#masked man with so much wasted potential unfortunately calls to me and he sounds like Matt Mercer

[waspgrave]

Was going to rb a rook ask meme until I realized I started accidentally shipping her with Ashur at some point. I can’t be so loudly cringe for this npc

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

I Cant Betray You part 4 - Hoseok mafia au

I hate this chapter

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“What flowers?”

For a beat Hoseok feels his heart jump to his throat, the line cutting as his thoughts run away with him.

He tries to call you back but it doesn’t even ring, panic flooding his system as his worst fears loudly echo in his mind.

“Boss?” Zelo watches through the rearview mirror, noting the frown and anxiety building in the kingpin of Seoul, having never witnessed such a sight. He goes ignored as the man in the backseat dials again and again, cursing and swearing each time it doesn’t connect.

He takes a breath, deep and shaky as he tries to calm his nerve. He didn’t know where you lived, but Krystal did.

He speed dials 3, and she picks up only after the second ring but to Hoseok it felt like an eternity on hold.

“Cousin what can I-”

“I need Y/n’s address,” he cuts her off before she can complete her greeting, the ugly force of fear tearing through his stomach as each second passed without you, without knowing you were safe.

What flowers? What did you mean? Such a small clue for such potential danger, he had absolutely nothing to go on.

He hears his cousin sigh through the phone, his impatience sweating through his palm, adrenaline bouncing his leg, claustrophobia starting to seize his lungs as his body realises he’s enclosed and trapped in a small space.

“Hoseokie, she doesn’t want you to know,” she begins. “As much as I love you, I have to respect her wishes as a woman and-”

“She’s in danger,” his words silence her for a short pause as they sink in.

“How do you know?”

“Soojung, I haven’t got time to waste, I need her address,” he commanded hastily, using her birth name as images of you lying dead on the street turned his gears to madness. “Trust me please.”

Krystal had never heard him sound the way he did, not even when you left him. This was a man on the edge of insanity, back then, he was a man broken.

“Krystal!” He yells, making her jump and swallow as she contemplates the consequences.

“Are you sure?” she whispers, her own terror starting to ignite. She liked you, unfortunately she never had the chance to meet you without a mask, but the way Hobi used to talk about you… Even when you left him, she liked you, they all blamed their boss, even if they understood why he lied the way he did.

“Please,” he’s on the cusp of crying, the control he thought he had over the situation with you combusting as he finally admitted he had none, it was just a mirage, a desperate hope that kept him going. Now he felt his entire being swept into a chaotic whirlwind, at which you were the centre, but he couldn’t tell which way the winds were blowing. They hid you.

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Hoseok felt like he knew you like the back of his hand, better than that even, better than the intricate tunnels of darkness in his syndicate. You were a maze only he could navigate, even when you kept yourself hidden from him.

Early into your relationship he learnt not to ask about your family, anything he had asked immediately made your face fall, and he couldn’t stand to be the one to put such a look on your face. So he never pushed, anniversary after anniversary, year after year, he never pushed for you to reveal yourself to him, because the you that was in his arms now, this present version of you, belonged completely to him.

Just as he was completely yours, even if you knew nothing of the life he kept a secret, he was adamant you knew him better than anyone else. The moments that mattered between you both, were always the little moments. As fleeting and precious as they were, he knew he would want them for the rest of his life.

He hears you hum lightly in your sleep, the sound bringing a smile to his face, patiently waiting for you to wake, but content enough in the moment to let you lie in. Arms that were wrapped around you tightened carefully, legs tangled together like a web.

Although he was worse than the devil in this life, he swore when he felt warmth like this, he must’ve been a saint in his past one to deserve such happiness now. Why else would he be granted to love an angel like yourself?

“Hobi too hot,” you mumble against him as you wake, a small frown on your face he can’t help coo at. You push against him softly, not enough to hurt him but it makes him whine, melting your expression into releasing a chuckle. “Babe you’re a furnace.”

He replies with kisses to every inch of your skin he can reach as he pulls you back in, a peaceful morning before he had to be the kingpin of Seoul once more.

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“Boss… she’s not here,” Zelo informs him of the obvious tentatively, watching Hoseok’s face turn blank like a corpse.

He can see that, he wants to bite back but he can’t muster the strength to in that second. Your apartment was covered in flowers, every inch of the floor, every surface he could see. To the untrained eye it would be a desperate obsessive cry for love and attention, but Hoseok knew this was a calling card.

“Urgh my allergies,” his cousin exclaims as she enters the room, covering her mouth with her hand in vain before she starts sneezing. “Why are there so many flowers?”

‘Thank you for the flowers’, he can still hear your voice through the phone, the last words you said to him, softly and sweetly, the tone would have bought a smile to his face, along with hope for the pair of you, but the dread that cut through him after the confusion of that moment crushed any inkling of joy. Every petal in the room taunted him, every colour, crimson and brash, mocked his failure in protecting you.

“She thought they were from me,” he whispers as he exhales, Zelo and Krystal turning to him with worry written over their faces.

His moment of pity washes away, and life comes back to the corpse of Jung Hoseok in the form of pure unadulterated rage. They can see the fire in his eyes, they can almost swear there was steam from his nose, as he turned to them both.

“How did you and Lee find her?” he almost growls as his eyes narrow.

It takes her a moment to gather her thoughts, fear of the kingpin wiping her mind blank.

“I… I didn’t, he did,” she says. She was only instructed by Hoseok to keep an eye out for you, she had stupidly believed it to be fate that her partner of all people had found you.

“What the hell did he have on her?” Hoseok finally dares to ask, he was never going to, if it were something you didn’t want to share with him he would have respected that for the rest of his life, but now, now your life was out of his hands.

She visibly gulps.

“She’s wanted for murder overseas,” she chooses her words carefully but they only make him frown, jaw set open in shock though he tries to conceal it. “Multiple murders…”

“How has she gotten away for so long?” Zelo breaks the silence that starts to form. “Secret identity, what? If she’s wanted for murder Lee would’ve had to hand her to the authorities.”

Hoseok’s right hand man was the sharpest mind of Seoul, not in the most traditional sense, but in a way that benefited his closest friend greatly.

Krystal sighed, knowing she had to reveal your secrets sooner rather than later, for your sake at least.

“Not by the police,” her voice turns small. “I don’t know the details, Lee didn’t tell me much, all I know is she got in bad with some dangerous people and killing as many of them as she could was how she got out.”

“So she’s been on the run ever since?” Zelo exhales sharply in shock. He knew you were a fighter, he knew his boss picked his partner in life well, but this was unexpected. He turns to Hoseok speechless, watching the Kingpin’s eyes cloud over in thought.

He remembers the first time you entered the bar, unaware of his aura and the powerful men around him, he thought you were audacious, but you must’ve been numb to danger.

He thought about the moment they revealed his secrets to you, he watched the tapes after you left him, much like Lee had, and he agreed, you weren’t fazed by the bodies or the gore, you were distraught because he had lied to you.

All those times he came home a bloody mess, and you didn’t even blink, how had he been so blind.

“But if they knew where she was all this time, why take her now?” Krytal ponders out loud.

“Whatever agreement Lee had with them broke the moment he died,” Hoseok mutters with a pained groan, the moment he killed him… A dark spiral starts to swirl in his chest at the thought, unknowingly in trying to protect you, Hoseok was the one to push you head first into danger.

“What now boss?” Zelo asks. “How do we find her? Where do we start?”

“The flowers have to mean something,” Krystal sniffs, the pollen itching her nose.

Hoseok nods.

“You go back to the precinct and dig through Lee’s stuff, find out who the fuck he was in contact with,” Hoseok commands. “We find out where the flowers were from, there’s cameras on that street outside, if this many flowers came in a big enough van for a body, we’ll find the number plate.”

“Boss…” Zelo hesitates. “What if it’s a trap?”

The thought had crossed Hoseok’s mind too, but he didn’t care.

His silence was answer enough.

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When you wake it feels like your eyes are glued shut, a heavy weight on your temples refusing to let you open them, but you try. Wherever you are is dark, your groggy mind desperately trying to gather your surroundings but whatever that fake delivery driver injected into your veins prohibits you from doing so. It's too dark to find your bearings, it’s too cold for your body to react in any way other than tremble. You can’t hear a thing other than your own breathing as you think about how you ended up here.

They’ve found me, if death could be written in a sentence that would be it. You escaped once, you knew for a fact you could never do it again. Your thoughts drifts to the last person you spoke to outside of wherever you were being kept now, a sliver of hope trying to claw its way out of your heart. Hoseok knows something is wrong, he’ll find me.

But even as the words form from comfort in your mind, a harsh cold reality tells you from experience, you don’t believe he will.

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TAGLIST: @nlost21 @pb-n-juju @needyomnivore @lvpersona @marvelfamily3000 @love2lovesworld @halesandy @dreamamubarak @scuzmunkie @girlinthemikrokosmos @semireads @yiyi4657 @illnevertrustmyselfagain @portia-bts @taeyongzodiactwinkiri @teampaul @skattwang @woderfulkawaii @torisecrets @danietoww04 @daydreambrliever @zahraaelamira

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

REMEMBER BACK WHEN WE GOT INVITED TO A MASQUERADE??? And we figured out the masquerade guests are definitely the sacrifice meant to summon their eldritch deity and that the party will probably be the location of the final ritual? ANYWAY WE’RE CRASHING THE PARTY, which means we need costumes.

The party is Alice in Wonderland themed; Sammy hasn’t read the book but got kin-assigned the March Hare by Joey, so naturally i’ve been doing nothing but drawing this loser in a dapper rabbit costume for an entire week

---

Anyway have a little smattering of out-of-context quotes from session 11

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] Sammy just has no magical powers. [Jack] YET. [Sammy] Yet. Correct. ...He doesn't want any. [GM] Half of him doesn't want any. [Sammy] That's... accurate, yeah. Half of him ALSO wants the OTHER half of him to stop having magical powers. [Jack] No Magical Girl transformation? [GM] *laughing* Is that what that is? [Jack] I'd watch a magical anime where the main character drugs themself and then becomes a weird... religious... madman! [Sammy] That does sound compelling! Maybe you should see if you can find a franchise that contains that element, and then become a big fan of it and draw a bunch of fanart for some reason. [Jack] Yeah, I dunno, I mean... it's so tiring getting into new media, I need to get a friend who will drag me into it. [Henry] And then you guys can start a roleplaying game with it and drag me into it! [GM] There's an idea! [Jack] Yeah! Someone should get on that! [GM] And if there was such a theoretical game... people might have to figure... what they're doing when they wake up!

[Sammy] We were put in a situation before where we were told that the only thing we could do was kill the host, but we found a way around it last time, [Peter] What way was that? [Sammy] Complicated.

[GM] Henry is the first to notice the apparent cultist, camping out, looking tired, trying to spot you guys. [Henry] Uh, Henry is just going to tap Sammy on the arm and point him out. [Jack] Bros! You've got to unionise! Look at these working conditions! [GM] Maybe one of these days you won't spot them, right? Hope springs eternal!

[GM] Okay, you can make an intimidate! [Sammy] Okay! *rolls* FIFTEEN IS -- this is the only thing Sammy's good at now -- fifteen is a hard success!

[Jack] I'm proud of him! [Sammy] Someone has to be.

[GM] Allison chats with everyone, and gets you into the costume room! Everyone seems relatively friendly! [Sammy] Except Sammy. Sammy doesn't seem friendly.

[Joey] My idea was, Joey would be Mad Hatter -- [Sammy] Because he needs a hat, [Joey] --Yeah, so he can have a hat -- I was thinking Sammy could be the March Hare, Jack could be White Rabbit, and then Henry could be the Dormouse, [Sammy] Yes! And then the Haiti boys are all the Mad Teaparty, which is great, because the Mad Teaparty is canonically trapped in a time loop. [Sammy] Because we tHOUGHT ABOUT THIS TOO MUCH,

[Jack] Kin-assign Pete! [GM] He's content to wear anything that looks like it fits him, as long as people aren't trying to push a co-ordinated effort. [Joey] (Pete can be Caterpillar,) [Jack] Catter-pete-lar [Sammy] Oh my goodness. Completely unnecessary. [Jack] This is a pun that Jack might make, out loud, to Pete [GM] Pete laughs, despite himself! [Sammy] I feel like, Jack would make this pun, and then Jack would be SO pleased with himself that Pete would laugh, because Jack was so happy about it. [Jack] Yeah that sounds canon. ....It IS canon!!

[Jack] You can like, actually pretend to be people who decided to come to this party to enjoy it, and not just steal and/or murder!

[Henry] I want someone on the help, because I feel like we would have more control if we had someone on the inside, [Henry] And Henry does have a very forgettable face, apparently!!

[Joey] What are the staff wearing? Target red shirt, khaki pants? [Sammy] Perfect! Everyone will fall for it! Based on my experience wearing red shirts into Target!

[GM] I guess this does mean Joey misses an opportunity to dress up Henry. [Joey] *excited gasp* Wait, wait, [GM] What? [Joey] Sorry, this has nothing to do with anything that's happening right now in the roleplay, but I just suddenly realised that (1) when Henry got married, was Joey his best man, and (2) did Joey get to pick out his tuxedo for him [Henry] UHHHH... I feel like, Henry usually defaults to Joey for outfits and stuff, but he would hesitate a bit to ask his best friend who has an obvious crush on him to help dress for his heteronormative wedding!

[Joey] There probably is at least one of the wedding photos where Joey is insistent on standing very next to Henry -- while Henry's next to Linda! -- but, [GM] ...but also, Joey is here, [Joey] But also Joey is here. [Sammy] ...absolute disaster of a man... [GM] But the tuxedos look good! [Joey] Yes. Henry was properly fitted.

[Sammy] I don't want a full-- I don't want a freakin' fursuit, because-- [Henry] (FNAF in the distance)

[Sammy] But I feel like, since both White Rabbit and March Hare are, like, dapper rabbits, they could do something like, yeah, splicer mask and also a hat. [Jack] I mean, Jack's not opposed; Jack likes hats. [Sammy] Jack absolutely should have a hat, I agree. [Jack] He's getting so many hats! So many hats, and so many boyfriends, [GM] He can't be stopped! [Jack] >:3c He shouldn't be stopped.

[GM] I'm still just stuck on the phrase "Dapper Rabbits."

[GM] If Joey and Allison are talking further away, I guess it's moot. Though Allison did see Prophet Sammy! He changed in her room. [Sammy] Well, nobody explained him to her. Sammy just showed up the next day and hoped that we wouldn't talk about it, and then we didn't! It was great. [Jack] Sammy's over here, hoping that Allison is distracted by Joey so that none of this conversation is being listened to, [Jack] MEANWHILE, smash cut to the other side of the room, where Joey is explaining SillySam,

[Joey] A lot of Joey's lack of giving information was to keep her out of it, and not paint a target on her back... but now? She has a target on her back, so... Sure! You can also sacrifice yourself, for the greater good!

[Sammy] I'm sure someone in this party will thank Allison. It won't be me. But I'm sure someone will.

[Henry] Henry's already smearing his blood on people, he's gonna agree to whatever at this point.

[Sammy] DEFINITELY not a cult, now hold still while we put this guy's weird glowing blood on you, it's fine. [Jack] Welcome to the flock!

[GM] What does this mean for Prophet Sammy's sacrificeability rating on Henry, though? Now he's potentially long-term useful... [Sammy] I mean... [Jack] The Prophet isn't here so he doesn't need to know about this! [Sammy] ...I feel like, if something has greater value, then it's an even more impressive sacrifice. That's why you sacrifice an unblemished sheep, traditionally. If it's not a blemish-- [Sammy] Like, that's most of what he was worried about, like, “does this make you not fit for sacrifice.” But if it's actually a really cool thing, ...!

[Sammy] Sammy's nervous. [Jack] Jack is also nervous. [Henry] Henry is also nervous! [Jack] Oh, that's always a good sign, [Joey] Joey's going to be confident! [Henry] ...Of course he is. [Joey] Someone has to be! [Jack]...is he "Confident" or "Confident (Fast Talk)"? [Joey] YES. That last one. [Sammy] *muttering* That's the best we got, unfortunately.

[Sammy] If Jack or Henry express nervousness, Sammy agrees with them. If Pete is nervous, then Sammy will very aggressively say that Joey knows what he's doing.

[Sammy] Allison, don't use a spell to bind people's souls together in order to avoid crunch,,, [GM] You never know when something might be handy! [Sammy] I mean, [GM] Waste not want not!

[Henry] Does Henry have to draw in blood on himself...? [GM] No, Henry has a lot of his own blood on his person.

[GM] Aw, man, Bendy should've commented on the rabbit outfits! I'm sure he'd find that hilarious. [Joey] ...why...? [GM] WHY? It's just objectively funny! No additional reason is needed!!

[Joey] Joey will go through his notes, and confer with Henry and Bendy on, okay, shall we try this, and see if we can help Bendy as well? [Henry] Henry is down to try! [GM] Bendy is worried about Henry overexerting himself. [Henry] ...Henry is down to try!

[Jack] Worst case, Jack looks at the symbol, and then he can be seeing-eye rabbit for the rest of the group!

[GM] Norman wonders what the plan is! [Henry] Bold of you to assume,

[Sammy] We're having such a good sleepover! We did a weird blood ritual, and we're braiding each other's hair~ [Joey] Having a fashion show, [Sammy] Yeah! We went out and got clothes, [Jack] Can't believe Joey called a boy, [Sammy] Gotta ask Joey about the boy he likes... wait, no, don't do that. [Jack] I'd say it's time to play seven minutes in heaven, but I think we, we did that early. [Sammy] WE DIDN'T DO A VERY GOOD JOB,

[GM] Norman wants to see how this plays out. [Joey] Okay, well, try not to get sacrificed, then, [GM] He laughs, and thanks you for the advice! [Sammy] *Hypnos Hadesgame voice* "Try not to get sacrificed, okay?"

[Henry] Allison is very helpful, and not weird at all!

[Joey] We already have the banjo case full of ritual circles, and Joey would rather have the emergency circles than Sammy carrying around bOTTLES OF INK. [Sammy] WHY, WHY WOULDN'T YOU WANT THAT TO BE HAPPENING? WHAT WOULD BE THE PROBLEM WITH THAT,

[GM] Make a sanity check! [Jack] Wait, what's happening? [Sammy] Joey was trying to think too hard.

[GM] Sammy does manage to catch that there's a little-- next to the kitchen, when you go into the place where they're serving food, there's a sign that says "Sheep Shop" over it. And there's a person wearing a sheep mask, handing out food. [Sammy] OKAY, THAT'S FINE,,, I don't feel like Sammy has actually read Through The Looking Glass, so I don't know if he knows why this is happening. I think he's just concerned. [GM] Excellent. Ideal response.

[GM] And Joey has NEVER seen the symbol EVER because he's incredible at not looking at creepy symbols! Which you wouldn't expect. [Sammy] I'm sure Joey will put this in his autobiography.

[Jack] :/ No Hashtag Gay Rights at this party,

[GM] Seems to be another party-goer; in fact, you recognise the voice! [Joey] Ohhh. Kyle -- I don't know his actual name, but -- [Sammy] (Dennis!) [GM] (Yes, that's-) [Joey] -- Kyle.

[Henry] Henry is going to try to sneak up on Moonlight while he's distracted! [GM] OH! ...Okay! He's very distracted, Sammy just screamed! [excited noises from everyone beCAUSE NO ONE EXPECTED THIS] [GM] You successfully sneak up behind him! [Henry] I'm going to grab the staff! [GM] Make a Brawl check, with advantage! [Sammy] (He has SO many limbs that don't work my dude, you got this,) [Henry] That's a success! [GM] You snatch it! [Henry] I RUN!!!

[Joey] We're just both escorting Jack, now. [Sammy] Would you say Jack is late, for a very important date? [Jack] Well YEAH, his Face Removal was scheduled like 2 dreams ago!!

[GM] He'd have to roll for it, to see if it felt familiar to his trip to Carcosa. [Jack] Extreme success! [GM] Then he would pick up that familiar feeling! [Jack] Oh, nice and homey at this party! Really nice. Nostalgic! It's been a while. [Sammy] Hm, [Jack] Maybe he should go play the piano, for old time's sake! [Sammy] NO

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (12)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

WARNING: This chapter include a rather disturbing scene that is an organ exit, specifically, the intestines and...Other things. If you are a sensitive potato, I apologize for the potential disgust or potential nightmare following this passage. But if you are one of those who has already seen much worse with the saga Saw or Leatherface ... I don't know what to say.  ('-') Well then... Have a good read!

***

Do you like to go out at night, when the starry sky honors you with its presence? It's always a fascinating show and it's even more so when a shooting star or an aurora borealis appear. For some, it's the perfect view, the perfect time to show your feelings to the person you love. For others, it’s the spirits of those who have left us who, from heaven, look at us and protect us. And for the Nordics, the aurora borealis is the bridge that connects Midgard and Asgard.

But tonight, it was just a starry sky. A beautiful and mesmerizing starry sky that Danny was looking, leaning against his van. If he had a cigarette on him, he would have smoked it while watching the sky. But Danny wasn't a big fan of cigarettes, in fact he didn't like it at all. He didn't understand why people were ruining their health with such a poison. And the same was true for alcohol. He had no more than two drinks. He had already had the bitter experience of both too many times with his parents.

Hmph. His "parents." Danny calls them his tormentors instead. He remembers his “life” with his parents, his HELL’S life. Since he was young, Danny’s parents treated him like a dog, beating him and insulting him every time for nothing. He did everything to have the attention and love that a child must have. But he received nothing but hatred and disgust from them. His father was an alcoholic and a huge smoker. His mother smoked very little but was obsessed with religion.

For them, Danny was just a mistake, an unwanted child that they had to treat as such. And that's what they did. And if he thought he would find solace in making friends... he was wrong. His classmates made fun of him, and he found himself alone... always alone. He always avoided problems, but when he had to defend himself from the bullies of his school... He did. And if his parents played the comedy in front of the teachers, once at home, Danny was beaten to the point of losing consciousness once.

His years of college and high school were no better... but no worse either. In high school, he had managed to make friends, with whom he often made the wall to go and have fun at night. At that time, he no longer feared the wrath of his parents, especially his "father". He was a cute little boy when he was a child, and as a teenager he was a handsome boy, who attracted a lot of attention. His current appearance, apart from size, has not changed since.

How many girls wanted to go out with him? hundreds. How much did he have been in a relationship? Just two. And one of those two relationships ended badly. Yet he remembered an evening at the fair where he and his friends consulted a fortune teller. He didn't believe in this stuff but it was always a good time to have fun.

“Your life has been nothing but sadness and suffering my boy. But soon, a new life will be offered to you and one day you will finally find the one that is linked to you. The chosen one of your heart, is not here young man, but elsewhere.” she said. He remembers smiling, holding a laugh so as not to offend the old woman. But later, one of his visions proved correct.

“Where do you think you're going like that, you dirty little jerk?! You're not going anywhere! you hear me??” His Dad shout, beating him again.  

But this time... It had to stop. He had struck him in return, with a force he did not know himself. Her mother squeaked when she saw her husband on the ground, slightly frightened but still angry.

“I've done everything. Absolutely EVERYTHING to have even a little love! AND WHAT DID I GET?! ONLY BEATINGS AND INSULTS! ... But it's over. I get out of here and believe me that you will have NOTHING of me. You can both go to hell. I hope you die in the worst way there is in this f****ng world.”

And since that day, he has never felt so free and so alive. But what this fortune teller told him always kept him in mind. And if that person with whom he was related... the chosen one of his heart... was simply... You?

Since you both met, you are the only person who has been so pleasant, innocent and... kind to him. Of course, you’re acting like this because he was acting as Jed. But if Jed had never existed, if he had only been himself... Would it have been the same thing?  

Maybe... that you'd be in a relationship. He would love you as much as you would love him. He'd protect you, do anything to make you happy. Of course, he would never tell you about his... second "job." But what if you get sick? To the point of ending up in the hospital and dying just like...

“Danny...” He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to remember that. NEVER again.  

“Come on Danny. Stay focused. You can’t screw all you've made until now.” He whispers to himself before he puts his Ghostface’s mask on.  

He faced Mike's house. Certainly, Mckellan had to die first on the list but... the desire to eviscerate Mike was stronger, more enticing, more... Exciting. Danny licked his lips, thinking about how he was going to take care of his next victim. He had prepared everything, orchestrated and imagined the faces of the unfortunates who would find his corpse.

He's going to pay. Oh yes, he's going to pay SO MUCH for all the humiliation that Danny has endured since he started working at Roseville's Gazette. He's going to regret every fucking word he's said about him. Every fucking blow he's given her. And his attempt to strangle him... in front of everyone... will be the fatal blow that Danny will return to him.

Danny took a gift package and sneaked up to Mike's house. Even if he knows that at this time, everyone is asleep in this neighbourhood, it is better to be careful of a potential walker. He had parked in the same place as last time; he knew that no one ever went there.

He reached the kitchen window and saw it slightly open, so he took advantage of this opportunity to enter the interior without making any noise. He immediately walked to the basement, which was right in front of the kitchen, and went downstairs, realizing to the sound of the water that Mike was in his bathroom, taking a shower. Just perfect.

He rediscovered Mike's "playroom", the one in which he practiced his... disgusting and twisted fantasies. And he's the one we call f****ng psycho? Hmph, Danny found the champion in this category. He admits to being a little crooked sometimes, but really far from doing that kind of crap.  

He placed his "gift" on the table before taking an object heavy enough to knock Mike out. As well as a rope to be able to tie him. On the practical side, he didn't need to take anything. Everything was provided to him on the spot, for once.

"How nice you are Mickey... make it easier for me at this point, I would have almost taken you as an assistant ... if you weren’t a fucking pedophile and a drug addict. What a waste. Well, time to call.” Danny said taking out another disposable phone. He hid in a corner of the room, so that Mike would not see him and composed his number. Hoping he got out of the bathroom.

“Hello? Who the f**k is there?” said Mike on the other line. His voice was hoarse and tired. Looks like he smoked more than he should.  

“Hello Mickey...Miss me? I hope so.” respond Danny sneering about this situation.

“You little...motherf***er! I don’t know who the f**k you are but you gonna regret everything you do to me, you little shit!”  

“What a lovely language...Look since you didn't like my previous gift, I brought you another one... He's in the basement. Why don't you open it? I'm sure you'll like this one!”

“Go f**k yourself with your gift! You trapped me once! and it's already too much for me to leave you alive!” Said Mike enraged.  

“You could make an effort Mickey... I bend over backwards to find you a gift to make me forgive and you don't even want to go and see what it is. You're breaking my heart. Too bad... I guess I can send your photos to the authorities... they'll be happy to put you in jail.” Replied Danny getting ready to hang up.

“Rrrrr...Okay Okay ! I'm going to open your gift! You psycho...”  

He heard Mike heading towards the stairs before descending to the basement. the excitement caused Danny to tremble, he was waiting for only one thing: for Mike to open his "gift" and see his reaction before knocking him out. And once attached... the party can begin.

He went deeper into the darkness when he saw Mike advancing towards the table where the gift package was. Danny's hands trembled with excitement as Mike trembled with fear. After a moment of hesitation, Mike finally opened the package and backed away, swearing and holding back from vomiting.  

Remember when I said a "head was going to fall"? Well, a head actually fell. A man's head now stood on this table, and for Mike it was not unknown to him because he was one of his drug dealers, the one who offered him the best drugs.

The head was cut with sharpness and precision worthy of a surgeon. the face was marked by the drug that this man was consuming and dark circles almost as black as coal were plummeting before his eyes. Teeth had been torn off and tongue cut off.

Mike recoiled a few more metres before feeling a hand on his shoulder, when he turned, he had no time to react and received a blow, strong enough to knock him out. Danny looked at his unconscious body, a diabolical smile on his face. He took the rope and a chair, then lifted Mike's heavy body to attach it to it. He weighed his weight the animal!

“Look at this... What a beautiful sight. Ah Mickey... I will make you my most beautiful bloody work the world has ever seen... I'm going to make myself a huge pleasure to cut you pieces into pieces... make you suffer until your last breath.” Said Danny before laughing, thinking about all this.

Mike awoke after 30 minutes and, quickly noticing that he was tied to the chair, he tried to untie the ties. Unfortunately for him, Danny had tightened them up to the max. The latter came up to him, sneering, passing his gloved finger over the blade of his knife.

“Sleep well? I was starting to worry I thought I'd killed you too fast... it would have been a shame after everything I've planned for you... Don't you think so?” He said taking Mike's face with his hand.

“You’re f***ing twisted! You’re a crazy psycho! Let me go! Said Mike giggling in his chair.

“Oh... Not right now. We've just met face to face... I'm not going to shorten this moment so quickly.” replied Danny approaching his knife to Mike’s cheek. “So, do you like my gift? I must admit It wasn’t easy to find him because...He’s like a rat running everywhere in the house to steal some food. But he was so cooperative after I ripped off his tooth and cut off his tongue.

“P-P-Please...Don’t do this! Take everything you want!”

“Everything?” Said Danny before exploding with laughter. “But everything I want is your SCREAMS and you DEATH. After all you did, this is all you deserved. Fair enough don’t you think? But you know what? Since you're going to die... you’ll see your executioner's face.” He replied before taking off his mask.

“Ol...Olsen...”

“Oh, it’s true. My name is NOT Jed Olsen.” He said cutting off each of his hands with a blow, which made Mike scream a lot. “I’m Danny Johnson...The Ghostface. And I'm gonna take a real pleasure to slaughter you for everything you've done to me... You're not going to be a loss anyway. Because unlike you... I don't spend my fantasies on children."

He put on his mask on and thrust his knife deep into Mike's stomach, killing him like a pig. he pulled out the intestines that hung like ropes. he stabbed him many times, piercing his eyes, cutting his virility and his tongue before finishing him off with a sharp blow to the throat. Blood squirted everywhere, and in this show, Danny's crazy laugh was heard, he had nothing to fear, Mike had soundproofed the room for his... Fantasies. No one outside could hear it... and no one was going to come to Mike's house at this hour.

But it wasn't over oh no... He has to finish his work. He took Mike's intestines and cut them into fine pieces before throwing them all over his corpse like confetti that’s thrown at a party. After all, it's a party, isn't it? He took the drug dealer's decapitated head and carefully placed it in Mike's arms with a little message on it: "I, Mike Harris, killed this man without any remorse." And he placed Mike’s d**k on his mouth instead of his tongue which layed on the ground.

“I don't like being robbed of the star Mickey... but I confess that making you look like a murderer on this one makes me laugh a lot... We'll keep you the worst image of your existence, pedophile, drug addict and murderer. Jackpot. Now...Say Cheese!” Said Danny before taking a picture. “One down. There's one left. Sooner or later McKellan...you’ll meet the devil himself. And then... I could focus a little more on my sweet angel.”  

As with every murder, he erased all traces of his passage, and after making sure of it, he left as discreetly as he had arrived. Then he took the road to go home. But before sinking into the arms of Morpheus... A small visit is necessary.

The window of your bedroom was barely open, but that's more than enough for Danny to pass his knife and open the window just enough to pass. You were sleeping peacefully, the blanket almost covering your head but he could still see your face, your little and adorable angel face... He stood frozen in front of you for a few seconds, a smile on his face. Then he took a picture, an umpteenth trophy, an umpteenth memory.

“Don’t worry... Soon, all your problems will disappear... and I'd be the ONLY one to obstruct your thoughts. In a good way. Sleep well, my little sweet star...And never forget...” He said, kissing your forehead. “You’re mine. And only MINE.”

And then he vanished. As if no one had ever entered this intimate place... But little by little... The devil tightens his grip on you. Even if he will continue to scare you... He will do anything to be the only object of your obsessions.

And he won't let anyone near you.

***

(And it’s done! Phew thinking about Mike’s death wasn’t easy but I've made it! Again, I hope you’ll enjoy it like the other ones and if you got some questions or you just want to talk you can! For now, the French potato girl I am will get some rest! have a good week end everyone! See ya!)

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.12/25

TW: Fire!! (Only took 12 chapters to get there), and Geralt has a panic attack in the shower.

Previous

_____________

Half-term was chaotic.

Geralt would have preferred to have gotten the time off work so he could spend the week with Ciri but unfortunately the shift rota just didn’t work out this time. This meant he was already grumpy before his shifts even started. He hated leaving Ciri behind. Coën was thankfully grateful for the extra money that the hours round Geralt’s house gave him. Geralt had managed to at least get two days off during the week and he’d promised to take Ciri ice skating. He hadn’t tried ice skating since he was a child but he hoped that it was like riding a bicycle. She’d pouted at him with her big shining green eyes and he’d been helpless to say no.

He just had to make it through the day first. His stomach rumbled as he watched his leftovers spin round and round in the microwave. He’d made pasta bake with Ciri on Sunday evening and the leftovers were his lunch until his next day off, which was, thankfully, tomorrow.

Lambert had been called out to assist the police at a road traffic accident whilst Geralt and Renfri had just gotten back from house call in Lower Posada and it was already long past his usual lunchtime. The call hadn’t really needed both of them in attendance but the owner of the house hadn’t been confident to put out their small kitchen fire by themselves so had rung the fire service. Eskel had had a few false calls, which was really just a waste of everyone’s time. The on-call team, the griffins this week, had been called in to help the wolves on their various missions. They’d just been too spread out the last couple of days and Geralt was exhausted.

“Ger-Bear!” Renfri called as the alarms began to ring in the fire station. “We’re up! Stop slacking.”

He cursed and stopped the microwave. It looked like he was skipping lunch today, again.

He grabbed his jacket and they all jumped into gear. They were down the pole and in the fire engine in record time. Geralt turned the keys in the ignition as Eskel slipped into the seat beside him. They keyed in the postcode into the GPS and Geralt hit the siren and the lights.

“What have we got?” Geralt asked Renfri as he navigated the traffic of Upper Posada.

Renfri looked through the notes on her phone. “House fire in a block of flats. Cause of the fire is currently unknown but it managed to spread to the corridor before it was noticed by one of the residents returning home.”

“Fuck.” Geralt cursed. “What happened to the fire alarms?”

“Believed to be faulty. The alarms only went off when the fire reached outside of the flat.” Renfri continued. “Owner of the the flat where we think the fire started was also out at the time, he returned whilst the reporting resident was on the phone. However, we aren’t sure how many residents are still in the building. Vesemir has called Lambert so he’ll be joining us as soon as he’s finished with the RTC in Gulet.”

“Shit.” Geralt groaned. Fires in apartment buildings could be devastating if they weren’t caught early. The potential number of casualties were a lot higher than your average household. “Eskel, can you contact the landlord, get a list of everyone in the building?”

“On it.” Eskel grunted and started to flick through their list of contacts until he found the right number.

Whilst he was on the phone the fire engine’s radio crackled to life.

“Shrike.” Vesemir called.

“Here.” Renfri nodded as they turned into the right road. Geralt grimaced as he saw the plumes of smoke rising from the building.

“Call me once you’re at the scene. I have information for you.” Vesemir ordered.

“Will do, boss.”

Geralt parked the truck in the road and turned the sirens off, leaving the lights on to alert passing traffic. The police was already at scene trying to control the crowd, they must have had a patrol in the area. They leapt into action the moment the engine had pulled to a stop. The smoke was already heavy in the air and the smell of burning plastic hit the back of his throat. Geralt grimaced as he quickly assessed the situation. Judging by the smoke billowing from the window, the fire was on the third floor and hadn’t spread yet to the other floors, but it was only a matter of time and they had to act fast.

“Geralt!” Renfri called, the urgency in her voice startled him. “Vesemir. He didn’t want me to tell you this but… He had another call.”

“Spit it out, Renfri!” Geralt growled as she hesitated.

“Geralt… Jaskier’s up there!”

Geralt felt his knees almost buckle underneath and he had to grab onto the fire engine to keep himself standing.

Jaskier.

“Why didn’t he evacuate with the others?!” Geralt yelled at Renfri.

“I don’t know!!” Renfri yelled back. “We’re wasting time!”

Geralt snarled and pulled on the rest of his protective gear so that he could go into the building. Renfri tried to protest, saying he was emotionally compromised but he ignored her. Jaskier was somewhere in that growing cloud of smoke.

He had to save him.

Whatever the cost.

“Focus on the fire. I’m getting him out, and call any griffins that aren’t on other jobs. There may be others.” He growled. “Did Vesemir say what floor?”

“Fifth. Flat 5D.”

“Thanks.”

He took a deep breath before heading into the blaze, ignoring Renfri’s protests behind him. He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He almost ran straight past the third floor in his rush to get to Jaskier. He skidded to a halt and cursed before turning back.

The third floor was the priority. He had to check for residents nearest the fire first. If he didn’t and there were casualties then it would be on him. Their deaths would be his responsibility.

“Fuck!” He yelled into the ever growing heat. Every step he spent on the third floor was torture. His soul was pulling him to the fifth floor but he couldn’t lose his cool. He needed to remain professional. Renfri was right. He was compromised. “Damn it, Jaskier.” He snarled.

He located the cause of the fire in one of the flats as he navigated the flames. The structure of the building growing more unstable by the second. The oven was completely charred and there was no saving the rest of the flat but thankfully it was empty, just like the reports had said. He quickly radioed Eskel to confirm the cause of the fire before moving to safer ground. He yelled out as he check the rest of the floor as quickly as he could. Once he was certain it was clear he sprinted up the final sets of stairs.

“Jaskier!!” He called loudly. The sound of burning was quieter on the fifth floor but he could still feel the heat from the floor below. He squinted through the smoke at the numbers on the doors until he found 5D.

He kicked through the door. He winced as he felt the shock of the impact shudder up his leg. “JASKIER!” He called again.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice was uncharacteristically weak. “I’m in here!”

Geralt snarled. ‘In here’ was not a useful description but he tried his best to locate the teacher. The living room was full of instrument cases and there was a small grand piano tucked into the corner of the lounge. Geralt swallowed. He really hoped they could tame the blaze before the fire tore apart Jaskier’s home. He’d be devastated if he lost his instruments but there was no way Geralt could get them out in time. He shook his head and moved into the bathroom. “Jaskier?” He found him…

In the bath…

Naked.

“Jaskier!” He fell to his knees in front of the tub. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“My ankle. The alarm went off and I slipped. I couldn’t move, Geralt.” Jaskier was visibly shaken and pale in the bright lights of the bathroom. Geralt tried not to look where he really shouldn’t but he needed to make sure his friend wasn’t badly hurt. There were no obvious burns which was good and so far there wasn’t much smoke in this part of the building. Hopefully it was just his ankle.

“I couldn’t move.” Jaskier repeated more quietly.

Geralt looked around. Ideally he didn’t want to pick Jaskier up with nothing to cover him but clothes were not a priority. He was hoping Jaskier had a dressing gown or something nearby that he could grab. If not a towel would have to do.

“Luckily I had my phone next to the bath. You can’t hear the music over the sound of water if it’s too far away so I had my phone on the laundry basket. I should probably invest in some speakers but then it did save my life so maybe I won’t.” Jaskier was speaking at a hundred miles an hour now Geralt had arrived. “I did try and call you first but then you didn’t pick up and I realised you must be at work so I called the emergency number instead. Weirdly not my most embarrassing phone call. ‘Hello I’m stuck in my bathtub and the building is on fire. Oh and I’m naked as a new born baby.’”

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped, breaking off the man’s train of thought and desperately trying not to look as Jaskier drew his attention, once again, to his nakedness. “Do you have a dressing gown or anything?” Geralt asked, the mask muffled his voice but Jaskier managed to hear him clear enough.

Jaskier, the fool, laughed. “On my bedroom floor. This was a lot sexier in my dreams.” He whined.

“You’re delirious.” Geralt grumbled as he moved into the bedroom. “Must be smoke inhalation.”

“No really. You’d fly through the window like in the movies and carry me down the ladder.” Jaskier sighed wistfully. “It’s fucking terrifying in real life. More of a nightmare.”

Geralt found the robe and threw it into the bathroom. “Put that on and I’ll help you out.”

“You were wearing less clothes in my dreams.” Jaskier continued to ramble and Geralt realised it was probably the nerves blocking his usual filter. Whilst Geralt wasn’t a stranger to Jaskier’s flirting, the teacher usually took more care to keep their interactions on the other side of the professional line, a more light flirting that could easily be dismissed as banter between friends should someone, such as the headmaster, care to examine their growing relationship more closely. “Strangely I normally start with more clothes.”

“Hmm.” Geralt sighed and looked around the small flat impatiently.

“Of course… by the end of the dream…” Jaskier trailed off.

“Are you done?” Geralt pushed the door back open.

Jaskier was leaning against the wall, hopping unstably on his good ankle. The dressing gown was fluffy and covered in yellow flowers, and Geralt just wanted to wrap the man up in his arms.

He paused.

Jaskier couldn’t walk.

Geralt was allowed to wrap him up in his arms.

He grinned, thankful that he delight was hidden behind his helmet and mask, and scooped Jaskier up into his arms and over his shoulder.

Jaskier squeaked indignantly but didn’t resist.

“At least buy me a drink first!” He protested.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy you one after once we get out of here.”

Jaskier laughed. “Is that a promise, dearest?”

Geralt needed to get them out of here, and quickly. The fire was no longer the most dangerous thing in the building. If Jaskier didn’t shut up soon, Geralt’s heart was going to burst from his chest.

“If we survive.” He grumbled mostly to himself.

Geralt carried Jaskier to the window, flinging it open with only a little difficulty. He managed to radio Eskel to confirm that he’d found the teacher. Eskel radioed back to confirm receipt of the message and the ladder on top of the fire truck was already moving towards them.

Really Geralt should have entered the building through the window to start with but he would be the first to admit that he hadn’t exactly been thinking clearly. He wondered if that was how Vesemir had felt all those years ago when Geralt had been trapped in his bedroom by the burning embers of his house. Jaskier was still wittering away over his shoulder but he didn’t put the man down. The weight on his shoulder was a comforting one. He’d managed to rescue Jaskier. That was all the mattered.

Eskel’s voice crackled in his ear to confirm the rest of the residents had thankfully managed to evacuate without a problem.

Of course it would be Jaskier that was the problem.

By the time the reached the street both Lambert and the griffins had arrived on the scene. Lambert, Renfri and a handful of the on call fighters were spraying gallons of water into the smoking windows to douse the flames. Eskel was supervising the operation, since Geralt had dived straight into flames, and liaising with the other emergency services that now crowded outside the burning building.

Geralt dumped Jaskier into the waiting ambulance and pulled off his helmet. He looked down at his friend, searching his face for any obvious injuries or signs of trauma.

“Jaskier.” He voice cracked now the adrenaline of walking through fire had begun to crash out of his system. “Fuck.” He closed his eyes.

He opened them when he felt Jaskier’s hand on his cheek. “I’m ok, Geralt.”

Geralt wanted to say so many things.

Like how fucking worried he was.

Like how he had wanted to tear the building apart just to find him.

Like how he’d felt like his heart was shattering when he pictured Jaskier’s dead body trapped under burning debris.

He couldn’t say any of that. The words just stuck in his throat as he was shooed away by the paramedics. He growled at them and headed back over to join Eskel.

The blond fireman was seething.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Geralt?” Eskel shoved a clipboard into his chest.

Geralt groaned and turned away.

“Years of training. Over a decade of experience, and you almost throw it all away in a heartbeat!” Eskel continued. “You’re lucky Vesemir isn’t here.”

“Oh really!” Geralt spun back around and snapped at his friend. “Because you are doing a damned good impression of him.”

“You just charged headfirst into a burning building without following any of our standard safety procedures!” Eskel yelled back.

“He was in danger!”

Eskel rubbed his face and groaned. “That’s our job, Geralt. Every single day!”

“I know!” Geralt sighed. “I know.” He repeated more quietly.

“Why?”

“Because I—”

Geralt cut himself off with a snarl.

“He’s my friend.”

“Go home, Geralt.” Eskel sighed. “You can’t work like this. You’ll put us all at risk. Go home and come back Friday with your head screwed on right.”

Geralt shook his head. “Vesemir.”

“I’ll cover for you. Go.”

Geralt glanced back over to Jaskier but the paramedics were still fussing over him. He sighed and decided it would be best to give him some space. Maybe he could text him after dinner just to make sure he was alright. He had just had a traumatic experience after all.

“Fine.” He grumbled and sauntered over to the fire engine to get his stuff.

They were too far out from his flat and he’d have to call a taxi. He groaned when he realised he would have to explain to Ciri why he was home early. She’d go ballistic when she heard about Jaskier. He was sure that they news would get back to the school eventually. That place was like a cesspit of rumours. Nothing happened in Posada without all the teachers knowing and more often of not the kids found out too.

He glanced down at his clothes. He was still wearing his uniform and he stank like smoke but his normal clothes were still back at the station. He really didn’t want to go back to the station. He couldn’t face Vesemir’s disappointment.

“Ah fuck!”

The taxi ride was an uncomfortable affair but there was the promise of a hot shower on the other side so he kept quiet and endured.

Coën was surprised to see him when he slunk into the kitchen. Coën and Ciri been sparring in the small living room with long tube balloons, and Ciri had what looked like blood red lipstick streaked across her cheeks as warpaint.

She screamed excitably when she saw him and ran to give him a hug. He picked her up easily and buried his face in her long hair.

“Ewww!” She squealed. “Dad you stink!”

He hummed in agreement. He really did need a shower, the smell of smoke was driving him mad.

“Everything alright, Mr Rivia?” Coën asked, looking concerned.

He nodded. “Yeah. Rough day. Can you watch her whilst I have a shower?”

“Sure thing.”

“I still need to save the princess from the evil sorcerer!” Ciri grinned.

Geralt forced a laugh for his daughter. “Is that what this is for?” He smudged the lipstick on her cheek.

“Dad!” She whined. “Yes! It’s to help me get through the wards.”

Geralt furrowed his brow. “The wards?”

“That the sorcerer put up to keep the princess prisoner!” Ciri rolled her eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Geralt raised his eyebrows at Coën who just shrugged. “Where did you get the… paint?”

Ciri grinned. “Coën!”

“Ummm. Yeah. That’s mine.” Coën shuffled awkwardly.

Geralt was a little surprised but just nodded. “Nice colour. I’ll be right back, little lion cub.”

The water burned against his skin as he rested his forehead against the cool tiles in the bathroom. He mind was still reeling from the day. How did it all go wrong so fast? He closed his eyes and he was back in the building. The scent of burning hung thick in the air. The flames flickered at the debris and bits of glass cracked under his feet. He couldn’t breathe.

There was too much smoke.

And his chest was on fire.

His knees buckled underneath him and only just managed to catch himself from falling in the bath.

He cursed and spun the tap towards cold.

The jet thundering down on the top of head turned to ice and his muscles shuddered at the sudden change of temperature.

He finished off quickly under the icy water and got dressed. Coën and Ciri were still dancing around the living room playing their make believe game. He watched them from the doorway for a few minutes with a soft smile before she noticed him and leapt forward to attack with her wooden sword that had now replaced the balloon. He noticed her green balloon was lying in tatters on the sofa.

His stomach rumbled and Ciri laughed. “You have a monster in your stomach!”

“How about a takeaway?” He asked sheepishly.

“Pizza?”

He nodded. “Is there any other kind?”

Ciri ordered a pepperoni pizza and Geralt went for a meat feast. They had invited Coën to stay for dinner but the teenager declined the offer. Geralt didn’t blame him. Coën had spent most of his half term around their house to look after Ciri. He was probably desperate to go and meet his own friends.

There were cuddled up together on the sofa munching on pizza and watching one of Ciri’s favourite cartoons when Geralt’s phone rang.

He scowled as he pulled the device from his pocket, assuming it was going to be Vesemir yelling at him for leaving half way through his shift or blatantly ignoring all their training in order to save Jaskier.

But it wasn’t Vesemir.

It was Jaskier.

He hit the accept call button and shuffled off Ciri to go to the kitchen.

“Oh hello!” Jaskier stammered on the other end of the line. “Wasn’t sure whether you would pick up.”

He hummed, unsure on how to reply. They didn’t talk very often on the phone, preferring to communicate via email or the odd text. It stopped the friendship from seeming like… more. He rang Jaskier if he was struggling to find the right words or occasionally Jaskier would ring him if he was busy cooking dinner or composing something new on one of his many instruments.

“I hoped you would.” Jaskier continued. “I… I wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s my job.” He frowned. He always felt uncomfortable when people thanked him for doing his job. What was he supposed to do? Not do his job and let them die?

“True. That’s true.” Jaskier admitted. “Well, you should thank me more often then. Quite frankly I do a remarkable job in teaching Ciri’s class.”

Geralt laughed. “And you’re so modest about it too.”

Jaskier’s melodic laughter joined his on the other end of the line. “Naturally! Did you know I go to sign language classes every weekend on top of what we learn during the week?”

Geralt tilted his head. “No. You never mentioned that.”

“It’s important and really I’m disappointed in myself for not learning sooner.” Jaskier sighed.

“You can’t please everyone, Jask.” He growled.

Jaskier audibly gasped. “You take that back! I can! It’s my party trick.”

Geralt shook his head with a smile and rolled his eyes at his friend. “How’s your ankle?”

“Fucking sore!” The teacher whined. “Not broken though, just sprained. The real casualty was my dignity.”

Geralt snorted.

“Is there any chance we can just forget everything I said in my flat?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm…” Geralt paused, pretending to think about it. “Not everything.”

“Bollocks!” Jaskier groaned. “Come on, Geralt, please!”

“Nope.”

“Who do I have to kill to make it go away?” Jaskier moaned.

Geralt smirked. “No killing.”

“Awww” Jaskier whined and Geralt could picture his pout easily. “But Geralt!”

“How are you a teacher?”

“Charm, good looks and a dash of smouldering personality.” Jaskier laughed.

Ciri started yelling at him about his food going cold and he sighed.

“Ciri?” Jaskier asked sadly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

They was few seconds of silence between them as they were both reluctant to say goodbye.

“Jask?”

“Yes, dear?” Jaskier asked, hope brightening up his voice and Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at the term of endearment.

“About that drink?”

Jaskier groaned. “Freya help me.” He breathed quietly on the other end of the line. “Geralt, darling. I told you to forget what I said!”

“Friends have drinks.” Geralt added quickly.

There was a beat of silence. “Friends do have drinks.” Jaskier considered.

“Dad!!” Ciri tugged at his arm. She had tomato sauce smeared around her face from her pizza. “Who are you talking to? You’re missing the show!”

“I’m missing the show.” He repeated to Jaskier before calling back to Ciri. “I’m coming, princess.”

“What show?” Jaskier giggled.

Geralt peered back at the television and groaned as he saw Twilight bloody Sparkle dancing around on the box.

“Nothing important.” He grumbled.

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier cackled. “Now you have to tell me!”

Geralt considered his options. He was running out of time to talk to Jaskier without Ciri working out he was on the phone to her teacher. He didn’t have an excuse this time now they’d sorted out the band nonsense. Ciri would start to worry that Geralt was talking to Jaskier behind her back and something was wrong at school. He could easily just hang up and save himself the embarrassment.

Only, he knew Jaskier enough to know that it wasn’t going to go away simply by hanging up the phone.

Once Jaskier had his claws in something he never let go, unless he got distracted along the way.

“Dad! Come on!” Ciri pouted, a pout that could rival Jaskier’s.

“One minute.” Geralt reassured her before speaking back into the phone. “I’ll tell you over that drink.”

Jaskier stammered incoherently over the phone for a few seconds, making Geralt laugh. “Geralt! You cannot say things like that without warning me first!”

“Your poor bisexual heart?” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Oh you think you’re so funny don’t you!” Jaskier huffed.

“I’m hilarious.”

“Fuck off.” Jaskier grumbled. “But fine. Over drinks, stubborn ass.”

The line went dead saving either of them from having to say goodbye.

He huffed a laugh and went back to sit with Ciri.

He curled back into his side as he finished off his pizza, and if he got a little too invested in the Ponies’ latest adventure then no one else needed to know. He had thought Ciri had fallen asleep by the time he switched the tv off but she whined and shuffled around next to him, looking up at him with those big green eyes, Pavetta’s eyes.

“Dad?”

“Yes, princess?”

She rubbed sleep from her eyes and scrunched up her nose. “What’s bisexual?”

He frowned as he tried to work out the best way to explain it without getting too complicated.

“You know how your grandmother and grandfather loved each other?” He started.

“Yeah.”

“And your mum and dad did too?”

Ciri scowled. “Grandma said they did. I don’t really remember.”

Fuck.

“Sorry, Princess.” He pulled her into a hug and stroked her head. “Well, that was both mums and dads loving each other right?”

“Yeah, but Kayleigh has two dads!” She added.

“Right.” Geralt nodded. “Well, sometimes a person falls in love with another person regardless of gender.” A simplified version, not entirely accurate. For some people it wasn’t about love at all. “Like me.” He added.

“You’re bisexual?” Ciri asked.

Geralt nodded, he didn’t really label his sexuality but he guess it would fit if it helped her understand for now. It was better than outing Jaskier without his consent. If Ciri didn’t already know the term that meant her teacher was uncharacteristically secretive about his sexuality around his class. “You know I used to date your Auntie Yen?” Ciri nodded. “Well one day I might decide to date a guy.”

“Would you date Mr Jaskier?” Ciri asked innocently.

Geralt ignored the ache in his chest and shook his head. “I can’t date your teacher, Cub.”

“What if he wasn’t my teacher?”

“Time for bed.” Geralt grumbled.

“Just because I’m asking questions you don’t like!” Ciri yelled.

Geralt sighed. “It’s just… it’s complicated, Ciri. I can’t answer that one just yet. Can you trust me on that?”

Ciri put her hands on her hips and frowned. “Fine.”

“Thanks.” Geralt ruffled her hair and picked her up to carry her upstairs. “I’ll read you the next chapter of your book if you want?”

“Ok.” She agreed. “But I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.” He sighed.

He wondered when she had become so perceptive. She was growing up fast and he’d not even been her father for a year yet. He’d never expected that watching her growing up would be so terrifying. One day soon he wouldn’t be able to pick her up like this anymore. She buried her face in his neck as he held her tighter.

______

Next

[erindoodless]

author: @plaindaii

beta: @rainbow-phan​

artist: @softphiily​

word count: 26894

note: hello this is my art for the @phandombigbang! i am posting the fic as well on here on behalf of the author. special shoutout to the beta and the author for being a great team <3

Prologue

Dan hurried through the crowded forest, stumbling over rocks and roots in the darkness. The moon was masked by thick cloud, only the slightest glow making it through. He navigated mostly by touch, all the while keeping an ear out for the sound of beating wings above the canopy. It was raining hard, droplets pattering against wilted leaves and trickling along the faint dirt path. His clothing was soaked and clung tightly against his pale skin, sucking any remnants of warmth from his body. At least it should hide his scent, he'd be safe once he made it out of the valley. From then on it was only a half hour walk to Nyth, he’d be safe once he made it to the city. 

He began to climb upwards, trees thinning out as the terrain grew steeper and rougher. He had to scale a small, rocky ridge before he could join the road to the city. Up there he would be visible and therefore vulnerable, so he best not dawdle. He pulled up his hood, hoping it would conceal him better against the barren stone, cringing as it sent a cascade of cold water down his already sodden back. Damn this rain. He pulled his bag close to him, feeling the weight of the precious cargo inside, putting his arms around it protectively. He couldn't afford to damage them, else all of this would have been for nothing.

He quickly reached the tree line, pausing for a moment in nervous apprehension. He scanned the cloudy sky for any sign of movement, and upon seeing nothing bar a few insects battered by the rain, scampered quickly towards the rock. He was tired, cold and to be honest a little bit scared but he damn well wasn't going to give up yet. With a few nimble jumps, he made it to the peak of the ridge. He couldn't help but turn and cast his eyes over the valley, blood turning cold as a dark shape swooped over the trees. It glided softly on the cool night breeze, silent despite its enormous size. 

He held his breath, heart beating a steady tempo as it threatened to burst from his chest in fear. He imagined it turning to face him, glowing eyes fixating on him as he stood helpless atop the valley wall. Jaws lined with kitchen knife teeth closing around his neck or cutlass claws ripping through his torso. Thankfully, however, it continued on its journey, unaware of the human that it would soon come to despise, descending carefully below the canopy and disappearing from view. 

He allowed himself a moment to calm down before quickly joining onto the main road. It was still a dangerous place to be at night, but this was human territory now. He allowed himself to relax ever so slightly as the flickering torches of Nyth came into view. A flash of lightning streaked across the slowly brightening sky as morning approached, and the thunderous rumble that followed was almost enough to mask the sickening roar of anguish which echoed eerily from the valley behind him.

Part 1

There was a loud knock on the door, ripping Dan from unconsciousness and sending his thoughts haywire. His eyes darted around the room, squinting in the bright sunlight, heart racing. It took a moment for his mind to clear and for him to force out a hoarse reply.

"Yes?”

He shifted uncomfortably in clothes that were still damp from the previous night's escapades. Why hadn't he changed out of them when he got in? When had he got in? It was all a bit of a blur,

"It's almost midday dear,” replied a friendly female voice, “I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to vacate your room. I have guest waiting to check-in." 

"Shit, sorry," he said loudly, scrambling out of bed. "I'll be out in ten minutes," 

"Ok, thank you dear."

Dan listened as her footsteps retreated down the hall, hurrying to his bags and tipping them out in search of fresh clothes. Whilst finding a shirt and trousers he could pull on, he travelled light and he cursed himself for running one of the few outfits he owned. He was going to have to deal with wet shoes for the next few days it seemed, although he had had the foresight to hang up his coat by the window to dry. Scanning over it, he felt his stomach sink when his eyes met a large hole in the left coattail where a decent amount of fabric had been torn off.

His coat was one of the few possessions he had that he actually cared about. Sure, the thick black fabric was far too hot in the summer and it was prone to a good soaking, but it had served him well over the years. It was smart and stylish whilst remaining practical and good for hiding in dark places, something like that was hard to find. He’d stitched on a hood when he first acquired it, and a few of the buttons had been replaced over the years, but other than that he’d kept it well. With the amount of damage he didn’t dare fix it himself, although, with the sale he was about to make, he wasn’t going to have to worry about doing anything himself for a little while.

Wait, shit, the sale. He swiped his satchel off the bed and peered inside, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw that the contents were untouched. He fought the urge to reach in and inspect them properly, knowing he was short on time. If it was nearly midday then he had to be across the city in a little under an hour for a meeting with his customer, and his customers didn’t typically like to be kept waiting.

Within minutes every possession he owned was hastily stuffed into his bag and the room was cleared. He was used to this by now with all the travelling he did, but it didn’t make it any less depressing to see his entire life shoved messily into a medium-sized travel pack. It was something he didn’t want to think about, but wormed its way into his head nevertheless as all bad thoughts tend to do. Sliding his feet hesitantly into wet shoes and pulling on his coat, he left the room, messing with his hair in the reflections of the glass protected paintings that lined the walls as he went.

Having tossed the key to the inn-keeper, who almost didn’t catch it which would have been very awkward indeed, he emerged onto the busy streets of Nyth. Market stalls lined the road, horses and carriages fighting their way through the crowds of people who stopped to look over the produce or wears. A fruit vendor called out the price of apples and pears, and a baker waved enticing treats into the faces of potential customers. Dan could feel his stomach growling, but focused his thoughts onto getting his upcoming meeting over.

Whilst the meetings were something necessary to his survival, they weren't something he was particularly fond of. They were stressful and rather boring. His customers often had expectations he could never hope to meet and rejection was something he was all too familiar with. He’d rather just avoid all human contact whatsoever but unfortunately as much as he tried, it just didn’t seem possible.

As his journey took him further and further into the Northern part of the city, the scene around him began to change. The bustling crowds dispersed and the streets widened, filled with lavish carriages transporting the city's riches. No stall dared set up shop here, not that the residents would ever be seen buying from one. The houses became more dispersed and greenery lined the roads. Ever in the flat light of an overcast day, Dan couldn’t help but admire it. If he were to ever make his fortune, this was where he might want to live. Although, settling down had never really seemed like an option for him. 

He soon came to one of the grandest houses in the city, its intimidating stone walls rising above him as he made his way down the driveway. He paused at the door, but before he could even knock it swung open and he was met by a smartly dressed butler. The butler plastered on a fake smile and ushered him in. 

"Mr. Mras said you'd be here soon sir, he's anxious to see you. I'll show you to the drawing-room," he said politely, although as he examined their guest, it was clear he couldn’t hide the disapproval on his face.

Dan stepped back slightly in surprise but did as he was told, following the servant into the grand entry hall, walls lined with golden wallpaper and delicate carvings. He felt vastly out of place here with his wet shoes and ripped coat, like the people in the gold-framed portraits were watching him with judging eyes. He was led through a heavy wooden door on the right into what seemed to be a drawing-room.

"Ah, Daniel, my favourite scavenger! Glad to see you alive, I was beginning to get worried you'd had an unfortunate accident.”

The man who greeted him was heavyset and adored in an ornate green suit. His thinning white hair was in deep contrast to his dark skin. He had a certain aura of power about him, one that made Dan a little uncomfortable.

In response, Dan forced a wide smile onto his face, one he only used when conversing with customers. He had to be confident in himself, even when all he wanted to do was run a mile. 

"Ah, you know me Mras, I always come through in the end,” he replied, trying to match the other man's cheerful tone. Mras clapped his hands together eagerly.

“So, did you find that nest I told you about? I do hope it wasn't a wasted trip.”

 Mras settled down into a great green armchair, gesturing for Dan to take the seat opposite him. In between them was a small wooden table for Dan to display his goods. He pulled his satchel onto his lap and began uploading its contents.

“Your intel is always right Mras. I never thought I’d see a nest so close to a city, but there’s a first time for everything. It was fairly new though, they haven’t been there for more than a few months.”

Mras’s face fell slightly, 

"So you didn't find much?" he replied, enthusiasm dulled slightly. Dan's lips curled into a sly grin. 

Dragons were rare and elusive creatures. The information on them varied from culture to culture, but one thing remained consistent. They were a symbol of an ancient time, of magic, but most importantly of power. Power was something that always attracted the rich and ambitious of the world. That meant, to these people, owning remnants or artefacts from these creatures represented their own power.

Mras was an avid collector. He wanted anything to do with dragons and he had the money to fuel that obsession. He’d been a customer of Dan’s for years, and that meant he knew his methods. When Dan located a nest and searched it he might come across some shed scales or teeth, a broken claw if he was lucky. The older the nest, the more he found, the more Mras could buy. That being said, he’d never found an egg before.

“Ah ah ah,” he replied loudly, “I didn’t say that. You’ll have to wait and see.”

He first pulled out his usual findings, a group of six scales ranging from the size of a playing card to a book page. They varied in colour from sky blue to a dark midnight blue, with a few being inky black. They were some of the nicest he’d seen, and if he had lost all sense of self-preservation that night he might have wanted to wait until daylight to see the creature that shed them. Mras seemed pleased, examining them against the candlelight, attempting to polish one off with his sleeve.

Next were a few teeth. They were long and sharp, more akin to ivory in texture than a smaller tooth. He had found a particularly large one as well, an incisor he guessed. It was just over the length of his hand but fairly straight as dragon teeth went. Whilst it would fetch a fair price, he had decided to keep it, vowing to have it turned into a dagger at some point.

Finally, it was time for the main event.

"I've never seen you look so pleased Daniel, it does worry me," Mras said jokingly. Dan smirked. 

"There is a reason for me to be pleased, and I hope you will be too," he said confidently, reaching into his bag and closing his hands around a large object within, He pulled it out with some effort and placed it carefully on the table. 

Mras’s eyes went wide and he froze as if in shock. He reached forward as if to touch it, but his nerves failed him and he pulled away quickly. Eventually, he composed himself enough to force out a sentence. 

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked breathlessly. Dan nodded, also unable to look away, fascinated. 

On the table sat a large, round object, about the size of a particularly stocky sheep's skull. It was oval in shape and looked almost as if it were made of solid obsidian, but with streaks of sapphire, ruby and opal running through it. When touching it, however, it felt more like bone; there was a strange sense of fragility surrounding it.

"You know it's odd," the older man murmured a few minutes later, having examined the egg with a face of what could only be described as awe, "Most reptile eggs are soft, like leather. I never thought I'd see a dragon egg, I always thought they'd be like that too. How did you get these? A mother never leaves their eggs unattended," 

Dan reached into his satchel and pulled out a second, almost identical egg. He could see Mras quickly losing his mind.

“I’m good at what I do,” he said simply, and whilst not entirely a lie, on this occasion he’d simply gotten lucky.

"I want 15,000 for the eggs, each. 2,000 in cash now and the rest in my vault by the end of the week. You can have everything else for 100," he said curtly, quickly tiring of the social interaction.

Although part of him did long to keep the eggs, he knew it could never happen. The sooner they were someone else's responsibility and his pockets were lined with gold the better. 

Mras pursed his lips. "That's steep," he sighed, "But fair. You know I would never turn down something like this."

He barked a few orders to the butler who had been loitering nearby, eager to get a look at his employer's new purchase. He nodded and scurried out of the room, returning a few minutes later with two huge bags of gold. Dan hauled them up into his satchel and got to his feet, he was not going to stand around and count it when he could be on his way, besides which Mras was an honest man. 

“Well, it’s been good doing business with you, I hope our paths meet again soon,” he said, swinging the satchel over his shoulder and revelling in the sound of all that gold inside.

 Mras nodded, although he seemed unable to tear his gaze away from the eggs, completely fascinated by them. “Of course,” he murmured, “I’m always looking to expand my collection. Although I don’t expect to be in Nyth for a while. The city is no place to harbour dragon eggs.”

Dan nodded, he didn't really care, and bid him farewell, a great deal of relief flowing over him as he left the house with gold in hand. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face, 30,000 was enough to keep him going for months or even years. He could get a horse, live in luxury for a little while, and all because of a lucky break.

He should leave Nyth now, he’d heard of rumours of a forest in the far west that was ripe for the picking with all kinds of magical items, but it was a long trek. Now he had the coin, he could afford to properly stock up. 

He headed to the market, looking through the selections of salted meats and carefully wrapped cheeses, picking out some that looked the least repulsive. He took his coat to the tailors and had them sew on a patch to hide to hole, wandering around the other clothing stalls as they did so.

He came to a jeweller’s stall, running his hands over the pretty bracelets and necklaces. He liked how they glittered in the sun, he could see why they were so tempting.

“Looking for something for your lady, are you sir?” came a voice from behind the stand and Dan jerked his hand away immediately. He shook his head with an awkward smile.

“No, just curious,” he said in a strangled voice, cursing himself for his social ineptness. The jeweller gave him a strange look before going back to his work and Dan swallowed thickly.

He headed for the best inn in the city, purchasing the nicest room he dared. The innkeeper seemed a little perturbed by his arrival, he didn’t exactly look like her usual clientele, but once he produced the money it morphed into a friendly smile. He dumped his things, trusting they would be safe, and headed for the nearest tavern. He didn’t usually frequent such places, but today was a day for celebration and forcibly forgetting his troubles.

Despite the alcohol relaxing his mind, he could still feel that something was off; he felt like he was being watched. Well, he was sure he was in the tavern, locals didn’t tend to like new faces, but this was different. He’d felt it since the market, and it was becoming more and more intolerable. Perhaps if he just had one more drink it would go away.

Part 2

He felt like he’d been beaten over the head with a hammer when he came around the next morning. TImmediately the bright light streaming in through the windows was enough to immediately spark a fire in his brain and he let out a deep groan, turning over to push his face into his pillow and hinde from the world. His mouth was dry and foul-tasting, and he prayed he hadn’t vomited over any of the room's expensive furniture. He tried to push down the nausea that had settled in his stomach.

He was so stupid, he was going to feel like crap for days. At least he’d had the sense to take off his shirt, the feeling of cool sheeits against his clammy skin was a welcome change to the previous morning's damp shirt. Maybe if he just closed his eyes and went to sleep, he'd feel a little better when he woke. He wondered briefly if he shouted loud enough, he could get a member of staff to bring him some water, but making any sort of noise seemed far beyond his energy levels. He was about to drift off to sleep when he heard a cough.

His eyes shotbolted open and he bolted uprightsat up quickly, immediately feeling a horrible wave of nausea. He managed to resist the urge to heave and his eyes locked on to a man sitting in a shadowed corner of the room. For a moment it seemed as though his eyes were silver, like those of a cat when caught in candlelight, but as he blinked, they turned into a brilliant blue. He felt his blood run cold. Oh god, he hadn’t, had he? No, he wouldn’t have been that reckless, he couldn’t have been.

He made eye contact with the man, and they just sat there staring at each other for a little while. Dan was completely dumbfounded, what should he do? The man looked completely unfazed by Dan’s panic, seemingly waiting for him to make the first move. What did Dan say? Was he about to get murdered?

“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” he exclaimed, the effort causing his head to throb painfully, “Oh shit, I didn’t umm, you know, with you, did I?”

The man frowned, tilting his head slightly.

“I had to take you up to bed last night before you got yourself hurt, you were very drunk,” the man replied sounding slightly confused, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean about that last part.” 

Dan let out a sigh of relief, thank god. The man had a nice voice, it was warm and friendly. Unfortunately, that didn’t make Dan feel any better as to why there was a stranger in his room, one who had apparently been there for quite some time.

“You did what? What the fuck are people going to think,” hHe groaned in response, lying back against the covers in an effort to stop his head from spinning., “Why are you still here?”

The man shifted awkwardly,

“Because I needed to talk to you. I’ve been following you for a while, I was going to try last night but by the time I got to you, well you were too far gone. You have a few things of mine, and I’d like them back,” hHe spoke in an almost apologetic tone, eyes boring into Dan. 

Dan groaned again, he knew he was being followed, but what could he want?

“Are you trying to rob me?” he said suddenly, the realisation coming over him. If this stranger was some kind of burglar, well to put it nicely he wasn't a very good one, but he’d still rather not have him be there. The man sat back, looking slightly offended.,

“What, no, the eggs. They were in my care and I know you took them. If anything you were the one that robbed me,” came his irritated replyhe replied irritatedly, a mixture of taken -a-back and firm. Dan felt his heart stutter,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” hHe replied shakily, voice clearly giving him away. 

The man stood up, rooting around in the many pockets of his coat, an old and battered thing, clearly too big for his lanky frame. He let out a frustrated sigh as he came up short on the first few, finally pulling out a long strip of black fabric with a triumphant flourish.

“This is from your coat!” he exclaimed with a smirk, “And was also snagged on a rock pretty close to where they went missing. I watched you get it patched up. Look, I know you have them, just hand them over and I can be on my way,”

For someone who had been stolen from, he seemed to be acting pretty reasonable. Maybe there was an easy way around this.,

“And what if I don't want to hand them over?” he snapped in reply.

The man took a step forward, presence suddenly becoming incredibly intimidating. For a brief moment, his eyes seemed to glow red and teeth became sharpened and long. Dan gasped, scrambling backwards but when he looked back again it had faded, the man having closed his eyes in an effort to remain calm.,

“I really, really do not want to hurt you, Dan,” he retorted, this time tone harsh, “But you have taken something from me, and you have a duty to return it. Give. Them. Back.” 

He spat out the last three words with such focused fury that Dan thought he might snap and kill him in that moment. What was he going to do, he didn't even have the eggs anymore. And what had he just witnessed, did this man just go all werewolf on him or something, or was it just his terrible hangover? Also how the fuck did this complete stranger know his name, it wasn’t exactly something he tossed about.

“I can’t, I’ve already sold them,” he exclaimed desperately. The man raised an eyebrow at him, glaring at him is disbelief.,

“You sold them? Would you sell a baby?” hHe cried out, letting out a long groan., “Humans, all you think about is gold, I thought that was supposed to be our thing.,” 

Dan swallowed thickly. ,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know they belonged to anyone. That was a dragons nest, it’s fair game.,”

The man threw his hands up into the air dramatically. ,

“Exactly, that nest belonged to a dragon, as did everything in it.,”

Dan frowned. ,

“First of all, how can they belong to you if they belong to the dragon, because I hate to break it to you, but you are  human, secondly stop referring to me as ‘human’ it’s weird, and thirdly, why the hell do you know my name?”

The man paused for a moment, thinking intensely.,

“I . . . work for the dragon?” he said slowly, before nodding firmly, “Yes, I am in employment with the dragon and they have asked me to retrieve them. Also, I don’t think you’re really in any position to be demanding anything since you’re in the wrong here. I only know your name because you wouldn’t stop introducing yourself to me last night. I didn’t even have to go out of my way to find you, you wouldn’t leave me alone.,”

Dan's face flushed hot. He couldn’t blame himself, the man was clearly attractive, but he needed to keep that sort of behaviour to a minimum if he was going to survive. He had a few issues with the first bit of that story, it didn’t exactly sound the most believable. Perhaps he had seen Dan on the road with the eggs and was looking to make some quick cash, then again, he had the torn bit of fabric which was left either in the nest or close to it.

“Tell me then, how does one enter into employment with an enormous magical reptile. I’m sure they don’t speak the common tongue,” Dan replied sharply. 

The man shrugged. ,

“I speak all sorts of tongues,” the man replied indignantly. 

Dan raised an eyebrow. ,

“Prove it.,”

The man huffed loudly, but walked over to the window and swung it open. He let out a quiet cooing sound and a small white and brown pigeon flew in and landed deftly on his hand. 

“This is Steve,” he said matter of factly, “Steve please can you spin around for our dear friend Dan here,”

Much to Dan’s surprise the pigeon did a clumsy spin on the man's hand before letting out another coo and flying out of the window, leaving behind a lovely reminder of its presence on the curtain. Dan sat there for a moment, mouth agape,

“How do I know you hadn’t planned this scenario in advance and had a trained pigeon on standby?” He replied finally, crossing his arms firmly, knowing full well he was clutching at straws. The man’s pleased expression fell and was replaced by a frustrated frown.

“I can call in every pigeon in the city if you’d like, perhaps a few rats as well. You can try and explain that to the inn-keeper,” The man snapped. Dan straightened out suddenly, holding his hands out in defence,

“Ok, fine, I believe you. But what do you want me to do about it? I don’t have the eggs anymore,”

The man rolled his eyes,

“You can take me to the person you sold them to, now,” He ordered, tapping his foot impatiently.

Dan let out a deep sigh, Mras was not going to be pleased with him. Still, if this man really was in league with a dragon then he really didn’t want to piss him off,

“Fine, but he won’t want to sell them back. You’re going to have to come up with one hell of an argument.

“Don’t worry,” he replied darkly, “I will,”

 Dan rolled his eyes but quickly got dressed, ushering the man out of his room as he found a shirt, it was clear he wasn’t going to on his own. He felt like shit, but he did manage to convince the man to fetch him a just of water to clean himself up in. The headache was starting to fade ever so slightly but with every demand of the man to hurry up he felt more and more like straight-up committing murder. 

It was still early, to the point where the sky was only a pale blue and the streets of Nyth remained almost empty. Chickens roamed the cobbles, pecking at the trampled hay and manure that lined them. The baker's ovens were alight but the sign on the door read closed and the market stalls were yet to be occupied. He reluctantly handed the key back to the inn-keeper, deciding not to mention the pigeon crap on the curtains.

“If you know my name I think it’s only right that I should know yours,” He said with a sigh as they headed down the deserted high street. The man tilted his head slightly,

“It’s, um, Phil,” he replied, the name sounding completely foreign to him. Dan raised an eyebrow at him,

“Are you telling the truth, or have you never introduced yourself to anyone before,” he said sharply. Phil shook his head,

“It is my name, I’m just not used to saying it with this tongue,” he said quietly.

Dan decided not to question it. It was clear by now that Phil was a pretty strange guy. He might have been more put off by his company if he wasn’t so pleasant to look at. In the sunlight, he could see just how pale Phil was. You didn’t stay that pale whilst working on a farm or travelling in the sun. Either he was very rich or a complete hermit, judging from his apparent lack of social skills Dan was betting on the latter. 

It contrasted starkly with his hair which was dark and swept up into a messy quiff. There seemed to be the odd stick or leaf poking out of it, something that Dan decided he wasn’t going to mention. What he was going to mention however was Phil’s lack of footwear.

"Eww, that's disgusting. You're just stepping in horse shit barefoot. Why aren't you wearing shoes?" he exclaimed, grimacing at a pair of long, bony feet covered in a variety of appealing substances.

Phil looked down in surprise as if he hadn't noticed, 

"It will wipe off," he said simply, "And watch your language. There might be babies listening," 

Eventually, they came to a familiar house. It was still quiet, although the odd servant scurried around in the gardens, picking weeds or trimming the heads of dead flowers. He approached the door cautiously, knocking a few times as loudly as he dared. Phil was looking about himself nervously. The door finally swung open and they were met by a familiar-looking servant. Dan cleared his throat,

"I need to speak to my client," he said quickly, trying his best to convey a sense of urgency. 

The butler looked him up and down, much as he had done yesterday, except this time without his master to hold him back, an unimpressed sneer lurking on his face, 

"It’s a little early for that. Besides, I'm afraid Mr Mras is not here, he left early last night. If you wish to speak with him I suggest visiting his representatives in Northguard, else I cannot help you," he said in an irritatingly calm voice. 

Dan gritted his teeth, fuck, he should have seen this coming. Of course, Mras said he was leaving. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Now what was he going to do, he was going to end up being roasted in Dragonfire. That wasn’t a pleasant way to go.

"Can't you tell me where he's going?" he replied desperately. The butler shook his head, 

"That is not my information to give," the man said curtly, "I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Have a good day," 

With that, the door was slammed in his face and he was left standing there unsure of what to do. He knocked a few more times but was repeatedly ignored. Shit, what was he going to do now? 

"I guess we're going to Northguard," Phil said quietly, voice surprisingly steady. "Come, I'm not waiting for you to let those eggs slip out of my grasp again," 

Dan stood back and shook his head, 

"No, I'm not coming with you. Northguard is a five days walk east and I need to be heading west. I've done all I can," 

Phil's peaceful demeanour suddenly became very threatening once again, blue eyes shining red, teeth growing pointed. Dan squeaked in shock, but before he had time to comprehend what was happening Phil was back to normal again, or at least what was normal for Phil. 

"I am not asking you to come with me, I am telling you. You took something from me and now you are repaying your debt. Until that debt is replayed you do as I say," the strange man said through gritted teeth. Dan swallowed thickly, 

"Yeah and what are you going to do if I don't go with you? You clearly need me if you're so desperate for me to join you," he hissed back. Phil stamped his food in frustration, 

"I don't need you, not anymore. Having you there would make it easier sure, but that's not why I'm making you come. I am trying to give you the chance to redeem yourself. If you don’t come, then you can’t be redeemed, and if you can’t be redeemed, you can’t live," he sighed. 

“What sort of logic is that,” Dan snapped back in reply, quickly feeling overwhelmed.

“The logic of a dragon, it’s the law. If you commit a crime you must do all you can to rectify the problems you have caused, or pay for it with your life,” Phil replied quietly. Dan stepped back,

“I only took a couple of eggs,” he returned helplessly, voice growing weaker.

“Each of those eggs will soon hatch into children, children that must be cared for by one of their own kind and not a human. You might not have realised it at the time, but what you did has put them in danger, serious danger. As far as dragons go, that is not a crime to be taken lightly,” Phil said gently. Dan nodded and sniffed quietly,

“But if I go with you and we recover the eggs?”

“Then all of this will be forgotten,” Phil said firmly, “You can go back to living your life having learned a valuable lesson. Dan nodded,

“Right, ok, I will help you. I have a few ideas on what we could do. 

Phil smiled, looking pleased.

“Go ahead, you know this world better than I do,” 

Dan paused to think for a moment, where would Mras have gone?

"Right, we should hire some horses and set off down the southern road. Chances are he's heading to a summer house in the country. If we're fast enough we might catch him up," he said quickly, doing his best to keep his head in order. Phil frowned, 

"Yes, but where's Northguard? That's where that servant said we should go. They might be able to tell us where he is," 

"Northguard is to the East, but if we go all the way there and find he'd travelled south then the journey would have been for nothing. We might as well check the southern road first," 

"And if we travel south and don’t find him then we'll have wasted a lot of time," Phil exclaimed, his voice becoming higher as he fought back the urge to yell. 

"Look, we agreed I know this place better, let's head south first. If we stop in and ask about him at the inns and carriage houses along the way then we'll know for certain if he's gone that way. Mras does not travel lightly," Dan returned confidently, "Come on, let's find a stable," 

In reality, Northguard would probably be the best option for actually locating the eggs, but Dan wanted to avoid it as best as he could. He prayed they would find the merchant on the southern road, else he might not only face the wrath of Phil but have some things to answer for elsewhere. How had he gotten himself into this mess?

Part 3

Unfortunately, they seemed destined to fail from the start. They had finally found somebody willing to lend out some horses to them which hadn’t been easy. People were reluctant to trust the two strangers to the city, it probably didn’t help that Phil seemed to be completely incapable of holding a normal conversation for more than a few minutes. They were fine horses, slim and built for speed. They would have been perfect if not for one major issue, Phil was completely terrified of them. 

Dan was by no means an avid equestrian but he knew the basics, Phil, however, looked as though he'd never even seen a horse before, let alone ridden one. Dan felt like screaming into the sky.

"You know you could have told me earlier that you couldn't ride," He groaned, knowing the last hour or searching had all been for nothing. Phil shook his head, 

"No, it's not that," he replied with a sigh, "I thought it would be OK," 

Dan rolled his eyes, 

"That what would be OK?" 

Phil stepped forward towards the horse as if going to mount it, but as he drew closer the horse became nervous. It shifted restlessly, letting out the occasionally frightened whinney and pulling away from its rope. It wasn't until Phil rested his hand on its shoulder in an effort to calm it however, that it completely lost control. 

It reared up, head yanked downwards by the rope that still tied it in place and let out a horrible cry. Phil stepped back quickly in order to avoid its flailing legs and the horse tugged desperately on the rope, almost throwing itself onto the floor in fear. It's breathing became more and more laboured as froth began to appear at the mouth and the whites of its eyes were clearly visible and it struggled relentlessly. Dan's eyes went wide, he'd never seen a reaction like it. 

"What the hell did you do?" he exclaimed. Phil shrugged helplessly, 

"I didn't mean to," he said timidly, “It just happens,”

"Is it going to be like that with every horse?" Dan sighed. Phil nodded dejectedly, 

“Can’t to talk to it, tell it everything is going to be ok,”

Phil bit his lip sheepishly,

“I don’t speak horse,” he said quietly

“Why the fuck would you learn to speak pigeon and not horse,” Dan groaned, burning is head in his hands in frustration. Phil shrugged,

“Pigeons always look like they’ve got something nice to say, horses are evil, I don’t trust their legs,”

Dan sighed in defeat, he would never understand this man. There was only one thing for it.

"Well, I guess we're going on foot then," 

Dan knew that their chances of catching up with Mras on without horses were slim, but he still had a little hope, at the start at least. It didn’t help their chances that the road was busy at this time of year,  busy enough for even someone fairly rich to go unnoticed. They checked in with inns and watch-posts along the way, but none could either confirm or deny that their target had passed by. Either they had been paid off to keep Mras’s travels a secret or simply didn’t care enough to notice the comings and goings of others.  Dan insisted on continuing, He did not want to end up in Northguard.

Each night they slept a little way from the roadside. It was cold and uncomfortable but Phil was determined to keep moving as much as they could, which meant staying at an inn or carriage house would just be impractical. It wasn’t something Dan was unused to, but he didn’t find it pleasant. He only had one sleeping sack, so Phil slept without, although the cold didn’t really seem to bother him. Still, Dan couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. If there weren’t so many people around then he might have suggested to share.

With no confirmation that they were making progress, frustration grew, and Dan found himself finding it harder and harder to make up excuses for continuing. They would have to travel all the way back to Nyth and take the Eastern road. Phil was right, this had all been for nothing.

“This has been a waste of time,” Phil sighed, “It’s been three days. We’re going to have to go all the way back to Nyth before we can even head to Northguard. If we’d just done what I suggested then we would have been almost there by now,”

He didn’t sound angry, or resentful as Dan had feared. A little irritated perhaps, but overwhelmingly worried for the most part. The younger man could feel the guilt rising in his chest,

“Ok, let’s head back. I’m sorry, I really thought we might find him,” he said softly. Phil nodded,

“It’s ok, I know you are trying your best,” he said with a smile. That only made Dan feel worse.

They talked the whole time they walked, it helped break up the hopelessness and pointlessness of it all, although it was, of course, all Dan’s fault. Phil seemed reluctant to answer questions about himself, often reflecting them back at Dan. He could understand why, sometimes there were things you wouldn’t want to talk about to a stranger, he had plenty of those of his own. He was happy to talk about his life for the most part, as long as certain topics were avoided.

He had lived a very interesting life, that was hard to deny. He had travelled to almost every part of the globe, met a thousand different people, done things most wouldn’t even dream off. He had seen dragons, fairies, mermaids, climbed the highest mountains and traversed the greatest lakes. He had had adventure after adventure, then why did it all seem so empty? It wasn’t he was talking about the time he fished on the Great Southern Reef that Phil finally piped up.

"I miss the sea, I wish I could go back," he said wistfully. Dan cocked his head, urging him to elaborate. Phil noticed it, raising an eyebrow at him, but dong as requested.

"I used to live on the coast. It was beautiful. On nice days the water would glitter under the sun and you could stare at it for hours. Even when the weather turned foul, safely hidden away the crashing waves were always a comforting sound," a small smile tugged at his lips as he spoke, quickly returning to neutral as more unpleasant thoughts worked their way in.

"Why did you leave, it sounds like you loved it there," Dan replied quietly. Phil nodded, 

"I did," he said solemnly, "But it was ruined by the same thing everything else is, humans. First, it was just one house, then two, then three. Suddenly there's a hundred and they really don't want you there," 

Dan didn't reply, he didn't know how to. How old was Phil? He didn’t look to be older than in his late twenties or early thirties, although there was a certain aura around him that made it quite hard to tell. Why would the people of this new village or town that popped up in his lifetime, questionable in itself, want him out? The way he used the word humans made him uncomfortable, why did he always seem to be implying he wasn’t one. He shook off those thoughts and soon Nyth came back into view after almost six days of solid walking. He couldn’t say he was glad to see it.

Dan put his foot down on sleeping outdoors that night. It was dangerous in such a large city and they needed to spend time gathering to gather supplies for the trip anyway. After a few hours of wandering around, they finally managed to find a guest house with room available. The landlord had given them both a strange look when they agreed to take it even when there was only one bed, but they were too tired to try and explain the situation. Dan was anxious at his scrutiny but Phil didn’t seem to care. Either he was completely unaware of the connotations behind it or he was simply too aloof to be bothered. 

It seemed walking long distances was not something Phil was entirely used to. Whilst he was absolutely determined to carry on at all costs, it was clear he was exhausted. The moment Dan opened the door to the room, the other man had thrown himself into bed and was snoring softly within minutes. Dan almost didn’t mind, he looked sweet whilst sleeping, hair messily askew, faced relaxed. He swallowed thickly, he couldn’t have those thoughts.

It wasn’t only the distance that they had walked which was affecting Phil, it was clear his lack of shoes was not boding well. He trod tenderly, and by the time the fourth day passed they were raw and swollen. Dan wondered how he’d gone about without them before. Sure, maybe he was used to walking on soft dirt paths, and not the hard stone of the road, but even as they left the road to sleep he still seemed uncomfortable. He’d asked, but only got a grumbled reply of something along the lines of ‘I don’t like these feet’, which he blamed on them both being pretty worn out.

It was only late afternoon and the markets were still open. Whilst what Dan wanted most in the world right now was to flop down beside Phil and sleep for a hundred years, he’d probably do better getting a head start on the supplies. He was annoyed that he had spent so much on food only a few days ago and had so little left to show for it, but he was travelling with a companion who it seemed, didn’t like to plan ahead. He wondered if Phil would have eaten at all, had he not offered. He really was very strange.

After browsing through the stalls, picking out food and other bits and bobs, he headed over to the apparel section. He picked out a large bag for Phil, so far they had just been taking it, in turn, carrying the supplies and it would be much more efficient if the other man just had one of his own, and a sleeping sack of his own as well. Hed said he wasn’t bothered by the cold, but Dan wasn’t going to let him catch pneumonia. Once again his eyes caught the jeweller's stand. It seemed diamonds and rubies were in fashion at the moment, personally he’d always preferred darker gems like jet or sapphire. Then again he couldn’t exactly be seen wearing things like that without attracting some unwanted attention so it didn’t really matter.

Finally, he came to the shoemakers. Usually, he would have a pair custom made for such a long journey, but they weren’t for him and he didn’t think Phil would deal well in such a busy environment. Therefore he would rather just pick out a pair that would be the most likely to fit his companion and hope for the best. He finally settled on a set of sturdy leather boots, they were crudely made and clearly second hand but like Dan, Phil was taller than average, so things in his size were harder to come by.

He was excited to show his purchases to Phil, he hoped he’d be pleased. On the way back to the guest house however, something occurred to him. If he were to just leave, right now, would  Phil ever find him? Sure he’d been sussed after escaping the nest, but he’d made it too easy. He’d left evidence, he’d hung around too long. If he just paid off a few guards and covered his tracks right, he’d be halfway across the continent before Phil had even an inkling of where he was heading. Realistically how long would Phil actually search for him? Eventually, he’d just give up and go after the eggs himself. 

It would be so easy, and yet he didn’t really want to go. It was stressful and exhausting, and at the end, he was going to be forced to have a very worrying conversation with Mras, but it was something he felt like he needed to do. He regretted taking those eggs, and not just because he’d been caught. He could see how desperate Phil was to get them back, and even if he was just working on behalf of someone... something else, it showed how much of an impact he’d had on other people's lives.

As much as he denied it, he’d always wanted to be liked, and being so disliked, or at least resented, for something he’d done weighed heavily on him. Phil was a little irritating at times and his thought process was something Dan would never understand, but Dan liked him. He didn’t have any friends, he travelled alone, Phil was a companion that he desperately needed. Even if he was only with him through force. Dan craved his approval, and maybe if he finished what they started, Phil would give it to him.

He was embarrassed to think about it, and a little ashamed. He didn’t usually attach himself to people so quickly, but when he did it always ended up in disappointment. He was beginning to think that his attraction to Phil was more than what was... acceptable. Sure, their conversations were easy and they seemed to click right, and if circumstances were different they would probably make great friends, but it was more than that. Dan liked being near him, it was comforting in a way. He liked the way Phil spoke, he liked how it felt when he gave him a friendly touch, or how he always seemed to listen to Dan like he was the most interesting thing in the world. If he was already so far gone after only a few days… Well, it didn’t bode thinking about.

Phil had not moved an inch, he didn’t even stir when Dan slammed the door shut behind him upon returning. Dan had been sat organising their supplies for the last hour hoping the other man would wake up on his own, but it clearly wasn’t going to happen. As much as he didn’t want to wake the other man, he did need to see if the boots fit so he could exchange them before the markets closed if they were unwearable. That and Phil was also somehow sprawled across the whole bed. Dan was not going to spend another night sleeping on the floor, not even for Phil.

“Phil wake up, I got something for you,” he said loudly, shaking the other man roughly.

Phil jolted awake with a gasp and no amount of grace. He looked startled for a moment but groaned once his eyes came to rest on Dan, throwing his arm over his eyes and pressing his face into the duvet. Dan tried his best not to feel offended.

“Let me sleep,” he sighed, yawning loudly. The younger man rolled his eyes,

“In a minute, I need you to try something on,”

Phil lowered his arm, looking curious. Dan held up the shoes and a small appeared on Phil’s lips,

“You bought me shoes?” he said softly, smile growing brighter. Dan handed them over and the other man pulled them on, clumsily doing up the laces.

“Do they fit?” Dan asked tiredly, fully ready to collapse into bed. Phil nodded looking pleased, tapping his feet against the hardwood floor,

“Yes, this is much better. Thank you Dan!” Phil exclaimed happily, pulling him into a tight hug. Dan froze and Phil pulled away upon noticing it, looking slightly disappointed and embarrassed,

“Sorry, but I do mean it. Thank you,”

Dan shrugged,

“It’s ok, I know you needed them. I’ve got you some other things as well. We might as well be prepared for the journey this time,” He said with a quiet, forced laugh, “Now let’s get some rest, I might end up asleep on my feet if I’m not in bed in the next five minutes,” 

He tried to use a playful tone, but it fell a bit flat. He had to stifle a yawn, stretching his aching legs. Phil nodded, taking off the boots. If he'd noticed Dan’s strange behaviour he wasn’t going to mention it, shuffling over so that there was plenty of space on the bed.

“I’ll wake you up in the morning,” he yawned, turning over to face the wall rather than the rest of the bed, probably more for Dan’s comfort than his, “Night,”

 Dan swallowed thickly, staring hard at the wall. His body was exhausted, but his mind was racing. He’d pleased Phil, he'd done something thoughtful and received praise for it, then what was wrong? Maybe buying someone the same gift doesn’t bring with it the same reward when you use the money you got from selling something very dear to them to get it.

Part 4

Dan woke with a start, sharp pain in his cheek. He looked up to see Phil hovering over him, finger outstretched, having just poked him with a suspiciously sharp fingernail.

“What the fuck Phil,” he groaned. Phil bit his lip and stood back sheepishly,

“Sorry, I just needed to wake you up. We should get going,”

Dan held his hand up to his cheek, which still stung a fair bit despite Phil’s touch having been relatively light.

“Why didn’t you shout at me, or shake me? You don’t poke someone in the face to wake them up,” he muttered groggily, quickly sitting up, “And you really need to cut your fingernails,"

Phil flipped his hand round to examine his nails and Dan frowned, seeing them to be fairly well trimmed. Why had it felt like being pricked by a needle? They stood in silence for a moment, either really knowing what to say, before Phil finally clapped his hands together loudly, 

"Right, off we go then," 

 . . .

“How long will it take up to get to Northguard?” Phil asked as they left Nyth for a second time. He was trying his best to remain upbeat, but Dan could tell he was anxious. Dan shrugged,

“It depends on how fast we walk. Four days? Probably five? Then of course we still have to get to where Mras is staying and god knows where that is,”

Phil bit his lip, 

“This is a real nightmare isn’t it. I feel like we’re on a mad goose chase,”

Dan tried to suppress the influx of guilt he felt. They’d only traveled South because of his own selfish desires to avoid Northguard and now they were paying for it, or more specifically Phil was.

“What’s the rush? I know Mras, he will do everything in his power to keep those eggs safe,” Dan said softly, “He’s my best customer, he will buy anything to do with dragons for his collection. I don’t think there is a single thing I’ve sold him that he’s lost,” He continued carefully in a bid to calm the other man's obvious nerves. Phil’s head whipped around,

“Oh, so this is a regular occurrence for you then?” he snapped suddenly, anger rising sharply. Dan shook his head desperately, taking a hasty step back,

“No, I swear I’ve never taken an egg before. I just go into any nests I find and look for scales and stuff. I’ve hadn’t even seen an egg before last week, and I wouldn't have taken it unless I knew there was a buyer nearby who could have taken care of it,”

Phil’s harsh expression softened but he let out a deep breath,

“So that’s why I couldn’t find anything,” He sighed, mostly to himself. Dan frowned,

“What do you mean?” 

“I needed a scale or tooth or claw, anything embedded with dragon blood for something. I thought it was odd that I couldn't find any back at the cave. Let me guess, you sold them too?”

Dan nodded sheepishly,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. What did you need them for anyway?”

Phil rolled his eyes and pressed his lips together,

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I get those eggs back it should be fine,”

Dan put a hand awkwardly on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him,

“Don’t worry, we will get them back,” he said gently. Phil turned to look at him with a hard, scrutinizing gaze,

“We better,” he said coldly.

The road seemed to go on forever, endlessly stretching into the distance. The occasional cart trundled down it’s bumpy track and the trees on each side were beginning to close in on them. The sky was grey and gloomy, the recent storm still not having completely dissipated. Dan Hadn’t been this way in a long time, he had always hoped he’d never have to.

“You never answered, what's the rush?” he said quietly, anything to distract him from the monotonous trek thay had ahead. Phil bowed his head, looking uncomfortable,

“The eggs are due to hatch soon, and I need them to hatch with me and not with some human  who doesn’t know what to do with them,” he said quietly.

“Mras was quite the dragon enthusiast, I’m sure he’ll know what to do,”

Phil shook his head, giving Dan a curious look,

“Dragons are not the simple creatures you think they are Dan,” He murmured, “That is something you ought to think about. They are children, if not raised by their parents they should at least be raised by one of their own kind,”

Dan frowned,

“But you aren’t one of their own kind, you’re human too,”

Phil didn’t answer, something that made Dan feel very uncomfortable.

Maybe he was a witch. Dan hadn’t heard much of witches, but he knew they were peculiar beings, and could confer with the magical creatures of the world which seemed to fit his new companion perfectly. He thought back to the time when he had seen Phil change, the beast with red eyes and pointed teeth, had that been some sort of magic? Then again, witches were supposed to be ugly or unpleasant, and Phil was definitely neither of those things. 

After Phil’s bad mood had subsided and his anxiety was dulled slightly by their progress, he became more playful and teasing rather than intimidating and his quirks were more endearing than unsettling. He seemed unsure of talking about himself, instead encouraging Dan to open up. Dan had been quite pleased to eat first, he didn’t get the chance to talk about his adventures or share his stories nearly as much as he would like to. Who would he tell them too? He didn’t have anyone constant in his life besides his buyers and they hardly wanted a biography with every sale. It became more of a problem though as the questions grew more personal.

He didn’t want to talk about his childhood or family, they had always been difficult topics, and as much he was growing to appreciate Phil’s company, it wasn’t for him to know. For all he knew Phil could still have malicious intentions for him, and his sweet but admittedly erratic demeanour was just a plot to get him away from the city where Dan could be brutally murdered without hope of his attacker ever being caught.

“How did you come to be in the employment of a dragon Phil?” Dan said finally, sick of being interrogated. Phil paused and shrugged,

“It just happened I suppose,” he said vaguely. 

“How does that just happen?” Dan said loudly, “Did you just waltz into a dragon cave one day and hand them your CV?

Phil frowned,

“What's a waltz, or a CV?” 

Dan rolled his eyes at the obvious attempt to change the topic, but decided to indulge him nethertheless.

“A waltz is a dance, and a CV is like a document that contains all of your skills, education and past work experience for when you apply for a job,”

Phil scrunched up his nose,

“Oh, that CV thing sounds boring, but I’ve always wanted to try out a dance. How does a waltz go?”

Dan shrugged,

“I don’t know how to describe it. We used have a dance in my village at the summer solstice, my mum taught me one year,” He said absentmindedly, “I’m sure i could remember it if I were to actually do it,”

Phil cocked his head,

“Then do it with me,” he said holding out his arms. Dan stepped away quickly,

“No, I can’t do it with you,” he said with a slightly forced laugh. Phil shrugged,

“Why not?”

Dan let out a deep sigh,

“Because there are people around and if they see me dancing randomly with another guy on the side of the road, not only will they think I’m completely crazy, but also that it isn’t right. You should be dancing with a woman,”

Phil stuck his bottom lip out, looking disappointed,

“Why? Does the dance require the use of something only a woman has?”

Dan let out a short, slightly awkward laugh,

“No, I’m afraid you must be thinking of a different type of dance there Phil. It’s just how it is,”

Phil crossed arms, looking unsatisfied with the answer,

“Well neither of us is a woman and I want to know how it goes so I’m sure there is nothing wrong with us trying it,” he said quietly. Dan looked around, making sure there was nobody close by,

“You can’t just do the dance, we don’t have any music. A dance looks silly without any music,” he said, a certain fondness to his voice that worried him.

Phil smirked,

“I think you’re just making excuses,”

Dan rolled his eyes,

“I’m not, you need it to keep rhythm and stuff. How about this, if we end up in a place where music is playing and there’s nobody around, I’ll teach you how to waltz,” he sighed. Phil smiled brightly and nodded, seemingly pleased with the conversation in which he had not only managed to avoid the original question but also got something out of it as well. The cheeky bugger.

. . .

“Dan, what are your goals in life?” Phil asked softly as they stared up at the stars.

The sky had cleared for the first time in weeks as they settled down for the night. Whilst the bright, twinkling lights above made pleasant company, the absence of cloud had caused the temperature to drop significantly. Phil had by some miracle managed to get a fire going on the damp earth but the cheap sleeping sacks Dan had bought alongside Phil’s boots back in Nyth where doing little to keep in the warmth. He shivered in response, letting out a deep sigh,

“I don’t know, what are your goals supposed to be? To start a family, have children? I don’t think it’s for me, maybe I just want to survive,” He replied tiredly.

How depressing was that, his only goal was to live, but what did he have to live for? He had to shake the thoughts from his head,

“What about you Phil, what is your big dream?”

The other man shrugged, eyes still scanning the sky above,

“Maybe I’ll be a parent, if we manage to get the eggs back,” he said with a small laugh, “Otherwise I don’t know either I guess. Maybe I should get a mate . . . partner, but it just seems like too much hard work. I think I just want to go home and stay there. Where’s your home?”

“I don’t have a home, I move around a lot,” Dan murmured in response, trying his best not to delve too deep into Phils . . . odd choice of words.

“Then don’t you ever dream of having a home?”

Dan pursed his lips,

“If you have a home, there are expectations placed on you, expectations I will never be able to fill,”

Phil frowned,

“Like what,”

Dan felt like letting out a disbelieving laugh. Of course, he’d almost forgotten what a mysterious hermit Phil was,

“You have to get married, you have to have children, you have to have a regular job,”

Phil cooked his head again,

“What’s so hard about that? I’m sure you could find someone to marry and have children with. Maybe you could sell flowers, I think you’d make a good florist,”

Dan raised an eyebrow at him,

“Why would I make a good florist?”

Phil shrugged,

“Because flowers are pretty,” he said absentmindedly,

“And?”

Phil looked at him carefully for a moment and Dan almost jumped. His eyes where doing the odd cat thing again, the firelight reflected back in small silver disks,

“You’re pretty too,” he said firmly, “It would be a good match,”

Dan’s throat tightened,

“You can’t just say that Phil,” he said firmly, voice strangled slightly. The complement caused warmth to flood through his chest, but the connotations of it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Phil cocked his head,

“Why not?”

His tone wasn’t malicious, more curious, but it sent a flash of anger through Dan.

“I don’t know what backwater place you come from Phil, or if this is just some cruel joke, but the dance thing, and now this. You need to keep your mouth shut or we’ll both be done for,” he hissed in response, “Just go to sleep,”

He rolled over so he was facing away from Phil, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, burning into the back of his neck. His gaze felt confused above all else which only made things worse. 

How could he not know that what he was doing was wrong? How could he be so naive. Before it had been friendly teasing, but now it was getting closer and closer to flirting. Dan had been too lenient, an unfortunate side effect of his growing affections for the other man and now it was going to happen all over again. All this talk of family and expercations, it was like Phil was just trying to remind him of all the things he couldn’t have.

He wanted desperately to turn back and apologize, but at the same time he wanted to get up and walk away. He didn’t want to go back to Northguard. He didn’t care that he’d brought this upon himself or that he had some sort of duty to help Phil, that place held deep, best forgotten memories he’d rather just ignore. For now though, he just wanted to sleep and forget the world for a little bit.

Part 5

By the time morning came, Dan didn’t want to move, not now, not ever. Phil had gone about diligently packing up their camp as the other man lay curled up in his sleeping bag. He had days like that sometimes, when nothing felt worth doing and he couldn’t muster any energy at all. Usually, he would be left to himself and could force him to sleep until it passed. It did nothing to help in the long run, but it made the episodes more bearable in the long run. This time, however, Phil was not going to let them wait around while Dan got himself together. He was on a mission, and the more they dithered, the more restless he became.

The clear skies of last night were once again shrouded by cloud and everything just felt so miserable. They had spent almost a week on the Southern road in vain and it was all his fault and now they were going to spend four more night on another road which would not even lead them towards their final destination. His body was tired and overworked, but worst was his mind. Why was he doing this, why was he doing anything to help this man? All it was going to cause him with pain, especially as his thoughts on him fought definitely against the cage in his mind that they were locked do firmly into.

“Are you ok? Phil asked softly, falling to the floor crossed legged by Dan’s head. Dan Didn’t answer, staring ahead blankly into the abyss of the forest. Phil examined him carefully, browning deeply.

“Is this . . . is this about last night?” he said somewhat awkwardly, “Because I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable I swear. I’m just . . . not good with people,”

Dan shook his head with a sigh. He didn’t like how Phil was looking at him like felt as though he had done something wrong. He hadn’t done anything wrong at all, or at least nothing that ought to be wrong.

“It’s not that Phil, I just feel like this sometimes,” he muttered. 

“Feel like what?” Phil asked quietly, shuffling forward ever so slightly as if wanting to comfort him, but decided otherwise. Dan shrugged,

“I don’t know, like nothing I guess. Everything just seems so pointless and bleak. What if we never find those damn eggs, and what does it matter if we do or don't," he replied dully. Phil looked taken aback, unsure of how to respond. 

"It matters to me," he said quietly. Dan scoffed. 

"It might matter now, but what about in a hundred years when we're all dead and nobody remembers us, then what will it matter?"  he snapped, immediately feeling guilty. 

"Dragons live for thousands of years, it will matter to them," Phil replied desperately. 

"Does the time frame really matter that much? You're missing my point completely!" Dan groaned. 

"I know that," Phil replied loudly, before letting out a deep sigh and trying to calm himself down. "I just don't know what else to say. I want to help you, but I don't know what to do. I don't understand these things; I don't know how to make you feel better. I can't force you to come but I need you, and I need to go. I have two children out there who's wellbeing and even possibly lives depend on me, on us. We need to help them!" 

Dan pressed his lips together firmly, remaining silent. He didn't want to disappoint Phil. The other man was genuinely upset, and it had all been Dan's fault, but he just didn't have the energy. He wasn't in the right sort of mind to be walking all day, especially to a destination he really didn't want to go in the first place. He wanted to scream, more than anything, and yet even that seemed so far from what he could bring himself to do. 

He was expecting Phil to shout at him, to get angry, or at least make some snarky remark, but instead, he just sat by his side, waiting. They must have sat for nearly an hour, Phil picking quietly at the dirt and as Dan thought. He thought of how lonely he was, how unfulfilling his life was. He didn't have a home, he didn't have a family, and he never could. He didn't even have any friends, except maybe he did. Phil was his friend, and Phil needed help. He thought about that for a long time, until eventually, he cleared his throat, 

"Are we friends Phil?" he said quietly. Phil tilted his head slightly, 

"I see no reason why we shouldn't," he replied with a soft smile. It made Dan's insides curl but in a nice way. 

"Even though I stole your eggs, well not your eggs, your 'employers' eggs. Oh, and the scales and all that crap," 

Phil sighed, 

"Yes, even though you did all that. You didn't know any better. You'd never do it again; would you?" he said gently. Dan huffed, 

"You've got that right, this has been an absolute nightmare," he muttered. Phil raised an eyebrow at him and Dan held his hands up defensively, 

"And it's morally wrong and was an inconsiderate and crappy thing to do I get it," 

They sat in silence for a little while longer before Dan took a deep breath and sat up with a groan. He slipped out of his sleeping sack and rolled it up, stuffing it into his bag. Phil gave him a warm smile as well as some bread and dried meat which he took wearily. He still didn't feel like eating, or doing anything, but had by now mustered the energy to begin their arduous trek. He ate in tiny bites, feeling as though it were merely a pointless chore despite its importance in fueling his journey. 

"I think I'm ready to go,” he said finally, picking himself up and dusting himself off.

A look of relief flooded over Phil’s face, but it was still mixed with scepticism,

“Are you sure? We can stay for a little while longer if we need to. Dan shook his head firmly,

“No, I’m ready to go. We need to go and get your eggs back,”

He tried to ignore the strangeness of that sentence and they set off again down the long road. 

Phil was quieter this time, more reserved. He seemed to be walking gon eggshells and Dan couldn’t help but feel that it was his fault. He’d let himself get worked up last night, too caught up in his own head.

“Phil, what are you going to do once we get the eggs back?” He asked quietly, anything to avoid the tense silence that had quickly developed between them. 

“Well, I guess I’ll go home,” he murmured, “After I’ve delivered the eggs back to the dragon of course,”

“And where is home for you?”

Phil shrugged and let out a small laugh,

“Wherever humans aren’t,”

Dan bit his lip, he wished he could do that. Just live the rest of his life hiding from the world,

“How do you do that? I don’t mean to be rude but you don’t exactly strike me as being someone who can rough it in the wild,”

Phil held his hand to his heart, feigning offence,

“How dare you, I am the toughest man you will ever see,”

Da rolled his eyes fondly,

“Sure you are, but seriously, how do you do it. You must have lived quite close to Nyth else you wouldn’t have found me. Do you have a house in the valley?”

Phil shrugged,

“It’s complicated, and believe me I won’t be staying near a city again. I thought it would be safe but I was wrong. Being near people, it never ends well with me,”

“Once we go our separate ways, will I ever be able to see you again?” Dan said quietly, looking down at his feet.

Phil gave him a sympathetic smile,

“I don’t know Dan; I’m not sure that it would be such a good idea. I might not even stay on the continent for much longer”

Dan frowned deeply,

“Where else would you go?”

Phil shrugged, looking up at the murky sky,

“Over the sea, I’ll keep going until I find a place where no one has ever been before, where I can make it my own,” he sighed, a slight smile coming over his face at the thought.

“Won’t you be lonely?” Dan asked in a time voice. Phil only shrugged,

“I’ve been alone for a long time, besides I won’t be alone,”

“Who will go with you?”

Phil didn’t reply, and Dan made the decision not to push. Maybe Phil had someone else, someone to share his life with. He seemed like the type of person who would casually forget to mention something like than unless directly asked, and Dan wasn’t going to do that. Then again, it didn’t matter. Dan was only staying with him until they got the eggs back, then Phil was free to bugger off with who he liked.

As they drew closer to Northguard, the surrounding got more familiar, and Dan became more and more on edge. There was like a cloud of nervous energy surrounding him, enveloping anyone who happened to get so close. Phil, who was already nervous around other people in any social capacity whatsoever, was beginning to get quite agitated by it.

“Is there a reason I should be afraid of this place?” He asked in a hushed wisher, eyeing up their fellow travellers wearily. Dan closed his eyes, swallowing thickly in an effort to calm down,

“No, there is absolutely no reason to be nervous. I’ve just not been here in a long time and it’s a place I’d much rather forget,”

This only resulted in Phil’s expression becoming a little more panicked,

“Not because anything bad happened,” he exclaimed, rather unconvincingly, “It’s just a bit of a dump,”

That seemed to calm Phil down a little but Dan knew he wasn’t helping the chances of them having an uneventful visit. They just needed to get in, talk with Mras’s representative, and get out. Then they could get those eggs back and both be on their very separate way with Phil leaving the landmass and Dan wandering around the kingdom aimlessly wondering if his only source income was morally irreprehensible or not. 

He didn’t know what he was getting so worked up about the idea of Phil leaving, a few days he’d hated the guy, and a few days before that they’d never even met. Dan had stolen and Phil was only here to get the stolen items back, they may have become sort of friends, but they weren’t exactly going to have a lifelong bond. What had Dan been expecting?

“Right you keep telling me everything is fine, but you’re staring at that tree like you want it to burst into flames,” Phil said with an awkward laugh.

“I do want it to burst into flames, then maybe it will fall and crush me,” Dan spat dejectedly. 

“Why would you want it to crush you?” Phil asked, voice laced with worry. Dan threw his hands up in the air,

“Because I hate Northguard, my feet are sore and I like being dramatic,” he snapped.

Phil shrunk in on himself, eyeing up his surroundings with a concerned expression. 

"Honestly it's not that bad, there are just some people there who I don't really like. But I haven't been here in years and they might not even still be here so I'm worrying over nothing," Dan sighed heavily. 

"I don't want you to be worried about anything," Phil replied softly, "If anything happens I'll protect you," 

Dan snorted, 

"Phil, you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag, but I appreciate the sentiment," 

Phil crossed his arms indignantly, 

"I told you before, I'm tough," 

Dan gave him an exaggerated pat on the back, 

"Sure you are bud," 

As they grew closer to the city, the road became busier. Dan pulled his hood up over his head, letting it cast dark shadows over his face. The touches danced over the city walls, their flickering flame like the raging fires of hell. He didn't remember Northguard being so big. The rows of hastily built houses spilt from the historic confines of the city and even as the hour grew late people wandered along the cobbled streets. 

The inns and drinking houses were overflowing with drunks and travellers, energetic cheering which would morph into pained groans when morning came. It had changed so much even in the relatively short time he had been away. Hopefully so had the people. 

They slipped past the crowds like foxes in the night, remaining quiet and quick as Dan led them from street to street. Eventually they got to a quieter area where an Inn stood on its own, sign swinging pathetically in the wind. The bar was still occupied by a number of burly looking but it was nowhere near the hub of activity they had seen a while back. 

"Are there any rooms available?" Dan asked quietly to the haggard Inn keeper. She looked him up and down lips pursed, eventually nodding, 

"Ay, we've got a fair few. You only looking for one?" she murmured, eyes flicking to Phil. 

"Have you any with two beds?" Dan asked quickly. The keeper hummed thoughtfully, 

"I believe so, would you be wanting that one then?" 

"Yes, that would be great," 

They were tossed a key and ordered upstairs to unpack, if only for the night. The room was dim and damp, with two batter bed frames squeezed into the cramped space,"

"Why did you ask for a room with two beds, it would have been cheaper to just go for one. We shared in Nyth," 

Dan shook his head firmly, shivering slightly, 

"She would have gotten the wrong idea Phil, I'd rather just stay on the down low whilst we're here," he replied in a hushed tone. 

Phil frowned, 

"Are you going to tell me what happened here or not, because it's clearly bothering you," he said softly. 

Dan sighed, tossing his pack onto the rough, straw bed. 

"I'd rather not talk about it, but it wasn't good," he muttered, "We just need to wake up early tomorrow and find our guy, then we can be out of here and on our way to those eggs," 

"Are you sure you're alright?" Phil murmured, eyes brimming with concen, something that tightened Dan's stomach. 

"I'm just worried, I knew people here who did some pretty shitty things. I just hope that I don't see them," he sighed. Phil gave him a sympathetic smile. 

"Just know, whatever happens, I'll be there for you," 

Dan swallowed thickly, 

"Thanks Phil, I appreciate that," 

Phil flopped himself down onto the hard mattress without a second thought, barely having had time to kick his shoes off before he was unconscious. Dan could feel the weight of several days walking sitting on his shoulders like a pile of bricks, but he wasn't ready to sleep yet. He had thinking to do.

Why had he gotten so upset at the idea of never seeing Phil again? Why should it matter to him. Sure Phil was basically the only friend he'd had in ten years and he was really growing attached to the guy, but the only reason they were even travelling together was to help retrieve something he had stolen. Why were those pesky feelings of loss and longing plaguing his mind where they had no right to be there? 

Perhaps he wished they could have stayed together a little while, that for once he could have a friend, or maybe more than that. He wished the thoughts would go away, but the more he paid attention to them, the more the answer became clearer. An answer that would cause him nothing but pain, but was most definitely the truth. He had feelings for Phil. 

Part 6

When Dan awoke the next morning, he was crying, although he had no idea why. Foul thoughts danced briefly in his mind, before dissipating into the darkest depths of his brain as he was dragged forcefully from his restless slumber. Phil was standing over him, brow scrunched in needless worry. 

"Are you OK Dan?" he asked quietly, voice heavy and deep with sleep. Dan wallowed in the sound, letting it wash over him like a cool wave on a hot day, 

"Why wouldn't I be," Dan replied groggily. 

Phil reached forward, swiping his thumb across Dan's cheek so lightly he barely noticed, taking with it a single salty tear, holding it on his finger to show Dan.

"I think I was having a dream," he continued dismissively, "I've forgotten it now, it doesn't matter," 

“Are you sure?” Phil asked softly. Dan swallowed thickly,

“Come on, let’s go,” 

They left the inn, heading down the dim highstreet. The sun was rising on the horizon, but the streets were already busy. Dan’s eyes flicked from one person to another in the crowds, dreading that he might recognise one of them. He was being ridiculous, Northguard was one of the biggest cities this side of the silver sea, and it had grown enormously in the relatively short time he was gone. The chance he’d ever be recognised was incredibly slim.

“Do you know where we’re heading?” Phil asked, stopping and looking around at the numerous shop fronts that lined the streets.

Shit, of course Phil didn’t know where he could find the person they were looking for, Dan didn’t even know and he was the one pally with Mras.

“I kind of just assumed we’d be able to find them when we got here,” He said sheepishly, “Mras is a pretty influential guy though, it can’t be too hard to find his representative,”

“How about you just go wait back by the inn, and I’ll try and get some information?”

Dan snorted,

“Are you really sure that’s a good idea, you aren’t exactly the most socially adept,”

Phil rolled his eyes,

“Do you want to do it then?” 

“No, no, sorry. Don’t be too long, I’ll be waiting by the bar,”

Phil nodded and they quickly parted ways. Dan murmured a small prayer under his breath that Phil wouldn’t do anything that got himself hurt. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him, it's more like he didn’t trust the people here to be very understanding of his eccentricity.

The bar was quiet, as it should be at the break of dawn. There was a passed out drunk in the corner and a few exhausted-looking travellers picking at a loaf of stale bread. The innkeeper frowned at him, he had only just left after all,

“Can I help you,” she asked coldly.

“I’m just waiting for my friend,” he said carefully, “Have you got anything non-alcoholic?”

“Water,” she replied stiffly.

“I’ll have a glass of water then,”

He must have been there for about an hour before Phil finally returned. A few people had come in and out, he had tried to strike up a conversation with the innkeeper once or twice, but apparently it was too early for anyone to be in a good mood.

“Thank god, did you find our guy?” he groaned, eager to leave this miserable place.

“Girl not guy, and yes. They have an office by the main market, it should be open by now,”

“Good, let’s go,” Dan replied, trying to push down the lump in his throat that formed when he thought of the market.

He was forced to squint as they emerged back into the city, sun having risen significantly in the hour he had spent uncomfortably nursing his glass of water.

“He led Phil towards the market through the twists and turns of labyrinth-like streets. They were deep into the old city now and stone buildings towered above them, casting them in shadow and giving Dan a comforting sense of enclosure and safety. Phil appeared to be a little more put off by it,

“Doesn’t it feel very claustrophobic to you? I mean I usually like clutter, but they could do with opening things out a bit,”

“Don’t worry, we’re almost at the market,”

Just as he got those words out, they turned a corner and the tight alleyways expanding out into a sprawling square, filled with colourful tents and shouting vendors. Tables were piled with everything from potatoes and apples to sparkling dresses and bundles of wool. Horses were lined up alongside them, tethered to a long fence dotted with troughs and bushels of straw for them to eat at. Each one was ladened with empty saddlebags, ready to be filled up with unsold produce once their masters decided to return home after a long day of vending.

“It’s a shame we can’t just nick a pair of those and be out of here,“ Dan sighed, nodding towards the horses.

“Haven’t you learned you’re lesson about stealing things,” Phil sighed. 

“I was only joking,”

They edged their way around the outskirts of the market, Phil eying the horses wearily as they snuck past. Eventually, they came to the correct building, knocking firmly on the door.

It was opened by a tall, dark-haired lady dressed in a smart shirt and trousers. She looked him up and down, pursing her lips,

“Can I help you?”

“We’re looking for Mras’s representative,” Dan replied quickly.

“Well, that would be me,” the women said, forcing out a small smile, “My name is Mrs Amble, you can call me just that. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, but it won’t take long,”

“That may be so, but I operate only by appointment,” she said firmly.

“We just need to know where Mras is,” Dan exclaimed, an unflattering amount of desperation creeping into his voice, “He’s a regular customer of mine, and I believe I have some items that he will be very interested in. I was told I could find is the current location here,”

Mrs Amble sighed,

“What’s the name,” she asked tartly,

“Daniel, Daniel Howell,”

She hummed thoughtfully.

“Howell? That name is quite familiar. You don’t have family around here by any chance?”

Dan shook his head firmly,

“No, it must be a coincidence. Can you give us the information we need or not,”

The woman held up her hands in defence,

“Alright, alright, give me a minute. I just have to make sure you’re on his approval list,”

Dan raised an eyebrow at her,

“He has an approval list?”

“Of course he does, he doesn’t want to be found by just anyone,” she replied, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

She opened up a large book scanning the list of names,

“Ah, here we go. Daniel Howell, tall, brown hair, pretentious as hell,”

Phil giggled behind him,

“Seems about right,”

“He’s at his property on Enyer Island. I can arrange passage down to the coast, then you’ll have to get a ship over,” she said boredly. Phil let out a small groan,

“How long will that take?”

“Well we have a convoy leaving early tomorrow morning, then it’s a days journey to the beach, and around a day by boat if the wind is good,”

“Is there any way of getting there quicker?” Dan sighed, he didn’t like the idea of staying in Northguard for another night.

Mrs Amble shrugged,

“Not unless you can fly,” she said with a short laugh, “I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to get a boat unless you go with the envoy so I think that’d be your best bet. You can’t be that desperate to make your sale.

 Dan was about to open his mouth when Phil stepped forward,

“That sounds great, where do we meet?”

“Here will be fine, see you then,” the woman replied quickly, ushering them out, “Don’t be late,”

The door was closed and they were both left standing gout on the street,

“Why the hell did you agree to that?” Dan hissed.

“You heard what she said, it’s the quickest way,” Phil replied, frowning, “Why shouldn’t have we agreed,”

“Yes, I know,” Dan sighed, ”I just don’t want to spend another night in the city,”

“We’ll just go right back to the inn and stay in the room. What could possibly happen?”

Dan shuffled uncomfortably. He wanted to protest, but Phil looked exhausted. He had already caused enough delays to their plan. He let out a long groan,

“Fine, let’s go,”

They returned back to the inn they had spent the previous night, explaining to the long suffering that they would like another room. She handed over the key with a certain amount of trepidation and up they went.

Phil flopped down on the bed with a long sigh,

“Lord I can’t wait until this is all over,”

Dan hovered by the window, peeking out at the street below,

“It’s not been all bad, you like me right?” he replied with a slightly forced smile.

“Of course,” Phil said softly, “I’m just not used to all this. Besides, my feet hurt. Don’t yours?”

Dan shrugged,

“I’m used to it, if I wasn’t with I’d probably be on the other side of the kingdom by now,”

Phil grimaced,

“That sounds like too much work for me, once I’ve got those eggs back I’m going to sleep for like an entire week,”

They sat in silence for a little while, Dan drifting off into a daydream. His eyes became unfocused, but he didn’t feel like concentrating enough to resolve it. Besides, he was quite enjoying the beautiful blur that surrounded him. Eventually he yawned, the action causing his eyes to lock onto Phil.

The other man was looking at him with a soft expression on his face. He didn’t necessarily seem to be focused either, but it was still a little on. He straightened up, frowning. Phil flinched, as though coming back to reality,

“Sorry, I wasn’t creeping on you I swear,” he said jokingly. Dan shrugged,

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you were,” he sighed, almost to himself.

“Well, if that’s the case, I guess I was looking at you. I like your hair,”

Dan snorted, raising an eyebrow at him. He should be used to this by now, although he appreciated the complement. 

“Thanks I guess? What do you like about it?”

“It’s wavy, I wish my hair was wavy, and it matches your eyes,” he said softly.

Dan turned to face him properly. He didn’t know how to reply. What did Phil even mean by that? Usually he would have scoffed and shot him down. He was handsome, and he knew it, but he didn’t like being told it by others. It only made him anxious, but when Phil did it he didn’t mind so much.

“That’s not necessarily a good thing,” he said quietly, “I’d much rather have blue eyes, like yours,”

Phil shrugged,

“I think brown eyes are pretty, and they suit you,”

Dan tried to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips,

“Thanks,” he replied quietly, unsure of what else to say. Phil smiled in response and they slipped back into their respective daydreams.

Phil left not long after that to get them some dinner, Dan looking after him with an embarrassing amount of longing as he left. He didn’t like being left alone, especially here, and Phil brought him a certain amount of comfort. Soon the gentle chatter of people on the street outside softened and the sky grew red. It was replaced by the soft sound of music drifting up from the bar below. The melody was unfamiliar to him, played carefully on a slightly out of tune Vielle. He hadn’t heard music in so long.

He closed his eyes, humming along as soon as he got a feeling for the chorus. He almost didn’t notice Phil's return. He stood at the door looking slightly disheveled, but proudly brandishing two small pies. Dan frowned,

“Phil what did you do?”

“Nothing, I just tried to talk to the seller and he didn’t appreciate it. Apparently people don’t like outsiders around here, even if they are buying their food,”

Dan picked up the pie, cherishing its warmth.

“Some people just don’t like change,” he sighed.

"Do you know this song?" Phil asked absentmindedly. Dan shook his head with a small laugh, 

"No, I was just humming what I assumed the melody was going to be. It is nice though," 

Phil hummed in agreement, before his face lit up. 

"Wait, there's music!" he exclaimed. Dan frowned, 

"So?" 

"We're alone…" 

"Phil what's your point?" Dan groaned, taking a mouthful of overdone pastry. 

"Your promise. You said you would teach me how to dance if we were alone and there was music," he replied excitedly. 

Dan felt his stomach drop, 

"Phil I don't think that's a good idea," 

The other man's face fell, his happy grin replaced with a deep frown. It made Dan's stomach twist, he didn't like to see him look so sad. No, it was stupid. That promise was a joke, Phil had no right to look like Dan had just stabbed his puppy.

"Oh, OK," Phil replied quietly, sensing it was something that he shouldn't push. 

Dan's resolve lasted all of five minutes. He couldn't bare to see Phil disappointed. 

"Fine, I will teach you, but you have to remember that I'm not very good,"

Phil jumped to his feel, grin plastered onto his face, 

"That's fine, I wouldn't be able to tell anyway," he giggled, "What do I need to do," 

"You just stand there, I'll lead," 

For a moment Phil looked as though he wanted to object but he remained quite. 

Dan stepped forward, taking a deep breath. He placed his hand on Phil's waist, guiding his hand to his shoulder. 

"This feels weird," Phil whispered. Dan smirked, 

"Why, do you not like being touched?" 

Phil shook his head, 

"No, I'm just not used to it," 

"What about if I do this," Dan replied with a smirk, digging his hand into Phil's ribs. 

Phil squeaked in surprise, jumping away like a startled rabbit, 

"You're horrible," he exclaimed dramatically. 

"I was only messing," Dan giggled, gesturing for Phil to return back to the proper position, which he did only after ensuring he wasn't going to get poked again. 

Dan waited a moment for a new song to start, counting out the beats in his head. It was hard to concentrate with Phil so close. He could feel the other man's warm breath on his neck, and was acutely aware of how much he was sweating. His hands had grown clammy and he wanted desperately to wipe them off on his trousers. 

"Right when I tell you to, step back and I'll step forward. Then we have to move around in kind of a square pattern," Dan said nervously, quickly realising that he was in no way qualified to be teaching this. 

They got the first part right, but after that it was nearly impossible to coordinate together. Phil couldn't seem to get his lefts and rights worked out, and on the rare occasions he did get it right, his timing was all off. Dan must have stood on his toes twenty times before he gave up, and Phil vice versa. That being said, it wasn't as miserable as Dan had expected. 

Phil did not seem in the least bit dissuaded by his complete lack of skill, in fact he seemed almost delighted with it. There was a smile stretched across his face and he had taken to randomly twirling Dan around despite the other man's insistence that it had nothing to do with what he was trying to teach. Usually it would have annoyed Dan, that he wasn’t taking it seriously, but he could only find it endearing.

It wasn’t as though he wasn’t enjoying it as well. He hadn’t laughed this much in years. His grip on Phil became tighter, and he relaxed into his touch. Phil was warm, and he smelled good. Dan was tired, but he didn’t want to stop or leg go, he wouldn’t have an opportunity to be close to him like this ever again. The thought sent a sense of dread through him, their time together was coming to an end, but he wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t want to let go, he finally had a friend.

Part 7

Phil woke with probably the worst headache he had ever had in his life. Every movement sent spasms of pain through his body and the world around him was fuzzy and dark. It took him a while to realise he was on the hard wooden floor rather than the bed he was sure he'd gone to sleep in. Had he fallen out of bed and hit his head maybe. He brought his hand up to his head, finding it matted with a dark, metallic smelling substance which he assumed to be blood. Suddenly he jumped up, Dan! 

The human was nowhere to be seen, his bed empty, the duvet cast aside and one of the pillows in tatters. He stumbled over to it, vision foggy. Feathers littered the floor, spilling out of the cotton case. It had been sliced, not ripped, who could have done that? He remembered going to sleep, and at some point was awoken, but nothing after that. He hoped Dan was safe, he needed to find him! Fuck he should have listened. Dan didn't want to stay in Northguard for a reason, Phil had just been too selfish to see the danger. 

Unless...  could Dan have done this? No, he didn’t seem like the type.  Phil didn’t remember doing anything that might initiate a fight. He’d been so comfortable last night, maybe Phil had gone a bit too far again. He liked Dan, he wanted to be close to him, but that seemed to scare the human. Perhaps he’d done something wrong, perhaps this was all his fault.

It took him a moment to compose himself. The cut on his head stung like hell and the throbbing was so bad it was almost blinding. It had been a long time since he'd been able to get seriously hurt, he forgot how much it sucked. Eventually, he was able to take a deep breath, leaning out of the window and whistling. There was a flap of wings and almost immediately a pigeon came to land on the window sill next to him. It was scruffy and skinny, not like the plump, cheerful birds he was used back home. Still, it was worth a shot.

He tossed it a dried hunk of bread which it dove into with intense vigour, 

"Did you see anything strange last night?” He murmured in his best pigeon. The bird cooed in confusion.

“Did anybody come into this room late at night, or did someone leave?”

The pigeon thought for a moment, they weren’t all that bright so Phil waited quietly as not to scare it off. Finally, it cooed excitedly. 

Ok, so it wasn’t Dan. Someone was here. Why hadn’t they been stopped by the inn-keeper or even another guest? It must have been quite a racket. 

“Did you see where they went?”

The pigeon hopped up and down eagerly. Phil threw it the rest of the bread and rushed back to the bed, picking up both is and Dan’s bag. It was odd that they’d both been left behind, if it had been a robbery then they would have been taken surely?

He left as quietly as possible, not even bothering to return the keys. He kept his eyes down, emerging into the street, fear actually beginning to set in. What if Dan was hurt? Oh God, it would be all his fault. The pigeon flew from windowsill to windowsill, waiting until Phil got close before moving to the next one. Occasionally it flew over to other birds before making its decision. Hah, and Dan thought this skill was useless.

His eyes focused briefly on the darkened sky. It wasn’t long before the envoy would leave, and they were going to miss it, but in a way, he didn’t care. Of course, he needed to get those eggs back, as soon as possible, but he wasn’t going to abandon Dan. He’d grown attached to the human, a lot more than he should. It was going to be hard saying goodbye, not yet though.

Phil’s dread grew the further they got. Eventually, they got out of the inner city and the houses were beginning to thin. The pigeon went from branch to branch rather than window to window, chirping impatient as Phil hung back nervously. His eyes scanned the woodlands. He should be used to it, but these eyes were terrible. Everything was black, the dim moonlight which would have once guided his way could barely break through the canopy. It made him jumpy.

It took him a while to realise they were actually following a path. Soon a flickering light came into view. He thanked the pigeon and crept closer, realising that it was a small house. The walls were of rough grey stone with a straw roof. There was a small pen with a pig laying in the mud and a stack of firewood next to the door. Why would they have taken Dan there? It looked fairly harmless. Maybe hs informant had gotten it wrong?

He considered briefly simply knocking on the door, but he didn’t imagine it would go well. If Dan wasn’t there then he’d just be bothering a random family in the early hours of the morning and if he was, well they weren’t exactly going to admit it were they? He moved quietly around the side of the house, trying to see if there was anywhere he could peek in. There was light in the window, and he jumped back upon seeing movement.

He dropped down onto his hands and knees behind a bush, looking through the leaves as if he would be able to see anything at all. What was he going to do? He wasn’t used to this, he couldn’t deal with people at all. That was why he’d brought Dan with him in the first place. What if he fucked everything up, what if he got Dan killed, what if he got himself killed? He should have protected Dan, how could he have let this happen.

Eventually, he managed to build up the confidence to get closer to the house, peeking in through the window. At first, it seemed pretty ordinary. There were three people milling around the small room and a fire flickering comfortingly in the corner. They seemed to be deep in conversation although Phil couldn’t work out what they were saying.

He pressed his ear to the hard stone as if it would help anything at all. Upon realising that he was just being stupid, he decided it would be more helpful to try the next window. The leaves rustled and cracked beneath his feet, but one particular step the sound was different, more hollow perhaps. He frowned, bending down and carefully brushing the leaves aside, finding beneath it a small metal grating. 

It must look into a cellar of some sorts, and as he peeked in, staring back up at him was a familiar pair of warm blue eyes. Dan! Dan’s eyes went wide as if in shock, followed immediately by a flood of relief.

“How did you find me,” Dan hissed, looking about himself wearily. Phil shrugged,

“Doesn’t matter, only matters that we can get you out,”

Dan brought up his arms to show off his bindings, thick rope wound tightly around his arms and legs.

“Maybe if I can pull this grating off I’ll be able to hoist you up,” Phil whispered.

Dan shook his head,

“It’s too small of a gap. You’ll have to go in the front, maybe they’ll leave soon,”

Suddenly there was a crack of broken twigs behind him and before Phil could so much as turn around there was a cold blade pressed to his neck. Shit.

“Come to save your boyfriend have you?” A deep voice sneered. Phil swallowed thickly. They hadn’t killed him before, hopefully, they wouldn’t now.

“No Markus, don’t hurt him. I’m only travelling with him because I owe him a debt, let him go,” Dan exclaimed desperately,

“I gave him his chance,” The man hissed, “Get up, come with me or I’ll slit your throat,”

Phil got shakily to his feet and was pulled back round to the front of the horse. The door was thrown open and he was yanked inside. Without even a word to the other residents, he took Phil down to the cellar, binding his hands and pushing him down next to dan.

“There we go, reunited at last. Don’t cause any trouble, we’ve got to figure out what to do with you,”

Phil waited until the man had left, frozen with cold fear.

“Dan, who are these people? Why did they take you, what did they want?”

Dan didn’t look at him, eyes focussed on his feet, lids heavy. There was bruising on his face and all song his arms. Phil wanted desperately to vanish them away, tell him everything was going to be fine. He’d never seen the other man look so defeated.

“These,” Dan said with a heavy sigh, “Are my family or at least some of them. They threw me out when I was a teenager, said I was a disgrace. They warned me, they warned me and I should have listened. They said if I ever came back they’d find me and I’d regret the day I was born and look where we are now,”

“I’m so sorry,” Phil murmured, “I didn’t know, I should have listened. We wouldn’t have even come here if it weren’t for me,”

Dan shook his head slowly,

“It’s ok, we had a task to do, you couldn’t have known,” His voice was tired and raspy,, as though he’d been screaming for hours.

“Have they hurt you,” Phil asked worriedly.

“No, well nothing but these,” he replied, gesturing to his bruises, “But they will. You shouldn’t have come looking for me, you should have just left me behind and gone with the envoy,”

Phil frowned deeply,

“I couldn’t have done that, you’re my friend. I care about you,”

Dan laughed coldly,

“You barely know me, and after all this, you’re just going to bugger off and abandon me like everyone else so why does it matter,”

“You don’t want me to leave?”

Dan sniffed softly, leaning over to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder,

“Of course not. You’re the only friend I’ve had since I was a kid. You’re just so nice, why don’t you hate me. We only met because I screwed you over, well your boss I guess,”

“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Phil replied softly, “I shouldn’t have made you come, but I am glad we met,”

Dan sighed.

“Yeah, me too. Even if we are about to die,” he said with a pained laugh.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, we can figure something out,”

The door to the cellar swung open and two men marched down the stairs, one taking Dan the other Phil. They were pushed up into the main living area.

“Daniel, aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend,” One of the men exclaimed, voice frighteningly light. Dan shuffled uncomfortable next to him, eyes darting around the room. The man’s amused grin morphed into more of a glower and he repeated the question,

“Did you know just hear what I said boy, tell us who the scrawny lad is or I’ll force it out of you,”

“He’s just Phil,” Dan replied, voice timid and terrified, “I nicked something off his boss and he’s just here to get it back. Let him go, this is none of his business,”

One of the men scoffed,

“Really, well you two seemed to be very chummy earlier,”

He turned to look a Phil, examining him in the flickering firelight,

“Tell me ‘Phil’, do you know why Danny here isn’t welcome in this city?” he sneered. Phil shook his head, cringing away as his face drew closer. What could he have possibly done to warrant all of this?

“He is the work of the devil, a tempter, an abomination,”

He turned back to Dan, eyes dark,

“Do you remember that young man you were so fond of, the blacksmith’s son? He’s married now to a wonderful woman, they have two lovely children. I always knew you were the one that led him astray. I bet his memories of you are field with disgust,”

Phil frowned,

“Let me get this straight. You kidnapped him in the middle of the night, dragged him all the way out here, and plan to do lord know’s what, all because he was a little too fond of a guy when he was a kid,”

The man growled,

“He brought shame to our family! Why do you think we live out here? People think we harbour heretics and evil, and it’s all because of him! We were too kind on you Daniel, we only cast you out. We should have cut you down where you stood. We won’t make the same mistake,”

Phil could feel his blood boiling. This was ridiculous. Humans and there messed up beliefs. He wasn’t going to let them hurt Dan, his Dan. How could they? The fire that smouldered behind them began to blaze a little brighter. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. He had to concentrate.

Soon he felt his binding disintegrate into ashes, floating softly to the floor behind him, glowing orange with heat. The man stepped back,

“How the hell did you do that? Demon,”

Phil took in a deep breath, fire turning now into a raging inferno, spewing out from the fireplace and igniting the soft straw bedding that surrounded it. 

Dan was looking at him with wide frightened eyes, but Phil didn’t have time to apologise or explain, he grabbed the younger man and ran. Their kidnappers were two reoccupied with trying to dampen the fire to pursue. The burning house illuminated the forest, casting dark shadows amongst the blazing red.

Even as they drew closer to the city, they could see the smoke rising up from the treetops. Phil felt a cold wash of dread come over him. Oh God, what had he done?

Part 8

Dan’s breathing was ragged and harsh as they pulled into a dark alleyway, confident that they had not been followed. The faint smell of smoke clung to their costs and images of dancing flames played in his mind. He looked down at his wrists and ankles, which by all logic should still have been bound, but were instead moving freely. There was a ring of white ash where the rope had once been but only the slightest feeling of warmth against his skin.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, looking about himself in a state of panic. Phil was looking back at him with those big blue adorable eyes, but the expression of triumph he might have expected given their miraculous escape wasn’t there. Instead, he had gone very pale, lips pressed into a tight line. 

Dan's breathing hitched, because it wasn't miraculous, Phil had made it happen. How had he done that, how had he burned down a fucking house? Dan's mind flashed back to back at the house, how the once seemingly harmless man's eyes had glowed ember red. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

They stood in a shocked silence, both staring intensely at each other for a good few minutes. Dan searched Phil’s face again for any signs of the beast he’d sworn he’d seen, but there was nothing. His skin was a soft peach, cheeks just a hint of pink from the running. His soft hair was tousled and messy, and dan thought about how much calmer he’d be if he could just run his hands through it.

“You saved me?” he said, voice full of uncertainty. Phil nodded slowly, eyeing Dan as though he were a rabbit about to bolt. 

“But how? How did you do that?” he muttered, backing away ever so slightly. "What happened to you?"

"I didn't do anything, we just got lucky, " Phil murmured . Dan gritted his teeth, 

"Don't lie to my Phil," he exclaimed angrily, although it was more fearful than anything else, "I've had a shit enough day as it is, tell me what you did. Ropes don't just disappear, houses don't just burst into flames, eyes don't randomly turn red," 

"That was probably just the light playing tricks on you," Phil said solemnly, as if he knew it was useless. 

"I know what I saw," 

Phil let out a deep sigh,

“Think about it Dan,” he said softly, "Just think about it, and please don't freak out. I'm not going to hurt you, I'd never hurt you, " 

Dan recoiled as Phil reached out to comfort him, the gears in his brain whirring so loud he swore they were physically audible. What the fuck was he supposed to think? So was he magic, could he somehow control fire? Maybe he was a witch, he'd suspected it before. Would that explain the weird eyes though? He should have known something was wrong. All that stuff with the calling him 'human', the general weirdness, it was obvious. Why would a dragon hire a human anyway? That was so obviously a lie, he should have trusted his instinct. Why would he be so desperate to get the eggs back though. Unless… 

He swallowed thickly, eyes blowing wide. No, that was impossible. 

“Phil, are you a dragon?” he said quietly, voice just barely above a whisper.

Phil took his lip between his teeth. Dan felt his eyes drawn to it, immediately pulling them away when he realised what he was doing. 

“No, of course not, I’m human,” He murmured, eyes flicking down to his feet, “Well I am now,”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dan almost yelled, "You need to tell me the truth right now or I swear to god I'm going to ram a curtain pole so far up your ass you can taste it!" 

He was breathing heavily and clenching his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.. Why could nobody ever tell him the truth, as if he hadn't gone through enough shit today. A flash of gut shot through him, however briefly and he closed his eyes trying to calm down. Phil had just saved his life, he should be pulling him into a big hug and thanking  him with all his heart, not shouting at him. Then again it was only going after Phil's bloody eggs that had taken them here in the first place. But, if he himself hadn't gotten greedy, then there would be no need to go after the eggs. 

“When you stole my eggs, I used some very old magic that I shouldn’t have done. I made myself human so I could find you and get them back. I’m sorry I should have told you. I never expected that I’d be like this for very long, I never expected to get so . . . close. I didn't want you to be afraid of me,”

There was a forlorn look on his face, and he seemed to shrink in on himself.

Dan's eyes lingered on him, mind racing. It was very hard to picture the generally bouncy but timid Phil as a great big lizard. He didn't think they would be smart enough to talk or express emotion, but it was very clear in this moment that Phil was extremely distressed. 

“Can you change back?” Dan asked quietly, unsure of what else to say. 

Phil nodded, 

“Yes, but I need something to help me with it, like a scale or claw. I think the eggs could work as well. If you hadn’t cleared out my nest I probably could have just flown to Eyer and I’d be back home by tomorrow,” He sighed with a harsh, clearly forced laugh. 

Dan swallowed thickly, picturing in his mind the slightly singed bag that Phil had managed to grab on the way out of the house and the contents within. He could tell him, he could tell him and It would solve all of Phil’s problems. But then Phil would leave him, and Dan wasn’t ready to let go.

“So they’re your eggs, your children?” He said suddenly, trying to distract himself but feeling sick to the stomach. Phil shuffled uncomfortably on the spot.

“Not quite, they belonged to a friend of mine,” he sniffed softly, “Unfortunately, she strayed too close to the human world and suffered for it. I took them on, I promised I’d take care of them,” He had to stop, voice faltering.

“I’m so sorry,” Dan murmured, tears pricking in his eyes. Phil shook his head,

“We’ve been through this, you didn’t know. Let’s just get them back yeah?” He replied quickly, handing Dan his bag. Dan took it quickly, wanting nothing more than to turn and launch it into the nearest wall. 

"You think I'm still going with you?" 

Phil's frown deepened. 

"Look, I'm not who I said I was, but it's not like I'm a different person," 

Dan crossed his arms tightly, tears forming in his eyes. He was so overwhelmed. Why was this happening to him. What had he ever done to deserve this.

"How do I know you're even telling me the truth. Is this just one great big practical joke? Was that why you forced me to come here? So that my fucking family could torment me one last time," he spat, desperately wiping at his eyes to stop those tears from flowing. 

Phil looked hurt, eyes wide and forlorn. 

"This is the truth, why would I ever do anything to hurt you. You're my friend,"

"How can I be your friend, you aren't even fucking human," Dan hissed. Phil straightened up, clearly trying his best to stay calm. 

"Well I am now thanks to you. I still have feelings and thoughts you know. Humans aren't that unique. Please, come with me. I need you. I like you Dan, you're funny and sweet, and I'm sorry so many shitty things have happened to you," 

Dan swallowed thickly, 

"You aren't just using me to get to Mras?" he said quietly. Phil shook his head, 

"No, absolutely not. I want you to come, truly," 

Dan made up his mind far quicker than he dared to voice it. If Phil hadn't just saved his life, if Dan didn't have a daunting and mind consuming crush on him, things might have been different. But he did, so the answer of the question 'will you come with me?' was a certain and resounding yes. 

He nodded and Phil's face was flooded with relief. He picked his own bag gingerly, as if any sudden mood would spook the human and send him fleeing. In all honesty Dan thought it might. 

The sun was slowly beginning to rise as they headed through the streets towards the meeting spot. Dan was beginning to calm down by now, guilt weighing heavy on his chest. It wasn't like he was wrong. Finding out your friend and traveling companion is a dragon is of course no small matter, and all that crap with his family was obviously going to scramble his head, but he still felt like he had been far too harsh. 

“Thank you again for coming to rescue me, Phil,” he said eventually, swallowing his pride and leaning in for a friendly shoulder bump. Phil turned to him and smiled weakly, “Yeah well you needed rescuing didn’t you,”  

“I’m sure I could have gotten out on my own,” Dan replied, feigning offence in an attempt to lighten the mood. Phil scoffed,

“No, you couldn’t, you needed me to come and save you,” he replied with a small grin. It stayed only briefly however before Phil forcibly returned his lips into a pressed line, as though the act of smiling was in some way inappropriate. 

“I’m sorry your family was so awful,” he said quietly, “You didn’t deserve that,”

Dan nodded slowly. This was the first time he had seen them in years, they had been willing to kill him. That was no family. For so long he had held their beliefs to heart, he wouldn't let them control him anymore, he couldn't. 

“I've always known they were crazy," he said with a strained laugh, "But I think I need to get it in my head that what they thought of me was crazy too. I won't believe them anymore," 

Phil wrapped his arm around him hesitantly, squeezing comfortingly. Dan almost melted, relishing in the warmth. His first reaction was to pull away, looking about himself in a panic, but he fought it, letting himself relax into Phil’s arms. Maybe one day he wouldn't feel so nervous. 

They arrived in the main square to a group of carriages and a slightly pissed off Mrs Amble tapping her foot impatiently. 

“I thought you were never going to show,” she announced, frowning when she spotted the state they were in. Dan became suddenly aware of the sharp stinging on his cheek, not helped by salty tears, raising his hand up to his face and hissing when it came into contact with swollen skin. Phil frowned, pressing his hand to the wound. Dan closed his eyes, expecting pain, but instead found himself humming softly as it dissipated slightly.

They perched onto the back of a goods cart, trying to ignore the strange look the driver was giving them as the horses shied desperately away from Phil. And with that they were off. 

Phil sighed deeply,

“I miss flying,” he groaned, “It’s so much easier than this crap,”

He was studying Dan as if to gauge his reaction. The human did his best to remain indifferent, but on the other hand he felt guilt flash through him.

He was deeply conflicted. On one hand if he gave Phil the tooth, he'd be off and Dan would be free, on the other hand, well, Phil would be off and Dan would be alone. Even in his fear he hadn't wanted to give Phil the means to abandon him, because deep down even then he'd known he didn't want Phil to go. 

Besides, it might end up better anyway. If he could convince Phil to stick with him, he might be able to convince Mras to hand over the eggs peacefully. Yes, it was defiantly5 for the best that Phil remained as a human. Besides, maybe if they spent enough time together, Phil wouldn’t want to fly off and leave him all alone.

“I can’t believe I never figured out you’re a dragon,” He announced, much louder than he needed to in an effort to curb his racing thoughts. Not that it really mattered, everyone was going to think they were a bunch of looneys anyway, “When do dragons just go around hiring people?” 

Phil grinned,

“I must have been doing an excellent job at pretending to be human then,” he said smugly,

“You weren’t,” Dan replied fondly, his attempt at exasperation falling flat on its face.

Phil turned to face him, eyes soft. Dan was transfixed.

“You’re taking this quite well,” he murmured softly. Dan shrugged.

In all honestly, he was finding it kind of hard to deal with. He’d known Phil was a little odd, he should have figured this out way sooner. Maybe it was the way he always felt warm and safe when they were together, how he enjoyed their conversations and Phil’s quirky personality. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want to turn and flee.  

“It does suck a little,” he said eventually, “I kind of wish I could have come and lived with you in the forest, away from everyone else,”

“You still could,” Phil said quietly. Dan gave him a strange look,

“Well not if you were a dragon all the time,” he said with a forced laugh, "I'd go mad just talking to myself," 

“I wouldn’t have to be a dragon all the time,” Phil said absentmindedly, “I could still take some time for you, in this form I mean, ”

Dan’s eyes went wide,

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course, you’re my friend,” Phil smiled, leaning into Dan’s shoulder, “Maybe I could turn you into a dragon,”

Dan wrinkled his nose,

“What? A great big, flying magical reptile?"

He paused. 

Actually that does sound pretty cool,” he muttered after a moment of concideration. 

Phil laughed softly,

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea, imagine how clumsy you would be,”

Dan rolled his eyes,

“If you could fly then so could I, you have absolutely no coordination whatsoever, "

Phil crossed his arms, giving Dan a look which was obviously supposed to come off as unimpressed, but instead was stomach churningly fond. Dan had to turn away for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

"Of course I'm not very coordinated. I'm in the wrong body. That's not my fault," 

Dan shrugged in defeat, laughing softly. 

"What is this body then, how did you get it? Like did you steal someone else's or create it from scratch," he asked curiously. If he had just nicked it then he'd certainly made a good choice. 

Phil shrugged, 

"I don't really know, I think it's just what popped into my head when I thought 'human'. I do like it though," 

Dan nodded in agreement, smile tugging at his lips. 

"I do to," 

Part 9

It didn't take long to reach the coast. Dan was dozing off in the back of the cart, sun warm on his face. He had stretched out across the hard wooden planks, legs swung over Phil's thighs. It was a bold move, but one he was willing to risk. Phil was staring straight ahead, lost in a daydream, occasionally brushing his fingers across Dan's calves. The air grew crisper, the wind stronger, leaving the faintest traces of salt across his drying lips. 

They joined the road that ran along the tops of the harsh cliffs, vegetation morphing from tall forests to tough and sparsely scattered grass. Dan was captivated by the rolling hills that had become so clear in the distance now that they were free from obstruction. He imagined standing at the top, bracing against the wind and looking down on the world below. That was the closest he'd ever get to flying. What drew the most attention, however, was Phil. 

He was looking longingly over at the sparkling blue water and it stood eerily still, despite the rough sea breeze. It sparkled with every disturbance, hinting at what lay in the depths below. Dan shuddered, it was always his fear that he’d be swimming out in the open ocean and his foot would touch something rather worrying. He hoped to god his feet could stay firmly in a dry, buoyant boat and not be plunged into the pleasant, but cold looking water beneath.

He wondered if they would live somewhere like this, slough far away from civilisation, once all this was over. If Phil was being serious that is. Dan wanted so much to believe that the future was set in stone, and not instead faintly imprinted onto the thick fleece of a sheep. Prone to disappear at the faintest ruffle, or in fact be shorn off altogether should the weather change too much.

“What do you think Mras is going to say?” Phil murmured, “About giving the eggs back I mean?”

Dan shrugged,

“He won’t be happy. You should have seen his eyes when I gave them to him, it was as though they were the largest jewels in the world,”

“More precious than any jewel,” Phil sighed.

“What if he doesn’t give them back?”

Phil shrugged,

“Then we make him, I don’t want it to come to that but I will do anything I can to get them back,”

Dan swallowed thickly, images of dancing flames playing behind his eyelids.

“I’m sure we can convince him to hand them over peacefully, I’m quite the charmer,” He said with a wink. Phil rolled his eyes, looking unconvinced,

“Sure you are,”

Eventually, the cart rolled into a small port town and they were ordered off. The houses that surrounded them were light sandstone rather than the harsh grey rock back in Northguard. The feeling was brighter, airier, Dan was almost sad they had to leave. Before he had much time for admiring they were herded onto a somewhat lopsided pier and into a fairly large wooden sailing boat with a great canvas sail. Dan looked up at it in awe. He’d never been on one of these before.

Phil sat uneasily on one of the long wooden benches, peering over the edge as water lapped softly against the hull.

“You don’t like it?” Dan asked, striding around the deck to pull at the various bits of rope that hung down from the mast.

“I’m just not used to it,” Phil said quietly. 

“Yeah well neither am I and I don’t look terrified. Surely this isn’t any worse than flying?”

Phil shrugged.

“I trust my own wings, I know they will not falter unless I falter myself. I feel like this thing could tip at any time and I would be in the mercy of the ocean,”

“Look, this ship has probably sailed this route a hundred times before, and it’s still in one piece. There’s nothing to worry about,”

He gingerly took Phil’s hand in his, squeezing gently. After a moment the let his own hand slacken, expecting Phil to pull his away. Instead, they remained interlocked, albeit loosely. Dan suddenly became hyper aware of the sailors that milled about the deck around, but tried to push those thoughts down. Phil needed comfort and he was going to give it to him. Internal fears be damned.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed that Dan had been wrong, and Phil did have something to worry about.

Almost as soon as they got into open water, and the once seemingly still water became rougher and rougher, Phil’s already pale complexion turned a sickly green. His head was resting on the outer edge of the hull, eyes pressed shut. He already emptied the contents of his stomach overboard and looked as though he was planning to do the same with his wearied body.

“How are you not dying,” he groaned, peaking an eye open to look at Dan. Dan laughed softly,

“I don’t know, maybe because I don’t get seasick. It happens with some people. Besides, they said we’d be there before tomorrow morning. The wind is in our favour thank God, it’s the only thing that ever is,”

“Don’t laugh at me, it’s not funny. You’re just lucky,” Phil sighed.

Dan shook his head fondly, giving his shoulders a quick squeeze. He might have gone in for a full hug if the other man didn’t smell vaguely of vomit.

When they arrived at the island, they were whisked away almost immediately. The house sat high on the island, overlooking the barren, windswept slopes below. A wide, winding path led up to a pair of impressive gates which they were unceremoniously shoved through. Why anyone would decide to build a holiday home here was beyond Dan.

“Finally, " Phil muttered, looking up at the house with pursed lips."It's a pretty nice, I hope I don't have to burn it down," 

They were led through the front doors after a quick and awkward frisk by one of the many guards. Actually, there seemed to be guards all over the place, he couldn't imagine why such a remote area would have to be so heavily fortified? Maybe Mras was more paranoid than he thought. They were greeted by a butler almost as soon as their feet crossed the hearth. 

"We have informed the master of your arrival, he is quite perplexed. He'll be waiting for you in the study," he said sternly. 

Dan nodded with a slight smile, but hung back, leaning in close to Phil. 

"Let me do the talking. If everything goes to shit you grab the eggs and I'll deal with Mras OK?" He whispered, eyes darting around the grand entrance hall.

Phil nodded hesitantly, face going blank as he tried to put on his best 'serious business' expression.  I wasn’t that convincing but Dan appreciated the effort. 

The butler turned, giving them a warning look.

Mras’s study was like nothing Dan had ever seen before, and he’d been forced to observe many collections in his time as the supplier of them. The room was as large as a house, open and uninterrupted by columns or walls. The ceiling was high, supported by thick, strong wooden beams embedded into the hard stone walls. Bookcases lined the walls, but instead of books, there were bottles and vials or small glass chests fastened with brass locks. In the centre, there was an enormous tree, its leaves a fiery red.

Whilst Dan gaped as the vast number of items that lined the walls, Phil’s eyes were locked on two items in particular. Specifically the two perfect blck eggs, propped up on soft silk cushions by the fire. Mras eyed him wearily, putting himself between Phil and the eggs. Phil let out an almost audible growl of annoyance.

“Why are you here Dan? Are you going to show me your new inventory or what? And who’s your friend?”

Dan turned sharply,

“I lied, I don’t have anything to sell you, rather I want to buy something back,”

Mars pursed his lips, quickly growing tense,

“I don’t appreciate being misled, nor will I indulge you by hearing you out. Get out,” 

He spoke calmly, but the undertone to his voice was deep and dangerous. Dan swallowed thickly,

“The eggs, I need them back. I will return your gold in full and you never have to see me again,”

Mras shook his head, face becoming increasingly red,

“I will not hear of it, they are my most prized possessions, I should have known nobody could give them up so easily,”

“You are right, I should not have given them up so easily, but only because they weren’t mine to sell. I must return them to their original guardian,” Dan replied calmly, fear beginning to creep up his spine. Fuck, why couldn’t something just go right for once,

“Well tough, they’re mine now,” The wealthy man stated, not raising his voice despite the veins growing ever more present on his face. He stepped forwards suddenly, grabbing Dan by his wrist and hauling him towards the door with a surprising amount of strength. He was pushed to the floor, scrambling to get up before the butler, who had been looming ever closer throughout their conversation, got his hands on him.

Phil pulled him to his feet, ushering him away from both men. Dan wasn't one to cower in a fight, but Phil would protect him,  and he was far more capable in this situation than Dan could ever be now the talking was done. He kept behind him, one hand twisted in the fabric of his shirt in both fear of being separated and the desire to let Phil know that everything was going to be okay.

"Those eggs are mine," Phil said firmly, "You can't keep them,"

Mras scoffed, 

"Called dibs on them did you? I bought them for a fair price, where they came from before that has nothing to do with me,"

"You cannot possibly care for them when they hatch, what are you going to do then," 

Mras splayed his hands, looking around his collection in all its splendor,

"Look about you boy, I am one of the wealthiest men in the known world. Who else would be in a better position to raise them, even to feed them alone would bancrupt most. They shall be my loyal beasts, a teatime to my success," he exclaimed almost joyfully. 

Phil groaned in a foul mix of frustration and distaste, 

"They aren't beasts, they are children. They belong with one of their own,"  

"And I'm supposed to trust that you will deliver them to one? For all I know you've simply found a higher bidder, and your friend here regrets being so hasty in selling them to me," 

"I do regret it, but that isn't the reason," Dan grumbled, earning a light 'shut up' nudge from Phil. 

"I have no interest in money, I just want to get those eggs back where they belong, and you aren't going to stop me," 

"Those eggs belong here, with me, and they are never leaving," Mras spat, hovering over them possessively.

Phil closed his eyes and Dan braced, moving himself away from the fire. The flames once again began to jump, but Phil hesitated, letting them settle once more. 

" What are you doing? Start the fire, " Dan murmured. 

Phil shook his head, 

"I can't, the eggs are too close,"

Dan groaned, 

"Are you telling me dragon eggs aren't immune to fire? Phil they're dragon eggs. Isn't fire your whole shtick?" 

 "Yes but I can still burn in this body, who's going to grab them when they're engulfed in flames, you?" 

Mras stepped back fearfully, 

"What are you? Never mind, I'll have you both killed for this. You come into my home under false pretences, you threaten to take my possessions, and now you threaten me. I won't stand this sort of disrespect. I have treated you well scavenger, and this is how you repay me?"

Phils hand moved down until it was finally grasped firmly around Dan's wrist, 

"I think we need to leave, right now," 

"But your eggs," Dan hissed. 

"We can deal with that later, but for now I really don't want you killed," 

They rushed past the butler who made an attempt to grab them, hand gripping at the fabric of Dan's shirt but ultimately failing to hold on. 

Mras shouted for the guards but they were already out of the door and halfway up the drive before any of them understood what was going on. A few made a feeble attempt to chance but they were weighed down by heavy armour. Besides it wasn't like they had anywhere to go. They were trapped on the island and there was no way they would get down to the Dock in time before the alarm was sounded. 

"Fuck Phil, what do we do?"

Phil groaned in frustration, 

"I don't know, there must be somewhere we can hide and wait this out, let's just be glad they don't have bows," 

Almost as if on cue an arrow whizzed past Dan's head, sticking firmly into the ground ahead, their run became more desperate as they regaled how out in the open they were. A few more hit the earth with loud thumps around them before they were able to get to the edge of the cliff, flinging themselves down the steep and poorly kept track for cover. 

They ran along the beach for a little while, arriving in a cave gasping for breath.

"I don't know how that could have gone any worse," Dan gasped. Phil placed his finger to his lips, listening intently. At first only the crashing of the waves could be heard, thunderous against the rocky beach, but slowly the sound of clanking armour and shouts became clearer. 

"They're going to find us eventually, and we'll be slaughtered," Phil murmured. 

Slowly dread began to take hold of Dan. He never thought this was going to happen, was he really going to die. Surely Mras had some humanity, or had his obsession over those damn eggs stripped it all away? 

Phil stepped forward, bringing him into a strong hug. Dan buried his face in the dragons chest, relishing in his warmth. 

"I won't let them harm you Dan, even with a sword though my heart I'd stand for you. Don't cry, please don't cry it's all going to be okay," 

There was nothing he could do, Dan knew that, but it didn't stop the words from bringing comfort to him. 

"If we get out I'm going to come and live with you, I hope you meant it seriously when you said I could. We can have a nice house by the sea, so far away we'll never be bothered by anyone else," 

Phil smiled, holding him tighter still, 

"Yes we will," 

"I like you Phil, like I like. I don't care that you aren't human, or if you don't feel the same, I just think you ought to know," 

Phil placed a kiss on top of his head, 

"I like you to," he said with a grin, "If only we weren't having this revelation in such a dire circumstance," 

"I know," Dan groaned, giggling slightly , "Such a cliche."

In that moment he almost didn't care that they were about to be murdered. And then he realised he didn't have to. The tooth. 

Part 10

"Phil please listen, and don't be mad," Dan said suddenly. Phil pulled back, looking concerned. 

"I think I have a way out of this. How long does it take you to complete the spell that turns you back into a dragon?" 

Phil shrugged, 

"A couple of minutes, don't need much for the reversal. I don't have anything relating to my past self though, nothing I can use to complete it. Else I would have done it a long time ago don't you think," 

Dan but his lip, trying to push down the guilt that was steadily rising in his stomach. Maybe it was just best to die with the knowledge that he might have had a chance with Phil, rather than ruin it all so soon after it had begun. Then again that would also lead to Phil's death and that simply wasn't fair. Besides he didn't want to die,  it now he had hope for the future. 

"I'm sorry, I lied to you as well, I didn't want you to just leave. Please you're the only friend I've had in years," he said quietly, words sticking in his throat, thickening into a vile sludge that choked him. Phil frowned, 

"What are you on about?" 

Dan let out of drawn out sigh, 

"I didn't sell everything, I kept a tooth. I thought if I gave it to you, you'd abandon me. I'm sorry," 

Phil stood mouth agape, 

"What the fuck Dan, we could have saved so much time. I would have taken you with me anyway you idiot. Give it here," 

Dan handed it over, resisting the urge to grovel at Phil feet for fear of wasting time. 

"You stay here, find somewhere to hide, lie down and don't move until I come and get you," Phil said sternly, storming out of the cave, tooth clutched in hand. 

Where was he going, he was going to get himself shot. Dna began to run after him, hesitating by the opening in the rock. It was all going to be OK, everything was going to be fine. It had to be. God this was all such a mess. 

Suddenly the crashing of waves was smothered by a terrifying cry, deafening and inhuman. He recognised it deep in his heart, it was the same awful noise he'd heard all those nights ago when he thought it would be a good idea to pluck two eggs from the safety of their nest. 

So Phil had done it, he was a dragon again. That meant they'd be safe, right. Almost immediately after that thought flashed across his mind an arrows slammed into the rock a foot or so from his head, splintering upon impact and sending shards of wood pattering onto the stony floor. Fuck, he should have been hiding. 

He ducked behind the opening, contemplating his options. Either he waits in here for someone to come in here and slaughter him like a pig in a pen, or he makes a break for it and hopes for the best. If there's an enormous dragon flying overhead surely he isn't going to be top priority? It didn't take him long to make up his mind. 

He darted out of the cave, quickly taking shelter behind some nearby rocks. There were two guards hovering on the beach, occasionally looking fearfully to the sky. Their bows were drawn, ready to hit anything that moved. Dan could sense their fear from here, in the way they held themselves and their quick movements. He imagined they would not be in the best state for making good shots, but then again he didn't really want to risk it. He cowered behind the rock, praying they had not seen him leave the cave. 

They continued to approach the entrance, repeatedly detracted by the cacophony of noise sounding from the cliff above. There were shouts of orders, crashes that shook the very earth he stood on, punctured every now and again by that awful roar. It left his ears ringing, yet he had yet to lay eyes on the creature who made it. 

A man appeared on the edge of the cliff, calling down to the two guards, gesturing for them to come up. They nodded in agreement, drawing their swords, and sticking their heads through the opening of the cave, reading to cut the throat of anyone hiding within. Upon seeing that it was empty, they turned and began to scramble up the steep grass track to join the rest of their squad. Dan let out a long sigh of relief.

He sat there for a little longer, until the cacophony became muffled and the ground stilled. Had Phil won, what was going on? What if they'd killed him, oh god what if he was dead. The fear continued to creep through him as he forced himself to wait, eventually becoming too much. He stood up, legs cracking after so long crouched in the same position and crept towards the path. 

Eventually he was able to stick his head over the edge of the cliff, nostrils filled with the stench of smoke. The house was aflame, the study gone, reduced to rubble. There were burnt patches in the grass covering the island, although thankfully it appeared to be free from casualties. The soldiers huddled in a small cluster, Mras at their centre, and towering above them was a magnificent blue dragon. 

His scales shimmered water under a bright sun, eyes a flaming red. It did not seem however that he had gone completely untouched by the fight, arrows pierced the thin membrane of his wings, a few others were still lodged into his legs and belly, wedged between scales. Dan watched as one by one the guard's nerves failed, fleeing the group until only Mras remained, carrying in his arms the two eggs. 

Dan got up from his position, moving towards the dragon and his target. Perhaps he would be able to convince Mras to stand down. Phil had clearly avoided hurting anyone, had he willed it the earth would have been littered with corpses. It wasn't like the rich man had any other choice, he had to see hy now that he couldn't hold onto those eggs for much longer. 

"Mras give up," Dan exclaimed, stumbling over the rough, charred ground. 

"This was your doing?" the merchant sneered. 

"Does it matter? Hand over the eggs and we'll let you go," 

Mras shook his head desperately, 

"I can't, I need them. I will only spend the rest of my life dreaming of them if I give them up. Don't you see, I am their guardian now, " 

Phil growled, wings flaring, silhouette blocking out the dimming sun and casting them both into shadow. 

"No you aren't, you never were and you never will be. We don't want to hurt you Mras but you must give them back to us," 

"Never," Mras growled, clutching onto his precious cargo with such fervent possession that Dan worried he might crush them under his grip. 

Suddenly there was a searing pain in Dan’s foot and he let out a strangled cry. He looked down with horror to find an arrow sticking out from his foot, having hit with such force that it had gone all the way through and embedded firmly into the soil beneath. A frightened guard hovered on the fringe on the field, darting away as Phil turned to face him, teeth bared. 

Mras took his opportunity to run, as if it would do him any good. He made it maybe ten feet before being  engulfed in flame. Dan might have screamed in horror as the man collapsed to his knees, grieving for a life he did not necessarily like but ought to be there just the same. Instead he fell to his own knees, vision going foggy as the pain in his leg became unbearable.

He could feel every pulse of his heart, his boot was quickly becoming sodden with a steady stream of warm blood. He lifted his foot, snapping off the arrowhead which sent a wave of agony throughout his entire body. Then he grasped the wooden shaft, yanking it out in one quick movevent. He’d hoped that once it was gone the pain would ease, but blood only continued to flow. He was quickly becoming weaker and weaker. The last thing he saw before blacking out was the great blue dragon approaching. Maybe he’d be put out of his misery.

When Dan woke, it was with the worst headache he’d ever had to endure. He felt like he’d been out drinking for seven consecutive nights and every hangover and rolled into one. The surface on which he lay was cold and flat, although a thin blanket had been wrapped tightly around him. He tried to sit up, immediately letting out a long groan as his head turned fuzzy. There was a sligh grunt to his side and he turned to see Phil lying next to him, looking equally awful, although surprisingly in his human form. 

“Shhh, don’t try to get up, you lost a lot of blood,” he murmured, voice hoarse.

Dan looked down to see his foot tightly wound in strips of cloth, already soaked with blood. He grabbed his forehead, desperate to stop the pounding in his skull,

“What happened, where are we?”

Phil shrugged,

“I don’t know. You fainted and I didn't know what to do. There were so many guards still around, I just picked you up and flew as far as I could. I took a quick look round, there isn’t anybody for miles and miles,”

Dan nodded slowly. They were close o a beach, he could taste it on his lips, and the sun was bright and warm as it shone down through the canopy of the trees above. The trees were strange, with broad leaves and thick, fibrous trunks. He could see fruit on some of them, flowers on others. It was a beautiful sight.

“I’d take you back to the mainland, but I'm too weak to fly right now. You don’t mind waiting do you?” Phil yawned. Dan frowned,

“No, I don’t want to go back, I want to stay here with you. You said I could, you promised,”

Phil’s eyes were on the floor, shoulders hunched,

“You saw me kill someone Dan, you watched me burn someone alive and you still want to be with me?” He said softly. Dan shrugged, but in his kind he hesitated.

Ok, so Phil had murdered Mras, a long time customer and seeming okay guy, but it hadn't been without reason. The merchant had ordered their deaths, he was the reason Dan was shot.

“To be fair I was quite distracted,” he replied with a forced laugh, gesting down to his bandaged foot. Phil gave him a look that pierced Dan right through his soul,

“You didn’t have a choice, and what’s done is done,” He said softly.

Pil nodded slowly, still looking unconvinced.

“What do we do now then?” he asked quietly. Dan shrugged.

“You’re the one who knows how to live it out here rough, I have no idea about all this surval crap,”

Phil rolled his eyes fondly,

“I can sort all that out, I meant what do we do about us? Do you still . . . like me?”

A grin spread across Dan’s face, despite how crappy he felt.

“Of course I do, you just saved my life for a second time, how could I resist such a hero?” He exclaimed dramatically, although completely sincerely.

Phil smiled brightly,

“Really? Well, I like you too,” he smirked. Dan yawned, laying his head down onto the compact earth of the forest floor,

“Haven't we been through all of this before?”

Phil nodded,

“Yeah but I was just making sure. Everything is changing so fast, we only met two weeks ago but it feels like months,”

Dan sighed, 

“I know, it’s been mad. Are the eggs safe?”

Phil nodded with a smile.

“I won’t steal them this time,” Dan said weakly, earning a light and joking slap from Phil,

“Don’t you even dare. I just need to sleep,” he groaned.

“God what a mistake that was,” Dan sighed. 

“Not that much of a mistake, you got me afterall,” Phil replied with a wink. Dan rolled his eyes,

“Not so hung up on it now that they’re back are you,”

“Shut up, I’m making the best of a bad situation,”

“You’re ridiculous did you know that?” Dan yawned, feeling his eyelids growing heavy.

“Well you better get used to it,” Phil smirked. Dan hummed in agreement. Yes, he probably would.

Epilogue 

The sky was blue and clear, the air humid but not so much that it was oppressive. Dan sat on the beach, the soothing crashing of the waves washing over him as he absorbed the warmth of the summer sun. His hair blew in the wind, falling down into his eyes. He should probably ask Phil to cut it for him, or maybe not. He didn't exactly trust the man with anything sharp, especially so close to his face. He remembered when he would have had to visit a barber, or sit in front of the mirror in a dank old Inn room. He didn’t miss those days.

Curled in his lap was a bundle of red scales, tail twisted tightly around his thigh, sister bounding about by the sea, dipping her little claws into the swash and flicking the water back onto the sand. They'd hatched not long ago, in fact they didn't even have names yet. Dan kept suggesting them but Phil wasn't all that impressed, apparently simply calling them Red and Blue wasn't good enough. They'd figure them out on their own soon is what Phil kept saying. Dan wished that humans could choose their own name, although he dreaded to think what he would have called himself in his teenage years. 

Speaking of Phil, he was off hunting, which was why Dan was babysitting. Dan had tried a few times, but had always returned empty handed, or empty clawed he supposed. Evidently it was going to take him more than a few months to figure out all the intricacies of occupying a body with a y-axis. So for now he let Phil deal with it. 

Suddenly an unexpectedly large wave crashed against the beach, soaking the sister and sending water so far up the beach it almost wet Dan's trousers. She squealed in horror, scampering over to Dan sand hiding her head beneath his arm. Dan cooed, picking her up and rubbing her gently. They hadn't gotten their flame yet, it was very important to keep them warm. 

The sound of flapping wings came behind them, kicking up sand which swirled into the air like it had just been hit by a tornado. Before Dan could even turn around, Phil was in his human form, standing over the enormous fish he had just plucked from the sea. Dan grimaced, admittedly the food out here wasn't great, but he could live with it of it meant his family's safety, 

"Well done, successful trip," Dan smiled, giving Phil a quick peck on the cheek. Phil grinned, 

"Indeed," he exclaimed happily, sinking down onto the sand next to his mate. 

The sister joyfully leaped into Phil's lap, settling comfortably against her guardian. They preferred him in his dragon state, but were slowly getting used to him staying as a human more and more. It was only temporary of course, once Dan got more comfortable in his other body they would split the time in each form more evenly, but Phil was understanding in time it might take. A lot had changed for Dan. 

The sun slowly began to set on the horizon, bathing them both in its orange glow. He wondered how many more sunsets he would watch from this beach, thousands almost certainly, even millions if he was very, very lucky. He didn't mind that. The children would grow, eventually leaving to make lives of their own, but with Phil's magic Dan would not whither as a human would. Then it was only the case of what to do next. He had a long time to figure that out however, and a thousand sunsets to watch in the meantime. Whatever the future had planned for him, he didn't care. As long as he had Phil by his side, every sunset would be as beautiful as this one. 

[chestnut-b]

Himawari - Chapter 1

Try not to get too attached.

A warning, Kakashi later realised, that he should have taken a bit more seriously.

Chapter 1 of a Kimetsu no Yaiba-verse AU

Kakashi sighed as his feet found the ground.

He looked up, squinting as the breeze brushed past him. He’d been standing on the branch of a huge oak seconds ago, and before that, the edge of a cliff; but before him now was a sea of blue and yellow, split against the horizon. Among a seemingly endless field of sunflowers, a pair stood on the path before him. A youth, who couldn’t be much older than 17, and a child, whom he knew for certain had just crossed his 7th year. 

The squirming boy holding the youth’s hand tightened his grip and stared at Kakashi warily, a living reflection of their surroundings with a head of blonde, and eyes as blue as the skies above them.

Really, Kakashi couldn’t have made a better clone of his former mentor if he tried.

He shifted his scrutiny to the lanky youth before him. There wasn’t much to note, though he felt the nagging of something familiar; tanned skin, dark hair in a ponytail, wearing the standard blacks and drop earrings of what looked to be sea glass. He had a stark scar across the bridge of his nose that looked more delicate and deliberately placed than the typical battle scar, but for demon slayers, a facial scar or five was nothing to write home about. This one in particular seemed almost decorative compared to the damage he’d seen in his years as a Pillar. 

Upon seeing Kakashi, the stranger broke into a wide grin. Almost too bright, Kakashi thought.

“Hatake-dono! I see you’ve finally made it. We were getting a little worried so we came to get you, didn’t we, Naruto?” The youth said, dipping his head towards the child beside him, who merely shrugged in response. There was a slight teasing tone to it; a greeting that was a little less reverent than he was used to receiving, but Kakashi didn’t mind.

“Yes, well, the wards were changed since I was here last. Getting past the new ones took a little more time than I expected.” He didn’t let the irritation he’d felt leading up to this point seep through. This bounded field was already half a day’s travel from their headquarters, and Kakashi understood and at certain points, even grudgingly admired the security measures that had been put in place. The journey towards the first barrier was routine, but he didn’t expect it to take half that time to find his way through the rest of them. The annoyance he’d felt was at himself really, for having taken so long to break in.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that,” the youth smiled sheepishly. scratching at his scar. The gesture seemed to imply that Kakashi’s delay had been his doing, but the Pillar couldn’t say for certain yet. “but now that the wards recognise you, I don’t think you’ll have any issues for your next visit. Please follow me, you must be tired from your journey. We aren’t too far from the school now.” He kneeled down and offered his back to Naruto, who climbed on enthusiastically. A few minutes later, the pair were singing a butchered rendition of a local farming song as they continued on the path. Kakashi followed, silently amused.

“I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh!” The youth turned back to him, beaming. As if being asked for it was something of a pleasant surprise.

“I’m Umino Iruka. It’s my great honor to meet you, Hatake-dono.”

---------------------------- 

It turned out that Umino Iruka had been in fact, the person responsible for his delayed arrival to the Slayer holding school. He’d surmised as much when one of the youth’s fellow teachers, another silver-haired fellow who introduced himself as Mizuki, had come up to him, apologising profusely with feigned sincerity for the perceived inconvenience caused by his colleague. Kakashi however, held a firm disdain for boot-lickers and snitches, and thus, had felt the need to correct him.

“Quite the contrary, it means Iruka’s barriers are effective. I hope you’ll been teaching them at the school, they’ll be appreciated on the field.” It was a comment that had left both Iruka and Mizuki flushed, though for entirely different reasons. Naruto, who was now standing next to Iruka, nodded approvingly, though Kakashi doubted he’d understood the deeper meaning of their conversation. A request was made for accommodations to be prepared for the Lightning Pillar, before they parted from Mizuki as Iruka led them deeper into the school.

Kakashi mused; even though they called this housing facility a school, considering the majority of its inhabitants, it may as well have been called a Slayer orphanage. He’d spent a short stint in a facility like this; his mother had died in childbirth and his father, a former Pillar himself, chose to end his own life after having been turned a demon in an encounter with their destined enemy; the Progenitor Serpent - Orochimaru.

No one staying here did so in fortunate circumstances, but he did end up meeting some of his closest comrades, Obito and Rin, even - shudder - Gai, so his days here were not entirely without merit. While not every person in the care of the school would become a warrior of repute, much less a Pillar, those who passed the Slayer selection exams would go on to be, at the very least, a part of the invaluable support corps.

Iruka paused at the entrance to a smaller room, then turned to kneel before the boy behind him.  “Naruto, could you go play with Lee-kun for while? Hatake-dono and I have some things to discuss. I won’t be long, promise.” He smiled as he mussed the boy’s hair, and the child tried his best to sound petulant with feigned annoyance, but took his instructions and ran off to find a playmate.

He then motioned Kakashi into the room, and after drawing the shoji doors closed behind them, attached a ward to their combined frames. There would be no unwelcome observers here.

“You seem to be rather good with those.”

Iruka smiled as he settled on the tatami floor before him, placing his sword to the side as he did so. He started a flame on the small hearth nearby and began to make preparations for tea.

“Everything I know, Sarutobi-sama was generous enough to teach me.”

That made Kakashi raise an eyebrow. The retired Flame Pillar wasn’t known to be a particularly difficult man, but he was notoriously picky when it came to students, more so than other instructors. To have received training from someone who’d lived to even retire as Pillar; it meant that Iruka had more potential as a slayer than probably the youth himself realised. 

With a subdued gaze, he observed Iruka. A seemingly innocuous act; making tea, but one he performed without a single wasted movement, In his concentration, the embers in the flame flickered gold in his eyes, which were a tide of black and deep earthy brown. Despite his relaxed appearance, Iruka’s awareness of their surroundings even beyond the sealed room never faulted even for a moment.

“My parents...they’d been killed by the Fox, and he was kind enough to take me in. He seemed to think it would come in handy once he found out I would be assigned here.”

His smile took on a tinge of sadness as he offered a filled cup to the man before him, who accepted it gratefully. He then lowered his gaze again to the flame, allowing Kakashi a moment to lower his mask to drink unhindered. A student of Sarutobi indeed, the tea was just as he’d been served the last time he’d met the esteemed ‘Professor’.

So Iruka had been assigned to the school...and to Naruto specifically, if he dared to guess. He’d seen firsthand how well they got along, but it didn’t escape Kakashi’s eye, a minute strain in his smile as the youth interacted with the boy. But his affections towards the child were genuine, that much he could tell. The strain he saw was more likely than not, directed towards himself.

His thoughts turned to Naruto, and memories from years ago bubbled to the surface. It had been a real cause for tension once it had been revealed that his mentor, the late Wind Pillar, Minato, had fathered a child with an Uzumaki clan member. The Uzumaki clan had been few in number, and despite having fought alongside one another for generations, their existence had been merely tolerated by the Slayer organisation, and that was putting it kindly.

Many of them were Marechi, and in their descendants slept the ancient Fox demon, Kurama. Unlike the deliberate maliciousness of Orochimaru who was, relative to humanity’s history, a recent plague, Kurama’s origin stretched back thousands of years, and its fury was more akin to that of a natural disaster.

It made the Uzumaki the very definition of a double-edged sword. Their blood would attract scores of crazed demons, but their innate power and vitality made them a trump card in their fights to repel them. Their skills were only witnessed in the abyss of night, such was their nature as vessels for demons, and their aversion to the Wisteria, while not as strong as full-blooded demons, also meant they were almost never seen at the Slayer headquarters, further adding to the division and tensions.

That was part of the reason why Kakashi would be spending the next two months here, he lamented. If i’m even that lucky. He placed his empty cup onto the floor.

“Hatake-do-”

“Kakashi’s fine.” The formalities were getting a bit tiring, and the constant reminders of his father were not going to be terribly useful.

“Um, well. Kakashi...san.” Kakashi gave the barest nod he could produce.

“Jiraiya-sama told me what he could before his departure. He said you’d be taking over his duties here to observe Naruto.”

Unfortunately, Iruka wasn’t mistaken. It seems that the old man had been needed elsewhere, and the sly toad had nominated him for his replacement, despite the fact it was well known that Kakashi operated alone, and acted more as an informant as he roamed the cities hunting for traces of Orochimaru together with his eight canine messengers. His eye twitched as he recalled Pakkun delivering his mission details. As displeased as he was at the time, one simply did not question orders from their leader. Jiraiya was himself, a retired Pillar, and Minato’s former master. His nomination hadn’t been taken lightly.

“Between you and me, Iruka-sensei, Naruto’s development has been an issue of contention back at headquarters for a while now. No one seems to be sure what to do with him.” Kakashi stated plainly. Now he was the one feeling awkward. Iruka was not only younger than him, but younger than any teacher would normally be. But a teacher he was, nonetheless.

“Naruto...he’s just like any other child here. Prone to the occasional outburst, has some trouble concentrating in class, but it’s nothing unusual for kids his age. He’s shown no signs for concern so far.” The young teacher gently clenched the fists he had resting in his lap.

“That’s what I was told, but he’ll be making a move soon. Naruto needs to be prepared for the worst.”

“Orochimaru?” Iruka whispered.

“Ahh. They’re worried. Worried that Kurama might come under his control. If he ever does...it could spell the end of us all.” It would be a quick end, at least, Kakashi mused.

Iruka’s complexion turned a shade paler.

“Then why isn’t he being housed at the Headquarters? Surely he’d be much more secure there...”

Kakashi paused. He was certain Iruka already knew most of the answers to his own question. Firstly, it wasn’t known for sure if Naruto would survive the trip past the Wisteria fields. Even if he had, and he’d been compromised at their base, it would surely be an attack that would end the Slayers as they knew it. It was the very reason this outpost had been set up. Iruka, having been specifically trained to set up advanced misdirection barriers and then posted here, had to have known this. So, Kakashi grimly thought of one more answer to satisfy the young teacher’s question.

“I’m afraid, sensei, the majority of our comrades...if they knew about Naruto, would rather see him dead.”

“No. You think they’d-”

“I don’t just think, sensei. I know this for a fact.”

Iruka was stunned into silence, and Kakashi wondered if he had been a bit too honest for his own good. But it would do no one any favours to be in denial of their situation. His main job here was to evaluate Naruto, to see if he’d add anything to their efforts. His second job was to guard him, should it be necessary. What he’d spared Iruka the knowledge of at least, was that if Naruto were in any danger of being compromised while Kakashi was here, his duty would have been to -

A pained sound from across Kakashi prevented him from finishing that thought. He looked up to find Iruka, bowed over, trying to control irregular, pained breaths as a hand clenched his chest.

“Iruka? What’s wrong?” He crossed the room quickly and knelt at the teacher’s side. He was struggling silently, shaking his head. Kakashi placed a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back, hoping to lend some kind of support. Now that he looked closer, under the uniform was a build slightly smaller than he’d expected.

“It’s fine, Kakashi-san. I’m ok.” Iruka said, having finally managed to pull himself together.

“If you say so.” Kakashi slumped onto the tatami where he’d been kneeling beside the teacher, breaking any semblance of formality between them. “Happens often?” he asked.

“Runs in the family.” Iruka sighed. They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few moments, before Iruka turned to him, his eyes filled with determination and sharp like flints. 

“Kakashi-san, whatever your job is here...all I ask is that you give Naruto a fair chance.”

So the young sensei wasn’t completely naive after all, Kakashi thought with some relief. He patted his junior’s shoulder casually, trying to dispel some of the serious atmosphere that had been building up to this point. It resulted in a few surprised coughs from the sensei, but quickly turned into warm, quiet laughter. 

“Well, you have my word, sensei. I have my reasons, but it’s not as if I came all the way here to see him fail.” Naruto was, afterall, the last legacy of a mentor that had been dear to him.

“I’ve just realised that, yes.” Iruka sighed with humor, as if the last few minutes were something of a revelatory experience. He met Kakashi’s eyes and smiled, with none of the dissonance he’d observed earlier that day. The warmth he felt made Kakashi wonder if the stove had been going for a little far too long for a day like this.

A few seconds later, a voice outside the room called for their attention.

“Senseiiii! Are you done yet?” Naruto had obviously had enough of waiting.

“Well. Time for work, Kakashi-san.” Iruka joked as he got up from his seat. He walked towards the doors and lifted the paper ward from the wooden frame. Turning back to the Pillar, who was still seated, he smiled again, a bit more playfully this time. “I hope you won’t find your stay here too traumatic.” Iruka teased. With that, he slid the doors open, only to get tackled by a very noisy Naruto as soon as he stepped out onto the corridor.

Kakashi observed them for a few moments in quiet amusement. Then, a familiar presence reached his senses, and in trotted a rather pleased-looking Guruko, holding a piece of paper carefully in her jaw. After patting her head and giving her a well-deserved scratch, he took the letter from her, unfolding it carefully to reveal the written script of the person who’d gotten him involved in this in the first place. Judging from the last place he’d sent Guruko, he must have just missed Jiraiya by a couple days. Late as usual, he could hear Jiraiya laugh at him. That just meant he wouldn’t have the opportunity to voice his displeasure in person.

He started reading:

-----------

Yo.  

Thanks for agreeing to this, I trust your judgement completely, as you know. I’m sure you’ll do fine. To be honest, it’s not the boy I’m worried about. There’s been some activity in the northern regions, so I’ll be heading there to check things out. I’ll send a messenger once I’ve cleared it, though it may take a while. Thought it would do ya good to interact with something that wasn’t a dog for once, no offense!

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Kakashi rolled his eyes at that. Even the one under the eyepatch. Offense taken. He gave Guruko another scratch behind the ear.

He’d read the letter in Jiraiya’s typical lackadaisical tone. He hadn’t written any names as a precaution, but it couldn’t be hard to figure out who he was referring to. It was the next line though, that gave him a bit more cause for concern.

They’re good kids, really. You could even pick up a few things from the teacher. The monkey’s trained him well. It’ll be tough, but try not to get too attached. 

Try not to get too attached.

A warning, he would later realise, that he should have taken a bit more seriously. 

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Author’s notes

That’s it for chapter 1! It’s been posted on A03 as well in case you’d prefer to read it there. 

The focus will be on Kakashi and Iruka, so don’t expect anything really expansive. I haven’t written anything this long in years, but it’s been fun to explore KnY’s setting using these characters. (They do have quite a bit in common) All this started with Iruka and Muzan sharing the same seiyuu, and just spiraled from there. 

Any comments/reblogs you have will be joyously appreciated. 

See you next chapter!

[therainroguefanfiction]

⁂ Thief (Joshua Hong)

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst ☁

Word Count: 3,105 ☁

Pairing: Reader, Joshua ☁

World: Seventeen ☁

Prompt: “I stole your purse and you chased me until I was hit by a taxi now you’re helping me to the hospital and you refuse to leave my side, wait you’re not pressing charges?? Why? I’m a thief – what do you mean you feel guilty?!” from [this] list.

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You leaned against the cold brick of a nearby building, staring up at the dark gray clouds. You couldn’t understand why you had to do this. If that bastard wanted other people’s money so bad, why couldn’t he steal it himself? You knew you didn’t have a choice though; he’d kill you if you didn’t return with some type of income, whether card or cash, he never cared. Honestly, you believed he didn’t even care about that money. He was probably just hoping that you’d get caught and be sent to prison; he’d finally be rid of you, then.

You pulled up your hood to shadow your face as you walked down the street, keeping your eyes peeled for any potential victims. It was mid-winter at this point, so the people passing by were bundled up in heavy coats and thick pants. This made things easier for you – with so much padding, the chance of them noticing their missing wallet was much slimmer than it was in the summer or spring.

“One Americano, please.”

Your eyes fell on the man standing in front of the coffee shop. A hat covered his head while a mask covered the lower half of his face. Honestly, it struck you as quite suspicious. Being a person that prefers to hide from prying eyes, you were easily able to recognize that this guy didn’t want to be seen by others. Was he a criminal or something? You really didn’t care. Your focus was on the wallet held in his hand.

The barista handed him the drink and he pulled out a card from his wallet, using it to pay for his drink. As soon as his hand fell to his side, you sprung into action. You were like a blur pushing through the people heading in the opposite direction, and they stopped and stared, wondering what was happening. Your heart pounded in your ears.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Just before he slipped his wallet into his pocket, you reached out and snatched it from his hand, ignoring his cry of surprise. You wasted no time and took off down the street feeling a sense of satisfaction bubbling up in your stomach. You’d take his cash if he had any, but if he only had his card, you could easily grab some food before he decided to cancel it.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Your head whipped around to see the man following you, closing in. “Shit!” You tried to increase your speed, but the ground below was covered in a thin layer of frost, not providing enough traction to increase your speed. Still, you forced yourself to continue forward. Your attention stayed locked on the man chasing you, making sure that you knew the distance between you at all times. Unfortunately, you didn’t pay half as much attention to where you were running.

“Watch out!”

Your attention whipped toward the taxi that was barrelling straight for you. You didn’t have enough time to react; the driver didn’t either. You remember a hot flash of pain as the taxi collided with your side, sending you sliding across the road. You heard a sickening crack as your system flooded with adrenaline and pain. It hurt to breathe and the sounds around you blurred together. You could faintly hear screams and cries of passing pedestrians. Honking of cars nearby, oblivious of what had happened.

The very last thing you remember was the blurred faces of two people leaning over you. They were saying something, but your brain couldn’t process the words.

Your world went black.

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You felt… high; like you were floating on a cloud. You could feel the prickling of pain in the back of your mind, but it was almost completely brushed over by the high. Life felt good at that moment like there was nothing for you to worry about. No abusive step-father. No thievery to survive. Just a complete feeling of calm and content.

You felt a tingling on your arm and you forced your eyes to open. It wasn’t painful but damn were your eyes heavy. It felt as if they had been sealed with cement. A groan passed your lips as the effort it took.

“Oh, you’re awake!” A cheerful voice spoke. It was clearly a woman and she sounded happy, but her voice was soft like she was talking to a child. “The doctor will be pleased to hear this!”

The doctor? What?

Your eyes finally focused and the first thing you saw was a nurse standing over you with a smile. She held a chart against her chest. “Where am I?” You managed to croak out. Your throat was dry, voice hoarse from lack of use.

“You’re in the hospital, dear. Let me get you some water, I’m sure you’re thirsty!” The woman disappeared.

You tried to force yourself to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side made you drop back down with a groan. The high was starting to wear off – or maybe the pain was just getting stronger. You honestly didn’t know which, nor did you care.

The nurse returned and clicked her tongue. “You shouldn’t move too much, your body is still healing!” She pushed a button on the side of the bed and the head started to rise until you were in a sitting position. “There. Now, drink some of this, it’ll help.”

The woman clearly didn’t trust that you had the strength to hold the paper cup on your own, instead choosing to hold it up to your mouth for you. The water was cold and it felt amazing as it slid down your throat. Just that little bit and you felt heaps better – though the dull stinging of the pain was still there.

She noticed you scrunch up your face and patted your shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s time for the next dose of your pain medication.”

You watched her as she pulled out a syringe from her pocket and inserted into the I.V attached to your left arm. Oh, you hadn’t even felt that there. Even now you don’t feel it. Normally the tape would drive you nuts.

When she finished, she smiled at you again. “I’ll send for the doctor so he can explain. In the meantime, try not to move around too much, even if you don’t feel pain. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to push this red button here. It’ll call the nurse on duty – that will be me for the next five hours.”

You watched her until she disappeared into the hallway. The room was silent, interrupted only by the beeping of the machine and the gentle dripping of your I.V. The small TV mounted to the wall was on, but the volume had been turned all the way down – thank god. Who wants to listen to the home shopping network while in the hospital? And why the hell were they selling plungers?!

Your palm found your forehead. You didn’t know what was happening, why you were in the hospital to begin with and you were teetering between not giving a shit because of the pain medication and freaking out because you couldn’t remember anything.

Well, that’s not completely true. You remember your name. And your age. Actually, not that you were using your brain, you remembered everything up until the point you decided to rob some suspicious guy buying an Americano. After that, though, things are fuzzy. You blamed the drugs, really.

Heavy footsteps reached your ears as the doctor entered your room. He was tall and full of muscle. He actually resembled Ricky Kim quite a bit – or maybe that was just how you were picturing him in your drug-infused mine.

He smiled softly. “It’s about time you woke up, kiddo. You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

Well, that explains why you felt like you had been in a desert without water.

“The nurse tells me that you don’t know why you’re here. Is that correct?”

You nodded.

“Well,” The man pulls up a chair next to your bed. “You were hit by a car and rushed to the emergency room. You were injured, but nothing fatal thankfully. You suffered a mild concussion from your head hitting the ground. Three broken ribs from the impact of the car. Your right arm was cut open pretty bad, as well.”

You glanced at the arm in question to find it wrapped tightly in a clean, white bandage from elbow to wrist.

“Are you feeling any pain?”

“Just my ribs.” Your voice was much more clear than it had been earlier.

He nodded, satisfied. “We’re going to keep you for a couple more days to observe your injuries. Currently, the main thing we’re concerned about is the concussion. You had no I.D on your person, but your fingerprints came up in the system.”

You were praising the hell out of the meds at that point. If not for them, you would have cringed at the mention of your prints and there’s no way you would have been able to keep a straight face. Honestly, you weren’t surprised; you knew that bastard wasn’t good for his word, even as a child.

Wait… if they knew who you were, does that mean…?

“Did you contact my family?”

“We’re required by law to inform family members that there an incident. However, we weren’t able to find any family in your file.”

You sighed loudly out of relief, pulling a confused look from the doctor. You scrambled to make up a story as to why you had reacted that way. “Umm… my mom is sick. Like, really sick and I try to keep the stress off of her as much as possible… No idea why she’s not in the file, haha, that’s so weird…”

He clearly didn’t believe you but didn’t press the issue. “Well, I’ll do my best to get you all healed up and back to her.” He pulled the bedside table within my reach. “You should probably give her a call, though.”

“Yeah, yeah… totally…” You cleared your throat, reaching for the phone. You moved as slow as you possibly could before pulling away when he finally left the room. “That could have ended badly…”

You turned your gaze to the opposite side of the room where you had a beautiful view of the city. Only, the city isn’t what you focused on. Underneath the window was a pale green couch and lying on that couch was a body. The person had their back to you so you couldn’t see their face, but the body outline that peaked out from the white blanket didn’t seem familiar to you at all. Were you hallucinating?

“You’re a lucky one.” The nurse appeared at your side, making you jump in surprise. She chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine… what did you mean by I’m lucky?”

“Well, that boy has stayed by your side since you arrived. He’s been pretty worried about you, constantly asking if your condition has changed.” She smiled fondly. “He’s quite the sweetheart, and cute too!”

You stared at her blankly, having no idea what the hell she was talking about, but not wanting to ask. He must be part of your missing memory.

For the next two hours, you lied in bed – not like you had any other options there – and watched the only decent channel you could find. There was a Weekly Idol marathon running, and you had to admit, the MC’s are hella funny.

Movement caught your eye and you looked over to find that the man was moving. He slowly sat up, yawning as he stretched his arms above his head. His light brown hair was slightly messy from sleep and fell lightly over his forehead. A silver cross was pierced on the top part of his left ear, but he didn’t seem to have any more piercings in. The nurse wasn’t lying – this boy was cute as hell. But who is he?

As soon as his warm brown eyes met your own, the room around you seemed to fade out of focus. It was replaced by the memory of the accident resurfacing. You remember snatching this man’s wallet and taking off. You hadn’t expected him to chase after you – your targets rarely did, usually just screaming for help and calling the cops. But this man was different. He chased you, and he kept up easily despite the frost-covered ground. You remember vividly how close he was to catching you, and you remember vividly how stupid you had been to not pay attention to what was in front of you. You had been too focused on getting caught and ran straight into the street in front of an oncoming car. Because of the light dusting of frost on the road, the car hadn’t been able to stop in time.

You’re sure that, if the man hadn’t been paying attention to the road, he wouldn’t have hit the brakes at all and you most likely would have died then and there.

“Miss? Miss, are you okay? Do I need to call the nurse?” A worried voice broke through the memory, bringing you back to reality. The man was now at your bedside, hand lightly on your shoulder as he looked at you with a worried expression.

“No, no, I’m fine.” You muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit at the close proximity. “I just… remembered.”

He backed away a bit, but still looked at you worriedly. “What did you remember?”

“I stole your wallet. You chased me. I got hit by a car.”

He bit his lip and looked down at the ground.

You cleared your throat and shifted slightly in the bed. “Soo… are you gonna call the cops now?”

“Why would I do that?” He asked, confused.

“I stole your wallet, remember? I’m a thief.” You stared at him blankly. “The nurse told me that you’ve been here since I arrived. You were waiting for me to wake up so you could press charges. It’s fine, just get it over with.”

“No, I’m not going to press charges.” He responded softly, sitting down on the couch. “I stayed with you because I was worried. I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay, and… I wanted to wait for you to wake up so I could apologize in person.”

You deadpanned. “Wait, wait, wait. Let me get this straight. You wanted to apologize to me for robbing you. I’m clearly not the only one with drugs in their system.”

“You got hit because I chased you.”

“No. I got hit because my dumb ass wasn’t paying attention to where I was running.” You couldn’t believe this was happening. This guy couldn’t possibly be for real. “I’m alive, so it doesn’t really matter who is at fault, right?”

He smiled and it lit up his face. “I guess you’re right.”

His guilt seemed to transfer to you because you started to feel it the more you thought about it. This whole mess happened because of you – because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your step-dad and tell him to shove it. You looked down at your hands. “I, uhh… I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

“Why did you do it?” He asked softly. His voice held no anger or disappointment, just curiosity. “Do you need money?”

You chuckled bitterly. “My life isn’t easy, but our money is comfortable. So no, I didn’t need it.”

“Then why?”

“It’s… complicated.”

He reached over, resting his hand over my own. It was warm and comforting, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “Please tell me.”

As strange as it sounds, you felt like you had to tell him. After all, you stole his wallet, made him feel guilty and took three days of his life. You felt like you owed him something – even if that something was nothing more than an explanation.

With a sigh, you leaned your head back to stare at the white ceiling of your room. “My step-father is kind of a douche. He hates kids, and since he doesn’t work and is always home, he makes me and my younger brother leave. He usually makes us do things we shouldn’t – like stealing. If we refuse, he blows up and hits us. He used to be a cop, so he’s hella strong. Neither of us can take him, even though we’re pretty strong too. We’ve gotten used to his beatings, but it’s just easier to do what he says. It’s a pain trying to hide the bruises and keep up with the lies.”

His grip increased, but it was still gentle somehow. “That’s horrible!”

You shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“What will happen when you’re released?”

“Punished, probably.”

“Then you can’t go home! We can call the cops -”

“No!” You sat up quickly only to groan at the sharp pain that shot through your ribs. “If I call the cops, it’ll only make things worse. It’s our word against his. Everyone that meets him loves him. And on the off chance that they did believe us – I’d be on the street and my brother would be put in the system.”

He bit his lip in thought, trying to figure out a solution to your problem, but you knew better.

“Look, I appreciate your kindness. I appreciate you not pressing charges. And I appreciate you staying here with me. But here is where we go our separate ways. There’s nothing you can do for me. I’m sure you have a life to get back to. A family, a pet… a girlfriend. You should go.”

He wanted to protest, but a sudden thought made him change his mind. He smiled softly, grabbing his coat, along with the hat and mask that he had been wearing that day. “I do need to get back to work. Don’t give up hope. Things will work out for you, I know they will.”

As much as you wanted to scoff and tell him that he had no idea what he was talking about, you just forced a smile back. This guy had been too kind to you and you couldn’t bring yourself to be rude. And then it hit you.

You didn’t know his name. You wanted to ask, but he had already gone.

You slid down the mattress with a sigh. “Not like it matters. I’ll never see that guy again. He was so cute, though.”

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📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[ladykeane]

for the fic prompts: reg and bertie adopting a cat!!!

Prompt filled!

I decided to cut to the chase. ‘I could not help but notice the pamphlet from Battersea sitting on the coffee table.’He now simpered at me boldly. ‘Come on, Reg… you know how dearly I want one! I’ve already cleared it with Mr Manglehoffer. Anyway, he has those yappy shih tzus. Couldn’t you just imagine curling up on the sofa with a little ball of fur, purring sweetly away in your lap? We can get it some toys and a scratching post, and stick its litter tray in the second lavatory. I could even get one of those mini vacuum cleaners to deal with the fur.’Clearly, he’d anticipated all of my possible protests.

For the majority of my life, I have considered myself a fairly guarded and self-contained man. Coming from a large and boisterous family, with siblings that loudly vie for attention and prominence, I have instinctively adopted the role of careful observer. Learning to read human character, and applying that knowledge to best improve my own situation, has become a lifelong skill that has aided me in both my career and social standing.

By contrast, Bertram is naturally carefree and open, largely unconcerned by how his interactions with others affect his own situation. I theorise this may be due to his status as an only child and an orphan, who has had to seek out love and approval by pleasing his extended family and his peer group. The claustrophobic clamour of my own demonstrative family has driven me to be quite guarded.

Of course, that is not to say that Bertram entirely lacks guile. I have noted his novice study of the psychology of the individual (I am not too humble to say that my modus operandi has been his primary inspiration), and he has slowly become more canny in his negotiations.A prime example of this occurred only last week.

I returned home from work. Instead of encountering the usual disarray of empty mugs, unfolded laundry, and errant clutter strewn about the place, the flat was impeccably tidy. The strains of my favourite Tchaikovsky concerto floated from the stereo system, interspersed with muted metallic clangs echoing out from the kitchen. The sound of my beloved singing to himself could also be discerned.

‘What ho, Reg. Dinner will be on in about five. Just got to finish the potatoes. I thought we could eat in the dining room tonight.’Curious, I peered into said space. The table was set for two, accented by a swathe of lit candles and a fresh bouquet of white peonies as a centrepiece. This sort of ceremony was usually reserved for birthdays and other such occasions. As I put away my work things, I pondered what Bertram’s motive could be. I prayed that he hadn’t broken anything irreplaceable. Or, even worse, invoked the wrath of one of his aunts, thus requiring my help to, as he is wont to say, ‘pull him from the soup.’

As I crossed back towards the dining room, I spied one piece of clutter which remained conspicuous on the coffee table: a pamphlet from Battersea Dogs and Cats Home. It reported on the unfortunate spike in abandoned animals that occurs after each Christmas, as well as the purported advantages of taking in a rescue animal as a family pet. 

Bertram met me at the table with two plates of juicy sirloin, and an attractive smile. He had donned his pale blue, fitted Cuban collar shirt, which displayed the graceful lines of his neck and collarbone most fetchingly. ‘There’s tiramisu for dessert, too. The one from Angelo’s!’

As we dined, I fought between savouring the exquisite trappings that Bertram had laid out, and the fizzle of exasperation at the imminent pitch that I was in for.Bertram has always been enamoured of cats, and I had long known that I would have to deal with his desire to adopt one as a pet. I am certainly not averse to the animals - in some cases they are charming companions, elegant and affectionate, and less intrusive to a household than a dog. However, they can also possess a changeable temperament, and the scratch-marks and fur they can leave on one’s furniture is, at least in my view, a major detriment. Not to mention the ghastly odour of their litter trays.

I decided to cut to the chase. ‘I could not help but notice the pamphlet from Battersea sitting on the coffee table.’He now simpered at me boldly. ‘Come on, Reg… you know how dearly I want one! I’ve already cleared it with Mr Manglehoffer. Anyway, he has those yappy shih tzus. Couldn’t you just imagine curling up on the sofa with a little ball of fur, purring sweetly away in your lap? We can get it some toys and a scratching post, and stick its litter tray in the second lavatory. I could even get one of those mini vacuum cleaners to deal with the fur.’Clearly, he’d anticipated all of my possible protests.

I pushed a mound of green beans about my plate, and huffed to myself. There are a number of inadvisable fancies that I have striven to cure my fiance of: garish fashion choices, toxic acquaintances, and not least of all a phase where he attempted to learn the banjo. But this, I fear, was more deep-seated.The poet Baudelaire had much to say about the comfort of feline companionship: ‘Viens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux.’ Likewise the prophet Mohammed, Catherine the Great, even the sublime Freddie Mercury. My Bertram counted among this group. His beautiful loving heart was eager to make a comfortable home for some lucky beast. While my fastidious habits still balked at the adjustments of taking on a pet, I knew deep down this was a battle I could not win. Especially considering that a softer part of me would be delighted by the little creature’s presence, despite any potential mess.

He interrupted my rumination. ‘I mean, since we’re well settled in to our flat now, and will soon don the spongebag trousers to exchange our vows… I figured it was about time, you know. Expand our little family and all.’While I knew the pleading look in his large blue eyes to be mostly a crafty design, it still had the effect of melting me utterly.

‘Well…’ I said slowly, ‘I insist that I be present at the selection of the animal. I should like to have input as to which one we choose, and the chance to assess its temperament prior to adoption.’‘Of course, old thing, I wouldn’t have it any other way! It’s going to be your cat, too.’‘Be that as it may, cleaning and feeding will fall entirely to you, my poet.’‘Right ho.’

One upshot was that he washed the dishes entirely by himself, and later allowed me to undress him and ravish him in all the ways that pleased me best - though I warrant this last perk was certainly a mutual one.

***

‘Oh Bertie, I’m ever so glad that you’ve come to rescue one of our little sweethearts!’ Ms Bassett, eyes shining, led us cheerfully through to the cattery. ‘You know, Roddy and I just found the perfect baby brother for Piglet, a dear little fox terrier cross named Snowy. Just like the doggie in “Tintin”!’A thoughtful mien passed across Bertram’s face.‘A doggie, eh?’‘No, Bertram.’‘Oh, alright.’

The cattery was a bright, clean space, with the cats kept individually in large perspex enclosures. I confess I was not unaffected by the rows of bright emerald eyes and twitching velvet ears that we beheld.‘Let me know if you would like to meet any of these precious angels, and you can go in and introduce yourselves,’ Ms Bassett informed us.‘I say, I like this one!’

Bertram had already been drawn to one inmate, who’d padded right up to the front of the enclosure to gaze up at him curiously. A small, delicate thing, with grey tabby markings on her mask, back and tail, and white underbelly and legs. As Bertram kneeled to greet her, she chirruped away in a light, dulcet voice.‘Puccini likes you, Bertie! She’s not usually so friendly with visitors.’‘Puccini, eh? We could call her “Poochy” for short, eh Reg?’‘Most amusing, Bertram.’

We entered her enclosure, and she wasted no time in winding herself about Bertram’s legs, still chirping at him. She was rewarded with a gentle scratch on the head, and she purred loudly. I could sense that this was love at first sight.‘Who’s a good Poochy, then? Do you behave yourself for Ms Maddie?’‘Mrowr.’‘Jolly good.’

He plopped himself down, and spent the next hour playing with Puccini. He giggled as she batted at his outstretched wriggling fingers, stroked her plush fur as she gently headbutted his arm, and even let her lick his face with her sandy pink tongue. All the while he cooed at her, while she responded in kind with a lyrical stream of mews and tweets and squeaks.‘Little chatterbox, isn’t she?’‘Like attracts like, Bertram.’

It seemed inevitable - we would not need to see any other cats. After a while I approached Ms Bassett. ‘I believe we have made our selection.’‘More like Puccini has made hers,’ she remarked. ‘But I’m afraid that it’s not that simple. Puccini came from a house full of cats, you see, and doesn’t do well on her own. The policy for adopting her is that she must have another kitty housemate.’

My heart dropped to my stomach. One cat was enough of a compromise, but two cats could be potential bedlam. My mind roved to images of troublesome cartoon siamese, broken ceramics, and overwhelmed house guests.

But then my gaze settled on Bertam cradling the purring Puccini in his arms, a look of pure bliss cast across his lovely face. A heavy sigh escaped me.‘Bertram, we must adopt a second cat in order to take Puccini home. Shall we select one?’

He looked up at me, partly surprised and noticeably moved.‘Oh… are you sure, Reg? I mean, I’d be over the moon to get two of them, but…’I swallowed my diffidence down. ‘I could no more bear to part you from your new friend than I could part the Red Sea.’‘Reg… you are a marvel. Well… since I chose this one, why don’t you choose the second for yourself?’

I left the two of them to seek out our next adoptee. Here I rallied my sound judge of character. Puccini appeared to be bubbly and perhaps a little capricious, so I reckoned that a cat with a steady, serene temperament would prove to be the best influence for her.

I passed the rows of prospective pets, paying careful attention to demeanour and body language. The friendlier, more extroverted cats I discounted right away - they would no doubt prove to exacerbate Puccini’s friskiness. I instead paid attention to the cats who remained calm and still. Some were simply grumpy, and they would not do. Nor did I consider the animals who were sluggish and entirely unresponsive - that could possibly be a sign of poor health.And then, I saw him.

Perched atop a tiered scratching post, this long lean beast was the very picture of feline elegance. He was pure white, with a long tail that was swishing about slowly and gracefully. His face was not soft and round but aquiline, almost lionesque. His eyes were closed in contemplation. The long neck was tilted slightly to the side - all the better to show off his wonderful profile. Had I not known better, I would have deemed him a fine marble sculpture.‘That’s Vasily. Handsome, isn’t he? Would you like to say hello?’

Ms Bassett let me into the enclosure, and I carefully approached him. ‘Good day, Mr Vasily.’At this he opened his eyes, and I was astounded to discover they were a similar hue to Bertram’s: brilliant, summer sky blue. He meowed at me, a low, husky drawl.‘Vasily is a nice chap, very calm. I think he’s the least anxious cat I’ve ever seen,’ said Ms Bassett.

I held up a hand to him, which he gently headbutted. His coat was like silk. He purred at my attention, deeper and more resonant than Puccini’s delicate timbre.I could well picture myself lounging about with a good book and a glass of wine, with this exquisite animal draped upon me. He had a look of such serenity and intelligence, the exemplar of his species.

While I was not eager for his white fur to meet my dark apparel, I spent some time with Vasily, basking in his natural tranquility. Ms Bassett suggested introducing Puccini to him.The smaller cat eagerly jumped up to join him on the scratching post platform, making a very forward introduction in licking the fur on his back. He responded to this by drooping in ecstasy.‘They are both desexed, are they not?’Ms Bassett nodded, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

‘Well, Reg, I think we’ve found ourselves a fur-baby family, what?’

***

We brought our new pets home with a cosy sort of excitement. The first task was, of course, to allow the cats free reign to explore the flat, and get comfortable with their new home. I had made Bertram set up the litter tray that morning, to prevent any accidents.

They padded cautiously about, sniffing at the furniture and seeming to conduct a little conversation of their own:‘Meow.’‘Mrowr?’‘Miiiaow.’‘Prrrt!’

Bertram sat upon the sofa, encouraging them to join him. Puccini quickly snuggled into his lap.‘Awfully nice spot to watch telly here, Poochy. Or possibly listen to a good recording of “Madame Butterfly!”’

It was at this juncture that a magnificent crash sounded from the kitchen.I rushed in to find my elegant Vasily clambering about on the workbench, knocking down the tea things with his long swishing tail.‘Mr Vasily!’‘Miaow?’‘Get down from there at once!’

He blinked at me with serene, uncomprehending blue eyes.I shooed him off the counter, and he leapt to the floor, spilling a jar of tea leaves in his descent. As he scooted out of the kitchen, he bumped into the rubbish bin.

Once I had cleaned up the mess, I found the culprit sitting next to Bertram on the sofa. Puccini was still curled up on his lap, her tail swishing as she dozed. It was inadvertently smacking Vasily in the face. Each time he was hit, he recoiled with surprise.  But not once did he think to get out of the way. It was almost comical to watch this cycle of stupid endurance.

‘That was Vasily making a racket in there?’ Bertram asked.‘I regret it was.’‘Hm.’ He examined the feline, still being helplessly swatted by his new housemate’s tail. ‘You know what, Reg? Not for the first time, I think you’ve fallen in love with a blue-eyed himbo.’

***

Thus far, Vasily has broken three pieces of glassware, one mantlepiece clock, shredded Bertram’s favourite purple long-sleeve tee (no great loss), knocked several books off their shelves, and repeatedly interrupted Bertram and I in flagrante. He has also accepted his place as the second banana, as Puccini has asserted herself as pack leader without room for argument. Last night, he spilled my cup of tea across the dining table, almost ruining my laptop.

And yet, every time I look into his blue eyes, completely helpless as to the chaos that he leaves in his wake, I pang for the sweet, silly creature. He has very quickly claimed a place in my heart. Upon cleaning up his messes, he is all too eager to snuggle with me as I peruse Spinoza or Wilde, and his purrs are deep and soothing. Without malice, without coldness, and without any bloody common sense. My Vasily is a welcome addition to our little family, and with him I am a less guarded, more loving man.

***NOTE: Vasily and Puccini are inspired by my brother’s cats (I being the owner of a darling doggie). Vasily crossed the rainbow bridge in 2018, but he has a happy forever home with Jeeves and Bertie. I can attest that the real Vasily was just as much of a clumsy, heedless dumbass, while also being singularly beautiful (reminds one of a certain Drone, no?)

[queenjunoking]

Wolf Taming Pt 25 (2/2)

CW: Noncon - Shock Collar - Pain - Petplay - Drugs - Kidnapping  - Manipulation

It was 6:30.

The moment it hit 6:30 I received a call. I was expecting it to be from the same number. But it wasn't. A chill went down my spine.

It was Eos.

There was no red notification. I just let it ring. Eventually my phone went silent. Unfortunately it wasn't silent for long and it began to ring. It was Eos again.

I was in such a hurry I hadn't had time to think about who filed the report. Eos was here but… surely Sasha acting out on a phone call wasn't enough to get her taken away from me? Things misbehaved when they were new.

Did… Satori give me up? Did he report me? He always pushed me to get people to help me around the house. Did he not think I could take care of her on my own?

It was 6:35.

My phone rang for the third time. It wasn't going to stop. There was no point in waiting any longer. I answered the call.

"Sweetheart." Eos was laying the honey on thick the moment she knew I was on the line. I could tell when she was really upset with me, she’d treated me like a misbehaving child. "You need to let us in. I don't want this to get worse for you."

"Why are you here Eos?" I came across as more panicked than I wanted too.

"I was asked to come assist because we knew eachother and they thought that I might be able to talk to you. And honestly hun, you have a history of hurting people very badly when they try taking something from you. We both know how that retrieval team ended up after you were done with them. The Society wishes to do this without violence if possible."

"Where is she going to be taken?" I was starting to have trouble breathing.

I heard her sigh. "Sweetheart. I was informed of the vote late last night and called in favors to spare Sasha from auction. Instead of being put up for anyone to buy she will be living with me."

I felt my heart stop. "No. No no no. You can't have her. You're going to break her."

"No Sweetheart. I'm going to make her better. If you let us in I'll even let you come and see her. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"I'm not letting you in." My hands were starting to shake.

"Z." I felt irritation creeping into her voice. "You're being irrational." She smoothed out her voice again. She sounded like she was trying to placate a child. "Have you slept at all tonight sweety? I know you have trouble sleeping since that night. It can be hard to make good decisions while you're sleep deprived."

"I'm sleeping just fine!" I yelled into the phone. The stress was becoming too much. It was getting hard to catch my breath.

The phone went silent for a moment. I heard some mumbling, Eos must be talking to someone.

"Z. Sweetheart. Are you ok? You sound like you’re on the edge of a panic attack.” The sound of concern in her voice infuriated me.

“I’m fine!” I was having trouble keeping my voice down.

“Z. Darling.  I'm only going to be allowed to ask this one more time without you facing repercussions. If we need to we can get in without your help. But I'd rather you let us in. Will you let us inside? There’s no reason for you to get in trouble over this."

I went silent. Getting in trouble would make getting Sasha back almost impossible. I couldn't stay down here forever. Either they'd break in or we'd be trapped here until we starved. I felt tears stain my cheeks as I disarmed the security.

"Thank you sweetheart. We'll be down in a moment. It’s going to be ok." With that Eos ended the call.

I went to one of my apps and followed the instructions. It wasn’t often I felt like this but I needed something to focus on. A small ball appeared on the screen. Some text appears on it.

-Breathe in-

I breathed in until the ball fully inflated.

-Hold-

I held my breath.

-Breathe out-

I breathed out slowly until the ball was back to its original size.

I kept following the instructions until I started to feel it pass.

Then they walked into the room. Four masked men followed by Eos. The people that did this job wore masks to conceal their identity so they couldn’t be retaliated against. Eos stood by the door as the men approached the cage.

“Please open the cage door Miss Z.” Their voice was synthesized.

I hesitated for a moment, but it was pointless to resist at this point. I unlocked the cage door. One held the door open so no one could get locked inside. Two of them went inside and lifted Sasha. The fourth was watching me to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.

“Please… don’t hurt her.” I wanted to reach out and touch her as they carried her past me, but the one standing next to me held me back.

“She will be fine Miss Z. She will be transported to Mistress Eos’s farm where she will be trained as she should have been.” He looked down at me. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew there was contempt in his eyes.

“Please take her to my farm. I’m going to stay here and talk with Z.” Eos approached us. The mask man nodded and went upstairs. I went to follow him and Eos placed a hand on my shoulder. I hated when people touched me.

“I want to see her.” I glared at her.

“It’s not going to make you feel any better.” She wasn’t hiding her condescension anymore. “You know Z, I couldn’t help but notice her collar was missing.”

I looked over in the corner of the room where I threw the remains. “There was an issue with it I tried to fix. Guess my hand slipped.” My eyes narrowed at her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at me. “You really should be thanking me Z. She would have been put up for auction. Would you want Callidora going up for auction or would you rather belong to someone you knew?”

“Callidora?” I blinked in disbelief.

“Hm?” She was beginning to look disinterested.

“That’s not her name. Her name is Sasha.” She couldn’t just give her a new name. That was her name.

“Z. Sweety.” I hated this tone. “It's the name you gave her. I mean, do you really want me using the name you picked out when she’s in my stables?”

“Stables? Why would she be in the stables?” Sasha was a canine. I had her registered as one.

“I’m sorry Z, but she was wasting her potential here. I mean look at this place.” She gestured to the room. “Locked in some cage to be taken out occasionally when you see fit? Callidora deserves more. She’ll get a nice spot in my stables and she’ll get to walk around outside daily. Under my gentle guidance she’ll shed the bad habits you allowed her to occur. The pain she’ll go through is your fault. It's easier to remove your influence entirely. Her name is just another bad thing you have your fingerprints on.”

“You’re going to make Sasha a horse.” I blinked in disbelief.

“No honey. Sasha is a dog’s name. I’m going to make Callidora a horse.” She crossed her arms and started tapping her fingers impatiently.

“No! You can’t do that! She’s mine!” I was starting to lose my temper

“You know Z, you become so childish when you’re out of your element. What are you going to do? Stomp your foot until I give her back? Know your place.” Her eyes narrowed at me.

“I know my place! This is my house! You're in my Wolf’s Den! You and those assholes are the ones invading my place! You don’t have any right to be here!” The stress was too much for me to handle, I couldn’t stop the words from spewing out of my mouth. I was digging a hole for myself but I didn’t care.

“This is your place? I’m the one who found this house for you because you didn’t know how the process worked.” She jabbed me in the chest with her finger. “I’m the one who decorated it for you because you couldn’t be bothered to make anything look nice.” She jabbed me again. “When you were going through the process to get Penny I’m the one who showed you how to do it.” Jab. “Then when you got bored of her I showed you how to sell her.” Jab. “Now I’m cleaning up after your mess because you couldn’t train your dog right.” Jab.

“Sasha doesn’t need you to train her! We were doing just fine. You don’t care about anyone you train. They’re just things to you. All you do is run them ragged day after day. How is that any better!” I was training Sasha the right way. I cared about her and personalized her training.

“I may train my slaves harshly Z, but they’re all the better for it. My farm is known for the spectacular animals I create. But I’ve seen what you’ve done. You got quite the epithet for it. Z the Torturer.” I glared at her. “Oh, don’t you dare pull that annoying face at me. I’ve seen your work. I know what you did to all those assigned to you in the Auction Hall. Too broken to be good for anything really. None of them could be trained to obey anything, they barely reacted to anything. You could whip any of the people who had the misfortune of being assigned to you and they wouldn’t shed a single tear.”

“They only had to spend a small amount of time with me before they moved on and they were better for it. The people under your care have to deal with you for the rest of their lives. I can’t think of a worse fate.” She raised her hand in the air like she was going to slap me. A few seconds past before she took a deep breath and lowered her arm.

“Only have to deal with you for a small amount of time? I don’t think you know how trauma works dear. I think the only time I ever saw really react is when one of them was on stage and you walked into the room. They started screaming their head off when they recognized you. Though I’ll occasionally see the eyes of a statue in the Auction House go wide when you walk past. It’s a good thing they can’t make any noise. I really can’t believe you. The Auction House gave you anything you could have ever wanted to continue that work and it still wasn’t good enough for Z.” She bent down and got close to my ear and whispered  “Was losing Bridget too much for you? If you wanted to you could always go see her. I’m not sure she’d recognize you though.”

“Shut up.” It came out as a whisper. I was trying to keep my temper under control. I just wanted to be alone.

“Don’t get mad at me Z. I wasn’t the one that broke my own friend. I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been. Seeing my friend and getting a glimmer of hope before they put me in that… thing you made. I bet that feeling of betrayal stung until they just couldn’t feel anything anymore.”

“Shut up!“ I screamed at her. I kept trying to resist her bait but I couldn’t anymore. “I wasn’t going to let anyone else touch her! I care about the people I worked with!”

“Oh Z.” There was a genuine sound of pity in her voice. “You can’t possibly think you’re capable of that.”

“I do! I care about them a lot! And I don’t need your help!” I was fuming. I cared about everyone I worked with. I was doing what was best for them. They were better off with me than any of the other breakers.

“Have you ever been grateful about anything in your life Z? You’re only here right now because I helped you get here. You got to join the Society and I helped you fill out everything you needed. I didn’t even ask for anything from you. When you needed obvious direction I got you a job in the auction house as a breaker. I could have just left you to your work. It's the only job you showed any aptitude for. But you got bored and didn’t want to do it anymore. Poor little Z couldn’t be grateful for her lot in life. You got that disgusting little epithet and on that virtue alone you were allowed to own slaves. People of your rank don’t get to do that for a reason.” She wore the smugness in her voice like a trophy. 

“At least I earned my position! I got my epithet on my own merits. You got your position because you were born into it! You never had to earn anything in your entire life!”

I felt a pain in my cheek as my head whipped to the side. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. She... slapped me?

“You ungrateful little filly! I’ve earned my position.” She was seething.

“Filly?” I was still trying to clear my head.

“Yes Filly you stupid bitch.” She practically spat it at me. “If you had just let yourself get captured none of this would be happening. Neither of us would have met Sasha. You’d have been a show pony in my stable and Sasha would have gotten a normal life. Wouldn't that have been a nicer fate for her? Having a fulfilling life with friends and family? But you resisted and you cost her everything. You were the perfect target. No one gave a shit about you. You had one friend and she was broken by your hand. Had you just vanished like you were supposed to I bet she’d probably be safe at home right now as well. You do nothing but hurt anyone you have affection for.”

“You… were the one who sent the retrieval team?” I didn’t know what else to say. She had knocked the wind out of me.

She placed a finger under my chin and tipped my head back so I met her eyes. “You’re quite slow sometimes Z. But a lot of animals are pretty dumb. Just because you dress the part of master doesn’t mean you belong. Metaphorically of course, you never actually dressed the part. You barely take care of yourself half the time.”

She let go of my chin and slapped me across the face again, sending me to the floor. I didn’t know how to react. I just touched my cheek as I looked up to her. She examined her hand as she spoke. “She could have had such a lovely life and it could have cost nothing. Because that's what you are. Nothing. Zilch. Zero. Z. Worthless. A nothing name for a big nothing. Too stupid to even think up a new name for her paperwork she was filling out to join one of the most powerful organizations on the planet. So I wrote down one that suited you. I bet you wanted someone else to name you anyway. I would have named you Callisto.” 

She knelt down beside me and grabbed my chin again, pulling my head left and right like she was examining an animal. “Your only value is that you're still quite beautiful. Unfortunately you lost that cute quality I wanted in a filly when you snapped that night. I’d pay a lot of money to see first hand what made you snap like you did. You looked so cute before. So skittish and nervous. But then those stupid assholes failed such an easy mission. Now you look like this. Somewhere between a resting bitchface and someone who hasn’t slept in a week. You have no idea how much pleasure it’s brought me knowing that I’m the reason you get so little sleep. I’m the boogeyman in your closet and you didn’t even know.”

She lifted her hand up and I did something I’m not sure I had done since I joined the Society.

I flinched.

She gave me a smile and lowered her hand before standing back up. “You know, it's not too late to give up your membership in the society Z. Become what you were obviously meant to be. No one would blame you. I'm sure there would be a long line of people to buy someone as pretty as you. Be glad you have that Z because you have nothing else to offer anyone. Why bother pretending anymore? Wouldn’t it be nice to finally be the one to be up for auction? Getting to hear all the people who want you enough to put down money to buy you? Wouldn’t it be nice if anyone wanted you Z?”

She stared at me for a few moments. “I see you’re too dumb to realize I was waiting for an answer. Maybe you’re too dumb to be a filly. Tell you what Z. If you ever feel like giving up and stopping this stupid act all you have to do is come to me and ask. I’m not sure what I’ll do with you, but I’m sure I can find a purpose for you. Maybe you’ll even get to see Callidora again.”

“Her name is Sasha.” It was the only thing I could muster up.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Stand up Z.” I sat on the ground just staring at her. I was still trying to take in everything she had been saying. “I said stand up!”

I slowly got to my feet. Eos held her arms out wide and approached me. I tried to take a step back, but I was against the cage. She grabbed me and pulled me into an embrace. I felt my entire body tense up.

“Good luck rebuilding Z. You have no money, no friends and, most importantly, no Sasha. You didn't deserve to have any of those things anyway." She let go and took a few steps back away from me. “I want you to thank me Z. Be grateful that I took in your pet. Thank me for not letting her get put up for auction. For training her since you failed at such a simple task.”

I couldn’t feel any rage or hate. I didn’t even feel sad. I just felt numb and stared at her.

“Ah. Right. You’re too stupid to read between the lines. How about I just spell it out for you? You’re going to be a good girl from here on out. Because you won't be the one to suffer if you aren’t. I don't think you care if you suffer so there's no point in punishing you. But your former pet will be the one to suffer for anything you do wrong from here on out. Everything that happens to Sasha is all your fault because you were the dumb filly who didn’t know her place.”

She was right. I didn’t really care what she did to me. But I didn’t want her to hurt Sasha. She was going to look for every excuse she could to hurt her.

“Now dear. I believe you were going to thank me for something?” She started tapping her arm impatiently.

“Thank you Eos…” I mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

“Louder. Look at me when you’re speaking.” She didn’t try to hide how annoyed she sounded.

I looked into her eyes. I could see the contempt in them. “Thank you Eos.”

“Mistress Eos.” Ice crept into her voice.

“Thank you Mistress Eos.”

“Good girl Z. Keep being a good girl. I'm watching you." She flashed me a smug smile and walked out of the Wolf’s Den.

By now Sasha was on her way to her farm. Once the drugs wore off Eos would start her training. I put my back against the cage and slid down to the floor. I felt tears sting my cheeks. I felt lost.

What was I supposed to do now?

[yellow-pigeons]

The troupe gains a member - A WillNemi Fic

London looked marvelous today.

If she wasn’t forced to be on her way to a certain place, hours wouldn’t be enough to fully admire the beauty of the slowly developing city, currently basking in the first, warm rays of dawn. Sunlight dusts over the grey and brown buildings like snow, gradually showing their outlines, and shines from the stained windows in the most abandoned areas.

Rain is no more, at least for the time being, unlike in her realm, which is also far more pleasant than having to walk around everywhere with her heaviest coat and a scarf. How annoying, even after all these years she cannot help but nearly freeze when rain or storms occur.

Sighing upon that wandering thought, the blue Shinigami bolts towards the already set up circus square, jumping down from a roof to seem a little less suspicious to the gloomy, still drowsy English.

Drat, this skirt was far from comfortable to be running in, if only times allowed for her to be wearing her usual one in public…

“Mornin’ to ya madam! How may I be of service?”

A loud, resonant voice reaches her ears, as an orange haired male towers over her, smiling in a friendly, harmless manner. Just now, she realizes she has been standing there for quite a while, not noticing him observing her since she came as well.

“Oh, pardon my mindless staring good sir, but... May I ask you something?”

Her chartreuse eyes pierce right through him, as the man widely known as Joker walks with her for a small while. Humans are indeed very interesting, they are careful around strangers, however are fooled by the commonly known façade of good looks and sweet words. Their ways of speaking also varies with each ones’ personality, but that is pretty obvious.

“Is there a problem, luv? Whatcha doin’ around here, with such heavy baggage?”

The fellow asks, to which she purposely looks away with a distressed frown, rubbing her arm a little. Clad in a teal blue shirt and dark grey skirt up to her ankles, she looks no different from some regular woman in the current era, with the exception of her unusually colored irises.

“I have found myself in a bloody bad space for years now, and have heard that you are looking for new circus members. Would it be much of a drag if I-”

“But of course! We been lackin’ ladies in the crew recently, so yer a perfect fill up for our troupe! Come, come, I shall introduce ye to the others!”

He is affable, unsuspecting just as she expected him to be. This is good, she thinks to herself, holding her head down as she walks by the man’s side all the way towards one of the big, greenish-brown tents.

“What’s yer name lass? Ye can choose one that will be yer stage name, and we shall call ye this way.”

“I’m not keen on being called by my real name, so just please call me ‘Nemi’”

Joker grins widely, patting her back in an assuring gesture.

“Of course! Yer secrets stay private in this place! Quick question before ye accommodate yerself here though.”

His eyes turn over to her as they suddenly cease the slow marching, Haruda stopping and immediately looking up at him. She sees a glint of mischief in his gaze, which makes her tilt her head to the side questioningly, morning breeze threading through her hair.

“What are ye good at? Certainly ye have a special talent that would be beneficial for tha circus.”

“Oh my, I simply don’t know where to start, mister…”

“Joker, the name’s Joker.”

 ----------------------------------

“Oi! Gather all around! We have a new acrobat in tha troupe!”

At the sound of Joker’s call, the circus members began walking into the white and blue tent, usually in small groups to see what was the show all about. Noemi was swinging downwards from a trapeze on one leg, curiously eyeing the poor, unfortunate souls that happened to end up here. What a shame she couldn’t bring herself to somehow feel bad for them, the mystery behind the disappearances of children were far more important though.

Swinging from one trapeze to another, she easily made a few flips in the air, earning herself a satisfying applause. Landing beside the purple eyed man with the last leap, she bowed politely to the cheering audience, them soon being shushed by Joker.

“Everyone meet Nemi! She will be one of our newest, and probably most skilled freshman acrobats. Peter, Wendy, better step up yer game if ye want to remain the main attraction.”

The male laughed, as the bluenette eyed everyone with a calm smile. Where was he, for Rhea’s sake? She wasn’t supposed to be here earlier. What she did notice was the Queen’s Guard Dog, and his…

“Demon...”

She whispered to herself, not dropping her stoic mask, feeling an elbow in the arm from Joker.

“What would ye like to say to yer new mates? No need to be shy!”

Haruda looked around, and after a while of thought, she finally spoke up, as she should’ve done before, instead of the sketchy whisper.

“I will be most happy to be working with you all! It’s a pleasure to be here.”

She smiled widely, earning an applause once again, as well as some silent comments.

Of course, there was one thing about her appearance that she could never fully hide, which was more than troublesome with her kind of outfit. The scars on her neck and chest were an issue, but people were kind enough not to ask too many questions. She made up a story of how her husband spilled boiling hot coffee on her, and she had no idea how to care for open wounds.

Ah, another wonderful thing about the people from this era. Immense stupidity and misinformation. Any story was good enough to be shoved in their faces with enough drama to that and they were on their knees.

Ha ha, what a silly world we live in.

“Ye sure space out a lot, lass. I wanted ye to meet some other skilled new members of our troupe, since they were much of bloody ignoramuses to come n’ greet ya! Black! Smile! Show yer new colleague around! And where’s Suit?!”

The male rambled, as the two approached her eventually. Not the first time she saw a demon in her life, however this one seemed to be oddly put for a starving vermin. She was told he had some sort of contract with that spoiled child. How utterly atrocious for him to prey on brats.

However, this was not the time to be revealing her true identity, so keeping a good face to a bad game was her task now. And obviously fulfilling her mission, which was making sure that Spears wasn’t going to screw up his task. This was quite a few souls after all, and with a starving demon lurking around to that he could be in potential danger.

Smiling softly as they finally closed the distance between one another with around six feet, the bluenette scanned them both properly, before the blue eyed child’s demon spoke up, his crimson orbs focusing on her with curiosity.

“Hello dear, you must be the Nemi everyone is talking about now. Welcome to the troupe. I am Black, and this little fellow here is Smile.”

“It’s a pleasure, Black, Smile. I am a tad lost with all the ruckus around here, would you be so kind and show me my place to rest?”

Smoothly, she escaped the kid’s suspicious glare, as the demon nodded and took her luggage. Huh, that was unusual, however if he were to check it, there was nothing really special inside, apart from spare clothing items, her favorite book and some daily care routine things, like a toothbrush or comb.

“Joker assigned you the tenth tent, which means you’ll be there alone. Such a shame I couldn’t be your company; you look dreadfully gloomy to me.”

“I am just fine with that, dear Black. Surely you have wonderful mates in your own one, I believe.”

She jabs back at the demon with a sly smirk, as he nods and sets down her trunk beside a bunk bed.

The tents’ inside is dim when the lamps are out, morning sunlight sneaking inside and somewhat making it more appealing to the eye. It’s a simple setting, with the beds set in the right corner and a few stacked up wooden boxes serving as a nightstand.

Before she notices, they swiftly leave, allowing her to accommodate herself into the new sleeping spot. Taking out an old-fashioned alarm clock, she places it on top of the boxes, setting it for five am with a few cracks of the cogs inside it. Despite the rather rigid, barbarian surroundings, she feels at ease, considering this yet another mission to complete.

This one just requires a little bit more effort and spying, which for her sounded more than just interesting. That was why she agreed after all. Besides, she was in charge of monitoring the Retrieval Division manager, so there wasn’t much of a choice either. Understaffment was truly a thorn in the side these days.

So, Suit. This was his stage name, eh? The blasted moron couldn’t come up with anything better, how typical.

“Tch. Always in a need to be controlled even though he was supposed to be fine on his own. What a waste of a perfectly fine reaper.”

She grumbles to herself, walking around in her ‘human’ attire, slowly catching sight of how the tents were placed, and where everything was. With her skirt swapped for trousers, she stumbles upon a training tent, being invited to stretch and work out a little before next week’s show.

Everything goes just fine before the last evening falls, the dress rehearsal after sunset being one of the last moments where she could focus and somehow catch sight of him. Up until then she was doing quite alright, slipping out of the suspicion range of the demon and the kid, whilst William apparently struggled with remembering what he was over a hundred years ago.

She hides from his sight, not allowing him to discover that he’s being watched.

Days fly as she trains and helps around the circus, each day being so strangely similar to what was once of her, somewhere in her motherland. Hard, physical work, but also some new friends, that sadly were to die in the nearest months. Despite that, she enjoys her stay, while being merely a week in.

Just now, she is in the middle of a pirouette in mid-air, when she hears a familiar voice. With a purposeful fail in her trick, she falls onto the white net, staying in it to avoid an unavoidable encounter with one person she was not supposed to encounter during her stay. Hoping for him to leave as soon as possible, she is quickly disappointed as silence falls in the huge tent.

“Just what are You doing here, Noemi Haruda. Are you not supposed to be sitting behind your desk, instead of fooling around here like some sort of monkey? You are one reaper I would never expect to be doing this type of work.”

Darn it.

She climbs out of the net, piercing the raven haired man with a dagger throwing gaze, shaking her head. This is no good. If the kid and the butler find out about her true identity her whole plan will go to absolute bollocks!

As an ultimate method of defending herself, the blue haired female blurts out a laugh, holding her abdomen before flopping back into the net, mentally kicking herself for choosing the biggest tent for practice.

“Oh four-eyes, your jokes are always spot on, are they not? I don’t believe we have been properly introduced to one another yet. I know no such person as Noemi Haruda. I am Nemi.”

The male frowns deeply, turning around and walks away from the tent.

What the devil is she doing here?

Did she send herself here to monitor his actions? Probably yes, judging from the undercover she is in. Unsurprisingly, the humans consider her to be one of them, which makes up for his poor attempts to blend in.

Hmm, did the demon fall for her trick as well?

Apparently yes, since he’s probably never seen her before. Can’t demons smell Shinigami? That wasn’t for him to wonder about, though.

As soon as the training is considered to be over, the blue haired woman follows after William to the back of the circus, grabbing his wrist. He pulls it away immediately, turning around to face her. It’s obvious her presence makes him far away from pleased, with his arms tightly pressed to his sides and jaw nearly snapping off from the strength he put in gritting his teeth.

Clad in his white trousers and green vest, he nearly spits venom when audibly snorting at her short, black and white striped dress and knee high boots.

Honestly.

“You look like a prostitute.”

“You look like a homo.”

“What makes you think I am not one.”

“I don’t know, maybe because we’ve slept together more than you’d like to admit?”

“Don’t start with that again. Better tell me what in the seven circles of Hell are you doing here.”

She turns her head away from him, grimacing ever so slightly at his immediate coldness. But what could she expect from a dense son of a dog like him. Ugh, is this barf bubbling at the back of her throat just now? Ah no, it’s only hatred. Burning, bitter disgust towards the reaper she not so long ago claimed to be her only reason to live.

How stupid can a woman get for the wrong man?

“It is none of your concern why am I here. We were not supposed to meet during your mission here, yet I have made a mistake with choosing the wrong tent, it seems.”

“How long have you been here?”

He drew through clenched teeth, as the blue haired reaper kicks at the ground a bit, unwilling to reveal more to him than he had already discovered. She is in trouble already for interfering with her mission, however this was an agreed idea among all the members of the headquarters, so in reality he doesn’t have much to say about her here, to be frank.

“It’s been a week since I joined. I have been monitoring your progress because of me and other chairmen deciding it would be a good thing to do. And since I am your superior, I was chosen to be the one having to work undercover as well.”

“This is plain idiocy. I am a grown man, why should I need someone to watch after me, let alone control my actions.”

“Maybe because Sutcliff went on a murder rampage and you saw nothing, you bloody moron!”

The woman snaps, summoning her scythe and directing a blow at him, Spears dodging before the blade hits his head. Growling, he grabs a hold of her death scythe, pulling her closer with a stronger, unexpected tug.

“Keep it down, it’s enough that they know I am a reaper. You don’t want to have a demon on your arse as well.”

“Ha! Since when do you care what will happen to me?”

He looks away, letting go of the double bladed pole, making the woman flop onto the ground with a growl. Pushing up his glasses, Spears scoffs, shaking his head at her repetitive accusations. How long is she going to hold a grudge? Of course, he is still going for a long while, but the fiery Italian seems to still have an itch for simply beating an apology out of him.

“I don’t. However, your injury will be cut out of my pay. I wish to avoid that, as well as overtime.”

“You will get overtime whether you want it or not. I decide about it. Better have a good contact with me, instead of throwing me around like a rag doll.”

Spears’ head cocks to the side in anger, as he approaches her in a rather quick, heavy manner. Despite her usual fearlessness towards his frustration, she flinches in a long-forgotten habit, mentally kicking herself for doing so. He smirks in return, grabbing her by the neck and rising upwards, until she grips his hand and huffs.

“Watch your tongue, missy. I have no concern in causing you harm, but I will if the occasion strikes.”

“I despise you.”

“So do I. Now get out of my sight before it gets bloody.”

With that, she is set down fiercely, the ravenet staring for a while before turning on his heel and making his way towards the tents. Something in her bubbles up, making a few tears prick at her eyes, before she wipes them away, leaping at him with an inhuman strength, knocking the other reaper on the ground with a thud.

As her hands wrap around the man’s throat, she holds him down with her whole body mass, eyes lighting up in a sudden outburst of power. She thanks Rhea that he isn’t that angry yet, but this surely puts her in advantage when it comes to a ‘fight’ with him. It is certainly not a time to be settling matters with Spears, but such disrespectful addressing will not be tolerated.

The evening is chilly, wind sometimes blowing and successfully muting the quieter words that escape from people’s mouths. Stars shine bright above them, slightly covered by the tall oaks and birches, that surround the circus. It almost feels like they are alone, yet the feeling is illusory, since one wrong move and…

“Listen here, agent 1398. I am your superior, and this type of ridicule is repugnant. Consider this to be your final warning, otherwise the rest of the headquarters will get to know about the shit you’ve been doing on the terrain of Dispatch. I’m not your colleague, nor underling.”

Words leave her in a low, venomous hiss, as she delivers a harsh slap across William’s face, making him finally cease his writhing. With his fluorescent gaze focused on her only, he scrunches up his nose, placing his hands on her wrists.

“That will be enough, Noemi. Fighting will cause a scene to occur. Let’s leave it to the day when the mission shall be completed. Pardon my behavior, however I am unwilling to spend another long night in my office because of your approach to my person.”

She sighs helplessly, standing up slowly. Lending him a hand, Noemi dusts her stockings off, locking eyes with him one last time.

“Maybe you will understand my motives one day, but what I know for sure is that you do not despise me. I see it in you, no matter how much you deny it. Do what you want with that. I will not be pushing myself somewhere where I am not wanted.”

And with that, she ports away, leaving Spears in the dreadful silence, sometimes interrupted by circus music and crickets.

Damn it.

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May contain strong language, read on your own responsibility <3 This is part of Noemi's canon story!

I will start posting just the links o any fanfics as soon as I get my Ao3 account activated, so sorry for the inconvenience TwT

[doubledeaky]

Here’s Looking to You, Kid

Rami Malek x Actress!Reader

A/N: Hi, everyone! This was requested by @psychshawnjuleshanluke so thank you very much! Sorry it took me over a week but she’s finally here! It kinda turned into something different than I had originally intended but I’m really happy with how it turned out! If anyone is confused, the title is a reference to the movie “Casablanca.” As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Much love! - macy:)

Summary: A story of struggle, love, and how beautiful both can be.

Word Count: 4,088 words

Warnings: cursing and mentions of blood, that's it :)

It was a nervous habit you’d developed around the age of eight. Picking or biting at the skin of your lips until bloodied and scabbed. Your mother always chastised you harshly, ripping your fingers away from your lower lip or tapping your chin with a bit too much force in order to release the irritated flesh from in between your gapped teeth. Who could blame you though? You were a child cast prematurely into the adult world, the world of acting. From the ripe old age of five, your mother had begun carting you around the busy streets of New York from one audition to another, your chubby legs struggling to keep up with the quick strides of her heeled feet. The stress of securing jobs emerged when your young mind recognized that getting callbacks made your mother happy, the money you earned made her very happy. So, you took it on the chin and missed out on the simplicity of childhood for a life in the limelight. It was your reality, passion ran its course through your veins every morning and calmed minutely when you laid down to sleep.

Now in your mid-twenties, you often reflected on the many years you dedicated to the craft. Was this really what you wanted? Was this really your dream? Is your entire life built on a foundation of misguided hope? Your career had taken so much from you; countless hours of practice, bloodied fingertips and broken toenails, tired eyes, and sore limbs. It all seemed fruitless, a never-ending cycle of maybe and the instability that came with it almost nauseating. You were very close to throwing in the towel, calling it quits, until you met him.

It was a chance meeting. You'd gotten a much anticipated call back, and so did he. You’d nearly sprinted to the final audition, a fresh pep in your step and a content smile on your face. You knew little of the secondary roles, all you cared about was that you were potentially going to be cast as the lead. You walked into the obnoxiously extravagant lobby, the glare of the crystal chandeliers nearly blinding you. Your head made quick movements back and forth, searching for someone to provide you with instructions. An older woman dressed in a tailored suit stalked up to you after only a few moments of your frenzied confusion, quirking a thin brow at your disheveled, certainly unique appearance. Your anxious eyes didn’t recognize her, and you assumed she was head of casting, the top dog. You gulped nervously, accidentally shoving your crumpled resume towards her instead of your shaky hand. She pulled her sloppily red painted lips into a tight line, her judging gaze weighing heavy on your chest. You seized up, folding and stuffing your resume into your coat pocket and extending a hand in her direction. Her cold eyes glanced at it, before gripping it harshly and shaking it twice up and down. You cleared your throat and attempted to meet her eyes, disappointed that your first impression had gone so horribly.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here for the, um, callback concerning the female lead.” You mumbled, eyes unfortunately looking anywhere but hers. She huffed through her narrow nostrils and cocked a hip, her silence overwhelmingly condescending.

“I take it you’re new to all of this.” She said, her voice steely, gesturing to the space around her with one hand and lowering her thick-rimmed glasses with the other. Your eyes widened, and you characteristically pulled your lower lip between your teeth, biting down hard on the flesh.

“Um, no ma’am. I’ve actually been acting for a little over twenty years.” You mumbled, wiping your sweaty palms on the material of your blue jeans. She smirked, smug and experienced, evident in the etched wrinkles at the corners of her thin lips.

“I couldn’t tell. Come now. We haven’t got time to waste.” She barked, turning quickly on her heel, not looking back to see if you were following her, she just expected you would. You quickly collected yourself, rushing to fall in line behind her, careful not to clip the back of her heels. She zoomed expertly around corners and through narrow corridors and you struggled to keep up, the maze-like structure making you dizzy. She suddenly stopped and turned to you, expression still unwaveringly stern.

“Alright, you’ll be reading lines today with the prospective male costar. All you have to do is impress me.”

You nodded, still biting feverishly at your lip as you watched her enter. You followed, stopping abruptly as she turned.

“And stop biting your lip.”

You released the flesh immediately, your cheeks growing exponentially warm, but you continued further into the gray room nevertheless.

It was only you, the woman, and her assistant at the moment; you all waited amongst a deafening silence for the “prospective male costar,” who happened to be exactly eight minutes late. Mere seconds after you took a fleeting glance at the analog clock hung on the wall, he burst through the heavy metal door, huffing violently and gushing apologies on his way in. Your eyes widened, stepping back to avoid being knocked over or smacked by his flailing limbs.

“You’re late.” Said the woman without looking up from the stack of papers before her, brows noticeably drawn together in annoyance.

“I know, I know. I’m really sorry.” He breathed, still trying to force air into his lungs, hunched over with his hands resting on his bent knees. She scoffed, before tossing you and the man a script. He caught it skillfully without looking up, while you fumbled to grab it out of the air; the two women at the desk grimaced.

“Alright, you both have twenty minutes. Be grateful I’m being generous with the time slot. Now, go on.” She urged impatiently, gesturing for you both to take position and read out your lines accordingly.

Now with the man stood so close, you could scan his appearance fully and to say you were impressed would be an understatement. He was beautiful, regally attractive in such a unique manner that you felt small and vulnerable under his concentrated gaze. You cleared your throat unceremoniously and so did he, stretching his neck and shaking his limbs before scanning the script with quick flits of his green eyes. You steadied yourself, closing your eyes momentarily to settle into character. The woman raised her brows in anticipation, gesturing for you to proceed with your first line. You nodded, all anxiety melting once you stepped into the role. The woman’s eyes widened as she watched the scene before her play out, equally impressed by the two young actors in front of her. The scene concluded, and you let out a long, drawn out breath. The two women nodded, seemingly pleased as they both jotted down notes with fancy oak pens.

“Thank you both for your time. If you receive a call from us in the next few days, you’ve got it.” The assistant said politely, standing up to usher you both back into the front lobby; the other woman remaining pensive in her desk chair.

You looked back with worried eyes as the heavy, windowless door closed behind you, the anxiety of waiting for the coveted call back already settling in the pit of your stomach. The man was unmoving from his position, studying you intently with curious eyes, eager to introduce himself to his potential costar. He clasped his hands behind his back awkwardly, clearing his throat to draw your attention. Your head snapped towards the sound, heart immediately hammering against your ribs when your eyes met his. He shuffled towards you, sticking out a hand and giving you a kind smile.

“I’m Rami.” He said simply, smile widening as you took his hand. You nodded politely, attempting to mask the effect his intimidating energy had on you.

“Y/N.”

“Hope I’ll be seeing you.”

He turned and walked out of the automatic sliding glass doors, hands in his pockets and bouncing on his heels like a child. You couldn’t help but stare at his retreating figure, the warmth of your face and fuzziness in your chest growing significantly more noticeable.

“Me too.” You whispered, catching a final glimpse of the man before he disappeared into the heavy crowd of busy New Yorkers.

***

You got the part, and lucky you, so did he. Table readings and rehearsals were approaching, and life seemed to adopt a refreshingly fast pace, it had been too long since you’d been able to embrace the life of an actress. For nearly a year you’d been living pay check to pay check, working any and every job, and eating dinner on the floor of your small apartment. Now you were being tended to hand and foot with a number of assistants catering to your every need, it was nice but to abuse the power was unlike you, humility was more your game and that’s what Rami first noticed about you. You were kind and generous, never condescending or cold to those considered below you. You were the refreshing breeze of crisp air that Hollywood so desperately needed.

As the process of making a film was in full swing, getting to know Rami had become your favorite pastime. He was captivating; he lived an interesting life and you yearned for something akin to it. He was funny, effortlessly so and you were never frowning in his presence. He was devilishly intelligent, quick witted with a sharp tongue. He was kind and out of character, shy and reserved. That was the Rami you most enjoyed, the Rami that was himself and didn’t have to be anybody else. With all this in mind, how could you not have fallen for him?

***

The first scene. Again, your lip was nearly bloody at the force in which you were biting it, your lipstick worn away from the motion; guaranteed to anger makeup when they would eventually notice your appearance. Your legs bounced with anxiety and you were unable to keep still. Your assistant noticed this and gave you a reassuring smile, both thumbs pointing up as you were escorted onto set. Once you were sat down, the head of makeup narrowed her eyes at your smudged lipstick and ran a finger under your lower lip to sharpen the edge.

“You and your lip biting, I swear.” She murmured in mock disapproval, giving your cheek a gentle pat as she moved on to work on the background actors.

Your eyes searched the room for Rami, hoping to get his famous words of reassurance before the director shouted “Action!”

He was truly a frustrating sort, only around when he was needed, otherwise off of his own accord. Time was ticking down, and you remembered how shit you were at managing panic, your heart jumping widely in your chest, the steady flow of your blood ringing in both ears. A hand upon your shoulder brought you out of your daze and you immediately calmed at gentle touch, knowing who it was without having to turn around and find out.

“Ready?” He whispered into your ear, face mere inches from yours. You could tell he was excited; his voice was a pitch higher and his smile was wide and bright.

“Guess I don’t have a choice.” You laughed, dry and humorlessly. He waved you off dismissively, shaking your shoulder gently.

“You’ve got this.” He said, stepping to the side and setting himself before you, placing both hands on either side of your chair and effectively trapping you under his gaze.

“Remember, this is your gig. You are the heart of this film.” He said, pointing a long finger to your chest, right above your pounding heart. You nodded, hypnotized under his intense gaze, charmed by the spell he unknowingly had over you. He smiled, giving your shoulder a pat and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, the contact sending a shockwave through your entire nervous system. He turned to take his place, sending you one last smile before dissipating into a blur of color, similar to the day you’d met him.

***

Three months into filming was when it had dawned on you, it being your undeniably feelings towards your costar. It was inevitable considering you spent nearly every waking hour with the man, filming scenes on set and spending a lot of time together away from the chaos. 

It wasn’t hard either, Rami was lovable, and no one knew that better than you. It was getting more and more difficult to film scenes with him and remain in character. You’d often stare longingly at him or reach out absentmindedly to touch his hand, neither of these actions in the script. The director noticed the sudden shift in your usually professional demeanor and the last few days of shooting had been particularly frustrating, for both yourself and the director.

He planned on speaking with you after the scene currently being shot, which wasn’t exactly going according to plan. You were forgetting lines, stuttering during the ones you did know, and your body language was totally off for the stoic, confident character you were supposed to be playing. You could tell he was growing frustrated and even Rami was confused by the amount of trouble you were having, raising his brows in question every time you’d flub a line or nervously wring your hands. After several takes the director had had enough and called time, telling Rami and the other few actors on set to break, excluding you. He waited until everyone had filed out of the room and then narrowed his eyes at you, beckoning you in his direction with a crooked finger. You hung your head to avoid his gaze and stalked over to him, your clammy hands laced behind your back.

“What are you doing?” He hissed, crossing his tense arms over his chest. You didn’t look up, only drew your lower lip between clenched teeth. He widened his eyes and drew his mouth into a tight line, anticipating your coming excuse.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, kicking the ground awkwardly. He huffed in exasperation, flailing his arms momentarily, clipboard in hand swinging through the air.

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. Just...what’s up with you? I’ve never seen you struggle like this.” He questioned, pinching his brow with his thumb and forefinger, seemingly embarrassed by his sudden outburst. You bit harshly at the inner flesh of your lip, debating whether or not to tell him the truth.

“Just having an off day is all.” You lied, and it was obvious. You’d been having an off two weeks and he could see right through your paper-thin fib.

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/L/N. I’ve seen you have off days. This isn’t one of them. Something else is going on.” You sighed in defeat, shoulders falling from their tensed position.

“Am I that transparent?”

“Very.”

You smiled, feeling your mood lift minutely. He cocked his head, expecting you to elaborate and you subsequently took in a deep breath.

“It’s Rami.”

“Rami?”

“Yeah, Rami.”

He seemed confused, his face almost pulled into a pained grimace.

“I don’t understand. You and Rami have great chemistry. You’ve never clashed.” He said, seemingly dumbfounded as he tried to make sense of your words.

“That’s the problem.” You huffed, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Oh. Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, fix it.”

You scoffed, nodding your head incredulously as he eyed you expectantly.

“How do you expect me to do that?” You asked, eyes narrowed, and arms crossed over your chest, your attitude uncharacteristically sassy.

“You…tell him.” He said cautiously, backing away from you discreetly. You laughed in disbelief, running your shaky hands over your face.

“God, you’ve had some bad ideas but that is the worst one yet.” You mumbled, sitting down and burying your heavy head in your hands.

“Doesn’t matter. Either you tell him, or I will. We can’t have any more delays, we’re already behind as it is.” He said simply, almost stomping away before you could protest.

You gaped at his retreating figure, watching in horror as he disappeared into the next room. You groaned and rubbed your eyes with the heels of your hands, trying to formulate a plan of action. Either you tell Rami how you feel and suffer the inevitable heartbreak of rejection or your director would rat you out and you’d suffer not only heartbreak but sheer embarrassment. Doing it of your own accord seemed like the lesser of two evils. It didn’t matter either way, you were stuck and the threat from your director was enough to convince you to bite the bullet.

***

“Ram?” You called out softly, tapping a knuckle against the metal door of his trailer. You heard a faint shuffling and the muffled sound of his favorite Billy Joel vinyl before he opened the door, greeting you with a sheepish grin and kind eyes.

“Come on in.” He said, stepping aside to allow you access, his hand on your lower back guiding you to the rock-hard futon pushed against the wall. You sat, shifting uncomfortably on the cushion. Rami retreated into the back room and returned with a blanket, throwing it over the both of you. You thanked him with a smile and took in a deep breath, the silence between you jarring.

“Ram- “

“Did I do something?” You furrowed your brows, heartbeat already growing erratic.

“What, um, what do you mean?” You sputtered, leaning forward in his direction.

“Like, did I upset you? Did I do something to upset you? You’ve been off the past week or so. Didn’t know if I’d done something.” He mumbled, looking down, obviously flustered. Your heart swelled, and you closed your eyes tight, a grin spread across your face.

“Oh, Rami, baby. No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” You cooed, grabbing his hand in yours, caressing his knuckles with your thumb. “It’s me and my stupid feelings fucking everything up.”

It was his turn to furrow his brows in confusion, his hand gripping yours tighter momentarily.

“What’d ya mean your feelings are fucking everything up?” He asked, face holding nothing but concern and you refrained from melting into a pathetic puddle on the material of his couch.

“Ok, here goes.” You breathed, noticing his eyes widen and his breath hitch.

“If I don’t tell you now, you’ll probably here it from someone else.” You gushed, rolling your eyes at the thought of your director.

“The reason I’ve been so all over the place is because I’ve been...distracted.” You stalled, habitually biting your lip. Rami’s confusion only grew, scooting closer to your trembling body.

“Distracted?”

“Basically.”

“Care to elaborate? Maybe I can help.” He laughed, gesturing for you to continue. You grimaced, your body tensing as if bracing for impact.

“That’s the thing. You can’t help me because, you’re my distraction.” He froze, hand falling limp in yours. Your heart seized, the blood in your veins stalling, the activity in your brain ceasing. A nervous energy took over and you instinctively began to ramble.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen, because I may never get the chance to say this again.” You drew in a breath, his eyes following your small movements intently.

“When I met you, I was in a dark place. I was so close to giving up on acting. So close to moving home, maybe even taking up a job with my dad at the deli. But I didn’t need to, obviously. Because I got the part of a lifetime and I truly believe it was because you read lines with me that day. You brought out the best in me. I hadn’t done that well in an audition in years.” You laughed humorlessly, looking down at your hand lain alone in your lap.

“But it’s not just that. I’ve grown to admire you so much. Everything you do, you do it with so much purpose and I think that’s so beautiful.” Your eyes are cloudy with tears now, your voice small and choked.

“You’re so wonderful to me. I couldn’t have stopped myself from falling in love with you if I tried.” You whispered, tears now falling freely, teeth clenched tightly to stifle pained sobs. Rami’s chest was tight, his own eyes glossy.

“I can’t think clearly when I’m around you. My mind’s a mess and I fuck up my lines. I trip over nothing.” You laughed dryly, Rami joining you, his smile providing minor relief to the pressure in your chest.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have a big, stupid crush on you. If you don’t feel the same, that’s fine. I just needed to get it off of my chest.” You sighed, giving him a sad smile and readying yourself for a cold rejection. Instead Rami huffed, laughing incredulously and then pulling you into an air tight hug. You froze, completely stunned, arms still glued to your side as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“You think all those romance scenes we do are just acting? I’m not that good.” He laughed, voice muffled into heated skin of your neck. You breathed out in relief, finally wrapping your shaky arms around him. He pulled away and cradled your tear-soaked face in his hands.

“You think I stare at you cuz’ I just so happen to like looking at things?” He laughed, and you giggled, face muscles aching under your wide smile.

“No, looking at you, being around you, it’s a privilege. Those who know you don’t know how lucky they are. To be in your presence is happiness, to look at you is happiness. I don’t know if I could live without you. So, I won’t.” He breathed, eyes boring into you. You were trembling, smiling wide, tears completely obscuring your vision.

“I wouldn’t want you too.” You breathe, bringing a hand up to caress his face, thumb swiping stray tears from his skin. He smiled, throwing his head back and breathing a sigh of relief before bringing you into his arms again. You felt him place a kiss to your temple, your face buried into the material of his jumper.

“I can’t believe it.” He breathed, hand running soothingly up and down your spine.

“Feeling’s mutual.” You laugh, looking up to meet his eyes. His expression is soft, and his eyes are aglow with love, like the crystals of the chandeliers you distinctly remember were hung in the building in which you met him. His hand comes up to cradle your face and you nuzzle into his palm, finally feeling the touch you so craved from him.

“For the record, you got this part all on your own. If anything, you carried me.”

“You flatter me so, Malek.”

“I don’t mind.” He mumbles, drawing closer to you, lips so close you can feel the heat radiating from them. 

Your face suddenly grows serious, eyes heavy lidded as you instinctively lean in. Rami grabs your face in both hands, pulling your lips to his. All doubt, all anxiety, any negative emotion stowed away in your mind evades you in a cloud of heavy smoke. Replaced with a fuzzy warmth as his lips move against yours. You can’t possibly hold onto him tighter, feeling no stimulus other than his touch. You’re connected now, and it’s beautiful. All at once you’ve been enveloped in a pink hue of love. You feel complete, whole again after being fractured for far too long.

Rami pulls away hesitantly, smiley and breathless.

“Is this real?” He breaths, eyes still shut delicately.

“God, I hope so.” You laugh, hugging him tight again, placing chaste kisses to the column of his throat.

As if on cue, your beloved director barges in, grinning smugly as he takes in the scene.

“Looks like we’re all keeping our jobs.” He laughs, turning abruptly and skipping out of the trailer. You roll your eyes, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Rami just laughs, his arms still tight around you. You scan his profile, taking in every detail the naked eye can catch. Rami notices this, narrowing his eyes and smiling.

“Your staring is how you got into this situation in the first place.” He laughed, gesturing to the space around him.

“If my staring got me here, then I’m glad I’ve got a looking problem.” You giggle, leaning into his frame.

“Me too.” He whispers, smiling wide before pressing his lips to yours in a dizzying kiss.

Your career has taken so much from you. It stole your childhood, and robbed you of your most tender years. But, despite this, it’s given you so much and Rami is living proof of its beautiful gifts.

read my other fics here!

[theaceace]

So you know my monster!jon posts? I started writing a Thing. It’s a little softer than my posts because I am physically incapable of anything else, and it’s sort of building up to pre-JonMartin

(it isn’t finished, and at the rate I write it may never be finished, but I know some of you like spooky boy Sims so here we are. Enjoy?)

There’s an ache in the space between his shoulder blades and his sternum. Jon knows that if he pressed a hand to the spot there would be nothing where he used to feel his heart beat. The ache pulses sometimes, throbs even, but never in time with rushing blood. His blood doesn’t rush anymore; it ebbs and flows, beats against his skin in waves, roars in his ears and sings behind his eyes. It pulls his limbs tighter and tighter, until he thinks the barest touch could snap him apart.

He has no way of knowing for sure. People avoid his touch, these days.

Beneath his hands a tape starts to thrum gently, reels spinning although there’s no statement to record, and no recorder to hold the tape. Gently, he brushes his fingertips over the edges of something that feels a touch too smooth and warm to be plastic. Behind him, the door opens – the real door, of course, that had always been there.

Jon doesn’t look up.

“No,” he says, and he is proud of how steady his voice is. He pulls in threads of Gertrude Robinson, Adelard Dekker, Joshua Gillespie, a hundred different voices from a hundred different statements, and weaves them all together against his tongue until he sounds as close to himself as he can manage – or at least, close to how he remembers sounding. He used to try to joke that he’d lost his voice, until he realised that no-one else thought it was funny.

Well. Gerry thought it was, but Gerry had always been a little unusual.

“Jon,” Elias says, weary and impatient. “This isn’t a debate.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Jon says through Karolina Górka’s resignation, and some of Elias’s own acerbic bite. “Nothing ever is with you.” He still doesn’t turn, but he sees the way Elias presses his mouth tight in a brief, irritated line. Then the expression smooths away as though it never existed, and Jon is left with the impression of a smile that doesn’t even reach Elias’s cheeks, never mind his eyes. Jon rubs his fingertips against his ragged thumbnail, bitten down to the quick. It’s an old habit, one that he picks up when he quits smoking, and abandons again when he has a cigarette to roll between his fingers. He hasn’t had a cigarette in a long time – can no longer stand the way the smoke curls through his hair and ashes cling to his collar. It feels too much like the fast-hot bite of Jude’s touch, or the wind tearing his breath from his mouth.

Come to think of it, he hasn’t had a breath in a long time either. He takes one now, curious; tastes dust and the obnoxious cologne that follows Elias like a cloud.

“There’s no need to be unpleasant,” Elias mutters, and Jon knows he isn’t just talking about their argument, such as it is.

“Certainly not,” Jon agrees, and thinks some remarkably unpleasant things knowing full well that Elias is watching him do so. “And there’s no need to keep discussing this. I don’t need assistants, I absolutely do not want assistants, and quite frankly, Elias, I think I would rather you just shot me again than go through this song and dance day in day out.” The reminder is enough to leave Elias drawn up to his full height by the time Jon finishes talking.

“I have apologised for that,” he says stiffly.

Jon scowls; a little confused, a little furious.

“No,” he says, and is aware that the sound crackling in his throat is less his own now. It curls against his teeth and coats his mouth like oil. Or poison. “You said it was regrettable that you’d allowed things to go so far, and that if you’d realised you wouldn’t have wasted the bullet. It’s not the same thing, Elias.”

There’s a reason, Jon reflects as he watches the colour leech from Elias’s face, as he listens to the sharp rasp of his heel turning on carpet, as he tracks the man’s progress back through the corridors of the Institute, that fairy tales paint names as things of power. He runs a hand through his hair, pushes his dark glasses up onto his head. He’s already seen the paperwork, of course. Elias, despite his best efforts, is no more able to lie to him now than anyone else. He knows that there will be three researchers joining him in the archives whether he likes it or not – and he most emphatically does not.

Timothy Stoker – currently cooing delightedly over photos of Rosie’s newborn nephew – Sasha James – sipping hot chocolate in the staff room – and Martin Blackwood – anxiously circling close to Jon’s office, then pacing away down the hall, before turning with a determined stride that lasts almost to the door. Jon watches him repeat this a couple of times, curious. It would be easy, so easy, to pull at the gossamer strands of intent, of thought, of emotion, that make up Martin’s decision. To read his actions aloud – recorded for posterity, of course – and watch as he unravels into a statement of his own. Such a simple solution to his problem, too – he couldn’t have an assistant no longer capable of connecting his own thoughts, and it might warn away any other potential jobseekers.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he pushes himself to his feet, tips his glasses back down to cover his eyes, and pops his head out the door.

“Martin?” He calls – he doesn’t bother to make himself sound surprised, or pretend that he doesn’t know who Martin is. They’ve worked adjacent to one another for years, although the longest conversation they’ve had lasted four sentences, and finished with Martin a stammering wreck. An unfortunately common occurrence, for people that spend any time talking to Jon outside of a statement.

Still, it couldn’t have traumatised him too thoroughly – otherwise he wouldn’t have applied to move down to the archives.

Martin flinches, a motion exaggerated enough to rock his whole body backwards, and Jon watches disinterestedly as he catches himself on the wall. His round cheeks flush – embarrassment, Jon sees, as well as the jolt of adrenaline that came with his sudden appearance. Jon knows that he moves very quietly, and the walls of the Archives have a knack for swallowing sounds almost before they begin.

 “Jon!” Martin manages; he clears his throat and pushes himself away from the wall, tugging restlessly at his sleeves. Although he stands nearly a full head taller than Jon, the way he ducks down and curves his shoulders leaves them almost eye-to-eye. He’s used to taking up as little space as he can, to avoiding notice and letting people’s eyes slide easily off him; Jon reads it in every tense line of muscle and tendon. It must feel particularly strange to him, working in the domain of the Beholding, even if he isn’t really aware of why.

“Was there something you needed?” Jon asks. The answer floats lazily to the forefront of his mind, but he bites his tongue and waits for Martin to speak. Waits while Martin tries to meet his gaze, waits as he shifts from foot to foot before finally gathering himself.

Martin is afraid of him – it’s unfortunate in a colleague, but rather unavoidable. Yet, here he is, following Jon into his new office and taking a seat across the desk; here he is pulling at a loose thread in his cardigan with shaking hands; here he is smiling at Jon, just a little too wide to try to mask his anxiousness. Jon doesn’t smile back.

“Um,” Martin starts, then hesitates. The words sit in the air between them, and Jon knows them already, could pull them from Martin’s mouth with half a whispered thought, but something stops him. “Jon, I know you didn’t really want any assistants after – well, now that Gertrude’s gone, at least that’s what Elias said, and I know that I probably wouldn’t be your first choice even if you did, but I just wanted to say that. Um. I am looking forward to working with you, and if you need anything – at all! Then you can, er, you can always ask.”

Jon is silent for a long moment, stunned. It isn’t often that he’s surprised like this; he isn’t sure of the last time it happened, in fact. It takes conscious effort not to lower his face and look at Martin over the tops of his glasses. That isn’t at all what he’d expected Martin to say – had been waiting for an uncomfortably formal introduction given the brevity of their former interactions, at which point Jon would have been compelled to point out that he knew everyone in the Institute, and really Martin, such banalities are completely unnecessary. Instead, he finds himself fumbling.

“Martin are you – are you worried about me?”

[alloveroliver]

Evil!Harr Part 1

harr anon: part 1 of some very evil!harr! its quite a doozy, so i had to split it, but harr/alice will come in the 2nd part (and guess who thoroughly enjoys the cradle gothic vibes…:D)

tw: Gore

The yawning nights never made the Magic Tower any more inviting. Loki climbs the steps with the same apprehension as always; after all, it was very hard to shake away the memories of the atrocities that had very nearly been inflicted upon him. If he listens carefully enough, he can almost hear the moans and cries of those who had been confined here, bodies prepared to undergo the gauntlets Amon Jabberwock would orchestrate.

And yet, he fears the cries he hears now may just be history repeating itself.

The marble staircase coils upward towards the private chambers of the new master, perched over an ornate writing desk like a haggard crow. Only this time, the robes have been changed from violet to black, fine silk for ragged six-string…gold eyes for red ones.

“Harr? When did you come back?”

Since the death of Amon, Harr had been swift to overthrow the Magic Tower and its brainwashed occupants. They had cowered under his superior magical abilities, the crystals holding now sway over the deflective spells and ancient incantations that forced them to their knees, burnt their hands and filled their veins with pestilence. Casting the robes of the Tower aside, Harr stood proud and furious above all, as if punch-drunk on the power he had suddenly acquired. The few that had been deemed worthy to live treated him like a god in the flesh, immediately obeyed his every whim, and allowed him to carry on with his games. For his magic was innate, beautifully so, and he was worth dying for.

Even if Loki had hated how the color of his eyes had changed.

“Loki? Ah, I’ve only been back a short time,” At the sound of his name, the elder sorcerer looks up from what appears to be numerous torn papers, detailing correspondence between members of the Red Army. Loki tries his hardest to overlook the splatters of blood and viscera on each page. He focuses on the smile he was so used to seeing, soft and reassuring, and hopes back for the days before all of this madness. “But I’m glad you’re here. I have something to show you.”

Papers flying, Loki crouches down on the other side of desk as Harr seems to reach down behind it, fiddling on with the straps on a battered leather sack. His hums a soft melody as he works, and the younger kindles faint memories in the back of his mind, when the same tune was hummed over a kitchen sink, a solo tune that soon drifted into a duet when he would come to help with dinner.

I’ve been reminiscing a lot, he thinks…and it’s with a twinge of sadness as he realizes the sorry state of affairs that have forced him to do so, if only for his own mental well-being.

But soon enough, Harr’s voice cuts into his reverie. “I’ve been thinking long and hard how to finally get through to the King of Hearts,” he hums, though there’s a distinct edge to his tone as the buckles come loose on the sack. “And I think I may have finally done it. My greatest achievement.”

The King of Hearts? “But Lancelot has always…refused your offers before.”

“Then perhaps my latest attempt has caused a…change of heart, if you will.”

No…

Harr reveals a glass tankard from the confines of his bag, sloshing around with a glossy red liquid that instantly forces the hairs on Loki’s neck to prickle. He can smell it before he sees it - spilled blood - and the sight is unfortunately not unique. He wants to vomit every time, but his throat is dry and tight, and he wants to run…but Harr is there, grinning, and Loki can only remain dumbfounded.

An adult human heart, beating wildly within a glass cage.

Loki’s slit pupils flare for a second. He looks ready to protest, jaw clenching and unclenching…but nothing leaves his lips. Perhaps he realizes what an objection means by now, and instead occupies himself by watching the disembodied organ throb in the jar. It mesmerizes him in a sickening way, how it squeezes and oozes in the red liquid, pulsing with gentle magical light.

The heart ripped from the Queen of Spades’ chest didn’t glow like this. Or the others. None of their hearts glowed at all.

Would my heart glow this way?, he thinks, only to quickly push that line of thought to the depths of his subconscious. His fingers tremble over the breastbone under his skin, where even now, he wonders if there is anything left at all.

Invisible hands pulling at the frantic muscle, ready to tear it clean from its shell…despite the heat of the room around them, Loki shivers in poorly-masked terror.

“Beautiful, no?” Harr resumes his gentle harmony, fingers curling over the remaining vessels upon the tables. “I knew Lance wouldn’t disappoint.”

Ten jars for ten men, each housing a beating heart. And Loki remembers them all too clearly. How each one faltered at the most crucial moment, letting Harr’s wicked fingers slide over their chests and drag the bleeding muscle from under the flesh, only to shove a jagged crystal into the cavity instead. They were living puppets, meat caskets for the Joker to toy with as he saw fit.

The Queen of Spades had been first, so eager to help his former friend that he hadn’t even seen it coming. But the horror on his face as Harr had stood over him, heart dripping his own blood onto the carpet, had been unforgettable. And with a single snap, the first puppet was made, jumping to his feet with vacant eyes and a luring call to draw the King into a secluded spot. Unversed in the intricacies of magic, the Black Army was swift to fall asunder.

Lancelot proved to be more difficult. He had visited Kyle that morning. Kyle had never thrown up blood before…Kyle’s eyes…had never looked so milky.

Knowing Amon’s ways, he had been privy to the darker side of magic, so when Zero had attempted to beckon him toward the training room alone, eyes vacant like those of a doll, he had already suspected foul play. But by then, he was exhausted from the years of futile conflict with the Black Army, as well as the weight of potentially retreading the footsteps of the very man who had held his father’s soul overhead. Falling to his knees with a soft smile upon his face, he had willingly surrendered his flesh to the Joker and his sickening cause.

And so, life would go on….or at least, it would seem to. Now at the helms of each side of Cradle, Harr had only to simply will his word into law. Who would go against him? Who was even left?

Loki cast a forlorn glance up the staircase towards the private quarters of his master…and the strange girl he kept caged up there.

“What do you plan to do with it, Harr?”

When the wizard turns back to his apprentice, his voice softens. “It doesn’t quite fit…does it?” he sighs. He runs his fingertips over Lancelot’s vessel, nails tapping an ancient rhythm over the glass. “Only further proof how we are not the same as the normal populace.”

Loki flinches at the use of ’we’. The dichotomy he had once fought against, being championed by his mentor, makes his gut twist uncomfortably. “Then what are you going to do?”

“There is always room for further study into the archaic world of magic,” comes the response, though there was a dangerous glint in Harr’s scarlet gaze. His mouth twists ever so slightly, the edge of a smile gracing his lips, though never enough to reach his eyes. “And I would find it most useful to expand my knowledge. The Tower may have gone far in their research…but there is always more.”

The younger wriggles a bit where he stands, pulling the hem of his jacket. “I don’t know if you should go any further, Harr. You know what…what the Tower did, do you really want to know that much?”

“You make a fair point, but this heart has such boundless energy…and I could always…consume the excess myself.”

The fear sinks deeper into Loki’s bones, his entire form only kept from shaking by every muscle locking stiff. He looks for any sign that the elder is joking, but his face is remarkably serious. “Harr…y-you can’t be serious-”

“But I very much am, Loki,” comes the cold reply, and the younger flinches at how his master’s lip curls into a sneer. Were his teeth always so sharp? “There is no need for Lancelot to entertain the masses with his magic, not when I have my rule implemented in Cradle. It would be a waste to let it simply sit here as a trophy.” And with unfamiliar malice, he suddenly grimaces. Loki’s blood freezes in his veins, and he can barely breathe “Besides, Loki Genetta, you have no right to pass judgment on me for eating the hearts of men.”

The glare was piercing. Cutting right through his soul, Loki’s legs give out beneath him. Blood-soaked memories flicker behind closed eyelids, servants in violet cloaks and a frightened madman cowering underneath his claws. It was frightening to imagine, that loss of control, the sheer desire to maim and consume…like some kind of beast. But the thrill of the hunt had pounded wild through his veins, deliciously stringing him along toward the lifeblood that he could scent in the air…feral, hot, hungry…

“You remember it, don’t you?” Harr senses the confusion in the younger’s body, how his eyes flit to the floor and his lips quivers. Moving ever closer, he wreathes himself around Loki, stroking his hair and crooning ever so sweetly into his ear. “Tell me how powerful you felt, Loki. Did it feel good to rip that man to shreds?” The contrast between face and voice was jarring, but Harr’s soothing tone still pulls tenderly upon the boy’s heartstrings. Somewhere, he hopes that his old friend is still there. “Tell me how good it felt when you cleaved that devil open. How good it felt to consume his essence.”

It was sickening to say…but Loki couldn’t deny it. The hedonistic rush of magical power as he had ripped through Amon Jabberwock with fang and claw, wild as a hellcat and with an appetite to match. Yanked by puppet strings and with Harr holding the sticks, he had lunged and clawed and bit and killed. It was sweet vengeance; surely, Harr had even told him so. Harr had promised he hadn’t been wrong, he had promised…

You were the one who told me to do it.

“It felt…amazing.”

“Then you know it’s only fair that I should also enjoy such pleasure. I gave you the opportunity, after all, and absolved your sins upon the deed’s completion.”

“So I was wrong to do it?”

“Oh, Loki…taking life is wrong, but it had to be done. Come to me.

The embrace is warm, familiar, and Loki cannot contain himself any longer. He sobs into Harr’s warm arms, clinging to the cloak that now reeks of earth and freshly-spilled blood. He lets himself be soothed, coddled, lied to under the pretense of sweet whispers of comfort. He knows there is something horribly wrong with the man he had once come to know as his carer, a friend in the darkest of times, but he is powerless to stop it. Because Harr was all he had left in this world, even though the corruption that had filled his soul was nothing like the kind, gentle human being who had swept him off the ground as a child and into a loving home.

Fingers come to rub gentle circles into the individual bumps along the younger’s spine, where the same corruption begins to take hold. Loki notices it every day, his body contorting into something more animal, more beastly by the day. First had been the teeth…then the claws…then the twisting of his spine, some days leaving him yowling like a creature on all fours. A punishment by the gods, perhaps? Or a sickness of the soul, brought by Harr as he takes the worst of the sins wrought by their terror?

All he knows is that he will follow Harr until the end, even when his body contorts and his voice leaves him, until he is nothing but a monster with a feline grin.

"Your place is here with me. Cradle is still cruel to the likes of you and me, for they don’t understand the gifts we come to bear,” A pregnant pause fills the air, only punctuated by the irregular thumps of distended hearts. Unbeknownst to the young man, Harr’s grin twists into something more sinister. “Your parents were not the only ones. And I only do my work so that no more children come to suffer as you did. I keep you and rid you of your sins, and you help me to achieve the paradise we deserve.”

When Loki looks up at him once more, tears track messy lines down his cheeks. His eyes are so lost, so full of fear and hope, clinging to whatever scrap of stability he can. Harr has Loki pinned under his claws, eager to please and fearing every detachment, lest he disappear…just like his parents had.

Twisted pleasure runs hot through Harr’s veins.

“You know how much I love you,” Harr only reaches forward to stroke his apprentice’s wild hair. He watches those mismatched eyes harden to flint, only to melt once more as his fingernails scratch into the young man’s scalp. The lies taste sweet on his tongue, almost as sweet as the look of adoration upon his charge’s face. “I don’t want the pain you felt to ever come back. I want to protect you. You know that, right?”

A soft sigh breaches those plump lips, and a barbed tongue rasps his palm in a gesture of submission.

“Do not disappoint me, Loki.”

“Not you. Never you, Harr.”

[foxofthedesert]

RQ OUaT FF | OGA: Ch. 12

Chapter 12 – A Deal with the Dark One

A sharp knock on the door startles Regina out of a grief-induced stupor. The heavy haze blanketing her consciousness is a remnant of the self-flagellating she did over her role in Red's current predicament. She cannot recall much that has happened since Victor departed beyond the initial waves of illogical guilt that battered her into submission, reducing her to little more than a useless, shriveled lump of anguish.

Sometime during her restless inactivity she had managed to wrap around Red, almost as if she were subconsciously trying to climb inside her wife's body to wrench her soul back to its rightful place. It hadn't worked, obviously. Red remains stubbornly imprisoned within the curse, oblivious to the world which continues to rotate heedless of her absence. Meanwhile Regina's world felt as if it had screeched to a grinding halt. At least the physical contact helped to soothe her oversensitive nerves. She had been on the verge of disassociating before her stampeding emotions mercifully ran out of steam.

Tired of being the victim of a sorrow she cannot seem to escape and feeling somewhat more composed, she gingerly disentangles herself from her wife. Sitting up requires just as much caution, as she does not want to to jostle Red needlessly. That her efforts go unappreciated is beside the point when Red is so helpless. Treating her body with the utmost respect while she is incapacitated is the least Regina can do, really.

With a prolonged groan, Regina rubs at her eyes and takes a tremulous breath just as another louder knock sounds. It echoes through the room as if a mallet is being utilized rather than a fist, and is immediately followed by a familiar male voice calling out, "Your Majesty, may I come in?"

Ignoring the visitor for a moment, Regina swings her legs to the side and then shuffles out of bed. Cognizant of her compromised equilibrium, she rises slowly to her feet. The journey to being vertical is made more unpleasant by the relentless pounding of her head. No doubt the condition is a symptom of the misery that is her constant companion being compounded by the alarming drain to her energy reserves from the confrontation with Zelena. The good news is that she is accustomed to working through blinding migraines as she has done so many times in the past; for Red, she will endure any discomfort for however long she must. There is no pain on earth that could keep her from doing whatever is necessary to save her wife.

"Enter," she calls out after a moment, her voice scratchy, but loud enough that the person who had asked her permission hears and obeys. When Victor Frankenstein steps through the opened doorway, Regina arches a sable eyebrow. "What is it, Victor?"

"You said to return in two hours," he tells her as he steps into the room.

Regina stares at him, hardly able to comprehend the passage of so much time without her being aware. It had honestly felt like minutes.

"Has it been two hours already?" she asks after a moment.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Victor replies, eyeing her with concern that Regina dismissively waves off.

"Don't look at me that way. I'm fine," she says, then takes a deep breath and smooths a hand down her twice rumpled clothing. She'd been so distraught, she hadn't thought to change into something more suitable. Deciding to amend that oversight, she snaps her fingers and arrays herself in a dress befitting her mood, solid black, trimmed in jagged and vicious embroidery the color of rich red wine. She is no longer a wife in mourning but a Queen on a mission, a killer set loose upon the world after enduring seven years of solitary captivity. She feels dangerous all of the sudden, and wishes that Zelena would show her verdant face so that she can peel it off and have a Hallows Eve mask made of it.

Seeming to sense the change in her attitude, Victor stiffens. "Of course you are, my Queen. I, uh...I consulted some of my more esoteric tomes, but uh..." he shuffles a bit, looking nervously at her, "I am sorry to report that I didn't find anything of pertinence."

Regina arches a brow and then returns to Red's bedside where she perches in the same position she had been in earlier. Although she is feeling stronger and more confident, she still needs the proximity, needs to be close enough to see and hear that Red is still breathing and feel the warmth of her skin indicating blood is still flowing through her veins and thus her heart is still beating.

After picking up Red's hand between her own and depositing both in her lap, she looks back up at Victor. "And what did the herbalist have to say?"

That snaps Victor out of his tentative posture. His eyes gain a little bit of spark that gives Regina a renewed hope. "She was actually quite a useful resource. She hadn't heard of any such tree, nor had she been to Oz. However, she confirmed my theory about the likelihood of the antidote being found in the vicinity where those trees grow or from other parts of the trees themselves. I think we may have a viable course of action to pursue."

Regina actually smiles, and it feels like the first time she's managed one in weeks. "I believe you are correct, my dear Doctor." But then her smile evaporates as she realizes there is no sense putting off the inevitable. "As encouraging as your news is, I want to consult with Rumple before I make preparations for an excursion to Oz. Time is too precious for any to be wasted. If he can narrow down the search parameters, it is worth the risk to parlay with him. Would you agree?"

Although Victor seems surprised that she has asked his opinion, to his credit he does not voice it. Instead, he nods reluctantly. "Unfortunately, I do."

Reluctant is not a strong enough word to describe how little Regina wants to do what she has to next. She hasn't seen her old teacher in so long, she has almost forgotten the dread that is always associated with calling upon his name. None prey more gleefully and mercilessly upon those in dire straits as the Dark One. Were there any other alternatives, she would take them. But there aren't. She is desperate and in need of information she firmly believes only one person can provide.

Drawing Red's hand up, Regina presses her lips against the back and deposits a reverent kiss there. "I'm doing this for you, my darling," she whispers against the feverish skin. She is somewhat relieved to feel Red's pulse thrumming through her pronounced veins. "I know you find Rumple to be distasteful after all he's done. I wish there were another way..."

Red's poor opinion of the Dark One was solidified when Regina confided to her about life as a young Queen. Isolated from her home and family, reeling from a loss that fundamentally changed who she was as a person, she was forced to adapt to a new situation that felt more like a living hell than the paradise of wealth and influence her mother viewed it as. Upon learning how Rumplestiltskin preyed on that despair, had wielded it like a yardstick to guide her one step at a time towards the inviting darkness just over the horizon, Red swore that if she ever encountered the man in person she would rend him limb from limb. And she almost made good on that promise.

Rumple has visited the Dark Palace exactly once since Red became her lover. One afternoon around the Autumnal Equinox, he showed up unannounced with his typical dramatic flair. He had just learned about her relationship with Red and was hoping to gain an advantage in their ongoing game of tactical manipulations. Instead, he was caught unawares by an enormous werewolf at the height of her strength. The instant he fully materialized, Red pounced. He could not even twitch a muscle or recover his wits enough to toss her away with his magic before razor sharp teeth clamped around his throat, ready and willing to separate his head from his torso. Against her better judgment, Regina stepped in before blood was shed, knowing that Red was no match for Rumple under less favorable circumstances, and that Rumple had learned his lesson. Foremost, loathsome as he was, she was reluctant to erase a resource of such invaluable experience, skill, and knowledge. Red thought that was a ridiculous reason to let a potential threat to them walk away. In retrospect, Regina's restraint proved all too sagacious – here she was, years later, needing his help.

What if I had let Red kill him that day? With whom would I have to deal in his place? The thought turns her insides cold. There are individuals whose objectives are far less...gray...than those of the Dark One, individuals who do not just bend or skirt the rules and conventions of civilized society but utterly eschew them in favor of unfettered chaos and pure evil. While she cannot argue against Rumple being a devious, self-serving, manipulative bastard, he is at least a devious, self-serving, manipulative bastard who honors his bargains – and, most importantly, with whom she has a lengthy history. Better to deal with the devil you know...

In any case, after almost having his head separated from his neck by an overprotective werewolf, the Dark One avoided confronting Regina whenever Red was in the vicinity. He braved doing so when she was alone only a handful occasions in the meantime, and never since the last visit three and half years ago while Red was absent visiting her grandmother in the White Kingdom. Still, Regina occasionally gets the distinct feeling he is watching them carefully, methodically plotting his revenge and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His unnatural interest in her has yet to wane, and though she has yet to figure out why that is she has no interest in broaching the topic at present. There are far more critical matters at hand.

"I swear," she continues, now rubbing her cheek against Red's limp palm, "if there were any other options available, I would pursue them rather than risk inviting him here. But there are none, so I have no choice. Please forgive me." After another gentle kiss, this time to the pulse point of her wife's wrist, Regina carefully replaces Red's hand back at her side and then stands.

Without bothering to warn Victor, she strides into the center of the room, hands on her hips, and sternly beckons, "Rumplestiltskin! I, a desperate soul, summon thee. Heed my call at once if you are interested in a transaction."

A puff of purple smoke immediately fills the center of the room right in front of Regina, and she watches with sharp eyes as her former mentor materializes in front of her.

"Why, I thought you'd never call on me again, dearie," he says, voice trilling merrily. "You must be very desperate indeed. If I didn't know better..."

"Save the canned speech, Rumple," Regina interrupts curtly. "I asked you here to make a deal. But before we go any further, I would know whether or not you can deliver what I require from you."

His entire being perks up at the opportunity to strike up a deal. He has been looking for a way to finagle her into one for a very long time, but before this she'd had no reason to haggle with him. All she had wanted was Snow White dead, and that was something she felt more than capable of accomplishing on her own. All the same, he was right before when he said she is desperate. Effectively, she has been backed into a corner with no escape route save the most excruciating one. His awareness of that makes him all the more dangerous. There is no one who exploits vulnerability with as much flamboyant finesse as Rumplestiltskin.

"A deal you say?" His unnatural, disconcerting eyes glitter in the orange light cast from lit candles nestled in brass scones lining the walls. "I'm already intrigued. What is it, in particular, that you are after?"

Regina hefts her skirts to her ankles and steps close to the imp an entire continent has feared for far longer than she has been alive. Rumplestiltskin's reign of terror has lasted centuries, and though she would have preferred it to have ended long ago, she finds herself grateful it has not. The countless others currently suffering from an ill-advised deal stricken with him are inconsequential when she presently requires his expertise.

Once close enough that their noses nearly touch, she glares down her nose haughtily, relishing in the fact her impractically high heels lend her a slight height advantage. As per usual, the display of dominance does not perturb him in the slightest. Both know who has all the leverage here.

Regina, as usual, is simply too proud to back down. "Knowledge is what I seek," she answers, hands at her hips wearing her best imperious expression. She gestures toward him with a mocking smirk. "Although I am unsure the subject is one upon which you are well versed. It would be a pity if my summons were to prove futile."

Rumple tuts a sound of disappointment. "Preposterous. As you well know, I am aware of almost everything that goes on in this world and have access to much of its history. I doubt there is any related topic with which I am unacquainted."

"Ah," Regina interjects, waving a taunting finger, "but my inquiry does not relate to this world. I am after information about another one altogether. A place called Oz."

The mention of that name causes Rumplestiltskin falter, and his shock is so evident that he cannot deflect fast enough for it to escape her notice. Interesting, she thinks, filing that unexpected reaction away. Something about Oz in particular disturbs him and she would love to know what that is.

Dark glittering eyebrows draw together, and he averts his eyes momentarily before responding. "Oz you say?" His taps his chin as if in thought. A distraction meant to feign disinterest. It doesn't work. Frequent exposure to his mannerisms and tics means Regina can see right through him, and he knows it. He cuts piercing eyes back at her. "Whyever would you want to know about that ludicrous place? Planning a vacation in the near future?"

Rather than give him a straight answer, Regina snarls and draws up to her full height. "That's my business, not yours. Just answer the damn question."

Her response seems to please Rumplestiltskin, which alerts her to having revealed a sensitive spot. Picking at those, she knows, is a specialty of his. After all, he had prodded at the weeping wound of Daniel's death until spreading out into a yawning chasm that resisted all attempts to close it. She hates him so much in that moment that it is a minor miracle that she keeps her temper in check. And it is for Red's sake alone that she bites her tongue. She cannot afford to give him an inch to play with.

Grinning smugly at her obvious anger, the Dark One maneuvers around her to stand at the foot of the bed upon which Red rests. Victor stiffens at his approach but does not move, instead choosing to stand his ground in the space between the bed and Rumple. Apparently his first instinct is not to protect himself but the only person who has ever made a concerted effort to befriend him. His action, though futile, earns him a sizable portion of Regina's respect. If Victor is willing to place himself in so precarious a position for Red's sake, she is also willing to try and move past her old hurts involving him. That is, if they all get out of this mess alive.

"So nice to see you have landed on your feet, Victor," Rumple greets. "I wasn't sure you'd ever crawl out of the bottle after that wee mishap with your monstrosity of a brother."

"I had help," Victor says gruffly, keeping himself wedged between Rumple and Red. The way he cuts his eyes down at Red for a split second does not go unnoticed.

"So the mutt dragged you from the depths by the scruff of your collar, eh?" Rumple says, wearing a mocking grin that turns sinister when it shifts over to Regina. "Seems she has a penchant for rescuing those on the verge of drowning." He chuckles with satisfaction when Regina's entire frame coils up as if a rattler about to strike. "Say," he then gestures toward the bed, still inordinately pleased with himself, "this summons wouldn't have anything to do with your Queenling's precarious predicament, now would it?"

For a moment, Regina fears he has already figured out what happened, and for a variety of very sound reasons. Not the least of which is how he might be planning to utilize the situation to his benefit. There is no end to what he could get away with by using Red's condition to force her into a far worse negotiating position than she was envisioning had she not been so unforgivably stupid. It was an amateurish mistake to have summoned him to her in the very same room as her cursed wife.

Perceptive as usual, Rumple latches on to her insecurity with frightening speed. "I couldn't help but notice the werewolf's condition upon arrival. I am the master apothecary, Regina, as you well know. I can detect a well-brewed sleeping curse a mile away, even one so cleverly modified as this one appears to be."

Regina shoots a warning glare at the beast who took a broken girl in a gilded cage and transformed her into a remorseless killing machine. How foolish she was back then to ever trust he wanted to help her! And now here she is again, inviting him back into her life, ready and willing to surrender her very soul if that is what it takes to get the information she needs. Red is dying and Rumple is holding all the cards, which means that for all intents and purposes she is at his mercy. Which he knows, and is enjoying lording that over her far too much if that smarmy smile and nefarious glint in his eyes is any indication.

That Rumple hates Red only complicates an already near untenable situation. Not only does she not fear him, but she has been systematically severing the ties between the Dark One and his former pupil. That his influence on Regina has all but vanished earned Red a place high up on his list of enemies. Plus, and for whatever reason, Rumple seems to genuinely fear the wolf, which would work to Regina's advantage were circumstances more ideal and Red was capable of defending herself. Sadly neither is the case, as the situation is about as grave as it can be and the wolf is trapped in a living purgatory just as surely as her human half. Regina would not put it past Rumplestiltskin to exploit this opportunity to neutralize Red for good if it meant getting his hooks in her once again.

"I won't bother lying about the situation. It is as you say," she tells him, narrowed eyes issuing a threat which she then audibly reinforces. "But if you're thinking about using her condition to your advantage, think again. I am warning you right now: if you try to harm her or use this to gain any sort of influence over her whatsoever, I will kill you."

Regina deliberately leaves herself out of the equation. Since discovering Red in her present state, she has always been cognizant on some level that she may have to trade her life to secure Red's. She had told her father as much not much more than three hours ago. Nothing has changed since then. What she is not willing to barter with is Red's life or freedom. Everything else is ultimately fair game. Rumple does not neat to hear her say that though, as he probably has already figured that out, and even if has hasn't she most definitely is not going to clue him in.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. I have no desire to muzzle that overly excitable furball of yours." Rumple's expression was meant to convince her that assessment of his intentions is absurd. It isn't.

The spindly wheels turning behind his eyes did not go unnoticed. No doubt he was mentally attempting to manufacture an outcome that would get rid of the thorn in his side that was once called the menace of Perrault – Perrault being Red's hometown – and who is now affectionately referred to by the locals as the Big Bad Wolf. Time, Regina realizes, is running out for this deal to not cost her everything, meaning she has to act quickly lest he formulate a plan that might hinder the goal of summoning him.

But then he takes her completely by surprise and promptly switches directions. "I must say, I detect a note of familiarity in this magic. Tell me, who is the responsible party?"

Drawing a ragged breath, Regina lets it out slowly. As much as she doesn't want to talk about this, she has to. The chance of learning something of value is too important to pass up. And besides, it's better than having to issue further threats to curtail his unacceptable interest in Red, which no doubt would only have stoked the coals of his own capricious and volcanic temper.

"My half-sister, if she's to be believed," she answers. "According to what I was able to glean, my mother gave her up shortly after she was born."

Again, Rumple is blindsided, and this time, Regina has no choice but to press him when he is off balance. Judging by his subtle flinch, he knows or at least knows of Zelena.

"You've met her, haven't you?" she asks, stepping closer.

"Unfortunately, I have had the displeasure of making her acquaintance."

The disquiet obvious in his reply further frays Regina's already thin nerves. If the Dark One is apprehensive about her sister, was all that bluster about how powerful she was not really bluster at all? If so, what impact might that have upon the mission to save Red? Should they have to square off again, would she have a chance, even were she able to access whatever reservoir of magic enabled her to win their previous scrum? Regina doesn't know, which is bothersome to say the least. One thing is certain, though, Rumple's apprehension regarding Zelena is doing her confidence no favors.

"How is it possible that you know Zelena? Did my mother tell you about her?"

Rumple shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "She did not." Turning away from the bed, he steps back around Regina and into the center of the room. Crossing one arm across his chest, he tucks the elbow of her other arm around it and then grasps his chin with his hand. As he contemplates how to respond, he gives it a few slow strokes. Once decided he says, "Before I began your training in earnest, your...sister traveled to our realm using an enchanted pair of slippers. For a time I pinned my hopes upon her becoming my protegee and had hoped to mold her into a sorceress capable of greatness beyond imagination."

This information startles Regina. She'd always thought she was his first choice. "Why didn't you?"

"Because she is an impetuous creature wholly ruled by her emotions." He frowns deeply, creasing his face in a way that makes him appear even more inhuman. "Zelena is utterly incapable of compartmentalizing. She was not raised by Cora as you were to master her turbulent feelings. They were a constant distraction from her studies. That, and...well, other reasons I'd prefer not to think about." He trails off, expression further souring, the smacks his lips as if something truly awful was lodged in his mouth. He then shivers, brushes a hand down his leathers, re-straightens his shoulders and the odd moment passes. Now recovered, he adds, "I terminated her apprenticeship when I realized she would never take to formal education. She was a mite displeased with that decision, but what could she do? I am the Dark One, after all." A manic giggle is punctuated by a twirling finger. "A click of her slippers later and she was gone, back to Oz to sulk, no doubt. Never heard from her since."

The truthfulness of Rumple's appraisal of Zelena is beyond doubt. In their brief duel, Regina had clashed with a woman who was convinced that she was superior in every way and yet completely lost control when her plan began to unravel. There was only one conclusion for Regina to make: her sister was unable to adapt to unexpected variables being introduced in the heat of conflict. Regina has seen that same phenomenon so many times on the battlefield, when a commander or soldier's failure to acclimate to the shifting dynamics of combat enables a nearly defeated foe to snatch victory from the greedily slobbering jaws of defeat. Emotional people such as Zelena depend on meticulously constructed stratagems to ensure their victories, and when those plans are executed without a hitch, they are virtually unstoppable by conventional means. But when order gives way to chaos in the heat of battle as it is wont to do, such individuals lack the creative coping mechanisms to churn out split second decisions that stave off disaster. Catastrophic failure is almost always the result.

This glaring character defect gives Regina a distinct advantage if she is mindful of it during her next encounter with Zelena. Improvisation is something she excels in, and she is going to have to exploit that ability if she wishes to defeat a sorceress who not only is unarguably powerful but has proven herself capable of scheming up intricate plots with multiple angles all moving at the same time. Regina is more of the type who subscribes to the philosophy best described by some of Red's folk, who would say, zuerst nachdenken, which means 'act first, think later.' Or as Regina's paternal kin might put it, tomar el toro por sus cuernos – that is, take the bull by his horns. In this case, that tendency to leap then look works to Regina's favor. The element of surprise is likely to be key in any future encounters between her and her loony half-sister. Their respective approaches dictates that she cannot afford to meet Zelena on the field of her sister's choosing. To do so would be courting almost certain disaster.

There is one perplexing question pricking at the back of Regina's mind, though. Even when fueled by True Love, Zelena was able to equal her in terms of raw output. Which leaves Regina to wonder: if they are indeed sisters, why does Zelena seem to possesses such vastly superior natural energy output and reserves?

Curious from a purely professional standpoint, she raises a sable brow at her old mentor. "If Zelena and I both inherited our magical talent from our mother, why was she able to nearly best me when I was resisting her with the most powerful magical force known to man?"

Rumple gives a disapproving tut. "Who said you both inherited your magic from the same exact source?"

"I just assumed..."

"Didn't I teach you never to assume?" Rumple interrupts, tone as snidely chastising as when she was a novice. "Your father could not be taught to summon a grain of sand. But Zelena's? Now, there's a chap who had potential. So horribly tragic he squandered it. He could have been a great sorcerer if he had an erudite benefactor such as myself. Or hadn't been mastered by the easily distracted head between his legs. I suppose in that way, he is rather like his bastard of a daughter." When Regina makes a noise of utter disgust at the tacky comment, Rumple giggles gleefully. "Oh, don't act like a prude, it doesn't suit you," he then trills, merry at her discomfort. "Also...a bit hypocritical from what I've gathered. Rumor is you have that wolf of yours howling almost every other ni—"

Having heard quite enough, and blushing furiously with Victor as an audience, Regina stops the discussion from getting any further afield into matters neither of the men in her presence have any business being privy to.

"Alright! I get it! Just..." she sighs and pinches her nose before continuing, "just get to the point."

"Spoilsport," says Rumple, entirely too pleased with himself. "The point is...Zelena was born to parents who were both naturally gifted with magic. There is also a wild ingredient to her I've not quite been able to figure out. Perhaps due to the vortex that snatched her out of this world and delivered her to Oz? Hmmm..." He wiggles a bit restlessly, clearly perturbed by this mystery he apparently cannot solve; one of few that Regina is aware of, which makes her sister all the most interesting – and frightening. And then as quickly as he zoned out he is back in the present. "Anyway, the result of these...elements…means that she is far more inherently powerful than you ever dreamed of being. Why, she was using magic while she was still in diapers whereas it took you a week to master a basic conjuration as an adult! You are your father's daughter. Aren't you, dearie?"

Regina bristles at the blasé delivery of that particularly sharp barb, and again when he smirks triumphantly at her outrage. Pride, her worst character flaw, swiftly provokes her to anger when she is being compared unfavorably to anyone – particularly other practitioners of magic. Too much was sacrificed in obtaining mastery of the dark art to be seen as the lesser of anyone other than her centuries old instructor.

"Posture all you want," Rumple continues without allowing her to retort, "but I assure you that your only advantage in this quarrel will be your ability to out-think her. And that is precisely why she struck at that which is closest to your heart."

Which is nothing Regina had not already concluded. "You say am I not her equal," she counters, still seething about being ranked lower on the magical totem pole than her batshit-insane sister. "And yet I defeated her in a fair fight. Had she not fled, I would have killed her this afternoon."

He shrugs as if that minor victory meant less than nothing. "Be that as it may, escape she did. I assure you, she most certainly will return. And make no mistake, when she does she will be much better prepared." He glances over at Red and then back at her, his eyes full of scathing accusation. "Your mother tried to warn you, Regina, as did I. Love is weakness. Zelena is using your love for that girl to destabilize you. You may have won the battle but the war is far from over."

He is wrong, she thinks, remembering what her love for Red had enabled her to do. A fight she surely would have lost to her much more powerful sister, if Rumple is to be believed, instead became a conspicuous statement. Not only that she is willing to do whatever she must to restore Red to life, even if that means she must expend herself in the effort, but that she is motivated by something Zelena cannot comprehend, something cosmic and primordial that can inspire superhuman feats that otherwise would be impossible. To diminish that, to diminish love, as weakness is nothing short of folly.

Crossing over to Red's beside, she takes her wife's hand and grips it tightly. The alarming heat from fevered skin seeps into her cold fingers, bringing her warmth and reminding her that while Red may be terribly ill, at least she is still alive.

"What you call weakness is in fact the very opposite," she then states with a boldness only experience can produce. "As it turns out, you and mother were both wrong. Horribly wrong. My love for that girl is what gave me the necessary energy to overcome Zelena. Because love is strength. It is wealth beyond measure. It is a weapon that no sword can deflect and which no shield of steel or magic can withstand. It is power of such infinite and majestic grandeur that the gods themselves, should they indeed exist, would kneel before in awesome reverence. For you see, Rumple, True Love doesn't just break curses. It creates miracles."

"So you are wholly given over to delusion then," he says, unconvinced, and judgmental. "True Love is powerful, yes, but inherently unpredictable. You cannot rely on it to win your every battle. Training, experience, and natural propensity matter much more in the unpredictable environments of open conflict. If I were you, I would heed this freely given advice. For when Zelena returns, she will not hold back. There will be no hesitation, no petty theatrics. Playtime is over, dearie, and when she is prepared to engage you again it will take more than what you and your Twue Wuv can muster to stop her."

When Regina starts to object, he raises a hand, eyes imploring her to listen to reason. "She hates you more than anything else, and yet she displayed no intentions of killing you earlier. That should tell you something. She wants you to suffer."

"I know," Regina replies, gritting her teeth together. "She said as much."

"Then do you not see the danger you face? She has likely been plotting this scenario for years."

Regina frowns dismissively, causing Rumple to scoff at her unwillingness to heed his warnings. She knows he is aggravated by what he would describe as willful ignorance.

"As I had been plotting Snow's demise," she retorts. "But the fruits of all my scheming went to naught the moment I met Red. Let Zelena come, let her irrational envy and malice be what compels her to try and destroy me. If Red has taught me anything, it is that love can overcome hate."

"You keep mentioning the love you share with the werewolf, that it is True Love. But tell me: if that is indeed accurate, why does she remain asleep? Has hatred not won a great victory already?"

"No, it hasn't! True Love's kiss did work, but Zelena somehow already knew what Red and I shared, even before I did. And while you are correct that she remains asleep, she is also alive, and that is the reason I asked you here. Victor and I have a plan to counter Zelena's curse."

"Oh? Color me intrigued. Pray tell!"

That Rumple seems particularly interested now that she has mentioned that True Love's kiss has not broken this particular curse is an extraneous source of worry for Regina. She knows why. Were he to gain such a recipe, he would surely utilize it for some nefarious purpose. And though she wants him to remain ignorant of Zelena's clever modification to the sleeping curse, she feels there is no alternative but to enlighten him. She only hopes her decision does not come back to bite her in the ass.

"During our discourse," she tells him, "Zelena taunted me that I could not break the curse with True Love's kiss. She added a rare ingredient to her curse, one found only in Oz high in the mountains surrounding the Emerald City. There, a tree grows which sprouts leaves immune to all forms of magic. She ground it up and mixed it into the potion she used as the base for the curse, thus infusing it with a protection against being broken by any counterspells, even the most potent of all. I must know: have you heard of this tree? And if you have, is there an antidote? If I do not find one, Red will die, for Zelena also modified her curse to draw its energy from its host body. It is killing her already, albeit slowly..."

"Well, this is certainly quite the quandary you've found yourself in," Rumple says, echoing her own thoughts. "Zelena's ingenuity is truly impressive."

"To hell with her ingenuity! I didn't ask you here for commentary on my sister's prodigious fluency with magic. I want you to answer my questions!" She heaves a frustrated sigh when Rumple raises a glittering eyebrow, and changes tract. Her temper never did get her anywhere with him. But there is one weakness that she knows Rumple has aside from his precious maid. "As I stated earlier, I am prepared to make a deal in exchange."

"Because of how desperate you are – and you are so deliciously desperate – I am sorely tempted to extract a high price from you for this," he replies, clearly interested in the carrot she dangled so temptingly before him. But then he goes and surprises by refusing the inroad to her life she just offered. "However," he says, hands steepling beneath his chin, "I will grant you this one allowance. Not just because you were once my most promising pupil, but because I share in your enmity for your deranged sibling. For once, we have aligned interests. So, to answer your questions, yes, I know of this tree, and yes, there is an antidote. However, it will not be easy to procure."

Regina is sure her expression reveals how stunned she is at Rumple's apparent act of mercy. She is, of course, immediately suspicious and wants very much to press him further about his stated reasons for this unexpected gift. But as he so aptly put it, she is desperate, and at the moment cannot bring herself to care about his motivations. If he was willing to forgo his general fare, then she was all too happy to embrace this stroke of good fortune.

"What is the antidote?" she asks, her tone reflecting how essential the answer is.

In response, he tilts his head and studies her in that reptilian manner that never fails to set her teeth on edge. He then gives her an uncanny grin. "Bark from the same tree from which the leaves grow will do the trick. There is a recipe to concoct the potion that you will need to obtain elsewhere, as I do not know it offhand."

Regina's eyes narrow pointedly. "If you don't know how to make the potion, how do you know the bark will work?"

He giggles at her skepticism, finger twirling in the air as he sings out his reply. "Let's just say that I know someone, who knows someone, who knows that said reagent will in fact counteract the protective magicks currently preventing True Love's kiss from breaking the curse."

Regina sighs, aggravation at his antics close to overriding her gratitude for the boon he just extended to her. "I'll just have to take your word on it, I suppose," she says. "Still, I don't understand the difficulty in obtaining bark from a tree. Seems easy enough to me. I know how to reach Oz already, and once there, it is only a matter of locating said tree, which should be no problem if I conduct a brief investigation. A little gold will loosen the lips of the locals, and if not, other means of persuasion will."

"Ah," he replies with a flourish of eccentric movement, "but it is not that simple. I can tell you already that the grove in which the tree grows is no ordinary place. It is a sanctuary tucked high in the mountains beyond the Emerald City. The climb is treacherous enough that only the very hardy attempt it outside of pristine weather, which is unusual as bitter cold and snow blanket the precipice most of the year. And once you reach it, you will find it protected by a gate that only the pure of heart can open and pass though."

Regina's countenance falters and she stumbles back a pace at the devastating setback. Scaling the mountain would be difficult; she is no avid climber like Red. All the same, she is sure that if she had no other choice, she could do it. Losing a couple fingers or toes to frostbite would be a small price to pay to save Red. No, it is the last part of Rumple's warning that has her heart stuttering.

Can nothing ever be easy? How am I supposed to get into a place only accessible by the pure of heart? By any generous definition, that is not her. At her most unsullied by the evils of the world, she was never the picture of an idyllic lady. Her development of a temper did not coincide with Daniel's death. Ever since she was a child, she has been hot-headed, stubborn, combative, and quick to unleash an acerbic wit and sarcastic tongue. The young woman who so heroically saved a princess on a runaway horse was far from perfect. She is fairly certain that even back then she could not have opened the gate.

But then she thinks of her sister, who had managed to obtain leaves from the tree for use in her nefarious scheme.

"How did Zelena gain access then?" she poses. "She is as far from innocence as I am, if not more."

"Your sister is like you in more ways than she is not," he tells her, quirking his eyes over to Red, heavy innuendo in them. "Like you, she is...fluid in her preferences. After departing the Enchanted Forest and returning to Oz, she chose a partner whose heart was unsullied by darkness – a fellow Cardinal witch by the name of Glinda, of the purest character. If I were to wager a guess, it would be that Glinda retrieved the leaves for her, probably under duress. You, however, do not have such an innocent soul at your disposal. One who is not under the thrall of a curse, anyway."

Tears pricking at her eyes, Regina turns away. The cure feels so close, right at the tip of her fingers. Traveling to Oz, to the mountain north of the Emerald City, and scaling it to reach the summit will be no problem with her powers. But she cannot open the gate. Her heart that was once pure has long since been irreparably tainted by the darkness. Now, though it is healing slowly through Red's ceaseless love and limitless devotion, it is a lump of black with streaks of red that fight and claw for what little purchase they have. Her past has been a ghastly specter looming over her shoulder the entire time she and Red have been together, and now it is preventing her from saving the one person who is able to restore her to even a similitude of the person she once was.

Red, her sweet Red. The light of her life, the very beat of her heart. Regina cannot bear to be the reason her wife dies, cannot fathom having to bury another True Love. What will she do if Red passes from the circles of this world solely because she failed her most crucial test? Because she folded under the strain of her greatest moment of crisis? How will she face herself each morning knowing it is her fault that the woman she loves more the life itself is dead and buried, cold and rotted in the grave? And that is precisely what will happen. A certain self-righteous individual will never permit her best friend's remains to be defiled by dark magic, even that which is meant to preserve the dearly departed from the corrosive processes that break down everything which has expired. No, like she always does, Snow will...

It is that thought that strikes Regina like a vicious slap. The accursed name of her greatest enemy reverberates in her mind like an unending echo that collides with her earlier remembrance of rescuing a certain princess in distress from a potentially deadly equestrian accident. Snow White. Snow White. Snow White. Snow White, the helpless little girl whose naive affections for Regina got Daniel killed. Snow White, the insufferable child who smothered Regina with unwanted attention. Snow White, the bandit princess who arose from the ashes of her smoldering life to become a Queen in spite of Regina's best efforts to the contrary. Snow White, the blindly loyal and eternally optimistic brat who never gives up on anyone, even on the woman who'd spent her nearly every waking hour either plotting to murder her or executing said plots. Snow White...the people's champion, the epitome of goodness, the pure of heart.

Suddenly, Regina knows exactly what she has to do.

"Snow," she breathes, and all eyes in the room capable of seeing turn toward her, mystified by the mention of that name. But it doesn't take long for the two highly intelligent men to make the connection.

"Why, such a splendid idea!" Rumple trills after a moment, bouncing up and down merrily and giving a delighted giggle. "Besides little old me, you always were the most clever person I ever met, Regina. By recognizing and accepting that your beloved's salvation rests in the hands of your mortal enemy, you have once again reaffirmed the wisdom in choosing you over your sister."

"But will it work?" she asks, knowing that it will, but needing to hear it confirmed by an outside source.

Rumple nods. "Yes, Snow White will most certainly be able to open the gate and pass through. The question is, will she be inclined to render assistance?"

"To me? Hell no. For Red…?" Regina does not even need to think about it.

There is little Snow will not do for Red, up to and including playing nice with Regina. For pity's sake, the woman had purposefully avoided her best friend for upwards of a year after Regina and Red became a couple. The distance was certainly not because Regina demanded that Snow stop visiting Red in the tiny village that straddled the borders of their respective kingdoms. No, she had done so of her own volition because she knew Regina's disapproval put Red in an uncomfortable position and she did not want to come between them. Red's happiness came first. It is the one thing Regina and Snow have always been in agreement about.

"For Red," she then adds, "Snow would follow me into hell itself. She will help."

"Then I suggest you waste no time. Your lady love does not have long enough for you to dilly-dally."

"How long does she have?" Victor asks, sounding less concerned by the science behind what is happening than ever before.

"Less than a fortnight, I'd wager," Rumple tells them both, knowing Regina is asking the same question with her sharp gaze. "No doubt that means you'll rush off to Oz at the first opportunity. But you must be wary, Regina. Zelena will oppose your efforts at every step. She possesses ready means of traveling between realms and will no doubt follow you there to prevent you from obtaining the bark."

Regina snarls angrily. "Let her. She can die in the same mud she mucked about in as a child."

Rumple rolls his eyes in annoyance at her petulant response. "Do not let your pride deceive you, dearie. Zelena is not to be underestimated. In terms of mortal magicians, her raw power is unrivaled. Had she taken to my training, she could have become the greatest human sorceress to live since the great Morgan Le Fey. And in her own world, she will act with impunity, for it bows at her feet."

"Well, I will neither bow to her nor will I fear her. I fear only one thing: losing my wife. Nothing else matters to me besides saving Red. If I die in the process, I have lost nothing, for if I fail and she perishes from this curse, I have no intention of sticking around to mourn her. I will crush my own heart after I see to it that she is properly laid to rest."

"Regina!" Victor protests, but Regina holds up her hand to forestall his complaints.

"You won't repeat that to anyone, Victor," she says. "No one can ever discover how vital she is to me. She is already an all-too-enticing target for my enemies. I will not risk giving them even more reason to lash out against me through her. So you, my dear Doctor, will keep your mouth shut or else you'll be deprived the use of it altogether. Do you understand me?"

"Yes," he replies through thinned lips. She raises a brow. "Yes, my Queen, I understand," he corrects, almost tersely. "Although I'd point out you already admitted that vulnerability to an enemy."

Victor is unhappy with her, she can tell, but she doesn't care. She meant what she had said and is fully prepared to make good on her intentions. Thankfully, so long as Red lives there is no reason to dwell on such morbid thoughts.

"True," she says, "but he won't say anything because his silence will be part of our deal. Isn't that right, Rumple?" Turning her eyes on Rumplestiltskin, she finds him eyeing her in a way he never has before, as if he is seeing her for the first time all over again. "What are you staring at?"

For a moment, he says nothing, just studies her with those discomfiting eyes that are able to discern so much more than they should. But then he shakes his head. "Nothing. Just surprised is all. Never thought I'd see the day the Evil Queen loved someone more than herself."

Regina straightens her back and runs a hand down the sides of her dress down past her hips. "The Evil Queen would not. But I am not her anymore. I haven't been in a long time. I'm just the Queen now, just Regina – I have left that miserable wretch behind for good. I lost myself once because of you and my mother, but never again, Rumple. Never again! I will live out the rest of my life with Red at my side or I will join her in the grave. I refuse to entertain any other options. Now, tell me you agree not to speak of this as part of our arrangement."

"Very well. I agree," he says, seeming to accept her terms. Regina wonders why he'd done so without argument, but at the same time dismisses her concerns in favor the crisis at hand. Rumple was a problem for another day. And besides that, in all the time she's known him, he's never broken a deal. Never.

"Excellent." Regina gives him a curt nod, then clasps her hands behind her back. Her eyes narrow into slits. "Now, before we part ways, there is one final matter we must discuss. I am curious as to what your reasons were for rescuing Jefferson from Wonderland?"

Rumple levels her with a reptilian smile. "Heard about that, did you?" He glances Victor through sharply narrowed ophidian eyes, causing the Doctor to shift uncomfortably.

"Of course I did," Regina says, drawing his attention back. "You can imagine why I am concerned about this considering my...complicated history with the Hatter."

Rumple dismisses her concern much as she had Victor's earlier, with an idle wave of the hand. "Oh, pish posh. There's no reason to worry, dearie. I only retrieved our mutual acquaintance because I am hunting for a particularly elusive fairy who can help me locate someone else – someone I've been searching for a very long time."

Through a medium she doesn't wish to reveal to him for their own safety, Regina has been let in on the very old secret as to whom the Dark One is looking for. Though in the interest of keeping this vital deal in tact, she decides not to pursue the information further. If Rumple is after his long lost son, his attention will be elsewhere, thus she has no reason to get involved. Or to care at all really. Especially if he's going to be teaming up with a fairy. She would rather spoon her own eyes out than spend a single second in the presence of one of the loathsome gnats.

She gives a disaffected sigh. "Well, then, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I will require Jefferson's help to get to Oz. I can't have you whisking him away the second you leave."

"Again, your fretting is pointless," says Rumple. "I've already got what I needed from him. He's all yours."

Regina claps her hands, as glad to a potential problem has been averted as she is to be rid of her old teacher. "Splendid. I suppose that satisfies my curiosity. I'm done with you now."

Unused to being so casually dismissed, Rumple stares at her for a long space, his own curiosity piqued. Regina meets his eyes, unwilling to give in an inch. She has got what she wanted from him without having to sacrifice her soul. That's a win in her book, and one she isn't willing to have stolen out from under her by entertaining the sly imp for any longer than is necessary. Best to get him the hell out and get along with the business of saving Red. For all their sakes.

"In that case, I wish you luck with your endeavor," he says, apparently having made no headway with whatever conundrum was rolling around in his warped brain. "Just remember, this favor was a one time gift. Should the occasion arise that you require my assistance again, it will cost you. Dearly."

"That's perfectly fine with me," she returns, smiling sardonically, "because I hope to never see you again. For my part, this is goodbye between us. Our business is concluded. Never return to my kingdom, and in return I give you my word that I will leave you and your little maid to do...whatever it is you two get up to in that dank, creepy dungeon you call a castle." She shudders for show, causing Rumple's brow to furl in offense.

He takes a few seconds to mull over her offer, but being the pragmatist that he is, settles quickly upon the most efficient and beneficial decision. She is effectively giving him unchecked reign in territories that do not fall under her sovereignty, and that is a deal too good for the Dark One to pass up.

"I accept," he says, and then conjures a scroll on which to etch their contract into perpetuity. Not one to be outdone, Regina beats him to the punch by summoning her own, and then with a wave of her hand, draws up a concise agreement without the fine print that tends to tilt all contracts into Rumplestiltskin's favor. When she presents it to him, he takes it without a word, appearing almost proud at her for having got the better of him one last time. He signs the document and then returns it with a flourish. "Well, I suppose this is goodbye then."

"Yes, it is," she says without emotion as she magicks a copy of the signed contract. As she presents it to Rumple, she is internally screaming at him to leave. Time is wasting and she has no affection left for the man. However much she had once trusted him and relied upon him, looked up to him even, his machinations have proven themselves to be wholly selfish. She does not believe for a moment that he ever felt any genuine affection for her beyond her usefulness as a pawn subject to his insidious designs. Now she is simply returning the favor. And it feels so damn good that her lips curl up smugly. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin. May we never meet again."

He tilts his head, serpentine eyes gleaming mysteriously. "Farewell, Your Majesty." And then in a puff of purple smoke, he vanishes, gone – she hopes – from her life forever. It is a monumental weight lifted off of her chest.

After rolling up the contract, which she knows he is incapable of breaking lest he find some unforeseen loophole, she passes it to Victor. "See that this finds its way to the Royal Archives and then send for Snow White. Tell her she is to travel here immediately and that she and her companions will have safe passage into the citadel. Tell her it's urgent, that Red's life is at stake and she is not to dilly dally. Dispatch one of the ravens, it will find her swiftly and she will not refuse a message from any creature with feathers and wings."

Victor does not hesitate to accept her orders. "Right away, my Queen."

Swallowing her pride has never been one of Regina's strong suits, and she's not about to start accustoming herself to the taste of it now. All the same, as the door slams shut behind Victor and she stumbles on shaky legs back to her wife's bedside, she chokes down the acrid bile that fills the column of her throat.

Snow White. It just has to be Snow White. Really, if the situation weren't so dire, she might laugh herself sick at the height of irony she now finds herself confronting. Once again, so many years and murder attempts later, she is going to have to trust that insufferable blabbermouth with the life of her True Love. The universe truly is devoid of compassion. That, or it simply hates her with a fervor that defies quantification. She cannot quite decide which, not that it matters when what is most important to her is lying here inert, being slowly drained by a pernicious curse that ought instead to be afflicting her.

Regina glances down at Red, eyes flooding with tears for what seems like the thousandth time in the past few hours. Her feeling of persecution seems so trivial in the light of an innocent such as Red being condemned to such an unnaturally cruel fate. If Snow's help, loathsome at it is, can help deliver the cure to spare Red from an eternity of suffering, who is she to deny it? Or even abhor it? Though it may rend her heart to pieces and test her self-control to the breaking point, she will do what she once swore she never would. She will let Snow White back into her life.

"I promise, my love, I will save you," she says, then lowers herself down to resume her perch at Red's hip. She takes her Queen's hand and peppers a series of kisses against the back, fingers, and knuckles. "No matter what I have to do, no matter who I have to trust, no matter who I have to beg. No matter who I have to kill. I will fix this. I won't give up until I'm dead or you're awake. I swear it on my love for you, and that's the highest thing I possess upon which to base an oath."

In one final gesture of devotion, she leans across Red's body and gives her one final kiss. She can't know, but as she pours her love into it, she hopes with all her might that Red has heard her. In her heart, she believes she did and that Red won't give up either. She has to keep fighting. She has to hold on. The alternative is unthinkable.

[ur-mom-kayn]

Loyalty Chapter 2: Trust or Megalomaniac

Hi, Guys ^^ First off all I want to thank for the hearts <3

Today comes the 2nd chapter of Loyalty. The German Version has already 26 chapters and more will follow. Yesterday I have read that Akali broke up with Shen. That will be also a part of my story in the future ^_^ I think Zed is the reason. She wants to kill him but Shen says that this is not the path of balance. He cannot kill him because of revenge but Akali wants to see him dead. That is my Theory. 

Now here the chapter ^_^

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Kayn Pov Even though meditating pissed him in the beginning, he also learned to handle this part of the training. He became aware of the importance the first time when he was truly able to feel his shadow. An incredible power flowed through his body. He definitely wanted to use it. Unfortunately, he still could not enjoy the full potential of the shadows. Master Zed told him several times that he himself was not able to do so without the chest. His words could not really cheer up the young acolyte. He first had to prove himself worthy before he could even waste a thought about training with the chest. It was frustrating, but also motivating. Kayn fought for Zed's recognition like no one else. For the last two years, he has done every one of his age groups, and basically everyone else. Only with the elite, he could not take it. It was those who were privy to the mystery of shadow art. Kayn wanted to be with them at all costs. Because of this, he called them daily to fight. He did not give a shit that he fell on his nose every time. What effect did he achieve when he fought against weaklings? Nothing. Only against stronger opponents, he felt an improvement of his own abilities. As in the moment, he lost a test fight against one of the best men of Zed. Every one of his battles was watched by the Master unless he was on a mission. He did not understand why Zed always scrutinized him. Neither in a win nor a defeat, he said something to him. It was hard to tell if he impressed him or disappointed. He wanted nothing more than a praise. Even though the fight was over, he stood up again and aimed the rod in his hand against his opponent. "I want a rematch," the boy challenged his counterpart. "Not a good idea Kayn. You look mighty battered. Tomorrow, okay? "Satoshi was always way too nice to him. He was ready to fight against him at any time and always struggled to teach him something in their fights. Unfortunately, Kayn was not the kind of person who liked niceness. He regarded this as weakness. And that's exactly what he took advantage of. Satoshi approached him and cheerfully put a hand on Kayn's shoulder. The younger one dropped the staff, grabbed his hand, twisted it on his back and threw him to the ground. Immediately, his opponent responded and cast a shadow behind Kayn. The boy was not stupid and knew this trick too often. With his free hand, he grabbed the staff and slapped the neck of the shadow as soon as Satoshi changed position with him. Not a second later, his counterpart lay unconscious on the floor. It was indeed the first time he had won against an elite assassin. If he did not get praise from Master Zed, he would not know. Unfortunately, nothing came of the same. His Master rose from his seat and left the room without words. Zed Pov This boy did not know any scruples. He even placed one of his closest comrades on the cross without mercy. He was definitely impressive. No question. For the past two years, he understood Kayn's statement when he said the sword was too boring. He controlled every weapon. No, he mastered every weapon. Only his young body stood in his way several times. Although he got a bit more muscle in the meantime, from a 12-year-old boy could not expect a magnificent body. But his will become stronger. Its something too unruly will. He trained day in and day out. If Zed did not send him to bed like a father, then the boy would be of no use the next day. And there was the next thing that bothered him. He no longer felt like his master but like his father. The boy grew to his heart. He loved and feared his wickedness at the same time. He reminded him too much of his younger self, always seeking more power. In itself, nothing bad if his younger self-had would not have killed his master. He would love to trust Kayn but he could not. He was already ready to get to know the true power of shadow art, but he was afraid of the strength the boy would get. He was sure that Kayn would be able to use it against his master. However, if he waited too long, then the rage in Kayn could stir up too much. He needed a plan that could only have two exits. Either Kayn would remain loyal to him, or he would turn against him. Zed could not wait any longer. Before he could develop more father feelings for him, he first had to test Kayn's loyalty. Kayn Pov Kayn marched frustratedly to Zed's room. He was fed up with being constantly ignored. He was more than just his "child". He could also consider him as a student from time to time. But no? The only words he has heard from him lately are: Go to bed, brush your teeth, eat something healthy, blah, blah, blah. He did not want to be treated by him in that way anymore. He was ready. He had proven his strength often enough. Even when he was angry, he did not want to rush straight into it. Too soft he knocked on the wooden slats. "Master, may I enter?" One of Zed's shadows pushed the door open for him. "Thanks," he answered, sitting down on the floor of Zed, who was about to meditate. "What brings you here Kayn?" His master said in a pleasant calm tone. Actually, he would have expected more anger because he bothered him so much, but apparently, he had already expected Kayn's presence. "I ... I wonder ... Master, why you can not tell me a nice word?" For a moment there was silence between them. "You have beautiful hair, happy now?" Kayn was more than mistaken. "I did not mean that. You should say that I've gotten stronger, that I've proven myself, I'm ready to be introduced to the Shadow Art, something like that ..." "Why should I mention the obvious? To increase your arrogance. I can do without it." And finally, he had what he wanted to hear. His master confirmed his strength, but why did he keep it to himself? What arrogance? Kayn thought he was pretty down to earth, although his comrades had a different opinion of him. "Um ... and why you do not show me when I'm ready?" "Good Kayn, the chest is under my bed, if you want to get it, but I will not help you with training." "It does not make sense without you, I want to learn from you and not from anyone else." Zed left that uncommented. Instead, he sank back into a trance. Kayn did not mind staying longer. He left the room and went to his room. The encounter with Zed was strange. His words made no sense to the young acolyte. It was not his style to reveal a secret so easily. Kayn decided to let go of the subject. His master should come to him. He will certainly not steal the chest, which was 90% certainly not under his bed. ... One week later, nothing came. Zed spoke neither about his talent nor about the possibilities of a special training. Kayn was bitterly disappointed with his master, but he kept his frustration. He trusted him. If he said it was the wrong time, it will be. On the way to his room, he felt an unpleasant aura. The corridor in front of him darkened and some shadows came out of the walls. For Kayn it was just a bad joke, so he quickly paused. He was not afraid of the dark, but still, there was discomfort in him. Something was wrong. Just as he was about to turn around, a cloth was held in front of his face. Kayn tried to fight back, but he felt his body sluggish. As soon as he knew it, he lay on the ground. The last thing he saw was a shadow approaching him. ... When Kayn woke up, he was in a sitting position. His legs and hands were firmly tied to a chair. He could not move an inch, because his upper body was fixed. The room was pitch black except for the two torches flickering against the wall in front of him. "Finally woke up," said a masked man in a dark voice. He could not recognize it. Everything sounded so distorted by the mask. He seriously doubted that intruders were simply entering the temple. So they had to be men of their own order. But why was he in this situation now? Another man pulled Kayn by the hair so he was forced to look up. "What do you want from me?" The boy snapped. "Where did Zed hide the chest? Spit it out." "How should I know?", He lied. His attackers did not look like they were buying this lie from him. "So, spit it out, if you do not want us to hurt you." That was all a bad joke as if he would ever betray Master Zed. They should torture him to death before he said a word about the chest. He did not care, he can easily put the pain away. "So last chance. Where does Zed hide the chest? " " Fuck. You. ", He literally spat his opponent in the face. First, he got a punch in the stomach. Kayn saw this coming and tried as well as possible to tighten his muscles. In vain. The pain spread throughout his body. Unfortunately, he did not have much time to recover from it. The next blow found its way straight into his face. He could handle that, too. His counterpart stopped for a moment and asked again. "Well, tell us now, kid." "Rather, I tell you, hell has frozen over before." Even if it was unwise to provoke his attackers, he could not resist his cheeky sayings. With each further inappropriate sentence, Kayn conceded more and more punches. He did not care that his lip was breaking open now, or that he had bruised all over his body. He would not betray Master Zed. He swore allegiance to him and showed him daily how obedient he was. He only accepted his orders. If someone else told him to do this and that, then he always refused to accept this assignment. He swore to serve only Master Zed and that's what he would do for the rest of his life. Even as his counterparts released a blade, Kayn made no sound. He survived the torture as far as possible without screaming. His attackers gave him one last chance to chat, but Kayn said nothing. The man behind him stroked his neck gently with the blade. The boy was silent. He refused to tremble. Fought against the fear. The blade moved down and down to his arm, where he made light cuts. They were not particularly deep, but painful enough for a slight hiss to escape through his lips. His opponents took it as a triumph and did their best to continue torturing Kayn.

Felt hours later, they took a break. They left Kayn alone in the room. He was now bleeding from every nook and cranny, but still, he kept his consciousness. Compared to the battle 2 years ago, this was the purest kindergarten. Kayn tested his agility on the chair while his attackers were gone. With full power, he would be able to move on his tiptoe. That's exactly what he used to do. He took a full risk, took a run and crashed his back against the wall. The chair broke into pieces and Kayn was able to break free. Quickly he struggled out of the ropes. He immediately took refuge in the hallway. As he already thought, he was in the temple. He just did not know that part of the building, but one thing was clear to him. Zed was his only salvation. Unfortunately, the boy kept losing blood. He was breathing hard and black dots were already forming in front of him. His ears were ringing and it was difficult for him to keep his balance. Although he threatened to lose the fight against his own body, he did not want to give up. Suddenly everything became too much for him and he dropped to his knees. Collapsed, he tried to move, but it was futile. The powerlessness came over him.