#if Trystan doesn’t pass out after she puts this on he’s not actually looking at her bc go awf MC!

[yourqueenb]

I’m…. Shocked??? Like genuinely sitting here with my mouth open because the description they gave is actually accurate for once and this is stunning 🤯

[chaoswillfallrpg]

CONSTANCE SONG is TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD and an ESCORT at FAIR FARIBAULT’S in KNOCKTURN ALLEY. She looks remarkably like NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO and considers herself  NEUTRAL. She is currently OPEN. 

→ OVERVIEW:

Growing up in an orphanage CARMELLA DIGBY quickly learnt how to use her good looks for her own benefit. The other children and careers at the orphanage would flock to Carmella like a moth to a flame, and Carmella quickly realised how to use it to her advantage. Leaving the orphanage as a beautiful dark-haired young woman it wasn't long until she caught the eyes of FAI SONG, a rich wizard on business from China. Being introduced to the wizarding world was like having all of her dreams come true for Carmella, and living in the lap of luxury with Fai’s family money was nothing to be ignored either. Knowing an excellent opportunity when she saw one Carmella made quick of an engagement and marriage with Fai, the man was so swept up in the romance of it all he thought it was actually his own idea. Giving birth to Constance was the first time Carmella had felt true love and she doted on the girl because of it. Constance grew up wanting for nothing, her parents loved her dearly and gave her all she needed. It didn't however do the same thing it may have done to other children, where others may have become spoiled and expectant Constance remained hard-working and driven to prove herself, whether it be to master the alphabet correctly or to find the perfect hiding place for hide and seek. Constance’s life however was somewhat changed when her father passed away when she was four from a freak splinching accident. 

Now exceedingly rich beyond her belief Carmella decided to try her hand at marrying for love rather than advantage and once again caught a man as quickly as she could think it through her intriguing looks and luring aura. Falling for the sweet eyes and gentle smile of RICHARD DIGBY Carmella quickly married and had another daughter. Loving this child the same way she had loved Constance had a different effect on ELENA DIGBY. She became spoiled with love and demanded the attention of anyone in the room, speaking louder, laughing harder or gesticulating more dramatically than any that would dare to steal the spotlight. Constance allowed this of her sister, stepping back into the shadows and allowed the girl to get the attention she so clearly thrived off knowing full well that she would just have to stand and speak quietly to gain the attention back. That was how it went, there was no denying both girls were beautiful and intriguing, their mothers veela blood could account for that, but there was something more with Constance. The way she carried herself, how the words she spoke were so quiet and soft, yet the meaning behind them was always so truthful it was almost cutting. Constance thrived in an environment where she could pick and choose when, where and how she got attention, if she didn't want her mothers scrutiny she would simply disappear into the shadows with a good book and appear again when she was ready. 

Leaving for school Constance was pleased to leave the self-imposed shadow of her sister but was also well aware that she needed to cultivate relationships with people like Elena in order to continue being able to pick and choose when she wanted to deal with other people and when she didn't. Sorted into Ravenclaw she made friends with girls very much like her MAFALDA HOPKIRK and DAISY HOOKUM. Both studious girls were perfect for library studying sessions, borrowing class notes and chill nights talking and reading in their dorm. Being friends with the pair made Constance step out of her shell a bit, being more vocal she got a reputation for being quite blunt when people annoyed her. Over the years she would constantly ‘speak out of turn’ as others called it and had formed a very strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. One day in third year she was sticking up for a particularly pathetic first year who had been dangled by his ankles in the hallway when another joined in her argument. LAUREL LINWOOD was described as outspoken too, the Gryffindor was unafraid of rustling a few feathers and from that day the girls were inseparable, combing the castle floors for injustices to pick at. Laurel started most of the arguments and Constance finished them with a sharp and detailed final blow that left most opponents stuttering. 

Through Laurel she was introduced to JENNIFER VANE, KEIRA GREY, NATAN DIGGORY, ARTHUR WEASLEY and TRYSTAN WARRINGTON, and others who comprised a gaggle of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that brought a funner side to Constance's group of Ravenclaws. Putting down their books they swapped study sessions and early nights for being out after curfew, late nights in the room of requirement and sneaking into the kitchens to get snacks for the evening ahead. Although Constance still kept her grades up being one of the top students of her year she found a new side of her personality, her new friends brought a more relaxed and open side to her. Becoming increasingly more confident through the help of her friends Constance and Laurel became even more ballsy, the people they picked to make a show of going from random bullies to students like LUCIUS MALFOY. A constant thorn in the pair's sides Lucius spent much of his time at school throwing around his Pure-Blood ideals and the two girls would spendjust as much of their time going around and proving him wrong. Popular to the many but hated by the few Constance and her group of friends got invited to most parties that Hogwarts offered, at least one of their group knowing the hosts well enough to gain an invite for all. A party that stuck in Constance’s memory as life changing was their Graduation night, the last night all her year group would be together Constance had probably a bit too much to drink. Another who had had too much to drink was Mafalda, the pair were giggling and dancing together when all of a sudden Mafalda leaned in to kiss her.

Being the silent and reserved girl she was, it did not allow for much romance. Constance spent the majority of her final years of Hogwarts holding a candle to Trystan, a boy with a hero complex bigger than her own she silently admired him. Never had she admired Mafalda however, but the months after the graduation party Constance came to a realisation. She had grown up so sure of herself, thinking she knew everything there was to know about herself and so the kiss led her to feel confused and vulnerable for the first time. Spending time after Hogwarts figuring it out she met MILA BELINSKY, a beautiful blonde she entangled herself with to come to the realisation that she was bisexual. It would seem that meeting Mila was not only meant to advance her love life but also her work life too. Working as an escort for Fair Farbaults Mila persuaded Constance to join the team. Joining with the same intentions of her mother, to marry first for advantage and then again for love she joined in the hopes of finding a husband. One man using the escort service who is especially susceptible to Constance’s charms is CHARLIE MONTAGUE, a rich Pure-Blood elitist just missing the cut for the twenty-eight, he has enough money to make Constance happy and then some. A fault in her plan comes in the form of SEBASTIEN FONTAINE, a fellow escort who has drawn her attention away from finding a rich husband and to the competition they hold between them. Both silent and still the pair are vying it out for top dog, seeing who can bring in the most money to the establishment. 

Without realising and being distracted by their banter and harsh tones Constance has found an attraction for Sebastien, not that would ever admit it to herself let alone him. Living with her sister in a house in Kensington the girls have gotten closer than they ever were in childhood. Constance has come out of her shell over the years and through her own Hogwarts experience Elena has learnt to share the limelight. Spending many evenings out together Constance has introduced her sister to her friends from work GEORGINE FARIBAULT, CORALINE HEATHER, DAHLIA BLACKWOOD and her son STEFAN BLACKWOOD. A collection of veela’s and vampires they attract a lot of attention from the other patrons in the bars they visit. Not only does Constance love letting loose on these nights she also uses it as a way of getting new clients in, all adding to her hopeful win against Sebastien. Living with Elena she has noticed some strange behaviour, leaving the house at odd times, hushed conversations and having people she shouldn't really know that well come to call on her. Always on the hunt for knowledge her curiosity has gotten the best of her and recently she has found herself spying on her own sister. She has seen her go to a pub in Diagon alley a lot by the name of ‘the fountain of fair fortune’ and heard the words ‘the order’ whispered a lot when her sister is having floo calls behind doors that were not well enough warded. Scared her sister has gotten herself into something that she doesn't know the extent of Constance will not stop until she knows what has taken over Elena. 

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Half-Blood (½ Veela)

Sexuality  → Bisexual

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Ravenclaw)

Family → Elena Digby (half-sister/roommate)

Connections  → Laurel Linwood (best friend), Mafalda Hopkirk (close friend/potential love interest), Daisy Hookum (close friend), Jennifer Vane (close friend), Natan Diggory (close friend), Arthur Weasley (close friend), Trystan Warrington (close friend/object of affection), Aya Fawcett (friend), Keira Grey (friend), Molly Prewett (friend), Mila Bellinsky (colleague/romantic liaison), Charles Montague (client/potential love interest), Sebastien Fontaine (colleague/potential love interest), Georgine Faribault (boss/friend), Dahlia Blackwood (colleague/friend), Coraline Heather (colleague/friend), Stefan Blackwood (friend), Lucius Malfoy (adversary)

Future Information → Future Member of The Order of the Phoenix

CONSTANCE SONG IS A LEVEL 6 WITCH/VEELA

[7deadlycinderellas]

The Ghost of the Red Keep, ch5

Ao3 link

The year that Arya’s five and ten, her handwriting improves dramatically.

Every single time she finds a morsel of knowledge from Ned, she does her best to pass it on to Gendry.

She doesn’t want to go against her father’s order, at least not to the letter, so she finds a way. There’s an empty torch holder near the cellar entrance, and she begins to roll up her letters and place them in it. Gendry is now brave enough that he will venture that far by himself, even at night.

She writes him of what Ned tells her about Mya, and the time she manages to speak a few words to her in the stables, even though it’s just asking help adjusting the straps on her bridle.

“I think her and I would have gotten along,” Arya writes, “But she barely speaks to anyone, and Father comments that she looks thin.”

She writes of the others, as she manages to learn of them.

The little girl’s name is Barra, she would have been born less than a year before the Starks had come to King’s Landing. Her mother had been a whore, but a young one. One who jumped at the opportunity for a different line of work.

There’s two more, Ned admits. Twin boys named Stan and Leo, about Rickon’s age. Their mother worked in the pig yard, and so do they.

Halfway through the year, Renly Baratheon comes to court. He brings with him a boy about Sansa’s age, named Edric, who most whisper must be Renly’s attempt at finding an heir since he seems so unwilling to marry. Arya takes one look at him and knows what he is. Cersei keeps both his and Renly’s gaze with a steeled determination, and the two of them do not waver. They must know too.

One day, when they’re alone, Arya asks Ned why Edric could be out in front of people when none of the others were.

“Best I can tell, his mother was likely a highborn. He has the Florent ears...his lineage probably forced Robert to treat him differently than his other bastards. “

To actually acknowledge him, Arya thinks. Ned pauses before admitting the next part.

“He’s probably the one in most danger from Cersei, being paraded out in front of her like this.”

She relays all of this in the letters she writes to Gendry, letters that grow longer than any of the lessons she had even written for the Septa.

Arya manages to lure him out into the Godswoods six more times that year, on the nights of full moons.

“It’s so strange,” he tells her one of these nights. They’re lazed out, underneath an oak, that overlooks the water.

“Ever since my mum died, it’s always been just me. I’ve never had a family, now I’ve got at least five half-siblings I’ve never even met.”

Arya can’t imagine that. Her siblings as much a part of her as her hands and feet. The other Starks are as vital to her identity as her gray eyes.

“There might even be more,” Arya confides, “Father said when they were young Robert couldn’t seem to pass a tavern or a brothel without indulging.”

Her voice goes quiet, hard.

“He said that based on your age, Robert must have gotten you on your mum during the Rebellion. When he was fighting to get my aunt Lyanna back. Yet still, he claimed he loved her.”

She feels like Sansa saying that, but Gendry’s snort tells her that he agrees with her. Arya shifts the conversation.

“Everyone says I remind them of her, but they also say she was beautiful.”

“Why’s that so strange?”

Arya looks at him, amused.

“Back at Winterfell, they used to call me ‘Arya Horseface’, I know I’m no prize.”

Gendry playfully swats the side of her face with his hand, it’s closer to a half slap than a caress, and it makes her giggle.

“You’re not ugly. Maybe your face won’t start a war, but you’re not ugly.”

Arya opens her mouth, and he shushes her with a finger.

“Hey now, you won’t let me get down on myself about being a bastard, so you don’t get to get down on yourself for being ugly.”

Arya understands, but she’ll never tell him that. He can’t help his birth any more than she can help her face.

He doesn’t say much after that, but Arya still feels her skin burn from the proximity. She hasn’t had the courage to steal another kiss yet.

It’s such a strange turn of phrase, to steal a kiss. But that’s how it felt, that’s how all of this felt, though Arya’s not sure who she’s stolen it from. The moon is huge in the sky, there’s only the slightest chill to the air, and before Arya stands to leave, she can’t help herself.

Their first kiss had been soft, and quick. This time, Arya takes time to memorize things. That Gendry’s lips are surprisingly soft, even if chapped. The little breath she feels hitch in his throat when she tugs his bottom lip  between hers. They’re still unpracticed, but she doesn’t bump his nose this time.

Gendry looks surprised all over again when she pulls back, musses his hair, smiles, and turns to take off. Arya doesn’t quite understand, so many men she’s met seem to think they deserve every little thing that comes their way.

“I’ll see you next turn of the moon,” she promises him.

She practically skips back to the tower of the hand.

The third time it happens, he wraps his arms around her shoulders and squeezes tight. The fourth time, she can’t sleep after, she tosses and turns, drifting in and out of soft, warm dreams she only half remembers, waking at one point with her hand between her legs and the whole world seeming to explode.

(Arya would freely admit that just by the fact that she is counting kisses makes her sound just as stupid as she often accused Sansa of being, but it’s not like it’s the only thing going on in her life).

Edric has begun to join Arya and Myrcella on their rides on occasion. Myrcella turns overly chatty with him, Arya notes. She tries not to feel pushed out by his presence, even though she never really felt her and the princess were the best of friends.

Myrcella is rather chatty, but Edric is tight lipped. The story they’d been fed is that he is Lord Renly’s ward, the child of a minor house in the Stormlands, come to court to learn.

“He thinks perhaps I could become a castle’s steward, or even a master-at-arms someday,” he tells them. Myrcella nods her head, but Arya feels like she knows better. While both positions he named are common ones for second and third sons of lesser houses, Edric doesn’t even tell him which house he is from.

While him and Myrcella are talking, Arya looks him over. He’s a little older than her, and he holds his head high, like a highborn. She does notice his ears. He has the black hair and blue eyes she had come to seek out, but he looks thin, and wane, and that’s not a common look on a noble child at all.

At one point during the ride, his horse stills, and he shakes his head, before commenting,

“Sorry about that, I think the cherry tart I had for breakfast didn’t agree with me.”

And he’s so unendingly polite about everything that Arya doesn’t even know how to goad him into admitting to anything. The talk afterward shifts, to Myrcella’s betrothal to a prince in Dorne. Edric’s never been, but Myrcella asks him about Storm’s End, trying to get a grasp of how other castles are different from her home in the capital.

She asks Sansa if she’s noticed anything about him. Sansa shrugs, and looks Arya up and down, opens her mouth as though she wants to say something and doesn’t.

Arya knows she must be holding herself differently or something, because Sansa has started to give her those looks whenever she writes her letters. One day she finally asks her who she’s writing to.

They’re in the garden with Princess Myrcella having tea, so Arya hides her scowl and just says, “to a friend.”

That answer makes Sansa frown even harder.

“You have friends who aren’t here?”

Myrcella wriggles her eyebrows.

“Maybe it’s a secret friend. That can be fun. I wrote letters to Trystane for moons before mother allowed us to say we were betrothed.”

Sansa raises her nose,

“I didn’t know Arya had any friends, secret or otherwise, who could read.”

Arya knows she’s being put on then. Sansa hasn’t been needlessly cruel to her in ages. She knows she’s probably just wound up, on edge, what with having to behave in front of Joffrey and Cersei so often.

A smile quirks on Arya’s face. Sansa might like Edric, what with his more refined ways. Maybe she should try to push the two of them together. They would have to run away. It would bring shame to the Starks and Sansa would never be able to show her face in court again, but at least she wouldn’t have to marry Joffrey.

It’s not until nearly two moons later that she thinks anything else of Edric’s comment about breakfast.

Wandering the Red Keep in the early mornings is different than at night. Arya has to dress properly before she goes about, and nod and acknowledge people, but with practice, she can move about the keep in the glow of the early sunrise nearly as easily as she does at night.

It started because lessons are getting to her even more than before. Sansa’s betrothal to Joffrey has been formally announced, and once she turns eighteen, there will be a tourney and a ball to celebrate before the actual ceremony. And with that set in stone, Catelyn and the Septa have become murmuring about finding a betrothal for Arya, and it turns her stomach.

She’d always known it was coming, she wasn’t stupid. She thought she would fight it tooth and nail, but now all she feels she can do is hide. She feels like a mouse within the castle walls.

It’s in one of these early mornings that she notices one of the gold cloaks. She doesn’t know which one, she’s not sure she knows the names of any of them. She never bothered, they were loyal to Joffrey and Cersei and would never have given her the time of day.

This one’s carrying a tray though, a tray loaded with tarts and a wood bowl of pottage and going towards the pig yard. His head is held high, and Arya puts all of her strength into being as Syrio taught her; catlike and silent. The goldcloak doesn’t even notice.

He leaves the tray on a barrel beside the ladder where one could climb up into a hayloft. Arya remembers climbing into the one in Winterfell. In spring and summer it was clean and dry, and a fine place to sleep. A fine place for two children to sleep.

Arya tails the goldclock three more times on three different mornings. One morning to the stables, once doubling back towards the kitchen. She tells Ned then.

The next moon that she manages to meet with Gendry in the Godswood, she tells him too.

“I think...it’s awful, but I think Cersei kind of forgot about you. You said someone used to bring you food and then stopped, well the others still get food brought to them, at least in the mornings.”

“There are far worse things than being forgotten then,” Gendry replies. They’re laying flat on their backs, staring up at the sky. The stars are very bright tonight.

“She’s keeping all of them fed,” Arya wonders, “But I still can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe she wants to use us to taunt the king,” Gendry offers up, “Use us to remind him of his infidelity to her.”

Arya rolls over on one side to look at him.

“That might make sense,” she thinks, running a finger along the side of his face. He has stubble, and she wonders where he finds him to cut it. “But no one seems to think anything of Robert’s carousing at all, and Robert doesn’t seem to think anything of what Cersei thinks at all.”

Gendry breathes deeply, his eyes drifting close under the touch of her fingers. He still takes so long to let himself go, to allow himself to feel.

“That’s horrible. Why even have a queen?”

Arya huffs,

“According to my Septa, Cersei’s already done her royal duty by giving Robert sons. Anything else she does doesn’t matter apparently.”

She furrows her brow for a moment in thought, but pushes it away because  Gendry reaches out to touch her shoulder, so she’s obligated to lean over and kiss him.

(The last time they’d met here, she’d lost count. The memory of his lips featherlight along her brow, her cheeks and her ears makes her burn bright)

There’s something different about kissing like this, on their sides, face to face. It sends Arya’s mind in directions she’s previously insisted were long and far off.

When she reaches up to run her fingers through his hair, he stiffens. She pulls back to look at him.

“Something wrong?”

Gendry’s eyes are still half closed, but he keeps stiff.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.”

Arya sighs deeply.

“You seemed to be enjoying it a moment ago.”

“You’re not for me,” he tells her somewhat roughly, “So we shouldn’t pretend.”

Arya doesn’t have to ask him to elaborate. She knows there’s no end to this that is happy. Even if her mother wouldn’t throw a baseborn blacksmith out on his rear (bastard of a king regardless). Even if her father didn’t see it as a violation of the goodwill he’d done for Gendry and his siblings.

She reaches out and runs her hand down the front of his chest.

“Does being here like this make you sad?”

Gendry’s eyes fly open.

“Seven hells, Arya, no.”

She frowns.

“What I said before, about everyone saying the queen’s only duty was to give the King sons? That’s my future. I’ll be betrothed to some highborn man, maybe I’ll know him, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll like him, maybe I won’t.”

She pauses, thinking of most of the men she’s seen at court.

“Probably I won’t. It won’t matter either way, everyone will say doing it is all that I’m good for, that it’s what I’m supposed to do. Maybe he won’t let me ride my horse, or wear breeches, or play swords. Maybe I won’t ever see you again.”

The breath in her throat hitches at the thought. She lets her hand still.

“If doing this makes you sad, we can stop. But if not...can’t you stop being such a stupid bull about everything and just let us enjoy it? Even if it can’t be forever?”

Gendry doesn’t say anything, but he throws one arm around her back and pulls her to him again, so she guesses he thought her proposition was okay.

Walking away that night, Arya’s not sure what she’ll do when it has to stop.

Arya’s sixteenth name day comes and goes, and three moons later, so does Sansa’s eighteenth.

And with Sansa’s eighteenth name day, preparations for the royal wedding begin. There will be a tourney covering seven days, followed by a feast and ball, in the days before the ceremony proper will begin.

The crown prince is marrying after all, it’s a great occasion.

Every time Arya’s forced to catch a glimpse of Joffrey, instead of just the usual revulsion she feels upon looking at his face, she feels something else she can’t quite put her finger on.

Bran’s preparing to ride in the tourney. He knows he’s not likely to win anything, but hopes he can attract the eye of some of the other knights and maybe secure himself an official squireship.

Arya helps him when she’s allowed, though she tries not to be jealous. She doubts she could even lift the lance herself. Bran’s grown tall and lean, and he looks a little ridiculous in his armor.

At least he agrees.

“I feel like a stiff breeze could knock me over from up here,” he admits to Arya when she’s helping him dismount.

“Is Mother still giving you all seven hells about wanting to ride?” she asks.

Bran nods.

“She finally realized I could have a worse hobby than climbing. Getting hit with the lance is no joke.”

Arya’s about to open her mouth and ask if she could climb up onto his horse and at least see how the lance feels in her hands, when a servant approaches.

“Lady Arya,” he says, “Your father has requested your presence in his solar.”

Arya’s so confused she doesn’t even object to not getting to ride.

When she enters Ned’s solar, his face is dead serious.

“Bolt the door behind you,” he tells Arya, and she does so.

Arya barely has time to ask,

“Father what-”

Before Ned cuts her off. He puts both his hands on her shoulders and squeezes tightly, like he’s trying to hold her in place.

“Arya, what I’m about to tell you cannot leave this room. Pieces have already started to fall, and…”

His sentence trails off. Arya sits at the table, back ramrod straight, at attention. Ned sits at one of the other chairs, his head in his hands.

“When you realized who Gendry and the others were...what made you think that?”

Arya blinks. She’s not sure what she expected, but this wasn’t it.

“They all look like him, the black hair and blue eyes. You couldn’t look at them and then look at King Robert and not know they were his-”

Arya cuts herself off, with a gasp of realization. She claps her hands to her mouth. Black hair, blue eyes, the lot of them. Joffrey, Tommen, Myrcella. Not a one of them with either. Not a one of them looking a bit like the king.

Ned fixes her eyes with his own.

“You understand the reason that this can’t leave the room?”

Arya’s horrified.

“King Robert...he could execute her for this couldn’t he?”

Ned’s eyes are empty. How awful must it be to think of your oldest friend like this.

“I think Cersei knows it. Stan and Leo, the two bastard boys who lived over the pigyard...they both died yesterday. No cause of death announced, but both boys were healthy when I saw them last.”

Arya’s fingernails press little half-moons into her face, she’s covering her mouth so tightly. Two of his bastards dead, possibly killed, just when there’s the threat of the king discovering her treachery, it’s too much of a coincidence…

Her thoughts are interrupted by a harsh knock on the door.

“Can it wait?” Ned calls out.

There’s another, more frantic knock.

“Lord Stark,” the voice on the other side of the door calls out, and with a lurch in her stomach, Arya recognizes it as Jory.

“Lord Stark,” the voice continues, “There’s been an accident on the training yard, you need to come, it’s Bran.”

Arya’s horror turns to sheer unadulterated terror as she jumps from her chair, well out in front of Ned, to run and see what’s happened.

Arya’s six and ten, and has a feeling her world is on the brink of shattering.

[lavendernight67]

Legends Never Die - Chapter Seven

A/N: Graphic content warning! Descriptive character death. I'm just letting you know ahead of time. Also, there will be swearing. Well, light swearing anyway.

Also, the Ghost joke told by Zanthyr is not mine. It was told to me by a friend of mine I play Destiny with (the one I based Altaira Rediston off of. She hasn't appeared in this fic, but is in "Tales of Boob Squad".

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

Kalara and Zanthyr sat in the recreation-level lounge for a while, talking over drinks at the bar. Zanthyr was suprisingly shy, especially for a Titan-class. But he had been placed with a good team.

Saniya just loved flowers, and part of her apartment had been set up for all her potted plants she was constantly bringing back from this planet and that. She even had a venusian thornflower. A tallish red-tipped plant with thorns. Apparently it would produce a flower, but only in certain conditions. She would always say "I need another momento for my collection."

Trystan loved to explore and was almost allways away from the tower. He was constantly bringing back rocks, or colorful stones. Or bits of enemy armor.

Zanthyr shuddered at that last one but then shrugged and asked "so, what do you like to do for fun?"

She shrugged and looked down at the counter "I read. I spend a lot of time in the library."

Inside her head she added "hang out in Jaren's old workshop", but she didn't say it aloud.

"Hey, guess what, I have a joke for you." Zanthyr straightened "How many fixtures does it take to replace a light bulb?"

Kalara snickered and answered please don't tell me that a light fixture is a kind of fixture."

Zanthyr laughed out loud "No, but that's a good answer."

Kalara propped her chin on her hand "Okay, how many?"

"None, their arms are too short." he snickered. Kalara rolled her eyes and chuckled anyway.

"hey, here's a good one."

"Oh no." Kalara thought "

"Why couldn't the ghost play on the see-saw with his friends."

Kalara raised a single eyebrow.

"Because he was a little light."

Kalara laughed out loud.

Zanthyr's comm dinged." Oh," he listened a minute, then stood. "I gotta go. I have a mission briefing. Hey, you want to come along? Trystan said he was headed out exploring."

She hesitated, but he added "If he's not there we'd need another person." He held out a hand.

"Okay." she sighed, letting him pull her out of her seat. They headed for the elevator, and Kalara hoped she wouldn't screw this one up, too.

They met with Saniya halfway across the courtyard. She nodded, they nodded back. As they headed down the steps, Zanthyr asked "So Trystan's allready left again?"

"No, he's just doing checks on his ship. Had to get it worked on after last week's trip."

"Oh."

They passed the crucible stands and Kalara wondered if maybe she should have trained in the crucible before going out again. She shook that thought out of her head "Too late now." she thought.

Ikora gave her a curious look as they passed "Kalara, back so soon?"

The gaurdian winced a little "they kicked me off the team."

Zavala looked at Zanthyr then at her. "Then we will find another one for you. Until then, you can go."

Zanthyr stepped forward "Actually, sir..." he paused "She's with us. I mean, we were gonna, we'd like to have her with us, if that's okay with you"

Saniya stepped in with "Our hunter class just left on patrols again, so we need a third person."

Zavala looked at Kalara. "No."

Zanthyr scoffed a little "Aww, why not? I mean, she doesn't have a team, and we need a team member. I mean..." he let the end of that hang, and gave Kalara a glance.

"It is an unbalanced team. You have two Warlocks and a Titan. You need a Hunter for your third. I don't have time to stand here and debate-"

A scream from the courtyard cut off the commander.

Kalara whirled "What the hell!?" she gave Zanthyr a startled look and ran. Another panicked-sounding shout, this time male, had Zanthyr and Saniya right behind her. They reached the top of the steps and nearly ran into Kalara, who had frozen in place.

In the transmat zone at the very front of the tower, a female gaurdian was kneeling, her teammate laying halfway on her lap. He was choking and gasping for breath. A deep gash across his neck was bleeding, and his teammate had her hand pressed over the wound. She looked around frantically. "Somebody, please, help him!"

Zanthyr suddenly reaised what he was choking on.

His own blood.

Another set had made it halfway to the vaults before collapsing. The Hunter had been trying to carry his Titan companion, their Warlock and himself sagging under the weight. One leg was missing, and the Titan had one hand across his lacerated midsection, trying to keep his insides where they were supposed to be. His chest armor was hanging from a single clasp. His chest had been blackened. The Hunter had his own hand on his side, trying to keep his own wound from bleeding.

Another screech and another Gaurdian stumbled forward with is helmet shattered, part of his face blown away.

A male voice calling for a medic.

More and more of them teleporting in, either dying or allready dead.

Those in the courtyard that were healthy tried to help the injured, others ran back and forth in confusion and panic.

Another stumbled past arm hanging by nothing but flesh and skin.

Kalara squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, trying to block it out. She started to sway, but Zanthyr caught her.

So much crying and screaming. It was chaos.

It was everywhere. Overwhelming.

Until a voice sounded behind her. The commotion had drawn out the Vangaurd leaders themselves. Zavala was right behind her, coming up the steps as he asked "What in the name of the light is going.." he stopped mid-sentence as the trio reached the top of the steps. Kalara let her hands drop to her sides.

Ikora near-whisped "by the light of the Traveler."

Kalara didn't turn around to ask "Just how many people did you send to that place?" Zavala's Gaze gaze flitted back and forth before going back to her. "Zanthyr's team was to be the first."

"Us!?" Zanthyr exclaimed. The commander nodded. Ikora added "We were about to explain when this..." she shook her head. there were no words for it. "Happened."

The noise was quickly starting to diminish, civilians were appearing from all over the tower to try to help. The three gaurdians turned to face their leaders. Behind them, the noise had dropped into a quiet murmur, combined with talking and sobbing. Everything happened so fast.

Zavala was the first to hurry back down the steps. "We have to act. Now."

"But,"Ikora argued "Can we really send them in unprepared."

"No, they don't have to be."

They reached the table and the commander handed Zanthyr a datapad. "Here. This is everything we know about the hive superweapon and what it can do."

Zanthyr blinked "what superweapon? did it do all this?"

Kalara quietly answered. "Yes." She looked at Ikora, who nodded. She took a deep breath.

"It is how I lost my team." she looked at her two teammates. "I know what it can do, and I know where to find it."

Zanthyr skimmed over the data, then nearly dropped it. "Trystan!" he tucked it under one arm and hit his comm "Tristan! are you still in the tower?"

"Actually, I'm in orbit right now, what's up?"

"You HAVE to get back here. Now!"

"Why? what's wrong?" concern crept into his voice.

"It's... you can't... just get back here. We're in the Hall of Gaurdians. Get here NOW."

"Okay, okay, just keep your armor on, alright?"

The comm clicked off and Zanthyr set the datapad on the table, leaned on the table with both arms. "I can't believe I almost let him go out into warp."

Kalara nodded "But the question is, if the weapon is in one place, why were so many Gaurdians attacked with it?"

Ikora answered "Good question."

Cayde put in "Maybe they just don't stay in one place very long."

Zavala sounded with "or they have constructed more than one. We need you to bring back that weapon so we can develop a defense against it."

Zanthyr nodded.

Trystan walked in, his face as pale as a ghost. "The... people..." he pointed vaguely.

Zanthyr shifted his weight nervously. "Yeah, I know."

Kalara took the datapad Zanthyr handed her. "We saw it happening."

Trystan looked at Kalara, Zanthyr said "You need to tell us everything."

Kalara nodded. "We were sent after some stealth tech hidden in the old cosmodrome. We got up to the top and there was this... fog. Fog so dark it made us all feel tired, drained. Then the hive wizard appeared." She swallowed and closed her eyes for a second before continuing.

"Gavin and Jarin were across the room from me, I was still at the entryway. They tried to fall back to where I was, but their ghosts were too slow. The wizard fired some kind of ray at us. like purple lightning wrapped in dark energy. Only, it was aimed at Gavin and Jaren's ghosts, not us." she looked at the floor, trying not to remember too much.

"They- the ghosts shuddered, then fell to the floor. This huge thing, my HUD called it the Echo of Oryx, whoever that is, appeared out of the fog like it was part of it, just solidified floating in the air. When it came down..." she shoved away the mental image of her team. "it crushed both their ghosts.

It swung at us and knocked us all backwards. My ghost was behind me, it must have gotten knocked into a wall, because I remember hearing it fall down into the ship below.

She paused, trying to form her next words. "When I came to..." Zanthyr put a hand on her shoulder. "My Ghost had ressurected me, but they were... She nodded. "Well, you know the rest."

Zanthyr nodded

Trystan breathed "wow."

Kalara shook her head "I was forbade to tell anyone, because the leaders feared it would cause panic." There was no judgement in her tone. She took a breath, and Zanthyr looked at his team. "Well, what do you say we give it a try, guys?"

A couple of reluctant nods, then Kalara added darkly "Let's go kill Oryx." she looked at Zanthyr.

"Or at least it's echo."

She looked to Ikora, who nodded. "Best of luck to you, Gaurdians."

They walked out, and Kalara stopped "Hang on guys, I have to go get something from my apartment."

Trystan asked "is it a bazooka?"

"No. But it is something I need. I'll be right back."

Down the elevator she went, strode into Jaren's workshop, and summoned her ghost. Before it could ask what she needed, she had grabbed it and set in on the workbench.

"Stay there. Do. Not. Move."

It made a noise. "I don't think this is wise at all. A ghost can only ressurect one gaurdian at a time."

"I know." came the reply. Kalara was typing at a furious rate. she glanced at it and added "That's why I'm augmenting your software. Apparently Jaren was working on something along the same lines. I don't know why he would do something like that, maybe he wanted to be sure the rest of us stayed safe no matter what." she noted. A small smile crossed her face when she considered it.

she hit the enter key and a beam shot out of a small matter-programmer next to the console. A microchip. She reached for the ghost, who exclaimed "Wait! you only have partial data, how will I tell you apart!?"

"shush. Don't be so negative."

"Please, don't do this!"

The doors to the lift opened, and Kalara walked into the courtyard. Zanthyr and team were waiting for her. She walked past them, they fell into step with her.

"Let's do this."

Zanthyr summoned his ghost and they teleported away.

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End Notes:

I'm sorry, I'm still no good at writing the Vangaurd, that's why I kind of had them saying so little. The last thing I want is to miswrite anyone. And I have no idea how they would react to something that large-scale. Please don't yell too much, but if you want to review, please feel free to. I enjoy reading them.