#ii. ‘ be mindful of your thoughts. they betray you. ’ ┈ « relations. »

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirty-Five

Masterlist of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hello everyone! There's nothing like an update six months later... I appreciate everyone's kind words and patience regarding the writer's block I was dealing with. I tried many things to help me get out of that funk, but nothing worked. Until one day, I was like, "You know what? I'm just going to write," and here we are! I hope you enjoy this chapter. We're slowly inching closer to the grand finale!

A sense of weightiness hung within the Tower of the Hand. Queen Alicent, her loyal protector, and the Lord Hand were seated in the softly illuminated chamber as the afternoon sun filtered through the leaded glass windows. The Queen absentmindedly picked at her fingers, her restless body betraying her unease, while her eyes flitted anxiously around the room. An unexpected sound finally shattered the oppressive silence, prompting all present to turn their gaze towards the speaker.

"This is but a temporary visit. We must encourage Prince Daemon to take the Princess back to Dragonstone as soon as possible," Otto Hightower said, two sets of brown eyes focused on him as he stroked his course beard. "You have done well, Alicent, but you must know this solution is not long-term. Fear and respect go far until there is someone who inspires more."

His daughter responded with a silent nod, her full lips forming a slight frown as her attention shifted back to her fingers.

"He must not discover her relations with Aegon nor the fruit of it. Not only would it be an insult to our House but to the realm, duty, and the Gods," Otto declared, the metal lapel of the Hand shining in the daylight.

"I understand," the Queen answered as Ser Criston followed suit, offering his services to guard your chambers and lend another helpful eye.

Daemon would find himself in a predicament where he had no choice but to yield to their demands, as refusing would paint him as a traitor. The group was committed to ensuring Daemon was nowhere near them should the Stranger decide to claim a soul. If it meant casting the Rogue Prince in the light of an overly protective, perhaps irrational, father, they believed it to be justified by the divine will of the Seven.

After your father's tears had long dried and you were in the deepest depths of sleep, he stood on numb limbs. He no longer desired to be alone with his thoughts, feeling weak for having broken down in the presence of another man. He did not know when you would awake as your snores carried off into mid-day, so sound asleep that not even the mournful songs of your dragon woke you.

Daemon's eyes never left the cut on your temple nor the bruise beside it that bloomed. It stirred an uneasy feeling in his gut, mind reeling into conclusions and connections to things as Ser Criston Cole posted at the exit, his presence an ever-watchful eye for his Queen. The knight irked Daemon from when he was forced to yield against the Dornish man all those decades ago at a tourney for the deceased Prince Baelon. He had let things go seeing as Criston was Rhaenyra's protector and that he knew his niece's genuine desire was her uncle, but as the years went by, the man grew more insufferable, practically sucking on the Queen's teats wherever he went.

It was no coincidence that the White Cloak was here now instead of Ser Arryk, the man you chose to be your sworn shield. As Daemon studied the contents of your room, the dust on your bookshelves, the mended garments thrown on your chairs, and the overflowing ash lying in the fireplace, he could guarantee that none of your servants, whether it be knight or maid, had been allowed to do their duty for quite some time. The only people Daemon had seen in your chambers since he arrived were Maester Orwyle and Cole.

"May I ask, Ser Criston?" Daemon announced, breaking the silence as his violet eyes left your listless form and strolled away from the bed, "where is my daughter's knight?"

Criston straightened his posture, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as his dark eyes bore into light ones. "He's been punished for failure of duty. Ser Arryk allowed the Princess to be maimed under his watch and must suffer the consequences of such an offense."

"I see," your father hummed, leaning his hip to the side as he examined the unforgiving nature of this man. "And that of her maids? Jeyne and Fiora, if I remember correctly."

Ser Criston's face was impassive, leaving nothing but a stone slate as he swallowed. "The Hand deemed those of highest suspicion to be kept away from her Highness," he answered.

"Is that so?" Daemon sneered, brows raised in disbelief. "Bedmaids and knights are the only suspects?" Criston gave no reply, silver armor glinting in the daylight peeking from your curtains. "Otto Hightower is as useless as he's always been. Where are her maids now, then? In the cells being interrogated, I presume."

"No, my Prince," Criston answered without emotion. It seemed as if the knight did not care whether a member of the royal family died so long as it was not one of Alicent's. This infuriated Daemon beyond measure. The impulse to commit violence that haunted him itched to be free, and his fingers curled into fists to keep it at bay.

If he so wished, he could bash Criston's face as he did to the squire friend of Laenor Velaryon the night of his wedding feast. No consequences were divided out then, so what was stopping your father from doing the same now? He heard your quiet moan then, a soft sound of one in a dreamy sleep they could not wake from, and reminded himself of the cost.

Daemon was more pragmatic than people allowed themselves to believe. He did not always desire bloodshed, though the lust for it existed. He recalled your letter then, remembering how he clung to every scrawl of ink as if it were to be the last you would write. The previous correspondence you had echoed in his head. The prose was much more upbeat, as if you were speaking to Daemon in person instead of through parchment. It mentioned the bright outlook for the future and how you could feel that Rhaenyra's succession would not be as troublesome as your father worried it would be. If Daemon had put your trust in him and your faith, all would be well.

Several lines echoed in his mind, seeing the High Valyrian as if it were in front of him again atop his writing desk illuminated by the glow of melting candles.

"Aegon has no desire to rule, nor does he think he is fit. He loves his mother and is sympathetic to the path ahead of her, but one can never be sure. However, I believe that Aegon is, at the very least, more sympathetic to me."

Daemon felt a smirk stretching his thin pink lips. Perhaps he should visit the drunken Prince.

"Let us round the maids up then, question them, and if they do not cooperate, leave them to the Lord Confessor," the Prince demanded, leaving no room for counterarguments.

Criston visibly balked at the idea, his stony visage turning white as snow, but he swiftly recovered. He bowed his head and whispered, "As you wish." Then he stalked off to inform the Queen and the Hand of the new progression.

Daemon would not be played a fool in his own home. He knew your maids would never try such a thing. They were chosen by the Rogue Prince himself before you arrived at the Red Keep. He could not allow just any person into a place where valuable information would be provided, so he tasked his previous mistress, Lady Misery, as she was now called, to find the most trustworthy servants for your service, to care and protect where he could not.

But even then, that was not enough. Daemon pulled strings, whispered honeyed words into people's ears, and made handsome payments, but still, it did nothing. He had never felt so powerless, inadequate, or inept as a new wave of shame washed over him.

He decided he would speak to Aegon, though he felt conversing with such a wastrel was below his worth. Daemon would stop at nothing. He would walk through the trenches in the Stepstones, bribe and steal, even marry his Bronze Bitch again, so long as it meant that you were safe and well back in his arms.

The castle's corridors were dimly lit in the early dawn, shadows stretching long and thin as Prince Daemon Targaryen paced outside his daughter's chamber. The scent of bitter herbs and smoke wafted from within, where the maester worked to keep the girl from slipping further into a restless sleep. A near-silent rage simmered within Daemon. His daughter's pallid face and the shallow rise and fall of her chest were enough to make him thirst for blood. But vengeance required clarity, and he needed answers first.

He turned sharply toward the two maids whom his guard had summoned. They stood quietly, trying to mask their worry under the Prince's intense scrutiny. These two had attended her, he thought, his gaze narrowing. He suspected them both, or at least wanted to, for they were the last to have touched his daughter's food, and every fiber in him sought to lash out.

Jeyne, with her silver-streaked hair, moldered her chin high as she looked back at Daemon with an unwavering gaze. Years of service to House Targaryen hardened her demeanor, giving her the poise of a knight facing a charging army. Fiora was pale and trembling, her fingers fumbling with the edge of her yellowed apron as she sniffled. Daemon's stare pierced her, and she seemed ready to bolt had Jeyne not placed a steadying hand on her arm.

"Who did this?" Daemon demanded, his voice a blade of cold steel slicing through the silence. He did not flout around words or purposes in favor of courtly manners.

Jeyne's expression remained resolute. "Not us, my Prince. We have served the young Princess faithfully. We would have warned someone if we thought her drink was tainted."

Daemon took a step closer, his tone dark. "And yet she is lying there, fighting for her life. She did not miraculously become ill. She was poisoned." Fiora flinched at Daemon's cold stare, hands clasped at his waist. Jeyne tightened her hand on Fiora's crimson sleeve.

"My prince," Jeyne said carefully. "We would never harm her. Young Fiora brought her fresh water and some fruits before she dismissed us that evening, nothing more."

He studied them both, searching for a flicker of guilt, the shift of eyes, but there was only worry and steadfast resolve. He could tell the older woman was offended by his accusation, but she held her tongue, deferring to him without wavering from her conviction.

"Why should I believe you?" Daemon asked, softer this time but no less menacing. "These Green cunts have placed staff sympathetic to their ambitions."

Jeyne's voice flowed calmly through the air, a soothing melody amidst the charged silence surrounding them. She leaned slightly closer to her fellow maid, her expression softening with empathy. "Because we love her too, my prince," she said, her words imbued with a deep sincerity. "She holds a place in my heart as dear as family."

Her gaze shifted toward Fiora, whose face streaked with tears that glistened like crystal in the dim light, revealing a raw vulnerability beneath her frightened exterior. Each gentle quiver of Fiora's lips betrayed her fear, and Jeyne couldn't help but feel a pang of protective instinct rise within her.

"And I know this girl," Jeyne added, her voice still steady but now laced with urgency, "is far too terrified to lie to you." She took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she witnessed Fiora's anguish. The air felt thick with emotion, and Jeyne hoped her conviction would reach him, bridging the divide between fear and trust.

"Her Highness has a kind soul that is rare to find. I would gladly have my life taken instead of hers," Fiora expressed with a tremble, yet an unwavering conviction laced her tone.

Daemon narrowed his purple eyes, his anger dimming as his tactical mind began to turn. They spoke plainly, unafraid to meet his gaze when the time came. The poison was efficient, the kind that took mere moments to weaken a body and soul. No maid would have easy access to something deadly, nor the knowledge. His suspicion was confirmed without a doubt that the assailant was those with means, resources, and motives.

Jeyne inclined her head, inhaling an offensive breath as she prepared for Daemon's wrath at her following words. "My prince, we would never harm her. I swear it on my honor. But... there is something you should know." She glanced at Fiora, silently urging her to speak.

Fiora flinched under Daemon's scrutiny but nodded, her voice trembling as she began. "It-it was the Queen, my prince. Queen Alicent herself. She ordered the Maester to keep the Princess on the Milk of the Poppy."

Daemon's grip tightened on his sword, the veins in his hand standing out starkly against his pale skin. "Why?" he demanded, his tone like the low growl of an approaching storm.

Jeyne's expression was resolute, but a flicker of regret crossed her face as she answered. "To keep her quiet, my prince. The Princess was... accusing her majesty. Speaking of things that might have implicated the Queen. That this is what her grace wanted because she had ordered her to leave King's Landing."

Fiora sniffled, tears spilling down her freckled cheeks. "I didn't understand at first, my prince, but now I do. The Queen didn't want her to speak. That's why they gave her the milk."

Daemon's gaze darkened, his fury palpable as he stepped closer, looming over the maids like a dragon preparing to strike. "And yet you said nothing. You let them silence her under my House's roof."

Jeyne held her ground though the faintest hint of guilt shadowed her features. "We did not know the full extent until now, my prince. We are but servants. To speak against the Queen without proof..." She shook her head. "It would have been our heads."

Fiora sobbed softly, her voice breaking. "I only wanted to help her, my prince. I swear. I... I didn't know."

Daemon exhaled slowly, a heavy cloud of tension escaping his lips. The fury within him ignited like embers in a dying fire yet restrained from erupting. He scrutinized the two before him, his piercing gaze probing for any hint of betrayal, only to find a stark absence of dishonesty in their expressions. The fear etched on their faces was palpable, mingling with a deep, sincere remorse that hung like a thick fog.

"Jeyne," he said, his voice low and menacing, "if you value your life, you will do as I command. From this moment forward, you will watch the Queen. Every word she speaks, every order she gives. I want to know what she plans before she does."

Jeyne nodded solemnly, her expression unwavering as she searched Fiora's eyes for reassurance. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her shoulders, but determination ignited within her. "You have my unwavering loyalty, my prince," she declared, her voice steady and resolute. "We will carry out whatever must be done."

"And you," Daemon said, glaring at Fiora, "stop sniveling. You will do the same if you wish to atone for your cowardice. Serve her, but serve me first."

Fiora pressed the rough fabric of her apron against her eyes, desperately trying to stem the tears that blurred her vision. Her heart raced as she nodded vigorously, her voice trembling with emotion. "Y-yes, my prince. I would do anything for the Princess," she declared, determination shining through her sorrow.

Daemon's lips curled into a grim smile, stiff shoulders slightly relaxing. "Good. If either of you falters, I will ensure you pay the price."

The maids nodded in unison, their faces pale but determined. As Daemon turned back to his daughter, his expression softened, though his fury simmered beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead, his heart aching at your vulnerability.

"Rest, little dragon," he murmured. "They will not harm you again."

Behind him, Jeyne and Fiora exchanged glances, understanding the weight of the task ahead. As Daemon exited the room, his steps purposeful and deadly, they knew the storm was far from over. The Queen's court would soon feel the wrath of a father scorned. In the coming days, Jeyne and Fiora would do their duties with quiet diligence, and their loyalty was divided between the Queen and Prince. Jeyne's sharp eyes would note every whispered conversation and carefully hidden glance. The more the maids observed that day, the more they noticed Queen Alicent's face, so often painted with politeness, seemed to crack at the edges whenever he looked at their Princess lying in her sickbed, nails bit down to the quick.

The servants' vigilance would become Daemon's advantage. They would watch the shadows where betrayers might lurk while he stood ready to bring the fight to those who dared threaten his blood.

Aegon stood within the hallowed confines of the Sept of Baelor, the weight of uncertainty pressing heavily upon him. His back leaned against the cold, wax-covered altar, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the aromatic blend of frankincense and myrrh, a bittersweet scent that wrapped around him like a shroud, stirring cherished and painful memories. In this sacred space, he often sought refuge in times of turmoil, a jug of rich Arbor Red clutched tightly in his hand, its crimson hue reflecting his troubled thoughts.

The familiar embrace of the Sept's walls surrounded him as he felt an emptiness beyond physical solitude. He wasn't searching for solace from the deities said to dwell in these ancient stones. Instead, he pondered the lingering influence of his mother, whose shadow seemed to loom more prominent with each passing moment.

The Prince's sworn protector had left him to his own devices as he often did, yet keeping a close eye on things should the need for Erryk's presence arise. There was no point in shepherding Aegon, that much the knight knew after years of service.

Aegon was alone with his thoughts as the hours ticked and the sun lowered over the horizon.

Was his life not built on foundations that would surely crumble? Living a life of poorly planned architecture built by arrogance next to a rising tide that would sweep it away should the sea decide to do so. Often, Aegon wished that the waves would swallow him whole, take him out into the vast ocean, and let him sink deeper and deeper into the depths until he felt the brine on his tongue and salt burning his lungs. And just when he felt the urge to swim, to not succumb to the cold and murky waters below, the same people who sculpted his being called the waves to rise.

Numbing the relentless ache that gnawed at him was his sole refuge, the only path to liberating himself from the suffocating weight of his despair. Whether it provided a fleeting respite or the promise of eternal silence, it was a desperate grasp at freedom from the torment that consumed him.

Aegon remained blissfully ignorant of the muted echoes of finely tailored boots trudging through the wet sand, his senses dulled by the relentless tide that filled his water-logged ears. Towering above him was Daemon, his posture exuding a quiet authority, an arched brow hinting at both curiosity and disdain as he surveyed the disheveled state of the drunken Prince sprawled carelessly on the shore.

"Get up," the Rogue Prince commanded, kicking his leather shoe into Aegon's thigh.

The Prince groaned in response but refused to move, slightly adjusting his reclined position.

Daemon heaved a sigh, the weight of nostalgia pressing down on him. He reminisced about countless nights lost in a haze of drunkenness, where the world around him faded away like the flickering candlelight in a dimly lit tavern. Memories of his days spent lurking in the shadowy presence of Otto Hightower and the haunting specters of deceased children lingered sharp in his mind, a constant reminder of his perceived failings. The sting of being overlooked by his niece gnawed at him, a wound that never truly healed. In his search for solace, he turned to the embrace of women and the warm allure of fine wine, crutches passed down through the generations, a familiar way of coping with the burdens that weighed so heavily on his soul.

The Rogue Prince had little patience for the feeble-minded and cowardly. In a moment of reckless inspiration, he seized one of the flickering candles from the altar, its flame dancing wildly in the dim light. With a deliberate tilt, he allowed the molten wax to spill forth, a glistening stream of warmth cascading down onto Aegon's forehead.

The Prince's body reacted instinctively and jolted, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the searing liquid made contact. Swiftly, he raised a hand, frantically wiping away the viscous substance before it could burn him further, leaving behind a shimmering wax glistening in the muted glow of the altar.

"Wha-" he stammered, violet eyes bleary.

"Get up."

Aegon continued to stutter, his head filled with cotton as he swatted at his imaginary foe. Daemon thought it amusing yet pathetic to see his brother's eldest son, whom everyone whispered about becoming king, reduced to a blubbering mess.

"Get up, you wastrel," the Rogue Prince commanded, his voice a mix of irritation and authority.

He did not give his nephew a chance to respond or make an attempt to rise. Instead, with a swift motion, he seized the collar of the young man's tunic, yanking him upward with a firm grip that betrayed both frustration and resolve.

Groaning in discomfort and annoyance, Aegon stood on unsteady legs, using his uncle's weight to stay upright. "What? Have you got more wine for me?"

Daemon rolled his iridescent purple eyes, a gesture filled with disdain as he forcefully shoved Aegon against the cold, stone altar. The impact sent a few flickering candles toppling over, their flames sputtering and extinguishing in a puff of smoke.

"You're utterly pathetic," Daemon declared, his voice dripping with contempt as he released his grip, leaving Aegon gasping for breath. "I cannot fathom why my daughter would ever find fondness in someone like you."

Aegon's swirling mind focused on his uncle's words, tilting his head to clear his blurry vision at the notion of you. He blinked, the words slow to make sense in his clouded mind. He was still drunk, still floating in a haze of self-loathing and wine, but there was something about Daemon's tone that cut through the fog. The mention of you... It lingered in the air like a physical presence, a sharp, biting reminder of the past days.

Aegon's hand went instinctively to his forehead, wiping away the remnants of hot wax that had burned him just moments before. He could feel the sting, but it was nothing compared to the sensation in his chest—the twisting, gnawing ache that had settled there since he had last seen you, injured and silent.

"Your daughter?" Aegon repeated, his voice slurred but with a strange acerbity beneath it. He forced himself to stand straighter despite his swaying body. "Why do you care? You left her in the viper's den to get bit, and now she has."

Daemon's lips curled into a sneer, eyes narrowing with that sharp, calculating look that had made him both feared and revered. "You know who did this?" he shot back, his voice low and venomous. The Prince was silent, a brief war of loyalty and honor raging inside his mind. "Do not fool yourself into thinking you can hide behind your wine and self-pity, Aegon. If you truly cared about her, you wouldn't be here, drunk and useless. You'd be at her side, ensuring she's safe and her assailants are brought the sword."

Aegon's heart skipped a beat, the words slicing through him like a dagger, sharper than the pain of the wax on his skin. He tried to swallow the bitter lump in his throat, but it stuck there, choking him.

"I didn't know," Aegon muttered, almost pleading as if he needed to convince himself as much as Daemon. "I didn't know what happened... I didn't know she was in danger." He winced at the admission, though his voice was thick with guilt. "How could I have known? How could I-"

"You should have known." Daemon's voice was as cold as the stone beneath their feet, his words brutally cutting off Aegon's excuses. "You're the one who's supposed to protect her, aren't you? You love her, after all. Yet you failed her when she needed you most."

Aegon's chest tightened at the notion that you had told Daemon of your secret vows, his throat constricting with the weight of his uncle's words. The guilt that had always gnawed at the back of his mind, the feeling of being a deficient imitation of the strong eldest son, a poor excuse for a man, overwhelmed him, threatening to drown him in its suffocating grip.

Daemon observed him, his gaze unwavering. "You think I do not know what it's like to be trapped in a world of expectations and failure?" he continued, his voice softer now but still edged with a quiet fury. "I have walked that path. I've suffered for it but never let it weaken me. And neither should you."

Aegon's hands tightened into fists, the tips of his nails pressing painfully into his palms, each pulse of agony sending a jolt through his senses. He stood there, frozen, grappling with the weight of his thoughts, unable to articulate the turmoil inside him. Every misstep, every moment of indecision chained him to this place, facing Daemon, the man who was meant to be family, yet felt like an unsettling specter from a distant past. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, a stark reminder of the chasm that grew between family.

"Tell me what I'm supposed to do," Aegon finally whispered, the words hanging between them like a fragile plea. "Tell me how to fix this... before it's too late."

For a long moment, Daemon said nothing. He studied Aegon with that piercing gaze of his, the kind that made even the bravest men falter. Then, with a soft snort of derision, he stepped back, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

"There's no simple answer, Aegon," Daemon said, his voice laced with a bitter edge. "You can't undo the past and erase your mistakes with a few words. But you can do something. You can be something more than a drunken waste of space hiding behind the throne your mother wants you on."

Aegon felt a lump rise in his throat, the enormity of Daemon's words bearing down on him as if he were trapped beneath a heavy weight.

"But I'm not like you," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a flicker of resentment that colored his tone. A shadow crossed his face as he struggled to articulate the profound loss, tears glistening on his porcelain cheeks. "I don't possess your force." He paused, his gaze drifting to the ground as the memory surged. "She was carrying our child," Aegon added, pain lacing his words, "but it... it didn't survive," Aegon's voice faltered, and he grasped for the courage that seemed to elude him.

Daemon's heart plummeted like a stone at the weight of the revelation, each word cutting through him with a searing clarity that left him breathless. Anger bubbled within him at the thought of you and Aegon, reckless in your union, seemingly unaware of the consequences that loomed over such a decision. Yet, alongside that rage, a deeper, more profound sorrow enveloped him, tugging at his very soul as he thought of his child. The anguish of your loss struck him hard; the pain of a mother who had endured the shadows of childbirth only to mourn a child stolen away too soon—a tragedy that claimed the lives of many women who faced such grief.

This took him back through the corridors of his mind to the haunting memories of his late wife and mother, lives extinguished too early. An unsettling question gnawed at his heart, one that had plagued his mind for decades. Was it his fate, cursed and unyielding, for the women he loved to endure suffering and despair in the birthing bed? The thought twisted like a dagger in his chest, leaving him to grapple with the weight of his legacy and the maternal heartache that seemed inextricably woven into it.

"No one is born with strength, Aegon," Daemon declared, his voice sharp. "Strength is something you earn by facing the things you're afraid of, by doing the things no one else will do. I did not get where I was by sitting around waiting to follow orders. And neither will you."

Aegon looked at his uncle, the silence stretching between them, filled with an uncomfortable tension. His uncle's eyes were colder now, harder, like the steel of his sword.

"I don't have the luxury of time, and neither does she," Daemon continued, his voice quieter but no less intense. "So listen well, Aegon. You may not be ready to defy your family, but you will if you love her like she claims."

Aegon swallowed, the weight of Daemon's words sinking in, pressing down on his chest until it felt like he could hardly breathe. But there was something else there, too, something more profound than anger or resentment. There was a strange, unspoken understanding, an acknowledgment that neither was truly free from their past and mistakes.

And in that silence, Daemon's voice softened, though still edged with a hard truth. "You want to fix this?" he asked. "Then start by bringing those to justice."

Aegon felt the weight of those words, of the expectation in his uncle's gaze. He didn't have the answers and didn't know what would come next, but one thing was clear: if he were to ensure your future together, he would have to start now.

For the first time in the Prince's life, Aegon felt the faint stirrings of a purpose. Something outside of himself. Something worth fighting for.

"I will," he said, his voice firm despite lingering uncertainty. "This was my mother's doing, but I cannot prove it with her hounds and my grandfather so diligently by her side."

Daemon nodded once, satisfied for the moment. While he could not prove the Hightowers were the cause, he understood that having their kin loyal to him and his daughter would serve greater justice when Viserys met the Stranger. "Good. Then, prove it when the time comes, and she will be by your side again."

With that, the Rogue Prince turned, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the Sept as Aegon remained behind, staring at the flickering candles, his mind already moving forward. He wasn't sure how he would fix everything, undo the damage, and make things right, but Daemon had given him something more than just words.

He had given him a chance. Now, it was up to Aegon to take it.

The heavy, oppressive silence of the dungeons seemed to wrap around Ser Arryk Cargyll like a shroud. His once-pristine white cloak, the proud symbol of his service as a Kingsguard, was now dirtied and torn, a reflection of the disgrace he now carried. Shackled to the cold stone wall of his cell, he sat hunched in the corner, his mind a labyrinth of guilt, regret, and anger. His failure still burned through him like a wound that wouldn't heal—the inability to protect the Princess due to his hubris.

He could hear the whispers of the guards in the corridors, the occasional clink of keys or boots on stone, but none stopped. No one came to offer him solace. He had betrayed his vows, and now he was paying the price.

There was no doubt in Arryk's mind about what awaited him. The Rogue Prince would not be merciful. He would die here, alone in this dark cell. Or worse, he would be forced to suffer before his inevitable death—a public disgrace, a mark on his and Erryk's name that would never be erased.

The sound of footsteps approaching snapped Arryk out of his thoughts. His heart sank, but not out of fear. He knew who it was before the man appeared in the dim light of the dungeon corridor.

Daemon Targaryen. The Rogue Prince, the shadow that hung over the Targaryen family.

Arryk didn't rise from his sitting position. There was no need for any formalities. His failure had already stripped him of his dignity.

Daemon didn't say a word at first. He stopped before the cell, his violet eyes glinting in the dim torchlight as he studied the disgraced knight. He gave Arryk a long, pointed look of disgust and amusement.

"Ser Arryk," Daemon's voice was low, dripping with disdain. "You've fallen far, haven't you?" He stepped forward, his boots echoing in the cold, cavernous hallway.

Arryk didn't respond. What was there to say? The facts were clear. He failed in his sacred duty. No words could change that.

Daemon studied him for a moment longer before he smirked, the cruel twist of his lips never reaching his eyes. "You were meant to protect the blood of the King, Ser, and yet, the very Princess you were sworn to guard was nearly killed right under your nose. Tell me, how does that feel?"

Arryk's chest tightened, his hands clenching in the chains that bound him. He didn't have the strength to defend himself anymore. He didn't deserve to. "I failed," he whispered, voice rough from days of silent anguish. "I failed my oaths."

Daemon's smirk widened as if pleased by the admission. "Yes, you did. And now, the question is, what happens next?"

Arryk's head jerked up, his eyes locking with Daemon's. He saw no pity in those eyes. No mercy. Just the cold, calculating gaze of a man who had long since discarded any pretense of kindness. "What happens to me?" Arryk's voice was hoarse.

Daemon's lips parted in a faint, humorless chuckle. He pulled a dagger from his belt—simple, sharp, and deadly, the hilt made of dark iron. He dangled it in front of the bars, allowing the torchlight to catch the gleam of the blade. "You'll pay for your failure, of course. I will ensure that much." Daemon's tone was almost light, as though speaking about a matter of no importance. "But my punishment won't be death at the hands of another."

Arryk's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't speak. The weight of his fate seemed to settle in his chest.

Daemon raised an eyebrow, watching the knight's reaction. "You see, I am not as quick to kill as the people of your ilk might expect. No, I'll have you suffer. Perhaps I shall keep you locked away for the rest of your miserable life, a reminder to every knight in the Keep that failure is not tolerated." Daemon paused, allowing the words to sink in.

The pain of the thought was almost unbearable. Arryk had never thought of a fate worse than death, but now he could see it—an eternity of being nothing but a stain on the honor of his House.

A shadow.

Forgotten.

Daemon's voice lowered again, and there was now a weight to his words, a deliberate finality. "But that is not what I have come to offer you, Ser."

The dagger was placed on the cold stone floor beyond Arryk's reach. Daemon gave him one final look—measuring, unblinking. "The honorable thing, Ser Arryk, would be to take this dagger and end it yourself." He let the words linger in the air, heavy as iron. "That way, at least, you'll die with some dignity. You'll not be remembered as a coward too weak to take responsibility for his failure."

Arryk's eyes flicked to the blade, and his breath hitched in his throat. The thought of it, the sharpness of the steel, and the cold weight of the hilt in his hand comforted him in the depths of his despair. Death was swift, easy. And in some ways, it would be a release.

Daemon studied him for a long while before he spoke again. "If you choose to live, it will be a life spent in humiliation. I will never allow you to forget what you've done. You will be a shell of what you once were, and your name will be erased from the annals of honor. You will have nothing left."

Arryk's heart hammered in his chest as his eyes remained on the dagger. His failure had broken him. His soul felt heavy, burdened with the shame that would haunt him for the rest of his days. But could he end it? Could he choose death over a life of misery?

Daemon didn't move as he let the silence stretch on. "It's the honorable thing to do, Ser," he said quietly, almost as a command. "You know it as well as I do."

Arryk swallowed hard, his mind a whirlwind. He had failed so completely that nothing left for him was shame or death. He reached out a shaking hand, and his fingers brushed the cold steel of the dagger, the reality of the decision settling in his bones.

Daemon stood, watching, his arms crossed over his chest. There was no sympathy in his eyes, only the cold certainty that Arryk had already made his choice, whether or not he realized it yet.

"Make it quick, Ser Arryk. I won't grant you such a mercy again," Daemon added, his voice low and final.

And with that, the Rogue Prince turned and left the dungeons, leaving the dagger behind as the only reminder of the honor that had once been and the shame that would now define him.

The air in your bed chamber was thick with the pungent scent of incense. The faint orange glow from the setting sun filtered weakly through the heavy velvet curtains, casting a dim, feverish light over the room. The dim glow of the hearth cast wavering shadows across the opulent green decor, the only light rivaling the room's heavy tension. Daemon Targaryen stood at the foot of his daughter's bed, his jaw set like granite, his lilac eyes aflame as they bore into the two figures before him. Queen Alicent Hightower, clad in a gown of deep emerald, held her composure, her hands clasped before her as though she were at prayer. Beside her, Lord Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King, straightened his posture, his sharp features betraying only a hint of disdain.

On the bed, the pale and fragile form of Daemon's youngest daughter lay motionless, her breath shallow and her lips tinged with an unnatural stillness. A half-empty vial of milk of the poppy rested on the bedside table, its glass catching the flicker of the firelight.

He could see your face now, pale and drawn, your lips dry and cracked, and your breathing shallow. Your hair clung to your forehead, damp with sweat. You had barely roused since he returned to the Red Keep. The wound on your temple, the poison that still coursed through your veins, all of it seemed to pull you deeper into the shadows.

Daemon broke the silence first, his voice low and venomous. "How long?" he demanded, his hand clenching the hilt of Dark Sister. "How long has my daughter been your prisoner in her skin?"

Alicent raised her chin, her voice measured but with an edge of exasperation. "Daemon, your accusations are baseless. She is not a prisoner. The maester prescribed milk from the poppy for her comfort."

"Do not dare!" Daemon snarled, taking a step forward. "Do not dare speak to me of comfort while my daughter lies here, drugged into silence. Fragile, you say? What lies beneath your 'comfort,' Alicent? What truth were you so afraid she would speak?"

Otto stepped in, his tone dripping with authority. "Prince Daemon, you insult Her Grace and the King's council with this madness. Your grief clouds your reason. Do you hear yourself? These are the ravings of a man desperate to find enemies where none exist."

Daemon's laughter was cold and mirthless. "Oh, there are enemies aplenty, Lord Hightower, and none closer to my family than you." He pointed a finger toward Alicent. "Do not think I am blind to your schemes. Drugging my child, is that not desperation enough? Or would you rather have me believe that poison is beyond your reach?"

Alicent flinched, but only slightly, her calm demeanor hardening. "You think us capable of such atrocity? We seek only peace in the realm. Your daughter's well-being has always been our priority."

"Peace?" Daemon hissed, circling them like a dragon sizing up its prey. "Peace through silencing the truth, you mean. And what truth terrifies you so, Alicent? That your precious Greens are losing their grip on the throne? That your Targaryen children will not be your puppets?"

Otto's voice cut through the air, sharper now. "Enough! You speak treason, Prince Daemon. Were you not her father and brother to the King, I would have you dragged from this room in chains for such slander."

Daemon's grip on Dark Sister tightened, his knuckles whitening. He leaned in closer, his voice a deadly whisper. "And were she, not my daughter, I would have your head for daring to lay a finger upon her fate. Tell me, Otto, if the Greens are desperate enough to keep her tongue tied, are they desperate enough to steal her life?"

Alicent stepped forward, her expression resolute. "Daemon, this is your grief speaking. You imagine plots where none exist. Please, for her sake, do not let your paranoia destroy what remains of your family."

"My family?" Daemon barked, his eyes narrowing. "You have no claim to speak of my family, Alicent. The blood of the dragon burns brighter than the shadows you and your father cast. But be warned, if I uncover a single thread of truth behind this betrayal, I will burn every last one of your schemes to ash."

The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire and the faint, shallow breathing of the girl on the bed. Alicent and Otto exchanged glances, their faces masks of composure but their eyes betraying unease.

Daemon stood firm, a tempest barely restrained, his gaze never leaving them. He spoke once more, quieter now but no less dangerous.

"Leave this room. Leave her side. And pray, for your sakes, that the truth never comes to light."

Alicent hesitated, but Otto placed a firm hand on her arm, guiding her toward the door. They exited without another word, the heavy oaken door closing behind them with an ominous thud.

Daemon walked silently toward your bedside. His strong hands, so accustomed to wielding swords and bending the wills of others, now trembled as they reached for your delicate, limp fingers. The quiet vulnerability of this moment struck him more than any battlefield ever had. His daughter, the one he had sworn to protect, was broken, and he was powerless to do anything but watch. He gently curled his fingers around yours as if holding on to whatever little remained of the angry girl he had raised.

The Rogue Prince turned back to his daughter, kneeling beside her bed, his hand brushing a strand of silver hair from her face. "They'll pay for this, little one," he murmured. "I swear it on my blood."

You shifted slightly, just enough to draw his gaze as your lips parted gently. Your eyes fluttered open briefly, sparkling with a soft, dreamy awareness that hinted at the depths of your thoughts.

"Father?" Your voice emerged as a fragile whisper, barely lifting above the air around you. The sound seemed to fracture something deep within Daemon, a tiny shard of his once-impenetrable heart splintering into pieces in his chest.

"Shh, don't try to speak," he murmured, brushing your damp hair back from your forehead with a tenderness he didn't often show. His eyes were wet with the tears he hadn't allowed himself to shed until now.

In return, you weakly squeezed his hand, your gaze struggling to focus through the Milk of the Poppy. "I... failed, didn't I?" you whispered, voice cracking. "I couldn't stop it... Couldn't stop the Greens."

Daemon's heart clenched. He could feel the depth of your regret, the weight of your self-doubt in those simple words. His mind flashed back to the fateful days that brought you to this point.

Sending you to King's Landing was the plan you had agreed upon, knowing it was dangerous. You would infiltrate the very heart of the enemy and make a place for yourself at court. You would seduce Aegon, the eldest son of Queen Alicent, a man with no taste for power and no ambition beyond the pleasures of the flesh. You would make him fall for you, win his favor, manipulate him, and stop the usurpation. You would ensure Rhaenyra's crown was secured and that Aegon would never take what was rightfully hers.

But everything had gone wrong. Daemon underestimated the treacherous nature of the court, the depths to which the Hightowers would go to secure the throne for their own and your young, bleeding heart. He had failed as a father, as a man. And now, his daughter, his precious girl, was paying the price.

Daemon swallowed the lump in his throat. He took a slow breath, trying to steady the fury that threatened to consume him. "You did what you could," he whispered, his voice breaking on the words. "You were brave. You were everything I asked of you and more."

You stirred again, your brows furrowing as if in pain, and lips parted to speak, but the words faltered.

"Father, if I fail... if Aegon becomes king..." you whispered hoarsely, struggling to stay conscious. "Leave me to die in the forests of the North. A pack of hungry wolves would be kinder than what he will do to me."

Daemon's hand clenched around yours, and his heart shattered at the words. He knew what you meant. Aegon, a man who would become consumed by the luxuries that power had brought, could never be a better man. He would use his newfound strength to break his enemies and your family, bend them to his will, and crush them beneath the weight of his crown.

Aegon would not cease until you were by his side, even if it meant the destruction of House Targaryen and the kingdom. If he were to ascend to the throne, it would be the end of you.

You closed your eyes again, your body sagging slightly as the feverish haze claimed you again.

Daemon sat beside you on the mattress as it dipped with his weight, holding your hand in both. The stench of a floral musk that reminded Daemon of Viserys wafted through his nose as a sudden realization came to mind. His breath came fast, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but it was all drowned in his overwhelming rage and helplessness at the world's cruelty.

His daughter, his favorite daughter, was so close to death, and there was nothing he could do to save her. His mind began to work, to churn with decisions that could shape their future.

He will not let you die here.

"No," Daemon whispered to your sleeping form, his voice thick with emotion. "I will not let them do this to you. Not while I live." His hand trembled as he stroked your hair, his heart shattering again as he looked at your pale, suffering face.

He stood slowly, but his movements were sharp and purposeful now. The anger and sorrow had merged into a singular driving force as he turned to the window, glancing out at the fading light of the day. There was only one place he could take you, one where you might have a chance to heal and one where you would be safe, but at the potential cost of the throne.

"Prepare a ship," Daemon ordered to the guards outside the door, his voice hardening as he straightened, the weight of his promise pressing down on him. "Get it ready. We leave for Dragonstone tonight."

Turning back to the bed, he gently lifted you into his arms, carefully cradling you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. You were frail, but still his daughter—the fire from his blood, the only legacy worth fighting for. He kissed your forehead, the promise in his heart now fully formed.

"Do not fear," he whispered, more to himself than you. "You will be free. You have not failed. I will ensure you are never hurt again once we return to Dragonstone."

The ship would be ready by the hour of the owl, and Daemon would take you and leave the city behind. The politics, selfish intrigue, and Hightowers were all irrelevant now. The only thing that mattered was his daughter's life. The rest of the realm could burn for all he cared so long as you lived.

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We all want heads to roll, but we must let them have their moments. Otto, Alicent, and Larys will eventually get what's coming. I have about ten or eleven more chapters to go!

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte , @silverslive , @prettykinkysoul , @duesobabe, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid , @dd122004dd , @ladybug0095 , @millies0bsimp , @kalfild , @sheislonelyalways , @tempt-ress , @minttea07 , @trikigirl271 , @esposadomd , @prettywhenicry4 , @justarandomflowerchildofthenight , @partypoison00 , @please-buckme , @pastelorangeskies , @existential-echo , @priyajoyy , @valaenatargaryensdragon , @merovingianprincess , @candy12110 , @w3ird11 , @ruhjkie , @somemydayy , @marikkjj , @zillahvathek , @sunfyresrider , @heavenly1927 , @hjgdhghoe , @im-sidney , @aurorathi , @marihoneywk , @xitsemm , @justbelljust , @qardasngan , @shari-berri , @tomgcmrs

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[divaofmads]

Forever In My Heart | King Baldwin

Part I | Part II

Gif by @princess-of-thebes-1995 Dividers by @saradika-graphics pictures by Pinterest

Summary: Baldwin knew that his illness would not allow him to live long. Unfortunately, he did not have an heir to leave the throne to, and since he was of French origin, he demanded an heir from the French kingdom to take over the throne after he died. So King Louis VII sent his younger son and his wife to go to Jerusalem and make a deal with the King.

Warnings! : Toxic Relationship, (King Baldwin is 20, Prince Hugh is 25, Y/N is 19), No Y/N using (Princess Maria), Inspired by history. It is not real historical events exactly, There are chronological mistakes, I apologize for the mistakes I made in English that is not my native language and I am trying to improve my writing skills

A/N: No one's religious beliefs were disrespected. The story was written by researching the ideas of that period.

A/N 2 : You can imagine whoever you want to play the bad guy(Please comment who do you imagine).

" 5th June 1173

My lover who is more beautiful than anything. My lady with lips sweeter than honey, a complexion that would make the moon jealous, and eyes brighter than the sun. The angel who inspires me. You're in my dreams when I sleep, you're the first thing that comes to my mind when I wake up. I miss you so much that every day we are apart I pray to Jesus that my father will return from crusade as soon as possible and start making preparations for our wedding.

After that incident, after the doctors had a dilemma about whether I might be sick, I thought that your father the emperor wanted our engagement not to be official, using his relations with the Seljuk State as an excuse. Forgive me for such impertinent ideas, my love. I would never betray you and your family. However, the crusades that my father Amalric started against the Fatimids by joining forces with the French and Germans showed me that what prevents our marriage is fate. But I know. No matter how late it is, our lives will be united, you will be the most respected queen the Latin kingdom has ever seen. Christian and Muslim healers will soon produce a cure for my illness together. Don't think about me. I will be fine, knowing that you love me gives me strength, my queen. Always be happy, be healthy. Always remember me. Dream about our future during the days we are apart, because I do. May the God who reigns in the heavens and watches over the whole world protect you.

I think the reason you didn't reply to my previous two letters is because you were busy, but this time I'm eagerly waiting for you to reply to my letter, my love. My heart is with you forever."

Who could love a man whom even God has cursed?

1180 4th June

When the night covered the lands of Jerusalem like a blanket, Baldwin stood by the window and watched his kingdom. God had given this holy city to the Crusaders and had stood by them. The Latin kingdom acted as a protector against the increasingly powerful Muslim invaders. Although the failure of the 2nd Crusade had caused a lack of trust among the Crusader countries, he was the only great king who was able to unite the Holy Land after his father Amalric died. His people were pleased with him. Despite being a Crusader commander, he did not want anyone to be treated unfairly, regardless of religion or race. But why did the king not feel proud when his people loved him so much?

When he looked at his reflection in the golden goblet he held in his hand, the answer to the question was actually very clear. Despite everything, he was the cursed king. He was weak and incapable for Muslims. How could a king who was struggling for his own health deal with state issues? He was also a servant lower than a pig. He was created so ugly because they did not believe in the same god. Just as ugly and useless as a pig. Saladin should have been ashamed of himself for being defeated by a king who was a child and a leper in the battle of Montgisard. But no one had thought about it. His smart moves in the army and state administration, his choice of advisors and the poor-looking king proved his power. He was the only king who came into being on the bed to manage the war. His courage had inspired the painter.

It was normal for Muslims to spread such prejudiced and hostile gossip, of course. But it was the Christians whose ideas he had to fight against. They thought that God had cursed Baldwin when he was born. He was the one God did not like. He knew how dark his soul was when he created him. When he grew up, the devil would be his guide. He was a cruel, barbaric ruler whose mind worked for nothing but evil. Leprosy was his mark and badge for his past and future sins. He was branded so that the people would notice and stay away from this devil.

He had long forgotten his identity. The man he saw in the reflection in the goblet, with a rotting skin, was either a pig or a devil.

But he was not human in either world. When he could no longer hide this curse and his fiancée did not even deign to write him a farewell letter, he lost the last feeling that would remind him of his humanity. Love. No one loved a pig, they would detest it. No one would stray from God's path and fall in love with the devil. He would rather die. And what were the feelings? What were the longing and love he felt in his heart? Moreover, what was the sadness that was hidden behind these two feelings and spread throughout his body? These feelings grew stronger after he received the news that the crown prince of France and his wife, the Byzantine Princess Maria, would arrive in Jerusalem tomorrow. Could a pig long for? Could a barbarian be sad, or could the devil love?

Baldwin could no longer bear to see the truth reflected in the globe and threw it to the ground. So many years passed. Baldwin stood strong against the gossip about him. He only loved his kingdom and swore to protect it. He rewarded the oppressed and punished the oppressors so that people could live in peace and not have hostile feelings. However, the seeds of love that had been waiting to sprout in his heart for years blossomed with the news that he would see the woman he loved again, and the king felt hopeless.

As the medicinal drink spilled from the glass that fell to the ground spread on the stone floor, the bare parts of his maskless, bandaged face reappeared before him like a nightmare. As his breathing rhythm quickened, he heard a voice.

"When the Physicians were preparing the drink, I could tell from the smell that it tasted bad."

When Baldwin looked in the direction of the voice, he saw William coming from the darkness. The only source of light in the room was the moonlight.

"William," he said, trying to hide his emotions, "I didn't hear you come in."

William smiled warmly. "You wouldn't have heard of it if there was a rebellion, your majesty, and forgive my impudence, but the reason for this has to do with your guests tomorrow."

Baldwin turned toward the city. "I was sure I would never see her again. But now, in the castle of Kerak, Raybald of Châtillon is hosting them."

William looked at the king. "Indeed, you should have known this day would come. Your relations with the Kingdom of France are strong."

"Maybe I was just afraid that day would come."

"You're still in love with her."

"Every minute I thought I had forgotten her, my longing for her grew my love."

"Princess Maria was a good match for you. She was very intelligent, kind, and combative. A fine queen for the Latin kingdom," he said, and the melancholy gaze of Baldwin, which he did not want to show, gave him away, caused William to apologize. "I apologize if I went too far, your majesty. I just wanted to recall a pleasant memory."

A beautiful memory. It was true. Every moment Baldwin spent with the princess was special. He could talk and laugh for hours about any memory he recalled. Baldwin was not born into a loving family. When he ascended to the throne, his kingdom was on the verge of division. His illness pretended him weak against his enemies. But in all his misfortunes, Maria was his white rose, and no matter how pessimistic he felt a moment ago, he now smiled because of her.

A bitter smile, ""Do you think she can still wield a sword skillfully?"

He had the same bitter smile on his face. ""There is no doubt about that, your majesty. Perhaps once they are settled in the palace you can challenge her to a duel and see for yourself."

Although this idea sounded nice at first, the facts were obvious. He replied in a reproachful tone, as if rebelling against fate. "How can I do this when I can't use my limbs and can't see in one eye, William, tell me!" He looked harshly.

"These words do not seem to belong to you, my king. Weren't you the king who learned to use a sword with his left arm because his right arm betrayed him at every opportunity? You designed special stirrups for your numb legs. You led fights with that blind eye of yours. Now don't tell me you avoided a duel with a 19-year-old young woman."

"I don't want her to see me like this, Will. My body is decaying day by day. God's curse is growing stronger and my resistance to pain is diminishing." He looked at the view again. "I don't want her to remember me like this. She confessed that she was amazed by my beauty the night we fell in love. He turned back to William and pointed his finger at his face. Look at my current state, the boy she fell in love with is dead. The Leper King was the end of that beautiful boy."

Baldwin suddenly felt unwell and William held him as he collapsed to the ground, his legs shaking.

"Your Majesty, you need to rest now."

William called to the servants to take Baldwin to bed. The servants came to them in a hurry and, taking kings arm, carried him to the bed. One left to get water. Another was adjusting his pillows. Finally William warned them to leave the room and approached Baldwin.

"You have always been a good boy, Baldwin. You are the best king the Latin Kingdom has ever seen. No ruler after you will be able to hold these lands together."

"I would not want this. I hope that people will recognize my efforts and protect the lands from hostile armies."

Before leaving William Baldwin's room, he spoke one last time. "Prince Hugh will take more care of you both, your majesty. Be careful."

Maria had been nervous since they arrived at the castle of Kerak. Representing the Komnenos dynasty had been a heavy burden on her shoulders. About six years before she was born, dark times had passed over Manuel I and the Byzantine lands. Constantinople had been sacked, the city almost destroyed. Châtillon had been the emperor's worst nightmare until Manuel took revenge on her. He disturbed the people as if he owned the Byzantine Empire. Maria's nanny would tell her these dark memories before she went to sleep at night. Maria was a naughty child and would tell the story that Châtillon would come back one night and kidnap the naughty children. But Maria always trusted her father. Although he seemed like an emperor who was afraid of the Turks and had a weak political mind, Maria was smart enough to understand her father's strategic steps. That's why she never feared Châtillon. Her father may have suffered great losses during those times, but later he took his revenge on Châtillon in a satisfactory way.

Baldwin did not attend her and Prince Hugh wedding. He was too tired to go to France. Otherwise, his death would have come sooner, and Saladin's army would have occupied Jerusalem long ago. Therefore, Reynald of Châtillon attended the wedding as regent. Emperor Manuel saw this as an insult, and the ties between him and the Latin kingdom were almost broken. But Baldwin, the Latin king, knew his former father-in-law well. He had observed the emperor very well during his engagement to his daughter, and had skillfully kept the bond between them together.

Despite everything, Châtillon must have been unable to stomach the emperor's revenge, for he was taking a jab at the princess who had joined them at the dinner table. He was talking badly about her father. He was making fun of the Byzantine Emperor, implying that if the emperor did not come under Crusader countries protection, the Muslims would give up Jerusalem and occupy Constantinople, and they would be successful. Therefore, it was very lucky for the princess to marry the son of the King of France. Maria would of course say something in response to these words, but the crown prince of France thought that women were stupid and should not meddle in state affairs. What did women know except intrigue, sex, and having children? Whenever Maria spoke, her husband humiliated her in front of the lords of the other kingdoms. She did not want to experience the same thing again. She felt sad enough when she thought of Baldwin anyway. But both Maria's and the prince's minds were changed by Châtillon's audacity. He had brought up the subject of Baldwin and the princess's broken engagement. Maria felt uneasy. She knew that her husband had always kept his eyes on her, for it was a sensitive subject.

When Châtillon noticed the tension between the two, he explained how strong the bond between her and Baldwin was. He had read Maria’s letters impudently several times before the curse of leprosy had set in. He disclosed some of the love poems in these letters. Of course, he could not remember the exact words, but he sang similar sentences with a mocking grin. Hearing these things made the Prince angry. The gold goblet in his hand almost bent, but he tried not to show it. He looked at his beloved wife with a meaningful smile. Not wanting to appear weak, he intervened. “I thought your engagement was a political agreement, my lady. Would you care to give me more details? I would like to hear it.” He brought the glass to his lips, finished the wine in one gulp, and slammed it down on the table.

However, Maria knew that the prince intended to ask her this question. If she was not satisfied with the answer he would give, his revenge would be severe. Hugh had threatened her with his dynasty. The prince was madly in love with her and knew that his love was unrequited. He was jealous of her in front of everyone and everything.

She was trying not to give away her lie as she pushed the toasted almonds on the Blancmange that had just been served into the rice fish paste mixture with the tip of her fork. "We were both kids at the time. Our alliance against his half-brothers brought us closer. These are childish feelings." These words were lies. Every emotion she experienced was too mature.

Raynald lifted his globe to his mouth and drank the spiced wine, smearing it through his filthy beard before scraping the remains of the wine away with the palm of his hand. "Your mind was capable of writing love poems as a child."

Prince Hugh gritted his teeth. He should have cut off the head of the daring man in front of him with his sword, but he was too arrogant to show his jealousy to anyone. Instead, he chose to show his anger to his wife by stroking Maria's hair harshly. She had to be careful.

She looked bravely at Reynald. Looking into his eyes, she put the Blancmange in her mouth and began to speak, ignoring the rules as she chewed. "I am flattered that you find the love poems written by a little girl mature. Yes, Baldwin and I were mature, and I was smart enough to see that you were a pain in the neck when you were still a mercenary."

Raynald looked to the prince to put the princess in her place, but Hugh agreed with his wife, and for once, though he didn't show it, he was pleased with her headstrong nature.

Then he looked at the princess with greed. "It was obvious that the daughter of the Byzantine emperor would not suit the future king of France."

Maria stood up, her chair leg scraping the floor. "Then you should know to watch your step when talking to me."

Then she turned respectfully, in a way that glorified her husband. "Master of my heart, if you allow me, I would like to go to the chapel and pray."

The prince was unsure of what to say. He did not want to be angry with his wife, for she had put Raynald in his place, who had insidiously planted the sin of jealousy in his heart. He was also flattered by his wife in front of the other lords and barons at the table. He only gave his wife permission to go to the chapel.

She grabbed the hem of her dress so as not to fall. So she left the room and walked quickly down the corridor. Talking about her memories with Baldwin broke her heart. His look, his smile, his conversation, his intelligence... She had never known a man like him in the Empire or the Kingdom of France. Her mind was always on her old love. She had stolen her own life. She spent her youth in the bed of a man she did not love, thinking of Baldwin. Now she was in pain and wanted to be alone, alone with the Virgin Mary.

One of her maids would come to her. She called to her lady, said that her son were crying uncontrollably. Little Philip needed his mother. She ignored the maids calling her as she ran down the hall. But the baby wanted her mother and was crying non-stop. But a child from a man she did not love would not be good for her right now.

She just wanted to go to the chapel and pray before the Virgin Mary. She was on her knees, placed her elbows on the altar. "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Forgive me, I cannot guard my ideas from sin as I guard my chastity. Holy Mary, Mother of God. I am weak, the love that the devil has cultivated in my heart becomes sweeter to me every day that I do not see him. Please hear me, tear down the walls between us and inspire me to forget him. O Virgin, holy and merciful, obtain for all who offend thee the grace of repentance, and graciously accept this poor act of homage from me thy servant, obtaining likewise for me from thy Divine Son the pardon and remission of all my sins. Amen." She placed her palms crosswise on her chest. She was crying, convulsing with tears.

The prince and princess of France entered the holy lands with four horse guards in front and six behind to protect the gift chests. The royal coat of arms, the 'fleur-de-lys', was carved on wood on the body of the carriage, and the windows were covered with curtains in the color of the coat of arms's base color, the blue, thus completely cutting off communication between the people and the nobles.

But it was impossible not to notice such a long convoy. The children playing followed the horses and did not leave its vicinity, hoping to see who was behind the curtain. But the princess saw them. She had slightly parted the fabric and was enjoying the excited running of the children speaking in a language she did not know. Meanwhile, her husband, who was sitting next to her, distracted her by holding her hand. When the young princess turned her head to the prince, the smile on her face disappeared.

"Don't let children know you're looking at them, my lady. Then they'll have the brass face."

She looked at him smugly. "They are children. At least don't act arrogant towards children!"

Hugh gritted his teeth. He should have put her in her place, but their baby Philip’s nurse intervened to calm the anger between them. She smiled and called out to the princess as she sat across from her, put the baby to sleep in her arms.

"Your Majesty, in a few years your son will be running around the palace corridors just like them."

Maria smiled at the woman. "I hope he becomes a guardian of peace and justice." The word that crossed her mind was 'like Baldwin'. But she could not say it.

The nurse looked at the baby. "There is no doubt about it, my lady."

Prince Hugh was very angry with his wife. He could have given her a severe punishment, but his love was holding him back. Instead, he used his ambition for his son. He smiled arrogantly. "He will be a king in the Latin lands, a nightmare for Muslims! He will send the unbelievers to hell in this world. He will slaughter the unbelievers mercilessly. Otherwise, how can he be the commander of the Crusader armies?"

Maria hated herself for marrying such a cruel man. She could assure herself that the children's voices he heard outside had become screams of pain in his imagination. And look at the nobles who considered Baldwin a barbarian! What a disgrace! The princess was about to continue looking out the window in anger when she turned her head and caught the nurse's eye. The woman gave her no words. Her expression begged his majesty to be silent. For his well-being and peace. Maria smiled with tears in her eyes and did as he said, smiling slightly.

Meanwhile, William, who had received news that the royal carriage was approaching the palace, was giving orders for the final preparations. Sybilla had to make sure that the food and organization were perfect. The servants were arranging the prince and princess's favorite fruits and wines on the table in their rooms, and the gifts to be presented to the royal family were being counted in the great hall.

Baldwin lay on his back in his bed, surrounded by four physicians who were helping their assistants apply ointment to his wounds.

"Ah," sighed the king, "at last, my love. At last, I will be able to witness your beautiful smile again."

"Be a little faster!" But even that was tiring him. He was excited to greet them and wanted to stand up in defiance of God.

The physician warned the king, "Your Majesty, you must lie down for a day and wait for your skin to absorb the medicine. It will be more beneficial."

Baldwin gritted his teeth and spoke threateningly. “Are you disobeying my orders?”

The physicianstammered. He emphasized that he had been misunderstood. He apologized and ordered his assistants to hurry. After applying the herbal mixture to the king's wounds, they wrapped clean, white bandages crosswise, using two layers of cloth so that the skin would not be visible. Cotton fabrics in particular were imported from the Mediterranean. Otherwise, his completely covered skin would not be able to breathe and would become damp, and the amount of salt in his sweat would cause Baldwin to suffer in pain. In fact, the ointment was already hurting him enough.

One of his servants came to him with a silver cup in his hand and supported his back, allowing him to straighten up. Thus, he drank the healing water easily. As he was sliding the last sip from his lips to his mouth, William entered. He too might not have been in favor for king to welcome the royal family, but he knew that his life was short. Seeing the woman he loved should have been more important than the pain he would suffer. Who knows? Perhaps the last time they would meet would be Baldwin's funeral. Maria stood in front of her childhood love's coffin, crying heartily, and they would say goodbye to each other for the last time, and the only memory she had of him would be the metal mask.

"Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile on his face, "I have come to take you. News has come that they have almost arrived. Everything is ready in the outer courtyard. After the welcoming ceremony, you may proceed to the great hall."

Baldwin confirmed William and after the bandaging process was completed, he stood up. My God! For a moment, the King seemed to forget about the curse. He thought they were just like those two beautiful children from ten years ago. Two noble children who will live their love that has not been granted to anyone else. He hadn't even gotten help from anyone when he was sitting up in bed. Love must have been such a miraculous feeling. None of the physicians' ointments could give him the strength to stand up in minutes. The verses from the Bible that were read to cure his illness were of no use. Only his passionate longing for Maria gave him strength. It healed his melted bones and allowed his joints to bend freely. It allowed his joints to bend freely. Perhaps he would soon have the power to expand the borders of the Latin kingdom. But no! The truth had a bad habit of coming out at the wrong time. He was standing from William. He was only five steps away.

"Let's go." King said. At this moment, a servant called out to him, came to him with quick steps and held out the mask in his hand.

"Your majesty, mask!"

There's that Silver mask! The evil Witch who took him away from life. The King looked at the mask's artificial lips, hollow eyes, and metal eyebrows. He was the only person in the room who saw the mask's devilish grin. It was as if the mask was mocking him. He knew how much the woman he loved would pity him when she saw his sick body. And Baldwin's embarrassment must surely be the amusement of the mask. Once again the King was defeated. Although he had the arrogance of a king when he took the mask from the servant's hand, William knew the dramatic mood of the man he had known since childhood. So he supported the king with his words while his face was completely covered with a metal mask. When the servants grabbed his arm and tried to help him walk, he gestured with his hand for them not to come.

"The king looks quite healthy. No need."

William stepped back from the door and cleared the way for the king to exit.He clasped his hands in front of him and waited for Baldwin to come out. However, after their King left the room, William followed him to accompany, followed by the servants. It was noon. Light seeping through the corridor windows illuminated the gray stone walls. The designs and art of Arab architects were on display.

"My legs are shaking William. "This is not because of my illness," he said. He could keep Saladin and his armies away from his lands. He could win the battle. But for love, he was still young.

"I know, your majesty. Although not as excited as you, I'm excited to see the princess too."

Beautiful, attractive, innocent, seductive. Which word was more appropriate to say to the holy beloved? Which one would he choose to describe the relentless love inside him? Or were the other adjectives hidden behind these words what made his fall in love? Was it her stubborn and strong stance that made her seductive, was it her helpfulness and fairness that gave her the name of innocence, was it her white skin and wavy hair that reached down to her waist that made her attractive or was her beauty and grace necessary? There was no definite answer to these questions and even the answers that suddenly came to his mind were not enough to learn the reason for his feelings for her. The way he looked at her or the way she shyly looked away from him, he would now forbid each other. If their eyes met, it would be a sin. Then how would Maria have the courage to go to church again and ask for forgiveness?

All this was going on in the king's mind. When the horse carriage carrying the royal family entered the courtyard. The prince and princess were presented. The King was sitting on his throne waiting for them. But what he was most worried about was how he would react when he saw Maria. And that moment has come. As she descended the wooden steps of the carriage, Baldwin’s eyes went there. The years had made her a mature woman and made her beautiful. The dark brown tone of her hair had lightened, and blondes were mixed in between. Her skin was smooth as in her childhood. The cherry cheeks that adorned her snow-white face had not left her. A storm had formed in his heart, his love had turned into a natural disaster. When she descended the creaking steps and her feet touched the ground, Maria looked up at the king. Her honey-colored eyes sparkled. She had seen the child behind the metal mask in Baldwin’s eyes.

But the maid who got out of the carriage was carrying something in her arms that revealed the sin of their love. One of the heirs to the crown. Prince Philip. Maria's son by Prince Hugh. This child would have been theirs if this disease had not taken him prisoner. William expected the king to make a welcoming speech. But Baldwin seemed rather absent-minded. “Your Majesty,” he warned his king, “you must pull yourself together. The princess is now a married woman with a heir."

William was right. He had to come to his senses quickly and fulfill his duties as a king. The Latin King stood up, holding on to the arms of the prepared throne, and greeted the Prince and the Princess. He said it was a great honor for them to be here. Because he was on very good terms with King Louis VII of France. That's why it was such a pleasure for him to welcome the future heir, the Prince, and his wife, Princess Maria. Of course, when he saw Princess Maria next to the Prince, these words he said were completely fake. Even though he knew that Maria and the king were old childhood friends, the Prince did not allow Maria to speak and spoke to the king himself. Because he knew she still love this king with the ugly rotting skin. The king could not look at Maria. Because if he did, everything would be understood. So he averted his eyes, but Maria looked at her old friend William and smiled. Old memories had gathered in her eyes and came out.

William spoke up. "Your Majesty, if you wish, we can place the gifts of the Kingdom of France in the great hall. This will provide a much more intimate setting for the gifts presented during the banquet."

"Good thinking, William," Baldwin said. "Let's do what's necessary."

After the prince and the king finished speaking, they went inside. The servants showed the nobles to their rooms so they could get ready for the feast while their belongings were being put away.

Baby Philip had a separate room. They went to their rooms with the nurse.

When they came to the room, the bathtub was ready. The bathtub was made of white marble, shaped by marbles extracted from the Anatolian Seljuk lands. It was filled with water containing jasmine essence and leaves. Arab servants surrounded the bathtub, one had a silver tray, a loofah and soap on it. The other had a loincloth in his hand.

Princess Maria knew that Muslims were very clean. This was the most important thing for Islam and they were very contemptuous of people who were not clean.

The servants took off Maria's clothes, covered her private parts with a loincloth, and holding her hand, they sat her in the tub.

A woman took a copper bowl and dipped it into the jasmine water in the bathtub and poured it on the princess's hair. The cold drops of water cooled the roots of her warm hair. The weather was so hot here that the coolness of the water was a relief to her. She leaned her head on the edge of the tub and positioned herself so the other woman could massage her shoulder.

Her muscles, which had been tense due to sadness and her husband's irritable character, began to relax. The woman's delicate fingers were moving around the girl's shoulders and neck. The drops of water that had begun to dry on her skin were keeping it cool in the hot air. She was half asleep, half awake, dreaming but barely aware of what was happening. She didn't even realize when the woman's delicate, thin fingers were replaced by thick, calloused ones. Baldwin was in her dreams. She was sitting in the arbor of the palace in Constantinople, in the gardens with their many varieties of flowers, with Baldwin's head on Maria's lap. His eyes were looking up, into the honey-colored eyes of his beloved wife. The sun was streaming through the wooden planks of the arbor and making the heavens in Baldwin's blue eyes shine. She stroked his light golden brown hair. His skin was soft and shiny, just like when he was a child, and his lips were thin and small.

"My beautiful lover." He said. But voice was not like him. "Are you thinking about me?" The girl's eyebrows furrowed. As if this was a rebellion against passing into the real world. She opened her eyes and sat up. When she looked up, she saw Hugh sitting on the edge of the tub, looking at his wife with longing. But the same was not true for the princess.

She was serious. "What are you doing?"

Hugh replied as she stood up, using the sides of the tub for support. "I thought my wife missed me." He stood up too and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Maria lowered her eyes, raised one hand, and asked the maids to help her get out of the tub. But the prince was on edge against his wife's cold attitude. He watched with anger as he was left alone.

The servants were massaging Maria's body with various oils and combing her hair. Meanwhile, her assistant was choosing a beautiful outfit for the banquet. But Maria was nervous. She and Hugh had not touched each other for a long time. They had never brought each other to the perfect peak of orgasm. That letter from the Latin palace had changed something and the prince was aware of it. She knew that Hugh would use the maids to do this. Even though he knew that adultery was one of the greatest sins, the prince felt entitled to it. Perhaps he wanted to make the woman he loved jealous and take revenge. But he never achieved his goal. Because Maria could never love her husband enough to be protective or jealous of him.

As if it were a ritual, a rite, he would ask for sexual intercourse in the palace of the man she loved. He wanted to trouble her conscience.

While her dress and jewelry were being prepared for the feast, the servants dressed Maria in a white silk nightgown, the sleeves of which were wide and connected to the skirt like bat wings.

When the princess returned to bedroom, she did not see her husband. This was a relief to her.

"Where would you like me to put these clothes, my lady?" Maria was startled by the old woman's question. She answered with a faint smile on her face. "Put them where the emerald green surcoat is."

Then she went to her jewelry. They were in a carved wooden chest on the table. She put her fingers inside and began to rummage through the earrings, necklaces, and rings. The necklace she would wear to the banquet was very special. Among the betrothal gifts that Emperor Manuel had burned or distributed to the poor, the only gift Maria had saved was the beautiful necklace designed by Baldwin. The pearls hanging from the edges of the gold collar surrounding the red beryl, emerald, and alexandrite stones...

She called her maid over and told her that she would be wearing this necklace as an accessory to the dress they had chosen. The woman was fascinated as soon as she saw the necklace. "This is very beautiful, your majesty."

About ten minutes later, the prince called out to his wife, who was giving instructions to her maids to put away the clothes. "You must be happy to see your childhood sweetheart, my love." Maria was startled by her husband's voice as she smoothed down the pearl-embroidered dress in her hand. She ran her fingers over the soft texture of the shiny fabric and handed it to the maid. "The same topic again?" Then she looked at her husband. "That's in the past, you know. Ten years is a long time to forget."

Hugh grabbed his wife's arm tightly and turned her towards him. He clenched his teeth and swallowed. "For the mind, yes, but for your heart? Was ten years enough?"

Maria did not say a word, and that was an answer for Hugh. He squeezed his wife's arm tighter. The young woman groaned, feeling the pain in her arm deeply. She frowned under the pain and tried to pull away. "Leave me alone!"

The maids were disturbed by the tension between husband and wife and did not know what to do.

Hugh brought his face closer to hers. "If that's true, I swear..." he was cut off by a knock on the door.

Maria looked into her husband's eyes without the slightest trace of love.

She ordered. "Come in!"

The young servant girl ran to Princess Maria and bowed before her.

"Your Majesty, forgive me. Your son Philip, I believe, needs your help."

Prince Hugh was also angry. Were all those nannies interested in his heir? Just as he was about to attack the young girl, Maria grabbed his arm. "My prince, please! Have some patience!" She was worried. "Is everything okay? What's wrong?"

The girl was not very good at lying, she stammered. "He wouldn't stop crying. We thought he needed his mother. The mother's scent calms babies."

Hugh glanced at his wife contemptuously. "Your motherhood is as bad as your wifehood!”

Without saying anything, Maria left her husband and ordered the young girl to take her son.

The maid was escorting the princess to the room where Philip was staying. Maria noticed that she was quite excited. She had thought of scenarios such as her son being sick. She started asking the girl questions. Was her son sick? Maybe something bad happened to him and they were afraid of the prince and didn't tell her. The girl's nervous attitude made the princess even more nervous. "Stop, I order you!"

The girl stopped suddenly and looked like a child being scolded by her mother. Maria could see how frightened her face was in the candlelight. "What's the matter? You look very nervous."

The girl stuttered and pointed to the hallway behind Maria. “This way, my lady.” Maria swallowed and looked at the hallway the girl was pointing to. It looked much more ornate than the others. The work on its door was magnificent and decorated with gold leaf.

Maria frowned. "Philip isn't there, is he?"

The girl shook her head. “No, your majesty. Just come in. He’s waiting for you there.”

When the soldiers waiting at the door saw Maria, they immediately moved and opened the door. Maria knew very well who was waiting for her inside. She walked through the door with excited steps and went out to the balcony with the most beautiful view of Jerusalem. The two soldiers standing here welcomed their princess and escorted her to the door leading to their king's chamber.

The soldiers brought the princess to the door and left. Maria took a deep breath, knocked on the door and entered that was nervous. It was the first time she had done something in secret from her husband. She was sure he would punish her if he knew where she was. She could not leave the bedrooms. He would put guards at the bedroom doors.

She looked around. The objects were as if they were showing off in the light of evening with sun. This was not the room he had stayed in as a child. It was his father's room and its size was dazzling. It was a room worthy of a young king of the Holy Land. Maria looked at the bed across from her in admiration. Her childhood love was resting in this bed, leaving his scent on these sheets. She slowly approached the bed and picked up the burgundy-colored pillow. She wrapped her arms around it tightly, as if she were hugging Baldwin. She buried her head in the soft texture of the pillow and breathed in the scent. It smelled just as she remembered. It was so clean, smelled of soap and incense.

The princess remembered the dream she had the night of their engagement. It was a terrifying nightmare, to be exact. She had longed to speak to the bishop of Hagia Sophia. Even though the priest had interpreted her nightmare positively, Maria was always anxious. She was afraid of the end of their epic love. And one day, those things she feared separated them until death. When all these memories came to life before her eyes, a small smile appeared on her face. However, her eyes denied this smile and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Is that you William? I've been waiting for you." It was Baldwin's voice, and it came from afar. Maria, with the remorse of her sin, did not want to be caught by Baldwin, and her whole body trembled. When she turned her head to the silk tulle curtain that separated the room, she saw his silhouette and dropped the pillow in her lap to the floor.

Take the pillow or leave the room… While she was trying to choose the right way in this dilemma, Baldwin pulled the veil aside and entered.

“Maria, you…” Baldwin stood there in shock and could not finish his sentence.

There he was, Baldwin. The man whose happiness she had forgotten for years with his longing was standing right in front of her. Baldwin was no different. He felt much stronger now. He never expected to meet those meaningful eyes again. Alone. It was as if their cursed love had flared up again.

Baldwin did not want Maria to get into a difficult situation. As soon as he saw Maria approaching him, he spoke up. "It is not right for you to be here, my lady. Please do not do this to us."

Maria, on the other hand, was determined. She had been imprisoned by a man she did not love for years, and when she could no longer stand this torture, the man who was her ray of hope stood before her.

They were standing face to face when she replied, "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

Her hands were on groin, her nails tearing at the flesh on the sides of her fingers.

Baldwin replied, his voice filled with reproach. "You gave up on me, Maria. I learned of our separation from the letter your father sent to the palace. You didn't care to send a farewell letter."

Maria was crying. She looked into the king's eyes. "This is not true. I swear."

"Tell me what is right," he said. "Of course you couldn't go against your family, I understand that. But what about your love? Your fear got in the way of your love, and I couldn't read your last letter that smelled of roses, is that right?"

"No. You don't know how strict my father is. I wrote you letters many times. I wanted to send them secretly, but my nanny betrayed me. That's why I always got caught. I gave up because a young girl died in pain because of the letters I wrote you. I wasn't afraid of my father, Baldwin. I didn't want innocent people to suffer because of me." The words barely escaped her lips as she sobbed.

The girl took Baldwin's right hand, wrapped in a white bandage, and caressed it. But the effects of leprosy were beginning to set in again, and his arm was numb. What a disappointment it was not to be able to feel the woman he loved while she held his hand! "Oh God, please," he whispered. He did not care how great a sin adultery was. He wanted to feel the touch of the woman he loved. He wanted to experience the sexual urges he felt for the only woman in his life, past and future, who would love him. Not now, his inner voice said. He did not want to die without being drunk with Maria's love.

Baldwin took his right arm and pulled it from Maria's hands. He held out his left hand. "Come on Maria, come with me. We have a lot to talk about," he said. Although the princess realized that Baldwin could not use his right arm, she did not show anything so as not to upset him. So they went behind the silk veil.

The evening view of Jerusalem was almost under their feet. They sat on the couch. Their eyes met suddenly. It was the first time Maria saw her friend, her love, with a mask on his face, and it was painful for her soul.

"God has given you the most beautiful design of all his creations, Maria. You took me back to my childhood."

Maria smiled. "You too, my dear. The innocent, well-intentioned child standing before me has not changed at all."

Baldwin took offense. "You needn't pity me. I have been the god-cursed king for too long."

Maria put her hand on Baldwin's silver mask. Since she couldn't touch his skin, she had to be content with this. "You're still that boy I fell in love with." She caressed the cold, hard, emotionless mask. "The eyes looking with courage and hope. That boy whose character and heart I admired, has now grown up and become the greatest king the Latin Kingdom will ever witness."

There was surprise in Baldwin's voice. "Do you really think so?" He knew what was being said about him outside the borders of the kingdom. Even Saladin did not take him seriously at first. Until he saw that the king was a formidable enemy, he didn't respected him. Still, his illness had become a symbol of bad luck in many kingdoms, especially Byzantium, and had caused political relations to be damaged. If an agreement was made with the Latin kingdom, the curse of God would be poured upon them.

"Even if you gave me all the jewels in the world, it wouldn't satisfy me as much as your love." Her lips trembled, the area around her eyes turned red.

She was trying to control herself not to cry. She brought her face closer to Baldwin and buried her head in his neck, witnessing his scent and warmth. "You are not only the king of the holy land, but also the king of my heart," she said.

Baldwin was ashamed. He had never been so loved and pampered by a woman. He could even see his mother at political meetings. It had been a long time since he felt like a man. He had forgotten that he was a man because in other kingdoms he was nothing. Muslims called him a pig because they did not believe in the same God. Andalusian Arab historians spoke of him as a disgusting creature. According to Christians, he was the child of the devil and God punished him with ugliness and pain as a price for the cruelty and misery he would bring to the world. Jews living in his kingdom cursed their kings because they were not under the rule of a glorious king and prayed for his death. However, even though all that was left of that beautiful child was a piece of rotten flesh, he was reminded that he was human by the woman he loved, without knowing what he had become.

"You are here with me now, Maria. We may never meet again, but it is a great chance that you are here with me now."

Maria tried to smile, but tears were flowing relentlessly down her cheeks and down her chin, dampening Baldwin's white bandage. "I beg you, don't talk like that! Make me forget about reality for one night. Let's be in a fairy tale. Kiss me and let us to live happily ever after."

"I promise, Maria. I'll only make you live your fairy tale tonight."

Maria wrapped her arms around Baldwin's still feeling hand and lifted it into the air. She brought her lips close and kissed it longingly, many times.

Baldwin kept his word and wanted to talk about the good times.

"After reading the letter from the French court, William and I discussed whether she could still use a sword."

Maria wiped her tears and smiled. "I haven't used a sword since I got married. Hugh says it's not for women."

"It is unfair, the land of France has lost its best knight."

Maria shrugged. "If you're not my opponent, I don't care."

Baldwin's voice was full of affection. "We can reminisce whenever you want."

Maria snuggled up to Baldwin. She leaned her head on his chest. "It's okay, I don't want you to get tired."

Baldwin's numb arm was finally beginning to get feel, and he lifted his arm with difficulty and effort, and as he gently stroked Maria's hair, she looked happily at him without lifting her head from his chest.

"Maria, my beautiful queen. While my illness cannot prevent me from fighting the Ayyubids and leading my army, shall I miss the chance to duel with you? I will definitely be ready for it tomorrow."

"I would be honored, my king," said Maria. If she had married Baldwin, she would have been queen, and in their correspondence Baldwin always referred to Maria as "my queen." The fact that he addressed her with the same title, just like in the old days, showed the greatness of the love in his heart.

At the end of this entertaining conversation, Baldwin grew quiet. There was an inexplicable sadness in his voice. "You said your father was strict. You said a girl died because of us, Maria. What have you been through?"

Maria lowered her eyes as she remembered. Her eyes were red and a few tears slid down her cheeks to her chin.

"Several times one of the young maids helped me to smuggle letters into my room. The niche in the wall where i had once kept my doll was filled with letters from you. But the day the nanny discovered our secret, father showed no mercy. "she sobbed . "The young girl was punished by the priest reading verses from the Bible, supposedly purifying herself from her sins. Hot irons, daggers and hot oil. The girl fainted many times due to this unbearable pain and her weak body could not stand it anymore. The girl died."

"I never thought the emperor would be so afraid of our love that he would slander God. No God would allow such a punishment to be given to a virgin girl."

"I couldn't write you back. Because I never got to your last letter. The last time I saw it was among the gifts from you were being burned, in the middle of courtyard." She was sobbing and repeated over and over, "Forgive me, forgive me, my love."

Baldwin's heart ached as if it had been thrown into fire, and it was because of sadness and despair that Maria has.

"If I had a chance, if this curse would leave me alone, I would make you the happiest woman in the world," he said, stroking her hair.

But Maria, angered by this statement, rose harshly from her king's lap, her hands resting on Baldwin's groin, gripping the fabric of his robe tightly. "Please stop cursing your illness! You shouldn't care what people think. And I don't believe the thing what they think God says in bible. God holds you up as an instance to all; the kingdom of heaven is strengthened in your hands."

Baldwin put his bandaged hand around the girl's neck and pulled back the hair that covered her beautiful neck. "How can you be so sure about God, Maria? Are the priests wrong?"

"Did you not show your power, despite the limitations of your illness, and become a king loved by your people and respected by your enemies? You keep a part of God within you. You are not that man hated by God, Baldwin. If you were, I cannot imagine the illness that Hugh would have suffered," she said, laughing wryly at the last sentence.

When Baldwin returned her smile, Maria could tell by the sound he made as he laughed. and Maria thought.

"I would like to see your smile, enslaved by the mask, one last time, my dear," she said. There was sadness on her face.

Baldwin was embarrassed. "You know it's impossible, Maria."

Maria frowned. There was a half-mocking look on her face. "Why is that impossible? Has the evil witch completely transformed your face into a silver mask?"

"No, of course not. But the man under the mask has already killed the beautiful boy you remember."

"Then how come I'm looking into that boy's eyes?"

Maria slid off the couch and sat on her knees on the floor, looking pleadingly at the man she loved. For Baldwin, this was the moment he had feared.

"I beg you, let me touch your skin one last time, my dear."

The healers did not yet know about leprosy. There was only suspicion in their conversations. Despite this, they made definite statements and the worst thing was that it was contagious. Moreover, the woman he loved wanted to touch him. If anything happened to her, she would never forgive herself. Even this idea was enough to terrify him and he quickly stood up. He was going towards the window to get away from her.

"No, Maria. Don't ask me to do this!" But his muscles had become one with his illness and betrayed him once again. Baldwin lost control of his body for a moment and stumbled. Maria cried out as he lost his balance. "My love!"

Baldwin was down on one knee, his left hand on the ground, supporting his arm.

He felt that the woman he loved had hold his arm to save her king. When he looked up, Maria looked at him with a feeling that was companions of love and fear.

"Oh Maria." He didn't want her to see him like this, but fate betrayed him once again.

Baldwin got up with Maria's help. There was almost no distance between them. They were looking into each other's eyes with love. Despite the illness, the fake marriage, the years that passed, their love had not diminished even for a day. They could see the storms in the sea of love in their eyes.

"Come on, let me touch you one last time, Baldwin."

"If it infected to you, then I'll die."

"Nothing will happen, I promise."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I have what those incompetent healers lack."

"What was that?"

"Wouldn't some stupid servant have been infected by now?" Maria put her hand on the mask. "If they understood enough about the disease to be sure it was contagious, why couldn't they find a cure?"

Baldwin took Maria's hand and caressed it. "Okay then, I'll take off my mask. But if you care about me at all, don't ask to see my face."

Maria objected. “But…” But Baldwin was determined.

"I want you to always remember me as beautiful, Maria. Like that child whose beauty you admired and confessed to. Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my short life as an unhappy man."

Although Maria wanted to prove that she would love him in any way possible, Baldwin's request prevented her. Maybe not with words, but nodded, avoiding her eyes.

She closed her eyes and waited. But the king had another plan. When he left the dream queen and did not return for a while, Maria opened her eyes. Baldwin approached her with a piece of black cloth in his hand. He knew that Maria was a stubborn girl, so he had to make sure her eyes were closed. His hair, made of golden threads, had fallen out, leaving a purulent, bloody scalp in its place. His facial anatomy, which resembled a Greek statue, was now in a state of great destruction. His lips were falling apart, the bones in his nose were melting. He was not ready for Maria to see him like this, and he would never be ready. His concreteness should live as a memory, in Maria's dreams.

He lifted the cloth up and folded it into a strip to fit his eyes. It was much better this way. He could now let her touch him freely. He placed the piece of cloth over Maria's eyes, wrapped it around her head, and tied it at the back as ribbon. When her eyes closed, the pinkness of her sweet lips could be seen in all its glory. What wouldn't he give to kiss those lips? Her kiss reminded him of God's forgiving side. But all he had to do was get rid of the mask. He took it off, praying that everything would go well.

While Maria was waiting for Baldwin, the world was pitch black for her. It was like a blind man trying to witness life. Her ears were much more sensitive now. She could hear the friction of the silver mask sliding across his skin. She waited. She waited for the best moment for Baldwin.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Maria had been ready for him years ago.

Baldwin gently held the girl's wrists, as cautiously as if he were holding a glass rose branch. He could not control his breathing rhythm in excitement as he brought her delicate fingers close to his deformed face. And when her fingertips finally touched his rough skin, Maria sighed with joy. He needed to feel this warmth so much that he had finally managed to overcome the despair that had been following him for years.

“Baldwin,” she said, her voice catching in her breath. The happy expression on her face gave way to a sad plea. She took his face between her hands and caressed his cheeks with the thumbs. "I missed you so much. I had a hard time not rebelling against the fate that separated us. But God rewarded me with you for my wait."

"You are the only sin I do not regret, the only sin I will not beg God to forgive me, Maria," Baldwin said. Nontheless Maria's fingers seemed to be trying to explore the face of the man she loved. She saw nothing. If someone else had been standing in front of her instead of Baldwin, it would not have mattered. Still, she saw the anatomy of his face not with her eyes but with her touch. Baldwin's words fueled the impossible love she felt for him.

"You too, my love," she said, rising on her toes and pressing her lips against the calloused, chapped lips of the man she loved. A passionate act that proves that she doesn't care about his illness. Maria's lips were the heaven Baldwin had not experienced in this life. Baldwin's lips must have been dark sin for a married woman. But this sin was only the price of their desperate separation.

They said goodbye to each other for the last time, feeling their skin, before their love was lost in the sands of Jerusalem. Baldwin's virgin lips were alive with a woman's lust, and he didn't want this moment to end. God, I wish time would stop right now. If only the fairy tale these two poor lovers were living would never end.

Maria put one arm around the king's neck. With her other hand she felt around his body and found his hand and held it. She put his hand on her breasts. She squeezed his hand together to show him that she wanted him to caress it. Baldwin's hand was on the princess's breast while her hand was on his hand. Their kisses were much more passionate now. Their tongues were dancing on the wet skin. Their lips were in awe, as if they were reading a verse from the Bible. Baldwin slid his hand from his princess's breast and down to the curve of her waist. Her body shape had such an aesthetic. Her rounded lines were satisfactory. He almost lost himself in the complicated paths of love. But he suddenly remembered that he had to protect the honor and dignity of the woman he loved. He didn't want her to see her as an unchaste woman who was cheating on husband with another man. Baldwin turned away from her. “We must stop now, my lady,” he said. “This is not right for you.” He took his mask from the table where it had been placed and began to place it on his face.

"But we both want this. Or have you given up on loving me?"

He was so close to her as he untied her blindfold, he could feel her body heat. "Maybe my body will not live thirty years, but my soul will be exalted with love for you, my queen." He said. When she removed the tape completely, Maria was once again face to face with the mask that had ruined the life of the man she loved. But despite everything, she was grateful that she could look into his eyes. "Forever," he said and she looked into his beautiful eyes as he finished the sentence.

Maria's eyes got wet again. "My love is yours forever, my king," she replied.

Unfortunately, the end of this miraculous moment came early. William called out before entering. She was startled.

"Your Majesty, I have to take the princess away now."

Baldwin caressed the girl's cheek one last time. "My moon-skinned love, with eyes brighter than the sun. You gave me the most beautiful gift in the world. Thank you, I am grateful to you."

He had so much more to say, but whatever he didn't talk about turned into tears in his eyes after she left. He had to calm down before going to the banquet and pretend that this moment had never happened.

[justrainandcoffee]

The sun always rises again (Farrier x fem!oc) Part II.

Masterlist - Part I

Summary: 1940 Dunkirk, France. Farrier, Collins and thousands of soldiers are fighting at the same time they're waiting for their evacuation. The Air Force is exactly where they need them to be. || In Sussex, his wife and kids are awaiting for him, although something tells Maggie that it wasn't going to be easy.

Warnings: Angst. Some old fashioned thoughts. Mentions of war and all related to it. Daisy Preston belongs to @emotionalcadaver. || Same as I did with Farrier, I also invented Collins' name.

Words: 3k.

1938-1940

"I bought you something," Maggie said giving him a small box that contained a new watch.

"Love, you didn't have to. It's really nice."

"I wanted you to have something that reminds you of me. It has our initials engraved on the back.

"And our wedding date," he added reading it.

Maggie nodded. She had been avoiding to show her sorrow, but every minute it has become difficult to achieve.

They needed him, of course they needed him. An elite pilot as he was, it was always necessary. The air force was an essential part of this new, but not unexpected, war. Although probably, no one knew the magnitude of it nor the damage that it was about to cause.

"Jack is already there?" she asked refering to Collins. His best friend and also their son's godfather.

"He is. And the rest of them as well. But they're going to separate us. Although, at least, Collins and I we're going to be in the same group."

"Together as always," Maggie said trying to smile. But a single tear betrayed her.

William knew she was trying to show him that she was going to be fine, that she was strong so he could leave without worrying, but he knew better. Of course his wife was strong and was perfectly capable of taking care of the house, the kids and herself. But that didn't mean she was okay with it. Farrier put the watch in his pocket and hugged her. He felt her hands clutching his jacket and how she started to sob against his chest.

"I promise to be back, sweetheart. To you and to the kids."

"I'm scared," Maggie finally confessed.

"I know, love. But, I'll be back and when I do, I think we can make another mini-us," he said, putting his hand on her belly and smiling at her. "Or two. We did it well before."

"Maybe we can," she admitted, feeling his arms embracing her tightly.

"I know I don't say it so frequently as I should, but I love you, Maggie. I really love you."

"I know you do, Will. I don't need you to tell me it all the time, I can see it. You're the most perfect husband I could ask for. I wish I could do something about this and prevent you to go to hell."

"You can't. But I'll survive."

Alone in the kitchen, William kissed his wife. It was a soft, slow kiss. Like trying to keep this memory of them together for the last time forever in his mind. Her hand was caressing his cheek and he had the other against his chest. Her tears fell down her cheeks and he could taste them in his own mouth but he didn't mind. When they pulled apart, he wiped them away with his thumb.

"You don't know how lucky I am," William said looking at her. "I love you, Maggie."

"I love you too, Will."

A car outside was already waiting for him, but he took his time to kiss her again.

Their kids were in the living room. Clara ran into his father arms and hid her little face in his neck "don't go, papa."

"I have to, Clarie, but I'm going to return, yes? Be a good girl. Can you promise me that? Help your mother, okay darling?"

The little girl nodded. Then, William turned to look at his son "you too, Ed. You're the man of the house, now. Don't make your mother angry and helped her. She needs you. Will you behave and help her?"

"Yes, sir!" The kid responded, saluting him.

His father nodded "You're a good little man, Edward."

William kissed Maggie once last time. He touched reddish hair with his fingers. He always loved her hair. In the mornings, when the sunlight entered through the bedroom's window it seemed to shine. And the freckles on her shoulders accentuated that.

Farrier was going to miss his family. He knew that. The last image he saw of them was the children hugging their mother and Maggie looking at him go, without knowing if he was going to return.

Contrary to regular soldiers forced to be on the battlefield for long periods, his position required him to go back to safe place because planes required maintenance and fuel.

After six months there, Farrier asked permission to return home for two weeks as it's was allowed to do but they refused his request. They needed him.

"They needed me, too!" He wasn't a man who easily lost his temper, but sometimes his superiors tested his patience.

Collins and Farrier had a free day. Farrier could call his wife and heard her calmed him a bit. Things back in home were fine. Edward lost one of his deciduous teeth and was happy when he saw that the fairy teeth left him money under his pillow. Although, Maggie said, he was determinated to give his money to the soldiers. Until one of them, gently, told the boy that any soldier could be happy if he kept the coin for himself or bought something nice for his mother.

"He bought me a cake," Maggie said and Farrier knew she was smiling. "Clara, him and me ate it drinking tea that same afternoon."

"He's a good boy. Kind as you are, my love."

"Ed is a little gentleman as his father is," she said "it's really sad that you can't come, Will."

"I'm furious. They promised me time with my family, like the rest of them! It's… it's frustrating. Maybe I can do it for Christmas."

"That would be beautiful. I'm planning to buy a new tree and Clara wants to decorate it with ribbons. Do you remember that doll she saw in town? I bought it already."

William couldn't help but smile imagining the house decorated for holidays. When he was there, the four of them helped to decorate it. The smell of the delicious food, his kids playing in front of the fireplace… he missed them. Marguerite was the best wife and mother he knew. It wasn't egocentrism, but he knew she really missed him. Farrier knew her very well and knew how difficult it was for her and yet, there she was proving herself that she was stronger than she believed.

"You have to go, I know," she said later "I love you."

"I love you too. I'll call as soon as I can."

"I'll be waiting. Kids send you their love, too. Take care, okay, Will?"

"Promise."

.

"If it's helps," Collins said to him later when they were walking into a bar where other soldiers were and looking how annoyed he was, "They don't allowed me to go home either. How's the family?"

"Kids are waiting for Christmas already and Maggie is trying her best to keep them entertained."

"I need to send them something, I think. What kind of cool uncle I am, if not?"

"Edward presumes the planes you sent him to anyone who has time to listen to him," Farrier commented refering to a collection of wooden planes that Collins sent to him a year ago for his birthday. "You already are the coolest uncle."

"I know, of course I am," the blond man smirked, but then added more seriously "your kids are good and so is Maggie. This has to end sooner than later and you'll be able to get back to them."

Farrier sip the beer in front of him and looked at his best friend "if something happens to me, promise me you're going to take care of them."

"Wiliam…"

"No, don't try to tell me that everything will be alright because we both know how things work. How many of our soldiers already died? Pilots, too! We're not the exception, Jack! So if I die, I want to do it knowing that my kids and Maggie will be okay. They trust you."

"They're waiting for you, not me. So don't think those stupid things because I know very well that you could sell your soul to the devil if that means to go back to them, Farrier!"

"The devil nowadays live in Germany, Collins, and don't think he wants my soul."

Jack Collins nodded "if something happens to you, I'll take care of your family, William."

"Thanks."

.

But William couldn't go to his house that Christmas, although he sent cards, chocolate and money to them. And the morning of the 25th, he had the chance to talk to his children.

Both Edward and Clara were already sleeping, but Maggie wasn't. The woman was in the dining room with a cup of tea in her hands and a plate of cookies next to her, that she and the kids baked that morning. Through the window, she could hear the ocean, too dark to see it, but the sound of the waves was clear. Some lights in the distance indicated that fishermen were in their boats waiting to catch the best fish.

Maggie wonder how many times her own mother sat exactly where she was waiting for her husband while Maggie and her brother were sleeping same as her kids right now. She promised herself more than once not to follow her mother's steps. Mrs. Lewis didn't abandon them, but her mind always seemed to be somewhere else and not in the present. Like it was always 1914 and the man she loved was going to return.

Maggie dreamt about having a family like the one she now had, but William wasn't in her plans. Probably she hoped to marry a carpenter, a teacher or a fisherman even, but she didn't want nothing to do with men involved in the military field. She didn't want to be her mother. And yet, when William appeared everything she promised herself evaporated the moment her eyes found his. And there she was, like the woman she promised herself not to be.

She didn't know what her father promised her mother, if he even promised something, but she did believe William's word. He promised to return and something made her believe his words.

The Farriers saw the landscape of Sussex changed with every season that passed. Christmas arrived again and the man of the house was still absent.

By 1940, Edward was already seven years and Clara five. Maggie found a new job as the secretary of a doctor near the school were the kids studied. With almost no men in whole Great Britain, pubs were almost empty all the time and incomings weren't the best. This new job also gave her the opportunity to spend more time in her house and didn't take time from his old neighbor who looked after her kids when she wasn't around.

"We're going to France. Dunkirk."

That was the last time she spoke to him. A rescue mission organised by Churchill himself.

May of 1940 was ending and the news weren't good at all. Operation Dynamo, it was called. The objective was to rescue at least 29,000 soldiers from France and bring them back to England. The Royal Air Force, where William and Collins served, was required. It was the only way to stop the bombings of the enemies.

"You can do this, Will," she said. "I love you."

.

"You can do this, Will. I love you."

William saw the panel in front of him and checked the fuel. Still had enough gallons to do that.

The vast and infinite sea was behind him. Under any other circumstances he'd take some minutes to enjoy the view but he couldn't.

Farrier only wanted to leave that place as soon as possible and doing it alive. Now yes, his superiors authorized him to return home. Finally, after a year and a half. All he wanted in this world was that. His kids and Maggie hugging him, his house and the smell of the food prepared by her. He loved her meals. He loved her.

"Fortis 2," he called.

Collins replied immediately. "Here, Fortis 2."

"What's your fuel, Fortis 2?"

"70 gallons, Fortis 1."

Farrier took notes.

At the beach, hospital ships were carrying the injured soldiers. A lot of them in critical conditions, so bad that probably lot of them were going to die before reaching England. Thousand of soldiers strong enough to be on their feet were waiting their turn to be evacuated.

And above their heads, the enemies. It didn't matter if the hospital ships should be untouchable, in theory. They dropped bombs against them, too, killing the poor soldiers, nurses and doctors.

"Where's the bloody air force?!"

Dodging the enemies and down them, was easier to say that to do. The Spitfires were amazing planes piloted by elite pilots but so were the others.

"I have no eyes on Fortis Leader," William said. He had shot one of the enemies and it collapsed in front of him. "Fortis, 2, answer."

Collins dodged another plane before responding "Understood, Fortis 1. Orbit for a look."

Over the sea, help was coming but not quickly enough. Not when you're floating in middle of the ocean with seawater entering your lungs. When despair is filling your mind.

When your best friend is floating next to you already dead.

.

Maggie was nervous that day. The skies above her were clean and only birds were flying there.

No planes. Not Spitfires. Not him.

She knew something was wrong and couldn't explain why, but she feel it in her heart.

Her kids were fighting that day. It wasn't uncommon they were just kids, and siblings, but in her current state she couldn't tolerate it and yelled at them. Both kids stayed quiet immediately and apologized. She regretted in the moment, too.m, she wasn't like that. Every time she corrected them, she did it firmly but calm, not like that.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" she said kissing their heads

"It's okay, mom. We're going to behave. We promise dad that," Edward said and his sister nodded.

"Thanks, Ed. Today I'm not feeling well, that's all. But it's anyone fault. Just…just a bad day."

.

"He's on me, Fortis 1!" announced Collins to Farrier.

"And I am on him!"

William managed to destroyed that plane. But Collins didn't have time to celebrate because another one, shot him.

Farrier wanted to swear. He wasn't that kind of man, but that was a good moment to say fuck. Not Collins. Not his best friend. He saw smoke in one of the wings.

William allowed himself to look down. Some ships were around them. Collins was prepared enough to water landing, if he succeeded, then he could be safe. And then, only him will remain in the air.

"Forty gallons," said his friend and Farrier nodded.

"Just do it," Farrier commanded. "Jack, remember your promise."

Jack stayed quiet as he began to descend on the sea "I do remember. Good luck, Farrier."

"Good luck, Collins."

.

He was rescued. Luckily alive. A man, his son and a pretty lady helped him to get in the boat. A black haired soldier was there wrapped around a blanket, shaking and apparently in his own mind.

Collins raised his eyes to the sky. Only one plane against the rest. The odds weren't favourable, but it was also true that his friend was a hell of pilot. If anyone could do it was him.

"Come on, Farrier." He said for first, but not last time.

.

The fuel tank was almost empty but he felt in his heart that he could do that.

His mind was focus on his target and every enemy plane that fell, meant that he was nearing home.

Maggie. He needed to do that for her. If he wanted to return home, he needed to succeed.

There wasn't more fuel on the tank and the the plane was using the propulsion system to stay in the air. New bombs from the enemies but those were the last ones before Farrier destroyed in hundreds of pieces the last enemy. Where he was, he didn't hear the cheers. The happiness of them, meant the victory that Churchill wanted.

He flew over his heads. He could see the boats and ships rescue them and felt peace. Although he didn't know what was going to happen to him. Sun was starting to hide as he began to land his faithful plane. And yet, Fortis 1 needed to die.

He was alone in the beach, or so he believed, when finally the wheels touched the sand. He took his gun from his vest and shot at it. Fortis 1 combusted almost immediately and he remained in silence watching the fire that contrasted with the sunset in that moment. Then, he heard voices and a gun on his back. Germans.

Farrier didn't know that, but in that moment to calm her anxiety and nerves, his wife was at the beach. Her feet were touching the sea, like if somehow she could connect with him. Her red hair was moving in the wind.

She was crying and he wasn't there to comfort her. She didn't want to think the worst, but why her heart ached that bad? Maggie sat down on the sand and hugged her knees, she hid her face against them and cried.

Her mother was right. All those years, she was right. The pain of waiting couldn't be described.

.

"Going home?" The sweet girl named Daisy asked Collins when they were finally at the pier and the train was ready to take the soldiers home. Some of them were rude towards him, but he ignored them.

"Sussex," he replied.

"You live there?"

"No. My best friend live there… the other pilot. William Farrier is his name, his wife and kids… I need to tell them that him-"

Collins couldn't finish the sentence. Daisy put a hand in his arm.

"Maybe he's alive and well… hope is something invaluable these times. Have hope, Collins."

Jack Collins nodded and said goodbye. He fell asleep in the train thinking what and how, he's going to tell Maggie the news.

_____

FINAL

[tai-janai]

Whole bunch of speculation that may go no where.

To get chapter III in Witch, we either fight her, abandon her (Wild) or give her the blade (Thorn). To get the Witch vessel it's trying to leave together (regardless of who betrays who or success).

To get Chapter III in Spectre you can repeatedly try to slay/grab her, abandon her, refuse possession or break her bones (Wraith). To get the Spectre vessel you allow her to possess you (regardless if you choose to leave or slay her afterwards).

Us leaving with Sly Spectre feels similar to leaving with Witch, leading to chapter II vessels. And us getting Sly Spectre Vessel.

Possession by the Sly Spectre (in which we would of gotten Maze) feels a bit similar to giving Witch the knife. We're giving her the power (blade or our body) over us. There's the theme of agency so far in STH. Giving her the blade would give her control over the situation (and prevent us from repeating what we did last time). But would that be too similar to letting Spectre possess us? In which it's a Chapter II Vessel. Though perhaps continuously fighting her will bring us the Chapter II Vessel as we continue to deny her (like Sharp Damsel). But instead of looking at how to get Chapter III, let's focus more on the individual heroines.

Sly Spectre has a lot of Witch's anger and suspicion. She doesn't think much of our apology. She has the same desire to leave like Spectre, but like Witch, she does plan to betray you when she gets her moment (from what we know of Maze). With this in mind;

Wavering Witch may not hold the same grudge as Witch does, being more like Spectre. She doesn't seem that mad at us when we kill her, more confused. She goes out of her way to show she doesn't have an interest in fighting back by dodging us instead of attacking back. Like giving us a chance to back off. That we didn't take obviously. She seems more keen in discussing with us.

That doesn't mean she won't try to attack us back, if we continue to disregard her mercy.

I am curious what aspects of Witch she will retain. She is the Wavering Witch. Perhaps she plans to still try to escape with us but if we continue to make her feel threaten, she'll decide it's better us dead. Like Spectre with the heart. But then again, that's tying more to her Spectre qualities than Witch whoops.

ANYWAYS, this is just a whole bunch of thoughts! This was meant to be a short ask haha. Just thought you may want to hear, tough I may be waayyyyy of mark lol

Can you tell I'm excited for Witch?

hehehe.!!! i mean if you keep shooting, eventually one thing or the other will hit yeah ? hehe

there's a lot that's pretty exciting here, im glad to see youre relating what you know from the sly spectre. (there is one part in particular i keep giggling menacingly at,)

it'll be fine ! i think it will make quite a bit more sense when you actually see the girl ! though of course that will be after you make the big route-altering decision ;>

m so glad people are excited. i hope im not hyping her up too much shes just eheheehehee ><

[griefdestined]

tag drop

ii. ‘ tan robes and tea. ’ ┈ « aesthetic. » i. ‘ there will come a poet whose weapon is his word. ’ ┈ « character study. » i. ‘ the negotiator. ’ ┈ « visage. » i. ‘ behind blue eyes. ’ ┈ « desires. »   i. ‘ who is more foolish. ’ ┈ « thoughts. » i. ‘ if you strike me down. ’ ┈ « headcanons. » ii. ‘ be mindful of your thoughts. they betray you. ’ ┈ « relations. » ii. ‘ the hallways they echoed & groaned. ’ ┈ « music. » ii. ‘ skill is the child of patience. ’ ┈ « skillset. » ii. ‘ i see people turn their heads & quickly look away. ’ ┈ « wardrobe. » ii. ‘ first step into a larger world. ’ ┈ « past. »

x. ‘ everything’s under control. situation normal. ’ ┈ « mobile. »

iii. ‘ incoming transmission. ’ ┈ « answered. » iii. ‘ it was said you would destroy the sith not join them. ’ ┈ « meme. » iii. ‘ that time has passed. ’ ┈ « queue. » iv. ‘ i have spoken ’ ┈ « ooc. » iii. ‘ not the droids you are looking for. ’ ┈ « starter. » iv. ‘ i have the high ground. ’ ┈ « shitposts. » iv. ‘ hello there. ’ ┈ « promo. » iv. ‘ the force will always be with you. ’ ┈ « self promo. » v. ‘ y’all hear sum’n. ’ ┈ « psa. » iii. ‘ they beg me to write them. ’ ┈ « wishlist. » v. ‘ all you need is love. ’ ┈ « positivity. »   iii. ‘ i will not ask you where you came from. ’ ┈ « quotes. »   iv. ‘ a vast collection of knowledge. ’ ┈ « archive. »

[chibimyumi]

Hey! I really liked your analysis and they got me back into the manga. Thank you so much! By the way, I was wondering what are your thoughts on Yana Taboso's writing? I think she's really good at foreshadowing and making strong characters but I could do with less fanservice. Anyway I'm curious and thank you for the blog recomendations. Also please take care of yourself and take the time you need. Self care is important!

Dear Anon,

Thank you for your considerateness and sweetness! (*ÓAÒ*) You take care of yourself too! After having indulged in your thoughtfulness, I now finally come to your ask (^3^)

The great things!!

I entirely agree with you that Yana is very good at foreshadowing and making strong characters. I personally find it amazing that Yana managed to take the super stale “secret twin” trope.......but made it INTERESTING AND ACTUALLY NICE!! I didn’t know this trope could be nice until Yana happened!

Another thing I find stunning about Yana is how incredibly skilled she is at language. Kuro is still really nice translated, but I cannot stress enough how goosebumps-inducing it is when read in the original Japanese. Hence my “Lost in Translation” series...

Obviously there are countless things I find amazing about Yana, otherwise I wouldn’t have this blog to begin with... but what truly blows my mind most is her ability to fix things. She clearly wrote herself into a corner at the beginning with characters like Lizzie, Meyrin, Grell - and to some extent also Lau - and yet managed to get herself out of those corners by just PUNCHING A HOLE through the wall.

Before and After

I am eternally impressed that Yana wrote Lizzie to be nothing but a foil for O!Ciel to show off his virtues, and yet managed to turn that around for most people.

Yana never pretended she did not write Lizzie to be the main source of annoyance for O!Ciel, but she did give Lizzie's past behaviour some substance at least. If anyone is interested, in this post I have gone into a bit more detail about how Yana has changed her writing of Lizzie over time.

The first time I met Meyrin I thought it was just English “Maylene” or something, and I had no idea why her language was so weird. When I first read in the Character Guide that she is supposed to be Chinese, I gasped. “Wait, is THAT supposed to be the indicator of her Chineseness......!? OMG.... YANA!?”

In Japan because Chinese people are phenotypically almost identical to Japanese people, the way Chinese people are stereotyped in Japanese media is usually bad Japanese. This choice of Yana’s betrayed her susceptibility to this degrading stereotype..... like she had against women... *points at Lizzie*, LGBT people... *points at Nina and Grell*.........

Even though Yana had written herself into this corner which unfortunately established Meyrin as character, she still managed to SORTA save Meyrin. In this post “Lost in Translation IV” I explained how she did so. TL;DR: The flashbacks of Meyrin proves that Meyrin’s English is perfectly fine, and that her “Engrish” is in fact the result of her understandable failure at mimicking Sebastianese.

Though even at the beginning it was quite clear that Lau is more intelligent than he lets on, Yana did not do a great job at showing that Lau’s clown act was intentional. It seemed more like Lau was a clown most of the time, but had his bright moments every now and then... and then there is also the stereotype of THE Chinese man who is hellbent on making references to Chinese culture at every given chance.

Ever since the Mansion Murder Arc however, it became very apparent that Lau truly was using his clown facade to lower other people’s guards against him. That was very cool! But in the Weston Arc, it became explicit that Lau actively used Chinese stereotypes to use other people’s bigotry against themselves, and I applauded it! In this post I wrote a bit about me cackling at the relatableness of that action by Lau’s.

I have already written a lot about how Yana has been making amends for how dirty she had done Grell and who she is supposed to represent, so I shall not add anything anymore. Basically, this post sums it all up.

So.... these characters are more or less fixed.... Yana...redeem Nina or just yeet her please.... she is funny, but insufferable.

The not so great things......

Yeah... I really could do with less fan-service..... Yana, your writing and art is good enough to maintain a good fanbase... you don’t need to pander to creepos to hold down your job. PLEASE. This even actively goes against the message you seem like trying to convey. You portrayed an entire pedophilic cult, one narcissistic pedophile (Druitt), and another crippled pedophile (Kelvin) as revolting for preying on children, but then you do this yourself??? WHICH IS IT, YANA? STAHP. The minors who like this stuff are vulnerable to you sexualising them, and the adults who like and support this don’t deserve any more feeding........ STAHHHPPP!!!

Another thing I think Yana could do better is consistency.... ESPECIALLY with Sebastian ≽▽≼ At times his demon powers are just plot convenience... Click here for the most blatant inconsistencies in Kuro in my opinion.

The final thing I wish to mention is probably a very widely shared one... namely pacing. If you read Kuro in one go the pacing is in fact pretty good in my opinion, but the chapters are really short and there’s a month between every one of them. Whether a chapter is the old 40-50 pages per chapter, or the current 9 pages at worst nowadays... we still pay for the same price... Yana.... please take a break. We love you, and we will also after a break.

Well, that’s been it for me ^^ What do you all love the most and hate the most about Yana’s work?

Related posts:

Lost in Translation I

Lost in Translation II

Lost in Translation III

Lost in Translation IV

Inconsistencies in Kuroshitsuji

Nina......the predatory queer.... omg

Druitt.... the predatory queer-coded pedophile...omg

[abouthoundsandlittlebirds]

Can you speak more to your Kirin and Kagura theory? Was Kagura sent to the future by Kirinmaru to protect her? If so, how does Riku know jack shit and think Rin is the mom? Or, if he’s purposefully lying to Towa about Rin being her mom, why would he do that? All I know is Riku looks hella sus whenever he’s with Towa, and especially when he mentions Rin.

Sorry for the late answer, anon, I was gathering information for your question. Surely I will share with you what I've thought so far, knowing that this is only an incomplete theory and not a certainty about what may happen in the future of Hanyo no Yashahime.

Since this post will be long and may contain spoilers I will add a cut, so keep reading if you don't mind it.

Recently I came across a theory that Osamu Kirin is one of Kirinmaru's offsprings, being this the reason why Kirinmaru could see the future through Osamu's eyes. Actually this kind of power was introduced to InuYasha OG show through Kanna's mirror and Byakuya's flying eyeball, allowing Naraku to see what they were seeing. We get to know about Osamu and Kirinmaru's connected view in episode 23 of Hanyo no Yashahime, where Osamu is looking at the sky at an airport rooftop(?) and saw the comet that comes to Earth every 470/500 years (conflicted translations in the videos I've watched). Shortly after this scene is over, we can see Kirinmaru also watching the same comet, even if it is only shown in the Reiwa period at that moment.

When I've first watched episode 22 and 23 of Hanyo no Yashahime I didn't give a second thought about those events, however now I recognize that they are VERY important to the storytelling. That is why episode 22 ended with the airport scene and episode 23 began with the continuation of this same scene.

There are three important things to notice with the airport event: The first is the connection between Osamu Kirin and Kirinmaru that I've mentioned above (and I am not the best choice to talk further about it, since it is a theory that belongs to another person); Second, Osamu Kirin thought that the comet could be seen by humans at the Reiwa Era, since as pointed out by Sota, the notice of the comet approaching the Earth's atmosphere is being spread through humans; and, the third one is that Osamu Kirin was actually waiting for somebody at the airport, since in the end of episode 22 he shows surprise to see the Higurashi family over there and chooses to make a comunication with Sota in order to catch information about Towa’s wellbeing and to do remarks about the comet instead of following his way.

Now, rewatching episode 15 that is when we first knew about the comet, Riku tells Kagome that every 500 years the comet approaches the Earth atmosphere and drops some fragments. Those fragments if not stopped by a powerful demon and by Meido Zangetsuha technic which is the only attack that can be used to definitively stop it (this note was stated by Jaken in episode 15 and is very important and the reason why InuYasha was kept alive, since he is the only one who can hold Tetsusaiga and summon it), will bring the age of destruction to Earth, the exact same thing that the Spirit of the Tree of Ages (also known as Treekyo) says that is going to happen in episode 4, planned by Sesshomaru and Kirinmaru. The first because he abdicated his title as Lord of the West and the second because he saw an opportunity in it to do as he wanted. We can see it through Sesshomaru's choice in InuYasha OG show and in the reaction of Kirinmaru when the comet appears in the Feudal Era soon after Sesshomaru's daughters were born.

Sesshomaru as the first born of Inu no Taisho was supposed to have heinreted the role of his late father as the ruler of the youkais of the West, that is why Toga left Tenseiga with the hidden power of Meidou Zangetsuha to Sesshomaru, which was the most powerful attack that Inu no Taisho had (perhaps because he believed that InuYasha wouldn’t survive many years with Kirinmaru hunting half-demons). However, Sesshomaru only released this power when Kagura died. In the episode 3 of InuYasha - The Final Act, Totosai says to Sesshomaru that something grew where Sesshomaru's heart was lacking, that is why Tenseiga reacted to his change of heart and was now ready to recieve the Meidou Zangetsuha. However, later on The Final Act, Sesshomaru gave this power to the Tetsusaiga, InuYasha's heinreted sword that the first born couldn't held, meaning that he couldn’t summon this power anymore even if he wanted. Even if Bakusaiga is a powerful weapon, only the Meidou Zangetsuha is able to fully erase the comet’s fragments, like we saw in episode 15 of Hanyo no Yashahime when InuYasha and Sesshomaru fought against it and in episode 22 where Toga and Kirinmaru destroyed it themselves in the past.

If we pay attention to Kirinmaru's reaction after the comet was destroyed in episode 15 we can see that he wasn't worried about the fragment being destroyed, even if it was his role alongside to Sesshomaru to make sure that the peace on the Earth should prevail. Yet, his place in that fight was taken by Sesshomaru and Sesshomaru's place was taken by InuYasha. Yet, in episode 23 the reaction of Kirinmaru about the comet fragment in Reiwa Era is quite the opposite, whatsoever. Kirinmaru seemed to be worried and angry to have to face the comet and he imediately went to InuKimi's place to know if the wheel of time moved and he even tried to gossip about the intentions of Sesshomaru with Akuru's pinwheel.

Knowing that Kirinmaru's intentions seems to face the comet himself, he needs Meidou Zangetsuha to destroy it in Reiwa Era. This seems to be the reason why he was kind of frustrated to know that Zero had broken Tenseiga. Since Tenseiga was the previous host of that technic, his intentions could be to return Meidou Zangetsuha to Sesshomaru's “useless weapon”, which means that he could get rid of InuYasha at least. However, with Tenseiga being broken and the comet approaching even more the Earth’s surface, he will have no choice but to spare InuYasha once more, and fight alonside with him.

By his actions, even if he put aside his plans of getting rid of half-demons, Kirinmaru is afraid of the prophecy of the Shikon no Tama about his death being true. That is why even if he thought that the Yashahimes were weak he still fought against them for a second time and killed Setsuna in the process. His problem with those girls is that they have Inu no Taisho's blood. The two Lords used to be pretty amiable with each other before Toga took a human as the mother of his second child, after being aware of the prophecy that a being that is neither human nor demon would kill Kirinmaru. Taking this action as a sign of treason in their alliance, Kirinmaru made Toga his enemy and would've fought against him if Inu no Taisho wasn't severely wounded as we saw in episode 21. Also, the events of this episode related to Toga's death would explain why Kirinmaru doesn't trust too much on Riku anymore, since his offspring couldn't arrive on time to save his enemy/friend's life. Riku must have sensed it too, because he went to Zero's side and openly betrayed his master in episode 24.

This lack of trust was the reason why Osamu Kirin was created. Kirinmaru needed a trustful subject. He didn’t trust too much in the Four Perils or in his sister. That is why he used Riku to deliver the medicinal herbs to Toga. It could be seen as a meanless job, yet the inefficiency of doing it had consequences. Riku now is no longer the first choice of Kirinmaru to do errands, meaning that he is indeed a pirate washed ashore like it was written in his introduction chart in episode 7.

We actually don’t know the reason or how longer Kirinmaru was sleeping before being waken up by Zero. What we know is that he lost his will to return to sleep when he knew that Sesshomaru had half-demons daughters and that InuYasha was alive and fathered a shi-hanyo. Soon after he knew this, Sesshomaru was introduced in his presence and offered help to kill InuYasha (thanks to him his brother’s life was spared).

If I may speculate over here, then my guess would be that Kirinmaru fell asleep after he heard that Sesshomaru was hunting InuYasha in order to obtain Tetsusaiga or when he learned that InuYasha was sealed by Kikyo’s sacred arrow. Kirinmaru doesn’t seem to be concerned about all the half-demons around, only with those who carries Inu no Taisho’s blood. We actually know that Zero was hunting half-demons, that is why Kirinmaru went to sleep and left the hard work for her to do. Even if Zero has no longer her powers, she could still get rid of half-demons, since Riku stated in episode 15 that Kirinmaru and Toga were the most powerful demons around 500 years ago, meaning that their bloodline is pretty exquisite.

Returning to the theory, after InuYasha and Kagome were sealed in the black pearl, Sesshomaru became the guardian of Izayoi’s tear. As said in episode 15 by Hosenki II, the black pearl is the only (actually easiest) way to go to Inu no Taisho’s resting place. Without it, Kirinmaru wouldn’t be able to reach InuYasha any longer and curiously Kirinmaru allowed Sesshomaru to become the pearl’s guardian.

Temporarily it should be a solved problem, but 4 years after Sesshomaru’s twins were born something may have happened that led Kirinmaru to doubt about his decision, being Yotsume a crucial proof of it.

When we first see Yotsume disguised as Sokyu in episode 1 of Hanyo no Yashahime, he tells Towa about a story that he heard ten years ago about a priestess called Kagome that time-travelled across the bone-eating-well located in Tokyo and alongside a half-demon called InuYasha she hunted demons. It could be a meanless information, if in the next scene we didn’t see a flashback of him in his original form watching Kagome, which seems to be at least 5 years earlier than the backstory he got to know, since that scene happened in the day that Root-Head attacked Kaede’s village, way before Moroha were born. Here then we have a mismatched speach. This means that even if Yotsume was watching Kagome that day, he didn’t know about her ability of time-travelling. So when Kagome were sealed with InuYasha in the black pearl, Kirinmaru didn’t know about her, since they were sealed soon after Moroha was born, meaning it must be more than 14 years ago.

The main question at this moment should be what happened in the four years after Kagome and InuYasha were sealed that led Yotsume to gather information about the origin of InuYasha’s wife. We can speculate as much as we want about it, but the main fact is that probably Osamu Kirin only time-travelled to the future ten years ago. But why? And how?

Whatever the reason for it, it is related to the forest fire that threw appart the twins and Rin becoming Zero’s shield. For four years Kirinmaru held back Zero, stopping her desire to kill Sesshomaru’s daughter. This action could be a proof of faith that Kirinmaru gave to Sesshomaru. Yet, this faith was broken and he decided to not give anymore protection to the twins’ life.

In episode 24 Zero tells Kirinmaru that the rainbow pearls are her tears and she is able to find it wherever and whenever she wants. It is a controversial saying, because in episode 15 she knew that the white and yellow pearls were with Sesshomaru’s daughters, yet she lost track of them inside the barrier that Jaken had casted soon as they were born. So at that time she wasn’t looking for the girls. And even if she could sense the presence of her tears, she was only able to see the girls when she learned how to use the spell of watching people’s dream/sleep, and this happened four years later, that is why when Homura set fire to the forest the twins weren’t inside a protective barrier as we see in episode 14, that was because Sesshomaru became Kirinmaru’s trusted subject and planned against his fellow. But how?

My guess is that this treason is connected to the black pearl. Something that we cannot see in naked eyes changed in the relationship of Kirinmaru and Sesshomaru. The first glimpse of doubt that Kirinmaru had about Sesshomaru was when Sesshomaru sealed InuYasha inside the black pearl. He didn’t doubt about Sesshomaru’s loyalty when he knew that he had half-demons daughters because they weren’t allies back then. They forged this alliance after Kirinmaru woke up and Sesshomaru offered help to kill InuYasha. And as it seems, it took four years for the trust to be broken.

At this time I’ll insert my Kagura theory.

After Sesshomaru sealed InuYasha and Kagome inside the black pearl, I believe he gave Kagura the pearl and told her to keep it safe. Izayoi’s tear was the assurance that his family would be safe. Yet, when he sensed that his family was in danger (probably after the fire in the woods) he sent Kagura to the future (probably to look after Towa and keep her safe over there, since he wasn’t surprised to know that Towa was alive) and decided to hide Setsuna among half-demons.

It is a fact that Sesshomaru’s daughters are half-demons (strong ones, to be honest), so Riku and Zero presumed that their mother is human even if she was underage, taking the close relationship Sesshomaru had with Rin. But if we recall episode 99 from InuYasha OG, Koga, that is a wolf demon and lives in a demon’s tribe, didn’t find it strange that Sesshomaru was travelling with the child Rin (that was 7/8 years old back then), and even took her as a love interest of Sesshomaru, showing that he knew little about humans and human x yokai interaction, quite different from those who knew about human life, like we see in episode 41 of InuYasha OG when Kagome, Sango and InuYasha showed horror about Koharu, a 13 years old girl that wanted to marry an 18 years old Miroku. Also, Kagura just like Riku and Osamu is only a puppet, an offspring created by the essence of a demon and the power of the Shikon no Tama. Even if she is said to be a demon, no one knows what kind of creature would be the children she had, specially with her creator being a half-demon himself.

Also, in episode 4 of Hanyo no Yashahime, after the Yashahimes met the Spirit of the Tree of Ages and killed Root-Head, Treekyo confronted Sesshomaru and said that his daughters denied her request and if he leaves Rin behind, the girl would never wake up again. Then he walks away from her and she says that it is also a way and perhaps the best choice. If we take Treekyo’s request to the Yashahimes we will know that the best choice she speaks of is related to stopping Kirinmaru from doing what he is aiming for. This means that after Sesshomaru knew that Towa, Setsuna and Moroha were fine, he dropped Rin in the backstage of his plan. For ten years (or even more) he worried about Rin in her sleeping state, however just when he found out that the girls were fine he changed his mind, meaning that something that was supposed to happen did not. Indeed Sesshomaru is still being protective over Rin, he even stopped his search for Akuru’s pinwheel in the moment he found it, to save Zero and Rin’s life as a consequence of the first rescue. However when she broke Tenseiga he didn’t think twice to kill her again, but still keeping a cold face that was hard to read.

I personally believe that when Sesshomaru gave his back to Rin and Treekyo at the end of episode 4, his plan changed and he then began his search for Akuru’s pinwheel that until then wasn’t a thing he was doing. We know that the pinwheel is connected to the wheel of time, so Sesshomaru’s intention is to change time or, perhaps, travel across time.

As we’ve seen in InuYasha OG show, only Kagome and InuYasha were able to time travel using the bone-eating-well. Back then Kagome had the Shikon no Tama (jewel and later fragments) and InuYasha had the black pearl. Then, in Hanyo no Yashahime only Towa, Setsuna and Moroha were able to time travel through the Tree of Ages and each one had a rainbow pearl. Taking those facts as an example, it wouldn’t be too impossible if only those possessing some kind of jewel/tear would be able to use this ability. The other possibility would be the pinwheel of Akuru and perhaps this is the way used by Osamu Kirin to arrive in the Reiwa Era.

Considering the concern that Kirinmaru had about the Wheel of Times moving and Sesshomaru’s search, probably Kirinmaru is hiding something related to the past/future from everyone else, except Osamu Kirin. And he is afraid of this hidden secret being revealed.

Taking Naraku’s arc as an example and how Sunrise is repeating some backstories of InuYasha OG into Hanyo no Yashahime, it wouldn’t be weird if later on Osamu Kirin is revealed as the incarnation of Kirinmaru’s heart, just like Akago was Naraku’s heart. This would explain why Kirinmaru isn’t afraid to face the Yashahime as he was when he heard about their existence. Definitively he is afraid of the prophecy, but he isn’t being cautelous while facing the girls. He showed more concern about the Wheel of Time changing than fighting the Yashahimes after being backstabbed by Riku in the place where the Inu no Taisho’s blood would be stronger. If we go back to InuYasha OG show, we will see the same kind of reaction in Naraku. He would confidently fight against InuGroup whenever his heart was far away and avoyd as much as he could a confrontation when Akago and/or Onigumo were near.

Using the information of Yotsume and the timeline drawn so far, the travel of Osamu Kirin would match with the information gathered about Kagome’s backstory, giving Kirinmaru the false hope that the future is a safe place for his heart to be, meaning that Osamu left him when Kirinmaru had a confirmation of Sesshomaru’s betrayal, almost 10 years ago.

Now, if we return to the airport scene where we see Osamu Kirin looking at the sky in episode 22, we notice that he watches an airplane land and then he glances at the comet for a short time. Then he gives his back to the sky and starts walking away, imitating five people close to him that too started to move away from the rooftop, when he notices Sota with his daughter, Mei, a few steps far from him. He shows surprise and go to Sota, starting a conversation about Towa’s absense from school (and showing no concern about it) and ending with the comet out loud observation.

For me it is a proof that he was waiting for someone to arrive over there. My guess would be Kagura. Also, when we see Osamu Kirin in the classroom in episode 4, he tells Towa to pay attention to the lesson, otherwise she will miss the context, and then he tells her to read the sentence in page 23 that says: “I am going to visit Kyoto”.

It could’ve been an Easter Egg, because in episode 23 he is actually waiting someone at the airport that probably is coming from Kyoto, because Kyoto is a prefecture located in the Kansai region, and Kansai according to the research I did is located in the West region of Japan, that in the Hanyo no Yashahime is a land that belongs to Sesshomaru (Lord of the West), meaning that the person/creature that is arriving in that airport is somehow connected to Sesshomaru and seeing that Jaken, Rin, Towa and Setsuna are in the Feudal Era and A-Un wouldn’t fit into a plane, it can only be Kagura.

To finish this theory that is already long enough and explain how Kagura and Osamu Kirin are connected, I must speculate even more and say that this connection happened because neither Kagura nor Osamu knew the backstory of each other and they might have taken interest for each other as an equal (two incarnations/demons). Also, probably the forest that Towa said that she grew up in episode 21 is located in the West, that is why Kagura was in that place and visits Tokyo, because Tokyo is where Kaede’s Village is located in the Feudal Era. My guess would be that using Towa’s age as a guide, she is looking for her daughter in high schools. Osamu Kirin being Towa’s teacher could’ve contacted her and is waiting her at the airport since he was the one that summoned Kagura over there. However, I believe that he is using Towa as a bait.

With Kirinmaru watching everything that Osamu is doing/seeing, he is quite aware of the fact that the comet is arriving in the Reiwa Era and also knew how Towa looked like before meeting her in person. Now, knowing that someone in the Reiwa Era that is not her family (the Higurashi) is looking for her, Kirinmaru is curious enough to see who this person could be since she is probably connected to Sesshomaru and if he can’t use her as a bait to hold Sesshomaru back, then he imagines that she is hiding something that would be useful to him.

As I said before, this is only a theory/speculation that I did using the anime info (and my imagination) to elaborate. All the real events I have tagged the place it came from (the episodes number) and gave them my interpretation. Those events without the official reference tagged should not be taken as a reliable source.

I thank you so much anon for this ask, it made me really happy to be able to share my thoughts with you! Again, sorry for my late answer and be free to say whatever you want, it would be a pleasure to answer you back!

P.S.: Sorry for the typos, I don't use Google Translator and my English ain't that good.

[reginaofdoctorwho]

ok so i started this as a draft days ago and barely remember where i was going with this idea but i tried to fill it out a little more. basically it’s just that anytime Curt says he misses being a spy he misses being a spy with Owen or the spy he was with Owen. so probably everything is what everyone knows already

Curt ties being a spy with Owen. completely, intrinsically, whatever, okay?? in Spy Again Curt says “Owen would want me to do this”, and lists

hop in a jet and fly again

grow a spine again

do my best not to cry again

wear a suit and tie again

drink martinis and drive again

get by again

feel like a real important guy again

as what he’s going to do as a spy. let’s check off what happens before Owen’s reveal (i’m trying to include some)

hop in a jet and fly again

grow a spine again

do my best not to cry again (i’m trying to be nice here he’s probably doing his best despite what happens)

wear a suit and tie again (literally part of the mission)

drink martinis and drive again (he’s sobering up)

get by again (barely my dude)

feel like a real important guy again

which, decent, but our dude is also having gay flashbacks, messing up a very simple and clear mission, and mistakes flirting for fighting (to quote my friend “Amelie” “he’s,,, so bad at pretending to be straight”) this all being with him having been one of the greatest spies, to the point of recognition years after he retired.

and post Owen’s reveal

hop in a jet and fly again (we’re going to count whatever that in

grow a spine again

do my best not to cry again

wear a suit and tie again (i mean he doesn’t need it??)

drink martinis and drive again (ok i don’t know maybe?? he does shots before and THEN chases Owen and then he’s drinking whiskey when he meets with Tatiana)

get by again

feel like a real important guy again (look at him at the end

more below the cut because this is already long and it’s going to be even longer

Okay, to be more in depth, (this’ll sound like a lot of my other posts) at the beginning Curt Mega is truly a great spy. yes, he was captured by Oleg, but the entire interaction with him Curt is still in control. he mocks Oleg, breaks his fingers, hits the bat back at him, all while holding a conversation (and flirting) with Owen. he’s confident the entire time, he’s willing to go against plans and is overconfident to a fault. While Cynthia is somewhat rude and pays more attention to Owen in the beginning (”finally someone who knows what the hell they’re doing!”) but i think she’d treat him the same as Curt if he ever did decide to work for her. it’s partially a “bring in new talent” and partially a “keep the old talent from being overconfident” thing. i don’t think it’s an actual mark on what pre-fall Curt was like as an agent. but either way, their record was six minutes to get out of a building presumably set to explode (or implode. fuck if i know) and they were still both confident and eager to lower the time even more. and they would have accomplished it, if not for Owen falling. what i’m saying is pre-canon Curt was a very effective agent, was good at his job, and was likely almost never out of his depth.

in Spy Again, he’s talking about becoming a spy again, but he links this to Owen, believing that being a spy again would enable him to work past Owen’s death (”but maybe this time’ll be different, it might be what I need”). he’s haunted by the “memories” not “memory”, which could be taken as any time he and Owen worked together, not just when he died. he wants to be a spy, but even stating that and the things he misses about being a spy (above lists) starts to remind him of Owen (”and i know just where i’m goin’, me and my partner Owen!”). he sees himself post-fall, with his beard, alcoholism, and trying and failing to improve (”i do what i can, try to make a plan, to be a better man, but nothing seems to stick”) and again relates it to Owen (”Owen please, if you could see what’s become of me, what would you think?”). Curt decides Owen would want him to be a spy again (”i once was a spy. i think you’d want me to spy again”) and repeats it to make it stick (”Owen would want me to do this”), and that is what truly starts him off again. or so it would seem.

in his first mission back, Curt can’t start again. he has to talk himself into doing his job again (”looks like that someone has to be me. you came here to do this, so do the job, stop acting like a little pussy”), and then mostly rides along on what Tatiana does anyway (”i second that motion!) a far cry from the beginning Curt who did his job eagerly. and we are again reminded that Curt was a great spy when Sergio recognizes Curt on sight and says “is that Agent Curt Mega? ... i can’t believe this, the most famous spy in the world busting my arms deal. hey, would you mind signing something...” followed by DMA immediately being able to disarm Curt with ease, showing the contrast. Curt does recognize the baked goods are the way to hurt Sergio, but also loses the bomb to Tatiana

Curt is, at this point, still waiting [in a way] for a partner. it is not implied in the beginning that he and Owen worked together every mission, rather the opposite in fact (“MI6 didn’t tell me you were on this mission”), but he still seems to almost expect a partner, and goes off what Tatiana says even though they’re not working together, and they both train their weapons on the baked goods.

Cynthia points out that he’s been on an early retirement for four years, which Curt is very quick to correct as a grieving period. his hands shake during Cynthia’s drill, he fumbles the gun, and he has none of the grace or style of the beginning. when Cynthia mentions Owen and Curt’s alcoholism (”i remember when i got the call that Owen died and you lived, i screamed into Susan’s neck for fifteen seconds, then i locked it up and moved on. you on the other hand, you drank yourself to rock bottom...”) Curt doesn’t even look at her. when she poisons him, he’s still able to repeat back (in essence) what she said, showing that the spy of the past is still there, deep down.

Eyes on the Prize II is the (i think) first time we see Gay Flashback-Owen. he is notably not slipping and dying, as would likely be going through Curt’s head if he were haunted by that specific memory alone (going back to the “haunted by any memory of Owen”) thing i mentioned, but is instead also saying “keep your eyes on the prize” with the ensemble, again lining up Owen with Curt’s idea of being a spy.

during the casino scene Curt is clumsy with his acting, and is trying to get information from Tatiana (it’s all very awkward. “make it a white russian, hold the vodka, please, thank you so much” “excellent choice. one vodka martini bone dry, and one glass of cream”), but as soon as another person joins it (Dick Big), the relationship between them turns from enemies trying to get information from the other to an uneasy team (”i’m hardly alone, the woman and i were just about to-”), with Curt even giving a russian toast, and although Tatiana definitely notices when Curt is given a gun by the dealer, she politely declines to mention it, and when Curt offers her his arm while Dick is off finding a waiter, she smiles. and while it could be argued that it is just them working undercover, this did feel more genuine than when they are alone and back in their assumed positions (”besides, without that horrible face fungus, what will i have to yank?” “we are talking about fighting, right?”) Tatiana also recognizes that Curt is alone in more ways than one, both without backup and without anyone he can trust fully. in the short time they’ve been together, they already are close enough to friends that Tati apologizes for bringing him to DMA

despite the two of them being on opposite sides during this encounter, they are already beginning to act as partners/friends, and Curt takes her betrayal more personally than he should have

i’d also like to take this moment to point out that DMA almost instinctively stabs the Nazi henchman for saying “seems his noggin’s a bit dense!” of Curt

during Torture Tango, it seems like he’s having a natural reaction to getting tortured. Curt is nervous, he’s afraid, he’s ready to die (”you sick bastard, why don’t you just kill me already?”/”i can’t deny that i’m gonna die”). but this is NOT how the torture scene at the beginning went, even before he knew Owen was there. at the beginning scene Curt is arrogant, throwing Oleg’s words back at him, breaking his fingers, keeping a cool tone and staying in control the whole time. this time he barely talks to the DMA, he doesn’t fight back, he just accepts it. also, he sings “i once was a spy but i won’t be a spy again” and “thought i could say goodbye, but i can’t lie i wanna be a spy again” despite the fact that he is a spy again. he says he wants to be a spy again, but he already is a spy again, what he’s missing is Owen. he was once a spy with a partner he loved and could trust completely, and the partner felt the same way about him. that is what i believe enabled him to be such a good spy, he had someone who knew everything about him, being gay included, and he was able to act more confidently as a result. what he misses is less of the “go get the girl and go save the world” and more seeing his partner even for short periods and having the confidence that comes from being known. also, curt is on the verge of death and is still thinking of Owen (”doesn’t even matter if i killed my best friend”)

back to Tatiana, who’s having her own crisis. “is Mega my enemy do i let him die? i’ve got to think about my family ‘cause no one’s looking out for me...” she, at this point, has not interacted with Curt beyond the arms deal, the casino, and betraying him to von Nazi and DMA. despite this she still sees him as a possible ally, and ultimately does decide to betray von Nazi and DMA for him (to his understandable confusion). when she unties him, he only calms down when she holds her arm out to him, but he becomes so distracted by it and Gay Flashback-Owen that he doesn’t notice DMA is waking up until he’s already been shot.  i’d also like to point out that Gay Flashback-Owen is doing the same arm out pose Tatiana is doing while holding Curt’s arm

end of act 1. can i get a wahoo?

when Curt is with Barb, he acknowledges that he’s fucked things up, but still catches himself on saying he is a [great] spy again ”i was, i am, supposed to be the best”

i think during the gala he is trying to be the Curt from the past while ignoring why he was that way. he insists on going rogue, he confidently (and foolishly) announces that he is a spy, the prince will be assassinated, and that the Russians and Americans know, despite the fact that it doesn’t seem like a good idea if thought about at all. With blowing up the facility at the beginning there was some merit to it. they had been seen, they stole the plans and possibly wished to muddle why they were there, the facility might have had more plans they didn’t know about and they were already on a time limit. they also had a limit on the tech items they had (no rocket shoes :’( ).

when Tatiana rescues him again and takes him to his mother’s safe house, who mentions a “constant parade of drinking buddies, for poker or wrestling or whatever you boys do in the rumpus room” and while we could make an argument about Curt trying to move on after the fall, i think this youtube comment on the video is a fucking treasure and i will forever remember it.

i’d also like to point out now that Tatiana is truly the only character that i believe could “replace” Owen for Curt. he needs someone in his life who can know even the parts he hides from those closest to him, someone on equal footing with him, someone who doesn’t idolize him, and someone who works well with him. he can’t tell his mother, because she wants grandchildren, she wants a daughter-in-law, she wants to plan a wedding. it can’t be Cynthia, she’s his boss, it’s set during the Lavender Scare when he could lose his job for being gay. it can’t be Barb, who has an intense crush on him, and even when she does act in a platonic way, she is willing to risk her job based on the fact that it’s him (in an almost awestruck way). Tatiana is unimpressed with Curt when they first meet, they become friends quickly, work together to stop von Nazi and DMA, they are both spies at the top of the field, and she accepts him (”you’re cool with me?” “till the end!” “cool :)”). also, i think it’s interesting that Tatiana believes she is saving someone (her family) by leaving them behind, while Curt believed he killed someone (Owen his lover) by leaving them behind. just kinda parallels i think

before Doing This, Curt says he is is afraid that “[he’ll] never be the spy [he] once was” and that he believes he shouldn’t need anyone else. when Tatiana says he’ll get everyone who cares about him killed with his line of thinking he says the line “i already have.” explains about Owen, and adds “and that was back when I was the old Curt”.

during One More Shot, Curt acknowledges that he tried to get past missing Owen by trying not to need anyone else, which was wrong (“i used to think i could do this by myself i was fine, i didn't need any help“). this is him starting to take his friendship with Tati and being able to use it to see that while he cannot work alone, he doesn’t need one specific person to make him the man he is.

this of course promptly goes out the window when DMA is revealed to be Owen

however, Curt still calls Tatiana “partner” before going after Owen.

when he does go after Owen (One Step Ahead), he still thinks of Owen as the man from 1957 (”what happened to the man i knew?”). when Owen begins to explain, Curt tries to remind him of what they did “together. two of the greatest spies to ever live”. once again associating him and Owen together with being a spy

also, once Owen is dead (idk if i hope for real or not) again, Curt does make a change for the better. he’s able to be fairly confident around Cynthia, he tries to be enthusiastic about Barb’s tech/data analysis merge, he is able to talk about his “ex lover returned from the grave” with Tatiana. i do find it interesting though that he does not tell her about the other facilities, again taking it upon himself to fix it, and only telling her “give me a ring if you’re ever stateside”.

in a final moment, Curt is able to move on from Owen, and acknowledge “i once was a spy, i’ll always be a spy” with or without Owen.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

More therapy thoughts part 1/?

Behavior Theory Frameworks/Conditioning and What the fuck does Master Chief talk about in therapy?

Ramblings below - like a lot, like I spent too much time writing this and you should not read this

Behavioral Theory could work well as a framework with rehabilitating Spartan IIs if the case worker focused on Operant Conditioning Theory and Cognitive Social Learning Theory, which I talked about in this ask because I think I’m funny and this blog is an archive of me applying human behavior theories to video games.

Spartans have always been taught the mission comes first! Always! The 2s are indoctrinated from age 6-14 and then have that reinforced the rest of their lives. From the beginning they are taught to push themselves to the limits, earn their food by winning, form bonds with teammates but be ready to sacrifice them for the mission. The whole lives wasted vs spent conversation between John and Mendez after the augmentation surgery!

What the UNSC/ONI wants comes before their lives, the lives of other soldiers, civilians, AI etc. This constant conditioning of expectations and rewards has created the norms cemented in their minds. This becomes standard operating procedure.

Spartans are also an entirely separated social group, other people have made really great posts on how they are Othered and have their own way of communicating with body language. ODSTs hate Spartans, marines see them as cyborgs or saviors, and while they’re allies, Spartans are not seen or treated as human, by literally everyone. They are a means to an end, with the original goal being to maintain the UNSC’s position of power and crush the insurrectionists in the outer colonies, but uh oh Aliens!

Maybe the 2s aren’t as expendable as the 3s but the mindset and reinforcement of “mission first, people second” being repeated their entire lives is going to stick. So is the constant mistreatment and abuse from their fellow soldiers and handlers. 

Addressing the cognitive distortions that come from their upbringing while also balancing the fact that Spartans are so fundamentally different from the way they developed to survive would be so much work, especially considering how much information on them is given to their therapist.  The main distortion I would apply is minimization, making large problems small and not properly dealing with them, and specifically for John, personification, accepting blame for negative events without sufficient evidence. 

Like these are grown ass super soldiers who can kill you in less than a second and calculate the amount of gravity in a room on the fly but then also can flounder when trying to comfort civilians or make small talk because their experiences and values are so alien to adults who had more developmentally “normal” lives. 

Literally applying therapy to Spartans would be like, what was done to you was wrong, the ends do not justify the means, you were children and the adults in your life failed to protect you. You are a human person who is fallible and did the best you could with what you had. And the Spartan would say, “sounds fake but okay, can I pass my psych eval and go back to war now please?”

Jumping back to Behavior Theory

Different approaches to therapy under the Behavior Theory umbrella help modify negative behaviors with treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Dialectical behavior therapy that teach individuals adaptive coping like emotional regulation, distress tolerance, cognitive distortions, and interpersonal communication. And that’s just one framework under the umbrella of human behavior theories.

Social work therapy is different from psych as it approaches individuals with heavily researched, evidence-based theories and frameworks in a holistic viewing of person-in-environment, instead of a strong focus on internal psychology. 

Social work looks at all the interacting systems, environment, history, and internal and external factors affecting an individual. One of the most useful frameworks is the Biopsychosocial-Spiritual Frameworks (BPSS) when helping a client. It helps with identifying all the intersecting factors, both risk and protective, that shapes a client’s lived experiences. The most important thing to remember is that the individual is an expert in their own life, they know their experiences best.

The hardest part is applying this to Spartans because they Are So Fucked, their lived experiences, their environments and systems and institutions interacting with them, and the amount of their personal information that is probably so classified.

BPSS is a tool to help social workers assess individuals and their situations by collecting info that is related to the presenting issues and current and past circumstances. Info like medical history, hospitalizations, substance abuse, mental illness, personal relationships, family history and background, culture and norms, education, legal history, spirituality and participation etc. is all under this framework. 

For Spartan 2s most of this info is lost or classified and helping someone who has repressed every negative emotion they've had for the sake of the mission would be so much to unpack but that’s also why you’re reading the mad ramblings over an over caffeinated nerd on the internet.

Life Course Theory which looks at developmental milestones and the individual’s experiences versus the socially expected markers, how do you apply that to children who were taken and have lived such different lives? 

While early adolescence is when “normal” development of thoughts of self and identity take place alongside the physical changes of puberty, Spartans were being turned into emotionless calculating weapons. Sorry John, no forming a sense of identity and peer bonds for you, go kill that Watts guy who betrayed us and joined the insurrectionists. 

And now that I’ve gone this insane and opened 2 whole textbooks up, let’s get to Master Chief thoughts. If you’ve read this far thank you, I swear I’m normal, 2020 has just been a weird year. 

Why the fuck did I think I could write a therapy fic on a guy with 20 minutes of actual dialogue across almost 2 decades of games?

I make fun of him and call him a himbo, but he’s smart, he knows he’s being used and there is resentment there that’s been building for years. 

There’s also decades of trauma and combat experience, physical, and emotional abuse, the lack of a support network,  lack of an identity, the biological factors and aftermath of the augmentations and injuries he’s received, a whole lot of grief and self-inflicted guilt. 

The loss of a third of his peer group with the augmentation surgery, Sam’s death, the loss of Reach (the only place he’s considered home), Keyes, the Pillar of Autumn crew, Miranda Keyes, Johnson, Cortana. He cares about the marines who fight with him!!!

He just stands there and takes it and rarely snaps, and even then it’s just small cracks on the surface with fissures running deep. The few details I will pull from Halo 5 are Blue Team’s reactions to John pushing himself so hard from the beginning of the game, and the literal crack in his armor from the fight with Locke. Like dude.  

John’s a leader and will get the mission done but he tugs on the leash. He’s earned enough of a reputation and uses it to get his way.

Halo 2’s “Permission to leave the station” with Mr. “I’m going to hand deliver a bomb to the fusion reactor of a covenant supercarrier and hope my friends catch me”. 

Halo 4 is when we see him say no to a superior officer and then 5 is him going AWOL. Palmer literally points out that no one is going to stop him.

Halo 5 kills me for many reasons but John bringing up Halsey and what she did to him and also pointing out that he knows Halo 5 Cortana is trying to manipulate him with psychological tactics hurts. 

He knows what’s been done to him!

I cannot remember which book it was but John isn’t used to working alone. He literally takes fire because he was expecting someone to have his back! 

He’s lost without Cortana! She was in his brain! Y’all! I played Halo Combat Evolved on the original xbox when I was like 8 and I knew these two were meant to be together. From the moment they met they had great chemistry and relied on each other! Cortana literally goes after people who have it out for John! John wants her approval and shows off for her in one of the books. 

I’ve already written too much here but like all of the games have John showing off for Cortana, making dry jokes, jumping out of things he shouldn’t. 

The whole point of this rambling is to try and get my thoughts about how to approach John’s character under control.

And that’s the thing. He’s lost control. He’s lost people, he’s losing his position and being phased out as an aging spartan, a relic. John’s used to following orders and making some decisions on the battlefield but it was always short term.

He has no identity beyond being a weapon. Complete the mission, clear the LZ, get put in cryo. Rinse, repeat. 

The timeline of the games are what I'm most familiar with but with the comics and books too it’s one long run from Halo 2 to Halo 4. Cairo station to the Dreadnought to the crash landing to Forward Unto Dawn to Requiem to “The Didact is Dead but not really but we’ll deal with him off-screen”.

I know Hood apparently gave John R&R orders before Halo 5 that he ignored and kept running himself into the ground. This is a man who has to keep moving and keep being useful. 

I imagine him giving in and seeking help as a last resort to fix any problems he has with performing his duties rather than helping himself be healthier. 

Any professional he sees is going to have to approach him like they’re approaching a self sacrificing feral cat, with lunch meat and quiet. This man needs to have his support network closer, set up long term goals, and do some serious, and most likely incredibly painful, self reflection on where he’s come from and where he wants to go. Get him out of that tin can and into therapy. I don’t have a nice neat ending because this was a ramble and also therapy is not neat and tidy. Thanks for reading my words about mr halo

[moonandstars]

Tainted Sorrow

Plot : You work in the mafia and Taeyong is the boss.You both suck at feelings.

words : 5.8k

warning : violence, mentions of death and blood, nothing graphic just mafia related stuff

details : inspired by Bungou Stray Dogs but this is stand alone and independent. knowing BSD is not required to read this.

A/N : just boss era Taeyong. Thats all.

I

"I swear boss, it wasn't me. I would never betray you." The man said lying on floor, covered and drowned in his own blood, bruises covering his face and his body barely able to move.

You watch as Taeyong leans down and lands a punch of the man's face, sending him flying few steps back. Taeyong looks invincible as he walks ahead and stops, there's a red light glowing around his form, a thin red border covering his whole body as he stares at the man on the ground.

 Taeyong leans down again and places his leg on the man's head.

"If you want an end to your misery, I suggest you speak while you still can." Taeyong spoke calmly.

"I am sorry boss-" You are not even startled by listening to the sounds that come, having witness it countless time. The red glow of Taeyong swallow the man and his body forced downwards towards the ground, almost buried inside. Taeyong takes out his gun and shoots him three time in the chest. The man lies lifeless on the floor and Taeyong is walking back towards you.

 There's no words exchanged as you both walk outside the building and get into the car while everyone bows . This is the life in the mafia and this is the life of the city, where a few powerful organisations with people with gifted ability runs the city. The people who are gifted with an ability are few, but still their existence is known. There's no telling who out there might posses what kind of ability. One of those organisation happened to be the Mafia, run and controlled by the Mafia Boss, Lee Taeyong, a manipulator of gravity; an ability that allows him to manipulate the gravity of him and his surrounding; one of the most powerful ability to exist.

 "These shitty pawns are nothing but headache when lured." Taeyong mutters. And it's all good. The traitor is gone and an example is set for the others and they had the enemy's information.

 "You should wait out your violence until I am able to choke out all the information from them, I thought we were clear on that." You said as the car started.

"And I did."

 "By a few seconds-"

"You can't seriously expect me to wait killing him after he betrayed me."

"You just use violence and your power every time-"

"And you are just too damn smart for your own good. I appreciate your intelligence but sometimes tearing apart their limbs is more important." Taeyong said with a tone that implied that end of conversation.

 "Sure, whatever the boss says after all." You said with a sneer. It was a very common banter between you both, too common. It has been like that since you fought each other as mere kids, kids who were not normal, kids who have had far more blood on their hands than they could give account for. Ever since the day you both met, it has been countless bickering, competitions and the hunt for more successful missions, for you both combined were the mafia's most powerful weapon after all. But beneath those countless fights, lies a trust that neither of you will admit ; a trust that you place in each other that even in the most gruesome of situations, even at the cost of your own lives, you will save each other. 

You harbored more feelings for him than just that. It took a long while to admit those to yourselves. After all what even could you call those? Love? Love is for kids who exchange shy notes between classes, for normal people who look for company, for the youth that walks under the cherry blossoms with a smile on their lips and glitter in their eyes not for monster like you or Taeyong. You were kids who learned to use a knife before learning to write; who don't look for company but for blood; mafia leaders that have sin on their lips and death in their eyes.

  II

It was around midnight when you were done making a few important calls for the next mission. You were waiting for Taeyong in his office, which was just adjacent to yours on the highest floor of the mafia's long glass building that stood in the center of the city; also the tallest building in the city. Midnight was when the mafia works, everyone in the city was aware that the nights were run by the mafia and even the government could not interfere.There was a limited truce.

 You sighed and looked at glass window which covered the entire floor, the moon was bright and big, staring strongly back at you; asking you; pitying you. You were not strong enough to stare back so you looked at your reflection in the glass; a black jeans with black boots hugging your legs, a white shirt with a black bolo tie, sleeves rolled to your elbow, a black belt choker sitting on your neck; a gift from Taeyong; "It looks so beautiful on your neck." He had whispered in the night, words that only bloom under the moon, forgotten and left in the morning while both walk forward.

  Love is not for sinners.

A series of strong footsteps draws your attention towards the big wooden doors, behind those Taeyong appears, walking powerfully as he always does. He can fly as high as he can, defying the very nature of physics but when he walks; he makes his presence as loud as he can; strong.

  "It's so the world knows my existence, my power; so that I know I exist."

The black tiles crumble beneath him as he gracefully walks towards his grand table. His usual black attire, black pants and white shirt; a black blazer with a long black overcoat hanging on his shoulders, flowing behind him. His hands in black gloves. A black onyx bolo tie sitting proudly underneath his collar; a gift from you. "This compliments your aura."  His hair bright crimson, matching the blood on his face, that's definitely not his.

 "Admiring the beautiful moon tonight,__?" Taeyong spoke wiping the blood off his face.

"At least there's something worth admiring here." Taunts flowing from you like a second nature, something that only Taeyong brings out.

 "Admire away then, amusing to see your laziness doesn't stops you from that." 

You smile, hidden from him, what actually amusing is how riled Taeyong gets from small taunts, all the more reason to annoy him.

"Well shitty Boss, my lazy strategy plans saves your ass multiple times."

"Well fucker my ass can be saved just fine without your shitty plans." It's a lie, he knows it but nobody points it out. 

There's a knock at the door before before you can say something. Taeyong presses a button and the door opens, giving a sight of Yuta. He bows and makes his way inside, standing in front of Taeyong's desk. He gives a small bow again and looks up. He looks up ragged up, as if just came here from a fight, which he probably did. But still no signs of any injury, his purple hair a little disheveled but his black jeans and shirt still in place.

"Thirty six total deaths. Five of our own."  Yuta says and Taeyong lets out a soft sigh and a pained expression crosses his eyes, gone as soon as it came, at the mention of the death of our own. Deaths of mafia's men has always pained Taeyong more than he shows, as if even after sacrificing his humanity he is still the most human inside. 

"What is the result of their lives, Yuta san?" Taeyong asked.

"__'s predictions were right. The special ops department are planning to disrupt the deal tomorrow and most possibly launch an attack. The lead you told me to follow lead into their group today, they also have few gifted ones with them. They possibly have few spies in the company that's arriving tomorrow for the deal." Yuta  breathed. 

"Then the answer is clear. If they dare to interfere, the mafia will retaliate." Taeyong said lazily, but his eyes spoke sheer danger and revenge.

"The Black Lizard won't let you down." Yuta said, voice dancing with excitement, as if he wanted someone to dare just so he could get the chance to kill. Nakamoto Yuta, the commander of Black Lizard, a special unit under the Mafia which exist only for one reason, to annihilate the enemy. His gifted ability was what made his ways of killing even special, an ability to create illusions on his target, playing with their minds, allowing himself to dissociate them from their reality and kill them within their madness. For such a skilled assassin Yuta is, he can do the job just fine even without using his ability, but you wonder that he just likes to see his victim in pain and confusion while he toys with them.

 "I won't expect anything less." Taeyong spoke with a dismissive tone.

 Yuta sighed and looked up you and then at Taeyong. "Boss I am deeply sorry for the lives of our subordinates that were lost under my command." Yuta spoke, his eyes deep in grieve. 

A small smile ghosted over Taeyong lips as if he was expecting, waiting for Yuta's apology.

 "Yuta san, as long their deaths gives us a meaning, all is forgiven." 

 Yuta nodded and turned around walking towards the door from where he came, his shoulders a little less tense than they were before.

 "Yuta san." You voiced out. "Patch yourself up before the fight. It will be more uglier then." 

"I wish I could but my boss is very ruthless and demanding employee." Yuta said amusingly.

 "That I cannot deny." You spoke looking over to Taeyong, a small smile in your eyes.

"Give yourself a rest after the black caskets are out. We need all the power for tomorrow." Taeyong said annoyingly with affection. 

"Sometimes I forget you're such a nice person Taeyong!!" Yuta said teasingly and walked out.

 It is all good because it is Yuta, a member of mafia, a men of your own, a friend from the forgotten but longing years of childhood, a small kid who bumped into you and Taeyong and has always been here since then. If it was anyone else, any other mafia member, they would have knelt in front of Taeyong before even daring to look up; If it was anyone else, they would have shaken with fear, kept their eyes down; If it was not Yuta, even an informal breath would have resulted in something cruel and tragic.

III

You were still standing there, admiring the moon. Taeyong standing besides you, his presence bringing a familiar warmth towards you. An intimate silence broken by Taeyong.

 "The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" He breathed, looking at you. An honest expression, at least as honest as he could muster, spread over his face. You smiled, treasuring this moment with all your heart.

 Moments like this which only existed in the darkness, in the quiet of night where the moonlight gave your vulnerable being a protection, a  shelter which covered your soul and made it more honest. A few more moments passed like this until you spoke again. 

"Do you wanna hear a plan?" 

"I was waiting for that." He smiled.

 "All the reports that you showed me, I am definite there will be a full attack on us." You started. " And they will bring out the ability users, although I am quite doubtful there will be more than two. The best moment of attack for them would be-"

 "In the middle of the deal." He completed. 

"They have the intel that the mafia boss would be there, probably from the traitor you killed before."

 "They are still no match for the mafia. We will proceed according your the plan." He said and sat on the table looking over the city while stood to his right, like always. 

You observed his face, eyes shimmering from the reflection, lashes casting a shadow on his cheeks; the moonlight shining on his face. You were busy in staring, forgetting he was looking back.

 "Now who's worth admiring?" He asked.

 "Well still not you fucker." A weak jab.

"Stop thinking about tomorrow." He said, rubbing a thumb over your forehead.

 "Can't help it."

"None of their armed men compares to ours and as far as the ability users are concerned, we have you." He spoke.

 He was right. Ability users had no effect on you due to your own ability. Your gift was a disabling ability, an ability that allows you to nullify any other ability with just a simple touch on their skin. Some say it's a useless ability, Taeyong says it's the mafia's ace. You already knew who to believe.

 "You're an ability user too. I could disable your power and get rid of you too."

 "You could and you should. But you won't." Taeyong mused.

 Your ability takes away the ability of others, makes them vulnerable, takes away a part of themselves that makes them special. It's easy to defeat them because they are so dependent on their abilities, they don't know what else to do. Taeyong is not a slave to his ability. His ability does not define him. Even if it is taken away from him, he's still Lee Taeyong. The man who rules the mafia, the man who kills his enemies mercilessly; the man who makes you feel human in the most inhuman ways. 

As you watch him leaning against your shoulder, you can't help but think about what is he to you. You don't often, because it is so tiring to think about the same thing again and again and yet not being able to reach a conclusion. A friend, you both have never used that word, too busy bickering and silly fighting with each other to use the word friends. A lover, that word always stung too deep within you. A word too pure, too beautiful, too normal for someone like you. Lovers cannot define the complex relationship you had with Taeyong. Countless nights of sex, tangled with each other, whispering softly all the things in the night that vanish in the daylight, small gifts hidden somewhere, birthdays celebrated in the company of each other, a silent respect, a strong trust and a hard and sharp instinct of protecting each other at any cost. It was clear that you both were exclusive to each other but nobody ever said that it was a relationship. And love was never on either of yours tongue ever.

  Love is for humans. What are you?

You discarded the idea of love a long time ago. You don't know when you fell in love with Taeyong, at fifteen perhaps when you both met or at sixteen when you both became mafia's strongest weapon or maybe at seventeen when you both secretly bought a safe house together, or might be at eighteen when you both were mafia's youngest executives. You don't know. You didn't need to know. A partner, that has always been more intimate to you than anything else. You both were partners as soon as you joined the mafia, a string of successful missions beside your names. You could jump in front of bullets knowing Taeyong would stop them. Maybe a partner was the best word to describe what he was to you.

"You know it's like I can still hear his voices in this office." Taeyong whispered. You tensed, you knew exactly who he meant. A ghost of the past that still haunts you.

"It's like he's angry that I am in his office, in his place." Taeyong continues.

 "Taeyong." You tried.

"He just looks at me like he always did with those fucked up eyes and his ugly smile-"

"Taeyong, there's no one here."

"And he keeps asking why I stabbed him that night but he knows, right, he knows why."

"Taeyong" You said lifting his head. "He's not here. He's dead. You're the boss now." 

"He keeps whispering in my ear that how am I monster, like he told me-"

"Taeyong! You're not a monster. The old boss is dead, for good. He's gone forever." You said sternly, holding his face.

 No matter how many people Taeyong has killed, the only soul that has bothered him was of the mafia's previous boss. A crafty man of great power, who brought you all into the mafia world, who taught you how to perfectly slit a throat, how to manipulate someone to the core; he taught, made you into a perfect weapon, a tool. The hatred for that man runs deep in your skin, even deeper for Taeyong since he was always the target of boss's puzzles. This will make you even more stronger, He used to say, while watching you get tortured by enemies in return for obtaining information. Until one day he went too far, that day he died by the hands of Taeyong, while you stood and watched serving as a witness as his position for the next mafia boss. 

"He told me he saw himself in me. What does that says about me? "

"Taeyong. We are not going to believe his words." You spoke taking his hand. "You want to go home?"

"Always."

A place to live for you both was the pent house in the mafia's building, just a floor below the office, provided with every luxury that a man could imagine. Home was an apartment in the city, a place that used to serve a secret safe house for you both, but now it's where the peace resided and where the words come out and bloom and where you feel a little human with Taeyong.

  IV

You stepped out of the car with Taeyong at the extraction point, a few steps far away from where the dealing was supposed to take place at a warehouse. You were waiting for the latest information before proceeding any further. You watched as Taeyong in his usual mafia attire, dragged a puff from his cigarette looking up the sky, a cloudy night with no moon or stars in sight. He throws the half smoked cigarette down and crushes it, turning towards you.

 "The moon looks beautiful tonight."

"It's a foggy night Taeyong, we can't even see the moon."

"I can."

 "Taeyong-"

"BOSS!" Yuta comes walking from the shadows of trees, looking around quickly and bowing to Taeyong.

 "What's the news?" Taeyong spoke calmly. 

"They will launch an attack. It's given." Taeyong looked at you while he listened to Yuta. "They have men around the warehouse at a distance. Of course, our men have them covered. There are two gifted, we have eyes on one, his ability is related to controlling the wind around him. I will be able to take him down."

"And the other?" You asked, looking at Yuta's expression darkened. 

"We don't know. He controls his size. That's all I could gather. How much threat he holds is still questionable." 

"He must be an ace considering how secretly his power has been kept." You thought.

 "For the special ops to be so brave with launching an open attack like this on us. I just pity for their lives." Taeyong said.

 "Boss I don't think we should underestimate them." 

"Are you doubting your skills Yuta san?" Taeyong said darkly.

"You know that's not what I meant Taeyong." Yuta spoke quietly. The driver of the car looked at Yuta in horror, wondering how the death will come to Yuta. It was probably his first time watching someone talk to Taeyong like that besides you. 

"This is why you were told to patch yourself up. Don't let these morons get to you. This is nothing for the mafia." Taeyong spoke with a commanding voice, but you could hear the underlying softness, a little consolation, a little advise.

Yuta nodded and gave out the position details before disappearing  in the shadows again. 

"He was not wrong. It's never safe to walk into an unknown enemy, an ability user for that." You spoke as you and Taeyong walked towards the warehouse.

"I know." Taeyong said simply.

 It was in the middle of deal, just after exchanging the goods, you heard a loud noise outside. Just as you expected. A message from yuta ten minutes said that he had the first gifted under his control and the second one was heading your way.

 "What was that?" The other businessman said.

 "Absolutely nothing of your concern. Our deal has been done and the official papers will be send to you." Taeyong said getting up.

 "But what-"

"Also If I were you, I would pay more attention to what my subordinates are up to." Taeyong spoke with a glint in his eyes, a warm and powerful desire, an excitement of some action awaiting him. 

Outside you saw at least fifty men, all of them armed, in front of the warehouse. A tall man stood in the middle leading the rest. It was just you and Taeyong against them. 

"Well partner, let's just get on with it." Taeyong said, activating his ability, a bright red hue glowing around him. You take out your gun. Even though your ability was not an attack one, you were the best fighter in the mafia. It was lasted probably twenty minutes when all of them were in the ground. A few grunts were heard from the ground, a few ones who were just minutes away from their dead. You thought about shooting them again, and again until you could end their painful suffering soon and for once. It would be better to just accept death rather than lying in the cold mud, drowning in their blood. You were about to about pick up your gun again when you saw an unusual movement from the middle of the ground.

"Taeyong!" You shouted, while pointing the gun and shooting at the person of movement but it was useless. The movement continued and as you squinted, you saw the form getting bigger and bigger, like a giant. 

"__, what the hell is that?" Taeyong said beside you.

 "The ability user." You spoke as you saw the enemy grow as tall as trees surrounding you, various roots covering him, as if he was using them to grow his form. You had to get close to him and touch him, to nullify his ability and return to his normal form, otherwise he could keep causing destruction for you. 

"Step back,__." 

"Huh, Taeyong?" 

"It's not safe to go close." He said looking at the enemy, fist clenched

."We have to try it." You said going towards the growing structure, but every time you got too close he could try to kick or stomp really hard, and that flow would throw you backwards with a force. His defense was not allowing you to go close to him, let alone touch him. You tried one more time and this time too, you were thrown back.

"__." Taeyong called running towards you. "You okay?"

 "He knows our abilities." You said standing up again. "That's why he laid back when you were attacking, that's why he won't let me come close." 

"That traitor snitched everything, but we have to stop him anyhow." 

"There's only one way left, but it's your choice Taeyong." You sighed.

"Every time you say that, it's not like I have a choice anyways." Taeyong said, walking ahead a little, and started pulling his gloves out; a finger at a time until both the gloves were thrown aside.

 "If I am late to touch you, you know what will happen right?"

 "But you won't be." He said, looking back at you, eyes intense. "Or I'll kick your ass."

 Taeyong walked ahead towards the enemy, a red glow, brighter than ever before started surrounding him. Red marks started decorating his skin, his hands, his face; his coat flew aside. You could feel the gravity shifting around the whole area, the center being Taeyong. He was activating his corruption. Simply controlling objects through their gravity was only the front of Taeyong's ability, that he could use in his full control. Corruption was something else though, something more uncontrollable and devastating to the city, to Taeyong himself. Activating corruption allowed Taeyong to control gravity of a larger area and create black holes with his power that swallows everything that comes it's way and destroys it. He could control gravity to a particle level. After all, he is called the manipulator of gravity. This part of his abilitywas only known to a handful of mafia members and you're the only one who has ever witnessed it. The downside of it was that, Taeyong could activate his corruption at his own will but once it was activated, his mind goes blank and he is not in control anymore. He becomes a destructing machine and keeps destroying every thing that comes his way, until he runs out of his energy and dies.

 The only was to stop this was your ability, to touch Taeyong and nullify corruption as soon as he defeats the enemy. You watched as corruption took over Taeyong and he annihilated the the giant enemy in the span of few minutes. You ran over to him before he could any more damage to the surrounding, to himself. You grabbed his hand and watched as his ability became null, the red glow leaving his posture, the red marks disappearing from his skin, as if they never existed in the first place. He fell down on his knees and coughed blood, a normal occurrence after using corruption. You held him. A wave of relief passes over you seeing that Taeyong is safe. It has always been your fear, that you'll be late, that you will break the trust; that you will lose Taeyong.

 "Take rest Taeyong, the enemy is defeated." 

"You stopped me right after?" He asked, coughing.

"I was about to, but you looked such a red dork like that."

 "Fuck, you better take me home right--" He said while coughing and falling onto you. 

Thankfully grabbed him at the right time."Rest now."

 "__."

"Taeyong-"

"__, the moon--"

 "I know. I know. The moons looks beautiful tonight right?" You spoke as you looked up to the sky, the clouds were cleared away; countless stars scattered, dancing across the black canvas but the moon still was shying away somewhere. You could never understood what Taeyong talked about sometimes, you did not needed to anyways.

  VI

You lay on the bed next to Taeyong, bodies tired from the fight before. All the fresh wounds covered in bandages. You were a little better than Taeyong, using corruption leaves him tired for a lot of hours. But a fight was won and the boss could use a little rest. You heard some noise as you watched Taeyong turn around in the sheets and settled on his back. 

"You should rest properly shitty boss." You spoke.

"Aww is that concern __?" 

"No that's a headache because I am the one that has to take your tantrums." 

"Well that's--" Taeyong hissed clutching his side. You rose up quickly and helped him sit. 

"See, that's why I told you to rest. How's the pain?" You asked, checking the ribs.

"Nothing much. It's the usual one."

 "Are you lying to me?"

 "Come on partner, don't you trust me?" He asked, a smirk plastered over his face. You just huff and sit beside him on the bed, in front of the large window that looks over the sky and  city underneath it. A calm and comfortable silence follows over both of you. You look over at Taeyong. He looks pretty healthy, apart from corruption side effects, there's not any major physical injury. Even the violence in your life has become a second nature, it still does not sit well with you that every fight you go into, could potentially be yours or Taeyong's last fight. You hoped it was yours because you did not knew what to do without the man next you. It  could be your years long partnership that makes you so co dependent, nothing else and not certainly love. Love is for people with a heart, not for you who just killed hundreds of men without blinking not just few hours ago.

 "What thoughts are interesting enough to keep you invested?" Taeyong asked, still looking ahead.

 "I just forgot how beautiful and calm the moonlight feels." You whispered.

"I think we spend too much time looking at the darkness instead."

"We are the mafia Taeyong, even the blood is black. Darkness is where the mafia exist." You spoke looking at your hands, little cuts and scraps littered across.

 "No."

"You don't agree?"

"More like, we exist in the stars, in the air, among the wind, under the moonlight. I believe that's where you and I exist together." 

"Since when did you started thinking like that? But I understand, you always had more human thoughts than me. "

 "I don't know. It just swiped by, I- don't mind, corruption really tires me a lot." He spoke smiling softly. 

"Come on now, you never talk to me about this."

"It's not like I need to speak for you to understand." And it's true. He does not need to tell you about his fears. But still when it came to corruption, you had your own fears; or just single fear, that is losing Taeyong. You bear the burden of saving him and not being able to do so, was the single most terrifying thing for you. You always wondered how Taeyong felt during that time. But he refused to talk about all of this, specially since he killed the boss. Its ironic, before the death of boss you were the one who was closed off and reserved but now that you want to get close, it's Taeyong who seems lost. It's like the burden is too much, even for someone as invisible as me.

  "Easy there, might sound like we actually like each other." You tried to joke around, tried to change the heaviness in the only way you knew but it did not had any affect on Taeyong. He was still looking at you with a soft smile; a smile that made you believe in your humanity, a smile that made you dead heart shake, a smile that made you fall in love.

"I think you do, otherwise you won't run to save me every time."

 "I don't want to burden myself with being a boss, that's why."

"You would be a better option than me." Taeyong spoke, so many  emotions swinging in his eyes. You could pick each and every one of them apart, but then again, that's what you always did. Sometimes you wished Taeyong would tell you, explain to you rather than just leaving you with these unspoken feelings.

"I-it's- I would not be. You know that. Besides that's not the point."

 "Then what is the point?"

 "It's just that you don't have to be so closed off you know. We're partners after all." You said, still trying to maintain the conversation because this is your safe space, a place you and Taeyong call home, if there's any solace in existence, it's right here at this very place.

"I just said you will make a better boss. Someone who can lead an organisation."

 "I am not someone who can sacrifice myself for the mafia like you. I don't need an end like that."

"It's not sacrificing myself if I know you will save me in time. I know I am not going to die."

 "You can't be sure of that." You said letting the words hang in the air between you two. 

"Is that your fear?" Taeyong spoke after a while, voice little shaky. Not used to honest conversations. 

"I-Taeyong it's pointless to fear death in the mafia. Either yours or mine. I came to peace with that a long time ago. I believe that death is not opposite of living, it's merely a component in our process of lives."

"Then?"

 "If you die some other way, there's always an explanation for that. But if you die using corruption, it's me, that I was too late. I will be the one with your blood on my hands. Your death will be my fault, it'll be on my conscience. I know I won't be able to live with that, I can't survive knowing that I was the reason for you death, that I-" You took a deep breath "that I broke our trust."

 "Even if that happens, I am sure there will a reason for you being unable to save me."

 "Is it not your fear? You're the one who'll be dying."

"Like you said, a mafia blood should not fear death. Besides I don't think there's any such time when one should chicken out, specially a boss." Taeyong said in a low tone, he was looking ahead in the sky but his eyes seems so blurry and lost. You sighed, the conversation looked like it was over, until Taeyong spoke again.

"The fear, if that word can dare to come close to what I feel, is not simply dying. It's a possibility that every time I use corruption, it might be the last time I see you. Even when I have lost control, mind black and body in red, I know in my heart that you will come. But if something happens to you while I am out, I won't be able to do anything." Taeyong smiled, a sorrowful one, the same smile that laced his face when he came back after killing the boss. But the mourning was not for the one who died. "That is my fear."

The fear of losing you, the fear of not protecting you.

You knew he has always been protective of you, an instinct that came as soon as you met. Something blossomed inside your heart, like a flower that was showing it's petals, so soft and sweet. The fear that was unspoken till now, was something you both shared. The fear of losing each other, the fear of not being able to protect each other; a feeling of not being able to survive without each other. Maybe you both were not human, and maybe love was not for you but that is not what you needed anymore. Love was not beautiful enough to define what you both felt for each other, and there was no need to define those unspoken feelings. As long as I have you here, right with me, I could survive anything. He was not your lover, but he was your partner. Love was not for you, but Taeyong was.  And somehow, that was enough.

He turned his eyes away from window and looked at you. Sorrowfulness replaced with softness, Eyes crinkled and small smile dancing on his face, red hair falling unevenly, the stars in the sky, the smell of rain, the sound of his breath when he spoke.

"The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?" 

----

The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t is? = I love you. By Natsume Soeseki

At the time, Japanese people were more reserved than they are at present day. They hesitated to express feelings of love directly. I, for one, like this expression 月が綺麗ですね | tsuki ga kirei desune (the moon is beautiful, isn’t is?) -- it sounds literary and intelligent.

This phrase was used by Natsume Soseki as a form of saying “I love you”. For the writer, two people with deep feelings for each other do not need to use those three words to effectively convey their feelings. Sometimes, even the simplest phrases contain more emotion than direct ones.

----

if  you guys don’t know about bungou stray dogs idk what is up with you. it’s one of best anime’s out there, like i still don’t have feels for anything else like i did for this. Please watch it & you’ll love it even more if you like literature because every character is based on real life author. Just watch it pls :))

anyways y’all if you watched/read Bungou stray dogs you probably realized that taeyong= chuuya & you = dazai ( bc daichuu <3). 

ALSO PLS SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS IF U HATE IT, DISLIKE IT, LIKE IT, LOVE IT, JUST PLS SEND IN ASK OR TEXTS OR COMMENTS. IT’S A SIDE BLOG SO I CAN;T REPLY PERSONALLY BUT PLS GIVE ME FEEDBACK.

EDIT : ALSO WHAT DO YOU GUYS SAY ABOUT A PREQUEL WHERE I TELL YOU HOW THEY MEET AND THE BOSS’S DEATH AND TY BECOMES THE BOSS?

[morganaofcamelot]

If Wishes Came True (Chapter 3)

Title: If Wishes Came True Chapter III: Killer on the Loose Pt.I

Fandom: BBC Robin Hood

Ships: Guy of Gisborne/Original Female Character, Guy of Gisborne/Marian of Knighton, Original Female Character/Original Male Character

Definately an AU - Sir Guy of Gisborne has served the current Sheriff of Nottingham for five years prior to the beginning of the first season, and is considered a part of the family, both by Vaisey and his daughter Valerie. The chapters are from Val’s POV, as she struggles to maintain her youthful innocence in a place that’s all too willing to steal it away from her, and navigate the intrigues of her father. [Many changes from the show, although the fic loosely follows season 1]

Important Note: English is not my first language, so I’d appreciate if you can point out any mistakes I make.

On AO3

Tumblr: Ch I, Ch II

Sir Guy found her standing against a wall, her hands folded in the most unladylike manner, her gaze far away. He crossed the courtyard with swift paces. It was too late, when she realized that he was walking towards her. “Valerie,” he said. “I’ve heard about what happened, are you alright? He did not hurt you?” his voice betrayed his concern. She sighed.

“Welcome back, Guy.” She said and turned to leave. Sir Guy was quick to grab her arm, not entirely ungently. His eyes shone with a strong emotion; anger, she thought. But is it directed at me?

“What happened?” he insisted.

Valerie recounted the last night’s events and the threat Huntington had posed both to her and her father. She fought the tears bravely, and they did not come. She spared a glance at his face; Sir Guy’s fury was palpable.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his hands on her shoulders. “I wasn’t there to protect you.” Come hell or high water, I will stand beside you and protect you until I draw my last breath. The vow he had made her years ago came to her mind. She had been a girl of only eleven, and he had been a man of five-and-twenty, recently anointed a knight, and recently brought into her father’s household. His black hair had been longer, then and he had let her brush them. Her father quickly took a liking to him, and Sir Guy returned it with much enthusiasm. Half a year later, he was a member of their family; the son Vaisey always wanted, and the big brother Valerie always wished for. “You are a sister to me.”

Valerie’s smile was bittersweet. “I know.” I wish you wouldn’t say it. Quickly changing the subject, before she said or did something she would later regret, she told him of another incident.

“I had an argument with the sheriff,” she said. Sir Guy raised an eyebrow.

“The sheriff?” he said, noting the spite in her tone. “It mustn’t have gone well, then. Tell me, maybe I can help.”

She smiled half-heartedly. “You are right on that front. I asked him to let me train with a sword, if only to protect myself. That man,” she said pointedly, “Would have killed us in a heartbeat. You of all people know, father isn’t as good with a sword as he once was. Age has taken its toll on him.”

“And he refused?” Sir Guy deducted. She only nodded in affirmation. “Sword fighting is better left to the men.”

Valerie sighed in exasperation. “But none of the men could stop Huntingdon!” She shivered as she was reminded of the cold-hearted glow in the man’s eyes. Sir Guy noticed and tried to soothe her.

“I could teach you a few things,” he finally said. Valerie looked up at him; he had that half-smile on his face, that she always associated with him. He means it.

Forgetting all sense of propriety, and the fact that she wasn’t actually related with the black-clad knight, Valerie hugged him tightly. She was tall, for a woman, but he was a giant; the top of her head barely touched his chin. He returned the embrace.

“But,” he said in a low whisper, “it has to be a secret.”

Letting go, Valerie promised him that she would tell nobody about this.

“Very well. I’ll meet you at the stables, when the bell strikes four times.”

***

She brimmed with an excitement for the rest of the day, barely containing herself from laughing out loud and raise the suspicions of her father. Oh, but he’ll be furious if he ever learnt of our arrangement, she thought with glee. Nothing could make her come down from the clouds right then.

True to his word, Sir Guy was at the stables when the bell signaled that four hours had passed since noon. The previous excitement in her, had now turned into a nervous reaction, when she realized that she was going to spend time with him, all alone.

“Are you ready for it?” He asked, offering a gloved hand.

She cleared her throat. “Yes,” she said, taking it. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” He led me in the far back, where the old stables used to be, now empty of people and horses.

He picked a short sword from a rack on the far wall, its blade dull and unthreatening. He handed it to me, and took a normal sized one for himself. “Now, stance is the most important thing. You learn to stand correctly, and you learn to defend yourself. He walked behind her and arranged her feet with his own. “You’re wearing breeches. Smart.” She couldn’t see him, but she was sure he was smiling. Her heartbeat quickened.

Satisfied with her lower body, Guy swiftly moved to correct her upper half. “This way,” he murmured with every little change he made. His breath was on the top of her head, sending involuntary tingles throughout the rest of her body. “Good.” He said at last, and moved to stand beside her.

He proceeded with demonstrating a basic defensive move, and made her copy it again and again, on her own. After some time – Valerie couldn’t tell whether it’s been a moment or a day since they began – Guy was on the offensive. He attacked her and she parried his blows, gaining more confidence with each blow she managed to block. He picked up the pace, and she quickly read into his intention, using the sword as an extension of her arm.

The bell rang. One, two, three, four, five times.

Sir Guy lowered his sword. “That’s enough for one day.” He said, placing the blunt blade on the rack. “You might feel your arms sore and heavy for a few days. Do not worry about it, it’ll be your muscles complaining for the sudden exertion.”

Valerie placed her short sword next to his. “I feel fine.” She said, dismissively. “When will we train again? Oh, and how did I do?”

The knight gave a half-smile. “If you keep learning so fast, I’ll have you replace the Captain of the Guard in a year.” It sounded like teasing, but she did do well on her first day. “We’ll reconvene on Monday, same hour.”

In three days. Valerie was over the moon.

“Run along, now.” He said, and Valerie rushed to do as she was bid, her heart beating wildly.

***

Sir Guy had kept his word; every three or four days he would meet her at the old stable for an hour of sword practice. And so the Spring Equinox had come and gone by with April on the heels, bringing bluer skies and happier attitudes. There had been no news of Robin Hood, as the men had taken to call him, now that he wasn’t the Earl of Huntingdon anymore. Sir Guy was given the title with little ceremony, and had welcomed them for a feast in his newly acquired manor. Valerie had never seen her father look more proud when he thought nobody was looking. It made her smile.

On the ninth day of April, however, things took a turn for the worse; a bailiff had been struck by an arrow in the village of Nettlestone. The lords of the shire had been called to a meeting in the castle. Valerie attended it, seated by her father’s side. Lady Marian was also attending it, standing by her own father, and Valerie watched her closely; she carried no hidden blade in her hair at this time, although she couldn’t help feeling uneasy.

“The villagers of Nettlestone have reported that the outlaw commonly known as Robin Hood had murdered Joderick, the bailiff.” Her father’s voice was low and calm. The lords were shocked and it showed in various degrees. “Well, this is a shocking matter, isn’t it? Even his beloved villagers lose their patience when their heroes start picking them off. What else was in that report, Sir Guy?”

Sir Guy’s voice was lower still. Valerie knew that he had worked with Joderick for a long time, back when the knight served as a tax collector. She had heard him speak fondly of him many a time. “They’re saying that Hood promised that he would prevent the eviction.”

The sheriff shook his head. “War had addled his brain, I’m not at all surprised. But I didn’t have him capable of murder. Maybe his current status as an outlaw have drove him mad.” He made a pause. Valerie recalled the night that man barged into the hall, thirsty for her father’s blood. The sheriff had told him that he thought him incapable for murder, back then. She begged to differ. “What do you propose?”

Sir Guy was the first to offer a solution – he was the sheriff’s man-at-arms and his enforcer. “I suggest we round all those who are helping Hood by not informing us about his whereabouts. He would have been caught by now, if not for their help.”

To Valerie’s surprise, Lady Marian spoke up, despite her father’s attempts to tell her to stop. “And have this practices ever worked before? Those villagers reported the crime, seeking justice.” Marian looked at the sheriff and Sir Guy interchangeably. But if Valerie was impressed by her bold statement, her father’s answer left her wondering if something had him possessed.

“I agree with you, lady Marian. This is not the correct way to go about this. Sir Marcus, do you have any suggestions?” Her father turned to the man standing a little further on Valerie’s right side. He was the Master-at-Arms, the man who took care of the castle’s security and the guards’ training.

The man cleared his throat, and spoke with absolute conviction. “This gives us a political advantage, my lord. Have every town crier announce what’s taken place at the village, make sure everybody knows that an innocent was killed.”

The sheriff nodded in agreement. “Ah, yes. He has given us the high ground; we should keep it. I like this idea. See to it.” Sir Marcus nodded. “Do not be fearful my lords, the culprit will be caught! Dismissed.”

Valerie stood up and followed her father. Sir Guy did, too, to whisper in the sheriff’s ear. “My lord, I still believe in actions rather than words. If I had the resources, I could hunt him down.”

Valerie kept her head down, feigning disinterest in their talk. “Very well,” her father said. “We shall do it both ways. But, be discreet about it.” His answer resulted in a smirk, and off Sir Guy went to put in motion the sheriff’s shadow operation.

Her father leaned to talk to her. “He likes some competition, this boy. I shall give it to him.”

Valerie’s smile did not touch her eyes. She just wished Sir Guy wouldn’t be hurt in the process.

***

The funeral of Joderick, the poor bailiff that was slain by Robin Hood, took place in the town’s square; lots of people had shown up to honor the man, nobles and peasants alike. Valerie stood beside Sir Guy, who was trying to look as impassive as possible. Valerie daren’t spoke to him, for she feared his grief went beyond words.

From her vantage point, she saw Marian sneak away through the gathered crowd, stealthily hiding behind a wall. Valerie made to move, to follow her, but she thought better of it and stopped. It wouldn’t do, to being seen leaving before her father ended his speech. She was a good girl. Lady Marian and her secrets can wait.

Later in the day, her suspicions of Lady Marian were all but forgotten. Valerie was informed by the steward that Sir Guy, before he went on his grand hunt, had requested that Marian stays in the castle, even though her father had decreed otherwise. Valerie gave her consent, and was intent on keeping a close watch on that woman.

After supper, her father worked on the documents, as Valerie read by the candlelight. A servant boy entered with a flagon and two goblets. The boy made the mistake of placing the plater on the wrong side, and the sheriff made his displeasure known by merely teasing the lad. He got up, and whispered something to him Valerie couldn’t hear, and then a whoosh.

“Argh” her father yelled. The boy was lying on the ground face-first, with an arrow protruding from his back. “Guards! Guards!” he yelled and walked over to her in panic. “It is Robin Hood!” he kept repeating.

Valerie was stunned. The poor boy! The guards barged in, with the Sir Marcus behind them. “My lord!” The knight took a look at the boy and paled.

[hothian-snow]

OC Music Meme

List one or more songs that relate to the following tagged by @a-muirehen​ tagging @sith-nb @elvhenyoung @rainofaugustsith @jacemalcom

OC: Yennevyr Dosal aka Lord Soteira

Reminds you of them most:

Moonsea by Phildel Don't share the past, if you won't share your heart All that we share is the view of these stars There are diamonds on the floor you can't take back There's an eyelash on the board, does she wear black? All the violence that I swore you could have back There's red varnish on the door, I don't wear that I called it, I called it, I called it the moon scene

The song depicts how she views the relationships in her life, from her very first lover to her current master. It speaks of the surface glam, the glittering mystique, the toxicity she sometimes fall into (most of the time originating from her), and the conflicting feelings of vulnerability. The tone of the song represents her perfectly.

Teen Idle by MARINA I want blood, guts, and angel cake I'm gonna puke it anyway I wish I'd been a teen idle Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible Feeling super, super, super suicidal

It's almost narcissistic how much Yen hates herself. She had battled with mental health issues which she hides away for the majority of her childhood and teenage years. Her father was oblivious to how bad she was suffering, and Gisele saw glimpses but not enough for her to directly intervene. Yen's obsession with creating an image for herself, of wanting to be unattainable just so she could be wanted, is depicted tragically well in this song. Also, the teen angst is lovely.

No Children by The Mountain Goats

And I hope I never get sober And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say [...] I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Yen’s depression song. Her self-destructiveness coupled with her spite makes a horrible combination that encapsulates her dysfunctional state.

Blinding by Florence + The Machine No more dreaming of the dead as if death itself was undone No more calling like a crow for a boy, for a body in the garden No more dreaming like a girl so in love, so in love

Yen has always been an escapist at heart- escaping the world, escaping from herself. It's about time she stops running, and wake up from that dream world. The death of her father and the supposed death of her childhood lover haunts her. It's time that she moved on.

Reminds another character of them:

Sober II by Lorde You asked if I was feeling it, I'm psycho high Know you won't remember in the morning when I speak my mind Lights are on and they've gone home, but who am I? Oh, how fast the evening passes Cleaning up the champagne glasses

Anyone who knew Yen on Celanon (or on her late night outs on Dromund Kaas) knows that she is a woman who wears 'glamour and trauma' like they are designer clothes. She loves to drink just so she can feel good, to flirt just so she can feel attractive, to party just so she can forget. An unhealthy coping mechanism to deal with what was initially just an unfulfilling familial relationship, and later to deal with her various emotional baggage.

Watching Ruth by Alexandre Desplat

A musical ost from The Shape of Water, one of my favorite films. The music reminds Darth Kharopos so much of Yen, even if Yen would never see herself in this song. A low, dramatic, slightly foreboding tune that turns into something out of a romantic bed-time story. He senses the pain and anguish in her, but in the end, he sees her in the best light possible. It is in their initial meeting that he sees her doing something out of the goodness of her heart- hence, he knows she isn't who she pretends to be, that she is better than she thinks she is. He sees the girl who, deep down, wishes that life would play out like a fairy tale.

Reminds you of a relationship of theirs

Gisele and Yen

Whisper by Birdeatsbaby Pulling through the distant nightmare A pain I’m hungry to share You’re my dirty secret But I won’t keep it Simmering and spilling over Calling every, every quarter I’ll be fire, earth and water Now you’re shouting I can hear ya Bang bang lover we’re running undercover From the guns of tyranny 

Gisele was her bodyguard and Yen was the crime princess. It was a fairy tale romance, only with guns and blood. Of course, Gisele realizes that the explosiveness and drama of their relationship was partially performative too- something Yen won’t admit.

Tyrkos Rosokor aka Darth Kharopos and Yen

Sylvia by The Antlers Sylvia, get your head out of the oven Go back to screaming and cursing Remind me again how everyone betrayed you Sylvia, get your head out of the covers Let me take your temperature You can throw the thermometer right back at me If that's what you want to do, okay?

Sometimes, Yen spirals. Their relationship becomes heavily toxic. At first, Darth Kharopos thought he’d helped her through her issues but mental health maintenance is a lifelong process, one that cannot be fixed with a few months of therapy. Especially, not when it is a childhood issue that is worsened by constant trauma. It gets worse when Yen reaches the point where she is powerful enough to lash out at the world, to potentially kill her master if she wishes it so.

Falling by Florence + The Machine

I've fallen out of favor and I've fallen from grace Fallen out of trees and I've fallen on my face Fallen out of taxis, out of windows too Fell in your opinion when I fell in love with you [...] I'm not scared to jump, I'm not scared to fall If there was nowhere to land I wouldn't be scared at all

Yen knew the dark side has become a part of her, no matter how much Darth Kharopos preaches about balance, about the light. Then, Yen realizes eventually that her master means something to her. She loves him- and that truly scares her. Stars, why did she ever catch feelings?

Love Run by The Amazing Devil

Love run, love run For all the things we wished we’d done Run from all you know that’s coming Run to show that love’s worth running to

Their bond has grown into something beyond that of master and apprentice. Love is a double-edged blade.

Darth Tiophis and Yen

Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine Seven devils all around you Seven devils in your house See, I was dead when I woke up this morning I'll be dead before the day is done

The ghost of Darth Tiphios has bored her way through Yen's spirit, and turned Yen into something else, something Other, one foot in this world and another elsewhere. Yen is ready to be a vessel for retribution.

The Horror and the Wild by The Amazing Devil

You're the daughter of sightless watching stones You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more [...] We're drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking They thought us blind, we were just blinking [...] Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Darth Tiophis to Yen is like the Devil to a witch, like Hekate to Medea. This song is the song of Yen, the woman who bleed stars and learn from ghosts, a Sith powerful enough to go toe-to-toe with the likes of Darth Malgus. She is the legacy of Darth Tiophis, ancestor of Darth Lokess who is the infamous sorceress that attempted to overthrow the Sith Emperor and paid for it with her life.

[rwbyvein]

Knight Guard:  Kitten:  Part II/II

Weiss and Blake sat in the back of Blake's bed, with Jaune laying down on it.

Weiss: Could you not sit up with us?

Jaune: Uh... do you know how tall I am?

Blake: You are always slouching.

Jaune: Doesn't actually make me any smaller. Not like you two.

Weiss: What?!

Jaune: What? You're like the perfect size.

Weiss: *huff*

Weiss: *scoff*

Weiss: *glances at her breasts*

Weiss: *nervously looks about*

Jaune: That's not going to change my mind.

Weiss: But, there are... perhaps... better endowed women you could courting?..

Blake: *rolls her eyes*

Jaune: I don't follow.

Weiss: *covers her breasts*

Jaune: *grabs her arms and gently tugs*

Weiss: *looks at Blake for support*

Blake: You opened the door.

Weiss: *slowly lets Jaune pull her arms away*

Jaune: What did I say to you?

Weiss: . . .

Jaune: *looks at Blake*

Blake: That we are gorgeous.

Weiss: *beams*

Weiss: *looks down questioningly*

Blake: Think our shining knight would lie to us.

Weiss: Perish the thought!

Weiss: *eyes wide with shock*

Weiss: You truly adore my petite frame?

Jaune: I did call you a snow angel.

Blake: He did call us gorgeous.

Jaune: I'm the one who is surprised.

Blake: I am the one surprised.

Jaune and Weiss: *looks at her questioningly*

Blake: What?, the first thing he does when he gets the both of us is pet my ears.

Jaune: There is... quite a bit more... I want to do...

Weiss and Blake: Like what?

Jaune: *fearful look*

Weiss: *sighs*

Weiss: We swear you are safe with us.

Jaune: In that case, I want to see you kissing.

Weiss: *gives Blake a chaste kiss on the lips and looks at Jaune*

Blake: *gives Weiss a much more passionate kiss*

Blake: I'm pretty sure that's more of what he...

Jaune: I didn't say stop.

Weiss: *pushes Blake up against the wall and passionately kisses her*

* * *

Weiss and Blake: *lay on the bed*

Jaune: *arms holding himself above them*

Jaune: So, you are mine, to do with as I please?

Weiss and Blake: *nervously look at each other*

Weiss and Blake: *nervously look at Jaune and nod*

* * *

Jaune: *sits on a hill surrounding Beacon*

Weiss and Blake: *each sit on one knee, passionately kissing each other*

Jaune: *cuts in, kissing each in turn*

* * *

Jaune: *walks around the Beacon grounds with one girl in each arm*

* * *

Jaune: *tucks Weiss into bed and kisses her on the lips*

Jaune: *walks across to Blake's bed, tucking her into bed and kissing her on the lips*

Ruby: Yang, does this remind you of anything?

Yang: *snickers*

Ruby: I was talking about dad.

Yang: *laughing out loud*

Weiss: You are so sweet.

Ruby: Who, me?

* * *

Jaune: *walks into RWBY's room*

Blake: Please have a seat.

Jaune: *walks over to the seat*

Jaune: You two look upset.

Weiss: *huffs*

Weiss: I don't know what you are talking about.

Blake: There is one thing... you... haven't done...

Jaune: *breathes in deeply*

Jaune: I was raised to take responsibility. I'm not going to... do that... without wanting to marry a girl.

Weiss: *SCOFF*

Blake: *looks down dejectedly*

Jaune: You can't be serious?

Weiss: I believe that's our retort.

Weiss: *huffs*

Blake: What did you think this relationship was?!

Jaune: I honestly had no idea and was going to enjoy it while it lasts.

Weiss (tearfully): You thought it would end?..

Jaune: I thought you would figure out that I'm not the guy you think I am?

Weiss: Are you saying you would betray us?

Blake: He's saying he's not good enough for us.

Weiss: But?..

Blake: You are an Atlasian heiress and I'm basically a princess.

Jaune: Your a WHAT?!

Blake: *breathes deep*

Blake: It doesn't quite work that way in Menagerie, but... almost...

Weiss: And just why does he think he is not good enough for me?

Jaune: *points as Weiss, and then gestures head to foot*

Weiss: *goes to say something but stops*

Weiss: Irrespective!

Jaune: Wait, so I am not good enough for you?..

Blake: But... you shouldn't worry about it?..

Blake: *looks at Weiss questioningly*

Weiss: *nods*

Blake: What?

Weiss: I feel, given his current state, it would be ineffective to try and convince him of his self-worth.

Jaune: Huh?

Weiss: So, instead we simply accept it.

Blake: *sighs and touches her own forehead*

Blake: The issue was not about our acceptance of him, but whether or we want to make kittens with him.

Weiss: The two are related, are they not? Wait?..

Jaune: Uh?

Blake: If we are dedicated to you?

Jaune: Uh-huh?

Blake: And we... together?..

Jaune: Uh-huh?

Blake: What did you think would happen?

Weiss: I had not considered this.

Blake: How could you not think about this?

Weiss: I'm sorry, but this the first time I have ever had to ponder this. Jaune-dear, would you... want to?..

Jaune: I wouldn't... couldn't want anything else...

Blake: I do believe.

Weiss: Take me, if, but only if, you wish to keep me.

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Six

FFN II AO3

Summary: Liz and Ressler hunt a Blacklister, Cooper and Reddington have a heart to heart, and Tom lands himself in a lot of trouble.

Chapter Six

This wasn't their first Blacklister that exploited secrets, but he was one that Reddington found interesting while he was hunting down Liz's mother. A woman that Red himself had referred to as a secret keeper once. The question wasn't if this case had to do with Katarina Rostova, it was how. Would the Collector lead Reddington to her somehow? To the Sikorsky Archive that the people behind the Townsend Directive thought she'd stolen? Or perhaps he wanted to destroy any evidence that might clear Liz's mother in their eyes. Why, that was the big question. He'd loved her once, she thought. But that had been when she had thought he was her father and when she thought he was Ilya. Now she was back to square one not knowing who he was or what his connection was to her or her mother. Ressler had said that the only thing he knew for sure was that Reddington cared about her, but what if that wasn't true? He'd used her once to find the Fulcrum. Maybe she was just a convenient tool to get him to where he needed to go.

If there was one thing that Elizabeth Keen had learned as an absolute truth over the years it was that everyone had secrets. Everyone. And Bruno Krause was no exception.

Liz and Ressler had been left to sit for what felt like hours, waiting on the attache to make time in his schedule to meet with them. They'd only gotten the meeting in the first place because they'd let slip that he was being targeted, but it had been a calculated release of information meant to get them through the door more quickly. Well, they'd gotten through the door, but for all their hurry they had been left to wait.

"Are you sure she's telling you the truth?"

Liz blinked, Ressler's voice startling her out of her daze. "Who?"

"Your mother."

"She has no reason to lie to me."

"That you know of." Liz shot him a look and Ressler shrugged. "What? With all the back and forth you've been doing with Reddington over the years … I mean, you've done a DNA test, right?"

"You mean a DNA test like the one with Kirk that showed he was my father?"

That pulled a rough chuckle from him. "Okay, fair enough, but I just mean…" He took a deep breath, pushing it out through his nose. "I'm here, Keen. If you need me. I mean it."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Be careful. I might take you up on that."

Any response he might have given was cut short by the door opening to reveal Bruno Krause. He was a tall man, broad, with striking blue eyes. He offered a curt nod and spoke with a thick accent. "Agent Ressler. Agent Keen. Sorry to keep you waiting. I'm not certain I understand why you are here?"

Liz and Ressler stood from their places. "We believe someone may be targeting you, Mr Krause," Ressler answered.

"Why would they be targeting me? I'm nobody."

"You have access," Liz pointed out. "Diplomatic immunity can take you a long way."

"I'm not corrupt."

"Really? Did Amanda Clemmons think you were squeaky clean too?" Ressler asked pointedly and Krause paled.

"I'm sorry… who?"

"Amanda Clemmons," Liz pressed. "Five years ago you two went for a drive and you crashed her car into a lake and left her for dead. That's not easy to forget."

"But when something like that comes out, it is easy for someone to use it against you," Ressler added.

"What is all of this?" Krause demanded. "Are you here to arrest me? You have no proof of this."

"No, we don't," Liz answered. "But a man known as The Collector either will or has reached out to you. All we know is what he's using against you, not what he wants from you." She watched as he shifted a little in his place, nerves on edge. "If you help us catch him, we can help you."

Liz watched as his icy blue eyes shifted from her to Ressler, almost as if he expected help there. Liz's partner shook his head. "Diplomatic immunity may keep us from arresting you today, but do you really think you're worth enough to the German government to risk their US relations?"

Krause glanced nervously at the closed door behind him and Liz's phone started buzzing in her jacket pocket. She didn't dare reach for it and risk breaking his moment of decision. Finally, he pulled in what was likely supposed to be a steadying breath. "This man - The Collector - he reached out to me. I will help you, but I want to make a deal first."

Ressler nodded. "Let's take a trip."

Krause nodded and they ushered him out of the room. Security didn't stop them as he walked out of the front door of the German embassy and onto US soil. Ressler showed him to the back seat of the SUV they had arrived in and Liz risked a glance at her phone. There was a single text from her mother's number:

They found me. I'll be in touch.

"Keen?"

Liz blinked hard and found Ressler staring at her. She'd stopped moving, her whole focus on the text and all the questions that accompanied it. "I think my mother's in trouble."

"You need to go?"

She sucked in a breath, hoping to use it to push the words out from her throat, but they stalled there. Regardless of what Reddington got from it, Krause was a terrible man that would help them reach a different type of terrible man with a broader reach. This was their job. She couldn't just run off at a single text with no context.

"No," she managed. "She won't be there anyway. I'll have to wait until she reaches out. Let's get this guy."

Ressler watched her for a long moment before he finally nodded, circling around to the driver's side and slipping into the vehicle. Liz followed, her phone heavy in her hand.

                                                      ------

There was something about the ease in which the United States government had been willing to throw out his first immunity agreement as if it had never existed at all that left Reddington more hesitant than he used to be to meet with Elizabeth or the Task Force at the Post Office. He preferred a venue of his own choosing. Preferably one with multiple exits. It wasn't that he distrusted the Task Force, per se, but he knew the types of people that they answered to.

When the call came through that day requesting his presence he had countered with his own location. He'd expected Elizabeth, though, not Cooper.

Reddington turned just as Dembe was escorting the assistant director into the kitchen that had become his new favourite haunt and, never one to broadcast that dome one had managed to catch him by surprise, Red flashed a charming smile. "Harold, you simply must try the Cassoulet. I typically prefer it with duck, but the chef uses a rare type of pork that is to die for."

"I'm not here for lunch."

"Of course not, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy one," Red countered, his smile refusing to falter. "Tell me, what brings you here?"

"I'll admit, when Elizabeth brought The Collector in as the next name on your Blacklist, I was hesitant. I thought you might be sending us on a wild goose chase."

"Why's that, exactly?"

"You know why. He was a myth in the intelligence community. A man with access to too many secrets, more intel than any country would ever allow to be centralized."

"One country, certainly," Reddington answered lightly. "But many? That's an entirely different story."

Harold stared at him and Red could see that clever mind piecing it together. "The Cabal."

"Tell me, what have your people found that has made you a believer?"

And just like that his expression closed off. It was like a visual reminder that Harold Cooper hadn't gotten his start in the Bureau. He was former Navy Intelligence. He knew when to show a hand and when to hide it. Reddington ducked down to search through a cabinet for a bourbon he knew was hidden away there while Cooper decided how much to share.

"Your story on Bruno Krause checked out," Harold said after a moment and Reddington reached for the bottle. It was tucked away like the cook thought it might stay hidden.

"And the young woman?"

"We may not have enough to put him away from it, but the fact we knew about it certainly got his attention. He's agreed to work with us."

Reddington straightened, bottle in hand. "Oh. Then The Collector has already reached out?"

"Seems to be that way."

"Splendid. Krause will lead you straight to him. Once you have him, I'll need ten minutes. Preferably before he's delivered to the Post Office." He reached around for two glasses and set them next to the bottle on the counter between them.

"No."

"Five then," Reddington countered the single, sharp word.

"No."

He tilted his head. "Harold, a meeting with The Collector is the entire reason I brought you this case. I must speak with him."

"About what?"

Ah, so that was his angle. "It's a private matter."

"Elizabeth's mother?"

Reddington didn't answer, but instead he poured a couple fingers' worth of bourbon into either glass and pushed one over to Cooper.

The other man didn't touch it, but instead held his gaze. "Let me be clear, Reddington. You receive leeway with our task force. We overlook and ignore more than perhaps we should, but one thing I will not overlook - not today, not tomorrow, or any day in the future - is your conscious choice to betray Elizabeth by targeting her mother."

A moment of silence stretched between them and Red raised his own glass to his lips to take a long sip. He closed his eyes and allowed the liquid to burn its way down his throat. Once it had, he set it down, the glass clinking sharply against the metal surface, and his eyes slid back open to lock gazes with Harold. When he spoke, it was with great care, as if tasting each word before letting it fall from his tongue. "I…. appreciate your care for Elizabeth. I do. It gives me… hope that she'll always have someone to watch over her, even in the darkest of moments. You, Donald, Aram… perhaps even Agent Park someday. The devotion, the love you've shown her, gives me peace." He paused, head tilted to the side. "But my word is my bond, Harold, and I gave you my word I would not harm Elizabeth's mother."

"Then what do you want with The Collector if not to use him to get to Katarina Rostova?"

"There's a storm coming, Harold. I've already experienced the first waves. Elizabeth has as well, even if she didn't understand it. It will be dangerous. I have…. protected her and equipped her as best as I know how, but I fear it won't be enough. You all have become her… family. I need - she needs - that to remain true, no matter what."

"Are you going somewhere?" Harold asked carefully and Reddington chuckled.

"Someday. Smile, Harrold. We're nearing the finish and you're about to prove the intelligence community wrong by bringing in The Collector. Won't that be fun?"

His movement was slow, hesitant, but Harold reached forward for the glass that had been offered before. He drew it up to his lips and sipped at it, never letting his gaze leave Reddington. He didn't argue the reaffirmed promise, nor did he push any further on the pieces that Red had revealed. It was for the better. Reddington wasn't ready to admit his own mortality openly yet. Perhaps he never would be.

                                                     ------

Tolliver was on the move. It had been a possibility he was prepared for, but she had played it smart. She hadn't disabled the bug. Instead she had moved around it. If Jacob hadn't had someone on the building he might not have known she was on her way out until it was too late to follow. As it was, Tolliver herself slipped her tail. Whoever this woman was, she was good.

Thankfully the tail had managed to stay on at least one of Tolliver's men - Simms - and he'd gotten the location over to Jacob. It was the best lead he could have gotten short of a direct sighting. As far as he could tell, Simms was trusted. He might not be with Tolliver then but he'd lead him to her.

Jacob kept his distance, but never too far as he watched. He followed the man across the metroplex to the point that he started to question if it was the best use of his time. Errand after errand, meeting and revealing nearly nothing. It was grunt work. He should have put one of Brigitte Tremblay's go-fors on it, but there was something pulling at Jacob's instincts that said that this was important. That he would lead him somewhere important.

He took a risk around five in the evening when Simms stopped for coffee. Jacob followed him into the crowded shop and bumped into him, tagging a small listening device to his clothes. He waited until Simms was gone and pulled it up to his phone, testing it. He'd seen his face, it was true, but he had ears on him in case he lost visual.

Simms several more stops before circling around in the most roundabout way to an apartment complex. Jacob knew where he was going before he ducked into the lobby. It would have taken effort not to, knowing Simms' connection to Tolliver and the fact that there was some sort of unexplained connection between Tolliver and Keen. It was her building. Tolliver's man was on his way to see Keen.

Jacob tucked himself back into an alcove outside the next building over and tapped his earbud, pulling up the audio feed in time to hear the elevator door ding. He could almost see Simms exit it onto the floor that Jacob had only seen briefly - early on when he had scouted out Keen's building - and to her door. Knuckles rapping against the solid wood door sounded over the feed and Jacob leaned back, eyes closed, and listened as the door opened.

"Simms." Keen. Tired. It'd been a long day. "Is she…?"

"She's safe. She wanted me to tell you."

"She could have told me herself."

"There wasn't time."

"What happened?"

"The room was bugged."

"Bugged?"

"One of Townsend's people. Possibly one of Reddington's." Interesting. Jacob only knew one name, but he logged both away.

Keen loosed a breath. "What can I do?"

"Exactly what you're doing. We'll reach out. She just… wanted you to know."

"Simms?" There was a pause and Jacob imagined the man turning back from his hasty retreat. "It was a risk coming here to tell me. Thank you."

"Wasn't my call."

"Still. Tell my mother… I'll do whatever she needs."

Jacob blinked hard. Her mother? Maddy Tolliver was Katarina Rostova? Well that was a twist he hadn't seen coming.

"Hey."

It took half a beat longer than it should have for Jacob to realize the voice had been from his right on the sidewalk rather than over the feed he was listening to. He turned to see a face he recognized as one of Tolliver's goons. Short and thick, he looked like he'd spent his life intimidating anyone that would cower away. "What's up, man?" Jacob asked casually.

"Step out."

Jacob tapped his earbud. "I'm on a call."

"I don't think so."

"I don't really care what you think, buddy, I -" Jacob's cover argument was cut off as the man reached out, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his shirt, and spun him around to throw him against the building wall hard. Jacob felt his head collide with it and the breath was pushed out of his lungs on impact. He would not have bet that the guy had that kind of strength tucked away in that build.

Live and learn.

Tolliver's thug came around for another blow and Jacob bobbed out of the way, his opponent's balled fist slamming into the brick wall and causing him to howl in pain. Jacob used the distraction and slammed his head forward into the building. The other man staggered and Jacob shoved him hard into the alley and out of any potentially prying eyes.

It was enough time for him to recover, apparently, and Jacob coughed hard as the opposite fist made contact just below his ribs. He gasped, finding it hard to hard to suck another lungful of air in and Tolliver's man came at him again, rushing him like a linebacker.

Jacob sidestepped and caught him from behind. He wrapped an arm around the shorter man's neck and lifted. He adjusted his angle and twisted hard before releasing him, sending the man crumbling to the ground with his head tilted in an unnatural way.

Instincts kicked in and Jacob turned, finding someone standing right behind him. He didn't have a chance to react before the newcomer shot a taser out, electric currents ripping through him and Jacob was swallowed up by darkness.

                                                     ------

There weren't many people that Liz could call at half past midnight and for a favour, and the list was even shorter of people that she'd trust with her daughter's life, but Ressler landed right up there at the top. Oh, he'd given her enough grief over it and asked her if she really wanted to call in a favour for a glorified babysitter, but she thought that layered under the gruff teasing that he knew how much trust she was putting in him for this. Where there was one threat, there were usually others just waiting for a chance to strike, and the last thing Liz thought she could handle was leaving to help her mother and coming back to find whatever babysitter she managed to snag at this hour dead and her daughter gone all over again. Ressler wouldn't let that happen. That she knew. That she trusted.

And she was sure he knew that too.

Simms hadn't wanted to bring her along, but Liz hadn't really given him much of a choice. If the man was after her or her mother, they didn't know yet, but either way she couldn't sit idly by.

The van pulled to the curb outside of an old, seemingly abandoned warehouse and Liz stepped out and waited until he circled on around to lead her inside. He paused at the door. "We walk in there, you're not a cop, you understand?"

"You think this is my first enhanced interrogation?" Liz snapped irritably. "He was at home. Near my daughter. No, I'm definitely not a cop in there."

Simms studied her for a long moment before finally accepting it and walked her in. Liz could hear the distant sounds of a beating coming from inside and they followed the noise to a large, dimly lit room. Katarina stood in the middle, eying a man that had his back to Liz so that she couldn't see his face. He was strung up by his wrists to a low-hanging beam, his bare feet barely touching the concrete floor, and a mountain of a man stood next to Katarina. He reared back, laying a hard blow to the bound man's middle that sent him swinging.

"That him?" Liz called out, moving towards the scene without hesitation. "What's he given you?"

"Nothing," Katarina answered., drawing the word out. "Yet." She motioned and the man to her side punched him again, swinging him around this time.

Liz turned to look at the face of her mother's enemy, but the bloodied face that greeted her was the last one she ever expected to see and she felt the floor shift dangerously beneath her, his name riding out on a breath. "Tom."

                                                     ------

TBC

Notes: I'm really excited to get to this chapter. The Red and Cooper scene took forever to write. While all the characters have unique voices, those two speak in layers fitting intelligence officers. It was a tough scene, but a lot of fun, and one of those that's going to set the path forward on the big bad of the story.

Oh, and Liz knows that Tom's alive. Who's excited? :D

Next Time: Jacob struggles to wrap his mind around what he learns about Elizabeth Keen and Ressler gets pulled into a glitter party by Agnes.

[being-worthy]

The Last of Us Part II – Adding my two cents to the game

Just so we’re clear, let’s establish a few things first:

MAJOR TLOU II SPOILERS AHEAD!!

I also spoiled myself ahead because I needed to know what would happen to Joel and Ellie… and the ending as well.

I’ve played the first one. I liked how it ended and totally support the ending!

I haven’t played the 2nd part but I’m watching the playthrough on YouTube in small doses. My heart can’t take much of it at once lol (and being poor and paying of debt for a loved one is no fun because I don’t have much money to spend on myself).

Right now, I’m at the part where Joel goes with Ellie to the museum for her birthday – it’s so cute and fatherly and my heart can’t take how bittersweet this is …

The 2nd part was rushed and has some bugs that could’ve been avoided, whether you like it or not. That’s a fact and we’re here for the facts not the truth (if you want the truth join a philosophy course).

The parts with Abby are too long, more than what they should’ve been and her vengeance is 💩.

English is not being my first language but I do my best (that’s all I can do).

I’m listening to Bryan Adams and Richard Max while writing this because I’m still not over Joel…

You may voice your opinion but remember this is my space! Be respectful at all times and absolute no hate here!

The first part ended with Joel bringing an unconscious Ellie to the hospital where the last Fireflies are, she almost drowned and he had to perform CPR on her. He’s rendered unconscious too and wakes up on a hospital bed with Marlene and Ethan (the guy who hit Joel in the head with the butt of his rifle) in the room.

That’s when he starts asking where Ellie is and Marlene informs him that she’s not his problem anymore and being prepped for surgery. Here, we need to note the following things: Marlene had sworn to Ellie’s mother to protect and to keep her from harm’s way but TAKES the decision to practically sentence her to death and yeah, she gives a speech that it’s not easy for her either yada yada yada but it’s all bs. The reason why is because:

a)     making a decision refers more to the process and is something that takes time, while taking a decision is the act of deciding something that happens in an instant. Ultimately, Marlene decides for HER!! What about ‘my body, my decision’? Or in this case ‘her body, her decision’? It doesn’t matter if it’s related to an abortion or having your skull opened, the same principle should be applied!

She even says to Joel ‘because this isn’t about me. Or even her. There is no other choice here’. – Firstly, there’s always another choice! Secondly, Joel replies to her saying ‘yeah, you keep telling yourself that bullshit’ and he’s right, it’s total and utter bullshit. Even later on, when he’s carrying Ellie into the parking lot (I believe it was a parking lot), he tells her ‘that ain’t for you to decide’. Again, he’s right. It isn’t Marlene’s decision nor his but Ellie is still unconscious, so what do you want to do? Let them butcher her open? He crossed with her through half the country and ended up caring profoundly for her – she became like a daughter to him. He doesn’t have an on and off switch to turn off his feelings towards Ellie. Moreover, do tell me, if you’d like a doctor or someone else TAKE such a decision for you, instead of waiting for you to wake up and then tell you about the procedure and what this will entail. I get freaking furious whenever someone takes a decision for me or without asking me first.

b)     Neither she nor the doctor wait for Ellie to regain consciousness and since she’s unconscious, they see it as the perfect importunity to just go ahead and rummage in her brain to see if there’s something that could help them developing a vaccine or a cure.

c)     That’s another thing. They had zero guarantees, not even a 0.1 percentage of probability that they’d find something – nothing, nada, zilch. Just a hunch and maybe in an apocalyptic world for some people this might be enough but then why not wait until she wakes up and tell her ‘we don’t know for sure if your immunity will help us finding a cure or a vaccine. So that’s why we need to open your skull and see what makes you immune which ultimately, will kill you’ (in some nicer words though lol). Because they know she might not fully agree with it and they give a sh*t about what she thinks/wants and have that narrow military/cult mindset of ‘a sacrifice for the greater good’ and/or wouldn’t care either way because she’s a kid. I’m no fan of sacrificing one or a dozen people to save billions. If we can’t save them all or at least try our damn hardest, then we’re doing something terribly wrong! Also, she’s a freaking kid!! She hasn’t seen much and has her whole life ahead, doesn’t matter if it’s in the apocalypse. The thought that they’re willing to sacrifice her, a kid, without batting an eye shows me that all Fireflies are terrorists.

d)     Now to the doctor (the one with the scalpel) – according to the internet this guy was Abby’s father and his murder was why she tortured and slaughtered Joel. First things first, every doctor has to take on a Hippocratic oath. There are many different variations but they all come from an old one that states the following:

… I will apply dietetic measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice.

I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect. Similarly, I will not give to a woman an abortive remedy. In purity and holiness, I will guard my life and my art.

I will not use the knife, not even on sufferers from stone, but will withdraw in favour of such men as are engaged in this work.

Whatever houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves.

… If I fulfil this oath and do not violate it, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, being honoured with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely, may the opposite of all this be my lot.

The doctor doesn’t keep her from harm or injustice, he isn’t even there for her well-being, only to see how her brain ticks. So, that immense violation of his oath doesn’t make him a doctor anymore but a BUTCHER and don’t come to me with ‘but it’s the apocalypse or it’s for the greater good blah blah blah’, then how better are we compared to rapists and people who murder out of fun? If we throw our principles out of the window just because it’s the apocalypse and/or it’s for the greater good, then with all due respect we all should just go ahead and jump from a building and burn in hell.

e)     I got to the part where Joel and Ellie went to the museum for her birthday and at the end there’s a graffiti that says ‘liars’ with the fireflies’ symbol above. Even at the end, their own members saw that they Fireflies were only a bunch full of hot air and nothing else. They ended up being terrorists and forgot what they once stood and fought for.

So, taking all this into consideration - who wouldn’t have saved her? And yes, Joel saves her out of selfishness, so what? True, that he didn’t tell her the truth either, but can you resent him for this? He’d have to tell her that Marlene betrayed her, betrayed her trust and her mother’s trust in her and was willing to let her die and let her body being violated (rape is not the only way to violate someone’s body – FYI). This would have impacted Ellie’s state of mind too. She’d have ended up resenting Marlene and the Fireflies or worse. She had gone through so much already and didn’t need more on her plate. So, he spared her that betrayal and resentment.

Now let’s talk a bit more about Joel. Joel is no saint or hero but no villain either. He’s just a man who was willing to doom the whole already-damned world to protect the girl he adopted. He does what he needs in order to survive but within some reason and hasn’t lost his humanity (it’s just deeply hidden in him), he’s a person trying to survive. He tortures people - yes, but only to get information and makes sure to end them quickly afterwards. I agree that one of the main things you’ve to do during such times, is to adapt or you’ll die or worse. In the 1st part he’s rough, tough, strong, stubborn, resilient, experienced in the world he lives in and wary of strangers (just remember that scene on the highway with the stranger pretending to be hurt and Joel knew from the moment he saw him that it was a trap), someone you don’t want to mess with, etc. On the other hand, there’s this other side of him where he teaches Ellie to swim, tries to joke with her, to play the guitar, takes her to beautiful places, he takes her to a museum with dinosaurs and stuff from space, that proves he’s capable for carrying deeply for someone, in this case Ellie, and don’t get me started on the gift he gives her when they’re in the space capsule (!!), and so on. Ellie and Joel have this great dynamic. Then in the 2nd part, they made him to be so trustworthy toward a young unknown girl, tells her even their REAL names, like he literally says ‘my name’s Joel and that’s my brother Tommy. We live further down’. Dude, why don’t you just go walking around with a banner around your neck stating who you are to the whole freaking world. At some point he even said the name of their home (Jackson)!’ - WHAT THE HOLY F*CK?! He even offered her to go with them and take her to their home and give her supplies. Then, even BLINDLY and WITHOUT ANY WARINESS follows her to a place with an unknown sized group, where he and Tommy don’t know anyone - HOLY FREAKING HELL?! It’s not like it could be a trap, I mean it’s completely normal that there are many survivors camping up in the mountains in the middle of a snow blizzard, it’s the perfect season for doing that ¬¬. We’re living in times were everyone is kind to each other… I just don’t get it. This behaviour change is too radical and old habits die hard, especially ones acquired and used for decades!! That’s a big flaw from Naughty Dog regarding Joel. They portrayed him as someone stupid (sorry Joel but it’s true), sloppy, too soft, etc. He’s older and fatherlier with Ellie all fine and good, but he’d still be very cautious toward outsiders, particularly when they outnumber him!! It’s true that at some point we’ll have to be more trustworthy toward others in order to try and reestablish society or something close to it but you’d still be wary and wouldn’t take them right to your home first thing!! I had also into consideration that they were being chased by a horde of runners and clickers and their options where limited but still!

In some games the death of an important and primary character is sometimes essential. TLOU II is one of them because this was necessary for Ellie to grown and learn more about herself, the world she lives in, among others but Joel deserved way better than what he got! I feel for Tommy too, he didn’t deserve to split up with Maria or lose an eye but I believe the reason as to why he became obsessed with avenging Joel was because he already thinks he failed him in the past already, either when Sarah died, or when he joined the Fireflies and Joel wasn’t happy about it, or when they blindly trusted Abby and her friends.

Before I start with Abby, we need to establish something else first: revenge is about retaliation; justice is about restoring balance. The motive of revenge has mostly to do with expressing rage, hatred, or spite. It’s a protest or payback, and its foremost intent is to harm. And because it’s so impassioned, it’s typically disproportionate to the original injury—meaning that it usually can’t be viewed as just. The punishment may fit the crime, but it’s often an exaggerated response to another’s perceived offense. Nevertheless, I do believe that justice comes from vengeance but that type of justice only breeds more vengeance, and this is what Abby essentially does, avenge her father (even though I believe he lost his way and became unscrupulous) and ends up being capable to live with herself with little to no trouble after what she did to Joel, after repeatedly hitting him over and over and over again with a golf club, and forcing Ellie to watch the last bit. Abby and a bunch of others, who were also aware of her secretive plans, travel thousands of miles just to find Joel and brutalise him and massacre him. That scene was really brutal. But at some point both Abby and Ellie have to realise that vengeance is not the answer and if everyone keeps coming back seeking vengeance, then they’ll move around in a vicious circle until someone decides to forgive because killing like this not only hurts themselves, but also those they love and love them.

I don’t see the WLF as a whole as someone who deserves sympathy. They’re quite similar to the Fireflies who maybe at some point had noble goals (or almost) but ended up strayed from their path. They loot and kill everyone they see, no questions asked (much like the police these days in our world), even if they’re just passing by and aren’t affiliated to any group and just want to survive.

The ending of TLOU II couldn’t have been better. Ellie was happy with Dina and the baby but deep down she knew she didn’t close the chapter with Joel’s murder. Abby, and knew that at some point, she’d have to revisit that part to close it entirely. Her leaving with Tommy was the right decision, even if Dina wouldn’t/couldn’t fully understand why and I feel sad for Maria too but I strongly believe that she’ll return - whether or not Dina will wait for her is another story.

This is all I’ve to add. I’ve been sitting her for about 5+ hours writing this because I wanted to put my perspective of this masterpiece out there and show people that the game is still great.

Let me know your thoughts!!

[evangeline-of-montfort]

ash garden (ii)

chapter 1 read it here on ao3

The words leave me in a jumble, trying to push from my mouth before the enemy arrives. Trying to call for aid before I am utterly trapped. “Elane, there’s an active raid. I’m in trouble: Sector E-1. Please– ”

The ground itself shakes with the force of drumming hooves as figures burst from the treeline, surrounding me in seconds. I don’t get much further before a gust of wind rips the wireless broadcaster from my fingers and sends it flying over the ledge behind me. Windweaver. 

Now I’m well and truly on my own. I pray that the raiders hadn’t interfered with the second broadcaster, that Elane heard me and sent aid. 

If not, I could die here. 

I count a dozen other raiders, each sitting astride a wall of shaggy fur and horns.  Bison. From experience, I know that they can sustain over a dozen bullets before going down. The animals’ eyes are flat and glassy, a sure sign they’re under the control of a Silver animos. 

Fuck. 

“You weren’t broadcasting for aid, I hope?” the lead raider asks coolly. Her nose and mouth are covered with a black bandana; above it, her eyes are hard and unforgiving. I reach out with my ability, scanning her up and down. She carries two pistols with eight rounds each, bright copper and heavy tungsten; her belt buckle is silver. 

I weigh my options, wondering how many enemies I could cut down before the bison trample me into the earth. The odds are not good, so I start talking. “No help is coming for me, I’m afraid. I seem to have been cut off from my unit.” 

The raider shrugs. “I apologize—we may have interfered slightly with your broadcasting capabilities. It wouldn’t have been ideal for newblood freaks to rush us from all sides as soon as we got close to you.”

As soon as we got close to you. Any lingering hope I had of this being a random attack vanishes. They targeted me specifically, but why? 

I choose my next words carefully. The voice I use belongs to a lost princess from a lost court, but it serves me well here. “Why waste thirteen seasoned raiders on one patrol officer? You must think quite highly of me. Either that, or you aren’t sure of your own abilities in the slightest.”

As I talk, I study the raiders, trying to pick out the details that might save my life. Why are they here? Who are they? 

Each of them wears a black bandana covering their noses and mouths. Their eyes are all hard and cold, veined with gray. Their clothes seem relatively new, a far cry from the mismatched rags that raiders usually wear. I spot an emblem of some sort—a shield emblazoned with a silver stripe—and it looks disgustingly familiar. 

My stomach drops as I realize what it is. 

The Nortan Silver Secession is here.

One of the raiders slides off her mount, moving with a liquid, easy grace.  Silk. “Why waste thirteen raiders on one person? Well, that would be very simple,” she says, talking like she would to a child. “We do indeed think a great deal of you, Your Majesty.” 

She stops before me and sinks to one knee. It feels like a mockery, and it may very well be. “Lady Evangeline Samos. Daughter of Royal House Samos and House Viper. Betrothed of not one but two Calore kings. Former Queen of the Rift.”

My legs go weak at her words. They call me back to an old life, titles won in a country that no longer exists. What game are the Secessionists playing now? “I am no longer any of those things,” I manage. “What do you want with me?” 

The silk tuts as she rises and approaches me, swaying almost hypnotically in my vision. Something in her face reminds me of Sonya and her family. They’re probably related, after all. “I am no longer any of those things,” she mocks. “I see our poor queen has been brainwashed by the Montfort bastards. I hear you have renounced all titles and family ties, my dear. That you walk as equals with Red rats in the streets. That you take a girl to your bed each night—”

“Enough!” I snap, sounding braver than I feel. Her words struck deep, an unwelcome reminder that I am the antithesis of all I was born to be. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want?” 

She is unperturbed. “Why, we want to restore you to your throne, Your Majesty. To crown you queen of all of Norta. Second to no other. And, if you so wish—” She leers, and I can see the disdain in her eyes—“the Lady Haven shall be named your princess consort.”

Her words release an old yearning inside me, a longing for power and for freedom. It tears through my insides before I can control it, and the greed has to show on my face.

“That’s it, little magnetron,” the silk coos. “You need not resist. Blood need not be shed. And before the week is out, you will have a throne and a crown.”

She is offering me what I was raised to want. I was  born to be the queen of Norta. Such a deep-seated desire does not simply disappear. I feel my old ambitions surge to life, a roaring tide inside my head. 

But I know now that what the silk offers is not true. To wear a crown is to lose your freedom of choice. Power given can be just as easily taken away.

And here in Montfort, with its too-close sky and sheer granite cliffs, roaring whitewater falls and dark green pines, I have everything I want. Ptolemus and Wren are here. I am free to love Elane, to marry her, and to grow old and die with her. I do not need a throne. 

What I need is to get out of here alive. I need to stall for more time and hope that backup is on its way.

“A crown and a country,” I say slowly. Every word is an extra second I’m alive. My mind searches frantically for an escape route and comes up empty. Please, Elane. I need you. “Now, that’s a hard offer to beat, Lady…” 

“Tana Iral, Your Majesty.” So she is related to Sonya, maybe a cousin or aunt. Her eyes gleam with barely-suppressed excitement, watching me as a cat watches its prey. As my mother’s wolves used to watch me. 

I briefly wonder what will become of me if they have their way. They could make me their puppet, controlled in every action by a Merandus whisper. The thought terrifies me like no other. 

Keep talking. It’s all I can do. 

“But… enlighten me,” I continue, forcing the fear away. “There is already a stable government in place in Norta. Democracy. Equality of blood. You speak of a waiting crown, but I see no throne.”

Tana laughs, showing even white teeth. “ Yet, Your Majesty. A government led by Reds and their allies is no government at all. They cannot hope to stand against us for long.”

My stomach twists even tighter. “You propose civil war.”

“A restoration of the throne to its rightful owner.” 

“Countless lives will be lost,” I say slowly. “Silver lives. Valuable blood.” I try to fall into my expected role: a blood supremacist, a Silver lady. It isn’t difficult—after all, it’s who I used to be. 

Another one of the raiders shifts impatiently. “Those Silvers forfeited their lives when they betrayed their people. We have no qualms about clearing them out of the way. Will you, Your Majesty?” His words carry a thinly veiled threat. 

They’re getting tired of stalling. My time is almost up.

I don’t know what I would’ve done if left to my own devices, but suddenly, several things happen all at once. 

Tires screech on asphalt as a cycle roars down the Hawkway. Someone dismounts and runs towards me, and a glowing blue shield erupts across my vision. My heart jumps in my chest. Davidson. Elane came through.

I scan the Hawkway for more reinforcements, but there are none. The premier’s the only person I’ve got, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have here except Tolly.  

The raiders overcome their surprise and attack. I feel exactly six guns fire at once, and without blinking, I stop the bullets in midair and throw them back. Two of them cut through flesh, and the rest go sailing into the woods, missing the raiders entirely. I grit my teeth—I’m out of practice. 

A gale-force wind picks up. I stagger and lose my balance, and it throws me to the ground. My ribs slam into the dirt, knocking the wind from my chest. 

The air itself turns into a vacuum, sucking the breath from my lungs as I scrabble uselessly for purchase. I try to shout as I’m flung towards the edge of the cliff, but my own breath chokes me, forcing the sound back down my throat. Stars swim across my vision, bright spots of color that almost hurt my eyes. 

The windstorm is cut off as suddenly as it began. The sounds and sensations of battle abruptly disappear as a dome materializes around me and the premier, blue as a robin’s egg and nearly an inch thick on all sides. 

Still on the ground, I cough and gasp for air, stunned by both the impact and the sudden silence. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and every breath is unnaturally loud.

“Can you stand?” Davidson bends over me, his eyes alight with concern.

I grasp his offered hand and gingerly pull myself up. Nothing seems broken—I can already feel the bruises spreading, but I’ve definitely had a lot worse. “Thanks for the save. You’ve clearly been practicing.” 

He smiles at that. “Even old dogs can learn new tricks.” 

I suddenly lose my balance again, catching myself on his arm. At first, I think my brain hasn’t reoriented itself properly, but then I realize it isn’t me. 

The ground is trembling again. 

I look up in time to see the bison charging us, a moving wall of pure muscle. A mountain of shaggy fur slams into the shield, inches from my face, with enough force to knock down a small house. The dome shakes under the impact. Despite myself, I flinch back, nearly colliding with Davidson. 

An awful crunch filters through the muffling effects of the shield. One of the animals collapses sideways, its neck bent at the wrong angle. The others begin to sway uncertainly, stamping at the ground, but their eyes go flat as the animos reasserts control. They shake their heads, stunned, and charge us again. 

The dome flickers, growing weaker with each impact, each passing second. It’s incredibly disorienting, like the entire world is underwater, distorted. Everything is blurry except for Davidson at my side. The ground shakes, my vision flashes blue, and the drumming of hooves rumbles in my ears like thunder. I want to curl into a ball on the ground and put my head between my knees until it’s over. 

Instead, I put a hand on Davidson’s shoulder. It trembles with strain, nearly in time with the flickering shield. “Don’t give out on me,” I say, trying to bolster us both. “I’d like to get out of this alive.” 

His eyes meet mine for the briefest second, the only acknowledgement he can manage. I can’t begin to fathom the amount of willpower it takes to maintain that dome. He doesn’t look it, but the premier might be the strongest Ardent I’ve ever met—and I’ve fought the lightning girl. 

My legs brace automatically as another charge begins. I can feel the vibrations in the iron soles of my boots, like standing on top of a rattling transport. Next to me, Davidson grits his teeth. His stare is so intense I can feel it, even though it’s not leveled at me. 

“How much longer can you last?” I ask, and my voice echoes around the tiny space.

He only shakes his head, the smallest of movements. We don’t have long at all.

The Nortans prowl around the edges of our bubble. They don’t waste energy attacking—they don’t have to. All they have to do is wait for Davidson to give out, and they’ll have us outnumbered eleven to two.

Who has the advantage? Lord Arven’s voice echoes bitterly through my brain. That question has an easy answer. 

The hard part is neutralizing the advantage. 

“We have to kill the animos,” I realize suddenly. 

Briefly, I wonder if their animos is family. One of my mother’s Viper cousins, here to drag me back to Norta at long last. I can only think of a few nobles who could control half a herd of bison for this long.  “Which one of them do you think–”

Even with the bandana, even through the uncertain light cast by the dome, her face is familiar. We have the same eyes, after all—Viper eyes—but hers are brown to my gray.  There’s no mistaking it.  

“Atara,” I whisper. 

In another life, we were friends and allies—cousins—at court. She helped organize my birthday gala when we were fifteen. I cheered her Queenstrial, even though I knew she didn’t stand a chance. She was my mother’s favorite niece. 

Davidson seems to realize. “I’m… sorry,” he says. “If—if there were another way…” 

The strain in his voice surprises me—the premier isn’t one to display exhaustion. We’re out of time. This isn’t the place for doubt, or morals.

“There isn’t,” I say flatly. “She’s chosen her side. I’ve chosen mine. Drop the shield on ten.” 

The premier nods, unable to manage words. A sheen of sweat coats his brow. I slide a steel ring off my right hand, forming it into a bullet with a burst of willpower. 

The blue shield disappears. Sound and color rush back to the world, but I barely notice. My vision tunnels until all I see is Atara’s black-clad figure. I take a deep breath and let the projectile fly, and like an extension of my own arm, I feel its trajectory across the clearing. I feel the miniature crosswinds as it slices through the air. 

I feel it puncture fabric, flesh, and bone, in that order.

Atara crumples to the ground.

I’m sorry.