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azalawa-scroggs · 18 hours

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About Eddie Fender and why he was a dick to Miles

I first started this post in response to something, but it got so long I decided against inflicting it on OP. This is very long and very meandering and the form is kinda weird, as a warning. It's also kinda spoilery for Ace Attorney Investigations 2.

When we first start playing AAI2 and are introduced to "Ace Attorney Eddie Fender," it's true he doesn't come across as very likeable. The first thing he says to Miles is basically "Oh, look! Here comes Manfred von Karma," and the game happens three years after the truth about DL-6 came out. That's incredibly low, very petty, cruel even. He does start off as a dick to Miles, unfair on him until he gradually realises he isn't as bad as he thought, and as he starts warming up to Miles we start warming up to him.

But also... I kind of get it.

Like... Imagine you're 19 years old. Your boss just died in a sudden and shocking murder. You inherit the law firm even though you haven't even passed the bar yet. You're grieving as you keep working hard to become an attorney, now without the guidance you used to have. Maybe you even blame yourself a little - after all, you worked on that case too, you were likely there for the trial, you left both Edgeworths to take that elevator by themselves. Had things played out differently you would have been there, too.

Did you think of your boss's son, in the middle of this whirlwind? Probably a little, but you're a 19 year-old law student. You're nowhere near a suitable place in your life to even think about fostering a kid. Besides, Gregory Edgeworth was your boss. Someone you greatly admired and whose death you will never stop mourning, but still just your boss.

(It's unclear how well Eddie knew Miles. Enough for Miles to recognise him instantly, but certainly not as close as Miles and Phoenix were.)

You take it on yourself to continue the work he left behind, to help the clients Gregory can no longer help. For ten years you try your best to uphold the reputation and the values of his firm and name, and every day you witness a little more how corrupt the system really is.

Then, one day, you start hearing about this young new prosecuting upstart. Passed the bar at 20 and already has the legal world in his pocket. Rumours of forged evidence, backstreet deals, manipulated witnesses. Not only is that just like the whole lot of them, the tactics you became so familiar with over the years - no, it sounds painfully, specifically familiar to that one long, drawn-out case, the last one you worked with Gregory. It turns out the young prodigy is the student and protégé of Mr. Perfection himself, the man who never lost a case in thirty-five years, even though he should have lost against you ten years ago if the world was even a little fair. You would hate the boy for that alone, but on top of that he's also the son of the mentor you lost, the son of the man you both used to admire so very much.

And that hurts. That none of Gregory's legacy lived on in his son. That this sweet, kind boy, who Gregory always used to worry about not making any friends, became a parody of all they used to despise.

Perhaps you even get to see him. You catch a glance of him in the courthouse corridor as he passes you by without so much as a nod to acknowledge you, or you stumble upon a picture in the same paper that struck Phoenix Wright so deeply. You see that damn suit. That damn smirk. That damn waggly finger. His features may have something of Gregory but everything in him screams von Karma. He's spent a decade trying to shape himself into him, and it shows.

Prosecutors are a privileged bunch, and the Edgeworth kid grew up into a downright brat. Entitled. Rude. Arrogant. Obsessed with his fucking perfect record. You hear he goes around cutting the salaries of detectives that make a tenth of what he does and insulting the opposing counsel in court. He became the worst of them all, taught by the worst of them all, he is everything Gregory fought against and everything you hate

Why would you want to associate with that? Why would you ever think he is not perfectly fine where he is, with his cushy office and his cushy sports car and his doubtlessly cushy pay?

A couple years later you hear he's been arrested for murder. Maybe you follow the trial, maybe you only see the headlines after everything, after DL-6 is finally solved. Honestly, that's when you start having a reason to reach out. When, had you been less embittered and jaded by the thanklessness of your job, you might have wondered what it was like for him to grow up in the shadow of his father's murderer. You might have been stricken with compassion and horror at the thought of fifteen years spent in crushing guilt, believing he killed the father he used to love so much. You might have empathised, despite your contempt for von Karma, with how his ward might feel to be so cruelly betrayed, thrice over, by the man who raised him since he was nine, who taught him everything before throwing him away like a piece of used junk.

But you still think of how he was like a son to von Karma, of how he got to spend fifteen years in wealth, following a shiny, easy, corrupt new path while you grieved and desperately tried to keep the pieces of your shared dream together. You think of how uneasy Gregory seemed with the idea of von Karma as a teacher, you think of how eager Miles seemed to follow in his footsteps and how much Gregory would have hated it. You think of the many defendants this boy callously condemned with barely a thought, just like his mentor. Of how he may not have his father's blood on his hands, but with the way he acts you'd think he had his murderer's in his veins. And you really, really don't want to deal with any of that.

You think, somewhat unfairly, that maybe Miles ought to have seen it coming. It's not like it's much of a secret that Manfred von Karma is a piece of shit, and good riddance to him.

Three years later, you actually have to interact with him again. It's been 18 years since you last saw him in his father's shadow, looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky, back when everything was so simple for the three of you. It's been 3 years since the truth about his oh-so-esteemed mentor was uncovered. He still wears the cravat. His brow is still furrowed, his eyes are still piercing.

But slowly, begrudgingly, you talk to him. You start realising he actually has some honour to him. That he's not really the Demon Prosecutor the papers made him out to be, that maybe you misjudged him a little bit, in you grief-stricken, angry bitterness. That maybe he can be trusted, after all, with his father's legacy.

Why would you think he ever needed saving?

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euovennia · 2 years

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the archer | könig

so sorry to keep you all waiting (especially the anon who requested this), i got a bit too invested and this ended up being just over 8k words...whoops. anyway, it's finally here and i'm excited for you all to read it! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3 (also thank you for getting this blog to over 1,000 followers, that's insane!!! thank you so much!!!)

pairing: könig x fem!reader

warnings: angst, könig being a little toxic, brief mention of injuries, discussion about the insufferable behavior of dolphins

summary: the difficult journey of loving a man who doesn't think he's worthy of love (based on this request)

Combat, I’m ready for combat

I say I don’t want that, but what if I do?

‘Cause cruelty wins in the movies

I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

König rises from his makeshift bed on the floor with a sharp gasp as his left hand raises itself from his side to rest upon his heart that seemed to be beating too fast and too slow all at once. His eyes briefly fall onto the sleeping faces of his fellow comrades as he lets out a few shaky breaths in an attempt to calm himself down from the unfortunate dream he’d stirred awake from. After a few moments of half-assed breathing exercises and clenching and unclenching the hand that wasn’t resting upon his chest, he can almost feel his body become lighter as his panic slowly begins to fizzle out into something calmer. Even so, he can’t help but notice the small spike of dread that tugs at his heartstrings when the image of you settles into his mind. The feeling is illogical, that much he knows, but as his gaze drifts over to the door of the master bedroom in the safe house the team was currently occupying, he can’t seem to stop his mind from spiraling. Once ensuring his infamous black hood is properly secured over his face, he quietly rises to his feet before stalking off toward the door of the master bedroom and opening it. He gives the room a quick glance before fully stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. His eyes trail along the rundown walls of the room before eventually landing on your figure that’s sitting on the cushioned seats of the window nook as you peer into the darkness of the night, gun propped up by your side along with a small leather bound journal with the accompanying pen being expertly twirled around your nimble fingers. Not wanting to stare any longer in an effort to avoid coming across as creepy, he begins walking closer in your direction before stopping just a few feet shy of you.

You don’t spare him a glance as you begin to speak, “You’re up late.”

He shrugs, “Bad dream.”

You offer him a small hum before tearing your gaze away from the window and give the open spot beside you a few pats. He eyes you for a few moments before stepping forward and taking a seat beside you, body stiff and face expressionless. Not that you’d be able to tell the difference anyway.

You lean against the wall as you nudge his thigh with your boot causing the muscle to twitch. You pretend not to notice.

“What was your dream about?”

His lips settle into a small frown before responding, “It’s not important.”

He rips his gaze away from you in favor of staring at the floorboards and he misses the way you roll your eyes in exasperation.

“So you just like being in here with me then?”

Yes.

He shakes his head, “No. Just wanted to check on you, make sure you didn’t fall asleep.”

A huff of laughter escapes you, “That was one time–”

He interrupts you, “One time too many, I’m afraid.”

You raise your hands in defense before continuing, “Well…You’ve checked on me and now you know I’m not asleep. You’re free to leave now, König.”

He clenches his fists once more upon hearing his callsign fall from your lips. Surely you know what you do to him, right?

“I’d rather not.”

You quirk a brow up, “Why not?”

He keeps his gaze steady on the ground, “I’m not tired.”

Him not being tired is a perfectly reasonable thing to say. At least, it would’ve been if he hadn't let a massive yawn slip past his lips the moment he told the small fib.

“Not tired, hm?”

He can’t help but feel thankful for the hood that’s currently draped over his head, less opportunity for you to see the blush that dusts across his face as he tries to ignore the way your eyes pierce into him.

Upon receiving no response you sit up straighter, “Is this about your dream?”

The way he seems to close in on himself tells you everything. Your lips pull into a small frown as you fidget with your hands, willing yourself to say something.

“I’m afraid of dolphins,” You blurt out.

Your expression morphs into one of mild embarrassment as his eyes snap over to you, a curious glint shining back at you.

It’s hard to miss the incredulity in his tone as he speaks, “What?”

You firmly plant your hands against your knees as you continue, “Dolphins scare me.”

A small smile tugs at the edge of his lips, “Wait till you hear about sharks.”

“I’m actually not afraid of sharks.”

His eyes widened in surprise, “Really? How’d you manage that?”

You let out a small exhale, “I’ve done a fair bit of research into sharks and dolphins over the years, and I’ve found that dolphins are infinitely more terrifying than sharks.”

He straightens out his back, intrigued as he motions for you to continue with a wave of his hand.

“Dolphins are really horny–”

He can’t hold back the small bout of laughter that falls from his lips, “That’s why you’re scared of them?”

You frantically shake your head as you try to fight back a smile, “No it’s not ‘cause of that, you didn’t let me finish!”

“Well then you better hurry or else I’m gonna think you’re scared of dolphins cause they like sex.”

You ignore the heat that spreads through your cheeks as you continue, “It’s their horniness that makes them scary. Male dolphins have a high sex drive, and sometimes it makes them a bit…aggressive in their approach for sex.”

König nods his head in understanding at your words before you continue speaking, “They’ve been known to murder their own offspring so they can immediately be ready for another pregnancy. Hell, sometimes they’ll even go around murdering other aquatic animals and their babies just for fun!”

König’s eyes widen at your statement, “Really?”

You nod, “Yes! Sometimes they get so bored that they’ll start going around killing other animals just to have some fun. They always make it so brutal too.”

He cringes, “Didn’t think they did all that. I always thought they were cute.”

You scrunch your nose in distaste, “Absolutely not. Besides, I’m not alone in my fear of dolphins. Sharks are actually quite scared of them too. They’ve even been known to check their surroundings to make sure there aren’t any dolphins around before they sleep because dolphins will actually hunt them if food’s been scarce.”

König leans against the wall behind him, “That’s heavy.”

“It is, isn’t it? Dolphins are jerks.”

He nods in agreement, “Dolphins are jerks.”

A comfortable silence pervades the room as you take a few moments to peer out through the window as his mind steadily falls back into the throes of his all too familiar dream. A grimace comes to rest upon his face as his mind begins to wander off from the anti-dolphin rhetoric newly placed in his head by you in favor of staring at his hands, the same hands that have delivered death to dozens of enemy soldiers who were up to no good.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he continues to stare down at his hands, but after a few moments, he can’t help but notice the heaviness that begins to weigh down on his chest.

They were all bad people up to no good…right?

He lets out an exasperated sigh causing you to turn your attention back on the large man beside you.

“What’s on your mind, König?”

He nearly cries in frustration. How could he resist telling you anything when you call his name so sweetly? He plants his hands on his thighs as he keeps his gaze steady on the floor.

“Do you think we’re good people?”

Your brows scrunch together in confusion as your head tilts to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean–”

He lets out a small sigh as he attempts to gather his thoughts together.

“–With the things we do…Our job. Do you think we’re good people?”

The confusion on your face smoothes out.

“I think so. We’re helping the world, aren’t we?”

König breaks his focus from the floor to look up at you.

“Is it really that simple though? Are we really able to write off all the horrible things we’ve done to other people just because we help another group of people? Do we have that authority?”

As his small line of questioning comes to a close, your eyes settle on your rifle that’s pressed up against the wall beside you. You let out a small breath of air as you start to speak.

“Well, when you put it like that, maybe we aren't such good people.”

His gaze falters.

“But I don’t think we’re bad people either.”

The question tumbles from his lips before he can do anything to stop it, “Do you think I’m a good person?”

He watches as your eyes glaze over with something he’s not quite able to distinguish, something soft.

“I think you’re a good person,” You quietly admit before turning the question back on him, “Do you think you’re a good person?”

He fights off the urge to gnaw on his bottom lip.

“I try to be.”

You offer him a gentle smile, “Then that’s all that matters.”

He seems to think about your words for a few moments before giving you a slow nod.

“That’s all that matters,” He affirms.

You reach over and grab onto his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling away and turning your focus back onto the window. He looks down at that same hand, a familiar warmth he found could only be provided by you as he tries to slow the way his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He takes in a few deep breaths before looking back up at you and admiring the way the moonlight seems to caress your features. He presses his lips together in a thin line as he recalls the countless speeches he’d scrawled on random pieces of paper neatly tucked away in his desk drawer at his apartment. With you vigilantly keeping watch beside him, he can’t help but wonder if one day he’ll ever let you read them.

Easy they come, easy they go

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

I never grew up, it’s getting so old

Help me hold onto you

“Please say something,” You practically beg as you stare up at König who seems to have frozen in place.

Despite the overwhelming urge he has to lift the hood up off his face, place his large hands on your cheeks, and pull you toward him in a loving kiss, he finds that he can’t bring himself to do such a thing.

Everything just feels so wrong. The once soft and warm glow from the lights above the two of you fill his very being dread as they seem to cast a daunting shadow over your figure he swears hadn’t previously been there. The bright white walls of the building seem to fade into a dismal shade of grey as his eyes catch onto the multiple cracks and stains that litter them; had the walls always looked this miserable? He can practically feel his skin go up in flames as he becomes all too aware of the clothes he’s wearing. He had dressed himself in some of his most comfortable clothes, so why did they suddenly feel so tight and suffocating as they clung to his body?

And you.

When did your soft and loving eyes turn into two cesspools of unbridled fear and anxiety? Where have your kind eyes gone? Why are you looking at him like that? Is it because he hasn’t said anything since you’d pulled him aside and put all your cards on the table? Is it because you told him you had fallen in love with him and he didn’t even have the decency to utter a single word in response? Do you hate him for it?

With every second that ticks by, he can feel his composure slipping away as he feels your stare melt into him. It’s become far too much to handle far too quickly. He needs to get away. Get away from the walls that he can just feel closing in on him. Get away from the floor that he practically begs to swallow him whole. Get away from the one who haphazardly ripped his carefully crafted walls down and forced him to feel so exposed and turn into such a pitiful disaster.

He needs to get away from you.

And so without even bothering to spare you a glance, he quickly maneuvers around your body and walks away from the conversation in hopes of finding refuge somewhere else. Anywhere but here. Anywhere away from you.

He doesn’t.

I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

The past two weeks had been nothing short of miserable, courtesy of König. Ever since he’d left you stranded in that godforsaken hallway, you’d made it your personal mission to track him down in even the most bizarre places around base. In fact, you can distinctly remember how he’d nearly fallen off the roof of a building he’d climbed on top of after you came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder with no warning. Even after you’d grabbed onto his arm and helped him regain his footing, he merely ripped his arm away from you before climbing back down the building, but not before glaring down at you with his eyes narrowed in a look of contempt. It would’ve hurt more if you hadn’t already become used to it.

Despite his unbothered exterior that only became bothered when you were around, he wasn’t faring any better. If he wasn’t forced into seeing the look of anguish that flooded your irises every time he turned away from you, he was forced to see it in his memory as he recalled the way he selfishly left you to pick up the pieces of the heart he shattered when he made the decision to leave you all alone in that hallway. The same hallway that he now has to practically run through in a feeble attempt to fend off the sinking feeling that festers deep within his very being.

By no means was he proud of the way he was treating you, he despised it. Truth be told, he wanted nothing more than to sweep you up into his arms and guard you with his life but he couldn’t bring himself to do such a thing. No, not with the line of work the two of you had found yourselves in. Not when you were forced to tread the line of death every couple of weeks to fulfill a mission that, ultimately, would be forgotten about in just a few months time, if even that.

He’d seen the strain put on relationships as a result of the job in the form of the various failed romances his fellow soldiers had pursued. Lack of communication, not living up to your partner’s expectations, and the all too common issue of infidelity. While each was unfortunate, there was one thing that he himself could barely wrap his head around; the death of your significant other. He played witness to the way the surviving half of the relationship always seemed to crumble in on themselves as the dreaded news fell onto them far too many times. He knew it was a special kind of pain, one he doubted he’d ever recover from if it was him on the receiving end of such a tumultuous life event. He knew it was silly in a way. How can one be a soldier and not be comfortable with death? He’s not quite sure himself, but he simply chooses to ignore it. The day he feels comfortable with death is the day he officially loses himself.

The thought almost makes him chuckle.

Lose myself, he thinks, Haven’t I done that already?

He lays on his back as he stares up at the ceiling, hood pulled off his head and discarded on the small end table beside his bed. He remains silent as his mind thinks back to the conversation you had with him months ago.

“Do you think I’m a good person?”

“I think you’re a good person…Do you think you’re a good person?”

“I try to be.”

The memory is almost enough to make him start ripping his hair out with his bare hands. You saw him struggling with himself, with his morality, and you, perhaps one of the kindest souls he’s ever come to know, reached out and placated him with your loving gaze and gentle reassurance. You offered him a guiding light of hope in his moment of darkness. And how had he repaid you? By becoming the cold and callous monster he had always thought himself to be? By taking all of his worst fears and projecting them onto you? How can you claim him as a good person when it seems he’s indifferent to the way his recent mean streak affects you so deeply? He can’t help but wonder what you think of him now. Do you resent him for treating you so poorly? Do you wish you could take back your previous judgment of him? The thought of you regretting the words that once brought him great comfort is almost too much to bear, but he knows he can’t blame you if you do.

His bout of self-loathing is broken by the abrupt sound of his door slamming open. He quickly sits up in his bed, eyes wide with alarm and body stiff with anxiety. He can feel his heart begin to beat out of his chest before his eyes land on you standing in his doorway, jaw slack and face painted with nerves. He’s almost tempted to ask why you’re staring at him that way until he feels the slightest breeze brush against his face, his bare face that you’re now gawking at. He tears his eyes away from your frozen figure before landing on the hood sitting on his bedside table, taunting him.

“König…I’m so s–”

The meek sound of your voice pushes him over the edge and before he can stop himself he abruptly stands up from his place on the bed before staring down at you with a fire in his eyes.

“Get. Out,” He practically seethes.

You back up from him by a few inches as you try not to stumble over your next words, “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t–”

Your weak attempt at explaining yourself is cut off by his cruel tone, one you’d quickly realized was specially reserved for those he didn’t trust; enemies.

“What don’t you understand? I don’t want you here, you’re not welcome.”

You try your best to not let his words affect you so much, but what else are you supposed to do when the man you love doesn’t want you?

“König please, no. I just,” You take in a shaky breath as you blink away the small line of tears that well up in your eyes, “I just wanted to talk. To hear your voice. I miss you.”

A part of you expects him to soften up, to look down at you and wrap his arms around you as he whispers an endless stream of apologies in your ear. What he does instead nearly crushes you.

“I don’t care.”

It’s as if the Earth stops spinning on its axis as his words sink in. This time you don’t bother to blink away the tears that blur your vision, you let them cascade down your cheeks. It’s embarrassing. You can’t help but feel like a fool. How could you ever expect someone as wonderful as him to love someone like you? The pain in your chest is too much. You find you can’t bring yourself to spare him another glance as you turn around on your heel and hurry out of his room, one hand firmly placed on your chest as if to stop the hurt that consumes you while your other hand wipes away the tears that are freely falling down your face. You don’t bother stopping when the concern of your fellow teammates falls onto your ears. It hurts too much.

With his eyes locked on the empty space in his doorway you occupied just a few moments ago, he takes a few steps forward and shuts the door before taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He stares numbly at the wooden floorboards pressed against his socked feet before he catches a glimpse of his hood out the corner of his eye. He reaches forward and grabs onto it, mindlessly toying with the edges of the fabric.

He had finally shown you the monster.

Dark side, I search for your dark side

But what if I’m all right, right, right, right here?

And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then hate my reflection for years and years

After the last disastrous encounter you had with König, you quickly decided it was best for you to keep your distance. The days of you actively seeking him out in hopes of smoothing things over were long gone and you instead filled up your newfound free time by busying yourself with various tasks around base all the while, unbeknownst to you, König had his eyes locked onto you. Granted, it’s not something he’s proud of. How could he be after he practically banished you from all aspects of his life? It wasn’t his place. Even so, he couldn’t help the way his eyes subconsciously seemed to seek out your presence in every room he stepped in. A part of him told him it was because he wanted to know which area of the room to avoid, but a bigger part of him knew it was because he missed you.

Hypocritical bastard, he chastises himself, You brought this on yourself.

And despite knowing that to be fact, he still can’t seem to rip his eyes away from you. It’s a habit that brings him both shame and comfort. Shame because it’s a harsh reminder of the one he deprived himself of, but comfort in knowing you were still kind and gracious as ever despite his insensitive behavior. It’s a blessing and a curse for it was the kindness you extended to him with no hesitation that first made his heart flutter. Your good-hearted nature and willingness to put in the time and effort to become his friend is something he holds very near and dear to his heart, it was one of the many reasons he fell so hopelessly in love with you. The way your eyes would sparkle as you’d wait for him to gather his thoughts, not once showing an ounce of annoyance or even a glimmer of impatience as you hung onto every word and syllable that fell from his mouth, he couldn’t help but feel grateful. Grateful that someone was so determined, so willing to become his friend that they’d suffer through the short and sometimes frequent bouts of silence as he tried to verbalize all his thoughts and opinions. It didn’t help that you were so gorgeous.

But now as he sits alone in the corner of the mess hall, tray filled with perhaps some of the most unappetizing food available on the planet, he fears that it was all for nothing. All the energy you’d spent solely on trying to understand him, now worthless as you purposefully avoid his gaze despite the goosebumps that rise along your skin. He tells himself it’s for the better, that eventually, you’d leave him. Whether it be by the unforgiving hands of war or the desire to go out and find someone new, someone better. The thought of you moving on from him like that hurt more than he’d ever care to admit.

But seeing the way you welcome a few other soldiers to your table with your signature grin, he couldn’t fight off the small smile that tugged at the edge of his lips. He watches as you fall into easy conversation with the unfamiliar men and women, each of their faces sporting an effortless smile as you do seemingly everything in your power to make them as comfortable as possible around you. You’ve always been sweet like that.

And despite the way his heart warms seeing you fall back into your natural habits, a small stab of pain makes itself apparent in his chest as he comes to the stark realization that you’re too good for him, too pure. The sudden awareness of this is almost enough to make him sick to his stomach. How can he allow himself to taint such a bright, shining light in favor of lighting up his own dark and lonely path? Truth is, he couldn’t. Not when it was you. If anything, he’d rather you ignore his looming presence for all eternity if it meant you got to remain bright and shiny. He could brave the torrential storm that was his mind on his own, as long as you were safe and happy.

With this in mind, he picks up his half eaten tray of food and dumps it in the trash bins before walking toward the exit of the mess hall. He allows himself one last glance of your smiling face as you animatedly talk about god knows what. He’d hate himself for this later when he’s alone and overthinking in the comfort of his own room, but for now, he lets your bright smile engrave itself into his memory.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is one fire, invisible smoke

And all of my heroes die all alone

Help me hold onto you

It wasn’t uncommon for members of the team to be hand-picked for a mission, especially if the mission presented itself to be relatively simple. So when he heard just over a week ago that you departed base along with a few other soldiers he’d seen around base, he didn’t really give it much thought. Of course there was a small pool of worry that bubbled up in his stomach, but by this point he’d worked with you on the field so much that there wasn’t a shred of doubt in terms of your capability to get the mission completed. Rarely was there ever a time where you came back from a mission with anything more than a couple bumps and bruises, it was standard.

But the moment he walked into the common room only to be met with the somber expressions of his teammates one afternoon, he knew something had gone wrong. He anxiously listened as one of the men occupying the room explained that the mission you and a few others had gone on to retrieve valuable intel about a newly formed terrorist group had actually turned out to be a ruse to get you in their line of fire so they could eliminate you. It felt as if the world had come crashing down so as soon as he was made aware of what hospital you were being treated at, he didn’t hesitate to turn around and make his way over to you as quickly as possible.

As if the pure horror of the situation wasn’t bad enough already, the ache that spread throughout his body was only amplified when he finally arrived at the hospital just to be told you were currently in surgery. As much as he wanted to go to the surgical floor and rip apart every room until he found you, he forced himself to stay in check before resigning himself to a chair that was far too small for him to get comfortable in. He didn’t mind, however, he’d happily sit on a pile of nails if it meant getting the chance to see you once more.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting on the chair in the stuffy waiting room looking desperate and forlorn, all he seemed to be able to focus on at the moment was the nervous twitch of his hands every few minutes. A few of the other members from the team have since joined him in the waiting room, each busying themselves by tapping and swiping away at their phones. He didn’t think to bring his, he was too busy worrying about you.

After what felt like an unreasonably long time, König’s attention broke at the sound of your last name being called out. He quickly shot up without his chair and made his way over to the surgeon who was still clad in their scrubs with a disposable mask hung around their neck.

“Her injuries were rather significant so it was touch and go for a while, but she managed to pull through,” The man announced with a reassuring smile.

König didn’t even have to think about his reply, “So what happens now?”

The doctor glanced down at his watch before responding, “She’s due to wake up in a few minutes. She’s still coming down from the anesthesia so she’ll be a bit out of it, but that shouldn’t last longer than an hour, maybe even a bit less than that. A nurse will come out shortly and she’ll be able to take you to see her.”

He nods, “Thank you.”

The surgeon offers him a small smile before walking away leaving König to bask in his own thoughts. All of the hurt, anger, and dread that made itself at home in the depths of his being seemed to melt away at the prospect of him soon being able to see you, alive and breathing. The pure relief that washed over him was almost enough to forget about his piss poor treatment of you.

He’s startled by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He looks in the direction of where the timid touch had come from and he comes face to face with a woman dressed in dark purple scrubs and a caring smile on her face.

“Are you ready to see her?”

He simply nods.

The walk to your room is quiet as it is short. It makes him feel uneasy. Even in your loopy state, what would your reaction be to seeing him? Would you be happy, or would you rightfully scorn him into oblivion with a sharp glare and words dipped in poison? He couldn’t say, and it shook him to his core.

He offers the polite nurse a small nod of his head before stepping into the harshly lit room, his mind going blank as soon as he lays his eyes on you. His eyes roam over your body. From the bruises that blossom across your soft skin, the cuts that falsely state their claim over your body, the superficial burn markings that run up and down your arms, all the way to the wad of gauze firmly taped to your chest underneath your hospital gown. He can’t help but recall the words of the soldiers who sat patiently beside him in the waiting room.

“Just a couple more inches to the left and the bullet woulda nicked her heart.”

The thought of it makes him cringe. He grabs onto a chair and gingerly pulls it up to your bedside before taking a seat. His eyes slowly rake up your body as he takes in your various injuries before his gaze settles on your face. In spite of the cuts and bruises present, he can’t help but the way his heart all but flutters. He studies the curves of your face, a familiar warmth that only you could bestow upon him spreading to every corner of his body. He brings a careful hand up to the slope of your jaw and he allows his fingers to gently trail along the soft skin before eventually stopping just beneath the delicate skin of your lips. His fingers gently caress the outer corner of your lips before quickly yanking them back when you begin to stir, a soft groan of pain voiced into the air. He watches with great interest as your eyes begin to flutter open before settling onto him.

You stare at him for a moment almost in disbelief before calling out to him, “König?”

His hand quickly finds its place in yours, “I’m here.”

Your hand grips his tighter as your mind remains hazy, “Will you stay?”

The hand that wasn’t latched in yours finds its way back up to your face as he rests it carefully across your cheek, “Just until you fall asleep again, maus.”

You can’t find it in yourself to dissect his words as you offer him a simple smile. A smile that refuses to leave his mind even as he disconnects himself from you once more after you’ve fallen asleep. A smile he’ll hold onto until the end of time.

‘Cause they see right through me

They see right through me

They see right through

Can you see right through me?

They see right through

They see right through me

I see right through me

Despite it only being your second day back on base after spending the previous five days cooped up in your overly sterile hospital room, the team received an urgent mission, a mission that required the assistance of nearly everyone on the team. Word of this mission spread through the team like wildfire before eventually reaching you. While you were a bit disheartened that the friends who had become more like family to you weren’t able to be around for your recovery, you didn’t mind. The job comes first and you were fine with it.

Your commanding officer however, wasn’t. It was bad enough that you were out of commission due to his misjudgement of a mission, but he felt it was even worse to leave you stranded when you needed them most. As a result, he had gone up to König with the special request of having him stay back on base to help take care of you. He didn’t have it in his heart to say no.

So here you were, sitting in an awkward silence with König over some takeout he’d gotten you both for dinner. He had his hood pulled up just enough to reveal his mouth so he could eat. When you caught sight of this, you nearly opened your mouth to suggest he take it off completely, but your voice died in your throat as soon as you remembered what happened the last time you saw him without his black hood. Disheartened by the memory, you pack up the last bit of food and push it away from you. He looks up at you with an inquisitive stare that makes you feel smaller than normal.

You clear your throat, “I’m going to change my bandages.”

He eyes you down for a few moments longer before nodding his head. You can barely hold back a sigh of relief the moment his piercing gaze removes itself from your body and instead focuses itself on his food. Pulling yourself up from your seat, you begin making your way over to the bathroom. Once inside, you close the door behind you before pulling out the bag filled with all of the ointments, gauze, and bandages you’d received from your stay at the hospital. You worked diligently as your hands worked on providing much needed aid to the various wounds scattered around your body. After dropping the roll of gauze too many times to count and contorting your body to reach wounds that were particularly tricky to reach, you felt yourself beam with contentment as you found you were nearly done. There was only one more wound to dress up. Unfortunately, it was on your back. Already knowing that you wouldn’t be able to reach it on your own, you swallowed your pride as you reached for the doorknob and slowly pulled it open.

Praying he was still within hearing range, you called out, “König?”

The silence that spread through the room was thick with unease as you waited for a response in the form of something, anything. Thankfully it came in the form of König’s boots creaking against the wooden flooring of the building before he eventually reached you, his head tilted to the side in a questioning manner.

“I need help changing my bandage,” You sucked in a sharp breath, “It’s on my back, I can’t reach it.”

He eyes you for a few moments longer before nodding and you take a step back as you allow him to push open the door of the bathroom. You face your body toward the mirror and watch in the reflection as his hands seem to twitch the moment he realized he’d have to pull your shirt up.

He swallows, “May I?”

You try to fend off the burning sensation that begins to build in your cheeks, “Please.”

You hear him take in a small, shaky breath before his fingers grab onto the thin fabric of your t-shirt before he lifts it up, just enough to reveal the old bandage currently covering your wound. You feel his fingers on the bare skin of your lower back as he reaches forward and begins to delicately peel off the gauze taped to your back. You try your best to not think about having his hands roam all over your body. It doesn’t work. You can feel your heart rate pick up as he reaches an arm around your waist to grab onto an antiseptic wipe.

You look down at his hand as he holds it out to you, “Can you open it?”

You nod as you raise your hand to take the packet from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other’s, “Sure.”

You make quick work of ripping the packet open with your hands before looking up into the mirror, your heart nearly coming to a full stop as you see him with his gaze already fixated on you.

You can’t stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth, “Do you hate me?”

He reaches forward and grabs the packet from your fingers, his hand resting over yours for a moment longer than necessary before pulling it away from you completely. For a moment you fear he won’t reply, but his response comes in the form of five soft spoken words.

“I could never hate you.”

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men

Couldn’t put me together again

‘Cause all of my enemies started out friends

Help me hold onto you

After two weeks, the team finally arrived back from their mission. It was a joyous occasion being able to see the faces of your little family again, but you had quickly come to notice that the room was short of one member.

König.

It didn’t come to you as a huge surprise. You figured that once the team came back he wouldn’t hesitate to start ignoring you again, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. And as much as you wanted to ignore the situation entirely, you couldn’t help but feel betrayed. König, your once dear and soft-spoken friend, had turned into someone else entirely in the blink of an eye. The quiet, late night conversations you sought each other out for completely meaningless as he proudly voiced out the disgust he had for you. Your knowledge of all his likes and dislikes, the silly inside jokes you shared, as well as his deepest secrets now laid stagnant in your mind never to be utilized again. And for what? Because he couldn’t bear the thought of you anymore? Because he didn’t want to see you? It made you fall into a pit of anger and self-pity all at once and you needed answers. Maybe that’s why you’re standing outside his door at two am, fist balled up as you incessantly knock at his door.

You air out a small sigh of annoyance, “I can see the light from your lamp under the door. Open up.”

Ready to start rapping your knuckles against the wooden door once more, you begin to raise your fist but stop when you can hear some rustling on the other side of the door. You lower your fist to your side and wait with a stoic expression on your face before you can hear the click of the lock being undone. The door slowly opens and you’re soon met with the hooded figure of König. You don’t give him a chance to speak before your hands are firmly placed against his abdomen and you begin to push him back much to his bewilderment. Satisfied with his new placement in the room, you quickly lean back and lock the door before turning to face him with a heated glare with your arms crossed over your chest. Once his surprise has set aside he opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to the punch.

“What did I do wrong?”

He already knows what you’re referring to by those five simple words, but he can’t bring himself to talk about it. He refuses to. Ready to try and disarm you with carefully picked words, he takes a few steps toward you and reaches a timid hand out to you. Unfortunately for him, you swat it away.

“No, you don’t get to touch me. Not when you’ve treated me as badly as you have the past few weeks.”

He feels his heart sink to his stomach, but still decides to try and feign confusion.

“What do you–”

Your groan of frustration is enough to make him stop his sentence midway.

You heave in a sigh as you look up at him, “Don’t do that.”

He stares down at you in confusion.

“That thing you do. The one where you act like you don’t know what the other person’s talking about so you can save yourself from having an uncomfortable conversation. I know that’s what you’re doing and I need you to stop.”

He should’ve known he wouldn’t have been able to slip something as juvenile as that past you.

“Okay,” He concedes, “Okay.”

You release a sigh of relief at his willingness to cooperate, hopefully this would end better than you originally planned.

“Look, I know I disgust you, and that’s fine. I already know there’s–”

König steps forward, “You don’t disgust me.”

You halt all your movements as you look up at him, “What?”

“I said you don’t disgust me.”

You scoff, “What, so you just go around treating all your friends like shit then? Is that it?”

Even with the hood, it doesn’t take much to know that he’s frowning.

“I didn’t–”

You can feel yourself inching closer toward the edge as you point an accusing finger up at him, “Don’t say you didn’t mean it. Don’t you fucking dare.”

He feels the words die out in his throat as the sinking feeling in his stomach worsens.

You resign your hand to rest by your side as you speak, “You know, it’s one thing to feel awkward and leave a conversation because you don’t know what to say, but it’s a whole other thing to leave the conversation and then start treating that person like a pile of shit afterwards.”

He remains quiet so you take that as your cue to continue.

“I knew going into it that telling you how I felt might cause some problems, but I didn’t think you’d hate me for it. For god's sake, König, if you really didn’t feel the same you could’ve just said so. You didn’t have to walk away and stop being my friend,” You let out a shaky breath, “Is it really so bad to be loved by me? Is the idea of it so disgusting that you can’t handle being around me anymore? Is that it? Because if it is, you should’ve let me know a long time ago rather than let me roam around following you like an idiot,” Your hands begin to shake as you avert your gaze away from him, “God I…I wish you just told me you didn’t love me back.”

As the last few words of your overdue rant fall from your lips, he takes a closer look at your face and he finds he almost regrets doing so. The quiver of your lip accompanied by the tears that threaten to spill over breaks his heart. He briefly wonders if this is what you felt like the entire time.

He gulps before taking a few hesitant steps toward your distraught figure. Once close enough, he reaches his arms out and gently places them on your shoulders for a few moments before slowly bringing you closer to his body and wrapping you up in a hug. Throwing all caution to the wind, you merely cling onto him and bury your face in his chest as the tears finally spill over. He holds you tenderly, his hands running up and down the curve of your back in an attempt to soothe you. You remain in his arms for more than a few minutes before eventually pulling back with his arms still wrapped tightly around you. You bring a careful hand up to his head, your fingers ghosting the edge of his hood.

“Your face…I need to see your face,” You all but plead.

Who is he to deny you of him any longer?

He gives you a small nod before bending down a bit allowing you to get a better grip on the black cloth. Slowly, you begin to peel it away from his face and the moment your eyes take him in for all that he is, you’re grateful that he’s holding onto as tight as he is. You don’t even realize as the fabric slips from your hands and falls to the floor, far too enamored by the freckles that dot his pale face and the wisps of hair that frame his face. You slowly reach up and rest a hand on his cheek as your eyes slowly roam across his face, taking in every detail of him.

“You’re gorgeous,” You whisper.

You feel honored to stand witness to the way his face grows hot under your hand as a prominent blush works its way onto his cheeks. He stares down at you, lips pulled into a small frown before he speaks in a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry, maus.”

You can’t help but ask, “Why’d you do it?”

He allows a hand to drop from your waist and move up to yours, his first and middle finger finding its place on your pulse.

“I can’t love you,” He pulls you closer to him, “Just to end up losing you. I don’t think I’d ever recover.”

Your hand slowly falls from his cheek in favor of trailing your fingers along his jaw, “You wouldn’t lose me.”

“I lose everyone eventually.”

Your fingers make their way to the outer line of his lips, “I’m scared of losing you too, König, but the idea of losing you knowing I never got the chance to love you scares me even more.”

His breath hitches, “You deserve better.”

You shake your head, “I deserve you. I want you.”

His body freezes, he can barely think.

You move your fingers away from his lips in favor of wrapping them up in his hair as you speak once more, “I want you to want me.”

He gulps, “I’ve always wanted you.”

“Then show me.”

Upon receiving your reassurance, he surges forward and connects his lips with yours in a sweet kiss.

I’ve been the archer

I’ve been the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

But who could stay?

(I see right through me, I see right through me)