#my theory? she knew that sword was haunted from the start

[twobitsandanibble]

Are we going to talk about how fucking weird these instructions are?

Harrow, you definitely know that's not how you care for a sword, right?

[anneapocalypse]

15 lines of dialogue

Thank you for the tags @redwayfarers and @lilas!

Tagging: @farfromdaylight @dreadfutures @rosella-writes @darethshirl @ecosystem-administrator @ialpiriel @ishgard

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

These are all going to be from unposted works in progress, but here we go. 😉

"If this is the price of the Blessing of Light—if you're going to take everyone I love, over and over again, then I don't want it! Do you hear me? I don't want it, I don't want it, I don't…"

"You didn't have to do this. You helped save Ishgard, too. You should be here to see the changes you wrought."

“I’ll be honest, I never imagined anyone would use the word ‘formidable’ to describe me. I do most of my work standing behind someone with a sword.”

“It’s not that. I’ve trained under people who didn’t like me or believe in me before. I can handle it. It was… he started going on about how archery was a Wildwood discipline, passed down through generations. He said I could never understand.”

"My home is gone. There’s nothing for me to go back to. I’m not Gridanian. I’m not Ishgardian. I’m not anything. I’m not even… I’m not even one of you. The Scions. Not really. You’ve all known each other for years, you knew Master Louisoix, you have all this history. I’m just some farm girl you pulled off the street because I had headaches and saw things. No matter what people call me, even the ones who think I’m a hero, I’m never one of them. I save the day, and then I move on. I never belong anywhere.”

"I understand you developed a unique variation on the carbuncle? I should love to hear about the theory behind it."

“He’d turn me loose in his library, and then ask me about what I’d read and what I thought of it. No care for what was appropriate for children, either! Ma used to argue with him about it, until she realized it was fruitless. ‘Books are for everyone,’ he’d say. ‘If she can understand it, then she can read it, and if she doesn’t she’ll put it down soon enough and find another.'”

“Urianger, this is important, so listen carefully. I want to hear everything about the fae. Everything. Should you ever doubt my desire to hear about something, you may ask me, ‘Ariane, wouldst thou care to hear of the intricacies of the customs of the fair folk?’ that I may assure you, my dear friend, that I do in fact want to hear all about it.”

“You knew that I would do what needed to be done no matter what, right? You knew that I would not turn from the plight of this star, no matter the danger to myself. That isn’t why you kept this from me, is it?”

"A smile better suits a hero. Perhaps it does, love. Perhaps it does, but I haven't one to give, at the moment."

"What do you know of his history? Do you know how it has haunted him, what he did to Minfilia? What he kept from us? Did you see him shut himself up in the Waking Sands, convinced he deserved neither comfort nor forgiveness?"

“How would I have done otherwise? When have I ever done anything but what other people told me to do? I couldn’t defy my own mother until she was dead.”

"Sometimes she was. Other times, she was a woman who gave in to all her worst fears about the world, one for whom everything beyond our doorstep was deadly and terrifying, and would have denied me a life because of it. But I dare say she was right about the tea. And the soup."

“I loved a woman once who gave up her life for me. And then I loved a man who did the same. And I’m so tired of losing people, I’m so tired—I don’t want anyone else to give up everything for me. I just want someone who will stay. Live with me. Be by my side. Be with me, whatever we face—together. I said I couldn’t ask you to change who you are, but it’s more than that. I don’t want you to change who you are. Just be with me.”

"Perhaps some things are meant to be. But the secret of our art is it's as much shaping the future as it is reading it. You've said yourself, love—you may accept what you see foretold, or defy it. As our dear Minfilia stood before the Flood of Light. It gives me some comfort to think that things can be changed. To believe—and I do—that the future is not set in stone."

[forthedancingandthethriving]

Lil Coding hates being confined to a single gender,, and then I rewatched the scene from SAO Abridged,, and I got an idea lol,,

Basic plot of this is that Lil Coding accidentally gets roped into protecting a little girl from bounty hunters because of her magical singing voice!

○●○

"And to top it all off, you play the "tough guy." This invincible warrior, you could never hope to be in the real world." The bounty hunteress smirks at Lil Coding. "Getting stuck in this chase was probably the best thing to ever happen to you. But there's one thing this little game will never let you hide. The one thing that's haunted you your whole life, that you can never escape... you sound like a girl."

"What? No, I don't sound like a girl." Lil Coding laughs, though his pupils quickly shrink to pinpricks. "That's crazy! THAT'S CRAZY!"

Lily took a few steps back, watching as her protector for the last several hours devolved into insane laughter and a manic grin spread on his face.

"Well, it looks like my work here is done. I do so enjoy our chats, but I really must be off." Azura, the bounty huntress, held her hand. "We'll be taking the little girl now, if you don't mind."

"Really? Little old you is going to take her from me?!" Lil Coding cackles, deranged as he tilts his head. "That'd be a neat trick!"

"Indeed. But a magician is nothing without her lovely assistants." Azura smirks as she snaps her fingers, and several thugs working for her stepped out from behind the trees. They all brandished weapons that made Lily flinch.

"Oh no, Mr. Coding. There's so many of them! We should run!" Lily frets, the young girl looking up at him. Though she quickly shrinks back as Lil Coding looks down at her, still maniacally grinning and derangedly laughing.

"Aw, that's adorable. You think they're a threat! Well, you just sit tight. Show's about to start!" Lil Coding pats her head, body shaking from fury. "Careful, though. The first three rows are a ♪ splash zone! ♪"

"What do you mean by that...?" Lily asks, shuffling back a few feet as Lil Coding advances forward towards the bounty huntress and her thugs.

"Um, boss? A... A thought occurs." one of the thugs frowns, watching as Lil Coding summons a spear, all while laughing maniacally. "This kid thought he was going up against the elite of Rosen Stringer, but he still just brought himself and a... small child. We sure we wanna mess with this kid?"

"Please! The boy's all talk! And now that I've broken him, he's not even that anymore!" Azura shakes her head with a smirk. "He's nothing but a gibbering mess, grasping at straws!"

"Ooo, another one of your famous theories!" Lil Coding's grin somehow grows wider. "Tell you what. I'll give you the first shot. See how that goes!"

Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment before one of the thugs turned to look at Azura. "Boss, I think this might be a trap."

"Enough! You're all grown men, and there's seven of you!" Azura growls and points her sword at Lil Coding. "I think you've got this! Now, kill him!"

The seven thugs rushed at Lil Coding, and it stood there, not moving as they began to assault it with their sharp weapons. Lily gasps as she watches, hiding behind a tree.

Oh no! I knew it! Azura really got inside his head! He's not even fighting back! Lily thought to herself, gripping the bark of the tree. What am I going to-

She blinks in surprise, seeing all of the injuries it had suddenly vanish.

"Wait, what?" Lily gasps, shock taking over her.

"Man, you guys are out of shape. Really oughta do some cardio." Lil Coding taunts, raising its eyebrows.

The seven thugs formed a circle around it, all panting and clutching their weapons. "What are you idiots doing?! Quit screwing around and finish him!" Azura shouts at them, narrowing her eyes.

"I don't understand! We threw everything we had at him! How is he still standing?!" another thug shouts, throwing up a hand as he stares at Lil Coding.

"How? Well, it's quite simple, really. You see, GIRLY, you may think you got me all figured out." Lil Coding shakes their head, still maniacally grinning. "But there's one thing you didn't account for. My power.. is greater than yours!"

It slashes the spear it holds against the air, and chains appear over the weapons of the thugs, rendering them useless. Everyone gasps, eyes going wide.

"Funny thing, really, get to a high enough power level, and you're basically untouchable! My wounds heal faster than you can make them." Lil Coding tilts its head, pinprick pupils shaking. "We could do this all day, and you would not be any closer to beating me. Not that it wouldn't be fun. But I've got good news. You see, there's no need to wonder where your little angel is! 'Cause he's right here... "

"...and he's fresh outta mercy." Lil Coding finishes in a whisper, looking at the seven thugs. It was quiet before one of them started to weep softly, making the Code's tail thrash around.

"W-Well, way to prove my point, kid! Lording your powers over them like some kind of god!" Azura clenches her teeth. "Your strength is nothing but an illusion to cover-"

Lil Coding suddenly shot forward, and they placed the tip of their spear at her throat. She gasps and goes rigid, whilst all the thugs stare in shock, and Lily stares in awe.

"I'm getting really tired of your first-year-psych-student bullshit." Lil Coding whispers, eyes narrowing to a glare. "Here's what's gonna happen. You and your little ragtag band of dipshits are gonna drop all your weapons and leave."

Slowly, they press the spear against her neck, drawing blood. "And you're gonna leave Lily and I alone for the rest of our way home! Unless you want to see what happens when I don't let people go."

Azura is quiet but she slowly backs away, staring at the Code with wide eyes. She does a quick motion towards the thugs and they all begin to retreat.

Lil Coding watches, eyes trained on them the whole time until they're finally out of sight. In a flash, their demeanor changes, and they walk back over to Lily, his spear vanishing.

"Sooooo.. how are you doing?" Lily asks as she slowly steps out from behind the tree.

"Great! Why do you ask?" The Code smiles at her.

"It looked like you just had a mental break.." the young girl points out, frowning.

"Nah, I'm good!" Lil Coding chuckles. "Let's continue onwards, yeah?"

Lily stares before nodding with a smile and a sigh. "Okay!"

[moviemunchies]

Is this movie, strictly speaking, good? No. Is it, however, fun to watch? Well, that depends on your mood and how much BS you’re willing to put up with in a historical action movie.

Pathfinder (at least the Hollywood film from 2007; it’s a remake of a Norwegian film) is, in theory, about Native Americans versus Vikings. In actuality, it’s this one Norse guy versus a bunch of Vikings, and the Native Americans help when they don’t get in the way.

So let me back up and give you the story of the movie. The Norse tried to settle North America, and it didn’t go so well. One day an indigenous woman is walking and she finds a wrecked Norse ship. Everyone in it is dead (for some reason…) except a young boy. She adopts the boy into her village, where he grows up known as “Ghost” for his pale skin, with the only piece of his past left to him is his father’s sword.

Fast forwarding to fifteen years later, Ghost is an adult, but because he’s haunted by his past the tribe does not let him become a brave. But then Vikings return, intent on killing everyone so that they can build their own settlements in their place. So Ghost has to use his ancestral sword and his willingness to do anything for his adopted homeland, goes and kills as many of them as he can.

It’s fine, I guess, if you want something really dumb.

Okay, I get that they’re evil racist Vikings, but why the fudge did they conclude that the best way to build a settlement was to kill all the neighbors? Look, colonialism is dumb, but it’s not THAT dumb. The Norse really were driven out in large part by the Native Americans fighting them off, but those conflicts weren’t started because the Norse wanted to kill them all, they were (if I remember my history correctly), from misunderstandings. If the Norse started off killing potential neighbors, they knew that was a great way to get overwhelmed by angry locals. The reason the Vikings raided the way they did in Europe was because they could hop in their ships and sail away when they were done. Doing that to your neighbors is bound to get you killed.

Why they even want to settle here isn’t clear at all. It’s not even that they want revenge for past failed expeditions, they just… want to live here, and the only way they think they can do that is by killing everyone who already lives there. It’s very silly motivation.

Truth be told, I like the idea of a movie that’s “Vikings versus Native Americans.” But this isn’t really that. It’s more like, “Here’s one Norse guy raised by Native Americans but still using Norse weapons driving off Viking invaders.” So it’s… a White Savior narrative. We’re given the general impression that if it weren’t for this one white guy, the Vikings would have utterly massacred the natives.

Look, I know that the Vikings have as many fighting men as is dramatically necessary for whatever scene they’re doing, but even with that–they’re vastly outnumbered in North America! Regardless of armor and metalwork, the indigenous people should easily be running circles around these guys by making traps, knowing the landscape, and beating them to death. An iron helmet isn’t foolproof if someone’s repeatedly braining you with a club!

[Also I’ve read that the language the Vikings speak is Icelandic, but that all the pronunciation is absolutely wrong. Which happens in movies all the time, but is still interesting.]

Pathfinder is a remake of a Norwegian film from the 80’s with much the same premise–except instead of fighting Native Americans, the Vikings are fighting Sami 

This movie might be more forgivable if there were likable and interesting characters, but as it is the characters are boring and have very little development. Heck, I couldn’t even tell you the love interest’s name until pretty close to the end of the movie because that’s how long it takes for her name to be spoken.

It’s Starfire. And she’s also not played by an indigenous actor, in case you were curious.

There is supposedly a director’s cut or unrated edition that exists out there, which has more character development, but also more explicit violence and a sex scene. I’m not exactly motivated to track it down.

Look, if you want a loud, dumb movie, and/or something to talk about, it’s fine, I guess? I watched it with my dad, and we had fun, but that’s because we just wanted a noisy action film to watch and talk about afterward. The actual film is kind of a thing that exists, but it’s so nonsensical and lacking in Plot it’s difficult to really get attached to it. It’s got Karl Urban running around swinging a sword, and Clancy Brown growling in broken Icelandic, and some violence. But not much else.

I’d only recommend this if you’re really curious (as I was) or have nothing better to do.

[thefanficmonster]

One Can Never Escape Destiny

Shan-Yu x Empress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Murder scene (non-graphic)

Genre: Angst, Romance (one-sided)

Summary: After fulfilling his plan of taking over China Shan-Yu and his army have made it to the palace of Empress Y/L/N Y/N. However, one obstacle the warrior still fails to overcome is swaying the Empress herself, getting in her good graces. Unable to kill her, he is left to do all he can to have her spare him as much as a civil word.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for such and amazing and so different request from what I’m used to. This is my first time writing for a Disney character, a villain even, so I hope to have fulfilled your expectations even with it being so late in posting. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

She refuses to eat or see the light of day. She’s been hidden away in a single room of the palace ever since China fell. She attempted to fight and gave her all when her eyes met his poisonous ones and her sword’s blade collided with his. The fight was a difficult one, he had to admit. She would’ve won had she not had a heart of gold. Putting her right-hand man’s under the sharp dagger in his merciless hand left her no choice. She loved that man, he could see it in her eyes. And he wasn’t going to kill the pathetic excuse for a member of the Empress’ council, but seeing that look of devotion and adoration in her gaze when her eyes met with his drove him in a fit of absolute rage. He couldn’t restrain himself and let the blade slide across the man’s neck only after the Empress had surrendered.

“NOOO!“ She had shrieked in terror and sorrow, all her pain audible in her cry that echoed all throughout the palace, piercing the monstrous warrior’s ears. He couldn’t bare to see her so distraught, over another man on top of all, so her ordered his men to take her to one of the chambers and leave her to collect herself. She still had fight left in her though. She escaped from his men’s grasps and overpowered them both until a third one knocked her out cold with the handle of his dagger. A choice of action that landed him the second dead body to be thrown out of the palace that night.

He specifically instructed the man taking Y/N to her chamber to be gentle and caring with her and to leave the door unlocked, maybe even open a crack. He didn’t want her to feel trapped in her own home. 

He sat by one of the windows all through the late dark hours of the night and even met the sunrise at dawn. He contemplated so many things, scolded himself even. He had become the ruler of China and yet he had never felt so low and defeated. He even let his mind wander to the option of killing the Empress for his own peace of mind but he knew he wouldn’t be able to the second he realized he wasn’t even able to picture himself doing it. The very though sickened him to his stomach and he was disgusted with himself to have ever allowed himself to think such a thought.

The main thing troubling him was the fact that he didn’t know where such admiration came from. He had never admired nor respected a woman before but he felt the need to bow before her instead of the other way around. He wanted to be her loyal servant, tending to her every need at the bat of her eyelashes. He could barely believe himself either way - killing her or adoring her, they were both thoughts bordering into insanity, he couldn’t tell which was worse. Of course he could, he just wanted to lie to himself. He knew he could never lay a hand on her.

Shan-Yu had fallen under the spell of the very Empress he was supposed to end in order to fulfill his evil plans.

He should want her dead while he’s prepared to kill whoever dares even wish her harm. Funny how destiny works. Or perhaps this is karma punishing him for his evil ways by putting one bump in the road right in front of him - one so easy to get rid of in theory, but he could never commit to it.

It has been four full days since that fateful night and he hasn’t heard nor seen her. He’s not willing to disturb her peace and earn himself an injury from the infuriated Empress but the hours of overthinking, contemplating and self-battling are weighing heavy on him. His men are beginning to notice, although they’d never say anything - they may be cruel, dumb fools but they respect their lives enough to not put them at a risk like that. Not even a risk, more like certain death. They all obeyed his orders of bringing the Empress food three times a day every day and they all witnessed the defeat and worry that washed over their leader’s face whenever they brought back the dishes untouched hours after they had delivered them. 

So, after a lot of self-convincing and doubting, Shan-Yu has bitten the bullet - he is walking the halls to the Empress Y/L/N Y/N’s chamber. He makes it to her door sooner than he’d like, his confidence is not fully built. His composure could easily be shaken. His words are scrambled and even if he could form coherent sentences, he knows they die in his throat.

‘Pull yourself together, you pathetic mutt‘ He scolds himself for the hundredth time in the past hour. Easier said than done, though. She’s a woman of incredible strength, power and character. She was respected by every individual in China, not a single soul looked down upon her. They had already hated him, but now that he has allegedly put their dear Empress in misery, he’d be dead along with his army if they weren’t so strongly feared.

Shan-Yu brings himself to knock on the chamber doors, his voice a faint echo through the massive hallway when he calls out, “Empress, may I enter?”

No answer, as he expected. He is half expecting to not even be there, to have escaped. He knows her better than that though.

Cautiously pushing the door open, he’s met with a dark room only lit by the moonlight seeping in through a small rectangular window directly opposite the door. He sees her silhouette in the windowsill. She’s sitting facing away from him, looking out of the window at the rooftops underneath the clear, starry night sky. She doesn’t bother to turn her head to acknowledge his presence, also as expected.

A small detail he notices sends shivers down his spine - there are metal bars on her window. Why?

“I was a rebellious child. I knew my destiny before even understanding what it meant. All I knew was that I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be Empress. I wanted to be one of those brave souls who were prepared to leave to a front knowing they might not return.“ Her voice rings through the cold, dark space, bouncing off the walls in a haunting manner, enchanting him. “My father knew I would be more than capable of running away so I was frequently spending plenty of time here, locked up. As I am now.“

She is still facing away from him but he still shakes his head as though she could see him. “You are not locked here, Empress Y/N. The door is always open. This palace is still yours.”

“That you are right about.“ Y/N’s head turns finally and his heart drops.

She is pale, eyebags weighing heavy under her tired eyes. Her hair is covering her face but her pale complexion is more than visible even from behind her locks. She looks like she has been crying, not that she’s a woman who cries often. A tear of hers has the same value as a bar of gold.

She continues. “Chu Bao, the man you killed in front of my very eyes, was the only man I’ve ever loved and the only person who saw me as more than my title. I’m not just an Empress! Everyone forgets that!“

He feels hurt by her remark, “Y/N, I know. I know better than anyone. I have overtaken all of China and yet you are my greatest prize...”

She cuts him off, her shaky hands pushing her hair to the side so she can look directly at him, her crystal eyes meeting his menacing yellow ones with such intensity he feels it almost like a physical presence. “I am no prize, you monster! I’m a person who destiny played wrong! I given a role I have never been happy with. But I had to play it to maintain the honor of my family and of China as a whole. It taught me a valuable lesson: No matter the tries, one can never escape destiny. So...” she trails off, her eyes losing their feisty glow as she turns back to the window, “I embraced it and became one with my land, this palace, my title. And I will stay one with them till my death. Now, leave! And don’t bring me food anymore. Don’t check on me. I want it all to end the way it started - in this palace, in this chamber. I want to go out with the last bit of dignity I have. If nothing, I will die without ever bowing to you. I may have surrendered, but consider this me prolonging the fight.” He hears her scoff, a humorless chuckle, “The moment I die will be the moment I win.”

Shan-Yu has never been a man to live to face defeat. He always defeats the defeat, stands up taller than ever whenever he’s been brought down. Now is different, however. His defeat is inevitable. It hasn’t even happened yet, but he knows the battle’s lost. His hands are tied. He would never disobey a wish of Y/N’s nor could he live with her slowly dying. He cannot keep her alive against her will, and he can’t end it all quickly for her either.

She has already won, but she’s not aware.

Empress Y/L/N Y/N has defeated the monstrous, villainous conqueror Shan-Yu twice in her life: once when she had him fall in love with her and again when she chose to put an end to her life, leaving him powerless.

All he can do now is accept his defeat and allow for Y/N to become nothing but a battle scar on his heart.

[thunderon]

hi! i saw your tlt explanation post, if you can could you post a quick explanation of what happened with gideon's sword? i've heard that it was haunted by wake but when did that happen? how would harrow know about wake, and how did john not know when he gave her the sword? and how did it get into the sleeper's coffin? sorry i'm just kind of confused, you obviously don't have to respond, ty for the post

oooooh all good questions! this is gonna be as comprehensive as i can make it, so...

welcome to Swords 101 with your friendly neighborhood tlt blogger! here’s my rundown of what we know about wake and gideon’s sword:

im going to talk about the sword in terms of what happened in (mostly) chronological order and at key points ill attach relevant excerpts of where in the text we learn about it

1. so first, wake travels down to the ninth house with gideon in tow. she obviously... does not quite make it.

2. wake dies, becoming a revenant attached to her bones, before later transferring to her sword.

we know this because wake explains it here:

3. we can likely conclude wake transfers from her bones to the sword when gideon is eight

gideon says here:

eight is also the year gideon started training with her two-hander! (she’s 18 at the time of this quote):

and as to how exactly wake got from her bones to her sword, that’s left unconfirmed. here’s what we DO know about how gideon got her sword: harrow identifies the sword wake is lying on as gideon’s, she says:

so somehow wake got in there and was giving bad vibes to harrow. which harrow also says in gtn here:

a theory ive seen going around is “aiglamene is a BoE operative” and i think that’s a fun idea, personally. but it is still heavily on the speculation side of “it could fit” rather than “the signs point to it”

4. gideon takes her sword to canaan house

i probably don’t need to insert any relevant quotes, as this was a very major hard-to-miss plot point

5. harrow kills cytherea with the two-hander, but wake does NOT transfer then

we confirm this here when john says:

so wake was still in the sword at the beginning of htn. which leads to this right here:

6. harrow instructs herself in her letters about the sword

and throughout htn harrow describes how the blade hates her, gives off bad energy, etc. and g1deon calls it a “damned sword” and demands harrow to hand it over (which she refuses without know why)

as to how harrow knew to instruct herself/why she instructed herself? that’s been my major mystery!!!

as to how john didn’t notice when he gave it to her? i honestly don’t know. ive been puzzling that one over as well. ya kno he also denies thinking cytherea’s body is being possessed when harrow brings it up, so maybe he honestly just can’t tell?

7. harrow stabs cytherea’s corpse in the chest in chapter 11 of htn, completing the transfer

as wake was not in the corpse at the end of gtn, this is the only contact that could have transferred her. afterwards, wake-in-cytherea starts haunting the mithraeum. curiously, harrow has no memory of how she got there.

anyways that’s my long winded explanation of how wake goes from: bones -> sword -> cytherea’s corpse

now as for your last question about “how did the sword get in the sleepers coffin”: so the sleeper and wake are the same person and the coffin isn’t really a physical place, it’s all in harrows river bubble. wake is wearing the hazmat suit from her time of her death, and it’s assumed that the sword has some importance to how wake came to be there (and we later learn wake haunted the sword). abigail is confused about how wake had even managed to get there, stating:

AGAIN referencing the mystery 'thanergetic link' john did!

curiously, at the end of htn, harrow falls asleep with the two-hander and frontline titties of the fifth (not a real publication is not just a punchline, IT IS TELLING US SOMETHING)... not to plug my own theories... but i talk about the possible significance of all of that when i answered another ask here which i think has some significance with the sword... and thanergy links... and revenants.......

anyways, hope i answered everything well enough!!!! i tried to include all the passages so you could see where i took everything from. not sure if the was organized enough or if i just came off rambling lol. if you have anymore questions or if i didn’t explain something well enough feel free to come back and ask more!

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

DOUBT MAKES THE STRONG WEAK ; PART 8 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.5k SUMMARY: From concussions to destruction, you find yourself developing an odd trust in the last two people you would even begin to have faith in and when the apocalypse seems unavoidable, you discover that there may be more to the mystery of the universe. A/N: Well, this chapter is long. And mainly pertains around the theme of 'doubt'. A lot more of Sylvie stuff and Loki just having heart eyes the whole time. I love this chapter and I can’t wait to write more as the story ends. Please tell me what you love, hate, anything (maybe theories lol). Thank you for showing so much love. gif from this gifset by @kamalaskhans WARNINGS: Swearing. Apocalypse. Injuries. Blood. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

You were once a fighter.

Hunter E-87 was the name you once knew, hollered through different fields and dimensions in time and space. You fought for what you thought was right, pledging allegiance to a cosmic establishment that held all power to a single timeline and never questioned the works of the Time-Keepers. The Sacred Timeline is indeed sacrosanct, too important, too valuable to interfere. You fight in the name of the single thread of time, the bark of a tree, forbidden to bare branches of a potential multiverse. You fight because the thought of alternate timelines used to scare you. Yet, if alternate universes were meant to be, the lives you took and destroyed are now in the grasp of your bloody hands. You hold the responsibility of the death of the innocent, taking part in mass genocide.

But promises must be kept.

The thought constantly haunts you in your sleep. You have dreams of death, war, destruction, and famine from across the universe. People seem to glide like specters in the world built by your imagination and mind. You have seen a lot, more than any being in the universe should, but no one talks about the aftermath of witnessing the tragedy of the universe as time goes on and on. No one talks about what it does to the mind. Music from cassettes and the wonder of human space exploration were distractions to cope with the grinding hole in you and the fact you might be turning truly crazy.

Sometimes, you would like to be human—Fewer problems and less time to live.

You blame the sickening and bizarre vivid images that come and go whenever you close your eyes as a symptom of being a hunter. The others are stronger than you. Well, they act like they are. Becoming an analyst made you sleep better but there was always doubt. Sakaar made you doubt.

Doubt makes the strong weak. Doubt makes you weak.

“You startin’ to have doubts?”

Green eyes. They watch you with curiosity with a hint of amusement. You hear yourself hum. “Would it be bad if I said yes?”

He laughs. It’s mighty. “Yeah. Definitely bad.”

A beat of silence. You feel your eyes start to sting. “I couldn’t even tell my mom.” A laugh escapes your lips despite the hurt you feel in your chest. “Did you tell anyone? Your wife?”

You see him now, blonde hair slicked back and deep-set eyes. He shakes his head. “Nope. Not even my wife.”

“She’ll be proud, you know.”

“I know...So will your mom. Jesus, you’re gonna be the first woman on—”

Wake up.

“—Is she dead?”

The voice is familiar. It pulls you back to reality but right now, your eyes are too heavy. Doubt is the first emotion that waves through your brain before the process of pain can even occur—uncertain if you are dead or alive.

You can’t feel your limbs, they are too weak.

Doubt makes the strong weak. Doubt makes you weak.

Maybe, you are dead.

“This is your fault! You’re the one who swung that sword of yours to her head! You’re careless—”

Sword...Sword...Careless? You remember a train, a fight.

“Oh, I’m the one who’s careless? You’re the one who’s drunk!”

Drunk...Who was drunk?

Then, your voice echoes in your head, images of a certain brunette with a deep frown. He called you a mewling quim. You quoted Hávamál. You then left him and wandered through the other cabins of the train. He blew his cover. He got you into a fight.

Loki. Loki Laufeyson.

Son of a bitch.

Your eyes are wide open now. All you see are the faces of Loki and Sylvie, looming over you. Just two floating heads. Then, the pain arrives, coursing through the entire back of your head. You wince in immediate reaction and the floating heads turn to you in an instant.

What a way to wake up from a concussion.

You remember everything now, but you certainly don’t recall being on the outside of the train. Must have gotten thrown out. The thought angers you, irritation practically boiling to the brim. Yet, it’s your fault. You hadn't thought to babysit the very person you wish were dead. As your palm grips onto the dirt beneath, muscling all strength left to lift yourself. Your head feels light and heavy all at once. Not good.

“Are you alright?” is the question that flies from Loki’s lips, tinged with an emotion you never knew he had for another but himself—worry. Whether selfless or selfish, you wish to ignore the complexity of Loki’s reactions and possible change in character, especially towards you. Ever since you stepped foot on Lamentis, all you felt was pain. You have never been injured so much within the last few hours than in your entire life and weirdly, you feel fine.

Sylvie is quick to stand, watching the two of you work in tandem. His grip finds the curve of your shoulders as you stick your hand out to grip him by the bicep. At your touch, you notice how his arm stiffens ever so slightly. You don’t say anything.

Some things about Loki are best left unknown and unanswered.

Today is filled with a lot of getting off the ground in the most unceremonious way possible.

A deep exhale leaves your lips, wisps of your hair drifting with the brutal breeze from your nostrils. Beads of sweat trail along the curve of your forehead and the back of your neck. Some entangled with the strands of your hair. Your hands feel clammy and dirty but you run them to push your hair back and away from your face anyway.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, pulling yourself away from his touch.

You finally get a good look at the two. Loki looks like complete shit but Sylvie manages to maintain the regalness to the locks of her hair despite her opposing overall behavior. It’s the Asgardian blood coursing through her veins. You cannot hide your ancestors' blood. It’s hard to believe the two are the same—one being. Yet, it's believable when you’re angry at the two of them.

The two messed up your career, that’s why.

Unbothered and uncivilized. It’s a miracle you’re still alive.

As your eyes shift along the train tracks that meander along a gorge with steep rocky walls that leer above it, you catch sight of a spark by your feet, glinting under the iridescent sky.

It’s the TemPad, shattered into pieces; you recognize the color gold of its border.

Your eyes grow wide, mouth agape. You don’t even feel angry anymore, it’s more than that. You stick out your hand to gesture towards the destroyed device, “Is that—Is that the TemPad?” you ask as your other hand lifts to hold the side of your head. “Or am I just seeing things from the concussion?”

Sylvie is the one to speak. “It’s not the concussion.”

You suddenly feel like you’re burning.

If it were possible, you could have instantly killed him with a look.

“You. You killed us!” you step closer to him and for a moment, Loki doesn’t exactly know what to do. “So, it’s my fault then? You were the one who left me alone in the lounge.” are the words that leave his lips. Completely useless. Trying to diffuse the tension is the exact opposite of what he does.

His silver tongue isn’t so shiny and silver anymore.

You don’t pull your blow this time. Your palm strikes his cheek, rocking his head to the side. Your hand is oddly soft. Loki winces and you stand your ground. “You’re a jerk and an asshole. You’ve probably been called that for all your life and yet, here you are. Still, the most insensitive and pathetic man I’ve ever met,” you articulate your words with frustration and rage. You don’t raise your voice like before, it’s low and frightfully intimidating. “And I’m not your babysitter.”

—

Battles, ruination, and fracas gave a sense of familiarity to Sylvie in a time of an impending apocalypse. When worlds end, benevolence is resolute. The tragedy of the end of lost souls—afraid to die. But as daunting as the apocalypse is, the beauty of their souls finally returning to the universe protrudes amongst the debris and misery.

She sees herself in the two of you, as much as she doesn’t identify as a Loki anymore, and her hatred towards the TVA. You have a temper and he doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

You’re mysterious in an almost enchanting way and possibly significant as you seemed to be at first glance. Sylvie is highly curious about you.

You don’t stray too far from the group, only to find rest by the edge of a pit made by a crashing meteor. You sit with your back turned against the very two beings you distrust as you watch the border where the bustling city of Shuroo is based. Your guard is down and you don’t care at this point. Everyone is about to die anyway.

Sylvie’s gaze finds Loki who seems to be only watching the back of your still figure, eyes glinting with an emotion unknown to her. Possibly regret? Sylvie doesn’t know what regret looks like. But fear and anger, she feels it radiating from you. She knows it. Something tells her you’re not solely angry at her and Loki.

She finds herself drifting closer to you. You don’t move. She cautiously settles beside you. “You’re not hiding a knife somewhere, aren’t you?”

You merely scoff, caressing your head, “You’re the one to say.”

Sylvie blinks. Fair enough.

Silence. Sylvie’s eyes shift to the handkerchief tied around your arm, stained with blood. “How’s the arm?”

You hum. “Surprisingly, fine.”

Oh, Sylvie knows it’s fine. She knows what Loki did. She decides not to mention the scratch she made across your cheek.

“Did the slap make you feel better?”

The question is hinted at near sarcasm, but genuinely, she wants to know.

“Yes, it did. You should try it sometime.”

She simply hums. “I would have but you beat me to it.”

A turn of your lips as they curve into a small smile. Sylvie watches with an odd sense of satisfaction. “You know, I’m still mad at you. For what you did to me.” Your words are slow. You find yourself swallowing. “But it’s nothing compared to what the TVA did to you.”

Empathy. Is this what empathy feels like? The moment when someone finally understands what it’s like to be alone for so long. Your lives are different but they reflect in certain ways. You have had your fair share of living in constant fear and constantly running. Sylvie finds herself wanting to tell you that she hadn’t simply pushed you into Sakaar. When it’s a mission, things are never accidental. She always has a plan.

Yet, she chooses not to say anything.

You speak again but merely whisper, fidgeting with your fingers, “Before Sakaar—did you enchant me?”

It's as if you're reading her mind.

“Are you seeing things?”

After a pause, the fidgeting stops.

“I’ve seen things all my life, images. Brief and insignificant. But ever since I was in Sakaar, it’s gotten a lot harder to differentiate a dream and a memory.”

“That’s because they aren’t dreams.”

Your hardened gaze finds hers for a brief moment, nearly growing wide at her words but in an instant, your guard is up once you hear the shuffling of feet behind you where Loki lingers. The subject is dropped immediately. He meets Sylvie’s gaze, the two share a knowing look.

Your anger is provoked and well deserved and yet, the last thing he wants is to be your enemy. Loki doesn’t know why. He has lived a life full of them.

You’re different.

He stills, wondering if you’re going to lash out at him again but when he notices your slow breaths, he decides to sit next to you anyway, awkward glances to you in his periphery. A deep sigh escapes his lips, fiddling with his fingers. “What now?”

Sylvie is the one to answer. “I don’t know. You broke the TemPad.”

“Well—”

“And that planet is about to crash into us.”

Loki looks up at the nearing planet of Lamentis. He blinks. “Well, yes, but—”

“Yes, but what?”

“Well, the entire moon is destroyed, right?”

Sylvie is trying to suppress your growing annoyance. “Yep. And everyone on it is killed.”

But Loki pesters on. “Including us.”

She raises her voice. “Yes, including us.” Loki glances at you momentarily. A pause. He furrows his brows in thought.

“What about the ark?”

“The ark never leaves because it's destroyed.”

Suddenly, an epiphany, his eyes light up. He turns to you and Sylvie, “Never had us on it.”

You suddenly scoff at his words. “Are you suggesting we hijack the ark and make sure it gets off this moon?” You turn to him to only spot a vague smile playing upon his lips. He nods in return. “Sounds like a good idea to me, Agent.”

You merely blink, watching the way his eyes shift across your face. First, you’re struck with uncertainty. It’s a risk, a huge one but you know, risks are meant to be uncertain. Risks are also vital in success. Hesitation, doubt—they make you weak. This time, you want to be strong. Strong enough for one last push to save your life.

“Okay.” is what you say, your expression reflecting his.

For the first time, since he took your hand in Sakaar, you’re starting to trust him.

—

The walk to Shuroo seemed endless. You trail behind the two, feeling like you’re about to suffocate.

“—To preserve the connection, I have to create a fantasy from their memories.”

Loki and Sylvie had been conversing about the science and functions of enchantment in a rather surprisingly calm manner. Loki hums, amused by her elucidation. “And you call me a magician.”

Her expression is unchanged as she continues to trudge alongside Loki, ignoring his previous statement. “That young soldier from the TVA, her mind was messed up. Everything clouded. I had to pull a memory from hundreds of years prior...before she even fought for them.”

Loki halts abruptly in his step, hand flying to grab Sylvie’s arm. “What? What'd you say? Before she joined the TVA?”

Sylvie blinks. “Yeah. She was just a regular person on Earth.”

His mind starts to reel, face muddled with confusion. “I was told that everyone who works for the TVA was created by the Time-Keepers.”

“That's ridiculous. They're all variants, just like us. Including her.” Sylvie gestures discreetly to you who has stopped to take a breather, hands on your hips as you blink up to the sky.

You, Mobius, all of them. All variants.

“They don't know that. She doesn’t know that.” he breathes a terrified expression.

Sylvie looks at you from afar. You’re now looking at them with a bewildered expression. “What?” you call out, voice echoing through the wide area, in a somewhat defensive tone.

She turns to Loki once more, voice nearly faltering. “I have a feeling she already knows it.”

—

Loki doesn’t realize the unfamiliarity of hopelessness. Throughout his life, he was constantly surrounded by those with unfaltering determination—His brother, family, friends who were warriors, The Avengers.

Never was it known that he would see it burning in your eyes as they reflect the growing fire of the Ark, crumbling down, tongues of fire engulfing it whole before you. His heart burns with it as Shuroo falls quiet—only the sounds of the metallic crashing of the disintegrating parts of the ship falling from above and the screams of the rich and deemed worthy to live. Every Lamentian still alive held their breath, a moment's silence for their lives must end. Everything must end.

So close yet so far.

Sylvie is gone by the minute as the city starts to descend in terror and panic. He stands behind your still form, just watching your only chance of making it out, swallowed by its own billowing smoke. He reaches out for you, tugging you by the sleeve. “We should leave,” he says with a sudden sense to protect you. There isn’t much to do at this point. It doesn't matter if you are hit by the falling pieces of the Ark because you are all going to die anyway.

But he considers it a gesture, as insignificant and small it is. The least he could do is to distract you from the end, whether for a mere second or minutes.

“I know things haven’t been the best between us and I concede I bring out the worst in you, but I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You turn to Loki with his sudden words. He watches the way your expression softens so gracefully, face adorned with gashes and wounds. Your mouth twitches as you respond with a gentle voice. “I forgive you.”

Three words. Very powerful words.

His heart skips a beat.

You find Sylvie at the brink of the city, sitting on a stretched slab of rock amongst the dirt, watching the horizon where the planet starts to meet the moon. Loki still has his hand around your arm, but you don’t complain. It’s your only source of support at the moment. It’s an unconscious move, but everything about it feels right when the two of you settle beside her, shoulders brushing against each other. It only makes sense to want to feel the nearness, the closeness of another as the light at the end of the tunnel begins to dim.

It’s impending. It’s scary.

“I remember Asgard.”

Sylvie’s voice trembles, her eyes are somber.

“Not much, but I remember. My home, my people, my life. Then, the TVA showed up, erased my reality, and took me, prisoner. I was just a child.”

You turn to her, guilt bubbling in your chest, but you don’t say anything. You let her speak. It’s only right.

“I escaped.” she breathes, blinking the brimming tears in her eyes away. ”Stole a TemPad and I ran for a long, long time, which really sucked. Everywhere and every-when I went, it caused a Nexus event.”

Sylvie turns to you with a melancholic gaze. “The universe wants to break free, so it manifests chaos. Like me being born the Goddess of Mischief. But to you and the TVA, I’m not supposed to exist.”

For so long, you hadn’t realized the consequences of your work at the TVA. You believed you were right. That erasing, resetting realities were meant to be. You cannot comprehend how it only occurred to you to question the authority of the Time-Keepers over time itself after Sakaar. All those years of being ignorant and selfish. You hadn’t realized. You never did.

But now you know.

Sylvie continues, gaze shifting away from you. “I figured out where to hide. And so that's where I grew up, the ends of a thousand worlds. Now...that's where I'll die.”

Then, silence. It sits heavily between the three of you.

“The universe—isn’t she beautiful?” Your voice is soft, eyes trained on the horizon—a fleet of asteroids, they reflect the end. But they seem to dance to the silence of the apocalypse, drifting across the stratosphere, lining the firmament. Loki’s gaze shifts to you, training on every curve of your face and the tears slipping down your cheeks. He agrees, the universe is beautiful.

You’re beautiful.

“She brings turmoil, agony, and destruction but in all her flaws, there’s beauty in her very existence.”

Your hands find Sylvie and Loki’s hands, holding on to them tightly as you fight the wavering of your voice.

“You...Both of you might be the epitome of chaos but you must know that you have such beautiful souls. All of us, we're her children...and if she is beautiful, so are we. And the Universe is always right. If she created you then we are wrong.”

Sylvie’s face is soft. Loki squeezes your hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I should have known from the start...that the TVA was lying to all of us. I should have questioned. I should have doubted—”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” she says, smiling with saddened eyes.

You laugh. You don’t know why, but you do. Maybe, it’s because you know you are a part of the problem anyway, even if you were just doing your job.

You find Loki’s gaze that’s already on you. You sigh and speak through a whisper. “I’m sorry for slapping you.”

His lips curve into a grin, eyes crinkling like your own. “It was well deserved, but I forgive you.”

Fingers entangled with the hands of two unlikely people, you finally realize what it truly feels like to not be alone. To be in the company of someone you want to be with.

“Now long now.” Those three words leave the very lips of Sylvie and your chest feels like it’s about to collapse.

You never knew you were afraid of death, yet here you are—terrified.

The ground shakes beneath you. It’s dark and there’s fire everywhere. A meteor collides to the ground just across the way, it sends smoke billowing to its surroundings faster than you can blink.

Even in the last seconds of your life, you have doubts remaining. What if the universe isn’t always right?

Then, through the growing dust, you see a spark, like lightning. A glint of a figure, standing before you. White, pure, and serene. You’re standing now, staring ahead. Sylvie and Loki cease to exist in your mind as they gaze at you with bewilderment. They anxiously call you by your name but you don’t hear it. There’s only silence now, you don’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears.

A voice, she speaks with dignity. A voice so familiar.

“Doubt makes the strong weak, my child.”

Then, you hear it. A soft hum—a Time Door glows warmth amid your impending death.

Suddenly, she’s gone.

TAGLIST:

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[capitainelevi]

21 + a wittle rivetra??? 🥺🥺🥺

Thank you for your ask!! ❤️❤️ Drabble challenge: Followers send a number to your ask and you write a drabble using that sentence/prompt in your piece.

“I’ll take care of it.”

Hello!! Since I already did 21, I chose another one, I hope that`s alright!!

This is the first chapter of a fic I was planning to write and dropped, but I hope you`ll enjoy it as a one-shot!

Come what may

After her squad gave her a second chance at life, Petra made her decision: she would follow Levi until her last day.

Canon universe.

Word count: 2404

She killed them.

Gunther.

Eld.

Oluo.

Her squad.

Her family.

They were dead, and Petra did not understand why she was not. Maybe it was her way of tormenting her by leaving her alive, knowing the images of their mangled corpses would not leave her until the day she closed her eyes for good. She and the Female Titan stared at each other, and Petra dropped her blades to the ground. A roar from Eren`s transformation shook the forest, but Petra was unmoved. It got Annie`s attention as she moved away from Petra, determined to return and put an end to it once her mission was over. A mercy killing in her eyes.

Levi passed the tomb of his squad with grief painted on his face. He let them down. No regrets, Levi kept telling himself, and yet, Levi knew they would haunt his sleepless nights from that day on. He had been too late.

Gunther, the first member Levi recruited on his team. Their quiet nature made it so they always found solace in each other`s presence. Eld, always cheerful and ready to give someone a hand. Despite being complete opposites, he and Gunther had been childhood friends. Levi could just hope that wherever their souls went, they still got to be together. Loud Oluo, always ready to play the hero. The most skillful soldier Levi ever trained, but equally annoying. His obsession with always trying to imitate Levi always left him cold. And her. As much as he hated to admit it, his favorite subordinate. Skilled, kind, clean, cheerful, beautiful Petra. Levi closed his eyes, unprepared to have her mangled corpse in front of his eyes.

When he opened them again, Levi could have almost cried with relief. Petra was full of cuts and blood, but that was not the cause of Levi`s worry. It was the eyes. Her eyes were dead. Levi knew that look too well, as he was met with that image when he took a glimpse in the mirror on the day he realized his mother would not wake up again.

Levi landed next to her, but Petra paid his presence no mind. He sheathed his swords, worried about the reaction the girl could have at his sight, and he took her face in his hands, treating her as if she were a porcelain doll he was scared of breaking.

"Petra?"

But his words went unanswered. Petra did not even give him a glimpse. She was paralyzed with fear. She did not even flinch when Levi shook her by the shoulders.

"Ral, we have to go."

Her sight was fixated ahead of her, on the spot where the Female Titan used to be. Petra could not even feel her limbs anymore. She could not think. The only image in front of her eyes was of those big, blue, dead eyes.

"Ral!"

Levi shook her harder, and Petra flinched at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes focused on the warm liquid dripping down on her legs.

"Oh."

Levi took his cloak and wrapped it around her waist. Not that he cared what other people would think of Petra for soiling herself, but he attempted to make her as comfortable as he could. Seeing her in this state, Levi knew there were no chances of her continuing the mission. He wanted to yell in frustration, hit the tree with his bare knuckles over and over again until he drew blood. But the mission had to be completed. He had to save Eren. Or all the lives sacrificed would have all been in vain.

He took Petra in his arms, and her lack of reaction to it did not go unnoticed on his side. Levi felt like he was carrying a lifeless body in his arms, a doll, and he hoped it would not be her faith. No, he would make sure that she would not be lost.

Levi laid her down against a tree trunk- "I need to go, and I need you to wait for me here until I come back for you. I`ll take care of it."

Levi saw her face twist in fear as she grabbed his wrist painfully tight to keep him on the spot. He took her hand in his and rubbed her soft skin. He was close to breaking down alongside her, with anger and pain. But he cleared his mind and tried to find the best way to calm down his subordinate.

"You`re safe, I promise. Do you trust me?"

Petra nodded, and Levi shot his hooks in the tree trunk without taking another look behind him. He knew that another glance at her and he would make it a priority getting her to the medical cart. But he had wasted enough time already.

That bitch needed to pay. Levi poured all of his anger into his blades. He cut harder than he knew himself possible of doing. A slice for Gunther. One for Eld. One for Oluo. And another one for Petra. Over and over again. He would have cut her until there was not a piece of flesh left on her if that brat would have listened to him and stayed back.

Levi put Eren in Mikasa`s arms, and while his leg hurt like a bitch, he did not want to delay getting to Petra for one moment longer.

"He`s fine. Take him to the medical cart, and tell them to prepare themselves for my subordinate. And to come to meet me with three stretchers for the bodies."

Mikasa nodded, and Levi watched over her until she disappeared from his line of vision, making sure she was not being followed. Using his ODM with a broken ankle was excruciating, but he had been away for too long. Levi found her in the same position he left her in. Petra flinched when he heard him approach, and he grabbed her shoulders. The gesture calmed her down slightly, but Levi could still notice the terror in her eyes. His heart broke at the sight of her.

Using the ODM gear by himself was dangerous. With her in his arms, it was an impossible task. Levi took Petra up in his arms and started making his way back to the camp slowly. His leg was killing him, but he tried to pay it no mind, focusing on the girl in his arms instead. Watching her chest rise and fall softly, he assured himself that she was still alive in his arms. It did not take long until a couple of recruits noticed them and hurried to help them.

Levi passed Petra to one of the recruits while he struggled to get on his horse. One of Eren`s friends, Jean, if he could remember correctly. The young man`s face fell when he noted the state Petra was in. Over the weeks, she had gotten close to the brats, winning them over on the spot with her baking skills. Levi had to make sure to shoo away daily intruders from his kitchen, and by the end of the first week, they had all learned how skilled Levi was with a broom and not just at sweeping the floors. He called Petra into his office to ban baking, and he found a plate of freshly baked cookies on his desk the next morning- "For Cpt. L,", with a small heart drawn next to his name.

Levi signaled for Jean to give Petra back to him, but he hesitated- "You`re hurt, sir. I can help you take her back."

"Tsk, I can handle it. I need you to retrieve the rest of my squad. And make sure you don`t do a shitty job with wrapping them."

Jean nodded, not willing to disobey a direct order from a commanding officer. He helped Levi take Petra back into his arms, giving one last glance at the woman before joining Connie and Armin to take care of the men he looked up to no more than a day ago.

Petra put her head on Levi`s chest and closed her eyes, soothed by the sound of his heartbeat. She was still in shock, not grasping the full extent of that day`s events. Levi`s arms around her trembling form gave her a sense of safety, that maybe the Female Titan would not return to look for her.

"Levi! Petra!"

A loud yell pulled Petra out of her trance, and she almost fell off of Levi`s horse in her sudden panic. Levi pulled her back up and held onto her closer, trying to calm her down once again.

"Shitty glasses, the fuck were you thinking?"

Hange and Erwin came to join them and helped the hurt soldiers get off the horse. At the contact with the ground, his ankle almost gave up on him, and it did not go unnoticed by Erwin.

"You`re hurt."

Levi tried to brush it off. His injury was not a priority now, but getting Petra checked out by a doctor was.

"It`s fine. I need to get Petra to a medical cart."

"Did your squad-"

Levi shook his head, not wanting the conversation to go on in front of the girl. Hange got busy checking up on her, examining her pupils, and looking for any serious wounds.

"She seems fine, Levi. Just in shock. But you should still take her."

When he tried to get Petra from Erwin`s arms, he just shook his head- "I can carry her. You need to ease up the pressure on your ankle."

Levi was beginning to get annoyed with people assuming he was not in a position to care for his subordinate. It just twisted the knife in the wound to be reminded that indeed, he was not able to do so.

They laid Petra down on one of the carts and called over one of the doctors. Levi gripped the young man by his collar- "Oi, make sure you take good care of her. If you don`t wash her wounds properly and she gets an infection, I`m coming after you."

The doctor`s eyes widened in fear, and he just nodded fervently at Levi`s request. Erwin intervened, pulling Levi away from the man- "I`m sure they can handle it, Levi. Come with me."

Levi was walking away by Erwin`s side when he turned around abruptly- "And find her some spare pants."

"Your squad. That`s unfortunate. We will make sure they did not give their hearts in vain."

Levi just nodded and chose to stay quiet while Erwin laid out his theories and plans to him. His sight kept drifting to the medical cart, and his feet ached with the yearn to make his way back to her. A sudden question pulled Levi out of his thoughts- "Will she be alright?"

"I don`t know."

Levi had no answer to that question. But he knew he would do anything in his power to help her. It was his responsibility to take care of her now. Levi only left the side of the medical cart once and prayed that Petra did not see him give the order to throw their bodies off the cart.

On their way through the crowds, Levi barely acknowledged the roar of discontentment threatening to swallow them whole. The ungratefulness of those people, their belittling of the young dreamers who dared to sacrifice their lives in hope of a better future, always left Levi cold.

That night, Levi scrubbed his hands until he drew blood, trying to get the stains that were long gone out of his skin. He would never clean it. Their blood. With the image of their bodies floating in his vision, Levi failed to notice her presence in the room. He felt a pair of soft hands on him and he raised his eyes to her.

Petra`s hair was disheveled, her clothes were wrinkled, and her eyes were red and puffy from all the tears she shed. But she still tried to give a sad smile to him.

"That`s enough, captain."- Petra told him as she turned the water off. She took the towel from the counter and cleaned his wounds, but Levi did not miss the slight flinch she gave when she noticed her hands had gotten bloody as well.

Petra dropped the towel on the ground and sat down at the empty dinner table. Levi opened his mouth to speak, but she stopped him before he could get a word out.

"We have to keep going. For them." Petra swallowed, aware of the lump constantly present in her throat. "We can`t allow their deaths to have been in vain."

Levi could only nod at her words.

Petra whispered so softly that he barely noticed it- "I don`t want to be alone tonight."

Levi did not have to give a second thought before giving his answer- "Me neither." It was the last thing he wanted. He had no one by his side to help him grieve when he lost Isabel and Farlan. He needed Petra.

He sat down next to her, and he could feel Petra`s hands around his, and he squeezed them back. He wished he knew how he could take some of her pain on his shoulders. He wondered if it would be inappropriate to embrace her again.

His train of thoughts was interrupted before he could muster the courage- "I trust you with my life, captain."

But Levi had no answer to her promise. He felt like he was not worthy of her devotion. Not after that day.

"I want to devote my life to you." Levi did not see any hesitation in Petra`s eyes, and it fascinated and scared him all the same. They stared into each other`s eyes for what felt like hours until Petra broke the spell, getting up abruptly to prepare tea for the two of them.

When Petra opened the cupboard, Levi could sense the storm coming when he noticed her getting five cups ready. He was on the verge of making his way to her when he heard Petra whisper to herself- "Just two cups... there will never be five cups again."

They drank their tea in silence, in the room both too empty and filled with the squad`s presence at the same time.

ao3

[neakco]

The Lost Temple Ch.4

Ao3 First Prev Next Masterlist

Where Tim debates if sending his youngest brother out to murder an ancient order of monks is unethical.

Ch.4 The Calm

Marinette explained that she hadn’t seen any signs of the temple yet. So it was decided they would consider every area covered today as searched unless the remaining sections turn up empty.

 

Their new plan also had them sticking together, just in case. Just in case of what was never mentioned but Tim was starting to think it either had something to do with gods or magic.

 

As they once again shared the watch Tim decided to risk asking a question he had dismissed earlier. “How did you untie the ropes so quickly?”

 

He watched a few different emotions cross her eyes before settling on mischievous.

 

“I have a small god in my pocket.”

 

He laughed quietly, “I don’t even know if you are joking. You are a mystery Marinette.” A mystery he wouldn’t mind taking a long time to solve if he was being honest.

 

Her laughter soon joined his, “How about I tell you when all of this is over.”

 

“So you don’t plan to disappear off the grid after returning to the monks?”

 

Marinette’s mirth evaporated, “I don’t want to return.”

 

It felt to Tim that in that moment she had removed his soul to scrutinize every sin and good deed before finally giving it back.

 

“I trust you more then I have ever trusted them.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. “Adrien and I have known them for five years now.”

 

Tim was curious but he could also tell this was a very sensitive topic, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

 

“I know, but it feels good to tell someone.”

 

He watched and waited patiently. This was the first time he felt as if she wasn’t suppressing any of her emotions and he didn’t want to ruin it.

 

“The monks figured they could control us, by the time the learned they were wrong it was too late. We were too powerful.”

 

Tim wanted to make a joke about how they didn’t look powerful, but deep down he knew that wasn’t true. There was definitely something just under the surface if you knew what to look for. Tim had spent to much Tim with those more than human to ever dismiss Marinette and Adrien.

 

“They tried to kill us when we were 16 three years ago.”

 

That stopped Tim's thoughts. What sane person tries to kill sixteen year olds?

 

“Adrien's father had just been revealed as a supervillain and arrested.” He was definitely staring, this was a lot more information than he expected her to offer freely.

 

She apparently noticed his look and understood, “It is common knowledge and if you are even half as good a detective as rumours say then I know you will find out eventually.”

 

He watched her collect her own thoughts for a moment and noticed his own were silent for once.

 

“We survived the attempt without a scratch. For a while we figured that would be the end of it. We started to pick up the chaos of what remained of our lives. We wanted to be kids, at least for a couple more years. We hadn’t been kids in so long…” She trailed off for less than a breath. “Then they appeared again.”

 

Tim didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she continued speaking in a darker tone.

 

“They took the only people we care about. Said that if we do this one thing that we won't have to worry anymore.”

 

“You don’t believe them.”

 

“Would you?”

 

“No, probably not.” He reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a card in the shape of his logo and handed it to her. “I doubt the monks will expect you ask for help. This has my emergency line and the number for Mount Justice. When you decide to pull off a rescue then you just need to ask.”

 

Marinette surprised him when she hugged him, tears streaming down her pretty face. “This means so much more to me than you could ever know.”

 

Tim, not really knowing what to do, did his best to hug her back. There was a small voice that sounded like his youngest brother telling him it was stupid to trust two teens that he had stumbled over in a jungle, but he was pretty good at ignoring the Gremlin when his gut disagreed.

 

Adrien eventually came by to tell them they were late for breakfast. Tim hadn’t even realised so much time had passed.

 

They came back to camp to see Bart already bouncing off trees.

 

“Adrien, tell me about your girlfriend.”

 

“Kagami?” Tim watched Adrien sit down with a cheese danish that had him questioning if the blonde was as good a baker as Marinette.

 

“She is as fierce and protective as a dragon.”

 

Marinette sat down next to him with a chocolate danish. Where were these coming from? Tim wondered if they could get him a mocha flavoured one.

 

“You know kitty, I am actually surprised the monks managed to grab her. She is rather deadly with a sword after all.”

 

“I am mire surprised they didn’t grab Luka.” Adrien grinned ferally. “Do you think he tossed them in La Siene? I rather doubt they know how to swim.”

 

“Who's Luka? You’re boyfriend?” Kon asked before taking a bite of…was that steak?

 

Okay, now Tim knew he was being pranked. He turned to glare at Bart who just grinned and handed over a large slice of coffee cake.

 

“Luka is actually my ex, but I still count him as one of my best friends. Enough about us, what about you three? Anyone special waiting for you back home?”

 

Bart laughed, “Nah, I am still celebrating just being alive.”

 

Tim could see Marinette adding Bart into her club as Kon scoffed, “Hard to find someone okay with dating a hero.”

 

Tim nodded, “Too many secrets. It isn’t like you can explain why you are ditching a date to run towards danger.”

 

“Or why you are late and covered in bruises, burns or blood.” Bart chipped in.

 

“Actually that one is easy enough when you live in Gotham.” Tim sighed, he really wished that wasn’t the case.

 

Adrien nodded along solemnly, “The only ones to understand are heroes and villains.” He looked towards Tim brimming with mischief. “Is it true that Batman had a threesome with Gotham's Sirens?”

 

A yo-yo flew into Adrien with such force that the blonde actually flew from his seat. Tim was up before the boy had gracefully landed on his feet, but relaxed upon seeing the toy, no the weapon, return to Marinette.

 

“Kitty, no.”

 

“M'lady you wound me. That actually hurt. I just wanted to make him blush.”

 

He watched her tuck the yo-yo away at her back before turning to Tim, “You really don’t need to answer him.”

 

Tim grinned, “I honestly don’t know. Pretty sure I deleted that info from my brain. I mean, would you want to know your mentor's sex life?”

 

Adrien and Marinette both shuddered.

 

“Our trusted mentor was 186.”

 

“and a half.” Adrien interrupted.

 

“186 and a HALF.” He watched her glare at the blonde while his own teammates shuddered.

 

Tim found himself more impressed then anything else. That was an unnaturally long life, unless their trusted mentor was secretly Ra’s. He doubted the Gremlin's grandfather was ever a monk though, rogue or otherwise. Plus, unlike said Gremlin, these two didn’t have the aura of killers. He would bet they had seen death, something in the sometimes haunted look they would get. These two had seen some sort of war and lived.

 

“Hey Red, are you still with us?” Marinette was very close and looking at him with concern.

 

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” He saw that most of the breakfast mess had already been cleaned up and decided to throw caution to the wind. “Have you or Adrien ever killed anyone?”

 

“What?” Marinette reeled back from him in shock.

 

Adrien looked like an offended cat, “No!”

 

“Well, there was that erased timeline…” Marinette trailed off.

 

“You told me I was under mind control! And I doesn’t count when only you and Bunnix can remember it.”

 

“Sorry, forget I ever asked.” If that timeline-hopping, punk rabbit was involved then he already knew more then he wanted to. Missions given to them by her were always the most chaotic.

 

In order to change the subject he pulled up his holo-map. “Working off the theory that our enemy has already searched their area.” He highlighted a good portion of the map purple. “Then this small area here should be the only area left to search.”

 

“We are actually assuming the enemy is competent?” Kon asked.

 

“Even if they aren’t, it will be a lot harder to search their territory without drawing attention.” Marinette added. “If today doesn’t work out then we can work out a strategy.”

 

Tim marked out their path in gold, “Two hours there and about 12 hours to search before we call it a night.”

 

“Unless we find it.” Adrien smiled.

 

“Unless we find it.” He agreed.

As always, feel free to reach out if you have any background lore questions. I am more than happy the elaborate the chaos.

Taglist @toodaloo-kangaroo

[soapdish290]

Harrow the Ninth may be one of the best books I’ve ever read.

Under the cut for some of the questions I need the answers to, as well as me mulling some implications / potential theories.

Harrow the Ninth is horrifically, horrifically dense, and is the first book I’ve ever read that made me take actual honest to god notes on first reading, but my entire GOD is it worth while.

I’ve never ready anything with a form / point of view quite so immensely complicated whilst still adding to and complimenting the narrative. Absolutely masterful shit.

I’m going to go hog wild with spoilers under the cut.

Edited in a probably fruitless attempt to make the formatting not The Worst on Mobile

IT WAS NEVER IN SECOND PERSON OEFHAUIOFNBaufbhAPIhbaip

It was always Gideon. I kind of jokingly wondered if it was back when I first heard it was going to be written partially in second person, but I didn’t BELIEVE it!

Things we should have known

1. There are so many clues that Harrow has inexpertly switched her cognition of the very word ‘Gideon’. I mean we know she’s wiped HER Gideon out of her head way back in Chapter 2 when John talks about Harrow’s Cav, name drops Ortus, and Harrow notices “As he spoke, his mouth looked strange.” Well yes, hearing something out of sync with what’s actually spoken will do that!

But we can actually see that it’s MORE than that way back in the Dramatis Personae. Everyone has their name, written out grammatically and normally, and then we have ORTUS. All in caps.

Obviously the real tell however is the codenames in Chapter 36. We know from Cytheria’s funeral that the Lyctors are naming themselves [Necro first name] [Cav first name]. The codename’s reflect this - apart from ‘Ortus’s’, which is G.P. P for Phyrra, G for Gideon. That’s when I got it.

What I MISSED, is that this tells us, right there and then, that he was very involved with our Gideon, who is named for her mother’s last word. Her mother whose last word was for OG Gideon.

2. Palamedes knew there was a perfect Lyctorhood and outright told us way back in chapter 33. “Tell me you [became a Lyctor] correctly. [...]Tell me you finished the work. You out of everyone could have worked out the end to the beginning I was starting to explicate”. I had to stop and stare at a wall for a bit with the implications of this one, at the time.

Things we now know

1. The thing for me, the real thing, is how goddamned casually the answer to one of the biggest mysteries is dropped. It’s an afterthought. Chapter 51:

“You clawed my face so bad that my blood ran down your hands; my face was under your fucking fingernails. When I let you go you couldn’t even stand, you just crawled away and threw up. Were you ten, Harrow? Was I eleven?

Was that the day you decided you wanted to die?”

Gideon is trying to work something out. She’s trying to parse together how Harrow opened the locked tomb. The entire opening part of this chapter is Gideon’s brain, whirling, working, following the reveal that the Necrolord Undying’s “unbreakable ward” was a blood ward. Rightfully, a ‘cell’ ward. And that Gideon is God’s blood.

So what have we learned?

In order:

We've learned that only John could open the ward. That Harrow couldn't possibly. That the latter half of her life has been a tragedy based, as is oft the case, on a misapprehension.

Then we learn that God is wrong, because he doesn't understand blood wards as well as he thinks he does.

We learn at the same time, through implication, that the locked tomb is blood warded (and think back to Gideon Prime's advice to Harrow RE warding).

Then we learn that our Gideon was birthed to be a weapon used to open the locked tomb. She is the blood of God.

And here, casually, that when Harrow decided to commit suicide by ward, she did so with our Gideon's fresh blood underneath her fingernails.The locked tomb has been open for 8 years.

(as an aside this is ‘casual’ because Gideon’s entire goddamn existence has just been torn asunder by learning her parentage and hearing what might become known, in the literary canon, as The Dad Joke Undying. It’s casual and seemingly disconnected because Gideon is dissociating to FUCK and Muir is a damn MASTER of linguistic form echoing narrative function).

2. “Alecto had your eyes from the moment any of us first saw her.” Harrow, who is in love the the body in the tomb, would have seen this, too. A 10,000 year old body with the same exact eyes as Gideon Nav. Nothing specific to add here. Just... worth noting. There are potential implications.

3. Oh yeah, Wake’s spirit was in the sword as well as Cytheria sometimes. OG Gideon probably knew this when he was macking on the corpse, seeing as both he and his Cav were fucking her. Although she ALSO very much tried to kill OG Gideon, so go figure. Wake was haunting Harrow and trying to steal her body. Apparently people were having trouble with this.

Things we do not know, but would like to.

1. ‘“Augustine”, he said, “if the man you were - the man you were before you died, before the Resurrection - could hear what you just said to me, he’d tear your throat out.” Augustine said, “Thanks for confirming that.” And then he was silent.’

So, this has some pretty legit implications right? Augustine has just told John to give up on his ‘invasion force’. So either Augustine has changed over 10,000 years and John hasn’t, or else Augustine was LITERALLY someone else before the resurrection. This leads in to the next thing that I Would Very Much Like to Know:

2. What the BALLS caused the Resurrection. What WAS the resurrection. Why was it necessary. Why does John need an invasion force? What, succinctly, the fuck is going on?

3. John says that he will forgive OG Gideon for failing to “fix or put down” Harrow. A scant page later he says that he “was trying to save her”. Save her. By ‘putting her down’. That’s not the language you use for someone you’re trying to save. That’s the language you use to minimise what you’re doing. What the fuck was John doing. Who was he manipulating. He told Harrow he wished she was his daughter. He asked OG Gideon to try and kill her. Why. What the fuck my dude.

3. The Stoma at the bottom opened for John. They’re only supposed to open for the Resurrection Beasts. “some kind of heinous underworld that only opened for the undead souls of monstrous planets”. What the fuck IS John, at this point? I can’t help remember that he had bodies and souls left from the Resurrection - he used them at the start of the book to rejuvenate the Ninth House and ‘buy’ Harrow. I’m reminded of Teacher from Gideon, who was 50 men. Of Harrow herself, who is 200 children. How many is John? Cytheria said she was doing her work on behalf of the 10 billion. The population of earth in the presents near future? of the solar system? Going back around to an earlier point, WHAT DID JOHN DO.

4. Gideon-in-Harrow is saved by the body. By Alecto, who speaks “with the wrong voice twice removed”. Whose voice? Why is it wrong? Who is she talking to when she asks for chest compressions? I assume she’s with Blood of Eden? With the Sixth and Coronabeth?

5. The Harrow who wrote the letters still knows more than we do. She knew that Camilla was around, that Corona was, that Judith was. She knew enough to know that Judith would need to be muted instantly.

6. The Epilogue. To me the implication is that they have Harrow’s body, but do not know who is driving. They give the bones and the sword, and look for a reaction.

7. Gideon’s body. Where is it. The assumption is that Blood of Eden have it. Why.

8. Oh, Gideon outright states that Ianthe was playing games with Harrow, up to and including lying about seeing Cytheria’s body under her bed (fucking nightmare fuel right there by the by). Not surprising, but oddly specific if just doing it for shits and giggles. Could just be that Ianthe assumed Harrow was doing all the made shite on her own and just egging her along, could be something else. Doubt we’ll find this one out, I’m probs overthinking.

I’m definitely missing a lot. I could also list the fucking effortlessly cool shit that keeps happening in this book, but this is long enough.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

where does it end?

Pairing: Queen!Reader x Knight!Bucky Barnes 

Warning(s): angst, sexual themes, triggering content, dark!steve

A/N: by @lookiamtrying​ request, i am posting the last part to an year old mini fanfic i wrote. last chapter inspired by love me or leave me. enjoy xx

The world had barely seen the Queen ever since her loss. She was locked in her room and never left for any reason. Steve had been assigned her duties and her meals were taken into her chambers by her handmaidens. She had even moved her King and husband from her room. No one heard from her and some handmaidens were quick to start coming up with the wildest of theories while some believed she could be expecting, but James knew it wasn’t the truth. 

     - The King’s calling for you, Sir Barnes. - Natalia walked into the training chambers where he was supervising some new blood into the royal army. James sighed, turning to his second and telling him to take his place before following the redhead into the King’s headquarters.

He wasn’t very keen on talking to him much less look at him. James despised him with every drop of his being but yet he couldn’t figure out if it was because he had gotten the ultimate prize or if he had threatened to have her head cut off due to infidelity which had never happen. 

They finally stopped in front of the King’s Quarters which had been the young Queen’s library and now rudely turned into somewhere where Lord Rogers rudely tried to take her place. He was royalty but he didn’t have the grace or the beautiful ruling ability the Queen had. 

    - Your Royal Highness ... - the redheaded female knocked on the huge mahogany doors whose initials had been removed. She slowly opened the door to see the blonde reading some papers. - Sir Barnes is here, as you requested. 

    - Thank you, Lady Romanova. - he said, not even looking up from his papers. Natalia took James inside, leaving him there only hearing his heartbeat and the wood crackling on the fireplace. He heard the doors closing behind and his last conversation with the king came to mind. 

    - Your Majesty, what do you wish from me? - no matter how hard he disliked the man, he was still his King and while Y/N was unavailable, he’d have to answer to him and only him.

    - You are a smart man, Sir Barnes. My advisors say you take it after your father, ever so calculating. You’re a man who, like me, knows that despite our dear Queen being ever so thoughtful, ever so loved, she has one job that she needs to do as a Royal of her gender. Can you tell me what is it?

    - Provide heirs to ensure the house keeps on. - James refused to look Steve in the eyes. He didn’t understand where he was going, he didn’t understand why he asked that. - What does that have to do with me, your majesty?

    - She refuses to see me and since she’s the rightful heir, her advisors have suggested another husband for the Queen considering we won’t produce any heirs. - Steve got up from his seat walking up to one of the countless shelves filled with books owned by the crown family. - I’ve spent years in my brother’s shade, heir in spare and I will not have my marriage annulled and lose my crown because my wife refuses to lay with me. 

    - I don’t understand what that has to do with me, Your Majesty. 

    - My wife clearly doesn’t want to lay with me but she doesn’t seem to have minded laying with you before we were married. At this point I don’t care who the child is as long as she’s pregnant. 

Bucky’s heart sank into his stomach as his brain started to process what he was asking of him. It couldn’t be, he wouldn’t want that, Bucky couldn’t do that. His eyes seemed void of life as he looked up at his King whose position was so so fickle.

    - I don’t think I understand, your Majesty. - Bucky hoped he didn’t understand, he really hoped he was wrong. 

   - What part of fuck my wife do you not understand, Sir Barnes? - he growled at the man standing in front of him. - I will not be thrown off my rightful throne because my wife refuses to get knocked up. 

   - With all due respect, your Majesty, it is her rightful throne. She’s the heir.

   - You see, Sir Barnes I really don’t wanna accuse my wife of adultery. It will end up in her beheading and I really don’t think the people would enjoy that. Besides, of course I will pay you a good amount for your service and it’s not like I will deprive you of seeing the child. - Bucky could feel himself churn at the thought of the man so many called loyal and rightful treat Y/N as if she were a breeding dog, as if she were a business, as if she wasn’t the human with the heart of gold he knew she had.

No, no, Bucky couldn’t do that to her. He knew his Queen like the palm of his heart, she was sweet, fair and anyone who’s by her company normally basks in her light which seems to reflect of her own words. He couldn’t agree to treat her as if she was merely a breeding object but he also couldn’t allow for her to be beheaded. It terrified him to see the face he used to love to wake up next to, her little smirky whenever she stole swords from knights as her princess, her sunny smile whenever she performed an operetta correctly gone. He couldn’t see her gone. No. He had promised to protect his sovereign and she would always be her Queen.

     - I cannot do that. 

     - Your father fought to protect this kingdom. I am fighting to protect it too, you cannot let a woman rule by herself, who’ll inherit the throne? Besides, you surely didn’t mind fucking her like a cheap whore when she wasn’t married.

     - Your wife has always been loyal to you since her marriage. I’ve told you that before. 

     - Then I think you have a choice to make. 

Bucky felt the world collapse on top of his. Through his mind rushed the moments he had shared with her, from the very first moment he met her sitting at one of her mother’s teas, pink frilly dress, the smile she gave him to her wedding when he refused to stop the ceremony. He wondered if he should’ve had stopped but he also wondered what life he could’ve given her. It didn’t matter anymore, he should’ve stopped it, he should’ve done something. He thought of the life she could’ve had if he had stopped her, she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, she wouldn’t have lost the baby, he wouldn’t have disappointed her once again and she wouldn’t be traded around like a harlot.

As he exited the study, he knew what he had to do. He had to take her away from the kingdom as sure as possible, send her to one of their allies, maybe to one of her younger sister’s kingdoms gained by marriage, anywhere that could aid her in stopping what was happening behind her back.

    - Don’t. - he turned around to see his wife, Natalia. She held a cold look in her face, too cold contrasted to her fiery red hair but he still could point out the crack in the ice of her eyes. It was still there, begging. - I know what you’re thinking about, James. Don’t do it. 

    - Get off my way, Natalia. - she stood in front of him like an unmovable rock, stronger than the tide itself, never stopping. - I won’t say it again.

    - Just sleep with her, James. He’ll pay you well and we could leave this, we could maybe buy a piece of land, start over. - jealousy is a damned thing, he realised. He realised jealousy had shaped the wife once friend who he had known all his life as someone who knew right from wrong, it had shaped her into a cunning woman, one which knew how to ride the problem of her marriage away. But she couldn’t erase the problem, she could never get what was already someone else’s, no matter how hard she tried. - You’ll only end up getting yourself killed.

    - Move.

    - No, James. 

    - Do not make me hurt you. - he stepped closer to the red head, close enough he could feel her breathing on his face, fists clenched. 

    - Would you hurt your wife for her? 

Yes. The answer was yes but he wouldn’t say it to her. Instead he shoved her away from him, watching as his lack of answer broke through her cold facade allowing him to overpower her. Natalia watched as he strode through the halls, not even looking back. He had been gone a long, long time away, but now, now he was walking away and she stood in the corridor, on her knees, stubborn soul refusing for the tears gathered on her eyes to stream down her face, hate growing where love once blossomed. 

Bucky strode through the corridors, the phantom of Y/N still haunting him as if the memory of younger, better days were pulling at his brain like bottled regrets. She would always let her hand close to his, hoping for him to grab it and he never did, he never did. He wondered why he never did. As he stepped closer to her chambers, he could see her handmaids surrounding the door, still locked out and not allowed in. 

   - You’re needed elsewhere. - he spoke in a tone which left no room for interpretation. The girls immediately rush away, fears of the man which seemed to had turned bitter with time too present in their minds. Bucky didn’t care or feel any pity for them. They had comfortable lives, they didn’t need pity, they needed to be away from the Queen.

His hand went straight to the door handle, pushing it open but the door didn’t budge. Y/N was still locked in. He tried in, hoping the door would cave in but once again it didn’t. They weren’t supposed to cave in. His fists started banging against the gold encrusted door and had he not lost his flesh arm long years ago, it would’ve started bleeding from the force alone. 

    - Open the door, Y/N! - desperation dripped from his voice but she herself, like the door didn’t cave in.

   - Stop banging on the door and go away, James. - he could hear her from the other door. So close and yet so far away.

   - Open this door or so help me I will break it down myself. - Y/N didn’t doubt him. She knew what his arm could do but she was also much too smart not to get hurt again. Nevertheless, she unlocked the door, turning the small golden key held by the lock and he immediately pushed the door open. Her eyes scanned him, he was deranged, like an animal in the wild.

   - Get out, James. I swear I will call the guards on you. 

   - We need to go. - he walked into her bedroom, straight to the hanger where her cape hanged from. Grabbing it, he threw it at her but Y/N remained in her spot, no affection for him in his face. Had he not been so concerned for her head remaining on her shoulders, it would’ve hurt him. - I said we need to go, Y/N. 

    - You don’t get to order me around. 

    - Do you still love me? - the question took Y/N by surprise. Almost as if something had hit her, she took a few steps back, looking behind her to see that not so far away there were some guards. She could just call for them.

    - James, I will call the gu ...

    - Do you still love me? - he interrupted the young queen, punctuating every single word like a stab on an already aching heart. There was no saint, there was no devil, just two aching hearts filled with scars that were starting to harden the youthful hope it used to harbour.

Did she still love him? Yes. She can’t find the words to tell him, head and heart bleeding in negative thoughts. She could never say to him she didn’t and whenever she told him she did, he would turn his face and walk away leaving her broken, shattered on the floor by a love surely classic love tales warned her about. In her memory everything still burned from when he said he didn’t love her from when he called himself a mere companion. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him she loved him so instead she nodded.

    - I have to get you out right now. I’ll explain later. - he stepped towards her but there was no ice cold nature to him, no violence. Instead, he slide the cape behind her, tying it around her neck before placing the hood over her head. It was a bleak brown cape she would use whenever going into the town’s market. 

His hand wrapped around hers as he turned the opposite way from the guards, walking towards the training grounds from which he could sneak her out and into the carriage which led into the town where she could get a train ticket into one of her sisters’ kingdoms. He kept rushing through the halls until a very familiar voice made him stop, rushing her to the opposite corridor. Both of them were up against the wall. 

   - Thank you for letting me know, Natalia. - the voice boomed through the corridor before he turned to address the guard with him. - Make sure Sir Barnes and the Queen leave. Sadly, our Queen seems to have chosen an illicit affair over her wedding and therefore she is a traitor to our country. 

Y/N looked up to Bucky, not understanding exactly what had happened but knowing she clearly couldn’t remain in the castle. Bucky mouthed kitchen to her, before helping her rush down the corridor onto the kitchen. Both of them ran through the oven heated grounds until the wooden door. Luckily for them, it was open.

   - Here. - Bucky handed her a small pouch. - There’s enough for a train ticket and more if anything happens. 

   - Are you coming?

   - Bucky, you’re gonna be killed. If affair isn’t believed, he’ll surely blame you for rape or kidnapping and he’ll kill you.

   - Y/N.

   - Do you love me? - she had one hand on the open door’s handle and one extended to him.

Yes. His hand touched hers and they exited, door behind them closed as everything was left behind.

[ultimatemagicalgirl]

Major Higurashi Spoilers * Theory *

So I have a theory on the new season about why everything started up again (and ties to Umineko)

Sad to say my fav girl Hanyuu is not trust worthy. I read her wiki page and she knew the entire time before who killed Rika but she didn't tell Rika because she didn't want her to ever stop looping, she also tried to keep her from expecting to survive in any world. She wanted to be with her forever, if Rika can't see Hanyuu then Hanyuu is completely alone. You see in the scene with Hanyuu that Rika hasn't seen her in a long time. I'm certain that the reason it started up again was because Hanyuu wanted to see Rika again. I also don't believe Hanyuu is her true self anymore like she said she's "just a lingering trace of herself"; so who is she now? She's Featherine. This is where the Umineko aspect comes in. We literally see Featherine in the opening, the entire new op illudes to Hanyuu missing Rika to point of possible insanity and when it shows Featherine the lyrics say "she sneered as she declared she wanted it all" then "I have always shared your joy I have always felt your tears. No one was closer to you, now those memories haunt me. The one and only answer.. the door I was searching for slowly opened just now and revealed to me something engulfed in the bright light, the true nature of everything" when the door opens you see hands reaching for Rika and her pupils have turned cat like- Bernkastel. This season is about how Rika becomes Bernkastel. Which I think will most likely lead to new Umineko anime that doesn't suck. Ryukishi also said we will see "a new side of Rika". "The one and only answer" is the door opening that shows Rika's cat eyes, a new world that shows Rika's "true nature". I believe that Featherine/Hanyuu wanted to bring Rika over to the new world she discovered where they could be together (Umineko) so she will never be without her again. In the op it also says "stifling air quietly shaking me, suggestive silence, the distortions in the light growing more twisted. Logic lost to me now, I believe in what you said, a place I long to return to, distinct scenery, she sneered as she declared she wanted it all" Hanyuu missed Rika so much she lost all logic and could only think of getting her back thus losing herself. When Hanyuu's daughter Oka killed her- it was because she had lost herself completely (due to Oka being kidnapped) and was killing people. The chip on her horn is from that and is what made her new personality so childish compared to her age. I think she may have gotten the chip back somehow, because Featherine doesn't have one, and that's what caused the new personality. The reason Hanyuu had her daughter kill her with her own sword- the only one that can kill demons- it was because she knew she would turn evil again one day, maybe killing her wasn't enough to stop that from happening, and she was human again for a while in the last season which may have something to do with it (we also don't know how or why she stopped being human again). Hanyuu said she can't tell Rika if she died or was killed when she sees her but that doesn't really make sense, just like when she lied about not knowing who the killer was.

[firerose]

Angstpril day 28- The day her love died

also on ao3   

This is my last fic before I have to take a long writing break ( I have exams), So feedback would be very great :)

Hazel loved winning the war games. The Cohorts allies and enemies alike stood around her cheering and congratulating each other.

It made her happy to see them like this, so joyful after the giant war.

Dakota her Centurian colleague patted her back appreciatively.

“Good fighting out there Levesque.“, He complimented with pride in his voice.

Hazel could not suppress her smile.

Dakota was one of the Romans who took wargames a bit too seriously.

“ Thanks, you weren‘t bad either!“, She told him with a very stern tone.

Thomas rosewood, the Centurian of the first cohort walked up to them with a mocking grin.“You know you will never lose the wargames as long as Frank‘s Praetor right?“, He asked looking at Hazel with playful anger.

She felt her cheeks heating up.

She knew about the theories that the first and second cohort had made up to justify the many victories the fifth cohort won since they had started war games again. One of the popular ones was that they just lost because they did not want to hurt the Praetors girlfriend.“ My relationship with Frank has absolutely nothing to do with your fighting skills. Maybe Fortuna just isn‘t at your side for once.“, She explained reasonably.

Thoma‘s opened his mouths speechless at her words. He hadn‘t expected that she would use his godly mother against him.

Hazel felt satisfied and turned to look for her boyfriend.

Frank eyes wandered the crowd in search of Hazel. Reyna and Jason were busy with yet another talk about old times. Jason had come to Camp two days ago to talk about temple designs but he had most of the time just talked to his old friends especially Reyna.

He spotted Hazel walking towards him through the masses and quickened his steps.

He got slowed down a bit by all the people that wanted to talk to him but he did not mind.

Frank enjoyed giving them compliments or just having small talks with them.

That gave him the feeling that he was just another one of them and not one of their rulers. He suddenly felt a grasp on his arm.

When he turned his head he saw Alice a twelve-year-old shy member of the fifth cohort, smiling at him gratefully.“Thanks for training Praetor Zhang. It was a great help.“ She said softly and Frank felt moved.

“No problem and I already told you that you can call me Frank.“, He responded hoping that all of the younger demigods would learn that someday.

Alice wrapped one arm around him and leaned onto his chest but Frank did not complain. He had a soft spot for new Campers especially the ones who came with little confidence, like Alice.

“I‘m sorry it‘s just that you did so many impressing things! You are a great Praetor!“.Alice whispered and Frank felt thankfulness washing over him.“Sadly your Praetorship ends here.“, She told him with the same sweet voice.

Frank had barely time to process her words when he felt a sharp pain stabbing right into his chest.

He gasped in pain, his hand grasping the shaft of the dagger that had been pushed into his heart. Alice still held it with her small hand. He tried to back away, tried to breathe but all his body allowed was pain. He already felt his world fading and so his eyes met Hazels one last time. He did not want to leave her so soon. He had imagined a long happy life with her but as always fate was cruel.

The last thing he registered before darkness overtook him was Alice ripping out the dagger and Hazel screaming.

Hazel saw Frank fall, she saw the bloodred dagger in Alice's hand and yet she still did not want to believe it.

Alice had been her friend, almost like a little sister. She had come to Hazel with her doubts and Hazel had always cheered her up.

This girl could not have killed Frank, she could never hurt a fly.

There were shocked gasps around her as her friends had noticed what had happened.

“Nooo!“, Reyna yelled in fury and stormed towards Alice her weapon raised and Jason close behind her his blue eyes as hard as hers. Dozens of others followed their example and a terrible suspicion hit Hazel. What if this girl hadn‘t been who she claimed she was. What if this all had been a trick and the others had figured it out?

She looked at Frank‘s motionless body on the ground and the pain in her heart quickly turned to anger.

Whoever this girl was she was going to pay.

Hazel yelled out her despair and started running, ready to impale her boyfriends killer with her sword. Alice simply smiled at her attackers and with a wave of her hand they were all thrown back, crashing down on the hard ground.

The demigods who hadn‘t attacked stepped back in horror as they started to realize that the monster maybe was more than they could handle.

Hazel‘s whole body ached from the impact and when she tried to face her enemy again, a blinding white light forced her to close her eyes.

When she opened them again her mouth opened in horror. A woman had replaced Alice, a woman that Hazel knew and that she had hoped to never see again.

She had golden hair that was braided in an ancient Greek style, her black robes mirrored her dark eyes that were full of hate.

No, she could not be here, was trapped in her maze, she could not be here.

“Pasiphae?“, Hazel asked her voice trembling in fear as she, rose to her feet. Jason who got up next to her gave her a shocked glance.

“ Of course my dear you. Did you think I would stay in that hole you threw me in?“, The sorceress mocked amused.

Hazel felt tears forming in her eyes.

Yes, she had thought that had trapped Pasiphae forever, that she had kept her from harming anyone. She had wanted a peaceful life so much that she had not focussed on potential threats.

Now Frank had paid the price for her weakness, for her naivety.“You should have stayed there. I will send you back to the fields of punishment for what you did! Frank was a good, kind person and you murdered him like a coward!“, Reyna spat but Hazel stood close enough to see the girls shimmering eyes.

She had loved Frank too, not like a partner but like a brother.

Her words were meant for Pasiphae but Hazel felt them burning into her heart.

Frank had been a good person, that was why she had fallen in love with him and now he was gone. He would never kiss her again, would never smile at her again.

Her gaze wandered to him. His face was turned away from her and she felt the urge to turn him just to see his soft brown eyes.

Pasiphae gave Reyna a pitiful look.“ Don‘t be foolish. I‘m the most powerful with who walked this earth and you are just a pathetic child of a minor goddess.“, She tuned to Hazel the sadism in her eyes making Hazel‘s gut fill with dread,

“But murdering your sweet boyfriend was not that satisfying to me my dear. I have many cruel spells mind if I try them on your friend?“, She asked and her hand went up in flames.

Some of the Campers screamed, the younger ones clinging onto the older ones.

Hazel felt guilt as she saw them. Pasiphae was only here because of her, if any of them got hurt it was her fault.

“You will not hurt any of them !“, Hazel demanded as loud as she could. Pasiphae did not seem intimidated by her.“Well then have a good night daughter of Pluto. I will enjoy watching you suffer.“, Pasiphae mused and then disappeared in a blast of hot white flames.

The Campers were in too much shock to move but Hazel took her chance. She ran to Franks side and kneeled next to him. Her hands were shaking as she gently touched him. He was still warm, maybe just maybe there was still a chance.

“ Frank?“, She asked softly a part of her told her that it was pointless, that he was dead but the denial was a strong emotion.

She gripped his shoulders and turned him around so she could see his face. She was hoping for closed eyes, for a sign of his shallow breath.

Instead, she was greeted with two cold eyes whose light had died already.

Hazel flinched as if someone had hit her and that was how she felt.

“No…..No please…no.“ She muttered over and over again her throat filling with sobs.

She couldn‘t lose him. She had only known him for six months, they deserved more time.

„Come back to me Frank please come back.“, She pleaded and tears fell onto his face as she leaned over him. He did not react, of course, he only stared at her and the eyes that she had loved so much already haunted her.

“You can‘t die like this! After everything we went through…please you can‘t…….“ Hazel begged her sobs finally breaking out of her. She collapsed over Frank‘s body, corpse and buried her face into his chest like that would close the bloodied stab wound.

She suddenly felt arms wrapping around her and even though they were gentle she felt panic rising in her.

“NO, LET ME GO!“ She yelled as she was gently pulled away.

She pressed her lips on Frank‘s, a last desperate attempt to feel his warmth again but again there was nothing only darkness and she felt the dark rising inside her as well.

“It‘s okay Hazel I‘m here … it‘s okay.“, Jason told her softly while he slowly leaned her onto his chest for comfort. Reyna and Dakota joined him sitting down to tell Hazel soft words that they knew were not working.

Hazel did not resist anymore, she was too weak. She let herself sink against Jason closing her eyes to block out the cruel reality that she now lived in. Her heart was broken and in between all her grief, the sweetness that so many people loved was washed away by a deep hatred.

No one noticed that change until Hazel opened her eyes opened again hours later.

They looked empty, dead just like Frank‘s like he had taken Hazel‘s light to the underworld.

Dakota searched them for the sarcastic girl had joked with only hours ago but the longer he searched the more he realized that she was dead.

Hazel Levesque and Frank Zhang both had lost their lives that night and when Hazel finally spoke again her tone was hard and her words were a desire for revenge.

"I will find Pasiphae and I will kill her.“

@chaos-company @qperseusjackson-jasongrace @emilydaughterofapollo @fictionalnormalcy

[sanjisock]

keep playing that song (hey mister dj)

ao3

Usopp isn’t scared.

The stranger might be a tall, burly dude with one eye, two large scars, and muscles that could rival a god’s, but Usopp is not scared. Nope. Sure, the guy could probably crush Usopp’s head if he does so much as flex , and the scars seem to indicate that he’s trained in some kind of deadly martial arts, and even without all those things he’s still big enough to be able to beat Usopp up into a pulp through sheer strength, and ���

Okay, so Usopp might be a little scared.

But it’s not his fault, okay! Who can blame him for being scared when their usual hangout place-slash-music studio is suddenly occupied by such a scary-looking man! Scars, green hair (is that natural color ?), earrings…all signs seem to point to him being a delinquent, if not a yakuza . And on top of that — are those swords lying on top of him? Real swords? Three of them?

The only saving grace of it all is the fact that the man is sleeping soundly, so it’s unlikely that he could kill Usopp right now. Maybe. Usopp isn’t ruling out the possibility that the man could identify weaker life forces in his sleep and eliminate them accordingly, Drunken Master-style.

Usopp yelps when the door to the studio swings open.

“Yohoho, you’re here early, Usopp!” Brook greets with a wave and, completely unperturbed by the existence of the Scary Green Man, makes his way to his guitar. The others start filing in behind Brook one by one, chatting among themselves.

“All right, I’m going to get started over here,” Sanji announces to the group as he starts plugging things up onto his booth, before pointing at the keyboard. “Oi, Usopp, those keys aren’t going to play themselves.”

Okay, so they are not acknowledging this.

Okay. Usopp’s fine with that. Usopp’s good with that. He knows all the wise words like let sleeping dogs lie — or, in this case, let green-haired men with visible battle scars and three swords lie so nobody (read: Usopp) gets maimed and/or fatally injured. He can work with that, sure.

The session starts, and it does get easier to ignore the man when you’re enjoying the music. Before Usopp realizes, they’ve been playing for a couple of hours, made plans for the next jam sessions, and bid their goodbyes. He’s three blocks away on his bicycle before the whole thing dawns on him.

Who the hell was that man?

 -

 When Usopp opens the door to the studio, the green-haired man is still sleeping on the couch.

Usopp closes the door again.

All right. Back up. It’s been a week since their last jam session, but somehow the man is still there. Usopp is a smart, rational man — he can work this out.

Option one: the man is a homeless man who somehow has found his way to the studio and started living there. Possibly dangerous, but enough grounds to call the cops. This, however, doesn’t explain why no one seems to be aware of the man’s existence, which leads to the other possibility —

Option two: the man is actually a ghost haunting the studio and Usopp, being the amazing and attentive man that he is, is the only person who could see him, and now he has to find a way for the ghost to move on or he will drag Usopp down to hell with him.

Usopp laughs at his own idea, opens the door again, just as Sanji drops onto the sofa, right beside the man’s head, all-too-close and completely oblivious to the proximity.

Option two, it is.

Usopp is mentally chanting some exorcism spells in his head when Sanji suddenly calls out, “you’re just going to stand around there or what?”

“Ah, right, was just, checking some texts on my phone,” he replies, half-rambling, hoping Sanji would buy some of the lies he’s selling. He quickly scrambles towards the keyboard. “Just gonna practice some variations first before we start.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for the others to come in before setting up,” Sanji says, half-distracted by the book he’s currently reading. If he notices that Usopp is more on edge than usual, he doesn’t point it out, and simply returns to his book.

Usopp takes the opportunity to make some observations.

The situation is downright baffling , because Sanji, generally, is not a tactile person. That’s more of Luffy’s thing — throwing his limbs all over his friends and wrapping them in hugs like a monkey would to a tree. Sanji generally keeps his distance, even with friends, and especially male ones.

But right now, Sanji somehow looks completely comfortable beside the green-haired man, despite the closeness. His shoulders are slumped comfortably against the backrest, with only one hand holding the book — his other hand rests on the empty spot near the man’s head, and Usopp thinks he’s started hallucinating, because — are those fingers absentmindedly playing with the man’s hair?

Men-are-lowly-creatures Sanji? Playing with another man’s hair?

Usopp is beginning to question his own sanity.

 -

 Usopp swears he is cursed, because how else could he find himself in a room with the man. Again. With no one else around.

And because the universe hates him, the man suddenly snorts, yawns, and blinks awake.

Usopp has half the mind to run out of the room, and doesn’t do it only because he’s pretty sure the man is like a wild beast that can sense fear. Instead he stays rooted to his spot as the man blearily looks around before finally noticing Usopp’s presence.

Their eyes meet. The man blinks again, before frowning. “Who are you?”  

“That’s my question,” Usopp wants to yell at the top of his lungs, which he does, except it’s more of a whisper, and he’s also jumping behind the DJ table. Just in case. “Wait, you can see me?”

The man continues to frown at him. “Why can’t I?”

“You’re alive,” Usopp can’t help pointing out instead.

“...Yeah?” The man looks like he’s questioning Usopp’s mental health, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to stab anyone anytime soon, so Usopp considers this a win. The man runs his hand through his hair. “Look, I assume you know the Cook.”

The Cook. There can only be one person in their group that fits the nickname. “Sanji. Yeah,” Usopp quickly says, “I’m Sanji’s friend. Also in the band. The name’s Usopp, by the way.”

“Heard ‘bout you. I’m Zoro,” the man — Zoro — introduces himself. And — doesn’t elaborate.

“Right,” Usopp responds, mostly to fill in the silence, “you, uh, you know Sanji?”

It seems like the natural direction for the conversation to take, but it earns him another look from Zoro. “Seriously? The Cook never…” he pauses, before groaning. “Of course he hasn’t. Bet he’s told you more about Nami than he does about me, huh.”

Usopp knows Nami — she’s a friend from Sanji’s university, and sometimes she’d drop by and help with the band’s finances. Zoro, on the other hand... “Look, I’m sorry, man, but all I know is that you’re this guy who started coming into our practice sessions and slept throughout the whole thing.”

“Because it’s boring as hell, that’s why,” Zoro says, before quickly adding, “no offense.”

“None taken, I know it’s not everyone’s thing. Although —” Usopp gulps, wonders if the question is appropriate, but curiosity got the best of him. “If it’s boring to you, why are you here?”

Zoro surprisingly blushes at that. He rubs the back of his neck in a shocking display of embarrassment. “Well, don’t tell him this, but —” he clears his throat, clearly flustered, before mumbling, “the Shit Cook said he’d be happy if I come and support and shit like that.”

“Come and support,” Usopp echoes, brain refusing to work. “Sanji wants you to... come and support him.”

“Yeah, you know,” Zoro says. “As his boyfriend.”

Usopp chokes on air at that. The ghost theory would’ve made so much more sense. Really .

 -

 “I wish I could’ve seen your face,” Sanji says in between peals of laughter, “you really thought this Mosshead was a ghost ?”

“It seems to be the most plausible explanation at the time, okay,” Usopp retorts, indignant. In his defense, it would be less surprising than this whole... boyfriend thing.

It’s not like Usopp has a problem with his male friend getting a boyfriend — god, no, not that. But this is Sanji . Woman-loving, romance-obsessed Sanji, who wouldn’t shut up about how it is a gentleman’s duty to take good care of ladies, or how women are so much more beautiful than gross, uncultured men.

That very same Sanji is currently sitting with Zoro’s arm around his back, his head resting comfortably on Zoro’s shoulder. Zoro’s hand is in Sanji’s hair, the gesture familiar, and Sanji clearly preens under the attention like a cat.

“Sorry, I forgot you weren’t there during Nami’s birthday,” Sanji says after he’s finally done laughing, “that’s when I first brought Zoro to meet the band.”

“Wait. Nami’s birthday?” The timeline doesn't add up — “Oh my god, Sanji, that was six months ago .”

Sanji shrugs, “yeah, my bad, I just kinda assumed everyone knew after that.”

Usopp is reeling from it all, because it’s just one revelation after another — not only Sanji started dating a man, Zoro isn’t even some random fling; they might even be going steady . Something he hasn’t seen Sanji do since he was fifteen and got his heart broken by a girl Usopp can’t even remember the name of anymore.

It’s turning Usopp’s world upside down, except when it’s — not. He never considered the possibility before, but looking back, it makes perfect sense. Sanji, with all his self-sabotaging insecurities, would find comfort in Zoro, who is clearly a man of actions. Sweet nothings would’ve done nothing to Sanji, but Zoro, who comes in to his boyfriend’s band practices despite his lack of interest, just because it’d make Sanji happy...Usopp can’t help but smile at the thought.

“Oi, what are you grinning for, Long Nose,” Sanji points out. “That’s creepy.”

“Nah, I was just thinking how sweet it is that Zoro would come to our band practices to support you,” Usopp answers without thinking. “He told me he got bored by it, but he still comes in because you want him to.”

Usopp watches the two men in front of him blush simultaneously at his words as Sanji disentangles himself from Zoro’s arm and sits up straighter. “What? The Marimo told you that?”

“I told you not to tell him!” Zoro growls, and looks away when Sanji turns to him with wide eyes. He buries his face in his hand, but even Usopp can see the blush reach the tips of Zoro’s ears. Sanji beams at the sight, and Usopp has never seen him so happy.

It’s sweet, and Usopp is happy for Sanji, but he still doesn’t want them to start making out here, ew, so he clears his throat.

Zoro and Sanji jump away from each other, clearly having forgotten about the only other person in the room. Sanji instantly scrambles to his feet and make his way to the DJ table, blabbering, “anyway, uh, I’m going to set things up, you just be a good boy and wait there as usual.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro says, plopping back into the sofa, but Usopp notices how Zoro doesn’t immediately go to sleep like usual. Instead, his gaze lands on Sanji.

Zoro doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who beams, but right now there’s one of those little smiles on his face, the kind that someone wears when they think no one is looking. It erases the hard lines on his face, and there’s a flash of something — soft , in the way his gaze clings onto Sanji’s back.

Zoro is not so scary after all.

[lances-wormhole]

More Than Any Title, I Love You (Fraxus One-Shot)

Read on Ao3 here

Please leave a kudos on there if you have the time : ) But I’d also really appreciate a like and reblog on here!

(Not Beta-Read)

***

Freed ignored the mud that splattered against his boots as he paced back and forth in the heavy rain. He was alone. Or rather, he kept telling himself he was alone just so he could save his heart from the unpleasant feeling of someone else hiding and watching him when he wasn’t aware.

Now, everyone gets the gist. This job was “different from typical jobs”. Every member of the guild has probably heard those words a billion times before… so many times. But this time it is painfully true.

Laxus Dreyar asked Freed to go with him alone, so he went along with a severe lack of questioning… And now here he is, standing in the mud, soaking wet, with only one question now on his mind:

Where is Laxus?

Freed didn’t fear many things outside the typical “I hope my friends are alright” mentality that seemed to be strikingly popular amongst the wizards of Fairy Tail. And you could say that maybe, just maybe that sense of protectiveness peaked around the Raijinshu… and, according to Bickslow, it especially showed when Laxus was involved. Freed couldn’t quite help that. The large lighting mage had a knack for getting himself into tricky situations. He found that he had no choice but to always be by Laxus’s side to get him out of it… Not like he minded being near him anyway.

Grunting, Freed pushed his sopping wet bangs out of his face, squinting across the field in lookout for the missing wizard.

“Laxus!” He called uselessly, shivering slightly. “Laxus! You’re out there somewhere, I know it!”

No reply.

Freed frowned, rubbing his hands against his arms as he slowly spun in a circle. He could feel his heartbeat steadily picking up his pace because of all the what ifs floating around in his brain.

“The storm is picking up!” He continued, one hand drifting down toward his sword. “We should call it a day and head back towards the hotel! Laxus!”

Again, no reply.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Freed unsheathed his sword and pointed it down to the ground. Trying to think around his panic, he attempted to cast some sort of rune that might be able to help him get in contact with his team mate. But before he could complete it, a loud crack of lightning flashed off somewhere towards his right, into the woods.

“Laxus?” Freed gulped, pushing back his wet bangs again as his gaze darted around the area. Without a second thought, he found his feet already running off towards where the lightning had striked, ignoring the buzz of electricity and static in the air.

Breathing heavily, Freed could tell he was starting to lose any sense of composure he may have left. But the mere thought of just finding Laxus, not completing their job, and going back to their hotel rooms where it is safe was just oh so compelling… he couldn’t even think of anything else.

Coming to a stop where the lighting striked, Freed could feel the static in the air causing the loose strands of his hair to rise to the sky. It was a familiar feeling. Whenever Laxus got too worked up, he would emit electricity ever so slightly into the air around him. And Freed, often being at his side, had slowly grown accustomed to it.

“Laxus…” Freed called, stalking into the woods cautiously, “Please.”

The Rune Mage could feel his throat start to squeeze, every ounce of emotion starting to bud at his eyes.

“I don’t…” He clenched his hand tightly against his sword, “I don’t know what you were thinking. Just bringing you and myself out on this quest. You can really be a big idiot sometimes.”

He expected to hear Laxus’s all too familiar disgruntled grunt, but all that could be heard was the continuous patter of rain against the leaves.

“I know you enjoy taking charge. I know you think you're strong enough to do these jobs on your own…” Freed spoke, an unwanted hiccup escaping his lips. This wasn’t like him at all. “But please. I can’t take it when you get hurt more than you’ve been. I’ve seen you suffer and I don’t want to see it anymore.”

He couldn’t help the tears that began to roll down his cheeks. If anyone else were here he would excuse it as rain.

“I could never live with myself if you were to be suffering more without me around to be with you.” He sobbed, body shivering from the overflow of emotion and the freezing rain. “Laxus—”

Another loud crash of lightning boomed from nearby, so close that Freed had to take cover, shielding his head with his arms.

Breathing heavily, Freed anxiously surveyed the area before running off where the lighting had struck.

“Laxus!” He shouted, nearing a mass of rock and rubble. “Are you—”

A low mumble from the wreckage interrupted his question. Overwhelmed, it took Freed a second to process before finally spotting a torn piece of Laxus’s jacket wedged in between a few rocks.

“Hold on.” Freed said seriously now, wiping away his tears as he neared the rocks, but before he could get further, a wall of runes blocked his path, surrounding the entirety of the scene. “Ah…”

Composing himself, Freed quickly dispelled the runes, keeping a mental note of the style and formation of the spell for later aid in the job, and hurried over to where Laxus was buried.

“Can you hear me?” He asked, already tugging the large rocks off and throwing them behind him with little care or attention. “Are you hurt? What happened? Why aren't you speaking?”

“Give me a second to explain myself and I will.” Laxus finally said, weakly pushing the final boulder away from himself.

Freed looked down at the lighting mage with a glare, whilst simultaneously looking over his body for any injuries. Fortunately nothing too serious, but he couldn’t miss the obvious signs of magic drainage. “Go on.” He urged impatiently.

Laxus watched him for a moment, noting the redness in the whites of his teammate’s eyes… however he chose to ignore that for now in the matter of current circumstances. “Firstly… I'm sorry for leaving you behind. It must be an undying habit of mine to go off and do things on my own.”

Freed clenched his jaw but stayed silent so Laxus could continue.

“I chased after what I thought was one of our targets. I remembered hearing something about a rune mage, that's initially why I thought to bring you along I guess. But I guess it didn’t cross my mind that he was a trickster like you and probably set a trap.” Laxus sighed, patting a rock that sat beside him. “The runes were slowly draining my magic energy. On top of that, a stupid second thief trapped me down here the minute I let loose that first lighting strike. He must’ve caught on that I was trying to lure someone over… that being you.”

“An idiot you are for using such large blasts.” Freed scolded, his hand subconsciously moving to cup Laxus’s cheek, letting his thumbs brush over the dark circles beneath his eyes. “I would have known it was you with the smallest sliver of lighting.”

“You would,” Laxus agreed, watching Freed with amusement. “I’m as much an idiot as you are reliable it seems.”

***

Getting back to the hotel, Freed forced Laxus to promise that they’ll postpone their raid on their targets until he had properly regained his lost stamina. Although the job requester didn’t seem too happy with the news, all it took was for Freed to give a dark, haunting glare, and they were well on their way.

After compelling Laxus into taking a bath, Freed immediately got to work cleaning and patching up the lighting mage’s wounds.

“Back in the forest,” he started, spreading ointment generously onto Laxus’s collar bone, “You said you thought of me initially. That makes me assume the reason changed.”

He was greeted by silence at the theory.

Looking up and away from the wound, he noticed that Laxus was looking away towards the window with an odd expression on his face. “Laxus? Is there another reason you brought me, and left without Ever or Bickslow?”

Freed watched as Laxus’s facial expressions flowed between different emotions before landing on one that could only be described as a calm dedication.

“Since the war ended, I’ve found myself talking to the old man more. Both of our run-ins with near deaths helped us mend whatever crack in our bond we still had.” Laxus closed his eyes for a second, thinking over his words. “He started to talk about seriously stepping down… wasting no mercy in saying that he was deciding between Erza, Mirajane, and… me.”

Freed’s eyes widened at the reveal, forgetting about the wound he was treating. “That’s… wow… But that doesn’t explain why you brought me.”

Laxus shook his head weakly against his pillow before continuing with his story, ignoring Free’s statement for the time being. “I thought he was crazy to think of me. After everything I’ve done. My selfishness in the past... But he didn’t give me a chance to argue. And he left to go think about his decision.”

He paused for a moment, nibbling at his lower lip.

“Since then I started thinking over and over about what the future had in store for me. If I were the guild master, I couldn’t imagine what I would do. All those past thoughts of ruling and taking control… it's all so… undesirable to me now. But I know that if he picked me, I would never say no to him. So I just had to figure out how I felt. I knew that once I became guild master I wouldn’t be able to go out on these missions with you or the Raijinshu as much as I like to. Maybe not ever since our guild is rather… crazy.” He chuckled, looking up at Freed now who was watching him with such pride and adoration. “Evergreen urged me to take this job with you… alone. Originally it was going to be the four of us as usual but she turned it down and promised that you alone would give me the answer.”

Freed couldn’t help the blush rising to his cheeks at the sentiment. “Answer?”

“I needed a reason to decline his offer. Straight up. Before he could even say anything to anyone. I… I planned on this job going much easier. I lost sight of my purpose here in the first place really.” Laxus huffed out a laugh, his eyes never leaving his partner’s. “But the way you found me, dispelled those runes, patched me up and ordered me to take care of myself. The way you look at me, Freed, I am so fucking helpless.”

Freed gripped onto the bed sheets, lower lip quivering despite his efforts to remain stoic.

“Even though I have a habit for getting myself into this idiotic situations ending in me usually getting hurt, I would still miss it so much if I can’t just be out here doing jobs with you. I know as a guild master I’ll always be able to see you but I’d never see you in action when I want to.” Laxus spoke softly, moving his hand to rest on top of Freed’s shaky ones. “I don’t want to lose any time I have to watch you conquer the way you do. I’m afraid that I love that too much to lose to paperwork and meetings.”

Laxus watched as Freed started to move closer, and in turn he slowly started to rise from his pillow to match the other’s movements.”

“I love you more than any responsibility and title I ever thought I wanted. I love you.” He spoke quickly before colliding with Freed, cradling his jaw in his hands as he pressed a fiery, yearning kiss against the other’s lips.

“I love you too,” Freed whispered, smiling against the other’s lips as he leaned over him from his forgotten seat beside the bed. “I love you so much.”

[buirbaby]

The Wardens: An Unlikely Ally

Notes:  Benjen Stark is a bit of a fun project for me. There's not much on him given his disappearances in the books, which means he'll be a fun canon to have join along the saga who really didn't have the chance to shine through. I know this might draw questions about Coldhands and so forth, but it's never actually confirmed that that IS Benjen.

Rating: M + Mature content, language, and violence

Masterlist | First | Next

The last thing he saw was a shadow swooping down from the sky and knocking the Other away from him. Afterward, everything was disjunct, muddled, and out of order. The woman, Tabitha was it?-she'd grabbed him and put him on some sort of mount. They had fled. How, he could not say, but he could remember the fierce burning of fiery eyes, hidden beneath the midnight cowl of the female as she'd glared at him earlier. There seemed to be quite a few things that Benjen had not seen before that night, to include wights, an Other, and a woman with eyes of fire. A blazing beacon amongst the frozen boughs of the haunted forest.

Then everything went dark and the pain ebbed away. He was floating in an abyss, nothing and everything at once. It took him a while to realize that he was dead and that there was no afterlife as the Seven preached, just an emptiness in which he conscious could float within and wonder if the woman had survived.

There would be no answers here, just eternal gripes and curiosities.

Until the darkness was juxtaposed by a flame, burning and twisting like serpentine tongues. Erring close, Benjen could see within the writhing fire, three dragons sailing overhead, toward Westeros. Death, war, famine, misery. But the dragons were not the worst of it, just a part of the machinations as the undead stole one, wielding it against their master and destroying the wall to unleash the unholy army upon the unsuspecting. No one knew that they were real. They were wetnurses' tales.

When he reached out to grab the vision, he gasped, the fire consuming his flesh and burning him. No, not burning as it should. He could feel each nerve, muscle, and fiber of his being twinging back into existence. Death had come for him, but a flaming hand had gripped and pulled him from perdition.

The ambivalence of the void faded and as he turned over where he laid, he heard voices in the distance.

"Were you told to bring him here?" he did not know this voice, but it chilled him to the bone, so youthful and yet scarred by the wisdom of centuries.

"I did what I felt was right," it was the fire-eyed woman, Tabitha. "It does not matter. He has died regardless of my help. Just as-"

"Just as intended?" the other filled in.

"I don't know! It was never confirmed, there were only theories," she hissed.

"Do you hear that?"

Only the crackling of the hearth in front of Benjen filled his ears with noise.

"No, Fang-"

But the companion had departed, leaving the woman huffing in frustration. Her footsteps drew nearer and she passed in front of the hearth, lean shoulders framed by the light as she had put away her cloak within the warmth of the room.

"What do you think, Balerion?" she spoke to another, a great shadow unfurling and tensing his heart. The creature that had knocked the Other back came into hazy focus, a thick lion's mane of feathers and fur encircling an enormous eagle's face, intelligent eyes glistening with the same bright flames as the woman who commanded him. After a moment of silence, she shook her head. "We probably won't be able to stay here much longer. Not with the Others marching. Who knows how far behind the Night King is."

"How do you know so much about them?" Benjen spoke hoarsely, his voice sounding as if he hadn't used it in days.

The both of them jumped, Tabitha whirling with her hand on her sword as she gazed down intently where he was laying. "How the fuck- " she started, interrupted only by the slapping of barefeet against stone. Turning a corner, the other voice's visage came into view, and Benjen was shocked into silence once again, staring at a boy of legend. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so startled, but clutched in his tawny arms was a miniature version of the griffin that had fluffed up indignantly. Only the feathers of the fledgling was grey dappled with black.

"Another Warden has been born," he declared, feline eyes turning toward Benjen.

"Fang, that doesn't even make sense. How could he have been..." but she didn't finish her question, dark brows snaring together. "You're still Benjen Stark, aren't you?"

He didn't understand the question, but decided to humor her. "Yes."

"I am not here to explain how things work," Fang scowled. "He has been reborn as a Warden. That means he's been given insight."

"I should get back to the Wall. If what I saw was true, I need to warn everyone," Benjen decided, sitting up and pulling back the cloak that had been strewn over him.

"Your watch ended, Warden. You died and were reborn," the creature, Fang, asserted.

"I still have a duty to Westeros, to my people-"

"Tell me, Stark, what is it you're going to tell everyone that will make them believe you?" Tabitha inquired, leaning against the forge, so that he was able to really observe the woman's face. She did not look or sound Westerosi. If anything, he thought she appeared more Dornish, despite lacking their accent. Her skin was a faded olive from missing the warmth of the sun this far north, her bright eyes framed by dark lashes, and her lips curved in a mocking manner. Dark brown hair had been shorn to fall thick and straight to her collar, parted in the middle and slightly wavy from being pressed beneath a hood. There was a roguish charm to her, nothing quite soft and dainty or willowy as most men preferred in a lady, but this woman was no flower. She had wielded a sword well enough and was tall and lean. Perhaps comely could be used to describe her, the symmetry of her face, but her eyes were also haunting.

"The Others are real and that-" he was going to express his knowledge of the dragons, that they would be coming to Westeros and that there would be war and strife, juxtaposed by the fact that the long night was looming on the horizon. Yet, as he tried to put this knowledge to word, he found himself choking on air, his voice failing him.

"That's what I thought," she remarked smugly, lifting the hand she'd injured during the fight, which was now bound. "Whatever you know, you won't be able to verbalize it. One of the Wardens' most redeeming features. For everything we know, our words shall not serve us, our actions must."

"I can warn them of the Others at the very least," he groused.

"Can you? If you return to Castle Black, they will not understand your rebirth or your need to leave on a moment's notice. We are slaves to the will of the one who saved us, the Lord of Light, R'hllor. Would it not be better for you to be thought to be dead than to have to abandon your post when the Lord of Light commands it?" Tabitha challenged.

"I don't serve this Lord of Light," Benjen rejected, shaking his head.

"Then you'd be dead. It was He who revived you. Are the words not ' Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death '? Your watch has ended and a new one has begun," Tabitha stood up, pacing the length of the room to retrieve supplies from an alcove in the stone.

"Not as if I was given the choice to make an oath in this circumstance," Benjen grimaced, wondering what else would be expected of him as a 'Warden'.

"Don't sound so thrilled. I wasn't given a choice either. Burned to death and woke up here with Balerion," she jerked her thumb over toward the magnificent beast. "Trust me, it doesn't make much sense, but I've just learned to stop questioning it. Here, you must be starving-" she returned with a waterskin, jerky, and black bread. Sitting nearby, she placed her elbows on her knees and hunched forward.

"Burned to death?" Benjen considered, glancing over her once again. "This Lord of Light really knows how to pick his champions, hm?"

The woman snickered. "I didn't feel it. Was unconscious from the smoke beforehand," her eyes flickered over toward Fang. "But this little welp is yours, just as Balerion is my partner. A Warden is a guide, a keeper of knowledge, and wargs-" The griffin was set on the floor as she continued to explain their plight, waiting on the Lord of Light to task them with their duty before sending them on the holy mission to aid in altering the future. While she spoke, the young creature, no larger than a house cat, stumbled on weak feet and tumbled unceremoniously before him, head too heavy for the rest of its tiny body.

He could not deny that there seemed to be a connection between them, the excitement palpable and rolling of the griffin in waves. The features of the little one were unlike the large obsidian one across the room, lacking the immense mane. Rather, his fur was thicker, the plumage of his feathers not as defined or prominent. In a way, the griffin had more canine features, a thick tail, and broader ear tufts.

The Wardens themselves were a rather ambiguous group, something he'd never heard of and yet here he sat with one and their griffin. Had it not been for his own revival from death and the mythical beast pawing at his leg, he might've scoffed at the information being passed over to him. One oath down and a new job set before him, Benjen resigned himself to the fact that his life was eternally destined to be interlaced with servitude. Only now, the complexities of magic and the fantastic had their own roles to play. Everything he'd thought was little more than old wive's tales, turning out to hold substance. Even the legend of the Children of the Forest was worth its salt, Fang erring near the entrance of the warm hearth room as Tabitha explained that their days were numbered.

Finally, the short being departed, leaving just the Wardens and their partners in the room. By now, the griffin had found its way into his lap and had curled up, wrapping its tail around its talons. "They won't do us much good against dragons, but so far I don't regret having Balerion by my side. We wouldn't have made it out of the haunted forest without him."

Dragons. His interest piqued, wondering how much she knew about the topic. "Dragons are dead, aren't they?"

"For now, give it a few more months' time-" Tabitha snorted, brows snaring together as the comment fell from her lips. Confusion was blatant on her face, her spine stiffening as she sat up and stared at him, almost in an accusing manner. "Dragons are going to be reborn once Khal Drogo is burned on a pyre. In which Daenerys Targaryen shall acquire 3 dragons."

He knew that name. The daughter of King Aerys, who had somehow survived the sacking of Dragonstone. Her family wasn't as fortunate. "You know then... That they're going to come here and one will fall into the clutches of the Others-" His tongue was no longer tied, the future spilling from his lips unhindered.

"I... know a lot of things," Tabitha admitted darkly. "Wardens can share information with Wardens..." she muttered, rubbing her face thoughtfully before glancing back toward him. "Makes sense, I guess... I suppose we'll also be able to tell when there's an eavesdropper or intruder."

"So Daenerys Targaryen is going to come to Westeros with 3 dragons," Benjen pieced together, the images he'd seen not possessing a narrative to go along with it.

"Yes, with intentions of taking the Iron Throne for herself. She will realize she needs to help destroy the army of the undead, but there's still a lot of unknown... how dominoes might fall now that you've survived," Tabitha sighed.

"I wasn't supposed to survive?"

"You were supposed to disappear and be presumed dead," Tabitha told him. "As far as I know, you never returned... but then again, all I know is script, not images."

"Then... if we're to be successful, I need to understand everything."

"If I tell you everything, you must understand that we have to adhere to what we're assigned to alter, because a lot of it has to deal with your family," Tabitha warned.

"I've taken oaths before and sworn myself to other causes. I think I can handle what you have to tell me."

That is what Benjen thought before Tabitha sighed and started from the beginning, recounting things that she was not around to witness, speaking in poetry like a prophet that had written the lines of their lives on parchment. She was right, he was not prepared for the intricacies of the world that he would have been better off being daft to. His derision and distrust of the Lannisters deepened, his breath quickening as he learned that it was they that hurt Bran and wished his death. But that was only the most minor of the plights to face House Stark. From the death of his brother at the hand of the Lannisters, to the rise of his nephew as a king, the betrayal and hurt was too much to bear.

Yet, Benjen sat, as it was his duty as a Warden. The web was not only woven with the Starks, but many other faces and names, some of which he was familiar with and others he was not. For as snarky as the woman seemed, Tabitha had an impeccable memory and a talent to retell this all like a story.

When she stopped, he lifted his head to gaze intently at her, his chest aching, but wondering why she'd ended so abruptly. "What happens after? With Jon, with Arya-"

"I can only speculate, that is where my true knowledge of the events of the future ends. You tell me that Daenerys will come to Westeros and lose a dragon to the Night King. Jon will likely be revived by the Lord of Light... Arya will continue her trials to become a Faceless Man, but the others--if we change the future, none of this is certain," Tabitha pointed out tenderly, remarkably softer than she had been previously.

He shouldn't have expected for all of the answers, especially given how much she knew and the years between now and when she'd ended, but... he really wished he knew what became of them. Already, he knew that many of them would die, including Ned, Robb, and Catelyn. In his gut, he wanted to go to them, to free them of their fate, but as he'd had his duty to the Watch, he had to trust in the Lord of Light to give him the opportunity to save them.

"I'll... give you some time alone. I know it's a lot to process," Tabitha stood up, stretching her back like a feline that had lounged out in the sun for too long, before striding away, glancing toward her griffin companion before departing from the chamber.

Benjen sat in silence, wondering if he would have been better off dead than with the vast knowledge and pressure he now felt.

*

"You're leaving yourself wide open," Benjen chastised, smacking Tabitha hard on the side of her arm with the flat of his blade.

"Right, well, my sincerest apologies for not wielding a sword since I could walk," she combatted haughtily, frustrated by her inability to best him.

It wasn't that she was a bad swordsman. In fact, she was quick as a whip and relentless when she was on the offense. However, she seemed to forget that her advantage in speed was outweighed by a man's strength. She often put herself in positions in which she could be placed out of balance and then open for attack. The form was there, as was the finesse, but he had learned by now that Tabitha had a bit of a temper that he could play like a harp. Against most men, she'd win, but against true savants or those that had spent years honing their craft, they'd pick up on the same chinks in her skill as he did.

The Roost was not a bad place, nor his newest companions too disagreeable. It had taken him a little while to grow accustomed to Tabitha's frank attitude and lack of decorum, but he likened it to comrades speaking to one another, not a woman to a man. Putting aside the facets of gender, Benjen found that Tabitha was responsible, reliable, and someone he would have liked to work alongside in the Night's Watch had she been a man. Now, as two Wardens with the task of saving the future that they knew, he was glad that he was with someone as capable as Tabitha, who seemed to have an uncanny memory and been given a scholarly education.

"React less emotionally," Benjen challenged, unable to stop himself from grinning as he thought of the times he'd told Jon the same thing when he was just a young boy. Or perhaps even Arya, who would have loved to be given the chance to be a warrior as a woman. He did not know how Tabitha's talents would transition in Westeros, given the fact a woman wielding a sword was nearly always unacceptable. Trying to think of her in a dress was amusing, as he'd only ever known her in trousers and armor, seemingly somewhat of a permanent fixture for the woman in place of what he'd grown up knowing females should wear.

Her nostrils flared and she came at him again, twisting Fate around in a counterclockwise motion before he parried the blow. The weight was light, barely a kiss of steel against steel, warning him that he'd fallen for the feint. Still, the man was quick enough to see as she redirected herself. Twisting his wrist to counter the next, he was astonished when she dropped beneath his blade and swept her leg beneath him, hooking a boot behind his leg and jerking him right off his feet.

Benjen slammed down hard on his back, collapsing into the remnants of an old nest, muscles groaning in protest from the hard, stone floor than embraced him. Tabitha loomed over him, pointing the triangular tip of her longsword down at him.

"How long?" he muttered, sitting up and accepting the glove she'd offered him to pull him back to his feet.

"How long what?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"How long were you pretending to cross?"

Tabitha scoffed, as if offended that she'd play that game, but sheathed her sword. "I figured it out a couple of days ago. You always pointed out my anger, so I decided to set a trap."

"It took you a couple of days to set the trap?" Benjen poked.

"Well, there'd be no fun in closing it right away. Especially when you were being wary of me calming down enough to give you a run for your coin," Tabitha shrugged. "Still don't think a trick like that will be enough to defeat an Other, but it's progress."

"Probably not," Benjen agreed.

Tabitha's head whipped toward the grin in the mountainside where the griffins could come and go as they pleased. She had a better sense of when Balerion was arriving, her warging abilities more finely tuned over the years than his own. While he might be a better swordsman, Tabitha had him in the category of magic. "Look who's brought back quite a catch," she whistled, placing her hands on her hips as Balerion flung an elk corpse in through the opening. "Let's carve it up before it decides that we're supper."

The powerful griffin landed soon after, followed closely by Torrhen, who was a little uncertain on his wings, but managed to keep up as he grew into a gawky state where his talons were becoming too large for him to know what to do with. Dropping his own prize of a fat rabbit, he glanced expectantly toward Benjen, waiting for praise.

“Better than last time,” he remarked, bending down to brush the thick ears of the griffin down affectionately. “You’d better eat it quickly.”

Torrhen glanced from his rabbit and then to the elk, poising the silent question as to if they needed to share his catch too.

“No, you’re growing. Eat that yourself. Balerion brought plenty enough back to share.” No sooner had he said that did the massive beast dig its talons into the back of the carcass. Twisting, it snapped the spine and helped divide the elk in half, leaving the left side of the body for them to dress. Dragging the rest away, Balerion threw an expectant look at Torrhen, the tiny counterpart hobbling after his much larger brother.

“Ruined the pelt,” Tabitha chastised Balerion, who let out a huff in disdain at her dismay. She drew her knife and began working, Benjen crouching beside her to assist. It was dirty work, but the griffins were keen on the organs and head, so there’d be no reason to dispose of the waste, instead leaving the mess clustered in the roosting area of the mountain as they divided the remaining elk and dragged it toward the Hearth.

Sitting by the warmth of the eternally burning forge, they worked in relative silence. There wasn’t always a need for conversation and Benjen was unbothered by the woman’s company. Salting and hanging large haunches in the back of the room, the work took a few hours, but would result in a couple weeks worth of food for the both of them. The griffins had been retrieving food as of late, Fang citing that it was too dangerous for them all to go out and hunt after hearing the harrowing tale of their encounter with the Other.

Tabitha sat up on one of the benches, rubbing the arm that he’d taken the flat of his blade to absentmindedly. Her eyes were fixated on the twisting wreath of flames within the forge. A forge that neither of them knew how to use, nor why it was in this mountain. It gave them warmth and protection from the darkness of the frozen north, but otherwise its existence was a mystery. Her brows pressed together and she stood, taking a few paces toward the fire.

Benjen tilted his head, gazing toward the hearth in an effort to notice what she was transfixed upon. Tongues leapt out at him, images burning a path across the fire, a dragon’s shadow lifting to reveal a beautiful city and a crowd of impressive, queerly dressed people as they gave gifts to a young girl. A rotund, greasy man opened a chest and presented three calcified eggs.

“It’s been decided,” Tabitha muttered.

Did she see what he saw?

“We are flying to Pentos.”