#nightfall chapter 23 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missbubblesoda · 5 months ago

Text

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (28)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (29) | (30)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 4.7k

Romance authors often portray dancing with one’s beloved as an endless joy, something that could easily last well beyond nightfall. Yet your throbbing feet, bound and constrained by the white straps of your low-heeled shoes, silently resented them for such a lie. That’s why, when lunch was served, you eagerly welcomed the opportunity to sit down for a moment or two and catch your breath before inevitably dragging him back to the dance floor. After all, when else would you have the chance to slow dance against his chest, your chin resting cozily on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped protectively around your waist?

When you savored the first mouthful of peppercorn stuffing you realized that the Koch’s definition of good food was remarkably similar to yours. Everything, from the velvety gravy soup, the endless procession of assorted biscuits, the indulgent servings of steamed pudding, and the generous dollops of raspberry jam you coronated each of them with, prompted contented hums from your lips whenever you took a bite.

“I don’t recall ever seeing you this happy during a meal, not back at the base at least,” he noted from the seat next to yours, a playful smile on his lips and a forkful of roast venison in his hand.

“Well, that’s because you’ve never actually seen me during a meal. Have you, Commander Smith?” you responded casually, eyes completely focused on the extra dollop of jam you were serving, while your mind wandered to all the times you urged him to put his pen down and join you and the others in the dinner hall, even if just for a piece of bread. “Maybe if you graced us with your presence at dinner from time to time, you would see that I enjoy the Survey Corps’ food just as much. But you insist on eating alone in your office so...” you shrugged nonchalantly before bringing a spoon loaded with pudding to your lips.

“Have I upset you, my lady?” he asked with a smile that denoted he wasn’t the least bit concerned, and then, lifting a napkin, proceeded to wipe red jam off the corner of your lips.

And what an absurd question it was. No one with that shade of blue in their eyes and that disarming smile on their lips could ever upset anyone. There was no possible way, especially not when his face was this close to yours; his caring gesture, as sweet as it was unexpected, completely dazzling you, disorienting your senses until you found yourself nodding dazedly, your own eyes hopelessly lost in his.

“How very rude of me then,” he concluded, softly brushing the cloth against your skin, and you honestly couldn’t tell which was softer: the silk or the back of his fingers.

“Mother!” you exclaimed abruptly, springing up from your chair the moment you discovered her poised frame standing beside you. “We w- I mean I was- how do you do, Mother?”

“Darling,” she sent an acknowledging nod your way. Her usual composure, evident in both her assured demeanor and controlled voice, masked any hint of what she thought or felt, and at the same time, sent your heart into a flurry. Her gaze flickered to the Commander, who rose with practiced ease, a stark contrast to your own fumbling attempt from a few seconds ago.

“Madam,” the Commander offered your mother a warm smile along with a welcoming hand, a silent invitation you desperately hoped she wouldn’t refuse.

“Commander Smith,” she replied after a stretch of silence, which you wished had been shorter, placing her hand in his with ladylike charm.

Although your heart still pounded and raced inside, a flicker of relief found its way within when you saw the genuine smile blooming on your mother’s face as the Commander helped her into the vacant seat beside him.

“Pleasure to finally meet you,” she declared in that regal tone she reserved for social occasions, and it dawned on you: how long it had been since you last heard her speak that way. At home, her voice was always so mellow, less measured, especially around you and your father. And a sting of longing shot through you, a sudden wish for more of those casual evenings shared around the dinner table. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Commander Smith,” she added.

“Not from the press, I expect,” he said, earning a hearty chuckle from your mother. And you lowered your head, trying to resist the childlike smile shyly tugging at your lips as you watched the scene unfold.

“Rest assured, Commander Smith. Despite the occasional critique about the Survey Corp’s overbaked tomato pie, my daughter’s letters are otherwise filled with glowing reports about her days under your leadership.”

“So, Mother! Where’s Father?” you blurted out abruptly as soon as the Commander turned to look at you, a questioning eyebrow raised above a widely amused smirk that spelled ‘I knew you didn’t like our food!’ on his lips. “I was hoping he could meet Commander Smith today.”

“Your father? I was under the impression that he was right behind me,” she sighed in disappointment, glancing around in an attempt to find him among the partygoers. “Guess I shouldn’t have assumed. Maybe one of his… secret society buddies snatched him, or maybe the government finally got him,” she spoke with a touch of nonchalance that made you huff, shaking your head in playful disapproval of your parents’ bickering as you exchanged a smile with the Commander, who seemed downright entertained by your mother’s presence.

“If those bureaucratic buffoons you call ‘our government’ were to find us, color me surprised,” a masculine voice emerged from behind, and you didn’t need to turn in order to know who it belonged to. “Let's just say, Hansel's neck would be on the chopping block way before mine. We can worry about this head above my shoulders after they scrape his off the floor,” with that, your father materialized beside you, snatching a piece of bread from your plate and biting the best part off.

“Father,” you rose to your feet in greeting, gesturing towards the Commander with your hand, “This is Commander Erwin Smith.”

“You bet he is!” he yelled enthusiastically, the bread he had previously shoved into his mouth now getting in the way of his words, so he tried to wash it all down with an indulgent sip of his apple toddy. “What a momentous occasion! Today will go down in history as the day we finally crossed paths, my Commander,” he declared, a wide grin splitting his face.

My Commander? Since when? You thought, a silent snort almost escaping your lips. You wouldn't dare say it aloud though, not wanting to disrupt the moment or make the Commander uncomfortable. You knew time had softened your father's stance on the Survey Corps, especially towards their leader, but it was just too comical: to think this was the same man who, not too many seasons back, used to rant every week about the government wasting their funds on the Scouts.

Regardless, you were glad he had come to see him in a new light. Because Erwin Smith, his people, and the sacrifices they constantly made deserved nothing less than the utmost respect.

“Well met, my lord,” the Commander replied with a cordial smile. Standing right by his side, you blushed at the height difference between you two. There were moments when you felt genuinely small next to him, and this was one of them, but it always brought you a strange sense of security. And suddenly, you found yourself longing to experience that comforting feeling again, to be held in his strong embrace once again today, like the first time, that late summer afternoon in the forest of Giants Trees… To feel even smaller and overpowered by him, his solid muscles, his manly scent... Yes, that would be the perfect ending to a truly fantastic day.

“I have heard a great deal about you from your lady daughter,” he added, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine warmth. “She even mentioned your... unique ability to interpret nature's signs.”

“Is that right?” your father turned to you, pride shining in his round eyes. “Do you know what wisdom Augusta’s azaleas are revealing today?”

“Unfortunately, my lord, I wouldn’t be able to interpret such… botanical pronouncements,” the Commander replied with a hint of amusement in his voice. You weren’t surprised by his skepticism. By now, you had made peace with the fact that a man of science like him would, most likely, always remain in disbelief, no matter how many times nature proved you or your father’s predictions right.

A hearty laugh erupted from your father. "Ah, but perhaps they whisper of blossoming relationships today! Maybe even lifelong bonds taking root, huh? Wouldn’t you want to know, my Commander?" he winked at you, causing you to immediately duck your head in an attempt to hide the kaleidoscope of reds your face had become.

The things he says! Since when did he even-

You took a deep breath, exasperation and affection wrestling within your chest. Classic Father, you thought, always saying what’s on his mind, even if his comments leave everyone a little flustered. You mentally made a note to apologize to the Commander for not warning him about this side of your fa-

“Lifelong bonds. An interesting interpretation, sir,” you looked up, his blue eyes choosing to share a moment with yours even though his words were aimed at your father. “They are a treasure worth cherishing, indeed,” he said, warmth blooming in your chest the longer his gaze lingered on you. And… was that longing in his eyes?

Was he thinking about those days too?

We used to spend hours collecting wildflowers by the stream near our cabin, drinking fresh lemonade in the summer, making love with the bedroom door ajar and the rainiest of mornings ahead of us…You reminded him in silence, surprised by the sudden urge to share with him the memories of your future together. And you swore you saw a ghost of a smile touch his lips before he chose to replace it with words.

“Perhaps some things are best discovered through experience, rather than foretold.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, tightening your throat with bittersweet nostalgia, and blurring your vision with vivid pictures of memories you were yet to create. Blinking back potential tears, you looked away, a blush creeping up your neck as you realized it was probably your turn to respond. So, taking a deep breath, you hid your longing with a smile.

"Perhaps they are, Commander Smith," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the backdrop of laughter surrounding you.

“Are you enjoying the reception, sir?” The Commander asked, and you knew him well enough to recognize this as his way of diverting attention from you, giving you space to steady yourself.

“Greatly,” your father replied, taking a hearty gulp of his drink to freshen up his throat. “And now that they've started serving apple toddies, this whole thing’s gotten a lot better! Ha ha! Although, to tell you the truth, the food can’t hold a candle to my wife’s cooking,” he added, trying to appear unassuming as he swirled the amber liquid thoughtfully, and you could vividly picture the discreet eye-roll your mother had answered him with. “Her green tomato pie is absolutely heavenly… Tell you what, Commander?!” he suddenly looked up, a mischievous glint appearing in his face, and while you didn’t know exactly what idea had crossed his mind, you certainly recognized the sparkle it had ignited in his eyes. “How about I show you my sincere appreciation with a proper dinner? Consider it a thank you for looking after our precious daughter.”

Your heart skipped a beat, hammering completely off rhythm against your ribs, the butterflies in your stomach swirling uncontrollably, creating a wave of nervous excitement that destructively washed over you. Surely, he couldn't be suggesting...

“I’m sure you’re a busy man, but I also know you are a highly intelligent one, which makes me think you have already assessed the situation, and identified this as probably the only opportunity you’ll have to enjoy my wife’s phenomenal cooking. In the nearby future, at least,” your father declared, leaning forward, his proposal making your stomach clench tighter.

Your gaze flickered to the Commander. He was about to respond to your father, but paused to steal a glance at you, a silent question exchanged between your eyes, unspoken… yes, but you believed you understood.

"Father, that's not necessary! Commander Smith is much too busy—" you blurted out, the memory of the Commander’s dismissal of Angelika Wald’s invitation still fresh in your mind. And you weren’t brave enough to risk facing the same rejection. “He has a long journey back to the base and… needs to leave shortly after the reception.”

“Is that so?” your father asked crestfallen, his shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to the Commander, and you had to admit he wasn’t the only one feeling dejected over the situation. Even though it may seem you were a little too eager to discourage the dinner, in truth, you were just doing your job, making it easier for the Commander to decline unnecessary appointments.

“My duties require a swift return to the base indeed,” he interjected, his words awakening a dormant discomfort in your chest, a faint ache you felt guilty for even having. Of course, he had responsibilities waiting, a mountain of paperwork and a whole base relying on him, to be more precise. Not only that, but he had already generously given you Sunday free, insisting you spent the entire weekend with your family. What else could you ask of him? Nothing. Doing so would be selfish, an indulgence you couldn’t justify.

“But perhaps…” he added unexpectedly, leaving you momentarily breathless, “Perhaps I could manage to find a way to fulfill both my obligations and experience your wife’s legendary cooking?”

Your chest rose and fell in rapid motions, trying to keep up with the beating of your heart, which had been hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs just moments ago, and now soared with a lightness you had only felt when you were together with him… secluded in your imaginary cabin in the woods.

“Only if it wouldn’t be an inconvenience for her, of course,” the Commander clarified, gesturing towards your mother. “I wouldn't want to impose on your hospitality, sir, madam."

A radiant smile bloomed on your face, threatening to split your cheeks in two, as the weight of your earlier anxieties now seemed to melt away slowly, getting gradually replaced by a giddy anticipation that bubbled up exactly like the fizzy contents of the bottle you knew your father would pop open for dinner tonight. And you couldn't help but steal a glance back at the Commander, the warm smile he gave you in return held a knowing glint, a silent confirmation of your suspicions: He knew exactly how happy he was making you. And suddenly, although still a little guilty, you felt the uncontrollable need to hold his face in both hands and kiss him. Yet the image of what your mother would do following such events, quickly destroyed that notion.

“Nonsense. Allow us to treat you to the relaxed evening a hardworking gentleman like you deserves every now and then. Right, pumpkin?” your father said, turning to your mother for confirmation.

“Consider yourself most welcome this evening, Commander Smith,” she replied promptly, a subtle smile gracing her lips, and an inviting warmth unfolding in her voice, both very reminiscent of home. And you hoped the Commander could feel it too, you hoped he could understand: Just how welcome he was.

“Lovely! We shall expect you at the entrance within the hour, my Commander,” your father concluded, his voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “Until then, please enjoy the remainder of the festivities.”

With that, he walked away with your mother for a final indulgence in refined mingling. As you watched their backs blend into the crowd, a soft smile played on your lips, cherishing the heartfelt kindness they had enveloped the Commander with. Maybe he needed it, maybe not, but you definitely wanted him to have it.

“So…” he leaned in to whisper in your ear once your parents were out of sight, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “We overbake our pies…”

“I never said that,” you countered with a hint of innocence, meeting his gaze with the unwavering confidence typical of someone who has no secrets to hide. Although a mischievous grin betrayed your amusement. “I called it ‘enthusiastic baking.’ Mother may have taken some creative liberties with her interpretation,” you added, wrapping several biscuits in a cloth napkin for the carriage ride home.

“Surely, my Commander, the situation is as clear as day," your father's booming voice resonated from the tearoom at the other end of the hallway. Even if by the time it reached the kitchen, it had softened to a murmur, neither you nor your mother needed to understand the exact words in order to know what he was talking about. The sheer excitement in his tone was a dead giveaway. "The true power lies with a hidden hand, content to manipulate a puppet king while they themselves remain hidden in the shadows. Their motives you ask? One can only speculate.”

The conversation, which at this point risked becoming your father’s monologue, sharpened as you neared the end of the hallway, the crinkling of porcelain against your fingertips accompanying the sound of your heels against the floorboards.

“However, unlike that old gossip Hansel," your father chuckled, a hint of disagreement lacing his tone, "I believe the answer lies in preservation."

“If the public, or some foreign power were to set their sights on this so-called king…” your father continued, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper.

“The true royal family, whoever they may be, could remain untouched, veiled in secrecy and free to continue their reign… from the shadows,” the Commander interjected, and you arrived just in time to see a flicker of genuine curiosity cross his face. “I see your point, sir, a most intriguing notion indeed. This 'so-called king' would serve as a convenient buffer, deflecting any public discontent or potential threats aimed at the true power behind the throne.”

The Commander, you knew, had a liking for devouring dusty tomes on royal history. Did he, perhaps, find amusement in the conspiratorial air of the conversation? Or was there a spark of something deeper behind his words, a thirst for uncovering the truth about the hidden hand your father, and his own late father perhaps, believed controlled the Walls?

“Precisely, Erwin. I may call you by your given name, right?” Your father checked again, his question painting your cheeks warm shades of red. At some point between Lord Koch’s front door and your own, the Commander had been promoted from ‘my Commander’ to just ‘Erwin’, as if sharing a carriage ride automatically granted your father the right to address him by his first name.

As you placed the silver tray on the small table in front of them, you stole a glance at the Commander, curious to see his reaction, which came in the form of a smile, quietly playing at the corner of his lips as he inclined his head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of your father's request.

“It’s a solid theory, wouldn’t you say?” the mischievous glint in your father's eyes hinted at a newfound understanding between them, perhaps forged over their shared interest in royal intrigue rather than whatever gratitude your father claimed he held towards the Commander for saving your life in the Forest of Giant Trees. “Now, here’s where Hansel and I disagree,” he continued, leaning forward in his chair with a conspiratorial air. “He thinks it's all about keeping information locked away, some dark secret they desperately want hidden,” he paused, clearly for effect, his gaze flickering around the room as if checking for eavesdroppers.

“A dark secret, sir?”

Your father nodded, leaning in even closer, his voice now a low rumble. “Hansel believes it’s about manipulating the very fabric of history itself. Imagine," he said, his eyes widening with a dark intensity, "rewriting the past to suit their needs, erasing any trace of their true origins or some terrible deed they committed."

He leaned back again, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Think about it. Controlling the past is the ultimate power, wouldn't you agree, Erwin? By messing with the records, they control what everyone knows, they keep people blind to the truth, forever dancing to their tune. Thank you, buttercup,” your father said when you added two cubes of sugar to his tea. You mockingly mouthed a silent ‘buttercup’ at the Commander across the table, who tried to hide an amused chuckle behind a raised teacup.

Despite his apparent amusement, however, you recognized the struggle flickering behind his eyes. Concern, perhaps. After all, royal calumny was supposed to have claimed the lives of many, including his own father. Or was it an even heavier burden? A reminder of all the unanswered questions he had voluntarily inherited from him, those haunting mysteries he had vowed to unravel on his behalf.

“Aren’t my daughter’s pastries fantastic?” your father boomed, switching the mood with a hearty laugh. “I think the Survey Corps kitchen could’ve used her talents more than your squad, wouldn't you agree, my Commander?” he joked, a proud smile splitting his face as he dunked the corner of a freshly-baked biscuit in his tea, “no dangerous expeditions for her, just pastries and biscuits for everyone at the headquarters. A win-win situation for each one of your soldiers, wouldn’t you say?”

The Commander dipped his head slightly, a barely perceptible smile gracing his lips for a fleeting moment before it vanished. He took a measured sip of his tea, his eyes locking with yours across the table before he murmured, in a voice so low it brushed only your ears, “Everyone except for one.”

A faint smile, almost imperceptible, tugged at the corner of your lips. Two. You answered in your head, a conversation flickering between the two of you without a single word spoken.

It was a secret message only he could decipher, similarly to how the hint of affection now hidden in his gaze was something only you could see. This was your secret language, born from shared peril on the field, one you had perfected through stolen glances, clandestine touches, and secretive moments like this.

“Goodness! I should invite Erwin more often!” your father jumped excitedly, his eyes widening at the sight of the overflowing platter your mother brought in. “I'd ask what the occasion is for all this hospitality, but it’s not every Saturday we have the Survey Corps commander over for dinner, is it?”

You chuckled as you carefully arranged the small pies your mother had brought on individual saucers, each one holding their very own miniature piece of sunshine: the vibrant yellow slice of tomato you had placed on top.

"Don't forget your vegetables, everyone," you teased, placing a dainty silver fork beside each pie.

Though they weren't exactly an everyday treat, tomato pies were a familiar comfort you enjoyed quite often. They were simple, nourishing, not particularly difficult to make, and your mother could practically whip them up in her sleep. Today, however, you understood your father’s surprise. His favorite treat was still familiar in taste, yet transformed in appearance, which you had taken special care with this afternoon, an unusual twist meant to be a delightful surprise for the Commander.

"These look fantastic, Madam," he remarked, taking the plate your mother was offering.

"All credit goes to her," she replied, her hand gesturing your way.

You met his gaze in the middle of the tearoom, another silent exchange passing between you as your lips offered him a small, furtive smile in return.

"A delectable surprise, indeed," the Commander said, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes before they returned to the pastry, his gaze leaving a lingering warmth on your skin as some sort of ‘thank you’ note, perhaps. And then, when he took a bite of the buttery, brandy-infused crust, and the taste made those same lines beside his eyes deepen, a quiet yearning started to bloom within your chest.

Here, in your parent’s tearoom, bathed in the gentle afternoon sunlight and the comforting scent of baking, he seemed a world away from the horrors he faced daily. This was the kind of life he deserved, wasn't it? Quiet, comfortable, a far cry from battles with flesh-eating giants and the mangled pile of bodies they left behind. An afternoon tea with a nice conversation, and a plate of perfectly golden, tomato-topped pies – these were the simple pleasures he rarely, if ever, experienced.

As you watched him savor the pie in quiet appreciation, a sting of possessiveness, sharp and unexpected, twisted in your gut, as you found yourself desperately wishing that you could be the one to create these peaceful moments for him, not just this once, but for a lifetime.

"Sir, Madam," he began suddenly, bringing you back from the sea of thought you drifted to ever so often, "your daughter has a real talent for making the simple appear..." He paused, letting his deep, husky voice please not only your ears, but a secret, sensitive path down your body—a path that, though hidden beneath your dress at the moment, he happened to know very well "...utterly delightful."

The steam escaping from the teapot wasn’t a match for the eager summer now burning between your legs; his lips, as well as the smirk tugging at them, acting as a delicious reminder, both tempting and frustrating, of a desire you couldn't indulge, not while your parents were present at least.

"Thank you, Commander," You answered, your eyes still indulging in the sweet curve of his bottom lip, “but it's truly not difficult when the produce is this beautiful," you said, gesturing towards the vibrant yellow decoration atop the pie. And it was true. The Lemon Blush were a gentle variety. Sweet, sunshine-colored things, their bottoms blushed in lovely sunset pink. “Truly a pleasure to work with," you finished, your smiling lips tainted with a bit of mischief that betrayed you weren’t referring to the fruit exclusively.

A soft chuckle escaped his in response. Like honey on a summer afternoon, you loved the way it lingered in the air: the sound of his laughter, a sweet reminder that beautiful things still existed, a melody you always replayed in your head, long after it was gone.

Still wearing the same smile on your lips, you settled beside your mother, whose vigilant eyes you suddenly became very aware of, and when you turned to face her, you were not met with her characteristic warmth, but with the unreadable mask she now wore over her features. Your entire face started to mirror the blush of the tomatoes themselves upon realizing she had been watching you intently, it was unclear how long, but it was certainly long enough to make your joyful demeanor falter, your smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

Luckily for you though, your father, always blissfully immune to any type of awkward tension, unknowingly came to your aid with a hearty chuckle. "Don't let her fool you, Erwin. Most nights, it's a way simpler fare in this household."

You flashed him a playful glare, his intervention momentarily making you forget about the weight settling within you.

“Seems ages since my darling daughter graced us with her culinary flair. Last winter, wasn’t it? Can you believe it? Ha! How long must a poor old man wait for his sweet buttercup to spoil him again!” your father continued, a touch of mock-hurt in his voice, and your eyes involuntarily rolled at his words.

“Admittedly, it was a special occasion back then too,” he conceded, his voice adopting that pretentious tone he reserved for embellishing stories, for making them grander than reality. The playful glint in his eyes gave away the exaggerated version of whatever tale he was about to tell, even though his lips were yet to utter a single word. “Hansel’s nephew, a fine young lord, came to formally request my daughter’s hand in marriage,” he finished with a conceited smile, his mouth blissfully stuffed with cake and a large crumb clinging to his beard, sweetly oblivious to the way his words had dragged your heart to the very pits of your stomach.

next chapter

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! 😊 If you’d like to support my writing, you can do so at ko-fi/missbubblesoda 🫧

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rise-my-angel · 1 year ago

Text

Heart of the Great Wolf

23 - Blazing Fire of Storming Ice

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 18.5k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, mentions of child death disease and miscarriage, references to rape, warfare and strategy talk, exploration of past trauma, mild sexual descriptions

Notes: The story on Dragonstone is based on a book only plot from A Dance with Dragons for any who aren't familiar with the characters. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Come the end of morning, he was gone. By the tinting of nightfall as the sun set below the sea, was when you learned you were soon to be as well. It had been a long night, your mother had been spending all of her time in those hours with Maester Cressen, with a number of midwives running back and forth along with your father. It didn’t make sense to you at first, it was far too early for your brother to be born. She had only been showing for a few months and he was not to come into this world until the year turned over to the next.

But then he was gone. It had happened a second time, and finally you understood that you were the problem. When your mother lost your first brother, she had stopped spending time with you and even now you both barley spoke. Father still did, but she couldn’t look at you and you knew she blamed you for it. There was none other to explain, and then father had brought you into the main hall of his living quarters.

She still barley looked at you as they explained your new brother was lost, but that was not all. You were to be sent away. “I will be staying here to look after your mother while she recovers, the guard will accompany you on the journey there until you have reached Winterfell into Lord Stark’s care.”

Silent and wide eyed, you looked to your mother who had but a dispondant and distant glint in her eye as she turned her gaze away when she caught yours. Your father stood tall before you and none bothered to tell you the truth of why, but you knew.

“How long will I be gone?”

Your father was very matter of fact about it, “A number of months. At the least until the new year begins but likely longer. You will take any and every opportunity to learn at his side.” The room was painfully quiet from all three members of the family. Calling your name you hadn’t noticed your gaze wandered to the floor, snapping back up to meet your father’s eyes. “Do you understand?”

Nodding, he seemed to accept it. Moving around to the table, taking a seat as he and your mother shared a look. At the time you thought it was dismissal, sending you off as if once walking out that room you would instantly step onto the ship away forever. Your mother didn’t like the North, neither did your father really. Speaking of it as if it were unruly and full of people that one should stay away from.

That’s how you knew it was a punishment, that it was all your fault for your brothers. Sending you alone to a scary, cold place where you knew none and would be under a new families care following their every order. You were not welcome in your own home. Born first, it seemed as if you were what held back your brothers from joining his life. Sons were supposed to come first, then daughters and yet you were her very first and that must be ruining everything.

It was so exciting when you learned mother was pregnant again, pregnant with a boy again. You had been only six when your first brother had gone and now at eight you had been over the moon to be given this second chance. Your gift was even better the first. You were far better at crafting now and it had sat on the flat surface of your dresser for months to ensure when he was here you could grab it to gift it to him right away. Spending time reading to make sure everything you made the toy with was safe and that he wouldn’t break it easily.

The halls felt so empty, dark and grim as night took the rest of the sun away as did the mood of the island. Feet dragging as did the weight in your head sink lower and lower to your heart and filled with a metal that might just break through the sturdy build of the many floors below. Light peeking through the ends of a door, you managed to reach your bedroom with a heavy sorrow.

Slipping inside, you moved to push the heavy door closed entirely before turning around with a sigh. The room was partially set up for you with cases to pack your things in on the floor waiting. The window still open blowing the translucent curtains over the air and washing onto your bed making it nice and cool you suspected, but the gentle breeze did not feel refreshing.

Hands reaching up to wipe at the tears you were annoyed had fallen the entire walk to your room, more felt in their place. Eventually having to give up, knowing they would keep doing so. Only when you turned to your dresser to begun pulling out clothes, you saw the toy. Sitting ready to be brought to him, and it dawned on you.

He was lost today, and it was not yet over. Until the moon passed over the middle of the sky above Dragonstone you had time. Rushing to grab the toy, you stopped to grab a sheet of paper and ink, putting them onto the carpet. There was a set of long drawers across one wall, and at only eight you winced as you stood next to the edge and pushed it along the floor until there was enough space to easily fit behind it. Pulling back the edge of carpet draped was a jagged stone that didn’t quite sit at settled as the rest. Your fingers dug into the sides, wiggling it just the right amount until it gave.

Only the framework was left, the stone hollow inside as it surrounded a small box. Wooden and dyed a rich blue with deep orange foxes outlined over it, you shifted backwards with it. Kneeling down on the floor on your knees, you pulled open the lid and just like you remembered, the first toy you ever made still sat as peacefully as when placed there. You pulled down the new one, as well as the paper and ink, giving yourself enough room on the flat part of the floor to sit it in front of you. The toy and box sitting just to their side.

Biting your tongue, you tried to recall the words and luckily there was still enough in your head to conjure them up as you recalled reading. Writing neatly, you wanted to make sure it was as clear as could be read and no mistakes made, not even in spelling. Your penmanship had become more skilled in two years at least. You paused for a moment, glancing up around your room but there was nothing close to that of a seal, you’d have to draw it again.

Instead you continued to write. Words which a septon would speak as they would name a newborn child under the Light of the Seven. Written just as you could hear them being spoke aloud, not that you ever did with your own family. You now knew that it was impossible you ever would, you had cursed your mother. Without a seal, you leaned down over the paper to focus even more. The Stag needing to be drawn with much more precision as the gods might not recognize it were you to be lazy.

A large space at the bottom of the page was waiting now, brows narrowing in consideration just as last time it was up to you. Mother and father had never gotten as far as a name so you once more had to run through what sounded like the name of a boy matching the appearance you were seeing in your mind. One finally coming to you, you scrawled it out before pulling back to look it over. The words of faith written neat and clear, the sigil of a stag drawn much better then two years ago and right at the bottom you felt your heart both sink and swim at the name you chose for your second brother.

“Edric Baratheon”

Grabbing the box, you held it in your lap raising up the new toy as your hands traced over it. At least Petyr would have a brother to keep him safe now. Gently you sat the toy down inside and covered it back up. Hiding it in the hole in the floor, stone back covering it’s place and carpet draped to hide it’s presence. Putting the paper up onto the drawers for now as you strained your small muscles to push it back into place.

None were around nor were there voices to be heard from a muffle, you had a perfect time if you rushed. Moving to the brazier by the corner of your room you gently lit the paper’s edge until a flame overcame. Putting it down into the middle as fire overtook and begun to ashen it’s contents, you moved around your room to gather the rest. A thicker cloak wrapped around your shoulders and hiding your front from the night sea breeze and a small bag you hung across your torso to sit at your side.

Moving to the brazier again, a small pouch in hand, you blew out the remains and the embers dulled with it. Still hot but there was not much to grab, you scooped the remains up and let them all sit in a small pouch. Pulling the drawstrings together it closed it off as you slipped that into the bag. For the final, you rummaged under your bed until it was found, the little blade you kept safe from last time. It had been stolen from the kitchens but you hid it under your mattresses and sheets deep to hide where none could see it.

Putting that too in the bag, you made your way to open the door. Hallways were empty and the rest of the journey was what you seemed to think was a breeze.

The sounds of the sea crashing against the rocky shores was booming. A thunderous crash of water that echoed around you like thunder, making the journey that much more treacherous on your own. There was a sept closer then this, but something about the statues against the torches of fire around made here feel more meaningful. It was closer to the earth, the ground, the sea ahead of you making way for an easy path to the heavens and you suspected he would be blessed faster this way.

You were small against seven statues, all tall and spread apart across the sand to give each offering their own space. The Seven all asked for the same things, but demanded different givings of nature and each passed their own curses down for breaking such vows. By the brazier near the entrance to the site, you used a small holder and carefully tipped it’s end into the flames. Letting it gently ignite, the wind asking to blow it out but you kept your other hand cupped around the back of it to shield.

Each Statue given a blessing of light as candles were sat in pockets carved into the stone that would be replaced as they gave out. Luckily, they were mostly new and no rain had come to ruin it. But there was one god you must see in special, you came to her last. Each statue before it having seven, but you needing only to light one single candle in the middle to the ones you did not mean to pray to, before making your way over. Wanting to save your prayers for her mercy.

The Mother was the god which overlooked those such as you, seeing the blessings of children new and old and it was her grace which allowed women to bear child. She also, could take it away just as fast. A thing you were here to once more ask to forgive.

At only eight you were short enough to not need to kneel to the candles, only leaning down slightly you lit all Seven etched into the base of the Mother. Your mind was silent as with each lighting you spoke your prayers in your heart asking for her to listen and grant you just once with begs of mercy to the other six watching over.

Letting it drop after shaking the remaining fire out, you stood in front of her. Looking up at the beauty the statue captured and could only ask her to forgive him. He was not at fault, and the pain of your own mother was too great to grant him a true name and life before passing. “Let me repay such a debt for my sins, allow my hands and my blood to grant my brother a name and pass him onto the heavens. If I am why Petyr was not allowed to be of this world, let me give my new brother a name and join them together.”

Your voice was so small, a high breathy tone that spoke more now then you would for weeks coming to you. “My sins should not damn them for eternity, you can curse me with whatever you see fit but allow me to help my brother, help Edric, pass onto the worlds beyond.”

Pulling out the small pouch, you held it to your heart as you looked up to the Mother, and with only splashes against the waters and no booming thunders or crashes she gave you permission to pass him on. Pulling the bag over you off, you took out the only other item inside, the small ornate blade which had only use once more just as this. Looking to her eyes, you knew that without a body, she would need blood to give way for Edric along with the ashes of his namesake.

Paper with his name was all he was, and your blood would have been his. Wincing, you let the blade drag across your palm, holding back tears as the sting burned in the salty air. But it was done and as the red oozed out, you looked up to her one last time. Your free hand dropping the blade into your bag and opened the small pouch, and let the ashes gently drop into your bloody palm.

Stepping to the middle of the clearing, you carefully moved until only a foot into the tides of the water. There was no body, just as with Petyr, but you would let him spread out to be washed away to wherever the gods let what remained of his existence on land. Gripping it tight in your palm, finally you closed your eyes, kneeling down to the ground with your palms braced in the watery sands under the tides.

Much of the Faith of the Seven was said in words and prayers, rituals and rules that must be followed but this was the best you could do. Give your brothers a name, bleed for them and wash them into the waters with the Mother to guide them and eternal hell would finally end for their suffering.

It was your fault, your mother did not want to be around you for cursing her with only a first girl and now your father has decided you must be sent to a place that gave you worries and nightmares. You knew nothing of the Northerners, but being sent away to them was to get you away from your mother. Give her a chance to heal, and maybe find refuge in a son without you there to bare down on her.

You had been there far too long. Now sat on the sand, your feet free and bare in the cool tides, and your knees tucked up to your chest, arms wrapped around them you finally stopped feeling the sting of ash and salt water that seeped into your hand. You had put your gloves on, at least you could hide it for the time being. The waves were loud enough that it masked the clink of chains until they came beside you.

Looking to your left, Maester Cressen found his slow way to the ground to sit next to you. A bashful look overtaking your features as you knew you were expected to be up in your room packing. Unlike what your father might have been, he was gentle in his tone. “I thought I had seen a tiny doe sneaking around the castle.” Your shoulders shrunk in on themselves, your eyes watching the dark sea once more. Essos was said to be far away in this direction, but you could see nothing just as you would see nothing trying to find King’s Landing on the other side of the island. “This is the second time you’ve snuck out at night to come here, and if I’m not mistaken it was under the same circumstances. Is this about your brother?”

Your throat closed, a heavy weight sat hard in it which was filled to the brim with unshed tears. Giving a nod, he let a hand run across your hair, the comforting sensation causing you to sink further into yourself and push out the tears from it’s temptation entirely with a shaky breathe. “The Mother cannot help him if my father and mother won’t name him. It’s my fault, so I need to help him pass into the heavens.”

Maester Cressen leaned forward, looking to your side profile with a heavy heart of his own. “Now, tell me, why would you think this is your fault? None of us can control what the gods choose for us.” The only reaction you gave him, was to shrug one shoulder. You didn’t know what to say, you didn’t know how to explain to him why you could feel your heart as cursed. Your father would have found such notions foolish, and so would he.

Baratheons do not act like children he would teach you, and they must stand on their own two feet no matter how difficult it is. It was the only way to grow up and be stronger willed then that of the fools around you, your father had many times said. It was silly to tell anyone such childish thoughts of curses and blessings. “I was born before Petyr and Edric, which means I would be their older sister. So I have to be responsible for them.”

Maester Cressen smiled, none but him knew of what you had done for your unborn brother, and now you had shared your second one with him too. He suspected one day that thought would find itself as a comfort to Selyse, but the pain was too raw. Yet, her only child, their only daughter sat outside in the shores of the sea begging the gods to grant mercy for children you had never met. This was a sad place for any child to grow up, he thought.

“They are lucky to have you. The gods grant mercy to those who pray to them with honourable intentions.”

You had been quiet for a moment, and when you did it was in an even quieter tone. “Will they hear me all the way up North? The gods?” Turning to look at him, eyes wide and full of a far away nervousness all over. “They say Northerners pray to the old gods, will the Seven be angry with me if I pray there and the old gods hear it?”

He had to not laugh, such a small little question but you were as deadly serious as your father on his roughest of days. Wondering one day, if he will be able to hear you grinding your teeth from the other side of the castle as he swore he could Lord Stannis. “They do have a sept in Winterfell, but even if you speak to the old gods, I’m sure ours will understand. I know going there seems scary, and leaving your parents and friends behind here-”

You were quick to interrupt, a shortness in your voice but one also lonely. “I don’t have any friends.”

To no fault of your own, there were not many children your age to make friends with. You didn’t know that part of why your father chose Winterfell was so for a while at least, you could be around children your own age. Maester Cressen felt sorrow in his heart, you were a lonely, isolated child with a family that did not find it in their own hearts to give such love and affection, as you wanted to show brothers that never came to be. Selyse found the stories of the Northerners to be unruly and unfitting of you, but he knew that at their best they were a lively bunch that would do good for you.

“Well, when you finally come back in the new year, perhaps you will be already dreaming of going back and see your new Northern friends, then to stay here with no one but me to keep you company.”

While he chuckled, you didn’t. You did dream of the North, but only in nightmares. Looking out to the sea, you could only remember the same dream you kept having. A dream of you wandering a Northern forest, dark and snow all around you and the black in your vision closing in. Closing in on you until there was only one small strip of forest you could walk through.

On one end were the growling snarls of wolves and a pair of blood red eyes that seemed to shine in the darkness. And the other? Only the sounds of ice as if loudly cracking along a lake, and crystal blue eyes glowing even taller in the darkness opposite of the red.

Your face winced as you took another sip, trying not to let the bemused look in Jon’s eyes get to you anymore then it already had. “Where did he say he got this from?”

There was a small smirk on his face, taking a sip of his own hiding his displeasure better then you. “He said it came from a merchant near Pentos.”

Wyman Manderly had so graciously shared an ale he had acquired from Essos, that and a few other things as a claimed penance for having been sided with the Boltons. Jon insisted nothing was needed, but the Lord was not to be debated with. The food was more then welcome, as you had sniffed out he had been holding off resources beforehand. Lord Wyman of course, denied ever purposely withholding resources and it was merely a coincidence he came into so much to share only upon Jon’s crowning.

You hadn’t quite been in the right spirits to laugh, but he, Jon and the Lords in the main hall gathering certainty shared a good smirk over it.

Food that would keep, and had been building up for a little while along with a good fresh haul of meats that would feed many as the greater numbers were here for a time. The ale however, was truly not your taste. Or anyone’s you imagined. Thick and bitter with an aftertaste that almost was worse then the initial flavour itself. “I could name a hundred disgusting thing’s I’d rather drink before choosing this all on my own.”

Shrugging, he put his own down with a heavier thud. “Now you’re starting to sound like a fancy girl who grew up near the capitol.” Rolling your eyes with a held back smirk, the only sounds left in the room was the fire blazing on the wall closest to you both. Night had long fallen by that point, and awake in one of the smaller studies you both had found excuses not to sleep quite yet.

In the corner on a softer blanket was a large ball of slumbering white fur however. Ghost had taken well to being back in Winterfell, having now also the pleasure of being allowed to wander the castle halls as he liked. Well behaved, quiet, mostly keeping to himself if not out in the woods or sticking around Jon’s side. He had no trouble sleeping, and you were willing to bet with not much in the way of nightmares either.

Something both you and Jon were not unfamiliar with by now. Putting your own down, slightly further away from you then needed, you huffed a laugh. “Wait until you see where I was raised, then I’ll ask you who between us grew up in luxury.”

Grey eyes trained heavily on yours, Jon still seemed to be trying to figure something out. He had gotten far better though at hiding his intentions and thoughts much to your dismay. He could read you better then you could him now. Looking away to the fire, leaning his forearms against his knees he gave out a quiet sigh. “He doesn’t hate you, he has no reason to say no if we tell him exactly what what I told you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt the starts of a ruminating headache. “He didn’t help us when he knew we would need it most, why would he suddenly decide to help now? You weren’t even King yet and he still refused.”

Jon was more confident then you however, his voice unwavering. “He knows as well as I what’s out there, he knows why this is important. He’s stubborn, not unreasonable.”

Difficult to remember that these days it felt. Your nails tapped at your lip, almost unconsciously tracing along where the faintest of scars still sat if one looked close enough. Jon murmured your name but you only watched the fire more. Still now, you saw no visions or scenes running before you. Whatever god your father answered to now, left you alone in the dark with no guidance.

Your voice was low and somewhat far away. “He isn't unreasonable with you perhaps. The last time I sided with the King in the North instead of him, he spent three years calling me a traitor. And I spent three years thinking one day he’d send his armies for us instead of the Lannisters.”

“It’s different now.” You glanced over to him, eyes bright as they looked at you. A fight in them to not reach out to you in that very instance, he was adamant however at keeping his distance when you were like this. He was not given that kind of space when he desperately needed it, so he would make sure you had it instead. “You’re not fighting the Lannisters anymore. You’re here, fighting for more then that, fighting for something your father also believes in. We won’t even be asking for help, just his ships. Just enough for men and mining. His men will need something to fight back with one day too.”

Your nod was more absent minded then you intended. Gaze drifting away from him to the fire without any focus behind it. “It’s hard to believe, I dreamt about it that whole time and never knew. No one knows. Everything that’s coming and not a single one of us would’ve been ready for it. Except you.”

Trying to brush it off, the denial in his eyes was clear. “Not just me-”

Cutting him off you leaned forward now trying to meet his gaze a bit more. “Everyone’s here because of you. They are all listening to this and trust that you’re telling the truth, because it’s you saying it. Do you think if I alone was going around pleading them to fight against the dead beyond the wall a single one of them would have listened?”

He had said it to you before but felt no hesitancy in reiterating that now once more. “You were never going to do this alone.” Trying to say his name in protest, Jon shook his head. “Your father offered to make me Lord of Winterfell, name me a Stark if I gave him my allegiance, but I said no. I didn’t think I deserved it, and I felt my vows were more important then to just give them up like that. Then I found out you were alive, and it all suddenly hit me. Leaving you that day on the Kingsroad, something was trying to tell me it was a mistake leaving you.”

You bit your lip before dropping your head down slightly to the floor. Sighing out, “I’m not quite sure I would’ve fit in at the Night’s Watch.” Raising back up you found his eyes, a seriousness in them which lightened at the gentle playfulness in yours before you simmered down. “The first time it ever happened was after they arrested myself and your father. Seeing you, I mean.”

His eyes narrowed in question as you elaborated. “We had confronted Cersei and Joffery in front of the court, trying to plead our case and it all went wrong. We had trusted Peter Baelish to secure the City Watch on our side, and at the last minute they turned on us. Killed what was left of your father’s men and tossed us both into the black cells. I don’t remember much of it now. At the time I wasn’t even sure if it was real, a dream or if I was just delirious at that point. I remember it felt freezing, and then fire, a small bit of it as if it flew right past me and feeling whatever point I was seeing, like you were shoving me out of the room.” It connected then to Jon, knowing exactly what you had seen.

“Ghost found two rangers beyond the wall, they’d been dead for a while but they didn’t look it. Maester Aemon was keeping them to look them over, and one of them got up. Middle of the night Ghost brought me to the Lord Commander’s quarters, and we saw one of those dead rangers with blue eyes up walking around, nothing could hurt him.” You leaned forward a bit, following the trailing distance in his eyes fading to a memory. “He was coming right at us, so I threw a lantern at him and as soon as he caught fire I shoved the Lord Commander out of the room.”

Both of you looked at the other. You had no way of knowing it, no way of connecting those in your mind but it was there all the same. The cold, the bodies, the blue, the creatures something wanted to beckon you back to the North and at the same time it showed Jon you. As if telling him letting you be so far away was a bad idea.

Something wanted you two together, but it was hard to know what your place was in it now that you were back and Jon was alive. “My point is, even back then, something was trying to find ways to bring you back North. You were never going to have to do this, any of this on your own. Maybe we were always supposed to fight this one together.”

The room was quiet for a while, neither of you finding any reason to break the comfortable, warm silence wrapping around both of you. Your eyes were on the fire, his on you but the silence was welcome. It always was between you both. Jon was quieter, and in ways, softer then Robb was. Less direct and confident, but his dedication was clear as day in the small subtle ways he was with you. Neither of you needed to share any kind of physical contact to feel close to the other, it was simply in the air at all times.

Your voice was quiet as it whispered out, but loud enough in the emptiness of the room. “It means a lot to him, that you trust him.” Glancing to catch his eyes already watching, you flickered them quickly back to the fire. Leaning your arms more against your legs, clarifying, “Theon. He knows he as a long way to go, but after everything..I think it helps knowing he has more then just me now.”

Voice low, he still could only watch you. The tremendous weight looming through the two of you over the things that he would never truly know had happened. “I spent over eleven years growing up with him, and not once did he ever act anything like he does now. And I’ve never seen you two stick to each others side like this before, either.”

For a moment, it was almost as if you could feel yourself back down in the cold, damp cells of the Dreadfort. “I was almost delirious when Ramsay first brought him down to me. I don’t even know how long I had been in there by that point, couldn’t keep anything down and I was fairly certain my fever was so high I was starting to hallucinate. For a brief second, I almost thought I had made it up, I’d never seen him like that before it had to be fake. Ironically, he thought the same looking at me.”

A weight behind Jon’s eyes felt like it bore into you, the grey bright but tinted with a sorrow that you couldn’t look away from. It was as if he knew what was not being said in your mind, patient enough in his heart to wait for it to come from you all on your own and it was impossible to keep it back the longer he kept your gaze. You finally looked away with a shaky inhale, turning to look back at the fire as if it made it any easier. “It seems childish..very childish..but it’s..frustrating that it doesn’t feel any better. Ramsay being gone..I thought maybe I would feel relieved, or vindicated but it’s all exactly the same was before.”

Voice low, almost a whisper, but leaned so close to the other it boomed loud in your own ears. “Part of me wondered if I should've felt guilty for not caring when Ygritte was killed.” Whereas some would look at him with a sympathy, you didn’t even notice you only watched Jon with a narrowed, sharp look in your eyes. As if you were simply feeling everything others should have felt for him. Almost the same anger that he held for your pain.

“She loved me..or..a version of me and she died. And I felt nothing.” His eyes much like yours had, trailed off, finding the fire as you did earlier. “I could’ve held her, cried, brought her North to burn her properly but I just left her there. Let her get dragged onto the pile of the rest of them, and the only time I ever thought about her was when someone else would bring her up first. Grenn and Pyp died that night and that still hurts more then she ever even meant to me.”

A pained rage almost sat below the surface, a rough strain in his voice as if scratched raw. His hands you could tell, were clenched enough into fists as they sat across his knees the knuckles were turning white from the tensity. Only leaning a slight forward, you tilted your head to better see his face, the slow action causing him to swallow harshly as you spoke with the same volume but all of the softness he hadn’t been. “That’s because they saw someone who didn’t have to hide who he was, and they cared about him all the same. The version of you they died fighting beside was one who never had to lie to get them to trust him.”

He was quiet, and neither of you felt the need to break it before he was ready. He wanted you to talk about Ramsay, to not let it fester, but what was he doing if not holding it all in, himself?

When he finally found his voice again, it almost sounded angrier then before. “She would’ve hated you.” Your own brows narrowed in confusion, but Jon didn’t find your eyes. His jaw clenched as he sighed heavily and none of that anger left him with it. “Ygritte. Always would say she was my woman, then turn around in the same sentence and threaten me about ever leaving her like she thought it was cute. Not realizing I’d dream about you, see you in my head, couldn’t get you out of my mind no matter how hard I could have tried. Thinking of you was the only reason I could..”

He swallowed harshly, the side of his vision seeing you lean forward, giving him space but not for a moment letting him feel as if he was sitting or speaking to no one. You simply knew as long as he could see you, he could find the strength in his chest to continue, and it made his heart heavy at how easy it was for you to know exactly what he needed.

His voice was a little less rough this time around. “I almost called out your name once. Would try and tune her out when I would have to.. But one time I was so far into a memory, seeing you so clearly in my mind that for a moment I almost forgot who she was. And I know if I had, if she wouldn’t kill me for it, she’d have killed you if she ever met you. Knew if she ever found out about you, it didn’t matter what I said she’d have hated you enough to put an arrow through you. Hated the one person I’ve been in love with my whole life, and I think that made me hate her.”

He’d never said it before. Had to come to terms with lying about loving or even caring about her, but never had admitted to himself that he might have finally come around to hate. But glancing back up at the silent, patient warmth in your eyes, Jon knew he did. Knew that he hated her for even having a place in his mind still, because she stood against everything you were.

“She sounds like someone Robb wouldn't have been happy seeing you with.”

It took you by surprise, but Jon gave a laugh. A genuine burst of laughter that had him drop his head for a moment as his shoulders shook slightly. “I think so too.” Coming back up, he found your eyes again and neither looked away this time. “Think he also would also been unhappy at the man with you now?”

A small smile found it’s way onto you, not a hint of the playfulness he was hinting towards. Just a genuine radiating brightness that heated his heart faster then if he stepped right into the fireplace before you both as you spoke. “There’s nothing you could do that would’ve made Robb hate you. Nothing. Not now, not ever. He loved you, with everything he had, he loved you.”

You could have choked in that moment, but there was an adoration in his eyes as he didn’t blink, waver, and held nothing but an honesty he wanted you to hear as you had him. His hand finding a place gently on your jaw and cheek, thumb running across the skin he could reach. “And I love you, with everything I have.”

Whatever response he saw forming in you, he chose instead to lean forward. Closing the gap with a gentle kiss to your lips. Using his other hand to wind it’s way over to your hip before prompting you to stand with him. Not once disconnected the tender kiss, his lips soft and gentle as they almost coaxed you to relax in his touch. The hand on your cheek sliding back to run down your hair, smoothing it out before gently cupping the back of your neck, as his hand on your hip wrapped around your back, pulling you into his chest.

Your own palms placed flat on his collarbones, before moving to cup his cheeks. Not once did he let your lips break from his, the hand at the back of your neck almost to secure you against him. Let his lips gently kiss you, without greed or deeper desire, but not giving you the space to catch your breathe or kick off the dizziness of it.

Jon would never force you to marry him, or even come anywhere near push you for it. But as he gently lost himself in the taste and touch of your lips, there was not a single future he could imagine were you not in it. She spoke as if she had any rights to what his life would become, but there was never a future with Ygritte that didn’t end in his or her death because of her own destructive hatred of the things he now stood for beside you.

There was no image of her anywhere near here that existed. What would it even be? She would have found reason like Tormund? Even before it all blew up, Tormund had been more reasonable then she had. Would she have come with him and survive Hardhome? What kind of anger would have existed the second Jon wanted to leave to protect you? What would she have done when you arrived and he wasn’t there to stand between you? Would Tormund even still be at your side, would he still find room in his own strange heart to protect you from her, or would he side against you?

Ygritte being in Winterfell was impossible. She never would have come, not on this fight, this journey, never would have let herself anywhere near you or let Jon anywhere near you. It would’ve turned into a fight between her keeping Jon from you, and Ghost keeping you safe from her. You let Jon stand here, be soft and gentle, be vulnerable and hurt and let him promise to be the one to take care of you. It was sappy, and it was a kind of romantic notion he had long since come to terms many men would mock him for if he were ever honest about it. But Jon loved that you always so willingly fit perfectly into this gentle dream of romance in his mind.

Jon had taken care of you since that first day. Stepped forward the second Luwin had mentioned someone would need to be with you at all times because your fever had been that bad. Only a boy of ten and he took one look at you and for reasons he still didn’t understand, was certain in his mind that he wanted to be the one to care for you.

It was a joke to him, thinking that Ygritte assumed she was who he was supposed to be for. The first real time someone tried speaking of a future together with him, and it was with someone that forced him to fuck her against his will, someone who when he tried showing his true colours, always looked angry and violent he was having thoughts separate to her. Ygritte wanted his future to change to be one she would force herself to fit in, you were the one who tried to stand out of his way in case your feelings weren’t returned anymore.

But any future he saw, you were in it and you were his. He didn’t need you to marry him, but Jon knew that he certainly dreamed about it. And never before did the dream of marrying you feel closer then it did now. You were Robb’s wife and he didn’t want to take that away from you, but Jon couldn’t lie to himself and say that he didn’t wish he one day, might be able to call you his own wife.

It was a dream you both never thought was possible, and now there wasn’t a soul around you anymore who would find a problem with it. But you needed more time to heal then he did. He’d wait however long it took for you to find any comfort in the idea yourself.

It was always odd between you both. Your start was forbidden and slow, but the reunion was sudden, fast, and aggressive. Almost tormented by how you felt around him, how beautiful you were and the way the horrors of the world around him meant not a thing as long as he was inside you.

But now he wanted nothing more then to take it slow again. Just as the desire to call you his wife, Jon was also patient enough to take care of you as long as it took for you to be truly comfortable. In six years neither of you had gotten to the point you were ready to sleep together, now that you had?

Jon would wait a lifetime for you to be ready for him. Because were it reversed, you would wait an eternity for him to be ready for you. The past few days had been rough, and the future was uncertain in terms of the winter storms ahead, but as you both stood in front of the fire, finding no pressure to do anything beyond enjoy the gentleness of his kiss, Jon at least would savour this peace.

You wanted him to feel at peace, and he would do whatever it took to give that to you in return.

As the sun shined bright against the strange land, the only thoughts he could focus on were that he still had time. From everything he could gather without tipping a soul off, he had enough time to ensure everything over twenty years worked towards would make it before it could no longer be hidden. The skin was already grotesque. It was but a small patch, barley noticeable unless one were to rake his sleeves up high and even then, he made sure he was covering any and every chance it could spread.

No one knew after all. No one but him felt the disgust of the waters of Old Valyria seep into him like a thick poison, no one felt the growing crack along his skin until it burst into a grey. A grey that now sat in almost a small circle of scales that looked of dusting stones to mock him in.

He wasn’t the boys father he told himself. He wasn’t his father, he just needed to fulfill this duty and he could die or disappear to rot away. But as he stood on a walls edge in the castle of Dragonstone, looking down to the boy turned man amongst the sell swords trying to train him like a solider?

Jon Connington could only feel a pull at his heart rather then his arm.

They weren’t Griff and Young Griff anymore. He was once more the man he used to be, the one once Hand of the King, and the person his most beloved friend had trusted with his son. His son was soon to drop that facade, and it was hard to remember that lately. But he had to remember, Rhaegar didn’t trust the baby to him, to be his father. No, Rheagar had trusted him to raise his son until he was ready to avenge his death and take his rightful place on the Iron Throne.

Jon Connington’s only solace was that they had arrived in Westeros to find it in a broken and disorganized state. It would take much time to rally anyone under the true heir now that he had returned to his people, would take time for anyone to heal their own Kingdoms enough to join back into one united Kingdom together.

He had just a little longer at least, to fight against this strong and frightening feeling to call this boy his son for real. Standing in the morning shine repeating like a mantra, he was doing this for Rhaegar, he wasn’t doing this as a father. Say the words he had said for twenty five some years now. It was only for Rhaegar.

But just maybe, the grey under his shirt was telling him that the sooner they conquered Westeros, the sooner Young Griff would become the true heir forever. The sooner he would never have use of the Griff which was posed as his father, ever again.

Aegon would have the blood of Rheagar Targaryean, and Jon Connington would have no one.

It was the fire and roar of a creature you did not recognize that you were pulled from. A knock coming to the door far too early in the morning that was harsh enough it startled you right out of whatever that dream was. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was surrounding you in the crypt of Winterfell set ablaze, and above shadows drifted across the skies like dark clouds that roared as they passed over. In the far distance was growls of a wolf and the cries of an infant, but the door was knocked at, and quickly the trails of the dream faded away.

You in particular were the one the guard at the door was looking for. Saying there were people here claiming to need to see you directly. Eyes still heavy with sleep, and barley having much time to make yourself presentable you brushed passed Jon’s insistence on making them wait five more minutes so you’re not walking through the castle freezing at least. That habit however, had not gone away since your time in Winterfell together last.

The side doors to the main hall opened, most of the corridors empty and cold in the morning chill as most whom were up and about had been on night duties. Standing together a the end of the hall however, woke you up right away.

Ser Davos Seaworth stood tall as he always did, no matter the task he was ready at action, but while carrying a hesitant and morose expression grimed onto his face. It however, was his companion that had you stop mid step, wide eyed and lips parting in a confused surprise.

Beside him, standing in the halls of Winterfell was Selyse Baratheon.

A look on her, was as similar as it was on your face. Eyes wide taking in the sight of her daughter almost so naturally in what was home to you now. Instead of parting in surprise though, her lips were tight and thin as she almost was holding herself back from speaking a word. Your mother had never before wanted to step foot in Winterfell and yet here she was.

Nodding silently to the guards, they took their leave and the door closing behind them sealed the three of you alone in the large hall. Your footsteps echoed as you came down the small steps and forward towards them, Davos being the one to meet you halfway as your mother held back. Your voice was a bit cracked still from sleep, but any louder and your voice would have caught in the air and bounced loudly off the walls for any to hear.

“If it weren’t so early, Ser Davos I might have said how glad I am to see you.”

Chuckling himself, he begun to glance over you. Looking no doubt for any signs of injury and coming up with none. Standing close he was equally as quiet but far more awake. “Well, I’ll just have to be the one then to congratulate on your defeat of the Boltons,” lowering to a bit more with a fondness, “And I’m relieved you’re alright.”

Neither of you felt the care to hold back, his hug warm and comforting as there was more in it then the words said. You had left knowing it was a bloodbath and potential slaughter your people were walking into, and to see you come out alive on the other end struck a cord in his heart. Pulling back, his hand comfortingly on your upper arm, Davos turned to stand more to your side as he moved out of view of your mother.

Your name quiet on her lips, and a few paces forward she walked. Unlike with him, neither you nor her had any rush to go to the other, and neither of you hugged or even moved in for one. You were thankful no one else was in the room, to many it looked heartless but there was an awkward pain as you both looked at the other. It always was with her, especially now. Glancing around the room, “So this is where we were sending you all those years.”

“More or less.” Not quite the warm home full of life it once had been, hard to imagine it being that way again anymore. Your arms crossed over your stomach as you inhaled, turning to somewhat keep both parties in your vision. “I don’t imagine you both travelled all this way to simply stop by and say hello.”

Ser Davos took charge, coming back over to you with a more hardened stern expression. “No, and as much as we’d like it to be, we’re here because your father sent us.” Your face must have shifted into something bordering from hesitant to filling with a panic, but only the three of you stood in the hall and you knew to not let it overtake yet.

“What? He change his mind on not calling me a traitor again?” Your mother had tried to plead your name in a mixture of stern yet on the side of a beg. But you kept your eyes on Davos, and the blunt truth in his found an answer a bit easier.

Shaking his head, “No, I can assure you, it’s far from that.” Glancing to Selyse for only a flickering of his eyes before finding yours, narrowing in your brows as you were finding pieces already to put together on your own. “You remember Pylos?”

Nodding, you could easily recall him. The young man sent to Dragonstone, only a few years older then yourself, to work for the time being under Maester Cressen. All knew why he was there, Cressen was getting old and Pylos was to be the Maester after him. Trying to pile it away under much more things you couldn’t focus on, you ignored that likely it meant the man had finally passed since last you saw him.

Your head tilted in a question, eyes narrowing at whatever was to come, but instead the echoing creak of a door filled the room. Both of them merely looked up behind you to see, whereas you took your time not quite looking away yet. If it was about Pylos, it was about Dragonstone and perhaps once upon a time you would have not thought much of it. But now, you couldn’t figure out what would have happened to bring the two of them all the way here themselves.

Davos stepped forward, closer to your side as you turned the same time to find Jon having joined.

Curls as loose and wild as they were when you had departed, and dressed down like anyone else, immediately catching your eye in a way that had you feel a bit more awake. It was as he approached giving you a silent glance, eyebrow raised as if to make a point as he wrapped his white fur cloak around your admittedly freezing frame. The cloak quickly becoming more like yours at this rate.

A sneaking glance to your mother and you felt the childish shame in you, a sharp tint in her eyes that no doubt had caught something in the small interaction and it only served to make you feel even stranger. As if she could sense something from there, and was waiting to shame you for it.

Jon seemed to take no notice of the uncomfortable air between mother and daughter as he greeted Davos. The two shaking hands as Davos held his own amusement. “I was about to call you Lord Commander, but I suppose it’s King Snow now isn’t it? No, that doesn’t sound right, does it? King Jon?”

Both held a smirk to the other as Jon shook his head with a light air about him, “It doesn’t matter.” Looking up to your mother, nothing but a soft politeness towards her with a nod and respectfully keeping a distance he by now, understood she would prefer. “Surprise to see you here, my lady but a pleasant one.”

Selyse nodded, not saying much as she turned her attention back to you. This time your attention cut between all three and finding an unease in your heart over something you didn’t quite grasp, but Davos took charge for both of you. “At least it makes this easier, having both of you here.” Jon’s eyes only narrowed slightly in question, whereas your heart begun to race the slightest bit, tensing your muscles in their entirety as they did so. “I know yourself and Stannis did not part on the best of terms, your grace,” Davos now coming more back to you, an ask tinted in his eyes to simply hear him out first. “But he sent me here, himself. He’s received news that he insisted the both of you need to know.”

Your tone perhaps, was a bit on the unnecessarily biting side when it was not really deserved. “And it was something he couldn’t sent a raven for? Sending you both seems like a drastic action.” This time the uncertain look was between the two of them. Davos looking to Selyse as she only tilted her head in a small nod, speaking something you couldn’t detect to him.

“It might be easier if you read it for yourself.” Slowly, he pulled out an already opened raven scroll his hand slow as he raised it up to you specifically with a warning edge across his features as if to brace yourself. “Maester Pylos sent this to the King, arrived urgently in the middle of the night.”

Your eyes were wide, chest not moving much as air refused to flow through all of the piling nerves. A slow grasp of the paper before it sat heavy in your hands. Unfurling it to reveal the contents, you had turned slightly away from all three of them. Pacing towards the steps by the high table as your eyes took in the writing.

Jon had given Davos a questioning look, but he only looked towards where your back had turned against them in patience. He knew too well what it said, and you knew why he had chosen to let you read first.

Read and reread over and over, all of the air in your lungs had sought to leave your body. A tightening inside, your heart shrinking along with the force as something you couldn’t decide between a wide eyed astonishment came over your features, but the almost shaking panic in your muscles had you feeling the need to lash out.

There was no way this was true, it was impossible. But your father wasn’t a man to believe in petty rumours and whispers. No, Stannis knew what you would’ve needed from Dragonstone as well as he did and if he wanted you to know this, then this was real and it was serious. You couldn’t figure out the degree to which that scared you.

Turning back to face them, that fearful astonishment was painted heavily over your features as you looked to Davos. “Has anyone else-”

Knowing just what you were to ask, “We received reports from both the ports and villages as well. I don’t know if it’s gotten to the mainlands yet, but it will soon.”

Stepping slowly back, you let go of the raven scroll from the tightness in both your hands from the dumbfounded feeling inside you. Coming beside Jon, you didn’t hide or even find will to vary that same expression as you silently handed it to him.

As he read the words, you paced more, leaving to the opposite side far from any as you ran a hand over your mouth. Trying so badly to keep a calm, but then Jon tensed as well. A darker paint flowing over his eyes and a bewildered expression moving between you and Davos. He reread it as many times as you had, his voice rough, rasping and almost incredulous. “How would no one have known about this?”

You utterly hated the answer that Davos also had for it. An answer Jon wouldn’t have the experiencing to feel the chilling breeze from such a truth, but one that made you wanted to throw something, maybe scream. “We can’t say for sure, but it doesn’t seem impossible. One of his trusted advisors, is Lord Varys.”

The huffing breath of a laugh that left your lips was utterly meaningless. Your anger saw a chance to grow right before their eyes as you leaned against the table. Your eyes burning in a blaze staring at the floor as your hands tensed enough you risked the digging in your palms. “For the good of the realm..” Only a whisper, and now you truly wished to go down to the crypts and atone to Eddard Stark for having been forced to play and die in part of this game. Your voice was louder, trying to keep a barley held back anger sat just on the inside. “Who does he already have?”

“They have the Golden Company at their backs,” Your eyes narrowed, those kinds of numbers would be unsustainable on Dragonstone for long periods of time you knew too well. Davos continued however, “None have come to his side yet, but we knew of some who will likely declare for him once he makes his presence known.”

Your own voice finding some of those answers on your own, “Fair to assume the Martell's will, given they believe his story. So will the Tarly’s, and the Hightower’s.” Missing entirely a passing twist in Jon’s expression as you and Davos looked at the other.

This was why you knew he had to be sent here himself, this was too much to send in a raven. Davos stepped forward with a nod, “The numbers they have now aren’t great, they know they can’t keep many there for good, eventually they’ll have to make a run for the mainlands.”

One arm moved to cross around your stomach while the other rested up on it, your nails tapping at your lips trying to see enough of your time around the Royal Fleet to grasp what the best options for them would be. “They can’t go right for King’s Landing, they don’t have enough enough support for it, so we just need to get there before anyone with a sizable fleet can declare for him. At this point I don’t particularly care where they go after that, but we need Dragonstone more then they do.”

His voice rung out, louder then the quiet mumbling between you and Davos catching both of your attention as Jon put things together in his own mind. “I’m assuming you weren’t sent here hoping I’d make my people fight in someone else's war.” A darker, sharper flash was through his eyes as Jon stepped closer. “Stannis knows the only reason I need Dragonstone is to gain access to it’s mines, I’m not here to join any fight for the Iron Throne.”

Something more of an understanding came over Davos, and you were once more thankful it was him who was sent here and not your father himself. “I think he’s starting to finally learn that lesson.” You didn’t look at either of them. Only the floor as they spoke.

“Otherwise, I shall destroy you.”

The confidence in such a declaration that you and Robb were to be his enemies, and perhaps you knew this anger and spite in your heart towards your father just may have not forgiven him for that day.

Jon and Davos now, finding a plan as your mind had faded in and out of the present. “So I reach out first, I’m not here to question his legitimacy, I need one thing and if he cooperates then we don’t need to fight. But, I’m taking my men there all the same.”

Your mind had clearly drifted off longer then you thought you had, looking back up Jon and Davos were standing close having gone back and forth between things for some time it seemed like. Selyse, had been switching between watching them, and keeping an eye on your fading distance. You did not return the glance to her back.

Your name getting called by Jon, with the same kind of watchful gaze deep in his eyes as well, as he spoke quieter to you. “Are you with me?” To the others, sounding much like asking if you were agreeing to the plans, but you knew better. He was trying to gauge where your mind was sitting at without drawing attention to the concern behind it.

Nodding firmly, you pushed up and off the table coming closer to them. “I’ll have the men start gathering the Lords here right away.” He didn’t dispute it, but it clearly was an excuse to get yourself to leave the room without them quicker. But it was Davos, who stopped you.

Only letting you get a few feet towards the main doors, calling your name gently before pulling slowly something from a pocket. He was the one to meet you where you stood, handing a chain to you, a sturdy metal with a solid casing shaped in an almost diamond shape. Your brows rose in question, but his voice was soft as he placed it gently into your palm. “I told you I’d take her to visit you myself.”

You said not a single word as all of the air in you left. Neither other party there knowing what exactly it was which just occurred but Davos could see the red behind your eyes wanting to turn to tears and fall in that exact second. You just nodded, closing your hand tightly around it before making your leave quickly.

Giving instructions to some of the men nearby before you walked to an empty hall, all but throwing yourself against the wall out of sight. The necklace wasn’t anything one would call special, but it also wasn’t the simplicity of what you gave Davos first. He didn’t just keep her safe, he took what was left and had it made into something you could keep around your neck for any time or reason.

Your head hanging low as you clutched it tightly, holding it to your heart as your lungs burned wanting to find that strange mixture of pain to cry at, but instead you let your head thud back into the stone wall. Trying to breathe deeply, letting your eyes slip shut before any tears fell. You couldn’t do this now, you couldn’t think on her right now. There were more important things to prepare for, and yet it was only the sight and sounds of her calling your name. That last visit you saw of her, and how she had jumped into your arms with such excitement to see you.

Her head burying in your neck as you held her back tightly. Now you could stay there, Shireen. Safe right with me no matter what now. Your heart screamed in a burning pain, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it’s agony now. Or how such a simple act from Davos, was more then a single thing shared that day between you and your father over her.

You told Shireen you would one day bring her here, but she’d have to hold off a little bit longer before you could spend the right time making her at home. Right now, duty demanded things of you and pain in your heart was not part of that. No matter how much you wished it were.

If one was to ask both the free folk and the Northern Lords all in attendance, they would have said it was something that filled with pride. Those who knew them both well, those who knew the father before him and all those who once thought up there would be Robb Stark. But it wasn’t Robb sitting in his home as King in the North, nor was it Lord Eddard Stark sitting there was Warden of the North.

Instead, many found the sight of their new King in the North to be one that inspired. Jon Snow stood tall in his place, now covering the light layers of fabric and leathers was the same fur which had adorned him the previous day. Dark browns mixed with tints of black that sat as broad across his shoulders as ones like it did his father and brother. To the Northerners, it didn’t stand out to them that the other which sat next to the left of him. You had been Queen before, and none saw you less then now, as did the King.

Jon wasn’t a foreigner from the south, he was one that the people knew. Despite if he thought they would not see him or remember, they did. And you by his side instead of once Robb’s was not out of place either. The King in the North didn’t hide the deep care in his heart for you, nor did any think he should. But if they were to ask you both of your emotions?

It was a different story. To Jon, he was as sure in his words as he was unsure of his new title. King sounded wrong attached to him. Ser Davos had joked with him about both Snow and Jon sounding odd against the word King and yet deep down he felt it. He wasn’t Robb, but this was his Kingdom and all he could think was how much were his people judging him against his brother? What of his weaknesses would they sniff out in a second and wish it was different.

Was he worthy of his father’s seat? Did sitting feel so strange because he somehow felt that he hadn’t earned the things his father did? It all sat in his heart, but he couldn’t focus on that. He had to look at what was right in front of him, because no one else would. No other King or Kingdom would look at the truth and fight for it but he had to. Regardless of the insecurity in his heart. He could only press on, hoping he was not a disappointment to his father.

You however, felt your heart racing as you kept such a cold and still expression some may have thought you were a statue, had most here not been used to you. For the entire war, you and Robb had struggled to discuss a future in Winterfell knowing the state of war made what if’s difficult to see passed. But now, you did sit here, at the King in the North’s side in Winterfell but you couldn’t stop that wonder if you were looked down on for it.

It was an uncomfortable thought, and whether or not you truly realized it, the amount of taunting and mocking of Ramsay was doing it. The slimy words of accusing you of sleeping with the wolves, degrading you by acting as if you where some whore for the Stark men and now you couldn’t stop the fear that your people saw it that way too. Fucking your way back into being a Queen, going from one King in the North’s bed to the next.

Jon’s voice was loud in the hall, projecting to all present, many crowded around the tables and some finding a place against the walls around to watch. “We know of three ways to fight back against them. I cut through one of them using a Valyrian Steel sword and they shattered right in front of my eyes. We also know that fire kills them. The free folk have been burning their dead for hundreds of years because anytime they might rise back up.”

There weren’t whispers, but the Lords did look to each other with glances of varying worry. The free folk in attendance all looked with a pride of their own, as it grew better by the day of how many of the Northerns had begun to accept their presence.

“Burning the dead keeps them from the Others finding a way to raise them up for their army, and fire also will kill any that’s returned to life. Lord Commander Mormont was attacked by a wight, and no normal weapon could hurt it until we lit it on fire.”

It was not a promising outlook thus far. A steel which had little in existence, as well as the instability of fire as a defence. One final option though, came both with promise, but a caveat. “They also can be killed with dragonglass. One of my brothers in the Night’s Watch had found a stash of daggers carved from Dragonglass at the Fist of the First men, and when he shoved one of them into their backs, they shattered just as they did with Valyrian Steel. Dragonglass can kill Wights, it can kill the Others, meaning it’s more valuable now to us then gold. We need to find it, we need to mine it, we need to make weapons out of it.”

The question arose from the crowd, just as it had from Theon when the three of you discussed it alone. “Where would we even get Dragonglass? Unless that stash you lot found is enough for share in the thousands.”

You had been sat beside him, and as Jon turned to look at you, you gave a slight nod. He knew exactly as you knew now, and you didn’t prefer taking over the meeting from his voice. Turning back to the people, he was a bit more hesitant knowing the cost to come.

Gesturing to you for a brief moment, “The island of Dragonstone is build on top of a massive deposit of Dragonglass, there are tunnels all over the underground that are filled with more then enough to arm every man, woman, and child in the North. We’ll need men with skills mining, carve out tunnels to access it properly and we bring it back North.”

Lord Wyman Manderly spoke up from his place, “So we need ships, and men to mine. And it just so happens, your grace, we have both.”

A warmth in Jon’s tone with a nod, “Your enthusiasm is much appreciated my lord, but this isn’t going to be that simple.” His tone was rougher, lower, and a warning encased in it’s edge that all understood something was coming more then they thought. “We just recently have received word that Dragonstone is being occupied by a Southern Army. One led by a man using his place there to make his claim as heir to the Iron Throne, who won’t be too happy with what we’re about to ask.”

He was quiet, and you knew you had to be the one to say it. Palms braced against the wooden surface, you almost found no ability to even take a deep breathe as you look to them all. Glancing to Jon, and only for a split second did you find a soothing ease in the assurance in his grey eyes. Taking a deeper breathe you stood properly beside him.

Jon himself, tried very hard to ignore how it felt watching you speak with such confident but calming authority to his people, all with his own white furs gently draped over your own shoulders.

“Whether who he is saying he is, is true or not, Dragonstone is being occupied by a man claiming to be Aegon Targaryean.” Whispers this time flew through the Northern Lords like a breeze blowing in the air but with words in disbelief. “The army at his side is made up of the Golden Company, meaning if they deny a truce, we will be fighting our way onto the island. Lord Wyman, how many ships do you have currently?”

“Publically? Twenty three.”

You found a bit of a smirk his way, raising one eyebrow in jest, “And not publically?”

“Sixty. Most of which I can have fitted to sail for war by the new moon.”

You nodded, knowing Jon was letting you do some of this knowing your understanding of Dragonstone outweighed almost all in the hall. “Our biggest problem will be getting onto the island itself. The castle faces out to the Narrow Sea but most of the island is surrounded by rocks and mountain sides. There’s a small gap that leads to the beaches and from there we have two ways to the castle. One going the long away, following a long path up to the cliff side, and the other up scaling along the curtain itself and coming up behind them. As long as we get through that gap, we can surround them. But we will need enough manpower to get our feet on the ground in the first place.”

The lands were complicated, more complicated then many would think. All of you would have to be in on a very detailed plan if it were to work. It was an unforgiving terrain for those not familiar with it.

Hard to gauge everyone’s reactions at once, but it seemed that most in the hall truly understood what was to come. Understood that as Jon spoke, it didn’t matter what personal matters were felt on the matter, it was about doing what needed to be done. “Stannis Baratheon has a fleet of at least sixty of his own garrisoned at Eastwatch by the sea. He knows the kind of fight we are up against, and he knows why we need Dragonstone. If we add his ships to yours Lord Wyman, then we have a fighting chance.”

Lord Dustin seemed to stand with protest, one that was not quite welcome in the air. “We denied him as our King-”

Jon though, was strict. His voice commanding against the man and were it to be seen, would have almost pushed him back in his spot. “I’m not joining to make him our King.” Looking to Tormund in the distance, the man finding a smirk as he looked up to Jon’s words. “I’m not King of the free folk, but if we’re going to survive this winter together then we need to learn to fight side by side without arguing about joining one side or another. The North is our home, and you chose me as your King. That isn’t changing just because we ally with another King for the only cause that matters.”

Tormund’s own voice was full of an amusement that radiated through the other Lords. “If my people can follow him,” gesturing to where Jon stood, “without kneeling down to him then all of us together can teach the same lesson to this Southerner, whether he likes it or not.”

Agreement’s rumbled, and Lord Dustin sat with nothing more on the subject in his mouth. Lord Wyman took that mantle up, “I can send a raven to Eastwatch by the sea, see if the man’s willing to see reason. That way we have our ships all in once place if he agrees to meet with ours in White Harbour.”

One proper benefit of Jon being King, was that you could slip away amongst the crowds around him once the meeting had dispensed. Lord Wyman already leaving for White Harbour, giving at least some hope this would not be a fruitless endeavour.

The snow surrounding it was indescribable. A blanket of white that laid undisturbed against the ground, and a barley there reflection against water asking to freeze over soon. The Weirwood stood somehow taller then you remembered, the red was so bright and outstanding against the winter around it. Red leaves that bled in colour moving down to a white bark that blended so well. As if the face and the leaves were the only thing in the land that wasn’t snow.

Once upon a time, you had been scared to come here. The old gods had little rules and your small mind didn’t understand what you were supposed to follow. Fearing the Seven would punish you for praying in a sept so close to where the Northerns sat under a bleeding face carved into a Weirwood. But the last time you were here was nothing of the sort.

It looked nothing like that day. The warmth, the green all around and the water shining against what sun peeked through the other trees in the godswood. Right up there, he stood. The panic swirling in your veins as Ned Stark comforted you with every care of a father, bringing you out to his son as you found a life with him. The face you had once as a child been scared to look at, had been something you lifted your eyes too, finishing a prayer in silence asking to find a love that was genuine and true with Robb.

The old gods answered. They gave you that. But now, as you stood feet away from it, the winter finally making it’s way around the lands and threats coming you never could have conceived in those days impending on you. What would you even say to them this time, was there even a word you could pray which would matter? You had not the bravery to go any closer.

Not the strength alone to disturb the untouched beauty around the Weirwood as if this was a place you had a right to pray in. A sept still stood, but you also were fairly certain the Seven might just open a hole in the ground and damn you to a vision of hell for how little you held to just one. The Seven, the Old Gods, and the whispers under a fire god that your own family had taken up with in eithers place.

What did give you bravery, or force it on you, was being knocked in the back by something large. You stumbled forward just a tad as you turned around with a narrowed glare until you came upon the sight of something just as white and red as the tree itself. Ghost stood tall behind you, his fur blending with the snow around him with eyes red as if they matched the Weirwood’s leaves shining in the colourless surrounding.

A little huff in the direwolf came out as he looked at you before bumping you almost childishly once more. Truly the fact that this was a great beast almost was a joke. Running his head along your side as he did so, and his eyes shutting with a slight pant as you ran your nails along his head and around his ears. Looking back up eventually, he stared at you in silence but the same affection in his face. “Alright, alright. If you insist.”

Ghost followed by your side as you approached. The water just reflecting enough that you could see the red wavering in the slightest of breezes around. Pulling the fur tighter around your front as a shiver left your mouth, cold enough you breathe fogged the space it touched. Each step you took as you finally came under the branches, you felt out of place in your mind even though something settled in your heart.

Prayers, words, steps, rituals, rules to be followed came every part of the way under the Seven and sometimes you felt lost here. Not knowing what you should say or do, when every part of faith in childhood had told you to be detailed and specific in every word and prayer uttered. But that wasn’t what was asked of you here.

A gloved hand carefully tracing your fingertips down the trunk beside the carved face as your eyes looked up wide and bright as a peek of sunlight shined down just enough to send slivers of light across the snowy ground. Ghost stood beside you, watching you and around as he looked like a wolf which came right from the roots of the tree. Carved into the bark and came to life, only it’s red leaves only found a spot in his eyes. Open wide at all times, seeing any and everything unlike the carved faces with eyes always closed.

Something was warmer in your chest, recognizing an aura of this place that found peace while your logic told you this wasn’t enough for the gods. You needed to repent, offer gifts and sacrifice, plead of punishment to rectify your sins. You had no idea what you were supposed to believe.

It took a while to convince yourself it was alright to sit down. Gently brushing snow from your way to sit, facing the water as Ghost stepped beside you. Looking at him with a tilt in your head you smiled, “This time I actually do know what you want, but I assure you there is no chance of you curling up on my lap.”

As if he knew exactly what you said, which he probably did, Ghost gave a whine before huffing. Settling beside you as his head sat down against your thighs, your hand naturally giving itself a home to run across his fur. Watching him in silence, the time passed as the day grew colder and colder. Not having gone back after such an early morning to dress any warmer then this, you just let the cold sit around you.

Just like last time, you didn’t see or hear him coming until he already spoke. “It would be easier to scold you for not dressing properly, if you didn’t look so beautiful.”

You and Ghost both turning your heads to see Jon approaching. Him naturally, finding it no kind of difficult to come right up. This was his home, and they were his gods. What of it would there be to keep him away. On the other hand, there was a simplicity of your own the way in which you spent no notice admiring him.

Clearly dressed warmer, more layers and leathers then what you had in merely a dress and fur around your shoulders. The fur sitting around him doing a better job even more, at keeping him that warm against the breeze. His hair was down more it seemed in his own home, sitting loose and wild almost making you smile. Jon could tell the way you didn’t realize you were staring, but only settled down right beside you.

Unlike the last though, Jon spared no time and took the liberty to pull you more into his side, arm wrapped around you to trace up your waist. Ghost settled once more against you, the moving position allowing him to better lay down with his head in your thighs against the uneven land. Your tone was soft as it murmured out looking over him so close, “I think it’s just your clothes you enjoy on me.”

It could’ve broken your heart if it didn’t feel so normal. How Jon’s gloved hand danced up to run along your neck before pulling you over to kiss the top of your head, stretching his thumb to run along your cheek as you leaned the other more against him. His chuckle was deep, vibrating somewhat against you. “I promise you, it’s both.”

Nodding against him, you weren’t tired in your mind, just in muscles as you barley got out in a clear tone, “When did our lives become so complicated?”

Once more, Jon’s hand slid down to your waist, as the other picked up your free one and lifted it up to rest over the leathers covering his heart. Your fingers dig slightly into the material as if trying to feel it beat under. Then tilting your chin up to look at him, grey eyes wide and full of a sparkling love that you could barley look into. “Our lives were always complicated, now it’s just going to take a little more to get out of it.”

You nodded once more. Keeping your attention occupied with the white direwolf on one side of you, and the white wolf with his arms keeping you against his side. Turning your head up, you met part of his neck and furs around him, slightly nuzzling into him before resting once more as he cupped the side of your head keeping you there. “You never let me say it back yesterday, that I love you.”

“I don’t need you to say it for me to know. I know you love me, we’ve always loved each other and we both always felt it.” He had resisted the urge to bury his face in your hair right away, but he wanted you to hear him properly. Sighing out gently, your eyes sliding closed as if to rest against him this way, Jon never let you go. A hand around to your waist, while the other reached over you both to cup your head against his neck, turning his face into your hair finally.

The cold gave you another shiver, catching Jon’s attention who pulled you back closer to his side, turned in place enough to watch your face closely. “When my father reaches White Harbour, I’m going to go meet with him. If we are to do this together, no one knows Dragonstone better then us. We can put a plan in place for when the rest of you show up. Figure out how we are going to get our feet onto the ground and the rest in your hands will be easy.”

His hold on you was tighter, a clench slightly in his jaw as he considered it. Quiet for a good moment before you gently murmured his name, finally he rasped out, “I’m trying to find a reason to make you stay that’s better then I don’t want you to go.”

You smiled a small bit at that, facing him better as well and the truth in his eyes wasn’t controlling or demanding. More like you were still those young children, you sick and unconscious in bed, and Jon was still afraid to keep his eyes off of you for too long. Tracing your hand along his jaw, you smiled much more as his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Your own voice was low in a whisper. “I’m only going to to White Harbour, I’m not leaving for war without you this time. Only ensuring everything is ready for you when you catch up. You could still order to me stay if you really want to however, you are King.”

Jon rolled his eyes that time. “I thought you Baratheon’s didn’t like being told what to do.”

The response on your lips only made Jon roll his eyes even harder that time with a much easier smirk on his face. Your shoulder shrugging with a flat, hardly concealed sass on your face. “I’m also a Stark now, and besides I think we both know that’s not quite true with me.”

Always a strange time when thoughts like it came up, but he couldn’t help once more but feel ashamed at how much he had once tried replacing you in his mind with Ygritte. You always trusted him, listened to him, and deep down would never go against something he said or did. Especially as a Queen by his side now, he knew you well enough to be certain you’d follow every command which would come out of his rule. He didn’t need that level of dedication to his word, but you didn’t do it out of obligation. You trusted him and his choices, just as he knew without having to ask, that you gave such dedication equally to Robb.

Whereas Ygritte almost hated the idea of not being so aggressively in charge at all times. Jon could look at you now, and he could almost hear the insults and degrading at how you were letting someone like Jon order you around. Would think you were weak to let him be the one in charge, to be the one you trusted to take care of you instead of demanding you do it yourself.

When in truth he knew you stood so firmly on your own effortlessly, and you listened to Jon when it mattered. This time however, his order wasn’t much of an order. But advice that no matter how difficult it would be for you in your heart, was for your own good. For your good and for Stannis as well. They had their disagreement’s, but Stannis was a man Jon respected in a lot of ways. He didn’t expect you to see it the same way, much like how you never expected Jon to have the same dynamic with his father that you had developed.

More reassured this time, finding only trust as you looked at him. “Go easy on him, your father. He knows as well as I do what we’re really up against out here, and he’s trying to do the right thing. You don’t have to forgive him, but hating him won’t make you feel any better.”

Nodding, you shifted once more, leaning your head against his shoulder as you both sat in the silence of the cold before the Weirwood. Only speaking up once more in a small, but amusingly confused tone in your ear. “Now I have to ask, is there a reason your mother keeps giving me that look?”

He didn’t expect you to laugh right away, but you certainty did. A waver in your voice failing to keep back how amusing you found it. “She’s not particularly a fan of you Northerners. Thinks you’re all unkempt, unruly, and unfitting for her daughter. That and I suspect she might know we sleep in the same bed, which she will entirely have judged you for allowing.”

The flat expression on his face was even funnier then the question he had just asked. “Probably shouldn’t tell her about what I did when I first woke up in Castle Black, then.” You flushed, looking away as if you both hadn’t come close to finding that harmony together again since. “If she’s that worried, strictly speaking, Northerners don’t actually many people there for us to get married. Could do it right now, put her poor mind at ease.”

“Somehow, I think it’s too late to save your honour in her eyes, Snow.”

Tones both in joking, but a small part of you and a large part of him knew that it wasn’t untrue. It wasn’t something neither had thought of outside that moment, but there was too much in your mind to make sense of that idea just yet. Too much in your life you couldn’t push back yet.

Jon to his own credit, at least could obsess over the idea quietly in his mind with no issue. He did though, lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Your own moulding to his in an instant, turning to gently move your hands to run up his collarbones and around the back of his neck. Hands finding the easy desire to run through his curls, nails scratching at his scalp as you did so. His free hand now cupping your cheek and jaw, tilting you up to stay against him as the one around your waist slid now to hold you tenderly at your hip.

Never picked up, never grew heated. Just a gentle kiss with more passion in his touch then innocent, but he only kissed and held you just as he was in that moment. Never pushed you for more, just the beg to not part from him just yet. He wasn’t ready to see you go yet, not here and not later. Not even ever, if he were being truthful.

“You should eat more.”

Finding the strength within you not to either roll your eyes or sigh out in annoyance. Her tone came off in a lecturing condescension when you knew she meant well. You had good intentions joining her for supper, she was going to be here for an unknown amount of time, she came all this way when she didn’t have too but it didn’t make being alone any easier.

You had barley made much of a dent in your food, and she had paid close attention to it. “You’re wasting away enough as it is. As long as it’s in front of you, you should at least eat.”

Taking a bite, likely in a more dramatic fashion then was mature but you did not come here to be scolded like a child. Giving a look to her as it to ask if that were satisfactory, she only raised an eyebrow before leaving the topic behind.

The fingertips of your free hand tapped at the table in her quarters, looking to the small amount she brought with her which could fit on her horse. “How long were you planning on staying?” Her features barley moved, but you caught a slight twitch in her jaw as she realized what you were looking at. “You didn’t bring much, am I assuming you’re returning to father when I leave for White Harbour?”

For all your doubts, she looked down. Tearing from watching your own gaze as she sighed. Your brows narrowed in confusion at her, but her voice was quiet as she explained. “Your father had only sent Ser Davos here, I was not thought to be sent at all. I came on my own.” You really gave a more confused look but you stayed silent. “You told me to stay with him because you thought I would find purpose with him, I would do better there.”

Your jaw clenched as did the words pushing out of your mouth. “You supported him over four years as your King. He’s your husband, I don’t see why you wouldn’t choose to stay at his side.”

Selyse wished you would look at her, but she understood why you didn’t. Your name coming softly from her mouth, “I have hardly been a mother to you. I pushed you away, and then never tried to reconcile that even after seeing the woman you had become without me. And I have no one to blame but myself for not being there.”

Your eyes flickered up to her somewhat, a doubt in them and your mind but there was a skip in your heart at finding no lies in her face. “It’s not your fault. I was young when you lost your first two, and by the time you were ready to be a mother again, you had Shireen. I never resented you for that, I understood by then I wasn’t putting the effort in either.”

The necklace sat heavy in your pocket, not yet having the bravery to put in on.

The quiet was tense, palpable enough it seeped into the food still sat on your plates. “You do, for what I did to her.” The weight in your throat plummeted down to your stomach and sent you feeling as if the floor beneath you would open up and trap you within it forever. “I was upset, I felt desperate and I thought I had none left and..I let her talk me into it. I can’t change that, I can’t ask you or anyone else to forgive me for it. That will always be my fault, and you should hate me for it.”

Voice but a whisper, you leaned your arms more crossed against the table. A somewhat ill mannered position at supper for you, but the weight of the her memory pushed you from sitting any kind of straight and proper. “Hating you won’t bring her back. Hating Roose Bolton never brought Robb back, so why would doing so feel better now.” There was a rare shine behind your mother’s eyes, one that seeped with sadness from a heart you rarely saw towards you. “I don’t quite know if I am ready in my heart to forgive you, but I don’t hate you. If you wouldn’t let me blame myself for her, I won’t blame you for letting that woman manipulate you into it.”

Your eyes met and for once neither looked away as there was a genuine honesty in her. “I will join you when you sail for Dragonstone, but when you leave, I will too.” Your brows narrowed as she cleared her throat slightly almost in an awkwardness. “I haven’t been a mother to you since you were a girl, so let me do it now. If you want me to leave I will, but if not, I came here for you. Not for war. For you.”

It was a heavy feeling that continued to get worse. The weight of a truth she hardly gave to you, and yet her eyes were sad warm as they were full of sorrow. You suspected, you looked at her with the very same. You never had a life where Selyse was properly in it, and having her there now was foreign. But, turning her away wasn’t the solution which felt right in your heart. It felt more cruel.

Jon had said you can’t get better if you never talk about her, and perhaps you needed to give your mother that chance. No matter how strange and uncomfortable it would be. She was still your mother, and she was trying. You only nodded though, throat too closed to work even after swallowing down the water in front of you.

There was a quiet as you pulled yourself together, sitting up properly and promptly wiping away the small water gathered by your eyes you didn’t notice before. As if humouring her, you took another bite before speaking. “I can have you moved to better quarters, something more suitable for you long term. I’ll also send for someone to get you some warmer things to wear. If I’m going to get lectured for not dressing properly for the winter, then you have to as well.”

Shaking her head slightly, “The room is fine, it will only be me. I don’t need much.”

You two were back to quiet for a good while, the silence not unobtrusive or awkward. You and Selyse tended to be the most quiet of all your family. Stannis was not much of a chatty man, but you certainly got your tendency to enjoy the silence from your mother. But there was one more thing she found the bravery to speak.

“She would have been proud. Your sister. Shireen would have been proud to see how far you’ve come.”

Not much thought came into it, as you pulled out the necklace, placing it gently between you both. A slight tear in your tone trying not to let any tears fall. “I kept a small part of her, what was left that night I mean. When we came here, I didn’t know if we would be able to win and I didn’t want any part of her near the Boltons so I gave what remained to her to Davos to keep safe. Told me he would bring her to visit himself if we won.”

You tilted your head as she hesitated to pick it up. There was nothing to see, and even if there was it was just greys and tints of white of bone which were scattered left. But she held it with all the same kind of care as you did those final moments with her in that room. Something close to tears in her own voice. “She did always speak of going on adventures with you.” Nodding you over, she stood from her seat holding the necklace. “Come here, he went through the trouble to have this made at least wear it like you’re supposed too.”

Her tone was stern, but not the glint in her eyes that matched.

You took your time, coming to stand by her, turning around as you pulled your hair out of her way so she could drape the necklace around your neck. Sitting just underneath the high seam of your dress she linked it together in the back. In a surprise, she moved your hair back into place, smoothing it out neatly all on her own before giving you space once more.

Looking down at it, before hiding it under the fabric. It wasn’t there to be shown off, it was there to keep her with you. Facing your mother once more both of you found little ability to speak. “Thank you.”

What you wished would stay quiet though, didn’t as some time later did she say the one thing that set your nerves off. Food long finished and taken away, now you both had been finding small things to speak on when she finally asked what you had dreaded. “Are you and that boy sleeping in the same bed?”

You pushed your chair back to try and stand, and Selyse called you back louder with more of a motherly scold in her tone that made you feel much like a child again for not listening too. “I’m not listening to this right now.”

“You two are not married, he shouldn’t be acting as if you are some tavern slut to keep his bed warm at night.” You tried protesting, your voice higher pitched and almost embarrassed as you looked back at her lecturing glare. “Being a King does not mean he can ignore protecting your honour-”

If it was possible to force yourself to melt into the floor and die on impact you would’ve done it right then and there just to avoid this conversation. “Mother, if you recall, I was married. I was pregnant even, I think I’ve long since passed the point of having any honour left to protect.”

She was silent and you absolutely felt like a child the way she was watching you. “Don’t tell me he’s-”

Turning towards the door, you walked away as your blood boiled in a horrific shame. “That will be all, mother. I wish you goodnight.” Selyse once more said your name in a lecturing tone but you took your quick leave as nothing but a red, warm embarrassment came over your cheeks and drenched itself into your mind.

It was lovely, being a grown woman through as much horror as you had experienced and yet the second she started speaking you could almost see yourself as the young teenage girl she used to have to give such lectures over before.

At least Maege had a very good laugh over it when you told her later that evening.

Preparing his entire life to take on this responsibility was one thing, but a completely different feeling now that he was being told more and more to act on it. He was to be King, so he had to make choices a King would make.

“You will be making decisions far harder then this everyday when you claim the Throne.”

He could grumble and sigh all he liked, but it was true. He wasn’t allowed to be Young Griff anymore, he was supposed to be Aegon. Supposed to be the rightful heir, the true leader of the Seven Kingdoms, son of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, and yet as soon as the raven came he looked to Griff like the boy he used to be.

Young Griff looking to his father to help guide him onto what’s the right path. Only, if he wasn’t Young Griff anymore, that meant Griff was no longer his father. He was once more Jon Connington, and they were no longer father and son training for a destiny far in their future. It was now, and he couldn’t be that boy anymore.

Being Aegon meant he had to find it in himself to take after Rhaegar. But no stories told of his blood father had felt connected to who he was in his soul. He had to be his father’s heir, but he wasn’t the one who spent his entire life raising him as his son. Rhaegar was his father, Jon Connington had been trusted to keep him safe, but it was Griff that raised him. This wasn’t going to be as easy as it once felt back when he was far from Westeros.

But now, as he read the raven over and over he was trying to ask himself what would Rhaegar expect of him, but came back up blank. He had no idea what he would do or say, and so he could only look at Connington and hope he understood his silent plea. Which he did.

Glancing subtly to the men around the room before moving to come close to Aegon’s side at the end of the painted table he lowered his voice, something more guileful in tone. “What does your first instinct tell you?”

His first instinct was to just let these people have what they wanted. What did he care about rocks and scary bed time tales? It didn’t change his ambition for the Throne. But he had the distinct impression that it wouldn’t be something Rhaegar would have chosen to do. Not from what he was told of him. So he had to find a new answer.

“If he’s calling himself a King, that means he assumes he has no duty to kneel to my rule.” A silence in the room waited for him to figure it out, Connington at his side waiting and watching with all the patience he suspected his blood father wouldn’t have given him. Turning to look at him with a more determined look in his eye, “I think if he wants what we have, he can ask for permission. After kneeling before me, and beg for forgiveness for keeping part of my own Kingdom from me.”

The men in the room looked approvingly at his fierce tone, stance broad as he braced his palms against the painted table. But when he glanced back to Connington, he wasn’t sure he was finding the same in his eyes, but whatever it was instead got covered up quickly.

“You are the King, the true heir to the Iron Throne. If this is your decision, then he can either bend the knee or pay the price. I can have Maester Pylos send a raven back right away if this is what you want.” He was calm and patient, the tone of Griff towards a younger, unsure, learning Young Griff.

But he had to be Aegon now. And Aegon’s father was not Jon Connington, his father was Rheagar Targaryean. Nodding once he looked him sure in the eyes. “There is only one true King, and it isn’t some pretender telling tall tales.” Young Griff didn’t like the choice he was about to make, but Aegon Targaryean would have too.

“This Jon Snow can either bend the knee like everyone else, or die fighting against it.”

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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chiefdirector · 9 months ago

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Listening | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

(Y/N) nursed a coffee that had turned cold hours ago as she watched the screens before here intently, waiting for anything to happen. It had been hours since she had placed the bug in Sullivan's home but he had not done anything at all except watch reruns of crappy old sitcoms.

The room she was hooked up in was small and dark, so much so she felt like she could drift off to sleep any moment now. Groaning, she leaned back in her chair, sliding the headphones down to rest on her neck. Her back popped as she stretched, releasing tension that had been sitting there for hours. She stayed in that stretched out position for a few fleeting moments, shooting back up again when she heard the door open.

"Hey, hey, hey." She said, trying to seem a bit more collected than she felt.

"Hi." Chen smiled as stuck her head around the door, keeping the rest of her body hidden. "Is now a good time to talk?"

"Only is you brought me a-"

"Coffee?" Chen moved into the small room, presenting (Y/N) with a takeaway coffee cup, passing it over when the detective started making grabby hands. "I learn quickly."

"You're my favourite." She smiled into her coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip. "This is amazing. You're amazing. But what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you could show me how all this works, Tim is in court and it's either this or desk duty with Smitty."

(Y/N) nodded, gesturing for Lucy to pull up a chair beside her. She leaned over to the drawers beside her, pulling out a spare headset and plugging it in. "Put this on. All we need to do is listen, see if he says anything of interest that we can link back to Dyer."

Lucy hummed as she donned the headset, watching as (Y/N) shuffled through the computer screens in front of her. The two sat in silence for nearly an hour, listening to the tape until Chen all but slammed her headset down onto the hardwood desk in front of her.

"You okay?" (Y/N) asked, gently placing her own headphones down next to Lucy's.

"This is stupid, this can't be all there is to do." She ranted, running a hand over her head. "Rosalind would know that we were listening. It feels like we are running around doing exactly what she expects. Surely, you agree?"

"Yeah, I do. But nobody will warrant any other action at this time. Until we get permission from Grey, or someone higher, we can't take any official action." (Y/N) softly said, placing her hand on Lucy's shoulder, checking her watch as she moved. "Look, it's near the end of shift. I'm going to head off, you should too. Go home; eat, sleep. Come back here tomorrow. We can talk more then... see if any better ideas come to us."

(Y/N) watched as Chen nodded, leaving to hopefully go back to the locker room. Once the door shut behind her, she reached for her phone. Chen was right, they were not going to make any progress. Rosalind Dyer was playing chess and they were playing checkers. They had to meet her on a more even ground, one where Rosalind wouldn't expect them to be.

The sun hadn't even begun to rise when (Y/N) carefully removed herself from Tim's sleepy grip, silently getting herself ready for the day. She moved through the house with the stealth of an black ops agent, trying not to wake Kujo as she left, grabbing a large grey duffle bag from the office before leaving and shutting the door behind her. She had left the house as if nothing had been disturbed, everything was in its place.

As she slotted the key into the door, turning the lock shut, she let out a silent breath of relief that she had managed to leave undetected. She took a moment to collect herself, focussing her thoughts on what had to be done, before getting into her car, tossing her bag onto the backseat and pulling out of the driveway.

Even in the midst of nightfall, the streets and freeways of Los Angeles were mayhem to navigate; there was traffic from every given angle, drivers swearing at each other and barely anyone obeying traffic laws. (Y/N) paid no mind to the minor law infringements she saw, she had no time to pull these drivers over only to give them a fine. Dayshift would pick up any slack she left behind.

As traffic began to slow down to another standstill, (Y/N) pulled her phone from her pocket before turning it off and throwing it in the back alongside her duffle bag. She then leaned across the passigner chair to the glovebox where she pulled out a burner phone, an old Nokia she still had stashed away when she had returned to work. She shoved it in the pocket where she had pulled her phone from before turning into the Union Station parking lot.

Throwing her coat on, she got out of the car, locking it before placing the key on top of the back left wheel. She checked her pockets for everything she would need, her badge, her wallet, and a packet of gum as she walked towards the bus terminal.

The dark walls seemed to impose on (Y/N), as if they were squeezing her, taking away the very oxygen in her lungs. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she was fine and the walls were not, in fact, compressing her. Still, even with that knowledge, she hardly felt safe; the nonchalant attitude of the guard escorting her and the angry roar of inmates who recognised someone foreign to them were hardly reassuring.

Nonetheless, (Y/N) held her head high, not letting her lack of confidence show as the guard finally escorted her into the most easterly wing of the prison. It was one of the most secluded areas of the entire facility and yet it was the most sterile looking. It reminded her of a hospital straight from a horror movie.

The walls stood tall, the bright white paint giving the illusion that the corridor was light and airy. The luminescent lights shone down from the ceiling, causing (Y/N) to wince from the sheer amount of light that gave off. The image of a hospital ward was only fended off by the heavy metal doors aligning the corridor, each one marking an entrance to a cell which held some of California's most terrifying inmates. Kidnappers, war criminals, people involved with terror plots, and serial killers. Those heavy metal doors didn't let (Y/N) forget where she was or why she was here.

"You know the rules right?" The guard grunted, pushing his overgrown hair from his face. As he stopped outside one of the cells "No touching, no provoking, no transfer of contraband. If the inmate attacks-"

"Attempt to restrain the prisoner, and use suitable force if required. Yell for help. I know." Bradford finished as she watched the guard huff before he started to unlock the cell door.

@xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e @malindacath @rookietrek @hufflepuffwhore13 @tessalynni @anaferreira-4 @starstruckchopshoptyphoon

25 | 27

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie imagine #bottom of the river

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coffehbeans · 9 months ago

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Gt WAC Day 23

"A story with a nonhuman/ monstrous character"

THIS, this was a challenge to write ahsushus I'm so nervous cause it took me SO long and as per usual I'm still unsure about it.

This story is based on a dream I had a month ago, I was writing it since then so i could post it on day 23 of gtwac. So yep, new character. It's different from what I've wrote so far, but I hope you guys enjoy it!

Depending on the reception of this story I will continue it, but fair warning that it'll not be a happy one (IF I continue it).

I'm not sure if I'll rate this chapter in particular as above PG-13, but general warning for overall spooky, unsettling vibes.

Enjoy!

........................................................................................

Edward Becker has not seen his wife in seven years.

People called him crazy for waiting for her return. "She's done for", someone mentioned. "Why don't you find another one?", someone suggested, all falling in deaf ears as every single day, he'd go back from work, sit by the porch, and wait for her until the sun went down. A useless effort, as they said, a delusional hope, or the sign of going mad. But for Edward, it was his strength. The only support for his failed attempts at finding her. His last pillar of sanity that made him get up every morning and wait for her until nightfall. His wife would come back, like she always did. She would come back to his open arms, embrace him gently like she used to, cover him with kisses as he pulled her close. They would giggle and enter their home, enjoy a nice meal they cooked together, talking about their day during dinner, about plans for rebuilding their house, plans for a new job he wanted to get, plans about their future children. When night falls, they would sleep holding each other tight, relishing in their shared warmth.

All he had to do was wait for her by the porch.

...

One day, she did comeback.

It was past midnight. So dark and cold outside, most animals have gone to sleep, making the woods around his remote home dead silent. The cows and chickens of his small farm uttered no sound as they slept, and the wind billowed the wheat fields outside, his plain wooden house colored pitch black by the late-night sky. It was a weathered home, well kept indoors but in need of repairs, with ripped, dingy furniture and leaks on the roof. It was protected by a measly three-feet-tall fence that threatened to fall apart, and over the backyard, where the overgrown grass was blown by the wind, laid a simple wooden shed meant for storing farming equipment. Tossing and turning on his bed, Edward sat up with a jolt, sweat dripping on his face as anxiety threatened to eat him whole. He sighed, holding his face in his trembling hands, and letting out a shaky breath. He couldn't fall asleep in those nights, where the memory of Cordelia haunted his mind in his dreams, ones where she wore desperate expressions as she's dragged away from him by detached, withered hands, and no matter how much he ran, he didn't reach her. Nightmares where he found her dead body, pale and laying limp, lifeless eyes staring at him. Nightmares where he found her hurt, bleeding and beaten up, face covered by bruises – in most nights, those visions would plague him.

With a shiver, Edward got up, lighting up the oil lantern. He trudged for the kitchen, on his way to do the same as usual: put some water over the wood burning stove, boil it, try this new tea his friend had brought for him, and drink it aimlessly, hoping in vain for sleep to come back.

He sluggishly put wood pieces inside the firebox, reaching a hand for the lighter on the table. A flicker, two, and the fire was lit. He put the kettle over the stove with a clank, and stared at it blankly, waiting for bubbles to form. The house was pitch black, only the flickering flames of the stove and the lamp’s dim glow illuminated the room.

A loud sizzling of the kettle snapped Edward out of his torpor as the water boiled. He picked the hot handle, feeling its heat burning his skin, lifted it from the fire and — THUMP. A loud thud by the window behind him sent him jumping, fumbling with the kettle in his hands, heartbeat skyrocketing. He banged it on the table. Hot droplets prickled his hand. He turned around with rapid breaths. A blurred shadow dashed away from the window, sending a cold chill down his spine, the wind howling and heavy thuds echoing outside the house’s walls. Rhythmical and constant. Pounding on the ground. Edward sucked in a breath, head ringing against his skull. He stomped towards the cabinet containing his shotgun. There were thieves? In the middle of the night? Were they finally coming to steal a poor and mad man's house? He wouldn't allow it.

He can’t die yet. Not until Cordelia comes back to him.

Loading the gun with precise clicks, Edward aimed it at the window, darting his aim from window to window until he reached the door, the last place he heard the strange sound. With trembling hands over the trigger, his eyes focused on an invisible target. He held his breath, standing still. Not a single sound. Ears trained on any disturbance. THUMP. THUMP. A shadow passed by the window to his right. BANG!

He twisted his body and shot, missing the shadow by an inch.

"W-who's there!?" He shouted in a trepid tone.

No answer. Not even a sound. Maybe the sound of breathing. He couldn't tell. He couldn't tell if it was someone's breathing or his own.

The “sshhhs” and “thuds” echoed around him, heading towards the backyard. Edward adjusted the position of the gun in his arms.

He took a deep breath.

Edward ran to the back door and slammed it open with a kick, pointing the trembling shotgun towards the field. The sky was pitch-black outside, engulfing the horizon with its inky tint, and the stars didn't dare approach the darkness. The faint moonlight was partially obscured by the clouds, its glow too weak to lighten the outdoors. He huffed, feeling the weight of his gun, and headed further into the backyard with measured steps. His shoes crunched the grass below, the dry air amplifying the sound of his stride. Deadly silence filled the field. A puff of smoke left his nostrils as warm exhale met with the frigid air. Tightening the grip around the gun, he aimed it at the decrepit shed. Waiting for movement. Eyes trained forward. The dark blur of a large silhouette shifted behind it.

BANG.

He shot. Once. Twice. The sound of the bullets making his ears ring, metal creating holes in the aged wood. A loud, high-pitched, and definitely human scream cried behind it.

He stopped shooting, heart leaping to his throat. A weight plunked in his insides, making him loose the tight grip on his gun. Behind the shed, he heard it. A gasp. A whimper. A sob. Clearly feminine. Edward lowered the gun, furrowing his brows as the cries made a lump form inside his throat. A trick to let his guard down? A trap? It must be a trick for sure. No way an innocent person would show up in the middle of the night. No, there's no way. Goosebumps trailed down his back as the cries reached his ears. Why was there even someonehere?

The sobbing got louder, echoing in the cold, dark night. He shivered when the shrill voice reverberated in his ears, an uncomfortable knot twisting in his stomach at the thought he could have shot an innocent woman.

"Who... Who's there?" He repeated, cautious this time, as if talking to a cowering animal.

The sobs dwindled little by little. He didn't dare move. The figure was hidden behind the shed, not even the faint moonlight giving a glimpse of its appearance.

Finally, he heard it: that feminine voice. Frail, faint, and so utterly scared.

Its familiarity so potent, something clogged in his throat.

"... Ed..."

That voice. The voice he waited for so many years by the porch. The voice he dreamed of in his sleep. Screaming. Crying for help. Calling for his name.

"... Edward..."

The same voice that recited sweet words of so much care, so much love and adoration to him every day. The voice that followed a gentle embrace, the smell of perfume and a prolonged kiss. The same voice that said "I do" by the altar over 12 years ago, that whispered close to his ear, giggling with joy. The voice that chatted to him relentlessly, which he couldn't get enough of. The voice that laughed, cried, shouted, only to say sweet words of gentle love again. That melodic yet striking voice. Edward didn't notice the tears falling from his face. Didn't notice the gun falling to the ground. Didn't notice his feet moving on his own, towards the shed, towards the faint possibility that she was behind it. He stumbled faster towards it, raising a trembling hand. "C-Cordelia?!" "NO! DON'T COME CLOSER!" The powerful shout made him stop dead on his tracks, ears complaining from its sheer force. He never heard his wife sound so... Desperate. In panic. "... H-honey...?" "Pl-please... D-don't come closer yet." She said, her voice returning to its normal pitch, but shaking with trepidation.

"W-what's wrong...? Did I –"

Then he remembered it. The gun. The shootings. The fact he almost killed his own wife. His heart sank, face turning pale, his voice hoarse.

"Oh God. It's - it's really you, it was you and I almost, I-I a-almost... A-are you hurt? Are you bleeding? I –"

Edward took more shaking steps towards it, the nightmare of his dead wife still clear in his mind.

"NO!" - He stopped again. - "I-I'm fine! I'm not hurt, you d-didn’t hit me."

Edward covered his face with a hand and stopped himself from wanting to vomit.

"Cordelia I'm- ... I-I'm so, so sorry I thought it was a thief, I..."

He lowered his head, and took a shaky breath.

"Am I going crazy? Is – is it r-really you?! I, I waited for s-so long – I thought you were dead —!"

Tears poured desperately from Edward's eyes, his attempts to stop his sobs coming in vain. He hiccupped under his cries, breathing rapidly as reality came crashing down and years of restrained emotion leaked out. The voice sounded just like her. The voice could really be her.

‘Then, if it’s her, why is she hiding?’

"Please, d-dear, if it's really you..." - he whispered, his voice croaky and dry. Tears continued to fall.

"Please let me see you..." The shed grew eerily silent. Cold air made him quiver. A silent second spread throughout the night, the sounds of his sobs echoing through the pitch-black darkness. "I... I can't."

She whispered back in a shaky voice. Unsure. Afraid. Edward raised his head, glancing to the fallen gun on the grass, a realization hitting deep inside his stomach. "Are you scared of me...?" A pause. He heard her sucking in a breath. A long, deep exhale was carried by the wind. Her voice faint and trembling. "N-no... Dear, I... I'm not scared of you." The shed's wood creaked, like something was gripping it and scratching it down. "...I'm scared of myself." Edward's guilty expression changed to confusion. He furrowed his brows. A part of him wanted to giggle. His adorable wife, scared of herself? Why? She always had some impatience and anger she was discontent about, but even so... That made no sense. The way she acted, hiding from him, made no sense. Another part of Edward felt an odd sense of dread. As if something was not right. "Honey, why are you hiding from me? I... I waited for so long... I-I searched everywhere for you, and when I couldn't find anything, I waited. And when I couldn't wait anymore, I prayed. I hoped. I-I never paid attention to what the others said, even if they called me crazy." He took a step towards the shed. She sucked in a breath. Edward didn't notice more tears started to pour from his face. "And it's you, r-right? It's you who's behind here, right? Alive and well? Please dear... Don't let me think I've gone crazy!" He took another step closer. Then another. She whimpered behind the decrepit barn. Edward's vision was blurry from his own tears, but he didn't care anymore. He just needed to see her, even if it wasn't true. Even if he died.

Gosh, he just wanted to see her.

"Honey, DON'T!" The sheer loudness of her rigid voice made him stop dead on his tracks again. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Cordelia interrupted him.

"It's n-not... It's not that I'm not alive and well, Edward..." "So why are y-"

"...I-it's that I don't know what I am anymore..." He paused. That uneasy sense of dread sank heavier inside him. "What...? Cordelia, what do you mean-" "If I," – She interrupted, taking a deep breath. – "If I really come out of this shed, Will you promise, promise me that you will not run?" A shiver ran down his spine. Heartbeat rocked harder against his chest. Something's not right. Something's clearly not right. But Edward planted his feet firmly on the ground. It was his wife's voice. He lost her seven years ago. He doesn't know what happened to her in that time. She could be different from how she looked back then, hurt and bruised from whatever abuse they inflicted on her. Rage bubbled up inside him. Whoever did anything to her, he would kill them in cold blood. They would pay for taking her away from him. Being hurt and disfigured by her captors… That was probably what Cordelia meant.

There was no need for him to feel so nervous.

"You know I love you, dear... No matter what. You know I'd never run away from you... So why would you even ask that?"

"Please, Edward." She said louder than he expected. Desperate. Too desperate. "Please promise you won't run." The moonlight cast over the shed, the little gaps between the wooden plates showing a faint shadow behind it. A hulking mass, piled up like a bundle of hay, a head peeking out of the lump as if there was no body attached to it. Edward's eyes widened, heart drumming faster in his chest. Cold sweat scurried down his forehead. 'What is that?' And yet, he couldn't deny the pleading voice of his wife, sounding exactly as she did seven years ago. It couldn't possibly not be her. Something grave must have happened when she was gone, and that's why she was so afraid. Yes, that's most likely it.

So Edward gulped his nervousness down, and wiped the sweat from his face.

"Honey... I promise I won't run away from you... I would never run away from you."

A light, quiet wail whispered in the cold night, slowly dwindling down. A sniff sounded behind the shed. A long inhale and exhale belonging to powerful lungs.

Silence.

"... Alright."

And the heavy sound of something dragging over the earth.

A form encased in shadow peeked from the wooden walls over fourteen feet above him. Edward took a while to notice the large silhouette was a head. His wife's head. It was truly, truly her! Looking just like he remembered and – pale. So sickeningly pale. A dark and somber expression covered her face. Her eyes were baggy and downcast, white lips trembling. But more importantly, he couldn't understand why she has so high up.

"P-please..." - she uttered, almost to herself. - Please don't run..." Gargantuan claws appeared next to her, black, sharp nails curling over the creaking wood. A long, bony hand covered by charcoal scales. His wife pressed her eyes firmly shut. Edward took a step back, his mouth going dry. The sinking feeling in his stomach cut deeper. And then he saw why she was so high up.

The rest of her appeared under the pale moonlight, her form triple of a human size. A gigantic torso loomed over him like a small tree, covering him in her shadow. She wore nothing on her, long, mahogany hair covering her chest.

Then he looked down.

Black and yellow scales jutted out of her skin, covering her lower half, legs attached together in a single, cylindrical body that twitched and writhed as it came closer. The thick tail uncoiled behind the shed, extending further and further to Edward's right, so much so it could envelop around him if it moved. With loud thumps, Cordelia's massive form fell on the ground, hair obscuring her downcast face. Black talons gripped the soil as she pushed herself forward. Rough and coarse scales scraping against the earth as the hulking, round tail crunched the grass and lugged over it like a corpse dragging on the dirt. Rocks broke with a sickening "crunch" under its weight.

Edward's face contorted in shock. He took one, two steps back, eyes widening in horror, shaken to the core as his heart jumped in his throat. Pounding harder against his ribcage.

It was a gargantuan something, half snake, half something that resembled human. Resembled his wife. He mumbled incomprehensibly. Primal fear took over him. A crying, shaky voice resounded from the creature's mouth. A clawed hand the size of his head reaching out to him. "P-please... Edward..." He ran. He screamed bloody murder and dashed back towards his house, hearing it holler back his name. Tears fell from his eyes, desperation taking hold of his body. A deafening sound of thumps and scratches came from behind him, growing closer, coming for him.

"WAIT–!" Tha thing can’t be his wife. Whatever it was it could not be his wife. It shouldn't be his wife. It shouldn't be human. He ran through the house's corridors, left became right and up became down and the crunches behind him grew louder and louder and he had to hide, he had to hide but there was nothing in his room aside from the cold, old bed so he bolted, ran and ducked under it, mumbling shaky prayers, begging to heavens for his life. Begging that he was hallucinating. To not die to someone who looked so much like her.

That couldn't be real. He heaved. It can't be real, can't be real can't be real it can’t – He's gone crazy. Yes, that must be it. He's finally gone mad and that’s why.

But the cracks of the floorboards under the creature's weight sounded far too real for him to doubt. The scratching of the claws over the ground as it dragged its gargantuan body caused a fear too intense for him to doubt. The cracking of the walls as it squeezed itself inside felt too real for him to doubt. Edward clamped his mouth shut with a shaking hand, curling up under the bed and closing his eyes tight. If he remained immovable, if he remained silent, maybe it wouldn't find him. Maybe he wouldn't die. He gulped down a whimper that threatened to escape from his throat. Cordelia's voice resonated from the creature's mouth again. Weak, raspy, and grieving. It was a strategy to lure him out. Yes. That was probably it. It couldn't possibly be something else. Because that huge monster with crude scales couldn't be his wife, with soft skin and flowing hair, with her dress that billowed in the wind when they walked over green fields together. No. That thing could not be her. "Edward... Please, I-I..." She whispered under her heavy sobs. Loud thumps echoed outside the room. "I won't hurt you... Please believe me!"

The sobs that sounded so much like her broke his heart in half. But he remembered to what it belonged to. He would not fall for it. Even if he wanted to scream for help, knowing that no one would come. Even if a part of him wanted nothing more than believe it was all true and run towards its scaly arms. He gulped down his screams of fear, and remained silent. Frozen. Unmoving. He would not fall for it

The scrapes and scratches got louder. Scales hissed over the floorboards that chirred in protest.

"I'm not a monster. I'm not –" A claw unhinged itself from the floor and the creature raised itself up. A loud bump thundered on the ceiling, a shocked gasp echoed in the dry air. Edward clutched his eyes shut. Dust and debris fell on the ground. The monster laid down again, a heavy bang thundering in the silent house. The floorboards groaned as it settled on the ground.

"If you... If you look at me like that again, I-I think I'll go crazy... I can't stand it!"

Loud sobs filled the house. Edward flinched and clutched his eyes shut, breathing heavily, curling further inside himself. He resisted the urge to break down into tears.

The dragging and shuffling got heavier. The floorboards of his bedroom, the ones he was currently laid over, creaked in complaint of the weight being placed upon them. The sound got louder. Closer.

It was entering his room.

He sucked in a quivering gasp. Heart threatening to escape his throat, he shook as if the room was freezing cold, tears cascading down his face at the thought that he really could die now. He would die. He would die. Maybe he should. Maybe she should just end him.

He saw it. The black and yellow scales, shimmering as it moved. The snake body crawling as it reached the door, so massive it got stuck in the door frame. A push or two and it got free, the walls around it cracked, dust fell around him and a crunching sound reverberated in the room. Black claws scraped the ground, wood screeching in the deafening silence. A towering human body, pale torso as tall as him, laid down, auburn locks of hair trailing on the floor. The face obscured by its raised head.

It stopped moving. He looked at its skin with heaving breaths and widened eyes.

They remained still for what felt like an eternity. The only sound was his own heartbeat, his breathing and the creature's. The tail twitched and thumped against the walls with a loud noise. He flinched as his eyes darted back and forth, hearing the friction of scales against wood.

Silence.

She sniffed. And spoke first. "... When the civil war happened, we hid here once. You would wrap your arms around me, and we'd curl up together under the bed, praying that it'd protect us." – she whispered.

"– But even when I cried, even when we thought we would die, I still felt safe with you. Do you remember that, dear…?"

The sorrowful voice spoke of memories that a monster should not have. Edward felt cold. So cold, alone under that bed.

He closed his eyes tightly shut. Maybe, after a while, he wouldn't see her when he opened them. Hugging himself, Edward shuddered as a shiver crawled up his spine. Maybe he could still return to a normal life, where he didn’t hallucinate. Maybe he could still pretend none of this happened.

There was a shifting sound, and he sucked in a trepid breath. A thud, right in front of him. With his lips trembling, and teeth grinding against each other, Edward wondered if his death would be quick. But time stretched as the room fell into stifling silence, the monster's breathing ruffling on his face. It was right in front of him. He knew. He knew that he should just keep his eyes closed, waiting for his death. He knew that. His heart hurt inside his ribcage from pounding so hard, and his stomach sank lower with fear. He should close his eyes more firmly. He should just wait a while longer.

But instead, he opened them.

Her face. Her same crying face, if not for the magnified size and its greyish blue eyes with slitted pupils. A shadow of what once was her. His wife. The one he waited for so long. The one he imagined walking back to him as he sat by that porch every day. It did come back, as a monster, a ghost ready to haunt him, blame him for the pathetic man that he was, for not being able to prevent her from going missing. A reflection of what he lost. Evidence of his cowardice. A sign that he has gone mad.

That's what he wanted to believe.

But the face that resembled his wife so faithfully mirrored his expression of dread and grief. It covered itself in such humanity, with the exhausted eyes dripping with tears. With the mouth, when its pale lips parted as it sucked in a shaky breath, even if it revealed sharp teeth underneath. With its thick, auburn hair as it clung to her sweating face. It looked so distinctly human. So distinctly real. Not at all like a ghost. Not at all like a monster out to hunt him.

In that closeup by the gap under the bed, it just looked like his wife.

Edward’s breathing got less exasperated. His heart rocked less inside his chest. His tears dried as his widened eyes remained frozen on the figure before him. He glared at its mouth, as it opened to speak.

"Edward..." It whispered. So silently, so tender yet certain, just like the time when he had her by his side.

"... I am real."

The tears resurfaced, a mix of fear, hope and despair turned into quiet, then loud sobs, then muffled screams as Edward cried and curled up further under the bed, letting out years of frustration. Years of guilt as it made his chest hurt and his breathing to narrow. He couldn't hear her, who was sobbing on her own, as he drowned in the sorrows that leaked out of his weathered body like a dam that has been broken. Did he have her back? Could he really put a stop to this? He felt guilty. So guilty. Was that his fault? If he found her, would she have turned out like this? No, she wouldn’t. He knew she wouldn’t and that was why the tears wouldn’t stop. If the monster wanted to hurt him, Edward wouldn’t blame it, not even a little.

When he started to calm down, he didn't realize the creature was still there, in front of him, with tears gathered on its enlarged face. He regained his breath, steadily and gradually, refocusing his eyes on the grey blue irises. Her gaze softened, just like when she greeted him home after a tiring day, eyes inviting him for peaceful rest.

He needed that rest. More so than any other day.

"If I... If I move away, will you come out?"

She whispered so quietly Edward struggled to hear it. But it still sounded the same, that sweet, honeyed voice that said “I love you” with so much earnest and ease. But a part of him still doubted. His body still trembled under her alien gaze. Doubts echoed in his mind, and adrenaline pumped in his veins. If this was her, then how? Why? What kind of degenerate devil would do this to her?

But still, he wanted to believe... He did, but... He didn't want to die.

"Dear... If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I'd already done so?"

There it was, her bolder side, the one that always made her win an argument, that scolded him sometimes but he always loved it when she did. The one that now made him snap out of it, and helped Edward realize that he didn't have any power in this situation from the very beginning. The creature was huge and could see him. Indeed, if it wanted it would have hurt him long ago. Edward repeated this in his head over and over until it was enough to clear his mind.

In a glimpse of calmness, he managed to speak in what was left of his hoarse voice. "Yes... You're right, honey." And she smiled. A relieved, sad smile, one that did not have any hope in it, but that was glad he at least spoke to her like a person. Like his wife. Even if it was only for a little bit.

She got up, the long claws visible for a second in Edward's field of vision. They recoiled towards the snake creature's chest as if it had touched a burning kettle, knowing he had seen its intimidating appendage. It shifted its body away and the scales glistened as it slithered towards the door. After a while, it stopped. The area in front of Edward was free to move now.

His heartbeat rocked louder. What if the moment he leaves it slices him open with those claws... – No. 'Snap out of it. Snap out of it.' he repeated in his head, recalling the events and the fact that if it was a predator after its prey, he was already too difficult to be bothered with. He would be fine, Edward assumed. He had to be.

And if all of that was a lie, then it was better that he died anyway, granting the sweet release of death instead of sinking into his madness.

Because if all that he saw this night was not real, then he really has gone mad.

Edward took a deep breath. One... Two... The snake creature remained still.

Three.

He scrambled away from the bed and sat up in a hurry, heaving like he had run a marathon. Eyes closed. Waiting for the inevitable.

It never came.

So he opened his eyes, coming face to face with the creature's scales stretching in the distance. His heart throbbed.

"I-it's okay, honey... You're doing great." She whispered, voice clogged by her own desire to break down into tears.

Edward took another deep breath. In… And out. No closing his eyes now. And slowly, he raised his head up, searching for the face of his beloved. Even if he was shaking from head to toe.

His eyes trailed up her body. Nervous and slim hands, covered by black scales, interlaced over her lap. The scales of her tail became thinner and thinner as he looked up, their color contrasting against the ivory skin of her human upper body. It was ashen, slim, the torso alone was as tall as he was. He looked to the chest concealed by her hair, mahogany and wavy, just like he remembered, although the strands were much longer and thicker than before. And finally, he reached it. The same sweet, tender face, looking down at him. The trembling lips struggled to show a reassuring smile, forcing her mouth shut in order to cover the fangs underneath it. Those elongated eyes, with thick eyelashes that fluttered, blinking away tears. The same straight nose. Those previously beautiful blue eyes, now a greyer shade and with pupils like a reptile's, yet with that human, longing glance, darting around Edward's face as she analyzed his every expression.

It was her. No doubt about that now.

Edward opened his mouth and closed it, struggling to form words. Thoughts spiraled inside his mind. Feelings of guilt, frustration, anger, indignation. Fear. Sorrow. Pain.

Yet hope. Above all it was hope.

Edward got up, not taking his eyes off hers.

That was no monster. It was, indeed, his wife.

"Oh, Cordelia, what have they done to you?"

His voice whispered, thick with sorrow. He looked up to see pools of tears splashing from Cordelia's face, a clear expression of relief. She sobbed, burying her face in her clawed hands, relieved that her husband called her by her name again. Relieved that he was here. Relieved that he didn't see her as a monster, at least for that moment. A piece of humanity she lost, a piece of her previous life that she missed, a piece of hope that was snatched away from her seven years ago and that she never thought she'd have again. It was returning for her.

He was returning for her.

Cordelia was surprised by a warm touch over her scaled lap. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the rough back of her hand, looking down with a gasp. Her husband was rubbing his hand over it, tiny and shaking, comforting her. An attempt to reach out.

"D-don't. They are hideous..." Tears flowed on her face.

‘Indeed, they were’, Edward thought. He never liked snakes, their scales always making his skin crawl whenever he found one in the farm. The feeling wasn't any different as he trailed his hands over her, goosebumps raised the hairs on his skin and he shuddered with each motion. Edward exhaled shakily. No matter how much he looked at it, even if everything felt unreal at the moment, he couldn’t deny who was in front of him.

"They are still you." He said.

Cordelia widened her eyes and Edward looked up at her with compassion on his face. Love, longing. They both yearned for that. For the same feeling to return to them. For the same life, that was so cruelly snatched away from them, to return as if nothing had gotten between them in the first place. Even if it was a pointless dream.

They fumbled awkwardly at what to do.

Edward wasn't sure how to proceed. His mind conjured images of him holding her tightly, back to her human form, like a dream manifesting. Yet the reality loomed over him and the long tail that filled his bedroom in multiple coils covered his skin with goosebumps, a knot tightening on his throat.

He looked up and confirmed it, Cordelia's unsure face was there. He’s not crazy. All of that was still her.

She looked away under his apprehensive gaze, turning deep red and ashamed of herself. Edward took a deep breath; she didn’t feel well and he needed to fix this. He looked down. Then looked up again.

"Can I hold you?"

The question took Cordelia aback. She backed away from him and widened her eyes. Her tail bumped on the cabinet and he twisted his neck towards the source of the sound, clearly flinching from the movement.

He was still terrified of her. Then, why...?

"You don't need to do this, Edward. You did great already –“

"No. I want to do this. If you're really you, I want to do this."

Cordelia looked down and saw Edward's determined face. Her heart broke silently inside her. Why he was so adamant in dealing with her, Cordelia didn't know. But gosh, if it wasn't for his fear and for her disgusting claws, she'd have held him close a long time ago. She missed it so much. How much she missed his strong embrace.

So she nodded, and he came closer.

Edward couldn't quite contain how much he was shaking. Couldn't contain his jolt when he touched her frigid skin, chills crawling down his spine. But despite this, he pushed on forward, kneeling over her scaled lap, glancing at how they shone even in the partial darkness. With silent fascination, Cordelia let her arms hover around him.

A moment hung between them.

And Edward latched onto her. He rested on her torso and enveloped his arms around her, as much as he could, as they barely reached her back. Cold. She was cold like a corpse. He rested his cheek against her stomach, shivering upon contact. Gosh, it was so cold. He wanted to pull away. He wanted to hold her closer. Cordelia didn't remember the last time she sensed so much warmth. She felt herself getting hot inside even when she thought she was not capable of feeling warm anymore. Edward snuggled closer to her chest, and she sighed, relishing in his contact. Gently, like she was cradling an injured bird, Cordelia enveloped her arms around him, careful not to hold him too tight or not to loom over him, either. Gosh, the way her arms completely engulfed him... She felt monstrous. Edward shrank upon contact and she started to let him go, fearing this was a bad decision, but the feeling of his hug getting tighter made her arms remain still.

They stayed like this for an amount of time, taking in each other’s presence. Edward heard his wife's strong heartbeat against him, which grounded him in his current predicament, but still... Maybe he'd blink and she'd be gone, or maybe something would finally reveal that he'd made all of that up. Cordelia's embrace got a little tighter, not in a way that was hurting him, but she shifted around and her shadow loomed over as she curled around him. Her arms closed the hug in, and his heart skipped a beat.

"I missed you." she croaked.

She leaned over Edward, pulling him closer. He sighed in sweet relief upon hearing her melodic voice, feeling exhaustion weighing down on him as his body relaxed. He sank in her gentle embrace, kissing the surface of the freezing cold skin.

"I missed you too, dear."

...

They were laying on their backs under the early morning light, on the floor of the same bedroom where everything happened. Cordelia's tail stretched way further outside the room, disappearing through the door. Edward rested on top of her, not after much insistence that he wrapped a warm blanket around him. He ran his fingers through her hair, dazed, letting the reality of the situation sink in. He wasn't exactly afraid now, but the memories of the night made his heart twist with a mix of dread and guilt. Edward needed to know. How bad was everything that happened to her? Too much happened, she was gone, and now he had her back. It felt unreal and too real at the same time. And yet, Edward needed answers. Maybe, just for a few minutes, he thought, they could stay like this, and pretend that nothing had happened, but he knew that curiosity would get the best of him. Cordelia looked down at her husband with tenderness, watching as he caressed her hair, as she avoided touching him with her claws. She noticed his pensive expression and frowned.

“Is something wrong?

Edward hesitated, looking for ways to phrase his question. "What happened that made you turn into this?" He asked finally, tone even, yet with seething rage building up inside his chest. "Who did this to you?"

Cordelia sighed, closing her eyes. All the memories surfaced in her head like a messy conjecture of disfigured images and sounds. She took a shuddering breath, and spoke.

"I regained memories of you first before I remembered my own name..."

#this was my attempt at suspense #giant/tiny #g/t #hope y'all like it!#I've got some goosebumps while writing this so I hope y'all get some too lol #coffeh writes #story #writing #sfw g/t #g/t story #g/t writing #oc: cordelia #oc: edward #g/t angst #g/t hurt and comfort #gtwac #wacprompts

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verai-marcel · 9 months ago

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Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 22 of 28)

Summary, Notes, Tags, & Part 1 are here.

AO3 Link is here, darling.

Word Count: 4,003

—————————————

Act III, Chapter 1 - The Gate

As you entered the outskirts of the city, you, Halsin, and Karlach split off from the main group to secure your next campground, while the others started looking around for Astarion’s siblings and for Lae’zel’s contact.

You offered a small girl, Yenna, some food and a few coins, but when she asked to join your camp, you looked at the others and you all agreed it would be safer if she didn’t stay with your group.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” you said, kneeling down so you speak to her face to face. “It’s dangerous to stay with us. We have enemies, and they could hurt you.”

The little girl nodded. “All right. I understand.”

“We’ll walk with you to the temple, perhaps? Find a safe place for you there,” Karlach said.

You took her to the temple nearby, only to find it closed off.

“Murders? At the temple?” Karlach muttered.

You looked down at the girl. “Perhaps… somewhere else.”

Wandering into the refugee area, you eventually ran into some of the tieflings you had met back in the grove. They agreed to take in the human girl, feeling sorry for her having lost her mum.

“You haven’t seen Mol on your travels, have you?” one of the tiefling children asked.

You shook your head. “No dear, I’m sorry.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for her, alright? I bet she’s alive, that li’l rascal,” Karlach assured them.

“Of course she is! She’s tough,” one of the other kids replied, as if it was obvious.

Leaving Yenna in caring hands, your trio wandered a little further and found an abandoned farmhouse off the beaten path, with a large yard and ruined buildings.

The three of you looked at each other and grinned.

“Perfect.”

***

You had set up nearly everyone’s tents, while Karlach had wandered off to let everyone know where the camp was. Halsin was setting up his own tent, while Scratch & Owly were already running around, sniffing the perimeter and chasing each other around. Owly had certainly grown bigger in the weeks since he had joined your merry little troupe, and you couldn’t let him sit in your lap anymore. He had grown too large and would probably crush your legs at this point.

But he was still lovable and huggable, so when he nearly ran past you, you leapt upon him and hugged him tight. You could hear his childish giggle in your head as you rubbed his belly.

~~More, more!~~

~Me too, me too!~ Scratch added as he joined your puppy pile.

You played with your beloved friends, not realizing that Withers had appeared. His shadow spooked you, and you turned with a gasp.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“Hmm.”

“How… do you always find us? And why don’t you just walk with us to our next destination?”

Withers stared at you for a few moments, making you feel uncomfortable. “Thou needest not know.”

You shrugged. As per usual, his non-answer gave nothing away. “Fine.” Giving the two furballs one last pat before shooing them away to play elsewhere, you slowly walked with Withers as he claimed a spot in front of a boarded up, half-ruined building.

“So… You once said that fate brought me here, but it was up to me to stay, right?”

He closed his eyes slowly, then just as slowly, opened them. “I believe I said the rest was up to thee.”

“The rest of what?”

He did not answer.

“You’re infuriating, you know that?”

You swore you saw a hint of a smile flicker on his dried up lips before he returned to his neutral, almost bored expression.

***

It was nightfall before the others returned, gathering around the campfire and trading stories. You overhead quite a bit, and realized that there was a lot going on. As you flitted about, you could hear fragments of conversation, discussing their next moves.

“Oh, we ran into Orin today.”

“Really? So did we!”

“Wait, who’s Orin again?” you asked, coming closer to the campfire.

They described her, a changeling woman in a red outfit, murder in her eyes and a dangerous aura.

“If you think she’s nearby, just run,” Shadowheart said. “Find one of us if you can.”

You gulped and nodded.

Gods, is it really alright for me to stay with them? If she can impersonate anyone, she could…

You shook your head. You’d just have to stay vigilant.

***

As you finished all your prepwork for the night, you found Astarion sitting by the fire, tossing the feywild bell idly as he stared into the flames. You immediately grabbed it out of the air and clutched it close to your chest.

“Careful with that!” you nearly screeched.

He looked at you. “Calm down, did you really think I would drop it?”

“I’m not taking any chances.”

He shrugged.

You suddenly had an idea. “You don’t need this feywild bell anymore, right?”

“I suppose not.” He cocked his head, an eyebrow raised. “You want it so badly?”

“I don’t want anyone else to be tempted to ask her other questions,” you replied. “It’s bad news, messing with a pixie.”

He shrugged. “All right. I guess it doesn’t serve much of a purpose now that we’re here.” He waved a hand dismissively towards you. “You can have it. Just remember that I was nice to you.”

You grinned. “How could I forget? It happens so rarely, it’s like a little treat.”

“Cheeky kitten.”

“Stingy cat.”

***

A few days passed in the relative calm in Rivington, with the others investigating their various leads and returning at night to share notes. They hadn’t gotten much further to figuring out how to get close to Gortash without basically fighting the entirety of the Flaming Fist, nor finding out where Orin was hiding. Lae’zel had been close to getting answers about her issue, but you had overheard them talking about finding another way, because she had been considering making a deal with Raphael.

“You want to sign your soul to a devil?” you had asked Lae’zel later that night.

She had looked away. “I must do what must be done. The Comet will fly free again.”

You sighed. “Don’t throw away your soul so quickly when there may be a better way, with some effort and some planning.”

To your surprise, she had listened to you, and the next day, you had overheard them talking about finding a way into Raphael’s home to steal some kind of weapon.

Okay, not quite what I had in mind, but at least her soul will stay free.

***

On the first day of autumn, the others came back during the middle of the day, to your surprise.

“We found a little place along the harbor,” Jaheira said. “I pulled some strings, so we can use it as our base of operations for now.”

You nodded. “Alright, let’s get going.”

***

Walking through Basilisk Gate and into the city, you couldn’t help the chill of anxiety running through your veins.

The Zhentarim are here. They barely looked for me before, and I doubt they’d even remember the bounty on my head now, even if it was still available. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.

And yet despite your logic, your anxiety wouldn’t go away.

You followed the others as they led you and the floating disc full of backpacks, bedrolls, and rolled up tents to the water’s edge. As you approached what appeared to be a dilapidated archway, you didn’t bat an eye. After all, you were used to such shitty locales. However, as you walked through, your jaw dropped. The harbor site was ridiculously huge. It spanned several buildings, an abandoned chapel amongst them, with a magnificent view of the water.

“A little place, Jaheira?” you asked her as you set up the main area up within a large veranda. “This is practically a mansion compared to where we’ve been staying before.” You sidled up to her and eyed her curiously. “What kind of strings did you pull? Garrotes?”

She laughed. “Don’t underestimate the power of a few names,” she said as she took her pack from the floating disc. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pick a good spot for myself.”

You shrugged. Ever since she had permanently joined your group, she had declined your offer to cast your cantrips on her gear, and you respected that. She seemed a relatively private person; you could relate.

Setting up the veranda as the communal area, you hummed peacefully as you worked. A shadow overhead blocked the setting sun for a moment, alerting you to some welcome visitors. You walked over to greet Isobel and Dame Aylin as they landed on the lower level, near the water.

“Do you mind if we stay in your camp for a bit while we get our bearings?”

“Not a problem, although I’m sorry to say we don’t have any spare tents. We do have a couple of extra bedrolls though.”

“They can use my tent,” Shadowheart said. “I… can find other accommodations.”

You blinked. Then you grinned like a cat that had just caught a mouse.

She glared at you.

The others politely said nothing at your silent banter, but you resisted teasing her in front of your guests. “Well, since Shadowheart is being so kind, let me prepare the tent to your preferred temperature.”

***

You entered Astarion’s tent to see him reading that creepy book again. He closed it and heaved a huge sigh.

“Did… did you finish reading it?”

There were shadows beneath his eyes and he looked a bit weary. “Yes, finally.”

“Did you get what you needed out of it?”

He shrugged. “Yes? No? I’m not sure. It is full of terrible secrets, including Cazador’s bloody ‘Rite of Profane Ascension’, but it told me nothing new.”

Then he grinned. “Then again, it was filled with otherworldly power. Which I am more than happy to wield to my advantage.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Alright, well, as long as the price isn’t too high.”

“And what price would that be?”

“Your soul. Your freedom.”

He put the book away and patted the bedroll beside him. As you knelt down, he promptly laid his head onto your lap. You automatically began to run your hands through his hair, feeling his contentment through the soft touch of your fingers on his scalp.

If he were a cat, I bet he’d be purring right now.

“What if the price was souls other than ours?” he said slowly.

You looked down at him. “This is about ascending, isn’t it?”

“Yes, naturally.”

You blew out a breath. “I don’t think giving a devil any souls is good for anyone, even the contractor.”

Astarion frowned. “I thought you were with me on this. Besides, I’ll need something to protect me from the sun if things don’t work out with our parasite friends. This ritual could set me free.” He sat up and took your hands in his, meeting your eyes and looking a little vulnerable. “And you want what’s best for me, surely?”

You almost wished he was being manipulative, but from your touch, you could tell that he truly thought this was the best way. It would be harder to change his mind since his convictions were true. “Of course I do, but I don’t think it’ll be best for you in the long run.”

“There won’t be a long run if I die in the sunlight,” he replied harshly.

His frustration with you felt like a hot iron pan on your skin, and you flinched, pulling your hands away. He immediately softened his expression.

“I’m doing this for you, too, you know. To make sure we’re both safe. Forever, for good.”

“We can be safe if Cazador is killed. Your… colleagues… need not be sacrificed.”

“They’re not sweet innocents. They brought him just as many victims as I did.”

You frowned. Doesn’t that make them the same as you? Or even me, when I had to kill to keep my own life? “You don’t think any of them would spare you, if the situation was reversed?”

“No,” he said definitively. “No one ever looked out for me. No one ever said a kind thing to me.” He paused, taking your hand again. “You’re the first one to care. Other people don’t have a heart like you. You’re… you. No one is like that.”

“I’m not—”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself so short.” He gently caressed your cheek, a strum of possessiveness plucking its way through the tenderness of his touch. “You’re the only thing in the world I care about. And that’s all that matters to me.”

Warning bells went off in your head as that hum of covetousness grew louder with each caress. Did he just call me a ‘thing’? “Then listen to me. Don’t lose yourself just to gain power.”

He frowned. His hand, which had been gently resting on the back of your neck, suddenly tightened ever so slightly. “I’ll do whatever it takes to see you safe, even if you don’t appreciate it.”

…mine… MINE…

Your heart pounded in fear at the intensity of his emotions, though you could tell that he didn’t realize how much he was projecting. “I… I need some air.”

His anxiety peaked, but you couldn’t deal with it as your own unstable emotions began to make your heart pound. You pulled away from him and left the tent, not letting yourself look back.

Outside in the night air, you took a few calming breaths as you walked toward the edge of the water. The moon shone brightly in the sky, its reflection a silver disc shimmering on the surface of the river.

What is happening to him? Am I really the first person he’s ever cared about? Is that why he’s so focused on keeping me safe?

Staring out toward the horizon, you wondered when he began to see you as more of a possession, and no longer an independent person.

I need to set things straight.

By the time you came back into the tent, Astarion was already in a trance.

Perhaps tomorrow, then.

***

The next morning, bright and early, you awoke alone. Coming out, you noticed that your companions had already left on their adventures, having eaten some cold cuts and fruits.

Missed my chance to talk to Astarion. Dammit. I’ll do it tonight. I hate confrontations, but… I can’t let this slide.

As you were cooking a small breakfast for yourself, you saw to your surprise that Gale had returned.

“How would you like to come with me to Sorcerous Sundries?”

“I thought you and the others already got what you needed from there.”

He shrugged. “Well, yes, but there could be more information there that might help.”

You looked at his hopeful expression for a moment. “No one else wanted to go again, hm?”

He frowned. “I just thought you might want a chance to get out of camp, that’s all.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not even Shadowheart wanted to go?”

Gale sighed. “No, not even her.”

Laughing, you patted him on the back. “I’ll accompany you, my friend. After all, I have a few things I’d like to research.”

***

Staring up at the huge tower, you realized that calling it a bookstore was disrespectful. The place was a treasure trove of tomes, a wondrous collection of knowledge and lore that you could barely comprehend. It was hard not to wander off and get lost in all of the aisles, just reading all the titles. Gale told you he was going to have a look around and ask an employee for certain texts, and that he’d meet you at the front desk when he was done. So you wandered off to look for books about songs and the Sylvan language.

My mother may have never taught me Sylvan, but I can at least try on my own… if there is anything here.

After some searching, you managed to find a thin book that had a rudimentary translation of a Sylvan poem. It would have to do for now.

You also found a book from the School of Song that Gale had mentioned a while back, with some introductory songs. Purchasing the two books ate into your gold pouch quite a bit, but it was worth it.

You were already working through one of the songs in your head when Gale came to the front desk.

“Oh? Found something you liked?”

You nodded. “Yes, a book from the School of Song. Hopefully I can learn some new musical spells.”

Gale took you back to the harbor before heading off to find the others. You spent the rest of the afternoon doing some chores around the camp.

By the time the sun set over the water, you could hear some of your companions entering the campsite, sharing their stories of the day.

You realized that Gale, Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion hadn’t returned with them.

“Do you know where the others went?” you asked.

Wyll scratched his chin. “Shadowheart mentioned something about finding a lead while searching for her parents.”

You closed your eyes and tried to find that dark purple strand of power that you associated with Shadowheart. Now that you had subtly tried it a few times this past week, analysing the feel of each of your companions’ powers, you could quickly feel them out without having to see them. After half a minute, you gave up. She was too far away.

“I hope they’re okay,” you said.

Wyll patted your shoulder. “They’ll be fine. Karlach is with them, after all,” he said half-jokingly.

You smiled. “You two have gotten along quite well, considering how things started.”

“And to think I was going to kill her, assuming she was a devil of the hells.” He scoffed self-deprecatingly. “She’s a breath of fresh air at the end of a long day. I…”

You watched his eyes widen before his whole expression softened oh so tenderly. “Well, I respect and admire her a great deal,” he finally said.

Gently touching his arm and squeezing it reassuringly, you confirmed your suspicions. You love her. “I’m sure she’d love to hear that from you directly, once she comes back.”

Wyll smiled and nodded. “Once she comes back,” he repeated softly.

Supper time came and went, and the others were still gone. You prepared their tents and set aside a portion of cheese and cold cuts for them in case you were asleep when they returned. As you were cleaning up after the evening meal, you felt a sharp sting to your seal, one you hadn’t felt since…

Oh no. “Wyll!”

He came to you just as Mizora appeared, rising from a hellish portal in the ground, along with two other devils. She gave him an ultimatum, and with you by his side, he stared at the contract, torn between freedom and family.

You grabbed his hand, letting his fear and dread wash over you. Fueling your seal with his emotions, you searched for the right way forward. Please, please help him, guide his path to the happiest possible ending.

“Wyll,” you finally whispered.

He turned to look at you, conflicted.

“Save yourself.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “But… my father…”

“Yes, his father,” Mizora repeated with a mocking sneer, gaining a glare from Wyll.

“You can save your father without her help. But you can’t save yourself alone.” You squeezed his hand. “The others will help you find him, you know they can.”

Closing his eyes, his face in great pain, Wyll took a deep breath.

Please. Please take my advice.

He turned to the she-devil. “You wretch. Do it. Break the pact.” His face crumpled. “Father…”

Mizora grinned before reciting the words to break the pact, and stubbornly decided to stick around in camp as a mostly impartial observer. Setting herself up in a corner of the harbor near Wyll’s tent, she summoned a glass of wine and cast her eyes around with an arrogant sneer.

Gods, I hate that she won’t go away. You turned to Wyll. “Come with me, I have an idea.”

You guided him to the edge of the water. Taking out your dagger, you cut your palm, dripping five drops of your blood into the water.

“I learned this from a book,” you told him when he looked a bit surprised. Then you turned to stare into the surface of the water and began to sing.

Use my voice and my song

To guide my vision far, far beyond

Take my blood, a gift to thee

To unveil a sight unseen…

The blood swirled and suddenly an image appeared in the water. You were not familiar with the locations, nor the man being pushed into a metal container of some kind, but Wyll clearly recognized him.

“Father!”

The vision disappeared after a minute. You turned to him. “Do you know that place?”

Wyll shook his head. “No, but I can talk to the others. Perhaps they’ve seen something similar.” He pulled you into a hug. “Thank you,” he murmured. “You’ve given me another path.”

…grateful…anxious…guilt…

You hugged him in return. “You deserve to be free, Wyll. Don’t ever feel selfish for wanting that.”

His hold on you tightened, and you felt him tremble slightly before he took a deep breath and stepped back, his hands on your shoulders. Giving you a wan smile, he walked back with you to the campfire before heading back to his own tent.

You headed toward Astarion’s tent to heal the cut on your palm with some potion before going to sleep, but you heard your alarm bell chime on your belt. Hurrying to the entryway instead, you realized that it wasn’t the others.

“Who… who are you?”

A tiefling woman and a human man, their eyes glowing red, walked down the path towards you. You knew the signs now, so you could tell right away.

Vampire spawn.

You backtracked as you tried to head back to where everyone else was, but you stumbled over your feet in your panic. In a flash, they were upon you, the man’s arm wrapped around you in a chokehold, covering your mouth to prevent you from screaming. You stomped down hard on his foot and bit into his hand, which bought you a split second of freedom before the woman pinned you down, shoving your face into the dirt.

“She smells of Astarion,” she said as she leaned over, sniffing your neck.

“If we take her, he will come to us.”

“Leave him a message.”

As you struggled futilely in the tiefling’s iron grip, the man carved letters into one of the crates nearby. Helplessly, you watched as he walked up to you, raised his fist…

Then darkness.

***

It had been a hellish day and a half. Astarion didn’t expect to be playing rescuer, but here he was, helping Shadowheart bring her parents home, walking with them through the lower city to the harbor where their camp was.

Where she was. His mind wandered, imagining her smile at his return, his worried look as she fussed over him, her gentle touch as she washed and brushed his hair. He wanted to set his little witch onto his lap and languidly sip her sweet blood and fall into a lovely trance, her scent wafting around him…

As he stepped through the entryway, he immediately saw the struggle in the dirt, his witch’s footsteps, and the footprints of two others.

Oh fuck no. Nobody takes what is MINE.

“You all you better come see this,” Karlach said, standing next to a crate.

His stomach dropped as he came closer. The poorly carved message was as bright as day.

‘WE HAVE HER’

“Fuck,” he muttered. He turned to the others, scowling. “I know where she is. But we have to go in the daylight when he’s weakest.”

Shadowheart came back from settling her parents into her tent to rest. “When who is weakest?” she asked, not having caught the first part of the conversation.

“Cazador.”

----------------------------------------------------

Act III, Chapter 1 End notes: Oh no, what will happen to our dear hearth witch? We’re hurtling towards the end, six chapters to go. Let me know in the comments what you think of this turn of events!

Tag List: @numblytemporary @xalphafox @avitute @stormyjane7 @kmoon21

#bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x f!reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #writing #female reader #bg3 spoilers #your hearth is my home

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yukina-otome · 2 years ago

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Hi!

This is a random question but in what chapter in Chevalier's route did they first kiss or when did they uh... do it for the first time

Hello!

Short answer (No spoiler): First kiss is at chapter 19, first time is at chapter 24 for dramatic and 22 for romantic.

Long answer: Beware of spoilers

For the first kiss it's chapter 19 premium story, chevalier is the one that pull Emma on his lap and kisses her, during the carriage ride back to the palace.

Ps: If you don't get premium the kiss part is skipped but it does happen.

For the first time, it depends on which ending you chose:

For the dramatic ending: the first time happens at chapter 24 premium or not. After Emma chose the king, Cheva bring emma to his room and gives her a new job offer as palace librarian. After she accepts, he calls her by her name for the first time and they sleep together. (It was during the afternoon, those two couldnt even wait for nightfall)

For the romantic ending: the first time happens at chapter 23. Emma chose the king and is about to leave the palace, she asks Chevalier to dance with her and after its done, Chevalier suggest they sleep together so that she won't forget him. She asks if he will forget her and he says yes, he will. Which is the biggest lie ever since it's well known Cheva never forgerts anything let alone the only person he ever loved. It's a pretty bitter sweet first time, as they are about to be separated forever. The next time they do the deed happens 1 year later at chapter 24 premium or not, after Emma decides to go against the law and go back to Chevalier.

PS: Proof that Cheva still remembered every little details about MC even after a year: he had a dress made in her exact measurements because of how well he remember her shape in his arms. This is only said in a small line when MC tries the dress and is like wow this fits me so perfectly as if it was made for me and Clavis answers that Cheva had it made for her.

Here you go, i hope this answers your question.

#otome game #otome #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikeprince #ikemen prince chevalier #ikepri chevalier michel #chevalier route #ikemen ouji chevalier #cheva #ikeprince chevalier

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sparxaf · 3 months ago

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The Sun in My Eyes: Chapter Titles

Obviously, when I began writing The Sun in My Eyes, I had no idea was going to take the rest of my goddamn life to complete 🤣 So I titled the first eight chapters whatever came to mind. My absolute favorite is "The Midnight Bombshell What Bombs at Midnight" which is a very obscure reference to an episode The Tick. Runner up is, "The Night was Sultry" which is from a movie called Throw Mama from the Train. I digress... When I realized that TSIME was gonna take awhile, I started using song lyrics for chapters. I have a file that has hundreds of lyrics that follow the themes of the story like weather, light, sky, moon, stars, etc. And they're all broken down into categories of: Love & Hope, Sexy, Angsty, and Hesitance & Longing. So for each chapter I'd decide the predominate emotion and then pick a lyric from the list. Or rather I'd pick eight of them and then make @throughthejunobush pick which one 🤣

Every once in a while someone on Wattpad messages me to ask about them. So, now that the story is done, I thought I'd just share what the songs were. Enjoy!

9. This Daydream is Dangerous – Treacherous by Taylor Swift

10. Follow the Sparks, I’ll Drive – I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift

11. A Light Shining Through – Collide by Howie Day

12. Just Outside the Circle of Light – Circle of Light by Ani Difranco

13. Need the Sun to Break – Need the Sun to Break by James Bay

14. I Want to Give You a Brand New Sky – Sunlight by Mason Jennings

15. Captivated By You Baby Like a Fireworks Show – Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

16. Hand in the Flame of a Flickering Lighter – She Sets the City on Fire by Gavin Degraw

17. Here Comes the Sun in the Form of a Girl – Heaven Tonight by Hole

18. Everytime You Shine, I’ll Shine for You – Jump Then Fall by Taylor Swift

19. Kiss Me Once 'Cause You Know I Had a Long Night – Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

20. Shadows Bleeding Through the Light – Almost Here by Delta Goodrem

21. No Comfort in the Shade of Shadows Thrown – Lover of the Light by Mumford and Sons

22. Got Scared When the Lights Went Low – Soldier by Gavin Degraw

23. Just a Touch of the Fire Burning So Bright – Just a Kiss by Lady A

24. Wrap Me in Everything that Glows – Hold On by Delta Goodrem

25. Just Keep Me Where the Light Is – Gravity by John Mayer (I know he's disgusting, but I titled the chapter before I knew how awful he was)

26. Toda Mi Vida, Se Abriga Con Tu Calor – Enamorada de Ti by Selena

27. The Fear Before the Flames – Glitter in the Air by Pink

28. One Minute There was Road Beneath Us, the Next Just Sky – Falling is Like This by Ani Difranco

29. You Should See the Way She Holds Me When the Lights Go Low – Hearts Don't Break Round Here by Ed Sheeran

30. You’re All I Want, So Bring Me the Dawn – Need the Sun to Break by James Bay (again)

31. And The Sky Turned Black Like a Perfect Storm – Clean by Taylor Swift

32. It’s Hard Letting Go of the Afterglow – Headfirst by This Wild Life

33. Praying for The Light I See in Your Eyes – Believe Again by Delta Goodrem

34. Flicker and Sway, Still Dancing on the Aftertaste – Old Flame by Kimbra

35. Baby, Look Up, The Sky is Falling – The Happening by Tanerélle

36. Keep Glowing, I’ll Follow Your Explosions – Kill the Lights by Matt Nathanson

37. Like the Colors in Autumn So Bright Just Before They Lose It All – Red by Taylor Swift

38. Deserted Like the Moon is at Dawn – Sanctuary by Delta Goodrem

39. We Will Lie Under Different Stars – Different Stars by Trespassers William

40. Feels Like Summer But It’s Earthquake Weather – Earthquake Weather by Matt Nathanson

41. Day Bleeds Into Nightfall – Someone You Loved by Lewis Capaldi

42. Morning Light, It Stings a Little – Forever by Lewis Capaldi

43. Been Burning for You Baby Since the Moment I Left – Paul by Cavetown (some sites say it’s "minute I left," but I’d already committed to moment)

44. My Eclipsed Sun, This Has Broken Me Down – Hoax by Taylor Swift

45. Weepin’ In a Sunlit Room – My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift

46. Remnants of Fire Blow Like Sand in the Night – Map of the World by Mariachi El Bronx

47. Skinny Dip in Water Under the Bridge – Skinny Dipping by Sabrina Carpenter

48. Every Shadow Disappearing Into Dawn – Gold in the Summertime by Matt Nathanson

49. Making a Shelter for a Flame – Lighting Matches by Tom Grennan

50. Pocketful of Sunshine - Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield

51. Starting Like a Fire, Tonight You Lit the Flame – Everything Will Change by Gavin Degraw

52. Old Flame, I Fell for Your Inferno – Old Flame by Kimbra (again)

53. Under the Exit Lights as Beautiful as Ever – Forever by Lewis Capaldi (again)

54. 'Cause You're the Storm That I Believe In – You're the Storm by The Cardigans

55. Like Stars in Hidin', You and I Burn On – Undercover by Zara Larsson

56. At Last I See the Light – I See the Light by Mandy Moore & Zachary Levi (Tangled soundtrack)

#litg fanfic #love island the game #litg bobby #litg fanfic writer #litg the sun in my eyes #tsime #lilibob #bobby mckenzie #the sun in my eyes #chapter titles #song lyrics #writing process

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bestgrishaversequotes · 1 year ago

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longer quotes under the cut!

Zoya couldn't just brush past with a joke. "That's the moment? Not in manipulating a young girl and trying to steal her power, or destroying half a city of innocent people, or decimating the Grisha, or blinding your own mother? None of those moments feel like an opportunity for self-examination?"

The Darkling merely shrugged, his hands spread as if indicating he had no more tricks to play. "You list off atrocities as though I'm meant to feel shame for them. And perhaps I would, were there not a hundred that preceded those crimes, and another hundred before those. Human life is worth preserving. But human lives? They come and go like so much chaff, never tipping the scales."

(Rule of Wolves, chapter 9)

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"I took the cuttings from the tunnel that leads to the Little Palace. It's all prickles and spines and anger, covered in pretty, useless blossoms and fruit too bitter to eat. There is nothing in it worth loving."

"How wrong you are."

Zoya's gaze snapped to his, her eyes flashing silver - dragon eyes. "Am I?"

"Look at the way it grows, protecting everything within these walls, stronger than anything else in the garden, weathering every season. No matter the winter it endures, it blooms again and again."

"What if the winter is just too long and hard? What if it can't bloom again?"

He was afraid to reach for her, but he did it anyway. He took her gloved hand in his. She didn't pull away but folded into him like a flower closing its petals at nightfall. He wrapped his arm around her. Zoya seemed to hesitate, and then with a soft breath, she let herself lean against him. Zoya the deadly. Zoya the ferocious. The weight of her against him felt like a benediction. He had been strong for his country, his soldiers, his friends. It meant something different to be strong for her.

"Then you'll be branches without blossoms," he whispered against her hair. "And you let the rest of us be strong until the summer comes."

"It wasn't a metaphor."

"Of course it wasn't."

(Rule of Wolves, chapter 23)

#grishaverse #round 1 #king of scars #rule of wolves #the darkling #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai

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yahoo201027 · 7 months ago

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Day in Fandom History: April 23…

When hoping to find some answers to close the breach deep in space, Nightfall (Future Quinn) takes Gary and the rest of the Galaxy One crew to meet a Titan named Bolo to find the answers that they need. “Chapter Eight” premiered on this day, 6 Years Ago.

#Day in Fandom History #6 Years Ago #Final Space #Season 1 #Episode 8 #Chapter Eight #Cartoon #Animation

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ao3feed-twiyor · 9 months ago

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Oh bless my heart when the wolves take me away...

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/rMPkWAb by bumblegre (vidakovix) "Oh, Ostania, Westalis, the stories our children will tell..." Or; In her late teens, Anya was able to live a relatively peaceful life, traveling to Hungaria to attend University, peace maintained long enough that Ostania and Westalis's borders were open to every other country except each other. At 20, agent twilight almost blew his cover, and the Forgers had to completely go into hiding, mostly losing contact with each other in the process. Anya, now Anna Farkas, lives in Hungaria as if she was born there, married to Damian "Farkas". Ironically, it's a marriage of convenience. At 23, war has been worse than ever. Anya wishes to live a quiet life, removed from the chaotic one she lived her parents, but fate seems to refuse to let her. She's not only pulled back to Ostania, a place she hadn't been in years- but she's pulled back to her family... ...and, well, they didn't leave each other on the best of terms. Words: 4301, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: SPY x FAMILY (Manga), SPY x FAMILY (Anime) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Anya Forger, Damian Desmond, Loid Forger | Twilight, Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Ewen Egeburg, Emile Elman, Becky Blackbell, Yuri Briar, Fiona Frost | Nightfall, Sylvia Sherwood | Handler, WISE Agents (SPY x FAMILY), State Security Service Characters (SPY x FAMILY), Original Characters Relationships: Damian Desmond/Anya Forger, Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess Additional Tags: Aged-Up Damian Desmond/Anya Forger, like by a lot, mafia, Gangs, Damian went the "I guess I'll start a gang" route, Simp Damian Desmond, Damian Desmond Loves Anya Forger, Anya Forger Needs a Hug, Dysfunctional Family, Loid Forger | Twilight is Bad at Feelings, Parent Loid Forger | Twilight, Good Parent Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Parent Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Anya Forger-centric, Fights, Action/Adventure, Crimes & Criminals, Organized Crime, Partners in Crime, Damian loves his murderous wife, Dysfunctional Relationships, Family Issues, Family Drama, Mental Health Issues, Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst and Tragedy read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/rMPkWAb

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #twiyor #spy x family #sxf #loid forger #yor forger

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pro-logue-epi-logue · 1 year ago

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BECAUSE NOONE EVER STOOD UP FOR HER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE!!!!!!!!!!

SHE HAD TO FIGHT ALONE SINCE SHE WAS A CHILD OF 11 YEARS!!!!!

AND EVEN IN BLACKCHURCH SHE IS FIGHTING ALONE!!!!!!

#emory scott you are cool #emory scott is amazing #nightfall chapter 23 #the devil's night #the devils night #devil's night #devils night #the devil's night series #will grayson iii #emory scott #jo read's nightfall #nightfall #willemmy

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piracytheorist · 1 year ago

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Ranking SxF episodes least favourite to most favourite

No, I have nothing better to do. Temperature reached 42 degrees today (Celsius. That's 107 if you're American) and it was like that most of the day so going out was out of the question. We were also let off work today so I had a little too much free time so what was left was being inspired by a random video for another show and going at it for SxF!

This is all my personal judgment heavily based on stuff I liked. You most certainly will disagree with me and that's fine! Just don't argue with me because that's just personal opinions, I'm not trying to change anyone's minds or prove anything!

I didn't want to say "worst" in the ranking because even the episode I consider the weakest, you'll find out soon which one I'm talking about, is still a great episode that I've enjoyed watching in my rewatches. Just not as much as the other episodes.

There's a high chance I will change my mind after a while on this. I made the rankings quite quickly and more on instinct than anything else. But hey this is my blog I post what I want.

I chose to rank each episode by five criteria, the things I love the most about the show: 1) Humor (intentional or not), 2) Character (defining or cool moments and such) 3) Cute (mostly Anya and Bond adding to that XD) 4) Plot (how much development there is and how well the action is delivered) 5) Feels (of any kind).

So under the cut the rankings go!

#25, Least Best: 10. The Great Dodgeball Plan

Humor: 7/10 Character: 5/10 Cute: 5/10 Plot: 4/10 Feels: 4/10

Yeah, I don't have much to say about this one. As far as fillers go, it's pretty good stuff, and the anime team did a good job adding new scenes to expand it so that they could fill an entire episode about it, instead of shoehorning this chapter into another episode that wouldn't be relevant. Again, it's a good episode, but one I had no problem skipping in my, like, fifth rewatch of the entire show XD

#24: 22. The Underground Tennis Tournament: The Campbelldon

Humor: 6/10 Character: 6/10 Cute: 4/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 5/10

I'm not into sport-y action in fictional media, and this episode has a little too much Nightfall and almost completely no Forger family moments so it was doomed for me to be at the bottom. Don't misunderstand me, the action was good and Nightfall's ridiculousness was enjoyable. But not something I'd rewatch a ton of times. I also like that we got a little bit of political mention in this one, so plot points were added.

#23: 17. Carry Out the Griffin Plan/ Fullmetal Lady / Omelet Rice

Humor: 7/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 5/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 3/10

I think I've made my stance on the moments of Damian bullying Anya clear, and no episode of the show has made me as uncomfortable as this one has. It's still got nice moments between Anya and Becky and I love the small glimpse into Sylvia's life and the ending with Yor and smol Yuri, but my biases don't allow this episode to go any higher.

#22: 20. Investigate the General Hospital / Decipher the Perplexing Code

Humor: 7/10 Character: 5/10 Cute: 8/10 Plot: 5/10 Feels: 7/10

I'll be honest, I feel kinda sad this is so low because Anya is so adorable and such a GremlinTM in this one, but there's only so much her little back can carry. Extra feels though for Twilight worrying over Anya's stress. Again, a very well-standing episode as far as fillers go, but not one to keep me at the edge of my seat.

#21: 19. A Revenge Plot Against Desmond / Mama Becomes the Wind

Humor: 7/10 Character: 6/10 Cute: 7/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 6/10

I have to be honest. I don't really like George. He annoyed me more than anything else. Most of my enjoyment of this episode comes from the second part. Yor's part was funny and cute and even sweet, especially at the end, but as far as this ranking goes, the George plot dragged it down. Interesting addition, however, that xenophobia has run so deep in this country that George fears he'll be sold off as a slave in Westalis, so plot point up.

#20: 7. The Target's Second Son

Humor: 7/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 6/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 8/10

The two different part of this episode, once again, make the ranking a little skewed. I actually love the second part, especially the discussion between Loid and Yor. Loid picking up Anya and whispering in the sweetest voice ever about recording Spy Wars for her makes me fucking melt. Unfortunately, it's tied to an episode with bullying and no retribution, so it's dragged down a little.

#19: 18. Uncle the Private Tutor / Daybreak

Humor: 9/10 Character: 6/10 Cute: 7/10 Plot: 7/10 Feels: 6/10

Yuri was fun. Daybreak was ridiculous (affectionate). Anya was cute. Twilight in action was interesting. I want to remind you that I absolutely adore this show, so this episode being number 19 on the list doesn't mean it's bad. It means it's very good but not epic like the ones on the top of the list.

#18: 23. The Unwavering Path

Humor: 8/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 6/10 Plot: 7/10 Feels: 7/10

I laughed so hard at Yor decimating the tennis ball with the racket, that alone earns a high humor point. I loved the moment of Twilight supporting Carroll Campbell after he beat him at tennis, so character points added for that. Plot was interesting, at first I was annoyed that the tennis match was for nothing but then I found it interesting that it kind of paralleled Nightfall's obsession with Twilight. Feels points added for the end where Twilight goes and buys his girls' favourite snacks :D

#17: 25. First Contact

Humor: 5/10 Character: 9/10 Cute: 5/10 Plot: 8/10 Feels: 8/10

This one is only so low due to the limited points in humor and cute section. This was, after all, a serious episode, but you'll see down the line that there are other serious episodes that got more points in humor and cuteness. It still got 9/10 for character thanks to a great introduction on Donovan and 8/10 for plot and don't get me wrong, it's still a great episode that I like rewatching. It gets extra feels points because of Becky being best friend material and because of the "Is that why you're using force to bring other nations to their knees" moment. Hey, I never said the "feels" part didn't include angst :)

#16: 6. The Friendship Scheme

Humor: 7/10 Character: 9/10 Cute: 8/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 6/10

Unsurprisingly, the first part is more favourable to me. Yor saving Anya and Anya supporting her and loving her is adorable. We get a bit of spy stuff, we're introduced to the Handler and we love it, and Anya's punch was absolutely delicious.

#15: 8. The Counter-Secret Police Cover Operation

Humor: 9/10 Character: 9/10 Cute: 6/10 Plot: 7/10 Feels: 6/10

I'll mourn the day where I'll watch the ending of this episode and not laugh hysterically. It's so dramatic, especially with the music added to it, I've laughed every single time like the first time I watched it. Again, Yuri is both satisfyingly funny and with good character motivations, with a great setting of his extremism and not a condemnation of him for it. A bit of cute points added for the Yor and Yuri flashbacks.

#14: 4. The Prestigious School's Interview

Humor: 8/10 Character: 8/10 Cute: 7/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 9/10

I'll always love the ridiculousness of the Forgers bringing three sets of clothing for the interview. Character points very up especially for Loid defending Yor and almost going ballistic on Swan. Feels especially for the ending family scene, and this whumper also appreciates how the anime added the bandage around Loid's hand :)

#13: 13. Project Apple

Humor: 7/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 9/10 Plot: 8/10 Feels: 7/10

Again, I feel it's unfair that such a good episode ranks almost in the middle but that's just because the competition is very high lol. A good balance of Anya being an Ulcer-Inducing GremlinTM, Bond being the bestest boi, Anya and Bond being the cutest duo as well as all the other pets at the adoption fair, great introduction to the Doggy Crisis Arc, and Bond and Anya bonding!

#12: 3. Prepare for the Interview

Humor: 8/10 Character: 8/10 Cute: 8/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 9/10

After the first two episodes were packed with plot, the third episode comes with great balance of character and dynamic moments. Especially having read the original manga chapter, I feel the director and animators did a great job adding more stuff to expand this episode. The flow was so natural I felt shocked to know almost half of the episode was anime original. With all three Forgers coming together at the end to catch the thief, and with Twilight having a realization at the end of how Yor inspired him, I love what this episode makes me feel.

#11: 15. A New Family Member

Humor: 8/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 10/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 9/10

An excellent conclusion to the Doggy Crisis arc and welcoming of Bond in the family. That moment in the above screenshot alone is enough to make the cuteness skyrocket. Plot doesn't need to be high as it's the conclusion of the arc, but feels and humor more than make up for it. The only thing I would say about it is that it's hard for me to watch it on its own, it kinda needs to follow the impact of the previous two episodes. Which says a lot about how good the build-up and conclusion of that story was, by the way!

#10: 9. Show Off How In Love You Are

Humor: 9/10 Character: 8/10 Cute: 6/10 Plot: 8/10 Feels: 9/10

A lot of humor for Yuri's overdramatic reaction at the first part! Also for Anya's reactions the next morning XD This episode is very defining for Twilight's perception of Yor. He opens up to her about feeling jealous of her relationship with her brother, and the next day, from the first moment he feels hesitant and guilty over doubting her. Yor unintentionally but honestly proves how much she already cares for him and respects him and it's the beginning of her realizing how much she values being a part of the Forgers. Overall, satisfying and fulfilling despite the secrets those two keep from each other.

#9: 5. Will They Pass Or Fail?

Humor: 10/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 9/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 8/10

This episode sold me with how unapologetically it gave no single fuck. It was ridiculous and they loved making it so and it shows. Such kind of humor is art. A relaxing episode (for us, certainly not for Loid) after the heavy packed introductory episodes and the stressful interview one, we get to sit back and enjoy Twilight becoming the butt of the joke and get his butt kicked, while Anya, Yor, and even Franky have the time of their lives. Princess Anya is adorable, especially with her badly-acted "Oh, no, save meee" and the ending scene of Loid and Anya warms my heart!

#8: 12. Penguin Park

Humor: 8/10 Character: 7/10 Cute: 10/10 Plot: 7/10 Feels: 9/10

PENGUINS! Enough said! I had so much love for penguins as a kid that if I was gifted a huge penguin plush I would be hysterical. Among the best fillers, it still has a solid plot and good character moments, and I absolutely adore how Anya tries to help Loid in his mission in such a way that the only reason he doesn't get suspicious is because she's too little for him to imagine ever being involved in something like this. Which adds both to the humor and the feels. Extra feels because again, this whumper appreciates an exhausted Loid :D

#7: 11. Stella

Humor: 7/10 Character: 10/10 Cute: 8/10 Plot: 7/10 Feels: 9/10

Anya showcasing massive amounts of bravery and kindness, and finally being recognized for it. Twilight feeling genuine pride for her. A legit intense moment of a kid almost drowning. A grand rescue! It's SO GOOD YOU GUYS!

#6 21. Nightfall / First Fit of Jealousy

Humor: 8/10 Character: 9/10 Cute: 8/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 10/10

My biases all out in the open. A subtle hint that Twilight is genuinely happy as a part of the Forgers and I become a puddle of feels. At the same time, while it's clear we should root for Yor and distrust Fiona and her methods, it's great character building for her and spot-on dynamics between the rest of the characters. Anya rubbing her face all over Yor and Bond to basically tell Fiona "begone you foul witch we are happy as we are" is perfect. Loid supporting Yor (with a heavy hint that it actually means a lot to him that Anya is happy with Yor as her mother) and then showing a hint of genuine emotion that's so strong he doesn't even realize is seeping through his smile and I AM DONE. It's the beginning of my end.

#5: 14. Disarm the Time Bomb

Humor: 6/10 Character: 10/10 Cute: 6/10 Plot: 9/10 Feels: 10/10

I cannot express how much I love the "You know nothing about war" scene. It's so raw and so human and so disturbing (in a great storytelling way) that this moment alone makes me trust fully in the way Endo will handle the story in regards to war and politics later on. It's more of a character moment, mostly for Sylvia but in a subtler way about Twilight too, so it deserves a solid 10 in that regard. Plot is still heavy and action-packed, some humor and cuteness manages to sneak in, and then there's the moment of Bond having the vision of Loid dying which I kid you not, when I first watched the episode I felt like someone punched me in the gut. That alone skyrockets feels up to 10, but then there's also Anya apologizing to Yor for running off on her own and Yor hugging her tight while being realistic about the situation. Deserved spot in the top five.

#4: 16. Yor's Kitchen / The Informant's Great Romance Plan

Humor: 7/10 Character: 10/10 Cute: 9/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 10/10

Look. I tried to be as honest as possible in my rankings, and I ranked each episode separately before seeing where they ended up on the list. The fact that with absolute honesty, this episode ranks so high says a lot about how, though combining two wholly different plots, it does so many things I love about this show so good. Yor feeling accepted and genuinely happy over seeing Loid and Anya enjoy the food she made for them means so fucking much for me. That's her revelation of love for this family, and she's still got way to go before she even falls for Loid romantically. It's still a filler but it's so good for character and long overdue focus on Yor. Franky's part has sufficient humor and character on its own, and with Twilight deciding to console him at the end it's all tied up with a neat little bow.

#3: 24 The Role of a Mother and Wife / Shopping with Friends

Humor: 9/10 Character: 9/10 Cute: 9/10 Plot: 6/10 Feels: 10/10

I unapologetically barely acknowledge the second part of this episode because the first part hits SO HARD that the second feels like a commercial break in comparison (apologies to any who loved it. I actually find it a great part on its own, but when put next to the first part, it pales in comparison for me).

This episode ended me. I don't know if I'm biased on my rating because I recorded my reaction to watching it, and I saw myself laughing so hard and so often, as well as saw my own near-crying face in both scenes where baby Twilight was shown, that I can't help giving such high numbers on the humor and feels part. Though okay this episode wants you to feel stuff, so maybe it's just the humor part that may be a little biased. I wouldn't actually consider it the funniest episode of the season. Anyway, I don't think there's actually a lot to say regarding why I rated with the numbers I rated. It's a great episode that has a lot to say about Twilight, Yor, and their relationship and connection, and it's made with so much love by everyone, from Endo himself, to the cast and crew. I love it and I will continue to love it.

#2: 2. Secure a Wife

Humor: 10/10 Character: 10/10 Cute: 7/10 Plot: 8/10 Feels: 9/10

Yor's introduction is, for real, one of the best and most satisfying character introductions I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon. She is flawlessly presented in her full glory, with her (natural) weaknesses revealed. From her first episode you learn everything you need to know about her, and she is seamlessly inserted into the plot and the lives of the established characters so past that, you get to enjoy her being an irreplaceable part of the story. Her motivations are clear, her character agency is well established, and it's all done succinctly and efficiently within 20 minutes of screentime. It's fabulous. At the same time, the episode delivers great humor, a bit of expansion of plot and world building, as well as feels for how Twilight and Yor start connecting without even realizing it, and the hands-down best proposal scene I've seen in fictional media in my entire life.

It's for a fake marriage and still nothing compares to it. Your otp could never.

#1: 1. Operation Strix

Humor: 9/10 Character: 10/10 Cute: 8/10 Plot: 8/10 Feels: 10/10

A quite honestly perfect introductory episode. In a little more than twenty minutes of screentime, it establishes all of the following:

Twilight and Anya's characters and motivations, as well as their strengths and weaknesses.

The basis of the relationship between Twilight and Anya.

The plot of pretty much the entire story.

A succinct presentation of the political situation without long exposition scenes.

The mood and setting; a careful balance of found family humor and realistic anti-war stance.

At the same time, it manages a tight and self-sufficient episode plot that fits the characters' backgrounds and MOs, it delivers meaningful flashbacks, and all that while being honest about what it's trying to be, without fanfare and badassery trying to cover up leaks like flex tape. Every scene, every shot, every second has a reason and meaning. Paired with episode 2, it's genuinely a near flawless introduction to everything Spy x Family is about. It gives you all you need and prepares you for the awesomeness that follows!

#Spy x Family

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sukimas · 5 months ago

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Chapter 23 and 24. Renko goes to clown school.

#touhou #renko usami #maribel hearn #yukari yakumo #怪

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sanddusted-wisteria · 1 year ago

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How to Send Letters to a Star [Oneshot]

GN!Builder/Qi; heavy angst

Warnings: Major character death, grief/mourning over a spouse

Edit 11/23/23: Now with a playlist, for extra sad

Summary: An extension to Empty Skies, Hazy Skyboxes, set after Chapter 4.

The builder is gone, and so is their virtual double. Left without his guiding starlight, Qi sets out to navigate the treacherous waters of recovery with nothing but pen and paper. But this time, he isn't alone.

Also on AO3

A/N: I've had the idea of extending ES, HS for several months now. I originally planned it as a fairly long multichapter fic, but I couldn't really find a way to make it click. But just recently, I came up with this! It reuses some of the ideas I had in that original outline, but it brings them together in a way I feel is much more cohesive.

Just like ES, HS, this fic won't take into account any of the canon main story after The Goat, nor any of the implications of what's happening in Sandrock in the background at this point of the story. Pretend that these two fics exist in a "main story stasis" of sorts. Enjoy!

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Qi sat at his usual seat outside the saloon, waiting for his order to arrive. He idly sipped at a cup of tea as he watched the golden light of the evening fall over Main Street. He wished the frycook would hurry up a little. He wanted to be back before dark.

“Evenin’, Director.”

From the street below came Hugo’s voice. He leaned over in his chair to see him coming up the road, returning home for the night.

“Oh. Hello. Productive day for you, I assume?” Qi said.

“Yeah, not bad,” Hugo replied as he stretched his shoulder out. “Got a couple nice swords finished. Best ones this week. How ‘bout you, holdin’ up?”

“Nothing of particular note today. Though that’s not necessarily a bad thing, I suppose.”

Hugo hummed. “Sometimes a borin’ day’s better than a bad one.”

Qi nodded. It was silent. He took another sip of tea. Hugo scratched his head.

After a minute, Hugo started walking again. Qi thought that he would head back to his house, but to his surprise, he walked over and took the seat opposite Qi.

“Um…?” Qi looked over, confused.

Hugo let out a light sigh. “I know that look.”

Qi frowned. “What look?”

“You’re thinkin’ about ‘em again, ain’t ya?”

“N…no. I was just thinking about how I wanted to return to the Research Center before nightfall—”

“—So you don’t get reminded of ‘em again.”

Qi looked away. “…Yes.”

Just then, the door to the saloon opened, and Grace appeared. “Hey, sorry. Had a bit of a fire to deal with… Um. Not with your stuff, though.” She set the tray down on the table next to Qi.

“Mm. Thank you,” Qi said, mind elsewhere.

Grace suddenly noticed Hugo. “Hey, anything for you?”

Hugo shook his head. “Naw. Jus’ talkin’ with the director here.”

Grace’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Gotcha. More tea?” she asked Qi.

“Oh…no. That’s fine.” He handed Grace the money for the meal. She had no snarky comment this time. Not even a smirk.

“Cool. Enjoy, then.” She turned to head back into the saloon. Halfway into the door, she paused and looked back at Qi. “And take care, okay?” Then she disappeared.

Qi took the spoon from the tray and began drinking his tea porridge. Hugo stared out across the street, lost in thought.

“How you feelin’?” Hugo suddenly said. His voice was quiet, but it was the loudest thing on the silent street.

“I…” Qi set the spoon down. “I…don’t know. I don’t know to describe it, at least.”

Hugo nodded sagely. “Somehow…I know. There really ain’t a word in any language to describe it.”

Qi let out a quiet hum. “How…else did you deal with it?”

“Hrrrmm…” Hugo brought a hand to his chin, frowning at the ground. “Well…I remember soon after it happened, we all wrote letters to Rhonda. Me, Heidi, and Mama.”

Qi frowned. “Letters? To a…nonexistent recipient?”

“Well, we never put ‘em in the mailbox or anythin’. We’d jus’ slip ‘em into envelopes and seal ‘em up, and we’d put ‘em away with the rest of the mail, like she really got ‘em.”

“And this…helped?”

“A lil bit, yeah. Anythin’ we ever wanted to say to her…but never could… We could put it in a letter. Get it out of our system, y’know?”

“That does seem logically cathartic,” Qi muttered, mulling it over. “Do you…still do it?”

“Not as much anymore. Started with one every few days, but as we all got a bit better, we did it less and less. Nowadays I only do it about once every year or so. Jus’ to remind her I still love her. And that we’re doin’ alright.”

Qi slowly nodded. “I see. I suppose there’s no harm in trying it.”

“Yeah, give it a shot. You’re still young. You must have plenty left you wanna say.” He shrugged with a sad look in his eye. “It’s the best we got. Least until the Light reunites us.”

Normally, Qi would have scoffed at that last comment about the Light. But the emotions of it bled through the unscientific idea. He let it slide.

Hugo stood up. “Let me know how it goes…if you want. I understand if that’s somethin’ you wanna keep to yourself.”

“I’ll see,” Qi said. “Regardless…thank you. For all of your guidance.”

Hugo let out a low chuckle. “Don’ mention it. You know where to find us if you need any more help.”

“Of course. Good night, then.”

“Good night. You take care, now.”

Qi watched as Hugo left the saloon’s deck and disappeared into the warm light of his house.

------------

Dear Starlight,

Hello??? I’m…not sure what to write here. Hugo has suggested that I try writing letters as if you could receive them. Apparently this has some emotional benefits to it. I could see it from the way he explained it, but actually doing it myself feels so strange. I know for a fact that you will never read these words, yet I write like I can. I think I will experiment with this further…but perhaps when I think of more topics to write about.

------------

Qi ripped the last piece of duct tape and slapped it onto the box. He heaved a sigh as he looked it over. Hopefully the relic wouldn’t get damaged in transit. Not that it made any difference if it did. He just needed this thing out of his Research Center. Out of his sight.

He grabbed a marker and wrote down the address on the top of the box.

Old World Computing Technologies Lab

University of Vega 5

Vega 5

Alliance of Free Cities

No return address.

He felt his stomach churn as he shoved it out onto his doorstep.

That wasn’t them, he silently told himself.

They weren’t in there.

They weren’t anywhere.

------------

Dear Starlight,

I got rid of the virtual reality relic. I had it shipped off to a lab in Vega 5. Maybe they can get some use out of it. Maybe they won’t make the same mistake I made. Or maybe they will. It’s not really my problem anymore. I just couldn’t stand knowing it was in my Research Center. I reset everything, of course. No traces of the virtual Sandrock project remain. With luck, no one will even know that I was the one who sent it.

I’ll try not to write about this again, since I really do want to move past it, but…it still sits very clearly in my mind. Sometimes my mind still conflates you and your virtual double as being one in the same. Is that an indicator of the quality of my work? Or a sign of my own mental weakness?

The last thing I want to do is to delude myself again into believing that clone was really you, but even so…I felt like I did the right thing by you. I really, truly felt that you would have wanted me to erase all the progress I had made.

In that moment…it seemed like you were really talking to me again.

There I go again. High quality work, or my emotions taking advantage of me?

Now. Let’s put this all behind me. For good. I still don’t know exactly what to do without you, but anything is better than this.

------------

Qi was busy running the statistical analysis for his last experiment when someone suddenly grabbed his shoulders. He yelped and angrily whirled around to find Mint standing there, snickering.

“Sleepyhead! Why?!”

“Come on, Spacecase. When was the last time you saw the sun? ANOVA can wait.”

“Well, it can wait, but you just made me lose track of my calculations. Now I have to start over,” Qi grumbled.

“Exactly. So put it down for a bit and take a break, Spacecase. That’s why I’m here.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll leave unless I comply?”

“Nope!”

Qi groaned, but set his notebook down. “Fine. What do you suggest we do, then?”

“What else?” Mint shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in ages. We catch up.”

------------

Dear Starlight,

Mint decided to visit recently. Apparently he had some time off and thought to come here. Despite all the letters and telegrams he’s been sending, he wanted to come talk to me in person. I assume it’s to reduce the chance of me obscuring the truth when I answer any questions he asks.

I admit…he was right. When I started working on recreating you virtually, he was concerned about how the project would affect my well-being. That I would grow too attached to this artificial version of you.

When I told him this, he just shook his head and told me that he was just glad I managed to survive it and admit my mistakes. Even when he had left, he was still worried. He told some of the other townsfolk to keep supplying me with food and water and other necessities, since he knew I wouldn’t bring myself to do it without coercion. Once again, he was right. I never really paid attention to all the food being left outside my door while I was in the depths of that project. I only had one objective in mind. It hardly mattered if my body wasted away while pursuing it.

All the letters and telegrams were also a form of…insurance, if we want to call it that. Not only did Mint want to know about my well-being, but they acted as a sort of indicator. If I didn’t respond to a telegram, he’d send one the next day. If that happened three times in a row, he would telegraph Mayor Trudy instead and have someone check on me. Same thing for letters, though with a week in between each one instead.

I was surprised to hear this. Mint is far from stupid, but this amount of planning…it’s unusual for him. I asked him why he would go this far.

All he said was, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Now I worry if I’ve taken him for granted all these years.

------------

Qi was staring a hole into his lab’s front door. He’d stood there for what felt like an hour, half of him urging him to walk out, and the other half begging to fall back. Neither could persuade his feet to move.

He made sure to work a little later than usual today, so he’d still be at the research center after dark. Today, he thought, was the day that he would summon the courage to stargaze again. At least, that’s what he thought this morning. He figured that if he could force himself to stay out later, the probability of him cowering away again would be lower, since he would have no excuse to not just go up the stairs to the roof and do it.

…He could always just sleep here tonight…

Qi grit his teeth and furiously shook his head. With both arms, he shoved the doors open as hard as he could, the resulting BANG rattling across the empty street and through his skull. The chilly air and the dark of night greeted him. He stared out a little longer. Then his impulses took hold, propelling him forward into the darkness before he could shrink away. He stiffly walked up the stairs, stumbling and almost tripping in some places.

And finally, he was on the roof. The cold, hard, metal, empty roof. The telescope stood still in the center, keeping its watchful eye on the stars like always. Qi plodded over to his old spot, his legs no longer familiar with the roof’s incline. He sat down with his knees hugged to his chest, trying to let the cool air push the nausea back down.

The familiarity of the scene in front of him made his heart ache. The rock formations blocking the sky in all those particular spots, the moon peeking out from behind the mesa, the side street far below, and of course, the sky, that grand span of darkness dappled with boundless amounts of magnificent, luminous…

“…Starlight…”

------------

Starlight…

It’s still strange, isn’t it? Someone like me calling you that. I never thought I would be one for such saccharine…nonsense. But with you, it all just seemed to happen of its own accord. You made me feel and act in ways I’d scoff at several years ago. I’d get excited at the prospect of a distraction from my work, if only to spend some time with you. I’d never get tired of talking to you. I’d be glad to explain even the most basic scientific concepts to you. You awoke so many new emotions in me.

Even after you’re gone…you’re still doing it.

I always thought

You never

You were always

When I think of the stars

I still

You still

I can’t

Why do I

------------

Starlight,

Yesterday was the Day of Memories. I had to run out to refill my water tank, and I opened the door to find some lanterns left outside. I have no idea who left them there. But they at least had the foresight to just leave them there without a word.

For the first time…I participated in a town festival. Of my own accord. I wonder what you’d say to that. Actually, strictly speaking…I participated in my own way. Separate from everyone else. Your judgment call on whether that counts or not.

I released the lanterns from the rooftop, of course. I waited until I saw the crowd release theirs…hopefully no one noticed mine separate from the rest.

Did you see them

It’s strange. I’ve never felt compelled to do something like this before. But as I watched the lanterns and the stars…the sensation that I felt… I think I have a new yearly routine.

------------

Qi sighed as he started his next diagram. Some ho-hum cattle feeding device for the ranch man. Nothing engaging. Just like the last one. And the one before that. And the last 11 of them.

The pencil fell out of his loose hand, only halfway done with the first line. He stared at the point where the line wobbled and stopped.

…

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Qi jolted back up. What was it with people insisting on knocking on his unlocked door? Can’t they just come in? He huffed another sigh and went to answer it.

He opened the door, letting the hot noontime air in. He found himself looking down at the concerned face of…

“Mayor Trudy?”

------------

Qi stepped off the boat, legs still a bit unsteady from riding on the ocean. It smelled like salt and fish and seaweed. He glanced up at the familiar metallic walls, and around at the other boats in the harbor.

A familiar fishing vessel was docked at port 6.

Looks like they were home already. Qi moved on, handing his paperwork to the immigration officer, a tired-looking woman who probably wasn’t paid very much. She took a brief look and gave his forms a stamp.

“Welcome to Vega 5,” she droned.

------------

It wasn’t far to his parents’ house. They lived close to the harbor. He stood frozen in front of the door, unable to bring himself to knock. He pressed his ear up to the door, faintly hearing some murmurs of conversation. They were probably having dinner now.

He raised his hand up to the door. It didn’t move. As he stared at his knuckles, he felt a sudden urge to run back to the harbor and get the next boat back to the mainland. But he pressed it down and knocked.

Inside, something was shuffled around. Qi felt his stomach churn. After a moment of silence, the knob finally turned.

“Hello, can I help—” It was his mother. As their eyes met, she froze. “Heng?!”

Qi tried to say something. An explanation. An apology. Even just a greeting. But nothing came out.

His mother gave him a once over. “Come in, come in!” She opened the door all the way. “We can talk later,” she murmured, a sad smile on her face.

Qi slowly stepped through the doorway and took off his shoes. He looked around at the familiar wallpaper and all the same pictures on the walls, the simple but homely furniture, all the books that he and his grandpa filled countless shelves with.

“Heng? When did you get here?” His father and his grandpa had suddenly appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen, staring with just as much shock as his mother did.

“First things first,” his mother said, putting a gentle hand on his back. “Let’s get him dinner.”

“...I…already ate,” Qi lied. “I’d just like to rest now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense,” his grandpa piped up. “It’s only 6. You told us you always have your dinner at 6:30 on Thursdays,” he chuckled.

Qi sighed. “Alright. Fine.”

Everyone sat back down at the table, and a bowl and chopsticks appeared in front of Qi. He blankly took them up and served himself a meager portion. His family, meanwhile, started up their conversation again. Simple, light talk about their days. He could tell they were trying to pique his interest, but still wanted to give him some room to breathe. Never did they ask him anything, or try to rope him in. They let him just listen. He felt a pang in his chest. They knew what he was feeling. And he was grateful.

After slowly making his way through his food, he set his chopsticks down and stood up.

“Finished?” His mother gave him a soft smile.

Qi nodded. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight.”

“Alright. Sleep well.”

“Take it easy, Heng,” his father said.

“Don’t strain yourself,” his grandpa added. “Sleep tight!”

Qi nodded mutely and left the table, hearing the others start talking again, only quieter this time.

He walked upstairs to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. That was all he had energy for.

Right across the hall was his old room. He carefully opened the door. The last time he saw this place was before he left for Sandrock. Everything was still in its place. All his old notes and journals, all his Gungam relic figures, all the books he couldn’t carry with him, all the stains from past experiments. Everything. Coated in a thick layer of dust, but the same nonetheless.

He flopped onto his old bed, which barely fit him now, staring up at the off-white ceiling, dotted with star mappings he drew himself. His eyes grew heavy.

It still smelled like fish.

------------

Starlight,

I’m writing this from Vega 5, believe it or not. The mayor insisted that I “take a vacation” for a week or two. When I refused, she informed me that she told the rest of the townsfolk to not submit any research requests for two weeks. When I continued to refuse, she threatened to suspend my budget allocation unless I used it for paid time off.

I didn’t exactly know where to go, so I went to the only place I could think of. Back to my parents’ house. How did I think of it? I still don’t know. Some irrational instinct, I suppose. Regardless, here I am.

I didn’t tell my family that I was coming. It was so spur of the moment that I didn’t have the time. They haven’t seen me in person for years. And yet…when I showed up and interrupted their dinner…they didn’t ask any questions. They just sat me down at the table and let me rest right afterwards.

After that first night was when they really started talking. Both my parents took a day off from work. Which never happens. With the exception of weekends, they’re always up early in the morning to head out on the water to fish, or to prepare their stand at the market. But that day, they just wanted to stay with me. It almost felt like them staying home to care for me whenever I was ill in elementary school.

We talked for a long time. Meandered around the neighborhood. Visited some familiar places from the past. Not all of our conversation was about me or you or the…circumstances. But when it was, they had nothing but kind words to say. They recalled all the times I had written about you in my correspondence. They knew how much you enriched my life. They would have loved to meet you. And…they’ll always keep my room free whenever spontaneous visits like these would ever occur. Despite not returning to Vega 5 for nearly a decade…they still kept it the same way as it always was. Just in case I would ever show up the same way I did a few days ago.

It felt…a bit overwhelming.

------------

Heng, my little astronaut,

Care to meet me at 10 tonight? You know the place.

Grandpa

------------

Qi finally climbed the last step, stopping to catch his breath with his hands on his knees. He looked up at the vast night sky above his head. A rare sight to see in Vega 5. He was lucky to grow up so close to the harbor, pretty much the only other place in the city that was completely out in the open. But even so, the smell and the spray and the massive hull of the rest of the city covering one half of the sky didn’t make it anywhere as good as this.

Peach Park. The highest point in the city.

He looked down around the barren terrace. Near the railing overlooking the city below, sitting patiently on a bench and looking out at the sky, was his grandpa.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to be making this trek all by yourself?” Qi asked as he approached the bench.

His grandpa chuckled. “I’m still fit as ever. The real question is, why is someone as young as you having trouble with it?”

“Not acclimated with it,” Qi grumbled. “I only have to climb one flight of stairs at a time on a daily basis, not fifteen with steep slopes in between.”

His grandpa just laughed, echoing off the metal panels of the terrace. Qi just let out a huff.

Eventually his grandpa fell quiet again, gazing serenely once more at the stars. “Good view of Mars tonight.”

“Indeed.”

Silence.

Qi felt his hand twitch. What was he here for?

“So…” Qi muttered. “Did you…have anything in particular to discuss?”

His grandpa closed his eyes, a soft smile just barely visible in the fading moonlight.

------------

Starlight,

I never met my paternal grandmother. She died shortly before I was born. For as long as I’ve known him, my grandpa has always been a widower. Yet somehow, it never crossed my mind to think of him in that kind of capacity. He was always my mentor more than anything else. My very first research advisor.

He called me up to the highest point in the city, just like all those years ago when he brought me up there and ignited my passion for the sciences. This time, though, there was nothing scientific about what we discussed.

He told me more about my grandmother. I had heard some things about her before, from stories that both my grandpa and my father told me, but hearing about her like this was completely different.

They met in university. Studying different fields, but their mutual hatred of their calculus professor brought them together. They spent so much time together studying at the library, then in cafes and restaurants, then in each other’s dorms and labs, then in the home they shared.

One day, she caught a cold. Then it got worse. Then she developed pneumonia. Then she was gone. And my grandpa was left alone.

And now, his own grandson is going through the same. If either of us were any less scientifically-minded, perhaps we’d call it a curse. An omen, maybe. But it’s neither. Just identical tragedies that happened to two people that happen to be genetically related. That’s all.

That’s…all.

He told me not to let myself get consumed by work as my only way to cope. And this was the part that really got me thinking: he told me that successes from work and the happiness that comes with them are a different kind of happiness than I can get from other people. People like you and Mint and my family. No matter how much work I do, it can never fill the void your passing left behind.

All of a sudden, the stint with the virtual reality relic makes a lot more sense.

At first I misunderstood him. I thought he was trying to get me to completely stop my work. But he quickly corrected me. I can and should work whenever possible. It’s just that it cannot be my only way of responding to the situation.

When you died, I had nothing else I could do. There was no longer anyone in Sandrock I was obligated to. Nothing left…but my work. And work I did.

My grandpa…he made the same mistake, it seems. He would hole himself up in his laboratory for days on end, never returning home unless my father came and dragged him there. The first time that happened, he was infuriated with my father. He had never truly lost his temper with him before, but he exploded, trying to shame him for not caring enough about his own mother. My father was terrified and ran off. But almost the second after he disappeared, my grandpa felt terribly ashamed.

My father returned an hour later, long after his anger had cooled, and my grandpa went along willingly this time. They were silent on the way back, except when my father spoke up to remind him about his future grandchild. I was due in several months.

From then on, whenever my father appeared at his laboratory, he would let himself be dragged away from work, no matter how begrudgingly.

Whenever my parents were away at work, my grandpa took care of me. Even if it meant having to leave me partially unsupervised in a lab full of hazardous tools and chemicals. He shared all of his books with me, no matter how advanced, and would always tell me the definitions of any words I didn’t know. He showed me a relic spacesuit in his lab that was found in Sandrock. When I moved to Sandrock, he gave it to me.

His little astronaut.

He is arguably the reason we met.

And the reason I find myself here.

…I don’t know how I should feel about this.

------------

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?”

Qi looked up from the surf hitting the dock to the worried look on his mother’s face.

“Y—” He froze. “I…I don’t know.”

His grandpa nodded. “It’s normal to feel like that.”

“And it’s okay to never know,” his father chimed in with a warm smile. “You’ll feel okay eventually, whether you know it or not.”

The ferry tooted its horn.

Before Qi could even think, his mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His grandpa did the same on his other side, and finally his father pulled all four of them in close together.

“You can always come home, Heng. Don’t forget,” murmured his mother.

Qi could only let out a hum. Anything more and he’d risk the itchy feeling in his nose spilling over.

They all let go eventually. He gave them one last look as he stepped onto the gangway. They were waving with a smile on their faces. Not making too big of a fuss. He gave them one last wave before stepping onto the boat.

He couldn’t bring himself to look back.

------------

Starlight,

Recently, I’ve been wondering about the sociological concept of “home”. I know. Me, thinking about sociology. Utterly daft. But given the circumstances, I hope you’ll forgive some non-scientific studies for just a little bit.

Why do we differentiate a “home” from a “house”? What does a home have that a house does not? To me, both are simply buildings or other dwellings of permanent residence. It seems that a home is a subjective descriptor, one that holds the invoker’s sentiments towards their place of living.

To make matters even more confusing, I see in a lot of literature that people describe other people as their “home”. Most often in their romantic partners, but also their family members (independent of the place they live in) and friends. So is a home a person or place? Or just some nebulous sentiment?

I ask because…I’m trying to figure out what it means in relation to me. Before I left, my parents told me that I could always return “home”. But Vega 5…was it ever my home? Of course, I was born and raised there. My family has always lived there. But I never had any qualms leaving it. Forever, if I had to. When I stepped foot into the city limits for the first time in ages…there was no sense of nostalgia. No urge to move back.

It’d be inaccurate to say that my home was in Sandrock, either. My Research Center was my workplace. The epicenter of all my efforts and achievements. I just happened to reside in the same building. And your workshop was never mine. That was your land. You designed the house yourself. You built all the machines in the yard. I only was fortunate enough to share that space with you, to have my designs be put to use there.

Were you…my home?

Whatever we did, wherever we were…I always felt at ease with you. Safe. Invigorated. Comfortable.

…Where is my home now that you’re gone?

------------

Qi sat back down at his desk. Several townsfolk had already written up some requests for him now that his…sabbatical had ended. He skimmed through them, finding the most interesting one to tackle first. His eyes glazed over as he realized all of them were equally simple and dull.

He sighed and picked one at random. The ranch man demanded another, more powerful cattle feeder. He tossed it aside and grabbed another one. Heidi needed some crane lifts. He shrugged. It would have to do.

------------

Starlight,

Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can really write about this time. I’ve just been catching up with diagram requests ever since I returned from Vega 5. None of them are interesting in the slightest. Maybe next time.

------------

Starlight,

My work is…droll. I’d never thought I’d be saying that about science, but it’s just not the same. My hypothesis: lack of engagement. No one here appreciates the sciences as much as I do. The only people who come close are Fang and Zeke, and I can’t engage either of them for obvious reasons. Everyday I toil away in the Research Center, experiment after experiment, hypothesis to conclusion and all over again. And then I send my results back to someone I can’t see, to a committee of people I’ve never met, and then maybe, just maybe, someone can engage with my work. Over letters and telegrams. It’s like

It’s just like before I met you. You were the only one who I could speak truly to. The only one who ever seemed to see value in my work without hesitation, even if you didn’t fully understand everything. And now you’re not here. Everything’s the same as it once was, all that time ago.

So why does it feel so much more…meaningless? And why does everything from before you came feel so meaningless in retrospect?

------------

Starlight,

Sometimes I see this whole letter-writing exercise as completely useless. A feeble appeal to sentiment, that’s all this is. I talk like a madman to someone who no longer exists. And yet this is considered an acceptable way of dealing with the situation.

You are dead. Your body has long decayed by now and the sands have likely buried your bones already. Everything that consists of you, physically and conceptually, no longer exists. There is no scientific evidence of souls or afterlives or spirits or any of the ridiculous things that humans have made up for the sake of appealing to their emotions and shielding themselves from the truth.

There is nothing after death. Nothing that could be empirically shown, anyway. That is a scientific truth.

So why do I feel so disillusioned by it…? Why do I feel this cloying desire to deny it? Why isn’t there a scientifically plausible way for me to just pretend you’re still here

Why

Why d

I am the most ignorant person to ever exist.

I’m sorry.

Everything that I’ve done ever since you passed away was just to do that. To pretend like you’re still here. With me. Happy.

I suppose articulating my thoughts seems much more unimpressive when compared to trying to recreate you using an artificial intelligence. Easier to write it off as mawkish sentiment. But…it’s all one in the same. Self-indulgence.

…Is that necessarily bad?

I don’t have the answer. I don’t believe I’ll ever have the answer. I don’t have any answers. You aren’t here to help me find them.

…I suppose the only thing I can do now is what I’ve always done: be a scientist. To face the unknown and attempt to illuminate even a fraction of that darkness. To ask questions about everything and to constantly seek answers, no longer how long it takes.

Perhaps one day, I will be able to find the answers I seek. Perhaps not. But no matter what the outcome will be or how arduous the process is, I know that you will be in my thoughts the whole way. You always have been, ever since we met.

And who knows? Perhaps one day, I will be able to write to you and tell you all about my journey. I’ll be sure to brew plenty of tea to last the whole story.

------------

Qi sat on the roof of the research center. He kept his eye out towards the station, seeing the crowd gathering and milling about. The first lights started appearing as they lit their lanterns. He turned back to the lantern in his lap, checking one more time that the envelope on top was secure.

One by one, warm glowing lights rose up into the sky just outside the city. Qi stared at the hypnotic cloud of light as it expanded and twisted up towards the highest heavens.

He grabbed the matchbox and carefully lit the lantern in his hands. The glow from the fire warmed him ever so slightly. He took one last look at the letter, and carefully let the lantern go.

Up and up it rose, a little unsteady with the extra weight, but it never stopped rising.

Qi’s eyes followed it for as long as he could keep track of it, before it became another light in the cloud.

Another star in the sky.

------------

Starlight,

Hello.

Good morning.

Have a productive day.

Be safe.

Does the furnace need servicing?

Do you want some tea?

Read anything interesting?

How was work?

I’m sorry.

I forgive you.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

Don’t mention it.

Of course.

Don’t touch that sample, please.

Remember to keep hydrated.

Let me show you my latest experiment.

Fascinating.

Wonderful.

Excellent work.

Tell me.

Show me.

You should rest.

Don’t overwork yourself.

You’re very warm.

Are you comfortable?

Good night.

Goodbye.

I love you.

#i got teary eyes writing es hs. this? full on tears #why yes i was inspired by the fourth eva movie thank u for noticinggg #its my birthday today and the best gift you could ever give me is your tears :>#my only regret is that i didn't get to use the idea i had where qi bitchslaps yan #ah well #my time at sandrock #mtas fanfic #shady's fics #mtas qi

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