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ssa-dado · 1 month ago

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12 - Goodbyes & Partners

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: uuum you tell me Summary: The BAU team discovers that Hotch had a former partner, a brilliant female profiler who left the unit abruptly. Gideon reveals you were one of the best, sparking curiosity among the team. As they dig deeper, they uncover your impressive credentials, speculation grows about your close relationship with Hotch, with theories ranging from unspoken feelings to complicated personal dynamics. Warnings: none - or at least that's what I think - who would have thought. Word Count: 7.1k Dado's Corner: OKKKKK let's gooo! First time meeting Aaron's children the team, who's excited?! Peter canonically the most hated character of this fic. This chapter, like many others in this fic, has a sister chapter coming up in exactly 7 hours. After leaving you with your mouth dry yesterday, I figured it’s only fair to keep the anticipation going! Let me know what you think of the team! Also if you have ideas for this particular fic, my inbox is opened, feel free to leave as many suggestions as you would like!

previous chapter ; masterlist

No one at the BAU was ever good with goodbyes.

It was a team built on unspoken bonds and shared burdens, a group of people who had seen the darkest parts of the world and each other. For all the skills they had in reading human behavior, they were never quite able to express what it felt like to lose one of their own. Words often felt inadequate, insufficient to capture the weight of what they’d been through together: the late nights, the close calls, the quiet moments that held more significance than any case file.

Goodbyes were messy, uncomfortable, and often avoided altogether.

Rossi had been the first to leave, and even though Hotch knew he had been restless for months, it still came as a shock. One day, Rossi was there, with his dry humor and his endless stories, and the next, his office was empty, the walls bare, as if he had never really been there at all, if it weren’t for Gideon’s call, he would have never reached out. Only later he left behind a brief note, neatly folded on Hotch’s desk, with a few lines about “needing a change” and “time to start the next chapter.” It was classic Rossi: vague, detached, like he didn’t want to make a fuss. Hotch had read the note a multitude of times, hoping to find some hidden message, but there was nothing. No explanation, no real goodbye. Just Rossi, slipping away on his own terms, halfway to his next adventure before anyone had a chance to ask him to stay.

Then the most recent was Gideon’s. After Boston, after the case that had broken him in ways none of them had fully understood, Gideon’s silence was deafening. Hotch remembered the last time he’d seen him, sitting alone in his office, staring blankly at the case files scattered across his desk. Gideon hadn’t said a word, hadn’t offered any explanation or farewell. He just looked up, his eyes hollow and distant, and Hotch knew that whatever had been holding him together had finally snapped. By the next morning, Gideon was gone, his desk cleared out, his badge left behind like a discarded shell of who he once was. There were no letters, no phone calls, just the ghost of a man who had once been a legend in the field but was now too broken to even say goodbye.

Both of those men had left him with new responsibilities: Rossi’s departure had made him a lead profiler, and Gideon’s exit had eventually thrust him into the role of Unit Chief. Though Hotch had always been an ambitious person, the way he’d earned his promotions often felt like a double-edged sword, each step up tinged with a sense of loss. It was as if there was an unspoken rule that he could never fully enjoy his achievements without bearing the weight of the absences that had made them possible, leaving him to wonder if success always had to come at such a cost.

Hotch had never mastered the art of letting people go. The departures always felt like tearing pages out of a story that had been written together, each blank space a reminder of what had been lost.

But you, you were different.

You were the only one who was extraordinary at goodbyes.

It had been a few months after his wedding when you made your announcement. The BAU had just wrapped up a grueling case, the kind that left everyone drained and hollowed out, and Hotch had retreated to his desk, hoping for a moment of peace. You had come in, hesitant at first, fiddling with the bracelet on your wrist - a nervous habit he’d come to recognize over the years. You took a breath before speaking, your voice laced with the kind of excitement that only comes when you’re standing on the edge of something new and terrifying.

“I got an offer,” you said, your words tumbling out in a rush. “To teach. It’s a position I never even dreamed of. The first-ever Behavioral Sciences courses, all across Europe. They want me to lead them.”

Hotch remembered the way his heart sank when you first told him, though he tried his best to keep his expression neutral, hiding the ache beneath a composed facade. He had always known you were destined for more; your talent, insight, and your relentless passion for sharing knowledge had set you apart from the very beginning. You were the team’s quiet genius, not just in profiling but in connecting dots others couldn’t see, blending psychology, philosophy, and the art of communication into something extraordinary.

You laid out all the details with an excitement that was hard to contain: Rome, London, Paris - places you had only glimpsed on rare vacations now calling on you to bring your expertise to their prestigious institutions. It was a perfect fit, a job seemingly tailored just for you. Your fluency in multiple languages, from Italian and French to German and Swedish, made you uniquely qualified to teach across Europe, bridging cultural gaps with the ease of someone who had spent their life immersed in the subtleties of language and human behavior.

It was everything you had worked for, and everything you deserved. Hotch knew that it was fate, really - that someone with your knowledge, your intellect, and your gift for teaching would eventually end up in front of a classroom, shaping the next generation of minds. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. You were finally getting the recognition you deserved, but for Hotch, it felt like the beginning of the end of something he hadn’t been ready to let go of.

Hotch had listened intently, though the tightness in his chest made it hard to breathe. He could see the flicker of conflict in your eyes, the way you glanced at him, searching for something: approval, reassurance, maybe even permission to take this leap.

You had always been strong, but this decision was monumental, and Hotch could sense your need for his support. As you spoke, your words came out in a rush, filled with excitement yet underlined with an uncertainty that made his heart ache. When you finally paused, breathless and hopeful, he forced a smile, pushing back the knot of emotions building inside him.

“You always told me I should find my happiness,” he said softly, echoing the words that had once helped pull him through some of his darkest times. “Maybe it’s time you did the same.”

He watched as your expression softened, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Hotch could feel you on the verge of saying something more, something that lingered just beneath the surface. But instead, you nodded, your smile bittersweet, tinged with an understanding that broke his heart just a little more.

“Thank you, Aaron,” you whispered, your voice so quiet, yet so full of sincerity it nearly undid him. “I needed to hear that.”

And he knew, in that instant, that his words had given you what you needed. But the cost of that comfort weighed heavily on him. This was it - this was the moment he had been dreading. The goodbye that followed was simple, yet it carried a depth of emotion that neither of you dared to fully express. There were no tears, no grand declarations, just the two of you standing in the bullpen, surrounded by the echoes of shared memories and silent understanding.

When you moved to hug him, Hotch felt the familiar warmth of your presence wrap around him. For a second, he held on tighter than he should have, his hands lingering at your back, memorizing the way you felt against him. He wasn’t sure how long he held you there, but it wasn’t long enough. It would never be long enough. The realization hit him hard, this might be the last time he’d feel the steady comfort of you by his side, the last time he could call you his partner in the same way.

“I’m going to miss you,” you said, your voice thick with the emotions you’d worked so hard to keep at bay. And though Hotch tried to respond, his throat tightened, and all he could do was nod, hoping that somehow you’d understand all the things he couldn’t find the words for.

“Don’t forget to write,” you had said, pulling back with a small, teasing smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was a half-joke, half-promise, but Hotch had clung to it.

When you finally pulled away, it felt like something inside him had shifted, like a piece of him had gone with you. He watched as you gave him one last, lingering look before walking out of the building, the door closing softly behind you. The silence that followed was suffocating. Hotch stood there for a long time, staring at the space where you had been, already feeling the weight of your absence settle deep in his bones.

You both knew phone calls wouldn’t work - the time zones were unforgiving, and your schedules were a mess of lectures, seminars, cases and travel. Trying to coordinate would only lead to missed calls and voicemails, the kind of slow drift that ends in silence. But letters, letters were something else. They were tangible, personal, a way of staying connected even when the rest of the world pulled you in different directions.

Your first letter arrived a few weeks after you left. Hotch had found it waiting on his desk one morning, nestled between case files and memos, and just seeing your name scrawled across the envelope made something in his chest tighten.

For Hotch, the idea of writing to you felt right. It reminded him of the hours you had spent together in the bullpen, sitting across from each other as you filed endless reports and bantered over cases. Your handwriting, always in blue ink - never black, because you said it felt too clinical - was something he had come to cherish. He still remembered the way you had teased him, claiming that black ink was for lawyers and pessimists, and he had laughed, knowing you were right.

He opened it carefully, unfolding the pages with the same kind of reverence he might have shown an old photograph. The letter was filled with details of your new life abroad: how strange it was to be teaching in a classroom instead of chasing down criminals, how the students were eager but occasionally overwhelmed by the intensity of your lessons. You wrote about your tiny apartment in Rome, the cobblestone streets that twisted like a labyrinth, and the late nights spent sipping espresso as you prepared your lectures.

But it wasn’t just the big moments you shared; it was the little things, too. The frustration of dealing with Italian bureaucracy, the odd comfort of hearing a student quote something you’d said in class, and the quiet evenings when you missed the familiar hum of the BAU. Every word was laced with your personality: your humor, your insight, the way you saw the world with a blend of sharp intellect and boundless curiosity. Hotch read that first letter at least a dozen times, absorbing every detail, and when he finally put it down, he felt closer to you than he had in weeks.

Writing back to you became a ritual for Hotch, a quiet refuge at the end of his long, exhausting days. Once the cases were filed, the team had gone home, and the dim glow of his office lamp was the only light left in the bullpen, he would settle at his desk, the silence his only company. The act of writing to you felt both familiar and soothing, a tether to a time when you sat just across from him, lost in your own thoughts yet always attuned to his.

Hotch’s letters were a blend of work updates, personal reflections, and glimpses into the ever-changing dynamics of the team. He would tell you about the latest cases they were working on, the challenges that kept him up at night, and the way the BAU had evolved in your absence. You were always keen to know how the team was adjusting, and Hotch made sure to keep you in the loop, filling you in on the new agents who had joined and the unique personalities that now made up the BAU.

He told you about Derek Morgan, the first agent to join after you left. A former Chicago police officer with years of experience in the bomb squad, Morgan brought a fierce determination and a protective instinct that quickly made him an invaluable asset. But there was also a softer side to Morgan, one that emerged when he talked about his past or reached out to support his teammates. In many ways, his drive and unwavering loyalty reminded Hotch of you, and he knew you would have liked him.

Next came Penelope Garcia, the flamboyant technical analyst whose quirky style and unmatched brilliance with computers brought a new energy to the team. She was a ray of light in the otherwise dark world of profiling, and Hotch often found himself amused by her unique way of looking at the world. Despite her unconventional approach, Garcia was a genius with technology, hacking into systems with ease and always finding the crucial piece of information that made the difference. Hotch thought of how you would have loved her spirit, her warmth, and her unfiltered way of connecting with others.

Then there was Jennifer “JJ” Jareau, the new media liaison who had quickly proven herself to be on of the most important resources in the team. JJ was calm under pressure, compassionate, and fiercely dedicated to the team’s mission. She was a bridge between the BAU and the outside world, handling the delicate task of managing public perception and dealing with victims’ families with grace and empathy. Hotch admired her poise and her quiet strength, qualities he often found himself describing to you, knowing you’d appreciate how she balanced the team’s intense work with her soft-spoken resilience.

And then there was Dr. Spencer Reid, a young genius with an IQ of 187. Gideon had brought him in, recognizing his potential - just as he did with you back then - even though Reid was still so green, fresh out of the academy with a mind that worked on an entirely different level. Hotch wrote about Reid’s unique brilliance, the way he could recite obscure facts at lightning speed, and notice patterns no one else could see. But he also told you about Reid’s vulnerabilities, when his intellect clashed with his emotional sensitivity. Reid’s innocence and earnestness were tempered by the heavy weight of the cases, and Hotch often found himself mentoring him.

Lastly, Hotch wrote about Emily Prentiss, the newest addition to the team, an experienced agent with a knack for languages and a drive that matched his own. Prentiss was smart, resourceful, and relentless in her pursuit of justice, and her multilingual skills often put her in the center of complex international cases. She was bold, unafraid to speak her mind, and determined to prove herself, even when the odds were against her. Hotch appreciated her dedication and saw echoes of your tenacity in her work ethic, her unyielding desire to understand every angle of a case.

As Hotch became Unit Chief, he had worked hard to build a cohesive team, one that felt more like a family than just a group of agents. He made it a priority to cultivate an environment where each member’s strengths could shine, creating an expanded, stable unit where everyone had their own area of expertise: Morgan with tactical support, Garcia with technical prowess, JJ with media relations, Reid with his unparalleled intellect, Prentiss with her international insight and Gideon – just being Gideon.

It was a dynamic mix, and though the team had grown and evolved, Hotch never stopped missing your presence among them. You were the missing piece, the partner who had helped lay the foundation for what the BAU had become.

But his letters were not just filled with work updates; they were laced with personal moments, too. Hotch shared glimpses of his life outside the office, the small joys that kept him grounded. He wrote about his son Jack, who was growing up faster than Hotch could keep up with. He also wrote about Haley, who had found solace in gardening, transforming their backyard into a small oasis of color and life.

The lines between work and personal life blurred in his letters, just as they always had with you. You were more than just a partner at work, you were the person who had been there through the highs and lows, his best friend who understood the burdens he carried without him having to say a word. And though you were an ocean away, your presence lingered in every word exchanged, each letter a lifeline that kept you connected despite the distance.

You never just sent letters, though. There were always little extras tucked inside: clippings from newspapers, photos of the places you were exploring, and, most often - to still honour your long lived tradition - books.

You had a way of choosing the perfect titles, each one reflecting the country you were living in or the experiences you were having. When you were teaching in Italy, you had sent him a cookbook called “Pizza, Pane e Focacce,” a whimsical collection of traditional recipes that made Hotch laugh out loud. He had imagined you in the tiniest Roman kitchen, trying your hand at kneading dough, and the thought was so charmingly incongruous that he couldn’t resist teasing you about it in his next letter.

“Italian pizza and philosophy, a natural combination,” he had written, the playful tone feeling both familiar and distant. “Let me know when you’re ready to challenge Rossi to a cook-off. I’ll bring the wine.”

But the most meaningful gift had come when Hotch had told you about Haley’s pregnancy. It was a vulnerable confession, written in the quiet hours of the night when he felt the weight of impending fatherhood pressing down on him.

He hadn’t expected anything in return, but a few weeks later, a package arrived, a book titled “Guide for New Dads.” It was in Swedish, a nod to one of the first books he’d ever given you about coin collecting, and this time to prove him you had long mastered that language, every page was carefully translated into English with sticky notes in your familiar blue ink.

You had filled the margins with little jokes and notes of encouragement, turning a practical guide into something deeply personal.

“This one’s actually useful, Hotch,” you had joked.

“I promise, the Scandinavians know their thing.” Or

“It’s not the easiest language,” you had written on one of the notes, “but then again, neither is parenthood. You’ve got this, partner.”

Those two words - “you’ve got this” - had stayed with him, becoming a quiet mantra in the moments when doubt threatened to creep in. You always seemed to know exactly what he needed, even from halfway across the world.

Today, Hotch was sending you something in return. After years of toying with the idea, he had finally co-written a book on crisis negotiation, a project that had taken countless late nights and long hours of reflection. It was something he was proud of, a culmination of his years in the field, and it felt only right that you should be one of the first to see it. He carefully packed the book, adding a handwritten note on the first page, a Hegel quote about partnership that he knew you would appreciate.

"Partnership, like friendship, is an expression of freedom that arises from the recognition of others as individuals, bound by a common ethical life." - (Philosophy of Right, unfortunately, not Hegel for Dummies)

“Hopefully, you’ll like this one in particular,” he had added in a playful scrawl, imagining the way you would roll your eyes at his attempt at humor. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a continuation of the conversation you had been having for years, the dialogue that never really ended.

Six years had passed, but some things never changed. You were still his partner, the person who understood him in ways no one else ever could. But now, your life had taken a different turn - you were engaged to Peter, your best friend since you were fifteen. Hotch knew Peter well, how he had been there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, when you were too stubborn to ask for help, and how, despite winning that date with you back at his welcome back party, you’d never really given him a fair chance.

Peter had always been that steady presence, always willing to wait, always there in the background, a constant in your life when everything else felt uncertain. And though you had resisted his quiet, unwavering affection for years, something in you had shifted: a desire for something safe, something dependable, something that felt like home.

In your letters, Hotch could feel the warmth and affection you had for Peter radiate from every line. You described him with such tenderness: the way he would surprise you with breakfast on mornings when you were buried in work as your usual, how he would wait up for you when your classes ran late, and how he would listen, truly listen, to every word you said, even when his own responsibilities at Interpol were just as demanding. There were little moments, too: the way his eyes would light up when he saw you walk into a room, and the quiet nights spent talking about everything and nothing.

Hotch could tell Peter cherished you in a way you deserved: patiently, deeply, without reservations. He could see that Peter was the one who was there to hold you through your doubts, the one who made you feel understood when the rest of the world seemed incomprehensible.

He remembered the letter you had sent announcing your engagement, how you described Peter’s proposal on a quiet evening in Vienna, the two of you standing on a bridge overlooking the Danube. You wrote about the gentle way he had asked, how it felt so natural, so right, that you hadn’t even needed to think twice before saying yes.

You were building something beautiful, and he was happy for you. Truly, he was. But there were moments, in the quiet solitude of his office or in the late hours of the night, when he couldn’t help but feel the weight of your absence like an old, familiar scar.

He sealed the package with the book and his note inside, pausing to add a small card with a few lines scribbled in his neat handwriting:

“To my partner, the only person who could ever make a philosopher out of an FBI agent. I hope this book finds you well. I’m proud of you, always. Don’t forget to write.”

He had kept your latest letter on his desk, re-reading it whenever the weight of the day became too much. You wrote about the small joys of your new life - the café near your apartment in Paris, where you and Peter would go on Sundays, the excitement of teaching your students about behavioral analysis, and the bittersweet feeling of missing the team. It was the kind of letter that made Hotch smile, filled with all the small details that made him feel like you were still just a phone call away.

But life at the BAU had moved on. Hotch was Unit Chief now, a position he had worked years to attain, and the team was evolving with new faces and new dynamics. Haley and Jack were thriving, and Hotch found solace in their little routines, the stability of home life that had once seemed impossible. But no matter how full his days were, there was always that quiet moment when he would think of you: wondering where you were, what you were doing, and if you ever missed him the way he missed you.

He hadn’t seen you in six years, hadn’t heard your voice except for in memories, and yet you were still so present, woven into the fabric of his everyday life in ways he hadn’t fully understood until you were gone.

Back in the bullpen, Emily Prentiss, still trying to find her rhythm with the BAU team, leaned against her desk, her eyes trailing toward Hotch’s office. She had been with the team for a few months now, and while she was learning the ropes and getting comfortable, Hotch remained somewhat of a mystery to her.

He was always calm, collected, and focused - a leader who kept a firm grip on everything around him. But when it came to his personal life, he was a locked vault. It intrigued her, in a way that felt almost frustrating. With a sly smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she tossed out the question she’d been wondering for weeks. “Does Hotch even have friends? I mean, besides his endless pile of case files?”

The bullpen, which had been filled with the familiar hum of typing and low conversations, quieted as everyone processed the question. Morgan, sitting across from Prentiss, was the first to break the silence with a low snicker. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, flashing his trademark grin. “Hotch? Friends? Nah, that man’s married to the job. Friends would require, you know - fun - and I don’t think he’s ever met the word.”

JJ, who had been sorting through a stack of papers at her desk, laughed softly. “Yeah, he definitely seems more like the ‘spend Saturday night in the office instead of watching a game with buddies’ type. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even have time for friends.”

Prentiss grinned at that, shaking her head in agreement. "Or maybe he has a secret club of workaholics where they get together and solve cold cases for fun."

Garcia, standing behind Morgan’s chair and draping her arms around his shoulders, gasped dramatically, her eyes widening with an over-the-top look of mock horror. She placed a hand theatrically over her heart, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh, can you imagine Hotch at a dinner party?” she exclaimed, her voice dropping into a stiff, deadpan impression of him. “‘So, how do you feel about the rising murder rates in the Midwest?’”

She shivered dramatically, clutching Morgan a little tighter for effect. “Honestly, the worst small talk ever,” she declared, rolling her eyes with a playful shudder that sent the team into laughter.

Laughter rippled through the group, the shared image of Hotch awkwardly navigating social situations becoming a source of amusement. But as the laughter died down, Reid - who had been quietly sifting through old case files - looked up, his expression thoughtful, as if he had been contemplating the question more seriously than the rest.

“I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t want friends,” Reid mused, his tone thoughtful as he leaned back in his chair. He absentmindedly flipped through a stack of old case files in front of him, though it was clear his mind was elsewhere. “It’s more that he doesn’t *prioritize* them. His work-life balance is… well, skewed. I think he probably sees relationships outside of work as distractions. They pull him away from his responsibilities, and that’s something he can’t afford.”

Prentiss nodded slowly, taking in Reid’s assessment with a soft hum of agreement. She crossed her arms over her chest and shifted her weight, her gaze flicking toward Hotch’s office, where the blinds were half-drawn and the lights were on. “Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word, “I can see that. But still… doesn’t everyone need someone to talk to? I mean, even Hotch?”

Morgan, leaning back in his chair with a casual grin, was about to drop a classic sarcastic retort when something stopped him in his tracks. He noticed the subtle shift in the room - a presence just behind them, commanding yet silent. The playful banter faded as everyone instinctively glanced up.

There, standing quietly at the edge of their conversation, was Jason Gideon.

His mere presence had a way of quieting a room. Unlike Hotch, whose authority was overt and rooted in his leadership, Gideon’s was understated, more psychological. He didn’t need to bark orders at them; he simply had to be there, and everyone would fall silent. He looked between them, his eyes calm but sharp, assessing the scene with a quiet understanding.

Gideon had clearly overheard enough of the conversation to know what they were discussing. His expression was thoughtful, as though he was deciding just how much he wanted to reveal. Finally, in his familiar, measured voice, he broke the silence. “Yes, he does have friends.”

The simplicity of his statement landed like a bombshell in the middle of the room. All eyes snapped to Gideon, the weight of his words sending shockwaves through the group. The notion that Aaron Hotchner - stoic, ever-serious Hotch - had a social life outside the walls of the BAU was almost laughable.

Morgan was the first to react, leaning back with an incredulous grin as he raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?” He let out a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re telling me Hotch has friends? Like, real, actual friends? Not just old case files and unsolved murders?”

JJ, sitting a few desks away, blinked in surprise and lowered her papers, clearly caught off guard by the idea. “Friends?” she echoed. “I mean, I know Hotch is close to his team, but I didn’t think he really had time for anyone outside of work.”

Prentiss, her curiosity instantly piqued, leaned forward, her arms now resting on the back of a chair. “Wait, hold on. Hotch has a friend? Who?”

Gideon’s gaze swept the room, and the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a subtle smile, enjoying the ripple of disbelief he’d caused. He took a step closer, his hands casually tucked into his pockets. “She used to work here,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, almost as if the information he was dropping wasn’t about to throw the entire team into a frenzy. “One of the best profilers we’ve ever had, Hotch and her were partners.”

The weight of that revelation hung in the air like a thick cloud of mystery, and the group fell silent again, processing what had just been said. A female profiler? Someone close to Hotch? Who had left the team without a single mention in all these years? The idea felt like a puzzle, one they couldn’t help but start piecing together.

Garcia, always the quickest to act when it came to uncovering mysteries, perked up immediately. Her fingers hovered eagerly over her keyboard, itching to dive into the archives. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement. “She? A female profiler? Who worked here? And Hotch’s partner?” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “We need details, Gideon.”

JJ, her brow furrowing in confusion, leaned against her desk and glanced at the others. “Why didn’t Hotch ever mention her? I mean, if she was one of the best profilers we’ve had, wouldn’t we know about her?”

Morgan scoffed lightly, shaking his head in disbelief. “This has got to be a joke, right? Hotch had a female partner, one of the best profilers, and he never said a word? Not even in passing?”

Prentiss, now fully engrossed in the mystery, added, “And why did she leave? People that good don’t just walk away. Something had to have happened.”

But Gideon, ever enigmatic, simply shrugged as if he were tossing breadcrumbs to a group of hungry detectives. “She moved on to bigger things,” he said, almost wistfully. “She’s in Europe now. Teaching. Brilliant mind.” And just like that, before anyone could ask more questions, he gave a small nod of finality and turned to walk back to his office. He left the group standing there in stunned silence, their collective curiosity now burning hotter than ever.

JJ blinked rapidly, still trying to process what had just been revealed. “That’s… cryptic, even for Gideon.”

Morgan, arms crossed over his chest, glanced back at Hotch’s office, his brow furrowing deeper. The blinds were half-drawn, but he could still make out the familiar figure hunched over case files, as usual. “Hotch had a partner like that and never mentioned her once? Not even a hint? That’s not just weird, it’s suspicious.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on her lips as she shook her head. “If she was that good, why isn’t she still here? There has to be more to the story than Hotch is letting on. You know how he is with secrets.”

Garcia’s eyes were immediately already glowing with excitement. “Well, my darlings,” she said, leaning forward with an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper, “it seems we have ourselves a delightful little mystery to solve. And you know there’s nothing I love more than a good digital dig into the archives.” She clapped her hands together. “To the Batcave!”

Morgan chuckled, standing up and stretching. “Alright, alright, lead the way, baby girl. Let’s see what you’ve got on this mystery woman.”

With an excited flourish, Garcia waved them all into her colorful sanctuary, the tech-laden, light-filled Batcave that was her pride and joy. Stepping inside, it was like entering another universe, a world of colorful bobbleheads, blinking lights, and eclectic posters that shouted Garcia's unique personality. Her desk was lit up with the glow of multiple monitors, all showing scrolling lines of code and flashing icons.

She wiggled her fingers theatrically over the keyboard before diving into the search. “Prepare to be dazzled, my friends. You’re about to witness hacking magic.”

Prentiss leaned against the edge of Garcia’s desk, smirking. “Do we get popcorn for this?”

Garcia flashed her a grin. “Popcorn comes later, my dear. Right now, we’re after intel.”

The rest of the team gathered around Garcia’s chair, their curiosity piqued. Morgan leaned over her shoulder, watching as she quickly navigated through various secure databases, her fingers flying over the keyboard in rapid succession. The sound of keystrokes filled the air, the tension rising with each tap. After a few moments, Garcia’s face lit up, her fingers pausing as she let out a theatrical gasp. “Oh. Oh my God.” She spun around dramatically in her chair, eyes wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… her.”

The monitors flickered, and suddenly, the screen filled with your personnel file. A younger version of you stared back at them from the photograph - a sharp, focused gaze beneath determined brows, your expression serious yet full of life. There was something magnetic in the way you carried yourself, even in a still image.

Morgan leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the picture. “Well, damn,” he muttered under his breath, letting out a low whistle. “She’s exactly my type.”

Prentiss nudged him playfully, raising an eyebrow. “You say that about every woman who’s both breathing and talented, Morgan.”

Morgan grinned, flashing her a playful wink. “Yeah, but this one’s different. Hotch kept her under wraps. That’s like a glowing recommendation.”

Garcia, enjoying the banter, rolled her eyes affectionately. “Easy there, tiger,” she teased, spinning back to her computer. “I’ll share her with you, but only because I love you. Remember, I’ve called dibs.”

The team erupted in laughter, Garcia’s infectious energy cutting through the room. Even Reid, who had been quietly studying your file, let out a small smile, though his focus remained intensely on the details unfolding before them.

“She was hired here at 21,” Garcia read aloud, her voice laced with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “Straight out of university with degrees in philosophy, psychology, and linguistics. And - oh, my God - she spoke 16 languages fluently when she joined.” She paused dramatically. “Now they’re up to twenty-six, tewnty-six.”

Reid’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “Twenty-one? She was recruited younger than I was?” He blinked, his mind racing as he processed the information. “That’s… incredible.”

Morgan grinned and elbowed Reid playfully. “Looks like someone beat you to the genius profiler title, pretty Ricky.”

Reid shot Morgan a mock glare but couldn’t hide his amazement. “Twenty-six languages?” His voice was filled with admiration as he scrolled through your file. “I’ve read her work. She pioneered an entirely new method of geographical profiling, 3D models that incorporate topography. Elevation, terrain changes, natural barriers… it completely changed how we understand unsub movement patterns.” He leaned forward, growing more animated. “Traditional geographical profiling looks at a flat map, but she recognized that criminals don’t move across flat landscapes. She factored in hills, rivers, even forests,anything that could affect the unsub’s route or escape. She mapped out the terrain as the unsub would see it, considering how natural barriers influence decisions.”

Prentiss nodded, intrigued. “So, she wasn’t just tracking where they went, but how they moved through the landscape?”

“Exactly!” Reid’s excitement built. “She created a ‘criminal terrain map,’ layering traditional geographic data with topographical maps. She used it to predict choke points, places where terrain forces an unsub to make specific choices. She even factored in the psychological impact, organized offenders would avoid risky terrain, while disorganized ones might take dangerous paths without thinking. She didn’t just consider where they were going, she understood why they made those decisions, based on both the landscape and their psychology.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. “So, basically, she was a legend?”

Garcia continued scrolling through your file, her fingers moving methodically as she scanned more of your achievements. “And she didn’t just stop there,” she said, excitement building in her voice. “After leaving the BAU, she went on to teach behavioral science and criminology all over Europe: Italy, France, Spain, Greece, Sweden – you name it – even Iceland. Lecturing in multiple languages, of course. She’s giving a guest lecture at Quantico today.”

Morgan let out a low whistle, leaning in closer as though he could learn more about you just by studying your photo. “Hotch’s friend is an international superstar. That’s why he didn’t tell us about her. He didn’t want us feeling inferior.”

JJ chuckled from the other side of the room, still processing the idea of Hotch keeping someone like you under wraps. “Of course, Hotch would keep someone like that close to the vest. It’s so like him to have a secret weapon tucked away.”

Prentiss, crossing her arms, seemed to grow more curious by the second. “If she’s this brilliant, why did she leave? And why didn’t he ever mention her?” She scanned the faces of her colleagues, clearly unsatisfied with the pieces of the puzzle they had so far. “There’s something else going on here. Hotch doesn’t just let people disappear.”

Morgan scratched his chin thoughtfully, glancing back toward Hotch’s office, which seemed to be shrouded in even more mystery now. “Yeah, something’s not adding up. She was that good, and then she just… vanished from the BAU? I bet there’s a whole story we’re missing. The question is, why did she leave?”

Garcia, never one to miss out on a juicy bit of gossip, spun around in her chair with a conspiratorial grin. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it… she left just a few months after Hotch’s wedding.” She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, enjoying the shocked looks from the others. “Coincidence? Or was there something more going on?”

JJ’s eyes widened, and she laughed softly, shaking her head. “You think she and Hotch were… what? Secretly involved? No way. Hotch is way too straight-laced for that.”

Morgan leaned against Garcia’s desk, crossing his arms. “I don’t know… maybe. She leaves right after his wedding? That’s a pretty big red flag. Maybe she had feelings for him, and when he married Haley, it was too much. She couldn’t handle being around him anymore.”

Prentiss raised an eyebrow, half-amused but also intrigued by the theory. “Or… maybe Hotch had feelings for her, and she left to avoid a messy situation. I mean, Hotch isn’t exactly one to wear his heart on his sleeve. Maybe it was all too complicated.”

Reid, who had been silently absorbing the conversation, finally spoke up, ever the voice of reason. “Or,” he said, “it could just be a coincidence. People leave jobs all the time for personal reasons. She was clearly brilliant; maybe she just wanted to pursue teaching or research.”

Garcia grinned at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Come on, genius. Even you can’t deny that the timing is suspicious. She leaves only months after Hotch gets married? There’s gotta be more to that story.”

Morgan nodded, his expression serious but playful. “Yeah, kid, you don’t leave the BAU, the best profiling team in the country, unless something major goes down.”

Prentiss tilted her head, her curiosity still running wild. “What if they had some kind of falling out? Maybe they were super close, and after the wedding, things got awkward between them.”

JJ leaned against the wall, looking thoughtful. “It’s possible. People don’t usually leave a close partnership like that without a good reason. Especially someone like Hotch, he doesn’t form bonds easily, but when he does… it runs deep.”

Morgan grinned. “Whatever it is, I can’t wait to find out. If we’re lucky, we might get some answers when we meet her. Maybe she’ll drop some hints about what really went down.”

Garcia, her fingers flying across the keys again, pulled up more details about your guest lecture. “Well, lucky for us, she’s not going to be a mystery for much longer. Her lecture is in just a couple of hours at the Academy. How convenient for us to take a little field trip.”

Reid, his eyes lighting up, nodded eagerly. “I’d love to hear her lecture. I’ve read so much of her work - it would be fascinating to see how she applies her theories in person. Maybe we’ll even get some insight into her departure.”

Prentiss smirked, clearly enjoying the intrigue. “And I wouldn’t mind getting a sense of what she’s like. She sounds like a force to be reckoned with. Plus, if she was that close to Hotch, there’s gotta be some interesting history.”

Garcia swiveled around to face them, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Well, what are we waiting for? Field trip, anyone?”

JJ pushed away from the wall, smiling as she glanced around the room. “I’m in. Let’s go meet the legend.”

The team exchanged eager glances, the sense of excitement in the air palpable. There was more to this than just a lecture, they were about to meet someone who had not only shaped the field of profiling but had also left a deep, unspoken mark on their unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. They couldn’t help but feel like they were about to uncover a part of the team’s history that for some reason had been hidden for far too long.

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #hotch x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x reader

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howlettloki · 3 days ago

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Less smut, more meaningful words with such eloquence, well executed plot, characterizations and world building.

A Loki (Marvel)/Reader Fic Recommendation

If you’re like me, who loves to read longer fics then this blog post is for you. This list features beautiful books I have read featuring Loki and the reader for the past 5 years. This is long overdue I have been planning to do this for a while now. I’ll do my best to share all of them in one post (might probably edit this once I remember more). One thing, I really love when an author finds a way to not use Y/N. Enjoy the list!

Completed Fics

Frostbite by Maiden_of_Asgard

Synopsis:

Iceland is nice - sure, you probably should’ve picked a time of year when the weather was a little warmer, but it isn’t too bad, and at least you’re away from your desk job, right? It’s a pretty big adventure.

You’ve always said that you wanted more adventure in your life.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This one you’ve probably read, if not go check it out. It’s one of the best out there. I mean, need I say more?

The Proposal by BirdsofHermes

Synopsis:

An AU gender-reversal of the 2009 romantic comedy The Proposal. You work for Loki Laufeyson at Asgard International Publishing. He accidentally lets his work Visa expire and is about to be deported back to England, so he blurts out that he's marrying you. Now you have to convince an immigration inspector as well as your own family that you're in love with Loki or he gets deported for life and you face five years jail time.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I have read this more than one can count fingers in their hands.

Broken Crown by Michelleleahhh

Synopsis:

Your betrothal to Thor was convenient - brokered as an alliance between two powerful families.

Your marriage to Loki... is unimaginable.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Please proceed with caution and read the tags. When I read this the first time, I was new to this world but I remembered enjoying reading this piece. I just recently re-read this, and I just found some minor stuff I didn’t really enjoy. Overall the story and the plot got me hooked however, there’s just few chapters that I feel could’ve been explored more and executed better. Still, I enjoyed reading this the second time around.

Fǫruneyti by Evaldrynn

Synopsis:

A story in which a herbalist makes a decision that will drastically change her life, and in which a prince begins to realise that there might still be hope for him yet. A tale of danger, adventure, friendship - and, ultimately, love.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

This one I stopped reading at 70%, I have certain icks when it comes to reading and once I reach that ick jar I’m done. It was still beautifully written, got me hooked and all, loved the progress. What can I say, I love slow burns.

The Devil Inside by Ursus_minor

Synopsis:

You're a free lance artist and just running short of rent money for the month, so when your good buddy Thor offers you a one-off job at his sister's company, you take it - even though helping his little brother out with some paperwork sounds awfully tedious

I always wondered what Loki, Hela and Thor would do if they were 'mere mortals'

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️✨

It’s deleted but I was lucky enough to have read this way back 2020. It was one of my favorite back then, because it was hard to find a long fic where Loki is not the God of Mischief but just a mere mortal living amongst us. I honestly forgot most about this story, I only remember bits and pieces, you’re Thor’s best friend and he helped you gain money by working under Loki, like the synopsis said.

A Study In Suit by lowkeyorloki

Synopsis:

You've worked too damn hard to get into Professor Laufeyson's course, and you're not about to let your pesky attraction to him get in the way. Your Professor, however, has other plans.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Professor Loki. That’s it.

From the Void, With Love by pilotisms

Synopsis:

Torn from time, you have to navigate the TVA with the one person who singlehandedly tried to conquer NYC. Turns out you & him have a future-past. Time is weird.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is one of the best I’ve read, this is my second to The Proposal. I fucking love this you have no idea. Wished there was a longer sequel though.

Litklœði by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

“And the sire promised that he would spend the rest of his days searching for the cure of the flower disease which took his friend. And he did find this cure, but not without a cost,” Frigga explained and stroked Loki’s head as the illusions vanished. “But now, when one is fraught with flowers in their chest, a völva can remove these flowers with seiðr – saving the victim’s life and removing the vines from their lungs.”

The Allmother paused and looked at your small, childish face. Her smile was kind and full, but her eyes lay empty and sad. The knowledge of yet to come lay heavy on her features.

However, be warned my child, that with the removal of lung flowers the feelings of unrequited love will be removed too. As will any remaining trace of friendship. So be careful how you give your heart, my dear. You may never know what you could lose.

Review:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Hanahaki Disease AU? Anyone? This one is from my previous blog post. Pure feelings. Loved young loki and young reader.

In Progress or Abandoned Gems

Mea Culpa by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

Six years ago yours and Loki's relationship came to an abrupt and messy end, leaving resentment and hurt in its wake. Now you haven't heard a whisper of him in years, until he turns up at his brother's wedding, seemingly changed for the better, and you're thrust into facing both him and the memories you had buried. But a dangerous figure from Loki's past looms overhead, and Thanos is determined to hunt Loki down and make him pay for betraying him.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I mean based on the synopsis who wouldn’t want to read that? Last update was last year, here’s to hoping it’ll update more or I’m gonna have to kms.

Anagapesis by OlympianWine

Synopsis:

You have a perfect life; a loving husband, a beautiful baby. But when it all comes crashing down, you must put survival ahead of sentiment and turn to a darker prince - your husband's brother. Loki is cruel and cold, and he hates you with a burning passion. Or so you think.

Review:

💔💔💔💔

Just when you think you’re falling, he makes you remember what type of person he is. I feel for Loki, but he’s just cruel man. I wish there was more so I could understand him a bit more.

Seiðmaðr by GoldTrimmedSpectacles

Synopsis:

Amidst the fallen brethren of the Vanaheimr war against Muspelheim, the dark prince of Asgard finds himself lost and riddled with amnesia. His words are barbed, his tongue is gilded and his eyes are sharp. He has no recollection of his name or family, but he soon comes to realise that perhaps it is best for the past to be shadowed by the future, and that life as a beloved commoner is better than life as a miserable prince.

Review:

💔💔💔💔💔

I’m a sucker for fantasy and a well executed world building. I love how I’m instantly transported into the world created by the author and I feel alive inside. I wish there was a way to find out what happens next. I just love this so much I wish there was more.

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mintylovesredsocks · 1 month ago

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Chapter 9 of OAPOD (Evil!Red AU) sneak peak!! This is the first few sentences!!

“I’ve brought up some snacks!” Bridget said, unveiling a tray of goods. “That’s lovely, Bridget,” Chloe said, coughing awkwardly into her hand. She stood up from the bed and quickly walked over to her. “Thank you so much.” Red glanced at them from the bed, but was too overwhelmed to move. It wasn’t long before Chloe returned to her side with a sweet treat in her hands. “Are you sure we can trust this?” Red whispered to Chloe, eyeing the sweet treat suspiciously. Chloe shrugged. “I’m starving,” Chloe murmured. “I’ll take the risk.” Red watched with curosity as Chloe lifted the chocolate brownie to her mouth and took a slow bite of it. Red eyed Bridget, who was now standing in front of them with a tray full of baked goods in her hands. Red was surprised at the array of goods she’d never seen before. She remembered hearing murmurs about ‘sweet’, colourful treats from unsuspecting guards when she was younger, but her mother had strictly forbidden her from having any. This ‘Bridget’ seemed more than happy to share out sweet treats, however. The pink-hair girl was smiling brightly at Chloe as she ate the treat. “Mmm, this is delicious, Bridget!” Chloe hummed, chewing the treat as she spoke. Suddenly, her eyebrows raised and she let out a moan of delight. “Oh my gosh, is that…?” “Popping candy?” Bridget finished, grinning. She let out a little giggle and clapped her hands happily. “Yes! It’s a Wonderland tradition to put popping candy in sweet treats. It acts as an extra surprise!” “It’s amazing!” Chloe said, swallowing down her bite of brownie before immediately going in for another. “Did you make these?” Bridget nodded with a big smile. “Yes! I made them this morning!” “When did you find the time?” Red asked, raising a brow. “I thought you had princess duties to attend to?” Bridget laughed politely and shrugged. “I just… get up really early and do it in the morning!” Red thought about her mother and how, growing up, she would barely spend any time away from her duties as Queen. No matter how much Red begged, the Queen would prioritise her job over everything. Would this Bridget choose to spend time executing people over spending time with her daughter? Red would guess not.

I wish I had more of this chapter written but my life has been hectic recently omg. I'm about 2k words in so there won't be an update until at least next week. But, I think it'll be an interesting read for sure.

Chapter 10 is gonna be even better. I can't wait until I get to that!!

Also I haven't set a number of chapters on the fic yet bc I don't want to get ahead of myself or anything, but given the trajectory for the story I have in mind, it will be at least over 15 chapters. Probably more like 20 but I don't wanna jinx it so we'll see.

I'm also planning to have some 'sister' fics set in this universe but I probably won't start on those until this fic ends. Or at least near to it ending.

Anyway, that's just an update on where this fic is at for anyone interested!!

#descendants rise of red #rise of red #descendants #red x chloe #red descendants #chloe charming #glassheart #red of hearts #redcharming

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hyunjinners · 7 months ago

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Can i request more Ahn Jun-ho one shots? 🥺👉🏽👈🏽 I started watching the series recently and i'm in love w that man 😩 i need fics about him 😭

✧:･ﾟComfort Home → Ahn Jun-ho x reader ˚₊· ꒰💚꒱

꒰ 命 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ꒱┊Jun-ho's family is full of ups and downs, but his days become better when Jun-ho ends up in the arms of his beloved.

꒰ 命 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ꒱┊Ahn Jun-ho x fem¡reader.

꒰ 命 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 ꒱┊cute, comfort, a little sad (because of his family, but nothing too distressing).

꒰ 命 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ꒱┊fights, family issues, possible trigger (?), Jun-ho in his delicate moment, reader being a good girlfriend >>> 🤍, let me know if you have anything else to add! :)

꒰ 命 𝐖.𝐂 ꒱┊2,3k

꒰ 命 𝐀/𝐍 ꒱┊hey! ;) I'm finally able to write something after a while. It's amazing how creativity comes at the most unexpected moments. I hope you like the chapter, as I didn't specify the genre of the chapter in the request, I decided to do something in the middle of the road, a little sad, but happy. English is not my first language! I apologize in advance for any spelling and/or grammatical errors. Good reading! 🤍 ^-^

⊹₊˚ʚ❛masterlist.❜ɞ

Jun-ho runs his hand through his hair for the thousandth time during the conversation, more specifically an argument. His eyes burned with a suppressed desire to cry, but he needed to be strong and he knew that showing his true emotions might make him lose his credibility..

“Mom, you need to listen to me. I love you, but everything is very troubled. He does not deserve you. Let go of him, mom… please. If not for me or for you, then for your youngest daughter. Jun-ho speaks a little calmer after his tired sigh. It was the third time this week alone that Jun-ho learned that once again his mother's husband, or the sperm donor as he likes to say, was disrupting the lives of his mother and younger sister.

The abusive relationship between his mother and father is something that has happened since he was little, small signs of a toxic relationship tracing the years before he was even born. Jun-ho's father was extremely intolerant and reckless, always taking small amounts of money that his mother managed to earn to buy food, only to spend it on drinks and more, and if she didn't want to give it, he would beat her like a damn punching bag. And the worst of all was not only that he witnessed these atrocities when he was little, but his younger sister is going through the same process even though he tries to advise his mother to finally open her eyes.

She wasn't an idiot and he understood very well that it wasn't an easy thing to do, but it was still very frustrating, even more so when she called him to ask if her younger sister could stay in his care for a weekend or at least until things got better.

Small and tragic situations like this were what drove Jun-ho to work from such an early age and focus on his studies to have a better life, leaving home as soon as he saved enough money to rent a small apartment in a simple condominium.

But here he was, after finally getting his leave from the army, sitting in his mother's backyard while drinking peanut soju. His mother said she just wanted to talk to him, find out how he was doing and if everything was ok with his girlfriend and events in his life. But after Jun-ho saw the small purple bruise near his mother's cheekbones, he immediately tensed and, what was supposed to be a calm conversation between mother and son, ended up accumulating into a big snowball that was about to explode.

“My son, everything is fine. We're fine, how many times do I need to tell you this?”

“Until the day you leave him and live a happy life. Tell me, mom, when was the last time you gave a sincere smile of happiness? Or the last time you felt happy to finally get home after a hard day at work? You created me and I am very grateful for that, so I just want to repay you by looking out for your good.” She stays silent, seeming to absorb Jun-ho's words, but quickly looks down at the floor with shame and pure sadness, not wanting to have that conversation with her eldest son.

“Please, Jun-ho… let’s not talk about this anymore.” Jun-ho's jaw tightened, but he nodded silently. Jun-ho quickly grabbed his coat, looking straight into his mother's eyes, before walking out the front gate with a pounding in his head..

The girl happily turns off the heat of the tomato sauce, placing it on top of the noodles she lovingly prepared for her boyfriend. It had been a year and a few months since Jun-ho joined the army and it was the hardest time of both of their lives. Neither of them were away from each other for that long and both Jun-ho and Y/n knew that the challenges that awaited Jun-ho in the army would require a lot of effort from him, making him feel that his.

Everything became more distressing when Jun-ho barely called or responded to the girl's messages. He was going through an extremely delicate moment with this whole thing about deserters and bullies in the camp, causing him to reserve himself and set aside a period to think alone.

But everything got better when she had the most irresponsible and crazy attitude she had ever had in her life: discovered the location of where Jun-ho was during one of his missions looking for defectors, and went to Busan after a tiring bus ride just to say that whatever happened to him and everything around him, she would always be there to support him and remind him that he was never and will never be alone.

Initially he was desperate and afraid that you would get hurt because you were “invading” a mission, he snapped at you for your irresponsibility but his stance changed after realizing his girlfriend's determination just to make him feel better from all the pressure put on his shoulders. He felt like she was a breath of air in the middle of a cold night that made him shiver as she gently filled his lungs, reminding him of what it is to truly live.

A few months later he finally came home for a month of rest and you couldn't be happier and more grateful. It's been three days since he arrived, and even though he initially seemed a little hesitant and distant, you knew that Jun-ho needed to be home. In your home.

The password verification noise from the front door sounded shrill in the empty and slightly dimly lit apartment, where you could see light and hear the low noise of dishes and pans coming from the kitchen. Jun-ho tried to silently sneak down the hallway towards the bedrooms. Y/n knew he had arrived, so she quickly finished everything in the kitchen to call him to eat.

Turning on the lights in the apartment, Y/n walked calmly towards the bedroom, opening the door ajar, then hearing the low thump of the shower water bathing Jun-ho's body. Smiling, the girl knocked lightly on the bathroom door, happy that he was finally home. She was a considerably anxious person, so she planned and scheduled an entire night together, including a movie and hugs, all for Jun-ho's rest and comfort.

“Hey, Jun-ho.” Y/n speaks in a tone loud enough to overpower the sound of the water, which was turned off when Jun-ho heard his girlfriend's voice. "Hey my love. I'm already going, I'm just going to finish my shower. You can eat if you want.” His voice was considerably lower than normal, but she just brushes it off by muttering a small confirmation.

Almost half an hour has passed when Jun-ho finally sits down on the chair opposite Y/n. His hair was wet and he was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Comfortably beautiful, she thought. He directed a slight smile at her, which unconsciously showed his tiredness and discouragement. A wave of worry flooded Y/n's thoughts, imagining what must have happened at her house.

Y/n was aware of her mother-in-law's abusive relationship and knew that Jun-ho didn't approve of any of it, getting frustrated every time she spoke to her mother or saw her in person. With a knowing smile, Y/n reached out, cradling Jun-ho's hand in hers. "Everything is fine?”

The short sentence of just three words was the trigger, the direct impulse for him to break. His eyes were slightly red and burned from the tears shed during the shower, but now it didn't matter because they came back with full force, making Jun-ho's face moist.

Y/n immediately went to his side, wrapping him in a tight hug, Jun-ho's head resting in the crook of her neck. Seeing Jun-ho cry meant that he was at the height of everything, that everything came together and came crashing down with a thunderous thud.

Jun-ho was the type of person who prioritized maintaining a firm stance so as not to have to explain his weaknesses and concerns, but when he was around his girlfriend it was like that whole facade fell and he felt the need to spill everything to her. He felt heard and loved when he was with her, he didn't feel like a burden or a nuisance, he was just him. He could be him around Y/n because she was her around him too, she prioritized his well-being before hers and he sometimes didn't know how to show his gratitude.

Feeling Jun-ho's shoulders shake and hearing his painful sobs was like a stab in her back, making her feel helpless because she couldn't do anything to take away all the pain and weight from him, everything.

With a gentle squeeze on his shoulders, she hugged Jun-ho affectionately, feeling him getting impossibly closer to her. The smell of her perfume made Jun-ho feel more comfortable, she smells like home, he thought. This made him cry even more, feeling unworthy of having such a caring person by your side to not only listen but also understand your emotions and help you deal with them.

Y/n can feel her own tears falling down her face, her heart almost comes out of her mouth at the thought of her love, her world, the most important person in her life being in pain. Not just any pain, but the worst pain ever. The emotional pain. The pain of not being able to do anything, the pain of feeling unable to help the people you love.

He knew the situation was beyond his reach, which was why he felt so frustrated. He didn't need to say anything to her, his tears told a silent story of an ongoing event that unfortunately affects Jun-ho's life. She understood him, so she didn't ask anything. Her sobs stopped and her tears lessened considerably. Y/n gently pushed Jun-ho away from him, but not far enough to break the hug.

Jun-ho's now red and swollen eyes widened at the sight of the tears that now graced his girlfriend's face. She reached out with her hands and her thumbs wiped away the tears so gently as if Jun-ho would break down at any moment. He repeated the process, wiping away Y/n's tears, doubt dancing across his expression.

“Why are you crying, dear? I hurt you?" His voice, hoarse from crying, was almost a whisper, hesitantly low. She smiled, resting her hand on Jun-ho's that rested on the girl's cheek. “No, that's not it. I just hate with all my might to see you sad. You make me so happy, Jun-ho, that seeing you sad is like seeing clouds cover up the sun on a summer afternoon.” He absorbs the words and for the first time that night she shows a smile. He admired the empathy that Y/n had not only for those she loved, but for all people and without expecting anything in return.

“You don’t need to cry if you weren’t the cause behind my tears…thanks for supporting me, darling.” As a simple answer, Y/n leans slightly towards Jun-ho's lips, her breath tickling his face. Jun-ho connects their lips in a needy kiss, a reciprocal comfort being silently placed upon each other.

“Promise me that when you have a problem you won't keep it to yourself? I'm here for and for you, Jun-ho. You can tell me things that there is no need to repress within yourself. You are a wonderful human being and deserve love like anyone else. And I love you, that's why I'm available for everything. Even if it’s just to sit next to you in silence.”

Y/n watches the light reflect on Jun-ho's face from the new solitary tear shed, but there was no sadness this time, just the happiness of understanding that he was not alone on the walk. That I had a home to return to in bad times. Without saying anything else, this time he hugs her tightly, drawing small imaginary circles on her back.

“Thank you for caring about me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” They both knew that this was not the first nor would it be the last fight between Jun-ho and his family, but this time he was aware that he had arms waiting for him to rest on difficult days.

⊹₊˚ʚ❛A/N: It was supposed to be a short chapter, but I guess I can't even complain because I finally developed something after so much creative block. I hope you liked it, tell me what you think! :) If you made an ask, don't worry, I just haven't had enough creativity yet to develop a chapter, but we'll have news soon. like × reblog. by:: @hyunjinners .❜ɞ

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separatist-apologist · 11 months ago

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A Lost Princess of Sunlight

Summary: Lady Elain has spent her life in the idyllic countryside wanting for nothing, so when her adopted sister Vassa begs her to accompany her to court, how can Elain say no? The roguish prince is in need of a wife and Elain, certain she'd make a terrible princess, has no interest in such theatrics.

But something about the palace brings back memories lost to the sea ten years before. Memories Elain had been certain she'd never get back…memories that speak of a colder place, and sisters long forgotten. Amid the tumultuous politics and the looming war, Elain finds herself embroiled in a mystery to find out who she really is.

And where she really comes from.

Note: HAPPY HOLIDAYS @writtenonreceipts! I hope you like this- I tried so hard to give it TOG vibes AND to incorporate nessian and feysand because you said you love them (and I in turn love you).

@acotargiftexchange

Major thanks to @velidewrites and @wilde-knight for the moodboard + beta-ing this fic when I was laying face down in a puddle of my own tears.

Read On AO3 | Chapter 1

In recent memory, Lucien couldn’t remember ever feeling fouler than he did that day, standing in the throne room between his parents to greet a personalized list of women his mother hoped might one day be her future daughter-in-law. Lucien had tried in the beginning, offering a smile as he kissed gloveless hands. He’d filed away names for later, trying to paste them against genuinely lovely faces.

He’d expected to meet five women—maybe ten. But this had been going on for hours and he’d lost count of how many women he’d been shown. Fifty? With more that had arrived that his mother deemed otherwise unacceptable and therefore weren’t worth his time or attention. They’d be looking for him, too. Lucien felt like a piece of meat dangled before a wild animal gnashing its teeth hungrily.

“Mother,” he said when the doors closed, catching his parents before they could beckon for another. “Surely this is too much. Please.”

“It’s good for you to meet your future court,” his father said, drumming long fingers against an ivory carved throne. Gold crowned both his fathers dark head of hair as well as the back of the chair, making it seem as if the King of the West radiated pure sunlight. His mother was a vision just beside, draped in a cream dress and a threaded crown of gold woven through her vivid auburn hair.

“Isn’t that what all the activities are for? I feel…” he couldn’t say it, couldn’t force those spoiled words from his lips. “I need some air.”

He could see their frustration etched over their features. Was this truly the life laid before him? Would he one day be sitting in his fathers chair beside a woman his mother arranged for him, their son between them? The thought made Lucien want to gag. He hadn’t asked to be a prince, after all and right then, resentment burned hotly through him.

“Take a breath, son—”

“I won’t,” Lucien interrupted, fingers curling to fists. It wasn’t the first time he and his father had disagreed, though it was the first time that his mother would witness it. “This is too much.”

“This is duty, Lucien. Or did you imagine it was all dress up and sword fighting with your friends? We are on the precipice of war and every man has converged on our home to demonstrate their loyalty to our family. You repay them poorly by scowling and acting like a tantruming child,” his father cautioned, gold eyes narrowed in warning.

“They’re delusional if they think I’ll marry one of their daughters and elevate them far above their stations!” Lucien snapped, stepping from the dais to the swirling gold and gray patterned floor. “There are simply too many women and not enough time—”

“You will choose one of them,” his father said again, harsher this time.

“Let’s not fight,” his mother interjected quickly, also rising to her feet. Biting her bottom lip, those russet eyes were swimming with apprehension. “Surely there is a compromise to be found.”

“Amera,” Helion chided, his tone softer than before.

“If you want to pick a wife, I won’t stop you. Any available woman in this city can be yours…so long as you choose one before the end of the summer.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will choose for you, based on your mothers recommendations,” his father snapped impatiently, crossing one powerful leg over the other. “There will be no more scheming or whoring, Lucien.”

“I know you were hurt when Lady Jes—”

“Don’t,” Lucien whispered, unable to hear his mother speak her name. “Please, mother. My heart can’t bear it.”

“There will be another, my sweet boy,” his mother murmured, reaching up to cup his face in her soft hands. Lucien pulled himself from her grasp, heart thudding in his chest. He hadn’t dared to ask if she was coming, too. He didn’t want to see proof that she could be happy with someone else. That she’d made the right choice in leaving and she’d been right—they didn’t belong together. “Any woman?”

His father pinched the bridge of his nose, recognizing Lucien’s intent but his mother was sincere. “So long as she is of southern birth, yes. Any woman.”

“Fine. I will bring you a daughter to dote on by the end of the summer if you free me from the obligation of choosing one specifically from your list.”

“You better take this seriously, Lucien,” his father warned, leaning forward to look at his only son. “Or it will be me who chooses.”

Lucien had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His father would do whatever his mother told him to, and his mother would look out for Lucien’s happiness as best as she could. It wouldn’t be love, but it would be tolerable.

How delicious, he thought, to pick some commoner from the city. A woman who knew how to clean her own laundry, something Lucien had never been tasked to do. With the added bonus of keeping him out of the palace and the madhouse of his mothers machinations.

“I accept this arrangement. I won’t let you down,” he added to his mother, guilt pricking at his conscience. His father understood this was malicious compliance based on the hard set of his mouth but his mother’s eyes were shining with hope and Lucien so hated to disappoint her.

Perhaps his father was banking on his sons better nature because he waved him off. “Go get your air. I expect you at dinner tonight. Sober,” he added, guessing Lucien’s plans.

Lucien exhaled a breath, slipping down a corridor and away from the madness that had befallen the palace. Jurian wasn’t hard to find, leaned against a pillar, arms crossed over his chest as he stared out toward the gardens.

“Washed hair?” Lucien began teasing his friend with a bump to the shoulder, “That must mean Lady Vassa has arrived.”

“She has,” he admitted, dark eyes nodding toward a mass of bouncy copper hair half hidden amongst the foliage. She was with a friend, back turned so Lucien only saw the long, thick tumble of loose golden brown curls and a lavender dress clinging to a slight frame. “Playing her favorite game, of course.”

“The one where she pretends you don’t exist? Has it occurred to you that perhaps she doesn’t like you?” Lucien asked, poking Jurian in his bare arm. “Maybe it’s time to move on.”

“That would show her, wouldn’t it?” Jurian muttered.

“Here,” Lucien said, stepping from the veranda onto the stone laid path that wound through his mothers rather impressive garden. “I’ll say hello for us both. You can stand beside me silently brooding. I’m certain that will win her affection.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

Lucien only grinned, swaggering as he made his way toward the pair of giggling women. There was no possibility either of them didn’t know Jurian was approaching, though Vassa was the first to look at Lucien. Beautiful as always, with her full mouth, her pert nose, and those big, cerulean eyes brimming with mischief. He liked her, if only because she was so unafraid and unimpressed by him. Lucien imagined if he asked Vassa what she thought of him, she’d tell him frankly and without an ounce of flattery.

Lucien opened his mouth to tell her she was looking lovely. “You look…” The words died on his lips as her friend turned at last, looking up at him with the biggest set of brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life. The tumble of her hair, the slope of her neck, the way her mouth was shaped…Lucien’s palms began to sweat.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. How had he never met her before? Who was she?

“Stunning? Perfect? Like the woman of your dreams?” Vassa’s voice cut through the buzzing in Lucien’s ears. He couldn’t take his eyes off her friend long enough to even respond to Vassa. Instead, he found himself sweeping into a deep bow, all the while holding her gaze.

Her cheeks flushed but when she tried to curtsey back, Lucien was quick to catch her hand, brushing his lips over her knuckles. She smelled like jasmine and honey. She looked like a daydream. Perhaps the heat had finally gotten to him and this was an angel coming to usher him into the afterlife.

“This is my sister,” Vassa told Lucien, her amusement burning. Beside him, Jurian coughed pointedly, a mere blur to Lucien. “Elain.”

“Elain,” Lucien replied before Vassa’s words settled. “Since when do you have a sister?”

“Since always,” Vassa retorted, arms crossed over her verdant dress. “Sorry you’re so unobservant you never noticed.”

“I would remember you,” Lucien insisted, memorizing the shape of her face. “Where have you been hiding?”

Cheeks flaming, Elain’s eyes slid to her feet. “I ah…”

“She doesn’t come to court precisely for this reason, my lord,” Vassa interrupted, unaware Lucien was moments from throttling her. “Vultures, the lot of you. Men are so obsessed with finding wives they can’t allow a lady even a moment of peace in the garden.”

Jurian barked out a laugh, causing Elain to jump back just a little. “I prefer the quiet of the countryside,” she said, her voice somehow more beautiful than her face. Lucien wanted to bathe in it, wanted to close his eyes and listen to her speak. And it was becoming increasingly clear she did not want to be anywhere near him based on the way she looked as though she might bolt at any second.

“I’m glad you made it,” he said, releasing her hand with great reluctance. “That both of you made it.”

“Oh, I’m certain you’re so delighted to see me,” Vassa chided playfully, thrusting out her own hand so Lucien could give her a similar kiss. He did, grinning like an idiot while watching her companion from the corner of his eye. Let her see he wasn’t a threat—that he was charming, and funny too when he wasn’t struck dumb.

“If you knew the day I’d had, you’d know just how grateful and relieved I am to see you.”

“Do you need me to check your ego, prince? You’re not that handsome, you know.”

Lucien tipped his head back to laugh, genuinely delighted for the first time all day. He needed to hear that and perhaps wanted Elain to see that he could laugh at his own expense. He was a prince, sure, but also the kind of man she could tease a little.

But when he looked back, Elain was still watching with a carefully guarded expression.

“And how have you been, Captain?” Vassa asked, finally turning to look at Jurian.

“I count the minutes you’re away,” Jurian replied dryly. Lucien swore Vassa’s cheeks flushed and a touch of shyness slid over her features. Just for a moment. Just long enough for Jurian to catch too. Her father would never allow this match—Lucien knew for a fact Lord Koshington was looking for someone for his daughter. Perhaps them both. Lucien could ask for either woman if he wanted but Jurian would never be able to convince a lord of Koschington’s merit for the hand of his only daughter and heir. Whatever man Vassa married would be entrusted with the estate and Jurian, for all his accomplishments, was simply not the sort of man Koschington envisioned for her.

Lucien suspected Vassa would do her duty and marry as she was told to while carrying on an affair with Jurian as so many other ladies at court did. That was an open secret no one did much about so long as there were no disputes over it. Occasionally some errant husband would become enraged and kill another noble, giving them all something to gossip over while Lucien’s father dealt with the headache.

If Vassa asked him, though, he could have interceded on her behalf. Perhaps he could make Jurian nobility if he went to his father shamefaced and apologetic and agreed to be a better son. Lucien’s gaze cut to Elain. She was a lady, wasn’t she? Southern born, which was the only true criteria his mother had laid down. Perhaps, he reasoned, he could use his marriage as a bargaining chip for both Vassa and Jurian.

He’d elevate one daughter to a princess and in exchange, Koschington would allow the other to marry his Captain, now Lord of some tract of land further north. Of course, that all hinged on Lady Elain even wanting him and as they stood now, things looked bleak for Lucien. Not to mention if he had such a visceral reaction to this woman, perhaps he would to others that were more agreeable.

Still. It was a thought he wasn’t willing to wholly discard. Not yet.

“I’m sure you two are incredibly busy,” Vassa said, still looking at Jurian. “We should—”

“Will you be at dinner tonight?” Lucien blurted out, once again looking—and speaking—to Elain. Her eyes widened, glancing over at Vassa to answer for her.

“Only if you promise us a good table.”

“Consider it done,” Lucien said, sweeping into another bow. It was an instinct that told him when true danger was approaching. Some call in his blood, a pull that turned his usual heat to ice.

Eris was near.

He could feel the prickling on the back of his neck, the awareness that he was being watched much the way prey must feel when a predator was near. He didn’t want to be caught here by Eris—didn’t want this showdown to happen in front of a woman he might want to court.

“Until this evening, then.”

Vassa merely waved him off, looping her arm through Elain’s to guide them further into the foliage while he and Jurian watched, both enamored. Just until the rounded a corner and Lucien could shake off whatever spell Elain had unwittingly cast.

It was like a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

“Eris is near,” he said, his voice slipping into a growl. Jurian cast one last love-lorn look in Vassa’s direction before setting his jaw.

“Well. Let’s give him a southern welcome.”

Lucien grinned. “After you.”

The moment Elain and Vassa were out of earshot, Vassa immediately burst into laughter.

“Stop it,” Elain chided, bewildered and a little embarrassed. The prince—the actual prince—had been gaping at her like he’d never seen a woman in his life. Elain hadn’t expected to meet him so close. He was handsome, just as Vassa had promised, though she’d undersold how attractive he was. Even with the trio of brutal scars raking down one of his russet colored eyes, gouged so deep into his cheeks they still seemed fresh, Lucien was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Beautiful in a dangerous sort of way.

Beautiful and he knew it, had been told so his entire life. Something about that annoyed her. She didn’t want to be another fawning woman, delighted he’d paid her a moment of interest.

Exhaling, Elain rounded on her friend. “You couldn’t say one nice thing to Jurian?”

“No,” Vassa replied quickly, some of her amusement fading. “I wouldn’t know how.”

“He’s handsome.”

“As handsome as the prince—”

“That’s enough,” Elain interrupted primly. “The prince is not hurting for beautiful company. I doubt he will be thinking of me come this time next week.”

“And if he is?”

“Then I shall disabuse him of the notion,” Elain replied, biting her bottom lip. “I have no interest in being an amusement and later discarded when he grows tired of whatever country charm he imagines I possess.”

“Oh, but how fun to watch him run himself ragged for your affection. You’re better off just letting him trail after you for a few days—the longer you resist, the more he will imagine you as his great love.”

“You’ve read too many novels,” Elain complained, reaching for a pretty pink rose. The petals were satin against her fingers, the scent of it sweeter than she remembered. Perhaps there was magic in Rhodes that didn’t exist in the country.

Or perhaps she, too, had let romantic notions cloud her senses.

“Maybe. If I…” biting her bottom lip, Vassa faced Elain fully. “If I told you something, would you swear yourself to secrecy no matter what you heard? No matter how much trouble it would cause for you?”

“Of course,” Elain swore, standing upright again. “Anything you need, consider it done.”

“Father is never going to let me leave the city unmarried. He hopes, distantly, the prince might finally show some interest in me beyond friendship but realistically he intends to shop me around to other lords who are suitable enough. I’m being allowed a small taste of freedom but by the time the summer wanes, he’ll have me married and he’ll be looking at you, too.

“It will take time and he’ll need the kings blessing. As long as the Sun King is preoccupied with his son, he’ll move slowly on everyone else. If I had a mother, perhaps she might appeal to the queen… and I need to take advantage of it.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

Vassa shot Elain a confident smile that didn’t meet her eyes. She was scared. “It is my hope that Jurian will make an offer of marriage. And if he does…I intend to accept. To marry him in secret and ruin myself before father ever learns. There is nothing you can do to help me, nor could you stop me. I just…wanted you to know that I brought you here because I wanted us to have one last summer together. And perhaps I was hoping you might find someone and I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty leaving you behind.”

Elain flung her arms around Vassa, burying her face in her friend's neck. “Don’t worry a jot about me. I’ll be fine. And your secret is safe with me—if anyone asks if I knew, I’ll lie so convincingly it’ll make the gods weep.”

Vassa hugged her back, exhaling a warm breath against the skin of Elain’s newly exposed neck. “I knew I could count on you. Let's speak no more about it—Jurian hasn’t asked and maybe he won’t. For now, let's discuss what we’ll wear to dinner tonight. Something that will ruin Prince Lucien’s evening.”

“You’re a menace. Do you know that?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon giggling through the garden, all talk of Jurian and Lucien banished from conversation. In truth, Elain forgot about the prince entirely by the time she reached their shared chamber to wash away the sweat of the day and to change. The clothes she’d brought with her had been neatly hung in a nearby closet along with a row of new gowns likely purchased on her behalf by some harried servant. Elain laid a few out on the bed before deciding it was far worse to be the only person out of fashion in a room filled with worldly ladies than it was to worry so much about modesty.

Besides, the gowns hid everything—they merely lacked so many of the stiff layers she was accustomed to. Elain wouldn’t pretend she didn’t like the ability to button herself rather than needing two servants to help get her into her layers and tie everything up, even if she did feel a tad exposed in the silken jade gown she found herself in. Wishing she’d paid more attention to how everyone else was dressed, Elain elected to leave half her hair down with pins in her little wristlet, just in case she had to quickly pull it up.

Vassa was waiting in the wide, marble lain halls in a gown of violet that looked utterly stunning against the golden brown of her skin. If Elain was terribly out of fashion, her friend surely would have said something, but instead she looped her arm through Elains and began walking her through the palace.

Vassa had been before enough times to know the layout, allowing the pair to dawdle as Vassa pointed out paintings she thought Elain would enjoy and or explained what marble bust belonged to what long-dead king. There was something deeply thrilling about seeing the history of her home up close and personal—something that made her feel strangely proud to live there.

A feeling that slid into anxiety the moment she and Vassa walked into the grand hall. Reproposed for a banquet, at least a hundred little tables dotted the expansive room, all facing the long, high table where the royal family would sit. The king was already there, a golden goblet dangling between his fingers as he surveyed guests pouring in.

Was it her imagination, or was he looking at her? Definitely her imagination, Elain decided. She wasn’t nobility, and Vassa’s family was minor nobility at that. Still…those golden eyes, set against warm, dark brown skin, seemed to stare right through her, seeing everything she was and everything she had ever been.

Someone she didn’t recognize approached the king, drawing his attention—which had never been on her—far, far away.

“We’re probably back here,” Vassa murmured, clasping Elain’s between her own. “If we get seated quickly, we can eat before anyone else.”

“I am starving,” Elain admitted with a breathless laugh. The entire thing was exhilarating, so decadent that Elain felt utterly alone in that room as she drank in the gilded walls, the high, arching ceilings and the glass windows that rose up to meet them. Beyond them, Elain could see the placid sea, brighter than any blue diamond and clearer than any sky.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Prince Lucien appeared from seemingly nowhere, eyes bright. He looked…well. He was absurd in his beauty, so lovely in his gold trimmed blue jacket that

Elain’s teeth were set on edge. He’d braided the top half of his head, pulling it back with a leather strap that somehow made his cheekbones seem sharper, his jaw more defined. The rest of his hair curled loosely about his shoulders, longer than Vassa’s when her friend wore it unbound, though not half as curly.

He was looking at her again and Vassa knew it.

“You’re much more accommodating this time than you were the last time I was here.”

“Give it time,” Lucien replied with genuine amusement. “When father begins one of his terrible speeches it will be nice to have someone nearby to rescue me.”

“You tease me,” Elain complained. As if she could rescue a prince from his wordy father.

Lucien placed a large, ringed hand against his heart. “Lady Elain, I would never.”

Elain doubted that given the twinkle in his russet eyes. Still, though, it was kind of nice to be the object of his interest, however short-lived she suspected it would be. Warmth flooded through Elain’s face, impossible to hide given how fair her skin was.

Lucien’s smile was laced with pleasure. “This way, ladies.”

Vassa merely rolled her eyes, bouncy curls blowing in a nearby breeze. Elain kept her eyes down, well aware everyone in the vicinity was looking at her. Oh, how she wished they weren’t—not like this, at any rate. It wasn’t that she hated being the subject of their attention, but she would have preferred it be because she was stunning in some new dress and not because the prince’s fingers were grazing her elbow.

The table wasn’t just close—it was the first one before the high table��a seat reserved for people far more important than Elain and Vassa. They weren’t alone—Lord Koschington was already there flanked on either side by men at least a decade older than him. All three rose from their seats to bow to the prince before returning to their conversation, leaving Elain and Vassa awkwardly staring Lucien down.

“Well,” Elain finally said when she couldn’t stand it a moment later. “This was generous of you.”

“You’ll find I can be very generous, Lady Elain.”

“Just Elain is fine,” she promised, embarrassed all over again.

“Well, just Elain, my generosity comes with strings, if that helps to put your mind at ease.”

“Oh? What strings are those?”

“Lunch with me? And if it goes well, a turn around the garden.”

Elain nearly said no. The urge was automatic. Something stopped her—the notion that if Lucien spent a few hours alone with her, he’d realize how woefully plain she was, how inept her social graces in comparison to other women. His interest would wane and she wouldn’t have to be firm with him at all. That was, truthfully, a best case scenario.

So Elain nodded, lowering her eyes demurely. “That would be lovely.” Lucien’s delight radiated like pure light just beneath his skin. “You’ve given me something to look forward to.” And then he was gone, leaving Lord Koschington watching with curiosity and Ealin even more embarrassed than before.

“I’m not surprised he likes you,” Vassa began, but Elain wasn’t having it.

“Sit down,” she demanded.

Vassa only laughed. “Bossy. You’ll make an excellent princess.”

Rhodes.

Curling his upper lip, Eris glanced at the dirty streets beneath his gleaming boots. How he loathed the Southern Empire. The city itself was too self-satisfied with itself, certain they were the gods favored people. A blessed empire, having risen from the ashes of centuries of subjugation by the north. The scars for the people weren’t healed—it had been King Helion’s grandfather who’d shaken those chains and thirty years of bloody fighting just to establish a true home with recognized borders. Recognized, Eris thought bitterly, by his father and the late King of the Spine.

Helion had ended that conflict, invading the north's once impenetrable capitol and genuinely terrifying the realm with the might of his military. If he could break down those walls and get inside, he could potentially cross the spine to the east or the desert to the west. He could have the whole of the continent if he wanted it.

Of course, Helion’s reign hadn’t come without its scandals. His victory cost a princess her life and Archeron his wife. It had also cost the west their queen when he’d stolen her away in the dead of night, declared her marriage to Beron Vanserra completed under duress, and married her himself.

North and west had a reason to hate the south. Eris had never forgiven Helion for losing his mother and Nesta Archeron, heir apparent to the Northern throne, had never forgiven Helion for the loss of her mother and her younger sister. Eris had heard rumors of her fury.

But meeting her was another thing entirely. He’d made her no promises, of course…but he knew she was thinking the same thing he was—if they married, they could unite their kingdoms and turn their eyes to the south. They could eradicate Helion and take it, too, if they wished. And oh, how Eris wished.

The prospect of asking for Nesta Archeron was the only reason he’d accepted the invitation to the south. Might as well look around for himself. Helion would be looking for peace and his mother absolution, but Eris was looking for exploitable weaknesses.

Something he could offer up to Nesta Archeron so she had no recourse but to tell him yes. It wouldn’t be love, but Eris didn’t require that. Didn’t want that. His would be a marriage of political convenience and if he needed genuine companionship, he could always take a mistress.

So there he stood, soaked in sweat and angrier than he’d ever been as he stared up at the monstrosity that was the palace. His half brother was being fussed over—a golden prince Eris would keep alive as a political prisoner in his court, forcing Lucien to do his bidding with the threat of a sword hanging over his head.

It was Eris’s favorite daydream. The destruction of Helion’s court, the ruination of his empire, and his son and wife forced to live in Eris’s home under Eris’s rule. Despite himself, he smiled, ignoring the butler who wanted to give him a tour as he strode into the palace. He knew it well enough and didn’t want the royal family to know where he was until he was ready to make a grand entrance.

Helion’s kingdom was said to house an impressive collection of knowledge and the rarest (and items stolen he didn’t want found) were housed within his personal collection within his palace. Eris had never been interested before, annoyed by the philosophers and scholars that inhabited these spaces. Old men obsessed with the sound of their own voices who had never been told their ideas weren’t interesting.

But today was pure chaos and if the Sun Palace was anything like his home, everyone would be congregated wherever the wine was, neglecting their responsibilities under the deluded belief no one would find out. Eris took the stairs two at a time, eyes darting around him to be sure no one was watching.

Though if they were—and if he was caught—he’d simply feign ignorance. No one stopped him, allowing him to climb higher and higher, walking down halls with his hands jammed in the pockets of his cream colored pants. He opened bedroom doors like they belonged to him, ran his oily fingers over windows and paintings, and kicked over a potted plant just because it amused him to do so.

And when he reached the room he’d come all this way to see—Helion’s famed library—Eris found it delightfully abandoned, just as he’d expected it to be. There were three more towering floors, attached to what he supposed was the highest tower of the palace. Spiraling stairs led to rows and rows of books unreachable even by the rather tall ladders. Desks and chairs on the first level were, he supposed, for scholarly pursuits that seemed to vanish once one reached that second level.

The third was entirely off limits to anyone but Helion’s most trusted. And they were gone, Eris thought, stepping through the arch way. The room itself could be hidden behind wooden ivory double doors carved with some brightly painted fresco of a heroic battle long faded from memory.

Eris made it two steps before a woman materialized from a too-bright golden sunbeam pouring into the room. One moment he’d been walking toward items hidden from everyone else in the realm and the next a curved blade was pressed against his neck and his back was slammed against a wall. A slim knee slid between his legs, pressed threateningly against his manhood while a pair of vivid green eyes stared him down cooly.

“I’ll need to see your pass before you take another step,” she said. Eris blinked, taking in the shape of this woman. Thick waves of blonde hair cascaded down her back, tumbling against her shoulders and framing what was, objectively, a beautiful face. Her bronzed skin seemed to shimmer in the light as though dusted in sunlgiht and those eyes of hers—green and flecked with gold—were lightly lined in black kohl.

“I don’t need a pass—” he began, utilizing the haughtiest voice he could muster given the position he found himself in. In any other circumstances, overpowering her would have been a simple thing.

But Eris wasn’t willing to risk his throat, nevermind his cock and balls.

“You do,” she replied, both her knee and her blade pressing just a little rougher.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he demanded.

“Why don’t you tell me?” she challenged, one eyebrow raised as though it wouldn’t matter. He was going to see her personally punished for this, he decided.

“Prince Eris—”

“Oh, a prince,” she interrupted, her voice dripping with disdain. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Do you have a pass?”

Eris was rarely speechless. But right then, looking down at a woman that was primed to kill him over a book, Eris found himself at a loss for words.

“No,” he spat, outraged that some nobody was preventing him from snooping. And no one, in his life, had ever dared such defiance. This woman did, though. She didn’t care he was a prince or the queens eldest son. She merely saw an intruder and felt empowered to spill his blood against her feet if need be.

“I’m glad we agree. If I remove my knife from your throat, are you going to leave peacefully?” she asked, her tone dripping with condescension. Had they been home, Eris could have thrown her in a cell for that hateful look on her face alone, not mentioning the way in which she addressed him.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure,” Eris promised, his lip curling with disdain. To her credit, the woman stepped back, removing herself entirely from his body, though that knife remained between them. “I’ll see you punished for this.”

She smiled, smoothing one hand over the yellow of her dress. “Of course, your majesty.”

“You think I won’t?” Eris hissed, unsure why he hadn’t stormed out. Just leave. Fuck the last word.

“Oh, I’m certain you will,” was her reply, eyes burning with amusement. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and the king will allow me the privilege of hearing your explanation as to why a future foreign king was skulking about a room filled with state secrets. Surely you must have known, but maybe they educated you poorly back home and you can’t read?”

Bitch.

“I can be wherever I like—”

“Wrong, majesty. You know, we hear rumors about you here. Of your…ambitions. I’m sure your impending marriage to a northern princess is mere gossip hardly worth the rags it's printed on, of course, and this little trip was merely an accident.”

Eris’s lips parted, an insult on the tip of his tongue. Who was this woman? Eris wanted her family name more than he’d ever wanted anything, if only so he could burn it from the face of the world. When he came marching into Rhodes with an army, she could be the first person to meet his sword.

“Some people would think it was unwise, insulting a future king.”

Her eyes flicked to the knife in her hand. “I think some people might thank me for protecting my home. In fact, I think a parade might be held in my honor if you took another step toward me and fell on my knife.”

“Is that a threat?” he demanded.

She smiled. “I’m glad you noticed. I was starting to think these subtleties were flying right over your poor, illiterate head. Yes, your lordship. This is a threat. A wiser man would recognize he’d been caught and leave, but I can see you’re not wise and so perhaps I ought to spell it in simple terms you’ll understand: your mere presence in this room could be considered an act of war. Remove yourself, or I shall do it for you.”

Fuck her.

“This isn’t over.”

She followed behind as he turned on his heel, burning with an anger so hot it would have manifested as flame against his skin had he any magical ability. Eris could feel its heat shimmering off him, fingers curling and uncurling with the urge to teach her a lesson she’d never forget. She was no one, some lowly peasant made to feel important and elevated by a bastard king.

Eris expected one last quip—turned around to face her. She flashed him a smile, those eyes still sparkling with amusement.

And then slammed the double doors in his face. On the other end, he swore he heard soft laughter though maybe he imagined it. Eris exhaled, overwhelmed and frustrated and furious all at once.

It wasn’t over between them.

Eris would have the last laugh.

Ellesmere was easily the worst city Cassian had ever visited in his life. Velaris was the best, of course, and Rhodes was nice if a little hot for his taste. He’d seen Allfeld once which personally was enough given how much pollen seemed to be in the air, though it had been autumn at the time and he’d quite liked the glittering jewel-top trees that dotted the sloping hillsides.

Ellesmere had no charm whatsoever. Only fog and a constant misting of rain that left Cassian damp beneath the leathered armor he wore.

He’d put on wool socks to keep his feet dry that day, tucked into boots that were supposed to be waterproof and hoped for the best. Rhys was supposed to be out charming the nobles and who the fuck knew where Azriel had gone. By the time Cassian dragged his ass out of bed, Azriel was nowhere to be found and Rhys was agonizing over a lock of hair that wouldn’t lay just right.

Cassian was grateful no one expected perfection out of him. He’d shaved his face—though the dark stubble would be back before noon—and pulled the thick, dark waves that cascaded to his shoulders into a half messy bun. Good enough.

Dumb brute, remember?

As if he could ever forget. At home, Cassian was a hero. People cared about the words that came out of his mouth, respected him as someone of great intelligence. But out here, he knew what they saw. The other kingdoms must employ idiots to lead their armies, or something particular about Cassian gave off the impression he liked the taste of blood. And Cassian had never once tried to correct that notion given he did like a little blood smeared across his mouth.

But it irked him at times, chafing against him like rough material against soft skin.

He had a job—only one, at least, while he was trapped in this gloomy hellscape, which was to get a sense and scope of the military power Ellesmere commanded. How did they fight, how many of them remained, their tactics, their training. Anything Cassian could weaponize against them. Cassian needed them to believe he was one of them.

Less than, even. That he couldn’t take even a day off from swinging his swords when truthfully, were he back home, Cassian would have been parked at Ritas waiting for a massive plate of eggs and bacon. Ah, well. There would be more of that later, though he couldn’t help but feel like he was wasting the best weather Velaris had to offer to the rain.

And breakfast wasn’t horrible, at least. He’d been allowed to eat alone given there was no expectation he would eat with the royals. Cassian picked through one of his books, wasting time hoping the weather would clear and the sun would come out, even if it didn’t warm the air. When it became clear he wasn’t going to get his wish, Cassian sighed, armed himself, and made his way toward the training yard housed within the palace walls. He’d seen barracks on his way in, tucked off in the distance, when he’d first come into the city. That was where Cassian really wanted to be.

If Rhys did his job well, Cassian would be invited to watch them train and possibly train alongside him. It was ego the way so many cities assumed they had something to teach him. There was a reason Velaris hadn’t been invaded, though Cassian knew everyone loved to chalk it up to The Spine. The mountains were passable, their coast relatively undefended. There was little need, though they did have a Navy.

Cassian was always waiting, sword in hand.

Today, though, was just about seeing the best of the best. They’d be looking to impress him, knowing full well Cassian would tell Rhys. All in good time. Cassian liked to think he was clever enough to keep his mouth shut with a face that always seemed pleased right up until his sword was pressed against someones throat.

They expected that from Azriel. Maybe they expected that knife in the back from Rhys. But despite his titles, no one ever expected that from Cassian, though he was always the quickest to jump to bloodshed.

Eloquence was Rhys’s domain.

Cassian shuddered when he stepped outside, shaking out his hands to try and keep himself together. This period of time in his life would pass until he forgot it entirely. There was no way in hell he’d ever agree to return here and was grateful Rhys wasn’t actually interested in any of the princesses on offer.

Cassian wished he could say the same. He’d half forgotten Nesta Archeron—could have forgotten her completely for the majority of the day, even—had she not been walking toward him in a well-fitted violet coat dress, the hood pulled over her face and lined with immaculate white fur.

Her fair cheeks were flushed from the chill or exertion, making those silvery eyes of her brighter by comparison. The scowl on her face couldn’t diminish the beauty that radiated from her and just like it had the day before, Cassian felt struck by her. Nesta’s whole person was its own blade at his throat, threatening to spill him open at any moment.

She halted when she saw him, hands jammed into her pockets. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, he wondered if she’d speak to him. It was only after a moment of staring that Cassian remembered he probably ought to bow. That felt strange—Rhys had never required that and Helion was so casual it was cause for teasing if Cassian were to try. Something about Nesta demanded it, though, and so Cassian felt himself bending at the waist, one hand on his stomach.

“You mock me?” she asked, unaware of the sincerity of his pounding heartbeat.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cassian heard himself say, his every word laced with amusement rather than the reverence he felt. And though he was so much taller than her, Cassian felt small as Nesta approached, her spine ramrod straight. He wished he could convince her to come to Velaris and teach his soldiers that sort of posture.

Hell, maybe she could teach him, too.

“Where are you going?”

Straight to hell, he thought privately as he tried not to imagine what she was like when she liked a man. Jealousy gnawed at him knowing Rhys was here to court her, swallowed quickly before Cassian was consumed. Glancing at one of the hilts peeking over his shoulder, Cassian offered her another quick smile. “To train with your guards.”

She scoffed. “I should think one sword would be more than sufficient.”

“Oh? Something you want to tell me, princess?”

He hadn’t meant for his words to sound suggestive. Cassian was genuinely asking her—were they not capable of fighting off a warrior holding a weapon in each hand? But something about her made everything he said sultry and Nesta’s cheeks burned with heat.

She was sweet. Cassian wanted to taste her.

“Just…they’re more…” Nesta was flustered. He knew if he came any closer she’d take off like a skittish baby deer, fortifying herself for their next interaction. Put her at ease, a voice whispered in his head—it sounded suspiciously like Mor. So Cassian relaxed his posture, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. He was, afterall, just a man.

And he wasn’t a threat to her. Everyone else, perhaps—and one day she’d hate him for the part he was playing to keep her father from starting another war—but not her.

“They’re mostly decorative,” Nesta finally said, coming back to her senses. “And I suspect you are the opposite.”

“Shrewd of you,” Cassian praised, taking in this information. “I would think the palace guards were the best your kingdom had to offer.”

She rolled her eyes. “If that were true, Feyre would be easier contained within its walls.”

Cassian filed that away, too. Where did the little princess run off to, he wondered? And why was Nesta telling him this? She didn’t strike him as the uncareful type. No, Nesta was giving him little crumbs he was certain were leading somewhere. The expression on her face was too well guarded for anything else.

“And you?” he guessed.

Nesta only shrugged. “Where would I go beyond the palace walls, General?”

Cassian’s body went tight all at once. Fuck, but that voice… “Anywhere you like, I hope. Unless this is a cry for help and you’ve actually been held hostage?”

The faintest whisper of a smile spread over her features. Pretty thing. Cassian wanted to touch her and thought that was the quickest way to lose a hand.

“My life is one of endless wonder,” she assured him, her voice dry and laced with sarcasm. “I am incandescently happy.”

“My apologies, my lady,” Cassian murmured, needing to get some air before he did something monumentally stupid. “Far be it from to cast aspersions on you and your life. But…if you find yourself wishing you knew how to wield a blade so you could…I don’t know…move more effectively in the world…you know where to find me.”

And then he kept walking, refusing to touch her as he passed though it was hell not to even brush a wisp of hair from her cheek.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta asked when they were shoulder to shoulder, staring straight ahead. Cassian watched her from the corner of his eye.

“You’ll need to know if you’re going to marry Rhys,” he replied, the words ash on his tongue. Nesta didn’t move.

“That’s it?”

“Maybe I want a reason to see you again.”

Her breath curled around her face like a shadow, vanishing in the gloomy morning light. “I’ll think about it.”

There was nothing Cassian could say that wouldn’t make him sound insane. So he nodded, clenching his jaw to keep his words leashed before he took off walking again. There was no reason to arm that woman—and every possibility she would take everything she learned and turn around and use it against them.

And yet the thought of Nesta pressing a blade against his throat was so erotic that Cassian had to lap around the garden twice before making his way to the training yard, later than he’d meant to be.

And still—it was worth it.

#elucien #nessian #eris being the worst #all the usual shenanigans #tragically as i wrap up chapter 5 i think i need 5 more chapters #I will keep clackity clacking away

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muse-oleum · 8 months ago

Text

Always & Forever

okay, hi, welcome, i'm really unsure about this because i've never written something quite so heavy or, in fact, anything Elejah at all so, um, be nice? pwease? and if you see typos, as always, no you didn't. this came about because i recently re-read two masterpieces of the Elejah variety: We Remain, by Anonymous Obssesser (@deathloveshischicagopizza on this platform, sure hope i got that right lmao) and She's Come Undone and Set Free, by @terapsina. and it got the brain juices flowing and the creative bugs going.

you can find me here on ao3. this has also been cross-posted over there.

WARNING: very brief discussion of non-con/rape (because Damon is a dick) but it's more implied than anything else.

as for my ElijahxOC fic readers (if there are any here) i swear to god i'm in the process of writing a new chapter, i promise.

Always and forever.

Looking up at the intimidating walls of the infamous Abattoir, Elena kept those words close to her heart, like a talisman against the dangers she knew lurked inside.

She wasn’t afraid of him. She never truly had been, aside from their first meeting, forever ago in that decrepit mansion in the middle of nowhere. But she was unsure about his brother, and the kingdom he ruled over. Even now, a mere hour after the sun had set, she could see vampires flitting in and out through the doorway, obviously on a mission for their evil hybrid overlord.

Elena took a deep breath, calming her heart. She’d sworn to herself that she wouldn’t think of him in those terms anymore. They were long past that, they had to be, for her own sanity. Besides, the moral high ground was no longer hers to stand on.

She took one step, then another, forcing her legs to move despite the fear. She knew she couldn’t stay the way she was, alone and scared. She knew who she could trust.

She always had.

Hyperaware as she was, she could feel everything. The stares on her as she made her way through a square courtyard, the back and forth glide of her purse against her hip, the smell of blood and bourbon—a scent she had come to associate with New Orleans—but most of all she felt the moment he saw her, as if ripples crashed against her chest in tiny little shockwaves.

A vampire zoomed in front of her, fangs out, eyes flashing red, no doubt trying to intimidate her; that’s how vampiric hierarchy worked (another thing they had neglected to teach her). He didn’t know she had known far, far worse.

She often wondered if the Salvatores knew the first thing about being vampires. She supposed she was lucky Rose had told her some things, the last time she was in town, such as how to act around older, stronger vampires before you inadvertently got your head swiped clean off your shoulders. Or else, she probably would have been long dead, again.

Still, she submitted, as she had always done. She cast her eyes down, her jugular on clear display, and waited. The vampire, a dark-skinned man with wide eyes, immediately stood back, cocking his head slightly. Then he straightened, a telltale look of fear in his eyes.

“I’d recommend not doing that again, Diego.”

His voice, soft and dangerous, just the way she remembered it. But the danger was never for her, not even when he’d cracked the earth open and abandoned her to his sister’s less than tender mercy in that underground cave he knew so well.

Elijah Mikaelson was dangerous.

To everyone else.

“Elena.”

She fought to keep her eyes open. She couldn’t help it, she’d missed the sound of her name on his lips. The way he accented the word a little differently than everyone else, how even when he was stressed or angry, he’d always said her name with a little bit of wonder, an awestruck tone she couldn’t quite understand. She had always been special, she knew—to her parents, their little girl; to her brother, his only sibling; to her friends, the listening ear; to the brothers, for her face; and then, to him. She didn’t understand how she was special to him, but she was, she knew it. His tone of voice gave him away, every time, the soft lilting of the syllables, pronounced with care, each of them a caress that soothed some strange part of her brain.

“Elijah.”

She met his eyes, wider and darker than she remembered them. Actually, no, that wasn’t right, they had been even darker in Willoughby, when he’d kissed her.

Not her. Katherine.

She forced the thought away, she couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. She had other, bigger, problems only an Original brother could help her with. She almost thanked Klaus and his godforsaken curse for bringing him into her life, however inadvertently, because she wasn’t sure what she would have done without him now.

Probably staked herself.

“Can we—” she faltered a bit, eyeing the vampires listening in, trying to pretend they weren’t interested in what a baby vampire could have to say to the king of the city that would warrant even a moment of his time. Because he was the king, she had no doubt about that. Klaus may be the face, but Elijah was the hand behind it all.

She swallowed, putting her blinders on, taking a deep breath. “Can we talk?”

He observed her, his head tilted to the side, a small frown on his brow. She could tell her demeanor alone puzzled him, but she wasn’t surprised. After all, the last time he’d seen her, she’d been on a rampage across the country, his little sister in tow, searching for a cure she obviously had not taken. He rallied quickly, turning halfway, gesturing to door behind him. It led to an indoor dining room area and she briefly panicked; It was too reminiscent of the boarding house.

“Not—not here, hum… Would you mind…?” She turned back towards the lobby, the doors still wide open.

He softened, his hands going back into his pockets. A clear message to her—an everyone else—that he meant no harm. She’d learned that particular tell of his long ago.

“Of course.”

She felt his hand at the small of her back as they walked outside into the evening air. She still felt slightly claustrophobic indoors, even in an open courtyard, the presence of a dozen vampiric eyes on her certainly not helping. It reminded her too much of the almost scientific fascination the brothers had when they were trying to force her back into a humanity she wasn’t certain she wanted anymore.

And therein laid her problem.

The switch was back on, she knew that; she could feel it, just as she herself simply… felt. But it wasn’t pushed back completely, there was a jam, a missing piece, a core memory she still couldn’t access. Part of her wondered if it was for her own good, the other part wanted to let everything back in and be done with it. As things stood now, she had only half the story behind her sudden emotion-free spree, and she knew there was more lurking behind that door.

But she wasn’t sure how to access it on her own, and she needed the help on the only other vampire she could trust to do it right.

This limbo state—on but not on; back to herself but not completely—made her incredibly vulnerable. She could feel the imbalance in her soul, as corny as that sounded, because she was missing something—something she needed in order to move on fully, to become herself again, even in this new skin.

Caroline couldn’t help her, although she understood what the problem was and it was ironically her who had suggested the solution that had been staring her in the face all this time. She needed help from someone who had studied vampirism better than anyone else, and that person walked by her side now, silent as he let her gather her thoughts. She took a breath, let it out, relishing the fresh air.

Well, as fresh as it could be in the Big Easy.

“Where are we going?” She asked, her voice still too small for her liking. She wasn’t afraid of him, dammit! She was simply afraid of every other man. But she didn’t know how to let him know that, and she could tell he was worried.

“What would you prefer?” He asked right back, ever the gentleman.

She shrugged. “You know the city better than I do.”

He smiled. “There’s a bar not far that my siblings and I like to frequent on occasion. Unless you would prefer dinner?”

She shivered slightly, either to the thought of “dinner” or his voice, she wasn’t sure.

“The bar will do.”

She wasn’t even surprised when he opened the door to Rousseau’s, she really should have known. He noticed her half-smile when they sat down, cocking an eyebrow in question. She shook her head, amused.

“That’s the first bar I stopped at when I first arrived in the city.” Figures you’d do the same, but she didn’t say that.

“Yes, it’s quite… quaint,” he replied, lips quirking up slightly, somehow managing not to make it sound like an insult, “it’s also where I first stopped by when I came back.”

Yeah, figures.

“Did you know it, back in the day?”

He shook his head, smiling a little more fully as a blonde bartender approached them. “Not very well, it was ran by a werewolf family my brother and I preferred to avoid dealing with whenever possible.”

“NOLA problems?”

“NOLA problems.”

The bartender, Camille, judging by her name tag, reached their table and Elena was surprised when Elijah engaged her in a short but clearly familiar conversation. Camille seemed equally surprised to find him here at this hour, seated with a woman. Clearly, it wasn’t a habit of his. She chose not to analyze how that made her feel.

“What can I get you?” She asked with a friendly smile. She really was quite beautiful.

Unsurprisingly, Elijah asked for bourbon. Elena stifled a laugh, asking her to make her whatever she fancied most. This time, it was Elijah’s turn to chuckle and Camille joined him, shaking her head.

“Family habit, I see.”

Elena froze, eyes growing wide, but Elijah didn’t contradict her and Camille went on her merry way back to the bar, only throwing one furtive glance back.

“Family habit?”

Elijah shook his head, rearranging his glass so it sat just so in front of him. She valiantly resisted the urge to push it back just to mess with him.

“I may or may not have told her the exact same thing when I first met her. She’s become somewhat of a friend of ours since then.”

“She seems nice.”

He nodded, pensive again. She managed to hold eye contact for all of three seconds before looking back down at her hands, fiddling with the string of her purse.

“Elena.”

She looked back up just as Camille brought them their drinks. Cautiously, she took a sip, surprised at the depth of flavors that exploded on her tongue. Her wonder must have shown on her face because Camille laughed.

“I’ve learned a thing or two about making vampires drinks. I hope it’s to your taste?”

Elena shot her a look, taken aback, but Elijah simply smiled.

“You can call me Cami, by the way. I hate my full name but Elijah still hasn’t fully internalized that yet.”

The man in question simply sniffed, the epitome of snobbishness, and Elena laughed. It wasn’t her laugh from before, but she had missed the sensation anyway.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but I don’t think he ever will.”

Cami sighed dramatically, tucking her tray under her arm.

“Yeah, I think I got that. Anyway, enjoy!” She gave them another smile and moved on to another table.

With her gone, Elena was once again confronted by her own feelings, bubbling up to the surface. The drink helped, turning down the faucet of emotions a little, just so she could breathe without it hurting too much. She brought her hands on the table, lowering her drink, her index finger running in circles around the rim.

“Elena?”

This time her name was a question, one she couldn’t hope to evade. She shouldn’t anyway, that’s why she was here in the first place but damn was it hard to force herself to look back up into his eyes.

“What happened?”

He asked the question flat out, the frown returning.

“How do you know anything happened?”

“Because I know that nothing would bring you within a hundred miles of my brother of your own free will.”

“I’m here of my own free will,” she said, too quickly. His frown deepened.

“Is anyone here with you?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, I came on my own.”

His eyebrows shot up right into his hairline and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, when had the Salvatores ever let her do something on her own, much less when it involved him?

“They…” she swallowed, “they don’t know I’m here. Nobody does.” She released a quiet laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I expect they’re all up in arms back home, wondering where I’ve gone.”

She looked back down at her drink, taking a sip. Her finger beat a restless rhythm against the glass. Slowly, Elijah reached over, giving her time to evade him if she wanted to, and brought his hand to cover hers.

“Elena, sweetheart, what happened?”

The endearment flowed from his lips seemingly without his own accord, if the slight widening of his eyes was any indication. His jaw clicked shut, his eyes flickered back down to their hands, but he didn’t take it back.

Elena rather liked the way it sounded.

She took a breath.

“You know my humanity was off a few weeks back, yes?”

Of course, he knew. She’d practically spat it in his face right before Katherine did a very Katherine thing and snapped her neck like a twig. Idiot.

He just nodded silently.

“Well, what I didn’t tell you back then was that I, hum… I—I was sired. To Damon. He—I… There was… a sire bond. Between us.”

Elijah went deadly still, the motion of his thumb running across the back of her hand stilling. His eyes hardened impossibly, but she knew whatever it was that he was feeling, it wasn’t meant for her. Or rather, it wasn’t aimed at her.

“You were sired,” he said flatly, tonelessly.

And here was the Elijah she remembered from that mansion in the fields.

“It was… a side effect, I just… I—” she faltered, her eyes dropping back to her hands. She tried to escape his grasp but he wouldn’t let her, resuming his caress. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and the tension bled from his shoulders.

“Did he know?”

No use disguising it.

“Yes.”

The air became even more still.

“He knew you were sired to him while the two of you were together?”

Elijah looked faintly sick, the tick in his jaw growing more intense.

“Yes.”

Another deep breath, deeper than the last. She felt his hand twitch over hers, but the soothing motion of his thumb never stopped.

“Did he attempt to free you, at least?” He asked. She shook her head. And then he asked the question she’d been dancing around for the past twenty minutes. “Did he demand you turn it off?”

Elena heard the unspoken question, the one she knew would tip it all over. But she couldn’t lie to him, she’d never been very good at it anyway.

“Yes.”

Everything went quiet, the air became electric, like the calm before the storm, right before the first rumble of thunder could be heard and the first lightning strike the sky clean in half. Right now, Elijah’s eyes were that sky, dark and stormy, a rage so potent in them she was strangely fascinated by it. The muscle of his jaw tensed impossibly more and she worried he might crack it entirely.

She had never seen him so angry.

If not for the soft contact between their hands, she might have been a little scared. Just a little. Because she remembered those words and in that moment, there was perfect clarity.

Always and forever.

She was quite certain that, should she ask him to end her sire, to bring her his head, he would. Happily, gleefully and without a hint of regret. She wasn’t sure she herself would feel any, and wasn’t that a nasty little surprise.

She should feel regret. She knew that even just bringing up the subject with him meant placing Damon (and by extension, Stefan) in the line of fire, but she couldn’t bring herself to regret anything. She’d waited so long to give voice to those feelings—the shame, the disgust, the loathing, the pain. She would not take them back now.

“Say the word, lovely Elena, and he will suffer.”

It really shouldn’t have been even remotely attractive, the way he said it. But it was, and she let herself feel it.

“I… I don’t know what I want.”

Elijah nodded, a tiny movement of his head, but full of understanding. She took a breath. One hard part was done, but there was still the larger question, looming in the back of her skull. She was more than a little worried, though. What she wanted to ask him—what she needed him to do… that would violate the terms of their friendship like never before. She didn’t want to ask it of him but she knew she needed to remember something else, and for the life of her she couldn’t remember what. But she knew it was important. Her brain was shielding her for a reason, but she—the Elena who had had her choices taken from her at every turn since her transformation—needed to know.

Or else how could she hope to feel whole again?

So, she straightened, automatically readying herself to launch into an x, y, z explanation of why that was the best choice—and why she was making it.

“There’s something else.”

Elijah tensed, she was surprised that she managed to notice it at all.

“But we can’t do this here…” she chewed on her lip, eyes flickering between him and the other patrons in the bar. “Is there somewhere… somewhere more…” she gestured wordlessly, tired already.

But Elijah had never needed words to understand her, certainly not with the way he was watching her now. It was strangely reminiscent of a hawk, but it wasn’t discomforting.

Maybe an owl. A wise, old owl trying to figure out the puzzle before him. Funnily, she had never before thought of herself as “puzzling” but judging by his look, she might have to reconsider. She was, in her honest opinion, an incredibly simple person: she loved her family and friends, was far too oblivious of things until it was too late, took her coffee ninety percent black, and never failed to help out when it was needed.

But looking at herself in Elijah’s dark brown eyes the reflection she saw was not one of simplicity.

“There is somewhere more discreet. I doubt anyone will be here at this hour.”

“Not even vampires?” She asked as he helped her out of her chair.

He smirked. Elijah Mikaelson actually honest to god smirked at her.

“They know better.”

She laughed.

❧

“A church? Seriously?”

Elijah made a show of ushering her in, suited up arm extended in invitation.

“It’s not even Sunday.”

“Thankfully.”

In the silence of the church, Elena repressed a giggle with great difficulty. It was quieter than a tomb, inside. Although, she really wasn’t sure who had first come up with this particular phrase, but she’d love to hear their explanation because in her informed opinion, tombs were anything but quiet. There was always the whisper of the wind, the pitter-patter of bugs and rodents foraging in the cracked stones paving the way to the afterlife.

Or maybe that was just her experience since she’d turned.

Huh.

She took in her surroundings. It was obvious that the place had sat deserted for a while but had just been opened up again. There were wood planks lined along the walls and several canvas sheets haphazardly thrown around on the pews.

“Where are we?” She asked, taking in the smell of dust, wood and stone.

Elijah’s footsteps echoed behind her. “St Anne’s Church. Our local priest seems to be out tonight.”

“You know the priest?”

He had been pagan, in his youth, right?

Elijah gave her his signature half-smile in response, dragging a finger through the dust that had settled on one the benches. “He’s Camille’s uncle.”

“Small world.”

“Welcome to New Orleans.”

Exhaling on a chuckle, Elena sat down on one of the benches, somewhere between the door and the altar, at the middle point of the nave. She didn’t know why but she didn’t feel good enough to sit at the front. Elijah took a seat next to her, their shoulders brushing together, his presence grounding her. On a whim, before she could think better of it, she grasped his hand, gripping perhaps a little too tightly. He didn’t complain, simply resuming his earlier soothing caresses on the back of hers.

“I need to ask you something, Elijah.”

“You can ask anything of me, lovely Elena.”

He was sincere. She didn’t have to look at him to know that.

“You probably won’t like it.” She warned.

He tilted his head in question; she heard the soft sound of his collar brushing against his jaw.

She took the plunge and braced herself for the ice cold rush of the water.

“I need you to compel me.”

❧

Whatever it was that Elijah had expected to hear, it certainly wasn’t that.

His shoulders tensed on instinct, his lips parting on a soft gasp. Elena’s hand gripped his tighter, perhaps afraid he would let go.

He never could have, anyway.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, meeting the wide-eyed stare he couldn’t even begin to disguise. There was a pleading at the bottom of hers, pooling in the form of tears that gathered on her lashes before falling softly, tracing her cheeks with wet streaks. He fought against the urge to wipe them away.

“I need you to help me remember something. There’s… I—” she took in a breath, exhaled, completely oblivious to the feeling that ignited in him when heard the words “need” and “you” in the same sentence, coming from her. She tried again. “There’s something… something I can’t place, a… a darkness that lingers at the edge of my mind when I try to think back on what happened.”

He brought his hand up then, unable to face her tears and remain still. He caught a strand of her and brought it behind her ear, revealing more of her beautiful face. The wide doe eyes that met his could only belong to her.

“What happened when?” He prompted, gently running his thumb back and forth along her jaw.

She sighed, leaning into his touch. He marveled at being able to touch her so freely.

“When I was still sired to Damon.”

The way she bit out the words made his heart clench. There was indeed something in her eyes, a strange haunting of sorts. It darkened the edges of her eyes slightly, turning warm brown into dark chocolate. It would have been quite bewitching if not for her tears.

Centuries of instinct suddenly woke up in his chest, growling as it shook itself awake, unfurling from a long sleep.

“I just… I need to make sure of something.” She rushed on, “I know that my brain is likely trying to protect me but—” she growled softly, tugging her hair back, “but I don’t want to be protected. I want to remember it all.” He brushed his thumb under her eyelid, catching a single tear, making her sigh again. She seemed to shrink, releasing his hand and drawing her arms around herself. He recognized it for the protection mechanism it was.

The beast in his chest growled louder.

“I feel like half myself and I don’t even know why. It’s exhausting.”

She looked back up at him, her beautiful eyes full of unshed tears that threatened to fall at any moment. He was powerless to resist. He knew then he would do whatever it was she asked of him if only to never have to see her cry again.

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

The relief in her eyes was unmistakable. He realized with a start that she had expected him to argue with her. He pursued his lips, caressing her jaw again. These… children truly had worked a number on her.

“I need you to compel me to remember it all. Tell me to remember everything that happened while I was under the influence of the sire bond.” She said in as determined a tone as he had ever heard from her.

And so, he complied.

Gently, he took her face in his hands, holding her tenderly, like she was made of porcelain. He supposed, in his hands, she always would be. And he compelled her, her pupils dilating as she took in his order, body growing first lax and then as taught as a bowstring. Her hand shot out to dig into his thigh and the feeling would have registered as painful if his attention hadn’t been fixed on the utter devastation on her face.

She took a breath but it came out as a sob, a heart wrenching sound that tore him apart.

“He… oh my god, he—” she looked up at him, wide-eyed, and he felt the beast in his heart bare its teeth, “he… he didn’t… oh god—oh god, no, I—I didn’t want to! I didn’t! Oh my god—” she whimpered, and he finally couldn’t take it anymore.

Slowly, gently, he took her in his arms as she sobbed. She molded to him, her small hands gripping his shirt so tightly he was certain she would rip it off. She curled up, half in his lap, and buried her head against his neck, her tears soaking his collar.

He was certain of only one thing as he gently rocked her against him, wincing as the scream she let out into his shoulder tore though his heart.

Damon Salvatore would die a slow, painful death for what he had done.

❧

Elena wasn’t sure how long she cried in Elijah’s arms, only that he never once let her go. He was careful not to hold her too tightly, and she knew he had understood the magnitude of what she had just uncovered.

Damon hadn’t stopped himself from sleeping with her while she was under the influence of the sire bond. He hadn’t tried to free her from it, once he’d known, and he’d carried on as things were and she, helpless to do anything but please him, had done exactly just that.

But now, with the veil lifted, she knew in her heart that she hadn’t wanted to. It was too soon after Stefan, too early in her transition. The feelings of love had been heightened by her Turning and by the sire bond, turning into a deadly cocktail of dependence. If only she had known.

She whimpered, a broken sob wrenching its way out of her—how many did she have left? It couldn’t be many, she was so very tired.

Elijah’s arms tightened around her, his hand stroking her hair gently. She felt the ghost of his lips at the crown of her head, the touch doing more to calm her than anything had so far.

She hadn’t wanted to sleep with Damon. But she had anyway, forced by the sire bond.

And it should matter to her that he hadn’t known that. That he hadn’t known that she didn’t want him like that, not yet anyway, but it didn’t. It should matter that, technically, he had also been a victim of the sire bond, unable to stop it, but it didn’t. Because once he had known, he hadn’t taken steps to help her out of it and she wasn’t in a position to help herself.

He got exactly what he wanted.

A Katherine do-over.

Elena barely registered the anger before she was flipping an entire bench over, throwing it against the walls of the church. There was a vicious feeling in her chest, clawing its way out and she lashed out again, ripping the legs off of the bench and breaking them in half, the wood splintering into her hands, drawing blood from cuts that healed almost immediately.

Fury, that was the feeling.

It was so unfamiliar that she was momentarily stunned by the sheer force of it.

Her eyes flashed red, veins rippling on her cheeks and she flipped another bench on its head before collapsing on the floor, crying again.

She had loved him. Had been on her way to falling in love with him.

And he had betrayed her.

She was so very tired. Tired of feeling, tired of remembering, tired of existing. The pain of that betrayal, the shame that came with it, added to the duller, less pronounced pain of his hand in shutting off that part of her that made her her protruded from her heart in sharp edges and she distantly wondered if that’s what being staked felt like.

Until she felt Elijah’s arms around her once more. Effortlessly, he scooped her up into his arms, cradling her like she was something infinitely precious to him. She barely registered the blur of movements and the wind in her hair that indicated he was running. She was so bone tired that the comforting warmth of the blanket he draped over her before running a hand down the side of her face barely registered with her either.

Through the haze of her tears, she saw his face, eyebrows drawn together in worry. He tucked the blanket a little higher under her chin and she managed to grasp onto the edges, burrowing under it.

“Is there anything you need?” His voice was pained, a small crack the dead giveaway to the unbelievable fury she could feel rolling off him.

She shook her head, sniffling.

“Do you want me to call your friends? Caroline, perhaps?”

All she could do was shrug, entirely unsure about everything. Her world had just toppled over. But Elijah hadn’t. He was here, as stalwart as he had always been and there was at least an inkling of hope that lit up in her at that.

She had been right.

She was right to trust him.

#now imagine when she discovers what Damon did to Caroline?#basically that's terapsina's fic and for that reason alone you should 100% go read it #the dynamics between Elijah and Elena here are heavily inspired by Anonymous Observer's fic #it's an absolute masterpiece my friends #10/10 recommend #anyway i might turn this into a series over on ao3 but no promises #elijah mikaelson #elena gilbert #elijah x elena #elejah #fanfic #tvdu #tvd fandom #the originals #to #my writing #Elena goes to NOLA and reunites with Elijah #who's still 100% whipped

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yourghostwrotethis · 11 months ago

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Fic Recs #4

Hello and welcome back to the fourth instalment of my fic rec posts! Check out #1 here, #2 here, and #3 here. All of these can also be found in my #fic rec tag!

This post (well, these fics) are brought to you thanks to the work of the wondrous mods over at @aziraphales-library! Check them out if you haven’t already, and give them a big thank you :)

Please do recommend stuff to me! (See at the end for what I like, and of course, I wouldn’t rec these if I hadn’t liked them, so they’re also an indicator of my tastes!)

This post has four long fics and two short fics, with varying tropes and styles!

The Ghost of Husbands Past (E)

by A_N_D (@madenthusiasms)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it!

But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner.

Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either.

Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas.

It’s a time of hope, love, and family.

It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

Words: 94042 (Complete)

If you like fics that don’t hesitate before punching you in the gut, this is one of them. From the very first chapter, one is intrigued by the mystery of the whole story, and the events are so unpredictable that I can guarantee you’re in for an eventful ride.

Talk about the weather (M)

by nightbloomingcereus (@moondawntreader)

Television meteorologist Aziraphale Fell and Youtube storm chaser A. J. Crowley have nothing in common aside from a purely professional interest in the weather and a mutually beneficial arrangement to lend a hand when needed. So what if they bicker and flirt more than your typical professional acquaintances, or if their arrangement inevitably veers into more personal territory? It's not as if they're in love or anything. Absolutely not.

Words: 81582 (Complete)

I binged this fic in one evening and it was wonderful. It’s very fluffy, and the whole thing feels like it falls into place naturally. The banter is wonderful, and I’d associate this fic with the word “happy” because that’s what I felt when I was reading it. It’s so nice, and I love human AUs and social media ones - this is a great mix of the two!

The Plantom Menace (G)

by theinkwell33 (@splitting-infinities)

There is an urban legend well known in this area regarding The Plant Man. Footage exists, blurry and ill-lit, of the trespassing fiend, but it never provides a good look at his face. He exists only as a rumor; a giggled whisper in someone’s ear at the pub, an inside joke at uni, and a viral sensation. None of these things mean he is not real. That being said, the only person who can corroborate the truth about the Plant Man is the man himself. And unfortunately, Anthony J. Crowley has no idea that it’s him.

Words: 3608 (Complete)

Short, sweet, and hilariously funny, this fic is a lovely outsider POV one shot featuring mundane events in the ineffable pair’s lives. I’d already read this a long time ago and it cracked me up as much now as it did back then. Filled with funny meta jokes and real humour, this is golden.

An Educator’s Guide to Latin and Lobsters (G)

by theinkwell33 (tagged above)

Aziraphale's been saddled with chaperone duty on a school field trip to the aquarium, even though he's a Latin professor who knows absolutely nothing about fish. One would think it'd be his downfall, but it turns out the only one it slays is one Anthony Crowley, marine biologist and harried aquarium employee.

Words: 3729 (Complete)

Another short story by the same author, with a delightfully harried Mr. Fell and just-socially-awkward-enough Crowley. If you know nothing about fish, like mermaids, or want to read a short and sweet meeting fic, this is for you (no one needs to know which).

Across the Line (T)

by hope_in_the_dark (@hope-inthedark)

Ezra is a student in his final year at University College London, and he’s in love with a man he’s never spoken to. For months, Ezra has been tipping (and pining after) a musician named Crowley every time he sees him. He thinks that Crowley hasn’t noticed him, but Crowley has. A love story that begins with, of all things, the saving and handing over of a book. (Written for the Good Omens Mini Bang. Multi-chapter human AU - updates every week until completion!)

Words: 31006 (Complete)

This story is just… fluff. Pure fluff. Tooth-rotting fluff. No conflicts. It’s great! It’s a very cute story featuring a beautiful tale of falling in love, but with some stuff that makes it extra special. It feels real, in a way, unlike many of the stories told in fan fiction (this isn’t a problem, just a statement of fact), and there are small things that make it mean the world to me. Gender non-conforming Crowley, neurodivergent Aziraphale, plus some extra bonus tropes, AND it’s ace… this is sweet and lovely :)

And to finish off this list…

Thieves of Mercy (T)

by Fyre (@amuseoffyre)

The Serpent has a reputation in the art world. A master thief who can wriggle into the tightest spots and extract the most well-protected paintings from the richest people in the world. He’s never even come close to being caught. Except just now. For a crime he didn’t commit. In a museum where he was scoping out his next job. Crowley’s not one to be petty but he’s not about to let anyone frame him, even if the person in question seems to be nothing more than an innocent, wide-eyed art restorer who works in the museum… _________________________________

When Good Omens meets art thievery and heist shenanigans

Words: 64168 (Complete)

HEIST FIC! HEIST FIC!

This story is seriously amazing, and I love it to bits. It has art history, found family, snarky jokes, mistaken identity, and everything that comes with the pair being (thick as) thieves! I could rant about this for ages. Don’t test me. (Or please do.) It’s just amazing and unexpected and a nice breath of fresh air after reading so many tropes! (And I like those! But after staying cosy in bed for the whole day, you do have to let some fresh air in, and that’s exactly what this is!) There are twists and turns and plot turnarounds that will leave you dumbfounded, and things don’t necessarily turn out how you’d expect.

This also reminds me of wasteland, baby which I previously recced - it has the same basic atmosphere, but a very different structure!

Please recommend fics! I’ll admit I haven’t had time to read many in a few months, but here are my tastes:

I am a VERY BIG FAN of AUs (usually human ones). Give me them!! Coffee shop, fake relationships, social media, soulmates, anything! Of course I like other stuff - and I do have some particular soft spots, notably for the Bentley - so please do recommend anything that you liked, it doesn’t matter whether it’s short and complete, or long and ongoing, or any combination! I’m always on the lookout for recommendations of any sort, so I’ll take most anything (and if you have a doubt, rec it anyway!)

You can also check out my Good Omens bookmarks here on AO3 :)

#Me #fic rec #fic #fr4 #it’s complete this time!

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jillsandwhichs · 2 months ago

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Heart on my sleeve

A Valenfield Story , Chap 3 , Makin' you sweat

Masterlist

Pairing: Jill Valentine & Chris Redfield

Summary: Chris and Jill do end up going on that run together, get breakfast too as well as getting to know each other even more

WC: 3.7k

Type: SFW

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Must be this apartment complex.

Chris stood outside of the complex Jill is currently residing in. They exchanged phone numbers on Tuesday and now it's Saturday and they've talked quite a bit. They set on Chris meeting her outside her place, then they'll begin their run. It'll be a short one, but a sweat breaker for sure. From Jill's place, Moon Donuts is just a couple minutes away and with running, they'll be there in no time.

He sat down on a bench, the bitter air wooshing past him, it felt good, adrenaline pumping. Since it is December, it's rather cold out. Raccoon City is still expecting that blizzard to hit at any moment, that will be pretty shitty once it happens. Usually, during any snowstorm, work is cancelled due to the main roads being way too icy but sometimes, Wesker doesn't care and has everyone come in anyways. The police department is rather keen on attendence.

Although, any day off Chris can get, he will take glady.

Chris's digital watch read the time. It is currently nine in the morning, a perfect time to start a run; Half of the time, he starts even earlier. He hopes this run will go smoothly. Hopefully he doesn't eat shit right in front of Jill, that would be beyond embarrassing. He would rather fall in front of a group of College girls than Jill. Oddly enough, he'd rather impress her which is a notion he never tends to feel for women. Jill is just special, he supposes.

Another thing with this run is that he'll be able to get to know Jill a bit better. He knows some things such as her music taste, her parents and siblings, but not much else and she seems to be an interesting woman.

Chris has just been opened to an entirely new world recently. When Jill became a S.T.A.R.S member, specifically rear security, things in his mind changed. He had told himself he'd never let someone in, that he'd always keep to himself but yet, Jill makes him want to open up by just being with her. Herself alone is great company and Chris always gets bored with the men at the office. He can't tell if it's just because she's fresh meat or because he genuinely feels for her.

Only time will tell.

The sound of the complexes entry door opening was heard, then he saw Jill walk out. She looked great, even in workout wear.

She was wearing a maroon red jacket with capri black leggings, it was suitable for the weather they were having today. Chris stood up and gave her a quick smile. "You look nice." He complimented her. "Thank you Chris, you do too." She chuckled, pushing her brunette hair out of her face. "Yeah..." He huffed out with a snicker, "You ready or is there anything you have to do first?" "I'm ready, just a second though, I'm going to re-tie these shoes, just for safety measures." She stated as she crouched to do her thing.

Chris nodded, understanding where she was coming from.

Deciding to make some small talk, he spoke up.

"How'd ya sleep last night?" "Good, surprisingly." Jill laughed, focusing on her laces. "You?" "Decent, per usual." Chris replied, his voice soft. "Well then, how's your weekend been?" "Also decent, went to visit my sister yesterday." Chris responded. "Sounds like a fun time. I just stayed inside all of yesterday after work, ordered some food and binged watched some television." Jill said kindly, standing back up after finishing off her second shoe.

"Also sounds fun... You ready now?" "Completely." She snorted and got into a running stance as they both began to jog.

The Arctic air in Raccoon City made this run a tad bit more difficult. The cold breeze flowing down their lungs, it hurt but at the same time felt so damn good. Cold sweats break out a lot quicker too, so Chris was already feeling it. Although, Jill on the other hand, barely breaks one - Lucky. Cars flew in by as they ran, most people driving to diners or into work since sadly, some people are required to work weekends. Not only that, some people were out walking their dogs and keeping their peace.

People often paint Raccoon City as a picture perfect town and while it does appear that way in most cases, it really isn't. Most haven't seen it's dark side. That includes both Jill and Chris.

The sound of snow crunching beneath their fast feet was heard and oddly enough, sounded peaceful. It brought a sense of reality to Chris. Chris's footsteps were much louders than Jill's as he weighs much more, he could hardly hear hers. It wasn't the most safe option, running on snow on a chilly day, but alas. It felt nice. Chris hasn't been on a run in God knows how long so finally getting out and going on one, and it being with a pretty lady, he'll call it a win for him.

"Feeling good?" Jill asked Chris, a slight giggle being heard from her too. "Yeah, haven't been on a jog in quite some time, feels great to break the cycle." He huffed out. "I try to go on them as much as possible, they make me feel alive." Jill hummed out. Her hair bounced as she ran and remained looking perfect. Now how is that possible? Maybe she really is an Angel. "It's weird because my insides feel warm whereas my body actually feels cold, but then again, never have I ever ran in the snow." "Not once?" "Never." Jill replied.

Chris found that surprising. An active girl whose never ran during the Winter time?

"Well alrighty then," He chuckled, "You ready to get breakfast today? I haven't been to the donut shop in some time." "I am, I got their menu in the mail the other day, hung it up on my fridge." "Yeah, they send them out every so often, did you glance over it?" "A little bit, but I wanted to look more at the shop itself." Jill responded, her voice sounding a bit deeper than usual due to the cold air and adrenaline from jogging. It's hard to speak and run, of course, you're running out of breath as it is.

They turned a corner, the big movie LED posters shining brightly. Even whilst it snows, they stay on. Currently, three movies are showing in theatre, a stupid teenage girl film, a film about an undercover agent and another Disney film, all look decent at least. The last time he went to the movies was with his little sister, Claire, for her birthday. She wanted to lay it low that day, so they spent it together. It was nice considering she's always off and gone.

So, so, so many stores surrounded the streets to the city. Raccoon City is notorious for its amount of small businesses, that is how a lot of companies started out, was here. Now, a couple companies have gained massive audiences and are doing well for themselves, such as Umbrella. Chris doesn't know too much about it aside from the fact they sell just about everything. Medicine, drinks, food, etc, they seem decent enough although he's never purchased anything from them besides Aquacure.

While running, Jill spoke up, asking Chris a question. "What's that place?" "It's a boutique. There's two in the city, one here and one down by Moons too." "Ah, nice." Jill nodded, turning her head back forward. "I don't perceive you as the girly type though." Chris stated. Truthfully, she came off as a tomboy, which is very attractive in his eyes. "Oh? Well, I'll have you know I'm very into modeling, makeup too. If I wasn't an officer, I bet I could've done modeling." "Yeah, you could've." Chris blurted out, feeling a bit stupid afterwards.

He wasn't wrong though.

She definitely could've and still can, she's stunning.

"You think so? I always thought of it morely as a 'maybe'." Jill spoke softly, her lack of confidence making a breakthrough. It's not that she totally lacked it, Jill is aware she's not ugly and has nice looks, but looks for a model? Absolutely not. But to Chris, he feels otherwise. "I think so. You're gorgeous, Jill." Chris tried his best to remain cool about her question. What was he gonna do, fan girl? No. He doesn't wanna seem like a weirdo but yeah, she's hot or whatever.

"Thank you." She cooed to him, her eyes on his face momentarily. Their eye contact was short lived yet intimate in the best way imaginable. "You're welcome, Jill."

He felt the need to run faster now, it felt refreshing. Both things currently felt like a fresh breath of air - The run & Jill. Just being around her awakens something in him. He doesn't mean to feel like a cliche, but she's like a God send. For all the times he's felt down, he's wondered how having a special person in his life would feel. How having someone in his life who he can come to consistently would feel. Not to jump the gun but, maybe, just possibly, Jill could be that very person for him.

It's only a matter of whether or not she feels the same way.

Running even more, they were only about a minute away from 'Moons Donuts' and both of them were increasingly more excited. "What's your usual there?" "Two donuts and a coffee but if I'm not feeling something sweet, I'll get a hot breakfast." "Donuts sound great, especially after this run." Jill tittered. "Good to get some calories back in, huh?" "Definitely." Jill giggled, her cheeks puffing up as she did. Seeing Jill's laughs warmed Chris's heart up. Just seeing her happy in general does.

The wind around them began to pick up. A light amount of snow began to trickle down onto them, and even the snow on the ground started to woosh around them. The burst of cold air felt lovely but at the same time, bad. Chris shivered, his body suddenly getting colder than before, he could feel his hands becoming numb from the cool atmosphere.

"We should pick up the pace, I'm starting to get colder than I should be." "Gotcha." She gave him a determined nod, her legs jogging more briskly. Chris was grateful that she was able to do something so small yet kind for him. He did the same. His fibrow legs bolted faster, he even passed Jill. "Hey," She snickered, "Wait up, Chris!" She also bolted, now passed him. A little competition? Chris doesn't mind one bit.

Moons Donuts was just ahead of them, directly in view. "Let's race then." Chris shouted, his throat feeling scraggly from the chipper winds. "You're on, now!" Jill yelled back, running as fast as she could. "Not fair." Chris chortled, his legs trying their best. He had to give it to her - She is quick. But most definitely not as quick as he can be. Right as Jill hit the stairs that lead down to the second set right before the diner, Chris jumped down them, taking a huge risk.

He didn't wanna fall flat on his ass in front of her, yet he gave it a shot, going to show how competitive he is.

"Holy moly!" She bursted out into a bellow, watching as Chris jumped and landing perfectly. "That was-" She giggled, "Not expected." She stopped running, deeming Chris as the winner. "Guess that means I won?" "I'll give it to you." Jill said sarcastically, it was cute how she spoke sometimes... Or all the time... They now casually ambled down the steps together, side by side, both being careful as to not slip on the ice currently forming on the platforms.

"Looks a little busy." Jill voiced, referencing the donut shop. "It may be, but it's alright, yeah?" "Mhm." She gave him a friendly nod.

Chris opened the door for her, allowing her to enter first. "Ladies first?" "Hah, thank you." Jill snickered, strolling inside. Chris looked around outside for a few seconds before entering the diner. The smell of the fresh breakfast aroma was pleasant as can be and the sounds of families and couples enjoying it brought glee to Chris and Jill. They're both empaths. "Smells amazing." "Tell me about it." Chris agreed with her. It smells all kinds of good. A couple people were in front of Chris and Jill, giving them some time to decide what they'll each order.

"Whatcha thinkin'? I'll pay, it's on me." Chris pulled out his brown leather wallet. A deep concerning look came over Jill's face. "Hey, no no, I can pay for myself." Jill set her hands on Chris's, almost seemingly trying to push his hands away so he'll stuff his wallet back. "Woah, no. You're going to let me pay. It's the least I can do for you accompanying me this morning." Chris countered her pleas, really wanting to do just this one thing for her. "My guilty conscious won't let me." "And my guilty conscious won't let me allow a lady to pay for herself when a man is right here." "Isn't that a bit sexist?" "No, it's chivalrous." Chris snickered, Jill's blushing was obvious.

Maybe she just doesn't want to admit it, but it's clear Jill enjoyed Chris being a gentleman. He doesn't mind. For a woman like her, he'd buy way more, this is nothing compared to what he can do for her.

"What're you feeling though? A donut? Coffee? Muffin?" Chris listed a couple random items, wanting to see if any sounded appealing to her. Jill's eyes went back to his face, a sense of timidness bubbling inside of him. Her eyes on him, it was nerve wracking. What if he looks dumb? Chris worries too much, he has no clue where he gets it from... "I thought about getting a glazed donut and coffee, I'm usually not very hungry in the morning." "Good choice then, I'll order it for you, how about you go sit down, I'll meet you there."

Jill gave him a soft smile, her eyes reminded him of pearls. She nodded and turned around, taking a seat at a booth in the corner of the diner. There was only one more person in front of Chris and they were finishing up their order. Moons Donuts seems to keep it hastey with taking orders and completing them. The staff has adapted to the business they tend to receive on weekends, especially in the earlier hours of the day.

The man in front of Chris finished and walked off, sitting down and waiting for his order. Chris stepped up, wallet in hand as he began to order. "I'll just take one glazed donut with warm coffee... I'll also take two bagels with straight black coffee." "You got it, sir. It'll be done here shortly." The kind woman responded. Chris smiled in a friendly way. "Thanks." He set the cash on the cleansed counter and turned around, wandering over to the booth Jill had chosen for them.

He sat down, taking notice of her pale face - The cold air probably got to her. "You okay?" "Yeah, just thirsty." "Ah," Chris shook his head up and down, "Your coffee will be here shortly, it should be refreshing, their coffee is great." Chris reassured her. Whenever Chris was speaking with Jill, his voice was softer than it normally is. What is it about her that captivates him so immensely? He feels the need to stare at her, talk to her, everything, all of it. Jill is an extraordinary woman and yet, Chris is only at the tip of the iceberg as to who she is as a person.

"Can I ask you something? Or an array of things? I just wanna get to know you better." Chris said with confidence. She isn't going to say no or avoid the question, if she were to, she wouldn't even be here in the first place. Or maybe Chris is just too cocky. "Well, sure, what is your question?" Jill's eyes twinkled as she stared at him, that made Chris feel a particular way, causing him to lose track of his words. "Well, I, it's- Ok." He laughed, rubbing his temple and trying not to feel embarrassed which was hard as all hell.

Jill tittered, her laugh so gleeful that it made Chris feel better by yards.

"Happens to the best of us," Jill said kindly, "Let's take turns asking one another questions, sure? I can go first." "A whole lot better than my idea. Go on." Chris laughed, running his fingers through his deep, dark brown hair. "Okay... What is your favorite color?" "Green, easy. Love it." "Go figure." Jill cackled, "Mine is blue but I fear that's quite obvious." She snickered. "Now, your turn." "Alright... Favorite animal?" "Great question, but I have multiple. Dolphins, dogs and foxes." "Cute but you do know dolphins are evil little critters, right?" Jill sat there for a second after he said that. He wasn't wrong. "Shhh." She giggled, Chris chuckled too.

She is so cute.

Chris thought for a moment. What were also his favorite animals? He finds all of them adorable. "I guess if I had to pick, I think Lions are beautiful and majestic... I'll have to go with them." "Rightfully so, they are gorgeous animals." Jill nodded, her lips making a curvy look, almost as if she was pouting, but not. "Favorite film? Mines a tie between the Ailen movies and Dirty Dancing." Jill said with honesty. Chris found her picks surprising. He didn't take her for a sci-fi enjoyer but alas

"Not gonna lie, Ailen? That was the last thing I expected you to enjoy." "All the films are very good, it's my cup of tea. Dirty Dancing is a guilty pleasure." Jill snorted. "Fair, fair... I like horror movies mainly. Texas Chainsaw Massacre and The Poltergeist have always been my go-to movies." "Oh, both are terrifying but I love them as well." Jill nodded. Chris felt happy in this very moment, just by getting to know her a little bit more. Jill is such an interesting woman.

Chris heard the sound of a woman's voice listing of their order, knowing he had to go and grab it. "Be right back." Chris leered at her before quickly standing up and marching to grab their food. "That'll be mine." Chris told the worker, kindly taking the food from her hands. "Have a nice meal." "Thanks." Chris brought their food and drinks back over to the booth and he arranged it so her food was on her side, and his food was on his. It was organized neatly.

"Thank you Chris." Jill said with a serene tone. "It looks good." Jill picked her donut up, a brown clear coat wrapping around it. "They are. I just got to regular bagels." Chris stated, taking his food out of its coating.

He began to spread the plain cream cheese all over all four slices, it smelt delicious; Chris couldn't wait to fuel his body up. Jill was already digging in which made Chris happy. She should eat, she just ran a good bit and eating after running is healthy. Once the cheese was spread nicely, Chris picked a slice up and took a chomp out of it, his body grateful for the nutrients. He finished his first bite and asked Jill yet again, another question.

"So, favorite food?" "Great question. Honestly, anything savory but especially Chinese food. I adore Chinese food." Jill cackled, sipping on her coffee which seemed to brighten her mood by a bit. "Understandable. I love breakfast foods. Eggs, sausage, cheese, etc, all of it is good to me." "Weird because I am totally the opposite," She replied, "I'm so much more of a dinner person, steak, pasta, potatoes, rice, etc, all of it is amazing." "Honestly, I love all food." Chris chuckled, earning a cutesy giggle from Jill.

They ate in silence for a bit.

It felt redeeming. Chris felt as though maybe he is finding himself? Through all of the anger and frustration he has put himself through these past couple years, maybe this is an outlet - Having someone like her around. Or maybe he's a damn fool. A fool whose damned to hell. Chris doesn't know it yet, but there is so, so, so much in store for him.

They eventually finished their food up, their conversation continuing to be casual and friendly until Jill says something rather questionable yet beautiful.

"I like being around you Chris. I heard some false rumors about you but I've out those aside. You're great." Jill cooed to him, her eyes so gentle and sweet it made Chris weak to the core. She doesn't understand how he is as a person but she'll learn. Chris has intense anger issues that he prays Jill will never witness, she doesn't deserve that. Chris gazed at her, his mouth slightly agape at her sentence. Does she really mean that?

"You're a sweet girl, Jill. Thank you. I enjoy being with you too." Chris vocalized softly, a heavy weight on his heart. For all the times he's caused someone pain over something minor, that guilt rests within him, and for some reason, with Jill, he wants to let it all go so he can proceed on with being a better man.

Only knowing her a week doesn't mean much, he feels like it's been forever. Time flies by when you're with someone special, huh?

"We should get going then, we're finished." Chris breathed in deeply, trying to hide his emotions. "You okay?" "Mhm." Chris nodded, cleaning up their food.

"I just don't think you realize how much that means to me, Jill." Chris whispered to her, their eye contact full of passion. "I think I do." Jill replied, setting her hand on top of his but soon pulled it away and stood up. "But you're right, we should." She collected herself and gave him a smile. "I'll be outside waiting." "Yeah, okay." Chris gave her a nod as she began to walk out.

Does she though?

#resident evil #tumblr fyp #chris redfield #jill valentine #valenfield #valenfield fanfiction #heart on my sleeve fanfic #chris x jill #jill x chris #romance #resident evil series #resident evil fanfiction #daily valenfield #valenfield otp #ship post #please reblog

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raccoonfallsharder · 1 year ago

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Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

masterlist

18+ only MDNI | rocket x f!oc | 27/27 chapters | COMPLETE | word count: 235,940.

girl falls first; raccoon falls harder.

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies).

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon back to main masterlist.

so many amazing sweet wonderful readers have drawn fanart of this fic??? ♡♡♡♡♡ jolie is written without much physical description so you can imagine whatever you want but if you'd like to see how i and others imagine her, i've linked them below. thank you for being the absolute sweetest.

jolie's painting of rocket by @hibataao3 makes me cry every time i look at it

very first portrait of jolie by @raccoonmybeloved ~ so fucking cute i died

sims of jo by @evolvingchaoswitch ~ particularly love her paint-spattered outfit

an absolutely drool-worthy nsfw of rocket & jolie by @lazarel-3000 that permanently has altered my brain chemistry and lives in my mind forever ♡♡♡

adorable jolie sketches by @moonnpiie that truly capture what i mean when i describe jo as having “everywhere-hair.” plus her lil art-glove! (and a really cute rocket)

the cutest jo by @frostedwitch in her chapter xxvii sweatshirt. she is so cute with such shiny eyes and cute freckles and i love her so so so much! ♡♡♡

this shiny-haired jo by @miinsie! i love her hair so much in this one - it almost looks iridescent. i swoon. thank you for taking the time to read and to share this lovely interpretation of jolie with me!

and here are my jolie character concepts (complete full-color illo & rough doodles) and an illustration of one of my fave scenes from window ♡

✧･ﾟ:*collects Chapters I-XXVII (below the cut) & a holiday special && a silly epilogue

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be .in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. * in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI. I Very Still. ❤︎❤︎ in which our heroes get fucked. In the good way, this time. Finally.

Chapter XXII. Got There Worse. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket does not say "I love you."

Chapter XXIII. We're Gonna Need a Bigger Table. ❤︎ in which the galaxy just keeps spinning.

Chapter XXIV. Space Would Be Better. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket ~ discreetly ~ claims the title of boyfriend.

Chapter XXV. Little Love Stories. in which both of our heroes learn a little about themselves. ❤︎

Chapter XXVI. Other Side of the Window. in which old friends are reunited. ❤︎

Chapter XXV. The Most Beautiful Thing in My House. in which our heroes finally get what they deserve.❤︎

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ a holiday special *

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short, silly fluff.

explicit lines or references* abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

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toastytoaster22 · 5 months ago

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Hiiiii toasty! 13, 19 and 24 for the weird writing game!

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Hm. Sex used to be astronomically difficult, but after pushing myself to write Leaps and Bounds, I think it would be much less of a struggle. I haven't actually written any sexual encounters since then though, so it might still be rough seeing as I am so out of practice. All I've been writing for the last three years is angst oops

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

OOf I know I have talked about this before but not recently. My big sister introduced me to fanfiction back in... I don't know, 2005 or something. Maybe earlier. She was in high school and into angsty slash fics. We only had a family computer so she used to read some stuff aloud to me when we were home alone. At some point I started looking for stuff I liked on my own and by 2007 most of my friends were reading too.

As a silly joke thing to do, me and three other friends all made accounts and published Harry Potter fics when we were juniors in high school. Two of them made spoof-like oneshots, but me and one other posted the first chapters of actual multi-chap stories. She went on to write over a million words for that particular series of fics, and I ... moved on to other fandoms. I started a couple fics that i never finished and only actually finished one multi-chap fic. It was poorly written and two short chapters but I did it!

Then i went to college and stopped writing for what turned into six years. I did other creative things instead and I read like crazy, but I didn't try writing again. My (then) boyfriend and I moved a couple times after graduating and eventually ended up in Virginia in 2016. I had very few friends and was frustrated by my job, and he was always busy, so i had tons of free time. At some point we had a conversation where i admitted to writing fanfic and he was DELIGHTED. he wanted to read it. I refused, but somehow in the flustered mess i admitted my penname, sooooo he said he could just look me up.

I was horrified that he would see my *cough*Suite Life of Zach and Cody*cough* fic and laugh at me for the rest of my life so i was very dramatic and begged him not to look. He gave me an offer.

I could let him read one of my old fics of my own choosing... Or I could write something new and let him read that.

I took the bait. I immediately changed my penname and noodled for a few weeks on what to write. I gathered all my long repressed love for Digimon and embarked on a six chapter angst fest. Which got interrupted by two one-shots and a collection of side stories. And then I wrote another. Then started a drabble series. Then branched off into the Tsubasa fandom. We moved three more times and I wrote a 50k fic in just over a year. We got married. Bought a house.

And then I found Mob Psycho 100.

And I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and covid hit and I wrote Break and I wrote Issho. and I got pregnant and I started Nightjar and then found out I was pregnant oops. That has slowed me down immensely. Having a toddler who STILL doesn't sleep is debilitating for my writing energy. But! The past few months I have been mostly working on my original story which I do not talk about online. Much progress is being made.

I will get back to Nightjar and Resonate but I am currently knee deep in worldbuilding.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

Oh god, depending on the length of the fic I spend anywhere from a week to a year getting it into shape before I actually write chapters to post. I put probably too much prep work into them. Timelines, character arc maps, pov pros and cons, messages I want to convey, moments i want to include. I write down everything before I start typing. I do it all by hand in notebooks bc i am old fashioned. i drink tea with too much honey and I listen to playlists and i think until my brain wants to melt. But thats fics like Issho and Nightjar and Resonate.

A lot of my oneshots are a moment of inspiration that i daydream about for days or weeks until I decide its good and ripe enough for others to see.

#toasty answers #nightjar #digimon #mp100 #issho #ask game #thank you #oh that wasn't all the questions wait #okay there we go

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 11 months ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers Game

Tagged by @jo-harrington. Thank you!

1) How many works do you have on A03?

According to AO3, 195. However I do know it’s more since I have made a few drabble compilation. Someday I’ll reorganize everything.

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

686,641

3) What fandoms do you write for?

Baldur’s Gate 3, Stranger Things, Marvel/MCU, Star Wars, The Magnificent Seven, M*A*S*H, Good Omens, and a scattering of other fandoms here and there.

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Skipping Drabble/Headcanon compilations

I Want It All (Astarion x Ace!Tav)

Life Is Inevitable Like That (Ineffable Husbands)

Trust Me (Poe Dameron x Reader)

An Unspoken Thing (Doctor Strange x Reader)

Questions (Ineffable Husbands)

5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to most of them, or at least try to. I think it’s important to building a community, which is what I hope I encourage. Also as a way to show that yes, I did read it and yes, commenting does matter.

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

What If…Loki Lost His Love?

I don’t do major character death or angst in general. It’s just not what I’m looking for in fics, but I actually think I did a good job on this one.

7) What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them? They’re basically all one-shots with happy conclusions. I think if my recent stuff, probably I Want It All.

8) Do you get hate on fics?

I did get one “kill yourself” message a few years ago, but it was just one person on anon. The reception to basically all of my fics have been positive.

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kinds?

I’ve written some smut. I’ve done a couple of Kinktobers and some for Clone Wars. I think the best way I can describe the way I write smut is “sensual”? And it’s a little rougher. Idk, somebody better versed than me could describe it better.

10) Do you write crossovers?

Not really

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I did have a few of my Poe Dameron fics stolen a few years back, but I messaged them and they quickly deleted the fic. That all being said, if anybody notices my works being stolen or copied, please let me know.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that anyone has told me.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My sister and I have talked about it, but no.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Ineffable Husbands

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

*glances at all WIPs I already have published and drawers full of WIPs saved on my computer*

What are you a cop?

16) What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, characterization and emotions. At least that’s what people have told me.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Prose. I’m still working on getting more creative with my descriptions. I could also really get better at scene setting in general.

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’m not against it, but use it wisely.

If you want to reader to understand what is being said, write it out in the language of the fic. This isn’t a movie. Putting a translation at the bottom of the chapter or in the middle of the sentence makes it sloppy. Instead type out “they said in X language, “___”.

However if you want a character to hear something being said in a different language and they don’t understand it, then type it out of you want.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

Unpublished? Harry Potter

Published? Sherlock (no you can’t read it)

20) Favorite fic you've written?

Don’t make me pick. I’ve written so much and I have a soft spot for so many for a variety of reasons. If you want to send me a fic title and ask me about it, I’ll gladly answer any questions you want.

Tagging @leighsartworks216, @kittttycakes, @can-of-pringles, @flapjacques and anybody else who wants to join in!

#about the author #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion x tav #ineffable husbands #good omens #poe dameron x reader #Star Wars #doctor strange x reader #marvel #mcu

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wildernessuntothemselves · 2 years ago

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Hi~♡ so, the list I said I could do right?

Turns out some of my favorites got recently deleted and I obviously can't recommend your own fics to you, so there are only 28 beomgyu fics/writings here (not counting multiple chapters of the same series). I also may have skipped a few just cause i was very tired while putting this together, idk, if i did i may make another list with them. As compensation I am giving a few sub!yeonjun ones at the end, hope it counts.

Quality and size of the writings vary a lot. I also don't know why the hybrid fics are all a little angsty. But seriously, three of the fics that disappeared were sooo good... and now I will never be able to read them again.

♡ Series

• Now Live! Stream

Summary: Every Thursday night at 8pm, you tune into your favourite camboy: Angel313. What you don’t know is he even goes to the same uni as you, is in the same class as you and is Choi Beomgyu, the campus fuckboy but will you keep his secret?

• On Accident

Summary: your roommate is cute but your thoughts haven't been so innocent lately

• Fuck You Series

Summary: you and Beomgyu are both from infamous rival bands at the same uni, you being the bassist of your band: Blue Moon. Beomgyu being the lead guitarist of his band: Tomorrow x Together . You hate Beomgyu the most out of all of them though and one night at a party you decide to teach him a "lesson" and become...fuck buddies ??

♡ Multi partners or Poly

• You never even wanna talk about it

genre: polyamory, runaways, smut, strict parents, hurt/comfort, set in mid 00’s.

• Kinktober day 12

Summary: Beomgyu wants to cum and goes about in in all the wrong ways. Which leads to him being forced to watch Yeonjun get off while he faces harsh criticism from their girlfriend.

♡ Fluffy smuts

• March 13th, 2001

summary: you show beomgyu how much you love him

• (nameless fic)

summary: beomgyu has been teasing you nonstop the entire day. calling you mommy every chance he could. he's amazed with how a word could make you so giggly. so he kept doing it.

• (nameless fic)

summary: inexperienced beomgyu getting off on fingering u for the first time

• Missed You

Summary: beomgyu sends you a very inappropriate video of himself whilst you’re at work.

• Pacifier

Summary: beomgyu loves your tits so much it gets him to cum untouched

• (nameless fic)

Summary: boobie boy Gyu

• Pretty Boy

Summary: cute boyfriend gyu misses you very very much and wants you to fuck him with your strap, so he decides to surprise you and be a good boy.

♡ Angsty smuts

• Until it Hurts a Little Less

(the author didn't make a summary for it, but basically y/n life is going from bad to worst, hybrid!gyu doesn't help by being a mean piece of shit, eventually you hit your breaking point and... you will have to read to figure out the rest)

• (nameless fic)

Summary: sub!dog hybrid Gyu is in heat and begging for help (I'm keeping this in the angsty category because y/n is overworked and ends up being mean to gyu in a non sexy way)

• Puppy

Summary: beomgyu acting like a bad puppy towards you and well.. you decide to turn the tables on him. so you fuck kitty!yeonjun in front of him

♡ Casual(?) Smuts

• (nameless fic)

summary: fuck buddy!beomgyu who loves marking you up. knowing that even if it's not him who you're fucking, the other person could never own you the way the have.

• (nameless fic)

summary: you met your older sister's best friend, beomgyu, at your sister's birthday party. you've been stealing glances with each other. flirting from afar until you got fired up with waiting for him to make a move on you. (there is no clear sub/dom dynamics here, but it's good so I'm keeping it here)

• (nameless fic)

summary: smoking with sub!beomgyu and things get a little heated

• High

(more smoking with beomgyu and things getting heated)

• My Pretty

(boyfriend gyu come over and find you still sleeping, so he decides to wake you up in the best way. he is not exactly subby, but very sweet and loving)

• Needy for You

Summary: you are close friends, laying on the bed cuddling until the innocent gentle touches turn into more suggestive touches and things happen

• Kinktober day 25

Summary: service top gyu likes being degraded

• Corrupt File

Summary: the pretentious genius boy in your class ends up being a needy subby virgin cutie

• Feel Good

Summary: softdom!reader makes her sweet pup feel good

♡ Perv!Gyu

• The Urge

Summary: Beomgyu knew it wasn't right, and he was being a dirty, disgusting pervert but, he just couldn't help himself when it came to you. (not exactly sub!gyu but he is so down bad it's worth it)

♡ Comedy (?) Smut

• Cuffed

Summary: Cop!gyu thinks with his dick

♡ Not smut, just whipped Gyu

• Nap of A Star

summary. you’re taking a nap on your friend’s lap

• 8:55PM

(just beomgyu simping for you in his head but not knowing how to act)

♡ BONUS: sub!junnie

• Sweet Creature

Summary: fairy!reader lures yeonjun into the woods

•𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒶 𝒷𝑜𝓎 ☽ 𝒶 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒷𝑜𝓎

Summary: another fic where fairy!reader lures yeonjun into the woods

• Morning Cuddles

Summary: Just waking up in the morning with him by your side...except a bit steamier than just that

• Love me More

Summary: yeonjun arranged what he called “fucking meetings” so he could make you forget about college for a bit, as the amazingly great person he was, clearly this isn’t sarcasm. but when you two left the room, you had to act like complete strangers around each other, dying to claim your true feelings. one day after he saw you getting to involved with another man, he decided to finally act up before he regretted it. Switch!Jun

• Call Connecting...

Summary: You and Yeonjun call frequently while hes on tour. Normally one of his members would be there with him, but this time, it’s just you two with nothing to stop you.

• Perv best friend Yeonjun

• Bunny hybrid!Jun

(I was gonna add the @s but I forgot and now I am tired, sorry)

~♡anon

thank you so much 😭😭😭😭😭

i actually know a lot of these (which just goes to show how few sub gyu fics there are out there) but there are some that i haven't seen before so yay. but even the ones that i know are nice to read again. i stayed up till 7 am reading some of them 😂

#ahhh thank you babe #mort talks #♡anon #fic recs

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knightzp · 1 year ago

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i was tagged to do this by @raeygina-george thank you raey!!! <3

1. three ships: rn id say ritsumao, mitsukou andddd xingyun

2. first ship ever: omg i dont think i remember.... okay wait it was probably percabeth back when i was 13. i wasnt super obsessed with them like i am with other ships now but they Were my first ship so yeah

3. last song: article of faith

4. last movie: i rewatched the second pirates of the caribbean movie with my sister and a friend yesterday!

5. currently reading: nothing.... i really need to go back to reading more enstars stories i still have some from my faves that i havent read yet </3

6. currently watching: im currently watching idolish7 and im loving it sooo much!!!! a friend recommended it to me and it is really good omg. i just finished the second season and i cried several times.... im containing myself from looking at fanart and posts abt it here bc i still need to watch s3 and i dont want spoilers but get ready bc it will happen Soon

7. currently consuming: nothing

8. currently craving: sleep and rest and not going to work tomorrow </3

i was also tagged by @qhostbat in a very similar tag game and since most of the questions were the same ill just add here the ones that were different ty tiaki!! <3

sweet/savory/spicy: sweet!!!

relationship status: single

current obsession: enstars has been my obsession for the last 10 months and it will continue for Long. also as i said earlier im getting quite into idolish7 recently so i think it checks out as a current obsession as well

last google: oleic acid

currently working on: my enstars bb fic!! just started writing another chapter today ✊

tagging: @seapasture / @solarshadow / @hardboiledteacozy / @pozge-pridumayu / @skijjiki / @torgawl / @em0-rat and anyone else who wants to!

#tag game

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seyaryminamoto · 1 year ago

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The Shadows in her Reflection: Sokkla Saturdays 2023

Day 5: Fire

Rated: M

On FF.net//On AO3

A/N:

Recent developments in ATLA's canon have basically decreed that this canon/comics-compliant fic is, of course, no longer canon/comics-compliant. This is no surprise to anyone, I'm sure. It's not even that the changes were huge, they weren't, but there's certainly one important difference between this story and the comic that I'd like to... talk about, I guess?

Azula's Kemurikage group, the Fire Warriors, what have you, have always been an awkward team due to the absolute lack of personality, development and fleshing out of how, exactly, they ever ended up working together. Azula broke them out of the asylum: why did they follow her afterwards? No one knows. Did she get along with any of them? No one knows. Everything is a huge question mark and, unfortunately, the new comic basically did nothing to answer these questions. Instead, it twists them even more by featuring the team being perfectly normal, adjusted, decent individuals while Azula is the only one who is a terrible, no-good person. This invites new questions: why were they in the asylum at all if there's no sign of mental illness or any unusual behavior in these people? Were they locked up under false pretenses of mental illness? If so, that should be fleshed out a bit more, right? Maybe being sent to an asylum when they were 100% okay, mentally speaking, is what makes people like them crave vengeance against the system!

... But that's not really how it reads, and it ends up proposing an interpretation of these characters that I frankly can't describe as anything but shrugworthy. Somehow they're not competent enough to avoid capture but they're competent enough to break free their imprisoned member, without Azula's help...? It's all too convenient, I'd say.

Point of all this is... the Zirin I wrote in this chapter was very much written over a month ago, probably two months ago instead. The character I decided to portray was not going to be a perfectly normal cute girl who loves her friends, because someone with that kind of personality doesn't make a lot of sense joining rogue Azula's terrorist group, if you ask me. I've constantly used Zirin's only line at Yang's hands to decide how to portray her, in which she comes off as brash, harsh, impatient, goal-oriented and willing to defy Azula. In this story, I've granted her a certain unique danger as a firebender that clearly is of my invention and has nothing to do with her canon portrayal. I'm saying all this to make it very clear that I understand how different this character turned out to be in the newest comic, and I acknowledge those differences... but I'm not rewriting this chapter, or this whole story, just to make a terrorist gang look like innocent little lambs who were just guided by a bad shepherd. If they could walk away as easily as they did, I don't understand what was keeping them with Azula in the first place.

Anyway. That would be that, as far as author's notes are concerned here. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter!

A tense silence hung in the air as Azula's placid mood shifted rapidly: she glared at her brother, whose golden gaze carried a mercilessness in it that starkly reminded her of someone else… someone he would do best not to try to imitate in any way.

That cruelty diminished when he turned his attention towards Ursa: his brow drew together slightly, puzzled by her presence around Azula, but he stepped towards her, reaching a protective hand to his mother's shoulder, as though to reel her to safety, away from his sister.

"I didn't know you were here…" Zuko said, his voice softer now. "Are you okay? Did she do anything to you?"

"She… no! Of course not!" Ursa exclaimed, startling Azula by her vehement, firm response. Zuko froze, eyes wide – the last thing he'd known about their bond, of course, was that Azula wanted to kill her own mother…

"W-well… good, then," Zuko said, still urging Ursa to pull away from the table she had been sitting at with Azula…

She didn't move.

"Mom?" Zuko frowned, glancing at Azula with eyes that turned from confused to accusatory in a heartbeat – he thought she'd done something to twist his beloved mother's mind, did he? As usual…

"What is the meaning of this?" Ursa huffed, shaking Zuko's hand off and folding her arms across her chest. "What do you think you're doing, Zuko?"

"What…?" Zuko scowled. "Mom, it's Azula! She's a hazard to your safety, to everyone's safety! You knew that, you've known that for years, she's been causing unnecessary trouble and chaos all across the Fire Nation and…!"

He faltered, frowning more heavily as the utterly confusing situation started to sink in: Azula… sitting placidly at a table with their mother. No screaming, no crying, no accusations, no murder attempts…

He froze on the spot, staring at Azula as though she'd suddenly twist herself into some manner of wicked spirit that could shapeshift as it pleased. Naturally, no such thing happened.

"And she's your sister. My daughter," Ursa said, firmly. Azula's heart jolted upon hearing her speak those words with such confidence. "And you? As far as I've understood, you issued out actual wanted posters asking for her death, Zuko? Did you, truly?"

For once, Zuko paled and backed down. It was almost amusing to see the Fire Lord balking over his mother's fury… but Azula couldn't help but dread whatever Zuko's ultimate reaction to this apparent betrayal might be.

"I… look, I've learned since then that I was wrong in some of my assumptions, but I only did that because it looked like she had kidnapped Sokka!" Zuko exclaimed. "Which… damn it. Guards! Search for Sokka in the rest of the house. Is he here, or did you ditch him somewhere when you had no use for him anymore?"

His snarl towards Azula displeased Ursa, but Azula wouldn't simply hide behind her mother throughout this conversation. Instead, she smirked at his words.

"What makes you think I'd find no more use for him?" she said. "He's a rather helpful ally…"

"What the hell did you do to him? How did you get into his head?" Zuko huffed, glaring at her. "Sokka wouldn't have teamed up with you willingly, leaving his sister to think you'd have kidnapped or killed him…!"

"I was led to believe that he'd written a letter to explain he was leaving. If she overreacted to it? That's no fault of his…" Azula shrugged. Zuko scoffed.

"Everything about Sokka's disappearance was fishy as hell! And then I find out that the two of you have been traveling all over the place, trying to shake off pursuit…!"

"That's not what we were doing," Azula said, hands on her hips. "At least, not at first. We certainly had to put more effort into shaking it off once you and your unhelpful guards turned up, but we weren't always shaking off annoyances, that's for sure…"

"None of this makes a smidge of sense," Zuko said, glaring at her. "But whatever you've deceived him with, whatever nonsense you've done to manipulate him, it's over now: we either do this the good way or the bad way, Azula."

Azula scowled: the guards near Zuko were ready to chain her down, were they? Never again. Whatever she had to do to stop them from…

"Absolutely not!"

Azula froze: again, Ursa's demeanor and determination to protect her caught her off guard, much as it did Zuko.

Then, that surprise increased all the more when her mother clasped her hand, urging her to stand behind her… offering herself as a shield to the disbelieving Azula, as a wall to overcome for the utterly aghast Zuko.

"Mom! W-what are you doing?!" Zuko exclaimed: the guards behind him, whether brandishing weapons or shackles, hesitated to move now.

"I'm doing what I have to do! What you're making me do, I'd dare say!" Ursa declared. "What do you think you're doing, treating your sister this way? I don't care what terrible things you think she has done, she's your sister! Stand down and tell those guards to put aside those horrible shackles!"

"Mom… come to your senses. Whatever she's told you…!" Zuko said, pleadingly. Ursa snarled.

"She has told me the truth! She has been honest, human, real, in ways most people refuse to be around me, these days!" Ursa exclaimed, startling Zuko. "I… I have a chance, for once, to do right by Azula and you will never persuade me not to take it! Whatever you intend to do to her, you'll do it to me first! Be it imprisonment, or moreover, execution!"

"Mom!" Zuko's eyes were struck with utter horror… whereas Azula's widened with amazement: could her mother truly be that courageous when she wanted to be? That was a rather pleasant surprise. If Zuko had been Ozai, he would have laughed in her face and subjected her to the exact treatment she had demanded…

"You are a better man than this," Ursa declared, firmly. "I know you are. So either you listen to me now and stand down… or you're losing me, just as much as you're willing to lose Azula."

That threat, evidently, didn't sit well with the Fire Lord: he glared at Azula in confusion, in horror… did he think Azula had taken Ursa from him? If he hadn't grown up at all, he might just believe that. Azula truly wondered if he might conclude something like that…

"You don't have to…" Zuko said, staring at Ursa in chagrin. "Why are you doing this? Mom…"

"Because it was about time I did," Ursa said, fists tight. "I've never been the mother she deserves. I never have been the one you deserve, either… but even if she doesn't truly need me, it won't change that I finally know what I want to do, and who I want to be, now that I can be part of her life anew. I never imagined the first person I'd have to defend her from would be you, Zuko… but I'm not afraid to do it."

Zuko stepped back, confused betrayal plain across his features: to this day, he prized the approval of those he admired and loved far more than would ever be healthy, Azula suspected. He didn't know what to do, or how to react to the possibility that his sister would have anyone on her side anymore… let alone that the person standing with her would be none other than his mother.

But the gravity of the situation didn't sink in properly for him. No, it couldn't possibly do that… not after a rather unflattering scream pierced their ears, drifting from the direction of Sokka's room.

"Sokka…!" Azula gasped: had he still been resting? Oh, she hoped he had at least been about to come out for breakfast by the time the soldiers stormed the room…

Naturally, Sokka's luck wouldn't favor him: he pulled the covers up to his chest, bashful and confused when several guards barged into the room, hands raised in defensive katas until they flinched out of form over what they found.

"W-what the hell is this?!" Sokka squealed. "Get out! Go away! W-where did all of you even come from, what…?!"

Heavier footsteps down the corridor marched straight to the room: Sokka had no time to prepare himself, or hide better under the bed, when Zuko marched in, unceremoniously.

He froze on the spot, face paling, upon finding Sokka's upper body appeared to be bare.

"W-what…? Sokka?!" Zuko squealed.

"Zuko! You… you can't just invade someone's privacy this way!" Sokka squealed, cheeks flushed as he struggled to find any way out of this predicament.

"Y-you're just… asleep? You didn't even notice we were raiding the place…?!" Zuko exclaimed… eyes drifting around the room warily to find clothing items scattered all around. His eyebrow twitched at the sight of a very evident male undergarment… "Sokka?"

"Yes?" Sokka said, with a small voice.

"Are you naked under that sheet?" Zuko asked, a dangerous glint in the harshness of his glare. Sokka winced. "You… you were naked, in a house with my mother and my sister?! That's what's going on, you idiot?!"

"I…! I…!" Sokka struggled to come up with anything to say, anything at all: he couldn't possibly fight Zuko off like this, he had no weapons at hand, for they were in his actual room… for this was Azula's, actually. Half the clothes scattered around were hers…

Zuko might notice that sooner than later. If he did, he'd realize he had slept with Azula, and then Sokka would be dragged out of here and paraded as a heathen all across town for inappropriate behavior… well, perhaps the townsfolk wouldn't really judge him for that, considering the previous day's festival, but Zuko would certainly judge him non-stop for it. He might even declare him a criminal in the Fire Nation for desecrating the Princess's virtue, as estranged as she might be from her family…

Said Princess, however, suddenly burst into the room, pushing past her brother and startling Sokka with her arrival, welcome as it might be, even if it terrified him too. It suddenly crossed his mind that she would have been better off running away, out of Zuko's reach, out of sight… he would capture her otherwise. She wouldn't be safe…

And yet she seemed to be here to protect him, instead.

"No need… to kick up a ruckus," Azula said, spreading her arms in a defensive gesture as she stood between Sokka and Zuko, without sparing even a glance over her shoulder at her lover. "Sokka is just… unrefined that way!"

"He… you're not telling me that you two have been traveling together for months and he's been constantly sleeping naked near you, are you?!" Zuko squealed, his face a mask of disgust. Azula gritted her teeth as she sought to spin her lie far better than she had…

"I only do it in the Fire Nation!" Sokka suddenly exclaimed, picking up her slack when she faltered briefly. "It's… way too hot around here! So, I just wanted to sleep comfortably and I did it this way! Nothing more to it!"

"Oh, really? And my sister and my mother being here didn't deter you from acting like a creep?!" Zuko asked. Azula scoffed as Sokka processed now that Ursa was back already…

"How do you know that neither me nor Mother do the same thing in the privacy of our rooms?" Azula asked. Zuko yelped. "The three of us might just have a perfect understanding when it comes to preferences in attire, or lack thereof, during nighttime, and we can very well keep… proper, respectful boundaries, in those instances. Such as not barging into other people's rooms without at least knocking first."

"Y-you…" Zuko grimaced, glaring at Sokka with disgust again. Sokka smiled, waving at him, still holding the sheet to his chest. "You have a lot to answer for, Sokka. I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah, well, unless you want me to answer it with my business hanging out in plain sight, I suggest we discuss that later," Sokka smiled awkwardly. Zuko winced, shaking his head in disgust as he turned around.

"Everyone, out! Sokka, get dressed, and come out here to answer for this mess!" Zuko bellowed. "And if you try to run away, I'll… I'll hunt you down all over again! Understood?"

"Geez, fine, damn it, so loud and authoritarian…" Sokka sighed, shaking his head: Zuko shot him one last glare over his shoulder before stepping out of the room. The guards followed… and Azula lingered behind, even though they kept watching her from the corridor, in case either one did anything dangerous. Sokka smiled sadly at her, and Azula responded in kind.

"He just barged in a while ago. Don't even know how he found us yet, but…" Azula said. Sokka sighed. "Go on, get dressed. I have no idea what's going to happen next, but… at least Mom seems to be keeping Zuko at bay, mostly."

"Heh. Come to think of it, he's one hell of a momma's boy, isn't he?" Sokka smirked. Azula smiled at his statement. "You have a reliable ally in Ursa, if she meant what she said yesterday… though I'm surprised she's already here."

"She came by early. Tried to cook. Didn't really go so well," Azula explained. "Anyway, so far she's on our side, and we might just be safe, to a fault, for as long as she is. So… dress up and get ready for anything. I don't know what Zuko's going to react like, going forward."

"Okay… okay," Sokka nodded. Azula nodded back, wistfully gazing at him before walking through the doorway and marching away – she would have gladly kissed him, helped him dress up, but not under those guards' watchful glares.

They hadn't really talked about keeping their relationship secret, but it seemed an obvious decision to do so, particularly when they hadn't truly settled the terms of their dynamic yet. It was difficult to label it as anything specific, after all. By the time they decided on those things, they'd also decide on whether to keep matters quiet still, or be entirely open about what they meant to each other…

After around ten minutes – Sokka had to dress in his same clothes from the previous night, to then return to his actual room and change into a proper, clean outfit there –, the Water Tribesman returned to the kitchen area, where the Fire Nation Royals remained at a standstill. The guards had backed off out of the room, providing them with more privacy than before. Zuko glared pointedly at Sokka, who held his hands up defensively.

"No need to be so cranky, Zuko. Curses, you'd think I took a dump on your favorite portrait or something," Sokka huffed.

"Heh. Might as well do it if he keeps treating you that way, at least you'd earn the scowls fair and square," Azula smirked at him. Sokka snorted, shaking his head as he laughed at her remark.

"You two…" Zuko snarled, as Sokka fastened his hair into its proper wolf's tail.

Azula bit her lip as she watched him, probably more shamelessly than she should have. The way his muscles flexed… and curses, as used as she had become to seeing him with his hair down as they traveled, as shocked as she had been by how well it complemented his features, now she realized the attraction she had experienced towards him hadn't diminished in the least now that his hair was tied up again.

"What?" Sokka pouted, hands on his hips once he was done fixing his hair. "Got a problem with my, uh, partnership with Azula?"

"What the hell are you even partners for?!" Zuko squealed. "Sokka, come back to your senses, can you? Mom, well, she's Mom! She's protecting her kid, but you? What do you get out of all of this?"

"Me?" Sokka started: the immediate, obvious answer could not be spoken. He felt Azula's keen stare on him, and his cheeks flushed as he struggled how to convey something that wouldn't set off Zuko any more than he already was…

"And you!" Zuko scoffed, glaring at Azula next. "Of all people, you… joined up with Sokka. Sokka! You two are… well, not the biggest mismatched pair of all time because you clearly are thrilled to be terrible influences on each other, as your last exchange proved…!"

"Come on, now, I'm far worse for him than he ever could hope to be for me…" Azula said, bringing Sokka to smile fondly at her.

"Point is, you two used to not want anything to do with each other and I'm not exactly aware of when the hell that changed," Zuko growled. "Or why, for that matter."

"Uh… you wouldn't believe it, I think, if we explained," Sokka swallowed hard, glancing at Azula with uncertainty. She sighed.

"Promise you won't drag me by the hair to the asylum or anywhere of the sort if we do explain…?" Azula said. Ursa, beside her, winced.

"He won't do any such thing to you. He can't. And if he ever tries to take you elsewhere, I'll see to stopping him," Ursa said. Zuko flinched: Ursa being on his sister's side was devastating, infuriating, even…

"Mom…" he said, pleadingly.

"The thing is, I… have been seeing visions of someone," Azula said, with a dry grin. "Someone Sokka was close to. And it's not just random visions, but a strange, mysterious, deeper connection than that…"

"The hell are you talking about?" Zuko grimaced. Sokka sighed.

"Azula is connected to Yue," he said. Zuko's eyes widened, and he turned his attention to Sokka again.

"What? Yue? The girlfriend who turned into the moon?" Zuko asked, confused. "Wait. Azula? What the hell did you do?! Is that weird thing with the moon darkening or fading from the sky your fault?!"

"Right! Because I'm so damn powerful that I can annihilate the moon altogether, isn't that right?" Azula said, with a sardonic smile. Sokka stepped forward, placing a placating hand on Zuko's shoulder.

"Azula didn't do anything intentionally. We don't actually understand what happened to the moon. As far as Yue explained to her, a comet crashed into it somehow and maybe that's what started all this," Sokka said. Zuko scoffed.

"And how do you know it's really Yue?" Zuko nearly squealed. "She could be tricking you!"

"Right! Let's see: did you ever tell your sister about Yue?" Sokka asked. Zuko frowned. "My relationship with Yue wasn't exactly public knowledge, you know? Only a handful of people were aware of it, mostly people close to me, and the only one among those people who has frequently crossed paths with Azula is you. How did she know Yue and I had anything going on if none of you told her, huh?"

"I… don't know! Azula has ways of figuring things out! She's smart in… messed up ways!" Zuko huffed, shaking a hand in Azula's direction. The Princess rolled her eyes and drew the mirror from her pocket.

"No doubt I'm smart enough to know exact details about how Sokka flirted by asking to do 'an activity' with Yue, huh?" Azula said. Sokka blushed a little, though he smiled fondly at the embarrassing memory.

"An activity?" Zuko repeated. "Is that some kind of… innuendo?"

"What? No! Get your head out of the gutter!" Sokka winced, lightly shoving Zuko for his remark. "Seriously, dude, we were just kids! I had no idea what I was doing, so I said something dumb and silly and… it's endearing, damn you! That's all it was!"

"Yue certainly agrees," Azula smiled. Sokka grinned back at her, and Zuko brought a hand to his forehead.

"All I'm getting out of this is… she figured out your weakness. And she's manipulating you through it," Zuko said, with a dry grin: both Sokka and Azula glared at him, unamused by his assumption.

"You really underestimate Sokka's mind that much?" Azula said. "Tell me again, why are you friends with my brother, exactly, Sokka?"

"If he keeps that up, maybe I won't be one for much longer," Sokka grumbled. "You know what? Azula! Did I ever tell you about what Zuko did in the North Pole?"

"Uh… no. I kind of forgot he was there for the siege, come to think of it," Azula said, raising an eyebrow. "Mustn't have been very impactful if I can't remember any reports of anything noteworthy he did…"

"More like he did something incredibly stupid that he most likely doesn't want us to bring up…" Sokka said, staring at Zuko sternly. Zuko grimaced.

"Look, I was another person back then…!"

"Ask Yue to tell you, Azula. Go on," Sokka said.

Azula blinked blankly, glancing at the mirror. Yue grimaced.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. My brother's on the verge of a nervous breakdown, maybe, but I'm alright," Azula said. Yue smiled warmly. "Did you hear the question?"

"I did, and I… I do remember what happened. It's not very flattering for your brother, though…"

"Any unflattering stories about Zuzu are worth his weight in gold," Azula declared. Zuko snarled at her, but her attention remained on the mirror. "Go on, tell me."

With that, Yue began her retelling. Zuko glared at her as Azula raised her eyebrows slowly.

"She says… she was with Katara when the Avatar started meditating in the oasis," Azula began. Zuko's eyes widened. "Says she panicked about Aang crossing over suddenly, he was glowing and all… and that's when Zuko showed up. Huh. Apparently, you mocked Katara and said she was a 'big girl now' because she was confident that she could protect the Avatar by herself?"

"Woah, woah, woah… you said WHAT to my sister?!" Sokka squeaked. "I didn't know that part!"

"I…!" Zuko's cheeks reddened: Sokka hadn't been there to hear that, it was true…

"That is incredibly inappropriate. Shame on you, Zuzu," Azula said, before focusing on the mirror again. Sokka's eyebrow twitched as he stared down his friend ruthlessly. "Alright, then… Yue says she left, but Katara explained later that you defeated her once the sun rose and then took Aang forcibly even though they weren't supposed to move his body at all, so he'd know where to return once he came back. Why was he going to the Spirit World to begin with…? Uh… oh. Huh. He wanted to get help from spirits to defeat the Fire Nation forces, then. Anyway, after that… Katara, Yue and Sokka flew on Appa to find you, because you ran off through the tundra. They found you by some cave and… heh. Yue says Katara beat you in a single move. Nicely done."

"That was very gratifying to see," Sokka said, with a dry grin. Zuko groaned, covering his face with a hand.

"And after that… you and Katara wanted to leave Zuko to freeze to death?" Azula asked, glancing at Sokka in disbelief. "Yue… apparently had no opinion on the matter. Aang's the only reason why Zuko didn't actually just… wow."

"Let's just say, months of being chased by someone makes you very unfriendly towards them," Sokka said. "But you know what's funny, Zuko? I actually regret having said that nowadays. Even if I know why I did it, and I don't think there was any way I wouldn't have, under those circumstances… ultimately, I'm glad you survived. I'm glad you're here, and that we became friends when we did."

Zuko eyed him with uncertainty, aware already that Sokka was going down a rather unpleasant road with that particular reasoning…

"So, as hard as it can be for you to fathom that maybe someday you'll look back on your relationship with your sister and feel the same way about it? I can guarantee that I already reached that stage," Sokka said, arms folded over his chest. "She's the real deal. She's not lying to me, I know she's not. That's Yue in her mirror, in her reflections, in her dreams… it is her. And we're traveling together so we can help Yue see all the sights and places she never could while she was alive, so she can experience the cycle of the seasons, all those things!"

"Right," Zuko grunted, his eyebrow twitching. "And what happens after Yue's had her fill? Do we go back to terrorism, Azula?"

"I…" Azula gritted her teeth, and Sokka scoffed. "I know it's hard to believe I don't intend to do that, but I… won't do that. Not anymore."

"You really don't need to talk to her that way, damn you," Sokka huffed.

"It's going to take a while to convince you of anything, I know it will, but…" Azula said, breathing deeply. "I don't feel the need to do that sort of stuff nowadays. And yes, that doesn't fix all the chaos I caused…"

"You messed with Uncle Iroh not that long ago!" Zuko exclaimed. Azula winced, and Sokka snorted.

"Come on, now. What she did there wasn't terrorism, it was… a prank," he said, with a shrug.

"A surprisingly tame and yet amusing one, at that," Ursa agreed. Azula grimaced, eyeing her mother with uncertainty.

"Here I thought you'd found it terrible too…" she said. Ursa huffed, shaking her head with certainty.

"Zuko is concerned, or should be, about things that endanger the Fire Nation," she said. "I hardly see how a playful, if ill-spirited prank, could achieve that."

"Don't make excuses for her!" Zuko groaned. "Mom…!"

"Making excuses?" Ursa asked, raising her eyebrows. "Do tell… what did you do, exactly, when I told you about how my terrible, no-good choices had resulted in your father treating you as poorly as he did?"

Zuko froze. Ursa smiled sardonically.

"I told you I was unforgivable. You said you disagreed. You made excuses. You said I had no choice," she said.

"But that's different…!"

"Yes: what I did to you and your sister was far worse than what Azula did to Iroh," Ursa finished. Zuko groaned. "So, for that matter…"

"Why the hell are you both so determined to protect her from me?" Zuko exclaimed, looking at them helplessly. "When did I become the bad guy in this situation?"

"Why, I would gladly say you're not… but you certainly pushed your tiles to that corner when you issued out wanted posters calling for her to be caught dead or alive," Ursa said. Zuko winced.

"Well, I don't really want her dead! I just don't want her endangering anyone, simple as that!"

"You just saw she's not doing that right now, so for that matter, you can just as well leave the way you came," Sokka said. Zuko scoffed.

"Your sister's worried sick about you," Zuko said. Sokka winced. "And you have a lot of answers to give her too. Me? I'd rather focus on my own sister, but if you would be so kind and go back to Republic City, talk to Katara and Aang, and tell them what's going on…"

"Yeah, no. I'm not leaving Azula," Sokka said, firmly. Her cheeks flushed upon hearing his certainty. Zuko snarled.

"If you don't trust me to be reasonable with her, at least trust that my mother will keep me in check!" Zuko exclaimed. "Besides…! Why the hell are you standing up for her like this? Why are you so sure that you're making the right choice here? Sokka…"

"Do you really think you know the first thing about Azula?" Sokka asked. Azula scowled.

"If he doesn't, you're not about to start giving things away, now, are you?" Azula scoffed. Sokka shrugged.

"Nah, but… I'm just saying, he doesn't understand how I spent months with you, does he?" Sokka said. "And not only do we not hate each other after all that, we're getting along great! At least, on the most part."

"What's that supposed to mean? In what regards do you not get along…?" Zuko scowled. Sokka ignored him.

"My point is, if your own brother has no idea why I'm protective of you, maybe that's the very reason why I should be," Sokka said. Azula raised an eyebrow. "I'm not letting anything bad happen to you."

"Nor will I," Ursa said. Zuko snarled, rubbing his brow in frustration.

"What makes anyone think I'm going to…? Ugh!" he growled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I still don't understand how exactly I'm the bad guy here, but have it your way!"

"Zuko…" Azula called him, earning herself a resentful glare. "If I agree to go with you for questioning, or whatever you want from me… what would my status be, exactly? Would you deem me your prisoner, or…?"

"I…" Zuko gritted his teeth: evidently, affirming that last question would be utterly stupid. But what would she be, if not a prisoner? He sighed, shaking his head. "You'd be… an honored guest. That's what."

He spoke the words with poorly contained bitterness. Azula sighed, hands on her hips as Ursa scrutinized her son intently.

"Whatever you intend to inflict upon her, you'll subject me to it first," Ursa said. Zuko pouted. "I figured I'd remind you of that. But if Azula is an honored guest, I'll probably be pleased with my own treatment too."

Zuko snarled, rubbing his brow with his fingertips and shaking his head. Even the sight of her son in apparent distress didn't change Ursa's tune.

"Whatever. I… I'll wait for you outside. Get your things, if you have any. You're coming back to the Palace with me. Guests," Zuko reiterated, with a dry grin, before turning on his heels and leaving the room – clearly, he needed some time to himself to stew over the shocking betrayal of seeing his mother taking Azula's side to that extent.

"Well, that wasn't a total disaster. Almost, but not in the end," Sokka said, smiling awkwardly before turning towards Azula. "You okay?"

"I'm… I'm fine. Which is not what I expected to say after being face-to-face with Zuko again," Azula admitted, raising her eyebrows. She turned towards her mother, who still seemed slightly displeased… "You didn't have to go that far…"

"What, you mean by telling him he'd have to do to me anything he did to you?" Ursa asked. "Considering that was what it took for him to restrain that hostility… I suspect I did have to."

"Heh," Azula said, with a weak grin. "You might just have lost your mind slightly, then."

"Maybe it's Zuko who did," Sokka said. "We're, uh, going with him? You sure? I mean, even if I know it wouldn't be the nicest thing to do, we could run away now…"

"No. I think running now would seal my fate, who knows if yours too, as an enemy of the Fire Nation," Azula said. "If this is the first and only time that I'll have a chance to settle things with Zuko, I'd do best to take it."

"Well, if you say so. But I'm standing by you through and through," Sokka said, stubbornly. Azula smiled at those words, perhaps more fondly than she should have.

"You'd better hold some of that back. He's going to start, well… suspecting that you weren't sleeping like that just because the weather is too warm," Azula said, cheeks flushing. Sokka winced, eyes flickering towards Ursa warily. She eyed them with a knowing grin.

"Well, that's for the two of you to discuss. I'm sure you'll figure out a plan on what to do, going forward," Ursa said. "I'll keep an eye on Zuko and make certain that he's not combusting over this. Go gather your things. Mine are at the inn, after all… oh, but finish the mochi at least before we go, Azula. They're edible, if nothing else is…"

"And Zuko cut me off just as I was having them… that's a bigger crime than any I ever committed," Azula groaned, eyeing her guilty pleasure sweets with longing.

"What about you?" Sokka asked Ursa. "You'll eat something, or…?"

"I'll make Zuko's staff feed me, why not?" Ursa smirked. "It's still early anyway. I'll have them set up proper breakfasts for the two of you later. Maybe I'll even stay and watch how they make the meals, that way, once we're on the road again after Zuko lets us go, I'll be able to cook some food…"

"You… w-wait, what?" Sokka blinked blankly. Ursa raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. Uh. Well, you'll have to discuss that first," she said, with an awkward grin. "I'm sure you'll want to have a say upon that. I'll just… go now."

"Right…?" Sokka watched Ursa walk away with confusion… but he turned his eyes on the blushing Azula before the woman was out of sight. "I guessed I'd missed a lot of things, but that's a bit more than I expected. What was that?"

"Well… we talked. It's probably the best conversation I've ever had with her," Azula said. "I never really thought she might be plagued by her own set of troubles, truth be told. It seems she's a little lost in life, too. Might be expected for someone to feel that way, after having two lives to conciliate into one…"

"Might be," Sokka agreed, nodding. "And after getting to understand her better, does she understand you a little better too?"

"I think my outburst from last night saw to that," Azula sighed, leading Sokka back to the corridors where the rooms were. "I, uh… I'm sorry I blew up as I did. I may have inflicted a lot more strife upon you both than I should have."

"I wouldn't call it that," Sokka said, eyeing her with heartfelt compassion. "I'm sorry too, I kind of antagonized you and pushed too hard when we were alone later too…"

"I'm glad you did," Azula said. Sokka raised his eyebrows. "Though you're starting to grow a little too good at understanding whatever I need, whenever I need it. It's, uh… disconcerting."

"Heh. It's always nice to know I'm surprising you in a good way," Sokka grinned. Azula smiled back at him. "But… you really seem calmer now. Was it Ursa, or…?"

"Actually… it was Yue."

Sokka froze, uncertain of what those words meant. Azula, however, smiled as she shook her head in his direction.

"Does it ever bother you, being right about things as often as you are?" she asked. Sokka blushed slightly.

"About… which things?" he asked.

"She doesn't hate me for… well, us. She actually… asked me what sleeping with you had been like, the utter weirdo," Azula laughed. Sokka smiled, cheeks flushing further upon hearing that. "I apologized, but she… she didn't need apologies. She didn't feel betrayed. She said she loved you… and that she loved me, too."

Sokka's eyes widened, though his heart soared upon hearing that: of course Yue would love Azula. Of course she would have grown to see what he had, surely far earlier too…

"Seems like she really just wants us to be happy together, so… guess we'll have to figure out how to achieve that, huh?" Azula smiled teasingly at him. Sokka chuckled, shrugging.

"I'm sure we have an idea or two on how to start," he said, stepping closer and taking her face into his hands.

This time, Azula was aware of the weight of Yue's mirror in her pocket. She didn't draw back from Sokka's kiss regardless, hand upon his chest as they pecked each other multiple times, relishing in a moment of privacy that they weren't likely to find anew once their journey to the Capital began.

And they might not have much of that even after they left, either.

"But the thing is, I… may have extended an offer to my mom to come with us," Azula whispered against his lips. Sokka raised an eyebrow, puzzled, and Azula kissed him softly once more, as though to coerce him into accepting that. "I know it'd mean more restraint for us, and we wouldn't be able to be crazy as much as we were yesterday, but…"

"Heh. That side of it is a shame, no lie, but… I'm fine with it," Sokka smiled warmly, brushing her hair with his fingers. Azula sighed in relief.

"If you're sure… go get your things. We're damn lucky that my brother isn't smart enough to realize half the clothes scattered in the room you were naked in were mine…"

"I think he was too appalled to stop and confirm who they belonged to," Sokka smiled awkwardly. "I'm not sure he'll ever be ready to know that we, uh… canoodled a little too much."

"That's the word you're going to use?" Azula asked, amused. Sokka chuckled and shrugged. "You're a goofball. Go, pick up your things, I'll get mine… and I'll pick up the mochi on my way out too. Let's get ready to face Zuko and his nonsense, shall we?"

Sokka nodded enthusiastically: they shared another thorough kiss, one in which Sokka dared sneak a few bold caresses, and Azula wound up entering her room in a perfectly blissful mood afterwards, as though she weren't about to march into a likely tricky situation in a matter of moments…

Zuko was upset, but he couldn't be too upset, could he? She hadn't done anything wrong right now. Ursa's support had been a shocker, but it might just be the best possible defense from her brother's wrath. Resolving her conflicts with Ursa certainly was one thing… figuring anything out with Zuko would be much more difficult, if just because of his disposition. Merely a few weeks ago, Azula would have told herself that she'd rather deal with her brother's hostility than her mother's emotional manipulation, her sad doe eyes, and her meaningless apologies… but Ursa's reaction to her rant, as well as the conversation they had shared just that morning, had caught her by surprise. She never imagined she might be able to start over with Ursa, and there truly would be no erasing their past… but it was about time to ensure that whatever troubled history they shared would not preclude the possibility of a better future.

The liveliness of Ember Island appeared slightly stunted, as most its population watched in confusion when their Fire Lord led a march towards the largest, grandest ship docked in their harbor: his Royal Barge would rush through the internal waters of the Fire Nation fast enough to bring them to the Capital in a couple of hours, at most. Thus, neither Sokka nor Azula bothered choosing cabins or even asking where they would stay for now: after enjoying their breakfast aboard the ship, sharing the mochi Ursa had found for Azula, they chose to wait on the deck instead of finding any private cabins, sitting together by the ship's railing… meanwhile, Ursa had dragged Zuko inside the ship's tower in order to have a thorough conversation about many things that Zuko appeared to need to hear.

"Well, despite it all, looks like we're going to end up in the Fire Nation Capital," Sokka reasoned, with a slight grimace. "Did he ever explain how he found us?"

"Not really," Azula said, relaxing against the ship's railing. "I suppose we were seen at some point. I'll try to ask later, or maybe you can… but Mom appears to be quite busy scolding him right now. Never thought I'd see the day…"

"A nice surprise, huh?" Sokka smirked. "Guess your mother wasn't as far gone as we thought she was…"

"We? You thought so too?" Azula asked. Sokka shrugged.

"No offense intended to her, but… she sounded like the exact opposite of my mother," Sokka said. Azula hummed, eyeing him with interest. "My mom sacrificed herself, lying to some piece of shit from the Southern Raiders to tell him that she was the last waterbender, rather than Katara. He… he killed her because of that."

Azula's stomach clenched. A swirling fear gripped her chest, with misplaced guilt that might not be as far out of place as she wished it were… for the ideology, the regime, responsible for the death of Sokka's mother was the one she had fought for, across all those years. She knew there were plenty of deaths and sacrifices throughout the war… but she hadn't known Sokka had faced one quite as close as that of his own mother.

"Katara's still working through it to this day. I didn't realize that was why it had happened until she told me, and she didn't even explain until a few years after she confronted the killer directly," Sokka explained. "Anyway… I could be wrong, but it sounds to me like, if my mother had been married to a bastard like your father, she would have never forsaken her kids, just as she didn't forsake Katara. Meanwhile, your mother…"

"She left us and forgot about us, yes," Azula said. Sokka shrugged.

"Even back when we found her, in Hira'a, I didn't really know how to feel about that," he said. "I kind of convinced myself to stay in my lane because it wasn't my business, you know? Who cared how I felt about something like this? But… as time goes by, I've realized I can't really help myself. It's just not fair, Azula. It never has been fair on you."

"No, I suppose not," Azula whispered, glancing at Sokka with uncertainty. "But a mother who would forsake her kids is… is probably less painful to lose than one who loved them with everything she had."

Sokka grimaced, glancing at her with uncertainty: Azula reached out to take his hand, careless about the sailors and soldiers who might see her.

"I'm sorry. Doesn't count for a damn thing, I had no real say upon what happened to your mother, but…" Azula said, gritting her teeth. "It was a lot easier to support the Fire Nation's war by closing our eyes to the rest of the world. That's what everyone seemed to learn how to do. Your mother should have never died that way."

"No, she definitely shouldn't have," Sokka said, with a fragile smile. "But… well, nothing can be done to bring her back, I guess. Though… huh. Wait a second! Ask Yue about the Spirit World! Ask her if the spirits of our people actually go there…!"

Azula blinked blankly, pulling out the mirror. Yue seemed as perplexed by the question as she was, and she offered her a sad smile along with a shake of her head.

"Looks like she doesn't know much about that," Azula said.

"Most souls don't really make it into the Spirit World that way, I think. They tend to be, well… sent back to the real world? Until the soul achieves enlightenment, I guess…"

"Says only the souls that achieve enlightenment would enter the Spirit World," Azula concluded. Sokka sighed and shrugged.

"Worth a shot," he said. "Anyway, your nation's soldiers are nasty, yeah, but… it was a long time ago. We were as good as babies back then. Don't feel responsible for it."

"So, it doesn't really matter that I wouldn't have cared about this one bit if I'd learned about it a year ago?" Azula probed him. Sokka snorted.

"Matters to you now. That's enough for me," he said, smiling at her. Azula shook her head.

"You're too nice for your own good. Still… I'm sorry you that didn't have a mother while growing up either," Azula said.

"If this subject had come up any sooner across our journey, I would've told you not to worry if yours never tried to do better for you," Sokka pointed out. Azula raised an eyebrow. "I mean… if she hadn't done anything but piss you off, the way it sounded like when you confronted her when she first turned up? Well, I would've understood if you hadn't wanted to give her another chance. Though… I suppose you do now, huh?"

"I don't know what's gotten into all of you," Azula said, startling Sokka. "Starting with you and Yue, having it in you to see more to me than anyone else did… and suddenly my mother is taking stands against Zuko for my sake?"

"Don't forget that Toph let you out of prison and handled Kuei and Zuko for us, though I have no idea how that turned out. One more thing to ask Zuko about," Sokka reasoned, tapping his chin with a finger. Azula sighed.

"None of you make any sense. How is it possible that the person who sees things and hears voices has a clearer understanding of reality compared to all of you?" Azula asked. Sokka laughed and shrugged.

"Guess you're special that way," he said. Azula's heart somersaulted in her chest at the sight of his affectionate smile. "Anyway… it's good that your mom wants to help you. Definitely improves my opinion of her so far. Honestly, it was about time someone in your family came through for you. Though I'm still a little surprised that we'll go as far as traveling with her…"

"I know that means we'll have a lot more pressure, and less privacy, and, well… it's going to be awkward. But to be fair, she already walked in on us once so, not much left to the imagination there anymore…" Azula sighed, cheeks flushing at the memory. "How the hell did I manage to talk to her or look her in the eye after that nonsense, exactly?"

"I can't say I know, but I'm glad you did," Sokka said, squeezing her hand gently.

"Of course you are," Azula sighed, glancing at him uneasily. "You sure you're fine with this? With… traveling with her?"

"Might be a bit awkward, sure… but she'd be more likely to keep us in check than Yue was," Sokka smiled awkwardly.

"The sneaky little troublemaker said she caught a few glimpses of us in the bathroom, through the mirror there…" Azula said, with a grimace. Sokka's cheeks flushed slightly. "She said she looked away after a while, but I'm starting to worry that she might not have. Naughty brat. Teenagers do have an inappropriate interest in these matters…"

"Well, I'd like to think she… has better sense than that. Restraint? I don't know," Sokka laughed. Azula scoffed as she pulled the mirror out, startling Sokka. "What, are you going to ask her if she'll behave herself right now?"

"Might as well," Azula said, glaring into the reflection. Yue smiled at her, cheeks slightly flushed, clearly having overheard their conversation. "You wouldn't look intentionally, or hear intentionally, whenever he and I are up to no good together, would you?"

"… Nooooo?"

"That's the most convincing negative answer I've heard in my life! Your lies are getting a lot worse now, mind you," Azula smirked.

"I wasn't lying as much as you think I was before! Maybe I am now, though… but Azula, I'm curious!"

"Well, that's unsettling. Tone down that curiosity," Azula huffed, shaking her head and staring at Sokka. "You're not wrong, my mother's definitely going to be a good asset. Otherwise, this one would get corrupted by how filthy we are, too."

"The Filthy Royals," Sokka said, proudly. Azula snorted and laughed. "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Sounds terrible," Azula as good as cackled. Sokka scoffed, shaking his head.

"Always so judgmental. We still don't have a team name and that's not very nice, mind you. Now that your mother's joining in too, it's going to be even harder to find a unifying factor."

"How about 'Sokka and the women he can't keep up with'? Sounds like a good name to me…"

"Very accurate, but too extensive. You'll have to be more concise," Sokka smirked. Azula laughed again, glancing at him sideways.

"Say…" she breathed in, holding his gaze briefly before tearing her eyes away. It wasn't easy opening up to people, but it was easier when it was Sokka. "I… thanks for not running out on me over my outburst from last night. I mean, you're probably the one person who has every chance to leave me and yet you've chosen to stay without fail. I might not deserve it, but I… I'm glad you chose to do that. I'm glad you didn't run away."

"I'm afraid I'm not the type to run from beautiful women. Instead, I chase them all over the world and fall head over heels for them without even trying," Sokka said. Azula snorted, staring at him skeptically. "I know we have a lot to figure out still, there might be more bumps along the way… but we'll do it, in time. Don't fret about it right now, okay?"

"Well… we should figure out what to do about Zuko, though," Azula pointed out, raising her eyebrows. Sokka blinked blankly. "By which I mean… that absurd nonsense we fed him about why you were sleeping naked apparently worked. He has no idea you and I, well…"

"Yeah, you know, he's very gullible sometimes," Sokka smiled awkwardly. Azula laughed and nodded. "But I guess what you mean is… do we keep it quiet still? Or do we talk things over, so we decide whether to come clean about it or not?"

"Thing is… do any of them even know that you and Suki are done?" Azula asked. Sokka shrugged.

"Toph knows. Don't know if she told Zuko, though," he said. "Though, frankly… is that a big cause for concern?"

"I'd rather they don't give you shit for cheating on her with me. You have to know what this looks like," Azula said, staring at him skeptically. "A hopeless man clinging to his past love has too many clashes and conflicts with his would-be wife, and as a consequence runs off to start an affair with the dangerous, deadly but apparently beautiful woman who's so very bad, absolutely no-good for him…"

"So, what, I'm having a midlife crisis at twenty-seven?" Sokka snorted. Azula laughed, dropping her head against the railing. "Well, guess when your life is as weird as mine has been, it's kind of justified for it to start earlier. Didn't you say that's what's going on with Yue too, as a spirit? Then… the Midlife Crisis Royals! Ha! That actually bonds all of us together, why not?"

"That's awful… most of all because you're not wrong," Azula snorted, bending over forward as she laughed harder. Sokka smirked proudly, arms folded across his chest.

"Gotcha with that one! We have a team name now, like it or not!"

"No, we don't! There's no way we're keeping that one, Sokka, anything but that!"

"C'mon, bet Yue agrees with me," Sokka said, taking the mirror from her and pointing it at Azula. "Hey, Yue, tell her! My idea is the best idea!"

"… I actually don't like it at all. Don't let him use that one, Azula."

Her negative broke Azula with further laughter – so used as she was to hearing Yue agreeing with Sokka on most accounts, she certainly didn't anticipate the opposite happening now.

"Well, well? Bet she thinks it's great! I'm sure she does!" Sokka snickered, waving the mirror proudly in front of Azula.

Standing by a window, in the ship tower's second level, Zuko scowled at the sight of his sister laughing quite so vividly at whatever Sokka was saying. Even in their younger years, he couldn't remember anyone, not even Aang, laughing that way at Sokka's nonsense. An uneasy feeling spread in his gut, one he wasn't sure how to interpret, or what to make of… for it had been quite a long time since he had experienced it over Azula.

Was she a better fit, a more fun companion, than he ever had been? If given a chance, would she mesh perfectly with his friends, better than he ever had? Would he lose everything he had gained to her, if she was granted the chance to heal that their mother was asking him to offer her?

"You didn't send her to the asylum when you did because you thought she was a lost cause, or did you?" Ursa huffed. Zuko gritted his teeth, tearing his gaze away from the pair by the deck. "Otherwise, you would have chosen prison. Even if you didn't understand the full extent of what they did to her in the institute, you had to have believed it was a better choice for her health than a fate as bleak as your father's."

"Had better conversations with my father in prison than I did with her, though," Zuko said.

"Maybe that's more of a reflection of what that asylum could do to a person, rather than anything that determines whether your father or your sister are better people," Ursa said. "Truly, Zuko… as difficult as this may be for you to wrap your head around, it shouldn't be. I'm not going to change my mind about her. She's not manipulating me."

"Right, because this initiative to go travel the world with those two isn't their doing?" Zuko asked. "Say what you will, Mom, but she could have guilted you into wanting something you actually don't…"

"And what if I do want it?" Ursa asked. Zuko gritted his teeth. "What if I need time away from home?"

"But…" Zuko said. Ursa raised an eyebrow.

"But what?" she said. "You forgave me when I abandoned you and your sister all those years ago. This time, I'd be choosing to travel with her and hopefully help her find peace…"

"It's not the same," Zuko said: his heart churned upon realizing the real reason why it wasn't, but he bottled it in for now. "She's dangerous, Mom. Right now, she's saying she sees Yue, but what if she goes off the rails in some worse way later too? You can't know what you're going to get with her."

"You think she's going to kill me and Sokka eventually?" Ursa asked. Zuko winced. "I'm not sure I believe that would happen. Fact is, I… I would even argue that it wouldn't. She has been with Sokka for a long time, and if anything, it seems they're getting along marvelously right now."

"That doesn't mean much. Sokka, Aang and Toph didn't give me a hard time when I joined their group. Only Katara did," Zuko said.

"So, you'd only learn to trust her if Katara did?" Ursa asked. Zuko winced.

"No, I'm just saying…"

"You wouldn't trust her at all, not even if your friends do."

Zuko shivered, lowering his gaze. Ursa folded her arms over her chest.

"Zuko, dear… I love you. You know I do. I've done terrible things, I've made awful mistakes… and I haven't made up for many, if any of them, so far. You forgave me regardless because you loved me. Because you prized me. Because your need for my wellbeing, my safety, my happiness, was paramount to finding justice. Am I wrong?"

"Well… no? But you're you, and she's her!" Zuko scoffed.

"And what if you could heal your bond?" Ursa asked. "What if you could sit with those two and laugh alongside them, too?"

Zuko froze. Ursa shook her head slowly.

"You've been poisoned terribly by your father, Zuko. In ways you never truly understood," Ursa said. Zuko winced.

"That's not… I'm not my father. I'm not!"

"I never said you were. But treating your sister as a wanted criminal, to be hunted all across the world? Isn't that the same thing your father did to his brother? To you?"

Zuko yelped. Ursa sighed, taking his hands in hers.

"No, Azula didn't do things so terrible that she cannot be forgiven for them. By all means, Iroh's death toll will always be far greater than either yours or Azula's could have been," Ursa said. "And yet you can accept him, while turning your back on her. I don't blame you, dear, for your uncertainties and your fear, for not wanting your sister to be around you constantly… but there comes a point in life where we need to stop running away from the harder truths we don't want to face. Azula brought me to realize that. She told me many things I didn't want to hear, but that I had to. And maybe that's what you need to prepare yourself for: listen. Don't just talk back, don't just defend yourself… listen. You have good intentions, dear… but you cannot do anything with them if you refuse to open your heart to other people's needs. More so when you're actually trying to help them."

"Well… I wasn't really trying to help Azula," Zuko confessed, frowning. "And I'm not even sure I want to. I keep thinking she'll just spit it all right back at me if I try."

"Is that any reason not to try at all?" Ursa asked. Zuko flinched. "Your uncle didn't give up on you even when you didn't make matters easy for him, he's told me so, as did you. It wasn't until you opened your heart to him, until his needs mattered as much as your own, that you learned to appreciate him properly. Azula? I think she's at that stage with Sokka, and maybe with Yue, too. Your sister isn't some nightmare to fend off, or merely a terrorist to fight against: she's your family. And you're one of the most powerful people in the world right now, dear. This nation is full of people who believed in the same things she did, and if they'd had the power she held, they wouldn't have acted any differently than she did. You're their Fire Lord: you're her Fire Lord. Wouldn't it be suitable for you to do right by your every subject, no matter how difficult it might be?"

"It's different when you're talking about Azula," Zuko scowled. "She's… not my subject. I haven't thought of her as that ever before."

"Then maybe it's time for you to start," Ursa said. Zuko winced, uncertain. "You're her older brother. And you cannot hope to heal this world, this nation, if you'll give up on members of your own family just because it's hard. In her case, half the work, more of it, even, was already done by others. If she could reach an understanding with me, she surely can with you too. All you have to do is… try."

Zuko gritted his teeth, a fist tightened: that sounded like a taller order than he was ready to commit to… even though, objectively, it shouldn't have been. Trying something didn't necessarily translate to sticking with a set course for good. If Azula went off the rails again, as she often did, Zuko very well could prove to everyone how wrong they had been about his sister.

But if she didn't… then maybe he could be a better brother, starting here and now. It was difficult to fathom, it made him deeply uncomfortable… but if Sokka and Ursa were right to stand by Azula, if she truly was seeing Yue and changing in more ways than he knew? Perhaps… they'd have a chance to be a real family one day. Perhaps.

"I'll talk to her once we get to the Palace," Zuko said. Ursa raised her eyebrows. "I… will try to mend fences. But she does have things to answer for… and I hope she's ready to do it."

"I'm sure she will be," Ursa said, with a genuine smile. "Thank you, Zuko. Your sister needs this, so much more than she realizes. Her heart is finally on the mend, thanks to Sokka and Yue… we could be part of that too. Wouldn't you like to have a positive impact on her life, lead her on a better path…?"

"I… guess I might not mind that. But we'll see," Zuko said. Ursa sighed, smiling still as she approached Zuko.

"Thank you for trying, dear. Thank you."

He hugged her back, uneasy, unsteady. A part of him wondered if Ursa would regret her earlier harshness… but he didn't dare ask. If she didn't, she might just be upset at him for so much as suggesting that she should…

Would she stand up to Azula similarly, if their roles were reversed? The realization that she would, that she might just have gone further for his sake, chilled Zuko's heart as he held his mother closely. He was a fool, wasn't he? Envying his sister for having their mother's attention, if just briefly… she was Azula's mother too. Just as she was Kiyi's. As special as his bond with Ursa might be… he would be an utter bastard if he tried to keep Ursa to himself when she had other children to watch over, too.

He sighed as he glanced through the window anew: their destination approached. His conversation with Azula wouldn't wait for much longer.

The Princess was visibly unsettled upon being in the Fire Nation Capital as herself this time. Her attire, far too casual, suited Ember Island so much better than the grand seat of power of her people. She'd change into something else as soon as she had the chance, maybe ask Sokka to fix her hair too…

But Zuko wouldn't give her that chance: as soon as they crossed the threshold into the Palace, the Fire Lord turned towards her with a stern frown.

"We'll talk privately," he said. Sokka huffed. "And I don't know why that bothers you so much, Sokka, but this doesn't concern you."

"It… doesn't," Sokka said, begrudgingly – he couldn't claim to be concerned over Azula's safety to that extent, not unless they were ready to set off Zuko's alarms regarding their relationship.

Still, he sighed as Azula shrugged – clearly, she wasn't all that pleased for this outcome, but she wasn't about to run away from her brother either.

"See you when I get out, I guess," she said, simply. Sokka sighed.

"Hey… wait."

Azula had merely taken one step forward when Sokka took her hand, placing the mirror carefully in her palm.

"I'd taken it earlier, before we arrived, remember?" Sokka smiled a little. "You won't be alone if Yue's with you."

"Heh. Sabotaging Zuzu's attempt to speak privately with me, I see," Azula said, though she couldn't hide her genuine, fond smile. "Thank you."

Sokka grinned brightly: Zuko scowled upon realizing he hadn't seen Sokka in such a good mood in… years, at least. Perhaps since around the years of the end of the war…

How, exactly, had Azula brought him to be that happy? Was it Azula at all, or was it Yue? It was much easier to believe it'd be the latter… but the fond smiles between them left an awkward feeling nestling in his gut.

He tried to ignore that sensation as he led his sister into a private sitting room. There'd be no pleasantries, no shared tea… they'd just talk. Hopefully, Sokka and Ursa would know better than to try to eavesdrop as they spoke.

"Well… looks like things are looking up for you," Zuko said, turning towards her with a prominent scowl on his face. Azula raised an eyebrow as she stood across him, arms folded over her chest. "Mom's… defending you without hesitation. I'd never seen her do that."

"It's hard to believe for me too, so you're not alone if you're confused," Azula said.

"I feel like I don't understand any of it," Zuko said, shaking his head and staring at her in confusion. "You're having new hallucinations, visions, whatever they are… and yet you sound more like yourself than you have in ages. You have people standing up for you and defending you to this extent, it's… weird."

"It's quite alright, I don't know how it happened even though I was there the whole time," Azula admitted, with a shrug. "Though… you're not the only one confused about certain things regarding each other. How, exactly, did you find us in Ember Island?"

"Oh. It took us a while to pick up on your trail," Zuko said, bitterly. "My guards eventually sought the Mechanist, he told them he'd given Sokka a hot-air balloon. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for sightings of unregistered, non-military hot-air balloons anywhere. Someone caught sight of you by the western Earth Kingdom, so we traveled there… once the next military sightings report claimed the balloon was sighted landing in Ember Island, I didn't hesitate to go there as soon as possible."

"So, you had all your soldiers looking for me, huh?" Azula said, raising her eyebrows. "I almost feel important and everything now…"

"Yeah, well… sure," Zuko huffed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry that I misunderstood that you'd kidnapped Sokka, but I hope you realize you… you don't make it exactly easy to think any better of you."

"Well, I didn't for all these years, that's certainly true. Do you expect me to throw a tantrum over how you don't trust me, or like me, or treat me with respect?" Azula asked, with a slight smirk. "Though I suppose that last one might be a fair one to protest against, come to think of it…"

"I don't want you to throw anything, I just… I want to understand what exactly is going on," Zuko scowled. "You abandoned your group, you traveled to the north, you're ride-or-die with Sokka suddenly… you have to realize it makes no sense. And after showing up in Ba Sing Se and causing unnecessary trouble…"

"Did you only hear about Ba Sing Se?" Azula asked, raising an eyebrow. "That wasn't our first stop, actually. Didn't Suki reach out to you?"

"Was she supposed to?" Zuko asked, frowning.

"That's… odd," Azula blinked blankly. "Here I thought she was that mad at Sokka once they broke up, threatening that she'd only give us one day to leave before alerting everyone that we were there. Maybe she actually had a soft spot for him still. The truth is we went to Kyoshi Island first, they had the break-up of the century, then we left again. That's where I found out that you were hunting for me, dead or alive…"

"I… I'll rescind that order," Zuko said, self-aware and uncomfortable. "I thought… you'd crossed a line. Turned out Sokka joined you willingly, though…"

"There really was no sign that he hadn't done that," Azula pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Zuko winced. "Whichever one of you lot decided I could only have kidnapped him, well… you'd have to give me a smidge of credit after this and admit that at least one weirdo in the world would travel with me willingly rather than dragged into it kicking and screaming."

"We jumped to conclusions and we shouldn't have. But… you do have to admit it looked weird. And like I said, you really…"

"I don't make it easy? No, I don't. Did I say otherwise?" Azula said, with a slight smirk. "I don't pity you at all, Zuzu, you have it pretty damn hard, being my brother. I don't know what you brought me here for, if what you want is an apology you might as well wait forever…"

"You're not sorry for any of what you've done over the last decade?" Zuko asked. Azula winced.

"I… didn't exactly say that," Azula said. "Just said I wouldn't apologize for it."

"So, you're not."

"I'm sorry enough for a lot of things," Azula said, glaring at him. "But… I was vindictive. I was angry, bitter and frustrated and I wanted to hurt you so you'd suffer as much as I was suffering. That's the truth. If you don't like it, that's not my business. I wanted vindication, revenge, what-have-you… and nothing I did actually got me any closer to attaining any of it. So, I failed at my quest to piss you off, and I joined Sokka in a weird journey to please a spirit that only I can see. It's… strange how different it is, living life that way. It wasn't all that comfortable at the start, but it is now. I can't fathom going back to what I was doing before."

"Because Sokka is… more fun?" Zuko asked. Azula shrugged.

"Would it be a problem for you, if that were the sole reason for it?" she asked. Zuko scowled. "Still would mean you're free from being tormented by me…"

"Until you get bored of him," Zuko finished. Azula laughed.

"I'm afraid that's not very likely. He's… a surprisingly resourceful man," Azula said. "Always has something to say that catches me off guard. Like Yue put it once… we're two master strategists in a battlefield of words, somehow. He's far more interesting than you or any of his other friends likely realize…"

"Or maybe you're both just weird in similar ways. Which I'd never have expected, but frankly, his sense of humor is about as strange as yours," Zuko pointed out. Azula laughed.

"I've noticed. I hate laughing at his jokes, but he makes it too easy sometimes," Azula admitted.

"Then… all this stuff about Yue?" Zuko said, eyeing her warily. "Sokka and her were a thing once. You said your entire purpose is to get her to see the world and experience the seasons and so on? I'm not going to say it's a bad purpose, I mean, it's by far the most harmless thing I've ever heard you want to do. But it sounds like a temporary diversion or so. Once she's satisfied, what will you do?"

"I suppose… that's something I'll figure out once we get there," Azula said, with a shrug. "Though if it makes you feel any better, I…"

The words got stuck in her throat at first, and Azula actually smiled a little as something deep inside her seemed to snap. Something she didn't really know nestled inside her broke off, leaving her untethered… forsaken, somehow. Her hand trembled, and she glanced at Yue in the mirror briefly as she processed what a treacherous thought had crossed her mind… a thought she couldn't help but feel keenly, acutely, in her heart. She breathed deeply, and Zuko frowned at the strange sincerity in her voice.

"I actually never imagined I'd come back to the Fire Nation peacefully… and I certainly have no plans of staying here forever."

Zuko's eyes widened. Azula gritted her teeth: those might just have been the most painful words she had ever spoken. She offered Zuko a dry grin then, covering up her vulnerability as best she could.

"So… that," she said. "I think I'd just wait and see what Sokka has in mind. He's weird, sure, but he's the most reliable ally I've ever traveled with. Seems like he wants to stick with me for the foreseeable future too, so…"

"You think he'd stay even after Yue is gone?" Zuko asked. Azula's heart clenched.

"I… hope so," Azula said. "He's said he would, at least."

"Really?" Zuko blinked blankly. "W-wait. Why?"

"Why?" Azula repeated, slightly affronted.

"I'm… not sure I follow," Zuko said, blinking blankly. "You two are, uh… best friends now?"

"Huh. I'm not sure that we are. Which one of them might be my best friend, come to think of it?" Azula said, glancing at Yue in the mirror. She giggled and waved in her direction, and Azula smiled at her.

"Sokka. Say it's Sokka," Zuko said, with a wild grin. Azula crooked an eyebrow.

"What's it to you, exactly…?"

"Toph said weird shit and I would like to confirm that she's wrong about it, is all," Zuko said, bitterly. Azula raised her eyebrows. "She said you'd… seduced Sokka and that's why he was completely wrapped around your finger, basically."

Azula snorted, then cackled by throwing her head back – a slight relief to Zuko, who smiled awkwardly at her reaction.

"Seduced Sokka? She sure gives me too much credit if she thinks I'd have the first clue of how to do such a thing," Azula laughed, shaking her head. "If Sokka fell in love with me, it'd be his fault entirely. I sure as hell did nothing to make it happen, I can guarantee that much."

"Huh. You know, that's not very tranquilizing either," Zuko grimaced. "Sokka's… weird. Suki was too normal for him, I guess…"

"Oh? So you're saying he needed an abnormal kind of partner instead?" Azula asked, raising her eyebrows. Zuko winced, raising a hand as though to stop her.

"I didn't mean… I just mean I'm not really sure how Sokka was having a good time by dating her! If anything, I'd think he wasn't. Which is possibly why they broke up."

"Sounds like it," Azula said, stubbornly. "Believe me, if he dated me, I'd give him far more interesting and entertaining reasons to break up with me."

"I'm not sure he'd choose to date you just so you can break up with him by… ugh! Could you not entangle my head with nonsense?" Zuko groaned. Azula smirked. "Look… I get that I can't change you or make you become the perfect sister for me…"

"Do you?" Azula asked, eyeing him skeptically. Zuko frowned. "Worth noting I can't do that to you, either. You're far too set in your ways for you to be my dream brother too."

"You… you'd change me?" Zuko asked, frowning. Azula smirked.

"I just said I wouldn't. But I'm not the one who replaced the two unpalatable members of my family with new, pleasant ones instead," she said. Zuko's eyes widened.

"I… Kiyi isn't a replacement for you! And I'm not even close to Noren…"

"Your little sister who loves and gushes over you isn't a replacement for the one who made your life a nightmare, apparently?" Azula smiled sadly. "As for Noren and father… if you're not close to him, then he's gotten the fundamentals of the job right, wouldn't you say?"

Zuko gritted his teeth: Azula's words hurt… but he couldn't help but notice that Azula, too, was hurt. He didn't usually notice as much… but this time, he raised his gaze to find that she appeared mournful of the fate they were facing as siblings.

"Point is… you haven't been optimal yourself. I've tried, yes, to mess with you and cause you grief… but I never really imagined you'd ever conform to being the brother I'd want you to be. Doesn't seem logical for you to start trying now."

"Why not?" Zuko asked. Azula laughed.

"I'm not challenging you, Dum-Dum. You're so ridiculous when you get like this," she said. "I'm fine, Zuko. I have no… no right to ask anything of you. That's not what this ever was, I… I admit it's pathetic to say it, but I just wanted to matter and I knew I never would if I went about it in any other way. Or, at least, I've never learned how. Point is… I fucked up, purposefully and intentionally. I'm not here to apologize because I don't think you have any real reason to forgive me, no matter if I'll never do it again. If that's what you were waiting for…"

"I… I don't know what I was expecting," Zuko said, frowning. "But probably more along the lines of you admitting that you're only traveling with Sokka out of convenience, and that you don't actually want him around much but he's useful so far…?"

"You really think I can only manipulate my way through life, don't you?" Azula said. "Granted, I know why you think so, but that's not the case. Sokka joined me, Yue roped me into this journey in the first place… the few times I've tried to do anything mischievous in this trip, it hasn't gone all that well. And somehow… they keep me busy enough that I can't really focus on doing anything to trouble you. Which, then, translates to me losing my taste for messing with you."

Zuko sighed, lowering his gaze.

"Would you get that taste back if I'm not paying attention?" he asked. Azula rolled her eyes. "I'm serious. You say that you weren't really trying to do anything that terrible with your actions… but the thing is, you did cause trouble and when it wasn't you, it was them. Your allies."

"Right, but…" Azula said, frowning. "While we certainly destabilized your rule, caused chaos whenever we cared to, we never did anything quite as bad as to truly hamper your efforts to fix the Fire Nation, did we? If anything, I've been a perfect villain for you to show the whole populace just why things need to change, or am I wrong? It was either you or me on that throne, and the more irresponsible behavior I display, the happier they'll be that it's you. Isn't it at least slightly beneficial to you?"

"You're acting like none of what you did had lasting consequences that could harm the nation…" Zuko said, gritting his teeth. "And you know what? Maybe you didn't. Even if you might have tried, maybe you actually showed some restraint I never truly registered as such before, and you never did something that devastating. But them? You have no idea what they did while you were gone, do you?"

Azula frowned. Zuko gritted his teeth, fists tight by his hips.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice unsteady: she had a feeling she knew what Zuko would say, but even so…

"They burned down the asylum."

Silence.

Azula's heart thumped with triumph… and fear.

"Did… did they get them out?" Azula asked. "The other patients, even the staff…"

Zuko's frown spoke for itself. Azula's sinking dread hit square in her gut, and she snarled as she tore her eyes away from him.

"I thought it was your final move," Zuko said. "Your full-blown act of war. By the time we got there, it was too late. Whole place… burned. Fifty-seven casualties. Some, family visitors. Most of them, patients. The rest, staff. Everyone dead… and not by any mistake. No, everyone in the building died because the people responsible for that crime ensured to shut the doors, the windows, every single exit…!"

"You can't be…" Azula snarled: even if she wanted to deny it, she knew she couldn't do it. Zirin… she would have done it. Azula knew as much.

"Everyone in the premises died… and we tracked down the culprits shortly afterwards. That's when I caught Zirin, and when she told me where you were," Zuko said. "They're in the Prison Tower right now. Awaiting their sentences."

"What are you going to…?" Azula asked, glancing at Zuko with uncertainty.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm struggling to figure out how to show them any mercy."

"Zuko, you… you don't understand what the asylum was like," Azula said, staring at him warily. Zuko scowled. "You never were there as a patient…"

"That doesn't justify what they did!"

"I agree!" Azula exclaimed, startling Zuko. "But… they unleashed the pent-up rage and wrath that place stirred inside them. That place, their families, everyone who played a role in putting them there… do you understand what it feels like, being forsaken in a place that constantly demeans you, dehumanizes you, subjects you to every kind of humiliation whenever you try to fight back, and affords you no dignity anyway, even when you don't fight at all? To be treated like a beast more than a person, to be spoken to as though you were some inferior kind of being…!"

"I don't think I get it, no, but it's not like I haven't been through dehumanizing, cruel things myself," Zuko said.

"The difference is the man who subjected you to the worst of yours is rotting in jail. The one who did it to me is standing right in front of me."

Zuko froze. Azula's accusatory glare caught him in an uncomfortable spot, and she shook her head.

"I… I understand why you did it. I'm not stupid. I know you had no time for me, I know you had no idea how to help me, you had a nation to run… but you don't know what it's like to be truly forsaken. Say what you will… you had Iroh. If you didn't have him, you had Mai. You had our mother. I… I had our father? Do you think he would have ever visited me, if he had been free to do so? He would have denounced me as unworthy of being his heir, if anything… imperfect, broken, damaged as I am. And even if I'm wrong… he was in prison. How could he check on me? But it wasn't just him… it was you. Iroh. Mai, Ty Lee… not a single one of you ever thought that reaching out to me while I was locked in that blasted place was a good idea. And you know what that looks like? It looks like you just want me out of the way. Like I was someone else's problem now, not yours. Like you just needed me to stop being a hazard to your goals and maybe then you'll try to be my brother… and that's a big 'maybe' anyhow. And you're none other than the Fire Lord, with all the resources and power at your disposal… and you couldn't even hire personal physicians to look after me in your home. You threw me out to a distant institution… so I wouldn't be a bother. Even if that wasn't your intention, that's what it looked like.

"And that's what they went through, too, with their own families. Every woman who didn't conform, every girl who dared have ideas different to what their relatives wanted them to follow, anyone who didn't behave exactly as they were expected to. Their own families and loved ones did it to them just as you did it to me. They were angry. They hated that place, more than I did even, and that's saying something. It was a glorified prison, where you could be subjected to the worst of alleged treatments only to be told that you hadn't been through enough of it yet and you needed some more still. I probably didn't even get it as bad as the others… I was only there for a year. Point is… it's not that I don't understand your position. I do. But I don't think the answer to what they did is… killing them. All you'd do is add to the catastrophe's death toll."

"They're more than just casualties of an accident: they instigated it. They're dangerous, Azula," Zuko said. Azula shrugged.

"I'm dangerous too," she said. "And in case you forgot? So are you."

Zuko winced. Azula wasn't accusatory, even if she could have been.

"You're not as healthy as you'd like to think you are," Azula said. "You're not okay, Zuzu. Maybe you never have been, to begin with. But as messed up as your choices were… you got out of being locked up in a place like that and then managed to join the winning team before the war ended. You could have very well ended up in a place like the asylum, by Father's orders, if I had brought you back as he wanted me to, at first. As a prisoner."

Zuko shuddered: he didn't want to think of that possibility. But Azula appeared determined to make him do exactly that.

"Would you have shown restraint?" Azula asked, frowning. "If you had been told you were not human, incapable of love, a rare case of madness, an intriguing subject to study… if you had heard them laugh off your misfortunes, talk about how loaded they'd be because you were of the Royal Family and they'd finally fill the institution's coffers that way, thinking you were too badly out of it with the medicine to overhear what they were saying? If they'd forced you to swallow food, herbs, unknown remedies that would make you feel numb and close to death? If they had… had messed up their dosage to the point where they killed someone in the stretcher near yours?"

Zuko flinched: the picture Azula painted for him clearly was taking a toll on him. Azula shook her head.

"I'm not saying Zirin and the others deserve to be forgiven. As much as every bastard working in that place was unforgivable, I had no intentions of killing them if we ever decided on taking revenge. Zirin made me design a revenge strategy, you see… I did it, and she kept asking for more violence. For a stronger revenge than just sabotaging the place or burning it once everyone was out safely. I refused to do it, I constantly told her we wouldn't make any moves on the asylum until we could get all the remaining patients out safely…"

"And she never listened," Zuko finished. Azula gritted her teeth.

"I was the leader. She listened solely because of that. It's no surprise that the first thing she did, once I wasn't there to keep an eye on her, was destroying that place recklessly."

"You would have saved the other patients?" Zuko asked. "Granted, the most dangerous ones would have been the ones you brought with you, but…"

"That's not necessarily true," Azula said. Zuko frowned. "You don't understand, do you? We were the family pests that nobody wanted to deal with. I had hallucinations? No doubt. But half of them had no conditions of any kind. I don't know how many people were admitted in the asylum without being mentally ill or disturbed in any way to begin with. It felt like… like they force-fed them alleged medicine that caused unwanted, unacceptable behaviors in people, just to justify keeping them there. That's what that place was like. That's why I'm not sorry to learn it was destroyed… and that's why I can't help but be furious that Zirin would decide not to save anyone who still could be helped."

"Would you have saved them?" Zuko asked. Azula shrugged.

"I tried when I broke out my allies in the first place," she said. Zuko's eyes widened. "I offered them the chance to leave. Over half the patients were too scared to try. They wanted to stay because they hoped… maybe by putting up with all of it, they'd get to go home one day. I won't pretend any of them trusted me, no doubt several must have thought I was more dangerous than the asylum staff and that must be why they didn't join me… but I never thought they should have died the way you say they did. They were no different from the rest of us."

Azula scowled: that this would afflict her quite so strongly came as a surprise to her, too. Initially, she had told Zirin they wouldn't destroy the asylum altogether because it would be deemed an act of war. Their team didn't need that kind of publicity, most of all when they were about to begin their act as the Kemurikage. But then she asked again, and again, and again… Azula didn't overlook the extent of the damage Zirin had suffered, but their group couldn't afford, couldn't field, a mission quite so dangerous. Zuko was never going to let that one go… just as he didn't. Massively murdering everyone in that building was not a laughing matter: Azula had asked Zirin if she was ready to pay the price for that destruction, and Zirin never failed to scoff at her sentimentality. Only practicality had kept her at bay for some time: they'd get too much attention otherwise, they couldn't afford that. But now… now, after putting so much distance between herself and that place, after seeing the world through different eyes, Azula's heart grieved for the people who weren't saved. She snarled, fists tight.

"Are you going to execute them?" she asked. Zuko sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe not," he said. Azula glanced at him in confusion. "But you have to understand this kind of chaos cannot go unpunished."

"I don't disagree. I just… don't know if I want you to kill them for it," Azula admitted. Zuko sighed, shaking his head.

"I don't even know what I'd do anymore. When I captured them, I was ready to do something final. Right now… I don't know," Zuko admitted. "Truthfully, I don't want them in prison. The Boiling Rock might sound like the best choice, going forward, but… it's not, is it? They could escape just as well, set it on fire, kill everyone there…"

"They'll always be a hazard, is what you're thinking," Azula said. Zuko shrugged.

"You don't expect that to be different now just because I caught them, do you?" he asked. "The only way they won't cause chaos is if I keep them contained, chi-blocked, fully restrained…"

"And then you'll just give them further reason to cause chaos as soon as there's any weakness, any leniency for them," Azula said. Zuko frowned. "That's the thing about hurting people, holding them against their will… it tends to breed resentment and grudges strong enough to last a lifetime. You wouldn't ask anyone who was a prisoner of war to forgive our father for what he did to them, would you?"

"It's different," Zuko said.

"Not where the imprisoned person is standing, it's not," Azula said. "The way they see it, you're complicit in the hell we faced in the asylum. You even left your own inconvenient relative there, too. They'd see it as no reason to change their ways."

"And yet you want me to believe you did change yorus?" Zuko asked. Azula shrugged, raising the mirror in his direction.

"Not that I was looking to change in any way, I certainly didn't care to at first. Took well over a year for Yue's influence to start gaining ground on me," Azula said, glancing at the mirror. Yue smiled wistfully. "But… I think the main thing that helped was having something in common, a goal that all three of us were striving for. We had to work together, and that meant each other's struggles and problems were everyone's concern. I don't know how anything like that could be achieved with Zirin."

"You could talk to her," Zuko said, simply. Azula sighed.

"You'd let me?" she asked. "I wouldn't even know what to say."

"Tell her you're not doing any of your destabilizing efforts anymore," Zuko said. "Tell her you're done with that, and that she'd better be done too unless she wants to deal with…"

"Then… heh. You want me to control her with fear?"

Zuko froze. Azula eyed him with a compassionate smile that turned mirthful shortly.

"As far as my personal experiences go, controlling others with fear can be terribly effective until it's not. People have ways of finding more courage than they ever held inside their hearts and turn on you when you don't expect it," Azula said. "Sounds easy enough at first… but it means you'll most likely end up living in fear your whole life, too. Can't advise it if you don't want to face more hardships than you'd be comfortable with."

Zuko snarled. He knew Azula was making sense, perhaps too much of it. He sighed, covering his face with his hand before shaking his head.

"What's your idea, then?" he asked. "What would you do to fix this?"

"Why are you asking me?" Azula said.

"Because you're making too much sense, so maybe you know how to make this better," Zuko asked. Azula grimaced. "What made you change was… Sokka and Yue? How do we give your allies anything of the sort?"

"You can't force something like that," Azula warned him. Zuko scoffed. "I mean it. They'd be more likely to set an olive branch on fire than to ever accept it smoothly if you hand it to them with the obvious intent of making them change and adapt to a life they don't care to live. If you'd personally showed up in front of me and entrusted me with Yue, somehow, I would have never listened to a single word she said, let alone would I have treated Sokka as anything but a would-be jailor following me everywhere. You had nothing to do with that, hence why I had a much easier time learning to… trust them."

"Then what do we do?" Zuko huffed. "I don't think keeping them in jail forever is going to be fine, or that they'd even stay there forever, they're likely to find a way to escape. Right now? I think… I think they're waiting for you."

"They expect me to break them out," Azula concluded.

"They wouldn't take it well if you show up as newly pardoned and allowed to be part of the family again, though, would they?" Zuko asked. Azula scoffed.

"But I'm not those things… am I?" Azula stared at him skeptically. Zuko winced.

"I… I guess it remains to be seen," he admitted. "But the point is, if I'm the one sending you… they're not going to take it well."

"They'd take it far worse if I pretend not to be your ally and it's inevitably discovered that I was talking to them by your command," Azula pointed out. Zuko sighed.

"Is there no solution to this damn madness?" he asked. "I don't even know what I was expecting from you, but it definitely wasn't… that you couldn't help me deal with them."

"I don't know that I can. But what, exactly, did you hope for me to accomplish?" Azula inquired, crooking an eyebrow. Zuko sighed.

"I don't even know. Talk things over with them. You understand what they did. Say… that I won't execute them for the asylum, even though a lot of people are demanding that I do. Say that I won't take it that far, and I mean it. What you've explained is… alarming. I don't know why I never thought…"

"You had no time for it. It's not really a defense… just a fact," Azula said. "Besides, you had very little cause for concern, right? I'm the problem and if someone's causing chaos, it's most likely me rather than my captor – or, rather, the physician attempting to control my every move…"

"Did they… make it worse?" Zuko asked. Azula frowned. "I mean, whether for you or the others. Your breakdown… was it a sign of something bigger, deeper, or did they just take advantage of my belief that it was, when it wasn't?"

"That's hard to say," Azula admitted. "I don't have the most accurate memories, frankly, when it comes to what happened. But it's possible, yes, that they weren't trying to help anyone heal. I'm not sure if it takes a year to recover from what I went through, but their grand treatments typically only made my mind more chaotic, and their therapy attempts didn't help matters either. They convinced me of… of the worst things I believed of myself, I suppose. I'm only realizing that they might have been wrong now."

"Then… could you talk to them from that angle?" Zuko asked. Azula raised an eyebrow. "Tell them the truth about what they did, and whatever they convinced them of. Make them understand that… well, the point should have never been to treat anyone interned in the asylum as a criminal. You're not undesirables in society… you were people who needed help, not to be tossed aside. And I… I did exactly that to you."

Azula frowned: it wasn't every day that Zuko seemed so torn up about whatever mistakes he had made… more so, when those mistakes concerned her. Azula waited patiently as he composed himself, and he raised his gaze towards her.

"I don't know where we'll go after this. I don't know what to offer you. I can't make up for my mistakes," he said. "But… I can try to break the cycle. To stop treating you as I have. To… to be a better brother, even if I barely know where to start with that."

"You'll have to figure that one out yourself. I have no expectations and no demands," Azula said. "But I do believe I should clarify one thing, Zuzu… I already said it earlier, but I'll say it again: I'm not back to stay."

Zuko eyed her with uncertainty upon hearing those words anew. Azula swallowed hard.

"Maybe I will do that one day, I don't know, but… I haven't finished my duties to Yue. And once I do, I might still not end up here again later anyhow," Azula said.

"You say that, but going to the Earth Kingdom would be very dangerous for you," Zuko said. "The manhunt for you in the Fire Nation will end, but…"

"And that's good to know, but I might not need to stay here forever even so," Azula shrugged. Zuko's eyes widened. "Did you hope I would?"

"Well… after what you've said, I figured you might go on the road for a while longer. But this is your home, isn't it?" he asked. Azula smiled.

"Did it still feel that way, once you returned from your banishment? I was under the impression it didn't," she pointed out. Zuko gritted his teeth, fists tight.

"If that's how you feel right now, well… it's bound to be my fault. But that was never my intent," Zuko said. "If I can…"

"I don't know that you can, and I don't know that you should have to," Azula said, shaking her head. "We're having a productive conversation right now, and you're finally listening to me, which I appreciate a lot, Zuzu… but I don't think this should be for the sake of ensuring that I stay at your beck and call constantly. If you've been running this nation without my help, you can carry on doing it too. If you want my aid, it's still up to me to decide that I'll give it. But for now… life has enough things left to offer me, even though I figured it didn't. If all signs point to the Fire Nation, I'll come back, but… I'm enjoying everything else far more than I thought I would."

"Dad would be cross if he knew that. Which is always a good thing," Zuko said. Azula smiled a little.

"You never really did get to see the world just for the sake of it," Azula said. Zuko shrugged. "You were on a mission, and just surviving eventually… but you didn't see the Earth Kingdom or the Water Tribes for what they were, with no pressures. I suppose… I recommend it. Maybe you'll want to abdicate by then, though I'm not sure who you'd hand the throne to if you did. I… I really don't want it."

She said the words casually… but a stronger smile spread over her face after she did. A soft laugh left her lips and she smiled brightly. Zuko's heart clenched at the sight of it… of such clarity and certainty in his usually troubled sister's visage.

"I don't want to be Fire Lord," Azula said, closing her eyes. "And that's probably the most liberating thing I've ever come to realize."

Zuko nodded, accepting her decision: it was different than him claiming she'd never take the title for herself. Azula had reached that point without him pushing her to it, even if not necessarily by herself… it wasn't a struggle anymore. It wasn't some chaotic, unnerving conflict. Azula didn't want the throne… she finally had accepted that. Zuko would be free from the chaos she could unleash with her antics until something else inevitably rose to take her place.

He just hoped it wouldn't be Zirin.

"Alright. That's… good to know. But… can I ask you to talk to them, then? To your old allies? At least, to Zirin?" he said. Azula's smile waned… but she shrugged.

"Might as well try. Though I don't think the outcome is going to be any more positive than it would have been if you'd tried this approach with me a year ago," Azula said. Zuko nodded.

"I'll try to brace myself for it. Azula… thank you," he said. The Princess smiled as she rose to her full height.

"For finally giving you a break? I'll find some other way to make you lose your temper, Zuko, don't you worry about that," Azula smirked.

"Heh. I won't lower my guard a lot, then," Zuko said. "Look… maybe I should've said something else first. I just… I wasn't ready to accept I've failed you in more ways than I thought. As far as I could tell, you were a problem indeed, you were someone I had to keep at a distance because you'd only ever hurt me…"

"And I was," Azula acknowledged, with a shrug.

"You weren't," Zuko countered. Azula scoffed. "You were my sister. And I never really thought about what that actually meant until… until I realized you had a whole group of people who had found your value and were helping you shine, and I wasn't one of them. It's not that I feel like I have to be there too… but it feels like I failed you anyway. Like maybe you could have reached this stage if I had tried a little harder… if I had been there for you in ways I wasn't. I kept seeing you as an enemy to defeat, no matter if I already had this crown on my head and… and I was wrong to do that. I can't help but think your life might have been a lot different if I had been less impulsive and stupid over some things. I'm… I'm sorry, Azula. I'm really sorry."

Azula's heart clenched, her throat thickening with tears that seemed to bloom out of nowhere. That wasn't what she had expected from Zuko… wasn't what she would have demanded from him, either. He didn't have to apologize to her… but he had. It was difficult to know what to say to that… though perhaps, it wasn't all that different from how she had responded to Yue, upon hearing her say she loved her.

She hadn't intended to say the words at all, regardless of how she felt. She hadn't thought they'd change anything… but regardless of her reasoning, her instincts pushed her to speak unlikely words to her brother all the same:

"I'm sorry too," Azula whispered, at last. Zuko gazed at her in astounded silence. "I did a lot of things just to make you suffer, I won't sugarcoat that. I wasn't ready to reason with what was going on in my own head, and I took it out on you. Before all this, well, yes, I certainly teased you a lot and I did hunt you down under Father's orders…"

"You don't have to apologize for that," Zuko admitted, with a small grin. Azula raised an eyebrow. "Well, we were kids. It looks a lot simpler now than it did before. I just couldn't seem to make sense of it back then… I was more troubled than I thought, too. Maybe I still am… but I'll try to reason with myself a little more than I always do. Without just… thinking everything's someone else's fault, every time."

"That'd be a good life choice," Azula said, with a slight grin.

Zuko sighed, stepping towards the doorway as Azula glanced down at the mirror: Yue smiled giddily, no doubt thrilled over having witnessed what appeared to be an unexpected reconciliation between Azula and her brother. The Fire Nation Princess smirked a little, shaking her head at her friend's excitement.

"Well, then… ready to go see Zirin?" Zuko asked.

Azula's heart clenched again… but she nodded, steeling herself for a reunion that promised to be a lot more chaotic and unpleasant than this one had turned out to be.

__________________________________

Prison Tower wasn't meant to be a friendly place. Azula's heart clenched as she approached it about an hour later, a foreboding feeling lingering in her heart: her father was there, but she wasn't here to see him today. Maybe one day she would be ready to face him… but the way her mother had explained her own visits to Ozai, it sounded like Azula wasn't remotely prepared to meet her father yet. He had expectations of her that she hadn't fulfilled… and that she never would.

She didn't really know what her future would look like, but she clenched her mirror tightly and let herself bask in the peace, the freedom, of knowing she would no longer serve the purposes that had damn near destroyed her. At the very least, Yue had died but succeeded at saving her people by doing so: Azula's sacrifices had amounted to nothing. Her vindictiveness had achieved nothing, too. She was tired… and ready to move on, now that she finally had a chance to imagine a future, vague and confusing as it might be, by Sokka's side…

Who, of course, stood right beside her at the moment, arms folded over his chest as he frowned at the prison ahead.

"You really had to come?" Zuko asked him, an eyebrow twitching. "You could have stayed with my mom…"

"You could have stayed with her too," Sokka scoffed. Zuko gritted his teeth and glared at him.

"I'm the Fire Lord! Azula can't talk to Zirin if I'm not here to authorize it!" he said. Sokka pouted.

"Then you'll have to put up with me being here too, nothing more to it," he said.

Azula smiled as they marched into the tower: Sokka's devotion to her hardly seemed real most times, and yet she knew it was. She had a baseline as to what his lies looked like, and it certainly wasn't the confident, strong front he was showing Zuko right now.

"You okay? Ready for this?" Sokka asked her, once Zuko took to speaking with the warden, who appeared alarmed to see Azula as a visitor rather than another prisoner.

"I doubt it," Azula admitted. "You didn't have to come, Zuko isn't wrong about that… but I'm glad you did."

"Oh. Uh, heh," Sokka smiled, cheeks flushing slightly as he ran a hand over his hair. "I'm glad you're glad! Though, you know, if you need anything…"

"I'd reach out, but… I don't know if I will be able to do it," Azula said, frowning sternly again. "You'll be right outside?"

"Yeah. And you can handle this Zirin, right?" Sokka asked. Azula shrugged.

"I'd better. She's usually not enough of a bender to be a cause for concern for me, I'd dare say," Azula mused, frowning slightly. Sokka smiled and nodded.

"You're the strongest firebender there is, after all. Nothing she can do should faze you… but in case it does, I'll stay nearby and even cheer you on."

"Well, I've never really fought with a supportive audience like that, but fair enough," Azula said. "Besides… we shouldn't need to fight at all. It's… a conversation."

She said the words while knowing they weren't entirely true: Zirin would make this a battlefield if she had reason to. And if Azula told her what Zuko would expect her to? It might just be a guarantee that they'd wind up in conflict indeed.

The warden led them to the room where Zirin had been brought moments before they arrived. Zuko and Sokka remained tense by the door, and Azula breathed deeply as she readied herself to enter…

"Good luck," Sokka whispered.

"If you need any help, let us know," Zuko said, frowning. "You don't have to face her alone."

"I'm not sure about that last thing… and I'll try not to make it come to the first thing, too," Azula said.

She stepped between them: she gripped Sokka's hand gently as she passed beside him before pushing the door open. Sokka gritted his teeth, gazing after her hopelessly, his anguish increasing once the door closed, leaving Azula alone with her previous second-in-command.

Zirin sat in a slovenly position on a chair, in the center of the room. She appeared to have been bound to it. Azula frowned as she stopped before her… and Zirin scowled as she raised her gaze, gradually astounded upon realizing this wasn't just another visit by Fire Lord Zuko.

"You… you're back," Zirin said, a spark of hope in her gaze… one that went away quickly, replaced by distrust. "How? Who the hell allowed you to visit me officially? Or did you kill your brother and took his appointment instead?"

"I didn't do that," Azula said. Zirin scoffed.

"Of course not. You don't have the spine for it. Had the spine to get rid of your inconvenient friend yet, or was that too much to ask too?" Zirin asked, spitefully. "You were gone long enough. I thought… did it work? Are you yourself again, or…?"

"It didn't," Azula said. Zirin snarled. "She's still with me. Nothing has worked so far… and I don't think anything has to, either."

"Oh, right, so you're just going to keep botching up operations and messing up our objectives by being completely swept up by stupid arguments with the damn girl in your reflection?" Zirin asked. "You're unbelievable."

"I have no intentions of letting that happen because… there will be no more operations or objectives for us," Azula said. Zirin froze. "Which is your fault in no small part. If you hadn't gotten caught, the whole lot of you could have gone on to cause chaos without me. Begs the question of why you were so eager to be the leader when you botched it up so badly as soon as I was out of the way. Isn't that what you were always looking forward to? Isn't it exactly what you wanted?"

"I…!" Zirin snarled, shaking her head. "What's it to you, what I wanted? You…! You kept us chained down, locked to your whims! You saved us and broke us out of that hellhole, and we owed you because of that…!"

"The hellhole you finally burned to the ground, or so I hear," Azula said: Zirin had the gall to smirk. "With all the remaining patients still inside."

"They were as bad as the physicians," Zirin said, shrugging. "Content to live in their chains, emboldening them to do it to others, like us. Don't like it? Not my problem. They got what they deserved."

Azula scowled. Zirin's demeanor didn't change for it.

"I've prided myself in being a terrible person, you know?" Azula said. "In not particularly caring who I hurt and who I didn't… but I guess I overestimated myself. Compared to you, apparently I still have boundaries and sense…"

"You mean you're a coward. Spineless and weak when you should take action… always been in your damn brother's pocket even when you acted like you weren't," Zirin hissed. "Did he offer to pardon you because you weren't part of the destruction, maybe? Might have offered you the chance to execute us by your own hand too. Was that why you were allowed to come here?"

"I'm here… as your final salvation," Azula said. Zirin snorted in disbelief. "If you won't listen to me, if you won't forsake what you're doing, the way I did…"

"Ha! You're done, then? All done destabilizing the Fire Lord's pathetic rule?" Zirin cackled. "You're quitting now? And why's that, exactly?! Who's caught your leash now, Azula? Who's pulling at it?!"

"I don't have one anymore. You, on the other hand…" Azula said. Zirin laughed, shaking her head.

"Don't give me that. I'm no one's beast," Zirin said, her eyes growing colder as all mirth fled from her face as quickly as it arrived. "What was it? The Fire Lord…? Nah, you'd need a stronger incentive than that. Maybe… heh. The pest in your reflection? Is that who?"

"Shut up," Azula hissed impulsively: Zirin laughed again.

"Controlled by that thing, just as you were by your mother. Funny," Zirin said, coldly again. "You're so weak. So spineless…"

"I have more than enough strength and spine to stand here and see you for what you are," Azula snapped. Zirin raised her eyebrows.

"And what's that?" she asked.

Azula breathed deeply, glaring into Zirin's dark eyes… before giving her an answer:

"A lost, helpless, desperate fool looking for purpose and drive and finding none," Azula said. Zirin scoffed. "You've convinced yourself that destroying the asylum was the right choice but it wasn't: all you achieved was proving them right in fearing you… in wanting you out of their way. You've never imagined a way out, a chance to become something different, to start anew elsewhere. You don't even know the value of that kind of opportunity… because no one has ever granted it to you."

"And someone granted it to you?" Zirin asked, derisively. Azula gritted her teeth. "What? Pfft. Your brother?"

"It's not him," Azula said, gripping the mirror in her pocket. "It's someone I never thought would have any manner of compassion for me and yet he did. So…"

"Ah, don't tell me… you found a boyfriend," Zirin said. "No doubt you're thrilled, what you always wanted…"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Azula scoffed.

"You're so sad and anguished by loneliness, aren't you? I guess you're clinging to the first moron who overlooked… well, all the crazy shit and just latched onto how pretty you were?" Zirin asked, with a sarcastic smile. Azula smirked.

"If that would make you feel any better, go on ahead and believe that. But he's… he wasn't part of this because of me. Not at first. We haven't been journeying together just because he's craving me. He's the one who's helping me fix what's wrong with Yue…"

"And you love him, do you?" Zirin smirked. "Well, wait a few months after the novelty wears off and see how he likes you once you become the harpy that screams at him over anything and everything, just as it goes in all fucked-up marriages. You can't exactly expect to do better than that, can you? Either way… this is stupid. Someone who caved in to something as pathetic as falling for some stupid guy, lecturing me on what to do with my life…"

"I've said I'm your last chance at something better than staying locked inside this building for however long you have left to live," Azula said. Zirin rolled her eyes. "Zuko will kill you if no one stops him. Is that what you want?"

"I want the old Azula back. The one who would break us out of here in a heartbeat," Zirin snapped.

"Oh, you mean the one who laughed when she heard you'd gotten yourselves locked up in jail?" Azula smirked. Zirin tensed up. "I did exactly that, you know? I thought it was a beautiful irony: so much badgering me and pestering me about how you were such a better leader, all your plotting, all your talk behind my back… and you were an even bigger failure than I ever was, in the end. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

"Shut up," Zirin snarled. Azula glared at her coldly.

"That's the Azula you were asking for, though. The one who would walk away and let you get crushed under my brother's boot out of vindictiveness alone," she continued. "I'm here to tell you to turn over a new leaf and set aside your intent, or you're only going to continue paying the price for it. And I won't be paying it with you."

"So that's it, then? You're forsaking me and running off with… with that fool in your head, with the idiot who somehow wants to date you or whatever?" Zirin scoffed.

"I wouldn't be forsaking anything… provided you and the others agree to stop, for good," Azula said. "Zuko is an idiot in many ways, and he didn't truly understand the gravity of what happened in that place. What you did to the other patients is unforgivable, Zirin… were the circumstances any different, I would be advocating for your death myself. But I know why you did it… I just cannot accept that you found no way to spare them. Even so, you can rot in this cell forever or you can make something of yourself…"

"Something to aid this wretched nation?" Zirin asked. "I'd pick the pyre."

"Really?" Azula asked. Zirin scoffed.

"The Fire Nation should go down in flames… and I don't care for it to be reborn from its ashes," she hissed. "You, your accursed family… you all just prove there's no saving this nation. And maybe I'm the one who can do it… by laying waste upon it all. That… that's my fate. There was no Phoenix King, in the end… but I could be the Queen."

"The fuck are you…?" Azula frowned, but she froze: she had seen that look on Zirin's face before.

It was a sudden burst of vacancy that preceded a storm.

The reason why she had been sent to the asylum in the first place.

"Zirin. Zirin!" Azula called her, stepping closer to the woman. "Snap back here! Zirin!"

She was tempted to slap her, but she held back out of knowing that violence might just unleash the very worst of reactions from the firebender even faster than Zirin intended: heat began rising within the room, and Zirin continued not to react… but something seemed to be instants away from boiling over inside her. It was as though she had grown comatose… focusing her power so much that every shred of her energy would become firebending.

"Zirin!" Azula snapped. "I will do it! I will chi-block you!"

It was the only way in which she had been stopped once, when she had withdrawn into that state at night, setting their campsite on fire as a consequence. The others had hidden away from Zirin, and only Azula had reduced her. She had spent hours writhing furiously afterwards, sputtering flames out of her throat all the same…

But this time, Zirin was faster.

This time, Azula raised her hand to stop her just as Zirin screamed.

A violent burst of flames caught Azula just as she had been about to prevent it from rushing out: she was flung back, falling hard against the closed door, as the flames pouring over Zirin's body, charring at her skin, burned and melted the chains and restraints, destroying the chair where she had been perched…

She stood up, fire still alight over her body. Azula snarled, rubbing her back as she felt the door shifting behind her.

"Azula?! Azula! What's going on?! Azula?!" Sokka's voice reached her, and Azula snarled as she pushed herself away from the door.

"YOU'LL NEVER BREAK ME! THERE WON'T EVEN BE ASHES LEFT WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU!" Zirin shrieked: her hand rose towards Azula, and she leveled a new firebending blast in her direction.

Azula snarled: the door swung open violently once her weight no longer kept it shut, for Sokka shoved it. He had a perfect view of how his princess caught an onslaught of pouring flames in one hand, brandishing it in her control, stealing it from the woman before her…

How? How was Zirin unleashing that kind of power? The room was as good as an inferno, one that Azula was restraining with every ounce of her strength…

Her left leg was unsteady.

There was something dark trickling down her trousers.

"Azula!" Sokka roared.

"GET BACK!" Azula rebuffed, building her power over the flames and wrestling them out of Zirin's control.

This wasn't new, even if it was far more potent than whenever it had happened during their previous mishaps on the road: Zirin's firebending was a threat to anyone around her, even herself. Long ago, Zirin had learned to channel her body's energy in ways completely unknown to Azula until then, as good as shutting down as she gathered her energy in a single point. Even her heart would stop beating for that small moment… and then everything would bloom again, unleashing from her body as an explosion, a storm of flames for which her body was the conduit.

It was more akin to a phoenix than anything Ozai had been. Zirin died for a blink of a moment only to return shrouded by flames. She had hurt herself with her own fire with these stunts in the past, destroyed her childhood home, she had always been restrained with chi-blocking when she had dared do it in the asylum… and chi-blocking was how Azula would keep her in check whenever Zirin's temper got the better of her while they were part of the same group.

She had surely used that technique to lay waste upon the asylum. She had gathered her power and unleashed all of it in one violent, suspended burst that would last for as long as she could sustain it.

And now, Azula struggled against the onslaught of fire that Zirin unleashed through her throat, her body seemingly burning alive as she unleashed her flames into the small room.

She couldn't scream forever, Sokka counted on that: he stood beside Azula, behind her, worried about the wound she had most likely sustained in her left leg… then, Zirin finally slowed her outburst, even as sparks poured from her closed mouth.

"Had enough yet?!" Azula roared: the room turned blue, as Azula brandished Zirin's remaining flames…

She could very well return them at her former ally.

But she didn't do it.

The fire diminished in size and strength, stifled gradually by Azula's expert bending: Zirin laughed, though, raising a hand menacingly.

"You will pay for all your broken promises!" Zirin shouted. "Your cursed family… I will destroy it at all costs! You… the Fire Lord!"

Azula had never understood Zirin's particular hatred towards Zuko: her brother hadn't even entered the room, but Zirin knew he was out there, somewhere. That, alone, would suffice to motivate her into destroying him at once.

She geared up to roar again, and Azula tensed up…

Her left leg buckled.

She gasped: why had she lost her grip? Why had she…?

She reached down to touch it, and only then did she realize her thigh hurt: blood. Her hand was stained with blood.

She shuddered at the sight of it, failing to understand the implications, only realizing now that there was something painfully imbedded in her skin. She couldn't rise back up. She couldn't stand. She couldn't…

Zirin unleashed a new burst of flames.

Azula wouldn't be fast enough to stop them.

A projectile flew violently through the flames, spinning fast in the direction where Zirin stood... but Azula didn't see it strike her.

She couldn't, for she was wrapped in protective arms as the remaining flames of that inferno fell upon the back of the person holding her.

Sokka cried out in pain as the flames charred his body: Azula yelped…

And just as suddenly as it had arisen, the fire extinguished.

"Sokka! Sokka, why would you…?!" Azula gasped, struggling to push herself back upright: Sokka weighed heavily on her, and he snarled with pain under the damage he had sustained. "Sokka!"

"Azula!" Zuko's voice reached them: the Princess turned towards him in anguish, seeing he had retrieved help, but not fast enough to stop Zirin from hurting Sokka.

Zuko's eyes widened at the sight of Sokka's burnt back: his shirt's back had been charred, leaving solely blackened fabric at the edges of the hole across the extension of his spine. Redness underneath betrayed that he had sustained a strong burn… even if the person bending the flames that had hurt him now lay unconscious, bleeding from the forehead.

Sokka's boomerang had spun awkwardly back to him, landing a few steps away, after he struck Zirin down before she could destroy the room, the Prison Tower, everything around them.

"Help…" Azula gasped, gripping Sokka firmly. She looked to Zuko with vulnerability most unlike her… uttering a word she most likely had never spoken to him. "Zuko…!"

The Fire Lord frowned with determination: he gave orders to his soldiers, and he stepped up to take charge of the situation. The guilt inside his chest would be resolved later: for now, Zirin would be contained anew, and Sokka and Azula would be taken to safety.

____________________________________

Sokka sighed, smiling sadly at Azula as she sat by his bedside, her brow furrowed:

The shards of the mirror nestled in a pouch, in her hand.

The mirror had broken against the door in the impact when she had been flung back with Zirin's initial outburst. She hadn't realized it, at first. She hadn't wanted to believe it was true, either, when she understood that her first gift by Sokka had been destroyed by Zirin's attack.

"I know she can show up elsewhere, I do, but… this sucks," Azula huffed, shaking her head and setting the mirror aside, trying to ignore her bandaged thigh. The damage hadn't been that deep, certainly not enough to endanger her, but she wasn't supposed to move around much for the next few days while her body amended the damage.

"We'll get you a new mirror. A prettier one," Sokka said. "One more suitable for you."

"That one was fine," Azula said, sighing as she set the pouch down on Sokka's nightstand. "But I shouldn't complain. You… you matter more than a broken mirror."

"Do I?" Sokka smirked. Azula scoffed. "What?"

"Are you really going to twist my concern for you into some weird flirting or something…?" Azula asked. Sokka laughed, nodding awkwardly as he lay on his back, head turned towards her. Azula scoffed, amused nonetheless. "You're so ridiculous."

"You like that I am, though," he said. Azula lowered her gaze.

"You know… Zuko once did what you just did, too. For your sister," Azula said. Sokka's smile waned slightly. "I was the one on the offensive that time. It's rare enough that I was the one trying to defend others this time… that I was the target of someone out of control, rather than being the one who was out of control or out of line. But it's weirder still that someone would jump into the fire for me."

She raised her gaze towards him, and Sokka smiled a little. Azula shook her head.

"No laughing matter. No smiling matter, either. You could have been burned far worse than you were. It's fortunate that they think you'll recover safely," Azula said. Sokka scoffed.

"Your fire's definitely stronger than hers," he said. Azula rolled her eyes, though she smiled a little. "You overestimated her strength."

"I'm quite sure I did no such thing," Azula said, shaking her head and reaching out a hand to stroke his hair gently. Sokka grinned giddily. "You didn't have to do that, is my point."

"Azula… I love you," Sokka said, earnestly. Her heart jolted to hear the words from his lips again. "I'm sorry to say that's what love means to me. Maybe you don't like it… but I'm going to jump into the fire for you. I'm going to stand between you and any knife that comes your way. If I get hurt… well, it's fine if you won't be."

"That's… you're an idiot," Azula said, frowning. Sokka shrugged.

"Most people think so too…"

"Well, most of them are wrong because they're saying it for the wrong reasons," Azula said. Sokka snorted. "You… you can't go around pretending your life and your safety matter less than that of everyone you care about."

"So… am I supposed to protect myself instead?" Sokka asked, puzzled. Azula gritted her teeth…

A most confusing, surprising epiphany hit her as consequence of his question. Sokka appeared to await an answer… and she was surprised to find she actually had one:

"You're supposed to fight by my side," Azula decided. Sokka's eyes widened. "We're… we're a team. Successful strategies don't require the sacrifice of your own allies. If you need to discard them as you progress towards your goal, you're probably not that good a strategist. More capable and able-bodied allies mean you have more resources at your disposal. It's simple and obvious."

"Heh. So… a practical, reasonable point of view encourages you to believe that I shouldn't jump into danger," Sokka smirked. "You know what? That's exactly why I like you. Love to hear it."

Azula smirked back at him, shaking her head: she couldn't help but grow fonder of him for that reaction. She suspected anyone lesser would have been cross with her for responding with practicality rather than sentimentality after a sacrifice that great… but not Sokka. They certainly saw eye to eye when it came to strategic matters, if nothing else.

"The next time we're in danger, if we are… and we most likely will be, considering who I am, and what your luck in life has been like," Azula pointed out, to Sokka's amusement. "Please… work with me. Don't jump into danger that way. It… it means a lot, that you would. But I'm not exactly eager to lose you. It was good thinking to knock Zirin out with your boomerang, you sure threw it hard for it to cut across her fire that way…"

"Well, these muscles aren't just for show," Sokka said, tightening his biceps to her amusement. Azula laughed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. "See? See?"

"Dork," Azula smiled. He snickered proudly. "I'm grateful anyway. Just… don't do that again, will you?"

"I'll try not to," Sokka smiled warmly, reaching up to clasp her hand, pressing a soft kiss to her palm.

The tingling feeling of being treasured by someone to the point where he might sacrifice himself for her sake hadn't receded. It almost brought her to tears. Her throat tightened as she pondered it, as she realized that perhaps love did look a little bit like what Sokka had described for her before, even if it shouldn't be as self-sacrificial as that…

She leaned closer to him on his bed, pressing her lips to his cheek. Sokka grinned mischievously at the feeling.

"That's nice…" he said.

"You do realize… that we're not going to sleep together until your back recovers?"

"What?!"

Sokka yelped, and Azula laughed at his extreme reaction: he even seemed to rise from the bed, and she had to reel him in so he'd stop being so careless.

"Come on, you won't be able to lie on your back…"

"Well, I won't lie on it. I don't need to. You'll have to put up with being under me more often!" Sokka pouted.

"You really are that eager to get back to it, are you?" Azula smiled, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek again. Sokka groaned needily.

"When you're being this nice, it's hard to help it," he said. "C'mon, I could just lie on top and even as we sleep, I'll just rest on, uh, the best pillow in the world…"

"You like my breasts far too much for your own good," Azula said: Sokka smiled wildly, glancing at her chest even if her clothes covered her bosom fully.

"What's not to like?" he said. "You're delightful. And delicious, too."

"I'm… ugh, you don't have to be so crude, Sokka," Azula blushed, shaking her head as she pushed him slightly on his mattress. Sokka snorted at her remark.

"If it disgusts you so much, why are you climbing up here right after I said something stupid?" he asked: Azula was halfway on the mattress by then, and she shot him a fierce glare.

"Because I… had already meant to do this before you started being embarrassing," she huffed, lying down fully beside him. Sokka giggled, and Azula rolled her eyes before reaching towards him. "Come here, you annoying jerk, you…"

"Woah, wait…!"

His request was not heeded: thus, before he knew it, Sokka was left to lie his head down happily, comfortably, atop Azula's chest.

"I hope this will help you recover. At least, might brighten your spirits," Azula said, unsure of why she felt bashful after what she'd done. Sokka, of course, beamed with delight.

"Sure brightens them," he said. "Though I hope it won't help much because that means I'd recover too quickly. If I don't, then I'll get to do this even more often, and…"

"If you recover faster I'll sit on your face sooner than you know," Azula declared, boldly: Sokka smiled wildly, raising his head from her chest eagerly.

"You will?!" he exclaimed. Azula snorted and laughed.

"Guess you're happy when I'm the one who's crude. You know, you're delightful too. And ridiculous," she said, cupping his face with her hands before kissing his eager lips softly.

It was a tender, meaningful kiss for the two of them, and they extended it for as long as they dared with sweet, gentle pecks, as well as deeper, thorough explorations of each other, interspersed between the chaste kisses. His hands dared touch her with desire, even if he wasn't about to act on it… and Azula let him. She felt his fingers trailing her weak spots and she thrived in it, quietly, letting her lover trigger her pleasure at his leisure.

"You didn't need to do this either, you know?" Sokka smiled a little, raising his head to gaze at her. "Could've just left me to rest quietly while withholding yourself from me…"

"Why would I want to do that?" Azula asked, stroking his hair gently. Sokka chuckled.

"Don't know. Because I'm the annoying guy who put himself in danger for your sake when he should have been fighting alongside you?" he said.

"Well, lesson learned now, I hope. You're… a little forgiven," Azula said, with a smirk. Sokka laughed, his brow pressed against hers.

"Good to know," he said. Azula bit her lip.

"Maybe we're not so different, you and I. You jumped in front of an inferno to protect me because you love me… and I let you rest on my chest because I…"

"Azula?" Sokka raised an eyebrow, looking at her with surprise.

Azula breathed deeply before meeting his eyes: it felt like the biggest risk she had ever taken. She didn't know what was so frightening about uttering those words, she had already spoken them to someone else…

But doing it with Sokka felt like a greater commitment. Like deciding she was throwing her lot with him for the rest of their lives, if he could stand her for that long.

The way he gazed at her suggested he was capable of that, and so much more.

So she had to do it. She just had to jump… and wait for gravity to claim her, or for her wings to burst from her back and help her take to the skies.

"I love you."

Sokka's eyes gleamed with emotion, reflected by the tears that were born in the corners of his eyes. He laughed softly, and Azula smiled warmly too, if tearfully: he kissed her sweetly, and her arms locked around his neck as she kept him close.

"Azula…" he managed to say, with a broken voice. Azula shook her head.

"It's okay. We'll… talk things over later," she said, caressing his cheek. "We'll decide whatever we need to decide, alright? For now, just… just live in the here and now. Just… just let me love you even if I barely know how, okay?"

"You know more than you realize you do," Sokka smiled warmly: the affection in his eyes caught her so off guard she nearly melted into his next kiss, into his warm, loving embrace…

Yes, there were many things for them to work through still. Yes, perhaps she'd regret having said those words once it sunk in that she had done it, whenever she lost her mind to anguish over not being good enough for him… but right now, everything felt just right. His kisses were as warm as sunlight, setting her inner flame afire with potent emotions she never knew she could experience.

Fire could be so deadly, so devastating. It could lay waste upon everything, just as Zirin had tried to… but it could be warm and gentle, too. It could embody passion… it could embody life. The dark shadows fire cast around itself were intricately connected with its light. The hand of the bender wielding it would determine the true purpose of flames: destruction or creation, hatred or love, life or death…

And right now, the fire in her heart burned with unequivocal devotion for the man whose brow pressed to hers, as they basked in their newfound peace. A part of Azula wickedly wished to ask if this was exactly what he had been missing with Suki… but she didn't dare mar a perfect moment of shared tenderness with any matters besides the two of them. All teasing could wait for later.

Though they would be forced to interrupt that crystallized moment of happiness rather quickly, too, once they heard footsteps approaching Sokka's room, as well as the quelled voices of Zuko and his physicians, who no doubt were informing him of Sokka's state.

"Uuuh…" Sokka grimaced: Azula flushed as she squirmed clumsily, awkwardly, out of Sokka's embrace.

"Lie down quietly there. Nothing happened here," she said, bashful, carefully moving so her leg wouldn't hurt.

"Right. Right. I'll… pretend I was asleep, yep. That's it," Sokka smiled, closing his eyes and relaxing.

Azula's heart raced as she took her seat: Zuko barged in moments later, without knocking.

"Still can't bother announcing yourself before entering any rooms?" Azula asked. Zuko grimaced, slowing down at first before stepping closer to Azula, sitting beside her.

"I guess I ought to work on that," he said. "How is he?"

"He's… asleep. As you can see," Azula said, trying not to show her bashfulness too overtly – while there was much they would need to work on and decide, one of such things was settling on whether to keep matters quiet a little longer or blatantly sharing the truth of what their relationship was with everyone around them… such as Zuko.

"Well… yeah. I can," Zuko sighed. "The physicians say he might… might have light marks left. Fortunately, the fire receded fast enough so it isn't as severe as, well… my face."

"It wasn't a third-degree burn," Azula concluded. Zuko nodded.

"Still… I don't feel like this is the right choice," Zuko said. Azula raised an eyebrow. "I mean… my physicians are the best the Fire Nation can offer. But is Fire Nation medicine going to be enough?"

"I have no idea. I hope so?" Azula said. Zuko sighed.

"I think we should get him to someone who could alleviate his pain much faster. Maybe even heal him enough so his skin isn't damaged forever," Zuko said. "Not even with light marks."

"Is that even possible?" Azula asked.

"Waterbending healing is impressive. You'll see," Zuko said, reassuringly.

"You're bringing a waterbender here?" Azula asked. "Or… do you want us to go to the Northern Water Tribe again?"

"I, uh… didn't mean for us to travel that far. A little less far, frankly," Zuko said, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly. Azula frowned.

"What?"

"There's… a really great waterbending healer who would gladly look after Sokka and make sure he's okay. And I think we should trust her to take good care of him. I know I do… though I'm not sure you do. Sokka would, though, I mean, she's… uh, well… his sister."

Azula had started to suspect what Zuko was getting at right before he arrived at his destination: her jaw dropped, and she inched away from him before blurting out the one answer she could give her brother's suggestion:

"Absolutely not."

"Azula, he's her brother. She'll kill us if we don't tell her he was in danger, if we don't take him to her…!"

"She'll kill you for harboring me at all, and then kill me for being, well, me! So as far as I can tell, the casualties will be minimal provided we just… avoid her. Forever."

Zuko snorted, slightly amused by the panic Katara elicited in Azula's heart. The Princess glared at her brother in displeasure, and he shook his head.

"I'll go too and make sure she understands that none of this is your fault. If anything… it's mine," Zuko said. Azula winced…

"As touching as it is to hear you admit that? I still don't want to go. Nope. Not a chance," Azula said, eyes wide.

"You might just like Air Temple Island…"

"What does that even matter?! I'm not going to jump right into their hands when they thought I'd kidnapped Sokka to begin with!"

"Well, I'll clear that up too! It'll be fine! Maybe we can call Toph too, I bet she'd help clear your name! Maybe she even told Aang and Katara that you're not a hazard to Sokka already…!"

"Right, and you think they believed her, if she did? You're as gullible as…"

"If you guys argued any louder, maybe you'd finally make sure that no one gets any rest around these parts, you know?"

Both Azula and Zuko froze up at Sokka's accusatory tone and deadpan glare – evidently, his attempt to pretend that he was sleeping had ended very quickly. Their apologetic grimaces brought a smirk to his face, and he shook his head at them.

"We can go to Air Temple Island. I'll handle Katara… and I'll make sure to have a loud argument with her just as you two are trying to fall asleep, too."

"Haha. You're hilarious," Zuko scoffed. Azula chuckled, shaking her head at Sokka's promise. "But then… once you're okay to travel? We'll… we'll get going. We'll get you some more healing, Sokka. You'll make a full recovery."

"As noisy as you may be… that's nice of you, buddy. Thanks," Sokka grinned.

Zuko didn't stay for much longer, busy as he was: Azula's nervousness over the next leg of their journey didn't diminish at all… but once Zuko was gone, she reached out to take Sokka's hand in hers: he smiled as he fell asleep holding it, and just by the sight of that gentle smile upon his face, Azula allowed herself to believe wistfully that everything would work out for the best…

They were gone. No light. No reflections. Nowhere for her to peer through and understand what had happened. The mirror was shattered, stained with her host's blood.

"You see? You hurt her! And you keep hurting her! Your meddling ruined her bonds with her allies, and you couldn't save her from another betrayal!"

Yue gritted her teeth, closing her eyes as she tried not to listen to the cackling cruelty of her captor. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't need to…

"Yue… Yue… Yue…"

A second voice. The one she heard at times, a familiar voice… it was kind, it was reaching out for her…

The dark restraints around her body tightened. She closed her eyes and hoped they'd hold. She needed them to hold. Otherwise…

"It won't be long now. It won't be long," her captor giggled with cruelty: she refused to look at him. She wouldn't meet his gaze. She had always refused… and he would never stop pushing her. "It won't be long before you're mine forever… once no one needs you anymore. Once you're well and truly gone from that world. Once every memory of your existence vanishes…

"Once they forget you. The Princess, the warrior… they will give their hearts to each other, and you will be forgotten for good."

A tear escaped Yue's cheeks: she might never be free again… but so long as they were, she would endure this nightmare and face the dark fate that swirled closer and closer around her, threatening to fulfill the dark promise of Oblivion.

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