#now of course this newly found king is set to be cared for and as such will likely not drop for several decades at least

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt my salmonid ocs again... I need to design them soooo bad but at the same time I have yet to decide what to do with their clothes as while the traditional battle salmon pant would suffice my need to do needless extra work for the sake of worldbuilding is powerful indeed

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Man Among Ruins

So do any of you guys remember this one post HERE where someone told me about phantom of the opera!König? Well it's stuck in my head now. I'm gonna be reading the books, but before I did I wanted to start out with this little drabble here to set the stage.

TW: references to König being a nazi colonel (he left the army because he was disgusted by the nazis)

Wordcount: 1.5k

Art from This Post

Story below the cut

A Man Among Ruins

In 1861, construction of an opera house began in Vienna. Over the course of many years, an elaborate building of columns, gold and marble was constructed. Stone was shipped from across the land to build up into the towering building, carved to perfection by the finest sculptors Austria could find. It took decades of work, but the Vienna State Opera opened its doors to the public.

Music echoed from the great belly of the beast across the land. Many came to take in the great and elaborate shrine of the arts, a beautiful and majestic plinth upon which life, death, romance and tragedy was acted out upon, dazzling spectators for generations to come.

Glorious, beautiful, and tragic.

During the world wars, the building was bombed by Allies, reduced to naught but rubble. There were no sculptors who came from generations of artisans, most had died in the war. There were less painters of great standing, for they had died in the war as well. All the greats of the time were lost, and the people were left to weep over what once had been.

However, in this tragedy, there came a small miracle.

A man, tarnished by war and now an outcast among his cohorts, found refuge in the basements beneath the building. Nobody saw the man slip in, nobody cared when he disappeared amongst the halls and stages of the rubble. Who could care? And why? He was a homeless man who could matter less, so why bother him when he slept among rubble and bones?

Maybe, that’s where he belonged. It certainly seemed that way, at least.

He was left to his meager kingdom, and so he relished in it. He took from the scraps left behind, fashioning himself a gentleman in costume garb. He found a great cloak, one big enough to hide even his grand size, and he managed to fashion himself a pretty mask from some remains. He then hid himself in the darkness fro years to come, only leaving at night to feast from rubbish bins and off local scraps. Occasionally, someone would find him and give him offerings, taking sympathy on his sorry state. He’d thank them in broken words, and retreat back into the darkness where no being could ever have the misfortune of laying eyes on him.

But the Vienna State Opera lived on as more than a memory. This man, no longer able to remember his name of who he was, was awoken by the sound of machines and men’s voices. He ventured forth from his lair, hiding among the ruined gardens to dare see who would trespass on his lands.

To his surprise, they were architects. They were overviewing the building, debating its demolition or its salvation. The man suspected they would disappear, but they came back. He feared they’d destroy his home, but they did nothing of the sort.

In fact, they built around him.

These practical people were stable and pragmatic, undeterred by whispered stories of giant men who lived among the ruins. Instead, they took to teasing each other as they cleared out what was lost, and rebuilt what they could. 

The man watched as his palace was built around him. Great stone columns stood tall and proud in the yard. Cherubs fluttered in pairs above doorways. The man watched the building rise around him, and though once he was afraid, now he saw himself as a king of a new land, and so he called himself as such.

He would watch from below as painters lay on their backs as they brushed billowing clouds and lush forests onto the ceilings. He saw designers bicker and argue over which curtains to hang on the main stage, hidden just out of view in the newly built seating area. He would crawl through the catwalks to follow set designers shaping the stage to their views. 

And he was proud.

He had been a soldier, a good soldier at that. He’d risen up the ranks, but when he learned of the war he was fighting, he fled. All the titles he’d earned, once glorious and beautiful, now were blemishes to his name. He would tell you he fled the world because of the blemishes that consumed his face, but this was not so. Rather, he could not live to be a part of such an evil on earth.

So, shame followed him wherever he went, a shadow of a deserter cast onto the walls behind him.

Now, he was different.

It started one day when a young actor caught sight of him on the catwalks.

He only knew she saw him because she raised her finger at him, and called out a word he’d never heard used against him before.

“A ghost!”

A ghost? Was that what he was?

He didn’t stay long enough to figure it out. Instead, he swung out of sight and back into the darkness. He worried someone might shoo him from his home like a common gutter rat, but instead, he was more welcomed than before.

“It’s a ghost,” he heard someone whisper when he crawled through the backways of the building, now perching to peer down at the backstage where the actors had huddled.

“It must be a man who was here during the bombing,” said a big, burly man with a resonating voice.

“Do you think it’s possible?” a strawberry blonde waif of a woman perched on a velvet stool before her vanity.

“I saw him with my own eyes!” the blond woman from before declared, “it’s not just possible, it’s real!”

“Do you think he means any harm?” the woman on the stool finally turned to her coworkers.

The blonde woman thought for a moment. She pressed a finger to her chin in deliberation, then said, “I think he was more afraid of me than I was of him.”

“Well, if he was afraid of you, what’s the likelihood he could do any harm?” the big man’s laughter rolled like thunder.

The man smugly thought that he could kill them all within a minute of descending down on them, but was quite content to keep such things to himself. He’d come to like these patrons of his home, considered them a sort of family by now. He was more than happy to let them stay, as long as they didn’t try to drive him out.

And they didn’t. Instead, they welcomed him in with new rumors, and to his delight, gifts. They said that if the phantom accepted your offerings, your performance would go smoothly. The man was more than glad to ensure all their performances were exemplary, so long as his stomach was full.

He didn’t take too kindly to one woman begrudgingly complaining that ‘the phantom’s going to get too heavy to sneak so silently if this keeps up’, but he still ate her offered truffles happily, and when a stagelight looked as though it might fall, he held it in place the entire evening. Only when the last guest left did he let go, where it tumbled down into a cacophonous mess. She notably left out two boxes of truffles the next time she was set to go on stage.

The man relished in his palace. He was a beloved being, a mascot for the theater. They adored him and showered him with gifts, and he took them in kind.

Of course, looking from the balconies could be lonely. He watched them perform, acting out beautiful stories of love and joy below him, and he would imagine himself as the great hero below. He envied the men, sometimes. However, he still took their gifts and watched over them. They were all part of his watch, and he’d treat each of them in kind.

When the stage was empty and nobody was around, the man would go down and onto the stage. There, he would sing to the empty chairs. His voice would project, following all the tips those singers gave each other, and he would fill the entire building with his beautiful, sonorous voice.

So there he stood on his stage, singing The Marriage of Figaro’s ‘Se voul ballare’ so brightly to an empty stadium, accompanied by a silent orchestra. He sang with all his heart, his voice carrying across the entire hall and resonating back at him. Beautiful, glorious and true. He was glad, and you could only imagine his surprise when he heard a small set of hands clapping.

His eyes snapped over to the source of the sound, and there he laid eyes upon the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. And just as soon as he was spotted, he dashed to a stage ladder, scrambled up to a series of props, and ducked behind them out of sight.

As he raced back to the basement, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He could hardly believe he’d let himself be seen. And for how long? He’d finished the song by the time they made their presence known. A part of him wondered what they thought of his singing. Did they like his voice? He’d trained for so long, but he’d never expected an audience. He was never quite good enough for that.

But they had clapped for him.

Warmth bloomed in his chest.

Yes, they had clapped for him, and they had done so happily.

He would need to keep watch over this new little songbird.

Konig Dump

Konig AU stories

[curetapwater]

Barbie AU: Sonic the Hedgehog

(the layer his back quills and tail are on is hidden, oops)

Sonic is a commoner that attacks Shadow in the woods.

...

Lemme elaborate.

(spoilers for Shadow and the Magic of Pegasus, and CW for kidnapping, unethical experimentation, and mind control/loss of bodily autonomy)

Sonic the Hedgehog is about the same age as Prince Shadow. He doesn't talk much about what his life was like before Eggman, but we know he's been an orphan for as long as he can remember, and grew up a drifter who took care of himself. He'd travel from village to village, living off what he could and enjoying life despite it all.

All that changed on an ill-informed venture into the Forbidden Forest when he was 15. What had started as a daring little excursion became a nightmare when it turned out an up-and-coming evil sorcerer was using the place for his underground lair.

The human, who Sonic would jeeringly call Eggman, took note of Sonic quickly. The strength, the speed... same species, same general build... yes. A fine test subject for perfecting the spell Lord Ivo planned to cast on that lab rat who thought himself a prince.

Sonic was snatched up and became the first victim of a curse that coats the victim in metal and gives Eggman control of their body.

Sonic fought back, of course. His will was so strong, the curse could only last for 20 minutes at most before Sonic broke free and tried to escape. Unfortunately, this cycle only meant that Eggman was given plenty opportunity to fine-tune and perfect the spell.

Then came the prince's birthday ball. Sonic tried. He honestly, truly, tried to break out of the spell this time. He got so close, but in the end, he still stole the magical Chaos Gem from the king's lab. He still handed it to Eggman. And Eggman still used his newfound power to remove Princess Maria from the line of succession.

The chaos caused by the princess going up in a burst of cyan meant the last portion of Eggman’s scheme could not be executed as intended. Ah well. If he could not steal the prized palace pet, he still had quite the consolation prize. And with a Chaos Gem, now he could make the metallization permanent.

Banishment did not deter Eggman. He merely set up shop in a newly constructed castle of ice, and set his warrior upon the kingdom. Over the course of 50 years (he hardly aged in his metal casing), Sonic took a backseat in his own mind and watched himself rip the Robotnik kingdom to shreds, and erect the wasteland of the Eggman Empire in its place. Eggman cursed anyone who disobeyed him, and further maintained order by magically creating an army of metal constructs.

Sonic’s will boiled deep within him for those decades, until finally, FINALLY he was able to overcome the curse by sheer force of will. Eggman left him for dead in the Forbidden Forest and immediately set about constructing a fully metal replacement that would heed his every command until he could finally get his hands on his first target.

Sonic, meanwhile, was found by a young fox who went by the nickname Tails. He took him back to his home, the base of an underground (literally) resistance movement called the Freedom Fighters. Warming up was incredibly slow, and it stung every time he saw people understandably flinch away from him.

But he was able to find his own crew. Tails, who was different in his own way and empathized with Sonic’s sense of alienation. Amy, an orphaned tweenage hedgehog he saved from the metal copy Eggman had replaced him with. And Knuckles, who had left his home in Angel Mountain to stop the man who had destroyed it from doing the same to another nation.

In the year he spent with the Freedom Fighters, Sonic gathered a few skills such as blacksmithing (thank you, Tails) and swordfighting (a welcome change in combat style after decades of destruction with his bare hands). He met others outside of the Freedom Fighters who had managed to carve out a life for themselves, such as a certain hawk he found he loved to race against.

Things were starting to look up... until they weren't. Numbers began to dwindle more and more. Including Knuckles.

Morale dampened significantly, and Sonic couldn't help feeling eyes on him once more... He was test subject zero. He served the kingdom to Eggman on a silver platter... Now, what if his presence was bringing destruction once more.

Then Eggman got Tails.

It was the final straw. Sonic packed a sack of essentials (including Tails' old blacksmithing tools), his sword, and snuck off in the dead of night before he got Amy hurt, too.

He's been in the Forbidden Forest for the past six months, trying to destroy the constructs constantly spewing from Eggman’s oldest layer. If he's gonna bring destruction wherever he goes, may as well go where some good might come of it.

It's here where he sees a strange figure. Black fur, pink stripes... but what would that sheltered palace boy be doing all the way out here? It must be a new construct. Time to run it through!

How was he supposed to know the prince had just woken up to the mess his kingdom had become, and had struck out to save it?

@sonic-au-collision

[empressgeekt]

Trolls - Veneer dies and is reincarnated as Floyd's kid AU

Okay considering how well received, my RPBAM AU, might as well share this crazy idea.

Okay, so Veneer still in prison. He doesn't mind. He's one of the guards' favorite prisoners as he doesn't make trouble and is very pleasant. He and Velvet had to be separated, due to her kind of falling off the deep end after their arrest and it wasn't safe for her to be in the normal prison blocks. its all sun-shine and rainbows until Veneer dies from and accident on prison grounds. I'll think he'd get crushed by machinery.

The thing is, he doesn't realize this, until he's hatching out of an egg in a completely new place, in a tiny body that doesn't listen to him, coming face to face with the person he fucking tortured for two months. He is freaked out.

On the other side of this. It's been a few years since his capture, and Floyd has settled down in Pop Village. On his good days he's on crutches and on his bad ones he can't get out of bed. However, He's made a decent life for himself. He's started a small career of giving private music lessons to the trollings of pop village and has rebuilding his bonds with all his brothers. Poppy and Branch (or maybe I'll link my two AUs and it will be Char not sure yet), have married and are waiting for their first egg to hatch. Clay and Viva are engaged and have move the Putt Putts to the village. Bruce lives with his wife and kids, at Vacay Island but he visits as often as he can. JD kind of wanders, but usually sticks to areas close to the village or Vacay Island, with his camping trips as an exception.

Floyd would find an egg abandoned near the river, and his pissed about it and gets attached quickly. Even after bringing the lost egg to Poppy and Branch, to report the lost child, he offers to foster until its family is found. Weeks pass and of course no one claims the baby. Leaving it's fate up in the air. Floyd by this point extremely attached, and files to adopt the egg, with no one interest he's given the full custody. Floyd is over joyed by this, as kids had been on his mind before but that possibility had been ripped away from him along with his talent. It wasn't that he was infertile his body just was too weak to be able carry safely.

When Veneer, now named Vinyl hatches, he's horrified. HE died, was reborn as a troll, and was now underneath the care of the troll he nearly killed. Veneer feels scared, stressed and super guilty, as now he has to witness the major after effects that Floyd has to deal with. However, as a newly hatched infant, he can not express these emotions beyond crying fits. As a result he's a very fussy baby. Especially when his new "aunts and uncles" come to meet him. First off, Apparently one set of them are the freaking King and Queen, and no knowing troll goverment, he assumes that he and Velvet freaking kidnapped not just a boy band member but that Floyd was part of the royal family, which how in the world wasn't he given the death sentence for (not that that mattered at this point).

Floyd takes his new son's fussiness in stride, but he can't help but still worry. He has no idea what's causing his son such distress, he even took the baby to a doctor to see if there was an underlying issue causing it. He confides in Bruce and Branch (his and poppy's egg hatched, into a little girl named Rose), and they comfort him, calming his worries saying that sometimes babies just need time to adjust to being out of the shell, and that it's okay to feel a little unqualified at first.

Eventually, Veneer accepts his situation, and decides to make Floyd's life as great as it can be, after he helped almost end it. Floyd continues to be a doting dad, happy to see that his son is settling in.

Years pass, and things change. Clay and Viva get married, and eventually announce their pregnant with twins. Poppy and Branch adopt a trolling who lost is family in a fire. Veneer, now completely going by Vinyl, attends school with Rose.

Life appears perfect, until Floyd gets sick. Bad days begin to out number good ones. He'd dizzy and nauseous, to the point of passing out. Stubbornly, he tries to ignore it, not wanting his wonderful to be messed up. besides it was probably just a bad run of his conditions. However, eventually he can't any more...

Veneer, now three fully walking and talking, finds Floyd on the fainted on the floor one day, and runs to one of his uncle's home to get help. The brozone brothers force Floyd into a doctor's visit, which has everyone on edge. Bruce was visiting and took Veneer so the toddler wouldn't have to deal with the sterile doctor's office. Leaving Floyd to talk with the rest. The doctor's confirm his symptoms aren't from his pre-existing conditions, and that scares him. He's scared for his future, and the future of his son. His brother's comfort him. Poppy and Branch vowing that they would never let anything happen to their nephew. Eventually he has a confirmed diagnoses.

He's pregnant. Which his reaction to the news could be considered utter shock. Floyd had been told this wouldn't have happened hundred of times, and if it did it would end in disaster. As such the doctors advise Floyd to give up on the new baby, so he could be their for his living son. This sends him spiraling, because he wants his baby, but if he/they died...Eventually he decides to give them a fighting chance. Branch and Poppy, move Floyd and Veneer into their royal pop, to give them support. Which was a good choice, as Floyd's condition continues to rapidly deuterate.

This whole situation, only raps up Veneer's guilt, after all if he'd never helped Velvet kidnap him, Floyd wouldn't be sick and that baby would have an actual chance. Floyd thankfully makes it through the carrying, but the egg detached early and messily. Its purple and blue shell thin and soft, needing to stay at the doctor's office until it hardened properly. Eventually though, it hatched into a sweet baby girl, named Billie. Underweight and tiny but alive. Floyd is overjoyed, and Veneer vows that he'd never let Billie turn into Velvet.

Billie is taken home, however, Floyd notices some things that worried him. She was very quiet. Like didn't make a noise even when she was having a crying melt down. Eventually the doctors say her vocal chords are severely under developed, and it was likely that she'd never talk, speak or sing. She was basically born mute.

Once more years pass. Billie grows, she can't talk but she signs, Veneer fits into the role of her guardian and translator, and had become well versed in many different instruments, Violin being her favorite. Veneer is close to Billie is ways that he never was to Velvet, and how cruel his twin had been to him is clearer then ever. Far too soon, they both reach adult hood, with big music dreams, however unlike in his past life, Veneer is excited about it, he knows Billie will work hard and cheer him on just as he will. It won't be like with Velvet, especially with the fully support of their large family. And they found great success, Veneer was Billie's manager, and some times did her correo. Everything was perfect.

Sadly though, Floyd would pass away when Billie was 15, and Veneer 18. His weaken body finally running out of road. Veneer pulls everything together for Billie, who's a complete mess. The rest of their family is there, especially John Dory. He's around all the time now, taking care of them when their too broken too.

The fic would end with Veneer, playing with his Nieces at a birthday part years later. Billie was all grown up, successful, loving, sweet, married with three children. Two little girls and a little boy. This was his heaven, not his pence's.

----

So, that's my insane rambling. hope ya'll enjoyed.

[whump-card]

Forged Divinity Chapter 9: Leannan Meets James

1877 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, death, alcohol, abuse, choking

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Titus 3:1

Remind them to be subject to rulers, to authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good deed.

~~~

Phineas slit the throat of a laborer walking home after a late night and took his shoes for Leannan.

They fled southward, further into Gauthier’s land, before turning back northeast as the sun rose. They stole a quick nap in the shelter of a loose-stacked stone wall around a cowfield before pressing on.

Leannan didn’t complain once. Not about his ill-fitting shoes or being stuck in one set of clothes, not about walking all night, not about sleeping rough. If Phineas had known that fucking the whore was all it would take to make him shut up they would have done it far, far sooner. Now Leannan offered only prompt little “Yes, Phineas!” and “No, Phineas!” responses to the sniper’s occasional communication, accompanied by devoted, hopeful smiles.

It was almost boring. The previous attitude was annoying, but at least Phineas had been having fun knocking him down when he got too uppity.

Now, the Iowan was downright concerned for Phineas. He piped up on the second evening, as Phineas laid out their bedroll in a grove of pines.

“You seem to have a reputation – Phineas the bounty hunter. Kaŝpafisto. Won’t everyone know that you were the one to kill the King?”

“Of course they will,” said Phineas, unbothered.

“But what if his people try to retaliate against you?”

“They won’t. Because I’m not playing the game, here,” Phineas lay down, folding their hands on their chest. “I’m a weapon, not an actor. My actions are the actions of those who hired me, and I say La Libera hired me. I’m not to blame – and besides, even if someone did blame me, they may still want me around for their own purposes. I expect I’ll be hearing from Gauthier’s underlings and La Libera, both begging to contract me.”

Leannan processed this, sitting down next to Phineas. Phineas supposed it was hard for him to wrap his head around – but then he asked an oddly prescient question.

“But you’re about to become a player. You’re joining the Council of Donda. Won’t that change things?”

Phineas squinted at him. His eyes were wide with innocence, but Phineas wasn’t buying it.

“What do you think?” they turned it around on him.

Leannan tilted his head, the bruises around his lips and on his left cheek catching the moonlight.

“I think you’ll need to be careful.”

~~~

They slept under the trees, Leannan curled up close to Phineas’ side. Like a dog, Phineas thought. Loyal and dumb.

Maybe not so dumb.

They almost ran out of food, having lost Leannan’s share in the sinkhole, but Phineas snared a rabbit and that held them over until their return to Donda Island.

They crossed the river and slunk into the city with little fanfare; the news of King Gauthier’s death had not yet arrived. They said nothing to anyone, heading straight for the Council building.

They followed the same rigmarole as their first visit, escorted to the Council hall by guards, but this time both Councilmen Brochard and Faverolle were quick to make their appearance onstage. As soon as the guards were dismissed and they had privacy, Phineas gave their report.

The King was dead. They had left La Libera’s symbol painted on a tree next to where they had shot from, and it was sure to be found. The Iowan had sustained some injuries, but would recover quickly.

The Councilmen were immediately in a celebratory mood. They called for wine and came down off their stage to drink with Phineas and Leannan.

“To a job well done!” Brochard declared once the servant had left.

“To our new Council… man.” Faverolle lifted his large wooden cup, making his best guess.

“And to your new pet.” Phineas lifted their cup, ruffling Leannan’s hair with the other hand. Leannan tilted his head into the touch with a winning smile.

The newly expanded Council got to talking about the details of Phineas’ estate. Leannan remained quiet and doe-eyed, but listened intently. Phineas would be living in the same Council building annex as the other Councilmen, had two personal servants to rotate, and had jurisdiction over five acres on the northern shore, and all the laborers who lived there.

“Uncle,” Faverolle cut in suddenly, “Why don’t you show Councilman Kaŝpafisto to his room, and I will show the Iowan to his?”

Councilman Brochard hesitated, his eyes darting between his nephew and Leannan.

“Yes, alright, but,” he lowered his voice, leaning to Faverolle’s ear, “Sois doux avec lui.”

Faverolle shrugged him off, nodding at Leannan

“Come with me – what’s your name?”

“Leannan, sir.”

“Come with me, Leannan.”

Leannan glanced at Phineas, but they weren’t even looking at him; they were already asking Brochard a question about taxes and inflation. Leannan had no choice but to follow Faverolle out of the hall, leaving Phineas behind.

“You’ll be living in the east wing, with the rest of us,” Faverolle informed Leannan as they walked the lantern-lit halls, and handed his empty wooden cup off to a servant as they passed. Leannan did the same, his cup still full – he hated the taste of alcohol and its effects more than anything.

“That’s very generous of you, Councilman Faverolle,” Leannan said earnestly.

The servant in question, a short, pale woman with frizzy hair wrestled into a tight bun, gave him a small nod. Leannan returned it. He knew from experience that having a bad relationship with his master’s servants could make his life hell. He prayed he could get along with the staff here.

“Please, call me James,” the Councilman paused, “Master James.”

“Yes, Master James,” Leannan chirped.

James led him up a broad, weathered staircase. They passed where Phineas and Leannan had bunked previously, and finally stopped at a closed door.

“We spent the last few days setting it up for you,” James said as he opened the door and entered, “Just a few things…”

Leannan followed, and stepped into a dream come true.

The far wall boasted two windows, glassless but filled with gauzy curtains that wafted in the afternoon breeze. The floor was covered with a pair of fine rugs. To the right was a bed, bigger than any Leannan had called his own before, pilled high with brightly patterned pillows and blankets. It was flanked by small mismatched cabinets that hosted unlit lanterns. To the left was a wardrobe, and a trunk, and a vanity with a mirror. Leannan gasped and rushed to it immediately, bending slightly to look at his reflection.

“You like it?” James chuckled, closing the door.

“This is all for me?” Leannan spun around, pressing his hands to his cheeks as he grinned.

James smiled at him. “Yes, it’s all yours. There are some clothes for you in the wardrobe as well.”

“Oh!” Leannan cried. His reaction was completely genuine; his heart soared, and he took up his talisman and pressed it to his lips. “Thank God, thank God.”

“Thank me, actually,” James quipped, “I arranged for all of this.”

“Oh yes, of course!” Leannan rushed to him, resting a feather-light hand on the Councilman’s chest and looking up at him adoringly. “Thank you, Master James.”

“You’re very welcome.” James lifted a hand, hovering it over Leannan’s bruised cheek. Leannan searched his eyes, looking for danger, and found none.

“How badly were you hurt?” James murmured.

“I’ll be alright.” Leannan smiled sweetly.

“Were you hurt anywhere else?”

“My back,” answered Leannan.

“Let’s see it.”

Leannan couldn’t complain about escaping the clothing he’d been stuck in for days. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, looking up at his new master through fluttering eyelashes. He knew James’ type – the sympathetic kind, the kind that got off on bandaging his wounds while hearing about all the horrible things that he’d endured. He turned around, showing the Councilman his back.

“Merde!” James exclaimed, “Gauthier did that?”

“Yes, Master James,” Leannan made his voice timid this time. He knew how to play this character well; shy, slightly ashamed, oh-so-grateful.

James set one hand on Leannan’s shoulder while the other ran over the scabbed claw and bite marks. His breathing grew a little heavier, very subtly, but Leannan picked it up.

“As your master… What am I allowed to do to you?” James asked.

“Anything,” Leannan answered, “Anything at all.”

“Even hurt you like this?”

“If it brings you pleasure, then yes.”

“I really prefer women, but this…”

Without warning, James cruelly pinched and twisted the bite mark. Leannan yelped, half in surprise and half in pain, and James’ hands tightened on him to hold him still.

Leannan’s head spun. He’d read it wrong, somehow. James wasn’t a benign savior complex. He was something else, and Leannan needed to figure out what, fast.

James’ breathing was even faster, now. He’d enjoyed Leannan’s cry of pain. Leannan would give him more.

“Master James?” Leannan whimpered, turning his head so that James could see his trembling chin.

That was the right move. James’ hands relaxed, the one that had pinched him moving to the back of Leannan’s neck.

“Did that hurt?” James asked breathily.

“Yes, Master James,” Leannan sniffled, turning to face him.

“I can do anything at all?” James echoed.

Leannan blinked up at him with big, dewy eyes. If he overreacted to the pain, just a little bit, the simple sadist was satisfied more quickly.

“Yes, Master James.”

James’ hands circled Leannan’s neck, and Leannan took a breath in anticipation. He could see the uncertainty in James’ eyes – he wouldn’t take things too far. He wasn’t Ransom.

Leannan’s heart pounded.

He wasn’t Ransom. It would be fine.

James’ grip began to tighten, and Leannan gasped and whined appropriately. He even threw in a strained, “Master James!” reaching up and clutching at James’ wrists.

James flushed and stared, seemingly in awe of his own strength. He released Leannan quite suddenly, stepping back. Leannan sucked in a dramatic breath, pressing his hands to his chest.

“Are you alright?” James asked, as if he’d just seen Leannan get a papercut.

“Oh, of course, Master James,” Leannan said, throwing a bit of extra wheeze into his voice, “I’m made for this.”

James nodded awkwardly. “Right. I will… I’ll be going now. Enjoy your room.”

With that, James turned on his heel and swiftly exited.

Leannan stared after him, a smile creeping over his face. He rushed to the vanity, leaning down and examining his neck in the mirror. James hadn’t even choked him hard enough to bruise. Gullible, stupid man.

Leannan straightened and looked around, taking in the room once more. His room. It was all his. Compelled, he jumped to the middle of the room and spun around in joyful circles before flopping onto the bed, grinning at the ceiling. Then he clasped his hands over his chest and shut his eyes.

“Dear God. I’m very sorry for talking back to Phineas so much. I know you sent Ransom to me because of that, and I’m very sorry. But I submitted myself to Ransom, and to Phineas, and now you’ve rewarded me, and I’m really, really grateful. Like, super. Anyway, now I’m going to be the best concubine ever. I will do everything my masters want. Please, please, let me stay here for a long time. Amen.”

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist!

[novaalexanderwrites]

Blood and Thorns - Chapter 1 (part 2)

Frigga Thorneheart is set to become the heir of the Honeyshore coven, but when she falls in love with a member of her home’s staff, things get out of hand. Between the blood pacts and secret affairs, Frigga needs to learn how to stand up for what she wants or else lose everything she needs. Will she choose love or duty and what will that choice cost her?

Chapter One - Chores and Nightmares (Read Part One Here) - (See here for a complete list of chapters) **Updated May 16 **Updated August 26

Frigga

   Frigga was so happy to be home and so ready to sleep in her own bed. The staff being excited about her return warmed her heart and she put down a mental note to check in with everyone over the course of the next week. Leland and Sapphire greeted her outside as she’d gotten off the carriage, but she’d circle back and visit with both of them in a bit; she wanted some quiet time first. Travelling from Bluehaven to Honeyshore was an easy road if one was used to travelling, but Frigga was certainly not so the three-day journey home had been tough.

   Doris, the woman Sapphire hired to be her niece’s personal attendant, showed Frigga to her room. It had been redone since she’d been away. It used to be pink and white, but the wallpaper had all been replaced with a light blue floral print that made Frigga think of a inn she’d patronized on her way home. Her king-sized lavender duvet had also been replaced with a royal blue that matched the pillows on the bench near her windows. At least her reading nook was still there. The rest of the furniture had been either updated or replaced with tasteful, grown-up selections that made Frigga feel as if she were looking at a textbook about interior design. She got the feeling her aunt was making a much bigger deal out of her return than necessary, but it was nice to feel welcome.    Frigga took off her jacket and shoes, placed them by the dressing table for Doris to put away, and looked out the window. It overlooked the driveway and west side of the grounds. It was newly manicured and Frigga looked forward to getting down in that dirt. She wanted to throw off all her clothes and roll around in the grass right that instant, but she was entirely sure that wouldn’t be appreciated by her aunt. Still, Frigga took note of all the plants visible from her window before falling onto her bed for a lie down.    Doris, a woman with thick brown hair tucked into a bonnet and a figure shaped like a pine tree with the height to match, came in to check on her a few times over the course of the afternoon, bringing tea and light refreshments early on, and Frigga found her attendant well-informed about the comings and goings of the coven’s families. Suspiciously well-informed, even for a servant. The woman updated her about how the coven families had fared during her time away, and Frigga was eager to see everyone again after three and a half years. She wondered how her friend Luna Cromwell was doing, she’d gotten married two years ago, and how much the youngest Heir Apparent, Celeste Downspire, had grown. Leland had grown up too. He was eight already, just last month had been his birthday. He’d been just under four when she left, a lifetime ago it seemed now. She wanted to catch up and get to know her brother, so she’d go and visit him properly after dinner and then report in with her aunt afterwards.    Frigga took dinner in her room and then walked down the hallway, peeking into Leland’s room. He was pale and freckled like she was, and his mop of curls were the same rusty hue. Someone had already changed Leland into his nightclothes, though he wasn’t at all ready for sleep. He excitedly showed his newly returned sister all his favourite toys and a few small figures that had been whittled for him by one of the servants. A bear, a cat, some of them were better than others, but it was sweet how the boy lined them all up with care on his bedside table. He’d even named a few of them (Antonio the cat and Lopez the stag). Frigga was relieved to find that her little brother was a normal, happy kid; when she had been his age she knew she was destined to be the family’s Heir as she was the sole child in her generation at the time. Having been exclusively raised by their aunt, Frigga worried how Leland would end up, but apparently she doted on Leland and didn’t push him like she did Frigga.    It helped that Leland wasn’t a witch, or not that they knew yet. Usually children with magic would show signs of the gift around the age of five or six, Frigga had been four, but it wasn’t unheard of that children as old as nine were confirmed. Leland didn’t seem to feel bad about his lack of magical gifts, for which Frigga was profoundly grateful. She was twelve years older than him, and the two of them hadn’t been close before Frigga went to school, but she loved him and wanted him to feel safe and secure.    She sat with him for about an hour before leaving to visit with Sapphire. Despite his squawks of protest, she kissed him on the top of his head before walking down the next hall to the private office and generous library. As she walked down the halls, Frigga took note of other changes her aunt made to the manor. The carpets had been replaced, the torch sconces were changed too and were slimmer and looked less like a haunted castle. A few of the console tables had ornate vases filled with flowers that freshened up the house, and though it was dark outside the hallways were lit with new light orbs that floated leisurely about near the ceilings. If Frigga remembered correctly, weren’t those an invention of Lady Mildred Crestfall, the Head of Household who specialized in elemental magic, from a few years back?    She knocked on the office door and was invited in. Sapphire rose from her desk to greet her niece and the two embraced in a warm hug. “Auntie, thank you for refreshing my room,” Frigga said, figuring that it was better to be gracious than complain. She had actually preferred the light, cheerful pinks from before, but blue was the family colour and it was more grown up, so it was probably more suitable this way.     Sapphire was taller than Frigga by about a head, everyone was taller than Frigga, and she was the very picture one might imagine when thinking of the word “noble”. She’d gone grey early in her forties, shortly after she’d become the coven’s leader, and her wavy hair was always kept in a low bun. Sapphire had an entirely different complexion than her charges, still fair but evenly toned, and her skin was soft like down. “I’m glad you like it, Dear,” she replied, her voice warm. “Welcome home. Here, let’s sit down and have the ladies bring up some fresh tea.”    They sat in a pair of firm brocade armchairs beside the fireplace on the right side of the room and there was a small chestnut tea table between them for just this kind of occasion. Soon enough, they were provided with a fresh pot of herbal tea. Spearmint with honey was exactly the brew Frigga had needed, the refreshing scent clarified her mind. Once they were comfortable, Sapphire started business talk, and her tone refined into something more clinical. “I want you to feel settled, but there’s a lot to come in the next few months. Next week we have your welcome home party and then the week after we have Fenrir Cromwell’s. I’ve also been expecting new study material to arrive any day, it should have been here last week but it was delayed by the thunderstorms.”    Frigga nodded. “That’s alright, there’s plenty here to get me started. I’m excited to see the coven, I’ve missed everyone! And I’m excited to share my illusion work with them.”    “I’m sure everyone is excited to hear all about it. I was speaking with Marceline the other day, and she was saying Luna was interested in your work. As my Heir Apparent, I expect you to share your knowledge, though, if I might make a suggestion,” she leaned in with a conspiratorial smirk, “I would keep a few secrets to yourself if I were you.”    Frigga tilted her head. “Why?”    Sapphire chuckled. “It’s always smart to have a few tricks up your sleeve, especially as you won’t be made an official coven member for four months yet. Best have a few last-resorts just in case you need to impress somebody.” Sapphire sipped at her tea before continuing. “Theodore is also going to be visiting tomorrow, possibly with Marcus. You remember him right?”    “Yes, of course!” she said, smiling warmly. Marcus Magnus-Monroe was a few years older than her, but he was a social savant so they’d become friends as soon as he’d returned home from school five years ago. They also attended dance classes under the same tutor, though never in the same group. “Is Theodore coming on business or for a personal visit?”    Sapphire sipped at her tea and set it down. “A bit of both. His letter said he was excited to see you again, but he also wanted to contribute to your party next week, generous man.”    The Thornehearts and Magnus-Monroes descended from the same coven founder, although distantly, but the Magnus-Monroe family hadn’t been able to officially be part of the coven for about one hundred years; The family’s magic had died out shortly after the coven was founded. It was around that same time, however, that a mine the family owned a few towns over struck literal gold so they were still intimately connected with the group. They could have regained entry into the coven by marrying into magic and revitalizing the family’s magical potential, but the family favoured genuine connections over political ones where their personal lives were concerned so it hadn’t happened. Magic or not, Frigga was always delighted to have them around, Marcus in particular. She had truly missed his uncomplicated friendliness and cheerful affect.    Sapphire asked her niece about her time at school in more detail. They’d written often, but only so much fit in a letter. Frigga told her all about her studies and how she’d graduated top of her year. She told her aunt about her favourite classes (Illusion Work and Herbalism), about the connections she’d made (though she left out the intimate nature of her relationship with the mayor of Elderburgh’s daughter), and what she was excited about studying further (celestial summoning and the family’s secret curative recipes). She was filled in further about the coven’s different families, how the children were growing up, and who’d married who. She was grieved to hear that Jun Bloodswell, the Bloodswell Head of Household’s husband, had died a year ago leaving behind Victoria and their Heir Rosalind. Considering the Bloodswells and Thornehearts were not on the best terms historically, not to mention Victoria was specifically on grievously bad terms with Sapphire, Frigga made up her mind to put in some extra attention there when she could. Some kindness might help mend the sore spot.    They talked longer than Frigga had expected, and it was such a lovely evening. Even so, a small knot of anxiety began to knit in her stomach; she loved her coven, but it was a lot to keep track of. She was doubly exhausted by now, so she took the clock’s 9:00 chime as her cue to retire. After one more quick hug, Frigga adjourned to her room. She wasn’t a morning or night person, she was happiest and most energetic in the afternoon, but it was still a bit earlier than Frigga usually went to bed. Into bed she went, however, delighted to finally collapse. With the busy days ahead of her, she would need the extra rest. Doris left a glass of fresh water at her bedside and a night dress out for her to change herself into, though help was easily summoned if needed. She usually had help dressing, but Frigga was so tired she decided to do it herself. Unlike her day-to-day clothes, the sleep dress was simple enough that she could easily slip into it, it was undressing and undoing all the laces that was the difficulty. After laying the day’s clothes out on the dressing table to be taken and cleaned, she slid the fresh cotton sleep dress over her shoulders and savoured how comfortable and soft it was. She then slid into bed, cast a spell to extinguish all her lights, and fell asleep instantly. 

   But she did not sleep through the night. She fell asleep easily but woke up at 2:00 and then again at 3:00. At 5:30 she woke from a nightmare so severe she decided it was worth a trip to the kitchen to clear her head. There wouldn’t be anyone there at this hour, she would have to find some milk or soothing tea for herself. It might be difficult to find anything, Frigga had rarely visited the kitchens before she’d gone to school, so finding something would be a chore. At least it would be a distraction from the recurring bad dreams.    She put on her slippers and lacy house coat, tying it at the waist, and slipped out the door and down the stairs. As Frigga walked to the kitchen, she mentally sorted through what she remembered of it and was confident she’d manage on her own, but when she opened the door she found she wasn’t alone.    In the midst of the kitchen stood a tall woman Frigga vaguely recognized with sepia skin and black hair shorter than most men’s. She wore an old, stained apron over simple worker’s clothes and her trousers were tucked into steel-toed boots with the stretched-out raggedy laces tied around each ankle. Apparently she’d been gathering up ingredients and baking tools from different cabinets when the heiress surprised her. She stood between the industrial stovetop and a substantial island, and she’d brought out one of two stools from its place at the counter’s opposite side.    Frigga wanted to shrink back but she’d already been spotted. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone was here!” she apologized, her hand rising to fiddle with the thin golden chain necklace she wore.    “No no! Come on in, Miss. You alrigh’?” The woman looked at Frigga, a soft concern in her eyes, and put her things on the island.    Frigga’s heart rate spiked, but she cautiously approached. The woman was quite broad and, while she was wearing loose-fit clothing to get messy in under the apron, Frigga noticed she had the most gorgeous sculpted shoulders and deliciously defined arms. Must be really good at baking bread. “Y-yes, I had a hard time sleeping.”    “Tha’s rough,” the woman replied as she pulled the other stool out and brought it to the island’s edge nearest to Frigga before turning back to the stove where a kettle had begun to sing. “Come on, I’ll make you some tea or somethin’.” She took it off the heat, pulled out a calming tea from a nearby cabinet, and began fixing it like she’d performed this ritual a hundred times; scoop the tea leaves from an air-tight tin into a basket, place the basket into a mug, and submerge it with the steaming water.    Frigga wandered over to the stool and hopped onto it, fumbling slightly, but the woman politely ignored her misstep. “Thank you. Razi, right?” She leaned her elbows on the island’s top as she watched the servant work.    A look of surprise jumped onto the taller woman’s face. “Must ‘av a good memory, you were gone a while.” Her voice was confident and playful, and Frigga’s heart skipped a beat.    “Your father worked for us, right? I think?” she asked.    Razi measured out a small spoonful of honey and stirred before placing the cup of honeyed chamomile next to Frigga on the corner of countertop between them with an impressed smile. “Wow, correct again. Here you go.”    “Thank you.”    “Careful, Miss, ’s pretty hot.” Razi leaned in and blew softly over the glass. She was so close. Her lashes were as long as a river and an aura of warm ambers and the sweetness of rum and vanilla surrounded her. She smelled amazing. “Lemme guess, nightmares?”    “W-what?”    Razi smirked before turned to fix herself a much stronger cup of tea. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost an’ only crazy people are up this early if they don’t gotta be.”    Frigga’s brain finally restarted and she blinked. “Oh,” she said intelligently.    “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, Miss.”    “No it’s not that. But yes, I’ve had them ever since I was small.”    Razi pulled up another stool closer to the witch, her own cup of tea in her hands, and sat a respectful distance away. A little too far for Frigga’s taste. “Don’t they got a spell or potion for tha’? You magical types seem t’ ‘av remedies for everythin’, and they say you’re real gifted.”    Frigga looked down into her mug as she felt her cheeks warm. “I don’t know about that. I think people give me too much credit sometimes.”    Razi smiled slyly over the rim of her mug. “Well, y’seem like the gods’ gift to me.”    Frigga laughed and looked at Razi with a mischievous grin of her own. “Did you come up with that one yourself? Are you proud of it?”    Razi’s smile turned into a bashful grin. “I’ve certainly come up wit better, you’re absolutely right. Three for three.”    Frigga took a sip, careful of its temperature but found it perfect. “There are some things you can do for nightmares but… none of them ever help. I’m always stressed out so whenever I do anything for sleep, magical or not, the nightmares are never gone long.”    “Stressed? ‘Bout what?”    Frigga gestured vaguely towards the rest of the house. “All… this.”    Razi faltered and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Isn’t it what you love?”    “It’s a lot.” Frigga sighed as her gaze fell to the floor.    Razi leaned her elbows on the counter and looked Frigga up and down, letting a small beat pass. “I’da never known. You seem th’ type t’ have everything lined up proper.”    Frigga grimaced. “I haven’t a choice. I have to have everything perfect all the time because people rely on me. My aunt makes sure I know that, but,” she looked past Razi to the window where the forest was barely visible in the early morning sunlight. “I would much rather go outside.”    Razi blinked, her eyes flashed to the door and then back. “Outside?”    Frigga looked back at Razi. The woman’s full lips were slightly parted and she had the loveliest hazel eyes. Oh dear, that wasn’t something she should be noticing about a staff member. “Plants make me happy.”    “Isn’t your family all ‘bout the moon’s timing and circles? Th’ boss always has me rearrangin’ furniture to be ‘in phase’ or whatever.”    Frigga shrugged, tearing her eyes away from Razi’s. “Yes, and it has always come naturally to me, but it was never… Sorry, I don’t mean to bore you.” Her cheeks were even warmer now, and Frigga prayed that she wasn’t blushing.    “No s’fine. I guess I get it.”    Frigga tilted her head, unsure what this unnaturally attractive woman was relating to. “Really? You appear to be at home in the kitchen here, is there something you’d rather do?”    Razi snickered and Frigga tried to restrain a grin. Another terrible joke was coming, she just knew it, so she held her breath in anticipation. “I won’t complain, things are great round ‘ere, but it does get lonely ‘round this mansion. I gotta go into town if I wan’ visit my girls, so, y’know, that’s what I’d rather… do.”    Frigga giggled, shook her head. “No wife? Or, I guess not a husband?”    Razi shook her head. “Do I look th’ type to cater t’ boys, Miss? I expected better from you, you’ve ruined your streak!”    Frigga grinned shyly. “I didn’t want to assume.”    Razi leaned in a little closer, and the woman’s spicy aura washed over her again. “Assume away.”    Frigga hesitated, looking Razi up and down briefly. Her eyes skirted over the woman’s biceps and shoulders, appreciating them again, and she landed on the woman’s hands. They were so much larger than Frigga’s, and the witch could see from here they were the servant’s primary tools. What else might those hands be used for? Frigga forced her eyes away before she could be caught staring, but she was certainly blushing now. “I assume you like to bake bread?”    Razi burst in a full-bellied laugh, caught off guard. “Ah yes, look at ‘er, that cut and short nails, must love to bake bread. 'S that what they’re calling it these days?” Frigga giggled and Razi shook her head in good humour. “Please ignore me, Miss. I don’t mean t’ offend. I like t’ think I’m ‘armless.”    Frigga smirked and side-eyed Razi. “I don’t believe you at all. Should I ask your girls how harmless you are?”    Razi jumped off the stool and took an exaggerated bow, her expression much too serious to be serious. “I am as innocent as th’ dove, sweet princess. Heart is pure as gold, I swear, my maidens in ye olde town of Honeyshore would speak highly of my intentions!”    Frigga tried in vain to suppress a laugh, though she managed to tease between giggles, “Those intentions better be noble or else there will be consequences, ma’am.”    Razi looked back up at Frigga with a boyish smirk. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miss.”    She held out her hand. “Call me Frigga.”    Razi took it up with her calloused hand and pressed her full, soft lips to the witch’s knuckles. “Frigga.”    She wanted to stay and talk to Razi longer, but she also wanted to be considerate of the woman’s time and Frigga had a suspicion she’d be a distraction if she stayed. The tea she’d been given helped, so she wandered back up to her bedroom. As she slid back under her covers, she replayed their conversation and smiled to herself. If she had known someone so gorgeous was going to be at home she would have made a better effort to visit. She brushed her lips at the place where Razi’s had kissed her hand and heard the rough woman’s voice repeating her name. Frigga’s heart did a flip and her stomach tingled. She shouldn’t be entertaining these impulses.    But Razi was charming and thoughtful, had made Frigga laugh and not taken her too seriously. The irreverent humour had put Frigga at ease, even if she suspected the woman had been buttering her up just a little bit. She was definitely the type to be popular with girls, that was obvious. Maybe Razi wouldn’t mind spending more time together. Could Frigga come up with some excuse to see her again? That was such a bad idea. Really? She couldn’t be home a single day without forming some ill-advised crush on a staff member? A very lovely, very muscular, very charming staff member.     It was a lost cause already.    Frigga pushed a pillow over her face and whined into it. Maybe this horrifyingly inappropriate crush would fizzle after Frigga got settled and die down on its own.    But it did not, in fact, die down.

[ancha-aus]

:D :D :D

Aw fair enough. curse the mobile phone app and stuff.

The masks are such a nice concept because you can really showcase how much anyone trusted anyone else. (the knights all let the others wear it once or twice. just to try out and show off to Nightmare. Ngihtamre, even as adult, found it fantastic they did this. because first he knew it was important his knights trusted one another and worked together. later it showed how close they all were.) ((yes the kngiths all let teen ngihtamre wear their masks as well. They thought he looked cute wiht the different masks))

Nightmare is VERY smart. And for some reason people in his yougth thought he wasn't. and later Dream also thought he wasn't? It stings. but at least this way Ngihtamre knows that Dream isn't trying to gaslight him. Dream truly believes what he says and is trying to help him. It makes it easier for Ngihtmare to both ignore the infromation Drema gives him but also be a bit reassurred that Dream does in matter of fact love him. It is still rough and horrible to be away from his ACTUAL family. but it reassures him enough to enable Nightmare to relax a tiny bit.

God Dream would try so hard. He would use everything he still remembers from their childhood. He brings all kinds of things and Dream would be so hopeful to see Ngihtmare pick up a book or wrapped up in a blanket. because it means his brother is still there. Dream can see that whatever does horrible people in the kingdom did, they didn't erase his brother. There is hope! Meanwhile for Nightmare it is still bitter sweet because it is nice his twins knows him but it also reminds him that there was a time Dream always believed him... which eventually disappeared. Eventually Dream didn't beleive Nightmare anymore. He still doens't believe Nightmare or else this mess would already be solved with Nightmare explaining the situation. Whcih he tried to do many times now so he can go home.

Killer wasn't going to give up HIS little brother to anyway. He was going to go down before he let anyone near Nightmare. And well. He went down. He almost died. ANd then Nightmare stopped hidding and rushed to his big brother's side. God Nightmare thinking he was too late. That Killer still died. That he was too late and too scared to act earlier to save him. Nightmare just after each showing of either Dust o Cross in charge would leave him crying and shakingbecause where is Killer? Where is his big bro? Blue/Dream either think Nightmare feels terrible about failing as king (which neither of them blame him for because nightmare was just trying his best while everyone clearly worked against him, the irony) or that nightmare is still brainwashed to care about those murderers. Of course Killer would try to sneak out while still healing. He needs to go safe his little brother! His broken and disconenct ribs can just wait and chill! Dust: YOUR SOUL WAS PIERCED! SIT YOUR ASS DOWN! Killer: :'( but... nighty...

Then it makes even more sense that Ngihtmare did not react positively to Error giving him a kiss/flirt when he saved him. Ngihtmare is convinced one of his brothers died because of him and is still fresh fresh in his grieve.

God the moment Nightmare sees Killer. just tears. so many tears and Nightmare refusing to leave Killer's side. Even when he is newly returned. Ngihtmare skips meals/showers anything to just stay by Killer a bit longer. And Killer just holding his little brother. so relieved he isn't mad at Killer for not protecting him. So many tears and probbaly anothe rheart to heart conversation.

Oooh i like that! That sounds real cool as mask! Lmao Error is still a wild card. You can do a bird because then it fits wiht Nightmare's bird. Make them a bit of a set :3 and there are many birds :D

Mm, New Age au my beloved (I just knocked out like... a lot of stuff I needed to do, so here's a quick post before I get back to it) oh! And @ancha-aus hiiiii :]

I know I focus a lot on Night but like... Dream! Dream is a huge part of the story!! So here's a tease at wtf has been up with Dream since Night ate the apple.

So... Dream! He was exiled, but he wasn't left on his lonesome. Nightmare contacted a neighboring kingdom that they already had a treaty with, and asked for them to watch over the crown prince, as he was no longer "fit to rule". They'd accepted, and Night shipped him off at the earliest convenience.

Of course, Dream had no clue it was for his own good, so naturally, after lamenting to this other kingdom about what had happened, how everything changed, he garnered pity, and then support, when Nightmare confirmed Dream's story through letters. Though, the kingdom couldn't afford a war, so they just had to stand idly by.

Dream only stayed there a few years, because by the time he was about 17, he'd become good friends with a squire: Blue. Blue worked around the castle, doing all sorts of tasks for the knight training him, but despite his exceptional skill he remained at the level of Squire due to his age. Blue was very devoted to Dream as his friend and self-proclaimed protector. He looked up to Dream, and was positive he would defeat his brother and take back the throne.

And so, when Dream left on his own to gather experience and followers without endangering this kingdom, Blue followed. Blue was never officially Knighted, but their first night in an Inn, alone on the road, start of their journey, Dream honorarily knighted Blue with his power as a prince. (That's why I refer to Blue as a Knight, even tho no one ever *actually* knighted him and he has no affiliations with any kingdoms.)

Dream was picky with who he recruited and when. He and Blue found a nice little abandoned cottage to start their base of operations, and would travel to recruit people they thought would be of value. Dream wasn't versed in espionage or inner-working over the government, but he knew how to talk to crowds. Sway the people. Plus, feeling emotions helped out too. (I like to think that's something the twins have naturally. Dream's grows with Age, and Night (due to lack of training) only has it when he's corrupted and very little hints when he's young.) So over the course of years, Dream gains more and more support. Like a militia among the neighboring countries as well as in Night's kingdom.

Ink and Cross came together. Ink had been looking for a new job, as he was a mercenary (though his talent was really in the arts) and Cross was a soldier who had left the kingdom a few rivers over that crumbled under a coup. Ink liked Dream's energy right from the start and was completely swayed with the idea of getting a lot of easy work for pay. Meanwhile Cross needed a new hope. Despite leaving a crumbling castle with no hope, Dream seemed to be working towards a better future in this kingdom. Of course he joined him, because that meant he'd live to see an era of peace. (<- of course, Cross finds out this kingdom is actually banger and the current king was slowly working through improving each piece of it, ensuring the whole kingdom could thrive one piece at a time.)

Dream never stopped training, and over the years he lost track of just how different Night was. He lost the script, a bit. His childish mind turning Night's actions all those years ago into a conspiracy. He had an echo-chamber of support, with no outside voice (no Nightmare) to remind him of the truth.

This cottage remains their base, and expands into a small town/camp. Nightmare is taken here when Dream kidnaps him from the castle the first time, too. This place is filled with plants and magic and is thriving. The perfect place to find the golden king.

[clodspyre]

TWST Boys’ Favorite Earth Movies

This list is only comprised of movies that I have seen. I haven’t seen that many movies in comparison to others, so if you have any suggestions for a movie that is a better fit for a character, please let me know! I would love to hear your ideas!

Also spoilers for the movies listed! No twst spoilers.

I tried to stay true to the characters, but I’m very sorry if any character is ooc!

The post is under the cut since it is very long😅

Riddle: Alice in Wonderland (2010)

While Riddle was a little bugged by how the movie was immensely inaccurate in accordance to Twisted Wonderland history, he found himself to surprisingly enjoy it. The plot being set in a different time with an older protagonist made it stand out to him as a different take on the tale. He was taken aback with how different the Queen of Hearts (sorry, the Red Queen) is in this film, along with the addition of a White Queen. After a while, he realized that this was a completely different story and stopped nitpicking, and that was when he started to enjoy the movie for what it was.

Trey: Kiki’s Delivery Service

He enjoys the simplicity of it, as well as the amount of baking involved in the plot. The art style of the film was also very pleasing to him, it gave off a sense of peace, and he could tell a lot of love and care went into the film. He also resonated with the main conflict, that if something you love turns into your job, you will lose passion for it and get burnt out. He relates to it because he sometimes fears that that’s how he’ll end up with baking. He liked the conclusion, and it left him with something to think about.

Cater: 21 Jump Street

Cater was a very tricky one to find a movie for. I felt that he wouldn’t like a mindless comedy, but he also wouldn’t like something too complex or provocative, or something that makes him think too much. So I settled on this funny buddy cop movie. The comedy kept him laughing, but the complex friendship shown between the two main characters kept him engaged. He likes how the two became closer from their newly-developed perspectives and shared hardships, and low key wishes something like that would happen to him one day.

Ace: Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

As you could guess, the idea of skipping school and going on a grand adventure of fun and self-discovery through town is very appealing to Ace. The entire time, he was daydreaming of doing the same thing with Deuce and MC. Oh he has so many ideas for a future outing with his friends now.

Deuce: Accepted

He adores the message of this movie. As someone who didn’t even know he was going to be accepted into a normal high school let alone Night Raven Collage, the ending speech made him shed a tear or two. He also started to entertain the idea of building a school, or even a secret hideout, with his friends. But he dismissed it, he didn’t want to get into any more trouble than he and the freshman gang already get into.

Leona: Fight Club

The only movie where he didn’t fall asleep midway through. He knew something weird was going on with the main character and Tyler, and he was close to guessing the big reveal. The plot in which the fight club slowly turns into a terrorist group was also engaging, he likened it to a king letting his kingdom and subjects fall with him as he descends into madness.

Ruggie: JoJo Rabbit

Ruggie was also tough to find a movie for, but I think he would like this one. Obviously he doesn’t understand going through the horrors of war, but he does know the feeling of loneliness, clinging onto the one person you have left, and, of course, living in poverty. He also totally cried at Rosie’s death reveal and the battle scene.

Jack: Princess Mononoke

He liked that there was no “villain” or side that is pure evil for the sake of it. There were clear reasons why each side felt contempt for their situation and went to war to get what they wanted, and he respects that greatly. He also liked the depiction of wolves a lot. He noticed that a good bit of media on Earth depicted the wolves as the villains, so he loved that they were depicted as just another band of creatures doing what they could to survive and raise that girl in the forest. He appreciates the proper wolf representation.

Azul: Seven

Azul is the type of guy that likes a movie that makes him think, and murder mysteries are a fun treat to him from time to time. While the blood and gore started to make him queasy after a while, he greatly enjoyed trying to piece together the murderer’s plan. The discussions about morality and fame and infamy were also evocative. The ending absolutely shocked him and left him reeling long after the movie was over. While he enjoyed it a lot, it’s not a movie he would watch all the time due to the violence.

Jade: Clue

While Jade also enjoyed Seven, and might even be inclined to watch it more than Azul, he would enjoy a more tame murder mystery to watch for fun. He liked trying to find who the killer was all while the silly comedy managed to get a chuckle or two out of him. Liked everything about it except the idea of multiple endings, but excuses it when he was told it was based on a game where anyone could end up being the killer. He later decides to take money out of Mostro Lounge’s budget to buy the game.

Floyd: Ponyo

Didn’t expect to like a movie he thought was for babies, but he ended up really enjoying it. He likes the characters, the setting, and also all the fishes! Just like Sosuke and Ponyo, he likes to try and identify as many sea creatures he can whenever he watches it. Also really likes Ponyo’s mom, she reminds him of his own mom, in a way. Also hums the end credits song while he’s working sometimes.

Kalim: My Neighbor Totoro

Kalim is a very open-minded person, so he appreciates a movie that encapsulates something he has never experienced before. In this case: simple cottage life. As the movie goes on, he starts to wish he could live that care-free life alongside his siblings and Jamil. Adores Totoro and the cat bus and as soon as the movie is over, he buys any merch of them he could get his hands on, much to Jamil’s annoyance.

Jamil: Ocean’s 11

Like Azul, he loves when a cunning scheme come together in the end, so I thought he would enjoy a good heist movie. He enjoyed trying to guess the specific elements of the plan and how everything fit together. Also related to how the characters teamed up to get back at those who wronged them.

Vil: Crimson Peak

The entire movie was just so aesthetically pleasing to him. While gothic is not his absolute favorite aesthetic, he loves it when it’s done right, and he certainly thinks so here. The dilapidated gothic manor, the designs and special effects for the ghosts, and especially the costumes. He learned that the film won an award for its costume design and he certainly thinks it’s deserved. He also had to give credit to the performances of the actors. While he nitpicked parts of the plot, he definitely enjoyed the film as a whole.

Rook: Grand Budapest Hotel

Aesthetically pleasing as well as full of good action, this was right up his alley. He loved the colors and set pieces, but the aspect that fascinated him the most was the direction style. He can’t quite put his finger on what it would be called, but he’s never seen a movie that was directed like this before.

Epel: The Secret World of Arrietty

He was fascinated by how something on such a small scale can seem so grand. Since the main characters were small, the world looked so much bigger around them. The parts Epel enjoyed the most were the quiet moments with Sean laying out in the yard with the cat, or when he was trying to befriend Arrietty. Moments like those reminded him of his home during the summer time.

Idia: The Nightmare Before Christmas

While his main interests are anime and video games, Idia loves a good horror movie. Although he knows this film doesn’t technically count as a horror movie, it was similar enough to his all-time favorite movie to keep him wanting to see more. He loves the art and animation style. Stop-motion is not a style he’s familiar with, but he’s certainly interested now. Also Oogie Boogie is one his favorite animated villains now.

Ortho: Ready Player One

Just the thought of playing around in a whole virtual reality world with his brother and friends made him practically bounce in his seat. Making his own avatar and fighting an evil corporate organization made him daydream. Even though he doesn’t get any of the pop culture references, he still loves the plot and concept of it all, and believes his brother will be Twisted Wonderland’s James Halliday one day.

Malleus: How to Train Your Dragon

He immediately likened the relationship between Hiccup and Toothless to him and MC. He saw all the movies, but he has to say that the first one is his favorite. The plot of the human and the dragon growing to trust and love one another touched him, and it made him hope the he could continue being friends with MC.

Lilia: Pan’s Labyrinth

He left the film with conflicting emotions. He was thoroughly heartbroken, yet hopeful by the end of it. That poor girl had been through so much, but at least she was reunited with her true family in the end. He loved the designs and special effects used for the monsters (the hand monster actually managed to disturb him a bit) most of all.

Silver: Hero

Despite having to read subtitles, he loved how it kept him engaged. While he started to drift off when the characters were talking too much, there was a fight scene or compelling drama to wake him up again. Speaking of the fight scenes, they were his favorite part about the movie. Swords and people were literally flying, everything flowed so freely, it was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Sebek: Indiana Jones

A classic “hero’s journey” type of movie would be up Sebek’s alley, and this is one of the all-time classics. While he kept criticizing Indie and loudly proclaiming what he or Malleus would do in any plot point, he enjoyed the novelty of it, and he sees why the film is so famous.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Something in the woods is stealing peoples’ Souls;

Merlin learns the hard way that he's a little more... fragmented, than normal people when he tries to solve the issue himself.

Part 2 (final part)

All of the Physicians in the town are being overrun.

Bodies keep showing up, still breathing, still perfectly functional, all seemingly unharmed... but they won’t wake up.

None of them will even twitch, as if, whilst the physical bodies were in perfect condition, there was something lacking somewhere, stopping any sort of higher brain function.

The King, his Knights, and even the Court Physician and his (newly titled) Co-Worker (as opposed to Apprentice), were baffled.

Medically, they had nothing to go on, all they could do was keep the bodies alive as best they could, and hope that some sort of solution could come about after some good old fashioned detective work.

Thankfully, it only took five days, and twelve comatose patients, for The King’s best Knights to realise that all of the... victims(?) had been found in a specific area of the woods just outside the city limits.

With such a distinct, and unexplainable issue, it was assumed (rightfully) that magic was involved somehow; whether it be some sort of creature, or yet another evil sorcerer hell-bent on revenge.

Which of course led to Merlin, one of the Court Physicians, and also (Secretly)TheMostPowerfulWarlockEver™, putting on his warmest clothes and sneaking out in the dead of night under the worried gaze of Gaius.

He did not come back.

Not that anyone but Gaius knew.

~

Early the next morning, King Arthur gathered his best Knights, Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, to go and hunt down whatever it was that was rendering his people permanently unconscious.

Gaius and Merlin had explained the previous day, when these plans were conceived, that Merlin would have to stay behind; Camelot’s Physicians were so overwhelmed with not only normal patients, but now twelve comatose bodies as well; they needed every pair of hands they could get. For once, Arthur was happy to leave his manservant behind. 

The man cared greatly for his people, and whilst he would love nothing more than to have Merlin at his side all day, every day, he knew that he was safer, and more needed, in the city.

It was meant to just be in case Merlin got injured and had to hide it, but Gaius did well to hide his worry when he waved them off, and didn’t mention that Merlin wasn’t even in the city, that they could be finding Merlin’s comatose body next.

It took the Gang barely half a day to get there, and they had supplies to last them a few days in the woods, if that’s what it came to, but they were all still tense.

They hadn't seen anything like this before. They had no idea what they were up against; there were no physical injuries to assess, no eye-witness accounts, nothing found in their blood or on their person. Just unconscious bodies that showed no sign of waking.

Thankfully, they found no more bodies as they methodically searched the forest, but they also found no sign of what was wrong.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: nothing attacked them, there was no blood, no destroyed areas, not even a scrap of evidence that something had even happened.

They finally stopped to make camp at sundown, dejected. Their mood definitely worsening with Elyan’s terrible cooking.

Gwaine was, of course, the most talkative:

“I know he’s needed or whatever, but are we sure we can’t go back and get Merlin? I’ve eaten a lot of gross shit over the years, but I’m not sure if I can take this for four more days.”

Elyan grumbles in embarrassment as the others snort, amused, and he throws a twig at Gwaine. It snaps in two across the knight’s face with a satisfying crack.

Arthur ignores the childish behaviour (something he can’t believe he has to do in the first place), shaking his head as he replies:

“No. The health of the people comes before your stomach. If Gaius says he’s needed in the city, then he stays in the city. Though I was surprised that he wasn’t there to wave us off.”

Gwaine smirks knowingly, and Percival puts a warning hand on his shoulder, but it does nothing to deter the knight as he waggles his eyebrows at The King.

Arthur flushes slightly, but he covers it quickly, not having time to retort before Gwaine opens his mouth again:

“Missing him, are you? Perhaps next time you should request that he stand on the battlements in a dress, and wave a handkerchief at us as we heroically ride out?”

Arthur throws a much larger twig (it’s more of a branch, really) in Gwaine’s direction, and this one knocks him off his seat, but before anyone can even snigger at him, Arthur loudly announces the watches and tells everyone to get some sleep.

~

The next day went much the same. 

That is, until late-afternoon.

The Knights were continuing their methodical search of the woods, once again finding themselves somehow tense and bored, when they came across a clearing that had clearly seen a gruesome battle.

Trees were uprooted, the ground was covered in deep holes and scorches, and there were even the occasional splashes of blood.

Which honestly raised more questions that it answered.

After thorough searching, they were hopeful. It looked like it had been some sort of fight between a sorcerer, and something... not human, some sort of creature. BUT, going by the tracks, the sorcerer had survived, and wandered off.

Was the sorcerer injured, or was the creature injured? If the sorcerer had walked off, injured or otherwise, where was the creature? Surely they should find the body of one or the other?

Another question that no one really wanted to ask: was this even related to the bodies?? Or had the Knights just stumbled onto something completely unrelated that they would inevitably get dragged into dealing with anyway?

Either way, they couldn’t ignore it, and with new-found motivation, they followed the tracks deeper into the woods, instead of setting up camp, like they had intended.

Whoever it was seemed to be wandering aimlessly. The blood trail slowly came to a stop, and it seemed that every step was stronger; as if whoever it were was gaining more energy from walking, as opposed to becoming more tired.

Still, whoever they found at the end of the tracks would be able to provide some sort of answer.

Eventually, after around two hours of diligently following the footsteps through the woods, Arthur signalled everyone to stop.

He wordlessly dismounts his horse, and gestures everyone to quietly do the same, before silently pointing ahead.

The knights look carefully to where he gestures, to see a man stood in the centre of a clearing, facing away from them.

They, still silent, draw their swords and sneak closer, but the man doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was stood upright, they would think him dead.

Arthur steps into the clearing, about twenty feet from the man, and furrows his brow. That looks like.... no... it can’t be, can it? He shakes the thoughts from his head, convinced that he’s just imagining things, but before he can make his presence known, the man turns around, as if he sensed them stood there.

All of them gasp and take a step back, immediately recognising Merlin.

But he’s... different.

He stands scarily still, unusual for a man who was constantly fidgeting or on the move.

His face is blank, and if he hadn’t been staring straight at them they would think he hadn’t noticed them at all, and whilst he stood as if uninjured, his tunic is ripped and blood-soaked.

But what draws everyone’s attention, was the bright golden glow of his eyes, highlighted especially by the quickly descending darkness of the evening.

Arthur brings his sword up slowly, taking a cautious step forward as he calls Merlin’s name.

Merlin simply tilts his head slightly, otherwise staying still, before stutteringly beginning to speak:

“Mer... lin... Merlin....... Merlin is... Merlin is...... Merlin is gone.”

It’s clear that something is deeply wrong with the manservant, but the way he spoke, as if he knew how but had never actually done it before, like he was still figuring it out, creeped the hell out of everyone.

His words as well, “Merlin is gone” do nothing but fill them with dread.

Lancelot steps forward quickly, moving to stand in front of Arthur, sword unsheathed but pointing at the ground. He was unsurprisingly less fearful of the golden irises, and recovered the quickest:

“What do you mean, “Merlin is gone”, gone where? Who are you?”

Merlin... or... not!Merlin, tilts his head further:

“Merlin is... gone. I... I... I want him... back.”

Lancelot gulps but before he can reply, Arthur breaks out of his stupor, and growls:

“What have you done with him?! Whatever you are, give him back!”

Merlin moves his gaze from Lancelot to Arthur, and takes a step forward, before bowing his head slightly, as if out of respect:

“You are... The Once and Future King... I want him back... you... you... you need him... back.”

The rest of the knights are fully freaked out now, but they hide it well, and gather slowly around Arthur. Lancelot scowls at them, holding a placating hand out. He really doesn’t want any of them to get jumpy and skewer Merlin. He takes another step towards the golden-eyed man:

“We all want Merlin back. The bodies, the same thing happened to you? Happened to Merlin?”

Not!Merlin nods slowly once again, looking back to Lancelot:

“It... took him... from me. I... I... I want him back.”

Lancelot returns his nod, letting out a deep breath:

“And who are you? What are you doing in Merlin’s body?”

Not!Merlin frowns slightly, as if confused, the first actual expression he’s pulled this whole time. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Lancelot is getting desperate; he can feel the knights behind him getting more and more jumpy, especially Arthur:

“I am... I... I have always been here... I am... I am... I am me. I am Merlin’s... and he is... mine... I want him... back. He is... mine.”

Lancelot tenses slightly. He has a feeling he knows what’s going on. Merlin talks about his magic sometimes, talks about it as if it’s... sentient. Described the way it’s always desperate to reach out to Arthur and the Knights and Gaius and Gwen, how it sometimes does things without his permission.

Lancelot gulps. This is bad. Merlin’s magic is walking around in his body without him there to control it. They were going to struggle to explain this away, as much as Merlin claimed Arthur was an idiot, it wasn’t completely true. Lancelot bit his lip, glancing back at the others as he re-sheaths his sword.

He knows there’s no way to get them to relax... unless... this might backfire terribly, but it also might be the only way to get them to calm down a little.

Lancelot frowns thoughtfully, and just before Arthur works up the nerve to say something else, he turns back to Not!Merlin:

“Do you mean us any harm?”

Not!Merlin once again tilts his head and frowns as if in confusion:

“No... Merlin is... Merlin is fond of... you. I.. I was made for... for The Once and Future King. I am... unable to hurt him.”

Lancelot nods, before saying slowly:

“Do you have any reason to lie to us?

The golden-eyed man shakes his head slowly, the glow seeming brighter as he replies:

“Why would I... I... lie? I could kill... you without a... second... second thought. I want Merlin... back.”

The knight nods one final time, looking back to the others to gauge their reactions. Their swords are still unsheathed, but lowered, their faces tense and concerned, but not angry. Lancelot supposes that’s the best he’s going to get at this point.

He lets out a rough sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looks back at the Warlock:

“You’re not Merlin. What do we call you, until we can get him back?”

Not!Merlin lets his gaze wonder to the knights, before finally landing on Arthur. His speech had been getting better with use, but he speaks slowly and keeps his stare on The King, as if curious to his reaction:

“I am... I am... I am part of him. I don’t... have a name. Call me... me... Emrys.”

Lancelot grits his teeth, and his eyes whip to Arthur, to see if he recognises the name.

With The King’s gasp, and widening eyes, Lancelot knows that he does recognise the name.

“You... you’re Emrys?? I thought Emrys was some all-powerful sorcerer, what are you doing in Merlin?”

Arthur is too distracted to notice Lancelot’s panic, but Leon, ever the observant one, is not, and frowns at the sudden fear on his fellow knight’s face.

Mer-... Emrys had already admitted that he wouldn’t lie, if Arthur keeps asking questions, he’ll figure it out. But before Lancelot can think of a solution, Emrys replies:

“Emrys is... is... our other... name. But I am not... Merlin. Not on my own. I want... want him back.”

Arthur looks taken aback, but before he can ask another question, Gwaine steps forward, giving Lancelot an unreadable look before:

“Right, well that’s all fine and dandy, but we need to set camp up and figure out what we’re going to do about... this.”

He gestures vaguely to Merlin’s body after sheathing his sword.

Arthur looks about ready to argue, but with another pointed look from Gwaine, Lancelot jumps into action:

“Gwaine’s right, we need to gather the horses and set up for the night. Here is probably alright, then we can come up with a plan to get Merlin back, and presumably, all of those other people.-”

He turns to Arthur, a sufficiently subservient expression on his face:

“-If you think that’s best, Sire?”

Gwaine rolls his eyes and scoffs at that, heading back to gather the horses from where they’d been left without further prompting. Arthur’s argumentative expression drops after a moment, and with one more mistrustful glance to Emrys, he nods, instructing the others to gather wood and get started on dinner.

Lancelot lets out a breath, but flushes slightly and tenses his jaw when he sees Leon giving him an inscrutable look. He turns away after a moment, under the pretence of helping Gwaine.

The moment Lancelot reaches Gwaine, a few metres into the treeline, the other knight quickly turns around and grabs his shoulders. He glances desperately back towards the clearing, and when he establishes that they’re the only two within earshot, roughly whispers:

“Please tell me you figured it out?? Because I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to keep Arthur from finding out on my own.”

Lancelot’s eyes widen, but his shock keeps him silent for only a few moments before Gwaine shakes his shoulders. He blinks away his surprise, whispering his response:

“You know?? Does Merlin know that you know?”

Gwaine shakes his head, finally letting go of Lance’s shoulders:

“No. I worked it out like twenty seconds ago, I’m sort of hoping that Arthur isn’t as quick as me. How long have you known?”

The other knight nods his head understandingly:

“About as long as I’ve known him, but I’ll explain later. This whole thing is... terrible. I don’t think our odds are good. Mer- Emrys won’t lie, and we won’t be able to stop Arthur from asking questions. He’s probably asking them now. We need to get the horses and get back.”

Gwaine nods roughly, and without another word, the two of them gather the reins of their six horses, and quickly make their way back to the clearing.

They had only been gone a few minutes, and in that time, firewood had been gathered and arranged. Elyan pulls a flint out of his pocket, and Lancelot widens his eyes as he sees Emrys tilt his head (still stood in the same place), moments before waving his hand casually.

The wood bursts into a roaring flame, and Emrys suddenly has four swords on him. Lancelot and Gwaine rush forward, standing in between Emrys and the other knights, holding their hands out as if in surrender. Gwaine speaks first:

“Hey! You might be freaked out by all of this, but that’s still Merlin’s body, and he needs it, so lets not poke holes in him, alright??”

Everyone bar Arthur lowers their swords, but before Gwaine can growl something out, Lancelot turns back to Emrys:

“Look, they’re all a little... unnerved, by magic, so maybe stop using it for now, yeah?”

Emrys tilts his head and furrows his brows again, and everyone stares at him in shock as he replies, not quite knowing what to make of his response:

“But I am magic. I am magic... incarnate. If I stop... I... I cease to exist. And Merlin... Merlin needs me. He needs me like... like... like humans need to breath. I can not just... stop. He would... would... we would die.”

Lancelot tightly shuts his eyes. There is officially NO way to explain this one away. Gods, Merlin is going to be so scared when he finds out.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Arthur finally squeaks out a:

“What??”

Gwaine quickly responds, before Emrys can reveal anymore:

“No. It's cruel to take Merlin’s secrets from him when he isn’t even here. We find Merlin, then you can ask your questions.-”

Arthur looks angry, like he wants to argue, but Gwaine takes a threatening step towards him, resting his hand on his sword at his hip as Lancelot and the other knights look on the scene with panic in their eyes. Gwaine growls out:

“-I said no, Princess. Everyone here knows I’m more loyal to Merlin than you, and that doesn’t stop just because he’s not here and you’re about to throw a temper tantrum.”

Arthur huffs, but lowers his sword as Gwaine glares at him, and Lancelot lets out a breath. The other knights follows The King’s lead, sheathing their swords and settling tensely around the fire.

Lancelot goes back to the horses, tying them down and removing saddlebags, with Leon’s help (and constant stare, which was an odd mix of concern and suspicion).

Gwaine points Emrys to a spot on the floor, and tells him to sit. The knight settles next to him protectively, his sword across his lap as he glares at Arthur on the other side of the fire.

The evening passes awkwardly, food being cooked and eaten in silence, no one quite sure what to say.

Arthur spends the whole time with a pinched look of frustration on his face, but the knights look to him as he takes a deep breath, his expression morphing into an odd mix of concern and accusation in the blink of an eye:

“How do we even know that the... Merlin, part of... part of you is alive? What happened to hi- to you? How do we get him back?”

Lancelot wants to be annoyed at his tone, but he poses valid questions. They still had no idea what actually happened or why or how they fixed it.

Emrys tilts his head, aiming his golden stare at Arthur:

“It is one of... of the Manducan, or The Eating Ones. They... are very rare, they steal... steal souls. Bodies can survive a short while.... a short while without them. Hence your... comatose patients. I am... we are, a little more... fragmented... than most. I contain too... too much power, so The Manducan took... only the human... human part.”

Everyone looks extremely worried at that, but Arthur’s face turns desperate as he rushes out:

“What do you mean, human?? What are you??”

They all stare at the raven-haired man as he speaks, his eyes focused on the King:

“We do not... know. Some call us a Lord, or a King. Others call us... call us... a God. In moments... of power, we... we hear prayers. It can be... disconcerting.”

The camp is silent for a while after that, everyone processing what had been said. Merlin heard people praying to him... not even Lancelot knew that, Merlin had never told him.

After around half a candle-mark, Leon breaks the silence to ask the questions that had been pushed to that back of their minds:

“How do we kill this creature, and what happens if we do? Can we get the souls back, undamaged?”

Emrys turns his golden gaze to the curly-haired knight as he replies:

“It is already... weakened. The Forever King needs to... strike... strike it with Excalibur. They hibernate for.... for centuries... and only return to this plane of existence to... collect food. If you... if you... if you kill it before it leaves, the souls will... will return...naturally.”

The knights all let out breaths of relief, but Arthur looks at his sword oddly, before muttering:

“What’s so special about my sword? And why do you keep calling me strange titles?”

Lancelot gulps, and Emrys tilts his head:

“You know of Emrys, but not of the... the prophecies?”

Arthur nods his head slowly, but Lancelot interrupts before Emrys can start the complicated process of explaining his and Arthur’s destinies:

“Perhaps that’s a... story, for when we have Merlin back in one piece. How do we track the creature?”

Arthur gives him a glare, before lowly saying:

“Do not think I do not notice you avoiding the subject, Sir Lancelot. You know of these prophecies?”

Lancelot grits his teeth, but gives a slow nod:

“Bits and pieces. Merlin isn’t fond of talking about it.-”

He raises a challenging eyebrow, still staring Arthur in the face, and everyone is take aback. Lancelot was never anything but respectful and polite to his King; this defiant look shocked them all:

“-You see, he’s spent his entire life in Camelot absolutely terrified that someone will overhear him, and have him burnt.”

Arthur took in a deep breath, hiding his guilt behind a blank façade, but before anyone can say anything, their gazes are drawn back to Emrys, who looks almost... mournful?

He nods his head slightly, and the sad look on his... on Merlin’s face, looks so out of place for someone so normally upbeat:

“He is... we, are constantly frightened. It is exhausting. I try to... to reassure us but... Merlin is... is... is always so scared, despite our power. We used to... to love flames, fire. Now it is... terrifying to us.”

Lancelot had kept his gaze on Arthur, and when The King looks back at him, his despair badly hidden, the knight simply shrugs one shoulder and nods slightly.

Arthur lets out a breath, and looks to his lap, whispering so quietly that the group barely hears him:

“He’s scared of... of me.”

Gwaine growls out an “Of course he is, you’re a Pen-.”, but he’s interrupted by Emrys:

“No. He would allow you to... to kill us. But we couldn’t bear to... to lose you.-”

He finishes his statement quietly, and Arthur looks up at him, tears in his eyes:

“-We don’t want to be sent away. Camelot is... is... is frightening. But it is also our... home.”

“I would never send you away. When we get Merlin back, you... you tell him that. Tell him he’s safe with me, with us, and always will be.”

Emrys tilts his head yet again:

“And my people? Will we be an... exception? Will you make us watch you... continue to persecute our people, whom we... we... we should be protecting? Merlin does... does not want to make a... hypocrite out of you.”

The knights look at him expectantly, and he blanches slightly as he looks away. The King gulps, before taking a deep breath and looking back, straightening his spine and looking confident:

“The laws will change. Crimes committed with magic will be judged the same as crimes committed without; it’s about time I faced the cruelties of my father.”

The corner of Emrys’ mouth tilts up briefly as he nods, but says nothing. Gwaine smirks, Leon and Lancelot give The King proud smiles, and Percival and Elyan look taken aback, before they relax into fond smiles of their own.

The evening had passed quickly, and with all of them exhausted, it’s decided that any further discussion on how to track this... Manducan, would happen in the morning.

All of the knights fall asleep quickly, finding the protective golden glow of Emrys’ unsleeping eyes both comforting and unsettling.

~

They all woke the next morning oddly refreshed, but the relaxed atmosphere didn’t last long when, one by one, the knights noticed Emrys sat unnervingly still, in the exact same spot as last night.

Only the occasional blink and shallow breathing proved that he was in fact alive, and not some sort of incredibly life-like statue.

Food was eaten, and camp broken quickly; the golden eyed not-quite-a-servant staying in his spot the whole time. 

Despite Emrys saying that the souls would be fine as long as they got there in time, they were still full of nervous energy, and wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Not least of all because they had a lot, and I mean a LOT, of questions for Merlin... or... all of Merlin.

Emrys was pointed to Lancelot’s horse, and once he mounted in front of the knight, everyone looked at him expectantly. He simply tilted his head, and Arthur huffed:

“Well? How do we find this... creature? Can’t you-”

He waves his hand vaguely, and Leon is the only knight able to hide his snort at The King’s impression of magic.

Emrys nods in understanding, and extends his hand in front of him. A thin stream of light, like a glowing string floating in the air, extends from his palm, snaking through the trees.

He nods, this time in the direction of the light, and the knights urge their horses to begin a quick paced journey.

Conversation is sparse, but eventually the question on all of their minds is asked by Percival:

“If you could do that the whole time, track the Manducan I mean, why didn’t you?”

Emrys doesn’t look towards him, but the horses noticeably slow as everyone bunches together, curious about his answer:

“They are of a different... different plane. Magic can harm them but... but... but not kill. I was waiting for The Once and Future King to bring... bring Excalibur.”

Percival nods in understanding, but Leon frowns:

“Well... what about us? Will we not be able to harm it with our swords?”

Everyone copies his frown at that. They’re valid questions, and Arthur is silently grateful that Leon had the tactical mind to think of them:

“No. It will be safer for... for... for you to... wait. I can distract and injure it further until... The Once and Future King can... kill it.”

The knights looks worried at that, but Elyan is the first one to pipe up:

“We’re meant to just stand back and watch? Can’t we set a trap, or help distract it?”

Emrys shakes his head:

“It can not be trapped. Being too close would... would have adverse effects on... on... on your souls.”

Arthur looks back from his position at the head of the group with a frown on his face:

“Well what about my soul? I’m presumably going to have to get close to it in order to stab it?”

Emrys fixes his golden stare on The King, and tilts his head slightly in confusion:

“Your soul was forged through magic, it is marginally... immune. It will take a little... longer for... for... for your soul to react badly.”

Arthur nods, looking back to the front, muttering something about “having a time limit before my soul implodes or whatever. Great.”

Once the knights finish snickering at Arthur, Gwaine asks:

“Wait wait, if Excalibur is the only thing able to kill it, what are you doing out here?”

Emrys tilts his head, looking back to the knights:

“We were... unaware of that at the... the time. We only figured out what... it was, when we fought it.”

Everyone nods, all of them wondering just how many times Merlin had snuck out to take care of something, with none of them knowing about it. The list of questions they had for when Merlin was back in one piece was getting longer and longer, and no part of this conversation was helping the anxiety swirling in Lancelot’s stomach.

After another hour or so of silence, Elyan pipes up:

“I’m surprised no one has asked yet but... what does this thing look like? I know we’re following a trail or whatever, but what are we actually going to find at the end of it?”

“They shift sizes, though they always take... the form of a thick-”

Emrys is interrupted by Arthur pulling his horse to a sudden stop, and pointing through the trees ahead of his, harshly whispering:

“Black shadow??”

Everyone stops behind him and their gazes dart quickly to where Arthur gestures. Through the trees they see a large mass of deep black smoke.

The black tendrils seem to writhe in the air, and the knights can see vague impressions of limbs tipped with impossibly sharp claws darting out occasionally before retreating back into the fog.

The creature looks like evil in semi-corporeal form, and the usually strong-willed warriors take in stuttering breaths at the overwhelming instincts of “Unnatural, run run RUN!” screaming at them with every passing second.

The shadow doesn’t seem to have any front or back; being in a constantly shifting state, sometimes seeming to freeze, sometimes darting through the trees in a blur.

The knights have lost all colour in their faces, and their breath comes shallowly and quickly. Arthur gulps, tightening his grip on his sword as he whispers:

“Horse, or on foot?”

The sound of Emrys’ feet softly thudding on the undergrowth gives The King his answer, and he dismounts his horse slowly, trying to stop the shaking in his hands and legs.

He takes a deep breath as Emrys moves to stand behind him. His voice is shaking and desperate, as if he were a child reaching for help after a nightmare:

“How do I... what do I do, Merlin?”

Emrys tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything of the The King’s mistake:

“You need only get close enough to... deeply slice it. It is fragile in this... this realm. Cover your eyes when you... you do so, the light will be blinding. Do not let it... touch you. I am reluctant to admit that, after what it did to... to... to our soul, I do not know what it will... do to yours.”

Arthur takes another deep breath, and clears his throat slightly as he gives a firm nod. Time to be brave now, for his people, for Merlin.

The King can hear his knights dismount behind him and tie up the horses, ready to jump in and help at a moment’s notice, in spite of... whatever will happen to their souls. None of them are really sure they want to know, so none of them ask for details, and Arthur is unendingly grateful for their silent loyalty and bravery.

Emrys walks forward, past Arthur, and towards the creature. The King gulps before silently slipping off to the side; he doesn’t know how the creature sees (not having a head, or even eyes, as far as he can tell), but Emrys said he would distract it so... splitting up makes the most sense? 

The knights can tell the exact moment the creature notices Emrys walking towards it.

The tendrils of shadow seem to writhe even more frantically, and the fog bulges and retreats again, somehow giving the impression of anger, fear.

Emrys plants his feet strongly and raises a hand, summoning vines and roots from the ground with nought but a gesture; Arthur only gives himself a second to be distracted by the sight of Merlin so effortlessly doing magic before focussing back on the creature.

Everyone bar Emrys winces, and covers their ears as the beast lets out an ear piercing screech, moving judderingly towards the Warlock. The trees shake with the noise, and a few of Emrys’ magical attacks disintegrate into the air. He summons more, and snarls in concentration as the beast whips towards him.

Emrys rushes forward to meet the beast, and they clash in a burst of golden light and black shadow, each trying to take over the other. The shadows try to sneak around the Warlock, reaching towards the knights behind him, but they’re quickly halted in their tracks as cracks open in the ground, swallowing the fog before it can do any damage.

The golden light emanating from Emrys pulses brightly, and the creature is pushed back, the edges of its smoke disintegrating slowly into the air. It lets out another high pitched screech, and Arthur takes that as his cue; rushing silently forward, on the opposite side of the creature to Emrys, and swiping down precisely with Excalibur.

The knights see his attack coming, and step even further back, heeding Emrys’ warning and covering their eyes, Arthur doing so with his free hand as he brings the sword down. 

Excalibur cuts through the shadow with no resistance; the screech getting impossibly louder as the blade leaves a blindingly golden trail in it’s wake.

Emrys simply stands back to watch, but the pitch of the beast’s screech forces the knights to the floor, eyes tightly shut, and hands clamped over their ears.

Suddenly, the noise stops, and the shadows of the creature seem to disintegrate into nothing as the golden light of the wound takes over. The light recedes in on itself, before exploding outwards and fragmenting into pieces. The bulk of the fragments fly in the direction of Camelot, golden blurs through the trees, but one, the smallest and dullest (due to being only part of a soul, they assume) flies with speed straight towards Emrys.

The knights and their King finally look up, feeling oddly exhausted, to see Emrys take a staggered step back and grimace in pain as the light forces it’s way down his throat.

He falls to the floor, and the knights rush towards him as his muscles spasm and he begins to scream. His eyes are shut tightly and Lancelot quickly lunges forward to grab his wrists as his hands go to yank at his hair.

Everyone gathers around him, Lancelot yelling for them to hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself. They can only hope that Merlin is an exception, and this isn’t happening to the other victims back in Camelot. Lancelot keeps a hold of his wrists, and Arthur discards Excalibur in favour of holding down Merlin’s shoulders, whilst Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine hold down his hips and legs, and Percival wordlessly stands guard.

Merlin’s screaming dies down, and he stops thrashing so much (but stays tense), but the knights don’t let go just yet. He opens his bleary eyes, and whispers, so faintly they barely hear it:

“... Lance?”

The knight lets go of Merlin’s now limp wrists gently, and strokes a hand through the man’s raven hair:

“Yeah, I’m here Merlin. All back in once piece?

Merlin closes his eyes again, and goes fully slack as the others let go of him fully, nodding slowly as he gulps before groaning:

“Yeah, that fucking... hurt.”

Lancelot huffs out a gentle laugh, but before he can reply, Merlin gasps and quickly sits up. When his wide, panicked eyes land on the rest of the knights huddled around him, his breath deepens and he scrambles back frantically, only to run into Arthur, who grabs his shoulders.

Merlin whips his head around and rips himself from The King’s grip, stumbling to his feet and rushing back, away from the knights and into a tree.

His ears are deaf to everyone’s gentle reassurances that he was safe, and his eyes are blind to the hands held up in soft surrender. He sinks to the floor as his breathing gets even more frenzied and tears gather in his eyes, but before he can process that he was safe, the mix of memories triggers a blinding pain behind his eyes.

He gives a pained yelp and shuts his eyes tightly, bringing his hands to grip the sides of his head as he curls up on the floor. Merlin begins to groan again, and Lancelot desperately gestures for everyone to stay back as he kneels by Merlin’s side, pulling his hands away from his head again:

“You’re safe Merlin, no one’s going to hurt you, do you remember? We said that to the bit of you that was left.-”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him, but squeezes Lancelot’s hands painfully tight as he continues to groan, arching his spine:

“-Ok, ok, what’s wrong Merlin? Your head? We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong. Is it your... your soul?”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, groaning dying down, but still struggling to draw breath, still gripping Lance’s hands:

“Your magic?”

Another shake of the head has Lancelot beginning to panic a little; none of them have dealt with anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with his friend. He continues to try and comfort Merlin as he struggles to think of what else it could be, when Merlin begins forcing himself to take deep breaths, and stuttering out:

“Mem... memories.”

Lancelot takes a fortifying breath, and the others crowd a little closer, panicking for their friend:

“Memories? Ok, which ones? Memories from the bit of you that was wandering around, or memories from the bit of you that was in the creature?”

Thankfully, Merlin’s pain seems to be dying down slightly. His breath comes easier, but his eyes stay tightly shut and his muscles still spasm periodically as he grinds out:

“Both. Two sets of memories from... from the same time. Hurts. My. Brain.”

Lancelot huffs out another gentle laugh, rubbing his thumbs softly over the back of Merlin’s hands, and the others relax at the sight of Merlin’s pain lessening. Gwaine kneels down next to Lancelot, and quietly announces himself before beginning to run a gentle hand through Merlin’s hair.

This goes on for a few more minutes; the servant’s pain dwindling and his breathing evening out as his mind sorts the two sets of clashing memories and stitches the two pieces of his soul back together, Lancelot and Gwaine not stopping their soft ministrations for even a moment.

He finally relaxes fully, opening his eyes but not moving from his position on the floor as he gazes tiredly up at Arthur’s worried face, over Lancelot’s shoulder. His words comes out timidly, and Arthur has to stop himself flinching at the hint of fear in his voice:

“Did you mean it? Am I... safe?”

Arthur forces a soft smile on his face, hiding his worry, and gives Merlin a firm nod:

“I promise Merlin, you’re safe. None of us will hurt you.-”

Merlin smiles back at him, before nodding, and closing his eyes, drained from the ordeals of the last few days:

“-though you need to make sure your head is on straight at your earliest convenience, I’ll need your help to write that repeal.”

Arthur says it with a weak, teary grin, and Merlin chuckles slightly, nodding softly once more before drifting into a deep sleep, exhausted.

Lancelot mutters that he’s asleep, and the smile drops from Arthur’s face, his brow furrowing in worry as he crouches between his two knights, putting a hand to Merlin’s forehead:

“Will he be alright?”

Lancelot shrugs, biting his lip, and sporting a similar expression to The King as he replies:

“I’ve no clue. His soul was split in two, his magic was pushed to the limit in that fight, and his body didn’t rest at all or eat much for at least a day; he’s probably just exhausted, but we should get him back to Gaius.”

Elyan, Leon, and Percival move back to gather the horses without prompting, and within minutes the gang is racing back towards the city, Merlin’s unconscious form being held protectively in front of Arthur (his excuse being that Lancelot’s horse had already held the extra weight for half a day, and he’s The King, so he can do what he wants).

~

Thankfully, the creature had been between their camp and the city, so it only takes them around a day to get back. They took few breaks, and ate whilst they rode to save time. Despite not waking up the entire journey, Merlin’s breathing stayed alright, and he occasionally mumbled nonsense to himself, so the knights weren’t panicking too much.

They didn’t stop when night fell, and so finally pulled into the castle courtyard at around midnight. A guard was immediately sent to wake Gaius, and Percival wordlessly took Merlin from Arthur’s horse, only after The King had given him a short nod of approvable.

They got to the Physician’s chambers to see Gaius wide awake and bustling around the room, clearing a cot and gathering various potions and ingredients.

Percival gently set the manservant on the cot, and Gaius firmly demands that they all leave the room to give him space to work, choosing to ignore the fact that he had told them that Merlin was in the city, and that they definitely shouldn’t have come back with his exhausted, unconscious body.

Arthur notes that Gaius doesn’t react at all when Lancelot stays behind, but has to temper his frustration (and jealousy) when the Physician shoots the knight a concerned look when Arthur himself also refuses to leave.

Lancelot sighs, but gives Gaius a reassuring smile:

“It’s fine, Gaius, they all know about Merlin’s magic, he’s safe. We said we’d explain when we got Merlin back in one piece.”

Gaius sends The King a curious look, hiding his concern well before he seems to catch up on what Lancelot said:

“Back in one piece?”

Arthur moves closer as Lancelot nods and begins to speak, content to let the knight explain as long as he got to stand near Merlin:

“He said it was Manducan?-”

Gaius widens his eyes in surprise, but nods, continuing to mix together various herbs as he listens:

“-Apparently, Merlin’s power was too much for it to handle, so it took the non-magical part of his soul. We found Merlin’s body being controlled by his magic. It was... odd. He was still Merlin, you could hear it in the way he spoke, or the words he chose, but it wasn’t... all of him. Just the magic part. He wouldn’t lie to us, and was desperate to get the “Merlin” part of his soul back. Unless we spoke to him he just... sat there, blankly.”

Gaius hums thoughtfully, and he and Lancelot politely pretend not to notice Arthur reaching out to gently grab Merlin’s hand.

Finally, the physician finishes mixing his potion, and gently pours it into Merlin’s mouth, holding his nose shut and massaging his throat so it goes down properly. He sits back on his chair, glancing at Arthur quickly, before looking back to Lancelot:

“The other victims began to wake just under a day ago, so I’m assuming that the creature was... dealt with?-”

At Lancelot’s nod, he continues:

“-Did Merlin wake at all when his soul came together?”

Lancelot nods again, speaking quietly, feeling oddly like he doesn’t want to disturb Arthur softly rubbing his thumb over Merlin’s hand:

“Hmm. Briefly. He screamed for a while, whilst his soul... I don’t know, stitched itself back together? Then he panicked, because he knew his magic had been outed, then he was in pain again. He said having two sets of memories from the same time hurt. Then he was just exhausted, he passed out a few moments after the pain stopped.”

Gaius nods, and Arthur finally looks up, knowing that the explanation was over, and a conversation was about to happen. The Physician speaks:

“Humans are not made for that, it would have been painful for his mind to try to comprehend and organise two separate sets of simultaneous memories.”

Arthur speaks, his voice quiet, but obviously worried:

“Will he be alright? How long until he wakes?”

Gaius looks to him once more, giving The King an assessing gaze. When he spies no anger or deception in Arthur’s face, he relaxes his shoulders slightly, and sighs:

“He will be alright, he just needs rest. Both his body and his soul have been through a great deal, it will take a few days to a week for him to fully recover physically, though I can’t speak for his mental state.”

Arthur looks panicked, and Lancelot worries his lip between his teeth as Arthur asks:

“His mental state??”

Gaius finds himself sighing yet again as he asks:

“How lucid was he, between the bouts of pain?”

Lancelot rushes to answer:

“Very. He understood what I was saying, I think, he asked a question and understood our answer. He just seemed tired.”

Gaius gives the two men an exhausted smile, before softly saying:

“Then I imagine he will be fine. Go and get some rest, I will send for you if anything changes, though it’s unlikely that he’ll wake up at any point in the next two days or so.”

Lancelot nods, and moves towards the door, but Arthur stays put. Gaius raises an eyebrow, but moves forward and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“He will be fine, Sire. And... everything he has done, every lie he has told, has been to keep you safe. He couldn’t bare to lose you.”

Arthur nods absentmindedly, before looking up to the Physician, and whispering:

“I couldn’t bare to lose him either. You... you promise he’ll be alright?”

Gaius nods and smiles, noting with relief the tearful desperation on The King’s face:

“I promise.”

Lancelot smiles fondly from his place stood at the door, but wipes it from his face as Arthur turns towards him. The two men leave out of the room, Gaius’ assessing eyes following them all the way.

The door shuts behind them softly, and Gaius lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding, before running a hand gently through Merlin’s hair, and moving to settle in his own cot.

Of all the ways Arthur could find out about Merlin’s magic, out of Merlin’s control, Gaius never saw this coming, and though the pain Merlin felt was regretful, The Physician is grateful, that it went so well.

~

End of Part 1!!

Part two is already almost finished. It’s much shorter than this, and will be out at some point in the next few days!! Sorry this took so long lads, I’ve been really busy atm.

EDIT: I’ve actually just finished writing part 2!! It’s queued to be published at 12:30PM GMT tomorrow (09/05/21)

EDIT 2.0: PART 2 IS UP!!

Also I couldn’t find any mythical creatures that fit what I wanted, so I straight up just made one up ✌️

Head over to This List to let me know what you want me to work on next! :)

[lazypeachsoul]

I wouldn't want to spend a minute lovin' anybody else.

Warnings: this fic has some sad moments and mentions of the blip. also kind of AU because I'm completely ignoring Natasha's canon end.

Word count: 4,2k (i got very carried away with this fic)

Summary: · Meeting the right person at the wrong time can be life changing when it doesn’t work out the way we desire. But if it's meant to be it will always happen, right?

A/N: This is my fic for the "Women of Marvel xReader Exchange" created by @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest . It was created for @im-holding-ontoyou and I hope you like it! gif by @natasharomanovgifs 🌼 ALSO; i haven't watched Black Widow yet so I'm sorry if something in this fic doesn't fit the new info we got about natasha.

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

New York, 2015.

When you received the call from one of your bosses that you had a new case you would have never imagined how big that case would turn out to be.

You had been working for one of the most important law firms in New York for a year now, and you were getting kind of used to reading cases that would be narrated in the papers for months. Rich and entitled men, big divorces were they fight over who gets the yacht, one or two murder cases... if it revolved around the powerful people of New York city, your firm would get it.

When you got to the debriefing and were told that Tony Stark, one of the firm's most important clients, asked your team for assistance in the creation of some legislation with the newly created “Advanced Threat Containment Unit” you were more than surprised.

The events that the Avengers had caused (or saved us from, there were different opinions going around) in the small country of Sokovia were known all around the and it was only time before the most powerful officials asked for the regulation of ‘superhero activity’.

You weren’t important enough to actually attend the meetings that took place with the government, seeing as you had only passed your bar exam a little over a year prior, but you were deemed cheerful and nice enough to act as a nexus between the firm and the client.

For months you spent your days talking to Tony Stark and other members of The Avengers trying to explain what was being talked about. The first few meetings were a disaster, seeing as the mood was somber for the lives lost and nobody really understood your legal jargon. But slowly you started to transform your language and really tried to make the meetings as easy as possible for everyone present.

But who were you kidding, they really didn’t care about the meetings or the silly attorney being sent to explain something that was way above their paycheck. Well, at least Stark was gracious enough to set a coffee station with some pastries for the meeting. You were pouring the hot liquid into your to-go cup when your hand jerked and the hot liquid splashed your hand.

You could feel the sting of the burn but avoided further sudden movements trying not to make it worse. Before you could reach for a napkin to clean up the mess you made, a more dexterous and manicured hand reached for them and exchanged the hot cup in your hand for the bunch of papers.

“Careful, Stark always serves boiling coffee. I think it’s to mask that it’s not the best quality.”

You lifted your gaze from your hand and found a pair of deep green eyes gazing back. You would have thought that spending numerous meetings in the company of superheroes would make you less susceptible to their powerful auras, but being this close to Natasha Romanoff made your heart beat a bit faster.

“Yeah, I found out the hard way.” You joked, lifting your hand a bit. “You would guess one of the richest people in the world would actually serve good coffee...”

Seeing her crack a smile made you feel less tense. Sometimes you forget they are still normal people. Normal people who could kill you with their bare hands and had superhuman powers. She placed your cup on the food table, apparently not bothered by how hot it must have been, and pushed her hand in your direction.

“I’m Natasha Romanoff.” You wrapped your hand around hers and shook it, biting your tongue trying not to tell her of course you knew her name. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself in earlier meetings, we were all trying to come to terms with what had happened.”

“No worries, I can only imagine how hard it must have been for all of you.” You nodded and tried to show her sympathy, trying to avoid thinking about all the lives affected by the fight. “Oh sorry, I’m-”

Natasha quickly cut you off, speaking your name before you could even say it. You could feel your cheeks get warmer at the idea that they actually knew who you were, and she probably could sense your mood change because she quickly explained.

“I know who you are, you send us at least two emails a week about these meetings and FRIDAY always announces you before you arrive.”

“Who announces me?” You asked curiously at the mention of a name you recognized.

“FRIDAY. It’s the name of Stark’s AI technology. It works all around the tower and it’s there to make life easier for everyone.” She explained pointing around at the speakers strategically placed around the room.

“Oh, I get emails from Friday sometimes. Most of them are asking me to translate or explain something about the debriefing because Mr.Stark is not interested in legal terms.” Both you and Natasha laughed at the thought.

But she quickly recomposed and tried to look serious again when she heard her teammates coming in to get ready for the meeting.

“I wanted to ask you about that. Do you think we could schedule a meeting so that you could explain some things about the legislation of the A.T.C.U.?” She spoke lower than she had when the two of you were alone and you wondered why she didn’t want her colleagues to know about the meeting.

“Ye-Yeah, of course I can.” You were confused but thought it would be in your best interest, and the firm’s, to say yes to the proposal. And a meeting with a very attractive and definitely interesting woman was not something that happened constantly for you.

“Great, thank you.” She smiled warmly and squeezed your hand that you hadn’t even realized was still wrapped around hers from the introduction. “I can promise you better coffee.”

You could only hum in response, still trying to piece together what she might want from the meeting. But your thoughts were quickly cut off when Stark entered the room and you moved to start the reunion.

During the entire meeting you could feel the dull pain in your hand from the scorching coffee and the feeling of a pair of green eyes watching your every move.

Vienna, 2016.

The situation had only gone downhill from the Battle of Sokovia. The public’s opinion on the Avengers was at an all-time-low and that made terrorist groups bold. They knew that if they struck and caused enough chaos, the blame would fall on the good guys that tried to stop them.

The only thing that seemed to be a stable thing in your life was Natasha. Well, as stable as dating a superhero might be. She was busy a lot, but you understood the importance of her job and you were quite busy too gaining importance within the law firm.

And even if sometimes terrorists and criminals got in the way you still found a moment to spend together, wrapped around each other without having to think about how messed up life was.

You thought Lagos was the blow that would make everything tumble, the Sokovia accords were unveiled and it broke the Avengers, and your girlfriend. You could feel how torn she was at her decision of some of her friends to oppose the signing and go on the run, and her own decision to subordinate to the United Nations mandate. But you realized how small that had been when king T’Chaka was killed at the UN.

You had been at the UN as part of the USA legal team that participated in the writing and monitoring of the accords. Your participation in the negotiations almost broke your relationship but you were able to recover once you explained your position and Natasha actually came to an understanding of it.

Natasha was also in Vienna when everything went down, you hadn’t managed to properly see her because she was one of the signers and they sat at the assembly while other guests sat at the amphitheater watching the retransmission.

You hadn’t been able to properly see her all day, seeing as she took a detour before flying to Austria. You were only able to communicate through texts where you tried to make the situation more comfortable for her and she promised a peaceful european trip to celebrate the signing.

When the bomb went off and all hell broke loose the first thing you tried to do was look for her, she was at the epicenter of the explosion and you just wanted to see if she was okay. You saw her from afar when you were being pushed to the outside of the building while they swiped the perimeter.

She sat with T’Challa before he jumped from the bench and stomped away. Natasha looked around and your gazes crossed, immediately melting away some of the worry. You tried to push your way through the crowd to get to her, but police and security didn’t budge.

You never took your eyes off of her, scared that if you did she would disappear. But she did move her gaze to her phone and the look that crossed her face when she heard the voice at the other side told you it was a very important call.

Once the call was over and she looked at you again you knew that would probably be the last time you would see her in some time. You hadn’t known Natasha as long as some of her colleagues had, but you could proudly say you could understand what she wanted to say with just a look. And the look on her face in that moment read close to a goodbye.

New York, 2018.

It had been two years since the fall of Helmut Zemo and part of the Avengers was still on the run. And it maybe wouldn’t have had that big of an impact on you if it wasn’t because Natasha had also been on the run for that long.

You had heard about what happened at the Leipzig airport and how Natasha had changed alliances to join Captain America’s fight. You had been heartbroken at the news knowing that any resemblance of normality that you still hope for was destroyed.

You had spent months wondering what had made her change her mind. Had she thought about your conversations about the accords? Had she even remembered you, waiting for her back in New York, when she decided to go on the run?

A part of you tried to convince you of how selfish thinking about that was, why would she think about you when the future of her team and friends was at stake? But also you were her girlfriend, she should have thought about the implications that might have had for you.

In those years you had mourned your relationship and after the grieving period you tried to rebuild your life. New friends, a new position and new chances to take. And it went okay...at least until someone opened their mouth to talk about superheroes or The Avengers. Years down the line and it was still on people’s minds.

On special occasions you would receive anonymous gifts at your office or your apartment. The first birthday after the war you sobbed for fifteen minutes when you saw the bunch of flowers. There was no name or indicative of who might have sent them, that was until you looked better at the card and saw the small red hourglass painted in the corner.

The gifts continued. Every case you won, promotion, birthday or holiday a bunch of flowers would be delivered to you with the same note.

In a way it gave you a sense of peace knowing she was okay and still thought of you. But the more you thought about it the angrier you got at how she had left you.

You didn’t expect a message from your boss to run to the Avengers compound and assess some situation between Coronel Rhodes and Thaddeus Ross. Although the team had crumbled, your company was still hired to legally represent the remaining members and moderate situations that might arise with the government.

You entered the compound expecting another bureaucratic complaint about their activity but you found a trickier situation. The meeting room was filled with people you thought you would never see again.

Captain Rogers was sitting on one of the chairs sporting a new look that made you almost not recognize him and a tense demeanor. Next to him was Sam Wilson, looking around at the smallest of movements and trying to assess the situation. Wanda Maximoff was standing on the furthest corner of the room playing with her rings, meanwhile Vision was apparently being checked out for a wound. What kind of wounds a synthezoid could get was beyond your understanding.

“Thank you for coming so quickly, I might have angered Secretary Ross during a meeting.” Rhodey came up to you with a nervous smile.

You had gotten closer to him thanks to your job seeing as he was the one doing the dirty superhero work.

“Yeah, I got that much from the text. Nothing new then.” You tried to joke to diffuse the tension in the room. “It would have been nice to know you had guests though.”

“We are not guests. Last time I checked this was our home too.”

That voice made your blood freeze. You should have expected her there, all her friends had returned and the chance of her being back too was almost 100%. But hearing her voice again after two years was not something you expected.

You bit your tongue before you could talk about how it’s not a home if you abandon it, but decided against it. This was a fight between them, not Natasha and you.

“I need you to work with the government to avoid this situation becoming a disaster.” Rhodey explained and you scoffed.

“Rhodey, I’m a lawyer not a politician. I have as much power in this as you might have.” You tried to lay your point across but it was difficult with all eyes on the interaction. “Hell, I have even less power than you do.”

“Then I need you to distract them enough to get them off our shoulders.” He pressed. “Something big is coming and we need all the strength we can get.”

You thought about it for a moment. If it was true that something big was coming, the Avengers were the best option to fight it.

“I’m in.” You scoffed at his smile and sat down in one of the chairs of the meeting room. “I’m not ready for the world to end yet.”

The meeting went on for a while. You called bosses, government officials and everyone that would listen to your distractions. You sent emails that would flood their inboxes for days so that they couldn’t read any news that might reach them about what the superheroes had in mind.

It was late at night when a cup of steaming liquid was placed next to you. You looked at it and saw that it was some kind of herbal tea, probably made to relax the drinker. You followed the hand that was still holding the mug until you reached Natasha’s face.

You had done your best to ignore her looming presence in the room but now there was no distraction. Looking at her you could see tiredness in her face. She was platinum blonde now, a look that weirdly suited her, but her face still looked as welcoming to you as it always did.

You tried to stop the flashbacks to the last time you saw it in person in Vienna, but they kept replaying in your head until her voice broke you out of the loop.

“I thought you might need it, I remember how nervous calls used to make you.”

She was smiling but you could tell it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah, I guess I got over it since I got my promotion. Now I spend a long portion of my day making calls.”

She hummed and sat down next two you, but leaving a chair in between you as a safe space.

“I read about it in an article, I sent you flowers to celebrate.”

“I got them. And the Christmas ones. On my birthday too.” You enumerated the times you had gotten the plants in the past two years. “You must have spent an awful amount of money buying me so many flowers.”

“You deserved it, you still do.” She shrugged and that’s when you noticed she had her own mug of warm tea in her other hand. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to celebrate with you.”

You laughed into your mug sarcastically. Out of everything you expected her to say this wasn’t one of them.

“Did you really? Because you didn’t seem to consider me much when you went on the run for two years.”

Natasha paled when she heard your tone. She probably wasn’t used to situations like these but you weren’t going to let her go without an apology at least.

“I was trying to do the best for-”

“-for the world. I get it, Natasha, I do.” You tried to contain your emotions but it was getting harder with every word. “Relationships are supposed to be teamwork. I know you are always too busy playing heroes and I never judged you for that, I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me before you disappeared.”

She was silent and knowing Natasha it’s because she was probably overwhelmed with the display of feelings. But she needed to hear how bad you had felt.

After minutes of waiting for an answer from her and getting nothing but sighs you shook your head and looked back at the computer screen.

“I guess it was a case of the right person, wrong time.” You shrugged trying to find distraction in the flurry of letters in your email inbox. “Or at least it was for me.”

She got up from her seat without a word and you grew exasperated. Why had she even approached you if then she wasn’t willing to have an adult, two sided conversation? She was almost at the door when you heard her voice again.

“Please never doubt how much I love you. I made some bad choices but dating you was not one of them.”

New York, 2024.

Time apparently flies by when you are erased from the face of the earth. One day you are in your office working late and the next you appear five years in the future with no recollection of what might have happened.

You were taken by authorities to impromptu camps and one by one examined to check your identities. The entire thing seemed to be something out of one of the dystopian novels you used to read as a teenager.

When it was your turn you gave them all the information you had on what had happened. You had given them your name and personal information and apparently had been a very searched person because the computer started beeping as soon as your name was introduced in the database.

You were moved to a secluded part of the camp and kept in an isolated room for god knows how long. Your stomach was in knots during the entire situation and you could feel the cold sweat on you. That mixed with the metallic taste on your tongue you knew this time your anxiety was justified. You were almost dizzy because of how hard you were thinking about the entire situation and trying to make sense of it.

When you heard the door of the room open you jumped up, discarding on the floor a makeshift blanket that had been placed on your shoulders when you got there. Your legs almost gave out at the movement and your heart felt like it was going to burst out.

The door opened enough for you to see who had been searching for you. Natasha stepped through the door still dressed in her tactic gear and with tiredness written all over her face. But that feeling seemed to almost disappear when she finally saw you.

With quick movements she stepped into the room and wrapped her arms around you tightly. For some reason that action was the trigger that you needed to let all your emotions consume you.

You started sobbing uncontrollably at the unknown. You didn’t understand what happened or how you are here, but feeling her embrace helped you feel safe in a way. It had been years since you last hugged her but it still felt as good as back in 2015.

You could hear Natasha’s soothing shushes in between your sobs and you moved to hold her tighter.

“You are here. I can’t believe I found you again.” She spoke softly and you didn’t know if she was speaking to you or herself. “It’s okay darling. I’m here and I’m not letting you go again. I promise.”

And with that promise a ray of hope made way between all the fear you felt.

Missouri, 2025.

Soft music could be heard all around the ground floor of the house. The soft beat was upbeat enough to get the morning started but not enough to be overwhelming if you had just woken up. You were sitting on the kitchen island looking at the news on your phone and having breakfast.

Mornings were usually very calm around the homestead and you couldn’ be more thankful for that. It allowed you to silently prepare your breakfast and coffee and get a headstart on Natasha’s breakfast too.

Since she had retired, Natasha had discovered a newfound love for sleeping in and you didn’t dare to take that away from her. She deserved it from all the work she had done in her life.

You, meanwhile, tried to get up early to scroll through the cases that you got in your new and smaller job and schedule meetings or emails.

It was a Saturday so work wasn’t a thing and you could actually enjoy your toast and coffee in peace. Or at least until a pair of arms wrapped themselves around your middle and pulled you back against Natasha.

“Good morning baby, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby.” You could feel her smile when she kissed your cheek from behind. “You weren’t there when I woke up though.”

You shrugged before moving to get a bite out of your toast. Natasha tried to do the same but you quickly moved it away from her with a smile. She tried again and you moved as fast as your reflexes allowed you.

“C’mon baby, give me a bite” “No, it’s my toast. You can make your own.” “But it tastes better when you make it.” “No it doesn’t, don’t be lazy.”

The playful fight continued for a few moments until she got close enough to get a small bit but you moved it again.

“Don’t make me bite you, darling.”

You chuckled at her threat and plopped the remaining toast on the plate in front of you. Breakfast didn’t matter much anymore. You threw yourself into her arms and pressed your lips against hers. It wasn’t a slow and sensual kiss, it was closer to how small kids smooch their parents. But you knew it would convey your love more deeply.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Nat.” You spoke against her lips and squaked when you felt her playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Is now a good time?”

That question had become recurring in your household, a nod to the phrase you said when you found eachother again after being separated the first time.

“I couldn’t think of a more perfect time.”

And you couldn’t. The rest of your life spent in a homestead with your girlfriend and whatever life might bring? It sounded absolutely delightful.

Taglist: @tagehaya @flyforeverfree @rooskaya-yelena @evalynanne @insanitybyanothername @princessayveke @yelenabelovasgf @kyli314

[not-alien-girl-v]

Angel (lrh)

warning: language, violence, mature content

note: starting a new project. hope you guys like this as much as i do

Luke had never been so sweaty in his life. Los Angeles, winter, 2016, and salty liquid pooled in the crevices of his skin. He was feeling sticky and over all gross, at least he would be feeling so, had he been sober enough to care about such a thing. If he thought about it, really thought, he could probably trace back his drunken stupor to one drink, the first of many that started all of this, but he had not the time nor the mind to do so.

Him and his band finished a set at a smaller venue, somewhat underground, one of a few shows before a hiatus of band activity. Which sort of meant, in this case, a few more nights of being young and stupid before going about his newly found adult life, and he intended to make the most of it, even if the night ended in getting his stomach pumped in the ER.

“You okay mate?” Ashton’s face seemed close enough to breathe on Luke, yet far enough away for his voice to sound distant. The room was spinning a bit, then a little bit more, then Luke made the wise decision to sit down, letting himself fall back blindly, and luckily, collapsing onto a couch backstage. The stupid itchy beige pattern on it made his skin crawl and bile rise in his throat so he sat back up as the room promptly returned to normal. He dug his fingers into his weary eyes and got up again.

“Hey, you wanna go to a party with me and Ash tonight?” Michael entered the room reading something on his phone.

Luke nodded, though he knew it obviously was a bad choice to make, seeing how wasted he already was. You only live once, YOLO, or whatever young people say nowadays, he should know anyway, he was only 20.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he grumbled and his legs threatened to collapse beneath him, but he found the strength to crawl into the back of Michael’s brand new SUV. A perk of being famous of course, and the ‘new car smell’ settled his stomach in an odd sort of a way. He had no idea where the car was driving to, or how exactly he would make it home to the place he was staying at with his bandmates but he didn’t let either thoughts pollute his mind, leaning against the glass window.

The party was raging, truly, raging, music pumping loud enough to blow an eardrum, floor sticky under his black Converse shoes from spilled liquor or other liquids he didn’t want to think about, and it was packed. Wall to wall, there were people, partygoers, general no-good evil doers with lowered inhibitions.

He stumbled to the kitchen, seeing Michael and some chick in a near fistfight for the last slice of pizza, no, wait, the girl swung at him, it was a real fistfight, now.

Ashton pushed Luke aside quickly to break them up, sending Luke hurdling out the door, and he just accepted his fate, walking out now, seeing where else he could take himself tonight.

Passing a few partygoers outside, he was met with flowers, beds of flowers on front lawns, worms on the pavement and apple cores scattered, just missing trash cans.

Then, like the gates of heaven opening upon him, a glowing red light emerged in the distance, like a feast to a starving man, a den to a wounded and weary creature, crimson in the night sky like an atmospheric blush.

The sun had far set, and the sky was pitch black like a gaping mouth above him, ready to swallow him whole if he confronted it for too long, as he walked down the strip of road which included a Burger King, a CVS, and, as he approached, the name became clear as day in front of him, ‘Les Belles Femmes.’

Slowly, he made his drunken steps to the club, one foot in front of another, only every few steps did he lay his foot wrong on the pavement, uncomfortably rolling his ankles but he kept his gait anyway.

Luke immediately felt out of place here. Every man in this room, hell, even some women, had a sense of belonging here, as if they could not find another place in the world to be. Perhaps Luke did feel out of place in life every now and then, but not to the extent that these individuals did. There was something desparate about them, their eyes hungry and hands feather like through the air. Luke joined them in their desperation, as everybody was looking for something, in one way or another.

He dropped himself into a leather lounge chair somewhat close to the stage and slumped back into the chair, only now feeling the burning sensation behind his eyelids everytime he blinked. But every thought in his mind dissipated to dust the moment he lay eyes on her.

Her, with her silky hair. Her, with her sultry eyes. Her, with skin softer and smoother than the rim of a glass cup, and she reflected like one too, as the heavy LEDs touched the highs of her cheekbones, the curves of her breasts and hips, the highlights in her hair.

Luke had never known much of love, never cared to know anything about what it would feel like to see someone and just know, know, know that they were the one, but if he didn’t know any better, he would say this feels good, whatever it is that he’s experiencing right now as he gazed hungrily at this woman.

She was a woman, for lack of a better word, and there was nothing childlike or girlish about her, down to her mature frame and set expression on her face. It made him wonder how long she had been doing this for, this job, since she had no doubts about her performance, her appearance, even the opinions or expressions coming from her audience, she didn’t doubt herself and she wasn’t unsure of what she was doing. That was something Luke could never have.

It’s not easy being known. People know you for one thing, you can’t be another. Luke could lie about it all day: he is a grown man, and he doesn’t need the opinions of his audience to dictate his feelings. He could tell it to himself as he fell asleep at night, looking at himself in the mirror, he could write it down on paper, speak it into existence, repeat and repeat to himself before going out on stage, sharing a portion of his existence with everyone who cared enough to look, but he couldn’t hide the way he felt. Even if he did, it wouldn’t stop it. He couldn’t run from the truth, even when the gun fired in the air and he felt the air push past him as everyone else did so, the truth would weigh him down like a ball and chain for the rest of his existence, he supposed.

Her eyes scanned the room the moment she entered and he knew she had a plan all set up in her mind. She gravitated towards one man in particular. Past his prime, but not one foot in the grave, he had a tattoo of an eagle on his tricep and that told Luke all he needed to know about this brown haired man, and if it didn’t, the crusted yellow stains on his gray wife-beater would have done it just as well.

‘Slob’ was the word that came to mind, though Luke wasn’t sure he was much better, covered in sweat and wearing dirty clothes.

He didn’t mean to stare so hard but once he realized he was, it was far too late to stop it now as the woman now sauntered his way. He gulped.

She lay a hand on his shoulder and let it wander as she came into contact with him, “what’s your name?” Her voice was resonant and low in the space of the club, like she was whispering a secret only to him.

“Luke, what’s yours?” He almost stuttered like an idiot but he caught himself. Her laugh was alluring as she smoothly moved closer.

“You can call me Angel,” she spoke to him softly.

Though it wasn’t unnoticed by all. He didn’t pretend he wasn’t looking at all, the man she was previously with. Carrying no shame, he stared down the tall blond boy like nobody’s business, though he was about to make it everybody’s problem. He balled up his hand into a fist by his lap.

In establishments such as this, there’s typically several guards there to prevent things like this from occurring, though tonight, there was only one. Steve McAdams, that was his name. Just by the looks of him, one could easily assume that he played football or did wrestling in his youth, simply by his build and the expression he never let depart from his face.

He stood nearly 6’5, a true giant of sorts at 300 lbs and he only noticed this fight at the second punch, thrown by Luke, after a quick regroup in thought due to the first blow to his own face, right in the jaw, or it would have been, had this other man have been sober.

Steve went for Luke first, gripping the top of his tricep and yanking him forcefully when Angel intervened. “No! No, he didn’t do anything!” She stepped in between the three men and blocked a bloody faced Luke from Steve’s wrath.

It was Steve’s job to protect these girls, this establishment, and to believe them over a customer’s word, so that’s what he did. He yanked the other man away, much more forcefully than he had attempted to do with Luke, and dragged him away.

Angel’s glamour dissipated quickly as she watched in horror as Jason, her regular (and favorite) customer was escorted out of the club, likely the last she’d ever see of him. It’s not that she had grown an emotional connection to him, more to his money. Their relationship went both ways: he was her favorite and she was his. Meaning he tipped well, most importantly.

When she turned back to face Luke, he was still on the ground, hands and knees scraped the floor and blood dripped from his nose. He expected Angel to run to his aid, show some compassion, anything, but she just sighed. With ache, he lifted his head to see her walking away with no care at all.

He didn’t move from that position, until he felt a hand on his arm. It was Angel, she had returned. With no smile or word for comfort, she helped him back onto his feet. He leaned his weight onto her as she led him outside.

She sat him down on a cement planter outside and he slumped over a bit. “Let me see,” she demanded and took his face into her hands to lift it up, inspecting it.

Luke never thought he’d meet an angel. Ironic, since he was in the city of angels itself, but something about the pale moonlight illuminating from behind this woman changed his faith, even for just a moment. “You’re so pretty,” he slurred.

“I know. How are you getting home tonight?” She was crazy, she knew it. She wasn’t supposed to get involved in things like this, customer’s lives and whatnot, but she already was involved, not by her choice, of course, so she couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, if it wasn’t for her, he’d still be fine right now. He’d be wasted, but he’d be fine.

He shrugged lazily and she groaned, knowing this would be her responsibility. “Alright, I’ll take you home,” she started her lead to her car, a small, gray, Toyota hatchback. He inspected her closer now, and noticed she had a bag of things with her, a purse, though he couldn’t remember the word, and dug out her car keys from the depths of it. Once she did, she opened the passenger’s side door and promptly pushed him into it.

She settled herself into the driver’s seat and took a deep breath. “If you try anything, I’ve got a stun gun you’ll have the pleasure of meeting the wrong end of,” she threatened lowly, just as a precaution, he was still a strange man. He put his hands up in surrender. She shoved her phone his way. “Put in your address.”

[bubblegumbeech]

The Losing Move

Day two Ectoberhaunt:  Scream vs Laugh

AO3

It started with a scream. That’s how Clockwork knew it was finally time. 

He hesitated, of course. There was so much to lose, so much still uncertain, paths branching in different directions, moments shrouded imperfectly from his view, strings of fate tangled and misused. But he was the Master of Time. He could hesitate and no one would ever know. 

Not even them. 

Clockwork made a portal, leaving his Clocktower and walking towards a tall grey rock almost as old as time itself, weathered by age and nothing like the statue it had once been standing proud in a garden of overgrown thorns and long dead leaves. Nocturn appeared next to him, a swirl of inky black void scattered with stars and nebulae. 

“Did you hesitate?” he asked. 

It was a valid question. An important one too, if they were to succeed. Clockwork’s hesitation could lead to an uncertain future, to a failure in their plot. And then they would be lost, set back hundreds of thousands of years again. 

“No.”

Nocturn accepted his answer. Perhaps he knew that Clockwork was lying, perhaps he did not. Either way, they both turned to the stone. 

It wasn’t long before the others appeared. 

Misery Vex was the first, then Sojourn, on and on until they all stood, surrounding the stone. 

Misery turned to Clockwork. “Did it take?” she asked, and he flew forward, taking off one of his gloves to run his hand along the smoothed side of the rock. It hummed, an energy unlike any else, unique to here yet everywhere and nowhere at all. Very chaotic indeed. 

“It has.”

She hummed an affirmative, linking her hand in his before reaching out to take Sojourn’s. Clockwork reached for Nocturn and as they all linked together they formed a shield, thick and impenetrable between their varied talents, around the stone. 

“How long will this take,” Vortex said, ever the impatient one. He was jittery, yellow cords of lightning constantly jumping all over him in a nervous jumble, branching in and out of each other like writhing snakes. 

Clockwork sighed. “Not long.”

“You musn’t get too close,” Misery warned.

“I know.”

“You musn’t go too far,” Nocturn reminded him. 

He knew that too. 

“You’ve failed before,” Misery said, her voice steady and calm. She was not wrong, nor accusatory. He had faltered, it had led to a less than ideal outcome. He would not admit this. 

Clockwork didn’t allow any emotion on his face. “The threat is contained. My faults did not lead to the failure of our mission.”

She scoffed. “No, only to ‘inconvenience’. Right?”

As far as she knew. As far as any of them did. They relied on him, to determine if their future would be a success. He was the only one who could see which path to take, what choices would lead to their victory. He was the only one who knew just how thin the chance was, how precarious the choice. It would not benefit them to know. He did not need their doubt.

“Who was it?” Sojourn asked, referring to the scream that had summoned them here. The scream that had echoed hauntingly throughout the entirety of the Infinite Realms. 

Clockwork hadn’t looked. He looked now. 

“A boy, fourteen years old, between child and adult, between living and dead, between here and there.” 

Nocturn smiled, “How fitting.”

The stone shattered. Power and chaos, magic and will swirled around in a tornado, beating against the solid weight of their shield and making what was once so obviously strong seem weak and pitiful in comparison. 

Vortex’s eyes glowed in excitement. It was a sign, they all knew, that things were getting close. 

Eventually the storm faded and all that was left was a weathered pile of ash and rubble where there had once been a stone, where there had once been a statue, where there had once been nothing at all. 

It would come to nothing once more. 

Soon.

  The Infinite Realms had been lifeless for so long. Nothing more than ambient ectoplasm and void. A place. Nothing more and nothing less than it had to be. Many of the denizens had never seen them alive, existing as they once had. The panic was only natural. The frenzy, exciting and new. The heart of it all beating again. 

There was one ghost in particular, of course, who had only known the realms as they existed now. Sure there might also be others, newly made and newly dead, but this one was the important one. He’d been the one to give his life for the life around them now. 

Or at least, he’d given half of it. 

The Observants, of course, were furious. 

They had attempted to hunt down the Ancients, knowing it was they who had done this, who had planned this and then hidden it from the view of those who watch. Vortex had been taken first, as expected, and Undergrowth had fled to the mortal realm. The others also split, the time for them to come together was over; the time to prepare for the end was nearing. 

Clockwork, of course, their ever loyal subservient pet that could not leave his tower without their knowledge, that could not use his power without their permission, he’d never been looked at twice.

“You told us the threat was neutralized.” Nocturn said, sliding up next to one of Clockwork’s monitors. He watched a scene, where Daniel and Pariah fought. It was not a real fight, of course. Pariah had long shed the haze of bloodlust that had driven him mad, and was now attempting to be endearing, to rebuild a trust Clockwork had never actually had in him. 

Clockwork took a sip of his tea. It was made from some of Pariah’s newly grown coraleander leaves and made a thick, murky green tea that Clockwork quite enjoyed the taste and texture of. Unfortunately that was exactly why Pariah had grown them, and while Clockwork had snuck them away like a petty thief, he doubted that the missing leaves had gone even a moment unnoticed. 

It was infuriating and Clockwork sipped at it slowly, savoring it’s warmth.

“He is no longer the King. In fact, there is no King at all, just as I said it would be.”

Nocturn turned to meet his eyes, tilting his head just slightly in suspicion. “Yes, you did. Though I suppose the others thought you meant he would not escape his sleep. Or at least, that he would not escape his sleep until after .”

Clockwork looked away, towards the monitor. Pariah had soundly defeated Daniel and was laughing. Likely at the way the poor boy looked, his hair a mess and covered in the very coraleander leaves Clockwork was drinking. He’d need to wash them off before he transformed back into a human. While they wouldn’t be immediately deadly to a Half-Ghost, they would form a large, hard to explain, rash. 

“That wasn’t what I said though, was it?” Clockwork met Nocturn’s eyes once more. 

The other ghost just snorted and shook his head. “No, no I guess it wasn’t. Clockwork, the tightrope you’re walking, that future you see that you haven’t told us about? I really hope you get it. I do. Because the brightest lights cast the darkest shadows and I can’t imagine what would happen if you missed.”

Clockwork’s tea had gone cold. He continued to sip it. He ignored Nocturn’s words and he watched the screen as Pariah helped Daniel stand, only for Daniel to tackle him when he wasn’t expecting it. 

“I’ll take that under consideration.” 

It was becoming habit, he found, to lie to Nocturn. 

  Daniel was at the Clocktower, eating a plate of cookies and complaining about some of the varied ghosts he had to deal with and fight on a regular basis in his mortal realm. It was a side effect, of course, of Phantom’s new role as the Heart of The Infinite Realms. The smaller, weaker ghosts, especially younger and newly dead ones, had attempted to flee the Realms when they noticed the sudden changes. 

When the Observants had become so busy trying to find the cause of the change, so busy trying to hunt down what was left of Chaos’ children, that they could no longer micro-manage the state of the Realms. Could no longer constantly overstep their authority and keep their tasteless ‘Order’. 

The Realms had become more and more lively and Clockwork had found himself in a perpetual good mood. He took a cookie for himself. Nocturn caught him baking the other day; his expression had been dry as he congratulated Clockwork on his adoption. It was  a pointed accusation. 

He had shoved it to the back of his mind and decided to make some forgoent tea to go with the cookies. He hadn’t offered any to Nocturn. 

Daniel paused in his musings for a moment before speaking again, his voice careful. “I’ve been visiting Pariah.”

Clockwork hummed, not looking away from his screens. “I am aware.”

“Of course you are.” Daniel rolled his eyes. Then he sighed like he didn't know how to bring up what he was going to say next. “Did you… Did you know he was going to get free if you sent me after that key?” 

Ah, so he’d figured it out then. “It was a possibility. Each and every choice you make creates an entirely new future with entirely new consequences.” 

“He doesn’t seem all that bad…” Daniel argued, as if Clockwork was going to disagree with him. Clockwork raised an eyebrow, the one with the scar Pariah had given him, and looked over to him. “I mean, he just. When he first woke up he was really mad right? But like, I’d also be really mad if I finally woke up from a forced coma only to have Vlad there.”

Anyone would really. 

“And even though he sucked Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, no one actually ended up getting hurt. At least, no more than usual in a ghost attack. And I’ve been talking with the other ghosts that have been ‘Challenging’ him and they all say he's a pretty cool teacher… Like, he knows how to fight and he’s good at showing them how they can use their unique powers-”

Clockwork didn’t interrupt Daniel as he rambled. It was rare, at least since he’d been deposed, to hear lists of Pariah’s more positive aspects. It wasn’t uncomfortable so much as mildly frustrating. Was this part of Pariah’s ploy? Get Daniel to fall all over himself to recite poetics about Pariah to Clockwork. He should have learned by now that whatever affection he might hold for him, it would not be enough. Not to stop his plans, and certainly not to stop the others.

“So uh, you know, he seems… chiller. Without the crown and ring and stuff.”

“Yes, it was the Ring of Rage Daniel, what did you think it was used for?” 

There was a small imperceptible shift in Daniel’s expression, as if he’d realized something and made the choice to file the knowledge away for later. He must have learned that from Pariah as well. “So, if there’s things that can change even powerful ghosts like Pariah, are there things that could change, say… one of the Ancients?”

Was Daniel befriending another Ancient? Clockwork smiled, that was good then. He could hold that against them, the weight of his failure to keep an emotional distance wouldn’t be as stark, if another Ancient or two fell just as easily to Daniel’s pleasant company. He could use that, he simply had to find out which of them it was. Perhaps Sojourn? He was always soft for children, but Clockwork hadn’t been aware of him returning to the Barrens lately, and Daniel rarely went any further than the Time Locked Lands or the Far Frozen. 

“It is good to befriend others Daniel,” he says halfheartedly, searching through his mirrors to locate Sojourn, “but remember not to trust too easily. You never know the goals of those around you, if they might be using you towards their own ends.”

“Of course,” Daniel replied, his voice hard. 

Clockwork looked over to him, he was staring at the dregs of his tea, expression dark. 

“Would you like more tea?” Clockwork offered, wondering what had plummeted the boy’s attitude so suddenly. 

Daniel looked up, a small smile on his lips, “Yes Please.”

Clockwork left to make more, his mind still trying to find which Ancient Daniel had befriended. 

  “The Observants are completely ignorant of your machinations,” Pariah said as Clockwork entered his study. “Of course, they don’t know you as well as they think.”

Clockwork should stop visiting him. Should never have started, a fact that Nocturn was only too happy to remind him of. Sometimes Clockwork wondered if Nocturn got his taste of Chaos from Clockwork's mistakes, he seemed so dedicated to reveling in them. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about the Observants. I have my fill without the need to remark upon them when absent from their presence.” Clockwork was scowling. He could hide his irritation, but despite his lies and trickery he was hardly an accomplished actor. 

Pariah chuckled, flipping another page in the thick book he’d been reading. The title was faded, but Clockwork recognized it easily enough. It was a detailed history of the Infinite Realms after King Dark had been sealed away. It was a long history, though not as long as the history that came before his reign entirely. 

It was also the exact kind of thing Pariah would read cover to cover, like the obsessive monster he was. 

“I suppose you came to warn me away from your ward then?” Pariah asked, his voice casual. Clockwork scoffed, allowing a roll of his eyes before floating over to Pariah’s shelves and grabbing one of the books that looked recently used. It was about old soul binding rituals, much like what had happened to Fright Knight. It was amusing, the thought that Pariah’s oldest friend might still be whining about his little curse. 

“Hardly,” Clockwork said, idly flipping through the pages, “if I could control Daniel I never would have let him near you to begin with.”

Pariah smiled, placing his own book down. “Yes, I imagine you wouldn’t have. It would be a mistake to let me get close to him and realize he is the reason the Infinite Realms have started to sing.”

He’d figured it out then. Of course that wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. Unlike the Observants, Pariah was wickedly intelligent and fully capable of coming to the appropriate conclusions. “Sing? An interesting way to describe it.”

Arms encircled his waist and Clockwork was pulled back into a warm chest. Pariah’s chin rested on Clockwork’s shoulder as he spoke softly into his ear. “Is it enough? The realms feel alive, weaker ghosts are fleeing or banding together once more. It resembles the time we once had, between Chaos and Order. Will you stop here?”

“There’s nothing more I can do,” he lied. 

Pariah hummed an agreement and reached out to flip a few pages through the book Clockwork had been holding. There was a beautifully illustrated drawing of a necklace, bewitched and layered in curses. Pariah must have memorized the pages, of course. “Would you wear jewelry if I made it for you? I would see you decked in gold and finery if I could.”

Clockwork slammed the book closed, just missing Pariah’s fingers. He didn’t think about the earrings Pariah had once gifted him, or how he wore them even now, dangling hidden beneath his hood. “You should know better than to ask that.” 

He felt a smile against his neck. “Then I won’t ask.”

  He held the Thermos in his hand. 

The other Daniel was a menace, truly. But he would not be so desperate to ruin Daniel’s life anymore. It had been long enough for him to realize that his existence was no longer predicated on Daniel’s decisions, or on the loss of his family. 

It would change him, of course. The knowledge that he exists in the same time as his once family will either soften his grief, or sharpen its edges. There were so many paths he could take, and Clockwork could not see them all, did not bother to look much further than the distance he needed him for. 

There was something more important than his grief that he and Clockwork had in common. Something Daniel and Pariah likely had in common with them as well: the detestation of the Observants. 

Clockwork opened the thermos, releasing Daniel’s worst nightmare and not thinking about how the young half-ghost had given it to him so easily, had trusted him so quickly when all Clockwork had done was protect his human family one time. 

The other, once possible, Daniel appeared in an explosion of light and matter and immediately attacked, using his claws to scratch at Clockwork’s face. He was prepared for that though, years trapped in a thermos had eroded much of Dan’s more refined aspects. It would work in Clockworks favor of course, he had made sure of that.

For now, Clockwork froze time and moved behind him. That way his wild attack would meet nothing but ambient ectoplasm and Clockwork could speak his piece. Provided his piece took less than a second to speak.

He allowed time to flow and watched as the other Daniel floundered, confused, only to instantly realize just what Clockwork had done and turn around, ready to attack once more. Clockwork smiled as their eyes met and asked, “Would you like to End the Observants and their Order?”

the other Daniel attacked him, but Clockwork could see the consideration in his eyes. The thought had been implanted, now all he had to do was sit back and watch. the other Daniel had always been rather good at ruining things after all. 

“CLOCKWORK!” Daniel yelled, flying frantically into the Clocktower. “Clockwork Dan escaped somehow! He attacked Amity Park!” 

His desperate flight slowed when he saw Clockwork floating casually at his screens as he always had. He was watching a specific screen now, and pulled the image onto the largest one to share with Daniel. “Yes, I know.”

Daniel looked between him and the screen, his expression growing more and more confused. “But, he was here though. Locked up. How did he escape?”

Clockwork didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m sorry Daniel,” he lied. “Your trust in me was misplaced. He escaped while I was distracted with another matter and I was unable to stop him. It’s my fault.”

Daniel’s eyes widened, searching for something in Clockwork’s expression, and then in Clockwork’s screens. The only thing he saw though, was the other Daniel causing havoc and destruction. After visiting Amity Park and re-traumatising Daniel’s sister, the other Daniel had been driven away by Daniel, whose power had become far superior in the time since they had last met. It was only natural of course, Daniel’s existence was unique and far beyond that of Dan’s mangled pieced together form of conflicting obsessions and damaged cores. 

It was possible, Clockwork knew, for the other Daniel to stabilize properly. Perhaps he could become a proper ghost, perhaps he could stop attempting to restrict what humanity he had left. Either way, it did not matter in the end. If anything, his existence was a fun riddle that would play itself out long after Clockwork’s plans came to fruition. 

Clockwork looked over at Daniel, his expression hidden behind the shadows of his hood. The boy was staring emptily at the corner of the Clocktower that led to the inner dungeons where the other Daniel had been hidden away.  After a moment he turned away, hiding his own expression, and began to walk. As if his legs had become too heavy to fly. 

“It’s fine. I’ll get him back. It won’t happen again.” There was a promise in his voice and it softened to be almost inaudible entirely. “I won’t let it.”

After he left, Clockwork turned back to the screen with the other Daniel on it. He was finished terrorizing the ghost from before, and was now floating listlessly in the void of the Infinite Realms. Likely, he was warring with his obsessions- or his emotions- it was hard to tell which. Eventually though, he shook his head, looked up as if to catch Clockwork’s eye, and flew off.

In the direction of the Observants. 

  It’s eyeball was glaring at him, the normally dull yellow of it’s sclera bright with fury. “You were given responsibility over him! You were entrusted to keep him from destroying the Realms!”

Clockwork’s own eye twitched as he fought back an eyeroll. Those who Watch were as predictable as ever, not showing up at the moment of Dan’s release but instead at the moment he began to take his rage out on the Observants. Their responsibilities had always been superfluous though, a vague excuse to do as they pleased in the name of Order. 

“I failed. He escaped. Woe is me.” He floated over to one of his more intricate gadgets and began to tinker with it, pretending to be busy. “Surely an Order such as yours, full of powerful ghosts that command the Realms, did not come to me in fear though? He attacked you directly, does that not make your vow of inaction void?”

“ You-! ”

“Of course, it would be different if you simply couldn’t defeat him. But… he’s only a decade dead. That would be an embarrassment.”

The other Observant that had come to scold (and demand his servitude) floated in front of its companion so as to cut off a likely incensed reaction. “He’s an abomination, and an amalgamation. Surely you can understand why we wanted him dealt with before it came to this.”

Clockwork inclined his head, playing at civility. “Perhaps then, you should seek to work alongside Phantom. I have it on relatively good authority he’s also trying to deal with your resident menace.”

Both of the Observants took his suggestion as an insult, one even growing red with it. “That Abomination? He should be destroyed along with it!”

“Pity,” Clockwork said, turning back to the screens and watching as the other Daniel tore the core out of another Observant’s chest and crushed it in his palm. He wasn’t even absorbing them for their power. It was a waste, but Clockwork was certain it was a waste born of trauma. Dan’s creation had, after all, been due to a botched absorption with a powerful ghost core. “You can leave now.”

“You must deal with this.”

“I will deal with it when the time is right,” he said in lieu of an answer. 

The Observants, disgruntled and unwilling to leave, as if hiding in Clockwork’s lair would somehow protect them, made comment after comment demanding his action and threatening punishment should he fail. He replied with sarcasm and an aloof attitude that soon had them leaving out the door if only to try and do what they could to tighten his bonds. 

He sighed, there was time still. He should make cookies, that always seemed to calm him, help him to exist in the present and not become impatient for what is yet to be. He headed to the kitchen, only to see an unexpected visitor at his table. 

“Nocturn, you’re early.”

The other Ancient nodded. “Yes, your plan seems to have worked flawlessly. The Authority of the Observants has been shaken. Much of the power they had gained through fear and reputation has dwindled, but…”

Clockwork raised an eyebrow as he opened his cabinets. There was egyptian sand flour left over, it would be dryer than using something more modern, but the age would add a good aftertaste. He just needed to add extra Honey-Wasp bits from the outskirts of The Undergrowth and that should balance it. Maybe some purified ectoplasm. Pariah gifted him a jar after he had somehow managed to create a device to filter it from the Infinite Realms. 

He had also made an absolutely unsubtle offer to join him in his new ‘sauna’ that Clockwork had pointedly refused. 

“But?” he prompted, there was little information he could glean from silence. 

Nocturn watched him prepare the batter. He sighed and stood, grabbing a knife and helping to mince the Honey-Wasps before speaking again. “But they still have their numbers, and much of their actual power. And Clockwork, Pariah has made his move.”

“I know,” Clockwork admitted, “but is that not in our favor as well?”

“Not if he takes more power from them, Pariah on his own is not a fight we can accept lightly. Anything more being beholden to him is hardly something I wish to see.” 

Clockwork cracked a Kraken’s egg into the mixture and moved the bowl closer to Nocturn so he could scoop the Honey-Wasp bits into it as well, without losing any of the juice. Mixing it would be troublesome, some of the more experimental batters attempted to gain sentience and would try to escape the bowl. “It will work in our favor either way. the other Daniel caused havoc, their power was broken across the realms. Pariah is merely salting the ground we have burned.” 

He used a dull knife to cut into the batter and stirred, stopping any attempts at formation. Nocturn grabbed the bowl from him, forcing eye contact. “What if he seeks something else?”

“Haven’t I already escaped the chains he bound me in before?” Clockwork laughed. “Do I not have allies that would find short work of cutting chains that I did not allow to bind me?”

The bowl was set back down and Clockwork and Nocturn both made short work of dividing the dough and setting it into the oven. “We could not break the bindings of the Observants,” Nocturn said as Clockwork closed the oven door. 

“That is different, that was part of our plans. They needed to never suspect me, if we were to get this far.” Clockwork waved him off. “Would you like a cookie?”

“We have to wait for them to cook, Clockwork.” Nocturn said, exasperated.

Clockwork simply rolled his eyes and increased the time surrounding the oven. “I don’t wait.”

Daniel hadn’t visited again since Clockwork allowed the other Daniel  to escape. It was possible, he admitted in the back of his mind, that Daniel blamed him for what happened. As well he should. Yet, the thought left a sour taste in his mouth. 

He was watching the screens again. Aiming them in every direction he could to see everything as it played out. Most were occupied by the remnants of the Order he had set about decimating. A few were dedicated to their interconnected Lair, the place where they held their play courts and kept their prisoners. It was where they kept Vortex before he was freed. One screen though, was aimed at Pariah’s Keep. 

It had been a simple thing that Clockwork had neither encouraged nor discouraged, Daniel’s visits with Pariah. But now that Clockwork’s own visits had come to an end, it had become something distinctly bitter, a feeling that was building in his chest, where his core hummed, that Clockwork was ignoring with all the practice of a man dead set on his goals. 

Daniel would visit again, of course. Clockwork could even tell the exact date and time, or at least the most likely ones. He didn’t look at the futures where Daniel never came back, there was no point in uselessly fretting about it. He’d be fine, there were more important things to deal with now. 

He could feel the pressure of his binds loosening as more and more of the Observants were hunted down. Not all of them were ended by Dan, of course. They had made many enemies. Both Vortex and Undergrowth had gone out of their way to visit quite a number themselves, along with a few of the other Ancients. Clockwork was certainly tempted to do so, alas, the restrictions upon him prevented it still. And the only way for those restrictions to end was for those wielding the reins to End. And well, then there wouldn’t be anyone left to take his ire out upon would there? 

Instead he allowed his own part in their demise to be enough for his bruised ego and the millennia of torment he’d undergone beneath them. Then he ate a cookie and kept watch of his screens. 

Pariah was teaching Daniel how to use a sword. Pandora had attempted to teach him swordsmanship but Daniel had been disinclined to it. He wasn’t particularly elegant to be fair, and the finesse and practiced movement of Pandora’s sword was more akin to an art than anything else. Her limbs risked entanglement if she wasn’t careful and had developed a style suited to such. 

Daniel was much more inclined to blunt, ferocious movements. He often thought with his fist before anything else, even as a ghost with a multitude of powers to command. He used speed and strength to win and outmaneuver his opponents and despite his lack of polish, he often won due to those two traits alone. Pariah was a talented teacher, in that he was clearly taking what Daniel had already in ample supply, and taught him how to wield it appropriately to its maximum use. 

He was still only beginning of course, but Daniel was a fast learner and had grown significantly in a short period of time. 

Clockwork had toyed with the idea of taking Daniel on as an official apprentice once or twice before. Teaching him how to exist beyond the means which he had become accustomed to as a human. While he would not have Clockwork’s inclination for time specifically, Daniel’s connection to the Realms would allow him a level of control over his surroundings and the beings that exist in them that simply does not exist in anyone outside of the Ancients. And even then, Clockwork’s Time was different enough from the others’ domains to be unique in and of itself in a similar vein to Daniel’s powers. Even if they’d only just barely begun to show. 

But it was a risk to do so before everything else came to fruition. If Daniel realized his plans, it would be troublesome. He likely would not agree to the lengths Clockwork is willing to reach, and more than that, there is no guarantee that his existence as half human would not have him attempting to side with Order over Chaos. No, it was better to wait and see how it all played out first. There wasn’t much left to do before the end. 

Yes it would lead to anger. Perhaps even to hatred. It would be fitting for Clockwork. He had never known a love that had yet to turn. That had truly been any kind of unconditional. 

But he would be free. 

Finally, finally free. 

Free from this horrid linear existence, free from his servitude, free from his bonds. The root of him, the core, had been born from Chaos, from the mess of all things and no things, and like any child wishing to cradle in the arms of its mother, Clockwork longed once more for it. 

He had been patient, as had the others. There was little left to do. 

  When Daniel finally visited again Clockwork had made cookies. 

They resembled human chocolate chips, if one squinted, and Clockwork had made sure to take them out of the oven just as Daniel arrived so they would be warm.

“There you are Daniel,” he greeted. The cookies were still moving and he had to give the tray he was holding a bit of a shake to get them to stop. He doubted Daniel would eat them if he thought they were alive. 

The boy didn’t look well. He had deep bags under his eyes, and a skittish, weary look about him. 

Clockwork clicked his tongue. “You need to sleep,” he said, not waiting for Daniel to speak. 

“What?” The boy lifted his head, confused. 

“I said, you should sleep.” Clockwork grabbed one of the amulets from the wall and placed it around Daniel’s neck. “I’ll stop time for a few hours, you can sleep here if you want.”

Daniel just blinked. “Oh.”

Nodding, Clockwork turned back to his screens so he could keep watch. Nocturn had warned that Pariah was making his move and Clockwork was determined to keep an eye on him now, when the timing was most crucial. 

He felt a tug on his sleeve. 

“Clockwork…”

He looked down to catch Daniel’s eyes. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, “thanks.” He grabbed the amulet in one hand, a torn expression on his face. Then he floated off to the room Clockwork had given him to sleep.

Watching as his ward wandered off, Clockwork waited until he was out of sight to grab hold of time and let it rest for a moment. It was the least he could do. 

It wasn’t long after their fall that the final thread snapped and Clockwork opened his eyes in triumph. Everything was available to him now. There were no hidden futures, no shrouded pasts. His screens multiplied around him as even his Lair was freed from its limits. Like a beast stretching from a long hibernation, Clockwork lost himself to his Obsession, revelled in the freedom he had long gambled away. 

The Infinite Realms felt it as he left the Clocktower for no reason other than because he wanted to and he didn’t have to ask. He didn’t have to come up with some convoluted reason as to why this was perfectly acceptable before his own body allowed him to leave the doors of his own Lair. It felt wonderful, he almost took down his hood to see everything around him with the eyes of a free spirit. 

He didn’t though, it would be too much of a hassle to wrangle his hair back and he didn’t really want someone to see him so freely bared. It was enough in every way, that he was finally free. 

“I almost forgot how powerful you were, Clockwork.” He turned to see Misery Vex, lounging comfortably just outside his lair. “The Eyes Around Us are gone then?”

Clockwork nodded, looking to the future, looking to the past. She had been waiting here for him, but not for long. And she wouldn’t have waited much longer. “Are you ready for what happens next?” he asked. 

“Are you?”

He nodded again. There weren’t any more preparations to make, how could he be anything but ready?

They didn’t meet at the Clocktower this time. 

It was no longer necessary after all. This time they met in the night. The soft evening of eternal sleep and dreams, Nocturn’s lair. It was spacious if nothing else, and creative with its decoration. Should one of them wish to sit, they merely needed to chance sitting and see if the space around them would accommodate. It suited him immensely. 

“Have you found her yet?” Misery asked.

Sojourn nodded, a small enthusiastic smile hidden under his beard. “Yes, Clockwork and I were able to locate her shattered core amongst Pandora’s boxes.”

“ It will not be easy to receive her, and it will only be more difficult to revive her,” Nocturn warned, “especially if we wish to keep this to ourselves. Rather than risk the entirety of the realms turning on us as they did the Observants.”

Clockwork nodded, “we shouldn’t do much in more than pairs. Sojourn and Misery should seek Pandora. Nocturn and I can set the ritual once the pieces are complete.”

“And the rest of us?” Undergrowth scowled, he hated Nocturn’s lair. It was cold and empty, barren of any more physical matters and there was nowhere for him to take root. Clockwork suspected half of the reason it was that way was intended to irritate Undergrowth specifically. 

Sojourn clapped his hands together and smiled, his eagerness truly knew no bounds and his obvious delight was nearly infectious. “You’re our escape plan of course! We’ll need help once we locate the right box, Pandora’s obsession is hardly a good one to be on the wrong side of.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Vortex grinned.

Clockwork couldn’t help but agree, what are they waiting for indeed? 

  “What is Chaos, Clockwork?” Daniel asked. But Clockwork was distracted.

He hadn’t expected Daniel to show up today, he hadn’t paid attention to it. There was so much to do, so much to get ready for. The time was now after all. 

He took care to answer anyways, the changes that were to come would affect the boy. At least a little. He was strong enough that he would thrive in Chaos, and it would help to nurture his Obsession, if the weaker denizens of the Realms needed help. And they would

“Chaos was the first, how it all began. Everything started with Chaos or nothing could have been at all.” 

Daniel frowned, a small furrow in his brow. “That… didn’t really-“

Clockwork paused for a moment. “Is something wrong Daniel?”

He sighed. “So if you were made from Chaos, is she like, your mother?”

“No. Chaos is not sentient so much as conceptual.” Clockwork frowned, “though I suppose she predated concepts as well if she was the first. Chaos was neither one thing nor many things. It’s safe to say Chaos was everything and everything came from her. But that did not make her nurturing” 

Clockwork looked back at Daniel, letting time flow smoothly once more. It wouldn’t do to delay. 

There was a hint of something in Daniel’s eyes, a wariness that Clockwork had never seen before. It must have been due to their conversation, but Clockwork couldn’t place what about it would have Daniel on edge. Chaos would not be any more a threat to him than it would be the other Ancients. 

“Clockwork, if Chaos came back…” he paused, as if the words had been stuck in his throat, “what would happen to the humans? The mortals?” 

What a strange question. “Life would not exist as it does now, utter chaos would not permit it.”

It had been something of a sport, to watch Sojourn and Misery in their attempts to find and excavate the remnants of the Core of Chaos. Clockwork and Nocturn had watched it from the safety and comfort of Clockwork’s lair, on the largest of his screens. 

“They’re having fun aren’t they?” Nocturn mused, taking a sip of his tea. He’d made it himself in Clockwork’s kitchen, had been insistent about it when he’d seen Clockwork start to make his own.

“Pandora is a valiant warrior and a good fighter. Misery has been on the sidelines for some time since the end of Pariah’s court.” Clockwork’s tea was cold. He frowned and set it aside.

“Yes, it’s good to see her stretching her limbs. I hadn’t seen all of them since her last fight.”

Clockwork thought back, the fight Nocturn was referring to played on one of the smaller screens. It was a gladiator based competition, where Pariah had sent her as a member of his court to show his power. She had challenged the Lord of Little Crawlers to a duel and shredded him to pieces before even five minutes had passed. Then she had collected herself, reset her veil, and gone right back to Pariah’s Keep. 

Now she was using every extra limb she could against Pandora, swords clashing with long knitting needles and strings of silk. Watching the fight was mesmerizing to be sure, almost akin to a dance, if not for the frustrated vulgarities being thrown around and Sojourn’s overly eager cheering from the back.

“Do you think they’ll make it?”

“Sojourn will remember what they’re supposed to be doing when he almost drops one of the boxes held in his arms. Upon that realization he will sneak away while Pandora is distracted and meet with the others. From there they will come here with their spoils and it will be our turn to prove our worth.” Clockwork answered, easily detailing the future ahead of them. 

Nocturn nodded and took a sip of his tea.

  It didn’t happen exactly like Clockwork had predicted. But it was close enough. Sojourn had bypassed Vortex and Undergrowth completely and simply flown straight to Clockwork‘s lair on his own. Nocturn spared Clockwork a glance, but he remained unaffected. It was still on track to be an ideal future. 

Once Sojourn entered his lair Clockwork grabbed hold of time with his hand and twisted , forcing it to bend and still under his palm. The trip to the Cave was only a step after that and once there, he let loose and released time to settle amicably around them.

“Amazing,” Sonourn said, “I do think I’d like to travel this way more often. It’s quite convenient.”

Nocturn patted him on the shoulder and grabbed one of the delicately detailed boxes he’d been balancing precariously in his arms. “You’d need to be very careful if you did, there’s no telling what might get caught up in all that twisting and turning.”

“It won’t matter much longer after this,” Clockwork said, taking his own box. 

The entirety of Chaos was not here, her core long since mostly destroyed, but there was enough to recreate something should they use the ritual they had devised. 

It needed to be hidden, so they had found a cave. It was ancient, and once thought to be a reliable doorway into the spiritual and mortal realms, every wall was covered in ancient arts and writings. No rhyme or reason between them, a bit of a mess conceptually, but perfect for their purposes. Once Vortex had destroyed it in the mortal realm, it had been simple enough to recreate, especially using Undergrowth and Misery Vex’s powers. 

Most ghosts dared not travel here, where they placed it. It was a deeper part of the Infinite Realms, where the pressures of the ambient ectoplasm was strong enough to kill even some of the more stable spirits, certainly more than any Watcher could have ever handled. 

Clockwork gathered the ashes in the center of their chosen chamber. Three rights from the first left. Nocturn moved around the edges, the walls solid and firm under his hands as he tested them. And Sojourn, setting his own box aside, lit the flames. 

It began. 

They had known the work would be hard, tedious even. Most mortals, when they picture rituals like this, imagine chanting and holding hands, perhaps some use of indomitable will. But this was far more personal, more hands on.

Clockwork took the broken edge of a shattered piece of core, and began to mold it, shaping and soothing it into a puzzle-like shape. He had spent time looking into human carpentry practices, and had come across the traditional Chinese techniques of Lu Ban. 

It had taken more than a human lifetime to learn it properly and then suit it to his own needs, but he put it into practice now, shaping the shattered pieces anew and slotting them together so that they might fit and stay snug.

Sojourn had weaved together layer after layer of treated ectoplasm into a fine cloth and was now sewing it into a fitted dress, each stitch small and tidy, seamless against the weave. 

The one who stoked the flame, who kept its energy strong and the newly forming core well fed, was Nocturn. He kept a measured gaze upon it, not once turning away or getting distracted. 

This continued for an eternity, the creation, or recreation, of something both ancient and now new was exhaustive work. But eventually, Clockwork felt a hum. A small, weak thing that would have left him breathless had he needed to breathe. 

Chaos was born again, though faint, though weak. Not anything close to what she once was, but still, she was there, feeding on the flames of her own ashes, pieces of her own core held together and finally finding life. 

They needed to keep going. This was delicate work, if they got distracted, if there was even one misstep, it would be over. Chaos would be what she is now, what they made of her, and not what she needed to be. 

The fire went out.

“ Damn ,” Nocturn hissed, quickly turning to look around. He did not bother to relight the flame, it was too late. Clockwork felt hollow, had they truly failed? But how? 

He acted quickly, bundling the newly formed and still fragile core into Sojourn’s half sewn garment and thrusting it fully into the other Ancient’s hands. 

“You are the fastest of us, run, hide her away before we lose her entirely.” Sojourn nodded solemnly, flying quickly through the winding tunnels that led out of the cave. 

Nocturn scowled, “whoever is there should be glad I am merciful. Come out now and I shall forgo eternal torment for a quick End.”

There was only silence. 

Clockwork was growing irritated himself and looked to the future, only to see Nocturn tackled into a wall by a familiar black and white blur. 

“Daniel?!” He said, his thoughts screeching to a halt. But, there was no way. He couldn’t have followed them. He would have had to know about the cave and been lying in wait for the exact moment to-

There was a soft sound, like the clinking of a delicate chain, as Clockwork felt a weight upon his neck. All at once he felt the universe stand still, as if he had been trapped in the moment, the singular moment no longer able to spread himself beyond. It was cloying, claustrophobic. Something he never thought he’d experience again. 

And he knew who was behind it. 

“You’ve always been impatient my dear.” Pariah spoke softly, his lips far too close. 

Clockwork fled, slipping between moments to force space between them almost on instinct alone. Pariah simply let him go, a smug smile on his face. No, he wasn’t supposed to be here. How did he know about this place?

What had he placed on Clockwork’s neck?

He lifted a hand, not taking his eyes off of Pariah in case he decided to get any closer, and felt around his neck. It was a chain, delicate and just long enough to have slid over his head and dangle its pendant at a point on his chest, just above the glass. The shape of it was vaguely familiar, but Clockwork couldn’t place it.

“What have you done to me?” he asked, using anger to hide the tremble in his voice.

Pariah’s expression softened and he took a step forward. “Did I not say I would see you decked in gold?”

No…

The necklace…

It had been a cursed necklace, layered in charms meant for protection that slowly twisted into possession and control. It shouldn’t have been strong enough to cause any trouble at all to Clockwork, if something this simple had worked, Pariah would have used it long ago in the peak of his madness. 

Clockwork grabbed the chain, intending to rip it off, but Pariah spoke, startling him. “I wouldn’t, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Then why did you put it on me?” he tugged at the chain in emphasis, without his strength. Pariah never warned for no reason. 

The bastard smiled, like Clockwork had asked a stupid question, one he should know the answer to. Clockwork scowled, and moved further away from him. His back hit a wall. The cave, while earlier it had been comforting, a sign that eternal chaos was close at hand, that all Clockwork had done was paying off in the end, it was now more reminiscent of a stone cage. 

A trap.

He’d walked straight into a trap, one Pariah had been laying since he awoke. And Clockwork had never paid it any heed, had not bothered with his machinations because he assumed Pariah would be too slow, had thought whatever he did would be too weak. He had underestimated him, and now Pariah Dark was walking towards him, a lion stalking its prey.

Clockwork froze time.

He was still moving. Clockwork had frozen time and Pariah was still moving . 

It shouldn’t have been possible, there was nothing restricting Clockwork’s power in that way. He felt the threads of all existence tangled around him, grabbed the ones moving forward and tugged, sharp, desperate, to keep them still. He felt them still. 

Pariah kept moving though. 

“How-?” Everything else had frozen, all around them was silence and the only things that moved were the two of them. It was a strange kind of dance, one stepping closer and the other floating away. 

“I made it myself, the charm. It ties you to me, obviously.” Pariah caught him, gently because he didn’t need to use force, didn’t need to use any of the almost limitless strength behind him. “It’s based off the contract you signed with the Observants, I hadn’t honestly expected it to be so blatantly one sided when I read it. Though I suppose it was on purpose, a miscalculation on your part, in the end.”

Clockwork pulled his hand away, but Pariah simply moved with the action and stepped closer, crowding against him. “It doesn’t work like that,” Clockwork said through clenched teeth. A one-sided contract that gave away so much of himself was necessary. It was also only possible because Clockwork had signed it. Pariah couldn’t mimic that without Clockwork’s consent, that wasn’t how it worked. That wasn’t how any of this was supposed to work. 

Pariah hummed in agreement. “It wouldn’t be, if that was all I did.” He brushed a lock of hair from Clockwork’s eyes. “The Order of the Observants was in chaos. They were desperate. They wanted someone powerful to protect them. They were willing to give anything for the possibility they might find safety.”

Then he pulled out a medallion of his own, a horribly familiar one.

Oh.

So that was all it took…

Pariah was right, it had been a miscalculation indeed. 

“Even if they gave me to you, the contract dissolved with the Order. I felt it break.” 

“It did,” Pariah took hold of one of Clockwork’s hands and held it to his lips in a kiss, “But I had you for long enough. Long enough to bind you to myself instead. All it took was some craftswork.”

He let go of Clockwork’s hand to touch the pendant hanging from his neck instead. It was a gentle, reverent touch, as if thanking the damned thing for its work in keeping Clockwork trapped for him. “Luckily I was up to date on all the most prominent binding curses. I have a friend who suffers from such an affliction after all.”

“Fuck you.” 

Pariah laughed, a genuine surprised chuckle that truly lit him up from the inside. His eyes were so warm, his hands burned like brands, and Clockwork wanted nothing more than to tear out his other eye with his teeth. “Come Clockwork, you’ve failed. Let’s go home.” 

  Pariah led him back to the Clocktower, his lair. His home and prison. Clockwork stormed past him once they were inside. “And what is your plan now? I can’t imagine I’d be much use in subjecuting the Realms, as you can see I’m quite traitorous by nature. All of my previous masters can attest.”

“Then it’s good I’m keeping you for your sense of humor,” Pariah said as he closed the door behind him. 

It was the first time Pariah Dark had ever been inside Clockwork’s lair. Pariah had always been a cautious ghost, it made sense that he wouldn’t allow himself the vulnerability of being inside another powerful ghost’s lair, a place where they quite literally held all of the power and had all of the control. 

The irony of course, was that the moment Pariah had stepped inside, it was Clockwork that felt vulnerable. Exposed like a raw nerve, every part of him standing on end, tightly coiled and ready to flee. 

“How is this exactly how I have always envisioned it?” Pariah says dryly, his eyes roaming freely, invasively over every nook and cranny. Every randomly placed cog and haphazard ticking machine. It was a chaotic mess, naturally, it was Clockwork. 

Clockwork picked up a twentieth century alarm clock and weighed it in his hands before chucking it as hard as he could towards Pariah. The bastard caught it, of course. And Clockwork scowled.

“Did you often picture yourself waltzing into my Lair?”

Pariah set the clock down carefully, as if it would break. As if it were truly a piece of Clockwork himself. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t have. You were certainly at home in mine.”

“Oh please, half the Realms has access to your Lair. We are not the same.” Clockwork scoffed, crossing his arms and floating awkwardly in the middle of the room. He didn’t want to be any closer to Pariah, but neither did he want to risk being backed into a wall again . It seemed a recurring treat for Pariah, to cage him in that way. 

There was a touch of mischief in Pariah’s smile when he replied. “Perhaps we can change that, would you like more visitors?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

Clockwork grabbed another trinket to throw, this one he had pried from the walls. Pariah handled that just as easily, an uncomfortable expression aimed at the destroyed part of Clockwork’s wall. He was truly the most obnoxious perfectionist. If Clockwork’s mangled mess of a lair was going to bother him he shouldn’t have bothered to come inside.

In fact, if he was going to be disappointed so easily he shouldn’t have chained him in the first place. It wasn’t as if the bindings guaranteed something like loyalty. They couldn’t even force him to act should he not wish to. Clockwork wasn’t going to change from how he had been for eons under the damn Eyes. 

“Why did you do this?” Clockwork asked, “And don’t dare say it’s only because you said you would. You may be meticulous but you are not beholden to simple words.”

Pariah had fixed his wall. And was now attempting to reinstate the very same decoration Clockwork had used as ammunition. It was strangely domestic to see and Clockwork felt rage simmer and build. Would he simply make himself at home then? Perhaps he would seek to combine their lairs in a twisted amalgamation so that he might seek order where it damn well did not belong.

“You were going to leave.” 

What a useless excuse. “Did you lose your ability to reason permanently to that crown?”

This time it was Pariah that rolled his eyes. “Obviously not, if I was able to out-fox Clockwork of all ghosts.”

“You had help.” Clockwork said through grit teeth. He wouldn’t ask who, he didn’t think he could handle having it confirmed.

Pariah’s eyes sparkled. “So you knew?”

“I figured it out.”

“Feeling very betrayed, Clockwork?” This time Pariah’s smile was sharp, a vicious little thing that certainly made him more recognizable as the fallen tyrant he actually was. 

Clockwork refused to rise to the bait. He did not regret, it was impossible to feel regret when every single decision he’d ever made had been so thoroughly calculated. “I wasn’t going to leave. Where would I even go, Pariah?”

“You were leaving me.” Pariah walked towards him, quicker than his usual slow prowl. Clockwork had chanced a step back himself but it only served to darken Pariah’s expression further so he stilled instead and allowed himself to be caught and held. Pariah’s hands were heavy, one landing on his hip and the other reaching for his wrist. “You were disappearing to the flows of Time, one minute here and the next somewhere no one could follow you. You speak of chaos and the freedom it would give you, but you lie to yourself when you say that is all that you desire. The freedom you had so desperately sought, how lonely would it have been.”

Pariah had not been able to talk after that, too busy weathering Clockwork’s sudden violent outrage. 

Nocturn was the first to visit him, to see Clockwork’s anger, his desperate lashing out. He had the same expression he’d always had when the topic of Pariah or Daniel had come up. The look of undisguised pity, as if he had known from the start that Clockwork would fail, that he would be chained in this way, the moment his freedom was closer than at any other time. 

“We do not hate you for your failure, Clockwork,” Nocturn said, and Clockwork bared his teeth. It had been sometime since he’d carved out an eye in petty vengeance but he was not above making it a hobby.

Nocturn simply kept his distance, just one step away with one of those damned medallions around his neck, stopping Clockwork from freezing him in place in his own lair. “You’ve always been easily twisted by affection, too willing to be tied down with familiarity.”

His words hurt, like an arrow piercing through Clockwork’s chest. He hadn’t thought it would be so literal, hadn’t taken Pariah’s threats seriously. Had believed, genuinely, that he would be able to escape whatever bonds Pariah had fashioned for him. Had not thought to protect himself thoroughly enough and now all was for naught. Nocturn said he harbored no ill will, but he should . 

And Clockwork was distraught that he did not. 

He deflated and Nocturn floated closer, just within range. But Clockwork’s arms hung heavy, and he was exhausted now, the weight of it all too much. “You should. Chaos is lost to us.” he spoke, his voice barely audible.

“Yes,” Nocturn acquiesced, “but Chaos was lost to us long ago. It was a child’s hope, that we could get it back.”

“You are content then? To rot in containment in an infinite realm of order and stability?”

A laugh escaped Nocturn, perplexing Clockwork and only flaring his temper worse. The other Ancient didn’t even try to hide as he fell into a laughing fit. “I would not be, no. But my oldest friend, I am not the one in containment. I have always known you look too much towards the forest and its tallest trees, very rarely have you ever noticed the grass or the leaves.”

“Speak sense,” Clockwork snapped. It was his job to speak in riddles, he had little patience to hear them now. 

Nocturn did not call him on his hypocrisy though, instead he shook his head and floated closer, relaxing next to Clockwork as if they were two friends taking tea. “It was not, as you believed, an all or nothing gamble.”

“Was it not?”

“No, the realms are back to Anarchy as they should be. The Observants were the last hold in their attempts to tame them, and they have been destroyed. There is no King, not even a sleeping one, and Chaos exists.”

Clockwork listened, the cold weight of failure that had settled in his chest chipped and cracked as Nocturn spoke on. “She does not exist as she had.”

“But perhaps this is a better way,” Nocturn pondered, “last time, Chaos reigned so supreme it seemed all were insistent to seek order. Then order reigned supreme and we sought Chaos. Perhaps now, with the Realms alive once more, and order and Chaos in balance, it will last instead.”

Nocturn placed a hand on the top of Clockwork’s head, petting his hair. “The other Ancients and I shall seek our fun, and find ways to exist in this new existence. It is only you, I am afraid, that will remain trapped.”

Clockwork slapped his hand away, “How comforting, Nocturn. Do you also go to the newly dead and tell them not to weep, at least they were the ones that died and not others?”

Nocturn’s hand returned to pull his hood down over his face and Clockwork had to slap it away again. “It is not in my perogative to comfort the newly dead. I thought only to inform my dearest friend that he had not earned my animosity. A fear he might have had, failing the plan we had painstakingly worked towards for eons.”

“I don’t want to be chained any longer.” Clockwork admitted. It had been so long since he’d had any semblance of freedom. Did he even know what it would feel like anymore?

“We know. Though some, like Misery Vex, believe it karmic, that your attachments, which had led so thoroughly to our defeat, came back in the forms of chains for you alone. But know that if one day it comes to pass that I can free you, unlikely as it may be, I shall make the attempt.” Nocturn stood, leaving Clockwork alone in his tower. 

“Clockwork?” It was Daniel’s voice. It was the first time his young ward had come to visit since the binding. It was not a comfort to hear his voice, to see that he was okay. It was not .

He didn’t acknowledge Daniel when he entered, wouldn’t have let him in the door if he still had complete control of his Lair… But he’d bargained that away long ago in a gamble that had failed him entirely. 

Instead he floated to his screens. Ever since the fall of the Observants, he could see properly at least. Pariah had no interest in obscuring his vision, had even less in controlling what it was he could see. Pariah’s only interest had been binding Clockwork to him so that he might not escape, so that he might not regress, so that he might not lose himself to the chaos of infinity and escape his limited existence.

Clockwork scowled, still ignoring Daniel’s presence, his attempts at conversation. Pariah’s interests should not have mattered. Because Pariah should not have won . Because Pariah had lost before and Clockwork had been so certain that he would again. Because- 

Because Clockwork had made a mistake when he sealed him away. Because Clockwork knew he could not bring himself to end him. Because Clockwork had seen an opportunity to see Pariah again and had known it would be a mistake but had wanted so desperately just to see him again. Wanted to see him free of the haze of anger the ring and crown had obscured him in, but a ghost’s natural state was obsessive. And Pariah had never hid his desire to keep Clockwork as he was, Clockwork had simply brushed it off as words of affection. He should have known better really, Pariah was hardly the type to speak lightly, and had never claimed what he did not mean with his entire core. 

The screen he was watching was boring, most things were now that he had no reason to keep track of the threads, no overarching plan to work towards. It was so simple. A young ghost was trick-or-treating with a watermelon instead of a pumpkin and was turning into a large candy-based monster whenever someone turned them away. 

It was the middle of summer where the ghost was, and Clockwork allowed himself to appreciate the tiny bit of chaos that the ghost was bringing to the small mortal town. Nocturn had told him that not all had been lost, Clockwork may be trapped, but Chaos had been released. 

Just enough. 

He sighed. 

“Why are you here Daniel?” he finally asked.

Daniel straightened up, he’d been rambling, no doubt in an attempt to cajole Clockwork into joining conversation or listening subconsciously. He hadn't been.

He was also carrying a plate of cookies that Clockwork had not seen, because Clockwork had not looked. When would he learn his lesson about that? Why was he always looking too late?

“I wanted to check on you,” Daniel said, setting the plate of cookies down now that he was sure Clockwork had seen them. “Pariah said you were… having a hard time.”

Clockwork scowled, too many things tearing at his chest at once. Damn Pariah, damn him . 

“Having a hard time?” he said with a false calm. “The plans that I made eons ago, plans that had been in work before your mortal realm even knew what time was, were ruined by someone I trusted. Someone I did not think would step so easily between me and my goals. Exactly what kind of time should I be having, chained to my own lair without even the authority to deny entrance to whom I wish?”

There had been a small flinch, Clockwork noticed, when he had mentioned betrayal. But if Daniel felt any guilt he didn’t look it. He raised his head, eyes full of determination. The very same expression Clockwork had seen through his screens so many times, in the fights against the other Ancients. The plans they’d made to make him stronger, to keep him stable, so that when the Chaos had been released he and the Realms with him would survive. 

He had certainly survived. 

“Pariah said this was the only way to save you.” Because of course that was what Pariah had told him. Because Daniel was intelligent, but Daniel was also a child and all too willing to trust any competent adult. A flaw that Clockwork himself had been so quick to take advantage of. A flaw that cursed him now. 

“Do you really believe that Pariah Dark has my best interest at heart?” he would have sneered, if it had been anyone else. If it hadn’t been Daniel, who was practically his own child. Instead, he asked softly, his frustration drowned entirely by exhaustion.

Daniel still answered him though. “You were changing Clockwork,” What? “The same way you told me Pariah had once changed.”

He hadn’t, there was no way it had been so obvious. He hadn’t, it wasn’t as if he had lost himself to his obsession, nor had he gained power that grew out of his control, what was he talking about?

“You were distant, as if you were struggling to stay in any given moment. Sometimes you’d forget everything going on around you, and others you seemed to be somewhere or some-when else entirely. I mean,” Daniel took a breath, “you’ve always been a bit cryptic, but you were losing yourself entirely . Halfway through a conversation you would start talking completely randomly, in languages long dead or unrecognizable. Or you’d start talking about things that had never happened or had happened forever ago.”

He was almost shouting now, his eyes shining with more than just energy and Clockwork felt a sting in his core. He had known that Daniel would disapprove, that he would get angry. But it had not occurred to him that his anger would be pointed towards this rather than his blatant manipulation of Daniel and his friends.

“And your actions! They were reckless, Clockwork!! Releasing Dan? What the hell?! ”

It was Clockwork’s turn to flinch. “Your future self’s release had always been part of the plan. It was why I had you leave him with me to start with. I was not losing myself Daniel, I was revealing who I actually am.”

Daniel made a desperately frustrated noise. “Do you think saying something like that is going to convince me we were wrong, Clockwork? I- I trusted you! I care about you! You’re-”

“So you’d cage me and try to force compliance so that the more unsightly aspects of myself can be filed away? So you can teach me to be better, like some kind of petty human criminal, Daniel?” He let his anger take over instead. It was easier, so much easier. It was what he had always done with Pariah. 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “How dramatic,” he said dryly, “Didn’t you do the same thing to Pariah, wasn’t what you did like way worse? You’re throwing a fit just like he said you would.”

“If you trust Pariah Dark so much, why are you even here? Have him make cookies for you. I'm sure he’s fully capable.” Clockwork wasn’t throwing a fit, he was angry. 

Daniel sighed, grabbing one of the cookies he’d brought. They had long gone cold, but it hardly mattered to Clockwork, he wouldn’t be eating them. “Pariah has a lot of faults, and there’s a bunch of things I don’t really like about him. He’s manipulative, methodical. He never lets me half ass anything and he’s really picky. He doesn’t actually care if a person dies or a ghost gets Ended, and we fight about that kind of stuff a lot. But…” he met Clockwork’s eyes, his expression looked hurt, heartbroken. Clockwork didn’t want to see it. Had never wanted to see Daniel like this.

“He’s never outright lied to me. I’ve been checking, ever since… Well. I don’t just trust anyone at their word anymore. So yeah okay, I know he’s manipulating me just like he was manipulating you, but he never lied to either of us about his intentions. He didn’t do what you did.”

Clockwork couldn’t look at him any more. He’d made so many mistakes. If he was truly destined to fail… He should never have revealed his true nature or intentions to the boy. His disappointment burned almost as much as the chain Pariah had placed around Clockwork’s neck.

It didn’t matter though, that Clockwork could not stand to see him, because Daniel flew towards him and grabbed his face gently, hands on either side of his cheeks. 

“I don’t trust you anymore, Clockwork, but I still love you. So does Pariah. We can fix this, okay?” Daniel said and Clockwork’s eyes widened at the threat. 

He had truly lost, hadn’t he?

[nmikaelsonimagines]

I Did Something Bad, Part Three: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

So, here we are, the final part! Really enjoyed this series, so thank you guys for sticking with it! Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Need to catch up? Find the rest of the series just below:

I Did Something Bad

They're burning all the witches even if you aren't one They got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reasons They're burning all the witches even if you aren't one

“If you’ve come to gloat Marcel, I’m really not in the mood.” You let the Bourbon burn its way down your throat, your fourth that evening, your thousandth in the past seven years.

Seven years since Klaus had gone, five since he had stopped talking to you. So much for loving you, so much for always and forever. Maybe this was punishment, maybe this was karma for what you had done, for betraying your only friend for the Original hybrid over and over again, for loving a monster.

Of course, it hadn’t been all bad. Seven years ago, you and Klaus had reunited, had finally confessed your feelings to each other, and your relationship had become so much more than the movement of your bodies, the intensity that pierced through your skin every time he kissed you. It used to be a pain you looked forward to, now it was like a pitchfork spearing through your heart.

“I just want to ask you something, Y/N.” You turned and glared at your old friend, the newly returned, so-called King of New Orleans. You nodded at him, knowing that everyone was on tiptoes around you, waiting for you to snap. The scorned girlfriend of Klaus Mikaelson, left alone and hurting. You had promised to look after his daughter for him, and he had burnt you at the stake. Marcel continued. “Why don’t you go and find him? Are you telling me, that after all this time, after everything you two have been through, you’re scared of confronting him?”

You resisted the urge to throttle Marcel. No-one had ever asked you that question, had ever challenged your reasons for letting Klaus treat you in the way he did, too scared of your newfound unpredictability. “Why do you care? I betrayed you for him. Twice, remember?”

“Oh, I remember. And I don’t care, not about him. But, despite everything, I still care about you. And I think you need answers.”

You downed the remnants of your glass of Bourbon, mulling over Marcel’s words.

So light me up (Light me up), light me up (Light me up) Light me up, go ahead and light me up (Light me up) Light me up (Light me up), light me up (Light me up) Light me up (Light me up), light me up

And that was how you found yourself in Manosque, following the bloody trail that the man you loved had left in his wake. There were those nerves, those butterflies in your stomach that you had associated with seeing him since that night fifteen years ago, that night when he had kissed you for the very first time, when he had touched you, setting you alight.

Your trail had led you to a small bar, a familiar man sat at the piano. Your heart was in your mouth as you looked over at Elijah Mikaelson, mourning the man who had been your friend, who would look at you and wouldn’t remember you. You couldn’t help it when you walked over, placing twenty euros into the tip jar. He looked up at you and smiled, that smile quickly turning into a frown. “Do I know you?”

Yes, you know me. It’s me, Elijah. It’s Y/N, and I need to find the man we both love. “I don’t think so, sorry.” You shrugged, smiling sadly. “But maybe you can help me. I’m looking for someone. A man, blue eyes, blonde curls, British accent.”

Elijah smiled. “Ah, so you must be her.”

“Her?” The butterflies in your stomach started fluttering, their wings beating against your ribcage as they tried to free themselves from your prison. The fire in your blood, the one that burnt through your skin, threatened to engulf you, the memories of Klaus lighting you up.

“If you’re looking for who I think you are, you should know that he talks about you a lot. He misses you. And he’s never stopped loving you.”

There were tears building in your eyes, and you tried your best to blink them away. You were still so angry at Klaus, and Elijah’s words didn’t do anything except add to your heartbreak, to your confusion. Elijah reached out a hand, a familiar gesture. “I hope you find him.”

“So do I.”

They say I did something bad (Oh) Then why's it feel so good? (So good) They say I did something bad But why's it feel so (Good) good?

You followed the screams into a grand house, careful to step over the body at the bottom of the stairs. You could hear it, could hear the sound of flesh tearing, of blood spilling, of Klaus taunting each of his victims. It wasn’t that you were afraid of; you had fallen for him like this, had fallen for the monster, had fallen for everything bad about him that had felt unbelievably good.

But you were scared of seeing him now, of Elijah’s words not being true, of Klaus not loving you anymore.

You pushed the door open, your gaze falling on only one thing. Klaus sat in an armchair, blood on his hands, as if he had been waiting for you. He looked just like you remembered, deep blue eyes and golden curls. Perfect lips that had littered your skin with kisses, that had sent electric currents flowing through your body. The being that had made everything that should have been bad feel so good.

The man that you loved, and that had left you alone. And he had the nerve to smile. “Hello, love.”

You wanted to strangle him, wanted to kill him, wanted to scream and shout at him until your throat was raw. But you couldn’t. So instead, you did something you had done so many times before, always at the crucial moment before you proved your loyalty to him, something he had done so many times before always at the crucial moment before you had fallen victim to him.

You nodded at him, and Klaus Mikaelson smirked. “I suppose you and I need to talk.”

At first, you had been the betrayer finding her temptation. Then you were the soldier finding her King.

Now, you were the Queen trying to understand.

Klaus was the one trying to win you back.

Most fun I ever had (Most fun I ever had) And I'd do it over and over and over again if I could It just felt so good (Good), good

Klaus threaded his fingers through your hair as you slept with your head on his chest. For the past five years, he had hated himself, hated the way he had treated you, not just in his abandonment of you, but for the past fifteen years.

He should have told you on that first morning-after that he wanted more than just to share a bed with you, that you were more than the most fun he had ever had. But it had taken him three years to do so, and even then it had been in a goodbye note.

The months he had been able to spend with you were months he wanted to live over and over again, never forgetting the intense emotions he felt towards you, never forgetting the way you made him feel. Everything with you had felt so good, and he had thought it would be better for you if he left you with those memories, rather than aching for him when he couldn’t be there.

The moment he heard you walking up those stairs was the moment he knew how wrong he had been, and his fear had set in. His fear that you had come to tell him you didn’t love him anymore, his fear that he had finally lost you.

But you two had talked, and talking had turned into kissing, had turned into touching, had turned into this moment right here. This moment with you asleep on his chest, him inhaling your scent, snuggling into you as he kissed the top of your head.

Everything with you and Klaus had been littered among bad things, but both of you would do it again and again if it meant getting to stay with each other.

After all, it had felt so good.

Masterlist

[earnestly-endlessly]

I love your fic recs! Do you have any with Protective!Erik?

Protective! Erik is one of my favourite tropes so I have a TON of fics to share with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Protective! Erik fic recs

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – madneto, Pangea

Summary: Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

In Sound and Silence – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is assigned to care for the special patient in room 301.

How Not To Meet Your Future Boyfriend – ikeracity

Summary: Erik punches Charles in the face the first time they meet. There isn't anywhere their relationship can go from there but up.

Forgotten – FuryRed

Summary: Charles is having a really bad day. Not only has he woken up in the middle of the afternoon with no idea where he is or how he got there, but when he returns home he’s confronted by a stranger with intense eyes, who insists that he knows Charles rather more intimately than Charles remembers…

Thou Shalt Not Eat Stones – valancysnaith

Summary: Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first. One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Warning: Sensitive material, domestic abuse and dubious consent

Watch Your Back – swoopswoop

Summary: Bodyguard AU where Erik is overly protective and things aren't as simple as they seem.

If We Met Differently – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik wasn't the only mutant 'taken in' by Shaw, Erik learns this the hard way when a new mutant is dropped into his cell. They manage to escape together, but things aren't all roses after that. Erik has a score to settle and needs to make sure Charles is safe.

The Color of Love (Character Swap Remix) – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Nobody sees in color until they meet their soulmates. When your soulmate dies, your vision returns to black and white. What happens when your soulmate only dies for a few minutes?

Omega Online – miss_aphelion

Summary: Newly imprinted Charles is having trouble dealing with his overly protective alpha—so in desperation he seeks advice in an omega chat room. Emma Frost is more than happy to help, Raven isn't helping at all, and Erik can't stand to be out of touch with Charles for more than five minutes at a time.

Cannot be Contained in Words – wallhaditcoming (uvcatastrophe) 

Summary: Crime syndicate head Erik Lehnsherr travels to London on business, where he meets oxford student Charles Xavier. Their liaison spawns into a years long transatlantic affair, kept apart by Erik's work and Charles' studies,which Erik chronicles in photographs. When distance ceases to be an issue after four long years, the overlap between Charles' past and Erik's work create a whole new set of complications.

A Pertinent Reminder – ikeracity, Pangea

Summary: Sometimes it's easy to forget that getting involved in Erik's mob business isn't all fine dining and sex on yachts. There's nothing like taking a couple of bullets to remind Charles of the reality.

Part 3 of the Associates series

A Dangerous Game – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: When a familiar enemy of Erik's returns to the city for some old-fashioned revenge, Charles is sucked deeper into the world of the mob than ever before.

Part 6 of the Associates series

You don’t choose the thug life (except when you do) – Anonymous

Summary: Charles is kidnapped and discovers that Erik, the Alpha he has been dating for the past few months and is head-over-heels for, is not just a wealthy businessman but actually the head of a syndicate.

He is rather unhappy about this discovery and Erik gets an earful for lying to him. Then Charles is kidnapped again and really, he hopes mating Erik won't result in weekly kidnapping because he has a thesis to finish and papers to grade.

Marrying a Mob – Ook

Summary: Charles is a teacher at a very exclusive school. When armed men burst in on the trail of two children, of course he stands up to them and gets hurt. The children are Erik Lehnsherr's children (of course); a "prominent businessman" or, less politely, "mobster".

Erik is grateful to Charles for saving his children's lives at the cost of his kneecap. So very grateful.

Naturally he tries to reward Charles for his actions. Equally naturally, Charles will be having none of that.

Azazel finds the whole thing unspeakably hilarious. Naturally.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

Round the Corner Waiting – swoopswoop

Summary: When things go so spectacularly wrong during a relationship, Charles - now a single dad - almost makes a big mistake, only to be stopped by a mysterious man who just might turn his life back around.

Hide Your Fires – swoopswoop

Summary: As the sole heir, Prince Charles, had no problem with the roles and responsibility that would come with ruling a kingdom. Though he was the only one who did not see a problem. After years of being shuttled back and forth between kingdoms, his Regent hoping he would find a match more suitable to being King, he is finally sent to Genosha. Though the path has never been less clear than the one to a foreign kingdom with no ties to his native land.

Shaw’s Captive – swoopswoop

Summary: Magneto killed Shaw, it had to be done for the sake of mutant-kind but what he wasn't expecting to find hidden deep with Shaw's complex was a man held captive, obviously tortured, that somehow made Magneto turn into Erik.

Erik now has a potential human in his citadel as he continues the war with the human's.

Mind’s Eye Blind – Sperare 

Summary: As far as Erik is concerned, if you want to scare a person into talking, you have to present him with something more compelling than what he stands to lose...

And there is nothing in the world more compelling than Charles.

Chipped – Rosawyn 

Summary: Magneto's fledgling Brotherhood find Charles Xavier in a mutations research lab as an apparently willing subject for an experimental suppression device.

Okay, I Feel Better Now – Harleydoll

Summary: The AU in which Erik is sent to a mental health facility after being convicted for Shaw's murder and pleads insanity, and Charles is his paranoid schizophrenic of a roommate. Powers, Hellfire conspiracies, protective!Erik, and of course the inevitable angst.

Five Nights in Nuremberg – FuryRed

Summary: When Charles escapes from the mutant prison he has been held in for the last two years he knows that he’s going to need help to avoid being recaptured.

What he doesn’t expect is that help will come in the form of a mysterious German man who rescues Charles and takes him to his home; a handsome stranger who, frustratingly, doesn’t speak a single word of English…

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Notes: Unfinished but an excellent read. Highly recommend it.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

My Barbaric Darling – baehj2915

Summary: Erik is revivified caveman. Charles is the anthropologist(?) taking care of him. This is as ridiculous as it sounds. Romcom misunderstandings and prehistoric wooing ensues.

Swimming with Sharks – Not_You

Summary: Erik used to be a shark. Now he's not, and has to figure out how to be a good human father to his twins. Charles is willing to help.

Eucalyptus leaf of my soul - kageillusionz, ourgirlfriday

Summary: Zookeeper Raven at Taronga Zoo keeps having ideas on how to capitalize on interest in the zoo mascots, Koala Charles and Drop Bear Erik (the only drop bear in captivity!), who have captured the hearts and minds of the public. First it was to introduce prospective mates (It’ll generate attention, Hank. People are perverts. They’d love to see koala porn.). This idea was not effective the first through fifth attempts, as Erik and Charles seemed to show at best polite interest in the newcomer before resuming whatever marsupial debate they had going. However, the resulting lesbian koala orgies did indeed generate interest. Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Koala program, which was successful, as the public showed great interest in hugging Charles, and Charles seemed to enjoy being hugged.

Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Drop Bear program, and Hank, not for the first time, wished he had a flask handy.

Notes: Yes, they’re Koalas, yes they’re adorable, and yes, Erik is super protective even as a Drop Bear.

[donutloverxo]

First night

This is for nastybuckybarnes' au challenge. I hope you like it babe.

Run through - You're nervous to consummate your marriage with your new husband.

Warnings - medieval au, smut, heavy dub con, innocent/inexpericened reader, loss of virginity, light breeding kink. Read responsibly.

Pairing - King!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - almost 3k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You bit your lip getting up from the bed, thinking of maybe pacing around the chambers to help your restlessness. You looked at the pot of red wine right next to the fruit basket. You could have one, that would help with your nerves. But you were afraid you wouldn’t handle the alcohol well and make a fool of yourself in front of the king.

You looked at the crisp white cloth laid on the bed. Maybe you should lay down? That’s what your mother had told you.

“Just lay down and let your king do the job. Don’t move for a while after it’s done, or you won’t be able to conceive. If it hurts too much just think of something else”

Her words didn’t make things easier for you. But then you had heard good things about it from your friends. You really didn’t know what to believe. You hoped that you would meet a boy, fall in love and get married. Perhaps knowing a person helps with the coupling? Not that you need to know Steven anymore than you already do. He is your husband now. He could do whatever he wants with you.

When you were told you were to be married to him. You were as scared as you were happy. You didn’t know the first thing about marriage or men. But you had heard of king Stevens bravery and kindness, along with tales of his ethereal beauty. They said that he was carved out by gods themselves. You fell in love as soon as you saw his portrait. His rugged jaw covered with a thick beard, his long locks sweeped back, his broad shoulders and alert stance, akin to that of a soilder.

You couldn’t believe you were to be the queen. Being the youngest of three sisters you would never have had such an opportunity. But both your older sisters were married off. One to a prestigious Lord and another to a king of a small kingdom. You did feel a tinge of pride when they were so jealous of you. Of the power you were to have as a queen and of your beautiful and brave future husband.

Power. Something that scared you the most. Sure being a queen was glamourous. But what if you let your new kingdom and people down. What if you let your king down?

You had never met him before the wedding. When your face was unveiled, and you looked at his face and him up close you were taken aback. Of just how much more handsome he looked in reality. That portrait did him no justice.

You couldn’t tell if he found you satisfactory at all. His face was set in an unreadable expression. Was he pleased or disappointed with you? He barely spoke two words to you the entire ceremony and feast. You cringed as you recalled your first dance. How even after so many lessons you kept stepping on his feet, while he kept moving gracefully. You imagined him moving with the same grace on the battlefield.

You wanted to please him. To be enough for him. You knew men seeked pleasure from other women if they found their wives unsatisfactory. You didn’t think you could stand it if he did something like that. In a moment of desperation you asked your newly assigned handmaiden for some help on how to please a man. She, of course was embarrassed and refused to give you a clear answer. They would probably gossip about you now. No. You can’t think about that. Not right now.

You straightened your back to sit up straight as you heard the doors being opened. You let out the breathe you didn’t even know you were holding as you looked at him. With his white shirt, which gave you a generous view of his chest and the thin hair splattered over it and his dark pants, he looked much different without his informal attire. He stared you down but didn’t really acknowledged your presence as he made his way over to the wine.

Before he could pour a glass you quickly made your way over to him, fetching the glass from the table. “Allow me, my king” you gave him a nervous smile. It was probably a bad idea since you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking. You cringed as you splashed a few drops out of the glass.

He only shook his head making a sound of disapproval, grabbing the pot from you he poured the glass full handing it to you. “You might need it more than me”

“Oh well... thank you...” You took it from him. Too scared to refuse him. To tell him you absolutely hated the foul taste of wine. You tried your best to keep a straight face as you swallowed the liquid. You chugged the glass down setting it on the table. You could feel it taking effect in your limbs as you felt your whole body loosen up.

“Have you been with other men before?” he asked walking over to the bed.

You were floored by his question. They had sent a doctor to make sure you had never been touched before. Which you weren’t. He knew the answer. But then why was he asking. “I won’t dignify that with an answer” You huffed. He was getting some kind of sick pleasure from your humiliation. You wouldn’t have him make fun of you.

“Oh?” He smirked in amusement at your boldness. He felt his cock stir in his pants at your defiance. A stark contrast to what he perceived you as.

He never really cared much for marriage. Always thinking that he would find the right woman along the way. Sure he indulged in some courtesans here and there but he held back. Not wanting any bastard children. He knew how doomed their fate was just like his half brother James.

He wished for a strong woman, capable and worthy of being a queen. But he learned that you didn’t even know how to ride a horse. You were nothing more than a spoilt sheltered princess. But he agreed to the marriage, for his kingdom and his duty.

He could make it work. As long as you give him a few sons the marriage wouldn’t be an utter failure. He could learn to bear you or even care for you a bit.

But then he looked at you face, your hair and gown all made up, you were the prettiest bride he had ever seen. His bride. He couldn’t help but be proud you were going to be his.

And now that he could see you and your plump figure through the thin petticoat, he couldn’t wait to tear it off and to find out if you were just as curvy underneath. “Come here” He smirked as you instantly followed standing in front of him, your fingers fidgeting with your gown. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he knew you hadn’t. But he needed to hear it from you. He would be proud to be your first in everything.

You shook your head staring at the floor. You looked so small and helpless in front of him. It was a dilemma. Because it made him protective of you but at the same time want to do devious things to you. He thought about how he could take you. Of course he’d get to have you every way and anyway he wanted, you were his wife and his future queen, but he needed the first time to be memorable. “What was that?”

“No. I haven’t, your grace” You spat almost spitefully.

He chuckled at that, staring at your lips, he bent down to capture them and have a taste. He felt you go stiff when his lips touched yours, as soft as rose petals and oh so sweet. You gasped into his mouth as he pulled you into him by pulling at your waist. He threw you on the bed, over the white sheet.

You stayed there panting, your kiss swollen lips, your nipples that turned into stiff peaks he groaned just at the sight of them. You were looking at him as if you were afraid of him, maybe you should be. He climbed onto the bed and settled between your legs. He pushed the helm of your petticoat up until it revealed your smooth soft legs and thick thighs to him.

“Oh! Wha –“ you stammered as he nipped at the inside of your thigh, slowing moving towards your core. He could smell your arousal. He couldn’t wait to dig his face in it and taste it. Find out if it was as sweet as you were. He wasn’t a patient man but for now he would wait. You were a fine woman. One who should be enjoyed at the fullest. So he would take his time, even if his cock was aching to be inside you.

He was trying to get the gown off of you with no help from you it was turning out to be quite a task. Fuck it to being patient. He tore the collar of your gown, ripping the whole thing off. He quickly threw the shred of cloth away and tossed it away.

He stared you down. You were sniffling as tears of shame escaped your eyes, your hands pathetically trying to cover your chest. You made yourself small trying to curl in on yourself ,but with him sitting between your legs, didn’t leave you much room to move.

He took your wrists in his hands pushing them down besides your head and he bend down to lick the salty tear off your cheek. He pressed a small kiss to your cheek before squeezing your wrists. “Keep them here. I’m your husband, you don’t hide from me” He stated as he pulled back up to admire your nude body. You gulped down as you moved your head so you wouldn’t have to look at him, but you didn’t dare move your hands or cover yourself.

He pressed a thumb over your hard nipple pulling on the nub as you gasped and tried so hard to contain those your moans, but he heard them. He licked the peak before sucking it into his mouth placing soft kisses over your breasts as you kept whining and shivering under him.

He kissed down your stomach finally looking at your heat between your legs. He had never been as awestruck as he was in that moment. He took in a deep breathe to get a whiff of your arousal.

“My king?” you hesitated sitting up on your elbows looking down at him between your legs “ what are you doing?” you panicked. Surely he wouldn’t.... “Oh!” You cried out loud as you felt him lick a stripe up your folds. You sat up pushing at his head “This isn’t how it’s done” you tried to argue. Although you weren’t sure, no one told you about this. What was he even doing?

You fell back on the mattress as he pushed his palm down on your chest “Stay” He commanded. You had no choice but to lay back. You stared at the rose garlands painted on the ceiling, trying to distract yourself, as he licked and sucked at you. You really did try to hold in the noises your body was so desperate to let out. But you couldn’t not when you were feeling so strange yet so good.

You whimpered as he wrapped his mouth around your bundle of nerves sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue over it. Maybe he was doing it to make you feel good but it felt more like a sweet torture. You felt as if you were on the edge of something about to crash and burn. But then, your world came to a screeching halt as you felt him push a finger into your channel. You clenched around the alien object, the invasion felt so strange you didn’t know what to make of it.

“Fuck you’re tight” you would’ve been upset at his foul language and his use of the forbidden word but what he was doing was much more sinful than that. You couldn’t think of anything but his mouth and his tongue on you, his finger inside you. You moaned as he pushed another finger inside you pulling them out only to quickly push them back in. “Don’t know how I will last” He groaned curling his long digits inside you as you screamed at the top of your longs.

It was as if everything came crashing down on you. The feeling was incomparable. Unlike anything you had ever felt before. Your skin was on fire as your muscles spasmed.

You could vaguely hear him undress as you looked at him through your hooded eyes. His pupils blown wide, his cock standing up straight against his hard stomach. You could see the faint scars littered across his body, proof of his many battles.

You were expecting him to do the deed, make love to you and truly make you his wife. But he pulled you up to sit on your bum, your eyes staring straight at his cock. “You gonna return the favor princess?” He asked his voice was much deeper and his tone more gruff. “Taste it” He said pushing the head of his cock against your lips.

You weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do. So you simply opened your mouth as he pushed himself in. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, your spit dripping down your chin. He tasted salty and musky. You felt as if you’d cry again, of being naked and in such a compromising position. All the while he was so composed and graceful.

He held onto your face pulling his cock out of your mouth but before you could breathe out in relief he slammed back in again. You couldn’t fit all of him, he was too big. He thrusted a few times before pulling out of your mouth completely. You coughed and gasped for air, cleaning up his spend and your spit with the back of your hand.

“Can’t cum in your mouth” He groaned pushing you to lay down he hovered above you. You felt him rub his tip against your folds.

“Wh – what if it doesn’t fit?” you asked nervous again. You had never seen a naked man before, but he looked big. At least right now, he was looking at your face instead of your naked body.

“Just loosen up” You followed his advice as you held onto his thick arms. You winced in pain as you felt the pinch of him entering your weeping channel. You moved your head away biting your lip to contain your screams.

“Look at me” he demanded grabbing your chin “look at your king” You reluctantly opened your eyes staring at him. He was so beautiful. You couldn’t help but run your fingers through his thick beard, just a shade darker than his golden blonde hair. You wailed throwing your head back as he pushed into you completely seething himself.

“Shh” he hushed you as he snaked a hand between your bodies striking your clit to distract you. “It’ll feel better soon” He promised. As he let you get accustomed to his length. The fact that he was much larger than most men and that you were a virgin wasn’t lost on him. He would have to restrain himself. Which seemed impossible at the moment. Your walls so snug and tight, clenching around him, he would cum right this second.

He pulled out of you before slowly pushing himself back in. He set a steady pace as your cries slowly turned into moans. You clawed at his back, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He was only spurred on by your little mewls and hot puffs of air against his ear.

You cried out again thrashing and squirming under him another wave of pleasure crashing into you. He grunts as he felt you clench around him, milking him for all he’s worth. He snapped his hips against yours a couple of times cuming deep in your womb.

He laid on top of you, catching his breathe. He pulled the white sheet from under you and used it to clean you between your legs. You jerked as the cloth touched your sensitive skin. He cleaned his cock and went outside his chambers to hang the sheets up.

When he returned you were about to get up and put on whatever you could salvage out of your torn nightgown. “Lay back down” He demanded fed up “you have to give me a son” he reminded you pushing you into the mattress. Just how many times would he have to tell you before you would understand. He’ll have to work on a way to make you listen. That’s alright though, he had all the time in the world.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you wanna join the taglist lemme know or click on the link in the bio. divider by @writeyourmindaway

Ima go soak in holy water for like ten hours to wash off these sins🥵🥵 this is as dark as I'm gonna go lol. Who knows maybe there will be a part two 👀

[midearthwritings]

Let your love wash over me

Fíli and you share an intimate moment.

Words Count : 1,641

Pairing : Fili x Reader

Warning : Nakedness? But no smut.

Author's note : Would this be considered fluff? I don't know. In my opinion, yes. Also I'm a sh!t at physical contact so I hope it's not too bad. I'll get better at writing these scenes with time, I suppose.

The only real issue of being on a quest like this one, besides the constant threat of death, was that you never really knew when you would be able to wash yourself. So it was a relief for everyone when you found a stream and Thorin decided to set camp here.

After setting down everything, every member of the company, including you, went down to the water to take a well earned bathe. You watched as the dwarves took off their clothes, throwing them everywhere, and jumped into the water without a second thought.

And really, it's not that you didn't like their excitement, no, it was more of... wanting some peace and privacy. So you walked a bit further down the current, looking for a nice spot. You walked until you couldn't see them anymore, but was still able to hear them and you smiled to yourself. Yes, that would do.

"May I join you?"

You jumped a little, startled by the voice, and when you turned to look at its owner, you were met with Fili's radiant face. You looked at him, already undoing his tunic. You bit your lip, embarrassed a little. You liked Fili. A lot. Since you all met in Bilbo's Hobbit Hole, he had caught your eyes. You liked that he was caring, and funny, but could yet be serious and acknowledge his duties. He's going to be a great King one day, you thought.

"Don't you want to have fun with the others?" You asked, looking away as you felt your cheeks burning.

"I can have fun with them another time. Don't you think?"

You shrugged and turned your back to him, to give the prince a bit of privacy as he undressed himself.

"Yes, I suppose you can join me then."

You waited silently until you heard the soft sound of the water being disturbed, and you spun on your feet to look at Fili.

"Well, that was quick." You pointed out.

"Because there's no need to wait any longer." He replied, smiling. "Come on, the temperature's really nice."

"Of course. I just need to take off my clothing first".

Undoing your coat, you met the dwarf's eyes, who was still looking at you from his spot in the water.

"Look away." You ordered, folding the piece of clothing and putting it neatly on the ground.

"Why?" He asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

"Because I'm trying to undress, if you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, I noticed."

You rolled your eyes, sat down and proceeded to take off your travel boots.

"Then, look away. Or I will go and find a more private place to bathe. Alone." You threatened playfully.

The prince barked in laughter and raised his hands up in surrender, making you chuckle a little.

"Alright, alright." Fili said, turning his back to you.

An amused sigh escaped your lips and you removed the rest of your clothing. You leaned down, placing them in a well arranged pile next to Fili's discarded ones and made your way to the stream. As you stepped in, a shiver travelled down your body. The water was a bit cold but it was not unbearable. And once you were fully in, it was actually very pleasant due to the Sun warming your skin.

You looked back up at your blonde haired friend and bit your lower lip before submerging your body up to your shoulders.

"I'm done." You declared. "You can turn back around."

He obliged, the same enormous smirk still planted on his lips. You frowned and narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

"What?" You questioned, swimming closer to him.

"Nothing." The prince said, beginning to wash his forearms with a bar of soap— probably one stolen from Rivendell.

Deciding to trust him, you brushed the conversation off with the back of your hand and began to clean the dirt off your nails. Engrossed in your task, his happy sing-songing tickled your ears.

"What is it now?" You asked again.

"Nothing!" He assured, flashing you a big smile. "Trust me."

"No, I don't trust you." You answered, reaching to tug at his mustache gently.

Fili shrugged.

"Then don't."

None of you replied, letting a comfortable silence setting up between the both of you. You could hear the joyful laughter and splashing of your other companions who were bathing further away.

A soft smiled appeared on your lips as you thought about them. It had been a difficult journey for you, who had never seen anything of the world before. But you were glad you had agreed on coming along. These dwarves were now your friends and you wouldn't give that away, even for all the gold in the world. You even had grown fond of the Hobbit. Bilbo was one of the bravest people you had ever met, even if he was clearly missing his home. You understood his feelings, in a way.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely heard Fili when he said :

"Although, I wish to say you have a very nice backside..."

You let out an offended gasp and turned abruptly to face him.

"You looked!" You exclaimed. "I knew you had looked, you perverted dwarf!"

Fili was now roaring with laughter, holding his abdomen with both his arms. You groaned and splashed some water in his direction, cutting him in his track.

"Did you just...-"

"Yes I did." You interrupted him. "Now stop making fun of me or I-"

It was your turn to be cut off as you felt water crash in your face. You blinked your eyes open and spitted out what had entered your mouth.

"Fili I swear if you do that again, I'm going to drown you."

You barely had time to see the dwarf prince's lips curl into a smirk before another wave of water hit you, instantly followed by a third one.

"Fili!" You roared. "Will you just stop already?"

And his answer must have been no because you were splashed over and over again. You held your hands in front of you in a weak attempt to block his assault. You couldn't see anything, as you kept your eyes closed. So you decided to follow the sound of his laugh and swam towards him.

"Fili! Stop!" You yelled as you finally felt his broad shoulders under your palms.

Keeping to your earlier promise, you pushed him vigorously into the the water. You began to laugh in victory as he slipped, but you abruptly stopped when his arms grabbed your waist, dragging you with him under the surface.

You closed your mouth shut as the water filled your nostrils and your ears, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep yourself from potentially hitting your head against a rock. You felt his grip on your waist tightening a little.

When you emerged, you both gasped for air. You coughed a bit and felt your face heat at the proximity. He was holding you close against his chest, one of his palm flat against your lower back, the other on your hip.

"Are you alright?" He asked, so softly that you weren't sure he even had spoken in the first place.

You nodded with a small smile and brought one of your hands to his face, brushing away a strand of wet hair that was in the way.

"What about you?" You whispered.

"I have seen worse." Fili replied, chuckling softly.

You let out a barely audible giggle and bit your lip. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. And he couldn't take his off of you. Slowly breaking the small gap between the two of you, the dwarf prince pressed his forehead against yours.

It was as if time had stopped, letting you and Thorin's heir enjoy your time together. You felt safe in his arms, and you despised the moment when you would have to leave them.

"You know..." He said after a few minutes that had felt like eternity. "I didn't really peak when you asked me not to."

"I know." You said, smiling. "I trust you."

Tenderly cradling his face with both of your hands, you leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth You heard him groan disapprovingly and soon after, his lips were on yours.

His hand found its way up between your shoulder blades, bringing you closer to him, if that was even possible. You smiled softly and kissed him back, shutting your eyes.

It was exquisite. No, divine. Yes, that's it. It was divine. Fili's beard was rubbing roughly against the soft skin of your face, and yet, it was the most tender kiss you had ever shared with anyone. You could feel his fingers caressing your back in irregular patterns, making you shiver deliciously.

You parted your lips slightly, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. And you wished for it to never stop, for it was the best feeling on earth. But yet, he pulled away and you let out a frustrated moan.

"You need to breathe, my treasure." The prince said, laughing quietly. "I wouldn't want to have you suffocating and passing away."

"Yes, you must be right." You replied, peppering his face with soft pecks of your lips.

He nodded and pulled you in for another loving kiss. You stayed like that, in the water, exchanging tender words and deep kisses, for the gods only knew how long.

When the time came to leave the comfort of the stream, and each other's arms, Fili took your hand and dragged you back to the river bank.

"So..." He began. "Now that we made out together... Can I take a look at your backside?"

"Fili!" You exclaimed, swatting his chest with your free hand.

But you found yourself laughing at the silliness of your newly found lover.