#never not paranoid about missing someone post plague so :))) i am Sorry :)))

[florbelles]

LYRA FAIRBANKS, fc5 ✤ JOCELYN PERALTA, fnv ✤ LILLIAN FITZGERALD, fo4 ✤ AMARA of VALLAKI, d&d ✤ RIONA LONICERA, d&d ✤ IVY BONNET, twc

tagged by @firstaidspray, @corvosattano, @shallow-gravy, @roofgeese, @henbased, @jendoe, @shadowglens, @shegetsburned & @leviiackrman to use this picrew, ty beloveds!!

sending tags to @unholymilf, @adelaidedrubman, @belorage, @phillipsgraves, @queennymeria, @denerims, @shellibisshe, @minaharkers, @jackiesarch, @indorilnerevarine, @noonfaerie, @aartyom, @morvaris, @arklay, @cybilbennettgf, @poetikat, @loriane-elmuerto, @strangefable, @purplehairsecretlair, @trench-rot, @derelictheretic, @nokstella, @nightbloodraelle, @gwynbleidd, @teamhawkeye, @playstationmademe, @fourlittleseedlings, @devil-kindred, @nuclearstorms & anyone else can @ me xx

[thinking-outside-the-giftbox18]

Striped Carnations and Anemones

Summary:  This was my personal idea of an alternate ending: What if Robin escaped but becomes the Snatcher anyways? Also a sympathetic approach to Queen Vanessa, but doesn't change the fact that she literally froze a kingdom.

I have posted this story on Archive of Our Own, incase anyone wants to check it out: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25423690

The cellar grows cold each passing day, or was it a week… or month...maybe longer? Prince Robin would’ve guessed immediately if it wasn’t for his hands going numb to tally off an hour as his arms hung from the chains. But nevertheless, he no longer can care about his body as it is going to expire anytime right now. He had guessed why his beloved would make such decisions, but it was no excuse for her to go insane...He can still hear the children scream as the ice captured them like a rapid plague. If only he had saved them, they are like his own children. Robin hung his head low, wanting to give up the ghost, yet something told him that he doesn't want to die like this...If he ever dies, it should not be in the cellar that was turned into a makeshift dungeon. He wants to be back outside to the forest, an odd choice to draw out your final breath but all he wanted was to see the stars…

"Ummph…!!" Was what he let out when the rusty chains broke, letting him fall to the ground. The cuffs are still on both his back arms, but he can move them a bit, which means…He looks up to see a torch that hasn't been lightened…'This place needs to be a bit warm.' Robin thought and like on command, the torch was set ablaze and the cellar took on a golden hue...but the Prince felt something else warm up in his body, it was what he had felt after crying for a very long time. He turned to leave the cellar, his body was weak but the fire in him helped as he walked up the stairs and out the cellar basement.

In the living room, the green wallpaper dulled when the darkness engulfed the manor, the only light there was near the portrait of her and her Prince, but it was dim. Vanessa played on the piano, remembering her lessons her mother had forced her to practice every single day when she was a little girl, then she smiled when she remembered how her Prince would surprise her with a duet as he played the violin. It made her horrible memories go away, she swayed with her fingers that played a love song that had a somber tone. Then the door behind her opened, she turned and expected that it was the wind who blew it open, no...It was her Prince. He looked directly at her, his Queen, just as she wanted it to be. Vanessa couldn't be happier as she waltzed her way and embraced her beloved Prince, "I miss you, My Prince~ Now we can be together forever~" she whispered softly to him like it was a secret, she rested her head on his chest, not minding his clothing that was slightly chilly and picking up dust. Her Prince looked down at her and gave a soft smile, "'Forever' you say, My Queen?~" he asked in a tone that would make her melt. Vanessa nodded her head, nuzzling her cheek against her Prince's disheveled cravat, she sighed when he placed a hand to stroke her darkened blonde hair on her head. She was drawn to his embrace even more.

"...I don't love you anymore." So calmly Robin said as he pulled himself away from Vanessa, who looked up at her Prince alarmed. He looked down at her with his amber-gold eyes, she saw no emotion, no glint of happiness or love...not even anger, that Robin hid well. "You're bluffing...you always tell odd jokes…!" Vanessa tries to reason while in denial, her Prince? He doesn't love her anymore? That's preposterous! She chuckled and giggled but she was the only one laughing, Robin kept staring at her blankly with a serious aura. Vanessa's ruby eyes gleamed in fear, "My...My Prince...Why…? Why don't you love me…?? What have I done that made you feel that way?" She then remembered why he was chained up, her eyes scowled, and prepared her claws to permanently keep her Prince for herself once and for all. "Was it that red-head who sold flowers?!! Did she change your mind?? Are you falling for her while you're engaged to me??! ...Explain yourself, Prince!!" She can only scream in the empty living room at Robin. He took her clawed hands calmly, keeping his sights on her, "Why would I love you when you destroyed our home…?" Vanessa's face went blank, she looked at Robin like a deer in front of the hunter. Now that he mentioned it, she might have done minor damage around the Subcon Manor after what had happened. Robin let go of her hands and folded his arms sternly, he had never done that gesture in front of Vanessa as he narrowed his eyes at her. She tries to come up with a reason "...Because I love you so much and was willing to fix what we had accidentally destro-!" Robin raised his hand to interrupt her, "I'm sorry, ' We '? I don't remember allowing you to turn our citizens to ice sculptures. And I definitely was absent when the kingdom was, how you put it, 'accidentally' destroyed…!" He controlled his volume to not scream at her, he wanted to express how distraught he truly was at her, yet he remained calm again.

Robin and Vanessa were both silent, Vanessa had now seen what she had done, "I was...I...You arrived days after Mother's-" she was interrupted again, "I knew. I knew that you needed me after her passing, that was why I had put a hold on my studies just to comfort you...I knew that you were scared of suddenly being the Queen without me being by your side. That is why I would still call you 'My Princess', so that once I am back to stay, I'll help you get ready...I was a fool who was deeply in love with you." He wanted to cry as his heart kept breaking, Vanessa wanted to comfort him but she couldn't, "My...My Prince...I am truly sorry for hurting you."

"You did more than just hurt me, my dear... You killed me. " Robin stated as he looked dead at Vanessa's ruby eyes. Her jaw dropped, how could her Prince say that?! "P-Prince…?!" She exclaimed, but was ignored by Robin. "I never thought that you would do this to not just me, you killed my love for you, you killed what was left of our dying affection...and you killed our home, the kingdom we were meant to protect...just for someone you didn't entirely know...How cruel are you exactly, Queen Vanessa?" Robin addressed Vanessa with such poison that it made her wince.

"Better yet, you are the Queen, have you always seen me as your prince rather than a king?? Do you even remember my name?" The last question was meant to be a cold joke, but when he saw Vanessa's widened eyes as she covered her mouth with her claws, she wasn't fooling around.

"You...You really have no idea who I am…" He numbly said as he bowed his head down, he realized that there was truly no hope to save what was left. He didn't hear Vanessa's efforts to comfort him as she tried to get closer to him, she kept calling him as "Her Prince" and at times "Her King" as if that can make him feel better. Robin looked up at her tear-stained face, she felt truly sorry for what she had done and repeatedly asked for his forgiveness. Suddenly, there was a soft low chuckling from the Prince as he kept his head down but his body shook with the sound. Vanessa jolted back when Robin's soft chuckle turned into a full-blown hearty cackle, she had found his "normal" laugh unnerving. He laughed extremely hard that tears streamed down his cheek, just the sight of her Prince in utter despair made Vanessa's heart ache.

Robin calmed his laughter and wiped off his tears, he looked at his now-former lover with an unsettling calm smile before turning to exit the room. Vanessa followed him to the manor's main door, wondering where he was going to. "My Prince…?" Robin ignored her again when she asked quietly, as he then opened the doors. Heavy gusts of icy winds blew directly at his face and he remained apathetic, it was when he took one step out the door did Vanessa had started to panic. She grabbed his arm tightly, "Don't leave!!! Please don't!!" She had begged him to reconsider, but she looked up and saw his piercing gold eyes one last time, glaring directly at her soul...silent with concealed rage, a growl before a bite.

She fearfully lets go of his arm and watches him shakingly walk through the snowy storms, away from what was once their home. He crossed his arms close to his chest to retain his remaining warmth and kept his small smile despite the warm tears continuing to fall to the snow. He didn't stop when the winds had gotten worse, or when he heard his Vanessa roar in self-loathing, followed by a big bang from the manor doors closing. He doesn't want to stop just yet, he knows when to stop when he gets there.

It was a miracle that her frost curse didn't reach the forest, it remained untouched with the sound of crickets and the calm rustling of the leaves. Robin felt serene and looked up at the sky, thankful to see the stars one last time. He knelt down and rested his body on a patch of dirt and grass, ready to join the restless nature and those whose lives were snuffed out. But yet, he had a small thought, 'If only I had lived longer...What can I do if I remain free...after all this time…?' He chuckled to himself breathlessly before...

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A masked soul wandered around the forest as they tried to look for their friends, they were fine with the fact that the forest wasn't covered in spikes of ice or blocks of snow. But they didn't expect the inmost part of it to be in flames, they almost surrounded the soul, it wasn't scared yet they felt like they were watched, so they felt paranoid instead. They turned back to where they entered from, only for a wall of fire to appear, trapping the soul inside, now they are aware that someone or something knew of their trespassing. Then a pair of gold eyes appeared in front of the soul through the fire along with a wide eerie smile that made the soul freeze in their place. The next thing the soul knows is darkness, shades of amethyst and violet surround their vision, they shake in fear as they start to see snake-like phantoms from a distance, who watch the soul with blank glowing eyes. The masked soul was no longer in the forest but in a supernatural plane where the ground is not visible and the exit above is non-existent.

A dark rumbling voice spoke out, "Why, hello there~ Are you lost, young one?~" he said with a low purr from behind the soul, who turned and met the yellow glowing eyes of a dark apparition who towered over them. The eyes behind the soul's mask shrink and cower because of the apparition's wicked smile. "Now do not fret. I too was lost, but I don't want to be found...or else, I would get hungry~" He remarked with a dark chuckle, eyeing the small soul with a tinge of hunger, scaring them more. 'Poor thing...they can't remember how they got lost…~' He thought before getting an idea, "I'll tell you what. I am in need of souls to build a little place where you can feel safe from the cold. I had witnessed the Queen's powers and how it damaged my forest...Safe to say, I was more than furious." He stated while extending a boneless arm. The masked soul looked at him confused and watched his clawed hand get set ablaze with blue flames, only to disappear and be replaced with a rolled-up scroll. The taller ghost leaned to the soul and rolled out the scroll, letting the lost soul read it. "As written in this piece of paper: I would need your lost friends as well, and I would make each one of you all a body so that we'll start making a place you'll call 'home'... Do we have a deal?~" The ghost asked the soul as his eyes and grin glow together.

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Notes: I am working on an AHIT AU fanfic series, but I want to show you how I am as a writer because I enjoy making stories as much as I like to doodle a lot. I headcanon the Prince's name as "Robin", just in case you're wondering why he's not named "Lukas". So this is basically a surprise quick story before setting the stage. If you want to find me, I'm on Ao3 , Twitter, DA and YouTube.So please, leave your thoughts on this fanfic and not half-a!@ed insults/compliments. -Giftbox

P.S. I also headcanon that Prince Robin would later learn Flower language as an indirect way of expressing his true feelings when he became The Snatcher. Hence, the title.

[marvelmando]

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - seven

notes: updating rather quickly because i felt bad about the cliffhanger :) i really enjoy y’all’s feedback, so hit me up!!

contains: discussions of mental illness, angst

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

SEVERAL HOURS OF WAITING ON THE ROOF HAD PASSED BEFORE LOGAN SHOWED UP. Marin had stopped crying at some point, eventually began to breathe evenly despite the sharp pain pounding in her ribs every time she inhaled. Her wrist started to throb again and the skin was blooming with dark purple and blue bruises, growing yellow from the swelling.

Getting on the jet and walking back into the Institute was a haze; the last thing she remembered was climbing into her old bed and sinking her face into her pillow. She cried herself to sleep.

She barely got three hours of nightmare-plagued sleep before a pounding at her door woke her up. Without waiting for a response, her door flew open. Lucy was there, storming into her room, eyes quite literally on fire.

"Where the hell were you, Marin Frost?!" Lucy bellowed, flames erupting on her skin.

Despite the growing temperature of the room, Marin felt numb. She shrugged, laying her head back down and pulling her knees into her chest, burrowing into her comforter.

"Answer me!" Lucy continued shouting, to no avail. Eventually, she gave up and stomped right back out of Marin's room in a blaze of heated fury.

Only a minute or two had passed before someone knocked on her door again, except this time, it was gentler. Marin didn't bother looking up to know that it was James, Lucy's boyfriend.

"Marin," James said kindly, but Marin only screwed her eyes shut. James sighed. "Marin, we don't know exactly what happened that morning, but we understand why you left. Even if we aren't really showing it." He paused, presumably giving her the opportunity to speak. She didn't. "When you're ready to talk, you know where to find us."

Marin was glad for James' respect, enough for him not to take a look into Marin's mind and find out for himself. She didn't move as she heard his footsteps recede, or when the door clicked shut behind him. She counted to ten before throwing the covers off of her.

She walked numbly into her bathroom, grabbed the plastic cup she kept on the sink and filled it with water from the tap. She guzzled down three cups before the ringing in her head finally stopped. She raised her eyes to the mirror above the sink.

The first thing she noticed was the large bruise on her cheek, slowly fading as the water she drank stitched together the broken blood vessels. Her eyes were tired, the dark brown of her irises dull and lifeless, and the delicately thin skin under them purplish-black with fatigue and stress. Her cheeks were hollowed, jaw pronounced by sunken jowls. She looked like shit. But at least her wrist didn't hurt anymore.

"Marin, please see me in my office." Professor Xavier's voice echoed between her ears, inducing a long-awaiting migraine and reactivating the tinnitus ringing. Chugging another cup of water for courage, Marin left her room, not bothering to put on a pair of shoes or socks.

It was early enough in the morning that the halls were nearly void of students, but the ones that did pass her gave her looks.

Marin felt a strong wave of déjà-vu as she pushed open the wooden door that separated Charles' office from the main hall.

Marin noticed Charles sitting in his hovering wheelchair by the window this time, eyes glazed and staring out at the bright green front lawn. Marin took the seat farthest from him, remembering the last time she visited his office.

"Did you know that I cannot read your mind?" Charles suddenly said, unprompted. Marin's eyebrows creased in confusion.

"Then why can you speak to me in my mind?"

Charles narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps I should clarify that—it is not that I can't access your mind, I just simply can't access your memories."

Marin's eyes followed him as he moved behind her and to her other side, stopping his wheelchair barely a foot away from her chair.

"Which is why I had no other choice but to believe that you were the cause of your parents' deaths."

Marin tensed, waiting for him to lash out, or something equally as terrifying. But he never did. "I must tell you something, Miss Frost—a confession that has haunted me since I first made the decision to erase any recollection of you having other powers besides your hydrokinesis."

Marin blinked at him. "You what?"

Charles cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should start from the beginning, yes?" Marin just stared at him, and he took her reaction as an ‘okay’.

"Your grandmother was a mutant, Marin." What a hell of a way to break the ice, Professor. "She harnessed the ability to manipulate energy, from what research I could gather. However, she hadn't discovered her powers until long after she gave birth to her son, Jamie—your father—out of wedlock. Your grandfather wasn't an option for your grandmother, and, unable to raise a child on her own, she surrendered him to an orphanage—unaware of her own powers, or the genetics she'd passed along.

"Your father, we believe, was a telepath, much like James and I. But growing up virtually an orphan, with very little education or experience, he didn't recognize his symptoms as a result of his mutant genetics. When he was found talking to himself, around age eleven, he was kicked out of the orphanage out of fear that your father suffered from schizophrenia. He lived on the streets until he was nineteen, where he met your mother and fell in love.

"I'm assuming that once you were born, your father was already very paranoid, and tried to place a mental block on you, despite not knowing what he was doing. The inexperience and lack of control over his powers led to a somewhat permeable blockade, and thus the reason why I can still access your mind. I cannot read your mind, but I can project thoughts to you.

"I'm ashamed to admit that I knew this from the beginning, Miss Frost. I can only assume that as you grow older, your father's influence diminishes with the time that passes; and as of the past couple of months, if projected strongly enough, I'm able to access your dreams." At her suspicious glare, he chuckled. "Don't worry, I still can't read your thoughts just yet."

"That sounds fake but okay." She muttered under her breath. Charles flashed a hint of a smile, but otherwise said nothing of it.

"You have to understand, Marin, that I cannot determine for myself what happened the night your powers emerged." Charles began to look guilty, which surprised Marin slightly. "There is another matter, however, that I think needs to be addressed."

Marin looked expectantly at him.

"When you first arrived at the Institute, your powers were extremely unstable. They were like nothing we'd ever seen before, even by mutants that could manipulate energy, like Mary, or your grandmother." His face grew dark. "We assumed that you were experiencing symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after witnessing your parents' deaths, which was heightening your abilities.

"I should have learned my lesson after Jean, but even she agreed that the best thing to do was erase your memories of your other powers. They were far too dangerous, to yourself and the other students. And seeing them reemerge in the last five months has made me reexamine the ethicality of continuing to keep these powers from you."

Marin stared ahead into blank space. Somehow, she wasn't surprised—as if Charles telling her this was nothing new to her, it only opened her mind to memories long forgotten. But she'd have time to evaluate them later because Charles was still talking.

"So you're not going to make me forget again?" She looked to him, and he frowned.

"No. No, we're going to do what we should've done eight years ago. We're going to train you to control them." He nodded and swiveled his wheelchair to face her again. She didn't know when he'd turned away. "I know now that you aren't responsible for your parents' deaths, Marin. Your powers were not a cause of them, only a byproduct of whatever you witnessed."

Marin averted her gaze down to her hands, which had migrated into her lap.

"Why does everyone else think that I did?" She asked, her voice quiet and broken.

Charles sighed sorrowfully. "Naturally, I'd had to inform the other adults that run the Institute what circumstances you were found in. In my folly, I revealed to them what my conclusions were, and they, too, believed them, none-the-wiser. From there, it may have been overheard by some of the older students, and then spread from there. It also did not help that your decline in control over your powers was well-known amongst the students, and it wouldn't have been difficult to presume that the lies being spread were true."

Processing the heavy load of information being dumped on her, Marin didn't speak for a full thirty seconds. "Why didn't you just tell them you weren't sure? That you couldn't read my mind?" She eventually asked.

The Professor exhaled. "I believed that if it got out, there was someone whose mind I couldn't penetrate, it would've made you a target. Or, with your chaotic powers, it would have made you a potential weapon. At least, it was what I told myself, to save my reputation from scrutiny. Now, I know that it was entirely for selfish reasons, and I am truly sorry for that, as well, Marin." Charles looked sincere. For all the years that Marin had known the man, admitting his own faults was an extremely rare occurrence, and if he was admitting this now, she had little doubt that he was lying. It didn't make the truth any less painful, though. But Marin was tired of all of the negativity, and despite her better judgment, she found herself forgiving him.

"So what now?" Marin crossed her arms over her chest. "Everyone still thinks I killed my parents. Everyone still treats me as though I need to be avoided at all costs." She shook her head. "And after enduring that shit for nine years, I'm frankly fucking sick of it."

If the Professor was affected by her profanity, he didn't show it. (After all, he'd been around Logan's filthily explicit language for decades, now, and was unlikely to be fazed by anything Marin could come up with.)

"Then I believe an announcement is in order."

+++

Marin shuffled to her room that night, emotionally exhausted from the events of the day. Everyone seemed to believe Professor Xavier's claims that she was innocent, and some even approached her afterward to apologize for their less-than-friendly behaviors. Marin was grateful but ultimately disappointed to find that she didn't care as much for their forgiveness as she'd expected. All she could say was that her name was cleared among the mutants. But she found that it wasn't their forgiveness she wanted so desperately.

Right after his speech, Charles called her back into his office, where he began the process of returning the memories he'd kept covered. She spent hours sweating and writhing in his chair as he unveiled one memory right after the other, and by nine that evening, Marin's mind was her own again.

Walking into her bedroom felt different after. It seemed so much smaller, somehow, even though she'd only been out for half of a day. She filled a cup of water, silently mourning her reusable bottle left behind in her duffel bag, still at Peter's apartment. I wonder if he threw it out, she distantly thought. Marin didn't know what she hated more—having to leave before she could explain herself and leaving him to fear her like everyone else had, or knowing that keeping it a secret from him and Tony Stark was the worst thing she could have done, and condemning herself for doing it anyway.

While ruminating, her door opened. It was Lucy again, but this time, she looked calm, and even a bit regretful. "Can I come in?" She timidly asked in the doorway. Marin nodded, and Lucy stepped in, closing the door behind her.

Marin shifted on her bed so her back was supported by the wall, and curled her feet underneath her. Lucy hesitantly sat on the side of the bed, a couple of feet down. She didn't speak for a while, and Marin knew she was thinking of what to say, so she waited for her patiently.

"I'm sorry," Lucy eventually said, looking Marin straight in the eyes as she turned to sit crisscrossed directly facing her. "I'm sorry that everyone believed that shitty rumor—including me. I'm sorry for being a terrible friend, or not a friend at all when you clearly needed someone on your side." What Marin liked about Lucy was that she didn't turn on the theatrics, she didn't blubber and beg for Marin's forgiveness like some others had. But she was rubbing at her wrists, a nervous habit Marin recognized, surprised though because it was a very rare sight. "What I'm trying to say, is that I was wrong about you. In more ways than just your past."

Marin raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

Lucy exhaled through her nose. "I thought you were a reckless, walking dumpster fire, to be honest. With how you constantly acted out—whether it was by disobeying orders to go play hero or refusing to take group training seriously. You're terrible at working in a team, you always used your powers way too often and for the stupidest things, too, and you skipped school so you could go study by yourself. You stole food and hogged the computers, you hated sharing, and you—"

"Okay, I get it." Marin cut her off, growing annoyed.

"I was getting there." Lucy snapped at her impatience. "Marin, I thought you were the worst kind of mutant. Like another Logan or young Cyclops—because we've all heard those stories from Jean—but you're not. You're selfless and principled, and sure, your social skills leave a lot to the imagination, but you're good." Lucy's lips curled into a small, gentle smile. She shook her head, amusedly. "You're not a good mutant, Marin Frost, but you're a hell of a great superhero."

Marin was stunned into silence. Of all the people in Marin's life, Lucy Webb was the last person she expected to say something so nice and genuine. Marin couldn't find the words to respond, but it was fine since apparently Lucy wasn't finished.

"I mean—you're still kind of a shitty superhero, but you've got potential. You definitely need to work on your people skills, and—oof—"

Marin threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Lucy. Though she still rankled to think about the times when Lucy had reprimanded her, hearing such praise now was more than enough for Marin to forgive her. Lucy laughed, hugging her back. They pulled apart after a few seconds.

"And, for the record, I'm sorry for what I said that day." Lucy mentioned sheepishly and didn't need to elaborate for Marin to know what she was referring to. "It was unfair of me and totally uncool—not to mention very unprofessional to say in front of such a young audience."

Marin smiled at the mention of Mary. She made a mental reminder to say hi to the young girl when she got the chance.

"Apology accepted."

"Good." Lucy nodded once, and stared at her for a moment, thinking. "Now... wanna tell me where you've been the past two weeks?"

Marin sighed. With how much she'd yet to unpack herself, she figured that she could use an extra mind. "So, I went back to Queens, right? And the superhero I met from the night in April, Spider-Man, had this really fancy new suit..."

+++

"Well, shit." Lucy said about an hour later. She propped her head up with her hand as she laid on her stomach next to Marin on the bed. "And you really went to D.C.?"

Marin rolled her eyes. "Is that really all you're getting out of all that?"

Lucy waved her hand flippantly. "Nah, I'm just thinking out loud."

"Well, what do I do?" Marin groaned, thumping the back of her head against the wall. "Those weapons dealers are still out there, probably making more alien weapons."

"Well, you said the FBI showed up at the ferry, right?" Lucy wondered. "So don't you think that, knowing they've got the feds on their tail, they plan on laying low for a while?"

Marin pondered the idea. "No... after all, they didn't stop when Spider-Man caught onto them. If anything, they were just bolder than before."

"Yeah, but... no offense to your spider-boyfriend, but he's not exactly as intimidating at the FBI." Lucy pointed out. Marin remembered his conversation with Aaron Davis with a pang in her chest.

"Why does everyone think we're dating? He's not my boyfriend." Marin shook her head. "But I guess that's somewhat true, though it doesn't change the fact that I've got a really bad feeling about it."

Lucy nodded, studying the look on Marin's face. "But you want him to be?"

Marin looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You like him, don't you?" Lucy grinned knowingly. "You like Spider-Man!"

Marin scoffed. "Please. I've known him for all of two weeks." Her face dropped. "And besides, he thinks I killed my parents. There's no way that he'd want to be anywhere near me right now."

"Oh Mare," Lucy sighed sympathetically, and the nickname sent a new wave of pain into her heart.

"It's tomorrow, you know." She deflected. The space behind her eyes burned with the desire to cry. "The day they died." She sniffed wetly, hugging her knees to her chest. "It's been nine years. Nine years, Lucy. And it still feels like it was yesterday. I can still see my father—"

Lucy sat up, and crawled next to Marin, rubbing her back soothingly as the words got stuck in her throat. "I know, Marin." She shushed. When Marin had calmed down enough, Lucy told her, "My mom died when I was nine, you know."

Marin looked at her in shock. "Really?"

Lucy nodded, giving her an empathetic look. "Yeah. She was sick for a while, but it got really bad, towards the end." Lucy looked off into empty space. "She had a stroke when I was at school. I never said goodbye. When my dad came to get me and told me the news, that's when my powers erupted." She shook her head solemnly. "I was just lucky that no one was killed. My dad got the worst of it—he's blind in one eye because of me."

"Not because of you," Marin assured her. "Because of your powers. You aren't your powers, and you didn't do that to your dad. I promise."

Lucy smiled gratefully and sniffed a bit. She laughed. "God, being a mutant is real shit, isn't it?"

"Probably," Marin grinned. "But I think it's worth it sometimes."

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99​ @pushmeinablackhole​ @demi-starzak​ @-thatgirloverthere-​ @silver-winter-wolf  

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

“You want me to do what?!”

The servants loitering about the great hall scurried for cover at the sound of their queen’s raised voice. Rosegold only returned her sister’s scowl with a wider, brighter smile and took another sip from her glass.

The Warren may have been a dictatorship, but it was obviously flourishing. Before them lay a feast of immense proportion. Traditional Dragonhome dishes had been laid out in excess, and several casks of wine had been brought up from Eyja’s personal stores. “Nothing special,” she’d claimed, but one of the servants had quietly informed Rosegold that it was, in fact, her best year.

They had eaten their fill in silence, but for the occasional attempt at small-talk.

“How are they?” Eyja had asked.

“Who?”

“...Ma and pa.”

“Mother passed after you left. Father passed last cycle.”

“...I see.”

Then, once the plates had begun to be cleared away, Rosegold had clasped her hands neatly in front of her, leaned forward, and said, “I want you to release your people.”

Now they found themselves at an impasse--Eyja on her feet, palms splayed against the table, teeth clenched in stubborn defiance; Rosegold seated comfortably, smiling sweetly, sipping daintily from her glass.

Watching.

Waiting.

“I will do no such thing,” Eyja said, and spat the final word like poison from her lips.

“Haven’t you played tyrant long enough?” Rosegold asked. Eyja leaned heavier against the table, letting her full size loom over her sister. “I don’t know your reasons,” Rosegold went on, “but I do know you’re hurting innocent people. Those who disobey are beaten and maimed, those who continue to disobey are executed, and anyone who strays too near is dragged here kicking and screaming to be either subjugated or murdered.”

“As it should be,” Eyja said. “I’m above them. I’m better than them. I’m in charge.”

“You aren’t even dirt beneath my heel.”

Rosegold expected violence, for her sister to reach for the wicked dagger at her hip. Instead, Eyja snorted and reclaimed her seat. “I won’t let you goad me,” she said. “We aren’t children anymore, Rosy.”

“Really?” Rosegold said. “You’re still acting like one.”

“This is my land,” Eyja reminded, “and these are my people. Everything you see, I have built. My leadership has led to incredible advances in technology, magic, architecture, agriculture, and the arts. We will never want for food. We will never want for shelter. We will never want for money, or weaponry, or warmth.”

Eyja leaned back in her seat, arms crossed, chin tilted upwards just so. “I do not need your approval,” she said. “I know that what I’ve created here is a masterpiece, a well-oiled machine far more efficient than even those found within the Shifting Expanse. I’ve accomplished something grand.”

“You’ve accomplished nothing,” Rosegold replied. “The people you’ve oppressed for the past three cycles have.”

“Under my leadership.”

“Under pain of death.”

“Gods, you’re so naive!”

“I’d rather be naive than a murderer, Eyja!”

“This is the way the world is now!” Eyja slammed a fist down on the table, making its entire length jump and rattle precariously. “‘Kill or be killed’ isn’t just for Plague dragons anymore! Our world is a cruel one, and you’re too soft to live in it!”

She stood again and turned her back to Rosegold. A long silence descended between them; then, “You can stay as long as you’d like, but if I hear you’ve been meddling, I’ll kill you.”

“You know I’m going to meddle,” Rosegold said, “so you might as well kill me now and get it over with.”

But Eyja did not. Her hand hovered briefly over her dagger, fingers twitching, though out of malice or hesitation, Rosegold couldn’t say. Then she swept from the hall like a thunder storm, all broiling, angry clouds and booming footsteps. A door slammed somewhere in the palace; timidly, its workers began to creep back into the lamplight.

Rosegold remained. Even as her sister’s servants cleared away the remnants of their meal, she remained. She remained, and she sighed, and she wracked her brain for some idea, some tiny, flickering, dying light bulb of a plan.

Finally, when she could bear the echoing emptiness of the dining hall no longer, she gathered her skirts in her hands and left the palace for the crowded, subterranean streets beyond.

Before she had gone very far, a tiny, trembling hand grasped her wrist. She paused, letting her skirts fall again, and turned to face the stranger. He was the shortest, skinniest drake she’d ever laid eyes on, with patchwork skin of cream and sand and a great many golden trinkets dangling from him like spiderwebs. When her gaze fell upon him, he flinched and dropped his own to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I don’t mean to be a--a bother, but--”

“You’re not,” Rosegold assured. “You’re not at all.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My name is Caesar,” he said.

“Oh.”

Rosegold extended a hand. At first, Caesar looked at it like it was a trick, something to trap him and earn him a frightful punishment. When she thrust it more insistently towards him, however, he took it. “You must be my brother-in-law then,” she said. Caesar winced. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to be my brother-in-law.”

“It’s not that,” Caesar said. “Rather, I wish I could be your brother-in-law under more favorable circumstances.”

“I know my sister has shown you no kindness.”

“Oh, she’s--she’s shown me some.”

“Not nearly enough.”

“I--I don’t suppose so.”

“Still,” Rosegold said, “it’s good to meet you.”

“You as well,” Caesar replied. The tension fled from his shoulders, but only slightly--and a different sort of knot settled between their blades. His eyes scanned their surroundings with the kind of discreet curiosity only a drake with years of practice at hiding his comings and goings could perfect.

Then, in a voice quieter still, he said, “I think I can help you.”

“You?” A bemused smile tugged at the corners of Rosegold’s lips. “Help me? I don’t mean to be rude, but shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“You’re here to emancipate our--Eyjarah’s people,” Caesar said. “I know someone who can help.”

“Oh my,” Rosegold said, “that is awfully convenient.”

“You’ve heard of our Light Representative, I take it?” Caesar asked, and beckoned for Rosegold to follow him. In the dim lighting of the royal cavern, the two slipped away in pursuit of the city outskirts. “He’s from your neck of the woods,” Caesar went on, “or, er, where you’re living now anyway.”

“Yes,” Rosegold said, “I’ve heard quite a lot about him. He’s the son of a highly influential ambassador from a kingdom out near the Beacon. It was big news when he went missing--I believe a priest from his kingdom was captured as well.”

“That’ll be Constantine, yes,” Caesar confirmed. “He’s the reason Sayid came here in the first place. Now he’s wrapped up in this mess too. I think--I think he could escape, if he wanted to, but Eyjarah--she threatened the common folk to force him into submission.”

“That sounds like her,” Rosegold murmured. “Earthshaker beneath, what has become of my sister?”

“She wasn’t always like this?” Caesar asked.

By now, they had come to one of the many paths leading up the cavern walls. From it, they would have access to the Warren’s winding tunnel systems, where the bulk of its workforce resided. Caesar paused, looked back at the glimmering lights of the royal city, and pressed onward and upward.

“She wasn’t,” Rosegold said, “when we were young. Eyja was always temperamental and stubborn, but nothing like this. Truthfully, I had hoped the stories were wrong, that the dread-queen of the Warren was not my dear elder sister. I came here half-expecting to find some other terrible dam upon its throne.”

“I’m sorry,” Caesar said, “this must be difficult for you.”

“It was easier when I believed her to be a mercenary off on grand adventures,” Rosegold confessed, “even when I believed her to be dead. At least in death, her honor would be preserved. I don’t suppose she cares much for honor anymore, though.”

Rosegold shook her head. “Listen to me,” she said, “going on and on about our golden youth. You’ve had it much harder than I have. I should be comforting you.”

“No, no, I...” Caesar halted at the mouth of a long, dark corridor. This far below ground, the air was stuffy, but it seemed even more so here. “I’m used to it,” he said. “I’m used to being an object and nothing more. It doesn’t even hurt anymore. It’s just who and what I am now.”

“I’ll change that,” Rosegold vowed, and placed a kind hand upon his shoulder. His fingers whispered across her knuckles. “We will change that.”

“Sayid’s chambers are just up ahead,” Caesar said. “Come.”

They followed the tunnel for a long way, and, as it grew darker, jogged off to the side and into a small alcove lit dimly by glow mushrooms. Caesar held up a hand. The clink of armored feet echoed in the gloom. Before long, a patrol passed by, their spears glinting menacingly in the low light.

“Owsla,” he whispered once they’d passed, “the wide guard. The next group won’t arrive for a good ten minutes. That’s our window. We have to slip into Sayid’s chambers and out within that time frame. I--I can’t be seen with you.”

“If push comes to shove,” Rosegold said, “hide, run, do whatever you must.”

Caesar didn’t respond, but Rosegold could feel him trembling beside her. As the sound of the wide guard’s clunking footsteps faded and the tunnel fell back into cloying silence, he darted out onto the main path and disappeared into the darkness. Rosegold followed as best she could, keeping to the sound of his ragged breaths.

There was a jingle of keys. “You came at a good time,” Caesar informed. “Sayid used to have a personal guard, a big, hulking brute--but the poor fellow got caught sneaking outskirters out of the warren, and Eyjarah’s been too paranoid to post another. Now the wide guard covers him in their rounds.”

“Caesar?” a voice called quietly. “Caesar, what in Lightweaver’s name are you doing here?”

“I’ve brought someone,” Caesar replied, “a friend. She’s come to--well, suffice it to say, I think she can help you with your plans.”

The lock clicked, and the door it belonged to creaked inward. Vaguely, Rosegold was aware of a prickling feeling along her skin. “Is the door made of untreated iron?” she asked.

“It’s not untreated,” Caesar said, “but it’s, er, less treated than is generally considered preferable.”

Inside, they were met by a flash of light as lanterns around the room sprang to life. The ambassador’s chambers were cruder than most Rosegold had seen in the Warren--but that was to be expected, seeing as he was a prisoner first and an ambassador second. It was furnished with the bare necessities, and, Rosegold noted, lacked windows (which was also uncommon for homes this high up on the mound).

She supposed it was another act of cruelty by her sister to deny a drake so enamored with the light Sornieth’s greatest source of it.

Sayid was waiting for them in the entryway (if it could be called such). Tall and lean, with tanned skin and the golden eyes indicative of his people, he was every bit as proud and noble as Rosegold had imagined. Eyja had not broken him yet, and, she thought, was never likely to.

“You must be Rosegold,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you. Come in.”