry gaze fitting mine but soon it’s replaced with a sleepy one and I remember that I woke her up in the middle of the night.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“No problem, what was the nightmare about?”

“Elara… made me… hurt…. you.”

My chest burns with the images and the words come out in hoarse whispers, her reaction is to make me lay down again and rest her head against my chest. Her free hand tracing circles on my arm as she closes her eyes and says in a sweet way:

“You would never do that. And you’re safe, we’re safe. Together.”

[kendrixtermina]

Thoughts and Feelings about“Change Your Mind”

I really wish I could rewatch this motherfucker somewhere but I have to sleep and go to work 

Well on the one hand the main story lines are pretty much done for, on the other, the fallout alone could fill another season, and I’m actually glad that they’re not relegating that to the epilogue but actually going to show it

I assume season 5 will be Steven working with the Diamonds to improve homeworld, explaining things to Jasper, integrating the former corrupted gems on earth, finding out the deal with pink pearl, further developing Steven’s new fusions etc. 

Other open questions involve gem origins and peridot’s renewable energy project, but I suppose that will come up as Steven tries to make the Empire less... imperialistic. 

I understand why they wanted to air this in one piece, you couldn’t leave the younger viewers hanging with some of these creepytastic scenes and no resolution

There’s various concepts I feel reminded of. 

There’s this idea of “tzimtsum” in kaballalistic thought, about how God created the world - In order to create a being apart from himself, he “hid” some aspects of the being, the ones that would seem - So every part of creation reflects one aspect of god, but none shows the complete pictures of it, and because everything has some aspects of god but not others, it is unique - so all humans are made in gods image, but still be different from each other.  

Maybe Pink Diamond would be something like Lucifer in this analogy, part of the creation but as far from the god as you can get while still existing, and somehow their antithesis (stretching the analogy here, of course Judaism has no counterpart to Lucifer let alone the positive-ish early modernity interpretions of him - but of course, White Diamond isn’t exactly a benevolent God either. )

First of course Star Trek, like the ep where Captain Kirk is split into what at first seems like his good and evil half but is more like his animal instincts and higher reasoning, or in Voyager, when B’Elana Torres is split into her human and Klingon halves. 

I guess Garnet wasn’t completely wrong in his being something in-between fusion and human reproduction, his gem half could be considered A Pink Diamond, but not the same one who created him - He must be fricking powerful to shrug off WD’s beams like that, like how Stevonnie still has “boosted” versions of Steven’s abilities despite Connie being human, Steven’s probably like Pink Diamond, but ‘boosted’.  

Steven’s victory certainly showcases how it comes from both sides of his heritage. It involves making WD laugh/embarassed like what Pink used to do, but unlike her, he has the communication skills from Greg - I don’t think Pink ever talked to Blue in that way, she didn’t seem aware of what the other Diamonds were thinking at all, any more than she really understood Pearl’s lingering knot of complexes. It’s just not a skill she could have picked up before Greg - when? From whom?  

His responsibility is all uniquely him and due to his upbringing with the CG’s and wanting to help him more, tho, both his parents where free spirit hippy bohemians, but it was Steven who decided “Nope, I WANT to fix it, because I can”, not because he owes it to anybody, even when no one could fault him for running. 

Also, Frankenstein (the Novel not the film) - The original Victor was a sympathetic, even admirable character, but somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to have empathy with the monster, though Adam was in many ways alike to him and initially didn’t wish to be his enemy.  Because while the gems relate to White Diamond as their goddess and the other Diamonds see her as their mother, she seems to regard them as extensions of herself. Maybe she would, as their creator. Gods are expected to smile benevolently upon their followers and solve their problems, Mothers, while they are flawed humans,  are supposed to love their kids as they are and realize that they become their own persons, but artists frequently tear up their own work if they’re dissatisfied with it, because it’s supposed to be a reflection of their existence, so they might hate it for not reflecting them well enough - 

i often regret tearing up half my teenage fanfics, but I’m able to view them different now that I’m - Back then, I felt like they reflectzed badly onto me - but if had kids and treated them like my fanfics or crumpled drawings, well, that would scar them for life. 

You could certainly see this as a metaphor for narcissism, particularly in the way WD judged everything by how much it was like her, to the point that she would ‘overwrite`’ ppl’s personalities with her ideas of how it ought to be, while lacking a solid identity of her own apart from being “perfect/the best” by default, but that only goes so far because the gems literally are her creations who take their characteristics from various aspects of her being. 

She’d have a completely different conceptual framework to anyone else, though she’s certainly not “above it” in any way. 

I don’t think she was completely unaffected by Pink’s dissapearence either, if you want to complete the Stages of Grief analogy she would be Denial or Bargaining. Most likely,  she was growing increasingly frustrated with her ability to make her empire “perfect” like she ought to and that’s why she started keeping to herself more and assuming that Pink couldn’t be dead. 

She seemed like the knowing one when she was as much in denial as anyone else - you can tell they had a complicated relationship because of how White saw herself in her, that might be why she indulged and preferred her, but then again she didn’t always like what she saw and felt that Pink represented parts of her that she didn’t want to see. 

It’s not without reason that Steven tells her to “get out of her own head” and try to see the world for what it is rather than her preconceived notions of what it is or means. You could perhaps relate that to 

When she realizes that she’s actually dead - that’s when she has her breakdown. 

You could even draw a parallel to “Romeo And Juliet”, where the older generation only realizes how much its ways were fucked up when it gets their beloved children killed for just trying to live happy lives. 

Cal Gustav Jung would certainly remind us that what irritates us about others are often things that irritate us about ourselves, that we may be liable to “see the world as we are” and never is that more apparent than when we view everything through some skewed belief system, or when we hate - people hate people who blur boundaries because they don’t want to confront the ambiguity within themselves, or act as “superior” and merciless because they’ve rejected their own mortal fragile humanity.

Another observation is that when you set up anything as the “default” you create pressure not to deviate from the norm and prevent its members from experiencing their individuality. (see societal pressure on heterosexual men, or Euro-Americans saying they ‘have no culture to celebrate’ - maybe instead of becoming a devouring plague upon your fellow men, you could actually appreciate European culture? Like, read some books, eat some cheese, learn a language, listen to some classical music, vote for worker protection laws?)

It speaks for PD that she even tried to save other aliens at some point. steven stepped completely out of her shadow the moment he was able to feel sorry for her, like “Geez, she had to live like that? No wonder she turned out the way she did!” he pretty much calls the other Diamonds out at some point, like he gets a secure sense of the differences between them when he realizes how much better off he’s been in his own life. Like, UGH. 

For my part, I don’t believe the “best of the worst” thing was true, and more of an “evil cannot comprehend good” moment from White, if not outright projection. (after all, White seems to view all other Gems as imperfect copies of herself) If anything, Pink seemed upset that she got stuck being the leader even as “Rose Quartz” (see the Beach scene in “Greg the babysitter”) - but of course Steven, not being Pink, wouldn’t know whether or not White is right. 

Other Thoughts:

In the earlier scenes you could see a lot of parallels to less than ideal family situations, and how people might end up acting as proxies of the problematic person, almost sprouting their words, in the name of keeping the peace, and how people in such an environment may have no idea of how it’s not normal

You CAN talk down such a person (I know of multiple people who made a bona fide job out of talking sense into literal nazis and clansmen, person by person - their tactic was generally to find whatever problem their rage came from), but there’s a difference between “flawed” and “awful” and I do think it came through that White is a piece of work quite unlike, say, Connie’s mother, and that Steven’s dealing with her because he wants to for the good of society, because he’s the bigger person and secure in himself,  not because he owes it to her or anything

It seems like they went for “awesome” rather than “beautiful” with Steven’s fusions. The designs are kinda gaudy, but even so, once you getpast the gaudy design, it’s kind of touching how Steven’s and Garnet’s fusion is essentially a motivational speaker who sprouts encouraging advice nonstop. Garnet was always Steven’s Mentor and  as well as the main person (besides greg) to teach him morals, as well as generally encouraging & supportive, but Steven of course encourages and supports her too, and both like doing that for others

I love Peridot’s short shorts and that she and Bismuth repaired the ships/ went a-tinkering together. It took me a bit to notice that it’s supposed to be shorts and not just her old outfit with starts instead tho

Voice of Reason!Connieis a gift that keeps on giving

[puppetiers]

Cooking By The Book

Gamzee Last Thursday at 7:02 PM

You are one Gamzee... ... you know what? Last names aren't that important anyways, not really, it's alright if you can't quite readily recall yours. What is important though is that you're at home, in the kitchen room that makes up half of your downstairs room with your new best friend :o). The reason you're there is... is... :o? why the fuck are you - OH RIGHT YOUR NEW FRIEND'S A SKINNY AS ALL MOTHERFUCK. Gotta feed him, you gotta, it's the rules... ... you're pretty sure... ... :o|

Even if it ain't the rules it's what you're doing, cooking him food and listening to him chat at ya about the heretics.

Lil Cal Last Friday at 8:04 PM

It's been a few days since your first meeting with Gamzee and you've met with him a couple of times inbetween. This time he even invited you! Might have needed a reminder on your part, but the result is what matters.

You sit in the kitchen as he makes food, which is not a thing you care for much, but you watch curiously anyway. His work is actually so mesmerizing, you lost your train of thought for a moment. Which isn't much of an issue, since he's so far gone in his own mindspace that he probably doesn't even notice. You just need to repeat the truths of your Lord often enough that they stick.

Right, your Lord. "The clowns, they made up such a complicated system of cards and deties. So much work. So much creativity. So much wrong~"

Gamzee Last Friday at 8:46 PM

Your hands are being kept busy, thankful its all kinds of motherfuckin miracles that you ain't needing to think none 'bout this shit, all the muscle memory and years a learned experiencing keeping ya hands from... from... from something. Not important. Important thing is ya can do this in your sleep, let alone while your friend got your pan ta pondering the wicked shit that was all the motherfuckin religious shit.

"Gots you a point yeah," it's all kinds of motherfuckin miracles that has you sounding... not slow on this day. Distracted yeah, but not slow. Differences. They motherfuckin mattered... maybe... "hard to get yah head wrapped around a startin, like... like them number puzzles, yeah?"

Lil Cal Last Sunday at 11:16 PM

"I like riddles!" You giggle. "My Lord does too. He likes games and he likes violence."

You lean in a little. "These gods they pray to. All false. There is only one, and what they pray to. Aaall just aspects of him. You see that, right?"

Gamzee Last Monday at 12:08 AM

Well... that makes sense yeah? Yeah. Like... Riddle Box and Milenko and ticks and turns and falsity and lies and turning against your kin is the worst sin what are you doing disloyal-

"Is... is it like... one of them... the Necromancer... he tricks those 'fore him into being disloyal ta the faith and led 'em to their downfall... yeah?" You pause, ears fluttering in little quick anxious motions. "So... is... is The Lord... is he tricking 'em to find whoever be workin through to the truth? Or is that something... something they up and motherfuckin twisted into wrongness?"

Lil Cal Last Monday at 9:52 AM

"Yes! The Necromancer... It is him, for when the universe finds its end, those who died may serve him if they believe. To trick people into disloyalty.. Such a cruel act. The big clown, he confuses you all to keep you under his control."

Gamzee Last Monday at 10:01 AM

“My... My Grand High Brother...?” Well, well yeah that’d... that’d make sense if... well, there’s gotta be a reason almost everyone thinks the universe would be better without your blood kin in it. “Well... a lot, a lot a people don’t real be liking us none, nah.”

Lil Cal Last Monday at 10:10 AM

"Disappointing, isn't it. That someone you thought you could rely on would do such a thing~" You add another highly inappropriate giggle here. "I know, what a shame. They're missing out on such wonderful company as yourself!"(edited)

Gamzee Last Monday at 10:48 AM

You freeze completely, turn to him and just look for a minute as you turn that over in your head. "Yeah," you eventually breath, word closer to one of Alternian vocalizing than the common you usually try sticking to, you clear your throat, drop your gaze back to what you're doing. "Yeah, yeah you're right. Right shame... 'bout them and him."

You pause again, blink, cock your head and turn your eyes back to the other. "Yah prefer strawberry or blueberry?"

Lil Cal Last Monday at 11:14 PM

It takes some time, but it's getting through to him. Very good.

"Why not both~?" You grin a little wider. "He'd be glad to have you serve him. Speak his word. Believe in him and fight for him. A messiah for the true Lord. No one better suited for it."

Gamzee Yesterday at 12:17 AM

Both? Yeah both’d be alright, blueberry and strawberry scones coming right the motherfuck up.

“He would yeah?” You’re not too sure ‘bout that ‘no one better’ bullshit but your friend wouldn’t be up and lying at ya about no important shit ya know? ... “I’ll be doing my best with it.” You really do like to try to please.

Lil Cal Today at 9:48 AM

What a good boy.

"He would~ So much strength, so much potential, so much loyalty. You can make them all see the truth."

Gamzee Today at 10:03 AM

“Yeah ok,” potential was a thing you heard a lot from your church ki-

... the heretics. You were used to having that thrown at ya, you would do your best ta live up to that. But, “s’not gon be an easy motherfuckin time of it though, Baron’s all kinds a motherfuckin better at the talkin thing. Just means I gotta get all kinds of motherfuckin better than him, yeah?” You offer him a smile over your shoulder, small, hesitant, lookin for reassuring. You’ve probably got this.

Lil Cal Today at 10:15 AM

"No" you answer with a smile. "You're nothing like the Baron. If the Lord wanted the Baron, that's what he'd have. But he chose you, because you already are all kinds of mm- much better than him."

Gamzee Today at 10:26 AM

he wanted to say something else s’fine, you stutter over words sometimes to, explained away before it’s given a thought.

“Well... yeah, yeah ok.” If ya couldn’t out speak your ancestor you could just claw the life from him, tear out his heart like it’s expected of yah You turn away from him, focus away from the attention. “Ok.”

Lil Cal Today at 6:47 PM

No worries, Gamzee, it's just your aversion to that rude language. Thanks, Scratch.

He doesn't really seem convinced.. but he'll get it, just give him time. If there's anything you have plenty of, it's patience. You don't take your attention off him for even a second though, if he wants it or not.

[elane-in-the-shadows]

Red Queen Fan Fiction - Blood Curse part 8

Find this on wattpad

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

chapter 11

chapter 12

chapter 13

chapter 14

chapter 15

chapter 16

chapter 17

chapter 18

chapter 19

chapter 20

chapter 21

chapter 22

chapter 23

chapter 24

chapter 25

chapter 26

chapter 27

chapter 28

chapter 29

Final chapter

Gisa POV

At first, all Lacey wants is me to accompany her when Tramy can’t. It’s difficult to separate her tasks from mere socializing: I think she doesn’t want me to know about her work as I’m not a Scarlet Guard member, and I still don’t intend to become one. Yet the same is true for every Silver I know apart from her. Cal, Julian, Sara, they all seek only their own benefits. Cameron’s told me as much though she wavers on Sara’s wishes. She mentioned Sara’s help in training her which comes close to praising for Cameron. Now the skinhealer is in Corvium along with Mare and Cal while Mr. Jacos sits between his papers, beakers and bulbs.

Lacey visits him frequently when she has me come along. I was curious the first time, but I learned it’s more small talk between them, mostly old stories with Queen Elara being blamed. Apparently, Lacey’s mother was a Merandus but her own family abused her at a young age and hurt her too deeply to heal. It left Lacey with an enduring hatred for her own kind. She doesn’t say this to Mr. Jacos but her words are lined with judgement and guilt.

What I don’t find out is whether Mr. Jacos prefers to remain ignorant or takes her insights to heart. I suspect she doesn’t really care either. She’s dissembling, wanting to keep him talking and having access to him – and his studies.

Julian Jacos likes to drone about his projects even more, to her rejoice. Though his reports aren’t very detailed, as I manage to understand them as well, thus I suppose it’s not enough for Lacey. She might’ve known these things from an early age while they just help me to patch up questions I’ve had for some time. But she keeps on smiling, to everyone she meets, and I play along, versed in this game as well. Yet I remember her expression, it’s same one she wore when I thought her to be a vain and air-headed rich Silver, a girl to be dismissed.

“Actually, Mr. Jacos is not as ignorant as you may think he is,” Lacey says to me when we leave the part of the archives he’s working at. “He usually prefers to be the enlightened one himself, who sees through our games and facades. Now he would’ve to agree with me instead, in the presence of a Red like you, and he’d rather argue with me but can’t.”

She glances at me and I meet her eyes. I wish she’d just go on, not play with me.

“It unsettles him,” she adds after the unnecessary pause. “Makes him wish to change the topic so he can prattle. Until he lets something slip.”

She looks proud of herself and it’s my turn to be silent and let her wonder. Seconds drag by.

“I thought about our earlier conversation, Ms. Ventos,” I say eventually. “About how I feel uncomfortable to be your … friend.” I take a breath until I have her full attention. Even though I’ve earned as much, her humbleness is hardly satisfying to me. “When you were the lady and I was the servant, I was always afraid, of every step and stitch I made. I could barely trust my mistress, Ms. Hadley, though she never punished me for real. But I could’ve lost my apprenticeship at any time, if I wasn’t good, talented, or diligent enough. Or if I messed up with a customer – someone like you – and drew rumours to the shop and a bad reputation to me. I would’ve been banished from Summerton.

"So I had to be perfect and I was. With every praise I collected, my fears vanished and I could dream of a better life. But when you and your kind entered, my self-confidence was replaced by nervousness.”

I’m good at keeping my tears at bay, I’ve been for a long time. “Ms. Barrow,” Lacey says with strange compassion, but I’m not finished.

“You Silvers don’t act logical, so what were my efforts worth? You could’ve gotten away with almost everything, if you wanted to damage me, and out of a whim. You had power over me, and I can’t forget that. Nor can I trust you when wariness is what kept me alive”.

But it didn’t help me in the end, I think. I offended the Silvers, paid for it, and lost my future. Maybe it was for the better, given what we were pulled into in the end. I shouldn’t wish back my old life, but I loved a not small part of it, of becoming a mistress in creating beautiful fashion.

Lacey had enough time to swallow my words. Again, her consternated face means nothing to me, it’s only the bare minimum. “I apologize for exploiting your position,” she says finally. It startles me. “I tell you I resent the other Silvers, yet I looked away when it felt easier. I … claimed I wanted to use my connections, but how can I say that when it took my capture to turn my coat for real?”

Warm winds and chirping birds are the only noises around us while I brush my tears away. Lacey holds her composure, of course, but it costs her. I see the fractures in her attitude, her conviction to be a “good” Silver. It’s gone, replaced by shame, and she’ll have to live with that. As all humans have to live with their wrong-doings, more or less severe.

“I don’t want to fight,” I say. “I want me and my family to be happy.”

“Yes,” she admits. “Thank you for telling me all of that. It’s never easy.”

I nod gravely. “So you fight for us, and I’ll help you.”

Days later, she asks for me again. Seems like both of us preferred other work and company for a little time, though I’m a little glad she approaches me again. Whatever she searches for, it can’t wait any longer. I should demand her to tell me about it, out of fairness. Accomplices need at least some kind of trust.

Yet we keep up our charade, displaying distance only broken in fractions of moments when we look at each other, smirking, while our unaware informant doesn’t pay attention. Today it’s the colonel who isn’t allowed to pay attention to my and Lacey’s connection. I stop in time before he opens a door, but he storms out of the room without hesitation and almost stumbles over me. I give him a glare in his daughter’s manner and I’m lucky he recognizes me, thus displaying a modicum of politeness. While he apologizes and I greet him, Lacey takes flight to Jacos’s archives. I wonder why she’s so careful, it’s possible Mr. Jacos or another person is telling the colonel about her comings-and-goings.

The colonel moves to pat my shoulder in a strangely fatherly manner but I step away. “You haven’t visited us in a while,” I remind him. “My mother is worried, the baby cries, and my brothers are nervous. Please, if something happened to my sister – “ I stop in a pleading voice though my concern is real. There has to be a reason they’re staying away for so long, yet the whole base is ignorant of these politics.

The colonel jumps at my bait. “I’m surprised, Ms. Barrow, your brothers already know about the broadcast this evening. Your questions should be answered then.”

I blink, startled. “Oh.”

He outstretches his hand again but only to touch my sewing basket. “It won’t be long until the return of our operatives,” he adds.

“I see,” I say, give him a placating smile and turn away. “Well, I have some shirts to deliver.”

He waves his hand in farewell, it’s almost amusing.

Lacey crouches in a corner of the archives, Mr Jacos isn’t there. I go to her and notice she’s occupied with an unremarkable door, fumbling at the lock with a lighter.

“What are you doing,” I whisper, “intending to melt it?”

She blinks, blushing silver. “That won’t work,” I tell her, “and would be impossible to hide. Let me.” I sift through my sewing basket to find a set of needles, picking those I can do without. “I would expect a spy to be a lock-picker. Now, you’re lucky Mare and I trained this.”

She chuckles. “I’m humbled, you’re wonderful. Actually, my cousin Cassie can open every locked door, but she’s a telky and that … can’t be taught.”

During the minutes I work at our entryway, she keeps looking out for visitors. “You don’t want Mr. Jacos to know?” I ask.

“He doesn’t go in there either, and I would’ve taken his key if he did. That part of the archives is practically a mystery.”

The lock clicks and I rise with a moan, giving Lacey a smug glance.

“Thank you very much, Ms. Barrow, I’m indebted to you,” she says and curtseys to me.

The room is dusky, dusty, and full of books and other papers placed in simple steel shelves. It’s not huge but totally crammed. The part I look through is hardly useful. Every book is written in code or languages I don’t know, and I’ve never been good at reading strange hands. Lacey went further down and skims through folders, probably type-written. I take a last try before joining her, with a small book with one page larger than the rest. I flip to it and see it’s a photo. Old, showing a lovely Asian young woman with black hair and a pale, rosy complexion. I turn it around to read on the bakside, “Irene Asada, Ardent, 16 y.” I shrug and approach Lacey. She’s obviously dissatisfied, switching from her paper to mine immediately. I don’ think she expected much but her eyes widen at the sight of the photo. Then she focuses on the book.

“You can read it?” I marvel.

“I speak a little of the Lakelands tongue,” she replies without looking up. “Some people in the north west do as well, like this writer.”

“And?”

“Oh, this is a prize,” she mumbles. “Irene is an Ardent brought by her parents … similar to me, umm, actually not, her touch is like a drug, not … sickening?” Lacey blinks, confused, and sits down. “An asset for the Grand Task … I don’t think it’s grand, it’s murder … but necessary … many healers have died so far … but more – “ She gasps. “Every one of the scattered bases is a new challenge … Irene’s helpful, people do her biding … then I – Oh!” She stops.

“What is it?” I insist, curious to learn, but she stares into nothingness.

“They killed them …”

“I thought so?”

“No, they,” she has to clear her throat. “I am a plague, the writer says. Oh, gracious queen.”

“Can you please explain?”

Lacey frowns at me and sighs loudly. “Imagine all skinhealers died.”

“Hmm.” Their presence is a relief, our Red medics are versed, but expensive. I flex my right hand. Without Sara, it would still hurt and be hardly useful, and Dad would still be in his wheelchair. Yet we dealed with our states –

“The Silvers don’t have medics,” Lacey says finally, weirdly calm. “If someone just coughs or sniffs, a skinhealer is called. You think we’re gods, Gisa Barrow? We’re only humans with weak, cursed blood. Spread an infective disease among Silvers and we die like flies without our magic healers.

"And that’s what happened to the Monfort Silvers. They lived in clusters and fortresses, but Irene and her trainer broke in, as the trainer had the ability to make people ill.”

I flinch as she slams the book shut. “I’ll give this to the general when she comes back. Maybe she reads the Lakelands tongue as well.”

I realize I don’t wholly believe her. She’s completely shaken by this revelation and able to incinerate the book in an instant. Perhaps she’s just like Cal, protective of Silvers. But she’s already left before I can speak up or take the book from her.

There’s an assembly hall at the base, but my family and I go to a smaller room, designed for meetings. “I’ve no idea how things are at home at the moment,” Dad says and shakes his head, excited about getting news.

“They hardly tell us anything here,” Mom adds.

“There aren’t only Nortans here, Ruth.”

“Still, should be better.” Mom is disgruntled, but I’m sure she’s curious too, like all of us. If my brothers and Kilorn know more already, they don’t show it. I cross my arms like Mom, but quickly change my position again, nervous without something to occupy my hands with. I glance at the officer preparing the screen for the broadcast, but he makes no announcement before the screen lights up. The picture is dark at first, apart from a silhouette standing in the spotlight. The camera zooms in and I gasp – the person on the screen, still in a half-darkness, is Mare.

“We’ll rise, red as the dawn,” she calls. Her face brightens slowly, like the only light in a storm. “Citizens of Norta!” she goes on and the picture changes. A stage becomes visible, with several persons on it, Mare in front of them. She steps back and I take a look at her companions, and for a moment, I fall back into the days of her captivity. Because at first, all I see are the metal princess and the fire king with her. I blink, again and again, until my vision clears. Not the fire king who tortured my sister, but Cal. Mare stands on the right side of the group, next to Diana. Cal’s in the middle, then come the metal girl and the Monfort premier, Davidson.

It’s not like then it’s not like then it’s not -

“You know me, Mare Barrow, as the Lightning Girl swaying from one side to another. As I had to fight to survive, I had to tear myself apart, to play roles dictated on me, but I never forgot my dream. To end the suffering of the Reds by Silver hands. Now Maven Calore ended the war with the Lakelands, but only to focus on slaying Reds more directly, actually those rising with the Scarlet Guard and anyone who doesn’t fit his restrictive worldview. Although his actions have torn apart our country, this is a chance for renewal, for Reds, Silvers and Newbloods.”

Her part is over, and the camera shifts to Davidson on the left. “Ladies and gentlemen, the country Ms. Barrow wishes for exists. I am Dane Davidson, the premier of the Republic of Monfort, and a Newblood. We have built a state with democratic values, a government consisting of elected representatives. After years of becoming a new nation, we procured contacts to the Scarlet Guard in Norta and the Lakelands, to support those brave Red men and women in their fight for justice and equality. Despite Maven Calore’s lies and accusations, we have found great allies with the Scarlet Guard who strive for peace between the bloods and races. They are a group which has only ever welcomed Newbloods like me, as well as Silver supporters.”

Diana goes to the front, with a stiff composure and a serious expression where Davidson appeared friendly. Of course, she only smiles for Clara.

“The Scarlet Guard,” she begins, “has seen itself confronted with vicious propaganda, set to undermine any further support and recruitment of the rebellion. We, the Scarlet Guard, could not let that stand, yet I and other commanders decided to prove our intentions and aptitude with actions instead of words which Maven Calore uses only for lies and deceptions. So we fought. We conquered and defended Corvium, freed Ms. Barrow and many more Newbloods from their captivity and forced service by the pretender king, and we reunited the soldiers of the choke with their families. While we’re glad about every person who decides to join our cause, we won’t conscript them like slaves. We want your loyalty given according to your own free will and conviction, or not at all.

"And thus, I’m happy to still find Prince Tiberias at my side, fighting for Reds, for what is right, and now determined to destroy the pretender and tyrant Maven, by taking back his throne as King Tiberias Calore VII!”

What?!

Diana shouted the last line like a herald, to my great shock. A smile shows on her face, but it’s not amused at all, more like flashing a dagger and gone in an instant.

Just when Cal is about to start talking. He doesn’t display the self-confidence of the previous speakers and shifts on his feet before he begins. Yet he finds his stance soon enough, like the royal he was raised as.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my lords, Your Majesties and dear subjects, these are times of change. I have faced these challenges personally, and I will continue to do so, even while seeking unlikely partners. Monfort and the Scarlet Guard have the grace of backing the claim taken from me, as does the royal House Samos of the Rift.

"The Norta I was born in, as were many others, exists no longer. But that should not make you afraid because with your help, I will build a new country which will offer generosity to Reds, esteem to Silvers, and respect for each other. This will happen in peace, as Norta and the Kingdom of the Rift have pledged to support each other, settled by the union of me and Princess Evangeline Samos, my future queen, who will help me along with the Scarlet Guard and Monfort, to create the country of Norta anew.”

Cal outstretches his hand to the metal princess and she takes it like the demure ladies in ancient stories, stepping forward with her “betrothed”. I cannot believe what this is. Mare stands next to the man she loves as he announces a wedding between him and another woman. And Diana? Proclaiming Cal as “king” after making fun of his regal antics behind his back and being impatient to see all crowns fall? None of this seems real or makes sense, yet it must be. I feel lost, confused, I need answers, I want Mare back and –

Princess Evangeline lets go off Cal, it’s her turn to speak. I force myself to concentrate. She waits, enjoying her moment in the spotlight, having the last words. Mare’s told me of her intricate dresses she molds from metals, suspecting it interests me. It does. But the princess’s outfit today isn’t a miracle of fashionable design, or a dress. She’s covered with tight sheets of metals, shaped like the uniforms her companions on the stage are wearing. She looks like a toy soldier made of cast iron, like a frozen mockery.

Yet her face becomes lively, determined and threatening, when she finally speaks. “To create King Tiberias’s visions, grand tasks lie in front of us, and they will not be easy to fulfil. As we will have to ruin and destroy before we can rebuild.”

The screen turns dark, the light in the room is on again. The colonel was wrong, my questions weren’t answered by the broadcast. So feels everyone in the room as their quarreling starts. 

Thanks to @calliopexclio for reading my first ideas <3

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