#if you have flight rising and want to see my painful journey to make a fanlair my id is the same as tumblr

[heonicube]

qsmp fandragons make brain go brrrr

[platosshadowpuppet]

Blood, pain and fear. Three things that call to the Wild Hunt and I've delivered them in spades tonight.

This close to Samhein, on the eve of a full moon, anyone with a drop of the cunning in their blood should do all they can to avoid the Hunt's attention.

What they shouldn't be doing is chasing their quarry through Edinburgh's dark streets, leaving a blood trail that a blind man could follow. But here we are.

He'd opened the gap between us and now all I could see of him was is the occasional flap of his ridiculous black coat. Who knew necromancers were so fast? I'd always thought of them as pale, indoorsy types, not much given to cardio. Yet this one was leaving me in the dust.

Wasting some of my breath on cursing I wrestled a glass vial from my jacket, wrenched out the cork with my teeth and downed the contents. It burned on the way down. I swore again and spat, deer's blood and hensbane lingering unpleasantly on my pallet.

A few seconds later and the mixture took effect. The foul taste was instantly forgotten as a burning rush of energy suffused my limbs. All caution was forgotten and I lost myself in the chase, whooping and screaming as my newfound speed let me close the gap once more. Overhead the sounds of drums and hunting horns grew closer.

As we turned onto a rare straight section of street, the necromancer made the mistake of looking back at me. I knew from experience that I'd be a startling sight; the draft I'd taken would have turned my skin a chalky white, widened my eyes and set my mouth in a rictus grin. The loaded crossbow I was carrying probably didn't help either.

I certainly made an impact on him; he yelped and tried to put on a burst of speed. An error, as it turned out. He glanced off the corner of a parked car, collided more solidly with a lamppost, and disappeared abruptly into one of the city's many steeply stepped Closes.

Reaching the top of the stairs I skidded to a halt, heaving down desperate lungfuls of air and shaking uncontrollably. The Close was unlit and the tall buildings on either side blocked out any ambient light. Even over the noise of my own laboured breath, though, I could hear the unpleasantly wet sounding noise of repeated impacts. The sort of noise a necromancer might make, say, if he'd just fallen down a flight of stone stairs.

Opting for the slower method of descent, I followed.

He had almost managed to regain his feet when I found him. Impressive really, given the multiple shards of bone I could see protruding from his legs and arms.

I pulled the crossbow's stock back against my shoulder and flicked off the safety. My arms were still shaking - potentially disastrous, as I only had the one quarrel. With a head of deer antler and a shaft of mistletoe, it was something of a custom job.

Brought to bay against the steel shutters of a kebab shop, my quarry made his last stand.

"Go ahead, shoot! You know what will happen. Death is but the next step; it holds no fear for me now".

Bold words, undercut slightly by the nasal whine of a broken nose. In truth, he did look closer to a corpse than a man. His skin was as pallid as mine, his face gaunt and hollow, and his ragged coat liberally daubed with blood.

I gave him a grin that I had on good authority was insufferable.

"Oh, no fear aye? What about if I wrap you in iron chains and toss you in the Forth?" His dark eyes widened as he contemplated an eternity in the company of fish and errant turds.

"Ah... well maybe we can reach an accord. There are many things I've learnt on my journey, I'm sure there is something that you want? Someone who has passed you would speak with?"

I could see his hands furtively shaping sigils in the shadows by his sides, smell the iron stink of dark magic rising. But this was all part of the plan. I took a faltering step back and let the crossbow drop.

"You... you could do that? Let me speak to someone I've lost?" I let my voice tremble a little and fill with hope. Really, sometimes I impress even myself.

A look of triumph filled his face and he managed to drag himself a little more upright.

"Yes, of course. Anything you want. It doesn't have to be this way, you've been told so many lies about us, about our magics. Give me a name, I can help you, only I can help you".

The spell he was weaving was reaching its climax. His features had begun to shift and warp sickeningly and a dangerous amount of blood was pooling at his feet. He was close to the crossing point.

So confident was he in his own persuasiveness, that he continued to whisper empty promises even as his voice grew distorted and silibant.

"I can bring them back, all of them, I can bring them back to you, you jussssst need to let me, let me help you..."

Incredibly, he was walking. Taking jarring steps forwards on legs with too many joints. Reaching out hands with fingers that were crooked and broken.

This was part of the plan, I told myself. Even so I couldn't help but walk back, away from the ruined man. Until the heel of my boot found the empty space of them next flight of stairs.

Horns and drums and the sound of horses filled my ears, coming from every direction. My heart thumped along with them. This was it, this was what I'd planned. But when I'd devised the idea I was to be the hunter, not the cowering prey.

Still he came.

"...no more pain, no more worry, you can be with me, be mine and sssssafe from death. Free from choicesss..."

Free from choices? A good line, that one. I'd looked for that myself though, in bottles and bad relationships. I knew a false promise when I saw one.

Taking one sweating hand from the bow I plunged it into a jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of salt. With a cry I hurled it into his face. Where it touched skin it burnt with a blue flame. With a cry of his own, the necromancer fell back. I advanced.

Sensing a chase was nearing its conclusion, the Wild Hunt swirled and stamped above us.

The man's ruined face could no longer form words, but hissed defiance at me none the less.

I was too tired and breathless for a witty last line. I shot him just below the heart.

For a moment the fear of death was clear on his face once more. But as the seconds passed, and death didn't come, it was replaced by horrible glee. The necromancer gathered himself to leap at me, jaws spread inhumanly wide.

A blurred shape, the impression of speed, a strong smell of horse. The Close was empty, except for me and a rapidly congealing pool of blood.

I tottered back to the piss smelling wall and let myself slowly sink down. Above the horns and drums were growing faint again and the first touches of dawn were visible in the thin sliver of sky.

I carefully placed my crossbow down next to me and proceeded to have a really good cry.

[vir-tanadahl]

Chapter 13: Echos of What Once Was

I’m eagerly rewriting As the Moon Rises, which was originally written back in 2017, in anticipation of Dragon Age: Veilguard, channeling my excitement into refining the story. Summary: Isera Lavellan, at her mother’s behest, is sent to assist her twin brother, Banreas—the Inquisitor—in his mission to stop a force determined to bring about the world’s end. Together, they uncover long-buried secrets of their shared family history while Isera finds herself drawn to a mysterious non-Dalish elven mage whose knowledge of her heritage runs far deeper than she could have imagined. As the stakes rise, Isera must navigate this dangerous journey of discovery, where the past holds as much peril as the looming threats of the present. Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1][Ch2][Ch3][Ch4][Ch5][Ch6][Ch7][Ch8]

[Ch9][Ch10][Ch11] [Ch12] [Ch13]

Isera lies in her bed, utterly drained from her flight back to Skyhold. The weight of her emotions bears down on her, and she feels the physical toll manifest in her swollen, red eyes. A persistent headache throbs at her temples, and her nose is congested from the tears she had shed. The echoes of their last encounter haunt her, replaying in her mind like a cruel joke.

Confusion lingers in her thoughts; she still can't comprehend why Solas had taken her to that cavern only to walk away, leaving her feeling abandoned and bewildered. Something about the way he had looked at her, the mix of longing and pain in his eyes, feels wrong. There’s a disconnect, an unspoken truth that dances just out of reach of her understanding, and it gnaws at her insides.

Isera sits up slowly, pushing back the disheveled blankets as she rubs her face in frustration. She glances around her room, searching for solace in the familiar surroundings, but nothing seems to ease the turmoil within her. The flickering candlelight casts shadows on the walls, mirroring the darkness in her heart. All she wants is clarity, but it eludes her like the fading echoes of their shared moments.

Banreas ascends the stairs, his voice echoing softly as he calls out, “Isera?” He rounds the banister and stops short, concern etched across his features. “What is going on? I received reports that Solas arrived without you… and I have no report on when you returned?”

He halts, his gaze narrowing as he takes in her appearance. “...Have you been crying?” he questions, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. Isera can see him shift uncomfortably, standing awkwardly in the middle of her room, as if unsure whether to approach her or give her space.

Isera focuses on the ceiling, willing herself to stay composed. ‘Do not cry… do not cry…’ she thinks, the mantra echoing in her mind. “I… he… we broke up,” she manages to choke out, her voice trembling as she blinks back the tears threatening to spill over. “I chose another method of returning back to Skyhold,” she adds, her words feeling heavy with unspoken emotions.

Banreas’s expression shifts from concern to confusion. “He what?” he asks, taking a step closer, his eyes widening. “I thought—” Banreas looks away, uncertainty flickering across his face. “Why did he…?”

Isera shakes her head, tears welling at the corners of her eyes. “In another world…” she whispers, echoing Solas’s words with a bittersweet inflection. Banreas starts to pace her room, agitation radiating from him. “He can’t do that!” he exclaims, incredulous at the very notion. “He didn’t give you an explanation?” He crosses his arms, his deep frown etched with concern and frustration.

Isera shifts on the bed, her voice trembling. “No—I thought he was going to tell me how he felt about me…” She hesitates, struggling to find the right words. “And then he said the vallaslin were slave markings from Arlathan!” The anger and confusion in her voice give way to despair. “And then he broke up with me! It didn’t make sense!” Tears spill down her cheeks as she buries her head in her hands, overwhelmed by the pain of it all.

“Wait, what?” Banreas asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “He took you to Crestwood to talk about the vallaslin…and then broke up with you?” He kneels on the edge of the bed, leaning closer, his expression a mix of disbelief and concern. Isera nods, her tears spilling over as she wipes her face with her sleeve. Banreas shakes his head in frustration. “That doesn’t make any sense at all!”

“Ban—everything was fine,” she sobs, her voice quivering with emotion. “It felt right. He felt right. He still feels right. But then he started talking, and it just… it doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense.” Banreas watches her, his heart aching for his sister.

“What an ass,” Banreas hisses, his voice low and filled with protective anger. He pulls Isera closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as if to shield her from the pain. “I can send him away if you want. Or have words with him,” he adds, a determined glint in his eyes. “Perks of being the Inquisitor.”

Isera laughs softly, though it's laced with sadness. She forces a sad smile, the corners of her lips trembling slightly. “That’s okay. You don’t need to do that,” she tells him softly, trying to keep her emotions in check.

Banreas hums in thought, his expression brightening as an idea strikes him. “Okay—but we can go to the Emerald Graves, and we can tell him we found something elvhen by that giant Fen’harel altar we discovered, right?” he elaborates, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “And we can make it explode!” His enthusiasm is infectious as he bounces slightly on his heels. “And then we can tell him that he’s cursed by Fen’harel for hurting you!”

Isera cries out in a mixture of a sob and laughter at the ridiculous notion. Banreas is trying to make her smile, and it’s working. “You're ridiculous,” Isera giggles, rubbing her eyes to clear the remnants of tears. The sound of her laughter feels like a balm against the heaviness that has settled in her chest

“My idea is perfect,” Banreas announces with an exaggerated flourish. “I think…I think I’m going to tell the cook to make frilly cakes inspired by the Gods. Just so I can feed them to Solas and say since he acts like he’s a god, he should be full of them!” Isera snorts, unable to hold back her laughter. “He’d act so unamused by your antics. “Exactly!” Banreas grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Banreas’s grin widens as his imagination takes flight, the corners of his eyes crinkling with excitement. “And Sera can prank him! Just picture it—she can paint vallaslin all over him while he’s sleeping!” He chuckles, clearly reveling in the idea. Isera’s frown deepens, her brows knitting together as she shakes her head. “Banreas—” she starts, her tone laced with exasperation. “You don’t need to do any of that.”

“But it would be hilarious!” he insists, leaning in closer, his eyes alight with mischief. “Just imagine Solas waking up, looking in the mirror, and seeing himself adorned like one of the Dalish! His reaction would be priceless!” Isera can’t help but let out a reluctant giggle, but she quickly suppresses it, trying to maintain her serious demeanor

“I want to do something,” he emphasizes, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation. Isera can see the fire in his eyes—a fierce determination to protect her, to validate her pain, and to avenge the hurt she’s enduring.

“You are,” she reassures him softly, her expression steadying as she meets his gaze. “We’re adults now, and as much as I want to hurt him for what he’s done, I want to be the better person, don’t you think?” She delivers a gentle punch to his arm, the playful gesture lightening the heavy atmosphere between them.

He hums thoughtfully, a playful glint in his eyes. “I think we need frilly cakes,” he declares, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. Without another word, he springs up from the bed, determination radiating off him as he rushes out of her room to fetch the sweet treats. “Frilly cakes make everything better!” His infectious grin lingers in the air, bringing a small spark of warmth to Isera's heart.

The next day, Isera finds herself standing at the entrance to the garden, a mix of reluctance and anxiety swirling within her. Morrigan's request hangs heavily in her mind. She had reluctantly agreed to the meeting, despite her desire to retreat into solitude. The idea of socializing, particularly with the enigmatic witch, fills her with a sense of dread.

As she steps outside, the cool morning air brushes against her skin, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside her. The garden is vibrant, a tapestry of colors dancing in the sunlight, yet Isera feels detached from the beauty around her.

Isera’s heart feels heavy as she navigates the familiar corridors of Skyhold. The air around her is thick with unspoken words and lingering emotions, prompting her to take a longer route to avoid the atrium where Solas is often found. Instead, she chooses to walk the ramparts near the tavern, the sounds of clashing swords and laughter from the soldiers sparring echoing faintly in her ears.

As she ascends the steps into the great hall, a sense of dread settles over her. She glances around, her gaze sweeping across the bustling activity, but then it lands on Solas. He stands with Varric, his posture relaxed as they converse, but Isera feels a knot tighten in her stomach. The sight of him stirs a whirlwind of emotions—sadness, confusion, and the faintest flicker of anger.

Her breath quickens, and the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Panic grips her, urging her to retreat, but there’s nowhere to go. The urge to flee is almost overwhelming, yet Isera forces herself to remain rooted in place.

As if sensing her presence, Solas turns his head slightly, catching her gaze. For a fleeting moment, their eyes lock. Isera’s heart races—she can see the warmth in his blue-gray eyes, but it’s tinged with something else. She breaks eye contact, looking down at the floor, feeling exposed under his scrutiny.

Varric’s eyes light up as he spots her, and he waves her over with a broad grin. Isera instinctively shakes her head, urgency propelling her to skitter away from the pair without a backward glance. The murmur of Varric's voice follows her as she rounds the door to the garden, asking Solas what was going on. The sound fades into the distance, leaving her with the overwhelming thrum of her own heartbeat echoing in her ears.

Isera pushes open the door to the prayer room, the familiar scent of incense lingering in the air. The sunlight filters through the stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the stone floor. Her heart races as she prepares to confront Morrigan, unsure of what to expect. “What do you want?” she begins, but her voice catches in her throat.

“Isera!” Leliana calls out, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. The eluvian glimmers with a vibrant, magical energy, casting ethereal light across the room. “Morrigan says Kieran ran into the eluvian! I’ll fetch the Inquisitor!” Without waiting for a response, she rushes out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Isera hesitates, her heart racing as the shimmering eluvian pulsates with energy. The air crackles around it, drawing her attention as curiosity and urgency collide within her. Leliana's words echo in her mind—Kieran, Morrigan’s son, had ventured through the eluvian.

Isera grumbles, casting a glare at the mirror, its surface bubbling with swirling magic. “I do not want to walk into the mirror of death,” she mutters under her breath, her frustration boiling over. “I don’t want to. I’m not—” She pauses, releasing an exasperated cry. “There’s a kid in the damn mirror! Why don’t people keep an eye on their children? Just tie them up! That’ll solve ev-ery-thing,” she grumbles bitterly, her hands clenched into fists.

The shimmering surface of the eluvian seems to mock her, its ethereal glow pulsating as if in response to her anger. She can’t shake the image of Kieran, lost in a realm of magic and danger, and the weight of her responsibility weighs heavily on her. “Why is it always children?” she sighs, her heart racing as she reluctantly steps closer, caught between the urge to run and the instinct to help. With a deep breath, she steps closer, the surface of the eluvian rippling like water disturbed by a stone. She can almost hear the whispers from the Well, urging her on, reminding her of her connection to the elven past. As she reaches out, her fingers graze the cool, luminous surface. The eluvian hums beneath her touch, and in an instant, she is transported, and Isera feels the familiar sensation of weightlessness, as though she is being drawn into another realm. When her feet hit solid ground again, she stumbles slightly, regaining her balance as she takes in her surroundings.

The Fade? The vibrant colors swirl and blend, a kaleidoscope of ethereal light surrounding her. For a moment, she feels weightless, as if suspended in a dream, before the sensation of solid ground beneath her feet brings her back to reality. The landscape stretches out before her, a tapestry of shifting hues and forms.

Isera spots Morrigan in the shifting haze of the Fade, her face a mask of unadulterated panic and fear. “Go back!” Morrigan orders, urgency lacing her voice. “Kieran!” she calls, her tone frantic as she rushes deeper into the murky expanse.

Isera’s heart sinks at the sight. “Okay, okay,” she replies, trying to sound reassuring despite the weight of dread pressing down on her. “It’ll be easier to search together. Let’s keep moving.” She opens her hands in a gesture of submission, hoping to foster a sense of camaraderie amidst the tension.

As Isera walks alongside Morrigan, the familiar green light of the Fade washes over them, creating an eerie yet enchanting atmosphere reminiscent of the horrors they faced at Adamant. Shadows flicker at the edges of her vision, the whispers of the Fade growing louder with each step they take.

“Where do you think he could be?” Isera asks, her voice steadying as she focuses on the task at hand. Morrigan’s eyes dart around, filled with determination and a hint of desperation.

“Kieran!” Isera calls as they round another corner, her voice echoing through the eerie expanse. She feels a knot of dread tightening in her stomach. The memories of her previous encounters in the Fade, particularly the Nightmare, claw at the edges of her mind. Each step pulls her deeper into that fear, a reminder of the feelings of inadequacy that haunt her—caught between the worlds of city elf and Dalish elf. Solas's words about her identity echo faintly in her thoughts, amplifying her anxiety.

As they hurry forward, Isera’s heart races when she spots Kieran standing with someone—an older woman kneeling before him, her expression unreadable. Isera’s instincts scream that something isn’t right, her warrior instincts urging her to be cautious.

“Morrigan!” she whispers urgently, glancing sideways at her companion. But Morrigan is already tensing, her posture rigid with barely contained rage. “Mother,” Morrigan hisses, the word dripping with bitterness and disdain, as if it were a curse rather than a familial title. Isera can see the muscles in Morrigan's jaw tighten, her eyes narrowing as she stares down at the woman.

Isera jolts in surprise, her heart racing as she looks between Morrigan and the woman beside Kieran. “I take it this family reunion wasn’t planned?” she jokes, her voice tight with awkwardness despite the tension in the air. The woman’s lips curl into a grin, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes.

“Mother, daughter, grandson. It rather warms the heart, doesn’t it?” she states, rising gracefully to her feet, seemingly unfazed by the chaos her presence has stirred in Morrigan.

As the two begin to bicker, Isera’s focus drifts to Kieran. He glows faintly with ancient magic, a subtle shimmer that sets him apart, a light in the dimness of the Fade. This is the first time Isera has laid eyes on him without the grey-white haze of the Veil obscuring her vision. She studies him intently, noting the way his young features carry an echo of both Morrigan and the ancient elven lineage that ties them together.

“Kieran…” she murmurs softly, stepping closer, her heart swelling with a mix of protectiveness and curiosity. She watches as the boy fidgets slightly, caught between the bickering adults. There’s a familiarity in his gaze, a flicker of something that seems to connect them, and for a moment, the weight of the chaotic reunion fades away.

“You will not have me, and you will not have my son!” Morrigan howls, her voice a mix of rage and desperation as she prepares to unleash a spell. A vivid green light envelops her arms, crackling with energy, and Isera instinctively steps back, heart racing at the sight of Morrigan’s fury.

The woman, Morrigan’s mother, frowns at the outburst. “That is quite enough. You’ll endanger the boy.” Her tone is surprisingly calm, authoritative even, as she fixes her gaze on Isera. “Be a good lass and restrain her.”

Before Isera can process the command, she feels an invisible force yank her roughly to the side. Her arms are ensnared, wrapping around Morrigan from behind as she’s pulled downward toward the ground. “Wait! What—?” Isera yells in surprise, panic rising in her chest as she realizes she has no control over her own body.

Morrigan struggles against her hold, eyes flashing with a mix of indignation and fear. “What are you doing?” she cries out, her anger turning into confusion as she fights against Isera’s grip. “What are you doing…what are you doing?!” Morrigan shrieks, her panic rising as she pushes Isera away from her.

“I don’t know!” Isera exclaims, scrambling to pull herself up from the ground. The tingling sensation of the magic binding her is slowly fading, and with it, she feels the control of her body return.

The woman chuckles softly, an almost melodic sound that echoes in the tension of the moment. “You know quite well. You drank from the Well, did you not?”

Isera’s eyes widen as she processes the statement, her heart racing. The world around her feels slow, each heartbeat echoing in her ears as she stares at the woman. “You are…Mythal,” she whispers, awe lacing her words. A mix of reverence and uncertainty washes over her, leaving her momentarily speechless.

“Uh,…it is nice to meet you…” she adds, her voice faltering slightly, driven by the instinct to be polite even in the face of divine presence. The weight of the moment presses heavily on her, and she feels a whirlwind of emotions—wonder, fear, and the lingering pain of her recent heartache.

Mythal grins and glances at Morrigan. “Now those are manners, girl,” she remarks with a teasing lilt. “You clearly require a demonstration.” With a gentle push, she encourages Kieran forward, granting him permission to return to his mother. The boy rushes to Morrigan, his small frame bursting with energy as he embraces her, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Turning her attention back to Isera, Mythal speaks of the essence of her being, admitting that it is but a fraction of what she once was. “I have been carried on through the centuries,” she explains, her voice a harmonious blend of wisdom and nostalgia. “Consult the voices,” she challenges, a hint of mischief in her tone, as if daring Isera to confront the echoes of the past that swirl around them. The whispers rise and confirm the truth of Mythal’s words, swirling like a gentle breeze through the cavern.

Mythal sighs, a sound tinged with both contentment and sorrow. “But what was Mythal? A legend given a name and called a god, or something more?” She turns to Isera, her smile radiant and warm. “So young and vibrant,” she says, her gaze penetrating. “You do the People proud and have come far.”

There is a pause, as if weighing the significance of her next words. “I have gone by many names…but you may call me Flemeth.” The name resonates in the air, filled with history and power, leaving Isera momentarily breathless at the revelation. The weight of the moment sinks in, and she grapples with the implications of standing before such a formidable figure in elven lore.

“Asha’bellanar. The woman of many names. You are her, too.” Memories flood her mind, recalling the stories her mother shared—tales woven with reverence and awe. Isera frowns, staring intently at Flemeth. “If Mythal is a part of you, why haven’t you helped the People? There are those who call to you, pray to you…” She trails off, her voice a mix of hope and desperation.

Flemeth looks away for a moment, a frown crossing her face, the weight of centuries evident in her expression. “What happened could not be changed,” she replies, her voice carrying a hint of sorrow, as if reflecting on a past that haunts her still.

“What about now?” Isera presses, her heart racing with the possibility. All she has known is her relentless quest to obtain and retrieve elven artifacts, to gather the fragments of her people's history. If Mythal could return, it would change everything.

Her resolve hardens as she meets Flemeth’s gaze. “You know not what you ask, child,” Flemeth states, her tone firm and unyielding. The God’s countenance shifts, a flicker of ancient power radiating from her, and Isera can sense the refusal lurking in the depths of Flemeth’s eyes. It is clear that the deity will not entertain the idea lightly, and Isera’s heart sinks with the realization that her hopes may be dashed before they can take flight.

Isera nods, deciding against pressing the issue further. The weight of the conversation hangs heavy in the air, and she feels the tension coil between her and Flemeth. Morrigan, however, is relentless in her pursuit, her voice rising in defiance as she challenges Mythal, demanding explanations and clarity.

Isera watches, a mix of awe and concern washing over her, as Mythal reaches out and takes something ethereal from Kieran—a shimmering essence that seems to pulse with ancient magic. The boy's eyes widen, and for a moment, Isera fears for him, but he remains unharmed, merely a vessel for a deeper connection to the divine.

“So long as the music plays, we dance,” Flemeth announces, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance as she gently pushes Kieran back toward his mother, her gaze turning away, an enigmatic smile gracing her lips before she begins to walk away.

Morrigan's frustration spills over as she cries out after her mother, her voice echoing with desperation and anger. “Stay!” But Flemeth is already gone, leaving only silence in her wake.

“Let us go, Kieran,” Morrigan whispers, her voice now softer, filled with a mixture of longing and resignation as she kneels down to comfort her son. Isera watches the scene unfold, a knot tightening in her chest as she witnesses the disconnect between mother and daughter—a painful reflection of her own tumultuous feelings about family, belonging, and the weight of expectations.

---

The following day, the Advisors summoned Isera to the War Room for a crucial strategy session. The air was thick with tension, especially as Morrigan, ever the provocateur, wasted no time in berating Isera for her reckless decision to drink from the Well. Isera felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. It seemed that Morrigan thrived on conflict, eager to point fingers rather than collaborate.

As Morrigan’s voice rose in a ceaseless torrent of criticism, Isera's thoughts drifted. She found herself staring out the window, where the sun cast gentle rays on the grounds below. The voices within her were persistent, urging her to articulate their insights about how to defeat Corypheus. Yet every time she attempted to speak, Morrigan’s tirade drowned her out.

“Shut up,” Isera finally demanded, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. She turned to face the Advisors, her determination igniting. “We need a dragon.” Her gaze flickered back to Morrigan, who wore a frown that deepened with every passing second.

Morrigan's eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and indignation flashing across her face. “And you know where to find one that will fight on our side?” Morrigan hissed, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Isera took a deep breath, steadying herself. “Yes. I do,” she replied, her voice low and deliberately slow, tinged with condescension. The tension in the room shifted as she turned to face the exit.

“But you aren’t invited along,” she added, her tone firm as she stepped away from the table, the pounding in her head intensifying from the relentless bickering. Isera could feel Morrigan’s incredulous gaze burning into her back, but she pressed on, determined to put distance between herself and the witch’s condescending remarks. The heavy wooden door creaked open as she stepped into the corridor, leaving behind the stifling atmosphere of the War Room.

As she walked, Isera’s mind raced with the implications of her plan. She could almost hear the voices again, guiding her thoughts towards the Arbor Wilds. Isera shook her head, trying to clear the clutter of frustration and anxiety. She needed to focus. The vision of the dragon loomed in her thoughts.

---

It is time. The world felt as though it trembled under the weight of impending chaos when Corypheus made his move. Just a day after Isera, her brother, and a team of Inquisition members had secured the dragon, the Guardian of Mythal, the atmosphere crackled with tension. The dragon had agreed to aid them, but only once—a pact forged in urgency and desperation.

Isera rushed through the halls of Skyhold, her heart pounding in sync with the urgency of the moment. The fortress felt like it might unravel at any moment, the air thick with the foreboding of battle. Commander Cullen had already taken charge, rallying the troops for the confrontation.

As she rounded the corner of the atrium, Isera's eyes landed on Solas, his back turned to her as he meticulously adjusted his armor. A rush of conflicting emotions surged through her—relief at seeing him, but also apprehension about what lay ahead.

“Solas!” Cassandra called, her voice slicing through the tension as she rushed into the atrium, her expression set with determination. “The Inquisitor is ordering you for part of the vanguard forces, the team directly assaulting Corypheus.” She glanced up, startled to find Isera standing just behind her.

“Isera!” Cassandra exclaims, her voice sharp with urgency. Solas turns, startled to see both women in the atrium. “Thank the Maker I found you. The Inquisitor is requesting your assistance with—”

“No,” Isera interrupts, shaking her head as she tries to slip past the Seeker.

Cassandra mimics her movement, blocking her path. “What?” Her eyes narrow in confusion, quickly turning to displeasure. “Take Dorian or Vivienne. I will stay with the ground troops,” Isera insists, her arms crossed defiantly.

The tension between them thickens. Isera refuses to go into battle alongside Solas, and she knows how childish it may seem, but she can’t bear the thought of facing him again, especially not in the chaos of battle. They had been avoiding each other since that fateful night, and she doesn’t want their first interaction to be amidst the turmoil of fighting a darkspawn magister.

“The Inquisitor gave you an order,” Cassandra demands, her voice firm as she stands her ground. “I don’t care,” Isera snaps back, her heart racing, torn between duty and her desire to escape the weight of unresolved feelings.

Cassandra regards Isera with an unimpressed expression, her posture straightening as she strides toward her with a sly smirk. Isera recognizes the challenge in Cassandra’s approach; the Seeker is trying to intimidate her.

“You will come with us, and you will help your brother destroy Corypheus,” Cassandra states firmly, her tone deceptively kind.

“I certainly will not,” Isera replies, her smile unwavering, determined not to yield. Cassandra’s smile remains as she pivots on her heels. “Solas.” She calls over her shoulder as she walks away.

Solas blinks, momentarily caught off guard, then glances at Isera. “Of course, Seeker,” he responds, his voice steady, before he turns and walks away, his demeanor seemingly unaffected by the tension that lingers in the air.

---

Isera crouches behind a pillar, heart racing, as Corypheus unleashes another blast of chaotic magic, his voice echoing with fervent claims of omnipotence. The air crackles with energy, and she can feel the tension in her muscles coiling tighter. With a swift glance at Cassandra, she dashes out, raising a shimmering barrier just in time to shield her from the next wave of dark magic.

“Stay behind me!” she shouts, her voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them. She quickly pops open another vial of lyrium, feeling the familiar surge of power course through her veins. Each dose empowers her spells, sharpening her focus as she prepares for the next onslaught.

As Isera and Cassandra press their attack, she keeps a watchful eye on her brother and Solas, who are working in tandem, their movements fluid and precise as they fend off Corypheus's minions. Banreas’s arrows rain down like a storm, striking true, while Solas conjures barriers and magical blasts that disrupt their enemies’ advance.

Despite the chaos, Isera finds herself growing more confident in her abilities. She has honed her skills in healing and protection, and now, as a newly focused knight enchanter, she feels the weight of her duty. But her heart sinks as she sees Cassandra bearing the brunt of Corypheus’s relentless attacks. Each strike forces Isera to draw upon her magic to heal and protect her companion, her energy waning under the strain.

The tide of battle shifts as Banreas, seizing the moment, leaps forward with a barrage of arrows. They strike Corypheus squarely in the chest, and he lets out a roar of pain, the sound reverberating through the cavern like thunder. The darkspawn magister stumbles back, his fury now tinged with desperation.

As he falters, Corypheus begins to call out for aid, his voice rising in a frantic plea to the Old Gods. “Come to me! I command you!” His words echo ominously, but Isera can see the cracks in his confidence starting to show.

Corypheus lunges forward, the orb crackling with dark energy as he aims to unleash its power against Banreas. But the Inquisitor is quicker, his instincts honed by countless battles. As Corypheus channels the magic, Banreas feels the mark on his hand pulse with energy, a surge of control flowing through him.

“Is that what you want?” Banreas taunts, a fierce grin breaking through the tension. “You wanted into the Fade?” The mark glows a brilliant green, illuminating his face with an otherworldly light. Isera stands frozen, a mix of awe and fear flooding her senses. The air thickens with magic as a rift opens up inside Corypheus. The swirling energies of the Fade envelop him, tendrils of ethereal light wrapping around his form, pulling him apart from the inside out. She watches in horror and fascination as the darkspawn magister's body begins to deteriorate, the very essence of his being consumed by the magic he once wielded so confidently.

Corypheus screams, the sound a cacophony of rage and despair. The once-mighty figure writhes as the Fade tears through him, revealing the desperation behind his façade of power. Banreas stands resolute, channeling the magic with fierce determination, a warrior wielding the very force that had sought to destroy them.

As the last remnants of Corypheus's lifeblood are consumed by the mark, the very stones that had hovered ominously in the air begin to plummet, crashing down with terrifying force. Isera's heart races as she screams, adrenaline coursing through her veins, propelling her to dart aside. But in the chaos, she trips over the rubble, landing hard on her stomach, the breath knocked from her lungs.

“Vehnan!” Solas’s voice cuts through the chaos, urgent and filled with concern. She feels his hands grip her arms, pulling her across the ground, urgency driving his movements. He drags her over a ridge, pressing her against the cold stone with his body as the world around them erupts in a cacophony of crashing rocks.

With a final echoing thud, the debris ceases its rain of destruction. Isera opens her eyes, heart still racing, and gasps for breath. The immediate danger seems to have passed, but the remnants of the battle linger in the air like smoke.

Her gaze follows Solas as he pulls away, a look of determination mixed with sorrow etched into his features. He rushes toward the remnants of the broken orb, which lies shattered on the ground like a fallen star. Isera’s heart clenches at the sight of him, so profoundly affected by the loss.

“Wait!” she calls, but her voice feels small and distant. She hesitates, unsure if she should follow him. The weight of the moment hangs heavily in the air, her mind racing with questions and fears.

Solas kneels by the orb, his fingers delicately tracing the fractured edges. His expression is a tumult of emotions—grief, regret, and a hint of longing—as if he is mourning not just the object before him, but the dreams it once represented.

Isera sighs as she walks toward him, dropping to her knees in an attempt to bridge the distance that has grown between them. “I’m sorry… we can try to fix it,” she whispers, tugging gently at his arm, hoping to draw him back into the moment.

But Solas doesn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he offers a pathetic attempt at a chuckle, the sound devoid of warmth. “It will not be the same,” he informs her, his eyes cast down as he speaks. “It was not supposed to happen this way.” The anguish etched across his features is palpable, a mirror of the turmoil that churns within her.

Isera's heart aches at his pain. “Solas…” she whispers, a desperate plea hanging in the air. “I know you wanted to save the orb…” She applies gentle pressure on his arm, wishing to convey her solidarity.

Suddenly, he stands up abruptly, pulling away from her touch as if it burns. His head remains bowed, and he avoids looking at her, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between them. “No matter what comes, I want you to know what we had was real,” he states, the sincerity in his voice tinged with sadness. Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks toward where Banreas and Cassandra have wandered off to join the other members of the Inquisition, his silhouette a shadow of the man she once knew.

Isera watches him go, a lump forming in her throat. The distance between them feels insurmountable now, and she is left kneeling in the debris of their shared moments, grappling with the realization that their connection has been irrevocably altered. The echoes of their laughter, the warmth of his touch—everything now feels like a fragile memory, slipping further away with each passing second.

Isera sighs, stifling the tears that threaten to spill. She gazes down at the shattered remnants of the orb he left behind, feeling the weight of what it once represented. With a resolute shake of her head, she gathers the broken pieces and carefully tucks them into the small bag at her waist. Solas has become insufferably vague since that night, and the distance between them feels like a chasm she can’t cross.

As she glances up, she finds him staring out over the gathered Inquisition forces, his expression unreadable. Determined to break the silence that hangs heavily between them, Isera steps closer, turning toward him. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she whispers, the words flowing like a soft prayer. With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, she tries to convey all the things she can’t say, hoping he feels the connection that still lingers despite the turmoil.

Without waiting for a response, Isera walks down the steps, her heart heavy but resolved. Each step feels like a step away from him, yet she knows she must keep moving forward, even if it means navigating the uncertainty of their relationship alone. The sounds of the Inquisition bustle around her, but her mind is still caught in the echo of his gaze and the warmth of his presence, now chilled and tinged with sorrow.

There was a grand celebration following the defeat of Corypheus, a night meant for revelry and relief. Yet, despite the laughter and the music that filled the air, Isera found it hard to join in. A forced smile graced her lips as she anxiously scanned the room for Solas. He had not returned since the battle, and an unsettling pit formed in her stomach.

Leliana, noticing her distraction, gently pulled her away from the crowd, leading her toward the back of the throne room where the moonlight streamed through the glass panels, casting ethereal patterns on the floor.

“It appears Solas has left,” Leliana said, her tone measured but concerned. “I have sent agents to look for him. He did not leave a note behind…” She paused, reaching into her pocket. “He left this.”

With that, she handed Isera the jawbone necklace Solas often wore. Isera’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized it, a tangible reminder of him that now felt like a weight pressing down on her heart.

“I know you two were close,” Leliana continued, her voice gentle but probing.

Isera nodded, her fingers tracing the aged bone, trying to calm the storm brewing within her. The room blurred as she focused on her breathing, trying to stave off the tears threatening to spill. Deep down, she knew he would not return.

---

Months had passed since the closing of the Breach, and the scars of the battle still lingered in the hearts of those who fought. Solas had vanished without a trace, leaving behind a silence that echoed through the halls of Skyhold for Isera. Not even Leliana’s skilled agents could track him down, despite their best efforts and resources. The mystery of his departure weighed heavily on Isera, intertwining with her own feelings of loss and confusion.

As time wore on, Isera found herself withdrawing further into the shadows of the keep. The vibrant life of the Inquisition moved around her, filled with laughter and celebration after their hard-fought victory, but she felt like an outsider looking in. Each day, she struggled to mask her sadness, wearing a brave face even as the ache of his absence gnawed at her insides.

And then, she too was gone.

Isera slipped away from Skyhold, leaving behind no note, no explanation—just a quiet exit into the unknown. The once-bustling halls now held whispers of her disappearance, but the questions lingered unanswered. Where had she gone? No one seemed to know…or did they?

[thenightpoem]

Farewell

Many dances have passed

Changes have appeared in the cast

Yet here I stand

Singing my chant

Warm yet cold

This is my song

My call to the old

For it is this that I long

Oh, mighty Chronos

Ruler of time and the Cosmos

I call upon thee

Bestow your power on me

Or if that isn’t not good

Then if you could

Then use your sickle and wren

And take me there again

Make the dances reverse

And sink in ancient hieroglyph

Let myself in those treasures immerse

And my past once more relive

O, mighty titan

Who you so many frighten

Again, I bow and beg you

Make my wish come true

From above your voice I hear

For your song is so sweet and sincere

I couldn’t help but come here

To listen and to it be near

For millennia I have lived

And I’ve seen the world turn and shift

Yet such a sound soft yet strong like a gong

It is unlike any I’ve heard before, your song

Strong yet Soft. Sad yet oh so fair

Desire, happiness and many a tear

Woven with such tenderness and care

It glows so warm and gentle, like a solar flair

Such a beauty is your aching

That my being you managed to enchant

Listening so closely, even my soul is breaking

So much, I can’t help but along to chant

All the while I am sad

For I feel your pain

Tying you down like a chain

As you’re walking down the path

And while your song you play

As the night will soon give way to day

Yet beneath its eyes so starry

All I can say is I’m sorry

I’m sorry for as I here stand

Hearing your desire so grand

It hurts me so much, for I can’t

Your sweet, gentle wish grant

Your soul so pure and sincere

Many mortals I have known for I am old

Yet you are special, my dear

Among the rocks, a gem. Amidst metals, pure gold

So, you have heard?

What pain and longing I harbour?

Through my many a soulful word

Carrying my deepest hurt

Yes dear, I have

And I simply cannot believe

What beauty you’ve made from grief

Superior to any noble’s treasured staff

If you like my song so much

Then is it much to ask of thee

For if you know so much

Would you please guide me?

Help me through my plight

For you much have seen and are wise

Aid me to regain my light

And soothe my soul’s desperate cries

Come here, dear

Let me see you face

Please, come near

Let me your soul embrace

Inside it is heavy rain

Filled with memories of days younger

Sweetness turned to pain

What is now black was once color

There is something you do

You can regain your light

And you can shine anew

And rise in joyful flight

There is something you can do

To heal your broken soul and heart

Your journey will be long and hard

Yet soon, you’ll shine anew

I know how to heal my hurt

Yet it is so hard

To fix my heart

And fly again like a bird

That, well I know

There is no need to despair though

For I will always be here

And on from above I’ll cheer

Is it truth that you are now spilling?

Or am I just dreaming?

That you are so kind and willing

Your help so readily to be offering

No, dreaming you are not

I really do want

To help you untie your chain’s knot

And form with you a bond

Oh, then you I must thank

For down here coming

I must be frank

Your listening has been comforting

Moments like these are rare

When people are willing to just be there

Without a need for something to uttter

Not a talker, but a kind, compassionate viewer

Now, my dear

The time is near

Soon the night will give way

To a new, shinny day

But before I go

There is something I want you to know

In order to be free from the chain

And cease your pain

Let yourself flow

Be one with the sea

Don’t worry, take it slow

And soon you’ll be free

Then I guess it is time

That I stopped wallowing in regret

Let the bells outside chime

And take a deep breath

People come and go

Yet you are here

To watch and help me grow

To soothe my soul and my mind clear

If you say it’s the only way

Then my tears and loneliness I must quell

For here I cannot stay

Even if around me it seems to be hell

Reality is scary, my dear

For it is filled with much pain and change

Yet, though to you it may seem strange

Lights are not just far, they are also near

Cherising your past is great

Still, to life there is so much more

So my dear never lose faith

And open that old, busted door

There is no point to regret

I’ve done it for too long

Thinking of things undone and unsaid

And turn them into a song

Those people, things are long gone

For they, as I much have changed

Now I stand underneath the dawn

As the colors above have rearranged

Thank you, Chronos

For listening and your kind words

With you by my side, I can defeat Phobos

And rise again, as would birds

Now it is time

To finally break free from my cell

Then, I shall listen to this divine sign

And end this painful spell

Now my wounds I must mend

Close this door of this hotel

For this chapter has come to an end

You have been loved and cherished

In my heart I’ll keep you untarnished

Yet now, to you all I must tell

Farewell, guys. Farewell…

[thealmosttherapistwholosthermind]

Recesses of Me With OCD

In my brain I scream, Oh please, set me free! But the jailer is always me.

I can’t step aside, elusive is outside. Defeated, alone, resigned.

I stay in my vest, ‘cause you’ll think I’m a pest. Review, ruminate, second guess.

Trapped inside my mind, craving chats that bind. “You offend” fear lied. Wait…did I?

You think I don’t care. I stammer and stare. Really, I long to share.

Yearning for our fate, with open gates. Secretly sensing we’re best mates.

I can’t bridge the gap. Can you make a map? Reassurance won’t let me fall flat.

You’ll do all the work. I worry and warp, convinced I am a twerp.

What is wrong with me? Is my inner plea. Is this how I am destined to be?

An affection hoarder? What keeps the border between you and me?

Oh yeah…I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Social Anxiety.

_

A life of its own. Forever o’ergrown. I have learned to let it be.

And live behind glass, while longing to ask: Let us bear our souls intimately.

Make me clean, God, please. Brush teeth ‘til they bleed. Wash ‘til my skin recedes.

Yes, I have those. It’s starting to slow, ‘cept when sinister germs come close.

Waves of shame slay. Focus on the way. Must say novenas of the day.

Saints these and Saints those. Father, Son, Holy Ghost. For my soul, please repose.  

Hours on research gate. Lost in a debate. Compulsive research of my fate.

Culling symptom lists, of me to make sense. God, am I a narcissist?

Down the rabbit hole. Lost touch with my goals. The psyched ward ate my wounded soul.

Gave me side eyed looks, labeled me a kook, my quirks the doctors all mistook.

What is wrong with me? Is my inner plea. Is this how I am destined to be?

It’s Hell, this disorder, fortifying the border between you and me!

F*ck you, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Social Anxiety!

_

I’ve tried to break free with ERP. Torture excruciating.

Then came CBT. It never helped me. Pulling me farther out to sea.

Perhaps ACT impacts, with values on track. Head out of my *ss, I’m back.

IFS reset. Now my parts at rest. Self-leadership provides a nest.

A True Presence be. Coupled with me, found my celestial nobility.

It’s quite the hike. I’ve learned my might. Gained my inner sight.

Even with my crown, I still fall down. Tumble, suffocate, nearly drown.

Again, I rise, with eyes on the prize, to walk the earth humbly and wise.

What is right with me? I’m starting to see. Who I am destined to be.

Life’s getting shorter. Action was in order desperately.

Social Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you won’t beat me.

_

With wings pain once bore, today I soar. Balanced, centered in my core.

Joyfully, I sing. I am coming clean. My dark recesses disclosing.

A beacon of light, to provide sight, for others stuck in flight.

And you I see, too. What you’re going through. I’m supporting your inner coup.

Depth to hold dear. I’ll draw you near. Your story I want to hear.

You can’t offend. I will only tend to the places where you bend.

Let there be an us, pure and free of lust. It will be marvelous.

Friends’ everlasting, no longer casting ourselves in roles and acting.

I have found me. Allowing eyes to see journey for destiny.

Down with the border. No longer a hoarder, I’m giving of self completely.

Social Anxiety and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you are not me.

But with me you’ll always be—separately.

[vizthedatum]

is the a in "abuse" a scarlet letter? (2024)

Is the A in "Abuse" a scarlet letter? Can those who hurt others truly reform? This isn't to excuse or to absolve, But to understand how trauma can transform.

Actions have consequences, they say, A justification I've heard before. But can we see beyond the surface, To the hidden depths at our core?

Fight, flight, freeze, and fawn— Stress responses meant to protect. When formed in childhood's crucible, They shape how we connect.

I've been labeled my abuser's abuser, For seeking safety, for trying to cope. Now, I stand at a crossroads of compassion, Balancing understanding and hope.

Hurt people hurt people, it's true, A cycle of pain, hard to break. But change isn't mine to control, It's a choice that each must make.

We wear masks to face the world, Hiding parts we fear to show. Can we embrace our hidden shadows, And let our true selves grow?

I believe in our capacity for good, In the power of awareness and growth. But when does the trauma stop? When do we honor both healing and oath?

It's a delicate dance of boundaries, Of protecting the vulnerable, standing tall. Of stepping away from enabling, And learning to love through it all.

"Maybe I thought I loved you, Because I wanted to love myself." Now I see the path forward, Is putting illusions back on the shelf.

We can inform, protect, and grow, Build a community that's strong and true. But the real change starts within, With compassion for me and for you.

What's more important than me? A question that opens the door, To ethics, to values, to service, To a Pearl that's worth fighting for.

In the depths of our psyche we find, Feminine and masculine embroidery intertwined. Can we balance these inner forces, And leave no part of self behind?

Through integration of all we are, The conscious and unconscious align. In this journey to wholeness we rise, Towards a self that's truly divine.

Maybe we bear our various letters with grace, Becoming our shame to enter strength and light. Our scars, once hidden, proudly shown face-to-face, Guiding others through their darkest night.

--

- Rose the artist formerly known as she her Pri ~ গোলাপ্রী

[eldoria-radio]

[Good evening, dear passengers. As we are making our way back from the beyond I urge you to watch your luggage and keep it on you at all times. Loose items may get caught in a rift of the inbetween, where a recovery is hardly ever possible. Now then, if you're looking to your right, you'll see the endless abyss slowly fading. Welcome back to the inbetween.]

[Now then, behold! The tapestry of life woven with threads of joy and threads of pain, each stitch a testament to the uniqueness of our shared experience. And yet, my darling passengers, even the most vibrant tapestry must one day fray, as its colors fade into the ether of time. But fear not, for in the unraveling lies the beauty of impermanence, the gentle reminder that all things must pass, like autumn leaves carried away by the gentle touch of the wind.]

[Yes, the end is inevitable, my fellow travelers, but let us not tremble in the shadow of its unavoidability. Instead, let us wrap ourselves in the comforting embrace of acceptance, for death is but a transition, a doorway to the great beyond where the soul takes flight just as a phoenix rising from the ashes.]

[Imagine, if you will, a carnival of stars twinkling in the velvet sky, each one a beacon of hope guiding us towards the unknown. And as we move towards the edge of existence, let us revel in the cosmic dance of creation and destruction, for in the darkness lies the seed of rebirth, waiting to bloom into infinite possibilities.]

[So grieve, my dear passengers, grieve for the lost life, for the moments left unspoken and the dreams left unfulfilled. But know that in the tapestry of existence, every thread serves a purpose, every knot a lesson learned. And when the final curtain falls, when the train reaches its last station, may we step off with hearts as light as feathers, knowing that in the grand scheme of things, we are but passengers on a journey through eternity.]

[Oh golly how the time passes.. I'm afraid our time is up! We have reached our final destination once again. Should Sirius Hill be your stop, we kindly request you to leave the train. Make sure to collect your belongings and soul. We wouldn't want to leave either behind, yes? That'd be unfortunate.. Thank you for traveling with Serenity Line tonight. We hope to see you again soon.]

[Much love, the Conductor.]

[sequinsmile-x]

Concussion

Emily gets hit over the head. Aaron worries.

Based on a prompt from the lovely @ssa-sparks

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of minor injuries/blood/stitches etc

Read over on Ao3 or below the cut!

It happens so fast.

Emily and JJ go in first at Aaron’s request, aware that there were children on the scene and their presence would startle them less. They clear the first floor of the house, JJ directing the two young boys they find in the living room out of the front door. Emily opens the door to the basement, clearing the way as she walks down the stairs.

As soon as her feet hit the bottom step she is hit in the head, hard, and falls to the ground. She cries out as her vision and hearing briefly go, the pain spreading throughout her skull immediately. She isn’t sure exactly what happens, she can hear the muffled sound of JJ yelling, and the others rushing in. The unsub apprehended by Derek almost immediately, the 2x4 he had used to hit her abandoned on the ground next to her.

Emily closes her eyes to block out the light that suddenly seemed too intense. She smells his cologne before she sees him. Something warm and uniquely Aaron filling her senses. Something that smelt like home. When she reopens her eyes Aaron is there, leaning over her, concern written all over his face.

“Em? Are you hurt? What happened?” He asks, grimacing when he looks at her properly.

“He got the drop on me.” Emily says as she sits up, her eyes briefly going blurry again. Aaron reaches out for her, his hands on her upper arms as he tries to steady her. She puts her hand to her forehead and pulls it back to see blood on her fingers. “Damn it.”

“What do you remember?” He asks, not bothering to cover his concern as he helps her sit up.

“Aaron, calm down. I didn’t even pass out.” She blinks a couple times, wincing as she again puts her hand to her head where she was hit. She shrugs his hands off of her, looking around the room at the local cops surrounding them, annoyed that despite the head injury she was the one who seemed to remember where they were. “I’m fine.”

He ignores her, his worry outweighing his usual ability on picking up on her frustration.

“Do you know where we are? What year is it? Who am I?” He asks in quick succession, dutifully helping her to her feet as she tries to do it herself, not making any comment when she grasps his bicep when she loses her balance.

“If you don’t stop, you won’t be my boyfriend for much longer, that much I can tell you.”

He ignores her again, used to being the one she would take out her frustration on, very rarely rising to the bait.

“The EMTs are outside, we’ll get them to have a look at you.” He says, following her up the stairs to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“Aaron.”

“Please don’t argue with me on this.” He pleads as they make it to the first floor, his eyes imploring her to just listen to him.

She gently nods her response and walks outside. She’s aware of his hand hovering just behind her lower back, ever ready to support her if she needed it, even if she didn’t want him to. ____________

“Why is it always you that ends up with a head injury?” Aaron asks quietly, his voice gentle as if he is avoiding making her inevitable headache worse.

She was sat up on a gurney, the EMTs having decided she needed to go to hospital to get checked over properly. Aaron was sitting on the edge facing her. Emily winces as he presses the ice pack the nurse had handed him against the gash on her forehead, the cold seeping in and making her head pound. They were waiting for the doctor to see if she needed stitches. The rest of the team were packing up at the precinct, waiting to meet them at the jet, leaving the couple to it.

It was well known that Emily wasn’t a good patient, neither of them were. In the few times one of them, or on one very stressful occasion for Dave both of them, were in need of a hospital check up since they got together they were only placated by each other. Raised eyebrows and vague threats enough to make them listen to the doctors as they were poked and prodded to make sure none of their injuries were permanent.

“I don’t always end up with head injuries, Aaron.” She says through her teeth. Her annoyance at him is lost in translation, the blood that still stained her face and had dripped down onto her chest removing some of its bite.

“Well you get more than the rest of us.” He briefly lifts the ice pack to look at the wound, his breath hitching when he sees it again. A mar on her pale skin, one of his favourite places to kiss her. He tenderly moves some of her hair out of the way, tucking it behind her ear with such affection she can’t help but smile at him despite her frustration. He puts the ice pack back down on her skin. “It’s like you’re attracted to 2x4s or something.”

“Shut the fuc-”

“Agent Prentiss?”

They both turn to see a doctor standing at the end of the cubicle they were in, an amused look on her face that told them just how much of their exchange she had overheard.

“Let's have a look at this head wound, shall we?”

Aaron moves the ice pack and stands up to give the doctor some room, but stays next to the gurney.

“Oh yeah, definitely stitches.” The doctor says, her gloved fingers pressing gently at Emily’s forehead.

“Seriously?” Emily says, staring at the doctor as she nods. “блять.”

The doctor looks concerned and turns to Aaron, her eyebrow raised.

“That’s normal.” He explains, a small smile on his face. “She always curses in Russian when she’s annoyed. Usually it’s aimed at me.”

“It's the best language to curse in.” Emily explains to the doctor before turning to glare at her boyfriend.

They patiently wait as the doctor sets up the stuff she needs to stitch Emily’s forehead. Aaron grabs her hand when he sees the needle the doctor moves towards her face as she explains it’s a local anaesthetic that will numb some of the pain. Emily raises her eyebrow at him, and mutters something under her breath about how she isn’t a child.

Neither of them acknowledge how tightly she squeezes his hand once the doctor begins. He leans down to press a kiss to the top of Emily’s head and smiles against her hair when she further tightens her grip on him. ____________

Emily was so relieved to get home she could have cried. The noise of the jet had made her head throb harder as the flight went on, the hours dragging on into what felt like days. Aaron had encouraged her to sleep on the journey but she refused, wanting to ensure her paperwork was finished before they landed. The promise of having the following day off getting her through the headache that was made worse by Derek and Spencer’s latest prank war.

She had caught Aaron glaring at them, an admonishment on the tip of his tongue but she had nudged him under the table with her knee before he could, a soft smile on her face as she looked at him adoringly.

Even when he pissed her off she loved him. And that pissed her off even more.

She hated being coddled, and even after all of this time with Aaron she still sometimes found his affection surprising. How easily he’d give it away to her, like it cost him nothing. How he’d buy her candy on the way home just because he walked past the aisle and thought of her. He’d touch her at any given opportunity. A hand brushing over her shoulder or her waist, pressed into her lower back as he guides her through a door. A kiss to her forehead, her cheek.

Ever since the EMT had told them she needed to go to the hospital he had been treating her like she was made of glass and she hated it, hated that he looked so guilty as the doctor had stitched her forehead back together. She knows he needs this, to look after her. Penance for what he deemed to be his fault since it was his decision to send her into the house first. So she lets him hover, with minimal barbs thrown at him so he knows when he is toeing the line between what she deems acceptable and what is too far.

She merely rolls her eyes at him, ignoring how it made her head burn with pain, when he insists on carrying her go-bag for her, but she stops him at opening her car door as he pulls their car up on their driveway. She’s out of the car before he can think about it, an eyebrow raised at him in defiance when he starts to protest.

As soon as the front door closes behind them he sets the alarm and throws their go-bags over the back of the couch. Emily takes off her shoes and coat, closing her eyes as her head swims when she bends forward to put the shoes away. When she’s upright again she knows he’s seen it, his eyes fixed on her.

“Why don’t you head on up sweetheart. I’ll be right up.” He says as he kisses her temple.

“Okay.” Emily replies, not having it in her to argue. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

Her nighttime routine goes by in a blur, and if questioned she wasn’t even sure if she would remember completing all of the steps. She turns off the main light, leaving only Aaron’s bedside light on, and climbs in under the covers.

When Aaron enters the room she is almost asleep, shocked awake by the room flooding with light. She groans, pulling the comforter over her head to block out what she can.

“Too bright.” She grumbles, her voice muffled.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He turns the light back off and sheds his suit, his jacket over the back of a chair in a corner.

He gets ready for bed and climbs in next to her, a smile on his face as he gently pulls the covers back from her face. He gently runs his thumb over the edge of the large white dressing on her forehead, the spares tucked in his go-bag with instructions from the doctor on when to change it written on his phone.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“Head hurts.” She admits, feeling able to do so now it was just the two of them in the safety of their bedroom, with no prying eyes or concerned glances from the team. Even though so much time had passed since Ian Doyle had torn through their lives, there was always a moment when she was hurt that she would see the panic on her friend’s faces. See them go back to the time they were all told she was dead. It made her want to protect them, claiming she was fine even though her head felt like it had been stamped on.

Aaron was different. There was so much naked honesty in their relationship, so much that could be said without either of them saying a word, that she knew he already knew how she was feeling at any given time.

At one point in her life she would have found it suffocating, the fact that someone could know her that well. When they started their relationship she kept waiting for it to happen, for him to be so good, so righteous, that it would tip her over the edge. Make her self-destruct and take him down with her. But it never came. Now she can’t imagine life without him.

“I know it does, baby.” He answers before kissing her forehead, his lips grazing the edge of the dressing. “Get some sleep.”

“Are you going to let me sleep?” She asks, voice thick with exhaustion as she curls into his side.

“I’m going to follow the doctor's instructions and wake you up every couple hours if that’s what you’re asking.”

“иди на хуй.”

He chuckles into the top of her head. “I’m going to choose to believe that's you saying you love me.”

“Whatever makes you feel better, honey.” ____________

“Em, sweetheart. You’ve got to wake up.” He shakes her slightly and can’t help the relief he feels when she groans.

“What time is it?”

“3am.”

“I hate you so much.” She grumbles before she pulls his arm tighter across her waist, wrapping herself up tighter in his embrace. She moves with a speed that surprises herself and reaches behind her to press her hand over his mouth. “If you even think about asking me what year it is and if I know who you are, I’ll make you sleep in the garden. Concussion or no concussion.”

He smiles against the palm of her hand and kisses it before removing it from his mouth.

“Straight to the garden?”

“The spare room or the couch are for good boyfriends who let me sleep through the night.”

He kisses her temple. “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”

“I know.” She says, already drifting back off to sleep. “And I love you. But let's go back to sleep.”

“I love you too.” He kisses her temple again. “See you in a couple hours.”

He smiles at, and ignores, the Russian curse words she mutters under her breath and strokes her hair until she falls asleep again.

He doesn’t sleep that night, keeping an eye on her until the sun rises.

When he falls asleep on the couch the following afternoon she purposely wakes him by turning the tv volume all the way up, disregarding the pounding in her own head.

[ninyard]

Heeey what do you think was that made Kevin finally leave the nest?

I wrote like a 2k word fic-of-an-answer to this one my friend but I wasn’t vibing with it! So I’m starting again. But same thing as the last draft of this answer; I think about Kevin leaving the nest ALL THE TIME

~

(“Keep mouthing off like a pair of fucking frogs.” Riko spat in English to them both. When Jean shut the door, “Do you think you’re better than I am?”

“Your ego will kill you someday.” He looked Riko in the eye. “I think you care too much about other people’s success to make yourself look better. You’re building your Court,” Kevin swallowed hard, still trying to hold his head up, gravity failing him as he started to tremble. “But you think it’s just guaranteed you’ll be on it.”)

~

Mandatory CW for The Breaking Of A Hand and Kevin Has Nothing To Live For. See also: the foxes are foxes and their lives are Fucked Up (suicide mention, overdose mention, panic attacks & drug use)

Okay.

Let’s. Talk. About. Kevin.

Idk if I’m allowed to say that Kevin is an underrated character. I really don’t think I am. But if I was allowed to say that I WOULD. I am so very passionate about Kevin I would absolutely die for him and he’s not even real. So let’s talk about his hand.

Can you even begin to imagine what was going through Kevin’s head that night? It looked like practice, then The Master talking about potential, then Riko is mad, then pain and blood and how do I get out of here? Then is it worth it if my life is over?

I think there probably was a minute where Kevin sat alone, covered in his own blood, just thinking there was no point in being alive anymore. His playing hand didn’t really look like a hand anymore, his life and reputation and everything he had worked for just pumping out of his hand and staining his shirt. He didn’t remember passing out but when he came to Riko was gone, and his body was running on fumes trying to keep the pain from overwhelming his system. He probably threw up, all over the locker room, his blood trickling through the tiles, the echo of his own screams ringing through his ears like a non-stop siren. He probably couldn’t really see properly for a little bit and he probably couldn’t move for a while, either. Riko was a foot shorter than him, but he made up for that difference by channeling every ounce of anger and jealousy he felt for Kevin into his feet to stomp the shit out of Kevin’s hand until he knew he would never play again. Jean found Kevin not long later, maybe a couple minutes, or an hour. Kevin begged him to get Riko out of his room. Jean wrapped Kevin’s hand up as best he could, and promised him to deal with it as long as Kevin was there when he got back. Jean had figured he was a flight risk, and knew if Kevin left, Riko’s French personal punching bag would come in handy to take out all his egotistical frustration on. Kevin promised he’d be there when Jean came back. Jean came back to his jacket and wallet missing, a tiny scrap of paper left on the bed, an almost illegible ‘sorry’ scrawled across it. He burned it in the bathroom sink before Riko could find it.

So Kevin’s in his car, and he’s driving. He doesn’t know where yet, and man, is he a hazard. Twice on his journey he nearly knocked out behind the wheel, his head bobbing as the pain begged his body to sleep. He probably had to pull over a couple times to be sick, or to have a panic attack, or both. I know he went through the stages of grief on that drive to Virginia. He probably turned on his radio at some point and laughed, how ridiculous he looked, how dangerous it was to be driving one handed. It took him double the amount of time it would normally have because he just. Had to keep stopping. There’s no way he made that journey in a solid drive.

But also I think he probably didn’t have a plan before he was driving. He knew the Southeastern district were holding the Christmas banquet that night, but that was a secondary thought. His first worry was getting out of the nest. His second worry was whether he was going to kill himself or not. The reason he didn’t just do it? David. The thing that pulled Kevin back off that metaphorical ledge was Coach David Wymack. The only other people who knew about his moms letter were Tetsuji, Jean and Riko. Kevin knew well that none of them would be calling up to break the news to Wymack if he died, and David would grow old and die without ever having known that Kevin Day was his son. David was the reason he was risking everything on busy streets and highways and whatever roads he drove too fast or too slow on.

So, he’s in Virginia without a plan. He doesn’t know what hotel David’s in, if he’s even still in Virginia, if the foxes even bothered to show up. So he looks at as many hotels as he could find. He narrows down the list by looking at the ones he knew the Class I teams frequented, and he called the all pretending to be David, looking for his rooms number. After the fifth call he found it.

Think about Kevin’s anxiety in the elevator, hand throbbing, not profusely bleeding anymore, but every minute that passes is a percentage off the chances he has at keeping his hand and playing again. His heart is racing, his head heavy, every fibre in his being screaming.

David calls out a “Hold your fucking horses, give me a minute!” when Kevin knocks on his door a second time after his first knock received no answer. David opens the door with Abby just behind him, and his face falls so quickly it could’ve hit the floor.

“Kevin.” He looks him up and down, not yet noticing the t-shirt covered in blood he had wrapped around his hand. “Kevin Day. Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

Abby pushes past him to unwrap Kevin’s hand. It must be some nurses instinct, to be instantly drawn to looking for an injury on a person. Kevin pulled it back as gently as he could, looking up and down the hall before asking so quietly it almost couldn’t be heard. “Can I come in?”

David makes small talk with Kevin as he shuts the hotel door behind him. What would he say? What could he possibly say to superstar Kevin Day, who he’d only officially met as a baby, when his mother was alive and he wasn’t destined for Court? He probably tried to make meaningless, awkward small talk until Abby shut him up to ask Kevin what happened. He just started to cry. Small whimpers into chesty, heaving, heavy cries, his body teetering on the edge of a panic attack. David had seen his foxes in bad ways before. He’d seen one of his kids convulsing on a stretcher after an accidental overdose, or a fox who’d choked on their own vomit after an intentional one. He’d seen his foxes in their worst moments, panic attacks and withdrawals, anger and sadness, pulling their hair out and on the brink of death. Something about this was the same but different. When Seth first overdosed on the team it was a cry for help, or when Janie admitted herself to the psych ward for a week, it was because she wanted to try. When Damien asked for a second, and third, and fourth chance David gave it to him because that was what Foxes deserved. It took him a moment of watching Kevin heave, snot and spit running down his chin, his hair falling over his face, his body shaking with anxiety, to remember that Kevin wasn’t a fox. Kevin was a Raven, and by god, that was so much worse.

I think we all know that Abby cares for her foxes like she’s their mother, but Kevin is just different. Abby had been seeing David long enough to know how much Kayleigh Day had really meant to him, and how much it hurt to watch Kevin do her proud. Now Kevin was sitting in front of her, his hand practically lifeless, his heart pouring out of every place it could. She tried not to look at David’s face as he paced the room, watching her patch up Kevin’s hand as best she could. Kevin only started to calm down when she handed him a bottle of Diazepam and some water.

And then Kevin whispers that Riko did it. David almost didn’t hear him. He nearly asked for him to repeat it until it hit him. Riko did it. Riko smashed the hand of his number two so badly it would take a long time for him to play again, if he even wanted to. Abby sent him a deathly glare when he mumbled to himself; “I’ll kill that little jumped up piece of shit”.

The rest is history; Kevin passes out not long after, David carries him to the bus, and they drive to the stadium to pick up the foxes. Kevin sleeps the rest of the way until the sun is starting to rise and they’re back in South Carolina. Kevin doesn’t stop crying on and off again for a couple days, and Abby had to hold him back from escaping more than once. After watching his anxiety consume him, and when he told her none of the Ravens were allowed to be medicated in any manner, she got him a script for some quick-acting anxiety meds for him to keep. It took him a week of energy-sapping panic attacks before she could convince him to actually take them as he needed them.

David took out a loan five days after Kevin had arrived into his care. He called Edgar Allan on the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth day. By the ninth day Kevin was released from the grips of Ravens. By the tenth day they had started the process of making Kevin Day a fox. I suppose it’s for the best Riko fucked up his hand so badly, isn’t it? At least it gave him the ability to fit into the eligibility criteria for being a Fox. Welcome to the club, Kevin Day, and prepare to be gravely disappointed.

[paper-n-ashes]

sparks and embers - chapter 1

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she'd been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.

Preface: Let me say, I am immensely nervous about this. After months of back and forth inside my mind, I’ve decided to go for it and begin the long process of moving my long running series to Tumblr, along with changing the name (something I’ve wanted to do for a long time). I hit a big emotional road block after over a year of writing and posting, so I’m hoping this move will eventually get me back into the swing. But for now, I’m looking forward to revisiting the beginning of this space love triangle.

If you’ve already read the saga, absolutely NO pressure to read again. Each chapter will be edited a little, but no major plot points will change. To any newcomers who find themselves interested, the story is already posted on AO3 if you are desperate to continue. Otherwise if you prefer reading on Tumblr, or simply like the forced breaks between chapters, I’ll be posting a new chapter every couple of days. I know it’s not written as reader insert, but I just couldn’t make the story work out in any other fashion. I poured a lot of love and heart into Alexys so I hope you’ll give her a chance.

Chapter 1 - Crash Landing

Words: 3.4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: descriptions of severe injury including blood and bone, medical procedures 

Read on AO3

~

I felt it before I heard it.

A booming crash of metal and glass, sending a shattering vibration through the walls and furniture around me. After the years of mostly silence I’d become accustomed to, the noise that came pummelling into my ears almost made me shriek in surprise. It was short lived, coming and going in a flicker so quick I had to wonder if it was real at all.

Lights began to flash, blinking rapidly in uneven time. The mixture of harsh beeps indicated something was faulting my electricity circuits, plunging me into the darkness of night over and over.

I could only question myself again at the plausibility of this being a dream, but the slow, increasing creak emanating from beyond the walls of this building brought me to a certainty.

Something had crashed outside.

Fear radiated through my limbs, leaving me stuck where I was standing for a few moments, before an uncontrollable urge of selflessness and honestly, curiosity, forced me to move and exit the safety of my clinic.

There wasn’t really a way to prepare for what I saw not metres away from my front entrance. A ship, an X-wing of some variety, was wrecked into itself, varying metals twisted and curled over each other, flames beginning to billow out from the creases. I could feel the heat of them rise as I cautiously stepped forward, taking in the scene with wide eyes. Only seconds had passed when I saw it – the movement of something – no, a person, demanding my attention. The pilot of this battered machine had been thrown just beyond the edge of its hull, broken transparisteel smattering the ground around them.

Hm, the Resistance should probably investigate their flight safety measures.

That thought quickly flittered away when the pilot moved again, this time with a painful moan echoing into the atmosphere. The switch inside quickly flipped, and an all too familiar feeling of conviction flooded through.

This is your cue Alexys.

I raced quickly to the pilot and knelt on the ground before them, fingers carefully removing the black and red helmet with both urgency and restraint as to not cause any more possible damage to their head or neck. The moan I'd heard just moments before let me know this person had some kind of airway, but it was pertinent I assess further. With the helmet gone I noticed the short, lightly waved black hair of a man, his eyes pulled closed, a few bruises and smudges of grey soot smattered over his face. His chest was moving, laboured breathing with the occasional heave on inhale.

At least he’s breathing.

“It’s alright,” I insisted. “I’m here to help you.”

There wasn’t any discernible response from the pilot other than a groan that withered away slowly, and that in itself was worrying. Kneeling over his body, I placed two fingers under the line of his jaw, halfway down, trying to feel for a pulse. I could sense the thump of blood under my fingertips, but it was too slow, too faint, too uneven.

Not great, but it was enough for now.

I began to scan over his body, knowing it was time to assess what was giving him reason to cry out in pain. There were severe burns on his left arm which had caused some of his flight suit to stick to the skin, with more scalds reaching down to his torso and abdomen. His right arm was almost definitely broken with the limb morphed into an irregular angle almost halfway along.

Without being able to look at them directly to ascertain whether I was going to be able to move him, I pressed on his hips gently, silently praying he hadn’t broken his pelvis. He muffled softly, but anyone who had actually shattered the bone would have screamed. As my eyes continued to scan down, it became obvious all too suddenly the shattered edge of his right femur bone poking out of the orange flight suit.

Kriff, this is not ideal.

I wanted to kick myself for not noticing it before, but there was no time, not with the very real possibility of him bleeding out in front of my eyes. My feet moved under me, racing back to the clinic room, knowing where the bandage and splint lay waiting, along with the anaesthetic injections I had stocked in the pharmacy cupboard.

He was certainly going to need them.

Within minutes I was back to the ground with the pilot, clicking together the injector handle and vial, piercing the needle straight into his thigh above the fracture site. I wouldn’t be able to wait for it to dull most of the pain, so internally, I braced myself for the scream I was about to elicit from this poor human's chest. The second I started to wrap the bandage around the splint, a piercing wail echoed through the air, almost causing me to hesitate. Still, my hands continued to haphazardly wrap the white material around his leg, pushing through the guilt it ignited. 

Suddenly, the noise stopped.

My eyes darted to his face as his head slumped over on its side. “Hey!” I shouted into his face as I scrambled back to the top end of his limp body. “Hey can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me!”

There was no response.

I pinched at the muscle on his shoulder, harder and harder to elicit any kind of reaction. Nothing. My hand pulled into a closed fist and grinded against his sternum. “Come on, open those eyes if you can feel this!”

Still nothing.

Again I took check of his breathing, chest still rising and falling, yet shallow and with little power. His heartbeat had begun to race, but through my fingertips I could feel the strain in the muscle. Something was seriously wrong, even more so than his other injuries. Something internally. If I didn’t get him into the clinic, he was going to die.

In a snap decision, I chose to forgo an attempt to run back and locate the hover-stretcher. It would take too much time to set up and power on, time this man didn’t have. I would have to move him myself.

How the hell am I going to do this?

With my arms hooked and locked under his armpits I began to drag the pilots hefty body backwards towards the clinic behind me, thankfully only a few meters away, barely making it past the entryway when a roar of flames overtook the X-wing. I looked up to see the blaze almost completely engulfing the ship, a ferocious heat searing into my eyes and face. With even more urgency I heaved the body into the large clinic room, getting up and slamming the door just in time. Just before a house rattling explosion sent shockwaves into the atmosphere.

Lucky didn’t seem to be an appropriate feeling considering the situation I was in, but at least no one had died. Yet. With my last bit of brute strength, I hoisted the pilots limp body onto the closest hospital bed, noticing then the trail of red liquid I’d brought along with me.

Oh no no no.

With him still lifeless, I tugged at his body and limbs to lie flat on the bed, scurrying to my medical trolley and hauling it back to where the pilot laid, ragged breaths still thankfully escaping into the air. Snatching the heavy shears from the top drawer, I began to tear through the thick fabric of the flight suit, unclipping and removing as much of the life support vest and belt as I could. I had to be careful not to rip away the fabric that melted into the burns scattered all over his body, the number of them increasing as I peeled away the suit, starting from his legs, up to his abdomen and chest over to his upper arms. His torso was in full view now, a smattering of dark hair over his pectorals, underneath which showed the bruises of his crash’s impact.

Oh he’s definitely got some broken ribs.

As my gaze scanned over his skin, I could finally isolate where all that blood had escaped from. A deep penetrating wound just below the last rib on his left flank. As I registered his quick shallow breaths and the uneven rise in his chest, it became obvious.

Collapsed lung.

Whatever had pierced through his chest had poked an extremely damaging hole in his lung, the pleural space now filling with air, leaving no room for his lung to expand. My following movements were swift and calculated, almost automatic. A pointed scalpel was soon in my hand, poised to cut. But I couldn’t help but hesitate. It had been so long since I’d had to do this. And yet, somehow, concern for this stranger’s life was quick to weave it’s way through, dissolving my fear into pure resolve.

I made my incision in between the 4th and 5th ribs, using a clamp to push into the underlying tissue and past the pleural cavity, a gloved hand then entering to check I’d made it through. With an instinctive confidence, I guided the chest tube between the layers of tissue, undoing the ratchet of the clamp to an immediate rush of air. The pilot’s chest heaved in relief, along with my own.

One crisis averted.

But there was more to do. Connecting a drain to the tube, I haphazardly sutured it in place, before flying to the pharmacy cupboard. My stock of bacta was limited, returning with an already prepared vial into the pressurised injector, reminding myself I would need to use it sparingly if this stranger was going to make it through the full extend of his injuries. I had cursed at myself only a few times in the years past at being so far removed from a higher level medical centre that would be overflowing with bacta and medical droids that could help in exactly this kind of situation, but the thought had never burned me so badly. There was no way to know if I could keep this man alive with the resources that yesterday I had been more than comfortable with. I would just have to try.

I injected some of the bacta solution throughout the surrounding area of the wound and covered it with heavy dressing, knowing the bleeding would quickly be curbed. Unfortunately, the wound itself would take a few days to fully close, only ever being able to afford lower quality bacta. Before moving on to the burns, I placed some basic monitoring, lines extending from electrical dots over his chest, wrist and neck to the data monitor above the bed. As the numbers lit up on the holo screen, I felt myself breathe a small sigh of relief, having prepared for a much worse result. His heart rate was better, oxygen levels returning to normal, blood pressure not optimal by any means but high enough to sustain his life, for now.

After securing an oxygen filter over his battered face, I continued to inspect and clean as many of the small and more sizeable burns dotting his body. Even with the many I had uncovered, the one extending from his shoulder past his elbow was the one of most concern. Third degree and extremely unhappy looking. If I wasn’t quick to treat this, it could leak even more fluid from his already compromised circulatory system. I was thankful he still remained unconscious when I began to slowly shed the charred material melted into the skin layer. I couldn’t help but shudder as I remembered the initial scream this man had let out, knowing I would be hearing it now if not for his comatose state.

Covering the immense scald in as much salve as I could spare, I began to wrap it in protective antibacterial bandage, soon moving on to protect his many blisters and deeper burns with dressings. Glancing at the monitor screen, he was still stable, and swallowed hard. Now it was time to attempt possibly the most daunting part of this patient’s treatment.

His femur was still sticking through the tissue of his thigh, slightly dried dark red blood creating lightning strike looking lines extending from the wound.

I need to get some blood into him before moving this.

I quickly got to work on an IV cannula, his poor blood pressure making it significantly more difficult than it should have been. Two bags of O- blood were all I had, and a wave of dread coursed through me with the thought of that not being enough if this all went wrong. My fist squeezed the fast flow pump of the IV line, pushing fresh blood urgently into his system, making his blood pressure rise only slightly. With the last of the red liquid trickling through the line I wheeled over the portable X-Ray. It was so old the mechanical arm screeched at me as I positioned it into place over the pilot’s leg. The bone had to be at least somewhat in place before getting the bacta to work its magic or this guy might walk with two uneven legs for the rest of his life.

If he actually made it through the rest of his injuries, that is.

Shaking my arms out at my side, I sucked in a few deep breaths to build my stamina. Unfortunately, this stranger was stuck with a small framed female to attempt reducing his severe fracture. With one last inhale, I drew the courage to pull as hard as I could horizontally at the knee joint, digging my fingers into a vice grip around the limb and yanking it towards me. To my relief, the fractured edge of the femur to slipped back into the hole it was peeking out from, settling back under the skin.

Thank all the stars in the galaxy he’s not awake for this.

I quickly pressed the image button on the X-ray to assess the progress I’d made. The faint white lines of bone edges were stark enough on the grey background of the image. The fracture wasn’t reduced even nearly enough. I prepared myself again, with another deep breath I pulled hard. This time my efforts were forced into angling the lower portion of bone to try and lock it back into place. The grinding of bone edges could be felt through my fingers, pushing myself to pull even harder, creating more space between the fracture in the hope of giving a fighting chance of lining up the splintered edges. My muscles were whining, begging for this to be over, tears of exhaustion soon stinging at the edges of my eyes.

With one final twisting motion there was a sudden click.

Finally.

My relief was short lived.

It was slow at first, before racing faster. A stream of dark red blood pooling at the wound the broken bone had made.

Oh maker no.

Within moments the pace of the blood quickened. I shot my hands to the open flesh site, pressing down hard in an attempt to disturb the flow. The liquid quickly covered my gloved hands, already sure I’d sliced into the femoral artery. The pressure of my hands into the area made the blood spurt out onto my arms, my clothes, my face, everywhere. The monitor was screaming, blood pressure falling quickly. Wiping some of the hot coppery fluid away from my left eye, I slid my fingers back into the gash, moving desperately to stop the overflow before the man lying in front of me bled out, knowing it would all be my fault.  

You have to do it Alexys. He will die if you don’t.

The voice nagged at me, pleading to do what it wanted.

He’s with the Resistance! If he survives, if he contacts them, they’ll find me. And they’ll know.

It is time to decide. His life. Or yours.

Seconds ticked by fleetingly, numbers flashing on the monitor trickling down, the speed of blood flow from the pilot’s leg stubbornly keeping it’s intensity.

Everything I’d done to get here, to isolate myself so no one could find me. It would all amount to nothing. My easy, albeit lonely life, would be gone. All because of this stranger.

But I couldn’t let him die. Not like this.

In one flash, I removed my hands from inside the wound, ripping off my gloves and placing two palms at either side of the leg. With closed eyes, I willed the energy out of the depths of its slumber. From the darkened corner of my mind I pulled it back into existence, opening the gate I’d locked it inside for so long, letting it finally burst through and fill up my brain. From there it down through my neck, through my chest and down my arms, right to the end of my fingertips. Its warming glow was almost comforting, friendly. I would have basked in it for a while if not for the life that hung in the balance before me.

Through the pads of my fingerprints I pushed the stream outwards, connecting past the skin of this innocent human being, and felt the overwhelming heat of pain and dimming of energy.

Hurry, he’s dying.

I began to map out the tissue of his leg, frustratingly slowly, starting at the smallest of capillaries, weaving and winding through the flesh, connecting them through the maze of fat and muscle. I could feel the sweat forming on my forehead, my breathing forced and harsh. The vessels grew bigger as I pushed the energy through, skipping past broken points of other smaller injuries. I could fix them later.

Finally, I felt a molten warmth radiating close to where the maze had guided me. Racing to it, I sensed something pushing me back, the pressure of escaping fluid holding my efforts. I’d found the cut, but now I had to somehow knit it back together.

You’re taking too long.

The alarms of the monitor started to echo with a hollow ring inside my ear, fading until I could hear almost nothing. The world around me was blurry, only the image of vessel tissue and all-consuming redness visible in my minds eye. The energy I was expending began to burn me - I wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. I reached out with it, what felt like many hands grasping desperately at the severed edge of the vessel, frantic yet delicate, pulling whatever tissue I could hold back into place.

Several fringes connected, the pressure pushing forcefully against me, making it harder to hold. I couldn’t help but begin to shake at the strain, the sound of my own heart pounding over the slowing heartbeat of the pilot. My grip was already beginning to fade before I started to sew the pieces of artery back together, an ache growing behind my eyes as I pierced an invisible needle through the tissue, over and over, still clawing at the unsewn edges as I made my way around the tube.

I was so close, the tension of the fluid still being driven out of the broken seal almost overcoming me. The unseen thread had almost made its way full circle. I was almost there.

My entire body rattled with exhaustion and pain. One final thread wove itself around the artery, its abrupt closure alleviating the strain on invisible fingers that had been clutching it all together.

You did it.

The energy dissipated quickly in a rolling wave, letting it retreat back into my mind, scampering to the secluded area of my brain, hidden once more. I felt light suddenly, dizzy, the world coming back into focus, screaming alarms growing louder. It was too much, all at once.

A sharp pang of fatigue enveloped every part of my senses and I faltered back, knees giving way, slumping to the floor.

Then, there was only darkness.

~

Next Chapter

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[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥𝓔𝓻𝓸𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓟𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓱𝓮

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑠! 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔 × 𝑃𝑠𝑦𝑐ℎ𝑒! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈.

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 11.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠, 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠/ 𝑑𝑒𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒, 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘, 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡.

~"𝑀𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑔𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

𝑌𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠." - 𝐴𝑛𝑖𝑡𝑎 𝐾𝑟𝑖𝑧𝑧𝑎𝑛.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

"Eros, my darling son.......come here for a minute."

The golden haired goddess gently stroke the dove that was nestled in her embrace, her eyes fixated on the ray of light that shone through the crystal windows of her palace.

She heard the footsteps of her beloved child stop right in front of her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bend down in obeisance to her, his arm rested across his chest.

"Yes mother?" The snowy white haired deity awaited her instructions.

"I've been rather uneasy lately my love. Very uneasy." She waved her hand and he slowly rose up, eyes meeting hers.

"Why is that?"

The Olympian got up from her seat, sending the little dove flying away to perch itself on one of the trees that decorated the room. Gracefully, she paced around the room, her hands folded in front of her abdomen, fingers tapping against each other as she mused about the current situation.

"There's been....some unsettling rumors being spread in the mortal world and it has reached Olympus..."

Eros waited for her to continue. It must have been something very grievous for her to be so out of sorts, and this was the same goddess who didn't fear the consequences when her long life affair with his father, Ares, was discovered.

She peered down the window, sneering at the city below that was barely visible with all the clouds covering a vast majority of it.

"Apparently one of the daughter's of the King of Athens is said to be remarkably beautiful....."

She paused as she took a deep breath, jaw clenching as she sputtered out the next words.

"So enchanting that they dare compare her to me....Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty itself....

They've even begun to bring gifts and worship her on the day they're supposed to pay respect and praise to me!"

Eros flinched slightly when she hastily turned around and marched past him, tipping over a table that held a tray with a golden tea set. But he didn't stop her, so used to his mother's infantile tantrums, although he was pretty shocked to hear the severity of the issue. To worship a mere mortal, one who was so far below one of the gods, and not just any god, but one of the 12 Olympians themselves, was inconceivable.

Aphrodite clenched and unclenched her fist, trying to control her fury threatening to seek vengeance.

"I need you to go down there and find out who she is. And when you find her.....shoot her." She commanded him.

Eros nodded, understanding what she was asking of him.

"Who would you like me to have her fall for?"

Aphrodite groaned in annoyance.

"Oh! I don't know! Anyone or anything! An old haggard beggar, a toad, have her go mad over a tree stump for all I care! Just make her go insane!" She threw a cluster of grapes across the room, scaring the flock of doves who flew away to different parts of the room.

"As you wish my goddess."

Eros bowed to his mother one last time before retreating out of the hall, and going to his own chambers to prepare his necessary equipment for the journey. He too was curious to find out just how captivating this woman really was.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The young girl sighed softly as she looked at all the smoke coming out from the temple, the light scent of incense could be made out from her bedroom window. She was well aware and against what was going on in there. It was utterly disrespectful of her father to allow them and even encourage his citizens to offer sacrifices to her in Aphrodite's sacred temple, and on her very own yearly celebration. Had they no fear of a wrath from the gods?

She simply looked away and went to her own little corner where she made a small shrine dedicated to the goddess of beauty, love and fertility. She admired the small marble figurine of the goddess herself, and straightened out the roses and pearls surrounding it. She lit fire to a few myrtles and let them burn in a small ash tray as she murmured one of the many hymns in devotion to the deity. If she wasn't so soft hearted, she would have finished it off with sacrificing one of the best doves that were kept in the stables, but she could never bring herself to do that. She hoped the goddess would understand and forgive her, or at least, try to appease her for all the foolishness her father was causing.

She straightened her nightgown and crawled under the blankets of her grand bed. She was exhausted from the day's festivities and from the guilt and fear eating her alive. She shut her eyes, secretly hoping it was nothing but a bad dream and when she awoke, everything would be fine and back to the ways it was meant to be. She soon was fast asleep, only movements coming out of her body were the rising of her chest, signaling her breathing.

A soft thud landed on her balcony. The being looked behind him, making sure nobody had seen him. Not that it mattered, even if they did, they would tremble away in fear. Pushing the window open, he let himself inside the girl's bedroom, the one they reverenced as Psyche. His eyes scanned the room, landing on the bed which he cautiously approached. His hand reached out to pull away at the drapes covering the sleeping figure.

"Let's see who is it that is said to rival Aphrodite."

Eros pulled the drape away, letting the moonlight behind him shine on the face of the occupant on the bed. His arm fell to his side, slapping slightly against his thigh as he took in the beautiful countenance of the woman sleeping peacefully in front of him. He blinked slowly, trying to decipher if what he was seeing was indeed real. She was absolutely breathtaking, almost ethereal, never had his sight been blessed by such radiant and magnificent beauty, and he'd spent some time around Poseidon's Nereids.

Without realizing it, his hand reached out to caress her face or simply push back a lock of her hair, he himself didn't know what he was doing. But a small shifting of position on her part made him retract his hand, elbow grazing on the leather of the pouch on his back.

That's right. He still had a mission to carry out.

His arm reached back and grabbed an arrow from the pouch. He then proceeded to hover his hand above the tip, humming the soft incantation that would allow him to pierce the girl's heart and render her insane for the first object she saw. As he chanted, she began to stir in her sleep, putting Eros on guard, hoping she wouldn't wake up. He took in how her once peaceful expression, showed now sorrow and pain. It somehow pained him to see such a beautiful girl seem so troubled. He was so lost in her gaze that he didn't realise it until it was too late...

Until he felt the sharp tip of the arrow prick into his palm, even piercing the skin. Eros widened his eyes as he quickly yanked the arrow out, flinging it across the room. He looked at his hand, no blood coming out because he was an immortal, but he still clutched it as he felt an overwhelming pain and flutter course through his entire body. His heart started to pump at a faster pace, and his breathing became heavier. He tried to look away, but his mind forced him to look back at the unsuspecting girl on the bed.

"Oh no......what have I done?" He whispered softly.

Feeling dizzy, he scurried out the window, not caring anymore about being seeing in the dark of night, he just knew he wanted to back in Olympus as soon as possible. He flew back into the heavens, discarding only a few white feathers on his desperate flight back.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Psyche stood in front of the mirror, trying not to gaze at her own reflection, which she thought of as more of a curse than a blessing. She simply let her maids comb and adorn her hair as they wished and wrap a golden belt around her lilac colored tunic.

"My lady would you like breakfast brought to you or would you prefer to go down to the dining room?" One of them inquired.

She shook her head.

"I won't be taking breakfast today thank you."

The maids exchanged a puzzled look between each other but decided not to pry any longer. They simple allowed their mistress to wander off to the castle's pavilion located in the center of the gardens.

She preferred being alone these days, avoiding as many people as possible, but especially her father. Lately he had been rambling and complaining non stop at the lack of suitors coming to propose marriage to her. It'd been almost a year since he put out the announcement that she was of age and ready to be betrothed to any suitable prince or monarch, he had even raised the dowry triple what it was originally worth, but still, no one had come to claim her or propose.

"Perhaps it's just as well." She thought to herself. It wouldn't surprise her if this was how Aphrodite was showing her anger, by making her face the humiliation of being unwedded and childless.

Perhaps the biggest thing bothering her was the fact men just came to admire her beauty, but seemed to never really fall in love with her, and she herself couldn't fall in love either. Was she just a pretty face for people to gawk and fawn over? Was she destined to feel lonely and empty for the rest of her life?

"Little Psyche out here all alone?"

She stiffened when she heard the voice of her eldest sister, Amara, from behind her. Small steps let her know she was entering the pavilion and soon enough, she felt her presence stand right next to her.

"I wanted to be alone. That's all." She explained, although she really didn't feel the need to.

Her sister hummed softly.

"Would one really think that to be such a good idea? Father would be concerned if anything happened to his precious and beautiful Psyche, especially after that incident of the arrow in your room."

She was getting irritated at this point, her hand gripping harshly at the side of her tunic, creasing it slightly.

"That was many months ago Amara.....and I've said before that I don't like the title given to me by my father and the people....."

She took a deep breath before stating firmly:

"My name is Y/N and I shall be referred as such."

Her sister was taken aback by her sharp tone, but paid no attention to it. She opted for plucking some of the little violets that surrounded one of the pillars.

"As you wish....after all, anything you say is practically law. Anything you desire, you'll get." Her voice was laced with envy.

Y/N shook her head.

"Not everything."

Although she was referring to the fact her father refused to listen to her in the matter of Aphrodite's temple, her sister wrongly thought she meant the matter of matrimony.

"Oh don't worry little sister. Father is to go visit the Oracle of Delphi to seek help from Apollo in regards to your.......shameful circumstances."

Y/N couldn't stand it anymore. It's not that she hated her sister, but lately she seemed to enjoy in taking delight of her misery and pain, hurting her with her mock pity and double sided remarks.

"If you'll excuse me Amara, I shall go back inside."

Y/N was barely 4 feet away when her sister dismissed her.

"See you later......Psyche."

Y/N refused to eat during the entire day, worrying her loyal and trustworthy maids.

"But Miss....you must eat at least a little. Whatever shall you do if your beauty fades away?"

'Then I shall be content.'

She only thought those words but didn't say them out loud. She felt bad about her maids attending to her with such tenderness that she forced herself to at least eat some of the grapes in front of her. It seemed to put her maids more at ease and Y/N was happy about it.

"Anything in particular you wish for us to do Miss?"

There was one thing she really wanted. Something everyone around her never seemed to do anymore.

"Could you......could you please call me Y/N?"

The two women looked back and forth at each other, unsure of whether to refer to the princess in such an informal way.

"Please?"

Y/N was just craving to be reminded of who she truly was, be assured about her existence and her true person. Both women smiled fondly at her before curtsying to her.

"Lady Y/N."

She felt her heart full with warmth and felt happier in that moment than she had felt in the last 8 months that had gone by. But that happiness was short lived when her door swung open, her other sister, Melia rushing in, looking out of sorts and with fear in her eyes.

"Melia? What's wrong?"

Y/N stood up, but it was her sister who clutched onto her and sobbed on her neck.

"Oh poor Psyche! Why must this have happened to you? To my dear little sister?"

Y/N didn't know what to make of this, but it must be something dreadful if her usually composed and quiet sibling was hysteric. She pulled her back to take in her countenance.

"Tell me. What is it?" Y/N pleaded.

Melia pursed her lips before recounting what she heard and witnessed.

"Father came back from meeting with Apollo's Oracle......and Psyche, it's dreadful!"

Y/N gulped slightly. Although she was expecting the answer to not be a favorable one, she was not expecting this outburst.

"Tell me Mel.......am I not to get married ever?"

Y/N braced herself for the negative response.

Melia shook her head though.

"No Psyche.....it's much much worse than that."

Y/N felt her heart drop at that. What could there possibly be that was worse than not getting married?

"The Oracle told father that your husband has already been chosen for you. He gave us instructions that we are to deliver you to the top of Mount Lycabettus, dressed in black and to leave you there...."

She sniffled and held her handkerchief to her mouth.

"Will my husband meet us there?" She questioned.

Melia shook her head no.

"Well- then how can we be married?" She was beyond puzzled at this point.

"We don't know Psyche, the Oracle only said to deliver you. One thing is sure Psyche. Your husband is not mortal."

Y/N would have rejoiced at the information would it not have been for the terror in her sister's eyes.

"Melia tell me.....who exactly is my husband?"

Melia seemed troubled to reveal more information to her, but she knew she had to say it.

"We don't know. He refused to tell father. All he mentioned was that he flies through the skies and even the gods are terrified of him.....

"Psyche....I fear you're destined to marry a monster..."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

The girl watched as her parents, sisters and their husbands disappeared from sight, not even leaving behind their footprints to keep her company. Crouching down, she settled herself onto the ground, her arms wrapping around to hug her knees. She sighed in despair as she thought about what was going to happen to her now. Was her new husband really a monster? It seemed to be the only logical explanation if even gods were afraid of him. The only thing she could think of was....

A titan?

'No it can't be.'

She quickly discarded that thought. All of the titans were locked away in Tartarus. And the world would have definitely known if a titan had gotten out.

She anxiously waited for a sign, a movement of some kind, but nothing ever came. All she had to accompany her besides her solitude was the light breeze that blew some of her hair in front of her face. She shivered slightly, her arms crossing over her chest as she rubbed them with her hands. She faintly noticed that the wind seemed to be getting a little more heavier, and it seemed as though fog started to appear around her. But Y/N couldn't really pay attention to it as she felt herself getting drowsy and tired. She struggled to keep her eyes open, but the feeling was overtaking her. Her eyes ended up closing as she fell back onto the moss underneath her, falling fast asleep without even knowing why.

While asleep, she felt a strange sensation of being lifted up and carried up into the sky, almost as if though she were flying.....but that was surely impossible? But it felt so real. She had a fantastical dream of flying above the peak of mountains, drift through the clouds in the sky and somehow even be close to the stars. She felt as if she were being carried in the arms of some strong entity. And at the end, she could faintly hear a voice assure her:

"Have no fear little one, for you are truly loved."

Awakening hours later, when it was even darker and more deep into the night than before, she sat up and looked around at her surroundings. The green moss from before was no longer accompanying her. Instead, she awoke to find herself placed on an ivory marble resting bench. Beautiful varieties of roses surrounded what she guessed to be a very beautiful and luxurious garden. Her hand reached out to caress one of them, its petals being one of the most soft things she'd ever felt.

Standing up, she followed the stone path that was right in front of her. A tiny river flowed through the garden, a slight trickling sound was the only noise that was heard. She stopped when a grand and extravagant mansion stood before her. It was 10 times more beautiful and seemed more expensive than the very castle she grew up in. Cautiously, she over to the front door, which seemed to be made out of pure gold, pearls adorning the edges of them.

Y/N was about to knock on it, but to her surprise, the doors opened by themselves. She slowly stepped inside, her eyes bulging out as her eyes took in the hall in front of her. Clean and neatly polished marble floor, crimson red silk drapes covering large and vast windows, the furniture looked unlike anything she had ever seen before. Her hand was gliding over the ottoman in the center of it when a voice called out:

"Welcome mistress! We have been expecting you!"

She whipped her head around, then looked at all directions, but found no one standing anywhere near her.

"Who...who are you?" Y/N fearfully looked at the ceiling then at every corner, wondering where the voice was.

"We're your servants mistress." A chorus of at least 5 women rang out, puzzling her even more.

"Where....are you?"

The invisible women giggled amongst themselves.

"We are right here next to you mistress. I'm afraid you just can't see us."

Y/N watched as a silver pitcher was lifted up in the air, pouring what seemed to be wine in a glass cup, which was then hovered right in front of her.

"Wine mistress?"

Y/N hesitantly took the cup, indeed feeling someone's weight let go of it. She took a small sip of the wine, its rich and crisp flavor enticing her to drink more of it.

"Would you care for any fruits?" A platter holding strawberries, grapes, cherries and blueberries were held up in front of her. They looked so fresh and ripe, Y/N couldn't help but reach for one of the grapes, her tastebuds becoming completely engaged at how delicious and juicy they were.

She no longer felt disturbed by the faceless voices talking to her, nor about the objects floating around, carrying articles that were being offered to her, and she did not get startled when she heard music filling the room, playing the most sweet and beautiful melody her ears were blessed to hear. She just let her invisible attendants feed her some exotic foods that she never even knew existed. She also didn't mind them guiding her to a lavatory, where there was a bathtub, the size of a large pond already waiting for her. She nearly slipped into another deep sleep when she stepped inside, the warm water relaxing her muscles while the scent of lavender calmed and eased her mind. After washing her body, her maids oiled and scented her body with vanilla and jasmine while they dried her. She saw as a periwinkle blue robe was extended towards her and Y/N slipped into it, her hands caressing the soft, velvet material, smoothing the folds on her waist and hips.

"Oh mistress! You look so beautiful!" One of them cheerfully exclaimed.

"You're the most beautiful creature we've been honored to serve." Another piped in.

"We're so happy to have you here with us. It shall be a lot more livelier now." She heard someone chuckle.

"I think our job for tonight is done. My lady, please step into the room behind the other door. The master will join you shortly."

Y/N was so filled with bliss and contentment, that she had completely forgotten why she was here in the first place. Recalling her sister words, she begged her maids not to leave her, but they apologized and retreated to who knows where, leaving her by herself once again. Her hand reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly before she stepped into the next room.

Y/N tried to move around in the space, but it was extremely difficult because the room was pitch black. She could barely make out the outlines of the chairs, the bed draped with curtains or the dressers. On the corner, she saw a single window, but the curtains were drawn, and even if it was open, the dark night would hardly help her see any better. Y/N out stretched her arms, grabbing onto the empty void around her to maneuver herself to the bed, where she settled down into, hugging her knees like she did back when her family left her on top of the mountain.

She rocked herself back and forth as many thoughts ran over her mind:

'When will he arrive? Will he be kind or not? What will he look like....

And who was he?'

Y/N rested her hands on her arms that were hugging her knees, her eyes closing, but she wasn't tired at all. She just wished time would speed up faster and someone could explain to her what was going on. She felt a light breeze suddenly pass through the room. Looking up, she saw that the curtains by the window had been moved, pushed slightly open, letting just the dimmest sliver of light pour in, but she still couldn't see anything.

She felt something .....someone else in the room with her. On edge, she quickly sat up from the bed and tried to make way back to the other room.

"You have nothing to fear my dearest Y/N."

She halted at the sound of her name. She was expecting to be called that odious title she was often referred to, but instead, she heard her very own name.

"How....how do you know my name?"

The deep, baritone voice spoke again.

"It wouldn't be fitting for a husband to not know his own wife's name, don't you think?"

Y/N eased slightly at his words but still felt nervous.

"Where...are you?" She took small steps, eyes squinting to see something, anything.

She felt a rush of warmth fill up her body when a gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder.

"I'm right here beside you, where I shall always be."

She didn't tremble at his touch, on the contrary, she relaxed and her fear was suddenly gone. Whoever the stranger was, he slowly turned her around to face him. She could make out a bit of his outline, but still couldn't define any of his features or details.

"Why aren't there any lamps? I can't see you."

Lifting her hand, he placed it on his cheek, his skin feeling as soft as a petal.

"See me with your touch my love."

Her hand delicately traced his features, trying to imagine what he looked like. He had a very sharp jawline, a well defined nose and delicately carved lips that tempted her to reach up and kiss them. She was still confused as to why she couldn't see him though. As if on cue, he spoke:

"I know it must be difficult for you to understand this Y/N. But please don't be afraid of me. I would never hurt you."

Y/N retracted her hand.

"My...my sister said you're a monster."

He chuckled heartedly, his voice full of music and splendor.

"Do I feel like a monster or sound like one?"

Y/N giggled softly, realizing it did seem silly.

"If you're not a monster though......why can't I see you?"

She could feel the man in front of her think about how to answer her. Sighing softly, he took her hand again, holding it with his two hands and running a thumb on the top of it.

"I'm afraid I can't give you the answer to that question yet...."

She felt her heart sink at his words. She lowered her head in disappointment. Not wanting to upset her more, he kissed the palm of her hand and swore:

"Just please trust me Y/N, and I'll promise to love you forever......can you trust me?"

Maybe she was mad or delusional, but in spite of all the mystery surrounding him, she sincerely felt the veracity of his promise and had no doubt in her mind about trusting him. She moved closer to him, accidentally stepping too far and colliding with his firm chest.

"Umph!" Y/N groaned slightly.

He giggled softly at her cute action. He saw as she tried to reach out again to feel him, but instead pulled her hand away.

"You can touch me love."

Her hands once again traced his smooth face, traveling down his neck before resting on his broad shoulders. Although he felt somewhat slim, his body seemed very toned and vigorous. Y/N wanted to drop her hands further but she felt to shy to do it. Once again, he read her mind.

"Y/N....it's ok. We're married." He drew out that last word, more to himself than to her.

Her hands pressed down across his chest. She could tell his tunic was made out of fine linen, even if she couldn't see it. His chest felt strong and sturdy, she bit her lip slightly as she pictured what it would look like in the light, without his garment.

She gasped when she felt him pull her against him, his breath against her lips, just wanting to close the space between them and kiss her. His finger traced the curve of her luscious and plump lips. Although she was content with everything he'd said so far, there was just one more question she had:

"I....... I don't know what to call you."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean....you know my name....but you never told me yours." She pulled away slightly.

He realized she was right. She felt him smile at her as he brought her face close to his again.

"Please call me Yeosang." Her heart fluttered when she heard his name.

Yeosang brushed his lips against hers.

"Trust me my dear. I love you with all my heart."

Y/N melted at his words and before she knew it, she whispered back:

"I love you too....Yeosang."

As soon as she spoke out those words, Yeosang could no longer control himself as he enclosed his lips over hers in a passionate and loving kiss. Y/N blushed at being kissed for the first time in her life, but happily returned the gesture, surprised that she easily could. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew Yeosang was beautiful, ethereal and very kind...

And she was already falling in love with him.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

It had been roughly 4 months into their marriage and Y/N was extremely happy. He'd visit her in the dead of night everyday, as usual, in the pitch black so she couldn't see him, but she had grown accustomed to that. He'd usually leave before she was even awake and before the sun would even start coming out. He'd always leave a red rose by her dresser everyday, attached with a small note filled with terms of endearment and vows of love and adoration for her, always succeeding in making her blush.

Y/N was more than content. Now, whenever she looked in the mirror, she wouldn't turn away nor hate the face she saw. She came to love her appearance now, because there was light and love in it. She was in love, she was loved and there was no greater feeling than that.

During the day, she would either spend time outside in the garden or inside, her maids, or rather, their presence, always keeping her company. She loved listening to their stories about the world she was now a part of, finding them extremely fascinating. They were all so gentle and caring towards her, attending to her every needs and overall staying by her side so she wouldn't get lonely.

"Won't you tell us something about where you are from for once Mistress?"

Y/N was elated, happily telling them all about her home, her family, how she grew up and various other aspects of her life.

"You seem very close to your family Misstress." One of them observed.

"I am. I love them very much, and I have such fondness for my sisters...."

She stopped at the moment. It hit her how she hadn't heard from her family since she got there, nor did they have any idea of her whereabouts or her fate. Her heart suddenly felt sad as she began missing them terribly.

"Mistress is something wrong?"

Y/N quickly plastered a smile back on her face, not wanting them to be concerned at all. Instead suggesting they all play a game together so she wouldn't think about it. But it was futile. Her mind kept thinking back to her family. She missed them more and more. She hardly ate anything else for the rest of the day, instead opting to go to her room rather early, even though it'd be hours before Yeosang got there. She wept silently, her tears staining the pillow underneath her face. She tried to keep a positive and cheerful attitude when he did finally got there, but he could sense that something was troubling his beloved wife.

"What's bothering you my love?"

Y/N sighed softly.

"I miss my family...."

Yeosang tightened his embrace around her, his lips kissing her temple. Y/N nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, drinking in his scent that always calmed and soothed her mind.

"They must be so worried about me. They probably don't even know if I'm alive or not." She continued to pour out her distress.

Yeosang was pensive for a moment, wondering what he could do to help his sweetheart.

"Would you like to write to them? I can have someone give it to them." He offered.

Although Y/N found it kind of him to offer it, more than anything, she wanted to see them.

"I was actually wondering......if maybe they could come see me?" She reluctantly asked.

She very well noticed how Yeosang tensed up. Even in the darkness, she had learned to read his body language and knew he was hesitating about what to respond.

"I......I'm not sure that's a good idea love..."

Yeosang's heart felt when he heard a disappointed sigh escape her lips. It hurt her to see her in such a state. All he wanted was to make her happy. So although there were going to be risks, he agreed.

"They can't meet me. But if you wish, I can have Zephyr bring them here just like he brought you."

Y/N became so happy at the thought of seeing them again. Cupping Yeosang's face, she kissed him fervently, her reaction making Yeosang chuckle.

"Does it really make you that happy?" He questioned as he caressed her face.

Y/N nodded happily.

"So I take it you won't need anything else tonight?"

Well....there was actually one more thing. Y/N bit her lip as she stared up at Yeosang with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Oh.....I see."

Y/N could hear the smugness in his voice, but she didn't care. Not when he lips made her melt, when his hands caressed and fondled her tenderly and especially not when he slid in and out of her in such a passionate and loving way, bringing her into such a euphoric state. Another thing she discovered about Yeosang: he was an amazing lover, she almost felt drunk in his love whenever his body became one with hers.

Yeosang let out a grunt when he spilled himself inside of her, enjoying the feeling of her walls tightening around him as she also reached her own high. Without pulling out, Yeosang bent down to kiss her again, his hand reaching down to press against her stomach.

"I can't wait until you become pregnant with my child. I bet you'll look even more lovely than what you already are."

Y/N felt her face flush at his words. Suddenly feeling confident, she teased him.

"How about we try again? Just in case."

Yeosang sucked in a breath, his hands gripping at her hips.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Y/N's hands clutched at the sheets underneath her, moans slipping out of her lips as Yeosang moved inside of her once again, this time at a more fast and rough pace than before.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N offered more pastries to her sisters. Melia excitedly accepted them, loving how rich and exquisite the foods at her little sister's place were. Amara however refused, her eyes still looking around at the place. She was very put off by how strange Y/N's circumstances were. The weird wind that transported them there, the invisible servants, the fact they could not meet her husband? It was extremely confusing. But most of all, she was insanely jealous of how Y/N was living. Her mansion was 10 times better than hers, the food was of better quality than what was served at her castle and everything was just so much more expensive.

"You seem to be...very happy here." Amara pointed out, her lips pursed tightly.

Y/N couldn't help but smile.

"I'm more than happy. I love it here. And I love my husband."

"Such a shame we couldn't meet him. Do you know when we will get the opportunity?" Melia asked.

"Oh...umm.....the thing is...you can't meet him..." Y/N fumbled with the sash across her dress.

Her two older sisters looked at her incredulously, then they looked at each other with a suspicious look.

"So is it true then? That he's a monster with scaly skin, serpent tongue and sharp teeth?" Melia looked frightened.

Y/N slammed her fist on the table, outraged that they'd dare think such things of Yeosang like that.

"He's not a monster! He's beautiful, absolutely handsome and the most kind being I have ever met!"

Her outburst made them even more curious.

"Then tell me Psyche, what does he look like?" Amara raised an eyebrow.

"It's Y/N! My name is Y/N. And.....I......I don't know! But I just know he's beautiful!"

Melia seemed puzzled.

"You don't know? What does that mean?"

Feeling cornered, Y/N had no choice but to tell them how her husband would only visit her at night, shrouded in darkness and whisper loving words in her ear. That only served to sprout out more questions from her siblings.

"How can you possibly be in love with him if you've never seen him?"

"I just am!" Y/N exclaimed.

"If he doesn't see you during the day, where does he go to?" Amara pressed on.

"I don't know." Y/N answered.

Not wanting to miss the chance to hurt her younger sister, Amara smirked wickedly at her.

"I bet I know where."

It took Y/N a few seconds to comprehend what her sister was implying, but when she did, it only served to further anger her.

" You're wrong. I know What you're thinking and you're wrong. Yeosang loves me!" She was fuming at this point.

Amara however rolled her eyes at her foolishness.

"All right. Let's say he really is as handsome as you say he is. Why must he be so stubborn about not letting you see him nor know where he goes off to?"

Y/ N crossed her arms.

"I don't know. He asked me to trust him and I do".

Melia now seemed concerned for her.

"Psyche... do you not realize that maybe ...... he could be seeing other women while he's away?"

Y/N now froze at what her sister said. Her brain kept telling her not to listen to them, that Yeosang was faithful to her and would never lie to her. But then she remembered how her own sister's husbands behaved and she couldn't help but think if perhaps Yeosang would do anything similar like them.

"No..... it can't be true...."

Amara suspiciously came up behind Y/N, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"If he really did love you.....why would he force you to live with such doubts?"

That was the final drop that made the glass tip over. Y/N had to find out who exactly it was that was sleeping with her every night.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited until Yeosang was fast asleep, his breathing calm and serene. Carefully, she peeled herself from his grasp and crept out of the bed and to one of the dressers. She silently took out a candle and match that she had secretly hid inside. Walking as cautiously as she could, she stood by the edge of the bed where Yeosang was. Taking a deep breath, she striked the match and lit up the candle, holding it up so she could finally see him for the very first time.

Her eyes grew wide as she stared into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. He was absolutely glorious. His hair was white like the snow in winter, skin fair like marble ivory, his jawline was chiseled to perfection with a nose that seemed to have been carved to perfection. And he layed there, sleeping soundly with absolutely no clue that she had just betrayed his trust.

"Oh no.....what have I done?"

Y/N was so horrified with herself that she unconsciously tumbled backwards, hitting herself on a piece of furniture. Suddenly Yeosang awoke, his eyes painted with agony once he realized what was happening.

"I.....I can explain!"

But Yeosang simply sat up without a word, already reaching for his tunic. He sighed as he stood up and walked towards the window.

"Please forgive me Yeosang! I beg you!"

Y/N dropped to her knees, tears pouring out her eyes. Yeosang pinched the bridge of his nose, head full of turbulent thoughts that he couldn't place in order.

"Please just say something!" She cried out, desperate to hear his voice.

"I knew it would be a bad idea to let you see your sisters. I knew they'd turn you against me and actually betray me...."

If they were still in the dark, Y/N would have still been able to recognize the hurt and pain in his words.

"I'm sorry Yeosang! I'm sorry for not trusting you! But I kept thinking about their words, they said you were probably visiting other-"

"You could have chosen to not listen to them! No one forced you to believe them! You chose to act on your own accord!".

It was the first time he had ever raised his voice at her, and it boomed all over the room, making her tremble in fear. Yeosang opened the window and stepped out into the balcony.

"No no! Please!"

Y/N ran after him, her hands wrapping around his neck in an attempt to keep him there. Gently, he pried her hands off him, looking somberly at her.

"My mother told me not to trust you. That you were a mortal woman and would never understand me or us, and break my trust. I could never believe that she was right....."

Y/N saw as tears filled on the brim of his eyes.

"But I was too madly in love to listen to her..... I guess I truly did get a taste of my own medicine."

Yeosang made way to leave again, but Y/N held onto him.

"Please don't leave me! I'll die without you! I love you Yeosang!"

Not able to contain his feelings anymore, Yeosang pushed her off him and turned sternly to her.

"Don't.....ever say such lies again...and don't address me so informally you lowly mortal. I am not your equal and I am no longer Yeosang to you..."

Y/N covered her mouth in terror and astonishment when ethereal and shiny wings sprouted from his back, making him look even more heavenly than he already was.

"I am Eros, son of Aphrodite and Ares, the god of love ......... and you......."

He sniffled as tears streamed down his face.

"I can't stay here knowing that I want to hold you..."

Without any other word, speedily flew out of there, disappearing from her sight. Y/N shouted for him, going mad at the thought that she had just lost the love of her life. She was so erratic that she didn't think twice before she flung herself down the balcony, not wanting to live without her love. Unfortunately for her, a large gust of wind stopped her fall, placing her gently on the ground, thwarting her plan.

"Let me die!" Y/N pounded the ground.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Psyche. Aside from being tasked to bring you here, Eros appointed me to make sure no harm should ever come to you."

Although it was supposed to be calming, Zephyr's voice only angered her.

"So I can't even die?!"

Zephyr sent a small breeze, the only physical way of comfort he could bring her since he was invisible.

"Psyche, we both know you don't actually want to die."

"Yes I do! My heart is broken. My love is gone and it's because of my foolishness. I have nothing else to live for!" She declared.

Zephyr sighed.

"My lady....all hope is not lost. I may perhaps.....know a way of helping you."

Y/N perked her ears at his words.

"But first, allow me to tell you a little story, one you don't know about but in which you were the main protagonist."

Y/N watched as a swirl of clouds formed above her, Zephyr trying to make his presence manifested as he began recounting a story:

"Now...it all began when the people began to worship you instead of Aphrodite. I know, we all do you tried to stop them. We weren't blind to it. But Aphrodite is a jealous goddess. She could not stand someone being compared to her. So she sent Eros to you with the task of making you fall in love with a toad or something similar."

Y/N didn't seem too surprised by that. She knew fully well who Eros was and why he was feared even among gods, because no one was immune to his arrows that made them fall in love.

"He came to you one night while you were sleeping. He was so distracted by your beauty that he ended up pricking himself with his own arrow."

Now it made sense to her what he meant when he said he had gotten a dose of his own medicine. She was shocked that this actually happened.

"Eros had fallen in love with you. Curious isn't it, that while you were the most admired woman in the country, no one proposed. Wanna know why? Because Eros stepped in every time, making any suitor fall in love with someone else so they wouldn't take you away from him."

Y/N remembered all those months where no one approached her. Now it all made sense.

"Poor Eros was also begging his mother to let him marry you. But of course, being as stubborn as she is, Aphrodite refused. It became such a quarrel between them that Eros refused to obey her anymore if she didn't agree. Of course, she couldn't have that, so she allowed him to marry you on one condition: your love had to be put to a test....which....I think you know what it was."

Y/N nodded. He asked her to trust him even if she couldn't see him, but she betrayed him.

"Aphrodite probably isn't surprised. She expected it all along. But Eros......he was so in love with you that he put all his faith and trust in your love. And now.....he's probably back home again, moaning and crying just like when he came back that night he met you."

Now the guilt began to eat her up.

"I don't deserve him. I never did. I deserve to die."

Zephyr sighed once again.

"Now now child. As I said. Not all hope is lost. Listen very carefully to me Psyche. Here's what you're going to do."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N waited for the goddess to arrive. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, playing with the belt on her tunic. She suddenly felt a gush of wind pass by her. Light started to emanate from the ground. Y/N stared in wonder as a powerful entity appeared before her, looking so radiant and angelic that Y/N froze in place before remembering who was standing in front of her. She fell to the ground in honor and respect for the goddess in front of her.

"My goddess Aphrodite. I am your humble servant who has offered sacrifices at your temple and-"

"Oh stop groveling like a little bitch and get up." The goddess sneered at her.

Y/N slowly got up. Aphrodite stepped closer to her, one of her slender fingers tilting her chin up as she closely scanned her rival's face. Bewilderment took over her features, a scoff coming out of her mouth.

"Impressive. Very extraordinary. ..."

She let go of her and backed away.

"Pity though that your eyes are still red and puffy from weeping like a child. It really does not suit you....nevertheless, even I acknowledge you're beautiful and pleasing...."

She crossed her arms.

"No wonder my son is so smitten with you."

Y/N glanced up at the mention of Yeosang.

"Tell me, how is Yeosang? How is my husband."

Aphrodite lifted a hand.

"First of all, you have no right to call him by his birth name. You shall only address him by his godly name you mortals know. And second, he isn't your husband anymore, not after you broke your end of the marriage."

Being reminded of her acts, Y/N once again felt remorseful and ashamed. But she was not about to give up.

"If there's anything I can do to mend things, I'm prepared to do it."

Aphrodite rolled her eyes.

"Yes yes I know very well you are willing to. Zephyr didn't bring you here just for giggles or a cup of tea. And either way, sooner or later Zeus and Hera would have been on my ass about intervening, not to mention that his father wouldn't leave me alone if he saw the state his son was in."

Y/N beamed with joy at the thought of being able to mend things with her love.

"Thank you oh most merciful goddess!" Y/N resisted the urge to throw her hands around the goddess and hug her.

Aphrodite, however, dismissed her thanks.

"Don't get so happy yet foolish girl. I haven't even told you what the tasks are yet."

Beckoning her to follow, Aphrodite lead her through a meadow and deep into a forest. There, she approached a tall laurel tree and pointed at something on the floor.

"Before your eyes, you see a pile of different types of grains. Your job is simple: separate them all and arrange them into piles."

Y/N's jaw dropped at the task.

"That's impossible! It's not simple!"

Aphrodite merely shrugged. "If you truly love Eros, you'll find a way."

She turned away and began walking back to where she came from, but not before telling her:

"Oh and Psyche? You have until sundown to finish."

Y/N knew the goddess was probably laughing by now, already gloating in her failure and inability to finish such a task. She slumped down on the ground and began picking at the grains. They all looked too similar, there was no way to tell them apart. Y/N flung the grains back in the pile.

"It's hopeless..."

She wasn't offered a second chance, she was merely being humiliated for the own amusement of Aphrodite. Y/N couldn't help but wonder if she deserved this....

Suddenly she felt something crawl up on her hand. Looking down, she saw a tiny ant perched on one of her fingers.

"Hello most beautiful mortal. Please don't cry. Let me assure you that this grain will be sorted before Aphrodite comes back."

If Y/N hadn't already seen so miracles and fantasy sightings since she arrived, she would have seriously thought she was insane for thinking an ant was actually talking to her. She watched as thousands of other ants crawled up and began carrying the grains out of the pile, effectively assorting them into neat and tidy piles.

"How are you..?"

The tiny ant let out a squeaky laugh. "This is our specialty my lady. We do this every year."

"But...why are you helping me?" She couldn't understand why they would help her.

"Don't fret about that right now. Leave this all to us and just worry about being reunited with your loved one."

Y/N was touched by their tremendous kindness, thanking them incessantly as they eagerly finished what seemed to not an impossible task for her. True to their word, before the sun set, it was already finished. 5 piles stood in front of her. The ants bid her farewell and good luck for any upcoming tests Aphrodite was going to put on her.

When the goddess came to inspect the work, her eyes nearly bulged out when she saw it was accomplished. Scoffing, she crossed her arms.

"I see you finished it....very well. Tomorrow I shall take you to do the second task. But trust me, you won't get very far."

The goddess was so sure Y/N would never be able to finish them, but she didn't count on the fact someone was pulling strings behind the scenes to make sure Y/N would be successful. When Y/N was tasked to collect the gold fleece from the magical sun rams, the mystery person asked the reeds growing on the riverbank near her, to tell Y/N to wait until the rams left the pasture to fall asleep in a meadow, then she'd be able to collect fleece that would usually get caught on the brambles where they often played or fought in. On her third task, she had to collect water from a pit that was guarded by a fearsome dragon. Y/N dared not approach the beast, but once again, the hidden figure sent an enormous eagle to help her by flying her down the pit while the dragon slept so she could fill up the bottle Aphrodite gave her. Y/N asked the eagle, like she did the reeds and ants, why were they helping her, but all of them remained silent, not answering her question. They only wished her luck and encouraged her to stay determined to win back her husband.

Aphrodite took the bottle in her hands, fury in her eyes as she flung it across the room in pure outrage.

"I don't know what kind of tricks you've pulled to accomplish these tasks so easily, but I will not stand for it any longer!"

Determined to make sure Y/N would never see her son no matter the cost, she declared her last mission:

"You must go into the Underworld and bring me Queen Persephone's beauty cream, the one she makes herself. I was going to go there myself....but you can do it for me."

Aphrodite's eyes did not hide her malice or her hatred towards the poor girl.

"But....no human can descend into the Underworld and return!" Y/N exclaimed.

"Then I guess you shall have to be the first."

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N touched the ground softly as Zephyr dropped her down.

"Psyche listen to me very carefully. There is a way for mortals to go into the Underworld and return alive. But pay very close attention or you'll never see the light of day."

Out of thing air, Zephyr made 2 coins and a loaf of bread apart before her.

"The coins are for Charon. He's the boatman that will take you to the Underworld and will also bring you back. The bread is for Cerberus."

Y/N gulped at the mention of the dog that guarded the gates of the Underworld.

"You mean.....the one with 50 heads?"

Zephyr laughed.

"You humans sure do like to add charm to stories. No Psyche. Cerberus only has 3 heads. He won't do anything to you while going in, it's when you're getting out that'll be the problem. You see, he's not guarding souls from going in, he guards them from leaving."

Y/N nodded, drinking up all the information he was feeding to her.

"When you're leaving, give a piece to each of the heads, it'll put him to sleep long enough for you to get out of there as fast as you can."

"Got it."

Y/N began walking into the foggy mist, trembling slightly as she realized she was about to be in front of the gates of hell very soon.

"Another thing! Accept no food or drink and do not rest at all! Just go in, take the cream and get out. I'll be waiting here for you."

"Thank you Zephyr."

Y/N wandered through the dense and humid mist that blurred most of her vision. She spotted a light looming out of the water and headed towards it. She stopped when she reached the end of the dock and stood face to face with a dark cloaked figure. Its face was completely hidden by the hood, the only thing she could see were its hands that were holding a staff that was no doubt used to row out boat.

"Are you.....are you Charon?"

The cloaked figure simply nodded very slowly.

"Can you take me to see Queen Persephone?"

Charon did not respond either that time, instead he held his hand out. Y/N now could clearly see that his hand was only bone, absolutely no flesh or skin surrounding it. Although startled, she handed one of the coins to him, which he put into a small purse that he kept tied to his waist. He signalled for her to get in. Y/N had some difficulty getting into the boat, slamming down on it, her bum hardly hitting the wood floor. She was sure if Charon was able to, he'd probably be laughing at her. He waited until she was settled into the boat before he began rowing down the Styx river.

Y/N hugged her knees as her eyes scanned everything. So far only the splashing of water and the silent boatman kept her company. And then a foul and putrid stench filled her nostrils, making her want to gag. As she kept looking around, she noticed what seemed to be people standing by another dock, looking pitiful and some even crying.

"They're the souls of people whose families didn't pay the fee or didn't have a burial upon death." Charon spoke up for the first time, his voice sounded hollow and had somewhat of an echo in it.

She understood what he meant. All people usually put a coin under their deceased loved ones tongue as payment for a ride to the Underworld.

"Will they stay there forever?"

Charon let out a raspy breathe.

"They'll stay there for a hundred years before they're allowed to cross over. Our master is not that cruel as you mortals depict him."

Mention of his master sent Y/N into panic. She was about to meet the actual god of the Underworld and his wife. She shivered as she remembered all she was ever taught about him: her teachers often painted him as a cruel, evil and wrathful god that loved tormenting the souls that were sent to him. The only reason he had a wife was because he kidnapped her, only allowing her to spend time in Olympus for half of the year. Y/N feared seeing him.

"This is the end of your journey."

Y/N saw a colossal black door in front of her. She lifted her hand to knock on it, but wondered if it was even possible for them to hear her. She felt someone or something sneeze by her right side so she turned. First there was only a gigantic dog head that soon turned into three, Y/N almost fainted when it began approaching her. This had to be Cerberus. The hellhound merely scanned her, puzzled as to why an alive human would be there. But he went back to his job and used one of his heads to push open the door for her. Y/N was prepared to see a sea of tormented souls being stirred in fire or some other kind of torture, but instead, she walked in a long and regal corridor, much like the one back home in Athens. Everything was decorated in either black or a deep purple color. At the very end, she saw two thrones side by side, black and made out of hard iron and steel. 2 figures sat by them and when she reached close enough, she was face to face with the rulers of the Underworld.

As per custom, Y/N bowed to them, trembling in the process. The monarchs looked at each other in confusion.

"You are not dead nor dying, what business do you have here?" A male voice inquired.

Y/N swallowed harshly, trying to speak but fear made her paralyzed and unable for recall what she was there to do. Noticing how scared she was, the queen stood up and walked over to her. She gently lifted Y/N up, her hand cupping her chin to look at her. Y/N finally had a glimpse of the Underworld queen and she was mesmerized. She wasn't as beautiful as Aphrodite, but her beauty was so haunting and eerie, unlike anything she'd ever seen before. It made her very unique and therefore more interesting in her eyes. Y/N felt self conscious now. She hadn't properly cleaned up or slept ever since Aphrodite had her do all those tasks, so she probably looked like a mess in front of the beautiful queen.

Persephone merely smiled at her, a genuine and kind smile.

"You're Psyche aren't you?"

Her eyes widened at the mention of her name. The man behind her also became curious at him mention of it.

"How do you know who I am?" But Y/N soon wanted to slap herself for asking that. She was a goddess, of course she'd know.

The lady chuckled. "Not everyday one meets a face that rivals Aphrodite's. I've heard so much about you."

She turned back and Y/N assumed she was going to take her place on the throne, but instead, she shocked her when she opted to sit on her husbands lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. He visibly stiffened, and Y/N was surprised to see him......blush?

"So tell me. Has the mighty goddess of beauty sent you here for another task?"

Persephone looked back to see Y/N with a mouth wide open.

"We know all about your endeavors to win your husband back. News reaches here first before it reaches Olympus. Gives a little entertainment to us and our subjects you know."

She waved her hand and instantly a grey and cloudy figure appeared before her, offering her wine or food from a platter. She didn't want to seem rude, but she remembered what Zephyr said and thus refused any of it. Persephone chuckled softly.

"Very smart." Persephone observed. She above anyone knew what eating food from the Underworld would mean.

"So tell me Psyche. What has she sent you here for?"

Y/N began explaining how the goddess wanted some of her beauty cream. Persephone rolled her eyes, knowing all too well how vain Aphrodite was. Her fingers stroked through her husband's hair, puzzling Y/N more. If she was kidnapped and forced to marry him, how could she be so....in love with him? Persephone only took her attention away from her husband when another grey figure brought out a box to her. Thanking the servant, she held out the box to Y/N.

"Take this to Aphrodite and be reunited with your love."

Y/N thanked the merciful queen and walked back, now more happy at the thought of seeing Yeosang again. Persephone watched her with a motherly gaze, feeling somewhat nostalgic.

"You seem to be very interested in that human." Hades' voice broke her trance.

"She's an extraordinary girl if you ask me. And she's doing everything for love."

She smirked as she cupped her husband's face.

"Reminds me of a certain someone who also went to great lengths to win the person he loved the most."

The Underworld God cleared his throat.

"Love makes us do crazy things sometimes." He justified himself.

Persephone nodded and leaned in.

"I know. That's why am going to vouch for her when Zeus holds the meeting."

Hades looked puzzled. "What meeting?"

The queen let out a hearty laugh before kissing his lips.

"Married life has made you lose some of your sharpness my dear lord." She teased.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Y/N successfully fed the bread to the demon hound and made it back across the Styx with Charon's help.

"Thank you Charon." She handed the other coin to him.

"First time anyone has thanked me to the work I do." Although he tried to be neutral about it, Charon's voice had a lighter and more grateful tone to it.

Y/N crossed the swamp again and came back to the meadow where Zephyr had left her. She called me to him, but he did not answer. Y/N sat on the grass and waited for him, growing tired in the process. It had been 4 very long and tiring days and she was beginning to feel the intensity of them. Her eyes began to flutter, trying to stay awake, but tiredness began to overtake her. Her gaze fell on the box she was holding. Feeling curious, she slowly opened the box to peer into its contents. A sudden burst of light shone right in front of her, the power being too much for her and instantly, she fell unconscious on the floor.

━━━━━━━༺۵༻━━━━━━━

Eros sighed softly to himself, the longing for his wife becoming too unbearable.

"Would you please stop that moaning? It's getting on my nerves." His mother said from the doorway.

"I miss her...." He covered his face with the pillow.

Aphrodite scoffed.

"Seriously this lovesick fool."

Eros ignored his mother, all his thoughts were about Y/N and the last time he saw her. He recalled the harsh words he said to her, regretting them so much, each letter feeling like a stab to his heart. Although it hurt him to have her distrust him, it hurt even more to be separated from her. He wanted her back in his arms, he wanted to kiss her, he was going even more insane than the first time when he pricked himself on his arrow.

Suddenly he heard a commotion coming from the living room, with the way a voice roared like thunder, he knew who had just came in. He got up, ready to intervene in case the two individuals in front of him started getting physical. Not noticing him, they just continued their screaming match.

"I've put up with so many of your antics, but this my dear goddess, is low even for you!"

The anger in his father's voice was unmistakable, but it was even more serious than all the other times he'd quarreled with his mother.

"Oh shut up Ares! I did what I had to do for our dear son."

Aphrodite twirled her hair on her finger, batting her eyelashes at her longtime lover, hoping to seduce him and get his mind off the subject, but this time it didn't.

"No, you did this because you're a selfish, conceited and cruel woman! Putting an innocent girl through so many hardships just for your own amusement! Don't you think Psyche and Eros have been through enough already?"

Now it was Eros' turn to make his presence known.

"What about my wife?"

Both of his parents turned to look at him, one in shock at being discovered and one in sad pity for him and his love. Ares crossed his arms.

"Well? Tell him Aphrodite. Tell him all about the tasks you made Psyche do these past days." He challenged her.

Eros looked at his mother, waiting for her to answer, but she kept her lips shut. Getting fed up, Ares spilled everything to him. Eros immediately got worried.

"Where is she now?"

Ares looked to the goddess in front of him as he did not know what the last task was. Gathering some of the rage he inherited from his father, Eros harshly grabbed his mother and shook her.

"Where is my wife?!"

Aphrodite pushed him off her.

"I sent her to the Hades and Persephone."

Eros wasted no time and grabbed his bow and arrow. The Underworld was dangerous even for a God and he knew he had to go get her before anything happened to her.

"Eros! Don't you dare go after her! She isn't your wife anymore!"

Turning back to his mother, he looked at her in defiance.

"She is my wife. She'll always be my wife. I love her.....and I'm going over to her now."

Spreading his wings, he flew as fast as he could to the swampy forest where she had been hours earlier. He asked the boatman if he had seen her, but Charon only said she had completed her voyage and was headed back home. He breathed a sigh of relief, at least she was alive. He flew back to his mansion, bursting the doors open, alarming the servants who were no longer invisible. He didn't spare a glance at them, he simply ran upstairs to his room. Slamming the door open, he saw as Zephyr, now in his physical form was hovering over an unconscious Psyche.

"No..."

Eros ran over to her side, taking her hand in his.

"The power inside the box her majesty gave her is too much for a mortal to bear. I've tried everything, but she still shows no sign of waking up. Her body has also been weak these past days due to exhaustion. ....and heartache." Zephyr said somberly.

Eros spilled tears when finding out all she had been through and how much suffering he had put her through.

"I'm so sorry my darling."

His arms encapsulated her in a tight embrace, almost crushing her from the intensity. Eros sobbed uncontrollably. Zephyr decided to retreat from the room, giving him the space he needed.

Brushing out some of her hair, he pressed his forehead against hers.

"Please don't leave me.." he whispered before pressing his lips against hers.

He heard as she started breathing slowly, pulling away to check on her. Y/N's eyes slowly opened, thinking she was dreaming when she saw her love's handsome face in front of her.

"Yeo- Yeosang?"

His heart started beating faster when he heard her call him by his name.

"Oh Y/N thank Zeus you're all right!"

Y/N held him tightly, not wanting to let go.

"Yeosang I'm so sorry! I should have listened to you but I was so stupid!"

He hushed her, his hands caressing her arms.

"It's ok. I've forgiven you my darling. I don't care anymore. All I want is for us to be together again."

Y/N hesitated.

"Will we be allowed to?"

Clearing his throat, they both turned their attention to Zephyr who came back.

"Even if Aphrodite won't like it, she'll have no choice but to allow you two to be together after a power greater than her allows it."

Yeosang and Y/N looked at him in confusion. Zephyr once again began explaining:

"I'm sure Y/N..." He smiled when he called her by her real name for the first time.

"You've been curious about why so many creatures helped you while you were performing the tasks for Aphrodite."

Y/N nodded, none of them had told her why they'd help her.

"They were all sent by none other than Zeus, who had been watching all this happen and agreed it was unfair of Aphrodite to put you through such hardships."

The couple couldn't believe their ears. The king of the gods himself intervened on their behalf.

"He looks favorably upon your marriage and has even called a meeting to determine if Y/N should be allowed to become an immortal herself."

Y/N's mouth dropped unable to comprehend his words, but Eros was delighted. He could finally be together with his wife for all eternity, not fearing that one day he'd lose her in death because she was human. He felt so grateful to Zeus.

"It shall be put to a vote and needless to say, your mother won't say yes."

Of course they expected that.

"But fear not. There's already many who are willing to vouch for you. Persephone and Hades for example, Ares, Apollo, Demeter and I'm willing to bet that Dionysus will show up drunk and will agree to anything."

They all let out a chuckle at that.

"I'll let you know what the results are. Zeus agreed it'd be better if you two weren't there. He wants a peaceful meeting without Aphrodite throwing a tantrum."

Leaving them alone, the two lovers stared at each other for a while, unable to believe how lucky they were. Y/N reached up to touch Yeosang.

"It's ok Y/N. I'm real and I promise I won't ever leave you again."

His hand cupped the side of her face, thumb drawing circles on her cheek.

"I love you and I promise to love you my heart......

For all eternity."

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[themousefromfantasyland]

THE GIRL WHO PRETENDED TO BE A BOY

What about a transgender fairy tale for Pride Month?

This variant is a English translation by Andrew Lang of a Romanian fairy tale called Ileana Sînziana. In this long, but fun tale, a powerful new Emperor wants in his court all the male heirs of the Emperors who he already dethroned. Knowing her father doesn't have any male heir, the youngest daughter of an old Emperor decides to dress as man and goes out in a journey.

In the end she is "cursed" to be a man, becoming Făt-Frumos, here translated as Fet-Fruners, a stock Romanian character in folk tales, a knight hero similar to Prince Charming. Făt-Frumos can be roughly translated as handsome infant or child or handsome boy.

Once upon a time there lived an emperor who was a great conqueror, and reigned over more countries than anyone in the world. And whenever he subdued a fresh kingdom, he only granted peace on condition that the king should deliver him one of his sons for ten years' service.

Now on the borders of his kingdom lay a country whose emperor was as brave as his neighbour, and as long as he was young he was the victor in every war. But as years passed away, his head grew weary of making plans of campaign, and his people wanted to stay at home and till their fields, and at last he too felt that he must do homage to the other emperor.

One thing, however, held him back from this step which day by day he saw more clearly was the only one possible. His new overlord would demand the service of one of his sons. And the old emperor had no son; only three daughters.

Look on which side he would, nothing but ruin seemed to lie before him, and he became so gloomy, that his daughters were frightened, and did everything they could think of to cheer him up, but all to no purpose.

At length one day when they were at dinner, the eldest of the three summoned up all her courage and said to her father:

'What secret grief is troubling you? Are your subjects discontented? or have we given you cause for displeasure? To smooth away your wrinkles, we would gladly shed our blood, for our lives are bound up in yours; and this you know.'

'My daughter,' answered the emperor, 'what you say is true. Never have you given me one moment's pain. Yet now you cannot help me. Ah! why is not one of you a boy!'

'I don't understand,' she answered in surprise. 'Tell us what is wrong: and though we are not boys, we are not quite useless!'

'But what can you do, my dear children? Spin, sew, and weave—that is all your learning. Only a warrior can deliver me now, a young giant who is strong to wield the battle-axe: whose sword deals deadly blows.'

'But WHY do you need a son so much at present? Tell us all about it! It will not make matters worse if we know!'

'Listen then, my daughters, and learn the reason of my sorrow. You have heard that as long as I was young no man ever brought an army against me without it costing him dear. But the years have chilled my blood and drunk my strength. And now the deer can roam the forest, my arrows will never pierce his heart; strange soldiers will set fire to my houses and water their horses at my wells, and my arm cannot hinder them. No, my day is past, and the time has come when I too must bow my head under the yoke of my foe! But who is to give him the ten years' service that is part of the price which the vanquished must pay?'

'_I_ will,' cried the eldest girl, springing to her feet. But her father only shook his head sadly.

'Never will I bring shame upon you,' urged the girl. 'Let me go. Am I not a princess, and the daughter of an emperor?'

'Go then!' he said.

The brave girl's heart almost stopped beating from joy, as she set about her preparations. She was not still for a single moment, but danced about the house, turning chests and wardrobes upside down. She set aside enough things for a whole year—dresses embroidered with gold and precious stones, and a great store of provisions. And she chose the most spirited horse in the stable, with eyes of flame, and a coat of shining silver.

When her father saw her mounted and curvetting about the court, he gave her much wise advice, as to how she was to behave like the young man she appeared to be, and also how to behave as the girl she really was. Then he gave her his blessing, and she touched her horse with the spur.

The silver armour of herself and her steed dazzled the eyes of the people as she darted past. She was soon out of sight, and if after a few miles she had not pulled up to allow her escort to join her, the rest of the journey would have been performed alone.

But though none of his daughters were aware of the fact, the old emperor was a magician, and had laid his plans accordingly. He managed, unseen, to overtake his daughter, and throw a bridge of copper over a stream which she would have to cross. Then, changing himself into a wolf, he lay down under one of the arches, and waited.

He had chosen his time well, and in about half an hour the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard. His feet were almost on the bridge, when a big grey wolf with grinning teeth appeared before the princess. With a deep growl that froze the blood, he drew himself up, and prepared to spring.

The appearance of the wolf was so sudden and so unexpected, that the girl was almost paralysed, and never even dreamt of flight, till the horse leaped violently to one side. Then she turned him round, and urging him to his fullest speed, never drew rein till she saw the gates of the palace rising before her.

The old emperor, who had got back long since, came to the door to meet her, and touching her shining armour, he said, 'Did I not tell you, my child, that flies do not make honey?'

The days passed on, and one morning the second princess implored her father to allow her to try the adventure in which her sister had made such a failure. He listened unwillingly, feeling sure it was no use, but she begged so hard that in the end he consented, and having chosen her arms, she rode away.

But though, unlike her sister, she was quite prepared for the appearance of the wolf when she reached the copper bridge, she showed no greater courage, and galloped home as fast as her horse could carry her. On the steps of the castle her father was standing, and as still trembling with fright she knelt at his feet, he said gently, 'Did I not tell you, my child, that every bird is not caught in a net?'

The three girls stayed quietly in the palace for a little while, embroidering, spinning, weaving, and tending their birds and flowers, when early one morning, the youngest princess entered the door of the emperor's private apartments. 'My father, it is my turn now. Perhaps I shall get the better of that wolf!'

'What, do you think you are braver than your sisters, vain little one? You who have hardly left your long clothes behind you!' but she did not mind being laughed at, and answered,

'For your sake, father, I would cut the devil himself into small bits, or even become a devil myself. I think I shall succeed, but if I fail, I shall come home without more shame than my sisters.'

Still the emperor hesitated, but the girl petted and coaxed him till at last he said,

'Well, well, if you must go, you must. It remains to be seen what I shall get by it, except perhaps a good laugh when I see you come back with your head bent and your eyes on the ground.'

'He laughs best who laughs last,' said the princess.

Happy at having got her way, the princess decided that the first thing to be done was to find some old white-haired boyard, whose advice she could trust, and then to be very careful in choosing her horse. So she went straight to the stables where the most beautiful horses in the empire were feeding in the stalls, but none of them seemed quite what she wanted. Almost in despair she reached the last box of all, which was occupied by her father's ancient war-horse, old and worn like himself, stretched sadly out on the straw.

The girl's eyes filled with tears, and she stood gazing at him. The horse lifted his head, gave a little neigh, and said softly, 'You look gentle and pitiful, but I know it is your love for your father which makes you tender to me. Ah, what a warrior he was, and what good times we shared together! But now I too have grown old, and my master has forgotten me, and there is no reason to care whether my coat is dull or shining. Yet, it is not too late, and if I were properly tended, in a week I could vie with any horse in the stables!'

'And how should you be tended?' asked the girl.

'I must be rubbed down morning and evening with rain water, my barley must be boiled in milk, because of my bad teeth, and my feet must be washed in oil.'

'I should like to try the treatment, as you might help me in carrying out my scheme.'

'Try it then, mistress, and I promise you will never repent.'

So in a week's time the horse woke up one morning with a sudden shiver through all his limbs; and when it had passed away, he found his skin shining like a mirror, his body as fat as a water melon, his movement light as a chamois.

Then looking at the princess who had come early to the stable, he said joyfully,

'May success await on the steps of my master's daughter, for she has given me back my life. Tell me what I can do for you, princess, and I will do it.'

'I want to go to the emperor who is our over-lord, and I have no one to advise me. Which of all the white-headed boyards shall I choose as counsellor?'

'If you have me, you need no one else: I will serve you as I served your father, if you will only listen to what I say.'

'I will listen to everything. Can you start in three days?'

'This moment, if you like,' said the horse.

The preparations of the emperor's youngest daughter were much fewer and simpler than those of her sisters. They only consisted of some boy's clothes, a small quantity of linen and food, and a little money in case of necessity. Then she bade farewell to her father, and rode away.

A day's journey from the palace, she reached the copper bridge, but before they came in sight of it, the horse, who was a magician, had warned her of the means her father would take to prove her courage.

Still in spite of his warning she trembled all over when a huge wolf, as thin as if he had fasted for a month, with claws like saws, and mouth as wide as an oven, bounded howling towards her. For a moment her heart failed her, but the next, touching the horse lightly with her spur, she drew her sword from its sheath, ready to separate the wolf's head from its body at a single blow.

The beast saw the sword, and shrank back, which was the best thing it could do, as now the girl's blood was up, and the light of battle in her eyes. Then without looking round, she rode across the bridge.

The emperor, proud of this first victory, took a short cut, and waited for her at the end of another day's journey, close to a river, over which he threw a bridge of silver. And this time he took the shape of a lion.

But the horse guessed this new danger and told the princess how to escape it. But it is one thing to receive advice when we feel safe and comfortable, and quite another to be able to carry it out when some awful peril is threatening us. And if the wolf had made the girl quake with terror, it seemed like a lamb beside this dreadful lion.

At the sound of his roar the very trees quivered and his claws were so large that every one of them looked like a cutlass.

The breath of the princess came and went, and her feet rattled in the stirrups. Suddenly the remembrance flashed across her of the wolf whom she had put to flight, and waving her sword, she rushed so violently on the lion that he had barely time to spring on one side, so as to avoid the blow. Then, like a flash, she crossed this bridge also.

Now during her whole life, the princess had been so carefully brought up, that she had never left the gardens of the palace, so that the sight of the hills and valleys and tinkling streams, and the song of the larks and blackbirds, made her almost beside herself with wonder and delight. She longed to get down and bathe her face in the clear pools, and pick the brilliant flowers, but the horse said 'No,' and quickened his pace, neither turning to the right or the left.

'Warriors,' he told her, 'only rest when they have won the victory. You have still another battle to fight, and it is the hardest of all.'

This time it was neither a wolf nor a lion that was waiting for her at the end of the third day's journey, but a dragon with twelve heads, and a golden bridge behind it.

The princess rode up without seeing anything to frighten her, when a sudden puff of smoke and flame from beneath her feet, caused her to look down, and there was the horrible creature twisted and writhing, its twelve heads reared up as if to seize her between them.

The bridle fell from her hand: and the sword which she had just grasped slid back into its sheath, but the horse bade her fear nothing, and with a mighty effort she sat upright and spurred straight on the dragon.

The fight lasted an hour and the dragon pressed her hard. But in the end, by a well-directed side blow, she cut off one of the heads, and with a roar that seemed to rend the heavens in two, the dragon fell back on the ground, and rose as a man before her.

Although the horse had informed the princess the dragon was really her own father, the girl had hardly believed him, and stared in amazement at the transformation. But he flung his arms round her and pressed her to his heart saying, 'Now I see that you are as brave as the bravest, and as wise as the wisest. You have chosen the right horse, for without his help you would have returned with a bent head and downcast eyes. You have filled me with the hope that you may carry out the task you have undertaken, but be careful to forget none of my counsels, and above all to listen to those of your horse.'

When he had done speaking, the princess knelt down to receive his blessing, and they went their different ways.

The princess rode on and on, till at last she came to the mountains which hold up the roof of the world. There she met two Genii who had been fighting fiercely for two years, without one having got the least advantage over the other. Seeing what they took to be a young man seeking adventures, one of the combatants called out, 'Fet-Fruners! deliver me from my enemy, and I will give you the horn that can be heard the distance of a three days' journey;' while the other cried, 'Fet-Fruners! help me to conquer this pagan thief, and you shall have my horse, Sunlight.'

Before answering, the princess consulted her own horse as to which offer she should accept, and he advised her to side with the genius who was master of Sunlight, his own younger brother, and still more active than himself.

So the girl at once attacked the other genius, and soon clove his skull; then the one who was left victor begged her to come back with him to his house and he would hand her over Sunlight, as he had promised.

The mother of the genius was rejoiced to see her son return safe and sound, and prepared her best room for the princess, who, after so much fatigue, needed rest badly. But the girl declared that she must first make her horse comfortable in his stable; but this was really only an excuse, as she wanted to ask his advice on several matters.

But the old woman had suspected from the very first that the boy who had come to the rescue of her son was a girl in disguise, and told the genius that she was exactly the wife he needed. The genius scoffed, and inquired what female hand could ever wield a sabre like that; but, in spite of his sneers, his mother persisted, and as a proof of what she said, laid at night on each of their pillows a handful of magic flowers, that fade at the touch of man, but remain eternally fresh in the fingers of a woman.

It was very clever of her, but unluckily the horse had warned the princess what to expect, and when the house was silent, she stole very softly to the genius's room, and exchanged his faded flowers for those she held. Then she crept back to her own bed and fell fast asleep.

At break of day, the old woman ran to see her son, and found, as she knew she would, a bunch of dead flowers in his hand. She next passed on to the bedside of the princess, who still lay asleep grasping the withered flowers. But she did not believe any the more that her guest was a man, and so she told her son. So they put their heads together and laid another trap for her.

After breakfast the genius gave his arm to his guest, and asked her to come with him into the garden. For some time they walked about looking at the flowers, the genius all the while pressing her to pick any she fancied. But the princess, suspecting a trap, inquired roughly why they were wasting the precious hours in the garden, when, as men, they should be in the stables looking after their horses. Then the genius told his mother that she was quite wrong, and his deliverer was certainly a man. But the old woman was not convinced for all that.

She would try once more she said, and her son must lead his visitor into the armoury, where hung every kind of weapon used all over the world—some plain and bare, others ornamented with precious stones—and beg her to make choice of one of them. The princess looked at them closely, and felt the edges and points of their blades, then she hung at her belt an old sword with a curved blade, that would have done credit to an ancient warrior. After this she informed the genius that she would start early next day and take Sunlight with her.

And there was nothing for the mother to do but to submit, though she still stuck to her own opinion.

The princess mounted Sunlight, and touched him with her spur, when the old horse, who was galloping at her side, suddenly said:

'Up to this time, mistress, you have obeyed my counsels and all has gone well. Listen to me once more, and do what I tell you. I am old, and—now that there is someone to take my place, I will confess it—I am afraid that my strength is not equal to the task that lies before me. Give me leave, therefore, to return home, and do you continue your journey under the care of my brother. Put your faith in him as you put it in me, and you will never repent. Wisdom has come early to Sunlight.'

'Yes, my old comrade, you have served me well; and it is only through your help that up to now I have been victorious. So grieved though I am to say farewell, I will obey you yet once more, and will listen to your brother as I would to yourself. Only, I must have a proof that he loves me as well as you do.'

'How should I not love you?' answered Sunlight; 'how should I not be proud to serve a warrior such as you? Trust me, mistress, and you shall never regret the absence of my brother. I know there will be difficulties in our path, but we will face them together.'

Then, with tears in her eyes, the princess took leave of her old horse, who galloped back to her father.

She had ridden only a few miles further, when she saw a golden curl lying on the road before her. Checking her horse, she asked whether it would be better to take it or let it lie.

'If you take it,' said Sunlight, 'you will repent, and if you don't, you will repent too: so take it.' On this the girl dismounted, and picking up the curl, wound it round her neck for safety.

They passed by hills, they passed by mountains, they passed through valleys, leaving behind them thick forests, and fields covered with flowers; and at length they reached the court of the over-lord.

He was sitting on his throne, surrounded by the sons of the other emperors, who served him as pages. These youths came forward to greet their new companion, and wondered why they felt so attracted towards him.

[Quick pause. This is a very funny trope that I keep finding in very old cross-dressing stories. The male characters find themselves mysteriously attracted to the female character pretending to be male. Think of Li Shang from Mulan.]

However, there was no time for talking and concealing her fright.

The princess was led straight up to the throne, and explained, in a low voice, the reason of her coming. The emperor received her kindly, and declared himself fortunate at finding a vassal so brave and so charming, and begged the princess to remain in attendance on his person.

She was, however, very careful in her behaviour towards the other pages, whose way of life did not please her. One day, however, she had been amusing herself by making sweetmeats, when two of the young princes looked in to pay her a visit. She offered them some of the food which was already on the table, and they thought it so delicious that they even licked their fingers so as not to lose a morsel. Of course they did not keep the news of their discovery to themselves, but told all their companions that they had just been enjoying the best supper they had had since they were born. And from that moment the princess was left no peace, till she had promised to cook them all a dinner.

Now it happened that, on the very day fixed, all the cooks in the palace became intoxicated, and there was no one to make up the fire.

When the pages heard of this shocking state of things, they went to their companion and implored her to come to the rescue.

The princess was fond of cooking, and was, besides, very good-natured; so she put on an apron and went down to the kitchen without delay. When the dinner was placed before the emperor he found it so nice that he ate much more than was good for him. The next morning, as soon as he woke, he sent for his head cook, and told him to send up the same dishes as before. The cook, seized with fright at this command, which he knew he could not fulfil, fell on his knees, and confessed the truth.

The emperor was so astonished that he forgot to scold, and while he was thinking over the matter, some of his pages came in and said that their new companion had been heard to boast that he knew where Iliane was to be found—the celebrated Iliane of the song which begins:

'Golden Hair. The fields are green,'

And that to their certain knowledge he had a curl of her hair in his possession.

When he heard that, the emperor desired the page to be brought before him, and, as soon as the princess obeyed his summons, he said to her abruptly:

'Fet-Fruners, you have hidden from me the fact that you knew the golden-haired Iliane! Why did you do this? for I have treated you more kindly than all my other pages.'

Then, after making the princess show him the golden curl which she wore round her neck, he added: 'Listen to me; unless by some means or other you bring me the owner of this lock, I will have your head cut off in the place where you stand. Now go!'

In vain the poor girl tried to explain how the lock of hair came into her possession; the emperor would listen to nothing, and, bowing low, she left his presence and went to consult Sunlight what she was to do.

At his first words she brightened up. 'Do not be afraid, mistress; only last night my brother appeared to me in a dream and told me that a genius had carried off Iliane, whose hair you picked up on the road. But Iliane declares that, before she marries her captor, he must bring her, as a present, the whole stud of mares which belong to her. The genius, half crazy with love, thinks of nothing night and day but how this can be done, and meanwhile she is quite safe in the island swamps of the sea. Go back to the emperor and ask him for twenty ships filled with precious merchandise. The rest you shall know by-and-by.'

On hearing this advice, the princess went at once into the emperor's presence.

'May a long life be yours, O Sovereign all mighty!' said she. 'I have come to tell you that I can do as you command if you will give me twenty ships, and load them with the most precious wares in your kingdom.'

'You shall have all that I possess if you will bring me the golden-haired Iliane,' said the emperor.

The ships were soon ready, and the princess entered the largest and finest, with Sunlight at her side. Then the sails were spread and the voyage began.

For seven weeks the wind blew them straight towards the west, and early one morning they caught sight of the island swamps of the sea.

They cast anchor in a little bay, and the princess made haste to disembark with Sunlight, but, before leaving the ship, she tied to her belt a pair of tiny gold slippers, adorned with precious stones. Then mounting Sunlight, she rode about till she came to several palaces, built on hinges, so that they could always turn towards the sun.

The most splendid of these was guarded by three slaves, whose greedy eyes were caught by the glistening gold of the slippers. They hastened up to the owner of these treasures, and inquired who he was. 'A merchant,' replied the princess, 'who had somehow missed his road, and lost himself among the island swamps of the sea.'

Not knowing if it was proper to receive him or not, the slaves returned to their mistress and told her all they had seen, but not before she had caught sight of the merchant from the roof of her palace. Luckily her gaoler was away, always trying to catch the stud of mares, so for the moment she was free and alone.

The slaves told their tale so well that their mistress insisted on going down to the shore and seeing the beautiful slippers for herself. They were even lovelier than she expected, and when the merchant besought her to come on board, and inspect some that he thought were finer still, her curiosity was too great to refuse, and she went.

Once on board ship, she was so busy turning over all the precious things stored there, that she never knew that the sails were spread, and that they were flying along with the wind behind them; and when she did know, she rejoiced in her heart, though she pretended to weep and lament at being carried captive a second time. Thus they arrived at the court of the emperor.

They were just about to land, when the mother of the genius stood before them. She had learnt that Iliane had fled from her prison in company with a merchant, and, as her son was absent, had come herself in pursuit. Striding over the blue waters, hopping from wave to wave, one foot reaching to heaven, and the other planted in the foam, she was close at their heels, breathing fire and flame, when they stepped on shore from the ship. One glance told Iliane who the horrible old woman was, and she whispered hastily to her companion. Without saying a word, the princess swung her into Sunlight's saddle, and leaping up behind her, they were off like a flash.

It was not till they drew near the town that the princess stooped and asked Sunlight what they should do. 'Put your hand into my left ear,' said he, 'and take out a sharp stone, which you must throw behind you.'

The princess did as she was told, and a huge mountain sprang up behind them. The mother of the genius began to climb up it, and though they galloped quickly, she was quicker still.

They heard her coming, faster, faster; and again the princess stooped to ask what was to be done now. 'Put your hand into my right ear,' said the horse, 'and throw the brush you will find there behind you.' The princess did so, and a great forest sprang up behind them, and, so thick were its leaves, that even a wren could not get through. But the old woman seized hold of the branches and flung herself like a monkey from one to the others, and always she drew nearer—always, always—till their hair was singed by the flames of her mouth.

Then, in despair, the princess again bent down and asked if there was nothing more to be done, and Sunlight replied 'Quick, quick, take off the betrothal ring on the finger of Iliane and throw it behind you.'

This time there sprang up a great tower of stone, smooth as ivory, hard as steel, which reached up to heaven itself. And the mother of the genius gave a howl of rage, knowing that she could neither climb it nor get through it. But she was not beaten yet, and gathering herself together, she made a prodigious leap, which landed her on the top of the tower, right in the middle of Iliane's ring which lay there, and held her tight. Only her claws could be seen grasping the battlements.

All that could be done the old witch did; but the fire that poured from her mouth never reached the fugitives, though it laid waste the country a hundred miles round the tower, like the flames of a volcano. Then, with one last effort to free herself, her hands gave way, and, falling down to the bottom of the tower, she was broken in pieces.

When the flying princess saw what had happened she rode back to the spot, as Sunlight counselled her, and placed her finger on the top of the tower, which was gradually shrinking into the earth. In an instant the tower had vanished as if it had never been, and in its place was the finger of the princess with a ring round it.

The emperor received Iliane with all the respect that was due to her, and fell in love at first sight besides.

But this did not seem to please Iliane, whose face was sad as she walked about the palace or gardens, wondering how it was that, while other girls did as they liked, she was always in the power of someone whom she hated.

So when the emperor asked her to share his throne Iliane answered:

'Noble Sovereign, I may not think of marriage till my stud of horses has been brought me, with their trappings all complete.'

When he heard this, the emperor once more sent for Fet-Fruners, and said:

'Fet-Fruners, fetch me instantly the stud of mares, with their trappings all complete. If not, your head shall pay the forfeit.'

'Mighty Emperor, I kiss your hands! I have but just returned from doing your bidding, and, behold, you send me on another mission, and stake my head on its fulfilment, when your court is full of valiant young men, pining to win their spurs. They say you are a just man; then why not entrust this quest to one of them? Where am I to seek these mares that I am to bring you?'

'How do I know? They may be anywhere in heaven or earth; but, wherever they are, you will have to find them.'

The princess bowed and went to consult Sunlight. He listened while she told her tale, and then said:

'Fetch quickly nine buffalo skins; smear them well with tar, and lay them on my back. Do not fear; you will succeed in this also; but, in the end, the emperor's desires will be his undoing.'

The buffalo skins were soon got, and the princess started off with Sunlight. The way was long and difficult, but at length they reached the place where the mares were grazing. Here the genius who had carried off Iliane was wandering about, trying to discover how to capture them, all the while believing that Iliane was safe in the palace where he had left her.

As soon as she caught sight of him, the princess went up and told him that Iliane had escaped, and that his mother, in her efforts to recapture her, had died of rage. At this news a blind fury took possession of the genius, and he rushed madly upon the princess, who awaited his onslaught with perfect calmness. As he came on, with his sabre lifted high in the air, Sunlight bounded right over his head, so that the sword fell harmless. And when in her turn the princess prepared to strike, the horse sank upon his knees, so that the blade pierced the genius's thigh.

The fight was so fierce that it seemed as if the earth would give way under them, and for twenty miles round the beasts in the forests fled to their caves for shelter. At last, when her strength was almost gone, the genius lowered his sword for an instant. The princess saw her chance, and, with one swoop of her arm, severed her enemy's head from his body. Still trembling from the long struggle, she turned away, and went to the meadow where the stud were feeding.

By the advice of Sunlight, she took care not to let them see her, and climbed a thick tree, where she could see and hear without being seen herself. Then he neighed, and the mares came galloping up, eager to see the new comer—all but one horse, who did not like strangers, and thought they were very well as they were. As Sunlight stood his ground, well pleased with the attention paid him, this sulky creature suddenly advanced to the charge, and bit so violently that had it not been for the nine buffalo skins Sunlight's last moment would have come. When the fight was ended, the buffalo skins were in ribbons, and the beaten animal writhing with pain on the grass.

Nothing now remained to be done but to drive the whole stud to the emperor's court. So the princess came down from the tree and mounted Sunlight, while the stud followed meekly after, the wounded horse bringing up the rear. On reaching the palace, she drove them into a yard, and went to inform the emperor of her arrival.

The news was told at once to Iliane, who ran down directly and called them to her one by one, each mare by its name. And at the first sight of her the wounded animal shook itself quickly, and in a moment its wounds were healed, and there was not even a mark on its glossy skin.

By this time the emperor, on hearing where she was, joined her in the yard, and at her request ordered the mares to be milked, so that both he and she might bathe in the milk and keep young for ever. But they would suffer no one to come near them, and the princess was commanded to perform this service also.

At this, the heart of the girl swelled within her. The hardest tasks were always given to her, and long before the two years were up, she would be worn out and useless. But while these thoughts passed through her mind, a fearful rain fell, such as no man remembered before, and rose till the mares were standing up to their knees in water. Then as suddenly it stopped, and, behold! the water was ice, which held the animals firmly in its grasp. And the princess's heart grew light again, and she sat down gaily to milk them, as if she had done it every morning of her life.

The love of the emperor for Iliane waxed greater day by day, but she paid no heed to him, and always had an excuse ready to put off their marriage. At length, when she had come to the end of everything she could think of, she said to him one day: 'Grant me, Sire, just one request more, and then I will really marry you; for you have waited patiently this long time.'

'My beautiful dove,' replied the emperor, 'both I and all I possess are yours, so ask your will, and you shall have it.'

'Get me, then,' she said, 'a flask of the holy water that is kept in a little church beyond the river Jordan, and I will be your wife.'

Then the emperor ordered Fet-Fruners to ride without delay to the river Jordan, and to bring back, at whatever cost, the holy water for Iliane.

'This, my mistress,' said Sunlight, when she was saddling him, 'is the last and most difficult of your tasks. But fear nothing, for the hour of the emperor has struck.'

So they started; and the horse, who was not a wizard for nothing, told the princess exactly where she was to look for the holy water.

'It stands,' he said, 'on the altar of a little church, and is guarded by a troop of nuns. They never sleep, night or day, but every now and then a hermit comes to visit them, and from him they learn certain things it is needful for them to know. When this happens, only one of the nuns remains on guard at a time, and if we are lucky enough to hit upon this moment, we may get hold of the vase at once; if not, we shall have to wait the arrival of the hermit, however long it may be; for there is no other means of obtaining the holy water.'

They came in sight of the church beyond the Jordan, and, to their great joy, beheld the hermit just arriving at the door. They could hear him calling the nuns around him, and saw them settle themselves under a tree, with the hermit in their midst—all but one, who remained on guard, as was the custom.

The hermit had a great deal to say, and the day was very hot, so the nun, tired of sitting by herself, lay down right across the threshold, and fell sound asleep.

Then Sunlight told the princess what she was to do, and the girl stepped softly over the sleeping nun, and crept like a cat along the dark aisle, feeling the wall with her fingers, lest she should fall over something and ruin it all by a noise. But she reached the altar in safety, and found the vase of holy water standing on it. This she thrust into her dress, and went back with the same care as she came. With a bound she was in the saddle, and seizing the reins bade Sunlight take her home as fast as his legs could carry him.

The sound of the flying hoofs aroused the nun, who understood instantly that the precious treasure was stolen, and her shrieks were so loud and piercing that all the rest came flying to see what was the matter. The hermit followed at their heels, but seeing it was impossible to overtake the thief, he fell on his knees and called his most deadly curse down on her head, praying that if the thief was a man, he might become a woman; and if she was a woman, that she might become a man. In either case he thought that the punishment would be severe.

But punishments are things about which people do not always agree, and when the princess suddenly felt she was really the man she had pretended to be, she was delighted, and if the hermit had only been within reach she would have thanked him from her heart.

By the time she reached the emperor's court, Fet-Fruners looked a young man all over in the eyes of everyone; and even the mother of the genius would now have had her doubts set at rest. He drew forth the vase from his tunic and held it up to the emperor, saying: 'Mighty Sovereign, all hail! I have fulfilled this task also, and I hope it is the last you have for me; let another now take his turn.'

'I am content, Fet-Fruners,' replied the emperor, 'and when I am dead it is you who will sit upon my throne; for I have yet no son to come after me. But if one is given me, and my dearest wish is accomplished, then you shall be his right hand, and guide him with your counsels.'

But though the emperor was satisfied, Iliane was not, and she determined to revenge herself on the emperor for the dangers which he had caused Fet-Fruners to run. And as for the vase of holy water, she thought that, in common politeness, her suitor ought to have fetched it himself, which he could have done without any risk at all.

So she ordered the great bath to be filled with the milk of her mares, and begged the emperor to clothe himself in white robes, and enter the bath with her, an invitation he accepted with joy. Then, when both were standing with the milk reaching to their necks, she sent for the horse which had fought Sunlight, and made a secret sign to him. The horse understood what he was to do, and from one nostril he breathed fresh air over Iliane, and from the other, he snorted a burning wind which shrivelled up the emperor where he stood, leaving only a little heap of ashes.

His strange death, which no one could explain, made a great sensation throughout the country, and the funeral his people gave him was the most splendid ever known. When it was over, Iliane summoned Fet-Fruners before her, and addressed him thus:

'Fet-Fruners! it is you who brought me and have saved my life, and obeyed my wishes. It is you who gave me back my stud; you who killed the genius, and the old witch his mother; you who brought me the holy water. And you, and none other, shall be my husband.'

'Yes, I will marry you,' said the young man, with a voice almost as soft as when he was a princess. 'But know that in OUR house, it will be the cock who sings and not the hen!'

[bonjour-rainycity]

Double Heart | Chapter Ten ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 4422

Warnings: Canon-level violence

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Just so you know, I start playing a little fast and loose with ‘elf-lore’ right about here. Thanks so much for all your responses to the previous chapters! Happy reading <3

We retire early, each of us exhausted from our long journey. Elrond arranged rooms for us in his expansive home, which I found out is the heart of the city. I guess when you found a town, it makes sense that you get the largest estate. At Elrond’s instruction, a female attendant leads me up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. She opens a door to my left to revel a large room with a four-poster bed, table, chaise lounge, couch, fireplace, and, through an archway to the side, a full bathroom. Pillows and blankets decorate every available surface and I notice a large selection of books and candles. After two weeks on the road, I want nothing more than to bury myself in this room’s amenities.

“Wow,” I breathe, unable to do much more in my state of awe and fatigue.

“Lord Elrond knows about your fear of heights and has placed you in one of the most innermost rooms of the estate. Your windows will offer you views of our waterfalls but you are nowhere near to the edge. I hope it is to your liking.”

I smile, my already present fondness for Elrond growing. Though, I do wonder which of my friends told him about my fear of heights. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

The attendant nods, leading me to a chest of drawers. “You will find clothing here and bathing provisions in the bathroom. Meals are three times a day and you may join the others in the common hall or request to dine in your chambers. If you require my assistance, I am in the room at the very end of the hall and to the right. I hope you sleep well.” She curtsies deeply and I wonder if I should do the same. Just to be on the safe side, I place one leg behind the other and squat, awkwardly attempting to mirror her movement. She puts great effort into suppressing a smile, but inclines her head in acknowledgment of my efforts before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What am I going to do?

This place is dangerous. It’s terrifying. And yes, I feel relatively safe within Elrond’s walls, but he said it himself—just last month, orcs attempted to infiltrate the city. What if they try again, only this time, they succeed? And with some evil being on the rise? Nope, no way. I don’t think I can deal with that.

I throw myself facedown on the large bed, groaning in frustration. This world that I’ve only just accepted to be real is showing me just how real it is. The honeymoon phase is over. The rose-colored glasses have been lifted from my eyes, and what I see paints a dark, fearful scene.

Yet, even still…I cannot ignore the part of me that so badly wants to stay.

The people I’ve met here—humans, elves—does it really matter? Whatever they are, whatever I am at this point, honestly, does it actually, in the grand scheme of things, matter? Because I like them. I care about them. More than anything, I don’t want to leave them, to go back to a world of people I don’t know.

But danger and my friends are a package deal.

And I don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that.

I flip around into a seated position, letting my head flop into my hands.

I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I’m stressed. And I’m exhausted. Now, I need to sleep. Everything else can wait until morning.

I haul myself off the feathered mattress and drag my heavy feet to the chest of drawers. As far as sleep items go, I find only nightgowns, but they’ll have to do. It’s much better than sleeping in the muddied clothing I’ve traveled in for two weeks.

I change quickly and blow out the candles I rely on to light my room. I crawl into bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my ears. Before I know it, sleep calms my racing mind.

{***}

I wake in the mountains.

A roar, guttural and angry, comes from behind me and I throw myself into a sprint. I stumble over the uneven terrain, catching my foot on rocks and scraping my shins, but I keep going. Whatever I suffer running away is surely better than being at the mercy of the beast that pursues me.

Brown, gnashing teeth cut me off and I shriek, falling onto my back. An orc with its stinking, rotting breath descends on me, dagger cutting into my arm. I cry out not only in pain but in panic, for the blood that falls to the ground is not red — no, it is thick, dark sludge.

I’m underwater.

The sludge suffocates me. It fills my lungs and burns as it slides over my skin. I kick, desperate to get away.

Below me, a honeyed voice sings. It beckons to me, begs me to come deeper, to let myself sink. It promises safety, security.

It promises peace.

“Cosima.”

Haldir’s voice far above me sounds muffled as it travels through the murky waters. I snap my head up. I can’t see anything, only the darkness, but I know that if I can somehow get to him, if I can follow his voice, then I will reach the surface.

“Cosima!” Rumil shouts for me now.

My name, called in turn by each of my new friends, overlaps, drowning out the sweet sounds from below.

My vision darkens. I have gone too long without breath — I have to make a decision.

I kick my legs, propelling myself upwards.

{***}

I break through the surface, sputtering and gasping for air.

Light—harsh and bright orange—momentarily blinds me. As my eyes adjust, I recognize the puffy white duvet, the cool grey of the stone walls, the soft pink flowers cascading from the ceiling. I’m in my guest bed in Elrond’s house. I never left my room. I never lost to an attacker in the mountains. I never fell into the water.

It was just a dream.

Water—the roaring sound of the waterfalls—while muted, is still subtly audible in the background. And my dream—it was nearly exactly what I imagined before waking in Arda. The sound from the waterfalls must have triggered it.

Just a dream, I remind myself, trying to calm my racing heart.

A sharp knock disrupts the silence of the room and sends stabs of pain through my head — bad dreams and a headache, too, I guess. The knock sounds again and I groan, forcing myself to leave the coziness of my covers and pad on bare feet to the door.

It’s Haldir. He stands, hand still raised, in fresh clothes and even more armor than yesterday. His bow is slung over his back, a quiver and sword rest at his hips. I try not to let my thoughts get away from me with overreaction — surely this isn’t necessary for inside Elrond’s halls.

He lowers his hand, dipping his head briefly in greeting. “I—” he seems to notice my nightgown. “Did I wake you?”

I shrug and attempt to lean against the doorframe casually, still mildly disturbed from my nightmare. “I don’t think so.” Then, panic causes me to stiffen. “Have you been here long?” Did he hear anything? Oh, I hope not.

He shakes his head and I relax. “No, I only just arrived.” Whew. “I came to get you — Elrond wants to take a look at your arm. I also wanted to let you know, Glorfindel and I are going to visit a couple of the border stations and see if there are improvements to be made. I will be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” I blink. So he’s leaving. “But you only just got here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Well, don’t you want a few days to relax?”

He tilts his head to the side. “I have been relaxing — I’ve been on leave from my duties for three weeks now.”

I roll my eyes, recalling his constant state of watchfulness on our journey. “Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t call the trip we just had ‘on leave from your duties.’”

He huffs, but the beginnings of a smile tugs at the edges of his lips. “Would you please get dressed so I can escort you to Elrond? Glorfindel and I wish to leave within the hour.”

I fight the urge to make some snarky comment about his impatience and instead shut the door in his face, hurrying to get ready. My arm does sting — perhaps Elrond can do something about that.

The chest of drawers doesn’t offer much in variety, mostly just a combination of long dresses and a few tunic and legging sets here and there. I’ve been traveling in the same clothes for two weeks though, and a change in habit doesn’t sound too bad, so I opt for a sleeveless pale blue gown with a gossamer cape at the shoulders. I don’t look as ethereal as Lavandil would, but I suppose it will do. Using my fingers, I brush down the frizz in my hair as much as I can—a lost cause, really—and throw on a pair of cream slippers that no one will see anyway because of the gown. After splashing some water over my eyes and brushing my teeth, I throw open the door to find Haldir standing to the side, back to the wall, watching the coming and going of everyone who passes down the hallway. Always on duty. He acknowledges me with a stiff nod and gestures down the hall, falling into step beside me. When we reach the bottom of the staircase, he leads me to the right and through another open-air hallway.

He breaks the silence. “Is your room to your liking?”

I think back to my plush bed, trying to separate it from the dread and fear of my nightmare. “Oh, yes. As much as I liked sleeping under the stars, it’s nice to have a proper bed and all the blankets I could want. And a door.”

He huffs out a laugh, nodding in agreement. “That is the true indication of luxury.”

“And yours?”

His mouth twists into a grimace. “It is the height of visitor season here in Imladris, so I am sharing with Rumil. Aside from constantly putting up with my younger brother, it’s perfect.”

I freeze, turning to him. “Wait, you have to share? But you’re the one who’s supposed to be visiting, that’s not right. You or Rumil can have my room, I’ll stay with Alex—”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he interjects quickly, jerking his head to indicate that I should continue walking. “I only meant to joke. I do not mind sharing a space with my brother.” Before I can respond, he changes the subject. “How is your arm?”

I raise it, feeling the skin stretch over the cut. “Stings, but it’s healing.”

“Elrond will be able to speed along the process.” He indicates that we should turn left down a new hallway. He leads me through a nondescript archway on our right and we enter a moderately sized semicircular room.

Elrond sits at a mahogany desk near one of the walls, writing furiously on a piece of graying parchment.  Upon our entry, he looks up, and the lines of stress on his brow melt into an expression of warm welcome. “Good to see you again, Cosima, Haldir.” He nods to each of us in turn and motions for us to join him at his desk. When we approach, Haldir bows his head respectfully, so I do the same. It’s strange to be in Elrond’s presence. He carries such authority that I feel small in comparison, yet he also leads with such kindness that it is impossible to not want to be around him. Based on all the visitors Haldir mentioned, I surmise that I am not alone in this assessment.

Elrond vacates his chair and gestures for me to sit. He comes to stand at my left and gently takes my arm in his hands. “I am sorry for the injury you suffered during the attack. That must have been quite jarring.”

Haldir rests a hand absently on the hilt of his sword, watching us from the other side of the desk. Likely, he too is remembering the ferocity of the attack — the lives he had to take. It must be hard, even if they were the lives of those trying to kill us.

“It was,” I agree, wincing slightly when Elrond unwraps the bandage encasing my upper arm. “As far as I know, my home doesn’t have anything like that.”

He smiles almost indulgently, crouching to more closely examine the gash. “But you would not remember if it did, no?”

I swallow. I hadn’t considered that. “I guess you’re right.”

He looks into my eyes then, and I feel so very young. “Every world has its perils. And every world has its joys. You cannot have one without the other—such is the way of life.”

I exhale shakily, turning my eyes to the ceiling. That’s sobering.

Elrond lays his fingers over my torn skin and mutters something in that language I so often hear.

I try to concentrate on the sounds, but can’t make out any specific words. “What is that?”

Since Elrond is still chanting, Haldir answers for him. “An Elvish healing incantation. Combined with the power in Elrond’s spirit, it should close up the wound.”

Tingles race through my upper arm and converge on my cut. I crane my neck, trying to see around Elrond’s hands. A second later, he pulls away. I gasp. All that is left of the cut is a thin, raised scar.

“What,” I murmur, prodding at the skin. Not painful, not even tender. What was just a two-day old wound now seems as if it happened and healed ages ago. “That’s impossible.”

Elrond nearly smirks, straightening to full height. “Open your mind, young one, and you will see that what is impossible to you is commonplace here.”

“I—” but I have nothing to say to that. Though I cannot possibly wrap my head around what just happened, the fact remains that it did. I’m not sure if I’m ready to confront what that means. So I push it away for later. “Thank you.”

Elrond inclines his head. Everyone around here is so dang respectful. “You are welcome.” With a twinkle in his eye, he turns his focus to Haldir. “Do not give my guards too hard a time. I imagine they are wary of your arrival.”

Haldir gestures for me to follow him to the exit. “I only plan on pointing out strategies for improvement. Suggestions, really.”

With a noise that clearly communicates his disbelief in Haldir’s statement, Elrond returns to his desk, smiling softly and shaking his head. “Be safe, Marchwarden. And Cosima?” I stop and turn, one hand on the pillar leading into his study. He gives me a level look and I have the distinct impression that he is acutely aware of the conflict raging within my head. “My door is always open.”

Mutely, I nod, a little stunned by the gravity in his gaze. I must have been staring, because it takes Haldir gently tapping my elbow to remind me to follow him from the room. Once in the hallway, I feel a little more clear-headed. “So was that magic?”

Haldir shrugs, striding down the long corridor. “Humans would think of it that way I suppose. Magic implies something special and ‘more than,’ though, and it’s not like that for elves. It is to be respected, yes, but it is simply the power in our spirits doing the work that calls to them. For Elrond, his spirit urges him to heal, so when he acts on it, he is more powerful than others who aren’t called to healing. I should mention that we say ‘spirit’ for your benefit. Elves use the term ‘fæ’. Simplified, it serves the same purpose as a spirit, but for elves, it plays more of an active role in our lives.”

I mull that over. It sounds reasonable enough. “So then what’s yours? What does your spirit—fæ want you to do?”

“Keep people safe. And if that means fighting, so be it.”

That seems consistent with what I know about him. Every action he takes seems driven by the desire to protect those around him. “What would happen if you ignored it? Say you wanted to be a healer like Baranor or Elrond.”

Haldir chuckles, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he walks. “I have tried before and I was not near as successful. I can perform the basics of healing—anyone can—but there’s no power within me to speed up the process or heal especially severe injuries like Elrond can. If I tried to attend to your arm in the same way he did, maybe it would have healed slightly faster? But as you saw with Elrond, he is capable of doing it in minutes.”

I begin to catch on. “Okay, so you can all learn whatever skills you want but the power to perform above and beyond at those skills lies in your fæ.”

He nods once. “Exactly.”

We turn a corner. “But what if you wanted to be a healer but you were born with the fæ of a fighter? Could you change it?”

Haldir takes a deep breath, his steps slowing slightly. I realize we are nearing the staircase that will take me to my room. “Short answer—no. An elf’s fæ is incredibly personal and incredibly fragile. Really, only two things can change an elf’s fæ: marriage and death. Long answer—you can ignore the desires of your fæ and nothing bad will happen to you so, technically, if I wanted, I could shun the need to keep my people safe and heal them instead. But I wouldn’t be any better at it than anyone else and I would feel unfulfilled because I wouldn’t be giving my fæ what it needs. Does that make sense?”

I nod, but something he glossed over jumps out at me. He said marriage can change an elf’s fæ, but from what I know, marriage isn’t always forever. People can separate, people can die, people can cheat. What then? “Marriage and death change a fæ how?”

A faraway look comes into his eye. “The two are basically interconnected. When elves get married, their fæs bond together in a way that cannot be undone. When it is—through death—the half of the fæ belonging to the dead elf essentially wilts and leaves the remaining fæ damaged.”

That sounds awful. “But what about divorce? Is that kinder to a fæ?”

Haldir smiles ruefully. “Divorce is something unique to humans. Elves live forever and we love only once. When we do decide to love another, the two fæs are literally entwined forever. So divorce is a physical possibility — the two can be separated, yes. But it would cause their fæs so much grief that it almost never happens. Spiritually though, the two are entwined until death, some argue even beyond then.”

I’m almost afraid to ask. “So, if one dies and the fæ is damaged…”

“The other fades. It is not just a physical death, but a spiritual one. They lose the will to live and eventually pass into nothing.”

I look at the ground. Haldir carries a pain in his voice that makes me wonder if he’s seen this happen before. With over three thousand years behind him, it’s likely that he has.

I attempt to veer to a safer subject. He said elves only love once and, as far as I know, Haldir isn’t married. I try to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “So you’ve never been in love?”

He raises an eyebrow, jerking his chin in my direction. “Have you?”

I shrug, climbing the staircase. “I wouldn’t remember.”

“I think you would.” We’re at the top now and I turn to see him looking not at me, but out one of the gaping archways showcasing the falls.

I let out a slow breath, thinking on his words. Would I, though? I mean, what if I’m here gallivanting with my new friends and I have someone at home mourning my loss, missing me? Do I owe it to him to make it back?

Feeling a weight settle on my shoulders, I take small, hesitant steps towards the archway, bringing me closer and closer to the fortified stone railing. I don’t look down—that would be too much—but I do rest my hands lightly against the wood, staring straight ahead at the curtain of frothy white and blue. Guilt as well as fear from being so close to the edge churn in my stomach. Am I a bad person for not remembering my love? Do I even have one?

I let out a shuddering breath, knowing I need something — reassurance or condemnation, I don’t know. I choose to give voice to my fears and trust Haldir to decide.

When I speak, my voice is not as solid as I would like, sounding instead shaky and fragile. “But what if I didn’t?” I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “What if there’s someone in my world waiting for me and I can’t remember him?”

The sounds of boots clicking against stone echoes. A few seconds later, Haldir appears next to me, resting his hands on the railing, mirroring my viewing of the waterfall.

“An elf’s fæ gives them a measure of awareness. If you are really attuned to someone—love them, have a strong bond with them—your fæs will have a consciousness of each other, almost like they’re in communication. For example, I can see Rumil’s light and I know that he is content. I can feel Orophin’s joy practically bursting and I know how happy it makes him to be here with his love. And, while a human’s fæ isn’t as strong as an elf’s, you do have one. If I concentrate, I can see it. It’s faint, but it is there. All this to say,” he shakes his head slowly, turning his gaze to me. “If you had a love back home, your fæ would know.”

I slump in relief, leaning against the railing and closing my eyes so I cannot further frighten myself. If I had someone that I was bonded to, I would remember him — more than that, I would feel it in my soul. So, staying here…if it weren’t so dangerous…maybe it wouldn’t be bad.

“Haldir, Lady Cosima.” A confident voice at the end of the hall catches our attention.

Glorfindel, golden and gorgeous as ever, strides up to us, bowing deeply. He reaches for my hand and presses a kiss to its back, then straightens and winks—at me or Haldir, I can’t tell. “A human custom I thought I’d try. Not my cup of tea, but I do say I’ll try anything once.”

I bark out a shocked laugh, having not expected Glorfindel’s bold entrance. “Am I one of your experiments, then?”

“If you’d like to be.” He pumps his eyebrows suggestively, though, if what Haldir just explained to me is true for all elves, Glorfindel is only playing around.

Haldir rolls his eyes. “Are you ready to go?”

With a flair, Glorfindel gestures to his armored form. “So it seems. Is the Lady going to accompany us?”

I huff, not liking being cut out of the conversation. “No, ‘the Lady’ hopes to stay here and find breakfast.”

“Ah, it is on the path to the stables! Allow us to show you the way.” With that, Glorfindel strides down the hallway as quickly as he arrived.

Haldir shakes his head—whether in amusement or annoyance, I don’t know—but follows.

The three of us wind up in a large outdoor pavilion sheltered only by a wooden lattice rooftop woven with blue and white flowers. This must be the common dining hall Elrond mentioned last night. It’s relatively late in the morning but too early for the midday meal, so the pavilion is empty. I’m grateful—I’m not sure I could handle meeting a whole city’s worth of elves before I’ve gotten some food in me.

The use of the word causes a brief spark of shock to jolt through my chest. I just referred to them as ‘elves’.

But I cannot deny it any longer—somehow, it clicked. I am in a different world, and the people of this world are not all human. My friends are elves.

This decision to believe—though it is only one of many I must make—releases a weight from my chest. I suddenly feel much lighter, nearly giddy with freedom. I push forward and turn around to face the two ellyn who led me here, nodding with a measure of finality.

“You are elves.”

Glorfindel looks perplexed, but Haldir, for the first time since I’ve met him, looks surprised. His eyebrows shoot towards his hairline, his lips part from each other. I grin, very much enjoying the feeling of catching him off guard. He narrows his eyes slightly, seeming to inspect me for signs of teasing or a joke. I smile up at him, confident in my decision.

Glorfindel looks back and forth between what probably looks like an impromptu staring contest. “Yes…it must be time for you to eat. How often do humans need to eat, anyways?” He chatters on, leading us through the pavilion and into an auxiliary room — the kitchens. “I’ve heard horror stories of new humans needing to eat upwards of six times per day. How do its caretakers get anything done?”

As Glorfindel darts through the kitchen collecting what I assume to be leftovers and provisions for the trip, Haldir comes up beside me, looking almost unsure.

“You have accepted it, then?”

I nod, exhaling quickly. “I have. This isn’t a dream, this is real. Somehow I lived in my world and now I live in yours. And, though there’s no way for me to wrap my head around it, my new friends are elves.”

He smiles softly, hesitantly, and dips his head in acknowledgment of my statement. “I am glad.”

But, despite my momentary feeling of freedom, unease settles in my gut. Many more decisions lie ahead.

A/n Ooo so what do you think??? Likes, comments, and reblogs make me happy! Let me know if you would like a tag :) Also, if you’re bored, pop into my ask box and tell me something that makes you happy -- I’d love to know!

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Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

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Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

[writefandoms]

YOU ARE SO SWEET! So as for my request Can I have a one-shot with Alucard from Castlevania and Phoenix reader? She was great friends with Belmont family but went into a very deep sleep and then the tria found and awakened her before they went to figgt with Dracula. After that she devoted herself to Alucard and stays with him. It's obvious they have feelings, like they hold hands, kiss each others forehead etc. Then Sumi and Taka comes, she senses somerhing evil from them and tries to warn him mulriple times and then he snaps and breaks her heart so she leaves. At that rime The other two prays for help to her, Alucard understand his mistake and prays for her as well before... you know the scene.

So she chooses Alu and literally comes througg the window with her wings and they fight but she gets terribly hurt especially her wings and they stabbed ger heart. But she comes back to life and tease him like "I don't die, remember?"

Something angst and fluffy would be appreciated. I'm sending you big bear hugs and hope that you will be able to write my request soon, because there is almost no one who writes for my baby! 🥰🤧

This took a long ass time to write lol I changed some things but I really like how it came out! Enjoy❤️❤️

My Angel

Summary: You and Adrian have an disagreement about two new guest residing in the castle.

Word Count: 1.9k

His beauty was almost intimidating. Silky blonde hair, that you love to gently run your fingers through. Golden eyes that have seen so much pain and suffering. His skin was pale and flawless, long faded scar across his chest only adding to his perfection.

Adrian likes to lie and say that your beauty goes beyond his. In his eyes, you’re an earthbound angel sent to him as a gift. Not only just referring to your perfect face or body, but the large wings that sprout from your back.

White wings with light brown roots, that usually lay folded on your back when you aren’t using them. There’s been some embarrassing incidents between you and Adrain, mainly dealing with your feathers. Sometimes they’ll get ruffled and need to be smoothed in a place you can’t reach, leading you to drag yourself to his doorstep, desperately trying to avoid eye contact as you ask him for help.

Choosing to live with Adrian after he was forced to kill his father, you two have been through a lot together. So the switch from constantly moving to a domestic lifestyle was an odd but welcomed change.

Sitting at the kitchen table watching him gracefully move through the kitchen was always so entertaining. His hair fell in soft waves over his shoulder, but never seemed to get in his way.

“You could always help you know.” He spoke with his back to you, as he bent over peeking at the fish in the oven.

“I would only get in your way,” You threw back, a perverse smirking finding its way onto your face. “Besides, the view is much more appealing from over here.”

He snaps upright, casting a playful glare your way. “Go clear the table, and your filthy mind.”

Standing to gather the books you had on the table, you pile them on the counter. The research materials from the Belmont Hold was always so fascinating, you constantly found yourself entranced with the knowledge contained in the pages.

Adrian doesn’t like to admit it, but he’s a bit jealous of your admiration for Trevor Belmont’s Hold rather than the vast scientific knowledge his father has collected. You try not to acknowledge the petty rivalry, but think it’s sort of endearing.

Opening the cabinet to get the plates and silverware. He moves behind you, gently pushing past your wings. His presence stays near you, and you feel his fingers run across the middle of your right wing.

“Adrian!” Letting out a loud giggle as you push yourself further into the counter, trying to escape his attack. He laughs at your wiggling, and the way you unconsciously flap your wings.

He seized his attack, his hands finding their way around your waist. He rests his chin on your neck and pulls you back so your wings are flush against his back. Leaving a soft kiss on your neck, you run your hand down his cheek caressing the soft skin.

Comfortable silence fills the room as you both basking in each other's presence.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

Those twins were up to something, you just had this bad feeling in your gut.

Taka and Sumi were their name, and their story was heartbreaking. And you felt sorry for the suffering that they were forced to go through. It was easy to see that they were extremely desperate, and you know all too well how desperate people can do awful things.

Adrian, on the other hand, welcomed the two into his home with open arms. Cooking for them, training with them, and even brought them into the Belmont Hold.

They constantly asked about moving the castle, making you even more suspicious of their true nature.

Adrian didn’t want to listen to any of your concerns though. “You’re simply overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Adrian you just met these people, you don’t know them!” He rolled his eyes brushing past you.

“I will not listen to you if you’re going to yell.”

Reaching out you grabbed his arm to stop him from leaving, “Please Adrian. I know you feel like this is what your mother would have wanted.”

“I just don’t want you to place your trust into people who will only end up hurting you in the end.” You trail off, eyes searching his for a hint of understanding.

He yanks his arm out of your grasp, “I think I already have.” His words hit you harder than you thought they would.

“What?” Is all you manage to say, his glare hurting you as much as his venomous words.

“I am passing down the knowledge of the world to two people who want to use it to help others.” He pauses, looking away. “If you can’t want to accept that, then maybe you should go.”

The tense silence that fills the room weighs heavily between you two.

An eternity passes and you manage to hold your tears back, straightening your back and put on a strong face.

“Fine.”

Your feet feel heavy as you walk past him, pausing at the door for a moment. You prayed that he would pull you away from the door, tell you how much you mean to him and how he needed you to stay.

When that moment never came, you yanked the door open and left the blonde alone with his thoughts. “Goodbye, Alucard.” He visibly flinched at the use of his other title.

If he wanted to push you away to act like the people’s hero, then so be it.

Packing a small sack of clothing, food, and money that would last you at least a week. But the nearest town was only a three days flight away, so it should be enough. You didn’t know where you were going to go, but you didn’t really think that far. Pride tended to lead you to make rather drastic decisions without thinking.

You couldn’t see Adrian standing by any of the windows, giving you even more initiative to open your wings and take flight, leaving the man alone with his new friends.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

A few hours of flying gave you some time to think and maybe you had overreacted. If he felt he was doing his dead mother justice by helping strangers in need, then who were you to stop him.

He needed some sort of closure after all the trauma he had suffered, and perhaps passing down this knowledge would help him mentally.

‘I really hate my big mouth sometimes.’ You thought mentally slapping yourself for all the awful accusations you made about the twins.

If you turned around right now, you could make it back before the sun rises. Swallow your pride and apologize to Adrian for being awful, and try to help him in any way you can. He’s been through enough and needs someone to help him.

“Shit!” You growled out, wings fluttering to a holt before spinning around and flying back.

It’s been a few months since you’ve flown this long, obvious from the slight ache coming from your wings. But despite your cramping muscles you still pushed through, moving faster through the air.

Two hours of flying south, turned into only an hour back north. It didn’t take much longer til you could see the trail leading up to the castle through the trees. A feeling of dread used to wash over you at its sight, but now filled your heart with joy.

Adrian’s three bedroom windows sat on the top floor, and despite his vampire blood he slept at night. The sun was full set now, meaning that he was most likely in his room. Only a few more minutes flying until you reached the castle.

This was a perfect opportunity for a dramatic entrance. Like something you’ve read in one of those romance novels in the library. Land on his window seal, large wings casting a dark shadow across his room waking him from his slumber. He would rush to open his window and you would collapse into his arms, sorrow filled words as you apologized for your cruelty. He would have one of his witty comebacks and embrace you in return.

Your daydream was ruined when you caught sight of multiple bodies on his bed. Instantly recognizing the two naked bodies as the twins.

Abruptly, you seized your flying choosing to not get any closer. Wings flapping to keep you in the air as you stared in horror at the imagery in front of you. Bodies entwining together with a sheen layer of sweat. The light skin woman moves to the side, exposing the naked pale beauty beneath her.

Your heart pounded in your ears, brain and heart struggling to agree on what to do. Part of you wanted to fly away, continue your journey. But another part of you wanted to throw a fit, scream at the half vampire for hurting you like this.

The pale body made a fast movement, his torso jerking off the bed slightly. But something about it didn’t seem right, the twins were sitting upright looking down at Adrian. The jerks at first appeared to be fits of pleasure, are clearly out of distress.

The twins pulled out daggers, exposing their true motives. Without think you flew towards the window, there was no time to run up to his room. Moving to enter through the window on the left of his bed, you prayed you would be fast enough.

“Adrian!” Your screams were dorwned out by the crashing of bokeh glass. Landing on the burgundy carpet, you groan in pain, thick drops of blood stained the ground around you. Shards of glass fall from your wings, some stuck withing the muscle.

Running over to the bed, the twins no longer sit above the half blood. Instead the two lay flat on there backs, pool of red spilling from their twitching lips. A floating swords with a thin trail of blood leers above the bed.

Despite the pain you staggered over to Adrians still form. His head turned to the side, splatter of blood across his cheek. Blonde hair spills over his eyes blocking his true expression.

“Dear God! Adrian…” There were heavy silver wires wrapped around him that must have been tying him down to the bed.

Loosened drastically by the twins losing control of the magic weapon, you were able to peel them away from the man. Carefully trying to avoid having the silver coming in contact with his skin, but based on the scarred tissue it probably didn’t matter.

“I shouldn’t have left,” your voice wavered at the empty look in his eyes. Hollow like a corpse, a broken doll.

He layed limply, allowing you to move him around. You move onto the bed, feeling him flinch at your close proximity. Moving back slightly, you pull his white sheet over his body. There’s a moment of silence before you hear a soft exhale of breath leave his body. Followed by another, then another. Soon he’s shaking besides you, tears flow freely down his cheeks.

Turning on his side, he reaches out to grip your sleeve bringing your hand closer to his face. As much as you long to hold him, you know he needs time so you allow him to touch you however he's comfortable with. He clutches your hand close to his face, you feel the wetness of his cheeks.

The moon shines down on both of you.

Sobs fill the icy night air, making it clear that God has long since abandoned this castle.

[dirty-holy-things]

The Space Between (your heart & mine)

Chapter 17 has been posted to Ao3, and below to Tumblr.

Catch up on chapters 1-16 on Ao3.

Notes: This fic is 18+ and explicit. Chapter contains canon-typical violence and descriptions of injuries. Reference to past abuse. Please exercise caution if this is a sensitive subject for you. Also - I promise there's a happy ending, but it might take a bit of angst to get there. For those who have kept up with this fic, sorry for the delay in updating - grad school has kept me busy, but regular updates should resume.

Words: 5.1k update, 80.9k total.

There had been changes within yourself as well, even though you struggled to admit it after having spent so much of your life suppressing that which was now showing itself within you. Your safety had always depended on your ability to mask your powers, or at least conveniently use them, and now they were unexpectedly breaking through your barriers. Through observation and meditation, you had started to put together that your abilities and powers swelled whenever your emotions did, just as they had when you were younger. When Din was once running behind schedule for a bounty, your nerves and fear alone were able to entirely warp the canteen you had purchased for yourself, crushing it to the point that it was unusable junk. And when Din finally returned home to you, bruised and battered, and yet focused only on touching and kissing every inch of you — you found that his cuts and bruises began to disappear from underneath your fingertips without any direct focus or attention. There was an undercurrent of power that was growing within you and Grogu, and it was beginning to breach the walls that you had put in place to hold it back; and you had no way of predicting when that wall may cave in.

These ever-increasing powers and revelations were both fascinating and terrifying. You did not know what would happen from here if you and Grogu continued down this unmapped path. You could understand that power without training could be exceptionally dangerous, but how would you even go about learning how to control it all? You had once been able to suppress your connection to the Force, but you never actually learned how to master this connection; repression is not true mastery or control, as it only delays the chaos.

But who was there to learn from? The Jedi Order was no more, the grasp of the Sith had receded with the rise of the New Republic, and the civilizations that connected with the Force as a form of magic were incredibly closed-off and tight-lipped. You had been extraordinarily lucky to stumble unto the teachings of Ixxith as you had, but now that the seal had been broken, now that Pandora’s box had been opened, you were faced with an impossible question — where do you go from here?

Image credit to my love @knivesareout as she makes beautiful things and supports my writing.

An eternal thank you to @soyelfuegoquearde for beta'ing my baby and giving me constructive feedback.

And love to @bdavishiddlesbatch and @louderrthanthunderr for all of their love and support.

"We fall in love because we long to escape from ourselves with someone ideal as we area corrupt. But what if such a being were one day to turn around and love us back? We can only be shocked. How could they be divine as we had hoped when they have the bad taste to approve of someone like us? If in order to love, we must believe that the beloved surpasses us in some way, does not a cruel paradox emerge when we witness this love returned? If they are really so wonderful, how could they love someone like me?" - Alain de Botton

The universe felt brighter as you traveled through it now, suspended in space and time within the secure confines of your roaming home. You continued to watch the stars streak past you on every journey, still feeling just as entranced by them as you had on the first flight from Chandrila — but it was even more of a beautiful and brilliant thing, as you now had the incomparable comfort of being known, and being loved. For a brief moment, you had worried that your admission of love would make things complicated, awkward, unbalanced; but your fears had been completely dismissed and rendered unnecessary, as it had brought you and Din closer than you could have imagined.

It was the little gestures and moments throughout the day that allowed those fears to be quieted. His hands would brush along your body in passing; he brought you a blanket to the cockpit after seeing you wrapped tightly around yourself to fight off the chill; he would gently tuck away the stray pieces of hair that fell across your face. And you became less reserved in showing your affections as well; you would often drape yourself across the back of the pilot’s seat and over his expansive shoulders as he navigated the Razor Crest through the atmospheres of new planets and hyperspace. You would bring him food and water, reminding him to take care of himself in ways that he often forgot to. And the two of you spent more time encased in the security of darkness, to the point where you joked that you might develop night vision. Very few things can grow in the absence of light, and yet here you were, your love thriving in this unexpected place.

You found that you didn’t necessarily feel as though you were missing anything, by not being able to see his face. Your love felt whole, comprehensive, and possibly even more valuable as it was so unconditional in its nature; you would love him endlessly, and you didn’t need a face to assign that love to, as he was so much more than the anatomical structure that existed behind the helmet. Somehow, the darkness felt more freeing than the light. The comfort and security of the darkness offered you both the opportunity to be completely and entirely exposed; no helmet, no clothing, no beskar, no self-doubt. It was infinite in its nature, and allowed for infinite possibilities.

How beautiful, these little infinities you had created together.

And while you never held any regrets for the life you shared with Din, you understood that some things were not worth repeating. You didn’t offer to help with a job again after Corellia, and it was a decision that you had come to by yourself. Again, you held no regrets for what had transpired on the industrial planet as it had been the catalyst that had brought the truth to the surface, the truth about your love, but it had left some wreckage in the process. Your sense of self-preservation and fear had been reignited when the Twi’lek had made unwanted physical advances, and although you knew you were safe now, it was challenging to quiet that instinctual part of yourself that had risen up, desperately seeking to sustain your hard-won survival.

Following the events of Corellia, you started to have the occasional nightmare, your mind resurfacing old wounds and memories that you had worked to let go of and leave on Chandrila. You would have dreams of the torrential thunderstorms of Eadu, threatening to drown you as your family watched, making no effort to help you stay afloat. You would feel the radiating pain of Orron’s blows throughout your body, every old wound somehow reemerging and aching anew. Sometimes the terror and pain of the nightmare was quick to pass upon waking, but there were some occasions in which you woke up crying and thrashing, a scream trapped in your constricted throat. Sometimes, you would wake up shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, chest heaving as the tears flowed; upon waking, you were always disoriented and scared for a moment, until you realized you were still at home and you were still wrapped securely in Din’s arms. You knew Din hated seeing you like that, tearful and distressed, and you didn’t want to cause any further hurt to yourself or to him. So you made the decision to no longer act as bait.

There was no sense in reopening old wounds, and creating new ones in the process. If you were to live with these pains, you could at least avoid inflicting them onto others.

Din had been supportive of your choice to no longer participate in bounties. He had reassured you that he still believed in your capabilities and value as a companion, but agreed that the reduction in stress would be worth the reduction in payouts. It had been tough to find a way to keep yourself occupied and still feel like a valuable, contributing asset; you knew you would never be content to simply exist here, offering nothing to Din except your body. While your originally agreed-upon partnership ended up not lending itself to you becoming a bounty hunter, you were not about to become a deadbeat, indolent passenger either.

The first few weeks after Corellia were alright, as you found odd jobs around the ship that you could tend to; repairing sagging panels, cleaning away the cobwebs, reorganizing equipment. These were tasks that you could manage, even with your limited mechanical and engineering knowledge. But eventually, as time wore on and your journeys carried you further along, you started to run out of tasks that could be done on the ship. Needing something to do, you then turned to managing additional business responsibilities, hoping to relieve Din of some of the stress that he carried on those broad shoulders. You kept a more organized, detailed record of his jobs and finances, and made sure there was an appropriate stock of supplies to support the Razor Crest’s three travelers.

And then there was the kid — you quite often found yourself managing him.

Following your journey to Bardotta, something had awoken in both you and Grogu; it was as if a creature that had laid dormant for many years had been awoken from its hibernation, and had returned with renewed strength. While you felt this change deeply within yourself, it presented itself most visibly in Grogu and his increasing abilities. You frequently had to search for him within the ship, as he had been working on learning how to cloak himself as you once had, adding this to his other skills. He was not able to fully vanish into his surroundings as you were, but he was decent enough at camouflaging himself to the point where you once had a panic attack that he had managed to escaped the ship into the wild forests of Dantooine while under your supervision. He was also experimenting with bringing larger and larger objects to his small green grasp, most noticeably larger and larger portions of food, or other comfort items like blankets. His growing curiosity and expansion of power hadn’t been allthat concerning until a particularly rough tantrum, during which he pushed both you and Din a good three feet back from him, without ever laying a hand on you. The changes occurring could no longer be denied or ignored, and you understood you would have to confront them at some point.

There had been changes within yourself as well, even though you struggled to admit it after having spent so much of your life suppressing that which was now showing itself within you. Your safety had always depended on your ability to mask your powers, or at least conveniently use them, and now they were unexpectedly breaking through your barriers. Through observation and meditation, you had started to put together that your abilities and powers swelled whenever your emotions did, just as they had when you were younger. When Din was once running behind schedule for a bounty, your nerves and fear alone were able to entirely warp the canteen you had purchased for yourself, crushing it to the point that it was unusable junk. And when Din finally returned home to you, bruised and battered, and yet focused only on touching and kissing every inch of you — you found that his cuts and bruises began to disappear from underneath your fingertips without any direct focus or attention. There was an undercurrent of power that was growing within you and Grogu, and it was beginning to breach the walls that you had put in place to hold it back; and you had no way of predicting when that wall may cave in.

These ever-increasing powers and revelations were both fascinating and terrifying. You did not know what would happen from here if you and Grogu continued down this unmapped path. You could understand that power without training could be exceptionally dangerous, but how would you even go about learning how to control it all? You had once been able to suppress your connection to the Force, but you never actually learned how to master this connection; repression is not true mastery or control, as it only delays the chaos.

But who was there to learn from? The Jedi Order was no more, the grasp of the Sith had receded with the rise of the New Republic, and the civilizations that connected with the Force as a form of magic were incredibly closed-off and tight-lipped. You had been extraordinarily lucky to stumble unto the teachings of Ixxith as you had, but now that the seal had been broken, now that Pandora’s box had been opened, you were faced with an impossible question — where do you go from here?

Your best attempt at navigating this next step was to seek out knowledge in a different format; as Din’s travels occasionally brought you to larger cities, you would spend a portion of the layover browsing the city’s libraries and book stores, if they existed, poring over the texts to see if there was any history, legends, instructions, or insights that could be obtained. You had very little success at finding anything that taught you about Force powers and how to use them, however you had managed to find several interesting texts that chronicled the historical power struggle between the Jedi and the Sith. You had heard whispered stories and legends as a child, tales of heroes and villains who carried out the unending battle of good versus evil.

And as you read of these wars and conflicts, you came to an interesting conclusion — depending on the perspective of the available source material, both Jedi and Sith could be considered good, or evil.

Thinking back to Ixxith’s teachings about the importance of balance, you could understand how these two diametrically opposed sides were continually fighting against the scale of the universe that sought balance. From your wide assortment of readings, you understood that the universe itself truly held no favor for good or evil, Jedi or Sith, and it only ever sought an equilibrium — and yet the universe’s occupants insisted on living within one extreme or the other, the scale never allowed to settle at a place of peace and balance.

You enjoyed studying the texts that you had managed to acquire, and learning more about the history of those with abilities like you, even though it may not have been the specific knowledge you had set out to find. Occasionally, you would talk with Din about the things that you discovered in these books, which prompted him to share more about the history of Mandalore and their role in the galaxy’s history and development. This newfound, strengthening point of connection between you was beautiful and valuable in its own right, even though it may not have offered much help for corralling yourself and the kid’s behaviors.

Reading had given you something to do during the down time while Din was working, and while the kid was self-contained or safely entertained. You had never had much time to dedicate to your own hobbies and interests before, and it was refreshing to be able to have your own passions that you could pursue as you desired.

Having few travel expenses of your own, you were still living quite comfortably off of the bounties you had profited from, and you were able to purchase the things that caught your eye or interest. This led to a steadily-expanding corner of the cabin that became yours as it was occupied with stacks of books, piles of blankets, an assortment of snacks, and a respectable wardrobe. The fresher also now showed evidence of your residency, as some of your specialty products had found their way to the shelves and the shower; silky lotions, a nice brush, hygiene products that didn’t exist in the shape of a bar. The Razor Crest was gradually becoming a shared space, a shared home, and were someone to step foot onto the ship, they would be able to determine that the fearsome Mandalorian was no longer maintaining a solitary existence.

This change in Din’s lifestyle was becoming more and more clear to outsiders as you now frequently accompanied him to his negotiations and trade-offs with Karga when on Nevarro. The older man had been excited by your reoccurring presence, and while he had teased Din for it in the beginning, he had since relaxed and always welcomed the two or three of you with a genuine smile. And with each visit to the volcanic planet, Din grew more comfortable with claiming your relationship openly; he almost always kept a hand on you, tracing pressured circles into your skin, or if you were seated with some degree of privacy, gently stroking the inside of your thigh from underneath the table as a tease for what was to come. There were rarely moments in which you were left alone, and you found you preferred it this way. While Orron had once insisted upon keeping you within arms reach, out of his own need for power and control, you understood Din’s motives to be different. He wanted to protect you, wanted to show you off, just genuinely wanted to be with you because he loved being with you. And you also knew that he would never deny you an opportunity to venture off on your own, to explore the town or take Grogu to play with the local children.

Today had been no exception to that truth; as Din and Karga haggled over upcoming bounties, you grew bored and restless, and decided you would prefer to stretch your legs with a walk around town, and feel some sunlight on your skin as it was a fairly nice day. You squeezed his knee gently, getting his attention before nodding your head to the door of the cantina, where the three of you had gathered for this business dealing. Din nodded wordlessly, trusting you to keep yourself safe and return to him when you were ready. This unconditional sense of trust was new to you, but you loved every moment of it, and loved Din for offering it so readily to you.

You excused yourself from the table and strolled out of the bar, knowing that Din’s eyes had followed your entire journey through the tables and patrons until you exited into the bustling town center. The sunlight felt nice on your skin, and the slight breeze kept the air from feeling heavy and stagnant around you; you stretched your limbs and you felt the cracking and popping of your joints. You needed breaks like this, to be able to physically stretch your body and keep it limber and in shape.

And yet, despite the small space of the Razor Crest, you had still found ways to keep your body moving; Din had certainly made physical exercise more enjoyable. You thought back to all of the nights that had now been spent on the floor of the Razor Crest, as your exhausted bodies had collapsed into one another; you loved every minute of the physical exertion the two of you created, but your body needed more. It needed to run, jump, stretch, bend, without the constraints of the small cabin space. But Maker, did making love with Din feel like the most glorious and exhilarating use of your body; you marveled at every moment of passion the two of you shared, holding nothing back in the pursuit of giving the other what they desired.

You were brought back to the moment by an oddly dressed man bumping into you; you turned to apologize, as you had been the one to have stopped in the middle of the street, but they had already run off by the time you looked for them. Shrugging, you carried on with your afternoon expedition. You had intentionally chosen comfortable and lightweight clothing today, knowing it would offer a nice opportunity to stretch your legs. As you strolled through town, you felt yourself start to pick up your pace gradually until you were jogging along at a decent speed, leaving the town behind you as you ascended the black volcanic hills that surrounded the area that had since become familiar to you. From atop the hills, you could see the cantina, the school, the marketplace, and off in the distance you could see the Razor Crest as it was undergoing refueling and maintenance.

Continuing to run for a while, just along the outskirts of the city, you relished the feeling of the breeze against your skin; while Nevarro was hot and the air somewhat sulfurous due to the volcanoes, it was still a nice change from the recycled air of the ship, and was certainly better than some of the atmospheres of other planets you had journeyed to. You could feel the lava rocks and ash shifting beneath your feet as you ran, offering just enough resistance to make your heart race and your lungs expand with forceful, concentrated inhalations.

Having now circled about half of the city, watching the landscape change from your position above it, you settled down onto a spot that offered some dry grass to sit comfortably on. You waited for your heart rate to slow back to a resting pace, and stretched your limbs out around you, loving the bit of soreness that came along as your muscles stretched and contracted. You allowed yourself to rest here for a while, clearing your mind as you worked to let the Force flow through you, just as Ixxith had taught you. You could feel the Force moving through you gently, almost like a breeze passing through an open window. You settled into this feeling, into the peace that it offered, as silence and tranquility had become rare within the steel confines of your home. Relaxing, you only barely noticed the breeze that seemed to push and pull the air through your lungs, as you sank into the comfortable silence for a while.

Sensing a growing chill in the air, your eyes opened to scene around you. The sun had begun its descent behind the volcanic hilltops and you knew it was time to be on your way, to return to Din and Grogu, to your home and to your bed. Pushing yourself up from the ground, you brushed off the dust and debris that had pressed into your body and clothing, before starting a comfortable pace down the hillside and back into the city.

As you passed some of the houses that made up the outskirts of the city, you could sense that something, or someone, was watching you; turning to look all around, you didn’t see anything unusual. You tried to shake off the feeling as you navigated yourself down a familiar city path, shifting your focus towards your upcoming reunion with Din; thinking of the way he had pinched the inside of your thigh earlier shot your heart rate right back up to its previously racing pace.

And yet there was a persistently odd feeling around you though, one that you couldn’t seem to shake, even with the thought of Din. Deciding to trust your gut, you stepped down what seemed to be a quiet alleyway to take better stock of the situation around you and determine what was causing this unsettling feeling of observation. No, observation wasn’t the right word. The word that came to mind was stalked. Like something was hiding in the shadows and corner of your vision, keeping in step with you but never being revealed. You scanned the street you had just been walking through, trying to find whatever was causing this unease, this growing sense of danger —

And then you felt a large hand grasping your forearm like a steel trap, crushing your wrist as whoever this was pulled you further into the alley and into the seclusion that it offered.

Whirling around as your free hand having found its way into a fist, you intended to punch this unexpected attacker in the face; but before you could complete your movement, a grey and leathery hand grabbed your entire fist and wrenched it away, but maintaining a tight hold on your hand to restrain you. Looking up, you saw a terrifyingly familiar humanoid face.

Maxir Bragant had been a close companion and business partner of Orron Jakar, and you had spent more time around this Delphidian man than you ever cared to recall. He had been a frequent visitor to your shop, and the individuals who he dumped onto your cot for healing rarely survived due to his brutal and unyielding attacks. Being quite fond of cleaving into others with his axe, there was generally very little you could do to improve his victim’s odds of survival; you were no miracle worker, and you recalled how you had been beaten mercilessly for your failures. As you looked down to see that very same black axe strapped to his belt, you felt bile and fear rise up in your throat, not confident that you would be able to escape the crushing grasp of this towering man who now had both of your arms restrained.

His voice hissed out coldly, as his pitch-black eyes stared into yours with the same kind of fury and hatred that you had often seen echoed in Orron’s icy blue ones. “What a surprise to find you here,” he laughed, and the sound turned the very blood pumping through your veins to acid, to ice. He sneered at you, lips curling back to reveal the same ugly grin that showed up in your nightmares. “Figured you’d know better than to show up in a town like this. But, you were never a very bright one, were you?”

You bit your tongue, trying not to snap at that bait that he had flung out to you; you knew he wanted you to respond, wanted you to get mouthy, so he would have an excuse to discipline you, just as Orron once had. He wanted an interesting fight — you knew that he thrived on crushing the life out of a terrified and desperate soul, and you were not going to give that to him. You needed to ignore his jabs, verbal and physical, and focus on how to get yourself out of this situation, how to alert Din, or the Marshal, or any bystander who could offer you some sort of reinforcement against what was surely about to be a horribly painful and ugly fight.

Bragant used his leverage to pull you in closely to him, and you could smell the putrid odor of sweat and blood that radiated from him. It was nauseating and made your head feel dizzy, but you couldn’t let this get to you, couldn’t let this throw you off. From this positioning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to use your upper body to fight him off as he had your arms secured; making a quickly-calculated decision, you brought your knee up forcefully into his groin, and as he bent over in pain with a groan, he released one of your hands. Gods, was it satisfying to see this motherfucker writhing. Having some more leverage and momentum now, you kicked into his sternum forcefully, his massive body flying backwards into the stone wall behind him. You turned to run, willing your feet to move faster than the stars you had watched in hyperspace — but he recovered faster than you expected; you had only made it about four or five steps away when he wrapped his rough, scarred arm around your neck and brought your writhing, desperately fighting body up and into his, pressing his back into the wall to keep you out of sight.

“Stupid bitch,” he spit at you, and you could see the flecks of blood and saliva that landed in the dust around you, standing out in stark contrast to the dark volcanic ash. “Did you really think you’d get away with it, killing him?” You felt the cold and rough-hewn blade of his axe pressing into your chest, a jagged corner digging in just enough to make you gasp as it pierced your skin; the blade was pressed dangerously close to your heart, and you had seen the force with which he could swing his weapon.

“Still curious how the fuck you got out of there like you did, vanishing like that; but we’ll have plenty of time to ask questions when I bring you back home. There are a lot of people that have been missing you.”

You could sense the sick and cruel smile on his face as he pictured what would surely be a gruesome, horrific, and torturous death.

No. No, you were not going to go out that way. Not on his terms, not on Orron’s. Not like this.

You thought about the horrors that would await you if Bragant was able to bring you back to the cartel. You thought about the sickening fear and sadness that Din and Grogu would feel at your unplanned and unexplained departure. Thought about how Din would cut his way through each and every formidable cartel member trying to bring you back to him, to bring you back to safety, to bring you back home. Thought about how one man wouldn’t be enough to fight off an army, thought about how Din would die trying to bring you back, just as you had nearly died bringing him back on Bardotta.

Thought about how the love between the two of you would threaten to shatter the galaxy.

You thought about how Bragant had called the cartel home, and the anger that coursed through you felt as though it was moving through your very bloodstream, each desperate beat of your heart pushing that anger further and further into your body, fueling your muscles and your strength until it was threatening to burst forward from you like a seismic charge.

“Home?” You screeched, the words tearing their way through your throat with vitriol.

“Home?! You keep that word out of your goddamn fucking mouth!” You screamed forcefully, your voice echoing against the stone and clay walls; you heard a loud crack, and the wall that Bragant’s body was resting against collapsed in on itself.

This disruption and destruction caught Bragant by surprise, and he fell backwards into the pile of rubble that your anger alone had created, releasing you from his grasp in the process. Your chest was heaving as you inhaled deep lungfuls of air, feeling the oxygen feed more and more power to your body — you felt invincible, impossibly strong and powerful — and vengeful. Every violent revenge fantasy you had ever had came rushing back to you, as you saw the tidal wave of your abuser’s blood overtake the world around you.

Here was a man who had contributed to your pain and destruction, who had killed countless people with no mercy — and now, you didn’t have a single ounce of mercy to extend to him. And you were at peace with that.

A blinding hot, red wave of fury overtook your body, crashing around you and drowning out the fragile sense of humanity that was desperately clambering to stay afloat. It was as if you were possessed, as you watched your arm extend before you, muscles twitching beneath skin as your fingers pointed in Bragant’s direction, before your hand found itself curled into a tight fist. Your nails dug into the palm of your hand, and you could see redness dripping forth from it — and you saw Bragant’s writhing form being lifted from amongst the stones, until he was levitating in midair. His hands clawed desperately at his throat, and the sight of his now-bulging eyes filling with terror felt beautiful.

With a final, overwhelming rush of immense power, your wrist pulled your hand inwards to your body and you heard a nauseatingly satisfying crack reverberate through the alleyway as Bragant’s eyes went dark and his body went limp, collapsing onto the pile of rocks and clay beneath him with a dull thump.

Your head began to spin as the energy that had previously flowed through you was suddenly ripped away, and you felt as though every cell of your body was now collapsing in on itself in slow motion; the sky above you and the ground below you tumbled throughout your field of vision, spinning both together and apart as your body connected with the dusty floor of the alleyway.

You could vaguely see a blood red stain spreading in your field of vision. Whose blood was it?

Throughout all of the endless spinning and disorientation, your eyes eventually came to rest on one comforting and familiar sight — a tall figure clad in beskar rushed to your side, but you couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel the hands that you knew were on your body, couldn’t feel the shift in your form as you were hauled into his arms. Couldn’t feel the heavy breaths and terrified words that spilled around you, as your head lolled to the side in his arms. It felt as though the link between your mind and body had been snapped, like a harp string tuned too tightly, and as the universe continued to tumble through your field of vision, you closed your eyes tightly and prayed for it all to stop.

Stop. Stop.

Stop.

[brax-was-here]

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 2

Chapter 2: You Don’t Control Me

Sometimes life is full of surprises

Something was tickling her nose, and Ceara instinctively brushed it away before awakening suddenly. She quickly glanced around at her surroundings. Plants and trees surrounded her in every direction.  Looking down at herself, she realized she was lying naked on moss-covered ground. She immediately stood, almost losing her balance in the process.

“Where…where am I?” The lush of vegetation of the jungle stretched out all around her. The air, thick and humid, was filled with the sounds of the jungle’s animal inhabitants. Various exotic bird calls she had never heard before echoed through the canopy that blocked out the bright sky. The sounds of chirping insects rose from the ground level, some spreading their wings and taking flight, flittering about the various plants.

“No…this isn’t happening…not again.” she muttered. As she stepped forward, something snagged her foot tripping her, causing her to crash to the ground. She turned swiftly, glaring at the lone vine that caused her to stumble, withered and aged as it writhed through the damp moss.

“No…I beat you…” she whispered to it. Rumbling could be heard in the distance. She quickly got to her feet as the ground around her exploded. Numerous thorned vines of various sizes sprouted forth, whipping at her.

‘NO!” she screamed. She turned to run but she was surrounded. They knocked her to the ground, coiling around her body.

“NO! I beat you! You’re dead now!” She screamed with everything she had. “YOU DON’T CONTROL ME!” The vines stopped moving and slowly crystalized. She watched as tiny fissures formed throughout them. Within moments they shattered into a fine crystalline dust that filled the air. She dropped to the ground with a thud.

“You…you’re nothing now…” she muttered, catching her breath. Slowly she got to her feet, brushing the dirt from her. She glared at the path that had opened before her as the dust slowly dissipated in thousands of tiny sunlit sparkles.  

She cautiously followed the path forward as it twisted and turned through the jungle’s foliage. She would catch images in the trees, but when she focused on them, they would disappear.  She took pause as a playful giggle was heard on the wind.

“You’re nothing.” Ceara spoke loudly. “Come out now. I am not afraid to face you.”

“But I’m in your head…” the playful voice mocked her.

“No. No you’re not.”

“But don’t you want to play?”

“I’m through playing.” Ceara marched forward along the pathway. It emptied into a clearing with the sun shining brightly in the area. Opposite of where she stood, a group of thorned vines had jutted from the ground, twisting and interweaving together, forming a small crudely shaped structure. Ceara approached them cautiously. As she neared a small section of the vines parted, revealing a bright glow from the interior. The glow blinded her at first, but as her vision cleared, she gasped at what she saw. Floating in the air before her was an image of Avatar of the Pale Tree, her mother. But its face was different. Its appearance seemed like a child. Ceara stared at it for a moment before its eyes grew wide, its mouth opened in an inaudible scream as a blade of dark energy seemed to slice it down the middle. The blast knocked Ceara backwards. Quickly regaining her balance, she looked at the space where the image had just stood, but now it was replaced by a blackened black. A seemingly dark version of the sword Caladbolg. Ceara stepped forward ever so cautiously. As she drew near, the vines of the sword started writhing, launching themselves at her.

Ceara awoke with a start. She was curled up in a ball laying on the makeshift cot in the community tent. The light of the morning sun was piercing through small openings throughout the leathery canvas ceiling of the structure. She stared out of the open side of the tent, the far cliff walls painted bright reds and oranges by the rising sun.  Other visitors to the camp were slowly stirring awake as well. Sitting up, her mind wandered to the dream she just experienced.

“Could it be?” she asked quietly.

“Could it be what?” she heard Liathlas ask from the cot next to her. Ceara turned to see the dark skinned sylvari looking at her.

“It’s nothing. Just…just a dream.” Ceara replied sharply, turning to stand from the cot, stretching as she stood. “This cot was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever slept on.” She complained while strapping on her shoulder armor. She locked her gauntlets on and grabbed her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder.

“It is a centaur camp. Did you expect a lush bed in a fancy part of Divinity’s Reach?” Liathlas remarked, sitting up from her cot. Ceara seemingly ignored her as she started making her way out towards the sunlight.

“We should get something to eat before heading out.” Liathlas suggested as she stood and stretched. “I do believe there is a merchant here at the camp.”

“Perhaps.” Ceara said as she stepped out into the morning sun. She scanned the area noticing an asura with what seemed a small booth of simple foods.

“There.” Liathlas pointed as she walked up beside her. Ceara nodded. The asura took notice as the duo approached.

“A lovely morning to you lovely ladies. What can I do for you?” he asked, wiping his hands with a stained cloth.

“Yes! We’d like to make a purchase!” Liathlas expressed excitedly.

“Excellent! I will say I am sorry for my low volume. My source seems to be running late, which is quite infuriating.”

“It’s quite alright.” Liathlas assured him as the pair looked over the vendors wares. A myriad of fruits and vegetables accustomed to being grown in the desert heat, some breads, and casks of water.

“Not much of a choice here.” Ceara remarked, grabbing a couple desert pears, and a small canvas bag filled with jojoba nuts. Liathlas grabbed some fruits as well, and a small bag for herself. Ceara handed the merchant some coins, noticing the dry skin of the asuras hands.

“You’ve been here awhile.” She commented.

“Indeed, I have.” He replied. “Not many people supply food along the trade routes in these areas. Plus, I don’t think many people prefer centaur delicacy.” He remarked, placing the coins in a small pouch in his belt. Ceara nodded lightly.

“Well, good luck in your travels.” He said to them as they turned to leave.

“What’s on your mind, secondborn?” Liathlas asked Ceara as they walked towards the gate of the camp. “You seem to be preoccupied.” Ceara glanced at Liathlas as she bit into one of the pears.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about the trip ahead.”

“It will take us a day at least to reach the pact camp.” Liathlas mentioned. “Maybe we could ask the centaurs to take us there?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Ceara replied, stopping. “It will save us some time.” Asking around the inhabitants within, it wasn’t long for them to find a pair willing to take them northward into the Silverwastes area of the desert region.

A few hours passed as the centaurs had taken Ceara and Liathlas as far as they would through the canyons to the desert regions to the north. The Silverwastes was a stretch of arid rocky desert terrain that once was part of the jungles of Maguuma. Over the centuries, the thick jungle vegetation gave way to the creeping desert sands. The pair continued their journey as the canyons slowly turned into a rough desert terrain filled with great buttes and mesas standing tall above the desert floor. Giant thorned vines marked the terrain, remnants of the jungle dragon Mordremoth’s advancement on Tyria. Now they lay dry and gnarled by the desert air. The life gone from them when the dragon was defeated.

“Do we really need to visit Camp Resolve?” Ceara asked, taking a drink from her canteen as they passed under a high arcing vine. Liathlas picked up on the reluctance in Ceara’s voice. “And why couldn’t the centaurs have taken us all the way there? And furthermore, are we even heading in the right direction?”

“Secondborn, of cour-“ Liathlas cut herself off as the duo spotted a set of creatures on a ridge in the distance. Ceara recognized them immediately.

“Mordrem.” Ceara whispered. “Thorns...”

“Indeed. We’ll need to be cautious.” They circled around the area in a wide berth, using the rock filled terrain as cover.

“Somethings not right here…” Ceara muttered.

“What?” Liathlas whispered back. Ceara unshouldered her rifle.

“We’re not alone.” They heard a slight rumbling in the ground before them. “Run!” Ceara shouted. The ground exploded behind them as the pair turned and bolted away. A great screech pierced the air as the sounds of heavy footfalls galloped behind them. Ceara turned in time to see a creature of Mordremoth leap at her, raising its giant pincer-like arms in the air. Ceara dodged out of the creature’s path, bringing her rifle to bare. Pulling the trigger, a thunderous boom was heard as the ley energy powered the projectile through the barrel. The shot severed one of the creature’s pinchers from its body, causing it to screech in pain. Liathlas, who had managed to teleport to a ridge slightly above, brandished her staff and motioned for a set of illusions to appear around the beast. They proceeded to attack it. Bewildered, the creature lashed out at the illusions as Ceara fired another shot, hitting the creature in its head. It dropped immediately. Their victory was short lived as more of the plant-like beasts started erupting from the ground.

“Run!” Ceara shouted. Liathlas opened a portal that Ceara dove through, appearing on the ridge next to her. The creatures approached quickly, climbing the side of the rocky incline to get to their prey. The duo turned to run, only to be stopped by a giant flower-like creature with long tentacles hovering in the air before them.

“Really!?” Ceara said disbelieving. It approached fast, lashing out at them. They both evaded the attacks as Liathlas launched a mystic bolt at it, and Ceara firing her rifle. Both attacks landed on their marks, injuring the creature. It growled in pain, as it turned towards Ceara. More rumbling was heard as the ground seemingly started to shift.

“Oh no…” Ceara muttered looking at the sand, which was shifting before her. “Please no sand worms…”. Liathlas conjured more illusions to attack the floating creature, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. The other mordrem started cresting the ridge, standing ready to chase down the sylvari. As they started moving towards the duo, rumbling filled the air as the ground cracked open. Sand shifted and before they knew what was happening, the pair found themselves falling uncontrollably. Liathlas quickly grabbed Ceara’s arm and opened portal after portal falling through each, quickly placing the each one farther and farther away from the falling debris, until they finally tumbled out of the last portal across the sandy ground. The thunderous crash of the limestone boulders that had made up the ground above echoed through the air as the pile smashed into the sandy ground, throwing sand and debris in every direction. Ceara stopped rolling, laying on her back, her ears ringing from the turmoil. She stared at the ceiling of an enormous cavern that lay under the sands of the Silverwastes.

Liathlas shakily stood on her feet, using her staff to balance herself. She stumbled over to Ceara and flopped down next to her.

“Are…are you ok?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“I’m going to lay here… until the world stops spinning, no matter how long it takes.” Ceara replied, steadily staring at the hole from which they fell.

“Ok.” Liathlas gasped before falling over, seemingly passing out.

Ceara laid in the sand as the silence of the cavern became deafening. She watched the steady stream of sand fall from the opening above. Her thoughts drifted to the dream she had the night before.

“Another pale tree…” she thought to herself. “Does it exist? Is it true?” She focused on the image of the younger looking Avatar that appeared in front of her before being cut down.

“What was that blade? A dark version of caladbolg? Has that tree fallen? To Mordremoth? Or to nightmare? Or something else?” So many questions passed through her mind. “I have to find the answers…” she thought as she slowly sat up.

“Well, this is quite interesting.” she said quietly as she scanned the distant darkness. She pulled out her small lantern and set it on the ground in front of her, then proceeded to check her equipment for any damage from the fall.

“Well, everything seems in order.” She sighed, checking the barrel of her rifle. She started returning everything to their appropriate satchels. “Now, how do-“

“Shinies…” a rough voice growled in the darkness. Ceara rose to one knee instantly with her pistol drawn, holding the lamp in such a way that allowed the light to illuminate the area in front of her.

“Skritt?” she called out.

“You have…shinies…yes?” the voice asked. Ceara heard the sounds of movement against the rocks as a shadow darted away from the edge of the illuminated area. She quickly tried to follow the sounds, tracking them with her lamp.

“Give shinies to me…” it growled.

“Show yourself!” Ceara shouted. She heard more movement to her side. Turning, her light caught the creature perched on a nearby boulder. She gasped at what she saw. It was indeed a skritt, but not like any she had seen before. Its fur, discolored and full of mange, was covered in vines and small flowers.

“This can’t be real…” she muttered. The creature bared its teeth, hissing at her. It let out a loud screech as it launched itself at her. She instinctively fired a shot, knocking the skritt from the air. Hitting the ground, it writhed in pain. Ceara stood and cautiously moved towards it, her pistol at the ready. It turned and looked at her, the vines growing from its body, whipping back and forth.

“Shinies…” it growled one last time before Ceara shot it in the head.

“Even the skritt weren’t safe from it.” She said to herself glaring at the creature. Slowly she turned, shining her light around the area, scanning for anything else that might be a problem. Satisfied nothing else was out there she slowly made her way back to where Liathlas lay in the sand.

“I guess we’re stuck here until you decide to wake up.” Ceara sat down next to her, taking out the small packet of nuts she got from the centaur camp.

It wasn’t long before Liathlas stirred awake.

“Good morning, princess.” Ceara said as she closed a panel on one of her gauntlets.

“Ow…” Liathlas groaned as she slowly sat up. “What happened?”

“You saved the day, don’t you remember? Sadly…you didn’t return us to the castle.” Ceara stood. Liathlas looked up at her as Ceara extended her hand to help her stand. Liathlas glanced around.

“Where are we?”

“A cavern under the sands. We had an interesting visitor while you slept.”

“A visitor?”

“Yes.” Ceara moved over to the corpse that lay not far. Liathlas trailed behind her slowly.

“Is that…a skritt?” Liathlas gasped.

“Indeed, it was. Killed and resurrected by Mordremoth it seems.”

“Oh my.”  Liathlas said apprehensively. “Are there others?”

“None that I have seen…so far. We should get moving before anything else decides to pay us a visit.”

“But where do we go?” What direction?” Liathlas asked, rubbing the back of her head.

Ceara sighed as she pulled out her waypoint device. All of the closest waypoints she had stored were all back in the direction she had travelled.

“Thorns…” she muttered. She looked around the cavern, feeling a slight breeze in the air. She turned to the direction it seemed to be originating and pointed. ”That way.”

 The cavern seemed never-ending as the pair made their way through. Ceara using her lamp to illuminate the way. The end of Liathlas’s staff also glowed to help assist in lighting the cave.

“It seems to go on forever.” Liathlas stated. “Do you think we’ll ever get out?”

“We will. The breeze moves. Something is disturbing it. And hopefully we’ll find out what that something is.”

“I hope so.” Moments passed before Liathlas spoke again. “Ceara?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it you seek in the jungle?”

Ceara paused a moment, images of her dream quickly flashed through her mind. “Im looking…I’m looking for something important.”

“Well, I figured that. Won’t you tell me what it is?”  Ceara motioned for Liathlas to stop.

“What is it?” Liathlas asked quietly.

Ceara extinguished her lamp. “Dim your light.”

The light from her staff slowly faded. In the pitch darkness, the pairs bioluminescence glowed softly.

“Look. Far up ahead.” Ceara said quietly. There was a soft glow in the distance of the cavern.

“A way out?” Liathlas asked.

“Possibly. We should move quickly but be cautious.”

Ceara reignited her lamp. “Let’s go.” They quickened their pace. The ambient light of the cavern slowly grew brighter as they approached. It opened into a massive area with a pool of water in the center. The pair looked to the ceiling. In the distance, they could see structure, and small lights flickering about.

“Torches?” Liathlas asked.

“I think so. We need to get up there. Look around for anything that looks like a path!” The pair scrambled about searching along the rock walls.

“Here, I think I found something.” Ceara shouted across the cave. Liathlas rushed over to where Ceara was climbing over a pile of rocks. “There are stairs carved through here.” Liathlas climbed over the pile as well. They both stood staring up the incline. “Well, let’s go.”

It wasn’t long before one of the rock walls of the stairway gave way to the emptiness of the cavern.

“This is scary.” Liathlas muttered, glancing over the edge to the ground far below.

“Indeed. Who in Tyria would have made this?” The existing rock wall would soon start to show signs of previous habitation.

“Someone lived here?” Liathlas asked inquisitively. The pair stopped at the first door they found. An old wooden door connected by crude made iron straps showed little signs of deterioration in the dry desert air. Ceara slowly pushed it open, aiming her lamp inside. A simple room with no furnishing.

“Nothing.” Ceara said, looking over the room.

“Who would live in a place such as this?” Liathlas asked.

“I don’t know, but someone is here. Let’s continue.” The duo trekked up the stairs, passing more rooms like the first. Something fell past them as they continued the climb.

Liathlas brandished her staff. “What was that!?” Ceara pulled her pistol.

“I don’t know.” They slowly continued along the path upward.

“Too small, don’t need it.” They heard a meek squeaky voice higher up the stairway in the distance.

“Skritt?” Liathlas asked.

“I think so.” Ceara responded. They quietly crept along the route, slowly rounding a long curve as they heard more skritt chattering up ahead.

“This piece just right.”

“This piece in my room!”

“Bent metal. Good for support.”

Ceara extinguished her lamp as they came upon an area lit with torches. They found a group of skritt steadily searching through a pile of random wooden planks, bent metal and various other random items. Ceara stowed her lamp in her satchel, before stepping forward into the torchlight. The skritt turned to them.

“Visitors! This our pile! You leave now!” One yelled at the sylvari.

“We’re not here to take your things.” Ceara held her hands up in front of her. “We just want to leave this cavern and get back to the surface.”

“Oh, we take you! When Topsy-Turvy finished! We take you out of cavern!”

“Topsy-Turvy?” Liathlas asked as the pair looked at each other.

“Yes! Our ship! We build it! Soon it will be finished! And we leave! Sail to meet or brothers and sisters to the south!”

“Sail a ship? In the middle of the desert?” Ceara was slightly dumbfounded. “Where is this Topsy-Turvy?” Ceara asked inquisitively. “This is something I must see.”

“Come! Come! Follow!” One of the skritt started running up the stairs. Ceara and Liathlas hurried after him. As they rounded the bend, the two stopped, awestruck by what they saw. Indeed, there was a ship in the cavern. Precariously perched upside-down on ridges spanning the chasm. Skritt clamored all over it as they busily attached planks and random pieces of metal to the hull of the ship, chattering constantly as they worked. Ceara’s mouth hung open as she stood in silence.

“What…how?” Liathlas asked.

“I…I don’t…I don’t know…” Ceara said quietly, before busting out in laughter. “This is…this absurbly amazing, and…ridiculous at the same time!” She hurried up the rest of the stairs.

Liathlas followed grabbing her by the arm. “You shouldn’t berate them. They believe they can do this.”

Ceara snorted in laughter. “I’m not berating them. It’s just…I wish them well in their endeavor!” She said with a large grin on her face.

“Here! Here! Topsy-Turvy!” the skritt called out.

“I see…and you plan to sail this out of this cavern and across the sand?”

“Indeed! Here is plan!” he ran over to a giant board nailed to some makeshift posts. Various drawings and documents hung precariously by bend nails. Ceara looked over it all in amazement.

“This…this is…You actually have all this planned out?” she bit her bottom lip, stifling her laughter. She took a crude drawing of what she determined to be a plan to launch the ship out of the cavern. “I wish you good luck in your mission.” She said taking a deep breath turning to the skritt. “I think you will be able to make this happen. But my partner and I must be off. We have urgent matters to attend if you could show us a way out.”

“Yes! Yes! We will!” He ran towards another set of stairs. “Here! Here! Will take you up to surface!”

“Thank you kindly.” Ceara said to him. Liathlas waved to him as they started up the stairs.

“I can’t believe the way you belittled them.” Liathlas chided her.

“I didn’t belittle them. I simply wished them good luck in their impossible mission.”

“I could tell by the tone of your voice.” Liathlas criticized. “But still…how did such a ship even get into this cavern?” she asked perpelexed.

Ceara laughed as they continued up the stairs. “I don’t know.”  It wasn’t long before they saw hints of sunlight, as well as voices further up the incline.

“Do we really need to be here?” a woman’s voice was heard faintly.

“We were told to guard this stairwell.” A male voice returned.

“From what? The skritt?”

“You never know. Filthy rodents could end up stealing everything in the camp.”

“That’s unlikely.”

The sylvari once again extinguished their lights and crept up the stairs, settling low once they saw who the voices belonged to.

“Hmm…” Ceara thought to herself. “Krytan bandits.” She whispered.

“What do we do?” Liathlas asked. “I’m sure there are more of them outside.”

Ceara nodded. “Can you cloak with your abilities?”

“Yes, but not for long.”

“I have a plan. I’ll activate my own stealth shield and sneak past them. Once I get past, I’ll distract them, and you hit them when they aren’t looking.”

“Ok. Seems easy enough.”

“It’s a classic.” Ceara pressed a small button on her gauntlet and disappeared. She slowly crept past the guards, careful as not to brush against them. Once past them, she turned and shut off her field.

“Hello, pretties.” She said smiled at them.

“What the?” the male asked as he drew his sword, the woman pulled out a pair of daggers.

“Who in Tyria are you!?” the woman asked.

“Oh…really?” Ceara glared at them shaking her head in disappointment. “I’m so let down that brigands such as you don’t recognize the…” she sneered. ”Terror of Tyria.”

“What? You’re de-“ A field of eldritch energy appeared below the bandits feet, shocking them as a pair of Liathlas’s illusions made short work of them.

“Well, that was easy.” Ceara smiled at her partner. She knelt and checked the two. “Still alive, but I am sure they are going have a nasty headache when the wake.” She stood and looked at Liathlas. “Shall we?

“Let’s” Liathlas smiled back.

They neared the top of the stairway, the blue sky a welcoming site. But they also spied two more humans standing near the entrance to the cave.

“Who knows what lies ahead. Depending on what is out there, this could end very badly.” Ceara muttered. Liathlas nodded her head. They laid low on the stairway as they peeked over the steps the best they could. They found a small area with what looked like old mining equipment in major disrepair as well as a few ramshackled structures that looked as if they were about to collapse.

“This does not look promising at all.” Liathlas groaned. Ceara nodded in agreement. “Any plan?” Liathlas asked.

“We could go back and get the skritt. Tell them there is a pile of fresh shinies up here.” Ceara suggested.

“Are you mad!? That would surely send them to certain death!” Liathlas protested quietly. Ceara turned slowly, giving her a dirty look.

“What!?” Liathlas asked bluntly.

“Your choice of words hurt, Mesmer.”

“What are you talking about?” Liathlas replied. Ceara just shook her head and took a deep breath.

“Fine. We won’t get the skritt.”

“Can we just stealth ourselves out of here?” Liathlas asked.

“Would our stealth fields last long enough?”

“Hmm…but it might be our only chance. At least to get past these two guards so we can at least see if there is a way out of here.”

Ceara thought for a moment. “Ok…let’s do it.”

“Wait…” Liathlas grabbed Ceara’s arm.

“What?”

“How will we be able to see each other if we’re both cloaked?”

Ceara stared at her blankly before speaking. “Just…keep ahold of my hand.” She activated her stealth field as Liathlas cloaked herself. The duo crept up the stairs and hurried from the cave, ducking behind a pile of boulders nearby moments before their fields faded.

Ceara breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, first part is done.” They both peeked from behind the rocks. “I see the way out. Over there.”

“Ok.” Liathlas looked over the direction Ceara was facing.

“Too far for our fields to last.”

“What about illusions?”

“Can you project them that far?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ceara drew a deep breath as she tried to come up with a plan.

“Couldn’t you just shoot them with your rifle?”

“No. The noise would draw attention to us. What if…we stealth as far as we can, and as our fields wear off, you cast that stun field you have, and I’ll use my holograms to strike them. Should be quick enough to take them down and not draw any unwanted attention.”

“Ok.”

Ceara opened the panel on her gauntlet. “Ready…3, 2, 1…now.” She pressed the small switch and disappeared from view. Liathlas cloaked herself as well and the pair started their way towards the opening in the rock wall.

“Stun field now.” Ceara said quietly.

Liathlas’s eldritch field appeared below the guard’s feet, stunning them. Ceara’s stealth field waned and she summoned two holograms which attacked the bandits. Liathlas’s stealth cloak faded as well.

“WE GOT A PROBLEM OVER HERE!” a voice shouted from outside the wall.

“THORNS!” Ceara cursed as a handful of more bandits rushed through the opening. Liathlas summoned her illusions as Ceara quickly unslung her rifle and quickly fired a round at the oncoming group. The leyline powered bullet tore through them, dropping two instantly.

“What in Tyria was that!?” a woman shouted as she dove into the dirt. One of the bandits pointed his pistol and fired multiple shots at the sylvari. One round struck one of Ceara’s shoulder pauldrons, the other barely missed her. She instinctively pulled the trigger of the rifle, sending another charged bullet at the bandit. The round missed its mark, but the energy of the bullet knocked him off his feet as it passed.

“Fight fair!” another bandit yelled as he tried to fend off Liathlas’ clones. “Man to man…or whatever you are!” He slashed at the clones with a pair of knives to no avail. Liathlas heard gunshots behind them.

“More incoming behind us! Seems they heard our party!” she shouted.

“I figured that would happen. Get ready to run.” A bullet hit the ground next to Ceara. She spun around and fired another shot, causing the approaching group to scatter.

“Go now!” Liathlas bolted for the opening. Ceara activated her force field and ran behind her. Liathlas tripped and fell as the woman lying in the dirt reached for her ankle as she passed. Liathlas sneered at her and she drove the end of her staff into her forehead, sending a bolt of energy into the womans face. Ceara grabbed Liathlas by the arm and pulled her up and they headed through the opening and back out into the desert.