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camelliacats · 2 years

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written in your blood (part 5 & Epilogue/6)

One last visit to Rowle's—and Flora's—saga with the Carrow siblings, written as my entry for the Death Eater 2022 Fest. Set primarily after this oneshot and this story.

Ch5&Epilogue: "Now: Together Again," "Epilogue" [FFN] [AO3] | ← | start from the beginning

Pairings/Characters: Thorfinn Rowle/Alecto Carrow & Flora Carrow/Amycus Carrow

Rating: strong T

Words: ~5,580

Additional info: romance, cross gen, family, angst, hurt/comfort, violence, Dark magic, Harry's era, 3rd person POV

Summary: Thorfinn's made the same promise twice over already…and he'll make it again, if it means new ally Flora will be instrumental in getting his love and his best mate back. Ch5&Epilogue: With everything in place, Thorfinn and Flora see things through. -—And, in the end….

Thorfinn's eyes snap open when the sun's light is harsh and Flora stands over him, shaking him awake. Lucky for her, he only grabs her wrist and doesn't aim his wand at her face.

"Rowle, hurry! Ferro's saddled his Chinese Fireball already, and his Peruvian Vipertooth is about to take flight."

He rolls onto his left side and hustles after Flora out of the shed, just as the copper-hued dragon launches itself as promised. Ferro guffaws in the distance, and his Fireball laughs in little, fiery spurts. Then Ferro takes off, as well.

Flora produces her broom, Thorfinn gets on, each of them donning an Azkaban guard cloak before she kicks off—only to careen to the right, narrowly missing a giant tree on the edge of Ferro's property.

But good thing she does: This way, they avoid colliding with Ferro's adolescent Welsh Green who lags behind its playmates and melds in with its scenery.

"Sonuva—" Flora bites down on the rest of her curse and veers the Bluebottle diagonally up and hopefully out of the dragons' line of chaos. They're buffeted by the gusts summoned by the flap of the Welsh Green's wings until Flora has them hovering even higher. "And to think," Thorfinn catches her hissing against the wind, "my mother was finally right about something."

Yet, dangerous though dragons are, Ferro's adventure goes off without a hitch. He steers his trio of pets from his mount on the Fireball, and the three dragons glide and swim through the skies like hatchlings testing their wings. It's clear Ferro has raised them together, for the Fireball playfully puffs fire at its hatchmates and the Vipertooth pretends to nip at the Welsh Green, but it's all fun, no harm. This flight is the freedom dragons seek, in a world not ruled by men.

Still, keeping up with dragons, even on a broom as fast as a Bluebottle, is no easy task. Flora and Thorfinn both lean as forward as is comfortable and fly at breakneck speed, north, northeast, without any discernable landmarks around them. At times, even the dragons are pinpricks against the clouds and sometimes disappear amongst them, with only the Welsh Green acting like a bright, deep viridian beacon to set Flora and Thorfinn back on track. At these speeds, Thorfinn's not certain they could feel the pull of the blood oath even if it tugs on them now.

They must fly for an hour or more. Thorfinn's backside and legs feel numb, his mind more so. Perhaps they assumed too much, and this never was going to work. He opens his mouth to deliver the news to Flora, to point out the lazy loops the Welsh Green does half a league ahead of them—

—but then the Chinese Fireball snarls and bellows, and it spews a blaze at some invisible thing barring their way.

Flora slows to a hover, and she and Thorfinn watch as magic shimmers in reaction to the dragon's initial strike. Nothing comes into view, but something is there. Something tall, something large.

The Fireball roars and sends blast after blast, and each hit outlines the object. The Vipertooth dives out of its own irritated curiosity; it strikes with its hind claws out. Dark gray stone becomes visible as chunks drop into the ocean, though their prize remains mostly hidden from sight.

Flora dares to fly closer and, within a certain range, Azkaban fades into view for her and Thorfinn, as well. The Ministry's newest cloaking magic, of which they knew nothing, falls to literal pieces as the dragons do as Flora predicted and batter the obstacle interrupting their delightful flight.

"Get ready!" Flora shouts at Thorfinn over her shoulder.

Thorfinn's hold on her tightens, and she speeds up once more, flying high to avoid catching the dragons' attention.

Sirens screech from within the stronghold right as the Fireball looses a blast that breaches the inner barrier at a portion weakened by the Vipertooth's claws. The Welsh Green lands and pokes its head in out of curiosity, but it just as soon takes off again, too docile and not interested in the carnage its hatchmates create.

Thorfinn cranes his neck around Flora's dark hair, which whips around, hitting him in the face. Another blast or two, and suffice it to say things should be—

"Now!" Flora hollers.

His hand darts to the hidden button sewn into the right lapel of the guard cloak. The Portkey there teleports him instantly. One moment, he's in the sky with Flora. The next, he's inside the main entrance of Azkaban.

Except, this time, Thorfinn Rowle is no resident.

The emergency up above on the top floors has sent many of the Aurors running, but a couple linger here and whiten upon seeing Thorfinn and company. One wizard shakes his stupor off quickly and means to approach, but Flora hits him with a Stunning Spell hard enough that he goes flying and cracks his head against the far wall. His witch partner isn't so lucky; Thorfinn's Killing Curse lights up the entryway a sickly green when it connects.

"This proves another supposition," Flora muses as they march past the bodies and continue down the corridor. "With as large a breach as that, the security measures start to fail, either like dominoes or due to lack of reinforcement."

Thorfinn grimaces. "As long as we can use our wands, that's all I care about." He glances at her beside him. "But where to first?"

She hesitates. If she's waiting for the blood oath's direction, it doesn't come.

(For good measure, Thorfinn tries to focus on the magic, too. There's a dull thrum in his chest, in his body, but he can't pinpoint it, so he dismisses it as nothing of consequence.)

"There has to be a records room or an office," Flora declares. She doubles back partway, swinging into each doorway, checking for contents. Four rooms from the entrance, she finds the correct office and marches in. While she rifles through parchment on the large metal desk bolted to the floor, Thorfinn yanks open the cabinet drawers lining the walls, just to have something to do. "The problem with Azkaban is that it's too large," she says to fill their silence.

Off in the distance, a cacophony of destruction reigns, but Thorfinn humors her. "The problem with Azkaban is that it exists," he retorts.

But Flora shakes her head. "At the Ministry, the lad I spoke with, barely a few years older than me, said that—the triangular shape of Azkaban? They named them, the corners. They didn't originally have names, just numbers."

Thorfinn slams a drawer shut. "…ironically, I know this already."

She furrows her brow at him.

"It was one of my bloody ancestors who created this place."

Flora's stare is a blank slate, but Thorfinn can draw anything he wants on her features. Madness, for the Rowles existing and therefore causing her current heartache. Astonishment, for the pure fact. Sorrow, perhaps, that one Rowle made the prison and another landed in it.

Thorfinn dismisses her with a wave of his hand. "Have you found what you need yet?"

That snaps Flora out of her daze. "Um, no. Not yet." She rummages more, through the lower drawers of the desk. Then, her voice softer, "I was shocked to learn the wing names."

"Tisiphone, Megaera, and Alecto," Thorfinn rattles off. He scowls. "She wasn't named for a wing in Azkaban, as far as I know." But he keeps another remark to himself, that perhaps Akillios wouldn't've allowed it, even if Petronelle probably possessed such sick a humor.

Flora straightens then with a heap of documents in her arms. They spill onto the desk, but Thorfinn spies familiar faces in the sea of photos amongst the parchment. Flora shuffles and tidies them as she scans the lines with a neat fingernail. "I found them."

For the first time in weeks, Thorfinn's heart soars.

"Amycus and Alecto are both in Tisiphone Wing, but…" She holds up their files, crestfallen. "They separated them. Alecto is on Phaeo Floor, Amycus on Polyxo Floor. Stupid names…!" She scatters more parchment while cross-referencing. "Finally! The fourth and eighth floors, respectively. But their blocks are roughly atop one another."

"Makes things simpler," Thorfinn says as they leave the office behind them and return to the corridor.

Flora nods.

The corridor terminates in the middle of the fortress, as do most pathways here. Thorfinn glances at his compatriot for guidance, and Flora motions to the right fork.

They hasten past other cells. Dementors right now are either preoccupied or spilling outside via the new hole the dragons have made, and Thorfinn and Flora encounter few other Aurors considering the Aurors have more pressing priorities.

But he can taste it…! They are so close to success, and they climb to the third floor and then to the fourth floor, towards Alecto—

—and that's when it happens.

For the first time in his life, a blood oath makes Thorfinn keep his word, and his feet move him past the fourth floor, even when Flora stops on the landing.

"Rowle!" she shouts after him. She motions towards Alecto's floor.

He struggles but turns to face her from the next flight up. His shoulders sink, and he says nothing, merely grips the hilt of his wand tighter.

Flora, sharp thing she is, understands in a snap that the oath is forcing Thorfinn to collect Amycus first with her. He can't go against his words, sworn to her, just as Flora didn't, sworn to him. And yet, when they both realize this, Flora stares at Thorfinn with a surprising mixture of hope and pity.

Thorfinn turns away, hating that expression aimed at him.

His hatred for blood oaths boils his blood and pushes him on, making the floors fly away beneath his feet as they climb. Aurors suffer his ire, but now a handful of Dementors begin to draw near on the seventh floor.

Shit. Everyone learns the Patronus Charm during their school days, but what use for it does a Death Eater have?

The cloaked creatures float close, almost out of curiosity, as Thorfinn and Flora approach Amycus' floor with caution. One gets almost within arm's reach, and Flora pushes them back with the charm, but it's not very strong. Showing her genuine fear for the first time since they met, she snatches Thorfinn's nearer arm and runs.

The Dementors don't give chase, nor do they need to, as this is their territory. Thorfinn and Flora expect to leave, so, unless Flora knows of or plans to make another exit, they'll have to pass by the wicked creatures once more.

"He should be here!" Flora yelps, her voice too breathy, not steady at all like usual. She whirls around and scans the faces behind the bars. Panic leaks into her tone. "He should be here…"

Thorfinn notes each countenance, as well. Towards the end of the floor, a thin, sickly man picks up his head and squints at them. "…Darkling…?" he rasps, like a man in need of water.

Flora freezes beside Thorfinn. The next second, she drops to her knees in front of this man's cell, forgetting her wand on the floor so she can reach through to him with both hands. "Amycus?"

Surprisingly, he relaxes with one of her hands against his cheek and keeps it there, trapped by his own hand. "Flora," he says, though his voice is brittle from lack of use.

Thorfinn frowns at this reality. Amycus truly hasn't looked this bad since their school days, when he was a sickly one. Azkaban will surely kill him, and quickly, if they don't free him. "Amycus, we're going to get you out. Can you stand?"

Amycus' beady eyes don't pierce him the way they have the last several years, putting on this act of "I and therefore Alecto are better than you, and Alec can do better." No, it's like sixth, seventh year all over again, and those first few years out of Hogwarts. Amycus must be recalling that, while he believes Thorfinn Rowle an oaf, Thorfinn is a dependable oaf (and he's their oaf). He nods, and he struggles to his feet with Flora's help.

"Good. Tuck yourself into the back corner, mate."

While Amycus protects himself as best he can, Flora purses her lips. "This can't be easy, can it? This is Azkaban. No wands here, cells draining detainees of magic…"

"Might as well try, no?"

On a silent count, they hit the bars with a Blasting Curse. They creak a little but don't bend. On the next try, Thorfinn opts for the Bombardment Spell. Flora's anger and desperation must being amplifying her magic or those behind Azkaban truly mistakenly believed they'd covered everything, because the stone surrounding the bars cracks. Then Flora enlarges the bars, until they're too big to fit, and keeps going, and the stone surrounding the entrance to Amycus' cell crumbles under the pressure. For a place that's supposed to be devoid of magic and outwardly protected from it, internally it's as though they forgot to think of contingencies.

The dust settles, and Amycus shuffles out a minute later, picking his way through the debris. He stares at Thorfinn in awe and then turns that impressed look on Flora. He smirks at her, softly, and rubs a thumb over her right cheekbone.

It's a private moment, and Thorfinn would be happy to let his best mate and newfound friend? partner-in-crime? enjoy it, if only they weren't so pressed for time.

"Alecto's still downstairs," he pipes up, taking the lead. He internally heaves a sigh of relief when two sets of footsteps follow behind.

Regardless, a small wall of Dementors blocks their path back down. Thorfinn hesitates, but a wand tip comes over his shoulder—and Flora's Patronus Charm, though still non-corporeal, pulses with blinding light this time, clearing the way.

With his end of the bargain to Flora fulfilled, Thorfinn all but races back to Alecto. He reaches Phaeo Floor ahead of Amycus and Flora, and he's halfway through scanning the cells when they catch up with him (though his annoyance is quelled when he spares a second to recall Amycus is not well for this endeavor).

"Remember, their cells were over each other," Flora calls to Thorfinn.

"Yes, but which—?" He doesn't finish the thought. Ah, right. Near the end.

As if he needs the extra clue, Thorfinn hears from the third-to-last cell, "That cannot be Rowle."

He grins and jogs to Alecto's bars. No matter the circumstances, count on Alecto Carrow to find it in her always to be bossy.

But, just as quickly, his grin vanishes. Alecto's hair hangs loose behind her back and, though still stocky in build, her cheeks are eerily sunken.

It's as if she and Amycus have been here far longer than two weeks.

"…fuck," she utters, staring back. Her eyes widen. "Thorfinn?"

"Time to go, Allie."

Alecto gawks at him and shakes her head. "This can't be real. Amycus and I—the war is over. For good. We're not getting out of here. This is—this is some elaborate spell to—to make me talk or—to torture me or—"

Thankfully, Amycus and Flora approach her cell then. "We're no mirage, Alec. These two are here, for us."

Alecto's eyes flash to Flora, and recognition and…understanding? No, something deeper flashes between the two witches. Alecto nods and furrows her brow at Thorfinn. "But—how?"

"Well, take cover first, luv. Then—" He pauses. He and Flora haven't actually spoken about what's to come after rescuing their loves. "Cell first, escape second," Thorfinn settles.

They do the same work on Alecto's cell front which they did to Amycus' after Alecto takes cover. There happens to be a bit more dust this time, since Thorfinn's spells were a hair too eager, and that makes Alecto cough and glare at him.

But then she walks free. She walks free and right up to him and doesn't push him away when he snags two seconds to have her in his arms.

The moment ends when Amycus looks amongst them. "How the hell did you two get here? And what is going on in the upper floors?"

Thorfinn and Flora exchange a look. "Details later," he says as they start to wend their way towards the prison's center. He tries to Disapparate with Alecto's hand in his, to no avail. "Damn. Anti-Disapparition Jinx is still in place."

Flora's got Amycus arm tucked into the crook of her elbow. She pauses and frowns a second later. "I tried, too; you're right. And since the cloaks took us to the bottom floor, the jinx's active area might extend to right outside the front door, as well…" Then her eyes light up. "So we go up."

"Are you daft?" Amycus growls. "Whatever's causing that ruckus is bound to get us killed and Alec and I don't have our wands!"

"We'll find you replacements as soon as possible, Amycus," she assures him, and already she leads the way upstairs towards the wreckage and dragons.

Thorfinn tries to keep pace, pointedly ignoring Alecto's disapproving look that matches her brother's. "Flora, we're not all going to fit on one broom," he warns.

"You're right," she agrees. Flora glances back at him over her shoulder. "And these cloaks will only take us here or to the Ministry, which is the last place any of us needs to be. So we'll get as high as we can and jump from the opening the dragons have made."

Somehow, Amycus pales even more. His head swivels to Alecto. "Did she say 'dragons'?!"

Thorfinn frowns. "Jump and…?"

"Disapparate, of course, Rowle."

He sighs. He was afraid she'd say that. Still, short of attempting to fly one of Ferro's dragons back to England, it's doable. "To?"

Flora doesn't answer him until they're near the shouts and screams of those trying to flee frightened, angry magical reptilians. She scans the openings, looking for the best place for their escape.

Thorfinn wonders. The Fireball wants to keep Azkaban alight for disrupting its day, and this particular Vipertooth learned to spit its venom. Their options are few.

But, nearer the top, the Welsh Green lies curled up, watching the carnage like an exhausted kitten. Nothing occurs around it, so Flora points. "There," she says. One last glance at Thorfinn. "Safe house."

It's the first time she says so little yet he comprehends it all. Thorfinn nods, and then the foursome parts. Their odds are better this way, Flora taking Amycus, Thorfinn taking Alecto. They head in different directions and seek different methods. Flora mainly avoids the chaos and Thorfinn barrels right through it.

They might have different ways of accomplishing their goals, but it doesn't pass by Thorfinn that he and Flora have in common the desire to do anything for the Carrow siblings.

He doesn't know if Flora and Amycus reach the opening first, because he can't keep track of them while keeping himself and Alecto alive. Thorfinn and Alecto dodge a swing of the Vipertooth's tail and finally reach a broken ledge on the fifteenth (so close to the top) floor. He pulls her close to him by the waist. "Alecto, ready?"

So strange, seeing his confident Alecto eye the craggy bottom and the ocean so warily. But she looks up at him. There are dark circles under her eyes. "…you once swore an oath to me, to keep Amycus alive, from harm."

Nearly twenty years ago, but Thorfinn wonders if blood oaths fade. He nods.

"You kept your promise, Thorfinn." It's Alecto-speak for "thank you."

"I never said I wouldn't do the same for you, Alecto."

She purses her lips. For a brief moment, they're teens again, and this Alecto won't admit that she refuses to put herself first, that it's hard to put herself first. But she presses a hand against his chest, splaying her fingers, and nods as she tucks her head in towards him.

He presses a soft kiss on her crown. And then he jumps.

Epilogue

Disapparition from large heights is doable, and witches and wizards do it often. Disapparition from large distances is also possible but, depending on the distance, is ill-advised. Disapparition while moving is dangerous, due to serious risk of Splinching. Disapparition from an area marked with an Anti-Disapparition Jinx into an area free from one is tricky and comes with risk of death, depending on the jinx's range.

Disapparition also can take the energy right out of a person.

That is why, Thorfinn knows, a full minute passes with him on the sparse back lawn behind the safe house in Birmingham, him on his back and Alecto in his arms, pressed into his right side. Even when he wakes, he still struggles to move, Alecto little better off than he.

Flora and Amycus must've come minutes before them, for they're recovered somehow, just well enough to emerge from the house and get the other couple indoors. Amycus sets them up on Thorfinn's mattress in the spare room while Flora does the protective enchantments. Then she joins them, shedding the Azkaban guard cloak just outside the room.

"How—long?" Thorfinn manages.

"We had barely five minutes on you two," Flora assures him. She shoves a glass of water into his face and does the same for Alecto. Then she stumbles, caught both by Amycus and the door frame.

"Flora, sit down already," Amycus hisses. His tone is too fraught with worry, though, to carry much heat.

She musters a tired smile and slides against the frame onto the wooden floor. She positions herself so she still can interact with Thorfinn and Alecto. But she squeezes Amycus' hand when he kneels beside her. "I wasn't the one in a cell. It was just too much magic use at once, is all. Apparating here and then putting up the charms. I'll recover my energy soon enough."

Alecto shakes her head and passes the younger witch her water. "Recover fast. There's still a lot I want to know, including where the hell we are," she adds, plucking Thorfinn's drink from his hands and downing half of it instead.

With his hands free, Thorfinn removes his guard cloak and holds it up for the brother and sister to see. "Well, thanks to my brute force and your Flora's brilliant plotting, we managed to get our hands on these and steer some dragons your way. But it helped that we crossed paths to begin with…"

For the next several hours, Thorfinn and Flora take turns filling Alecto and Amycus in on their adventures. Thorfinn does much of the talking, because Flora's not used to traveling such far distances or using so many spells in such rapid succession, and she fights dozing off a time or two from her seat on the floor. She looks as though she might've spent some time in Azkaban herself, actually.

As for the pair they rescued from prison… The longer the quartet sits, Thorfinn notes some color returns to Alecto and Amycus both, so Amycus doesn't look so sickly and the circles around Alecto's eyes don't stand out so much. If it weren't for their drab Azkaban garb, Thorfinn might think he and Flora merely rousted them from some secretive task the Dark Lord entrusted to two of his most loyal Death Eaters.

(But, of course, thoughts of the Dark Lord remind him that everything has changed, and that they still have an unknown future ahead of them.)

After Flora finally succumbs to exhaustion when early evening arrives, Thorfinn flicks his hand to light a few of the old sconces in here, but he keeps them dim and doesn't light the ones near where Flora and Amycus sit, so as to let her sleep. Then he holds his wand out for either sibling to take. "Until we can find you replacements, you can share mine," he murmurs.

Always the look of surprise with these two. But Amycus doesn't hesitate, accepting the offer and trying out a Color-Changing Charm on his prison attire. Thorfinn's wand yields, and Amycus' gray and grimy white ensemble darkens to all black. Satisfied, Amycus attempts a softened Scouring Charm second. The dust that settled in his short crop and on his skin evaporates, and he sighs like a free man before passing the wand to his sister.

Alecto darkens her clothing, as well, but then she Summons loose nails from the floorboards and Transfigures them into bobby pins. "Your wand, Thorfinn," she says as she hands the item back. But her contentment is evident as she gathers her hair and pins her characteristic chignon into place.

"You took a lot of risks, trusting her," Amycus remarks, tipping his head Flora's way.

Thorfinn shrugs. "Were we any other people, I'd say, 'We're Death Eaters. We don't trust.'" But his blue eyes move from Amycus' pudgy face to Alecto's hard features. "…but it's different, when it comes to matters pertaining to you two."

Amycus rolls his eyes, and Alecto jabs a finger into his chest. "She could've been lying for all you knew, Thorfinn."

"I'm not so stupid that I never learned a thing or two from the two of you. Hence, the blood oath." And, quite honestly, there's more that Thorfinn might add that he's learned along the way, but he knows Alecto and Amycus will never exactly leave this oddly bashful side to them behind.

So he doesn't bring up the way Flora looked whenever they discussed their shite chances of rescuing them.

He doesn't highlight the fondness Flora spoke of learning Dark magic from Amycus.

He doesn't mention her insecurities—wanting to know Alecto, wanting to save her for Amycus, being scared to risk one for the other.

And he also doesn't point out right now, a sight Thorfinn never imagined he'd see, Amycus sitting comfortably on the floor with one leg propped up and his other stretched out beside Flora, her arms wrapped around one of his while her head uses his shoulder as a pillow. Flora's all but curled into him, and Amycus looks content. Thorfinn might daresay happy.

But Amycus is his friend, so he doesn't point any of this out, even though it's quite obvious even to "someone as thick as" Thorfinn that Flora is Amycus' love, just as he is hers.

"I will say that I'm done with blood oaths," he announces in the quiet. That earns him a snicker from Amycus and a snort from Alecto, but he doesn't mind if they don't believe him this time. Instead, he unfolds the traveling cloak he left behind yesterday and tugs Alecto to him. "And I'll add that Flora's got the right idea. Try to rest now, you two. You're safe."

Even in dim light, he catches the clench of Amycus' jaw. And Alecto tenses against Thorfinn, though he's able with effort to pull her flat beside him on the bare mattress, and she barely relaxes even after he spreads his cloak across them like a blanket. Nevertheless, he doesn't drift off until Alecto eases her hold of him and until Amycus' breath is steady with sleep.

And, just as he is the last one asleep, Thorfinn is the first one awake, not long after dawn. Part of it, he dwells, must be to ensure that his and Flora's mission truly occurred. That, yes, they succeeded.

Flora wakes a few minutes after him, and their eyes lock. She gives him a nod and a small smile. Yes, she needed the reminder that everything transpired, too.

The safe house is only a house, though, an empty dwelling, and she and Thorfinn never took nor had the time to stock it with supplies, so Flora disentangles herself from Amycus. She stretches and stands, and then she makes for the door. "Flora, wait," Thorfinn whispers.

She halts and glances at him over her shoulder.

"Use a façade now," he suggests. It was different, before everything came together. But if anyone pieces anything together about where Flora Carrow's been…

The dark-haired witch nods, and then she heads out to procure food for the four of them.

Of course, it's not much fun, dealing with Amycus when he wakes to Flora's absence, which in turn wakes Alecto, and both are in a foul mood despite Thorfinn's explanation of her whereabouts. Even when Flora returns, the brother and sister scowl throughout breakfast, a heartier meal than in recent weeks: porridge and apples. At least they have something to fill their stomachs, and the sugar wakes them the rest of the way, brings them to their senses.

But then breakfast ends, and the spare room is filled with the clinking of spoons against empty bowls. Alecto huffs and looks around at her company. "So, you two told us about everything since the battle up to now. But what next?"

Thorfinn raises his eyebrows. He's stunned that she asks this while looking at him. He glances between her and Amycus and back. "…well, we've gone on the run before, waiting for the time to be back on top."

Yet Alecto frowns. She puts her back against the wall and tilts her head Flora's way. "And? Did you only go shopping? Or did you take note of anything?"

Flora blinks. She sets aside her bowl and shakes her head. "I was focusing on feeding us, yes… But there's no disturbance locally. I didn't drop by Diagon Alley or anywhere near London, if that's what you're implying. But I popped by Broad Street here. Managed to come by a Prophet, even." That news prefaces Flora pulling the newspaper from her Expanded purse, and she tosses it on the floor. "The bad news: We made the front page, the Ministry knows Rowle's alive, and the Aurors are looking for you. The good news: The Ministry never snapped a photo of my face at Azkaban with you, and the dragons continued to play well after we left. Azkaban's in sore need of repair…and staff."

Alecto's soft snort is one of approval. Even so, she repeats her last question: "But what next?"

Flora frowns, and Thorfinn watches Alecto from the corner of his eye. "Alecto, do you not think we have the same options as before?"

"It's not the same as before, Thorfinn." She exhales, heavy; the movement seems like all the air leaving her, and she slumps against Thorfinn's left arm. "There's no Dark Lord. There are no Death Eaters—only those who've been Marked."

Amycus hums in agreement. Instead of adding to his sister's points, he states, "At this point, I'd rather be on the run or in hiding until things are quiet, rather than waiting to pursue a Dark life once more."

Stunningly, Flora settles him with a hard, dissatisfied look, those sharp eyebrows sinking over her dark gray eyes. She only caves when Amycus gives her a tired glance and draws her to him, wrapping his arms around her middle.

Alecto nods, sits up a smidge, eyeing the sight of her brother's happiness. "A quiet life…could be all right," she admits.

"We've done our time and a half," Thorfinn quips, though of course he means besides Azkaban. Joining the Death Eaters, fighting in two wars, running, hiding, everything they've done—it's always been for the Dark Lord (even when it's truly been for these three themselves).

"Perhaps a proper change of scenery. Like the countryside," Alecto says when catching Thorfinn's eye.

Thoughts of Death Eaters vanish from his mind. For Alecto to bring that up—Thorfinn knows she's fond, after all, of his childhood home, of his parents, of the brief time (the freedom) the Carrows spent there.

(Alas, his hometown itself isn't an option, nor is the Rowle home, even though he's yet to see the names "Ginnar" or "Yacintha" appear in The Daily Prophet's obituaries in recent years. He parted as best he could with them back in 1981, but he can't imagine them taking in three Azkaban escapees and their accomplice as easily as they took in "Finny's" pair of friends when the Carrows first visited their son one summer.

No…times have changed.)

Flora's sigh breaks the silence. "There's plenty of countryside in Wales, if that's what you want."

Thorfinn frowns at Flora, and Amycus' brow pinches as the beady-eyed wizard shakes his head. "You don't need to return there," Amycus insists.

"I'm not going home, not really. But…I'm certain it's the last place anyone would look for me, if they were looking." She waves away their concerns. "I doubt anyone will make the connection between you three and me, so why not?"

Amycus stares at her but can't form a rebuttal. He looks to Alecto for help, but she shrugs, and Thorfinn tucks Alecto into his side and cocks his head at Amycus, willing the uptight bastard to lighten up just this once.

Thing is, Thorfinn can't think of a reason why not, either. They've gone about it in an unorthodox manner, and, yes, they're wanted by authorities (what else is new?)—but he has Alecto and Amycus in his life once more, and they have a chance at a fresh start of sorts.

Alecto used to speak, once upon a time, of making the world right, of shaping it for her, for Amycus, for Thorfinn…

…and Thorfinn thinks maybe this world—the four of them, together—might be what they've needed all along.

Ch5 notes: Cliffhanger! :O Almost literally, *lol*. So I'mma just note here that I never expected to develop such detailed hcs about Azkaban and how one might breach it (dragons!!!). I honestly could fit my new Azkaban hcs into a tumblr post, hmm… (You know you're curious about what comes after that jump…)

Epilogue/Final notes: And so this saga concludes for real! :D I feel as tho I can let Thorlecto and Floramycus (in this universe) rest, much as they do at the end of this fic, now that I've fulfilled a sort of promise to myself mentioned in the closing A/N for "bad blood" (reuniting Floramycus). Thing is, I never knew back then (2019) that I would develop such hcs/a formed mythology for Alecto and Amycus, stemming from "bad blood" and "far from you" and nearly spinning out of control in the much longer "close to you" and at last, with you, the latter two with which this story has in common never-ending inspiration. The more I wrote, the more I wanted to keep writing this story! D: Which is a good and bad thing, *lol*. So I'mma try to keep this A/N short-ish! Mostly I just wanted to mention here that claiming the "blood oath" prompt for the fest was a huge inspiration and, seeing how things played out for Thorfinn and Flora, as well as for the pairings, I think the meaning of "Veritate Sanguinem" holds up p well! I wanted the spell to, in essence, mean your blood will keep you true to your word, hence the oath behaving the way it did for Flora and for Rowle. But it was fun to tie it together with Rowle's past promises, too, and see what it means for the future of these four.

Final thoughts…well, I do enjoy writing Death Eaters, and I suppose everyone here doesn't seem super-duper evil, but this is kinda my sweet-spot for writing DEs, bc I love it when they're closer to morally gray or have bkgds that explain their shit…and Alecto and Amycus' bkgd is explained primarily in at last, with you. :') It was fun that romance felt secondary to some of the other themes in the story, too. Rowle and Flora play well off each other; the more I wrote them, the more Flora felt like a mirror held up to him, as they rly just wanted to get their loves back. AHHH, this story was a labor of love, both for them and me, *lol*.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this! (It's all right to admit you're happy to see Thorlecto and Floramycus have a shot at happiness, jysk. ;3 Bc I sure am!!)

~mew

And if you want to support written in your blood, please swing by its FFN and AO3 versions to review/comment/fav/leave kudos and like and reblog these posts on my HariPo fic tumblr!

#hp #harry potter #thorlecto #thorfinn rowle #alecto carrow #<7500 #romance #cross gen #family #angst #hurt/comfort #violence #dark magic #rated: PG13 #trio era #3rd POV #thorlecto: written in your blood

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dothwrites · 4 years

Text

2020 Writing in Review

Well, it’s been a shitshow of a year, ain’t it? The one bright spot in this year was that it left me a ton of time for writing! With no further ado, here are the fics I worked on the year of our lord, 2020.

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the blood which we drew | Rated: M | Word Count: 7335 | COMPLETE

Castiel bears the Mark. And for a few months, it's fine.

It's fine until it isn't.

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ramble on | Rated: E | Word Count: 26,875 | WIP

A series of Season 15 codas, crossposted to tumblr. Tags, Warnings, and Rating may change, based on source material.

(Technically started this in 2019, but I added to it this year, so I’m counting it)

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protect and serve | Rated: E | Word Count: 49,953 | COMPLETE

Police officer Dean Winchester's next assignment seems easy enough: a protection detail on Assistant District Attorney Castiel Novak, who's been receiving death threats in conjunction with the case that he's prosecuting. Dean's assignment is to keep ADA Novak safe, alive, and in one piece so that he can start his trial against Dick Roman, notorious CEO charged with the death of at least eight people.

With threats that quickly spin out of control, a missing teenage genius, Dean's attraction to Novak, and Novak's mercurial attitude towards Dean--Dean Winchester's next assignment is anything but easy.

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what stays (and what fades away) | Rated: E | Word Count: 64,421 | COMPLETE

Cas Novak’s life is perfect. He has a job that he loves and friends who support him. Most importantly, he has his husband, Dean Winchester, and his two adopted children, Claire and Jack. With them, nothing could ever go wrong.

That is, until he starts having flashes of a life that isn’t his and meets someone who shares his husband’s face but not his personality, someone who insists that he’s someone, something, different altogether. Cas’ life shatters when he’s dragged into a world that he doesn’t belong to and doesn’t understand.

Dean Winchester’s life was already shattered when he lost Castiel.

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thunder road | Rated: E | Word Count: 20,883 | COMPLETE

After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored.

OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

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alone together | Rated: E | Word Count: 74, 239 | COMPLETE

Like the rest of the world, Dean Winchester’s job sent him home with the supplies necessary to work from home and a vague farewell of “We’ll see you when this all blows over”. Unlike the rest of the world, Dean Winchester is entering into a quarantine with Castiel Novak, his incredibly hot and incredibly uninterested roommate. How is Dean supposed to concentrate on his job while Cas is just a few feet away, being...well, Cas?

Castiel Novak was already working from home, so the news of social distancing doesn’t affect him that much. What does send him into a panic is the knowledge that Dean Winchester, his stunning and straight roommate, will also be working from home for the foreseeable future. After spending so long trying to distance himself from Dean, Castiel now has to face a future where Dean is present. All. The. Time.

They’ve got food, Internet, and all the toilet paper they need, but neither one of them is prepared for quarantine.

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for a sinner released | Rated: E | Word Count: 8,800 | COMPLETE

Testing his theory, he runs his fingers over the soft skin of Dean’s wrist, until his thumb is pressed firmly against Dean’s hammering pulse. Cas pulls, gently but inexorably, until Dean is forced to take a step forward. The shift in positioning pushes the barrel of the gun into his forehead.

Cold metal touches overheated skin, and Cas inhales sharply at the contrasting sensations. The gun is unforgiving, relentless, beautiful.

It’s like Dean.

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and all this devotion | Rated: M | Word Count: 10,572 | COMPLETE

Dean’s not stupid. He’s seen the looks Cas has aimed his way, when Cas thought he wasn’t paying attention. He’s leveled his share of looks back at Cas when the angel’s attention was elsewhere. More than once, he’s been caught in the act. At this point, they’re both dancing around the same elephant, too scared and caught in their ways to make the first move.

OR: Dean gets hurt on a hunt. Cas takes care of him. There's only one bed. Confessions ensue.

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lost in translation | Rated: T | Word Count: 3,720 | COMPLETE

Cas bites at his lower lip, looking uncommonly shy. Worry starts to stir in Dean’s gut, which is only compounded when Cas says something else in soft yet clear Enochian. As the new phrase doesn’t have the word stupid anywhere in it, Dean doesn’t have the slightest idea of what Cas is saying. The guilt squirming in his stomach gets worse when Cas looks at him, with gentle anticipation, as though he’s expecting a reply. Dean does what humans have been doing since the beginning of time when confronted with a language they don’t understand and smiles, wide and sunny, at Cas. Cas’ forehead creases but he returns the gesture. His eyes are still brimming over with emotion and the sight does something to Dean.

Dean begins to suspect that he may have started something which he is not equipped to finish.

---

a new song about a new life | Rated: E | Word Count: 21,282 | WIP

There is no happily ever after. Mostly because there is no after. Life is just a series of days and nothing ever really ends. It just continues on, even after the curtain closes, and while the struggles might not be epic, they're no less impressive. Domestic life isn't without its pitfalls and trials, but at the end of the day, Dean and Cas still have each other and in the end, that's enough.

A series of timestamps detailing the small adventures of Dean and Castiel. Will contain teensy amounts of angst and a heap of fluff and domesticity.

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angel in black | Rated: E | Word Count: 95,325 | COMPLETE

Bounty hunter Castiel Novak has simple rules for how he conducts his business. Get in, get out, deliver the fugitive, and do it all with the least amount of effort possible. Never become emotionally involved.

When he takes on the job of hunting down Sam and Dean Winchester in order to bring them to justice, his rules start shifting. Threatened by supernatural forces as well as his attraction to Dean, Castiel soon has to decide what he’s willing to stand for…and what he’s willing to die for.

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ghosts that we knew | Rated: E | Word Count: 89,411 | COMPLETE

Dean can’t help it. Castiel’s laugh is infectious, washing over him and sweeping him up in its tide. His throat and stomach ache with the feel of it, unfamiliar muscles worked past their endurance. He hasn’t laughed like this in weeks, maybe years.

Cas doesn’t stop laughing, and Dean relishes it. It’s such a good sound, deep and throaty. It rumbles over him the same way that Baby’s engine purrs, to where he can almost feel it in his gut. Dean’s giddy, the kind of happy that hunters don’t get to feel, and if it weren’t for the ceiling, he thinks he might float away. Cas’ eyes crinkle when he laughs, and his smile goes wide and gummy. He’s so brilliant, so alive—

But you’re dead, Dean thinks helplessly. But you’re dead.

---

Castiel Novak is one of the best hunters Dean Winchester has ever worked with. He's witty, whip-smart, and has enough knowledge about the supernatural to rival an encyclopedia. He's got humor dry enough to put the Sahara to shame and he's pretty easy on the eyes as well. All in all, he's the best partner Dean could have hoped for.

Too bad he's dead.

---

the best of things | Rated: G | Word Count: 2,494 | COMPLETE

There’s something.

This is significant because, for as long as Castiel can remember, there’s been nothing. --- Castiel finds a way out of the Empty.

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freedom | Rated: G | Word Count: 4,804 | COMPLETE

Freedom.

Dean rolls the word around on the tip of his tongue and tastes how it feels. Freedom.

It’s a strange concept, especially since he always assumed that he was. Ever since Apocalypse Version 1.0 was averted, Michael and Lucifer locked in the cage, thanks very much, he’s always assumed that he was the one calling the shots. No matter how badly he fucked up (and he fucked up a lot), he could at least take comfort in the fact that those were his choices. No one’s hand up Dean Winchester’s ass, no siree.

And then Chuck came and ripped that certainty away from him in one quick motion and then...everything was suspect. Sam, Mom, Jack...Cas. Every word, every action, every emotion... He couldn’t trust anything, so he trusted nothing.

--- OR: Dean makes a choice.

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at the end of the world | Rated: G | Word Count: 4,631 | COMPLETE

Rebuilding Heaven is slow work, but time doesn’t really mean anything here. It’s delicate to rebuild the walls separating billions of souls so that nothing collapses. Castiel works alongside Jack, making suggestions as his mind trips along to potential problems.

Though it’s never said aloud, Castiel knows why Jack is working tirelessly. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the knowledge sits that Sam and Dean are going to die. One day, they will pass from the earth, and come to Heaven, and on that day, Castiel wants everything to be perfect for them. He wants to show them a true paradise, a place without walls or barriers, a place where emotion is genuine and not just a manufactured memory. Rebuilding Heaven is his last chore, the last of his penance to be performed.

--- OR: Team Free Will gets the soft epilogue which they deserve.

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let your heart be light | Rated: M | Word Count: 31,651 | WIP

It's Dean and Cas' first official Christmas together as a couple. What could possibly go wrong?

Just Cas' weird family, his own personal hang-ups about Christmas, Dean's persistent belief that the miracle of Christmas can heal all wounds, and meddling friends and family.

Have a Merry Christmas.

#dothwrites #long post #2020 masterlist #i did not realize how long this was #good lord me #i'm a long-winded little SOB

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mafia-nct · 4 years

Text

For _____ Or Worse (Part 1)

Genre: Mafia!AU, Mafia Boss Taeyong, Fluff, Angst Warnings: Suggestive content, Swearing, Mentions of drugs and alcohol, Mentions of illegal racing and fighting. Word Count: 5.5.k Description: Who would’ve thought that a night with, what you thought was, a handsome stranger would change your life forever.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Epilogue

Y/N POV

Flashing lights, loud music and alcohol.

All of the variables needed for a perfect Friday night with your friends. After the week you had, a night to let loose was exactly what you craved. You could’ve settled for any club, as long as there was booze and music, but somehow your friends, and also roommates - Ki and Ru, convinced you that the only club that could fix your mood was the Night Night Club.

Night Night Club was famous for good - and for not so good reasons. It was rumoured to be managed by the country’s biggest mafia. The type that would skin you alive if you made a wrong move. Some said that it was the best club they’ve ever been to. Therefore, ruining every other club for them. Some said there was always something shady happening on the second floor in the VIP rooms. For some, the atmosphere was one of the best. Which is why they recommended Night Night to everyone they met. One of the biggest rumours was that the owner, a man who looked like an innocent child, would beat up random men behind the club for fun.

However, since you’ve entered the club you’ve only experienced the good rumours. The club’s decor looked like it came out of an interior design tv show, the bartenders were diligent and the DJ didn’t suck. You and your friends were dancing like there was no tomorrow. Enjoying yourselves, laughing and drinking, when a tap on your shoulder made you turn around.

A man, around your age, stood there. He had dark red hair styled out of his forehead, big brown child-like eyes that contrasted with his eyebrow slit. He was handsome, stupidly handsome, the kind that belonged in Vogue.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he smirked, “I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are and was wondering if you’d want to dance with me.”

He wasn’t the biggest guy. He was, actually, quite skinny. He didn’t look like much, but he had this aura. A powerful aura, like he owned the place.

“I would love to!” You answered with a smile. He offered you his hand and led you to the middle of the dance floor.

It was innocent really. His hands on your waist, yours on his shoulders swaying to the music. However, drinking always made you a little more daring. And as the alcohol kicked in, your hands wandered across his body as your dancing became sexier. Smirking the red haired man spun you around and pressed you against his chest. Your hands now in his hair tugging lightly as his head dipped in the crook of your neck to kiss, suck and bite every part of it. You couldn’t help but moan. You felt him smile as his hands roamed your body. Your thighs, your waist, your breasts: everywhere; his hands were everywhere.

As you grinded on him, you could feel him getting more and more bothered. It was intoxicating. His touch was like fire and you wanted more, so much more.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispered in your ear before lightly biting your earlobe.

You turned your head and kissed his jaw. “I would love to.”

“Perfect, I’ll wait for you at the door.”

He slapped your butt making you turn fully towards him. He bit his lower lip and winked at you before leaving to, probably, find his friends. Something that you should also be doing.

Looking around, you found your friends exactly where you left them.

“Hey, having fun with red hair guy?” Asked Ki wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes, and him and I are going to leave the club to have some more fun. So don’t worry about me.”

“Ok,” answered Ru putting her drink down on the table in front of her, “are you sure?”

“Oh yes.” You smiled grabbing your stuff. “A night with a guy as hot as he is happens once in a lifetime.”

Ki laughed. “Alright, have fun. Call us if there’s anything.”

You winked at them before leaving for the front door where tonight’s fun was waiting.

As soon as you entered his apartment, he slammed you against his front door pressing his lips to yours. Everything about him was addicting. His kisses left you wanting more and his touch had your legs feeling like jelly. He left your lips and traveled down your jaw to your neck. And when he found the spot that had you throwing your head back in pleasure, he stayed there sucking and biting while one of his hands raised your leg to his hips to press himself into you.

Once he was done with your neck, he raised his head gaining your attention. “Before we go any further, I need to know if you want this?” His breath was heavy as he whispered. Staring in his eyes, seeing care and honesty, your heart fluttered.

You placed a hand on his cheek. “Yes, I want it.”

His smile reached his eyes. “Alright, well let’s get this started baby girl.” He said before crashing his lips on yours leading you to his bedroom.

Everything was so soft, way softer than what you remembered your bed to be. You slowly opened your eyes only to close them immediately, the sun piercing through the blinds giving you a headache. Did you really drink that much last night? You took a deep breath before opening your eyes again. They landed on the bedside table where a glass of water and a bottle of Advils were placed. You sat up finally getting a good look at your surroundings.

Not recognizing anything, you scratched your head. “Where the hell am I?”

That’s when it hit you, that’s when you remembered everything. You slept with that red haired guy. And from the look of his room not only was he handsome; he was, also, loaded. Silk sheets on a king size bed, a floor to ceiling window. In front of you, a little corridor that led to what looked like an en-suite bathroom and on each side of that corridor - two walk-in closets. Who was he?

Deciding that overthinking the situation was a bad idea, you went on a scavenger hunt for your clothes. Your underwear were next to the bed, your skirt at the entrance of one walk-in and your top by the door. Putting everything on, you felt uncomfortable your outfit was too revealing. It was nice for a night out, but for a walk in broad daylight it was too much. Sadly, the only option available was to steal, no not steal, borrow one of the red haired man’s shirts. Even though you were going to bring his shirt back, you needed something drab. Something he’ll never notice was missing from his wardrobe. Stepping inside one walk-in, your jaw dropped. Gucci, Valentino, Burberry, Versace, Tom Ford and so much more lined the walls. Suits, fancy jackets, shirts, pants, dress shoes and even a drawer full of expensive jewellery; this was definitely not the closet you needed.

“Alright,” you said taking a step back, “maybe the other walk-in.”

This time, you made sure to look inside before stepping in. T-shirts, jeans, cargo pants, hoodies; this was the closet for you. Going through his shirts, you were met with the same exact brands as the other walk-in. You let out a frustrated sigh. Did he not own anything that was under 500$? Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked around. If you were loaded, where would you put your normal people’s clothes? Bottom drawer. That’s where you’d hide them. You crouched down, opened the drawer and saw your saving grace; a grey shirt that, after thorough inspection, had no branding. You put it on, and felt much better.

Now, all you needed to do was leave this place and pray to every Gods that you wouldn’t cross anyone.

You opened the bedroom door, slowly, making sure to not make a single noise and tiptoed out of the room. You had your eyes on your feet to make sure you placed them softly on the mahogany floor. And hoped you were making your way towards, what you thought was, the front door.

“Alright, is everyone here? Stop moving I’ll count you.”

You froze. You knew that voice. You heard it all night long.

You raised your head. The sight in front of you had your breath getting stuck in your throat. In the living room, were at least twelve men. Most of them were standing blocking you from seeing the red haired guy that you were sure had their attention. Most of them had tattoos on: the back of their necks; arms; shoulders; legs - but one of them stood out. He looked younger than the men surrounding him and had a bullet tattooed on the side of his neck. Who gets a tattoo on their neck? Especially a bullet tattoo.

You took a deep breath, none of them were looking in your direction. A small blessing. The front door was right there, a couple of feet away. You could do it. All you needed to do was cross the hallway in a perfect diagonal and you’d be out of there. Placing your feet on the floor slower than before and keeping your eyes on the group of men you made your way towards freedom.

In your mind, keeping your eyes on them was a foolproof idea. It allowed you to make sure their attention wasn’t on you while you escaped. What you failed to realize was, that people who walk without looking in front of them tend to bump into things. And that’s exactly what happened. Missing the threshold of the entryway by a couple of inches, you crashed, face first, into a wall. Instinctively, your hands went to your forehead.

“Are you ok?” Asked the one voice you didn’t want to hear.

Removing your hands from your face, you looked up. The sea of men parted, giving you a perfect view of the red haired man. He had an amused look on his face; obviously trying not to laugh. Peaking out of his shirt’s collar, blossomed the reds and purples of the marks you left behind. Your eyes scanned the room. They were way more than twelve.

“I am.” You answered embarrassment thick in your voice. You hesitated trying to find something somewhat intelligent to say. “I’ll just go” You pointed at the door for emphasis. “It was fun. Have a good life.” You didn’t wait for an answer. As soon as the words left your mouth, you rushed to the entryway to grab your shoes and bag, not even bothering to put them on, before leaving the red haired man’s apartment.

TAEYONG’S POV

The front door closed with a click.

“Hey boss, was she wearing your shirt?” Asked Johnny pointing at the front door where his night fun had just left.

“Yeah she was.” He answered, a smile on his lips.

“Was it expensive?” Continued Kun. “Like the other girl who left with an Yves Saint-Laurent shirt worth six hundred dollars.” Raising his voice to put emphasis on dollars.

Taeyong shook his head. “No, I bought it for ten bucks.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Alright people, Friday nights are our biggest nights; debrief me.”

Taeil went first. “Races went well. Lucas and I won. The prize money is at the mansion.”

“Same thing for me,” continued Jeno, “the guy was so weak it only took one round and he was out.”

“Haechan and I made double than what we made last week!” Smiled Hendery despite the bags under his eyes. He high-fived Haechan.

Taeyong raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“The guy was an idiot and desperate.” Smirked Haechan. “Getting him to double the money wasn’t hard.”

Taeyong turned his head towards Jaehyun and Jungwoo. Being in charge of the brothel, bar and club, they’re usually the ones bringing the most money on Friday nights.

“Everything went well at the brothel.” Started Jaehyun passing his hand in his hair. Probably trying to fix the result of the two hours of sleep he got. “More people on Friday nights, bodyguards had to break a couple of fights and bouncer caught minors, but other than that normal.”

Taeyong nodded and looked at Jungwoo. He had bloodshot eyes and his hair was all over the place. He was still wearing the same clothes Taeyong remembered seeing him in at the club. It was clear that, contrary to the rest of the room, he didn’t get to sleep yet.

“First of all, I’m convinced that there’s more people when everyone,” he said pointing at the network, “is at the club.” He looked back at his boss. “I blew last week’s numbers last night.” Taeyong smiled. “I left Ten in charge of the bar and we agreed to have Yangyang, Renjun, Chenle and Jisung make drug runs in the bar and the club.”

Ten nodded in agreement. “The bar was full as always. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He looked at Yangyang and Renjun. Taeyong’s eyes followed his.

“We didn’t sell much.” Mumbled Renjun

“Mostly weed.” Completed Yangyang

The boss nodded. “And how did it go for you, Chen and Ji.” He said setting his eyes on the younger members who were sitting on the floor.

“We sold so much!” Exclaimed Jisung.

“Yeah,” continued Chenle, “and we sold everything from weed to ecstasy. People in clubs are desperate.”

“Alright,” Taeyong smiled clapping his hands together, “good job everyone. Keep up the good work and go to sleep. I expect you at the mansion by 2PM!”

Y/N POV

“You said what?!” Laughed Ki

You lowered your head looking at your feet. “I said: ‘Have a good life.’”

Ki feel of the sofa, laughing.

Ru bit her lower lip clearly trying not to laugh herself.

Your awkward escape had Ki crying of laughter since the moment you explained the entire thing to her and Ru.

“Let’s forget that part,” said Ru saving you from the embarrassment of explaining how you: bumped into a wall which ruined your escape only to tell your one-night stand to have a good life - for a third time. “And let’s get to the good details. Number one, was it good? Second, who is he?”

“From what I remember, yes he was good. He definitely knows what he’s doing. For the second point, fun fact, I didn’t ask for his name.”

Ki stopped laughing. She sat up and looked at you with a serious look on her face. “Wait, time out. You’re telling me that you slept with, what looks like, one of Asia’s crazy rich bachelors, took one of his shirts and didn’t even ask for his name!”

You awkwardly smiled at her.

“Did you, at least, leave your number?” Asked Ru.

You shook your head no.

“You’re an idiot!” Laughed Ki

“Hey!” You yelled back.

Climbing the stairs to the entrance of the red haired man’s building, you looked up. The living complex was huge, way bigger than yours. It was so tall it merged with sky. And from what you remembered, it was pretty fancy too. Almost putting to shame the red haired man’s place. Almost. Throwing the glass door of the building open, you made your way towards the front desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” Asked the woman sitting at the front desk.

“Yes, I was wondering if there’s a way for me to give this,” you raised the shirt in front of you, “to a guy who lives here.”

The woman lifted her eyebrows. “Of course, but I’ll need a name. A lot of men live in this building.”

“Ok, well, I don’t know his name, but I can describe him.” You rambled; the woman nodded encouraging you to go on. “He has red hair like dark red. Kind of skinny, but not really. He has tattoos, although I’m not sure you’ve seen them. He kind of looks like he owns the place wherever he goes. Also,-”

“I hope you’re not talking about me.”

You jumped, the voice startling you. “Oh my god, don’t you know not to sneak up on people?” You turned around ready to scold whoever decided to scare you. Looking up at him, your eyes bulged out of your head. “You.”

The red haired man smirked. “Yeah, it’s me. Might I ask, why are you here?”

You handed him the shirt. “I came to give you this back. Sorry I took it without asking.”

He snorted taking the piece of clothing from you, his eyes not leaving it. “You’re not the first girl who leaves with one of my shirts. But, you’re the first one who brings it back. Thank you!”

As he looked back up to stare at you, you tried to avoid his eyes by looking around. This was already awkward; there was no need to make it worse by staring at each other in silence.

The lobby was more luxurious than you remembered. Black marble floors, white walls, leather chairs and sofas and gold accents everywhere.

The red haired man clapped his hands, gaining back your attention. “Are you doing anything for diner?”

“I don’t even know your name and you want to take me out?” You asked smirking back at him.

“Call me T.” He said extending his hand towards you. “And I’m taking out as a thank you for bringing back the shirt.”

You took his hand shaking it. “It’s nice to meet you T, I’m Y/N.”

“Glad to officially meet you Y/N, now where should we go? I’m starving.”

He looked out of place. The atmosphere of the retro diner and his appearance were complete opposites. His black jacket suit contrasted with the colour of the walls and the music with his attitude. The only things that matched were his hair and the seats.

“I know it doesn’t look like much, but their burgers are to die for.” You said your leg trembling to distract your mind. Here you were - with the guy you had a one-night stand two days ago - eating at your favourite diner.

He nodded looking around probably judging the place for their lack of expensive decor.

“It’s different from what I’m used to,” here we go you thought. He was going to point out everything that was wrong with this place. You braced yourself for his judgement, “I like it!”

You looked at him questionably.

The waitress arrived placing the plates in front of you with a smile. You smiled back at her before looking back at T. He dipped a fry in ketchup and shoved it in his mouth.

“Oh this is good!” He exclaimed before taking his burger and biting into it.

“So T,” you started as he moaned from the taste of his burger, “what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a CEO.” He said covering his mouth as he finished chewing. “You?”

“I’m a secretary. I don’t like the company, but I like the paycheck.”

He nodded taking another bite and you did the same with your own burger.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” T started as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, “I’m not taking you out only to thank you for my shirt. I want to make you an offer.”

“That’s a real CEO move.”

He laughed. “What can I say? Once a CEO always a CEO. Anyway, I was wondering if you’ll be willing to have a friends with benefits kind of relationship with me.”

You choked on your fry. “I thought you were going to ask me to invest in your company.”

“Well you can also do that if you want.” He smirked. You leaned back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest. He leaned forward. “In all honesty, the sex we had was, without a doubt, the best sex I’ve had in a long time. I wanted to contact you, but I didn’t know your name and you didn’t leave your number. I thought I’d never see you again, so I got over it. But there you were, in my building’s lobby, right as I came back from work. I’m pretty sure this is a sign we should keep this going. So what do you say?”

T leaned back in his seat as he continued to shove fries in his mouth. You went over to pros and the cons. Pros: great sex, no strings attached, you could set rules, great way to experiment and gaining a new friend. Cons: pregnancy, STDs. The cons could easily be taken care of. So why not agree? You were tired of your boring life. Everything was the same day after day there was no excitement. And right now, what T was proposing was far from boring.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “let’s do this.”

T extended his hand towards you. “It’s not a real deal if you don’t shake on it.” You took his hand in yours without hesitation.

“We need to set rules though.”

“I’m all ears princess.” He smiled eating his last fry.

TAEYONG’S POV

Before it even started, Doyoung told him to get out of this deal. “It will come back to bite you in the ass.” Said Doyoung at the time. But Taeyong didn’t listen. It was his life he could do whatever he wanted. He was the boss, no one could stop him. If he wanted to have a fuck buddy, he was going to have a fuck buddy.

Sometimes it was at his place, and when your roommates weren’t there it was as yours. The relationship was great, maybe even too great. Because Doyoung was right, it came back to bite him in the ass.

Four months. He’d known you for four months and you changed his life. From not caring about anyone other than his crew, to making a special place for you in his heart, his life had changed.

Taeyong doesn’t know when he started falling for you. Maybe it was in the middle of one of your cuddle sessions, because, just like him, you loved to cuddle after sex. Maybe when you were hanging out. You always seemed to laugh at his jokes; your smile making his heart do somersaults. Maybe when, for some reason, you’d know what was going on with him just by looking in his eyes. Maybe when you weren’t afraid to disagree with him. Maybe when you’d trace patterns on his chest, your light touches stopping the storm in his mind. Maybe when he’d call you; your voice calming him down when he was about to go on a rampage. Maybe when you’d look in each other’s eyes when you were snuggling, your stare stealing his breath away every time. Taeyong doesn’t know when he started falling for you, but he knows one thing; he was screwed big time.

He was head over heels. That’s probably why he decided to grab your wrist, as you were about to leave his bed. “Please,” he whispered, “stay.”

You sat back down. The hand he was holding rising to stroke his cheek. “T, what’s wrong?”

He sat up next to you looking at his hands on his lap. He’d been hiding his feelings for too long. It was unlike him. He was an honest man, and was even more honest with his feelings. So he took the first step, breathing heavily. “Ok, I like you. Way more than I planned, you make my days brighter and my nights better. I smile at the mere thought of you. I want to come home to you, take care of you and hold you in my arms until I die. You’re everything I’ve ever dreamed of and you’re downright beautiful.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to tell you. I can’t hide how I feel anymore.”

He raised his head trying to read your expression. Although with the beating of his heart ringing in his ears he couldn’t make out anything. The more you looked at him, the more nervous he got.

Finally you grabbed his hand, intertwining your fingers. He stopped breathing.

“You’re not the only one who caught feelings.”

He felt a smile grow on his face as he leaned closer to you. “So,” he took a pause to look in your eyes, “want to try this?”

Foreheads finally touching, you spoke the words he’d been dreaming of hearing for the past four months. “Yes T, let’s try this!”

And this time, instead of shaking hands. You sealed the deal with a kiss.

Y/N POV

Waking up in the familiar silk sheets felt almost normal. The surroundings had become ordinary to you. Contrary to your first night at T’s place, nothing about his apartment impressed you anymore. Not even the fact that he lived in the top floor penthouse.

Remembering T’s confession last night, your whole body felt warm, your heart full and a smile grew on your lips

Falling for him was not an easy road: from denying your feelings - there was no way you liked him that way, to anger - how could you fall for him when you knew this was only sexual, to bargaining with yourself - maybe if you found somebody else you’d forget about T, to sadness - he’ll never like you that way, and finally to acceptance - you liked T way more than you planned.

But the worst part about falling for T, was knowing exactly what made you fall for him. How he cared about you; texting or calling you just to know how you were doing. How he wasn’t afraid to express his feelings. How he held you in his arms. How he’d always make you feel safe. How he made you laugh every time you’d hang out. How he’d look at you. How he’d kiss you. Falling for T was hard, but in the end it was worth it.

Stretching your limbs, you looked around the room and laughed thinking back at your first night in T’s bedroom. Remembering how your mind and heart raced. Quite the opposite to the peace you were feeling right now. You dug around for your clothes and put them on. Once done, you gathered your stuff and left the room; this time walking normally.

“Guys, calm down.” You heard T say as he clapped his hands. “We have a morning debriefing to do!”

You chuckled. The crew of men in T’s living room being the exact same as your first night at his place. Some were standing, others sitting, and some leaning on furniture. T whistled finally gaining the attention he wanted. And while everyone was focused on the CEO, you escaped making sure not to bump in a wall.

TAEYONG’S POV

Taeyong loved to have debriefings in his living room. Everyone was calmer and more relaxed. And after the type of nights they have, it was something everyone needed. Having the debriefings in his living room allowed everyone to go to sleep right after them. Living in the same building as everyone else had its advantages.

He was about to explain how he wanted this debriefing to go, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He took it out, apologizing to his crew, and was greeted by a text from you.

Y/N💕: Didn’t want to disturb you, have a good day! Call me😘

He didn’t think as he jumped over the sofa, and over Yuta’s head in the process, sprinting to his front door.

“Boss what the hell?!” Screamed Yuta.

But Taeyong didn’t answer, if he was lucky enough, he’d be able to catch you.

He threw his front door open, not even bothering to close it. The elevator doors were in the middle of closing. He took the two steps between his porch and the elevator, grabbed the doors and pried them open.

You jumped, your hand flying to your chest. “God, T!”

“Hey!” He smiled

“Hi!”

“You were going to leave without giving me a kiss?” He asked a faint smile on his lips

You giggled rolling your eyes. “You were in a meeting.”

“Not anymore.”

You approached him placing your hands on his chest and gave Taeyong what he wanted.

“Are you doing anything Wednesday night?”

“No, why?” You answered

“Good, I’m taking you out!”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You teased

Taeyong took a step back, letting go of the door.“Can’t I take the girl I like on a date?”

You shook your head laughing. “Alright, text me.”

“I will.” He said as the elevator doors started closing again. He waited for them to completely close before turning on his heels.

On his porch, was his crew all piled up on one another.

Taeyong narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say anything.”

A few of his men snickered as they all went back to the living room.

Y/N POV

Walking towards the restaurant where T made reservation - phone in hand following the directions - you were thankful he chose a restaurant close to your apartment. Earlier today, he texted you that he’ll be unable to pick you up. So he sent you the address and the time without forgetting to add that he couldn’t wait to see you.

Raising your head, looking away from your phone, you finally saw the restaurant’s sign. You looked back down ready to text T that you were almost there.

TAEYONG POV

Forty minutes. He had been waiting for forty minutes and still no sign of you. Did you stood him up? No, there was no way. You wouldn’t be all lovey-dovey with him. It didn’t make sense.

He took his phone, clicked your contact name and brought his phone to his ear.

“Come on, answer.” He muttered to himself as the ring tone went on and on.

When he ended up on your voicemail, he called again signalling the waiter to bring him the bill for the bottle of wine.

As he was paying, he ended up on voicemail again. When he was done, he ran out of the restaurant calling you a third time.

He stood outside his heart racing, his throat tightening. He looked both ways before deciding to go in your apartment’s direction.

Voicemail again. He called back.

“Answer princess, please.” He breathed out.

He took big steps walking faster. He needed to get to you, needed to know you were ok, needed to know that he was freaking out for no reason.

Passing an alley, he heard a ringtone. He stopped dead in his tracks. Should he go check or should he continue? He hung up to hear the ringtone better, but it had stopped.

He called you back, the ringtone started again.

“No, no, no, no.” He muttered repeatedly stepping in the alley. “Please be a coincidence.”

He found the phone face down. He hung up, it stopped ringing. He crouched down, shoulders slumping, biting the inside of his cheek. Mentally praying that it wasn’t what he thought. He gently took the phone, flipping it around to press the home button.

A picture of him making a silly face and the notification: “5 missed calls from T💘” greeted him.

“Shit!” He yelled getting up and almost throwing your phone on the ground.

He kicked a trashcan that was nearby. He was sure someone was trying to get back at him and they had to use you. He had no idea where you were or who had you. It enraged him, he hated when people messed with the ones he loved.

His phone rang, no caller ID. Swallowing his anger, he answered.

“Hello.”

“Taeyong, it’s so nice to hear you!” Said the voice on the other end.

Taeyong’s jaw tightened, his fist clenched. He knew that voice all too well. A rival kingpin that went by the name X.

“What do you want?” Taeyong spat.

“That’s not polite of you.” his teasing tone made Taeyong angrier. “You should ask how I’ve been and stuff like that. Although, I understand how you could have no regards for politeness right now.” Taeyong didn’t say anything letting X explain what he meant. “You just lost your girlfriend after all.”

Taeyong hurt himself biting his cheeks and curling his fist so hard his nails started to dig in his skin.

“How the fuck do you know about that?” He barked

“Oh I didn’t tell you?” X laughed. “I’m the one who has her.”

Taeyong was fuming, his whole body tensed.

“So here’s how it’s going to work.” Explained X. “You give me everything I want and I give you your pretty little princess back. I’ll send you my demands soon, have a good night Taeyong.” And just like that X hung up.

Fingers shaking out of anger, Taeyong didn’t hesitate to scroll through his contacts to find the one person he needed right now.

“Johnny,” He said, dryness in his voice, when his underboss answered, “we have an emergency. Gather the crew, I want everyone in meeting room one in thirty minutes. I won’t tolerate anyone being late.”

#nct mafia au #nct 127 mafia au #mafia taeyong #cznnet #nct #nct taeyong #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct reactions #lee taeyong #nct dream mafia au #wayv mafia au

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morganaseren · 3 years

Text

Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU

So because there seemed to be interest in the idea, I decided to expand on the second prompt on this list of AUs I made for Bethany and my Niamh Cousland.

Since Bethany is a Circle Mage in Niamh’s canon verse, I really wanted to experiment with Bethany in one of her other potential routes We don’t talk about the ones where she died not long after escaping Lothering or down in the Deep Roads. Like, what are you talking about? Lalala~ and see if I could work together a happier ending than what the games canonically gave her.

Like most of the AUs I’ve already written about though, this is just a snippet into the verse, so it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, and the pacing isn’t on par with my main fic. However, there are still 50+ pages for your reading pleasure! Depending on reader interest, I’ll be more than happy to write more about this or other AUs once OtSttCA is completed.

Disclaimer: Any section written in present tense beneath the Read More contains notes or scenes that I’ve yet to expand upon properly.

CliffNotes version of what goes on:

This whole thing takes place sometime after Bethany becomes a Grey Warden and continues on through the years-long breaks between the Acts of DA2. The epilogue will be set sometime after the Trespasser DLC is completed.

Niamh is the Grey Warden who Morrigan chooses to do the Dark Ritual with, and through the obvious use of magic, Kieran is conceived. Because of this, Niamh’s sister Saoirse escapes her otherwise canonical death and gets to be happily married to Leliana.

Because of their mutual respect for one another, and the fact that Niamh went through the trouble of finding Morrigan through the events of the Witch Hunt DLC (she was worried about her friend and their son), she and Morrigan remain in close contact and co-parent Kieran together. Their relationship is often mistaken as a romantic one though.

Bethany eventually falls in love with Niamh over the years, but because she believes the other woman is in a relationship with Morrigan, she keeps her feelings to herself. As such, this is obviously going to be a slow burn romance much like OtSttCA.

Bethany only confesses (albeit by accident) when Niamh nearly dies during a darkspawn ambush when the two woman accidentally find themselves trapped down in the Deep Roads.

There’s a romantic kiss out in the rain along with a semi-NSFW scene later on, which explains why the Read More is in place beyond the fact that this is already super long despite the fact that it’s unfinished...

They both go off in search of the cure to The Calling not long after the Kirkwall Rebellion, and they both eventually get married sometime after the Trespasser DLC with Divine Victoria (spoilers: it’s Leliana) officiating their wedding.

Interested so far? Click below to read more!

“You’re originally from Ferelden, no?” Stroud asked, drawing Bethany’s attention from where she’d been listlessly staring at the cobblestones as they walked away from Amaranthine’s sea port.

The city itself seemed to be thriving with fishmongers and traders of all kinds rattling off their wares to passersby. Save for the workers carrying about lumber and other building materials, one might not have even believed that Amaranthine had suffered its fair share of woes during the onset of the Fifth Blight or the consequent, mysterious darkspawn attack upon its walls nearly a year later. Still, the denizens of the arling were ever a hearty people. For whatever hardship befell them, they continued to persevere.

She supposed she couldn’t bring herself to be too surprised by that.

The Storm Coast had spawned some of Thedas’ most fearsome raiders once upon a time, and they had proven the bane of Orlais in the rebellion that had spanned over half an Age. For the empire’s trespass upon their freedom, they had fought back with a ruthlessness that matched the raging waves of the sea that was as much a home to them as the land. In the face of such an unsympathetic enemy, they depended on one another to see themselves and each other through to another day. Such faith eventually earned them the liberation they had long sought against Orlais.

Bethany could still see evidence of such camaraderie in the way the people greeted one another so whole-heartedly, stopping to make conversation or help with the transportation of wares. It was such interaction that she’d miss in all the time she’d been away.

Kirkwall had lacked such sincere enthusiasm.

Still, in the two years since she’d left it, she was finally back home, but Bethany knew it was yet another decision she hadn’t had a say in. She hadn’t agreed to returning to Ferelden any more than she had agreed to becoming a Grey Warden. Her jaw clenched, remembering how her sister had simply handed her over to them even when faced with the proposition that they’d likely never see one another again.

Was it really so easy for you to leave me behind, Sister? she thought bitterly, and perhaps upon sensing her melancholy, Stroud changed the subject.

“I realize it seems a rather abrupt choice in returning you here, but what I seek is far too dangerous for someone so new to our way of life to accompany me with,” he explained. “I’m meeting with the Warden-Commander of the Fereldan branch so that I might share some information in the event that things go awry. Their group is smaller than the ones seen across Thedas, but no one can deny their efficiency.” Stroud spared a small chuckle at that. “A bit like your sister and her crew, I suppose; I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable in such a setting.”

It had been a thoughtful suggestion; Bethany knew that. Still, she couldn’t help but sigh. She had always felt that the individuals whom had made up her little social circle were more Emrys’ friends than they had ever been hers. Her older sister had the type of presence to draw anyone to her with her rakish charm and absolute battle prowess.

…which was the exact opposite of her.

As an apostate, it was far easier to stay out of trouble by being unobtrusive. If she gave the Templars no reason to suspect her, she wouldn’t be taken away from her family and the quiet life she had always known. Yet, for all her trouble—and for all her desperation to abide by the rules of a society that had long hated mages like her—she had found herself alone anyway.

Bethany sighed as she looked down at the blues and silvers of the brigandine and tabard of her outfit that signified her status as a Grey Warden. Even with her staff openly displayed across her back, she supposed she no longer had to fear being turned into the authorities. Save for a few curious glances, no one so much as batted an eye at them.

She wasn’t entirely convinced this new life was better than the one she’d left. She could have dealt with the ever-present uncertainty in Kirkwall and the endless, interpersonal squabbles of their ragtag group than spending the remainder of her years surrounded by strangers and fighting darkspawn.

But the choice wasn’t hers to make.

Very little ever was.

---

“So that’s Velanna. She took over as Archivist for our branch when the Warden-Constable was promoted to her current position by our Commander,” Nathaniel said as he took Bethany and Stroud through a tour of Vigil’s Keep since the fortress’ respective Warden-Commander and Warden-Constable were currently out on business.

Their latest stop was a library filled with seemingly endless rows of bookshelves and even more that lined the walls of the chamber that consisted of three separate levels. It was impressive, and Bethany was half-convinced she could have spent an Age in this room alone and never be able to read the entirety of its collection.

At Nathaniel’s commentary, she spared a cursory glance at the woman writing intently at one of the tables furthest away from them, paying little mind to her audience. As was typical of most elves, Velanna was a slight woman. Her hair was a shade of blonde so pale that it was nearly white, but there was a surliness in her pensive expression that gave Bethany pause. It was something that suggested the other woman didn’t welcome the company of others easily, and she seemed to have been proven right by Nathaniel’s words.

“Don’t mind her if she’s a bit standoffish at first. Velanna’s usually that way with everyone until she starts warming up to them,” he assured.

“Oh?”

“Yes. She didn’t really like humans all that much to begin with—hardly a surprise considering how terrible some of them were toward her former clan. Truthfully, I think the only people she really respects are our commanding officers—the Constable mostly though.” He spared a soft chuckle at that. “Granted, the Warden-Commander could lead a damn army from one side of Thedas to the other, but only her sister has the type of negotiation skills that could somehow end up with a High Dragon allied with a sheep of all things.”

“Probably a good thing,” said Varel—the Keep’s seneschal. There was amusement in his dark eyes as he stroked his beard, which had long grown grey with age. “Actually succeeding in getting the Warden-Constable angry is a terrifying sight to behold.”

“Please don’t remind me; I still have nightmares from our first meeting…” Nathaniel muttered with a shudder.

Bethany found that curious, but before she could begin to question him, she saw how he blinked at further movement inside the library. She followed his gaze to see that a dark-haired, dwarven woman had entered through one of the side entrances, carrying two, steaming mugs. One had been set before Velanna, who whispered something quietly, but both of Bethany’s brows rose when she saw how the elf’s cheeks quickly reddened by the kiss that had been pressed to them by her latest visitor.

“Ah. And that’s Sigrun there—another one of those few, honored individuals who Velanna won’t immediately snap at,” Nathaniel remarked humorously.

The tour then continued elsewhere with the party entering the Mess Hall. While neat and tidy, it would have otherwise been unremarkable were it not for the lone dwarf snoring loudly atop one of the tables—an empty cask by his side. Bethany and Stroud shared bemused glances while Varel only cursed next to them, running a weary hand down his face.

“I told you we needed better locks for the cellar if we’re to keep Oghren away from the wine stores,” Nathaniel deadpanned.

Oghren grumbled nonsensically in his sleep before promptly rolling off the table and right onto the floor, loudly overturning more than a few chairs in the process. Despite the fall, he continued to doze away, and his snoring only seemed to grow in volume. They then watched as the poor seneschal wearily hauled the dwarf back to his quarters before he could cause another incident in front of their guests.

“…well, that was Oghren,” Nathaniel muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a weary sigh. “Quite the interesting fellow, that one. With him, you’ve pretty much met every Warden in the Keep save for—”

He was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hallway.

“I told you that I’m more than capable of walking on my own!” protested a feminine voice, irritation evident within it.

“Says the woman who was nearly side-swiped off a cliff by an ogre,” came the deeper timbre of another woman’s amused reply.

Unlike Nathaniel or herself, the latest arrivals didn’t seem to bear the typical, Fereldan accent or even Stroud’s Orlesian one from what she could tell. Bethany could hear how some of the vowels lilted somewhat as they spoke.

“It didn’t really give me any choice in the matter,” was the dry response. “It was either stand before its charge or risk the family in the wagon being swept over the edge instead.”

“I was hardly questioning your bravery, Sister. The people in that caravan certainly wouldn’t, but perhaps leave the more death-defying stunts to those of us with the armor to handle it, hm? I shudder to think what our brother or Aunt Eithne (writer’s note: pronounced Eth-Nah) would say once they find out about this...”

“Perhaps that you were lazing about while I was doing all the work as per usual.”

“Hey!”

Two women appeared in the doorway of the Mess Hall then, and Bethany was startled to find that one of them rivaled her older sister in both height and size. She was a warrior through and through if the impressive greatsword over her shoulder and her overall physique was any indication. Her mane of hair was the color of pale wheat, the length of which was held in a braid that trailed down half her back, and her eyes were a deep, stormy grey. The woman she was carrying—her sister, according to their conversation—was much slighter in comparison.

Rather than sharing in the warrior’s blonde-haired looks, hers was a stark, raven-black. The loose curls trailed to roughly chin-length with a longer fringe that covered one of her eyes—the color a whisper of smoke than the darker grey her sister had. The woman’s arms were also crossed over her chest as she regarded her sister—deeply-unimpressed—before her features cleared at the sight of their visitors.

“Ah. Stroud. Glad to see you and your companion made it across the Waking Sea safely. We weren’t expecting you both for at least another day, or we’d have sent an escort to meet you at the port.”

“No need for the trouble. The winds were kind during our voyage, Warden-Constable,” he said before tilting his head in concern. “Although it appears we’ve arrived too late to help you both. Has the darkspawn presence been more troubling as of late?”

The warrior whom Bethany deduced to be the Warden-Commander merely snorted. “They’re not as plentiful as they were a year ago thankfully. With Niamh’s and Velanna’s respective magic, our branch here has slowly been sealing any access tunnels we’ve come across, but our enemy may just be as awful as vermin with how they manage to reappear in other areas.”

“The incidents have been isolated so far as we can tell, but they’re capable of disrupting travel all the same. On that note…” The Constable trailed off as she turned her gaze toward the Warden who had been showing them about the Keep. “Nathaniel, we have guests from the caravan mentioned earlier. As it’s getting rather late, Saoirse and I decided it was best not to press our luck by letting them travel so soon after the darkspawn attack. Could you and Varel direct them to the guest quarters? We’ll arrange an escort for them to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.”

He pressed a fist over his heart respectfully as he bowed his head. “Of course.”

“Wonderful. Now—”

“Now we get you back to your quarters so that we can tend to your injuries,” her sister interrupted, cheerily grinning when it led to the other woman scowling outright, as if she had been reminded of her current position.

“And I’m more than capable of walking there on my own. Put me down!”

“And risk you further injuring yourself? What type of sister would I be if I were to allow that to happen? Now then!” The Commander directed a smile Bethany’s way, and she jerked in place at the sudden attention. “You’re the latest to join our Order, aren’t you? Stroud mentioned you were a mage. I don’t suppose you know any healing magic, do you?”

“Oh.” Bethany blinked. “Um, well, yes. I have some experience with it.” She had tended to her sister’s and their friends’ injuries often enough back in Kirkwall.

“Excellent. Would you mind tending to Niamh here as best as you can while I go find Velanna? I’m pretty sure my sister fractured a few ribs in that fight earlier.” She chuckled. “And don’t worry if she gives you any trouble; she has a history of being a terrible patient,” she added, earning a pained grunt for her troubles when the woman in question elbowed her sharply in the chest.

---

And before Bethany knew it, she found herself alone with the Warden-Constable in her quarters.

She was trying not to blush at the sight of the woman reclined against the propped pillows at the headboard of the bed. Modesty didn’t seem to be an issue for the other mage. Without another word, she had undressed—with a few occasional winces here and there as the movement pulled at her injuries—and was now bare from the waist up, save for the bindings around her breasts.

Bethany couldn’t help her own wince when she saw the livid bruising that covered the right side of the woman’s torso. It almost looked like the trunk of a tree had been slammed against it if the abrasions and bits of bark embedded into the cuts were any indication.

And she kept insisting to try and walk on her own with an injury like this? she thought in absolute disbelief before delicately pressing the tips of her fingers against the bruise. Despite being as gentle as possible, it still drew a sharp hiss from the Warden-Constable, and Bethany jerked her head up to see the other woman’s clearly pained visage.

“Sorry!”

“No, it needs to be done. Keep going,” she insisted even as pale eyes closed themselves to focus on breathing in and out evenly—albeit with some difficulty.

With permission given, Bethany laid her hand out over the woman’s side, drawing her magic out with a silvery-blue light. From there, she began sounding out the extent of the Warden-Constable’s injuries by feeling where it burned hottest beneath her palm—an indication of how bad the damage was. There was always a tickling sensation that spread out to her fingertips whenever she gently coaxed broken bones back into place. It was akin to puzzle pieces slowly sliding back together before she could encourage them to heal, and she waited for the pulsing waves around them to fade into a dull echo before focusing on the next fractured bone.

As for the bruised muscles surrounding them, they were far easier to deal with. Bethany poured magic beneath the skin in gradual increments—droplets of rain spilling into a cup one by one—until she felt the burning heat simmer down to a more bearable ache. She continued the process, slowly sliding her hand along the woman’s side until the patchwork of blues and blacks which had covered its expanse faded into a yellowish tinge and the superficial cuts had closed themselves. Bethany pulled away then with a satisfied smile.

“What song was that?”

Bethany blinked, turning her gaze up to see silvery eyes staring at her curiously. “Hm?”

“You were humming something while you were healing me.”

“Oh.” She felt heat gathering along her cheeks at the revelation. “It’s an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me. When my father first taught me healing magic, I used to hold my breath while I was performing the spell, but as you can imagine, it’s not a very sound idea unless you want both an unconscious healer and patient.” Embarrassed laughter spilled out of her then as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “After a time, I learned that humming a few songs was useful in reminding me to breathe.”

“I see.” The Warden-Constable smiled, looking a great deal more relaxed as she reclined further against the headboard. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course.”

The Warden-Commander walked in then with Velanna in tow, and the warrior seemed surprised to see her sister still in bed. “Did you actually manage to get her to stay there the entire time?” she asked incredulously.

Bethany blinked in confusion at that since her patient had otherwise been well-behaved. As it was, she could only nod tentatively, causing the other woman to grin openly.

“Hah! Well done! I didn’t expect Stroud to send me someone who could cow her into submission.”

The Warden-Constable’s eyes narrowed then. “It was not my hearing that was damaged in that fight, Saoirse. You would do well to not make such comments before me,” she deadpanned, and despite the threat, it only drew hearty laughter from her sister, who soon drew her attention back to Bethany.

“Stroud said your name was Hawke, right?”

She shifted uncomfortably, having grown too used to her surname being used to refer to Emrys, but she nodded all the same. “I’d prefer just to be called Bethany if that’s alright.”

“Ah. Understandable. Can’t tell you how many times my sister and I both answered ‘yes’ in the same room whenever someone called out for a Warden Cousland.” She smiled. “In any case, welcome to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens, Bethany. We’re glad to have you with us.”

---

After that, Bethany settles into Vigil’s Keep.

She sends letters home every now and then, but they’re usually only addressed to her mother. They’re never really long—just enough to let her know that she’s alive and well. Although Bethany realizes it’s a petty thing, she doesn’t ask about Emrys or send her anything for that matter. She’s still angry and resentful that her older sister managed to escape their adventure down into the Deep Roads unscathed while she got cheated out a future, leaving her to a life of killing darkspawn until the Calling finally takes her into the abyss of death.

Melancholy is ever her constant companion, but eventually, she gets paired with Niamh for missions, who teaches her much about their duties as Wardens over the months, which takes them all around Ferelden. They deal with darkspawn sightings and document areas where they’ve sealed off underground routes into the Deep Roads with earth-based magic, hopefully preventing them from returning so regularly to bother nearby provinces.

As partners, they slowly become closer.

---

"Do you regret it?" Bethany asked one night as they sat by the campfire, watching as Niamh effortlessly flicked a hand to control the size of it just as a strong wind passed beneath the rocky overhang they'd taken shelter under. "Being a Grey Warden, I mean?"

Niamh paused, giving the matter some thought. "There are worse things to be, I suppose." She shrugged. "For a time, I hated the idea of being a mage because it took me away from my family. However, my being a Grey Warden was likely the only thing that saved me from being slaughtered with the rest of them when Howe plotted his coup. It likely also saved me from dying at the hands of my colleagues in Kinloch Hold when one of the Senior Enchanters overthrew it with blood magic and his followers.” She looked over at Bethany then. "Truthfully, I enjoy being able to see more of the world than through the cage the Chantry kept me in. I like the experience of being a part of it even in the moments that people dislike most."

Niamh held a hand out past the edge of the overhang, casually catching droplets of rain in her palm. Bethany watched as a slow smile spread across her features at the sound of another crash of thunder, and she couldn’t help how her own heart seemed to quicken upon seeing that serene expression.

"Our lives are more finite than they ever were," Bethany said distractedly, knowing all Wardens had only a few decades at most after their Joining.

"They are," she conceded. "That’s why I intend to make the most of it." Niamh's expression then turned sheepish as she turned back toward her. "I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, was it?"

"No," she admitted, but as mellow as the other woman was, she was hardly surprised. Niamh had a way of remaining positive despite everything else life seemed to throw at them. Bethany smiled in spite of herself. "It was an honest one though. Thank you."

---

Every day is always an interesting adventure.

If not darkspawn, they deal with brigands out on the road or aid people across the countryside. To Bethany’s surprise, their help is openly requested sometimes when they reach a new town or village. Following the Blight, the utter bravery of the Grey Wardens had earned them Ferelden’s deepest respect. Thus, despite the fact they’re two mages traveling about, their regalia draws easy admiration and conversation alike.

It’s admittedly an odd feeling to have as a mage: to be wanted.

Bethany slowly grows to enjoy it though, especially when she can help with her magic so openly without being reviled for it.

Sometimes the jobs asked of them are simple enough: deal with a band of thieves, rid the area of rabid animals encroaching too close to farmland, helping out with some odds and ends around the village, etc.

Given that Niamh is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, Bethany also ends up learning a lot of survival skills from her during their travels together. She’s endlessly amazed by how the other mage utilizes her magic in combat and with other tasks such as hunting or fishing.

Bethany’s understandably shocked when she realizes that Niamh knows how to shapeshift, often scouting the skies as a raven to search for any nearby danger or roaming the wilderness as a sleek-looking, black wolf to hunt for game. It’s an unexpected revelation, especially since the other woman admitted to having been a part of the Circle most of her life before being recruited as a Warden.

She’s never met another mage so intriguing.

While Anders had been a benevolent healer, offering his skills to those most in need, it was his restless anger—an almost blind righteousness—over the plight of mages that gave Bethany pause.

Merrill was sweet in comparison, of course, and Bethany never minded talking with her even if there were the occasional cultural gaps that led to amusing misunderstandings at times. Still, the other woman held an interest in blood magic that Bethany wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with. After all, she had grown up hearing about the dangers of such magic from the Chantry. Then again, Andrastian religion also denounced who she was as a person as well, which was depressing in its own right…

While Niamh’s aptitude for elemental magic alone is impressive, Bethany is certain the woman’s shapeshifting draws upon some form of ancient or arcane magic—something well outside of the Circle’s teachings. It draws her curiosity endlessly. As such, Bethany asks her about the skill one day. Niamh just smiles, idly toying with the wooden ring that sits on a cord of black leather around her neck, revealing that a former companion taught it to her.

And that’s how Bethany learns about Morrigan.

---

“What?” Bethany exclaimed when Saoirse revealed how she was able to survive the slaying of the Archdemon. “You’re telling me that she and Niamh were able to…” She trailed off, trying to fight the blush burning across her face as her mind began imagining the possibilities of how such a conception was possible.

“You know, I thought to ask Niamh the technicalities of it once, but given she’s my baby sister—and obviously lacks the essential, uh, tool for the matter—I just decided it was best not to pry,” Saoirse answered dryly. She idly waved her hand about. “I don’t care to learn about her intimate life any more than she cares to know about mine,” she added before the corner of her mouth lifted into a lazy grin. “But for all intents and purposes, Kieran is my nephew, and Morrigan’s very much family now despite her protests to the contrary.”

“And he has the soul of an Old God?” she asked quietly as she turned to look at Kieran and the two women who were his parents.

Oghren had heard of their latest visitors and was—

Bethany squinted in confusion.

He was doing some type of weird jig in front of the baby, who was currently in Morrigan’s arms. Unfortunately, the erratic, uncoordinated nature of it did nothing to amuse him or his mother. Seemingly uncomfortable by the sight, Kieran gave an unhappy whine before reaching out toward Niamh, little fingers grasping repeatedly in her direction. Morrigan transferred him easily into the other woman’s arms when it was clear she wouldn’t mind holding him, allowing her to dryly berate the dwarf while Niamh comforted their son.

“So Morrigan says, yes,” the warrior answered with a shrug. “I originally turned down her ritual because I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting an innocent life to such a fate, but I can’t be mad at the result. I still have Leliana because of it, and I can see how much Niamh adores both Kieran and Morrigan.” Her smile softened. “She has a piece of the happiness that I always wanted for her—something Niamh felt she could never find in this world, terrible as it is for mages at times.”

Bethany couldn’t help but agree at the latter sentiment.

Looking at the three of them, they certainly did seem like a happy family. Still, Bethany couldn’t help but feel some small pang of envy. While she had discovered that Niamh could draw just about anyone into easy conversation with her, she was rather private about her personal life. It wasn’t until recently that Bethany discovered she was even in a relationship—let alone one involving another woman. She had no issue with the idea or with Morrigan for that matter. The other mage was well-matched with Niamh on the basis of intrigue alone, but…

Bethany bit her lip.

After all those long months together with Niamh, she couldn’t help but feel—

Bethany nearly swallowed her tongue when she realized sharp, golden eyes were staring at her over Niamh’s head—as if somehow reading her thoughts. Morrigan was tall for a woman of Fereldan origin, but not nearly as much as Saoirse. With her dark hair and pale skin, she was as bewitching as she was powerful—her magical aura a fount of seemingly endless, wild energy. Bethany almost felt like prey beneath the other woman’s gaze, and she averted her own nervously.

Thankfully, Morrigan made no comment about it, but Bethany did wince when she heard her suggest turning into bed early to Niamh. She and Kieran had arrived relatively late in the day after all, so they were no doubt tired from their travels. Niamh gave no objections, and they soon headed off to the woman’s personal quarters.

Bethany sighed soundlessly.

She was no stranger to infatuation. Her attraction to Leliana back in Lothering was a testament to that fact. Granted, it was also somehow deeply ironic that her commanding officer was now married to the same lay sister who had since gone on to become the Left Hand of Divine Justinia.

Sometimes she couldn’t help but think the Maker enjoyed toying with her in subtle, annoying ways. In any case, like with any other infatuation, she would just have to wait for the one she had on Niamh to run its course.

It couldn’t last forever after all.

---

Spoilers: it does.

---

During one of her occasional visits, Morrigan left Kieran temporarily in the care of Niamh to follow up on a magical lead involving some of her arcane research. As they weren’t needed outside of Vigil’s Keep for anything, Bethany also got to watch over him as well, and as she did, she brought up a question that she had long been curious over.

"You said you started the ritual with Morrigan when you were already a Warden, weren't you? I thought Wardens became barren after the Joining though?"

"Hm. That's the assumption, yes," Niamh said as she idly waved a stuffed griffon over Kieran, delighting the baby instantly as they laid on the floor together. "I’d been a Warden for a little over a year at that point. Perhaps it was still soon enough that infertility hadn’t affected me yet, or the spell did something to compensate for it."

Bethany just nodded as she looked over at the two of them. "I see bits of you in him."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she admitted easily enough. "There's his sweet nature, the way he seems far too clever for his own good at times, and how his eyes light up whenever he smiles or laughs."

Niamh chuckled, flattered over the assessment. "Morrigan and I are always arguing about it. I see more of her than me in him, but then she retorts that he’s retained my love of sweets and just about every known creature in existence." Her smile widened when tiny, grasping hands finally succeeded in pulling down the stuffed griffon in her hands, and Kieran wasted little time in snuggling the toy to his chest with a pleased hum.

"Do you regret not being able to see him whenever you wish?"

"Sometimes," Niamh answered, "but Morrigan’s mother…" She trailed off with a frown even as she ran a hand affectionately through her son’s hair. "She’s powerful, and she’s hurt her before. I can understand her caution. I’m willing to go years at a time without seeing them if it means they’re safe."

---

Morrigan eventually returns, and she takes Kieran with her to hide and do magical stuff as Empress Celene’s Arcane Advisor in Orlais as per canon.

Several months pass.

Although Niamh had professed to understanding the need for her little family’s relocation, the distance means that visits from them are now few and far in between. Bethany can see how much the other woman misses them and how she worries about their safety. She often catches Niamh distractedly playing with the ring on her necklace, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

As if anticipating that, Morrigan does send letters to Niamh every now and then, and Niamh’s entire expression lights up every time she receives them, learning how the other woman and Kieran are fairing in Orlais along with how their son continues to grow by leaps and bounds.

She cannot fault the happiness Niamh has found with Morrigan, but it also serves as a constant reminder of what life will never offer to Bethany.

Eventually, it gets to a point where Bethany grows resentful of their relationship because her own feelings for Niamh are just so strong by then. It causes her to lash out at Niamh one night in camp, angry with how calm and positive she always is despite knowing they all have a death sentence over their heads.

---

"What world do you live in that you see it through such an idyllic lens?! You can wax poetic about this life all you like! I never asked for this! I never asked for the darkspawn to steal what little I had from life only to be made the gatekeeper against the very things I despise most in this world!"

And Niamh was quiet for the longest time, having stopped mid-sentence over Bethany's sudden tirade. As the silence continued to drift over their camp, so too does a veil of sudden cold air, and Bethany realized far too late that she’d crossed a line with the other woman.

"No one does, really," Niamh admitted at last, the warmth gone from her voice. "Save for Saoirse and my brother, I lost most of my family, but the terrible thing was that it wasn’t even darkspawn that killed them or even the Blight. It was just one man’s petty greed for what he felt was owed to him. He pretended to be my family’s ally for decades, and under the cover of night, he used his men to slaughter nearly the entirety of my bloodline. My parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew… He was only eight when it happened, you see. Oren wanted to a warrior like my siblings. He was trying to defend his mother with one of those wooden swords young boys tend to play with, but against the likes of Howe’s men...” She clenched her jaw. “They gutted him just like everyone else."

Another pause stifled the air between them even as Bethany stared at Niamh, horrified.

"Darkspawn are terrible, yes, but they’re not always as terrible as people," Niamh said, eyes narrowing as she looked into the fire. "We can be so far worse. If I'm at all patient, it's because I try to be kind in a world that offers so little of it. I want to believe it can be better than it was before. I want this to be a better place for our people, but I also want to ensure that tragedies like that never happen again. That the people caught in the middle—victims of simple circumstance—don’t have so suffer. If it means I must be a Grey Warden in addition to a mage, then I accept it. To do otherwise damns them as much as me."

With that, Niamh then gracefully rose to her feet and headed back to her own tent, leaving Bethany alone at the campfire.

The rest of their journey back to Vigil’s Keep passed without much conversation between them despite Bethany’s attempts. Niamh only said enough to give a suitable answer, but she never offered anything more beyond it. A vault door had seemed to close behind the cool grey of the eyes that had long enraptured her, offering little warmth. It was clear Bethany was no longer privy to the other woman’s innermost thoughts and feelings

Niamh wasn’t petty, however.

She still hunted when necessary so they didn’t starve, and as was long part of their agreement together, Bethany continued to cook whatever game she caught. Other than that, however, Niamh offered no friendly greetings in the morning when they woke or any words that allowed her to wander off peacefully into the Fade as she slept.

Bethany didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them.

---

When they finally return to Vigil's Keep, Saoirse is confused by how quiet and despondent her sister seems to be. Given how amiable Niamh normally is, she has a right to be concerned.

She pulls Bethany aside one night to ask what happened since they normally get along so well, but Bethany and Niamh haven't even spoken a word to one another since their return.

Bethany ruefully explains the situation, but she doesn't reveal the actual reason why she lashed out to begin with. As such, Saoirse just assumes it was just the usual stress of being a Grey Warden.

---

"Ah. It happens to the best of us, really. Here." Saoirse handed Bethany a tin box. Something Orlesian, according to the script on it. "Leliana’s currently away on business in Val Royeaux, but she sends care packages out to me whenever she can. This one's for Niamh though. It's tea," she explained with a laugh. "She loves this stuff more than anyone else I know."

Bethany still felt badly over the situation however.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Oh, Niamh’s too well-mannered to outright ignore someone,” Saoirse insisted with a brief snort. “If anything, she becomes more… Well. ‘Distantly-polite’ as my wife would describe it. Besides, I have it on good authority that she never turns down a good cup of tea.” A lazy, conspiratorial grin played on her lips then. “Especially if there’s a spoonful or two of honey in it.”

That eventually culminated in Bethany making tea for Niamh that evening, who had been locked away in her office as of late. Bethany was still nervous despite receiving permission to enter the room, allowing her to face the woman who she hadn’t seen in nearly a fortnight. Concern grew within her when she saw the shadows beneath Niamh’s eyes—a familiar indication that she had been working far too hard. She watched as Niamh struggled to blink the exhaustion from her eyes as she regarded her, but she otherwise said nothing, simply waiting to hear what Bethany required of her.

“I’m sorry," Bethany said at last, contrition clear in her voice. "This isn’t the life I would have wanted for myself, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you when you were merely trying to help.” She held out the still-steaming mug of tea in her hands—the very thing Saoirse had convinced her would make for a suitable peace offering. “Here,” she offered with a tentative smile. “If you’re going to be working through the night again, you should at least drink something.”

For a time, Bethany believed the other woman was just going to remain silent. It would have been well-deserved given how terribly she behaved the other week, but then Niamh reached out to gently take the mug from her.

"Thank you," she said at last, the ice slowly melting behind those wintry eyes, and as they did, Bethany could feel the vice around her heart gradually unhinge itself in relief.

---

Things pretty much go back to normal between them.

Niamh and Bethany are back on the road again, especially after several reports of wandering darkspawn near the outskirts of a town.

As expected, however, Bethany's longing toward Niamh is still there—constant as an evening star. Even with the taint of death coursing through them, Niamh’s aura emanates with so much life—like a forest in winter, cool and refreshing with the scent of pine buried beneath its depths, waiting to burst into spring’s lively greenery with just the barest spark of magic.

It fascinates her.

She often wonders if such single-minded focus is a side effect of the Joining other than the enhanced physical strength and the ability to sense darkspawn. She feels a hunger that is never sated, a thirst that is never parched, and also…

Amber eyes wander over to where Niamh is disrobing to bathe in the nearby river, and she catches sight of the elegant play of muscles along her back before she studiously turns her gaze away. She feels the way her face burns even as she feels something else stir in her veins.

---

While still traveling, they get attacked by some hapless bandits, and while the two women aren't hurt, they manage to lose one of their tents to a stray grenade.

They end up sleeping in the remaining tent together, but it’s small, and they huddle together inside it for warmth against the pouring rain outside.

Bethany is surprised when she unexpectedly wakes up in Niamh’s arms—one is around her waist, and the other is curled behind her shoulders—which pull her closer in sleep. Sometimes she’s amazed at just how warm the other woman is, and although she knows she should pull away to avoid any awkward conversations in the morning, she can’t bring herself to do so. This is probably as close as she’ll ever get to the intimacy she desires with Niamh, and while the moment won’t last forever, it’ll be one more memory she can cherish—something no one else can ever steal from her.

Idly, Bethany listens to the rain outside—now a gentle pattering instead of the rage of a growing storm—falling against the material of the tent, and the sound is so rhythmic that she begins to doze off again.

---

Sometime after that, they receive a letter from Stroud, who requests their assistance with a matter out in the Free Marches. Saoirse stays behind to oversee things at Vigil’s Keep, which leaves Niamh and Bethany to travel across the Waking Sea with Nathaniel as additional support.

They arrive in Kirkwall several days before the qunari invasion begins in full, but not long after they do, Nathaniel’s reconnaissance around the city reveals something terrible:

Bethany’s mother was murdered.

Bethany is understandably upset, but Niamh and Nathaniel do their best to comfort her. They end up holding a small wake in honor of Leandra.

By the time they manage to rendezvous with Stroud, the qunari invasion has already begun, and they’re caught in the middle of it, leading to the Wardens running into Emrys Hawke and her companions.

Emrys obviously wants to talk to her little sister, but Bethany is resistant to the idea since her emotions are still riding high with the news of their mother’s death and the ever-present resentment regarding how she was made into a Warden without her say so on the matter.

Niamh recognizes Bethany’s tension and politely tells Emrys to leave the matter be for the time being. There is little point in having a conversation if one half of the party isn’t ready to have it after all.

Running on adrenaline, the warrior objects and tries to push her out of the way, but Bethany retaliates immediately on Niamh’s behalf. She presses her hand against her sister's chestplate and essentially shoves her back several steps, momentarily forgetting her Warden strength. Both Hawkes seem surprised by the ease in which she can do that.

---

“Bethany?” Emrys uttered in confusion, especially as her sister outright glared at her.

"You do not accost Warden-Constable Cousland that way!"

“Wait… ‘Cousland?’” Emrys looked over to the woman in question, taking in the obvious staff situated across her back. A wolf’s head ornament adorned the top of the weapon in exquisitely-sculpted silverite, and her eyes slowly widened in realization, remembering tales of the mage who could bend the very heavens to her whims. “Wait, you’re the Storm Wolf of Ferelden? Sister to the Hero of Ferelden?”

The woman merely gave a long-suffering sigh in response. “I suppose I was being too optimistic in assuming Leliana’s tales would’ve lost their weight this far past Ferelden’s borders…”

---

Despite the chaos ravaging itself across Kirkwall, the Wardens can’t stay to help. As such, they’re not there to see the end of the invasion. It isn’t until Bethany returns to Ferelden with the others that she receives a letter from Varric, saying that Emrys nearly died in her duel against the Arishok.

While Varric takes the time to mention that Emrys is recovering, and that her bravery led to her becoming Kirkwall’s Champion, the idea that Bethany had nearly lost the very last member of her family is so shocking that she's left inconsolable one night.

---

"I was such an absolute wretch to her before we left, and she nearly died afterward!” she wept when Niamh came to check on her in her room. “She’ll never forgive me!"

The other woman’s eyes are sympathetic as she held her in her arms. "Don’t be so sure."

"How can you say that?" Bethany demanded as she looked up at her, eyes red and swollen with grief.

"I’ve seen the way you talk about her, Bethany. The memories stir up more than just hurt within you,” she explained. “They light your eyes up with joy in remembrance of them. I’m sure she misses you and wishes things had gone differently. She wouldn’t have bothered sending all these letters to you otherwise over the years.

"My siblings did the same when I was still in Kinloch Hold, where I often wondered if my family had forgotten all about me. There were times I feared my being a mage would have meant their love for me would have gone away, but it didn’t. I received letters from them all the time—sometimes over the most asinine things like Saoirse’s warhound tossing bits of her armor into the pig pen." Niamh rolled her eyes, but Bethany could see the fondness in her gaze before they refocused on her.

"Your sister has asked for nothing in return even in the times where you never sent word back. I won’t tell you how to resolve this. You were right in saying that no one truly asks for this life, but I believe she only had the best of intentions when she entrusted your safety to Stroud. Trust in that if nothing else, and if you still find the matter wanting, tell her so." Something sad and brittle lingered on the smile she shared with her. "The what-ifs hurt more than the reality of things at times. No one deserves that."

---

Niamh helps to cheer Bethany up over the course of several weeks.

They’re off in a nearby town, investigating more sightings of darkspawn, and Niamh goes downstairs to pay the innkeeper for breakfast while Bethany packs up some of her belongings to continue their journey. When she reaches for her staff, she blinks, startled to find an ice flower blossoming on the end of it. She stares in surprise at the door the other woman had left through because there’s no way someone else could have done this.

It's almost like something out of a scene from one of those romantic tales Leliana used to tell her back in Lothering. She had thought them nonsense at first—that surely no one actually did such sweet things in real life—but now…

Bethany gently brushes her fingers over the beautifully-conjured petals and leaves, feeling the cool aura radiating from them.

Now she’s not so sure.

---

During their travels, they’re ambushed by darkspawn, and in the middle of the fighting, the ground manages to crumble beneath both women’s feet. The fall is long and painful as they slide down an old mine shaft, and soon they find themselves down in the Deep Roads. Unfortunately, it's an area they haven't charted yet, so they have no idea where they even are.

They have rations from the last time Niamh hunted and smoked some game, but they know it won't last forever. They can feel the press of darkspawn everywhere against their senses, and it's difficult to get any real bearing down in the tunnels because of it. The ambushes are sporadic throughout the days as they try to find their way back to the surface. They have taken to sleeping in brief shifts so they’re not caught unaware.

One fight lags on long enough that they have to retreat, but their enemies lead them right into the lair of a broodmother.

Bethany has never seen something so hideous in all her life, but when she turns briefly to Niamh, she’s disquieted to find the other woman looks more terrified than she's ever seen her. She barely has time to think over that before the darkspawn attack them again, but now they have the broodmother and her various tentacles to dodge as well.

The fight rages on for quite awhile, long enough that Bethany voices the thought they might never see Vigil's Keep again.

---

“No.”

"Niamh—"

"No!" she repeated firmly, glaring as she lashed out with an arm, incinerating an advancing line of darkspawn to their right. "I am getting you out of here! I swear it!"

You.

Not us.

What are you planning, Niamh? Bethany couldn't help but think worriedly.

Then she felt the sudden rush of magic—causing Bethany to almost stumble in place at the overwhelming sensation—as Niamh’s aura manifested itself more tangibly in an array of colors. Blinding arcs of lightning and lines of roaring flames raced across her form, and Bethany could see her own breath forming in rapid, exhausted puffs as the temperature inside the entire cavern seemed to drop even as the stone walls rattled ominously from the breadth of absolute magic being conjured.

The power of it was soon unleashed as Niamh slammed her staff end into the ground, allowing countless rays of energy to simply explode from her body. They radiated out like spectral hands of vengeance, and the cries of the darkspawn were nearly drowned out entirely as utter destruction rained down upon them. Each blast hit like deafening peals of thunder, and the echoes of them spanned for several long heartbeats, leaving Bethany’s ears ringing even after everything eventually fell silent.

As the dust and debris finally settled from the turbulent winds, she could see the other mage leaning heavily upon her staff, utterly exhausted. Each breath she took seemed to be a laborious effort, but Bethany watched as those eyes remained keenly alert to their surroundings, waiting to see if any of the darkspawn she had laid waste to would try and attack them again. They both tensed upon hearing the low, wailing groan of pain, and they looked to the far side of the cavern to see the broodmother still alive—albeit barely.

While already repulsive, it was now a macabre mass of flesh, bleeding sluggishly from the wounds inflicted by Niamh’s attack. Bloated skin bore severe burn marks, and entire chunks of flesh were missing. One of the broodmother’s arms had been severed completely, but the heat from one of the elemental attacks had unintentionally cauterized the fat stump even if Bethany grimaced upon seeing the pink-tinged bone that still protruded from it. The broodmother’s entire form seemed to slump back with what they assumed was her final breath, but then the sudden sound of earth breaking behind them alerted them far too late to a final danger.

Bethany turned her head just in time to see a lashing tentacle sprout from the ground, and her mind barely registered the sight of it before she heard the frantic call of her name along with warm hands pressing against her side.

"Bethany!"

As if time had slowed itself, she watched in horror as Niamh pushed her out of the tentacle’s swooping path, but in doing so, the other woman took the brunt of the attack entirely. Niamh was sent flying into one of the naturally-formed pillars of the cavern, impacting it hard enough that it broke at its center, raining rubble down upon the mage resting eerily still at its base until she was buried beneath it.

Bethany’s eyes remained fixed on the sight even as she shakily rose to her hands and knees. An overwhelming sense of disbelief overtook when her longtime partner didn't emerge at all out of the stone pile. In fact, there's a terrifying lack of anything in that direction.

Nothing of the taint in Niamh's blood.

No sound.

No magic.

Just... nothing.

Distantly, she could hear the half-dying moans of the broodmother somewhere beyond her peripheral vision. Although Bethany was all too aware of how dangerous her current situation still was, all she could feel was a staggering rush of absolute rage building inside her. It seemed to grow with every beat of her heart until she could hear it pounding inside her ears—a drumming sound of accusation over the fact that she had been powerless to help someone dear to her yet again.

It was her anger that gave birth to the sudden burst of power—whether a second wind or simply a dying gasp, she didn’t immediately know—but Bethany whirled to face the grotesque beast, magic already gathering within her hands. With an infuriated cry, she pressed her palms out, and she felt the immense displacement of air around her immediately as she summoned enough force magic to take up almost the entire space of the cavern. The pressure of it proved too much against the broodmother, and Bethany watched impassively as its enormous body was flung toward the far wall with enough violence that it was reduced to a grisly splatter of darkened blood, pulverized bone, and putrid meat.

With its death, Bethany felt the presence of darkspawn waiting beyond the cavern retreat even further, as if afraid of tempting her fury. Safe from any immediate threats, however, she wasted little time in rushing over to where she last saw Niamh. She used her hands and magic to try and dig her out beneath the rubble, but when she found her, fear took hold of her immediately when she realized the other woman wasn’t breathing anymore. Desperately, Bethany tried to use her healing magic in an attempt revive her, but to her utter dismay, the chest beneath her hands remained impossibly still.

“Oh, no…” she breathed. “No. No! You can’t be dead! Niamh, get up!”

But her cry fell on deaf ears.

Despite her best efforts, no matter how much healing she tried to force through the other woman’s veins, Niamh didn’t respond. As each minute continued to pass by in silence, Bethany began to wonder what she’d have to tell Morrigan if she ever made it back to the surface, let alone the little boy with Niamh’s kind smile. It would be such a terrible thing, she knew, informing them the woman they loved died trying to save her.

Just like everyone that ever entered her life.

Leaving before she even got the chance to give her goodbyes.

Bethany withdrew her healing magic and began conjuring lightning beneath her hands instead—the same way Niamh had taught her once upon a time—desperate for anything that could attempt to shock some life back into the other woman. Niamh’s body jolted with each burst of power, head lolling about along the dirt, but she still remained impossibly beyond Bethany’s reach—perhaps now wandering past the Fade and into the Maker’s embrace.

At the thought, her anguish soon gave way to anger.

“Damn you, you selfish wretch!” she shouted as she pressed her hand over the woman’s sternum with another pulse of electricity. “I never asked you to try and save my life! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get to just leave me here when I never had to chance to tell you everything! Not when you don’t even know I love y—”

Just as she went to jolt the other woman again, Bethany felt a hand firmly wrapping itself around her wrist.

Shocked, she looked up toward Niamh's face, especially as she heard a very weak cough. The other mage hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she saw how the still blue-tinged lips began to move—too soft for her to hear anything. Bethany lowered her head to listen more closely and soon heard a quiet question.

"...are you alright?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and fresh tears began to fill Bethany's eyes again in spite of herself.

Even after everything they had both suffered through, Niamh's first concern had still been solely for her.

With a shaky breath, she carefully curled herself up against Niamh’s form, crying silently even as she rested her hand against the other woman's stomach to continue and apply weak, healing magic.

That was how the other Wardens found them later.

"There they are."

Bethany didn’t pick her head up off the floor, but there was little mistaking Morrigan's distinct voice. Saoirse’s own followed soon after.

"I owe you my thanks for this, Morrigan."

“Thank your sister; I would not have been able to find her were she still not wearing the ring I gave her years ago.”

A weary chuckled greeted the mage’s words. “Ever the sentimental woman, my little sister…”

The sound of heavy footsteps treading closer caused Bethany to look up, and she could see Saoirse kneeling down next to them. The warrior’s face was worn with stress, but there was nothing but relief in her eyes as she saw them both together. "It appears I owe you my thanks as well, Bethany." She jerked her head up then, shouting out an order. "Get a litter for them now!"

"But I'm not nearly as injured," Bethany protested, drawing her hand away from Niamh’s body self-consciously, especially when Morrigan appeared and began to take over healing and stabilizing the woman’s condition with fresh magic.

"No," Saoirse admitted even as her lips lifted up into a tired smile. "But you and I both know what a terrible patient my sister is. I’ll be depending on you to make sure she behaves herself if she wakes up during our trek back to Vigil’s Keep.” She gently clapped a hand over Bethany’s shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

“Warden-Commander—”

“No. Niamh and I have lost enough in our lives. It would have hurt me to lose her as well.”

---

Niamh remains unconscious for several days as she recovers back at Vigil's Keep.

Bethany and Morrigan basically take turns looking after her.

Despite the other woman’s position as a member of Orlais’ Imperial Court, it seemed Morrigan returned to Ferelden after receiving a frantic letter from Saoirse, saying that Niamh and Bethany had been missing for several days following a routine mission.

As mentioned in the previous section, Morrigan gave Niamh a ring, which would allow her to find her were she ever in danger. It proved especially useful when Niamh and the other Wardens were imprisoned in Fort Drakon, where Saoirse essentially put her foot in her mouth and ruined their attempt to sneak Queen Anora out of the estate she had been held captive in.

I believe the ring is only canonically available if a player is in a romance with Morrigan. However, I’m headcanoning that because she held Niamh in such high esteem, she gave it to her anyway.

Kieran is also present at Vigil’s Keep because there’s no way Morrigan was leaving him behind in Orlais. He’s about five years old at this point, and he’s grown to inherit both his mothers’ looks. A crown of dark, loose curls sits atop his head much like Niamh’s, and he even fashions a forelock like hers, which hangs in front of his right eye. His gaze is a piercing shade of gold reminiscent to Morrigan’s own. As a possessor of an Old God Soul, he’s also begun to speak cryptically at times, which is understandably jarring to those around him.

Bethany happens upon one such conversation by accident, and she immediately pauses in the doorway when she sees Morrigan and Kieran standing at Niamh’s bedside.

“Sire was caught within the paths of the Fade, Mother. She heard the voices of old ghosts calling to her, but she didn’t follow them.”

Morrigan indulgently runs a hand through her son’s hair. “Indeed; she did not.”

“She missed them though, but she still returned to us.”

“Of course. Why would she desire an eternity without you?” she asked with a fond smile, causing Kieran to giggle.

“That’s not why, Mother! Not completely.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She would have missed the Sunshine too much. She’s been following her warmth for years. It would have hurt her to be without it.”

Kieran’s words pull at Bethany oddly, but she soon pushes them out of her mind and quietly walks away, feeling too much like an intruder upon the small family.

Thankfully, Niamh regains consciousness not long afterward, and everyone is understandably relieved by this news.

As per usual, however, Niamh proves herself to be an exceedingly stubborn patient, but perhaps wanting to set a better example for Kieran after her near-death experience, she remains in bed for the duration of her recovery. The other woman doesn’t seem to mind too much, especially given that her son continues to keep her company, telling her of the various odd things he’s seen around Orlais and the even odder people.

After several weeks under Morrigan’s watchful eye, the witch begrudgingly says that Niamh's okay to begin light duty around the Keep, relieving the other mage immensely. She goes out herb-gathering, an excuse just to get out of the fortress, and Bethany volunteers to go with her.

Things are quiet between them for a time as they begin picking up elfroot to place in the shared basket between them. Their conversations as of late haven't been of anything too substantial. A good thing, Bethany thinks, considering her feelings for her and how close she’d been to revealing them. Soon, however, they're caught in the middle of a light rain shower, and Bethany says they should head back. She begins to lead their way out of the forest when Niamh’s words stop her in her tracks.

---

"I was waiting for you to say it again, you know."

Bethany looked over her shoulder in surprise to still see Niamh standing in the middle of the clearing, her gaze expectant. “What?” she asked nervously.

"When I nearly died, I heard you say something… significant to me,” she revealed, causing Bethany’s heart to pound as she stared at her in disbelief. “However, when I recovered and you never repeated those words again, I thought it might have been little more than a fever dream of mine." Niamh's smile turned sad then when Bethany said nothing else to her words. "Perhaps it was after all... I’m sorry. I’ve made this rather awkward then, haven’t I?” She took a few steps closer, reaching toward the basket of herbs Bethany still held in her hands. “Here, let me—”

But Bethany just let it drop to the ground before she reached out to grab the collar of Niamh’s cloak. The other woman seemed taken aback, but before she can even begin voicing a question, Bethany pulled her forward to kiss her desperately in the rain, swallowing her gasp of surprise.

As far as first kisses went, it was a touch awkward as their teeth clicked together, lips mashed between them. Bethany felt a moment of panic as Niamh pulled back, but before the urge to run away in mortification could overtake her, a warm palm pressed itself against the back of her neck, keeping her in place. There was the brush of knuckles as they ran along her jaw, and Bethany was just able to catch the silver of Niamh’s eyes before all thought fled from her mind upon feeling the soft press of the other woman’s mouth on hers.

Bethany followed into the easy guidance being offered, and they both soon settled into a comfortable rhythm that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. She felt light-headed with giddy delight, and her hands reached out to hold onto Niamh’s hips, helping to ground herself there, as their kiss continued. There was a soft sound as Niamh sighed contentedly into her mouth, as if she had been waiting just as long for this moment between them.

The thought seemed almost too impossible to comprehend, especially when she knew Niamh was committed to someone else. As such, Bethany pulled away first despite the sound of protest it caused. Despite her resolve, Bethany was reluctant to pull away from Niamh entirely, so she settled for gently leaning her forehead against the other mage as they panted quietly in the rain.

"I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly, practically speaking the words against Niamh’s lips. "It wasn't my intention to interfere with your relationship with Morrigan."

As close as they were, there was little mistaking the clear confusion in the eyes across from hers. "'With Morrigan?'" Niamh repeated. "What does she have anything to do with us?"

"But… I thought—” Her brows drew together in consternation. “Aren’t you both together?"

"What? No," Niamh answered, almost amused by the idea. "When we laid together for the ritual, it was an agreement of mutual benefit meant only for that night. She's not—Well." An exhale of breath escaped her in the form of laughter. "Morrigan's admitted she's not interested in women—or anyone, really—in quite that way, but none of the male Wardens with us at the time dared to lay with her even if it meant sparing us all from death. She trusted me, and I her. I consider Morrigan one of my dearest friends, and we share Kieran together as a result of that night, yes, but we are certainly not bound together as others seem to believe."

And Niamh’s answer suddenly changed everything.

What Bethany had been feeling, what was now possible between her and Niamh...

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally realized she could have a bit of the happiness she’d always wanted for herself.

---

So everyone knows that they’re a couple after that.

Niamh becomes more overt in the romantic things she does for her—the very same things Bethany had thought were the woman simply being thoughtful. She finds out that Niamh had apparently been interested in her for awhile and had actually been ready to confess her feelings a few years ago, but their first argument, where Bethany had accused her of being too idealistic, had stemmed the thought immediately.

Niamh had been understandably heartbroken by the words, which was why she’d had been so despondent for weeks following the incident, believing Bethany had no romantic interest in her whatsoever. The apology in her office later had restored their friendship, and while Niamh had been disappointed it likely would never evolve into anything more beyond that, she was still determined to be a good friend to her if nothing else.

Bethany’s completely exasperated at the idea that they could have been together long before now, but she realizes it was likely better this way.

She had needed time to get over her anger and resentment regarding her life as a Warden.

She needed time to get past her guilt and the complicated thoughts regarding herself and her faith.

And she needed time to grow into herself and discover who she was as a person.

She’s grateful that Niamh’s been so kind and patient over the years, and Bethany finds great joy in the new facet of their relationship together.

They’ve kissed and been involved in heavy makeout sessions around Vigil’s Keep—much to the exasperation of their colleagues—but barring the incident that led to Kieran’s conception, Niamh’s been celibate for years, and canonical dialogue in DA2 reveals that Bethany’s pretty much a virgin. As such, she’s understandably very shy and nervous about the whole thing. However, she knew every part of her would be in good hands with Niamh when they finally reached that point.

Their first time together takes place several months after their first kiss, where Niamh tries her utmost to make it a memorable thing for them. She takes Bethany to a grove they frequent together outside of Vigil’s Keep for a midnight picnic. The moon is full, and the skies are clear, revealing an endless sea of stars. Little fireflies dance over the surface of the lake while they sit on the grass along its shore.

It’s a casual reminder that for all their hardship, life goes on and finds a way through a magic all of its own.

They stargaze for and handfeed each other little bits of food in between kisses, but soon things start getting a little more heated. Niamh gently tugs Bethany onto her lap, who follows willingly, settling her knees on either side of the woman’s hips. Bethany takes some initiative of her own, pushing at Niamh’s chest slowly until she lowers herself against the grass, and then…

---

Bethany’s breath caught in her throat upon seeing Niamh’s features haloed by the soft glow of the little fireflies. Normally pale eyes had darkened at their edges with both pleasure and interest as she regarded her, leaving Bethany flushed, especially as she realized she doesn’t quite know what to do from there on out.

Perhaps having sensed that, Niamh reached up to gently run a thumb along the corner of her mouth, and Bethany barely resisted the urge to press her lips against the pad in a kiss as slim fingers then went to cup her cheek gently.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Niamh reassured as she brushed a few strands of Bethany’s hair behind an ear. “I quite like kissing you.”

But Bethany did want to.

She knew Niamh had more experience with sexual intimacy, and she worried she couldn’t be able to compare against the woman’s past paramours. There was no expectation in those starlit eyes however. Niamh was as relaxed as she had been when they first started, and Bethany knew she would have been more than content to lay with her beneath the stars if that was all she desired. She was always considerate with her feelings, never pressing her to do more than she was ready.

Thus, Bethany knew Niamh would be patient with her during their first time together.

“If I asked, would you show me what to do?” she whispered tentatively, and she watched as the corners of those lips turned up into soft smile.

“Always,” Niamh answered, gently tugging Bethany’s hand toward the buckle holding the front of her leather and steel-riveted brigandine closed. “Here. Help me out of this first please.”

From there, Bethany quickly realized it all wasn’t quite as simple as the tawdry novels Isabela used to loan her made it out to be. Nothing really prepared for the warmth of the flesh beneath her fingertips as she gradually disrobed her lover of the layers that made up their Warden regalia. Fortune favored the bold, she knew, and she experimented by pressing kisses against skin as more was revealed to her. She smiled against Niamh’s sternum—pleased—when she heard the exceedingly rare quiver in her voice.

As promised, however, the other woman continued to give suggestions on what types of touches would best give pleasure, but she also allowed Bethany to set the pace of whatever she felt most comfortable with. With each encouraging whisper against her ear, each caress and rock of her hand became more confident. When Niamh shuddered beneath her for the first time—the barest hint of magic curling against her own—as she reached her peak, Bethany was convinced that she had never felt more triumphant.

And she didn’t think she had ever felt so unfettered when Niamh later returned the favor by kissing a line of fire down her bare body. Those mist-grey eyes never left her own gaze though. Bethany had long known how attentive the other mage could be. As their lead tactician, there was always a studious quality in how she approached anything set before her.

Feeling the full magnitude of that attention focused solely upon her, however, was another matter entirely. Niamh stared at her as if she had hung the very moon and the infinite tapestry of stars into the night sky. It was like she was her very reason for drawing breath, and the thought of that brought forth a stunning wash of emotions over her as she saw the clear reverence in those eyes—so much so that she couldn’t help the tears beading themselves across her lashes nor her soft, surprised exhale of laughter when Niamh leaned up to gently kiss them away.

It was only when she assured her lover that she was ready to continue that Niamh returned to her exploration. The woman was committed to learning every part of her, gauging every physical response—the touches that made her moan breathlessly or sigh in contentment with the press of lips against her skin—before reacting accordingly. She felt that dedication most vividly as a warm mouth settled between her thighs and began working itself thoroughly there.

Bethany couldn’t help but break eye contact with Niamh as she threw her head back against the cool grass, lost to the new but pleasant sensations coursing their way through her body. Her hips seemed to move of their own volition, especially as the almost overwhelming heat of a tongue pressed itself flat and lapped languidly at her.

After a time, it felt like she was freefalling, and she blindly reached out toward Niamh. One hand sank itself easily into the tousled waves of raven-black hair, but with the other, Bethany found slim fingers gently intertwining themselves with her own. There was strength and reassurance within the warmth of that grasp—a steady tether to ground her—even as Niamh continued with her ministrations, quickly unraveling the foundations of her world.

Were you the answer this entire time?

Were you the one whom my heart was always waiting for?

Bethany found her answer just as her climax crested over her.

---

The next scene takes place several months after Niamh’s and Bethany’s first time together but just before the Kirkwall Rebellion.

Niamh heads over to Amaranthine to see her aunt, Eithne Mac Eanraig, since she's the Arlessa there.

Now, here’s where I’m veering off from canon.

Per the events of Awakening, the Warden ends up becoming the Warden-Commander, and for their services during the Fifth Blight, Vigil’s Keep along with the entire arling of Amaranthine was given to the Grey Wardens. The fortress and the territory originally belonged to the Howes, but after Rendon Howe’s betrayal, all titles and properties were stripped away from them. As such, the Warden-Commander would also become the Arl or Arlessa of Amaranthine.

Per my headcanon though, Saoirse felt that she couldn’t tend to both her duties as a Warden while also ruling over the arling. Thus, she suggests to King Alistair to let her aunt oversee it instead.

While Eithne is technically my own creation, it was canonical that Eleanor had three siblings prior to marrying Bryce Cousland. All the children of Bann Fearcher Mac Eanraig—also known as the Storm Giant—were exceedingly skilled raiders although Eleanor was the most infamous of them. Still, I headcanon that Eithne’s own prowess allowed her to take over as head of the family and their impressive fleet after her father’s death sometime before the events of DAO.

I also headcanon that the Mac Eanraigs and their fleet proved instrumental during the Fifth Blight, allowing desperately-needed supplies to travel to the country without fear of them being intercepted by pirates. When the reconstruction of Ferelden began in full following the defeat of the Archdemon, Eithne opted to expand the services of her family’s fleet, offering to escort any incoming and also outgoing cargo ships. This allowed trade to flourish in Ferelden since the threat of piracy was reduced greatly against the might of the former raiding family and their respective crews. With goods being consistently transported and received, it led to the otherwise pricey import and export tariffs being lowered significantly.

It expanded the influence of the Mac Eanraigs considerably to say the least, and while they were of minor nobility compared to the Couslands, the family was already well-respected for their long connection to the Storm Coast and their role in the Fereldan Rebellion as well as the Fifth Blight.

As such, no objection was given by Ferelden’s Bannorn when the Mac Eanraigs were consequently raised further in nobility by the decree of King Alistair and Queen Anora, allowing Eithne to officially be named Arlessa to the city of Amaranthine.

---

"Aunt Eithne," Niamh began, walking into her office, "may I have access to the castle's forge?"

The older woman was sat behind her desk, looking through various reports when she glanced up at her. Kind, weathered features warmed instantly. "Ah, there's my wee Storm Pup," she said as she rose to her feet to meet her. "You know you’re welcome to anything within the castle, lass. I take it that blacksmith of yours is being stubborn at Vigil’s Keep again?"

As per usual, Niamh found herself looking up at her aunt as she rounded the edge of her desk. While her late mother Eleanor had been roughly her own size, the Mac Eanraigs as a whole towered over most people with their intimidating height and broad-shouldered frames—traits that Fergus and also Saoirse inherited as they grew into adulthood. In her youth, Niamh remembered that her Aunt Eithne had also possessed her mother’s pale blonde hair, but it had since turned silver with age and was now kept in a neat braid that dangled in front of her right shoulder. She imagined that Saoirse would likely resemble their aunt greatly in looks over the next few decades.

…provided they find a cure against the Calling first, of course.

Morrigan’s arcane research had turned up several possibilities, but the latest one she’d found seemed especially promising. Still, Niamh put the thought from her mind momentarily to answer her aunt’s question.

"You and I both know Master Wade won’t allow anyone to go near his forge. He’d pout for weeks on end before we could convince him to resume work again,” she said dryly before shrugging. “Just as well, I suppose. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. What I have in mind is more of a personal project."

Dark grey eyes blinked. "Oh?" she intoned curiously.

"It's... Well." Niamh shifted from foot to foot, a tad nervous to put her thoughts into words. "I'm making matching torcs for Bethany and I, so—oof!"

No sooner after she had stated her purpose did Niamh unexpectedly found herself drawn up into a crushing hug by her aunt, who lifted her clear off her feet with the force of it.

"Haha!" Eithne crowed with delighted laughter as she twirled her about. "Wait until I tell your uncles about this! Why, it’s been ages since we’ve had a wedding in the family!"

"We had one a year ago for Fergus and Olithia," Niamh corrected hoarsely as she tried to wriggle out of her aunt's grip to little avail. Corded muscles built over a lifetime at sea ensured the woman’s strength was nigh unbreakable. "And there was another for Saoirse and Leliana before that."

"Details, wee niece, details," she brushed aside when she placed Niamh back on her feet again, placing large hands over each of her shoulders with a grin. "Honestly, I was half-convinced my ashes would be scattered across the sea before I saw my last niece be married off! Dermot!" she called out loudly beyond the walls of office to her second-in-command, leaving Niamh wincing from the sheer volume of it. "Break out the casks! We’re celebrating tonight!"

Niamh merely sighed, somehow glad that Bethany was currently away from Vigil’s Keep with Nathaniel to tend to a matter out in another seaside province. There was no way she’d be able to surprise her with a proposal otherwise.

---

Bethany didn't know what to really expect when Niamh took her out to their favored grove, but then she was offered a… necklace of some sort. It was thick and sturdy but exquisitely-crafted. It formed an incomplete circle, but there was no clasp holding both ends together. As she took the necklace into her own hands, she found there was a certain pliability to it as she stretched the space between the twin, silverite wolf heads open a bit more.

"I spent weeks getting the details just right," Niamh admitted. "The hardest part was finding the perfect bits of citrine to match your eyes," she added, pointing to the small, gemstone orbs held in the maw of each wolf.

"You made this for me?" Bethany asked, awed.

"Yes. It’s a custom from the maternal side of my family. They’re generally gifted to those of status or individuals who have achieved great deeds. The more bands woven together designate one's importance." Niamh's expression turned somewhat sheepish then. "I don't think it needs to be said that I think highly of you."

Bethany looked at the thick braiding and saw that there were at least five bands wound together in a cord and then welded together.

"I..." Niamh wet her lips briefly, as if caught beneath sudden nervousness. "I realize marriage is usually just a matter of settling titles and heirs, but I believe you know by now that my family tends to eschew commonly-held norms. As such, I would consider it a great honor if you were to become my wife. As for anything official—a wedding for instance—we needn't concern ourselves with it right away. Not if you don't wish to certainly." Silver-colored eyes rolled themselves. "Honestly, my family uses any type of excuse available to throw a celebration. They’ll likely still drink the night away, knowing that I’ve finally settled down with someone."

Bethany couldn’t help but laugh at that. "They were that invested, were they?"

"Before you, they had a tendency to think I was more married to my duty within the Order, and I can’t say that were not wrong in thinking so."

"And that’s changed?"

"Well... I was managing day by day as well as any of our comrades, but I won’t lie in saying that there came a point when you were all I could ever think about in the many moments in between."

It was… quite the confession.

In an instant, all the stories her mother had ever told her of romance paled in comparison to this moment.

"Yes," Bethany said at last, watching as the ghostly-grey eyes across from her widened, but there was little hiding the hope building within their depths.

"Yes?"

"Yes to the—" She stumbled a bit over the word. "—torcs, you said?” Bethany asked in clarification, earning her a nod along with a very relieved sigh. “I don’t want a ceremony.” She bit her lip as she stared down at the thickly-braided necklace. “At least not just yet, but I like the idea of the promise these contain.”

“You would like to have your sister here when the time comes,” Niamh deduced understandingly. “Very well.”

“You can wait?”

A very warm smile burnished beautiful features that she had long fallen in love with so many years ago. “A Chuisle Mo Chroí,” she began, voicing an endearment that never ceased to make her heart flutter, “for you, I would gladly wait a thousand Ages and more.” (Writer’s note: A Chuisle Mo Chroí is phonetically pronounced Ah Khush-lah Muh Kree and means “Pulse of My Heart.”)

The words earned her a heartfelt kiss of gratitude. If Niamh noticed Bethany was trembling, she said nothing of it. In fact, they both had little to say at all as they slowly lowered themselves to the grass and surrendered themselves to the night and the promise of everyday thereafter.

---

The Kirkwall Rebellion still happens in this verse, and because Saoirse's busy butting heads with the higher-ups at Weisshaupt, she sends word to Niamh, asking her to go to Kirkwall to provide Leliana backup if things get bad. Bethany is concerned as well about the well-being of her sister Emrys, and she asks to go with her. Niamh, of course, can't really deny her anything, so they both take the fastest ship across the Waking Sea.

---

"There you are," Bethany declared when she managed to come across her sister and her companions despite the chaos around them. She settled her staff over her back, walking through the tangle of defeated Templars around her to meet them. "We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I'd almost feared you were dead."

Emrys hadn’t expected Bethany’s presence in the city, but she’s beyond elated to see her. At her words, the warrior merely preened. "As if they'd be able to best me. And, uh, what’s this about 'we?'" Emrys asked, confused. “Did you bring the other Wardens with you?”

“Just one.”

As if attuned to her thoughts, Niamh made her entrance then by Fadestepping through a handful of Templars—who had arrived on scene as backup—freezing them in their tracks. She and Bethany had momentarily split up to try and cover more ground in search of Emrys.

Bethany arched a brow at her sister while gesturing toward her lover with an emphatic wave. "You remember Warden-Constable Cousland, don’t you?"

Emrys had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as she recalled their last meeting, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she regarded Niamh. "Oh. Yes. Uh, about the last time we met—"

But Niamh seemed amused more than anything, waving aside the apology graciously. “Bygones, Champion. No need to worry yourself about the past. My sister’s a warrior as well; I’ve fared worse on the rare occasion."

"In any case, Sister, if you need help, we’ll gladly give it."

“Really?”

“Yes. I…” Bethany swept a bit of hair behind her ear nervously, but as Niamh settled alongside her, offering her wordless support, she continued on. “I wanted to apologize for what happened down in the Deep Roads and for how we parted the last time I was here. You saved my life, but I couldn’t see past my own anger back then. I’m sorry,” she whispered, contrite. “I should have said it long before now. You’re all I have left of our family, so if you need help against the Templars, say the word.”

Emrys looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of having her at her side again. “I’m certainly not going to turn away help now of all times, but…” She shot a look of confusion over toward Niamh. “I thought Wardens weren’t to involve themselves in political matters?"

The other mage merely sighed. “While true, that follows a line of policy that my sister and I strenuously object to, especially given the matter involved here. She and I will deal with the leadership at Weisshaupt later if need be." Slim shoulder shrugged themselves then. "Of course, even if my sister-in-law weren't nearby, Bethany wanted to help, and that was good enough reason for me to be here."

Emrys’ dark brows rose at the claim, and she immediately turned a searching gaze over toward Bethany, who couldn’t help but turn her own away, flushing somewhat.

"Yes… Niamh and I are a bit of a package deal these days."

Unfortunately, the minor shift in movement allowed for something else to be revealed, and Isabela took notice of it immediately as her eyes darted toward the area of her neck just beneath the collar of her uniform.

“Wait… is that a torc?" she asked, brows raising, impressed.

“A what?" Emrys asked, flustered, especially when she saw the matching one that Niamh was also wearing.

“It's a little bit of tradition from my mother’s side of the family,” Niamh explained. “They’re beautifully-crafted pieces of jewelry, but they can be as symbolic as rings, especially in the ceremonial sense."

"'Rings?'" Emrys parroted with a choke. “‘Ceremon—’” The warrior paled instantly as she realized the implication, shakily pressing her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself when she began swaying in place. “Oh, Maker’s breath… I think—I need a moment,” she murmured, and Bethany watched—concerned—when Emrys practically folded in over herself, working to catch a breath. After a time, Emrys’ comically-wide blue eyes turned over to Niamh. “You’re married to my baby sister?"

"Engaged, technically," Niamh answered, blinking owlishly at her reaction. “I proposed to her before we left Ferelden."

---

Annnnd then Saoirse shows up because she got worried about Leliana, and she and Emrys get along like peas in a pod. They’re exceedingly competitive with one another though...

---

“Hah!” Saoirse crowed, grinning smugly at Emrys as she rested the flat of her greatsword along her shoulder. “Is that the best Kirkwall’s Champion can do? I managed to neatly cleave my opponent in half.”

Emrys merely scowled, matching pace with Saoirse as they marched toward The Gallows. “Only because I helped! Besides, that strike wouldn’t have held against him if he had a shield as well!”

“Yes, it would have!”

“Lies!” Emrys scoffed. “It would have been caught halfway through the shield before you would have been able to reach his armor!“

“Not with the proper leverage it wouldn’t have!”

As they argued heatedly about sword techniques, Niamh and Bethany shared a long-suffering glance with one another before moving on ahead of their respective sisters.

“Warriors…”

“Indeed.”

---

Eventually, this all culminates in that huge battle at the end of DA2, where Meredith is defeated. As per canon, it becomes clear that it’s no longer safe for Emrys and her companions to remain within the city without eventually facing possible repercussions from the Chantry. As such, they begin scattering to the winds not long after the end of the rebellion.

---

"You could come with us, you know," Emrys suggested.

Bethany looked over to where her sister stood next to Isabela, ready to board the ship that would take them to Antiva. Emrys’ expression was almost painfully hopeful, but Bethany knew it wasn't meant to be. Although she had resented it once upon a time, she had a duty to the Wardens, and she would not easily abandon it. She said as much to her sister.

"No. Niamh currently seeks a cure that affects the lives of every Warden."

"A cure for the Calling?” she asked, surprised. “Is that even possible?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. She is easily the cleverest person I’ve ever met though. If there is a solution, she will be the most likely one to find it, and I will not stand to be apart from her."

"I see.” Emrys rubbed the back of her neck, shoulders slumping somewhat. “So… this is goodbye again."

It was admittedly a bittersweet feeling, knowing that this had been the first time in years they had seen one another and it would likely be several more yet before they would meet again.

"For now,” she answered quietly. “You have your life, Sister, and now…" She glanced over at Niamh, who was talking to the captain of a ship heading back to lands far to the west—ones that had never been touched by the Blight, according to Morrigan. “I have mine.”

Emrys followed her gaze. “You seem happier."

"I am."

“That’s all I ever wanted for you, you know? Just to know that you were happy.”

“I know that now." Her smile turned more genuine as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Emrys, hugging her for all she was worth. "I wish the same upon you always. Safe travels to you and Isabela, Sister."

---

And as mentioned in the bullet points up above, they spend several years traveling abroad. Some days are harder than others as they meet their fair share of challenges, but Niamh and Bethany support each endlessly through it all.

They both return to Ferelden several years after the Trepasser DLC when they’ve found a cure for the Calling. With the taint purged from their bodies, they’re guaranteed the long life that would have otherwise been denied to them. As such, Niamh and Bethany finally get married—torcs gleaming bright—as Leliana as Divine Victoria officiates the wedding.

---

And that’s pretty much it.

I have about 20 pages of random scenes I’ve yet to elaborate on for this AU, including one for the huge battle at the end of DA2, so while I don’t see it as being nearly as long as OtSttCA, it’ll likely make for quite the lengthy read when I finally get a chance to work on it properly.

Still, if this verse interests you, leave me a like, a comment, or just swing by my inbox to tell me your thoughts! Until next time, readers! Take care!

#dragon age 2 #bethany hawke #female warden/bethany hawke #female cousland/bethany hawke #fanfic #my writing #OTP: In Search of Silver Linings #lee's au ideas #if bioware's too much of a fucking coward to write any version of Bethany a happy ending then i'll write all of them!#we respect bethany hawke endlessly on this blog!

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like-romeoandjuliet-love · 3 years

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Promptathon Week 2

@riverdalepromptathon

Song; Orange

In the end, Jughead thinks, love is a lot of work. Love isn’t easy and uncomplicated. Love is a choice. Love is choosing to make things work because there’s no other way. And love is Betty. And Betty isn’t easy.

Betty is a spiderweb of complexities he’ll spend his life learning. Betty is anger and sadness and grief bursting at the seams. But Betty is also quietness and happiness and the soft hum of a song on the radio.

They drive out, the song plays on. It sounds like Elton John, he’s almost certain, but he’s too focused on Betty to really give it a second thought.

There’s a small smile on her lips. Like she’s relieved, like she’s happy to drive out into the sun with him in a fairly shitty car with whatever they have left in the trunk of the car. Her golden hair blows back with the wind, her green eyes shine in the sun. It’s setting, like their time in this town. Their monolith, forever standing, but out of sight now.

It’s fair that they get to leave. With no part other than memories left behind.

Riverdale isn’t childhood. Riverdale is nightmares. And cold and crowded. But he’s still holding her hand. And they leave.

It feels fitting that they should end the chapter with a goodbye.

This time not to each other. Never again. But to the town with pep.

It’s the town they fell in love in, the town where their hearts broke and it’s the town where they pulled the broken pieces together so they could truly begin to live again.

Riverdale is full of burning hell. But Riverdale also held a piece of Heaven.

Even then, if he discovered heaven in the middle of hell, he thinks he can carry it, her, with him.

She’s his safe landing, his piece of Heaven.

And she doesn’t belong to a city.

She belongs nowhere. And everywhere.

And she smiles and sings the song on the radio, that still plays. He’s missed some of the lyrics thinking and gazing at her. But she mouths some of them, still carrying the smile that carries so much more than just happiness.

“And I came down to meet you in the half light the moon left...”

Meet halfway, the songs continues. It plays on and Jughead finds comfort in the notion that they’re here, together. After everything. They deserve to leave. They deserve warmth and songs that play on and the smile that doesn’t come as easy as it used to when they were kids.

It will get better. Not always. Maybe they’ll still have nightmares and he’ll still worry he’ll lose her if he loses focus, if he wakes up and she’s not there.

But he’ll find her. Always. When they have a house of their own, he may wake up alone but he’ll find her. He’ll walk downstairs and he’ll find her on the porch. Maybe they can take the time to watch the sunrise with warm mugs in their hands and a blanket on their shoulders. A soft orange gently waking up the life around them. He’ll kiss her head and soothe her heartbeat with his presence and his heart will settle just the same at the sight of the glow of the sun, first thing in the morning.

What was it they said? A soft epilogue?

He wants that life. The life his mind had promised him would be impossible.

He sees the possibility of it, with her. In this car. Leaving.

He finds the freedom in that act. Of Betty shifting gears, then grabbing his hand. He sees the promise of a life in her eyes, in the words of a song, impossibly real. Her eyes hold the promise of a house by a beach and friends on a porch.

Seven years before, he hadn’t known what his dreams looked like, just that it’s always been with her.

But there are no dreams. Not this time.

They’re older, hardened by what they’d lived, they know dreams are not all they have left. They have this now. The possibility of a future that isn’t the roll of a dice. It’s a choice.

And he chooses her.

•••

Also inspired by @thatiranianphantom new fic ‘a soft epilogue’

#riverdalepromptathon #riverdalepromtathonweek2 #riverdale #bughead #bughead fanfiction

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imaginedhaven · 4 years

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Rules of Engagement: Epilogue

Link to Masterpost

And so this story ends. Thank you so much to everyone who’s been going through this journey with me. If you’re just checking this out now because you hate incomplete works, I feel you. And welcome.

~*~*~

One Year Later

In a narrow hallway just outside of the throne room, a blood-sworn Prince straightened his jacket. The next few moments would be among the most important in his life, and although he was as prepared as he reasonably could be he couldn’t quite control his nerves.

As he waited, he recalled how his Queen’s orders had led to this moment. He had believed he would find freedom, but he couldn’t have possibly imagined the extent of the freedom he now enjoyed, nor the benefits that he had found alongside his freedom.

A throat cleared before him, and the Prince returned his attention to his surroundings to find his warrior brother awaiting him. “Everyone else is ready,” he reported. “Are you?”

The Prince pondered his answer for a few moments. They had been preparing for this day for months now, though a part of him still hesitated, fully believing he didn’t quite deserve the honor his Queen was to bestow upon him.

Even as he thought the words, he could hear his Queen’s indignant response in his mind. Whether or not you are deserving in this matter is for me to decide, she would tell him, and you proved your worth to me long ago.

Though he could protest, and he might have protested had she actually been present in that moment, he knew the winner of that argument would not be himself. They had already had this conversation several times in the months leading up to this day, after all.

Finally, the Prince nodded to his brother. “I am.”

His brother smiled and turned away, slipping into another room through a side door and leaving the Prince alone with his thoughts once more. He would not be alone for much longer, though, for he knew his brother would be alerting the others even now.

The music in the throne room swelled, and he recognized it as the cue for him to enter. With a deep breath, he opened the door, his awareness of everyone else gathered within the chamber fading as he beheld his Queen on her throne in all her majesty.

She was radiant before him, bright as the fires she commanded, resplendent in a gown of rich green and bright silver. The Prince’s breath caught in his throat at the sight, and the bond between them tugged at his chest.

He couldn’t wait any longer, and so he strode across the room to kneel at her feet, head bowed. Her skirts rustled before him, and as she rose from her throne he raised his head to look at her.

She spoke words in the Old Language, words that reaffirmed the bond that lay between them and would bind him anew to her and the land both. A year previously, he wouldn’t have believed that he would accept additional bonds so readily.

Now, it was all he could possibly want.

And so the Prince responded in kind, hiding a shiver as the weight of the bonds settled around his head and shoulders. His Queen smiled at him and offered a hand to steady him as he rose once more, one he gratefully accepted.

“It’s difficult to believe this is real, isn’t it?” she whispered. “After all this time, after everything we’ve been through… I can still hardly believe it myself.”

“I feel the same way,” the Prince confessed. “And yet here we are.”

The brilliance of his Queen’s smile was enough to melt even his frozen heart. She had done that long ago, of course, yet he still felt an echo of that warmth within his chest at the sight. “There’s only one thing left for you to do.”

His Queen was correct, of course, and yet the Prince hesitated for a moment longer, eyes studying her face.

Her smile turned soft. “Och, you. You’ll have our entire lives to look at me, and I fully expect you to do so regularly, but you have something ever so slightly more important to do now.”

It was the Prince’s turn to smile at his Queen. “Those are words I never thought I’d hear you say.”

“And you’ll never hear them again,” she declared. “Now, go.”

The Prince kissed his Queen’s cheek and led her back to her throne, keeping hold of her hand as she sat. Then he turned to the secondary, smaller throne beside her. Two steps led him directly to it, and he could and did approach without releasing his Queen’s hand.

Slowly, he turned to face the crowds gathered within the chamber and seated himself upon the throne.

And just like that, the Prince became a King.

~*~*~

Tagging:

@ireallyshouldsleeprn @queen-of-glass @fangirlprincess09 @sassys-world @morganofthewildfire @superspiritfestival @perseusannabeth @sis-it-dont-add-up @jlinez @julemmaes @emilyoftheshadows @thegoddessofyou @mymultiversee @swankii-art-teacher @rowansfirebringer @rabodocardan- your tag seems to not be working! @courtofjurdan @danibutterr

#haven writes #rules of engagement #rowaelin

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mymoodwriting · 4 years

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The Choice Is Yours

F!Reader x Vampire!Yuta

Genre: Vampire Dystopia

Warning: Blood, Anxiety, Fangs, Biting, PTSD

Words: 1.5K

Chapters:

Prompt: Good behavior goes a long way when a new world order is established within hours and humans wind up at the bottom of the food chain. As luck would have it you were claimed by a vampire named Yuta, so you’re saved in a sense. Many would say you’re in a rather unique situation, and despite its perks it wasn’t really something you asked for.

You were asleep for most of the trip, not waking up until you got back to Taeyong’s house, stumbling out of the vehicle and being somewhat carried inside. You didn’t fully wake up until you were yanked into someones cold embrace, recognizing Yuta’s voice.

“You’re okay.” He kissed your head. “I was so worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the tears and shaking. Of course he took it as you being scared and happy to be back with him, but it was the opposite.

“It’s okay, I got you now.”

“You both need rest.” Taeyong commented. “So it’s best you stay here until you’ve recovered.”

“Yeah, that’s what’s best.”

You wound up in a room with Yuta, of course, since he didn’t want to let you out of his sight again. Although the room wasn’t entirely yours, you shared a bed with Yuta, and on the other was Xiaojun, still sleeping. You were told he was the worst off in the accident and he hadn’t woken up yet. He was fine and would recover, just needed more time than the others.

For the most part you stayed in the room, not wanting to leave at all. Your meals were brought to you, Yuta insisting on feeding you. On multiple occasions he wanted to feed you his blood, but he was still recovering, so he couldn’t. He kept busy and would find ways of entertaining you when you weren’t asleep, but for the most part you wanted to sleep, it was easy to avoid them all.

“Are you okay?” You suddenly asked Yuta as he fed you. “The accident…”

“I’m fine, it’s not that easy to kill me.”

“And your injuries?”

“Healing. I know you don’t want to be here, but we’ll go home soon.”

“Okay…”

“And you?”

“Hm? Me? I’m fine…”

“I’m glad.”

When you were alone you found yourself staring out the window, and your eyes always found the mountain tops off in the distance. Even if you were back where you started, it was somewhat comforting to know that there were people out there, hiding and safe.

“You’re… you’re okay…”

The voice startled you until you realized Xiaojun had woken up. You went to his side, making sure he was conscious, then you ran out asking for someone to come help him. Given the residents of the house, you were heard, and others rushed inside. In a moment you were kicked out of the room, you didn’t mind too much, figuring maybe a walk around the house wouldn’t hurt. You weren’t familiar, but this time you weren’t running around.

“Feeling better?”

You ran into Taeyong. He seemed busy in his own way, walking around with papers, and a bluetooth present. You simply nodded, thinking you were interrupting him. Instead he took the bluetooth off, and got closer.

“Would you come with me?”

You nodded, not wanting to upset him. You followed him to his office and sat down across his desk. He seemed occupied with a few things, then his attention shifted to you.

“How’s your recovery going?”

“Good…”

“Any lingering pains?”

“No…”

“That’s good to hear. I do have some questions for you.”

“Questions?”

“Yes. You were taken by one of the few little human rebellions that exist. So what can you tell me about them?”

“I… I don’t understand…”

“Where were you going? Names, descriptions. Anything that could help us locate them.”

“I… I don’t have that kinda information…”

“I see… I think you’re lying.”

“What?”

“It’s in your best interest to tell me the truth.”

You were scared of Taeyong, but you weren’t going to give him anything. You wanted to protect Jinwoo and the others who saved you, even if that meant getting hurt.

“I don’t have anything to tell you. I was in the wreck, I was injured, they were just dragging me along. I was barely-”

“You seemed to be well when we found you, surely-”

The door to the office opened and Yuta stormed in. He was worried about you, having found you had left the room. It didn’t take long to figure out where you had gone.

“Yuta, yes, come on it.”

“What are you doing?”

“Y/n and I are having a conversation.”

“And her heartbeat isn’t telling you anything?”

“It’s assuring me she’s withholding information on the rebels that nearly killed her.”

“If she knows anything, then you should trust I’ll get it out of her when she’s ready.”

“And when will that be?”

“You know, I’m feeling much better, so I’ll be going home.”

“Xiaojun just woke up.”

“And I’m sure he wants to go home too, if not, he can stay and recover.”

“Well you’ve got your mind made up, so you can go.”

Yuta took your hand and led you out of the office. You hadn’t actually noticed how stressed you had been over the questioning. You knew if Yuta hadn’t come in, things might have taken a turn for the worse.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m just going to talk with the others, then we’ll go home.”

Within the hour you were back on the road. YangYang was once again behind the wheel, Xioajun staying at Taeyong’s place for a few more days. You couldn’t help but feel anxious, the last time you were in a car with Yuta, it had been blown off the road. He could tell you were anxious, but he spent the whole trip soothing you. Despite the early argument, Taeyong had dispatched some of his people to escort you back home, for safety.

You made it home safe, and you were a bit relieved. The tracker in your neck was finally removed, and you could relax. Although that was one of the only things that brought you relief. Yuta was more clingy this time around, never wanted you out of sight or arms. You understood he was still shaken up over the accident, and you were too. You were a lot more quiet and reserved, far more aware of how good that little bit of freedom was.

Yuta was always trying to pick up your mood, make you smile, make you laugh, but most of the time he felt short. You didn’t want him to be mad at you, but you also couldn’t help your own feelings. He never tried to push you, or even point out your silence, overall just happy to have you. Even in your state, there was something that was on your mind, something you wanted to ask. You finally had the courage to do so.

“Yuta…”

“Yes? What is it?”

“About the crash…”

“Hm?”

“Before we got attacked… you said-”

“Ah, yes… that… I remember. I was drunk, very drunk, so I was just babbling nonsense. I didn’t mean anything.”

“Oh… okay…”

You didn’t know if you should be relieved or upset. It was good to have an answer, but now you weren’t so sure of what to do with it. One night, in another attempt to make you happy, Yuta suggested he bite you, pleasure you, even if it was cheating a bit. You didn’t want him to do that, but he had already made up his mind. His fangs were in your shoulder in the blink of an eye. You were overwhelmed instantly but it didn’t stop you from trying to get him off.

“Yuta… Yuta please…”

The boy stopped in that moment. Your voice, the way you called out for him, it reminded him of the accident. You needed him at that moment, and he couldn’t help you. Yuta had pulled away, panic starting to build, especially as he realized you were barely conscious.

“No, no, y/n, please, please, stay awake.”

Despite his pleas, he couldn’t really stop you from passing out from blood loss. It was irrational but in the moment he was afraid he’d lose you. He held you tight, your heartbeat helping to relax him. You weren’t hurt, you weren’t gone but he wasn’t going to do that again anytime soon.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

♥♥♥♥♥

In the morning you woke up sore, having slept in Yuta’s arms. You remember that he bit you, so it explained the weakness. Now that you were awake, your movements woke up Yuta, and he just cuddled closer. He had breakfast brought to you in bed, and was attempting to feed you, but you really couldn’t do this anymore.

“Yuta…”

“Yes?” He seemed nervous. “Is everything okay?”

“No… I… I understand you… you’re worried but… I just need space.”

“Oh… I’ve been overbearing…”

“I just need space…”

“Okay… then after today… you’re a bit weak from last night…”

“That’s fine.”

He did honor your request, and left you alone after that day, even if he wanted you near. To at least give some peace of mind, you’d spend most of your time outside in the yard, where he could see you from his study. Again you’d find yourself looking at the mountain, thinking of Jinwoo. In the moment his words rang in your head, about hidden tunnels on the estate. It finally helped you realize that you had become complacent in your cage. Fighting wouldn’t be pointless, and there was a place to go. You could be free, but only if you took matters into your own hands.

#nct #yuta #taeyong #yangyang #xiaojun #jaehyun #johnny #nakamoto yuta #lee taeyong #liu yangyang #xiao de jun #jung yoonoh #suh youngho #nct 127 #wayv #nct au #nct scenarios

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appleb18 · 4 years

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I Wanted Believe in Steven (A Critical Steven Universe Post)

Steven Universe, a popular show that has won the hearts of so many people. It had good songs, talks about mental health and relationships, a lovable cast of characters and it’s revolutionary for representing LGBT. As the show finally wraps up with Steven Universe: Future being the series finale, I want to say this… I used to believe in Steven Universe. I truly got into it when it first came out and then I started to appreciate it more as the show progressed even with the flaws. However, as time moved on, the show’s flaws have outweighed the strengths, making my enjoyment decline and become critical and nitpicky towards it. So I believe it’s time to point out the many problems with the show.

The Glory Days of Steven Universe

Before I begin ranting about the show, I want to talk about when I actually liked Steven Universe back in seasons 1-3. It was when everyone actually enjoyed the show before it went downhill.

- So before Steven became really annoying, I actually liked him when he was developing in season 1. He was very immature at first but he gradually grew. He became a member of the Crystal Gems and finally summoned his shield.

- Peridot’s redemption was handled very well and I enjoyed her character throughout the whole show.

- The show once balanced filler and plot.

- I enjoyed the Crystal Gems chemistry back in seasons 1 - 3. They acted like a family with Garnet being the wise guardian, Pearl being overprotective, Amethyst laidback and Steven maturing.

- The songs are great.

- The messages are relatable such as “Love Letter.” Garnet tells Jamie that love-at-first-sight doesn’t work. It takes time and a lot of work. You must know the person first before you begin to love someone.

Those are the reasons why I enjoyed the show back in the day. Now it’s time to talk about how the Crewniverse messed up everything.

Inconsistencies. Are. Everywhere

Steven Universe is well known for having no consistency and that’s one of the major problems with the show. While I can forgive season 1 animation because let’s face it, not every show has good animation like Phineas and Ferb. Though having characters go off-model consistently gets really irritating to watch. It’s irritating because most of them are professional storyboard artists and yet they’re doing a very sloppy job.

The reason behind unprofessional animation is Rebecca Sugar wanted her crew to have artistic freedom and have their own stylistic choice. They can draw whatever they want as long as the viewers can recognize the characters. There are many problems with this.

While it’s nice to see the artist's own style it doesn’t work with a cartoon that’s story-driven. You’ll probably argue that some shows like Adventure Time and American Dragon go off-model. However, it’s just redesigned and they stick with it till the very end of their respective series.

Also, shows like Ren and Stimpy and Flapjack go off-model because for comedic effect.

So stylistic choice doesn’t mean artists can draw whatever they want. It means that a character has their own style.

Terrance and Philip from South Park

Elmore characters from The Amazing World of Gumball

Each of them has a unique character design. It’s not the Korean animator's fault for it, they’re given what the Crewniverse drew, trace it and just animate it and they can’t fix their errors. What makes it upsetting is that animation pilots and shorts made by a single person or independent team with very little funding have more consistent and appealing animation than Steven Universe.

I ain’t an animator, but I know when animation goes off-model. Sadly, it’s not just inconsistent art that the show suffers from, but inconsistent writing and discontinuity as well.

Such as in “Are You My Dad?” Aquamarine and Topaz knocked out Steven and then she abandoned him while they took Lars, Sadie, Onion, Jamie, and Connie. Then in “I Am My Mom” they lure him and The Crystal Gems out for information to find Greg. So if you wanted to get information to find him, why didn’t they just grab him when he was knocked out?

Also, why did Aquamarine agree to Steven’s terms? Her wand is the most broken weapon in the show. She could’ve grabbed everyone including The Crystal Gems.

Garnet couldn’t tell Steven about her future vision because it wanted him to go more? If she just told him about Greg's capture, he would have understood. Also, she gave him future visions in “Jailbreak,” “Snow day” and “Future Boy Zoltron.” Why didn’t she do that for that kind of situation?

The Crystal Gems, who have special abilities, summon weapons and powers that fought Gems and Corrupted Gems and yet they were beaten by a freaking Steven Catus, Really?

We saw Lapis control the freaking ocean in “Mirror Gem”, “Ocean Gem” and “Why So Blue”, so why didn’t she use that to remove the injector?

After 6,000 years of waiting for Pink Diamond, Spinel got news about her Diamond and that she gave up her physical form to give birth to Steven. It changed her appearance from happy go lucky to edgy. Now she wants vengeance. So I’m wondering how was she able to get an injector and a scythe, then go to Earth in under a few hours?

In “Giant Woman,” Pearl explains that two gems have to decide to fuse together and they have to sync with each other to do it. In “Change Your Mind,” Steven fuses with the Crystal Gems midair while they are in their gem state.

How the hell did Connie get affected by Blue Diamond’s pathokinesis when Lapis Lazuli arrived in “Reunited”?

She was fine when BD did it the first time.

Mean Lapis and Bluebird are still on the loose. I know most shows leave things unanswered but you can’t leave two villains out there. They can still do harm to others

I really wish the Crewniverse showed more professionalism because there are so many errors in the show and some of them are so simple to fix, yet they don’t and that’s what I call lazy.

The Cast of Characters Don’t Do Much

I used to like the cast of characters, even the humans I enjoyed watching. When season 4 - Future came in, they got ruined. Most of them don’t do much in the show. I feel like they got sidelined because the Crewniverse had no idea what to do with them.

Let’s first talk about The citizens of Beach City and how they are the most boring characters in the show. At first, they weren’t so bad because they did have a role to play in the story like when The Cool Kids talked to Steven about his mother when he found out that she was a war criminal and he blamed himself for his mother not being around anymore. They also helped him not get scolded by The Crystal Gems when they found Peridot’s escape pod.

There’s even some slice-of-life episodes that I did enjoy watching such as

“Sadie’s Song”

And “Historical Fiction”

But now they don’t react to any Gem situation anymore. They just stand around and serve no purpose to the plot. Look at “Future”, throughout the whole epilogue mini-series, the humans didn’t do a dang thing in the series. For example, The Cool Kids, Lars, Sadie, and Shep don’t talk to Steven about his mental health when he was about to crush them with his force field. It just makes it feel that they don’t care about him or oblivious about that experience

Then they didn’t do squat when Steven became a monster and I know they're just humans but their friends and the show focus on them a lot, so they have to use them. It made me wonder why they even focus on them in season 4 and season 5 if they're not going to serve their purpose in the story.

Now let's talk about the more interesting characters and how the Crewniverse wasted them. Many Gems and few human characters (Lars, Greg, Connie) get them characters to grow, face struggles and have moments that can make a character likable. After all that, the Crewniverse had no idea what to do so they just left them.

Peridot’s redemption was well written. from season 1 - season 3. From a villain that has unknown technology and feels more alien than the Crystal Gems to a member of the Crystal Gem. As much as I love her development and she’s my favorite, however, she doesn’t do much in the show. Most shows that give a lot of development to a character are part of the main cast but in Steven Universe's case, she gets put in the barn with Lapis Lazuli and does nothing. She’s never involved in major story arcs such as she didn’t come along to help Steven to get his dad back in Zoo Arc and didn’t help with beach city citizens getting kidnapped in Wanted Arc.

Even in the Pink Diamond Arc, she has no part to play. All she was in that arc was a punchline and a hyperactive character with no defining moments. While it’s nice she has a new outfit, it doesn’t change anything.

Peridot had the potential to be a really great character but she got wasted because they had no idea what to do with her.

Pearl and Garnet never got their own character arc. When they fused with Steven to become Rainbow Quartz 2.0 and Sunstone it was rushed. I know they didn’t have time to do their arcs but if they cut townie episodes and focused on their bond it would’ve felt more impactful for him to fuse with them. Season 4 could’ve been Garnet and Season 5 could’ve been Pearl. Just look at Amethyst where she finds mutual respect and love for Steven and that’s really great to see. With them, we don’t have a moment like that.

A good example of using characters is Regular Show. They used their characters pretty well, giving each of them a good amount of screen time.

Benson’s drum solo

Getting to know more about Skips history

Muscle Man setting his ashes free at Great Trucker Graveyard

High Five Ghost reunited with his love interest

Pop’s proving that he’s part of the guys for Guys Night

Rigby graduates high school

Mordecai painting for Benson

And what I like the most about is they all have a moment together as best friends. Such as in “Parkie Rewards,” although Benson doesn’t win an award, the gang made their very own award and paper trophy. Benson made a speech about how he appreciated his staff workers.

I really wish Steven Universe had something like that and I really wanted to see more of Lapis, Garnet, Amethyst, and Bismuth but sadly the writers aren’t giving them much to do anymore.

A Shift of Pacing

Steven Universe really wants to tell a story like most cartoon shows are doing such as Over the Garden Wall, Adventure Time, Owl House and many more. They keep adding episodic episodes in the middle of unresolved conflict and have the concluding rushed. An example of this is the Cluster arc.

Peridot tells The Crystal Gems that the Cluster will emerge at any time… AT ANY TIME! So the gang planned to create a gem drill to destroy it to save the Earth. So instead of working on the drill, they kept delaying it like

Garnet told her story to Steven of how Ruby and Sapphire met

Celebrating Steven’s birthday

Peridot processing on becoming a “Crystal Gem”

I know Peridot was working on the drill and I like Peridot’s redemption but it’s a life or death situation. You can’t do other things when the Cluster can emerge at any time. The way they resolved the arc was really rushed. The Crystal Gems finally locate the whereabouts of Malachite and so Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl go to Watermelon Island and fuse to Alexandrite to defeat her. Then the Cluster emerges and it’s up to Steven and Peridot to deal with it. Instead of destroying the Cluster, he talks to it and it stops itself from emerging by bubbling itself. The way the writers conclude the arc was so anticlimactic and rushed. It ended two major plots, Malachite and Cluster in two episodes and Steven just talking to it was ridiculous. The Cluster arc should’ve at least had two episodes and Malachite should’ve come after the event because she was briefly mentioned in three episodes.

Adventure Time has a mini-series that primarily focuses on plots. It resolves conflicts and it doesn’t waste any time such as Islands, Stakes, and Elements.

People tend to blame the network for the inconsistent schedule and hiatus. While it may be true, however, it’s not really a big issue with the show. Gravity Falls isn’t consistent with its schedule but it has better pacing than Steven Universe. From Nov. 26, 2014 - Feb 16, 2015, the ep “Northwest Mansion Noir” was released, another month of waiting for “Not What He Seems.” Then we have to wait for four months, July 13th, 2015, for “The Tale of Two Stans.” Then there’s Steven Universe where we have to wait for six months for the next episode and it is just Towney episodes and it doesn’t even matter to the plot. So I pretty much don’t understand why people are complaining about the Steven Universe hiatus when Gravity Falls, a well-written show, has a hiatus as well.

They could’ve had a well-written story if only they weren't so focused on the human side of Steven and cut most of the filler out.

Action Doesn’t Have Consequences

In most shows, movies, and video games, characters will make rash decisions that have other characters disagree and even have a bit of a falling out.

Look at Gravity Falls “Land Before Swine.” Stanley doesn’t like Mabel’s pet pig, Waddles, and he left him outside when there was a Pterodactyl in town. Stan left Waddles unattended and caused him to get captured.

Soos messed up a lot in the episode. Without thinking, he barged in as Dipper developed the film which ruined a good picture of the dinosaur.

He tries to be optimistic when Mabel finds out Stanley left him out however it ineffective when he ravels the yarn back up and thus cut the clear path and accidentally break the lamb

To prove their worth is by Stanley fights the pterodactyl to save Waddles

And Soos and Dipper make up when he apologizes and he admits he made mistakes. Dipper and Mabel then took Soos advice to follow his lead and walk in a straight line as for dinosaurs' eyes are so far apart and that it can’t see in front of itself and the plan went well.

So with Steven Universe, most characters in the show have done pretty terrible things and the show never atoned for their actions.

In “Island Adventure”, Sadie trapped Lars and Steven on an island by hid the Gem portal with leaves so she can hit on him. Although she saved his life by poofing the gem monster with a pointy stick, it doesn’t help the fact that she trapped them for a month! It is also idiotic that the show treats Lars as he’s the bad guy where in reality, Sadie is!

Amethyst, although I do like her character development in the show, however, she did pretty a messed up thing and they never resolved it. In “Maximum Capacity”, Greg finds out that he’s missing the fireworks and Amethyst shapeshifts from Steven to Greg to cheer him up. She changes back and gets mad at him for not spending time with her. So she shapeshifts to Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond which causes Greg to look away and it’s the second time she has done it, and then Steven comes in to stop and question both of them. Amethyst feels guilty and left. So in order to make things up, she came up with an idea to clean that the Crystal Gems can clean out Greg storage. So this is really messed up. She shapeshifted as his wife and not only it scarred Greg but Steven as well and yet the writers never decided on how they can properly make it up. That’s so horrible.

Lapis Lazuli took the Earth's water, almost killed Connie, broke Peridot's tape recorder and called it garbage, and she took the barn. When she finally comes back to help the Crystal Gems to fight against the Diamonds. Her response to everyone was “hey”. She never apologized for anything she has done. I know she has PTSD but it doesn’t excuse her actions.

The only character that actually feels guilty and has to make amends of her wrongdoing is Pearl. She deceived Garnet by keeping rebuilding Gem communicator so she can fuse with her to form Sardonyx to make herself feel better. Steven and Amethyst find out and spill the beans which gets Garnet mad and Pearl feels guilty. In the last episode of the Sardonyx arc, they get trapped by Peridot. When they were about to get crushed, they two finally talk and Pearl apologizes to her and calls herself “just a pearl” and Garnet tells her you are your own gem and that makes her feel better and fused to Sardonyx once again.

Now it’s time to talk about the second major gripe with the show that everyone has and it’s the Diamonds being redeemed. The Diamonds are tyrannical fascist dictators that caused genocide many species, colonized many worlds, corrupt gems, shatter gems that don’t obey, have an army, gems that are off-color are put to the underground, and force fused shattered gems into a Cluster. After what they have done, you think they need to pay, right? Unfortunately, since Rebecca Sugar said ``there are no villains' ' and the show is about empathy, the Diamonds, especially White Diamond, get a clean slate. So it’s fine to have a villain be sympathetic and have a sad backstory, it makes them more human but having them redeemed is something you should never ever do, especially what they’ve done. They have very little screen time to show their development and have doubts about their empire.

Then they made them worse when in Steven Universe: “The Movie” and “Future”

In Steven Universe: “The Movie”, The Diamonds become clingy aunties to Steven and tell them don’t do evil things anymore like calling other species “equal lifeforms”, disband their arms and not shatter gems.

In Steven Universe: “Future”, The Diamonds abilities have a completely opposite effect towards Gems such as

Yellow Diamond’s ability to change from poofing gems to fixing

Blue Diamond’s ability to change from sad blue orbs to happy blue clouds

White Diamond's ability changed from manipulation to control her for a brief moment.

Having them become good and having emotions won’t cut it. They can’t atone for what they’ve done for the past millions of being fascist dictators and just saying “I’m a good Diamond now” can’t wipe away their past actions. It doesn’t work like that!

My Little Pony Friendship is Magic, A SHOW FOR LITTLE GIRLS, have a better-written villain redemption than Steven Universe and I ain’t kidding. Discord was the main antagonist for “Return of Harmony”. All he wanted to do is cause chaos. He was defeated by the mane six at the end of the second part of the episode.

In season 3, “Keep Calm and Flutter On”, Discord was reformed by Fluttershy because Princess Celestia believes he can be a good ally and knows that she can do it.

Throughout season 4, everyone still doesn’t trust him even though he’s friends with Fluttershy.

In the season 4 finale, he sided with Tirek and he betrayed them because he thought he’ll be rewarded for it.

Then he was betrayed by him. After Tirek and Twilight fought, she gave up her magic to save her friends, including Discord. It made him realize that friendship is more precious than anything of what he’ll give him and that’s when he’s been fully accepted as a friend to the mane six.

I also want to talk about Rose Quartz/Pink Diamond. While many fans in the community and the Crewniverse always point that she’s terrible and I agree she is. Such as leaving Spinel for 3,000 years, cracked her first Pink Pearl, abandoned her Diamond duties to be free, started a Gem war that cost many Gems to shatter to pursue her own goal, bubbled Bismuth, gems got corrupted, and left Steven with the burden. It is indeed bad but when compared to the Diamonds, she’s more of a saint than them. At least she does develop, doesn’t shatter gems and save the Earth from the Diamonds.

With story pacing being all over, villains and even characters aren’t paying for their actions and a cast of characters aren’t doing much, what’s the most problematic of the show? Well, it’s a combination of all my problems into one and that is…

Steven “Center Of” Universe

The major problem with the show, the one that brings down the show a lot and it’s Steven Omnipresence. First off, I don’t mind when a show has a protagonist point-of-view like Ben 10, Phineas and Ferb, Over the Garden Wall, etc. As long as it's written well and keeps the story moving, it’s fine but with Steven Universe, it has tons of problems. Steven's point-of-view is the cause of all its flaws and I can’t stress it enough about it.

So let’s first talk about the obvious one and how it’s only Steven's perspective. The problem with this is we only see things if Steven is there to witness it. The show introduces a fascinating world of Gems and yet the show doesn’t dive into that because Steven doesn’t care about and all he does is hang around Beach City. Steven will never explore unless he chooses to and some major plot points are offscreen which you should never do, especially it’s a story-driven show. An example of this is “Wanted Arc’” and yes I’m using it the third time as my example because it really is a terrible arc. When Steven comes back home, he had some information about Homeworld, discovered that there’s a mystery about Pink Diamond shattering, Off Colours, Steven can bring back people from the dead and Lars in space. With all that, what does Steven do? Nothing. Throughout his adventure in space, he never mentions it to the Crystal Gems and instead of that being the main focus, it’s townies and Connie. While Steven is doing Beach City fluff, Lars is actually progressing the plot by him developing and escaping Homeworld with the Off Colours. I truly wonder why the Crewniverse believes that Beach City is more important than Gems?

They got interesting lore and I truly want them to explore it more but they had to waste all that and have the most major plot points be offscreen for Steven's perspective.

The second problem with Steven p.o.v is his contestant presence. The show will always be about him, no other characters get the spotlight or do anything unless he’s there. There’s rarely a scene that doesn’t have Steven and it’s frustrating when there’s a well-rounded cast of characters that I want to see more than him. We’ll never see them interact with other characters nor explore different parts of the world. Other shows have done it such as

Amazing World of Gumball - “The World”

Adventure Time - “Varmints”

Avatar: The Last Airbender - “Zuko Alone”

Rick and Morty - “Tales From the Citadel”

Imagine how great it will be if explore more of the cast like

Uncorrupt Gem characters and Curley Lapis going by their day in Little Homeschool.

Lars becoming a space pirate

Lapis and Peridot becoming friends

Pearl meeting up with Mystery Girl

Volleyball recovering from her trauma

Ruby and Sapphire being their own individuals

They got a lovable cast of characters that I want the show to further explore and yet the Crewniverse don’t do anything with them and that’s such a missed opportunity.

Then the third most egregious problem with Steven p.o.v is he’s the communicator. The show tries to message that talking things will work but no one really talks to each other unless it’s Steven. Characters barely make their opinion or a chance to speak for themselves while Steven's opinion will and shall always be in the right and we barely see characters talking to one another. Examples of these are…

When Steven bubbles Bismuth, Pearl and Garnet don't say a thing and just let him. They don't question why he did or lash him out for it. They just went along with it. Steven decided to unbubble her in “Made of Honor “ for a wedding without talking to anyone else about it and again, they still haven’t asked questions and they just went along with it.

In “Reunited”, instead of Crystal Gems look at each other to find their strength like Garnet telling Pearl she’s her own Pearl, Pearl telling Amethyst she’s isn’t an accident, and they tell Garnet that she’s a great leader, Steven has to remind them what they are supposed to be.

Blue and Yellow had issues with the Gem Empire but too afraid to say to White Diamond. Until Steven arrived and that’s when they tried talking to her.

The Diamonds become good because Steven tells them being a fascist dictator is bad and they agree. They disbanded the Gem Empire and changed their abilities to help Gems under two years.

Steven made Pearl talk to Amethyst.

The message the show tries to tell that people should communicate is completely flawed because rather than have other characters improve their lives by talking to one another, they made Steven the messiah that every character looks up to. Steven will change your mind and you have no choice in the matter.

Conclusion

With the end of Steven Universe, I want to say that this show could’ve been better. Steven Universe was created by Rebecca Sugar, a former storyboard artist for Adventure Time and the one who mainly writes episodes about Marceline and wrote songs for the show. When she announced that she's left AT to make her show, I was excited and had such high hopes for it. I really want this show to succeed and it could’ve been the next Adventure Time, My Little Pony Friendship is Magic or Gravity Falls but sadly it failed to do so. The show flaws outshined it the strength by it was handled unprofessionally, wasted their characters, the pacing is all over the place, no character pay for their past actions and Steven’s point-of-view. I don’t think it’s the worst show I’ve ever watched nor a masterpiece, it's just a disappointingly average show in my personal opinion. I hope Rebecca Sugar and her crew not just see this as their progressive show by representing LGBT and messaging but also see what they would have approved of on the show and how they could’ve made it better. I had a lot of good memories when I first watched the show. It had the potential to be better but it never filled the promises they made.

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evengayerpanic · 4 years

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Trains & Passengers [Epilogue]

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse and Domestic Violence.

Inspired by an ask I received, wanting an AU of Aster/Ellie plus an adorable little boy, I’ve decided to take that idea, and run with it! This idea was originally finished over a month ago, but after a few asks requested an epilogue, as well as my attempt to apologize for my hiatus, I bring you the epilogue.

_________________

“Come on, Mom, we’re going to be late!” Twelve year old Tommy Chu (formerly Singh) shouted over his back as he sprinted up the marble steps of the gallery.

Ellie struggled to match his speed, her fingers looped carefully around the hand of a small girl, trying to make sure the toddler didn’t fall as they hurried to the doors. Inside the building, Ellie could pick up on the low mumblings from the Mayor of Squahamish, beginning his rehearsed speech about the event.

“You’re late.” Paul teased as Tommy rushed into him, Ellie following moments later, her eyes widening as she saw Aster moving towards the podium. “Here, give me the baby and get to your seat. She’ll want to see you, Lilah and Tommy cheering her on.”

There was an awkward exchange as Ellie unbuckled the baby bjorn, tucking the sleeping Maverick into Paul’s arms, before dropping the diaper bag at his feet and plucking her three year old off the ground and rushing through the crowd, a thankful reminder of “You’re the best, Munsky.” the only words Ellie could get out before they all were off to their seats.

“... a woman who needs no introduction, the artist responsible for these amazing pieces, Aster Flores!”

Just as Ellie got the two children into their seats, they had to spring up again as Aster finally took the podium, the crowd cheering and clapping though none as loud as the Chu family.

“Well done, Aster!”

“You rock, Ma!”

“Yay, Mama, yay!”

As the applause died down, Ellie settled her two kids as well, giving Lilah a cookie to snack on and flashing Tommy a proud look at the sparkle in his eye while watching his Mama begin speaking.

“If you had asked me nine years ago, if I could imagine my life today, I would have told you no. Firmly, and while looking at you like you were crazy.”

A small laugh ran through the crowd.

“I was living in an extremely abusive marriage, that left me terrified for not only myself, but for my son as well. That man beat down my self worth, my confidence and any imagination that I had, that one day things would have a chance to be better.”

Aster catches Ellie’s eye and a slight blush of red comes over her cheeks as Aster continues her speech.

“Luckily for myself, through the help and encouragement of my son Tommy and my wife Ellie, I was able to save myself from my circumstances.”

Smiling down at Tommy, Aster turns to look at the exhibit behind her, the different paintings on prominent display, the artist’s names written proudly across their work, Aster’s own on several pieces.

“For some women, men and children... they don’t have the ability to rescue themselves like I did. This is why I wanted to start up my own gallery, and put survivors of abuse in an exhibit that not only showcases their experiences, but provides them with the means to escape their situations.”

It had been Aster’s passion for the past nine years, ever since T.J. had received his restraining order and been mandated (after a few months, he moved on anyway) to stay away from his ex-wife and son.

A passion that had not only turned into something bigger, but that now saw Aster getting her life long dream of owning her own gallery. Bigger than that, it saw Aster helping countless others escape their situation as she put a focus on survivors of abuse and the plight they had to go through for freedom.

This focus saw many survivors earning money from their art, then using that money to start a new life.

Not to mention with the publicity of her gallery; it drew in lawyers, employers and everyone else that could be needed to make a significant change.

“I want to thank everyone sitting here for their help in making this movement a reality, but most of all, I’d like to thank my wife and son. You both gave me the drive to not only start living life the way I wanted, but continued to support me as I set my sights on doing something more important than just surviving.”

The clapping started up again, Aster and Ellie meeting eyes through the crowd as Ellie mouthed the words, “I love you,” and Aster knew she meant them.

_________________

It was until later on that Ellie got to talk to Aster.

The speeches part of the event, went on to include a few of Aster’s friends who had overcome their own journey’s, and then afterwards broke free to a tour of the new exhibit, Aster leading the charge as Ellie hung back to feed Maverick and Lilah some dinner.

The event ended, but the night did not, as Aster, Ellie, Paul, the children and a bunch of their friends all decided to get food. Ellie watching Aster in admiration as the brunette lit up in ways that had once seemed impossible for the battered woman.

Tommy got to shine as well, given almost celebrity status by the artists of the exhibit that knew his face well from the paintings his Mama had made of him.

He thrived and shone as he watched his Mama do the same in the company of the people that understood what they had gone through at the hands of TJ.

Dinner ended, and the family went home, Paul accompanying them for a little while until it was time for the children to go to bed. That’s when he gave his godson a tight hug, gave his bestfriend’s an even tighter one and promised to visit again soon.

The girls tag teamed to put the three kids to bed, and then as they retired to their own, Ellie was finally able to put overwhelming emotions of the day into words.

“I am so proud of you, Aster.” She whispered, eyes not leaving her wife once as Aster got ready for bed.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yes you could have, you are strong and wonderful.”

“Say more nice things about me.” Aster teased, a smirk that reached her eyes plastered on her face in amusement as she beckoned Ellie for more.

“You’re beautiful, amazing, talented, a good mother and the best wife in the world.” Ellie surrendered.

“And...” Aster asked as she slipped in bed next to Ellie.

Ellie wrapped her up in her arms, pulling the brunette against her tightly and warmly. “And I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#the half of it #fanfic idea #fanfiction #AU fanfiction #ellie chu #aster flores #ellie and aster #aster and ellie #ellister #leah lewis #alexxis lemire #paul munsky #daniel diemer #Trains and Passengers #Inspired by Prompt #tw: domestic violence #tw: physical abuse #tw: emotional abuse #tw: ptsd

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wrinkledparchment · 5 years

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phantom; | [n.s.]

Summary: You had an opportunity to save Nick. You missed it. You will do whatever it takes to make up for it.

Word Count: 3,204

A/N: MY FIRST FIC of 2020!!! This series has two of my most popular fics and it’s only fitting that I conclude this series in the new year :) Hopefully, you all enjoy this part! I already have the next few parts planned out, ending with part 6, and an epilogue. Enjoy!!

Warnings: Angst, what’s new?

Taglist: @ohmypreciousgavinyeet @bi-mama @wittysidecharacter @iknowrocknroll567 @serpiente-s @janoskiansecondsofdirection @helen-of-troi @perseny-blog @vannalovesyou @coureurs-de-bois9 @losers-club6

Your first moments with him--beautiful, blue sky, and two young children bathed in the afternoon glow of the sun; childish grins, naivety, and a blooming relationship. Meeting on a small playground, he’d stopped you from falling off a slide.

You had offered your signature bubbly giggle, and he, a kind smile, something the other children had withheld from you. In the malleable mind of a child, you saw him as a friend and playmate. You’d hadn’t wondered about the future.

You hadn’t thought about what it would be like to lose him until much later. You recalled the butterflies in your stomach as you saw him laugh after you’d thrown sand at him. It was a warm day, and you, at eleven-years-old, had made your first friend.

Nicholas Scratch had offered you a childhood; presenting himself on a warm day where you were playing without supervision, without friends, without care. Within two hours, you had decided you had a crush on him.

By the time he began school at the Academy of Unseen Arts, you had seen him as the potential for more; handing him a handmade card scribbled in your best cursive, reading: You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. Happy Lupercalia, Nicholas.

You meant it without a doubt--he had stood up for you against the other young witches and warlocks, attending school dances with you if you weren’t asked, and you would celebrate every holiday together; riding your small bikes to stores to buy each other gifts.

Nicholas Scratch was the first person to care, the first person you’d befriended, the first crush you’d had, and the first person you’d ever loved. He was mischevious, and only a part-time criminal, but you’d never expected him to steal your heart. Most definitely not your entire life.

Nobody ever made you feel as happy as Nick did, and nobody ever will.

Memories you shared, delicate snapshots of youth and innocence were playing in your mind, watching him give you a flower each morning, watching him help you cast charms. You began to catch up to more recent times.

Feeling numb, feeling nothing, you desperately wanted to break free, knowing where it was going. You were limp, barely conscious as you watched it all. Him beginning to slowly slip into Sabrina’s life, and you watched as she began to slip into his heart.

And suddenly, it was the night before he had sacrificed himself, and you watched his face, contorted in fear, ask you for his forgiveness. Tell you that he was going to do something dangerous, that he knew it would go right, but that he might not come back.

“I might not come back, [name]. It’s dangerous but-- I have to.”

“You better come back to me, Nick. I don’t know where I would be without you. Promise me. Please.”

“I can’t promise you anything. You know that.”

Flashing to you apparating to Nick, after you had almost felt your world crack underneath your feet. And in a flash, you were standing in a ballroom, watching as Nick entrapped the devil inside of himself.

Your screams echoed in your own mind like you were stuck in a glass cage, replaying the time, watching yourself miss the opportunity over, and over, to save the one thing in this universe that you loved.

You laid limp, on your bedroom floor, fighting a battle in your own mind. Begging yourself for mercy, pleading for yourself to please, please just release you from this hell, from this torture.

Feeling the weight your own body was carrying, feeling the numbness seep through your veins, you wanted to scream. There was nothing physical about this--everything you saw was tied to your own regrets.

You had an opportunity to save Nick. You missed it.

And oh god-- it replayed, over and over again. Replayed like a record stuck on a loop, scratching and aching against its holder.

There was only a sharp reminder of him with you now-- not his words, or his first, kind smile or the bubbly, childish laugh he’d bestowed upon your memory. There was the feeling of him-- warm and enrapturing.

It had an aura of its own-- covering you like a blanket and of course, you bathed in it. Like a warm bath on a winter’s day, an old friend’s hug after a particularly tiring situation. It felt like clouds and sunshine-- smelled like a fresh summer’s day and tasted--on the tip of your tongue--like childhood innocence.

It left you, along with him, over and over and over again. The same memory, the same words, the same missed opportunity drilling itself into your skull and etching itself into the fabrics of your being.

Twisting like a serpent through your stomach, the guilt burrowed itself into the pit of your abdomen and waited--sharp and vengeful-- for your wake. It would stay, it would manifest until consciousness was regained to torture you, while in turn, you would be awake to remember it all. To digest, fully this time.

. . .

You opened your eyes quickly, ears ringing over every other sound as you struggled to get your body off the ground. You found your lungs aching, gasping for air and you felt even more suffocated than you had the first night he’d disappeared.

The weight of your regrets, of the opportunity you had missed that cost your best friend his very own freedom, sunk deep into the pits of your stomach. He had offered you everything--saved you--and the one chance you had to save him, you missed it.

Nothing felt worse than how bloodied your hands felt, how all the ichor was stained like it was your fault that he was in hell.

The dream floated through your head again, flashes of something much more innocent, a time when you felt safe. Giggles echoed in your mind and you yearned to see his smile just one more time.

When they passed, along with your numbness as blood flew through your veins, pumping through as if high on adrenaline, you felt lighter. The pit in your stomach, the guilt, it was all there, but for the first time, you didn’t feel exhausted.

You didn’t feel like you were powering a whole other spiritual being in your body. You felt . . . light. Your heart was full of wide smiles and the feeling of sun on your skin, and you felt whole again.

Your stomach was filled with warmth, filled with your much-sought-after youth, blue skies, and lemonade. You felt ready to save someone you loved.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, “I’ve got to go,” he whispered. A moment of reflection, of debate, passed and you knew that if you held on for much longer he’d kill you.

The cold was slowly diminishing, fading, and so was he. He was leaving, you might not ever see him again, you would regret it forever if you didn’t speak up now.

Your hovering hand suddenly moved to cradle his frigid cheek, the temperature crawling and nipping throughout your whole body. You felt frozen, trapped underwater with ice above you, it felt suffocating.

You forced yourself to stay present, to ground yourself in his eyes, in the sorrowful look he gave you and you memorized his face. You could feel him slipping away underneath your fingertips.

“I love you, Nicholas Scratch,” you whispered before fainting, falling onto the ground with a loud thump, your heartbeat erratic but weak.

Sabrina’s wooden front porch squeaked underneath your feet, and you rapped your knuckles on her front door. With a few sounds behind the door, Sabrina pulled open the door, giving you a curious look.

“Are you alright?” You nodded, and she gestured for you to come in. You’d been in her home once before, but before it was impeccably neat. You’d suspected that one of her aunts had done a lot of cleaning beforehand, and it was clear now that it was them who picked up.

Books were in disarray all over her kitchen table along with a bowl of fruit. The room smelled of old books and dust like she’d gotten all of them from an untouched library. In one pile, she even had a bible, something you’d never see in a witch’s house. “What are you researching?”

Sabrina’s downcast face shook sideways, and she stayed quiet. Her watery eyes danced everywhere around the room but avoided you, and as the sun peeked through the glass windows of her home, they cast shadows in the hollows of her face. Underneath her eyes were dark, tired circles, and you understood, but this time, you could help too.

“I came to help you get Nick back,” you stated quickly, and for the first time since you’d entered her house, she looked you in the eye. It had a hint of either curiosity or suspicion--you weren’t sure which--and you knew you’d have to explain.

“I did have his ghost attached to me, and I nearly died, trying to supply him all that energy. I think-- I think he wanted to apologize for having to leave you so soon. He misses all of us. He misses you.”

The sight of Sabrina’s eyes welled up with tears, flashed through your mind. The only other time you’d seen her like this was when he got carried into hell in the arms of Lilith, but this--it was different this time around. She was gazing at you, a plea in her eyes, begging you, begging anyone to bring her lover back to her.

Her eyes were a watery red, and you wanted so desperately to hug her, to let her sob into your shoulder, but Nick- he’d been the only one you’d ever held like that. Your heart--once full of all the warmth of a sun--felt broken. Like every day apart from Nick had been slowly chipping away at it, slowly whisking away until there would be nothing left.

“I realized-- at that moment--that I love Nick. Not in the same way you do, of course, but I really do love him. Sabrina, you have my full support. I will do whatever it takes to get him back to us--to you. Just, please, let me help you.”

Sabrina, with a heavy heart and mind, put her palm out to you, face up. Your sight slowly shifted upwards, scanning through her own, teary eyes. Even with your hands violently shaking, you placed them in her own.

Your skin met hers, soft, warm and comforting--though much smaller than Nick’s were, and less calloused, too. It was tender, like Nick’s old hugs when he would wrap his arms around you ever so tightly. His laughter rung through your ears, and putting all your trust in Sabrina, you gave her hand a squeeze.

Despite your frequent jealousy, despite you barely trusting her until this very moment--she squeezed back. The gesture felt so similar to something Nick would do that your heart ached, and just like it used to when Nick would hold your hand, the feeling of being cared for, of being loved, washed over you like a wave.

Looking deep into Sabrina’s honey eyes, you smiled. It was meek, and barely there, being too damp with sadness to give warmth. And she-- she smiled back. Without a word, you sat down, and you knew now what she was looking for.

. . .

After a half an hour of scanning through various pages of the bible, you’d set your eyes on a familiar name. “Longinus,” you murmured underneath your breath, and Sabrina looked up.

“What about him?” she asked, and her mind flashed through her previous attempt to actually kill Lucifer. Though in the heat of the moment she’d barely thought twice about his words, but after certain events, she felt like an idiot.

“Nick--” you paused for a moment, feeling a pang in your heart at the mere mention of his name, “--he had mentioned before all of this that you’d already tried to fight Lucifer. Did he mention anything about Longinus’ lance?”

Sabrina felt her heartbeat against her sternum, feeling the steady thump as blood coursed through her veins, high on adrenaline. Suddenly, everything felt clearer. “Yeah, he said it was the only thing that could kill him. Why- why would that kill him?”

You looked over the bible passage once more, digesting every bit of information that could be useful before you answered. “Longinus is the Roman soldier that pierced Jesus’ side during his crucifixion. And that lance--the Holy Lance to be specific--is what he did it with. It was stained with holy blood.”

“I’m assuming he’s dead,” you concluded very knowledgeably, “do you think anyone knows where it is?”

Sabrina bit her lip, wondering where in the hell you would find an old spear from the 1st century. She wondered if it would be in a museum, but suddenly and very conveniently, Ambrose wandered into the kitchen.

“Hello cousin,” Ambrose greeted, pausing for a moment as he found you in the chair beside her, and Sabrina immediately began to ask him for advice.

“Ambrose, you wouldn’t happen to know where the Spear of Longinus is, would you?” Sabrina leaned forward onto the table, propping herself up with her elbows just a few inches away from the open, dusty book that lay in front of her.

Her cousin grabbed an apple from a fruit basket on their counter and took a generous bite, and even though most cousins, as far as you were concerned, would have to rewind for a double-take, he just nodded.

“It’s in some mausoleum in Jerusalem that only high-ranking witches know the location of. They tried to hide it from children of the light so they can’t kill Lucifer or something. Why are you asking?”

“[Name] and I need it to kill Satan,” Sabrina says nonchalantly, and you sharply turn towards her and furrow your brows, but Ambrose cut her off first.

“There are so many flaws in that plan--”

And before he could finish, you spoke over him just as fast. “Firstly, you’d have to be--you know--not a witch to touch something called the Holy Lance. Second of all, how are we even going to find Satan? Are we just gonna saunter right into Hell and be like, ‘What’s up y’all, where’s the Dark Lord?’”

Sabrina struggled to hide her smile despite you trying to shoot her plan down, and she found herself understanding very well why Nick had become friends with you. Even in the most stressful, heavy-weighted situations, you still managed to be humorous and light-hearted, still managed to make people smile.

“Firstly,” she started, mimicking your tone, “I’ve been baptized because I’m a half-blood. And secondly, I already discussed where she was keeping them, obviously in the very center of the underworld, Hell’s Palace.”

Ambrose nearly spit out a chunk of his apple, “You do know that wandering through hell, even as a witch but especially as someone who was baptized is incredibly dangerous, yes?”

“We have to try,” you reasoned, “Nicholas would have done the same for us. He would have gone to the ends of the Earth to save us, and we are going even further for him, even if it kills us.”

Aunt Zelda was sat at the table, across from the two of you, scouring over a few books she’d inherited from the barely-saved Blackwell Academy. “Why do you want to find this ‘Holy Lance’ anyways?”

Sabrina muttered something under her breath and Aunt Zelda raised an eyebrow, but at this point, she seemed so worn down by her niece’s antics to even try and stop her.

“Very well,” she muttered, writing down coordinates and a small corner of wrinkled parchment before ripping it off and handing it to you. “Take Ambrose with you, just in case anything goes wrong. Sabrina, do you know any spells to cure burns?”

Sabrina furrowed her brows, and without missing a beat, you supplied some information. “Touching a holy object would give you a third-degree burn if you’re not baptized or if you’re detected to be a witch. Just in case. Besides, I know a spell. We should be all good, Mrs. Spellman, thank you.”

Guiding you through her house to the top floor, Sabrina began to call out her cousin’s name. Surprisingly, a door opened quickly and her cousin, now not only in pajamas but also a silk robe, rushed back into his space.

“Are you guys ready?” he asked, pulling out his wand, pointing it at the parchment in between your fingers, and beginning an incantation. You wanted to question exactly why he’d go to a mausoleum covered in dust and bones with a very expensive robe on, but you didn’t have time.

The world spun underneath your feet, and wind whipped around your hair. You could hear Sabrina groaning, obviously off-put by traveling via teleportation, but this felt like nothing compared to having Nick’s ghost attached to you.

Nothing compared to the seeking emptiness that swept through your abdomen, or the exhaustion that had seeped under your skin and burrowed itself in your bones.

You finally landed, somewhere underground which was extremely dark, musty, and dirty. You lit up your wand and began to wander through the catacombs, with the two Spellmans following behind you.

You could swear that Nick’s voice echoed through the dim, long hallways. Words that were coated with sugar, so soft and so sweet yet so far away. Every word swept a new piece of your heart away, and you just wanted to get out of here.

Turning back, Sabrina had a similar, heartbroken and tear-struck look to her, as did Ambrose. This hallway, these catacombs, had obviously been tampered with to keep the lighthearted out.

Nick’s voice, you felt it, planted phantom kisses on your skin. They were warm, and overpowering, the overwhelming feeling of I shouldn’t have this, I shouldn’t have this, I’ll never have this, drilled into your skull.

But there was something in the core of your being that told you that a world without Nick was worse than your guilty conscience. That this torture of faux love, of being reminded of your scorching jealousy, was better than the emptiness of him being dead.

And so you turned back around, and when the pelting of words into your ears got harder, you knew you were closer. Sabrina was close behind you, and unknowingly, you reached out and grabbed her hand like it was instinct.

You finally trusted someone other than Nick. You could finally rely on a person that wasn’t him, and you felt free. Even with the warmth of his touch on your neck, and the prison that was never getting the real thing, you felt light.

Something began to get lighter, and lighter, and soon, the inky hallways turned to flaxen-lit old brick, and you smiled. You’d found it. So Sabrina reached out her hand and grabbed onto something, and the light began to fade.

There was no gasp, no scream, only diminished light, and a triumphant smile.

taglist/people who asked for a sequel: @carostar2020, @wittysidecharacter, @grey-junior, @ohmypreciousgavinyeet, @palepaperfan, @marcelitachiquita, @onl-you, @cassidyiscool, @bi-mama, @iknowrocknroll567, @serpiente-s, @janoskiansecondsofdirection, @helen-of-troi, @perseny-blog,@vannalovesyou, @coureurs-de-bois9, @losers-club6.

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