#of course anywhere else he is the very image of a proper knight

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

This is a collaboration piece I made with Lyra @lyranova in which we follow the nightly adventures of Ezio Roulacase, Alistair Vangeance and Leonidas Vermillion, all 2nd generation magic knights. Yami does pop up as well, and there’s a couple of mentions of other 2nd generation OCs. 

Treat is as a spin-off to Lyra’s Chidren of the Future -series, in case you wish to read of course ^_^

Words: 6505 

tag list: @eme-eleff

A night out and a mixer

It was a nice warm summer evening in the Clover Kingdom, couples were out shopping and having dinner, children were running around playing. It was a typical evening for most citizens. Except for 3 young Magic Knights, all in their early to mid 20’s, normally they would all be back at their respective bases. But tonight, one of the young men decided it would be a good idea to go to a mixer and ‘meet a few lovely ladies’ as he put it. Ezio Roulacase was a flirt and everyone knew it, he partially did it just to try and get the attention of a beautiful pink haired woman, but he also did it because he enjoyed having fun and socializing.

The other two Magic Knights, Leonidas Vermillion and Alistar Vangeance weren’t quite as ecstatic as Ezio about this whole ‘mixer’.

“ Oh lighten up you two! You’re supposed to be my wingmen just like I’m supposed to be both of your wingman!” Ezio exclaimed as he saw the sour looks on his friends' faces.

Alistair and Leon looked at each other, as if mirroring the expressions on the other's face.

"Remind me again," Leon began. "Why are we doing this?"

"Because..." Alistair sighed with a heavy tone that fell from him as if it was a boulder. "He is our friend."

Leon answered with another sigh, knowing that the friend -card was very much the reason they were there. But still feeling reluctance, much like Alistair.

"You make this sound like a chore," Ezio remarked as they entered the tavern where the mixer was to be held.

The tavern itself was decorated in a minimalistic fashion, but the wooden surfaces and soft lighting made it seem cozy and comforting. And the young men had visited it often times before, because of which they knew it to be one with good food.

As they entered the warm tavern Ezio quickly turned in the doorway and looked at the two with a half stern half pleading look, both Alistar and Leon knew exactly what that look meant; he was about to ask them for a favor.

“ Listen, I know you two like puns. I constantly hear Hikari complain about it all the time. But can you two please not make any tonight? I don’t need you two scaring off any of the girls with your bad jokes!” He said in a low tone of voice. Alistar and Leon shared another glance, of course it would be about the puns.

“ Fine, I swear on my role as Captain, that I will not make any puntastic puns this evening.” Asliatr said with a mock salute, Leon snorted and tried to suppress a chuckle.

“ I swear on my family’s name that I not make any punny puns as well!” Leon said, causing Alistar to snort as well.

“ You’re both unbelievable.” Ezio muttered as he walked inside and towards a table where three young women sat.

“ He does realize we can’t exactly control when we make puns right?” Leon whispered in Alistar’s ear, the white haired boy shook his head.

“ No, I don’t think he realizes that.” Alistar said with a small sigh. “ The thing about it is that it’s spontaneous and in the moment, and if there just so happens to be the right opportunity to make a pun tonight then we will.” Alistar added with a small chuckle as he sat down at the table.

"Indeed," Leon agreed while taking his own seat.

"Oh? What are you talking about?" One of the girls on the opposite side of the table asked, making Ezio glance at them from the corner of his eye.

"We were discussing..." Leon began, pausing for a split second, "how having to demonstrate quick wits while on duty, can reflect onto one's everyday life," he explained.

"Oh?" the girl uttered. "I imagine that is really useful," she continued, making Ezio let out a faint sigh of relief.

"It is," Alistair agreed taking part into the conversation.

"Well isn't the conversation flowing smoothly already?" Ezio smiled with a playful tone in his voice. "How about we make proper introductions, before moving forward? That'll make it easier for us to address each other. I'm Ezio and more than happy to meet every single one of you gorgeous, beautifully brilliant ladies," he began.

The conversation continued by them going around the table, making brief introductions and ordering themselves some food and drinks while making small talk in the process.

Alistar rolled his eyes slightly at Ezio and shook his head, he truly was his fathers son, except better at flirting. He gently took a sip of the water he had ordered as the girls began to speak and make light conversation with them.

“ So what made you two come to this mixer?” The blonde haired girl that sat across from Alistar asked, he frowned as he tried to remember her name, he shrugged internally. It would come back to him eventually. He smiled warmly at her.

“ Ezio.” He half joked, the pink haired man cut him a look as Leon chuckled softly, the vermillion haired man knew he wasn’t quite joking as Ezio was the whole reason they were even here in the first place. Otherwise the two would probably be back at their respective homes. “ But in all honesty, I came out here to support my friend and maybe meet someone in the process.” He added, his charming smile remaining in place.

Leon frowned at his words as he looked over at his white haired friend. Obviously he knew that wasn’t the truth, but he noticed something very odd in his friend's eye; disinterest. He tilted his head curiously, not just anyone would notice that look since it was a very rare look his friend would have, you had to really know Alistar, and know him well, to be able to see it. He placed a hand under his chin. ’ Well this is very interesting.’

“ W-What about you? Why did you come to the mixer?” The dark haired girl in front of Leon asked, she appeared to be very timid, and it almost looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here in this moment, her friends probably dragged her here just like Ezio dragged him.

"Hmm..." Leon hummed out in thought. "Well, unfortunately I must admit that I too am here to support a friend," he gave her an apologetic smile. "Though meeting new people is intriguing, mixers and events such as that can make people feel... forced, by which I mean that there seems to be a given set of expectations, rather than it being about people meeting people and getting to know each other without pressure."

"There's always pressure on a date," the brunette commented with a mumble.

"Hmm.. I suppose you're right," he agreed. "Especially if the parties on the date haven't known for long, because one tries to give the best possible image of oneself. But I think it's best to meet a potential spouse as who you are. Chances are that they'll fall who you really are, rather than the image you're trying to portray."

"M-mmm..." the girl seemed to agree with a blush while averting her gaze.

"So I take it that you're the one 'being supported'," the red-head in front of Ezio commented.

"Well..." Ezio chuckled with a nervous tone, scratching his cheek with his index finger. "I am a romantic at heart," he explained.

"Oh~...." the girl uttered while leaning closer. "So not just a flirt?" She smirked.

"I prefer calling it as a 'language of love'," Ezio continued.

"Mhm. Very much of a sweet-talker," the girl grinned.

Alistar rolled his eyes at Ezio, he was really laying it on thick tonight. He must’ve been rejected by Josslyn again, he sighed internally, everytime she rejected him he always went out and flirted with women. He silently wondered if Ezio went out on these dates when he was rejected to boost his own ego or to try and make Josslyn jealous? Probably a bit of both Alistar concluded with a nod.

“ So Alistar,” the blonde started as she pulled him out of his thoughts. “ I hear you’re into plants.” She added awkwardly, Alistar shrugged.

“ I am yes.” He answered shortly, Leon glanced over at him for a brief moment before looking back at the brunette in front of him.

“ Care to elaborate?” She asked with a small laugh, Alistar bit his tongue as he wanted to respond with a ‘not really’, but he decided to keep quiet. He leaned forward a bit and put on his most charming smile.

“ Well flowers are a lot like people; they need food, water, and sun in order to grow and,” he took her hand in his and rubbed the top of her hand with his thumb. “ Some are more beautiful than others.” He added in a soft voice, the girl in front of him looked away but her face told him everything he needed to know; she liked the really cheesy line. He almost sighed, that was the worst pick up line he ever used and she liked it.

Leon rolled his eyes at Alistar and Ezio; Ezio and the red haired girl in front of him might as well be kissing at this point, while Alistar, well, he was genuinely curious about what Alistar was doing. It was as though he were an actor playing a part on stage, his eyes still held that disinterested look and his smile was very forced, and yet he was still somehow ‘whooing’ the woman in front of him.

As Alistar was trying his best to ‘flirt’ with the blonde in front of him he looked up when he saw a flash a pink out of the corner of his eye, at first he thought it was Ezio, but when he saw who it actually was Alistar was shocked.

“ Oh snapdragon, is that Josslyn?”

Ezio's head shot towards Alistair, staring at him with wide-eyes before turning to look to the same direction to see, none other than Josslyn herself. She was wearing a dress that highlighted her features and complimented her hair; her jewelry, though modest enough, made her eyes pop.

Ezio couldn't help but swallow as he stared at her, while everyone else around the table stared at him in turn. Leon quirking an eyebrow, and Alistair letting out a faint sigh.

The red-head tugged her hand away from Ezio's. And it was only then that he realized how hard he had been squeezing it at the sight of Josslyn.

"'A romantic at heart' huh?" The girl scoffed.

"Well I-," he began, trying to collect himself. "I saw a familiar face and I... didn't expect to see her that's all," he tried, without success.

"Riiight... and I suppose you don't really know her either, and you're not here to look for something 'on the side'?" The girl continued while standing up.

Meanwhile all Alistair and Leon could think was "oh no...."

Ezio gaped like a fish out of water, he and Josslyn weren’t dating and yet here he was acting as though he had just gotten caught cheating on his girlfriend. He looked over at Leon and Alistar, who both shook their heads, there was no way they were helping him out of this.

“ N-No it isn’t like that at all! S-She’s honestly just a friend-.” He stammered and the red head’s eyes looked at him with irritation.

“ Riiight, I’m sure you’re ‘just friends’ and if that were true you wouldn’t be staring at her while I’m talking to you!” She said as her voice grew louder and more irritated. Ezio swallowed, he had noticed that. “ I think it’s time we take our leave. C’mon girls, we don’t need these guys.” She added with a huff before standing and walking away, the other two looked apologetically at Alistar and Leon.

“ Sorry, it was nice to meet you!” They both said before leaving the tavern. Ezio jumped up, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“ Excuse me.” He said before walking over to where Josslyn was sitting and grabbed her hand and led her to one of the empty party rooms, the door slammed behind them and Alistar sighed again.

“ Well, that went well.” He chuckled, he suddenly sunk down into his chair as he held his drink in his hand. He was mentally exhausted after the entire exchange with the women and with Ezio as well.

"Yeah..." Leon sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "But then again what did we expect?"

Alistair shrugged as a reply while staring ahead of himself.

"But... um," Leon began. "Tell me."

"Mhm?" Alistair uttered while taking a sip of his drink.

"What-, um," the vermillion haired man hesitated, trying to think of how to formulate his question. "What was going on between you and your date?" He asked while a hooded figure at a nearby table turned their head in an effort to hear better.

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked with a hushed tone. "It's a mixer. Showing interest is... courteous."

"You took her hand and called her beautiful, making her blush," Leon stated. "But ..." he drifted in thought, his voice growing more silent as a result. "You seemed... disinterested in the conversation? So... why go to that extent if you're not interested."

"But the thing is that I am interested," Alistair replied with a clear tone of voice, pausing for a moment. "But the person I'm interested in wouldn't be taken by such cheesy lines," he muttered.

Leon tilted his head curiously at Alistar’s words, so there was someone he was interested in. Leon swirled his drink around in his cup as he contemplated his next question.

“ Who are you interested in?” He asked, he watched the white haired man’s face turn a slight shade of pink, Leon smirked a bit. “ I never thought I’d see the day that Alistar Vangeance blushes over someone he likes.” He teased lightheartedly.

Alistar grumbled before leaning over and grabbing his drink, he really wanted to change the conversation. But sadly it seemed Leon wasn’t going to let this go, not until he got some kind of answer.

“ N-No one.” He tried to lie, Leon cut him a look that said ‘try again’. Alistar sat there for a moment as the wheels spun in his mind.

“ She’s, hm, she’s…” he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, why couldn’t he just come out and say it? It was as though he were afraid to say it out loud to someone else. His eyes softened slightly as he glanced over at his Vermillion haired friend, who sat there and waited patiently.

“ It’s Hikari.” Alistar’s voice was so soft and so quiet he wasn’t sure if anyone heard him other than himself.

Leon's brows shot up and his lips parted in slight shock as, for a split second, he wondered if he had heard correctly. But it was as if, with that admission, it all just clicked. The whole bodyguard -thing, going both ways. The slight, admiring glances, that meant so much more than it might seem.

"I see," Leon chuckled.

Alistair slouched further forward, gripping his mug tighter as the tint over his cheeks grew more intense.

"You should tell her," Leon finally stated, taking a sip from his drink.

"I-," Alistair began. "I can't..." he muttered.

"Why?" Leon shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen? You'd still be you. You'd still be the captain of Golden Dawn, and then you could move on. In better or worse. Either you'd get to build a relationship with her, or then you'd get closure and be able to move on."

"You talk as if you'd know," Alistair replied with a hint of meek amusement.

"Yeah.. True," Leon admitted. "I haven't had feelings like that for anyone, especially not for years, so I can't know just how scary it is."

"I didn't say that it would have been for years," Alistair replied, taking a sip from his drink.

"And yet, you're not exactly denying it either," Leon smirked. "But. You're still right on not having first-hand experience. Most of this is second-hand from listening mom talk with Cyra," he shrugged.

Alistar glanced over at his friend as he continued to slouch over his drink, when he finished speaking, he looked away and just stared into his drink. Sure, his friend had some valid points, and they were almost the same points that Mrs. Sukehiro had made when she found out about his crush on her daughter. So, if two different people were telling him almost the same thing, then what was the harm in telling Hikari about his feelings? If he did, and she rejected him, he could move on with his life, but: “ I don’t want to lose her.” He finally admitted as his eyes moved from the glass and over to his friend. “ I don’t want to lose her, she’s been the only other constant person in my life. Sure, now I have you and the others, but she’s always been there, you know? Yeah, we’re not in the same squad, but still, somehow she’s always there when I need her the most.” He continued softly and with a small smile on his face.

“ I wouldn’t think,” Leon started cautiously. “ that telling her how you feel would change anything between you two. I mean, sure it can, but with as much history as the two of you have together, I would think it would take a lot more than that to cause you both to split apart.” He took a sip of his drink and watched his friend's eyes move back to his glass.

“ I’m not willing to take that chance.” Alistar added softly, he heard Leon sigh in exasperation.

"Then what will you do?" He asked. The very same question he had heard his mom ask Cyra so many times over and over whenever she was pondering about what to do with her feelings; wallowing over if they'd be requited or not.

"Hm?" Alistair hummed while glancing over to his friend. "What will I do when?"

"I mean, will you just keep everything as it is? And keep watching her from the distance?" Leon asked, looking over to the white haired man next to him.

"Yes..." Alistair admitted while averting his gaze again, swirling his drink in his mug.

"Fair enough," Leon commented, catching Alistair off guard.

A brief silence lingered between them as Alistair's gaze shot to his friend, wondering why such a quick change of attitude. "Just like that?"

"Yes, just like that," Leon agreed. "I can't force you to do anything, so if your 'doing something about it' is just watching her from a distance, then... that's what you'll do." He stated looking ahead of him. "But," he continued, "if it was me, and I'd then have to watch, who just might be the love of my life, fall in love with someone else, right before my eyes... I don't know what I'd do." He explained, pausing for a moment. "Or, I mean," he corrected himself, "of course I'd let her go. I'd let her live a life with someone else. Love someone else. But I'd probably keep kicking myself over the chance I didn't take."

Alistair listened, watching into the depths of his drink. He swallowed the lump in his throat that had reformed at his friend's words. He had never considered the possibility of Hikari possibly falling for another person, why hadn’t he thought about that? He swallowed what remained of his drink in one gulp, he noticed Leon’s eyes widened slightly in surprise at the action.

“ For someone who considers all possibilities, that was the one thing you didn’t think of wasn’t it?” Leon asked in a lighthearted teasing manner, Alistar grumbled a bit and Leon tilted his head. “ So, I ask again; what will you do? Because, in my opinion, you never struck me as the type to just sit back and watch.”

Alistar nodded in agreement, he wasn’t the type to be that way, and even the thought of someone else possibly capturing Hikari’s heart made him feel a pang of hurt and a bit of jealousy in his chest. He poured himself another drink and swallowed that in one gulp as well before slamming it down with new determination.

“ What will I do, you ask?” He finally looked at his vermillion haired friend with a bright smile and a determined look in his eyes. “ Heh, well, I guess I’ll have to tell her how I feel, because I’ll either lose her as both a friend and possible lover, or my confession will make our relationship that much better and, possibly even greater, than it was before.”

“ Finally.” Leon said under his breath as his friend quickly stood from his seat. “ Where are you going?”

“ To get Ezio, we’re leaving. Come on.” He said quickly pulling his vermillion haired friend up as well and dragging him to the back room where Ezio and Josslyn were, when the white haired man opened the door he blinked in surprise.

They were gone?! Alistar sighed, he must’ve taken her back home, which meant they were currently stranded at the tavern.

"It seems that he has left us to our own devices," Leon commented stating the obvious. "But we should first cover our tab. And then we can go... or you can confess and I'll make sure you don't chicken out," he smirked. "Or was your plan to pull back and think of the perfect way to confess?"

Alistair paused to think about it, but only for a moment. 'No', he shook his head, because he knew that if he'd let this newfound determination slip from him, he might indeed end up losing Hikari. And, at that moment, letting his confidence fade from him, was the chance he couldn't take.  So, they paid and were on their way, making their way towards the Black Bull's base while Alistair tried to feverishly think of what to say to Hikari. But the more he thought about it, the more his train of thought seemed to flow into 'okay, I'll-, I'll just tell her, yeah, I'll just say it', as if it had always been that easy.

"You okay?" Leon asked after a while of flying, watching as the white haired man's flight patterns had become less streamline.

"Yeah! Never felt-," he paused to hick up, "better."

"How much did you drink?"

"Enough," Alistair replied. "But I'm good, I'm good. Trust me, I can do this," he tried to assure.

"Aha," Leon muttered to himself while quirking an eyebrow, thinking to himself about whether or not he should talk his friend out of the confession, for the evening. But. Hikari knew Alistair, far better and far longer than he had, so there was a good chance that she had seen him in a worse condition. And besides, maybe Alistair would manage to convince himself out of it, if let to sleep it off. Thus, Leon opted to say nothing, and tried to instead keep an eye on his friend.

Alistar frowned, he was fine when he left the tavern, but the more the alcohol started to set in, the less ok he became. Luckily the Black Bulls base wasn’t too far from the city, plus if Alistar happened to crash or anything Leon would be there to help.

The two landed outside and Alistar, half stumbled half walked towards the door. Leon rushed to aid his friend but Alistar shook his head quickly, which he realized was a mistake as the world spun slightly.

“ I’m good. Promise.” He slurred, Leon sighed and shook his head before he watched his drunken white haired friend knock on the door.

Alistar began to ponder what he would say to Hikari when she opened the door. Should he just blurt it out like he normally did? Yes that seemed best, rip it off like a bandage. He closed his eyes tightly as he heard the door open and he inhaled quickly.

“ Hikari, I have something to tell you; I’ve been in love with you since I was 12 years old, and I’ve been too afraid to say it until today because I didn’t want our friendship to change! But now I realized that our friendship is going to change either way, for better or worse I’m not sure yet. But if you don’t feel the same way then I’ll respect it even though it’d break my heart, I’ll respect your feelings. I just thought you should know just how much I love you and how I’d love to spend my life with you!” Alistar blurted out, some of his words came out slurred, but there was still determination in his voice.

When Alistar opened his eyes he instantly paled as he saw the face staring back at him wasn’t Hikari’s, but her fathers, Captain Yami Sukehiro.

Yami stared at him wide-eyed, his gaze piercing through Alistair's form, and still gathering intensity with each passing second. "What...?" Yami only asked with a low, slow, monotone voice that rose as a rumble from deep within his throat.

Alistair, couldn't bring himself to answer. He could feel whatever drunken confidence he might have had, drained into the ground under him. He wanted to answer, but even before he could bring himself to even open his mouth to try mumble out anything, Yami continued:

"Don't. Say. Another. Word. Or else I might actually kill you."

Alistair, remained quiet.

"And you," Yami continued, shifting his attention to Leon who was standing in the background.

"Hi," Leon greeted while giving Yami a slight wave.

"Are you here to confess to my wife?" He asked with a nearly mocking tone in his voice through his groggy state.

"No Sir, I can assure you that I have no such intentions," Leonidas began. "Instead I am here to ... aid a friend to conquer a maiden's heart."

Yami's already raised eyebrow rose even further up. "If you weren't the son of the King-of-hard-noses I'd swear that you're more drunk than this one here," Yami motioned towards Alistair.

The white haired young man opened his mouth to reply, but was shot down by Yami:

"I didn't give you permission to speak up."

Alistair, remained quiet.

‘Why me?’ Alistar thought as he stared into the ground beneath his feet, why couldn’t the other Captain Sukehiro have been the one to answer the door?! Oh wait, no that probably would have been much worse, especially if Captain Yami had only heard part of the conversation. Alistar didn’t even dare glance up, he could feel the taller man’s piercing gaze on him.

Yami studied the young man in front of him, he had known him since he was born and has somewhat watched as he grew up to become the person he was today. He frowned a bit.

“ What makes you think you deserve my daughter? Especially in the sorry state you're in now.” Yami asked harshly, which was what he intended. He was being tested. Whether the young man knew it or not was another question entirely.

Alistar visibly flinched at his words, he was right, what did make Alistar think he was good enough for Hikari. He bit his bottom lip in thought for a moment. “If we’re being honest, I probably don’t deserve your daughter,” He started, not noticing the surprise on Leon’s face or catching the surprise in Yami’s eyes. “ at least not in the drunken state I’m in now. But I do love your daughter Captain Sukehiro, and I believe Hikari should be the one to decide if I’m truly good enough for her.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “ Your opinion means a lot to her sir, and I know she’ll take your thoughts about me into account. So I apologize for showing up here like this and there’s no excuse good enough to explain my drunkenness. But,” Alistar paused for a moment before finally looking up to face Captain Yami. “ haven’t you ever just needed a little help to get through something that completely terrified you? Haven’t you ever been afraid of losing someone so close to you that it almost physically hurts to think about? That’s how it feels when I think about losing Hikari, that’s why I needed some ‘liquid courage’ tonight. It’s not an excuse, but it is an explanation.”

Yami continued to look at the hunched over shadow of a man, or a boy in man's shoes, in front of him. And. He could relate to the white haired suitor. He didn't feel worthy of his wife on most days, and certainly not on their wedding day, or any of their children's birthdays.

"And if I told her about what happened today, would you not talk about it with her?" Yami asked, still pushing, wanting to see how Alistair would react.

"I-," he uttered as his gaze fell to the side. "I... would need to apologize, her finding out that way... so... I would. At least that much," he spoke with a hushed tone.

His ki was sincere, and he meant every word even if he seemed unsure of himself. He was being honest about what he thought he would do.

"This is my daughter we're talking about," Yami still emphasized. "And she'll be more than I ever was, or will be. You're right on her making her own choices. That's all I will say."

Alistair's form slouched further down, as if the guilt of the heaven's above had been placed onto his shoulders. And Yami couldn't help but feel tiny bit sorry for the young man.

Tears started collecting behind Alistair's eyes as rejection and disapproval slapped him in the face. And yet, he glanced up, looking at the stern gaze of a father looking out for his daughter. "I-, understand," he spoke with broken syllables.

A brief pause lingered in the air, but it was ended by the sound of Yami letting out a sigh. "You did do two things right," he stated. "And if you want to make one more thing right today, you'll go home and sleep off your sorry state."

Alistar looked up quickly once again, he had never dreamed of Captain Yami actually saying he did one thing right let alone two, but the tall man didn’t elaborate further on what those things were.

Alistar nodded and muttered a quick ‘yes sir’ and turned toward Leon, who only stood there with a supportive smile, and the white haired man just shook his head. A lot of help Leon was. But as Alistar took one step forward the world began to spin again, he quickly lost his balance and face planted in the dirt. Right in front of Captain Yami and Leon.

Yami sighed as he walked over and grabbed the back of Alistar’s robes, when he pulled him up he noticed the boy was limp and he blinked.

“ He passed out?” Leon asked as he came over and grabbed Alistar’s arm and threw it over his shoulder. “ How can that be, he only had two drinks?!”

“ What tavern did you go to?” Yami asked, as Leon quickly explained Yami sighed, again. “ Yeah that place is known for their exceptionally strong drinks, wait a second, wasn’t Taxi Jr. with you two?” Yami suddenly asked as he looked around, Leon frowned at the nickname when suddenly a portal opened and out walked Ezio.

“ Ah there you are, where have you been?” Yami nearly shouted, causing Alistar to groan and making Ezio jump. The pink haired boy instantly ran over and began to apologize profusely. Leon shook his head, he was just as scared of the Captain as his father was. “ take these two idiots back home would ya?” He added, Ezio quickly nodded and saluted the Captain before rushing over and grabbing Alistar’s other arm.

“ ‘m sorry sir.” Alistar slurred softly, although Yami was able to hear him.

“ Just sleep it off kid, you’ll have one terrible headache in the morning, but you’ll be alright.” Yami said as he walked back towards the base.

"So... What happened?" Ezio asked while opening a portal, glancing over to make sure that Yami was already a small distance away.

"Nothing much," Leo shrugged as they started practically carrying Alistair through the portal and to the Golden Dawn's base.

"You can't expect me to really believe that after I find you to outside of Captain Sukehiro's door, with him," Ezio nodded towards the barely conscious white haired male they were more or less now dragging through the Golden Dawn's base, "looking like he faceplanted into the ground."

"He does like planting alright," Leon replied.

"Not again," Ezio groaned.

"Plantannan...." Alistair tried to mumble, but only let out incoherent grumbles.

"Fiiine," Leon shrugged. "We stayed to chat, and after downing a far too strong drink, Alistair ... found some courage and decided to ... spill something."

"Oh?" Ezio uttered, intrigued. "And what might that 'something' be?"

"I'll let Alistair answer that one," Leon replied with a frank tone, making it clear that he wouldn't say anything else to the matter.

Ezio frowned but he would let it go for now, and he sighed as they half carried half dragged Alistar towards his room. He was a lot heavier than he looked, Ezio knew Leon was carrying most of his weight, and he felt partially bad for that, but Leon didn’t even seem to notice the weight.

“ We need to hurry and get him to his room before someone sees. I’m pretty sure the Captain of the Golden Dawn isn’t supposed to be drunk.” Ezio whispered hurriedly as he looked around, Leon nodded and they quickly made their way to Alistar’s room.

Once there, Ezio shut the bedroom door softly behind them before they walked over to his bed and dropped him gently onto it. Alistar groaned and rolled over so his face was buried into the mattress.

“ ‘m sorry.” Alistar slurred again, this time it was muffled by the mattress, but it also had a hint of sleepiness in it as well. Leon sighed and shook his head, Alistar was something else tonight. He walked over and took off his friends boots, placed them at the foot of the bed, and threw a blanket over the white haired man.

“ Goodnight Alistar.” He said before walking towards Ezio, who already had a portal open and waiting. Alistar muttered an almost incoherent ‘goodnight’.

“ I bet he’s not going to remember any of this tomorrow.” Ezio said with a sigh, Leon shrugged.

“ If not, then one of us will just have to remind him.” Leon chuckled before walking through the portal with Ezio.

"Oh that we will certainly do," Ezio agreed with a smirk which let Leon know that Ezio wouldn't let Alistair live this down easily.

"So," Leon continued while making his way closer to home. "Did you make up with the missus?"

Ezio halted his steps with a blush over his cheeks. "I-, she's-, we aren't together!" He insisted, but the blush hinted of him not minding such a thing to be implied.

"Hmm... You sure seemed confident when you took her by the hand and pulled her to have a private conversation," Leon grinned.

"Well I-, I needed to clear things up... So it was necessary."

"I see," the vermillion haired boy continued with a smirk.

"We really need to get you a girlfriend so that we can tease you about these things," Ezio continued, trying to shift the conversation elsewhere. "We need to take you on more mixers and get you someone to call your own," Ezio started planning. "So, what's your type?"

Leon let out a groan. "That seems like a hassle, more than anything. And besides, if I say that I only like something specific or 'have a type', I would be excluding a lot of wonderful people I'm sure."

"Love is a battlefield and it shouldn't be taken lightly!" Ezio insisted.

Leon groaned at the pink haired man as he seemed to be walking Leon to his room. He could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“ Hm, well I know quite a few people from all walks of life. So I’ll go through my long list of contacts and old flames and ses if there’s anyone that might pique your interest.” Ezio said with a chuckle, Leon was a good-looking guy so he couldn’t understand why he hadn’t found someone yet.

“ Or are you picky like Alistar is?” He asked, Leon chuckled and shook his head, although Ezio frowned at the sound. It was as though he knew something that Ezio didn’t.

“ Ah no no I’m not ‘picky’ like Alistar, I just don’t want to limit my pool of potential partners that’s all.” Leon answered simply. “ How many ‘old flames’ do you have anyway?” He asked the pink haired man curiously, he watched as a blush crept onto his cheeks.

“ A couple, but none lasted longer than a month.” Ezio answered with a nervous laugh. “ I don’t know why, but for some reason I just can’t seem to stay in a relationship for very long.”

“ Maybe,” Leon started as they reached his bedroom door. “ maybe it’s because none of them are the woman you want.”

Ezio muttered something as a reply, but the words didn't leave his mouth and thus, nothing could be deciphered of it.

"Look..." Leon continued. "I don't know anything about this relationship stuff, or the 'game of it', but... if there's someone you want to have a relationship with, you probably need to get closure on that front."

Ezio stayed silent glancing at Leon as they reached his room's door.

"How?  I have no clue. I'm not you, and I don't know anything about it all, and what it's like, but something is keeping you from moving forward."

"It's easy for you to say," Ezio remarked while looking away, hunching over himself slightly.

"True, it is. Because I've only seen Cyra grimace over it," Leon shrugged. "But from what I can tell, she's had her share of broken hearts, she has gotten closure and moved on. Though I'm not sure just how ... attached she was in those cases, but she was hurt, and I get it."

"Mmmm...." Ezio mumbled, still looking away.

"But. It's late and I don't need you tugging me in, I'm not that drunk," Leon joked while opening the door. "Good night," he still wished waving Ezio off.

"Night," the pink haired man replied casting a portal to take him home as well.

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: the kind that was burned first [chapter 3 & 4] Summary: The one where Anakin and Obi-Wan traveled back in time and don’t inform anybody of it.

Read on AO3

#3 Qui-Gon Jinn

Qui-Gon would always be proud of Obi-Wan. He had been a fool when his Padawan was young, having been unable to see his potential. Obi-Wan had grown into a formidable Knight and Master, little Ahsoka certainly was a credit to his skills. She was strong and wise, even compared to the other war-time Padawans as they had shamefully begun calling the youths who hadn’t seen anything but the battlefield.

The fact that Obi-Wan had accepted a seat on the Council would always be an issue between them, but lately Qui-Gon felt like it didn’t matter as much as it once used to. Obi-Wan had always been strict about following the code, likely something that stuck with him from his last year as an Initiate, but in the past months he hadn’t just been lax about it, he was outright breaking it. Everybody was busy trying to find their place in the order and peacetimes again, so Obi-Wan’s behavior got sort of ignored, or tolerated. Either way, his Padawan didn’t seem to care too much.

“Good morning, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon greeted his former Padawan.

Obi-Wan had taken to spending a lot of time in the Room of a Thousand Fountains with young Anakin and his children. Little Luke and Leia were a delight to be around. They had recently learned how to crawl and were causing the appropriate amount of trouble. Neither their father nor Obi-Wan were particularly interested in putting them in the crèche with the other children, so mostly they were watching them by themselves. Ahsoka helped out as well, dragging her friends with her into babysitting. It was fun to see the Padawans fumble with the children when neither were even particularly fussy babies. Truth be told, Qui-Gon had never seen them throw a tantrum or cry for long. They always appeared to be very happy and content.

“Good morning, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

He smiled at Qui-Gon and motioned for him to sit down on the grass next to him. Qui-Gon obliged and allowed himself to enjoy his Padawan’s presence as it had been a while since there were enough hours to spare for some actual peace and quiet. Obi-Wan didn’t say a word, he just continued observing the twins and their father.

Anakin was lying on the grass as well, barefoot and shirtless, while the twins were crawling all over him. His chest was slowly rising and sinking again, he was sound asleep. Like everyone else, Qui-Gon had been and still was curious about Anakin’s origins. As a Jedi, Qui-Gon was no stranger to scars and Anakin had a lot of them. Most of them were quite old and spoke of life-threatening injuries like you wouldn’t normally find on Core Worlds.

After a couple minutes of silence, Obi-Wan suddenly got up and walked over to the three. In the same moment, the twins began crying, heartbroken and so fearful, their emotions resonated in the Force. That however couldn’t even begin to compare with the onslaught of fear, anger, worry, devastation and pain that assaulted Qui-Gon’s senses after. It threw him off balance so harshly that it took him a moment to recognize it was coming from Anakin. The man wasn’t moving at all, not a single muscle twitched. The children continued on crying as Obi-Wan sat down next to them. He put his hands on Anakin’s temples and lowered his head so that their foreheads were touching.

He was whispering to Anakin, but Qui-Gon couldn’t make out the words he was saying. He thought he caught memory flashes of flesh burning, betrayal, and regret, but they passed so soon, he couldn’t really make out a proper image.

Slowly, very slowly, the oppressive aura lifted. It got easier to breathe again and Qui-Gon could stretch out his senses. They were very deep in the room, hidden away in a small corner hardly anyone ever came to. Perhaps they had chosen this spot not to hide away but to spare others this experience. Qui-Gon wondered how regularly these fits happened that they were so prepared for it. He was just glad nobody else was around. A Padawan experiencing this torture would certainly get caught up in a flashback of the war. No wonder the children had begun to cry. Something horrible must have happened to Anakin, but Qui-Gon didn’t think it was his place to ask.

Anakin opened his eyes, tears still running over his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shh,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’m sorry, dear one. Never again, I promise. I’ll never leave your side again.”

“I-“ Anakin’s eyes darted to the crying twins, then widened in horror. “They can’t be here. You have to take them, hide them somewhere safe!”

“Anakin-“ Obi-Wan began to say, but the other man wasn’t listening, too caught up in whatever dream he had awoken from. He got to his feet and stepped back from the group.

“My own daughter,” Anakin said and took another step back. “And I cut off his hand-“

“It hasn’t happened here,” Obi-Wan sternly cut him off.

Anakin wasn’t deterred. He was caught up in his panic like a cornered lothcat, ready to lash out if he couldn’t disappear.

“No, but I remember it anyway. Just- I can’t do this today.”

And with those words, Anakin turned around and stormed out of the area. Obi-Wan sighed and picked up the twins instead, humming soothingly. They buried their heads in Obi-Wan’s tunic and their crying subdued into silent sobs. The whole exchange couldn’t have taken longer than a minute, but to Qui-Gon it felt like decades had passed, draining his Padawan entirely. The war had exhausted all of them but only rarely had Qui-Gon seen Obi-Wan show openly that he was weary to the bone.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan apologized unnecessarily to him. “Today hasn’t been one of the better days.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “Your companion is haunted by many ghosts.”

Obi-Wan glanced into the direction Anakin had disappeared to. If not for the children in his arms, Obi-Wan would probably chase after him. Whatever was going on behind the scenes, the two of them needed to talk about it soon. If this episode really wasn’t even one of the worse ones, Anakin needed serious help, more than a Knight could provide. He needed a mind healer. Qui-Gon wasn’t going to voice his concerns though. It wasn’t his place. He could, however, support his Padawan in different ways.

“Do you think Luke and Leia would enjoy a trip to the planetarium?” Qui-Gon mused. “I’ve been meaning to stop by there again as I haven’t been in a while. I can take the two off your hands for a few hours.”

“Master, there’s no need. I can take care of them on my own.”

As if to prove his point, Luke and Leia stopped sobbing entirely and instead began cooing and babbling.

“I am not questioning your abilities. I am merely stating that I have time and wouldn’t mind spending some time with-“ Qui-Gon halted to find an adequate term, but after concluding he couldn’t find a better synonym, settled on the truth, “-your children. It is no bother.”

Obi-Wan looked conflicted and Qui-Gon was reminded of all the times he used to play around with his Padawan braid when he was nervous. He hadn’t thought of it in years, but the memories weren’t unwelcome.

“In fact, I believe I will enjoy it,” he added. “The two are very strong in the Living Force, you must have noticed.”

Obi-Wan’s expression softened and he even smiled in amusement.

“What do you say?” He asked the twins. “Do you want to spend the morning with your grandmaster instead?”

Of course, the twins couldn’t reply, but they also didn’t protest when Obi-Wan handed them over to Qui-Gon. They were confused, but then quickly entertained themselves by attempting to reach for his hair. Qui-Gon should probably braid the loose strands so avoid getting his hair pulled.

“Thank you, Master,” Obi-Wan said.

“Go help your friend, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon just replied. “He needs you.”

And going by the speed Obi-Wan rushed after Anakin, he needed him just as much. Qui-Gon waited another few minutes, then set out to take the twins to the planetarium; and if he made a few stops across the whole temple until it was lunch time and Obi-Wan and Anakin came to collect Luke and Leia, then that was his business.

#4 Padmé Amidala

Padmé was once more regretting that was she was the overachiever of her family. None of them did well with idle work. Her father had worked with refugees of which some had detonators in their bodies, her mother had been the mayor of their home village, Sola had her eyes set on reforming the educational system of Naboo and Darred was a prominent lawyer. Nobody in her family had set their goals low, but Padmé had to go out of her way to become first Queen and then Senator and now she was overworking herself trying to get a grip on all of Palpatine’s machinations.

His manipulations had run so deep, there were nights where she and her handmaidens, sisters in all but blood, stayed up until the early morning hours, letting off steam and trying to figure out how to fix it. There were days when Padmé thought they might not be able to fix it, that the Republic would be better off if they cut it completely and built it up anew from the ground up. Padmé knew she couldn’t dwell on those thoughts, they weren’t productive, but she found herself tapping into that body of thought more often than she was comfortable.

One thing that never did fail to comfort her was the steady presence of the Jedi. They had been shook to the core just as much as every other institution, but they appeared to adapt to this changed atmosphere much more quickly than the Senate. The Jedi were fewer people, governed themselves differently, but after the past nine long months, they had returned to some sense of normalcy. The clones, those that had decided to stay at least, were making their way through the temple as if they had never belonged anywhere else.

Two of them welcomed her kindly at the Temple’s entrance. She was a known figure to the as she had fought visibly and openly for their rights for years. The two guards wore blue tabards over their tunics and armors, they must have been part of Master Jinn’s 501st then. Out of all the battalions, she might know them best. Master Jinn’s creative problem-solving style had often made him her companion during her missions.

“Senator Amidala,” one clone greeted her. “Meeting with the Council again?”

“Yes,” Padmé replied. “Would you be so kind as to inform the Council?”

The clone saluted and allowed her to step into the Temple. She was one of the few Senators who actually bothered to work more closely with the Jedi. Their standing hadn’t been great in the first place, but now people were asking how the Jedi hadn’t known about the Sith Lord when it was their job to protect the Republic. People wanted answers and they were calling for blood that shouldn’t be shed. Padmé had been the target of such accusations as well. It wasn’t fun.

She made her way up to the tower where the Council resided. She’d been working with them intimately to finally finalize the clone’s citizenship as well as sort out how the Jedi would react to future demands of the Senate. The Order had suffered greatly, their losses not exactly visible for people who didn’t know them well, but she’d been here when she was but a little girl playing Queen herself. Their rooms used to be fuller, the amount of Jedi with visible injuries less.

Padmé stepped onto the floor the Council room was on. The hallways were empty with the exception of a young man walking up and down with two babbling toddlers. Their steps were not entirely steady yet, they must have just begun learning how to walk. It was enlightening and disheartening at the same time to see such young children in the Jedi’s care. From the whole Cad Bane fiasco she’d learned that the Jedi didn’t usually take anyone younger than the age of two unless there were troubling circumstances surrounding their home life.

“Dadadada,” one of the children babbled.

The man leading them, a Knight going by his lack of braid, laughed. “Yes, I’m here, Leia. And we are waiting for Obi-Wan to be done. Can you say Obi-Wan?”

“Bah!” The other toddler squealed excitedly. “Bah! Bah! Bah!”

“Oh-Bi-Wah-N. Where are you getting that ‘Bah’ from, Luke? Repeat after me, Obi-Wan. C’mon, show your sister how it’s done.”

The Knight emphasized every syllable, but the child just happily continued on rambling as he had before. The Knight just sighed and slowly maneuvered the children around again so they were walking into her direction.

Padmé couldn’t help herself, she laughed.

The Knight probably hadn’t noticed her before as his head whipped up quickly.

“I apologize,” Padmé said. “But those two are quite adorable.”

“Yes, they are.”

The Knight’s reply was short, standoffish. Nothing unusual for a Jedi, but his demeanor was world’s away from the open kindness he had shown the children. Padmé attempted not to take it personally.

“I’m-“

“Senator Amidala, I know.” He wasn’t looking at her, not really, and instead turned to glance at the Council chamber doors. “Are you here for a meeting?”

“Yes,” Padmé replied. “I overheard you speaking, are you here to talk to Master Kenobi as well, Master…?”

The Knight swallowed. “Skywalker. My name is Anakin Skywalker.”

Right. He didn’t seem all that interested in conversation, so Padmé decided to just take a seat at the nearest chair and wait for the Council to call her inside. She knew their sessions could take longer sometimes and had brought her datapads to keep busy. These days she didn’t have a single minute to spare.

Knight Skywalker had returned to his task of walking up and down with the children, though by now he appeared to be much more nervous than before. It made it hard to work or concentrate.

One of the children, the dark-haired one he had called Leia, was tugging at his hand and reaching for her.

“Leia, darling, no-“

Little Leia apparently didn’t appreciate being told ‘no’. It reminded Padmé charmingly of her own nieces.

“It’s alright,” she told Skywalker. “I don’t mind it.”

But he, rather obviously, did mind it. In the end, Leia won though and slowly made her way over to Padmé.

“She’s a curious one,” Padmé said, making faces for the little girl, causing her to giggle.

“She really is. Luke is more careful, but I think that’s just because he focuses more on other’s emotions. Leia has better control of her own, doesn’t get spooked as easily too-“ Skywalker cut himself off. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t need to hear this.”

And yet Padmé felt like she ought to. “It’s nice to hear something different than just politics all day,” she said. “Tell me more?”

Skywalker still didn’t look at her properly, but he did begin talking about the twins and their many adventures. They were the youngest in the Temple currently and growing faster than he or Master Kenobi could keep up with apparently. It took a while for Padmé to question that.

“You are their father, right? Forgive me if I am rude, but I thought Jedi didn’t have families,” she finally said.

“They don’t,” Skywalker replied. “But they are my children and I’ll always be their father.”

“Then Luke and Leia are very lucky children,” Padmé said. “They are very happy.”

Now Skywalker did look at her and it felt a little like he was trying to read her mind. Jedi couldn’t, that she knew, but it still felt like he was staring right through her.

“Are you happy?” He asked her.

Padmé carefully schooled her face into a neutral expression. It was a difficult question. Of course, she wasn’t happy that she had helped a Sith Lord come into office. Everyone was suspicious of her, Padmé would be lucky if she was still in the Senate by the end of the year. Now that it was clear that Palpatine had played both sides, not even Padmé’s many speeches against him amassing power could protect her against the silent accusations. The Senate was working much to slow, she didn’t have any time for herself or her family.

So, no. Padmé wasn’t really happy, but what choice did she have?

“I am glad the internal investigations are finally picking up,” Padmé answered diplomatically.

Skywalker shook his head. “No, I meant are you, personally, happy.”

She didn’t see how that was any of his business, but there was a desperation to his question that she felt compelled to answer.

“I am,” she said. “The war is over, the fighting can stop and I can-“

Figure out who I am when I’m not representing millions of sentients, but just myself.

The doors to the Council opened and Master Kenobi greeted them. He looked at her, then at Skywalker and back again at her, now frowning.

“Anakin, is everything alright?”

Skywalker rose from his seat next to her. “Yes, I needed this. You were right, I put this off too long.”

Kenobi observed him a little longer, then sighed. “Alright, if you say so. Was there a reason you were waiting for me?”

“Yes!” Skywalker smiled now. It made him look a lot younger. “Watch this.”

He helped Luke and Leia to their feet and took a small step, the twins following after. Kenobi’s eyes widened and he moved closer to Skywalker, taking Luke’s hand in his instead.

“They’re walking!”

Skywalker was positively glowing. “Yes, Senator Amidala was the first to see it beside me.”

Oh, she hadn’t known that. “The first time, really?”

“Yes,” Skywalker said as Kenobi walked around the hallway with the two, utterly besotted. “Ahsoka’s going to be jealous, she’s wanted to be here for it.”

“Did you record it?” Kenobi asked.

Skywalker rolled his eyes. “Who do you take me for? I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

He sounded so determined saying it, like he’d do everything to ensure it. Padmé couldn’t recall the last time she had heard such a passionate declaration in the past weeks. If Knight Skywalker could be so certain, then perhaps she should be as well.

“I hate to take you away from this, Master Kenobi, but I believe we have a meeting?” Padmé said.

Kenobi gave the children back to Skywalker, looking a little sad. “We do, if you would, Senator?”

Padmé entered the Council chambers, newfound strength running through her veins. She had survived being the target of more people than she could count, she would see the Republic through this crisis and she’d force them to listen to her.

[thetimelesscycle]

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 4

A common goal fails to foster cooperation, and questions without answers continue to perplex.

A/N: In which I am forced to try and include some actual plot and civil conversations are in short supply.

Chapter 4

A Puzzle Incomplete  

To say that Merlin was furious would have been as wild an understatement as the claim that Arthur was not especially fond of magic. He was not certain there was a word for the incandescent rage boiling just beneath his skin, threatening to dissolve carefully constructed walls that had not crumbled in decades. It took a conscious effort to keep a lid on that fury as he guided his exhausted apprentice to lie down once again, the boy having spent what little strength he’d regained in a few scant minutes. Shivers still wracked his slender frame, his body reacting to the invisible wound festering beneath the surface, though at this point Merlin was more worried about his state of mind.

He had never seen Hisirdoux display such raw terror before, not even at the sword point of Arthur’s knights. Then again, Galahad had only threatened to execute him, not tear his soul to shreds and leave him with the tattered remains.

The worst part was he did not think there were meant to be any remains. Whoever had attacked his apprentice had done so with the intention of destroying him completely. They had come dangerously close to succeeding, thwarted by the boy’s own magic, which raised more questions than it answered. If Hisirdoux had encountered a creature powerful enough to wound him in this way, how was he still alive? How had a child whose own enchantments still flummoxed him fended off that sort of danger?

He wasn’t going to get any answers from Hisirdoux right now, that much was clear. His apprentice was mumbling restlessly in his sleep again, nonsensical words, the delusional arguments of an overstressed mind.

“Tell me you know how to fix this.” Archie had settled himself behind his familiar’s shoulders, one paw draped over the boy’s arm, but his eyes were fixed on Merlin, plea and demand both in that gaze. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I intend to do everything in my power, Archibald.” It wasn’t quite the same lie he’d told his apprentice, trying to soothe the boy’s panic before he did himself further injury, but it wasn’t the whole truth either; He was already doing everything in his power, it simply wasn’t enough.

“That’s not a ‘yes’.” The tiny dragon gave him a look that could almost have been called threatening. “He thinks you’re capable of anything, you know. Maybe it’s time you lived up to the legend.”

Not gracing that barbed statement with a response, he tucked the blanket back about Hisirdoux’s shoulders, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on the boy’s clammy forehead as he renewed his stasis spell for the umpteenth time. That done, he took his leave, refusing to acknowledge Archie’s lingering stare as he slipped out of the room.

Morgana was waiting for him when he reentered the workshop, pacing back and forth with long, sweeping strides, a book held open in her hands. She whirled as soon as the door opened.

“How is he?”

Straight to the point. Her and Arthur were very alike in that way. He didn’t answer at once, drifting across the room to the cluttered workbench by the stained glass windows. There was a fine layer of dust there that had gathered over the past two days, the designs he had been pouring over what seemed a lifetime ago now sitting discarded and forgotten. He sensed Morgana’s impatience as he lifted the page of sketches and idly examined its contents, dropping the weighted truth into the tense silence.

“Slipping away.” It was an inadequate description for what would happen if he didn’t find a way to stop the dark magic from finishing its work. What was confusion and spontaneous panic now would devolve into raving madness as Hisirdoux’s very essence continued to crumble. The boy was already losing memories, the spell he had cast only slowing the process, not preventing it. “I have no doubt this was an attempt to kill him.”

“Why?” Her outrage echoed his own. Where his bubbled beneath a thin veneer of self-control, hers revealed itself in a flash of righteous fury, the room rattling briefly as she paced closer. “He’s a child, Merlin!”

“That I cannot say.” His suspicions, founded on his knowledge of the type of magic it took to cause this kind of injury, seemed ludicrous. Hisirdoux was not trained enough to be a threat to anyone yet — besides himself — and certainly not enough of a danger to warrant such wanton cruelty. The being who had attacked his apprentice under Arthur’s very nose had done so with purely malicious intent. To hurt someone in that way, to threaten not only their life but their existence beyond the mortal plane as well... that was an act of pure hatred. More perturbing still, Hisirdoux appeared to have been the only target. Not even Archie had been wounded, despite the fact the pair of them shared the same bed. “Though I intend to find out.”

“I will help in any way I can,” she asserted, coming to stand on the opposite side of the work table. “What about Douxie? Is there anything he needs? Anything we can do?”

“He needs a proper healer.” Morgana scowled, and Merlin’s own glare deepened out of habit. It was a tall order. Neither of them had a gift for healing magic, formidable wizards though they might be, and those of Camelot’s dwindling magical community who were proficient in the healing arts had been some of the first victims in Arthur’s war against magic. Such individuals were typically well-known and notoriously bad at keeping themselves hidden, driven as they were to put their skills to good use. Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet, but not to the level required to mend someone’s shredded spirit; Certainly not when he was the victim.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Morgana was on the hunt. He’d seen that look enough times to recognise it. “A name? A face?”

“No, not yet.” He could have pushed. It was clear Hisirdoux remembered something, and was deeply disturbed by it. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen not to force the matter. Further stress right now would only make things worse. He also had the image of his apprentice reeling away from him in abject terror ingrained in his mind, and wasn’t in any great hurry to repeat that experience. “We’ll have a chance to ask some more pertinent questions when next he wakes. In the meantime, we should continue our efforts to keep the castle secure.”

“You’re worried about Arthur.”

“He is a rather more likely candidate for assassination than my very green apprentice.”

“You haven’t even considered the possibility that you were the target, have you?” He came up short, casting her a piercing look. Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven’t. He is your apprentice, Merlin. If anyone wanted to draw you out, Douxie is by far the easiest way to reach you.”

It made a disturbing amount of sense, much as he would prefer to deny it. Anyone with even an inkling of familiarity with the royal court would be aware that he would go to Arthur’s aid as required, but the king had an enchanted blade and dozens of trained knights at his beck and call. He would not fall without a fight. Hisirdoux, on the other hand, couldn’t even fend off an enchanted broom. It was entirely possible, even probable, that anyone trying to strike down the Master Wizard would see his apprentice as the weak link in the chain.

Except, that would suggest that the person responsible believed he would set everything else aside to assure the welfare of his student. That assumption was to his advantage; Or, it would have been, had he not spent the last two days doing exactly that. Without the constant renewal of his stasis spell, Hisirdoux might not have survived long enough to regain consciousness. Putting aside his other duties had seemed the right thing to do at the time, weighed against the unnerving thought of no longer having apprentice and dragon constantly underfoot. Morgana was forcing him to face the fact his enemies may have depended upon him making that exact decision, and consider the very real possibility his eyes had deliberately been drawn away from some greater danger.

He wasn’t in the mood to entertain that thought, or to acknowledge the stark fear nipping gently at his heels, so he deliberately set them both aside. There had been no further attacks; It seemed reasonable to assume Hisirdoux was the only target for the time being, as perplexing as that was.

“There is no point speculating until we know more,” he said aloud, knowing the silence had stretched a beat too long. “Better to concentrate on securing our defenses and finding someone to help Hisirdoux.”

“You won’t find anyone in Camelot. You know that.”

That she was right didn’t make him any less aggravated by the observation. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I could try.”

He had not been expecting it, which was the only reason it took him more than a second to formulate his reply. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I think enough damage has already been done without bringing Shadow Magic into the mix, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”

“No, because you will not be using your dark arts anywhere near him. I forbid it.”

She clenched her fists around the volume in her hands, the room rattling again as she stared him down in muted fury. “You know you are part of the problem, don’t you? If you didn’t spend so much time dismissing and demonising that which you don’t understand perhaps Arthur would not feel so justified in destroying every form of magic that does not serve him.”

“Rubbish.” He waved the words away. “We both know where Arthur’s hatred of magic stems from. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You are blind if you truly believe that.”

“And you are wasting my time with pointless arguments in the midst of a crisis. I have better things to do right now than have this discussion with you again.”

He turned towards the door, only to have it come aglow with magic as it slammed shut.

“I am not Hisirdoux to be dismissed whenever you don’t feel like listening.”

“More’s the pity.” He swung back around to face her with his condemnation. “I did at least think you had enough regard for the boy not to delay my work.”

The glare she fixed on him could have quelled Gunmar himself. Merlin simply glared right back, raising an imperious eyebrow in that way he knew she hated.

“Waiting and hoping you’ll think of something is not the answer, Merlin, as you well know. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“What I refuse to admit is that diving headfirst into the Shadow Realm is a viable solution to the problem at hand. Because it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She gestured with the book in her hands. Not one of his library; He had never encouraged this exploration of dark magic. He didn’t even know where she had happened across it, only that he deeply regretted not having snatched it away to cast into the fire years ago. “You don’t know Shadow Magic. How can you be so certain it won’t work?”

“Common sense, girl.” She glowered at the title, a humbling she had earned with her adamance. “Double the poison does not make a cure.”

“There is nothing there to cure.” She slammed her hand palm down on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin marked Archie emerging from the bedchamber, though whether he intended to intervene or simply wanted to be closer to the unfolding argument was debatable. “Whatever magic did this to him destroyed parts of his soul. They’re not there to be mended, they’re gone. He’s not a torn cloak, Merlin. You can’t just tie the pieces that remain together and hope it’s enough to cover what is missing. Even if you get him back on his feet you will stretch him so thin you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill himself the first time he tries to cast a spell!”

“And how would you know that, hmm? What extensive well of experience are you drawing your theories from?”

“This.” She lifted up the spell book, shoving it at his chest. He seized it on instinct, and she took the opportunity to pluck several more volumes off the table and toss them in his direction as well. He caught those with magic, which was preferable to his face, and watched her storm closer whilst struggling to contain his own rising ire. “You are so convinced that your way is the only way that it has never even occurred to you that I chose to study Shadow Magic for this very reason. For when other means are not enough. You have no idea how it works because you think it is beneath you. I do know. I can use it. And I know that if we have any hope of restoring Douxie’s soul the Shadow Realm is our best chance. Somebody tore that boy to pieces, Merlin, what’s missing doesn’t exist in this world anymore, but that sort of dark magic leaves a trail. I can save him if you will just trust me.”

“And when what you save is not Hisirdoux? When you patch him back together with dark magic and corrupt him entirely? What then, Morgana?”

“I know the difference.”

“No, you think you know the difference, and I will not wager my apprentice’s life on your arrogance.”

“My arrogance? You are the old fool who can’t see past your own self-importance to what your inaction has cost us all! You could have stopped Arthur years ago if you so chose, but you needed him to keep you safe so you could continue your all important work, at the cost of the hundreds of innocents you abandoned. The only reason your apprentice ever needed saving was because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your king!”

“How dare you—!”

“Stop it, both of you!” The outburst was such a surprise that Merlin was actually struck to silence, turning in tandem with Morgana to stare at the small dragon glaring at them both with a baleful expression. “What you seem to be forgetting is that this isn’t your decision to make, it’s Douxie’s. He is the one who has been hurt here, and you deciding what is best for him without bothering to even ask what he thinks is not going to help matters at all. When he wakes up we will all have a civilised discussion on what the best thing to do is. Until then, perhaps you two Master Wizards can put your heads together and properly figure out who was responsible for this. Before they do the same thing to someone else.”

The ensuing hush was awkward, to say the least. Archie refused to back down, standing with wings flared and lips curled back in a faint snarl as he tried to look as intimidating as a dragon that didn’t come up to one’s knees could. Merlin was the first to turn away, stalking back to the table to set down the books Morgana had flung at him in her fury. Unfortunately for him, years spent as his student had taught her to read his silences better than anyone else, and there was disbelief in her eyes when he turned back to face the pair of them.

“You already know, don’t you?” she accused.

“I suspect,” he defended himself. “That is not the same thing as knowing.”

“Yes, yes, it’s completely different,” Archie pressed impatiently. “Who do you suspect is responsible then?”

He had not been ready to disclose this much to anyone just yet. Sadly, he could not see a way out of it without inciting another argument. It was a small miracle they hadn’t already woken Hisirdoux with all the shouting that had been going on, and he didn’t want to subject himself to Archie’s righteous anger should it start up again. Instead, he adopted the stance of a teacher once more, marching back and forth as he spoke, “The ability to injure someone in this way is not common. Shadow Magic might allow you to tether a soul to a traumatic memory, hold it in place, twist it until it bends to your will, or rip it from its mortal flesh entirely, but it does not allow you to cause irreparable harm. This is something older, darker. This is the Arcane Order.”

Morgana exchanged a glance with the familiar, then asked the expected question, “What is the Arcane Order?”

“You mean who,” he held up a finger to emphasise his point. “They are a trio of ancient wizards who protect the balance between the magic and the mortal worlds by rendering destruction on those they perceive to be a threat. If you want to blame anyone for the world’s growing mistrust of magic, Morgana, the Order should be at the top of your list. To say that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds would likely be understating the bloody mark they have left on history. Part of the reason I aided Arthur in uniting Camelot was because it was becoming abundantly clear I could not continue to fight them on my own, and the divisions amongst the mortal kingdoms made them easy prey. The Order has been quiet since Arthur came to power; I might have known they were planning something.”

“Why Douxie, though?” Archie wondered aloud. “Why not Arthur? Why not you?”

“I do not know.” It grated to admit that much. Morgana’s theory might hold some merit, but he still didn’t understand why the Order would not have come for him directly. He was not an easy mark, but he was not unreachable either. “If it was the Arcane Order, then I do not even know how Hisirdoux survived. These are beings older than nearly any other that walks the earth. Hisirdoux is a child. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are missing something,” Morgana agreed, leaning across the table to emphasise her next point. “So let me look for it.”

He folded his arms, making his disapproval known. “We are going in circles, Morgana. The answer is still no.”

“But—!”

“Enough!” He called his staff to his hand from across the room just to add the force of slamming it on the ground to his words. “I need to go make sure our king is kept informed of this potential threat. If you want to make yourself useful, try searching my library for a solution that won’t simply kill the boy faster.”

“Kill?” Archie’s head shot up, eyes wide behind his glasses. “He’s dying?”

Merlin took that as his cue to leave the room. Let Morgana be the one to break the bad news. If she was doing that perhaps she wouldn’t feel tempted to go rooting through every scrap of forbidden knowledge Arthur had not yet managed to destroy.

A doubtful outcome, but a wizard could hope.

Right now, that seemed like all he could do.

Story Canon Notes:

"Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet..." - Not strictly canon, but Douxie's role in the Trollhunters game is team healer, which at lease loosely implies he has some sort of remedial spell in his arsenal. His (minor) injuries also disappear between scenes in Episode 8, and I assume he was going to attempt to use some sort of healing spell on Merlin before Merlin stopped him.

[creativenicocorner]

Because while writing Ch13 I became very emotional about what is to come in Terpsichore ACT II, and that my self control is not as strong as I hoped (that and jsdjfskd I’m emotionally compromised, friends) 

Here is a tiny preview from Terpsichore ACT II, though keep in mind things might change/be tweaked, by the time I reach this point on Ao3. This is, after all, just from my outline, and sometimes stories take on their own life.

ANYWHO! Enjoy! 

Rating: Mature

“Can you remember whether you’d had a dream? One perhaps that seemed very real?”

“Oh yes.” Heidi’s eyes met his. “I dream every night that I’m back with Grandfather and can hear the wind whistling through the fir trees. I know in my dream the stars must be shining brightly outside, and I get up quickly and open the door of the hut - and it’s so beautiful. But when I wake up I’m always still here in Frankfurt.”

- Heidi, by Johanna Spyri

Perhaps it was because of how big and hollow the house felt at times. Perhaps it was because natural light barely shined through the large arching windows, or the peeling frescos on the even higher ceiling.

When Nomura walked through the house she always felt like she was walking around the rib cage of a dead giant. 

The house felt different than any place she had lived before, and cold, as if there was always a draft yet never an open window. 

Despite all everything that had happened to her, Nomura still remembered what it was like living with her family. Host family, she mentally reminded herself through reddening eyes. 

She missed the warmth, and the hugs, and the music. Oh! The music!!

How Dr Nomura would lovingly embrace Mrs Nomura after a long day of work. How they’d excitedly talk over dinner about medicine, comparing and discussing the differences between Eastern and Western techniques. And then later watch the two dance together. Stealing kisses before opening their arms welcomingly to the creature they thought was their real daughter, inviting her to dance on their feet. 

Little Zelda missed how her mother, host mother, smelled and smiled, and played with her hair. She missed listening to her tell stories of home. A home Zelda barely remembered, but when listening to Mrs. Nomura absorbed her longing as well. 

The longing of the way the wind smelled sweet, the persimmon trees, the crickets at night. 

She missed it so much it ached. 

And perhaps that was why her stomach felt ill that night. 

That was why she scooted out of her far too large four post bed. Sifting her way through the gauzy curtains. She shuffled her feet through slippers and drew a silk cover over her nightgown. To search for some water that could sooth the ache of her memories. 

At least it was better than the orphanage. At least here, in this house, there were no other kids to pick fights with. To jeer and stick her tongue out at. Flinging daggers from her eyes and actual knives near their heads whenever they were rude in the cruel way angry lost and lashing out kids could be. 

Nomura was grateful to not have to live in the orphanage, she was grateful she didn’t end up being sent to the work house, or coal mines. And in all her gratefulness it made her feel guilty to want something. 

Something other than a warm bed and warm food and nice clothes and all the books she could ask for. Even the racy or controversial ones Nomura just knew that if she was caught reading anywhere else, would have probably earned her a few lashes over the knuckles with a ruler. 

She didn’t know what that something was. But when little Nomura thought of her life with her host family, it made her chest heave and ache and want to cry for hours on end. 

But tonight, she didn’t want to cry, she made a promise to herself to not cry that night. She just wanted water. 

Half way down the hall, she spotted a door cracked open. A pale yellow light oozing in a shine. Flickering with the shadows made from candle light. 

From the door, Nomura heard voices. Voices in a language she had never heard. Or perhaps she had, once, long ago. But Nomura tried not to think about her life before living with the Nomuras. And yet, this language tugged at her in the same way life living with the Nomuras tugged at the little changeling. 

The same, yet...different. Warm thoughts didn’t come to mind when she heard the language. Mental images of caverns and illuminating rocks did. And the cold, the damp cold. 

Nomura shivered and pulled the silk closer to herself. Her reason told her to shuffle on, to head towards the kitchen, and forget about this night-time adventure. 

And yet...and yet....Nomura knew, somehow, this was an opportunity worth observing. 

She stared at the flickering pool of candlelight, then back down the darker corridor towards the kitchen, frowned, and carefully slipped out of her slippers so to easily sneak closer to the door undetected. 

Nomura angled herself in the shadows and squinted into the lit room. A tiny hand over her mouth to mask her breath. As if observing large yōkai, and not wanting to be detected, or smelled. 

The figures in the room weren’t yōkai, they were Mr. Strickler and Mr. Scaarbach, but they might as well have been to the mind of a youthful child with a wild imagination. And oh, how that candlelight danced unfavorably with their features and faces. 

Mr. Strickler looked more ragged and forlorn than his usual composure. Side burns un-groomed like an overgrown grassy field with hidden wires. A hollow face with  skeletal cheekbones, and eyes that saw other things than what was physically in front of him. Perhaps it was what Mr. Strickler saw that made him so patient. But it was always a cold patience, a distant patience, that kept everything at an arms length distance. Even from the things Mr. Strickler seemed to enjoy.  

Mr. Scaarbach did not look convincing in what could be compassion. His hand dabbing at his forehead with a cloth. In fact he looked angry. His eyes flashing as he spoke, that matched simultaneously with him striking a match to light his pipe. As warm as Mr. Scaarbach was to Nomura whenever they interacted, it always unnerved the changeling how he always seemed to smell like a furnace. 

Nomura’s ears strained to understand just what words these two were saying. She had heard them speak such a language before, but in her youth Nomura always assumed it was the secret language of adults. 

And then, as she listened on, something strange happened. As if, after hearing enough of the language, it all clicked. A veil was lifting over her ears. Her mind understood, her heart understood. 

It reminded her of her host father. How he marveled at her ability to pick up language. How he’d hug her and say, “You have magic ears, pet.” after she’d help him with a strange Danish word. 

Everything Mr. Strickler and Mr. Scaarbach were saying made sense. The little changeling pressed her hand harder over her mouth to keep herself from gasping. 

“Y-you don’t understand.” Mr. Strickler would croak. He clasped his hands together and rubbed his hairy knuckles, ‘Perhaps I’m not explaining myself.”

“Magic ears.” mouthed Nomura into her palm. 

“No. I understand perfectly, Stricklander.” Mr. Scaarbach said as he pulled on his pipe. “You saw Gunmar in Napoleon.”

“That’s far too simple of an explanation-”

“You saw him. This short giant-”

“He- he wasn’t short, Otto.” went Mr.Strickler with a touch of fear. “He..” slowly he looked down into his hands, seeing something that wasn’t in the room. “He wasn’t short.”

Pain came over Mr. Scaarbach’s eyes, seeing how easily Mr. Strickler seemed to curl. How he tried to disappear and not draw attention to himself despite being the tallest in the room. 

“I fought him, and then I fought with him and...he..he rallied people. You should have heard him talk. The kind of mind he had. The devastation he brought to the continent. Yes, perhaps I did see our Lord Gunmar in the Emperor. I saw him rise as Gunmar did, and...and fall...” Mr. Strickler ran a hand over his weary face. “What’s the point?” 

Mr. Scaarbach nodded. He sat in Mr. Strickler’s words, then crossed his legs before patiently stating the painful obviousness. “Gunmar isn’t human.” 

“If giants can fall, then what is the point? Nothing. Everything is...is..just waiting. Waiting for shadows, waiting for nothing.”

“You keep talking like that” hissed Mr. Scaarbach with worry turning into anger “and the Knights Guild hears you-” 

“I don’t ca-”

Mr. Scaarbach quickly threw a liquid on Mr. Strickler’s face who recoiled with a snarl.

“Don’t waste my good-!”

“-Start caring Stricklander. Pull yourself together. Do you want everything to be for nothing?”

“Everything is nothing.” 

“Mercury’s Raiders were nothing? The sacrifices to put the Janus Order together were nothing?! Blood that you spilled?!?!” Mr. Scaarbach was leaning over the table now, and holding Mr. Strickler by his cotton neck collar. “All of it was a vanity project to you?”

Mr. Strickler didn’t resist to Mr. Scaarbach’s pulling, but occasionally tried to push Mr. Scaarbach’s hand away. “No...no of course not...no” Mr. Strickler would say wearily. 

Nomura pushed her hands hard against her own mouth. Her breath quickening. She didn’t understand anything that they were saying or talking about. But it hurt her to see them fighting. 

“Their names.” growled Mr. Scaarbach. “Do you remember their names?”

Perhaps it was the candlelight, but Mr. Strickler’s eyes looked teary as he nodded. Slowly Mr. Strickler rested his head sorrowfully on Mr. Scaarbach’s forearm.

“Bular will start asking questions.” said Mr. Scaarbach quietly. “Christ when was the last time you had a proper meal?”

With a sigh that made Nomura think this perhaps wasn’t the first time they had had this conversation before, Mr. Scaarbach moved around the table and helped Mr. Strickler back in his chair. “Lets...talk about something else.”

Nomura slowly stepped away, and would have walked all the way back to her room, if she hadn’t heard Mr. Scaarbach mention her name.

Slowly Nomura tip-toed back to the door. 

“You’re too distant with her.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? A changeling never raised another changeling before.” Mr. Strickler’s brows knitted together as he sniffed, “It’s better this way.”

“Dummkopf, how?!”

“She doesn’t need to enter into our world yet. She’s..she’s still too young.” Mr. Strickler looked at a shadow. “She’s fed, and clothed, and is free to do as she likes. She has that freedom...for now.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave her alone for hours! Do you know why she runs at me like a fully steamed train?!”

“Because you look like a walking bear with that beard.”

Nomura squashed the want to giggle. Yet her heart panged painfully. 

“Like you’re one to talk.” huffed Mr. Scaarbach. “It’s because I listen to her, spend time with her. I - I don’t need to tell you what a happy childhood is like! You’re one of the rare few that lived one!”

“The life after that is and never will be like...like home. There’s no warmth in the lives we end up leading. Isn’t it better to not know what you’ll end up missing?”

Mr. Scaarbach grew steely then, but whatever he ended up saying Nomura didn’t stick around to hear. Her heart was aching, and her stomach felt worse than ever. 

Tears streamed from her eyes and she felt so confused, and angry, and frustrated with all that she listened. It felt like something bigger than her. Her mind raced and buzzed as she ran down the hallways. Taking random turns and scuttling through the dark. Though the dark was never hard for Nomura to navigate. 

And then, she reached it. The room Mr. Strickler always told her never to enter. His secret study that held secret papers and secret things that he always said were ‘not important to think about right now.’ And that sad anger in Nomura grew. 

She tore at the doorknob, pushed through the oak door and entered in a rage. She wanted to tear out every page of every book in there. But she stopped dead in her tracks as she stepped into the shadow of a large music box.

The music box had intricate carvings, and was on a pedestal placed in reverent fashion for everyone who entered into the study to be aware of. 

It was clear to Nomura that this, was the most important thing in the room. The little changeling screwed her hands into fists, and marched forward toward the music box, unafraid. Woefully unafraid. 

She was going to have her music. She was going to listen, and think of her mother. Her host mother.

Meanwhile as Mr. Strickler spoke, he trailed off and perked in his seat.

“What is it?” asked Mr. Scaarbach.

“You don’t hear that?” he furrowed his brows, then gasped as he felt a strange tingly sensation crawl up his back. “You don’t feel that??”

Mr. Scaarbach sat still, and then, he too started to hear and feel it. The sound of the Pale Lady. Her reach through the medium of musical objects. Hearing Her was as strange as a moving melody that ached. Heard, and felt.

“Our Queen. She’s speaking, but...to whom-”

Mr. Strickler didn’t sit still long enough for Mr. Scaarbach to finish his sentence, he was already running down the hall with his heart sinking cold into his stomach. 

Who else could it be? What other changeling was there in his house?

“No, no no no no! Please no!” Mr. Strickler said under his breath. He pushed through his study’s door, and nearly burst into tears. 

Nomura stood in the center of his study, wailing as the music box played to her.

Mr. Strickler quickly rushed forward toward Nomura. 

“Don’t interrupt!” yelled Mr. Scaarbach over the crying. “It’s the girl’s message to hear. Our Pale Lady finally speaks!”

“She’s a child, Otto!!” snarled Mr. Strickler. “We can barely stand listening to our Eldritch Queen, and we’re way past a hundred years old! She hasn’t even lived through her first century Topside!!” 

Nomura kept crying, her face beat red and puffy. Hot like a fever against Mr. Strickler’s hands. He hugged her close, and tried to shield her ears. 

“What are you doing?! Our Lady is speaking to her!!” yelled Otto pulling at Mr. Strickler’s arm. 

“It’s too much for her!!” went Mr. Strickler. After a hearty jerk from Mr. Scaarbach, Mr. Strickler noticed the blood. Blood stained on his hand and on his vest, blood that started to fall from Nomura’s ears. “Shut it off.”

“No! We, we can’t! We musn’t!! We can’t interfere!”

“Shut. It. Off!”

Mr. Strickler shrugged him off, and when his human form’s weight wasn’t working against Mr. Scaarbach’s corpulence, he shifted to his troll form, wings and all. 

Mr. Scaarbach fell back to the ground, face scratched some by the beat of Mr. Strickler’s wings. 

“Don’t you dare! Don’t. You. Dare!” yelled Mr. Scaarbach scrambling to his feet to impede Mr. Strickler’s walk toward the music box. 

But it was too late, with a beat of those leathery wings the music box was knocked off the pedestal. And swiftly stomped on until silent. 

The only sound in the room, after Mr. Strickler shifted again to his human form, was Nomura’s crying. 

Mr. Strickler held her close, hugging her, cooing, “It’s alright. It’s over. It’s over now. Nomura? Nomura can you hear me? It’s alright.” A little fist curled around his vest and Nomura continued to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This is all my fault-”

Then, the crying stopped all too suddenly, and Nomura went limp in his arms. Mr. Strickler’s heart stopped, and was ready to never forgive himself. 

“West.” Nomura said in a strange voice. A voice that was hers, and at the same time, not her at all. “Westward further still. Beyond the desert to the sea. West. The Key. West.”

Nomura then went limp once more, a tired, tiny passed out young girl in Mr. Strickler’s arms. The two older changelings shared looks, and shivered. 

When Nomura woke again she found herself bundled in blankets, and held in Mr. Strickler’s arms still. His face, though sleeping, red from crying. Beside him sat Mr. Scaarbach, his arms crossed and leaning against Mr. Strickler with his glasses placed haphazardly on his forehead. 

Nomura furrowed her brows. She didn’t understand how the three of them got to this position. Yet vaguely, distantly, she remembered how. It made her head ache. 

Nomura frowned and burrowed her head into Mr. Strickler’s shoulder. Sniffing in her attempt to rub the memory of the music box out of her head. 

A hand consolingly rubbed her head slowly. Distantly, very distantly, she heard a croaky sleepy voice. 

Nomura looked up, and saw Mr. Strickler awake and staring worriedly at her with a sad smile. 

“Good morning Nomura-chan. How are you feeling?”

Nomura pouted, but didn’t respond. 

Mr. Strickler bit his lip and leaned to glance at her ear, “Can you..you hear me?”

Nomura leaned away, and gave a pouty nod. 

Mr. Strickler gave a relieved sigh. “I see...Nomura-chan I, I have to say. I’m sorry about-”

Nomura gasped, and sat up straight realizing something. With both hands on either of Mr. Strickler’s shoulders she said, a little too loudly, “You’re speaking Japanese!!”

Mr. Strickler worried face melted into a relieved chuckle. “Yes. I can speak many languages, you know. And I’m sure you can too.”

“Dad said I have magic ears!” Nomura explained with a childlike wiggle.

“Did he now?” went Mr. Strickler, a touch of sadness in his voice. “And..how are your ears?”

Nomura frowned, “Ringing...like...” and Nomura sang one lone continuous note.  

The longer she sang, the sadder Mr. Strickler looked. Paternally he cupped her face. “I’m sorry.”

By then Mr. Scaarbach was making a face as he was pulled from his sleep. Peeping at the pair of them with one eye. The whiskers of his beard twitched. 

Nomura clapped her hands over her mouth and sunk in Mr. Strickler’s arm. “Sorry.” she whispered.

“It’s alright.” consoled Mr. Strickler. He elbowed Mr. Scaarbach some. “We needed to wake up anyways.”

Mr. Scaarbach, though relieved the young changeling was feeling better, wasn’t ready at just how well she was feeling. 5am feeling soundly too soon for childlike antics he grumbled and stretched and said, “I’ll make breakfast for us.” and patted Nomura’s head as he went.

That morning Nomura didn’t eat alone. 

[firstpuffin]

Using language choices to point towards a certain image.

-Note (08th of February)= So I received the feedback for the assessment I wrote this about and I appear to have the First and Second - orders incorrect. The First-order would appear to be a connection between the feature in question and a group; the Second-order is this connection plus assumptions or ideology. I don’t know if I got that wrong in this article which suggests that I still don’t understand it properly.

I wanted my readers to go into this piece being aware that the content is... maybe incorrect.

I’m gonna cheat with this upload, sorry.

  First of all, to get you interested, Indexing is a means of how we construct our self-image and interpret other people’s personas via how they dress, act or speak. It is quite closely connected to stereotyping. Naturally I will be primarily focusing on how people speak, accents and dialects, as that is what I am studying, but you can’t talk about Indexing without focusing on a few areas.

So how am I cheating?

  I’ve got an assessment coming up on something called Indexing and I was hesitant to spend time on a personal, non-professional and non-academic blog when I had this to do. The assessment should really be my priority, especially as I have another assessment that I really don’t want to do, and I have a eulogy to write. So I’m kinda busy and was seriously considering not uploading, but then I realised that I could combine my goals.

  So I’m gonna write this article on Indexing and hope I don’t plagiarise myself. Two birds, one stone (or scone) and all that.

 So where do I start with this? I think an example would help me learn so I’ll do that.

  There is a particular variable common in British English called the “glottal-stop” and that is basically when we don’t say the T sound in words like butter. It becomes something like “buh-er”. It’s often considered to be lazy because it is not “propa’ English” and because we aren’t moving our mouths enough to make the T sound. Try it. Say butter, or better or, ironically, glottal and don’t let your teeth meet. After the initial consonant, keep your mouth open.

  Congratulations, you are speaking British English.

  So what does this variant of the T sound actually say about the speaker? Well practically speaking, it is less likely to occur during careful or formal speech so it is likely that if you hear the glottal-stop then the speaker is being informal. There is no semantic, or dictionary, meaning in a glottal-stop so the meaning is pragmatic (practical). That is “First-order Indexing”.

  Second-order Indexing involves the listener’s interpretation. As I said, this variant is common in British English so you may assume that the speaker is English and that they are lazy for speaking like that, even if they are neither. This is where Indexing crosses over into stereotyping.

  And then there is the “higher-order”, a name which disagrees with me because it doesn’t follow the established order. Shouldn’t it be Third-order? Whatever.

  Higher-order Indexing is also known as “wine talk” which will also work as an example. This higher-order refers to the conscious effort of using technical words and jargon to portray an image. For example, by using the terminology usually reserved for wine tasters a speaker will attempt to be seen as the well-bred, educated sort of person who knows about wine.

  Let me try again; a lot of people across the world know about the BBC accent which is considered the posh, “proper” way of speaking. It was common in the past where BBC presenters would use this accent and you wouldn’t hear a glottal-stop anywhere. By using this BBC accent, the presenters were putting over an image of a proper and well-educated Englishman (or woman, I don’t believe we have a unisex term). Chances are they would go home and speak a more common accent, stopping glottals (unofficial terminology, don’t mimic this) and dropping H’s.

  In case that wasn’t clear, people will choose words and accents to put across a particular image, like playing at being medieval knights and saying “thee”, “thou” and “art”. And we do the same outside of language all of the time: a man shaves his head to be practical; we see a man with a shaven head and you may think he’s a thug; if your friend wants to look like a thug then he may shave his hair.

  This is a simplistic explanation, but I want to imagine this man is wearing a suit. Suddenly he’s not a thug but maybe a professional, too busy to deal with hair. Give him a studded leather jacket and he’s suddenly dangerous again.

  Now imagine a woman with a shaven head and what do you think? It may be outdated but she is likely neither threatening nor professional. You may even think that she’s fighting cancer or something similar.

  We do this all the time with language and often don’t even know it.

  Now this isn’t to say that a glottal-stop equals a British speaker, other languages appear to use them too, but should a glottal-stop appear in the English language, with examples of h-dropping (not saying H like “ ’ouse” instead of “house”) and longer vowel sounds then you might safely assume they are speaking with a Cockney accent rather than speaking Arabic (which apparently has glottal-stops). The skinhead with studs in his jacket, or the bald man in a suit. It’s everything together that works to index a specific image rather than the one thing on its own.

  I feel that I should point out that the interpretations of these things are not necessarily correct. A bald man in studded leather is no more likely to be violent than a bald man in a suit; dropping the H in words isn’t necessarily lazy or a sign of poor-education; the point is that it is how people interpret these signs.

 All of this Indexing is a part of semiotics, which is basically the study of signs and symbols in communication. Words are symbols as are clothes and accessories. I don’t always do so, but I like to dress smart: dress shirts, ties and blazers. I don’t always wear these, in part because dressing formally in informal situations is a fantastic way of creating space between people and heaven knows I have a hard-enough time communicating.

  I also have a Pokémon wallet because I value the series from my childhood. I am fully aware that big and rare words actually make you look dumb, with stupid people using big words to try and look smart (higher-order Indexing, remember?) but I also love words so I’m torn between my passion and not looking like a pretentious prick.

-I went through my cringy “intellectual fedora” phase roughly a decade ago and learned from it-

   This is all indexing, which is all semiotics. Fascinating. I tell you, I’ve had three modules this semester, and I’ve only enjoyed this one.

 The thing about university is that you can’t just talk out of your rear-end or copy what your lecturer has told you, you need real academic sources, not cool puffin themed blogs, and you need to have read enough of them that when you cite them you can be sure that they say what you say they say. Unfortunately, a lot of academics seem to write for some perverse masturbatory reason rather than to actually explain their ideas and reading their essays can be hell.

  I have to take out all of the extra words just to remember how many of the sentences began.

  Still, the higher-order Indexicality that I spoke of came from Michael Silverstein’s 2003 paper, although I can’t find out where the first two orders came from. Was it Silverstein? Was it William Labov who writes just as confusingly as Silverstein? If I am to go by how Moore and Podesva (2009) explain it then it is all Silverstein, but not only does Labov have his own, similar three-step method but someone called Blommaert has come up with something they call Order of Indexicality and I don’t think they are the same. Why so confusing?

  Still, that ramble has four papers that I could cite and there’s more considering the same authors revisit their own theories later.

 So at this point I’ve finished writing my assessment and don’t have a whole lot else to add. Indexing is fascinating and I’m still a long way from understanding it all. I keep finding myself wishing that I had chose a purely English Language course rather then a Joint Honours, so then I would have more time to focus on what I’m learning.

              Ah well. I have nothing left to say. Maybe not very professional to end like this but hey, I’m not a professional.

[mistralrunner]

Running Reads Oathbringer: Interludes and Part II.I

And now I get into a bit more of a proper liveblog as things are happening all the time everywhere.

Spoilers for pages 327-370 ahead

Hmm, legends about people arriving from the Origin interesting

A little bit of an ivory tower mindset as the world is facing disaster but I can relate to wanting a quiet place to read wonder what sort of worldbuilding we'll get from her book-WHAAAT

Okay then

Nice to have a character who reads guilty pleasure books and is an accomplished scholar as they're not mutually exclusive

I love this. Both the linguistic history and the fact that these are characters who are both passionate about learning and non academic things

...I am concerned about this particular patron wanting a Dawnchant translation

Oh hey they're looking for Eshonai aren't they

No

Nonononono

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I can't believe I'm feeling for Venli

But it's her fault Eshonai was lost

And she was even considering taking Eshonai down

But she cares now and that means there is hope

That's why they leave their corpses? Humans why must you be awful.

Admittedly if you relegate them to mindless horror monsters trying to destroy your people in your mind it just becomes "common sense" like getting a gemheart from a chasmfiend, which is disturbing   

I hate Ulim

Bleh evil spren corrupting the cool spren friends aesthetic

ESHONAI COULD HAVE RESISTED EVENTUALLY?

Nooooooo why didn't she get the chance whyyy

And this is how Odium takes control. He has the knowledge of war the others don't and so it becomes a bit of a join him or die sort of thing.

Also the idea of Odium's forces retaining knowledge and human society losing knowledge and regressing technologically with each Desolation. ‘Tis concerning.

Heh Odium's forces are offended by the Last Legion

It does make me fear for those Listeners who did escape into the chasms when Eshonai rounded them up cause even if they avoided drowning Odium probably hunts them

Ancestors are the ones in charge what

What is that spren. Comet small ball of white fire streak behind and little rings of light so maaaybe not of Odium

Hmm, Listener ancestors in charge...

Eshonai lives. She'd better.

Part II time

JASNAH POV YESSSSS

wait no Kaladin pov

This is the first time I think there's ever been no Kaladin pov in a part

Nooo

But Bridge Four I'm so proud of them getting to official pov standing

New Beginnings Sing seems a promising title

YAY LETTER TO HOID

From whom though this time

Urithiru is really impressive

I am still concerned about Oathgates to Rall Elorim, the City of Shadows, and Aimia, which underwent some mysterious scourge

Wait they skipped over the reunion scene? Whyyyyyy

Good for you Shallan recording experiences with Re-Shepir and analyzing them

How did Jasnah survive indeed

Hehe Jasnah's dramatic flair I love her for that

Jasnah really is good at putting on a strong face cause something did happen but can't let people know that.

Wow this is a bizarre interaction as if nothing changed when everything did

But hey some more clear indication on how fabrials work

Shallan Jasnah is apologizing she actually is getting better at the art of apology

Okay so how Jasnah survived was as I expected

Ooh she had to find a perpendicularity to return? But she didn't seem to arrive at one. Unless she can hop anywhere on the Physical Realm from a perpendicularity?

Jasnah is apologizing such character development Shallan please recognize that

But yeah it's really upending things for Shallan

We couldn't have had a joyful reunion why

Ah Jasnah, falling behind and feeling out of touch

But why did Jasnah and Kaladin interacting happen off page I wanted my favorites to interact

Cultivation's writing the letter that's my bet right now. Probably a Shard Vessel at the very least.

Pfft I love how you have to interact in the theater of the vision for it to work

Aww Stormfather has a place of imagination

"All things die twice" being a real thing here

Well that is one way to show up in the story with a sword

I'm laughing at the image of Dalinar flailing and yelling while being thrown sideways

I can't wait for Queen Fen's reaction to this it's going to be great

Ah so Windrunners can lash fellow Radiants to join them that's useful if dangerous

You technically are falling Dalinar. Just sideways

Huh how much more information can you get from the visions from switching pov

Plate interferes with lashing somehow but not enough for the guy in armor? Cause I recall Szeth said Plate interfered with Lashing, unless it’s just that you can’t Lash someone else in Plate but can Lash yourself?

Oh man the idea of Jasnah and Navani entering the visions and analyzing them please can we have a mother daughter scholar team with the Stormfather being grumpy

Dalinar: Ah this memory, where I saved a woman and child from monsters using nothing but a poker Queen Fen: Hold my spanreed.

I agree with the Windrunner Dalinar, this is a really poor showing xp

Slo-mo dream this is so wonderful

Ah interesting tradeoff between how they handled the situation

Queen Fen does have a point, in some ways the Stormfather has done a terrible job by choosing murderers and tyrants to reform the Knights Radiant. At least Dalinar isn't as terrible a choice as Gavilar.

Queen Fen makes excellent points. Honestly her presence greatly improves the quality of the Dalinar chapters.

I really like this outside perspective on what the world thinks of Dalinar

They really are in an ivory tower right now

Not the rationale I expected but yeah a calm rational sounding Blackthorn is suspicious

Aaaah Bridge Four chapter insignia I'm so proud of-oh hey does this mean Hoid's back earlier than I thought judging by the chapter header. Wonder if he did roadtrip all the way back with Jasnah.

Still having exam stress dreams Sigzil? You and me both.

I do wonder how he got from there to apprenticing under Hoid

Oh please let this be a reunion between him and Hoid that would be great

Heh in Azir queuing properly is a mark of national pride

I have feelings about Kaladin's Windrunner abilities allowing Bridge Four to heal their slave brands but not his own

Ah Kaladin with jacket off doing morning push-ups of course

Make Lyn the scribe and a Windrunner squireeee

Ah organization of troops subplot nice

Yay Bridge Four rebuilding their lives

I'm intrigued by Azish social reassignment forms

It is cool how Bridge Four is kind of the first real international group here. The rest of Urithiru is pretty homogenous Alethi

Like a bridge

I'm not sure why you would ever be asking what would Hoid do, but then again Sigzil was his apprentice

Wait Sigzil I thought you only did histories not stories

No don't talk of dissolving Bridge Four don't bad

What is Teft doing I am concerned

Yes Kaladin wise words about not projecting codes values

Please recruit people

Recruit Lyn actually please I want female Windrunners

Oh hey, Lyn!

Hmm what is this “unusual request”

I do love how the moment female messengers/scouts showed up in WoR I was like "me" and now we have a scout trying to hang out with Bridge Four so accurate

Shenrjfnfkrkttkt

LYN IS RECRUITED YESSSSSSSSS

YESSSSSNDMDKDWGKWFKGEM

Yeah I'm with you Sigzil with kind of wanting to mildly punch Kaladin after that mild letdown

You go Lyn, be a combatant Windrunner and not just a scribe. Scribes are cool but we need more lady combat scouts.

I am so happy right now fantasy wish fulfillment.

I love Sigzil's snark with echoing Kaladin's words back at him

I love this chapter so much

Lynnnnn

Oh no Bridge Four doesn't know what happened with Moash

I do appreciate Sigzil asking all these questions

Aww thank you Kaladin for supporting Sigzil

I want Bridge Four to fly together. Please let that scene happen.

Yes Bridge Four chugging Stormlight time

Where was Hoid. Unless mentions of him also merit the chapter header? I’m still somewhat new to this pattern/phenomenon.  

Lyn. Seriously one of the questions I considered asking Sanderson at a signing was if there would be female Windrunners cause I love Bridge Four but they are kind of a boys club, and now we're here and I'm staring at the Windrunner mug that was one of the first really good pieces of pottery I made and just...

I'm so thankful for this.

[charity-angel]

Brothers (2/?)

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Obi-Wan awoke to find Anakin standing in front of him, arms crossed and looking extremely unimpressed.

“I’m pretty sure Master Qui-Gon won’t mind you using his bed while he’s in the hospital,” the boy pointed out with all the self-assured confidence of youth.

A Temple-raised youngling would never have made the suggestion. They would have known that it wasn’t Obi-Wan’s place to sleep in his master’s bed (or any master’s bed, currently owned or not, while he was a padawan). Then again, it wasn’t exactly Obi-Wan’s place to be overseeing Anakin’s induction into Temple life either, ensuring that he had the skills and knowledge to keep up with their master once Qui-Gon was released from the Halls of Healing.

A Temple-raised youngling would also never be in the position of having been Chosen by a master who already had a padawan. And said new padawan was unlikely to only be nine standard years of age.

“Also, you’re kind of supposed to eat. I know grown-ups don’t eat as much as kids, but you need to eat some time or you’re gonna get sick and end up in the hospital too.

That got his attention – not the fact that Anakin had taken note of Obi-Wan’s absent appetite, but the notion that adults ate less than younglings. Where that that idea…?

Oh. Of course – Anakin’s mother must have forgone meals in favour of her son in times when food was short. That was frankly an unacceptable situation for her to have been in.

“Go and find some food for the two of us, then,” he told the boy, who smiled, showing off his mishmash of adult and baby teeth.

Anakin, already dressed (What the hell? Inconsiderate brat, making Obi-Wan look bad like that) headed off. He knew where the commissary was, and he would likely be gone some time. Obi-Wan had a job to do.

The time converter in his terminal told him that it was late evening in Theed. It was probably a good time to try and contact the queen.

“Padawan Kenobi!” she said as she answered, her eyes seeming to brighten in the blue image of the holo. “Or… I heard that you would be knighted following… How do I address you now?”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Most people call knights ‘Master Jedi’, your highness,” he said, “but there isn’t a proper form of address. However, I haven’t been knighted yet, and I’d much prefer for you to use my name.”

She smiled graciously. “I will do so when we are in private, Obi-Wan, if you will do the same. Is there any news of Master Jinn?”

“He woke up briefly last night, so the healers will probably want to put him in a bacta tank soon, now that he’s not comatose.”

“Excellent!” Padmé said, her face lighting up with a smile. She clearly saw something in Obi-Wan’s expression, because she faltered. “Isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He hates them. He had a… a bad experience, not long after I started my apprenticeship and let’s just say it left an impression.”

Padme’s eyes hardened. “I see.”

Obi-Wan got the impression that his point had been made without him saying unfortunate phrases out loud. While Padmé was older than Obi-Wan himself had been at the time, he still wanted to protect her from certain things if he could, to protect what little was left of her childhood.

“Is there anything else to be done?” she asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “He could probably make a full recovery without it,” he admitted, “but we would be looking at months instead of a few weeks. And he’s stubborn enough to be arguing with Master Che about it as we speak.

“But I’m calling about another matter. Is there anything to be done about Anakin’s mother? As much as I dislike the thought of any slave, the idea of leaving her there is intolerable.”

Padmé considered that for a moment. “Leave that with me, Master Jedi. You have enough to worry about with your master and young Ani. But please, let me know how you are all doing from time to time?”

“You too, your highness,” Obi-Wan replied, reverting back to the formal address because she had done so (however inaccurately). “Good night, and pleasant dreams.”

“Good morning to you, Obi-Wan. We will speak soon.”

  .oOo.

 Obi-Wan was just stepping out of the fresher, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping, when Anakin returned.

“That’s a better look for you,” the kid commented with a grin. “Or, it will be; much better than robes you’ve slept in the last four days. I’ll serve up while you change.”

When Obi-Wan emerged from his room in a fresh robe, Anakin had found something else to quiz him over.

“Why’d you take your braid out?”

That, at least, was sheer curiosity rather than a pointed observation.

“Because it gets dirty,” Obi-Wan told him. “I have to wash it, just like the rest of my hair. Sonics work, but in water, I have to undo it. And it was getting a little loose at the top anyway – it needed re-braiding. I’ll re-tie it when it’s dry, or it will go all fuzzy when it dries.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Anakin had done well, picking up fruit, pancakes, syrup and meat slices, and Obi-Wan realised that he was actually very hungry. He wasn’t altogether sure of the last time he ate, but had a feeling that it might have been in transit to Naboo.

Over breakfast, Obi-Wan told Anakin his plans for the day – a couple of short tests to assess his skills in mathematics and Aurebesh (Anakin groaned – he knew Aurebesh, but he wasn’t used to it, and could he not do the comprehension exercise in the Huttese alphabet instead? Please?) and then some basic combat training. But first they would go and see whether Qui-Gon was arguing with his healers yet.

Anakin gave a yelp of surprise, and Obi-Wan said that he had in fact been conscious for a very brief period last night, but that Ani shouldn’t get his hopes too high: Qui-Gon was still very weak, and needed lots of rest in order to heal.

But, the very first thing they needed to do was to finish getting ready. Obi-Wan took longer than he usually would to tie his braid: practiced, careful fingers worked slowly to show Anakin what he would need to do with his own in the future. Once he reached the end, Obi-Wan explained the significance of the coloured bands he wore. The red he tied it off with was to signify his status as a senior padawan – a padawan still completing their mandatory schooling would have a yellow binding. The yellow that Obi-Wan wore, higher up his braid, signified his prowess with a lightsabre, and the other red band was for his experience as a pilot. Although, he confessed, he wasn’t anywhere near as good as Anakin.

Then, once he was done tying off the second band of red, Obi-Wan turned his attention to Anakin. His fingers found a lock of hair just behind Ani’s right ear.

“Properly, it should be your master who braids it for the first time,” he said, willing his hands not to shake as he began weaving, “but I think it’s going to be a while yet before Master Qui-Gon is strong enough, and you’ve waited long enough already.”

“Do you think Master Qui-Gon will mind?” Anakin asked, biting on his lower lip. His face was a picture of childish worry.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Knowing him, he’ll be more cross with me for not doing it already. But, he’ll probably want to braid it himself when he can.”

“We can do that,” Ani said, suddenly happy once more. “But… you said red was for grown-up padawans?”

Obi-Wan had, over the course of their short conversation, already finished the stubbly little braid and tied it off in yellow. He now had the red thread in his hands.

“What else did I say about red?” Obi-Wan asked, trying hard no to smile.

“It’s for… Oh! It’s for pilots.”

“I think you’ve earned it already. And, from what I hear, you’ll probably get yourself a mechanic’s blue soon enough. Goodness knows where it’ll fit.”

  .oOo.

 Qui-Gon was indeed awake when they arrived and, as Obi-Wan had predicted, arguing as forcefully as he could with Master Che.

“I don’t care if it takes ten years, I am not going into that infernal tube!”

“You have a padawan,” Master Che said, her voice even but her lekku tense, betraying her frustration. “In fact, as I understand it, you somehow have two. Surely it would make more sense to be there for your boys rather than cluttering up my Halls for months on end?”

Qui-Gon’s eyes fell on the pair of them, lurking in the doorway as they were.

“It looks like my boys are doing just fine without me,” he commented, a smile cracking the stern lines of his stubborn frown.

Master Che whirled, and sighed as she took the pair of them in – matching padawan attire, matching braids, matching fresh faces.

“Good,” she said, fixing each of them with a stern look. “Padawans, perhaps you can talk some sense into your idiot master.”

Obi-Wan fought the urge to express anything at all. He gave Master Che a bow, as was proper (Anakin followed, a beat behind).

“I will try, Master Che,” he said evenly, “but I am afraid that such appeals are often lost on Master Qui-Gon. I believe the sense was knocked out of him when his nose was broken.”

Qui-Gon grinned appreciatively. Anakin snickered behind his hand. Master Che, on the other hand, flicked her lekku in irritation and left.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, relaxing now that he wasn’t being threatened with a bacta tank. “I can always count on you to look after me.”

Obi-Wan took the seat by the bed and pulled Anakin onto his lap. The boy was a little too old for such treatment and gave a token protest before settling.

“If I were looking after you, I would tell her to sedate you and throw you in anyway,” he said bluntly. “But I can’t do that, even if she is right – we do need you.”

Qui-Gon lifted a hand – a gesture that took clear effort – and ran Ani’s stubbly little braid through his fingers. “You look like you’re managing.”

“Obi-Wan said you should have done it,” Anakin said earnestly. “You’re not mad that he did, are you?”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “Not at all, Ani. You should definitely have a braid if you’re going to start training. Tell me, what have you been doing while I slept?”

“Well, I’ve been learning my way round the Temple,” Anakin said, “and we tried meditating a couple times, but…”

“Anakin has a surfeit of energy, and struggles to sit still for long enough,” Obi-Wan said, with only a hint of exasperation.

Qui-Gon nodded tiredly. “That sounds about right for a boy Ani’s age. Did you have any thoughts on how to proceed?”

“Moving meditation, Master,” Obi-Wan said, feeling a little uncertain. “I know it’s supposed to be hard, but we both manage it well enough, and I think it will suit Anakin much better. We’re going to learn some katas this afternoon, after Ani’s academic placement tests. And tomorrow, I thought I’d introduce Ani to Garen.”

“You’ll enjoy that, Ani,” Qui-Gon said, smiling weakly. “He’s a knight friend of Obi-Wan’s. Does he have a padawan of his own yet?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He says he’s a bit young yet – he wants to wait for his five-year to be up.”

“That seems… sensible.” Qui-Gon blinked tiredly.

  .oOo.

 The next thing Qui-Gon was aware of was that Master Yoda was perched on the chair where Obi-Wan and Anakin had been.

“A difficult predicament, you have caused,” Yoda grumbled without preamble. “Refuses to be knighted, Obi-Wan does, until able you are. But young Anakin’s master you also are.”

Qui-Gon shrugged. “It looked like Obi-Wan is stepping up just fine.”

Yoda jabbed a claw at Qui-Gon. “Anakin’s master Obi-Wan cannot be while a padawan himself he is.”

“That’s a technicality,” Qui-Gon said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “He defeated a Sith – he’s earned his knighthood without me presenting him for trial. He is a knight. If you insist on having someone who has been knighted foster Ani until I can take on his training, I’m sure that Garen Muln will oblige, but Obi-Wan seems to have everything in hand. We were discussing it earlier.”

“Answers for everything, you have,” Yoda grumbled. “Remind me of your master, you do.”

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows, trying not to take offence at that. “He did teach me some useful skills, then.”

“Stubborn, the pair of you are,” Yoda said. “Apart for many years you have been and yet frustrating the Council, the pair of you still are.”

“Oh? What is Master Dooku up to? I feel sure he isn’t supporting my latest accidental act of rebellion.”

“Know, we do not,” Yoda said gravely. “Disappeared, he and Sifo-Dyas have.”

Qui-Gon smiled thinly. “They’ll be running dark in the Outer Rim,” he assured Yoda. “If you don’t know what they’re doing, you can’t report it to the Senate. He disapproves of how much they are trying to influence us even more than I do.”

The old man sighed. “Perhaps right you are. Worry, I should not. Other padawans of my line to worry about there are.”

“Don’t worry about me, my grandmaster,” Qui-Gon said. “Vokara is already arguing with me, so I’m going to be just fine.”

“Indulging you, she is,” Yoda corrected. “Meditate on your fear you should.”

“Don’t you start,” Qui-Gon said. He intended it as a growl, but the heat wouldn’t come. “I’m not going in the damn tank. My two boys are looking after each other, and Obi-Wan has plenty of friends to support him while I am unavailable. I will knight Obi-Wan and take over Ani’s training as soon as I am able, which we all accept will take some time, but it does not involve being trapped in a tiny space I cannot get out of.”

Yoda glowered at him. “Infuriating you are. Watch over your padawans until you are well, I will. Ridiculous, this is. Knighted years ago, Obi-Wan should have been.”

Qui-Gon looked away. “I know.”

“Afraid you were, no?”

Qui-Gon nodded. “I know knighting him wouldn’t be losing him, but still…”

“Xanatos’ betrayal, runs deep it does.”

“He was so close to his knighting,” Qui-Gon whispered. “Having Obi-Wan so close too… He’s been so good for me.”

“Know this I do. Found yourself again, you did. Lose yourself again, you will not. Leave you, Obi-Wan will not. A sense of purpose Anakin will give. A precocious child he is. A great deal of patience he will need.”

“And he will have it, Master.”

Yoda looked sceptical.

“I am going into this apprenticeship with my eyes open and fully consenting,” Qui-Gon pointed out. “Somewhat different to last time.”

“Right I was,” Yoda said, as smug as ever. “Ungrateful you should not be.”

  .oOo.

 Anakin was not in the best of moods when Obi-Wan collected him from the crèche’s classroom.

“‘Short’, you said,” he said accusingly. “You said ‘short’ tests.”

Obi-Wan pulled Anakin into him, a hand on his skinny little shoulder, and tried not to grin. “One day, you will understand that an hour is not a long test. One day, you will long for a test that is only an hour long.

“Lunch,” he added. “Then we’ll maybe look at some lightsabre exercises.”

Anakin stopped and glowered up at him. “I know you organised today like this so I could look forward to that. It makes it easier to stay mad at you.”

[Part 3]