#oh epilogue II my beloved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

eclecticstarlightconnoisseur · 4 years ago

Text

EDINBURGH TO BOSTON - CHAPTER 21 - SECRETS AND TRUTHS

Hello all, Finally the new chapter of Edinburgh to Boston is ready.

As I said in my update this has not been betaed. Therefore, any mistakes. lack of continuity or general mess-ups are all mine. I hope you will forgive me and overlook them. It took some re-writing when I read it over several times and I hope I caught all the mistakes.

This has been my baby for a long time and honestly, I think that was another reason that took so long to finish it as this is the last chapter. There will be an epilogue to clean up some things that are hanging around.

Just because this is the last chapter, does not mean this is the end. I can't really let go of these two people. They are so dear to my heart. Besides that, as I wrote this I realized that I did not totally address the opening premise that I made. If you recall I said that Fate and Destiny had their hands in seeing these two come together. There are other stories to tell about how such forces brought them together. I do plan a Part II but how I will do it has yet to be planned out.

I can't thank you all enough for being patient with me during times of difficulty when it took so long to get a chapter posted. I am so honored that so many of you liked this story which I honestly thought was going to fall flat on its face. I never dreamed I would get the response to it that I did. I thank you all for reading, commenting, giving the story some love. I am truly overwhelmed by your kindness.

As always I need to thank my betas who helped me along the way and gave me the encouragement to continue when I didn't think I could do it. @scubalass you're the best.

Without further ado and a tear in my eye, I give you Chapter 21 Edinburgh to Boston.

Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter 21

Secrets and Truths

“Come On! Come On! COME ON!” Claire groused at the tardy lift. It really wouldn’t do to be late for surgery on her first day back to work. She wanted to give the damn thing a good kick but thought better of it since she would be standing for most of the day. The idea of standing on a sore foot did not appeal to her.

“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, what is taking this thing so long? For a new building, you would think they would have installed a better lift system.” Finally, the doors slid open on the fifth floor where the cardiothoracic surgery department offices were located.

She ran down the corridor trying to free herself from her coat while hanging onto the bag containing her morning fix.

Claire ran through the building’s front door shouting a greeting to Eddie, the security guard on duty. She made a beeline for the Cafe to get her morning coffee before going up to her office. It would be a long and trying day and the caffeine jolt would serve as her means of survival.

Niall stood behind the counter and grinned at her. “Late Dr. B?”

“Whatever made you think so?” she replied rather dryly. Her face was flushed and her hair exploded out from her wooly cap.

“Just a wild guess,” he smirked.

“Humph!” she snarled. “I would love to stand and chat with you but I have surgery in an hour. I’ll have a…”

“Here it is Dr. B. Large black coffee with one sugar and a raisin scone.” Niall smiled showing her the takeaway bag with her name on it.

She looked flustered, “How did you…”

“Dr. Fraser came by earlier. He ordered for you thinking you might be...um, in a hurry.”

“You say Dr. Fraser’s here already?” Claire grimaced ashamed of her lateness. It seemed, however, that curiosity got the better of her. Doing her best to look nonchalant, she casually asked, “Um, how did he look? Tired was he?” Dark smudges rimmed her eyes from lack of sleep. Claire would have liked nothing more than to curl up in bed and pull the covers over her head.

“Nay, no’ at all. Dr. Fraser said he worked out in the gym first then ran here. He looked quite hale and hearty actually. A wee bit pink from the cold, but truly well.”

“Of course, he did,” mumbling with annoyance to herself, “the man is made out of steel.”

Opening her overstuffed slouchy bag, she began the ritual of hunting for her wallet.

Cocking his head to the side, Niall pushed the bag toward Claire, “Oh, and he paid for this too.”

“Thank you, Niall and I’ll thank Fraser when I see him.”

Grabbing the bag, she made a mad dash toward her arch-enemy, the lift.

As usual, the ride to her floor became an act of slow torture and unmitigated agony. Once the lift doors opened, she sprinted down the corridor shaking one arm out of her coat while juggling her purse and the bag with its precious contents in the other hand. As she arrived outside her office door, her other arm managed to jiggle out of its sleeve. Finding the key to her office would require a balancing act considering the disordered state of her handbag. Placing her coat between her teeth and the bag containing her coffee and scone between her knees, not the soundest of ideas mind, she rummaged inside her handbag. Of course, the key could not be found being buried in the deep recesses of the purse. Needing a little extra stability, Claire leaned against the doorway. The door swung open making her lose balance and stumble into the room. Her mouth opened, squawking in surprise causing the coat to drop to the floor. Flailing hands pinwheeled around trying to maintain equilibrium rather than land ignominiously on her arse. She managed to keep her footing but lost the grip on her purse and watched as the contents tumbled out spilling haphazardly around the room. By some miracle, the sack with the coffee and scone remained intact. Not a drop of the rejuvenating liquid spilled. Which, of course, was the most important thing.

Surveying the mess she had inadvertently created, Claire concluded it was going to be one of those days. No doubt about it. And to make matters worse, she would have to operate without Fraser. Not to have his strong capable hands there moving in concert with hers, well the thought just soured her stomach. Of course, Pound would be there to help, but he was still in training even if he was Chief Fellow and she would still have to monitor him.

Mumbling words that a lady should not use, Claire picked up her coat and tossed it on a chair. On her hands and knees, she crawled around picking up the scattered bits and bobs shoving them back in the purse.

Standing, she walked toward her desk and saw it. In the middle of the desk stood a small beautifully cut crystal vase filled with forget-me-nots, white heather, and baby’s breath. A handwritten card placed in front of the flowers was written in a distinctive script declaring, Tha gaol agam ort, J. Claire could not read Gàidhlig but she instinctively knew what it meant. Her eyes misted over as she touched the delicate blooms.

How do you do it, Jamie Fraser? You take a terrible day and turn it into something magical.

Claire put on her lab coat, grabbed the bag with her coffee and scone, and walked out closing the door behind her. She strolled toward her nemesis, the lift, smiling and humming happily.

****************

“Aye, that’s right. See how Dr. Beauchamp keeps her field clear. It gives ye an unobstructed view and prevents postoperative infection.” Jamie turned to look at his students and they all dutifully nodded in appreciation.

“Watch how Dr. Beauchamp creates the anastomosis. Then she’ll tie it off. See how she makes her knots! ‘Tis a thing of beauty, is it no’? Perfect technique!” Jamie praised. Peering at his beloved, he saw her eyes crinkle with pleasure and her cheeks blazed red above her mask.

He came alive while he watched her work. As a surgeon, she was smart, talented, and highly sought after. Not only because of her skill but because she deeply cared about her patients. Some colleagues thought her “too involved” or believed her gender would make her“too soft” to become a competent cardiothoracic surgeon. Other critics thought her involvement with her patients would undermine her professionalism.

They had made love. Legs twined together; her head rested on his shoulder while his arm curled around her protectively. Jamie turned on to his side just enough to allow him to see her nakedness gilded by the moonlight. She curled into him clinging to him like a limpet anchored to a rock. Her muscles tense where normally she lay in his arms boneless after their intimacy. Finding a particularly tight knot he massaged it and felt it go slack.

“Is something wrong, my own? Did I no’ please you?” he asked anxiously.

“No, you were wonderful, really, Jamie. It’s just me. I started thinking. I don’t know why. But it’s nothing at all truly. I’m fine, just fine.”

“Sassenach, I ken well enough what ‘I’m fine means. Why dinna ye tell me what’s upsetting ye.” Jamie pulled her closer, tucking Claire’s head under his chin.

“We need to go back soon,” she said in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible. “And I’m so happy here with you,” she looked up into those startling blue eyes. “Then I started thinking about what it took for me to get this far in my career. My residency. My Fellowship. And suddenly I wondered if it was all worth it. I wondered if they were right in the end.”

“Who was right, Sassenach?”

Heaving a heavy sigh, Claire shared her trials as a cardiothoracic fellow. The competition for the position had been fierce. Only the top five candidates were called back to interview for the one open position. Even though she was highly ranked among the candidates for the fellowship, her prospective mentors suggested that perhaps she would be more suited to pediatrics, dermatology, or aesthetics as one of those specialties might suit her female sensibilities better. They had suggested cardiothoracic surgery might be too rigorous for a woman. The hours too demanding for a married woman. What would her husband say? Wouldn’t she like to have a family someday?

“The only qualification I didn’t have was I didn’t have a prick,” she said with some bitterness. She never expected an easy time. A distinct amount of sexism existed in medicine and women were not welcomed with open arms. She worked the worst schedule and given the most complex cases. Evaluations were harsh and judgmental. All done in the hopes that she would quit. Instead, it just made her work harder. And she turned a blind eye and a deaf ear to the mockery heaped on her. Claire succeeded where many others failed. She became their first female Chief Fellow; won several prestigious awards for her research. More importantly to Claire, her patients thrived.

“I am beginning to think they were right about some things. There is so much more to life. Much, much more,” she said drowsily. “And I want to have it. All.” Yawning, her eyes fluttered closed, and fell into a contented sleep.

“Aye, mo nighean donn, ye will. I’ll see tae it,” and leaned over kissing her brow.

Truly Claire is a woman of rare spirit, he thought. A woman who overcame many challenges and obstacles from an early age and was better for it. After all, she survived a plane crash that claimed the lives of her parents, lived like a vagabond with her archeologist uncle, and prevailed over a nightmare marriage. Many people would have been crushed under such hardships. But not his Sassenach; she endured. She managed to overcome them and emerge victoriously. A woman of rare spirit indeed. And one who deserved to be loved and loved well.

Jamie’s narrative kept pace with Claire’s every movement. Occasionally, he fired off questions at various intervals to his followers which they answered to his satisfaction. They remained throughout the entire procedure until skin closure finished and the patient made ready for transfer to the CSICU.

“Dr. Pound will accompany the patient to their room and start to write the postoperative orders. Please go with him. I will meet you over there.”

“Dr. Beauchamp, a word if ye please about yer next case,” called Jamie.

“Of course, Dr. Fraser. I would be delighted.”

The doctors exited the operating room on the pretext of being nothing more than two colleagues engaged in a discussion about a patient scheduled for surgery that afternoon. They approached an out-of-the-way corridor between the OR and the CSICU stealing down the passageway like two thieves in the night. Jamie’s head spun around looking for anyone who might have observed them. Deciding that they had not been seen, he seized her hand and pulled her into a little-used utility room. He locked the door behind them and drew her close, kissing her thoroughly.

“I missed ye.”

Claire cuddled into him resting her head on his chest. “I missed you too.”

Lifting her arms, she wrapped them around his neck. “Come here,” she whispered as she tugged his head down toward her.

Claire kissed him once, then twice.

“No’ that I’m complaining but what’s that for?”

“One was for the coffee, the other was for the scone. This one,” her voice turned provocative, “is for the flowers.” Her mouth latched onto his giving him a proper thank you kiss. The kiss, a searing flame, igniting them like a match to dry kindling. It left them both breathless and wanting for more.

She pressed firmly against him. He could feel her nipples rigid and taut through the thin scrub top. He knew she felt him; his hardness pressed against her body. If only I were home with her I’d carry her off to bed. This thought, naturally, made things much worse for him.

“How did you manage it?” she asked, her voice a sultry husky tone.

“Ewan gets the credit.”

“Be sure to thank him for me.” Claire crushed her body closer to his taking in his warmth. She buried he nose against him absorbing his smell. His scent was masculine, with the tang of antiseptic and just a dash of laundry starch hovering around him. Some things completely stirred her soul.

Clearing his throat, Jamie asked in a shaky voice, “Will ye, ah, will ye… Christ Claire, I canna think with ye so close tae me. Will ye take yer lunch with me?”

“Yes,” she said breathily.

“Why don’t ye go dictate yer op notes while on check on Pound? I’ll meet ye in about thirty minutes.”

“That’s a fine idea,” she leaned forward giving him a quick kiss. “Don’t be late.”

Jamie opened the door enough to peek out and found the corridor remained empty.

“Ye go first, I’ll follow after ye shortly.”

Claire slipped through the door while Jamie watched as she left. He noticed a little extra sway to her hips as she walked away. Damn little vixen. She did it on purpose. Sighing, he closed the door and leaned his head against it. He would have a wait a minute or two until his “problem” disappeared. It was becoming truly uncomfortable as he sought to adjust himself. “She’ll be the death of me yet.”

***********************

Walking into the CSICU after completing a successful surgery always filled Jamie with a certain satisfaction. He felt overjoyed that he and Claire helped patients return to their life, their work, their family, and without pain. He would tell patients, when he first met them, that this surgery was “enabling”. It would enable them to return to the life they wanted and not become a bystander.

With that thought in mind and a large grin on his face, Jamie swiped his badge across the electronic keypad granting him entrance into the Unit. The sounds of controlled chaos greeted him, voices raised, ventilators whooshing delivering needed oxygen, the soft beeping of heart monitors keeping time with healing hearts, IV pumps clicking as they delivered medication critical to the patient’s recovery.

He walked briskly toward the nurses’ station with gladness in his heart for he was back where he belonged.

“Fiona, ‘tis good tae see ye. How have ye been?” he inquired of the Unit’s charge nurse.

With the sound of his voice all conversation, all activity ceased, and every eye fastened onto him. The silence in the room would have been deafening if not for the continued mechanical sounds. Jamie became keenly aware of the absence of sound and the staff rooted in position. And just as quickly as it started it ended with activity resuming at its normal pace.

Fiona MacGowen kept her eyes glued to her computer screen, deliberately not making direct eye contact with the doctor. “Oh just braw, Dr. Fraser, just braw. Dr. Beauchamp’s patient is in Room 10 with Dr. Pound, Elspeth, and Iona getting him settled,” she said with her lips slightly turning up in a smile. “They’ll be waiting on ye.”

“Thank ye, Fiona. I’ll go and see how they are getting along.”

Jamie walked away, stopped, and turned back to look at Fiona once more. He thought her behavior a bit strange. Generally, one would say Fiona was a gregarious person with the reputation of being a chatterbox. Today, however, she acted more like a nun under a vow of silence. But to be honest, as he gazed around the Unit once more, everyone’s behavior seemed strange. And he had yet figured out what to make of it.

As Jamie approached the room the sounds of busyness gave the impression of a beehive humming with activity. As he stepped into the entryway, activity ceased. Again, all that remained was the soft mechanical sounds made by the life-sustaining equipment.

Elspeth stood quite still and uttered a little gasp. Meanwhile, Iona took a step back bumping into the ventilator; her eyes round with surprise. Dr. Pound cleared his throat glaring at the two nurses. They resumed their usual pleasant expressions with lips curling up into crooked smiles.

Jamie looked at the three of them thinking his team had gone daft.

“‘Tis good to have ye back Dr. Fraser,” declared the Fellow. “The ladies and I were just finishing getting Mr. MacNichol set up.”

Pound grabbed one of the portable workstations and began reviewing the patient’s current vitals as well as the orders he had written with the surgeon. They discussed the ventilator’s and pacemaker’s current settings, and when to call Dr. Beauchamp with any changes to her patient.

“Well-done, well-done. Mr. MacNichol is in very capable hands,” he smiled at his team. “I am off to lunch. Ye ken how to reach Dr. Beauchamp or me.”

Jamie walked out of the room and on impulse turned back to see the three heads buried in whispered conversation. He shook his head and left thinking about having lunch with Claire wanting to discuss the staff’s strange behavior with her.

Preoccupied with his thoughts, Jamie walked smack into his cousin Rupert almost knocking him down. Extending his arm quickly he caught his cousin by the shoulder steadying him.

“Sorry about that Rup. Doing a bit of wool-gathering I suppose.”

“Oy must be something awfully important to have ye so distracted.”

“I promised Claire I would have lunch with her and I dinna want tae be late.”

“Tae tell ye the truth, I am on my way tae find Geillis. We’re supposed to have a bite together too. Suppose ye two join us, aye?” He grinned broadly, “Twill be interesting to see if the plan

succeeded.”

“Sounds like a good idea cuz,” Jamie clapped an arm around Rupert’s shoulder as they strode off in search of the lasses.

************************************

Seated at one of the dictation corrals, Claire began her op notes. Her cardiac anesthesiologist, Geillis Duncan took the hutch next to her.

Dr. Duncan was a beautiful woman, with a trim figure, flaming red hair, and eyes as green as spring grass.

“Claire, ‘tis good tae have ye back. I’m sorry I dinna have much of a chance tae speak with ye this morning before the case. Did ye enjoy the conference?” Dr. Duncan gave Claire a sly side-long look.

“Wouldn’t you know it, Boston had a blizzard and the speakers weren’t able to make it.”

“No. What a shame. Ye flew all that way for nothing,” she sympathized.

“Too bad, right? Dr. Fraser and I were looking forward to hearing about those peripherally inserted heart valves.”

“Aye, but ye had the fox cub with ye. Perhaps it wasna so bad after all,” she leaned over jabbing Claire in the side. “Did ye maybe get tae share a room and have a go at him between the sheets, um?” She gave Claire a wicked smile. “I ken if I was snowed in with him, I would.

“Geillis!” Claire swore. She blushed from her hair roots to her toes.

Geillis gave her a sly smug smile. “After all, Georges X is an exclusive luxury hotel. Verra private, and verra, verra discrete. Or so I’ve heard,” she said shrugging her shoulders. “They have those flowers, all over the place. What are they? Orchids? she asked while tapping her nail against her white teeth feigning an attempt at recalling. I understand the lobby is decorated with a fortune in artwork. The rooms are quite grand, are they no’, with a fireplace, champagne, chocolate-dipped strawberries, fine whiskey. And I hear the bed is big enough to sleep an entire family. How could ye no’ entice him into yer bed, is what I want tae know?”

Claire glared at her friend, “What I want to know is how you know I stayed at Georges X. I know I never told you.”

Geillis chuckled nervously, “Why of course ye did. How else would I ken that?” Geillis became uncomfortable under Claire’s scrutiny.

“Spill it, Duncan. You know more than you’re telling.”

Geillis affected a look of innocence, “I swear tae ye Claire, I dinna ken anything.” She nervously scanned the area looking for any means of escape from further questioning. Her eyes latched on to Dr. Rupert MacKenzie ambling directly toward her, along with Jamie. “I need tae go. I promised tae meet Rupert for lunch. See ye later, Claire.”

Reaching out, Claire grasped Geillis by the forearm, “That’s a load of rubbish and you know it. I suspected there was something dodgy about that trip right from the beginning. I need answers and you have them, Duncan. You’re coming with me.”

************************************

The two male surgeons walked amicably through the corridor talking and laughing as Rupert entertained Jamie with tales of hospital gossip. As they approached the physician workstation, they noticed a loud commotion that seemed to be attracting a crowd. Jamie wondered what caused the kerfuffle this time. Most such squabbles centered around obtaining a certain OR room or available time for surgery. This behavior bordered on the ridiculous in his opinion.

As the men came closer to the center of the fray, they saw two female doctors engaged in a struggle. One of them had wild brown curls bouncing around her head. Claire? The second doctor had hair the color of flame. That head of hair belonged to the fiery Geillis Duncan. He quickened his pace needing to reach Claire.

“Claire! Claire,” he called, “What’s amiss?”

“‘Claire’ he calls her now. No’ Dr. Beauchamp,” Geillis snorted.

Claire’s posture had all the hallmarks of frustration and anger as she tried to drag her colleague toward the doctor’s lounge.

Claire’s eyes locked on Jamie, “It seems that Dr. Duncan knows a great deal about our trip. Particularly where we stayed and I want to know how.”

Rupert took Geillis firmly by the elbow and leaned over to hotly whisper in her ear, “Wha’ have ye done woman!?”

Cold green eyes glared fixedly up at him disliking his insinuation. “I may have spilled a bit of tea is all,” she said, wrenching her arm free of his grip.

“Sounds more like ye spilled the whole damn pot,” he growled at her. “Ye ken they were never supposed to find out, at least no’ this way. We were supposed to tell them gentle like. Now what?”

Dr. Duncan gave her shoulders the tiniest of shrugs. “Dinna fash. We’ll think of something,” and walked toward the lounge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth, “Aye, that’s what I’m afraid of.”

Rupert held the lounge door open for his co-conspirator trying to usher her quietly into the room. Geillis, however, turned to observe Jamie and Claire huddled deep in discussion.

“Are ye both going to stand there all day blethering, or are ye coming? I’m hungry and I want my lunch.” she snapped.

The crowd lingered about waiting for the fuse to be lit and the fireworks to begin. Dr. Duncan had a very volatile reputation easily flying into pieces like an unstable explosive device. Whereas, Dr. Beauchamp was a genial person, kind and caring. But, the one thing she was not was a meek individual. When pushed beyond her tolerance limits, she could be as ruthless as a she-wolf defending her pups.

Jamie placed his hand firmly on the small of Claire’s back giving her a little nudge forward. The crowd began to murmur heads close in a whispered discussion, Some rudely pointed a finger at his hand on her back, while others outright stared. Jamie flushed. He should have known such an intimate placement of his hand would draw attention. They saw he claimed her. Not knowing how Claire would feel about this public display, he thought he needed to break up this crowd before someone accidentally said something.

“Show’s over everyone. Just a private meeting among friends. Nothing tae see here. I’m sure ye all have some work tae do. Patients are waiting for ye. Go on with ye.” Jamie said dismissing the loitering group.

Following behind Claire, Jamie entered the room and shut the door.

Claire wanted to get to the bottom of things quickly and stormed up to her colleague in a blazing fury. “Alright Duncan, spill what you know.”

“I already told ye. I dinna ken anything about ye trip. As I said either you or Jamie must have mentioned where ye were staying. Beyond that, I dinna ken anything.”

Jamie looked at Claire and shook his head signifying that he had never mentioned the hotel to anyone.

“Um-hm. Since when does this institution send a chauffeured car to pick up two staff surgeons? For the Chief certainly but not for ordinary staff personnel. And we’re supposed to believe that the hospital made five-star accommodations with all expenses paid for us? Hmm? I think not. Did I not say so, Jamie?”

“Aye, ye did. Several times.”

“Claire began to pace while considering the other strange occurrences surrounding their trip.

“And what about my clothes? I most certainly did not pack away that nightgown. It was a mere scrap of silk and lace. And that lingerie! Those panties and bras were not something I would have packed for a conference trip.”

“I’ll bet he enjoyed it,” Geillis muttered under her breath a sly grin curling up on her lips lighting up her face.

Jamie leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, staring intensely at the female doctor, “I am inclined tae agree with Dr. Beauchamp that the circumstances surrounding our trip tae Boston were, tae say the least, most unusual. I also had clothes in my suitcase that I ken I dinna pack and I’m wondering how they got there. Can ye shed any light on this mystery?”

As Jamie questioned Geillis, an acrid odor caught Claire’s attention. Being a very astute doctor, she was used to the various malodors emitted by humans and knew what they meant. She raised her nose into the air and sniffed delicately. The pungent smell seemed to be coming from the direction of Rupert. A light sheen of sweat glossed over his forehead and there was a distinctive musky odor about him. Fear. Anxiety. Her intense scrutiny seemed to worsen whatever internal conflict plaguing him. Unable to withstand the intensity of her stare, Rupert turned away not wanting to meet her eyes.

Claire jabbed Jamie in his side with her elbow gaining his attention.

“I think Rupert has something to add to this conversation.”

Jamie walked over to his cousin and stared at him intently. Rupert took a few steps back, feeling the unconscious need to put some distance between them.

“Aye, I think yer right. Rupert, ye look like ye have something ye’d like tae get off yer chest. Out with it man.”

Deciding that the best defense is a good offense, Rupert widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I dinna ken what yer talking about Jamie lad. As the lady said, I dinna ken anything about yer trip either. And dinna ask if I ken anything about how yer jeans, duck boots, and down jacket got into yer suitcase,” he replied, a self-satisfied look plastered across his face.

“Ye great dunderheid! Do ye ken what ye said?! Ye just gave it away,” Geillis shouted giving him a slap upside his head. “And ye were worried about what I said.”

“Wha’ are ye talking ab…” He had that startled look that one has when they realize they stuck their foot in their mouth. “Oh! Oh, shite.”

“Ye just admitted that ye changed Jamie’s clothes in his suitcase.”

“Dinna blame me for everything. You changed Claire’s clothes,” Rupert countered.

The two combatants escalated the argument going at each other nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball, tooth, fang, and claw.

“And whose ideas was this? Mine. Who made the hotel arrangements and spoke tae Joe Silverberg in Texas to get him on board with the plan should one of them call to discuss the meeting?” Geillis boasted as she swung her hair over her shoulder. A dreamy look took over her as she recalled the conversation with Dr. Silverberg. “I invited him to come to Scotland, ye ken. Told him I would show him the sights and a good time. Said he may take me up on that too.”

“Mmphm, so ye did,” Rupert grumbled with annoyance. He did not like the suggestion of Geillis showing the American surgeon a good time. “Ye forget I made the plane arrangements and got Kenny to print up the fake conference brochure. And who enlisted their secretary’s help to slip the vacation request under the Chief’s nose and have him sign it? Cost me a night out as payment for that,” Rupert griped.

The two doctors continued in their game of one-up-manship, oblivious to Jamie and Claire standing in the room.

Unable to take the bickering anymore, Jamie bellowed, “Haud yer weesht!!!”

Geillis and Rupert looked up in bewilderment having forgotten where they were and that Jamie and Claire stood listening.

“Do ye two realize that what ye did invaded our privacy? That ye had no right to interfere in our lives?” Jamie growled.

“So, that’s it then? The whole thing was a setup, some sort of game? None of this was real? ” Claire said as she looked at Jamie.

“I beg tae differ, hen,” Gellis walked over her expression softening and gently took hold of Claire’s hand, “it’s as real as it can get. We all saw the lovesick eyes, the secret peeks ye two gave each other, and the way ye fuss over each other. If two people were meant to be together it’s ye two. We just nudged things along is all, ” said Geillis.

“Aye, yer right,” Rupert chimed in. “‘Tis the truth that NO one could take watching ye two anymore. The whole hospital wanted tae see ye together.” Rupert smiled at Claire. He quickly turned his vexation on his cousin. “And if Fraser here was no’ going tae be a man about it and make the first move, well by God someone had tae,” he snarled at Jamie. “What are ye then, cuz, a man or a moose?”

Jamie ran his hand through his hair and rolled his shoulders as if trying to loosen his shirt that had suddenly become too tight. A shy crooked smile flashed over his face; his lip curling up on one side.

“Aye, yer right. I, ah, I… Well, tae tell the truth, I am a bit of a coward. Ye ken, I dinna think um, I dinna know if Claire felt the same about me.” Jamie turned and looked deeply in Claire’s eyes, “I was afraid tae lose ye. If being yer friend would be the best of it, then that would have been enough.”

“I was afraid of losing you too, Jamie. I’ve had feelings for you right from the start. Only now do I dare to admit them,” Claire turned toward Rupert and Geillis giving them a look of gratitude. Moving closer, placing her hands on his chest. “I love you and I always will.” Her arms went up around his neck, standing on tiptoe, she leaned in, and kissed him soundly.

The kiss finally ended, each blushing from making a display of themselves.

Geillis stood there making gagging noises as she watched their affection. Rupert looked at Geillis with a smirk on his face.

“What’s the matter, lass, jealous?” Rupert said with a grin on his face.

“Certainly not,” Geillis waved off that idea with a flip of her hand and turned away.

“Well then, ye won't be minding this. I've wanted tae do this for a long time.” Rupert turned her around, took her in his arms, and kissed her.

“And I dinna want tae hear about ye showing any other men a good time, either.” He gave her a look that told her he would not brook no for an answer.

Geillis, looking dazed readily agreed.

Jamie coughed loudly, reminding the other couple they were not alone.

Wrapping his arm around Claire and pulling her into his side, Jamie smiled at their friends, “We want to thank ye, both, for bringing us together. We are truly grateful.”

Claire nodded in agreement, forgetting about her anger with the unorthodox methods they used to bring her the love of her life.

“Since we are all telling the truth,” Rupert reluctantly admitted, “there’s a wee bit more to it.” “We were not the only ones involved in this. When other staff members heard what we about they wanted tae be part of it. And so...”

“And so everyone began to contribute money tae help pay for the trip. So that’s how ye had such fine accommodations and such.” Geillis huffed, “We told ye that people could no longer stand tae look at ye. They wanted ye two as a couple, no’ apart. Now can we stop havering about and get some lunch? My wame is empty. Besides, everyone is waiting in the canteen tae see ye both.”

“Oh, God,” Claire groaned as she grew red and buried her face in Jamie’s chest.

Jamie chuckled and rubbed her back in long soothing strokes.

“Are ye ready then, Sassenach? Let’s go give these good people their money’s worth,” he grinned.

“Yes. We should thank them all, don’t you think?” Claire replied, running her fingers through her hair trying to tame her wayward curls.

“Ye look fine, lass,” he bent to kiss her gently on the cheek and took hold of her hand.

Rupert and Geillis led the way, laughing and talking. Claire and Jamie walked behind them holding hands. Nerves were getting the best of her and her hands became sweaty. She surreptitiously wiped her free hand on the scrub pant leg.

“Dinna fash. Ye’ve faced worse and ye’ll no’ be doing this alone. We’ll face them as one.”

One.

ONE, he said. But. What did that exactly mean?

“What do you mean by that? Being one?” She held her breath waiting for an answer.

Jamie frowned, crease lines set upon his forehead.

“It’s like I’ve kent ye my whole life, even before that, if that’s possible. I mean yer part of me. I ken that sounds crazy, but I…”

“I know what you mean, Jamie. I feel the same way too. It’s hard to explain, but it’s there.”

“Aye, lass, it’s most definitely there.”

Approaching the canteen seemed a surreal experience. Normally, one would call the dining hall a lively place, with the sounds of laughter, chatter, mixed with the scrape of dinnerware against plates. Today seemed different. A thrum of excitement and perhaps expectation filled the air as if waiting for something to happen. As Jamie and Claire approached the door a steady vibration emanated from its core.

Geillis waved them back signaling she and Rupert would enter first. Rupert lifted his hand spreading his fingers indicating they should wait five minutes before entering. Jamie nodded and Rupert and Geillis entered the dining room.

Jamie and Claire waited in companionable silence. Who would think that five minutes could feel like an eternity? But it did.

Jamie looked at his watch; it was time.

“Are ye ready, Sassenach?”

“Je suis prest,” she acknowledged.

Their fingers reached out seeking their mate bonded the two hearts and souls into one. Turning they gave each other a nod and walked through the door only to meet with absolute silence.

All eyes turned upon them and it became unnerving. Claire inched closer to Jamie, if that was even possible, drawing on his strength.

Then the cheers began along with the whistles and applause. Someone from the back of the room called out, “It’s about time, Fraser.”

“Och why don’t ye just give us a bit of peace, aye?” came his laughing response.

They were rushed by a mob of well-wishers. Men clapped Jamie on the back wishing him well. Others made jokes, at his expense, about his manliness for taking so long.

The women embraced Claire telling her how happy they were for her. Some gave her sly looks while others made off-color jokes causing her to blush.

Eventually, people began to amble back to their tables and lunch, and the couple discovered themselves alone. Finding a table in an out-of-the-way corner, they sat to eat.

“I guess we are out as a couple officially. It’s no’ how I would have wished it tae become common knowledge, but…” Jamie shrugged. “They are good people and they meant well.”

Claire nodded in agreement as she moved her salad around on the plate not eating.

“It’s a strange feeling. Knowing that someone orchestrated this relationship. I know how this will sound, but I feel like this happened to me, to us before.”

Claire looked up at Jamie, eyes pleading for understanding.

“Forget what I said, it’s silly.” She stabbed a particularly tender piece of lettuce and ate it.

“Nay Sassenach, it’s no’ silly at all. I feel it too. It’s as if I am drawn to ye as if I kent ye from another lifetime. Like we were meant to be together, bonded if ye like.”

“That’s it, exactly.” Claire looked at him with a sense of relief. Looking up, she noticed the clock on the wall, reading 12:55 PM.

“Damn, we have to go. We’ll barely make it in time for Dr. de Gascogne’s appointment for your hand.”

Jamie muttered something in Gàidhlig which Claire really didn’t want a translation of.

“I dinna ken why everyone is making such a fuss over my hand. It doesna hurt and it will heal in a few more weeks.”

Claire blew out a breath of exasperation, “You know very well why Dr. Fraser. Your one of the best cardiac surgeons in all of Scotland. Well, next to me you are,” she said teasingly. Besides, the hospital needs you, your patients need you but most of all I need you. So that’s why.”

“I ken, but I dinna like being fussed over.”

“Yes, I know; you’re a doctor and doctors make terrible patients. You think you’re supposed to do the healing and don’t like when you need help,” Claire said with a raised eyebrow. “Now, let’s get your hand attended to, shall we?”

They hurried through the corridors, making it to the appointment with seconds to spare. Jamie was whisked off for X-Rays then he and Claire were escorted to an exam room. He sat on the examination bed while Claire took the chair next to him awaiting Dr. de Gascogne’s appearance.

Jamie studiously inspected an anatomical chart of the hand and wrist hanging on the wall in the room.

“Ye said ye need me,” he said almost inaudibly. “Do ye mean as yer surgical partner or as something more?

Claire noticed him drumming his fingers on his thigh anxiously.

“I need you, Jamie, in every sense of the word. As my partner, my friend, my lover, my everything. I. Need. You.” Claire stood and walked over to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck pressing her forehead to his.

“Aye, weel I wanted to make sure, is all. Yer the prettiest lass in the hospital. Any man would want tae be with ye,” and gave her a shy smile.

“Jamie Fraser, you say the most…” There was a knock on the door, the knob turned and Dr. de Gascogne entered the room finding the lovers locked in an embrace.

She looked at the two, raised an eyebrow at Jamie’s hands on Claire’s hips, “Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez. I believe congratulations are in order. My secretary tells me you have announced that you are a couple. You two made quite a stir in the dining hall?”

Claire jumped away returning to her seat cheeks and nose bright red. While Jamie’s ears went pink.

“Well, um, ah, yes. Thank you. I believe that we made quite a spectacle of ourselves and continue to do so, it seems,” Claire replied mortified having been caught.

“Ah, mon chéri never be ashamed to show that you are in love. We are born of love and seek out love. Many have sacrificed greatly for love even died for it. It truly is a treasure to enjoy. No?” Dr. de Gascogne said with a smile. “Now to business.”

Dr. de Gascogne opened the electronic medical record and began her inquiry. Jamie explained how he injured his hand - twice - causing Dr. de Gascogne to raise her eyebrows in total disbelief.

She reviewed the X-Rays; then removed the splints. She moved and wiggled the fingers finding them healing well and moving to her satisfaction. The splints were replaced and Jamie was dismissed with a caution not to hit any more people or trees. She instructed him to see her again in one month for a further follow-up.

The two surgeons graciously thanked Dr. de Gascogne for her time and casually left the examination room. As soon as they could not be seen, they bolted toward the operating suites as quickly as they could eager to leave behind another awkward situation.

The remainder of the afternoon went on as planned. Claire completed her second surgical procedure without incident. Jamie’s students doggedly followed him from place to place. Finally, the day came to an end. The surgeons tiredly returned to their offices, checked in for urgent messages and for their schedule for the next day. Each too exhausted to do much of anything else, except want the comfort of a bed, chose to go home. It was a short walk to Claire’s flat from the hospital and Jamie escorted her home. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she leaned into him. They spoke of this and that sharing different events of their day. Arriving at Claire’s flat, they walked up the stairs toward the front door. Jamie stood one step lower than Claire allowing them to be of an equal height.

A wave of fatigue washed over her, but Claire did not want Jamie to leave despite her tiredness.

“Would you like to come up? I have some soup in the fridge. Mrs. Bug made it. She’s quite the cook. Won’t take more than a moment to heat up. Or maybe a glass of wine or a dram? To help unwind?” she said looking at him hopefully.

He unzipped both their jackets and pulled her into the depth of his wrapping the jacket around her. He wanted her close to him and to share his warmth with her.

“Mo chridhe, yer completely knackered and ye need yer rest. If I come up with ye, ye ken neither of us will get any sleep,” he said pressing himself against her his desire completely apparent. “It’s no’ that I dinna want tae, but it wouldna do tae have ye fall asleep tomorrow during yer procedures.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worked with little sleep, just like you have, during residency and fellowship,” she pouted.

“Aye, but ye need to set an example for the students and fellows. And what about yer patients? They need Dr. Beauchamp at her best. They’re counting on ye.”

Claire luxuriated in the radiant heat of his body and the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. But, she still did not want him to leave. For to be alone with Jamie was bliss but to be alone was, well, to be alone. She racked her fatigued brain for anything that would keep Jamie with her. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

“I ken ye do, mo nighean donn. I feel it every time ye touch me,” Jamie took her hand tenderly placing a kiss on her palm. Gently, he folded her fingers over to seal his kiss against her skin. “And when ye kiss me,” he brushed his lips over hers. “Most of all, when ye lie with me. I ken the truth of it in our lovemaking,” he pulled her even closer to him until no space existed between their bodies. “Woman, ye’re like a live wire. Yer body fairly pulses with yer love and it flows out from you into me. It’s no’ just lust between us. ‘Tis love that brought us together and binds our souls. ‘Tis a thing that I never knew I wanted or needed until I found ye,” his hand moved to cup her face.

“It’s the same for me. I never knew it could be like this. Especially, after Frank. I thought all relationships would end up like that one. I see how foolish I had been to keep myself closed. To close my heart from love. If not for this trip, this may have never happened. We may have never happened.”

“Mo leannan, I would have found ye somehow. Whether I found ye now or even if I had to wait two hundred years to find ye, I’d find ye. We are meant to be together. I ken it.” His forehead pressed to hers each inhaling the other’s breath.

It began to rain lightly; a mizzle he had once called it. Tiny droplets of water clung to his hair. In the light of the streetlamp, his hair looked like a ruby adorned with sparkling diamonds.

They stood locked in an embrace for several moments; neither truly wanting to part from the other.

“Sassenach,” he whispered into her ear, “go on up. Ye need yer rest. Yer poor wee eyes are closing and there are dark smudges around them. Go on then. I’ll see ye tomorrow.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she nodded her head in agreement. Claire walked up the last two steps and slid the key into the lock of the front door. She turned to watch Jamie as he disappeared into the night walking toward his home and it occurred to her that this was just the beginning of their life and of their story.

The End - Part I

Tha gaol agam ort: I love you. (As if you didn’t know already.)

Anastomosis: An anastomosis is a surgical connection between two structures. It usually means a connection that is created between tubular structures, such as blood vessels or loops of the intestine.

CSICU/Unit: Cardiac Surgical ICU.

Blatherer: Chatterbox.

Dunderheid: An idiot, a stupid person.

Haud yer weesht: Be quiet.

Moose: mouse

Un jour, quelqu'un entrera dans votre vie et vous fera comprendre pourquoi cela n'a jamais fonctionné avec quelqu'un d'autre, mes chers. Et il semble que vous ayez.: One day someone will walk into your life and make you see why it never worked out with anyone else, my dears. And it seems that you have. (Google translation. If it’s wrong I apologise.) The quote is attributed to anonymous.

Mo nighean donn: My brown-haired lass

Mo leannan: Darling

Mizzle: A light rain

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This Jamie and Claire will return. When I don't know. I also have several other stories in various stages of completion sitting in my files. I would like to give them a little attention too. And I still need to get through all the other stuff going on in my life.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading. 🧡🧡🧡🧡

#edinburgh to boston #chapter 21 #Secrets and truths #here goes nothing #ol fic #my writing #jamie and claire #I can't believe I finished it

73 notes · View notes

fallin-4-ya · 4 years ago

Photo

The Follies and Vices of You

cedric diggory x reader- part iii of series

based off the novel and film ‘Pride and Prejudice’ by Jane Austen

summary: Being the beloved sister of the incredibly wealthy Mr. Potter, you felt no need to rush into marriage. But one day, when you come to meet a new acquaintance, the proud Mr. Diggory, your views of love and follies change.

warnings: none! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v

‘Maybe it’s that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.’ -Jane Austen

‘Y/N, I’m afraid we must have a most dreadful topic to converse upon.’

‘If such a conversation is dreadful, Harry, then why must we speak of it?’ you chuckled half-heartedly.

‘My dear sister, it pains me to speak such foolishness with you, but it must be done. As you well know you’re two and twenty and I’m in most distress telling you that perhaps it is time to make your way in the world.’ He spoke, then gazed at you for a reply.

‘Dear Harry, I don’t think you mean that I am to be married soon!’ you said, and Harry simply nodded. ‘You cannot be serious. You know well as I that two and twenty is far too young to be eloped in such an unhappiness. Harry, please. I want to stay with you.’

Mr. Lupin came to the door, ‘Now, now what is all the commotion about. Miss Y/N, tell me dear, what in heaven’s name is the matter?’

You couldn’t help but to hold back a tear, ‘Harry has suggested that it’s time to make my way in the world by… well, by getting married. Oh, Mr. Lupin! Do tell Harry how young I am to be engaged to someone, and how unhappy I would be. Please, I do beg!’

‘My dear Y/N. There, there.’ He sat comforting you, rubbing circles on your back, ‘I understand well my dear how troublesome life can be. While perhaps you may be a bit young, Harry is only worried for you and your wellbeing. If something was to happen to your brother there would be much trouble; but, perhaps having a husband can avoid such troubles. You know well that we all love you very much.’

‘Yes, I do understand. I’m terribly sorry, I just fear of unhappiness and I cannot live a life where I am not free.’ You said as you dried a tear, ‘Oh Harry, please do forgive me for my sudden irrational behavior.’

‘Only if you forgive me for my stupidity and lack of brotherly compassion.’ Harry replied sorrowfully.

You told only Miss Ginny of the conversation that occurred the previous day.

‘My dearest Y/N! How dreadful a life with men can be! I am truly sorry dear; well, I’m sure that Harry truly didn’t mean it.’ She exulted.

‘Oh, Ginny, I know. My brother is just ensuring me a well life full of prosperity. Though while I thought to be two and twenty and unwed was normal, the rest of society deems it as not.’ You sighed.

‘Well, Y/N, I have six older brothers and you may have your pick at whichever one you’d like!’ she laughed, ‘Although, with Charlie in Romania for studies, Fred and George being the handful they are, Bill married to that French woman we met two summers ago and Ron being totally in love with Miss Hermione Granger; that leaves you with Percy, which I do not think to be a good match for any girl with a functioning head on her shoulders.’ You both busted out laughing. How strange it was to think as the Mr. Weasleys as anything other than your dear friends, you said to yourself. So, you immediately shook the idea out of your head and said a firm no.

‘Oh, Y/N! How about the young Mr. Malfoy! He is very amiable indeed. Comes from money, commonly handsome; he would do you well!’ Ginny said excitedly. You pondered over it for a moment, you and Mr. Malfoy. Certainly, a most predictable match, but how well would he suit your happiness?

You thought often about the potential engagements you could elope in. Taking each into most focused consideration, not wanting to miss out on any information that could sway your opinion. Sure, you thought, Mr. Malfoy was a most suitable man. He had money, relations and not to mention you would live comfortable for the rest of your life. But there was something about his air, he had a matter of secrecy to him that you couldn’t quite uncover; and you longed to know more.

You sat at your pianoforte, as practicing your music had always given you such joy and peace. As your fingers danced on the keys, you seemed to feel your troubles pass; until you heard a floorboard creek. Your head shot up to see no one other than Mr. Diggory, looking almost panicked.

‘Mr. Diggory, what a most pleasant surprise! Shall I call for some tea?’ you smiled kindly.

‘Oh no, that won’t be necessary.’ Mr. Diggory answered. You stood in a silence, much like the two of you had before.

‘Would you like to sit down, sir?’ you offered hoping to release some tension. ‘No, thank you, Miss Y/N. I was just, I was only admiring your playing. My sister had a pianoforte much like that one.’

‘What wonderful a player Miss Diggory must have been, after all it is such a fine instrument! And thank you, my brother had gifted it to me some time ago. Would you like me to continue my playing?’

‘No. I wish not to be a burden.’ Mr. Diggory replied, ‘Good day, Miss Y/N.’

And with that he left abruptly. Harry walked into the piano room passing Mr. Diggory on his way out, as you stood there in all of your shock and confusion. ‘What on Earth have you done to Mr. Diggory?’ Harry exclaimed.

‘I have no idea.’ You said in all of your confusion.

(end of part iii! okay i mightttt have lied when i said this was only going to be three parts, i think it will be five parts + an epilogue! thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be part of my tag list!) tag list: @freddieweasleyswife @truly-insatiable @annasdani @mullthingsoverinthehotwater

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #Draco Malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #Ron Weasley #Fred and George #fred weasley #george weasley #ginny weasley #sirius black #remus lupin #pride and predujice #jane austen

65 notes · View notes

quillandink333 · 4 years ago

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part I

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.9k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

A deafening blast jolted me out of my slumber. I snapped upright.

As a member of law enforcement, I was painfully familiar with the sound of a gunshot, and that was exactly what I’d just heard.

I strained my ears with bated breath, trying to hear over my own thundering heartbeat.

Loud, frantic footsteps raced down creaky, wooden stairs. Then a terrified scream filled the halls of my childhood home.

I tore away the sheets and rushed to where the scream seemed to have come from. When I reached the parlour was when I stumbled upon the scene. There, right at the foot of my mother’s memorial, was my godmother’s cold, lifeless corpse. Kneeling beside her was her granddaughter, Paya, weeping into her open palms in shock.

Only a minute or two had passed since I’d awoken at the sound of gunfire. “Wait here,” I ordered, then made a break for the front entrance, the nearest and most instinctual escape route.

But when I threw the doors open, there wasn’t a soul to be found.

I returned to the parlour with my tail between my legs. Then my toe hit something heavy and metallic that clacked underfoot. When I looked down and saw what it was, I froze. With caution, I ever so slowly stepped away from the weapon.

“Great...” I muttered, seeing as now it would have my toe prints on it. But the longer I looked at it, I realized I’d seen this revolver somewhere before.

Then it hit me. It hit me like a two-ton train car.

I quickly made sure Paya’s head was turned. Then with terribly trembling hands, I did what I had to do and carefully tucked it away in my nightgown.

I’d feared the precinct wouldn’t allow me to participate in the investigation seeing as I’d been on the scene at the time of the crime. However, it seemed they trusted me enough to even appoint me as the lead investigator. Granted, I had done a lot to earn their trust over the past three years, but this was unheard of.

Nevertheless, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The next morning, at seven o’clock sharp, I returned to the scene of the crime equipped with all the necessary tools of my trade.

I looked out the window of the cramped police buggy at our destination in utter astoundment. There were already droves of officers there, awaiting the arrival of me and my partner. The sight of the place I’d once called home being chained off and hidden from the public like this was jarring, to say the least. Of all the strange crime scenes I’d seen, this was the strangest. I never could’ve imagined I’d be returning here, not to eat Auntie Impa’s delicious pork buns or to hear Auntie Purah talk about her latest technological endeavours, but for work. How could I have?

“Zelda! Good—good morning!” greeted a rather skittish Paya when she opened the door for us.

“Good morning, Paya.”

She nearly lost her smile when she noticed Constable Fyori standing beside me. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside, and he and I entered into the low-ceilinged yet stately vestibule, removing our shoes and leaving them by the door. “Can I get either of you anything? Some tea, maybe?”

My assistant opened his mouth, but I raised a hand, silencing him. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have important business to take care of.”

“Oh, yes, of course! Silly me,” she chortled. “I’ll let you get to it, then.”

The first order of business was to examine the body. In most cases, a specialist would be needed to perform an autopsy, but unlike most inspectors, I had the forensic knowhow to take care of it myself. One might have said this was a side effect of my hobbies and my avid interest in all things related to science that I’d harboured since grade school. However, a full autopsy complete with the weighing of the body and the removal of the organs would come later. For now, it would suffice to determine two simple things: the time of death and the cause of death.

But before I could even get close to the body, I was stopped by my assistant, who grabbed me gently by the arm.

“You don’t have to do this,” he uttered in his typical, mousy tone. “I can call for someone else to come and take care of it for you.”

The look of real and profound concern seated deep in his aquamarine eyes pulled at my heartstrings. It had been a year, roughly, since he’d first begun working under me. He was always so worried for me, and I always felt terrible because of it. I unhooked his hand from my arm, putting on a warm smile. “I’ll be okay, Link.”

He looked at me as if to ask, “Are you sure?”

“Really, it’s fine. Don’t worry,” I insisted. “Thank you, though.” This finally got him to return my smile, albeit only briefly.

I already had a decent estimate of the time of death. The period we were looking at was between half ten at night, when the last person awake (which had just so happened to be me) had gone to bed, and three in the morning, when the gunshot had given me that rude awakening. Really I should have examined the body as soon as I’d discovered it. In most other cases I worked on, I even wished I’d been the first on the scene, before the stiff had yet to even go stiff. Of course, the one time I happened to be one of the first to discover a murder, it had to be like this.

And yet, until I knew who was responsible for this atrocity, grieving could wait.

Right off the bat, I could tell that this had been a homicide. This may have seemed obvious to someone like Paya, but as a detective, I’d had to forcefully train myself to assume nothing and question everything. Based on the characteristics of the hole running straight through her neck, however, I determined that the gun had been shot from too far a distance for it to have been suicidal. Auntie Impa’s arms simply weren’t long enough.

But for a death caused by hemorrhage from a severed jugular vein, there was a shockingly small amount of blood. The rush-woven mat beneath her was nearly spotless, and I knew from experience how difficult it was to get stains out of these mats. Even when I checked underneath the mat, there was still nothing. No blood, and no bullet.

With a final nod, I stood up and signalled the other officers to take the body away.

“Now, let’s see here...” I said to myself, scanning the area immediately surrounding the corpse before approaching my mother’s altar. But when I laid eyes on the damage it had sustained, I stumbled back.

Though she hadn’t been a follower of the same faith held by the Sheikahs, my mother’s memory had been enshrined here because, like myself, they’d been like a second family to her.

With all due caution, I picked up what remained of her photograph. The glass was shattered, and a bullet had completely erased her face.

If this wasn’t a sign of the Yiga organization, I didn’t have a clue what was. Who else would’ve borne such ill will toward Hilda Hyrule, the town’s beloved last mayor who’d been dead ever since the tragic “accident” at City Hall eighteen years prior? That massacre had been what had ushered in their age of power, and with no one left to stand in their way, they’d been terrorizing the city ever since.

Before I’d even had the chance to begin my analysis, I heard Paya’s timid footsteps shuffling up to me. “Zelda?” she whispered, obnoxiously tapping her finger on my shoulder. “Excuse me...”

I turned my head and forced a grin. “What is it?”

“Umh, I didn’t know he’d be accompanying you today.” I didn’t even have to follow her gaze to know who she was eyeing.

I suppressed a sigh. “Constable Fyori is my partner,” I reminded her politely. “I take him with me on all of my investigations.”

“Yes, I know, but...” Now her gaze was nervously flitting back and forth between me and Link. “I-I wasn’t prepared to see him again after so long. What if—what if he says something to me?”

“He won’t,” I huffed. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she fretted. “I’ll get out of your hair.” I gave her a nod of the head in thanks, and she kindly stepped back and out of my space. But even after that, I could still feel her intense stare from across the room. I let out the sigh I’d been holding in. Sure, Paya was irritating, and I was going on maybe four or five hours of sleep at most, but there was no excuse for me to be irrational, especially since it would get me nowhere in my line of thinking. What I wouldn’t have done for a nice, hot cup of chamomile at that moment.

Based on the extreme angle of the bullet’s trajectory, one could tell at a glance where the shooter had to have been positioned. They’d have been standing above the altar with very little space between the two—definitely not enough for an entire person. Therefore the bullet that had taken the victim’s life had to have been a different one. This was backed up by the absence of any blood around the hole or anywhere else on the shrine. So why had I only heard one gunshot that night? And where in the world was the bullet responsible for Auntie Impa’s death if not on the scene of the crime?

After photographing the hole and scribbling my thoughts and observations down in my notebook, I began the procedure of extracting the bullet from the altar. This was a delicate task, one that I admittedly had a hard time trusting anyone else in the force with. Once I’d succeeded in retrieving the bullet, I determined it was of the same calibre as the one that had passed through the victim’s throat, meaning it was likely that it had been fired from the same gun. Unfortunately, all these facts corresponded with the weapon I’d found on the scene mere hours ago, two chambers of which were empty. There may have been no prints left on the trigger, but even so, I simply didn’t have it in me to run a striation comparison.

Standing up straight and taking a quick, deep breath, I turned to my assistant, who seemed to be investigating the mantelpiece. “Right, then, Fyori.” He turned his head as I approached him. “Anything to report?”

“No, madam,” he replied solemnly, avoiding my gaze and peering straight ahead over the top of my head.

“Is that so...?” I tapped the end of my pen against my chin habitually. “We seem to have a dreadfully diligent killer on our hands.” I gave the room another once-over from where I stood beside him. “You’ve been thorough in your search as always, I presume?”

“Of course.”

“And you found nothing? Not even a fingerprint?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Then let’s move on,” I sighed, turning toward the doorway leading out into one of the building’s many corridors. He followed, just a few paces behind me. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to check since we got here.”

“That’s strange...” muttered Auntie Purah as she jumped through the footage captured by the front entrance’s security camera. “Symin, did I miss something?”

The Sheikah estate’s security supervisor shook his head. “Not that I could see.”

“Let me check it again.”

But even when she rewound and skipped through it a second time, the only person to appear was still myself on my initial search for the killer. Link gave me a furtive glance. I smiled at him in reassurance.

“Perhaps the other cameras caught something,” I suggested. “It would make sense that the culprit wouldn’t want to simply waltz right in through the front door.”

Auntie Purah looked to Symin. “Well, there are three other cameras, but two of them are so far removed from the scene that I doubt they’d be of much help.”

“And the third?” I asked, reaching for my notebook and something to write with.

“That would be the courtyard camera.”

“Ah, perfect!” The courtyard was located at the very centre of the property and served as an intersection between the four main hallways. “That one’s bound to have caught something. Let’s see.”

But this, too, would turn out fruitless. Throughout the night, there wasn’t even the shadow of a clue as to the killer’s movements.

“This...” I gaped. “This is impossible.” I knew for a fact that this particular model of camera was designed for the very purpose of protecting its footage from being altered or obstructed. Could the killer have made themselves invisible somehow?

“I don’t believe it.” Auntie Purah shook her head creakily. “Our company takes great pride in the reliability of our security cameras!”

Enraged, the tiny, old lady tried to stand up from her seat. Then a loud crack resounded throughout the cramped surveillance office. She screamed.

“Miss Purah, please calm down,” urged the kindly Symin, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she seethed, adjusting her glasses. “Thank you.” I didn’t know the man as well as I did the rest of the family as he had become a part of it a few years after I’d left the nest. However, it seemed like he would make a fine successor to Auntie Impa’s role of keeping her elder sister’s enduring impulsivity in check.

“There’s no reason to worry, Auntie. This is no fault of yours or your company’s,” I said, hoping to ease her pain a little. She’d suffered a terrible loss, and it was taking a great toll on her. It was difficult to watch such a brilliant mind come undone because of something like this. But after hearing my words, she looked up at me with a wrinkly smile. “My partner and I will just have to do an even more thorough inspection of the property tomorrow.”

The ride back to the precinct wasn’t a pleasant one. By the end of the day, my own mind had deteriorated into a swirling whirlpool of confusion, resentment, and woe. The investigation so far had borne so little results, it was hard to imagine that tomorrow’s search would be that much more successful. Of course there was still so much more that needed to be looked into, but right now, I just couldn’t see this turning out well. I still hadn’t solved the mystery behind my mother’s death in eighteen long years. Why, in this case, would I prove to be any less of a failure?

I curled my fists against my legs, trying my hardest to forget about the empty feeling in my stomach. Despite this, I knew I didn’t have the energy to do much more rational thinking today, if any at all.

Then my colleague broke the silence. “She was important to you, wasn’t she?” he asked, but such a personal question was strangely out of character for him.

“Yes.” I smiled sorrowfully into my lap. “I never really thought of her as a mother figure,” I admitted, “but she did put a lot of time and effort into raising me, in my actual mother’s stead.”

“She must’ve been a wonderful person.”

This made me laugh, to both his and my surprise. “Well, she would often scold me and Paya with the strictest attitude you can imagine, but I suppose she always had our best interests at heart.”

The longer I thought about Auntie Impa, the more I mulled over who could possibly have wanted her dead. She had already been getting on in age. Had the perpetrator’s need to kill her really been that dire? The only time people ever went that far was when their victim’s life would’ve put them in danger somehow if they’d have allowed them to go on living. But then again, there was the Yiga organization. They went around committing murders a couple times every week for seemingly no reason other than to flaunt their power. Perhaps Auntie Impa really had been just another one of their prey. Even so, I couldn’t shake the suspicion that there was more to it than that.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?”

The constable cocked his head, but kept his eyes on the road.

But then I stopped myself. There was still no proof of the Yiga’s involvement, so there was no point in bringing it up now. “Well, all of it is quite strange, frankly,” I amended. “The lack of blood, the missing bullet...”

“Could the killer have moved the body from somewhere else, perhaps?” he tentatively suggested.

“Very good, Link. That’s exactly what I’ve been theorizing.” The tips of his ears flushed, and he seemed to shrink back into his seat a little. “Oh, but then...wouldn’t that make it more likely for the cameras to have caught something?”

“That is true,” he concurred. “And there’s still been no sign of the murder weapon?”

I swallowed hard. “No...” My eyes flickered down toward my briefcase. “None.”

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #link x zelda #zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au

40 notes · View notes

wildestmustang · 4 years ago

Text

To those from the next generations who might read it as but a childish fable and not a social criticism. Good read.

Prologue [Page 3]

Part I: The Colour Carmine Red [Page 4]

Part II: The Suicide Of The Mother Of Us All [Page 6]

Part III: The Eulogy [Page 12]

Part IV: The Funeral Pyre [Page 14]

Part V: Dancing Of Gavels [Page 15]

Part VI: DIE TO LIVE [Page 19]

Part VII: Agony In The Garden Of Gethsemane [Page 20]

Epilogue [Page 23]

SHELTER

Prologue:

-- Adam's a living proof of condescending being with opulence in the heart and tyranny in the mind, praying vehemently to the altar of himself.

Part I: The Colour Carmine Red

At the crossroads, there was I, puffing on the cheapest spliff my money could buy at the time, walking by the edges of the ledges of a terraced vicarage out west of the retograde City Of Atrocities. -- which was shrouded in darkness altogether -- where the dazzling sun never shone upon. When suddenly I witnessed a orphaned, fully-fledged, gold-feathered pheasant offspring right under the pale moonlight -- he was astonished by its ethereal incandescence; which was the sun in disguised burning through her; captivated by the blackout and somewhat slightly aghast too -- crawling up the thatched-roof of a broken cottage house a few kilometers away of where I was, in pursuit of a sort of a shelter -- the wreckage in-between the dormers I supposed -- situated right on the halfway to the peak of roof. But It didn't take too long for a belligerant bird of prey colour the fragile pheasant in carmine red all through and through like a oil painting of white Ophelia floating, lifeless, upon the puddle of her own blood. The roof itself was littered with carcasses of all kinds of pheasants scattered all over. -- tracing a curvilinear trail to the intangible shelter where none of them ever stepped into and ever will.

"Oh, my dearest, dearest, pheasant! I'd wish I had swaddled you in a comfy cloath, and thereafter I'd wish I had cradled you in my forearms like a helpless baby ultil you had fallen into a celestial slumber of no return, whilst a choir of sparrows would be singing a lullaby for thee. I'd wish we could've had flown to the highest height that any bird or any or any man can reach, over the railway station of life until the train of death comes and takes you away from me. Fly in peace, my dearest darling" I murmured to myself wiping the mob of poisonous tears welling right up to the edges of my nightshade eyes.

Part II: The Suicide Of The Mother Of Us All

One day in the quiet of the night I saw the theophany of Madame Hope -- The Mother Of Us All -- leant up against on my wall, voluptuously wrapped in a flyaway darkish-blue nightgown of satin. -- as stupendous as the shining of the Hope Diamond, a blue gemstone framed by an oval pendant of 16 smaller diamonds.

"Listen, dear Adam, listen. Freedom's a sort of unorthodox religion built upon love and not fear. To fear is blasphemous, to fear is a deathful sin. But, at least, some of it may be enough to fuel every fiber of your rectilinear body with fury and wrath to withstand this ongoing odyssey you are in.". She, persuasively, whispered those wise words through the frigid breeze of New York jolting me awake like the screaming of a rooster at sunrise from the coma I was in, and at that very moment I felt the stormy sea of self-doubts in my war-torn mind boiling off like it wasn't even swallowing me. The rhetoric was her foil and she fought like the most clever of the sophists.".

"A feast of fears undoubtedly provided Gilgamesh -- a king of Uruk from the ancient Babylonia -- days and nights of resilience to keep on seeking out his unattainable immortality until his conformity killed him."

"Freedom's a religion where in its followers pilgrimages through the negro streets outside the City Of Atrocities, barefoot, aimlessly -- with a short-faced bear's strength -- oblivious to the obstacles along the road beneath their feet, heading into an eternal search for a shelter far away from the factories of sterotypes and the irksome peddlers of false dichotomies -- heading into an eternal odyssey in search of an utopian progress which still being an ideology."

"Mother..." I replied clutching onto my blanket and the sheets underneath it, as hard as I could, but they weren't meant to shield me against the truth, I just pretended they could. "I, Adam, shall take control over people's minds to dethrone the kings of iniquities and bring peace into this world. I was born to wear a crown, or at least take the power thereof, and I will.". And I really took for granted I could do it without love and hope, just clutching onto my blanket and sheets.

Subsequently, I watched the silhouette of Madame Hope, walking towards the largest window in the chamber, step by step, and then throwing herself out of the Hemisphere House building -- where I used to live back in the day. And suddenly half of the one whom once I used to be had perished into nothingness. Melt into oblivion. Wiped out from the matrix, therefore, just a mythological figure lost to history.

And as an afterthought I realized she was the branch and I was just a immature persimmon clinging onto it.

Part III: The Eulogy

"My beloved mother, I must bathe my crow quill feather pen into a black ink bottle and unto you write one of my most sorrowful eulogies, sitting before thy funeral pyre as the flow of kerosene tears trickle down my scarlet cheeks eating the bitterness off my skin -- in order to nurse this exquisite pain of mine which squeezes my dying heart in its fist like a very stiff sailor's hitch, unable to be undone.

"O sweet serial killer who slaughtered my hopes! I solemnly swear one day I'll get out of all these tiny boxes which I shrunk myself to fit in. Je t'aime, moma, adieu. Rest in peace" I wrote it like it was the last feeling of mine I would ever depict from there on, but even the most disdainful child of all the trivialities surrounding her wouldn't have believed it.

Part IV: The Funeral Pyre

"Wherefore dost thou left me when I needed you the most, my dear? Now here I am sailing through the seas of uncertainty on my loneliness as the fluttering flames of thy funeral pyre corrode every atom belonging to you into mist.

Part V: Dancing Of Gavels

“Mother, I am the one who killed those pheasants from the news. -- the one against whom their fathers swore to take vengeance on -- I bludgeoned one by one to death with no remorse whatsoever. Mother, I'm one in a myriad of scoundrel vultures, one in a myriad of hunters of fragile creatures, I'm a repulsive collector of blood-stained feathers and other unpleasant things."

" And now I am sinking my sharpen-pointed claws into my own chest to pluck rib by rib off my sternum as a prelude to break this hollow egg-shell heart of mine free, whose rage holds hostage pounding against my ribcage. -- abstained from love, abstained from warmth."

“Mother, I've done unpardonable things. I really did. I devoured them all like putrid meant to satisfy this voracious appetite I have, and I ate their cheap dreams like carrions. -- I shouldn't have done it by the way -- And now I can't get away from this anymore, I can't flit from hideout to hideout and call them home sweet home. Now, I must confess, I must surrender. By rights, I should knee below a guillotine and feel its lozanged blade making its way down my neck."

“No doubt I am a complex being deserving of each wicked epithet given to me. Either I confess all of the loathsome crimes I committed or I will live in this perpetual state of fear -- an untamed fear of being handcuffed by the Pinkertons, sentenced to death in the courtroom of life by the supreme pontiff; and executed by the Almighty Lord for the lots of pheasants I've killed -- until my very last day. So, mother, I MUST CONFESS NOW. I am phantom shackled to this decomposing corpse unable to rest., laying in wait within my own coffin until the dancing of gavels begin.”

Part VI: DIE TO LIVE

I MUST DIE TO LIVE!

Part VII: Agony In The Garden Of Gethsemane

“Rely upon me from now on, I've already paved inch by inch of your way right back home. So follow me. As long as you live there will always have a place to be from and you need to search for it from the inside out, you can't get to it from the outside in.”

"Regardless how cliché it may seem to be, thou canst not escape from having to always have been, although thou looketh at thy inner self seeking after futile subterfuges to."

“Life goes on, my dearest Adam, so don't you ever say to me again you must die to live, EVER again.” seeped a sweet dreamlike voice out of the cosmos — which belonged to my beloved mother — beckoning me to cross through the threshold of Gethsemani to grieve and supplicate in agony -- like the Virgin Mary depicted in La Pietà -- to the Almighty for THE SAKE of my mixed-up mind, the so-called shelter, where I belong to and I always will.

Epilogue:

“At length, I feel vividly how it's like to be free. Goddam, I am...so free.”

Written by Andrew O'Keefe

#reading #poemsociety #shelter #adam and eve #renascence #michelangelo #kindle books #lana del rey #body electric #poetssociety #poets on tumblr #freedom

4 notes · View notes

eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years ago

Text

be careful of the curse (that falls on young lovers) [iii/iii]

After a lifetime of being caught between the forces of good and evil, Ben Solo has developed one cardinal rule to maintain control over his own life: stay the fuck away from all things supernatural.

It’s a good strategy, one that works like a charm until the day he bumps into the devil herself.

The fact that she knows exactly who he is and what he’s running from makes things difficult. The fact that he’s ridiculously into her and they might be sort of, kind of dating? That makes things dangerous.

Part I | Part II | PART III: Ben’s Descent to the Underworld | Epilogue

Third and final chapter of my Halloween devil!Rey/mage!Ben fic! Will Rey and Ben find a solution to their conundrum? Will Ben be able to live with his decision? Will they live happily ever after in the Underworld? All this and more (a lot more, this chapter is 10k words, brace yourselves) below the cut!

Also available on AO3. Bonus backstory content here. Tumblr-only epilogue here.

she's got me so blind I can't see that she's a black magic woman and she's tryin' to make a devil outta me - Black Magic Woman, Fleetwood Mac

“Let’s just run away,” Ben suggests one morning, tracing idle circles into Rey’s lower back as the sun rises. It’s easier, sometimes, to entertain these outlandish scenarios than it is to grapple with the fact that even after a year of intensive research, he’s no closer to finding a viable solution than he was before. “We could leave it all behind, forget about the Force, move to a crowded mortal city where no one would ever find us…”

Rey shifts in his arms, folds her hands over his heart and rests her chin on top of her fingers. “Ben,” she sighs, the slightest hint of exasperation bleeding through. “You hate big cities.”

“I’d like them better if you were with me, I think,” he confesses easily, pictures the two of them in a tiny apartment overlooking a crowded city, space-saving charms on every available surface to house his books and her weapons; a home that’s entirely, seamlessly them.

“Besides,” Rey adds, never one to get caught up in impossible daydreams, “I can’t just leave. Who’d rule the Underworld? Who’d watch over my knights?”

Ben tries unsuccessfully to blow a piece of hair out of his face, and Rey just laughs after his third attempt, reaches up to brush the errant lock aside herself. “Does the Underworld even need ruling?” he asks, catches her hand before it can retreat and gently angles it so that he can press a kiss to her inner wrist. “I thought Darksiders thrive on chaos and disorder.”

Rey scoffs. “It’s all fun and games until a dispute goes on for two centuries with no end in sight because you don’t have any semblance of order or authority,” she explains. “The Underworld appreciates chaos, but even we don’t want to live in anarchy. Even that lawless cult land of your grandfather’s would happily welcome proper leadership.”

Proper leadership, as far as Mustafar is concerned, would mean nothing less than Ben succumbing to the curse his grandfather doomed him to and taking up Vader’s old mantle. Rey likes to remind him of that sometimes, to muse out loud how easy it’d be to unify the empire if he were by her side. It’s not a discussion he’d like to get into right now, so he quickly redirects the conversation before she can say something predictable.

“What about your knights? Can’t they look out for themselves?” he asks with a slight frown.

“The three of them together could probably take even me down,” Rey declares proudly before she goes on to lament, “but that won’t keep everyone else from calling them knock-offs and fakes.”

“Knock-off demons?” Ben echoes incredulously. “Since when are those a thing?”

Rey scowls, still resting on top of his chest. “They’re not,” she insists. “Sure, the knights were human when I found them, but I turned them into demons just like any other once they pledged their fealty to me. This shouldn’t even be an issue, especially not after all these decades.”

It’s clearly a sensitive topic, but Ben can’t help himself. “Sweetheart… you can’t just turn humans into demons.”

“Technically no, you can’t,” Rey concedes. “But once someone swears their allegiance to me I can do whatever I want, like extend their lifespans and imbue them with powers so that they’re demons in everything but blood. The rest of the Underworld is just pissed that I chose my own knights rather than picking from the noble houses.”

She admits to it so casually, making her knights long-lived and nearly invincible, as if that’s a common thing to do, as if that’s in any way an easy thing to do. In all his studies, Ben has only come across one instance of such a thing, when an ancestor of Rey’s fell for a mortal and tried her best to turn him into a worthy consort.

When her intended backed out at the last minute, too scared to go through with it after all, the jilted Queen killed him in a fit of rage and betrayal. It’s a depressingly common end for royal consorts in Rey’s family according to historical records, but the one time he found the nerve to broach the subject with her Rey had laughed her family’s messy love life off as a rumor and assured him that she would never hurt him.

“So without you around, you think they’ll–”

A sharp knock interrupts them, cuts into their peaceful early-morning silence with all the chilling precision of Rey’s knife-throwing. Ben tenses, and Rey immediately draws herself upright and growls at the open bedroom door, through which the front door is barely visible.

“I take it you weren’t expecting anyone?” she asks as the both of them get dressed, Ben pulling on last night’s tee shirt and sweatpants while Rey plucks a thick dressing robe of black velvet out of thin air. It’s a far cry from her usual morning attire – literally the shirt off Ben’s back, whenever he’s foolish enough to put one on – but then again, they’ve never had to deal with the possibility of someone tracking him down.

“Not at all,” Ben confirms as they both exit the bedroom, Rey taking the lead. He stops her in the living room with a hand around her wrist. “Stay here? Maybe it’s just someone asking for directions. Or one of those door-to-door salesmen.”

“I highly doubt even one of those people would be dedicated enough to trek all the way out here,” Rey frowns. “But okay, I’ll wait. The second something goes wrong though–”

“You can go all demon queen on them,” he assures her, leans in for a quick kiss before he proceeds to the front door alone. In all his years at Varykino, Ben has never once received a visitor. Even when the occasional lucky guess leads someone to his grandmother’s estate, the abandoned house is usually enough to send them away; no one would ever think to look for him in the isolated caretaker’s cottage, after all.

He curls his fingers around the doorknob with a fair amount of trepidation, and turns to shoot Rey a reassuring look over his shoulder before he finally opens the door to find–

“I do so hate it when Phasma is right,” a familiar redhead huffs upon catching sight of him.

“Hux?” Ben blurts out incredulously, blinking twice to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by for tea–” Hux says airily before he shoots Ben a scowl. “I’m looking for you, obviously! Twenty-seven goddamn years, Solo. We’ve looked everywhere for you, even placed a reversal charm on that crumbling house up the hill to see if maybe you’d just cloaked yourself. Phas had to go through the original blueprints for this place before she realized where you might be hiding out.”

Ben sighs. “She’s always been sharp,” he concedes before fixing his old acquaintance with a wary look. “Why all the effort, though? Don’t tell me you missed me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Hux snaps even as a grin tugs on the corner of his mouth. “When we heard that you’d left Skywalker for good, Phas and I thought that maybe you might have changed your mind. But I guess…” he gestures at the cottage, at the life and the choices it represents. Even stubborn, determined Hux knows what it means for twenty-seven years to have gone by without Ben contacting him.

“The answer’s still no, Armitage,” he confirms, though he tries to be polite about it. Hux and Phasma are just trying to be good friends, in their own odd way. But Ben has always known that the belonging he seeks won’t come from joining their Dark coven; now that he’s actually found that belonging, he’s less inclined than ever to join them.

Hux gives him a rueful smile. “Suppose I saw that one coming. But if an old friend were to ask for a cup of tea before he hits the road?”

Under any other circumstances, Ben would’ve flung his door wide open and invited the man in. After all, they actually were friends, at some point. In many ways, Hux might even have been the first friend Ben ever had – and the only one, up until Rey. But with Rey in the picture, and in his living room…

Before he can come up with an excuse, the cause of his hesitation snakes her arms around his waist from behind and presses her cheek to his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to invite him in, beloved? He asked so nicely.”

It’s almost comical, the way Hux immediately turns pale as death and drops down to one knee. “Your Majesty!” he cries. “I apologize, I did not know–”

“How could you have?” Rey asks with a dismissive wave of her hand, steps around Ben to look down at Hux. “Rise, Armitage. This isn’t court.”

Ben watches Hux hesitantly straighten up, takes note of the way he doesn’t quite meet Rey’s eyes as he thanks her. “You two know each other?” he asks, glancing between the two of them.

“The First Coven attends court every once in a while,” Rey shrugs. “And his father served Sidious, back in the day.” It’s an interesting bit of information, but nothing Ben didn’t know before. More than anything, it’s a subtle reminder for him to refer to her by her regnal name while they’re in the presence of company just as she does for her grandfather. He catches Rey’s eye and nods, just once, to acknowledge her message.

Rey turns to Hux. “Come in, then. I was just about to brew a pot of nightshade tea, and it’s always too much for one person. Ben here refuses to even try it,” she says with an exaggerated frown and bumps his shoulder teasingly.

“For the last time, it’s poison–” Ben reminds her.

“–which your body is perfectly capable of handling, Skywalker,” Rey points out before she disappears back into the house. She’s oddly convinced that he’s inherited his grandfather’s demonic physiology even though he hasn’t triggered the curse, but Ben’s not about to poison himself just to prove her wrong.

He turns to Hux with a resigned look, that what are you gonna do? half-smile his father used to wear whenever his mother got her way and Han was expected to just go along with it.

Hux returns the look with the wide eyes of someone who’s just woken up to find a dozen ghosts hovering at the foot of his bed. “What in the name of Andeddu?” he whisper-hisses. “Since when do you know Kira Ren?”

“It’s complicated,” Ben shrugs, giving Hux a default answer while he tries to come up with a better one. A year together but they’ve never actually been together in front of anyone else, which means that thus far he hasn’t had to explain the fact that he’s dating the devil.

“I’d say,” Hux snorts delicately, shoulders his way past Ben and watches as he shuts the door. “What the hell is even going on here?”

“Oh,” Rey emerges from the kitchen with a tray floating after her, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Hux blanch at the realization that she’s overheard their conversation. Show-off, Ben mouths fondly at her as she gestures for them to come sit in the living area. “I’ve recently started courting your friend here,” she announces casually, settling into the sofa with Ben while Hux takes the armchair. “Ben would make a strong King, don’t you think, Armitage?” Rey asks sweetly as she hands their guest a cup of tea.

Hux bows his head in thanks. “Certainly, Your Majesty,” he agrees immediately.

“And a handsome one too,” Rey sighs fondly as she raises a hand to caress Ben’s jaw, and he catches a glimmer of mischief in her eyes before she turns back to Hux. “We haven’t had a handsome King in centuries.”

The look on Hux’s face when he realizes she expects him to respond to that makes Ben snort into his teacup. The redhead clears his throat – twice – and begins with a shaky, “Um…”

It’s amusing, but Hux is beginning to turn as red as his hair, and only seems to get more nervous when Rey leans forward with interest. “Kira,” Ben says firmly, quietly.

“Oh, all right, I’ll stop teasing,” she grins, tosses her head back in that Kira Ren laugh that’s nothing like Rey’s. It’s somehow evaded him up until this very moment, the realization of how differently Rey is carrying herself around outside company, around a subject of hers. “So, Armitage, will we be seeing you at court this fortnight?”

Hux’s relief at the change in conversation lasts for all of five seconds. “Most likely, Your Majesty,” he grimaces. “We’ve been having some trouble with the Hutt tribe again–”

“Jabba?” Rey interrupts, her voice deceptively even. He knows for a fact that she detests the greedy Hutt and his network of criminals, and has a plan in the works to get rid of them eventually without collapsing the Underworld’s trade economy, but Rey keeps that admirably under wraps as she calmly addresses Hux. “Why wait until court, now that you and I are both here to speak of it? I’ll send a knight to check on the situation,” she decides. “Remind me, Armitage: you and Osado Ren get along well, don’t you?”

“We…” Hux does his best to hide his disdain, but Ben knows him well enough to see through his poor attempt at a mask. “We can be civil, Your Majesty.”

Rey can see through him too, if the way her shoulders shake is any indication. “No, you most absolutely can’t,” she titters. “I can’t tell who’s worse, the two of you or Phasma and Ẹsan. I’ll send Tiếc then, shall I?”

A quiet sigh of relief escapes Hux. “Her Majesty is very considerate,” he says deferentially, looking down at his teacup.

“See?” Rey nudges Ben’s shoulder with a grin. “I told you my subjects love me.”

He’s struck by the urge to kiss her forehead, but they’ve never really discussed the protocol for affection in front of her subjects. Ben gives her a fond smile instead. “Never doubted it, sweet–”

A sharp hiss from her lips silences him immediately, and both he and Hux watch on in concern as Rey sets her cup down on the coffee table with a clatter. She gets to her feet with a thunderous expression on her face, the kind that reminds him of just who she really is.

“What is it?” Ben asks softly.

When she turns to him, her scowl untwists itself and turns into a milder frown instead. “My knights,” Rey tells him. “They’ve found something.” She leans down briefly, presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back later.”

To Hux she says, “It was nice to see you, Armitage,” and with that, Rey disappears.

“So…” Ben mumbles after a while, when the lingering smoke of Rey’s transportation has finally dissipated. “That was weird.”

“You’re telling me,” Hux snorts, instantly at ease now that his Queen is no longer present. “I’d always heard that she’s a different person around her knights, but I never expected to actually see it. I mean, she laughed!” he exclaims, throwing one hand up for emphasis. “Kira Ren laughed, and it wasn’t cruel!”

Ben can’t help the frown that tugs at his lips. “I was actually talking about you being a complete suck-up, but what do you mean?”

“You’d be a suck-up too if you’d ever seen her in her element,” the redhead huffs defensively. “I once watched her hang a man on a butcher’s hook and slowly tear him apart over the course of three days.”

Nausea rises to the back of his throat even as his mind automatically rejects this information. He flinches, just the slightest bit, and Hux instantly realizes what he’s done.

“She had her reasons,” he hurries to explain. “The man had been selling children into sexual slavery.”

“Oh,” Ben says softly, relaxing shoulders that he hadn’t even realized he’d tensed. This sounds more like his Rey, more like the Kira Ren who spends her free time hunting down targets like the murderer from the night they met.

Hux sets his tea down, leans forward. “She’s not a monster, Ben,” he says gently.

“I never said she was.”

“I know,” Hux acknowledges, holds his palms up in a wordless request for peace. “But I also know that your family hasn’t left you with the best impression of us Darksiders,” he adds. “Kira Ren isn’t like the others before her, Ben. She can be brutal, yes, but never unfairly so. She’s a good Queen.”

Ben nods. And then, because Hux knows him well enough to know that he needed to hear that, because Hux probably knows him better than anyone else aside from Rey, he asks, “Do you think it can work? Me and her?”

Hux considers it for a moment. “As odd as it’ll be to call you my King,” he grimaces briefly before settling into a rare genuine smile, “I can see it, the two of you.”

The thing is, Ben’s starting to see it too.

And it’s more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced before.

A lot of things about Hux’s visit stay with Ben, but none more so than the confirmation that Rey really does act like a completely different person around him. He’d had his suspicions before, in the early days of their friendship when he first noticed her shedding Kira Ren’s sharp smiles and veiled threats to reveal something infinitely softer and more genuine, but now the concrete knowledge keeps him up at night while she sleeps in his arms.

And with it, a question: which one is the real her?

Ben keeps his mouth shut for two months, tells himself that he’s overthinking things and confronting Rey on this would just hurt her. It’s a good enough strategy, until she comes back from a week-long campaign one night with ancient chaos in her amber eyes and electrifying bloodlust humming in her veins.

“Rhelg,” she grins triumphantly before he even asks, and staggers into his arms. Her armor is made entirely of dragon scales, impenetrable by both weapons and spells, and it scrapes against his palms when he wraps his arms around her. “And Ziost, too.”

They’re significant wins, symbolic takings that will definitely expedite her reunification efforts, but Ben can’t focus on anything other than the smell of blood clinging to her and the shadow of death curled around her Force signature. With his chin resting on the crown of her head and his lips tingling from her static-charged hair, he asks, “Is this who you really are?”

Rey tenses in his arms, backs away to look up at him. “Ben?” she questions, her eyes wide and confused but still ringed with amber, the same amber that flashes in her eyes when she’s chasing her pleasure in wild abandon, when she guides him down to where she wants him with hands so tight around his head he thinks they might crush his skull, when she digs her nails into his shoulder until blood runs down his chest as she moves above him. After, she likes to press gentle kisses of wordless apology to his bloodied shoulders before she looks up at him, and every single time without fail he catches her licking a drop of his blood off her lips as the amber in her eyes recedes and returns her to him.

He thinks of the shiver that runs down his spine whenever that happens, and it gives him the strength to continue. “To me you’re Rey, you’ve been Rey since almost the start. But around Hux and on the battlefield and sometimes even with me, you become a completely different person. You become the person I met that first night, the one I thought for sure was going to kill me the second she tracked me down again.”

“So I’m asking you,” Ben pauses, takes a deep breath to steady himself even as his heart weakens at the sight of Rey’s trembling lower lip. “I’m asking you, which one is the real you? My Rey, or Kira Ren?”

His heart feels like it might stop when Rey extricates herself from his arms and hops up on his kitchen counter the way she did that first sunny afternoon. “I was twenty-eight,” she says quietly, after worrying her lip for a bit, “when Snoke first appeared to me.”

“He’d been in my head for much longer than that, of course,” Rey informs him with a slight huff, a bitter half-laugh. “Since I was a baby, practically. When my mother was born, Palpatine took one look at her and knew she’d never manifest. When I was born, my grandmother took one look at me and knew I’d be everything Palpatine could’ve ever wanted in a daughter. And I’ve never been able to figure out, in the century since, whether that darkness she felt was me or Snoke.”

Ben hesitates, decides to step closer in a show of support but doesn’t reach out to touch her. “But I thought your grandmother–”

“–died when I was still a baby, yes. But she left her diaries behind, and I guess even my desperate alcoholic parents knew better than to try and pawn off a witch’s memoirs. When my parents abandoned me, I knew nothing about my family. Everything I knew about myself, about the voices in my head and the strange things I could do, I learned from my grandmother’s diaries,” Rey admits quietly, as if that’s something to be ashamed about. Compared to him, compared to the legacy drilled into his head before he could even string a sentence together, he sees why she might feel that way.

“So when I finally snapped, when I claimed my first kill and triggered the curse, what Snoke found was a clueless, scared child instead of the formidable heir he’d been hoping to turn against Palpatine. He ran with it anyway – he was always such a desperate, grasping man –,” she mutters darkly, lips curling in disgust, “and presented me to his troops as the future Queen. And there was this weight – Snoke’s expectations of me, a thousand demons just staring at me – I just… I panicked. I took all the worst things I’d read about demons in my grandmother’s diaries, all the ugliest things people in Jakku whispered about Darksiders, and I turned all of it into Kira Ren, into the demon queen they wanted.”

Rey looks up at him, holds out a hand beseechingly, and he immediately reaches for her. “That’s what Kira Ren is,” she whispers, leans forward to rest her head against his chest with a shaky breath. “Rey… I never got a chance to know her, before. I was six when my parents disappeared, and something in me just knew that they were never coming back. My father never cared, not really, and in my grandmother’s diaries I’d read all about the voices in my mother’s head, the ones that overwhelmed her and drove her out of her mind because she didn’t have the power to temper them. My grandmother knew that her daughter wouldn’t survive for long, even with all of the alcohol in the world to drown out the voices. It doesn’t matter what happened to my father; even if my mother was the only one to die, he would never have come back for me anyway.”

There’s a muffled sniff against his shirt, and Ben’s free hand, the one not holding hers for dear life, immediately wraps around her waist and pulls her closer. Rey goes quiet after that, but he can feel the way his shirt grows damp with her tears, the way she shudders in his arms.

It feels like hours pass before she pulls away and wipes at her cheeks. “I became what I had to be in order to survive. There was no Rey, there was only the girl who scavenged and traded, the girl whose only friends were the voices in her head. After I killed Snoke and took the throne and met my knights, that changed a bit. But it wasn’t until I met you, Ben,” she drops her voice into an awed murmur, cradles his jaw in her hand like the most precious thing, “that I discovered who I really am, as Rey. Before this I didn’t know my favorite food, and I didn’t know the way I curl around someone in my sleep, and I didn’t know all the little things that make me happier than any victory ever could. Everything about Kira Ren I came up with, I chose. Everything about Rey I’ve discovered with you, as if she was living in me my whole life just waiting until it was safe for her to appear. And I think…” Rey falters, offers him a hesitant, hopeful little smile, “I think that makes her the real me.”

Ben has made many mistakes in his life. Asking Rey to define herself, to retread the painful path of her past in order to prove herself to him, has got to be the absolute worst one. “I think so too, sweetheart,” he whispers as he leans in to press their foreheads together, remorse weighing heavy on his heart and demanding amends. “No, I know so. I know the real you, and I love you more than words could ever say.”

The first time he told her he loved her was months ago, nearly a year now. In the time since he’s said it hundreds, if not thousands of times, but Rey looks at him now as if it’s the first time all over again and her eyes shine with adoration and joy.

“I love you too,” she smiles through tears, and brings him down for a kiss. It’s tender even as she grips his hair so hard he thinks she’ll rip chunks of it out, even as he pulls at her armor until his palms are covered in scratches from the scales. Rey laughs against his lips when he hisses in pain, pulls back and looks him in the eye as she waves her hand over the front of her suit to materialize a hidden zipper.

The armor, priceless and irreplaceable, slinks to the ground and remains forgotten in his kitchen until much, much later that night, when the sweat on their bodies has cooled and they’re finally capable of coherent thought again.

“I should store it,” Rey says half-heartedly after a good laugh over the realization of her priceless suit’s whereabouts. She makes no move to get out of bed though, and Ben deters her from doing so by curling an arm around her waist.

“So, Rhelg and Ziost,” he muses, and leans down to press a kiss to her temple. “Congratulations, my Queen.”

Rey peers up at him from where she’s using his shoulder as a pillow. “Empress, soon,” she reminds him with a pleased little smirk, and Ben tries to hide his trepidation at that but something – his eyes, probably, it’s always his damn eyes – must give him away, because Rey’s smirk flattens into a mildly displeased look.

“Beloved,” she sighs, props herself up with one hand braced on the mattress and her palm curved around her cheek. “I don’t know what more I can say about this to make you change your mind.”

“I don’t think you can,” Ben murmurs gently, reluctant to get into this again. It’s still the only real argument they ever have, the only thing they can never agree on. And it’s the one thing standing in the way of their life together. “It’s just… it’s an empire, Rey. And I love you, and I trust you, but every single Dark empire in history has turned out the same way.”

“But who says it has to be Dark?” Rey challenges him, pulls herself up so that she’s sitting cross-legged and staring down at him. “I told you, Ben: balance. And I know,” she adds before he can voice his skepticism once again, “I know I’m more Dark than Light, that I don’t have the capacity for goodness in me.”

“Rey, no–”

She shakes her head at him, smiles almost sadly. “It’s not in my blood, Ben – the same way that Darkness is. And that means that I can control the Dark, that I can keep it in check and make sure it doesn’t overwhelm the Light. That’s what I’m trying to do,” Rey admits for the very first time, and he barely even catches what she says next, too surprised by this revelation to process anything else. “That’s the best I can do.”

He surges up to match her position, to get a better look at her. “Why didn’t you– Rey, you never told me that that’s– if I had known–”

“Would it really have changed anything?” she asks plainly.

“Well, I thought you were reviving your grandfather’s empire to amass untold Dark power and you’re telling me you’re doing it to contain Darkness instead so yes, Rey, it changes everything!”

“Not everything, Ben,” Rey says softly, shakes her head again with that sad smile he’s starting to hate. It’s wrong on her, resignation on a woman who burns so brightly and fights so fiercely. “I’m still reunifying the empire. I’m still asking you to rule with me. I’m still asking you to become a demon with me, and I know, I know better than anyone else that that doesn’t necessarily mean turning Dark, but realistically…” she shrugs, and it’s like a jolt to his system, to hear the terms of their future laid out so clearly and bluntly.

They sound so simple, these things that she asks of him in return for a lifetime of love, and yet... “Rey,” he rasps, his chest tight with indecision and conflict. “Rey, I…”

Rey sighs and curls up by his side again, presses her ear to his heart as she’s taken to doing in the last few months. “Let’s just go to sleep, Ben.”

She wraps herself around him, one hand across his middle and her leg splayed across both of his, and nestles deeper into him.

It’s been a long day, a stressful day. That’s the only possible explanation for why the idea of giving in to her terms seems less daunting now than ever before. In the morning, it��ll feel impossible again and there’ll still be no end in sight to their situation.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

In the morning, it doesn’t feel impossible.

A week later, he starts considering the logistics of it all, of leaving behind his life and triggering the curse and ruling by Rey’s side. The curse weighs on him heaviest of all, having struggled against it all his life, and even the knowledge that Rey could probably direct him to some scum of the earth who would more than deserve to meet their end doesn’t make the idea of spilling blood any easier to stomach.

But a month later she starts struggling and kicking in bed, cries and begs not to be left alone until he finally manages to wake her, and as she shakes in his arms for the rest of the night Ben decides that there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that can stand between the two of them, that can stand in the way of his promise that she’ll never be alone again.

During a rare morning alone, Ben picks up a framed picture of his parents and runs his thumb over Han’s preserved memory. “I’m sorry,” he says, struggling to get the words past the lump in his throat. “I know this isn’t what you wanted for me, but you always believed me when I said there was another way. I think this is that way, Dad. I think… I think there could be balance, for once.”

Maybe Han would’ve sighed heavily, and maybe he would’ve grumbled under his breath for a bit, but at the end of the day Ben likes to believe that he would’ve reached out, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and encouraged him to do something, anything to end this stupid war between his mother’s people. And Rey’s idea of preserving the Light from afar without meddling in it, of keeping the Dark prosperous without strengthening it? It might be just the thing.

His mother and his uncle won’t understand, might never understand. But as long as he can look at this picture of his father and feel at peace with the memory of Han’s dying wish, Ben is okay with that.

“Hey,” he says two days later, smiles when Rey looks up at him while milk drips from her spoonful of cereal. “We spend all of our time here, in my place.” It’s not just his place anymore, hasn’t been for a while now really, but still. “I was thinking maybe we should go to your home, today.”

Rey drops her spoon back into the bowl, and neither of them notice the way milk splatters over the rim and splashes everywhere. “Ben,” she breathes, her smile blinding. “Really? You’re ready to visit Korriban?”

It’s not so much a visit as it is a formality, a final inspection before he commits to a decision he’s already made. But he can’t let her know that just yet, just as he doesn’t let her know about the velvet drawstring pouch in the inner pocket of his jacket and the ring he intends to have on her finger by the end of the day.

“Yeah, I am,” Ben tells her, opens his arms just in time for her to barrel into him and shower kisses on every part of him that she can reach.

“Can we go now?” Rey asks, her eyes wide and bright with joy and anticipation. “There’s so much I want to show you, and I want you to meet my knights, and – oh, the garden, I really want you to see the garden–”

He laughs softly at her excitement, stands up with Rey still clinging to his neck. “Yes, sweetheart. We can go now.”

It’s been years, decades, since he last transported, and even then it was always his uncle casting the spell and him tagging along for the ride. It’s much the same this time, since Rey is the one who knows where they’re going, but with her all of the intense preparations and careful circles are replaced by simply taking her hand, closing his eyes, and trusting her.

Between one breath and the next Rey steps between worlds and guides him to her home, and when he opens his eyes they’re in the middle of a garden that could only be hers. Flowers bloom everywhere in a wild riot of life and thick green vines crawl over crumbling structures, beautiful and wild and the closest visual representation anyone will ever get to Rey’s chaotic, blinding, pulsing Force signature. She’s changed clothes too, in that blink of an eye between realms, traded his shirt for the black leather look she's always in when she comes home from holding court, but for once his eyes aren’t drawn to her.

“Rey, this is…”

She smiles, laces their fingers together and leads him down a path marked by nothing but telltale trampled grass. “Part of my grandmother’s healer abilities was the power to coax any flower or herb she needed to life. Sometimes,” Rey says quietly as she runs her fingers through a wine-red flower with petals like velvet, “I wonder if maybe I would have been a nature witch, had that path been available to me.”

Sometimes Ben wonders too, tries to imagine what Rey’s life would’ve been like if she hadn’t been claimed by her grandfather’s blood the second she was born. Would they have met, if she’d grown up to become a witch instead? Would she still have the Force, without Palpatine’s blood in her veins? Would they have been married by now, if they were both just practitioners with no moral conundrums standing in their way?

Would he trade everything they’ve shared in the past two years for even the tiniest shot at that life instead?

“I grew up in a barren wasteland instead,” Rey continues, “where the last of the trees succumbed to heat long before I was born and even attempts to grow crabgrass failed. So the minute I found out that all of this was mine,” she sweeps her arm in a wide arc, encompasses as far as the eye can see, “I knew immediately what I wanted to do with this land.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ben assures her, letting his free hand drag past flowers and leaves and little bushes heavy with berries.

Rey’s lips twitch with a little self-conscious smile. “Unusual for a demon queen, I know,” she says almost sheepishly before she comes to an abrupt halt and looks up at him. “But I wanted to show you that there’s life here, Ben. I could give you life and love and light here, even in the most unexpected places, if you–”

“Your Majesty!” a voice hollers in the distance. “Majesty!” it cries again, grows closer until both Ben and Rey turn around to find a lower-ranking demon sprinting across the garden to reach them.

“What?!” Rey growls as the demon reaches them, and Ben can’t tell if he shrinks back because of the ice in Rey’s voice or the heat in her glare.

“F-f-forgive me, M-Majesty,” the newcomer stammers, keeping a safe distance between himself and his Queen. “But you asked to be informed when your knights return–”

Rey blinks. “Oh,” she murmurs. “I did, didn’t I?” She turns to Ben then, waves at the demon. “Beloved, this is my assistant, Mitaka.”

Mitaka falls into a bow so deep and abrupt that Ben nearly winces for his bones. “My lord.”

“Um,” Ben turns to Rey with a helpless little look, clears his throat and awkwardly waves the man up. “Uh, you don’t have to do that.”

The little demon looks scandalized, shocked into such a catatonic state that he doesn’t even react when Rey takes Ben’s hand and tugs him a few feet away. “I’m so sorry,” she tells him with an apologetic little smile. “This is pretty urgent. Do you mind?”

Ben smiles, angles himself so that Mitaka can’t see him tucking a lock of hair behind Rey’s ear. “Sweetheart, you’re the Queen here,” he reminds her. “Go do what you have to do.”

“I’ll try to be quick,” Rey promises and, apparently not sharing his qualms about her subjects seeing her in an affectionate relationship, tugs him down by his collar to kiss him. It’s rougher than usual, admittedly, and to an outsider he probably looks completely lost to her will as she pulls on his hair to adjust the angle to her liking. When she breaks away and licks her lips with a smirk, Ben’s almost reminded of that first night when she stole a drop of his blood. “In the meantime,” Rey raises her voice so that it carries to her assistant, “Mitaka will show you around.”

“Oh,” Ben turns to the other demon. “That’s not necessar–”

“It would be an honor, my lord,” Mitaka says, dropping quickly into another bow. Ben turns to look at Rey, clueless and uncomfortable.

“Might as well get used to it, just in case,” she shrugs, a satisfied little gleam in her eyes. “Osado should be around the East Wing. Maybe you could meet him?” her voice is a little tentative, a little hopeful, and Ben knows how much it’ll mean to her for him to meet one of her knights.

“Sure,” he nods with an easy smile. “That’d be nice.”

Rey beams at him and it’s so at odds with their surroundings, with the persona he was expecting from her in her realm, that it sets him completely at ease. Whatever fears he’d harbored about Rey, about her and their relationship changing once they’re here, seem so ridiculous now. He’s struck by the impulse to ask her right now, but Osado Ren is something of an older brother to her, based on her stories, and Ben figures in lieu of any father figures he should at least make his intentions known to the knight, scope out his reaction to both the engagement and Ben’s eventual ascension.

Still, he can’t help but wince a bit at the way she barks orders at Mitaka as the lower demon flinches and stammers his way through the interaction. But Rey had warned him, hadn’t she? Hierarchy is everything in the Underworld, and the pecking order must always be painfully clear.

“I’ll see you soon, beloved,” Rey smiles as she slinks past him, her exchange with Mitaka apparently done. In this, in the way she carries herself around her subjects, she’s more Kira Ren than Rey. But as Ben watches the sauntering gait of her retreating form, head held proudly high and shoulders deceptively loose, he finds that he’s not too bothered by that.

“M-my lord,” Mitaka stammers behind him, and when Ben turns he indicates the opposite direction. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben shrugs and allows himself to be led away. He considers Mitaka for a bit, wonders if now would be a good time to try and get some information, but the poor demon looks jumpy as all hell. Besides, it feels dishonest, to ask around about Rey and her reign behind her back when he’s already decided that he loves and accepts her no matter what.

So they walk in silence, save for Mitaka’s occasional attempts to play tour guide by pointing out noteworthy structures and figures in their path. What feels like minutes but also hours later finds them climbing up the front steps of a looming structure that bears a passing resemblance to the old mansions that house his mother’s Light Council, the only major differences being the color of the façade and the figures carved into the black marble pillars.

Mitaka waves the front doors open with a sweeping gesture and presents the building to him. “The East Wing,” he announces. “Home to Her Majesty’s collections.”

Ben grins to himself. Of course Rey would arrange for him to be brought to her museum-slash-library. “She knows me too well,” he murmurs under his breath as Mitaka crosses to the far end of the hall littered with relics in order to light a fire. The flames crawl rapidly through a network of glass tubes suspended from the ceiling, and soon the whole hall is lit by firelight.

“Sir Ren shall join you momentarily,” Mitaka says, and after another painfully deep bow he closes the doors behind Ben and leaves him to his own devices. Ben takes the opportunity to explore the area, all curved onyx stands and dome-shaped glass cases. A closer inspection finds gold plaques attached to each stand and varying forms of documents contained within the glass cases, but none of the descriptions or parchments are written in any language he’s ever seen.

He’s just stumbled upon the presumable crown jewel of the collection – housed in the center of the hall, on a stand taller and larger than any other, with a description that appears to writhe on its plaque – when the great doors swing open once more.

“Ben!” Osado Ren greets him jovially, instantly recognizable from Rey’s descriptions and the black leather armor he wears, Rey’s sigil burned into the breastplate. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Osado clamps his hands on either side of Ben’s arms, even though he has to stretch quite a bit to do so, and this close Ben can see the lines on his face that speak of the challenging human existence he’d suffered through before the loss of his love and the senselessness of her death had led him to invoke Rey and bargain with her. “Oh,” Ben mumbles as Osado releases him and takes a step back. “Re– Kira told you my name.” It’s an odd thing to be worried about, after a lifetime of everyone knowing his name, but he figures it’s more or less time to start.

“She’s Rey to us,” the knight assures him. “And you have nothing to worry about – we’re all family here, after all.”

“Family?” Ben echoes curiously. He’s heard Rey apply the term to her knights, and has no doubt that they feel the same way about her, but him?

“Well, Rey extended her home, her care, and her name to us when we had nothing, so yes,” Osado shrugs. “And you’re family to her, which makes us family as well. But,” he pauses, offers Ben a genuine smile, “if it makes you feel better, my real name is Poe. Poe Dameron. There, now we’re even.”

“Um, sure… Poe,” he says hesitantly, but the ever-present smile on the knight’s face remains firmly in place despite the use of his first name. Poe it is, then.

“So, what do we have here?” the knight asks, stepping around him to look at the piece he was studying. As if the plaque itself weren’t unusual enough, the document appears to be carved on a slab of marble rather than written on parchment or vellum like the rest of the collection, and the letters have been filled in with gold to match the veins in the marble. Ben can’t deny that he’s curious, and Poe seems prepared to take on the role of curator.

“Oh, it’s the prophecy! Figures that you’d be drawn to it,” he tells Ben with a knowing smile that makes no sense whatsoever.

“Right, the prophecy,” Ben nods, steps closer. “But what does this say, exactly? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this writing.” A novelty for him, considering all the dead languages his uncle had him study during his earliest years as a mage.

Poe shrugs. “Well, it’s ancient. Only a few of us still know how to read it, and it’s not exactly a skill you can learn,” he explains. “You can only decipher it with Rey’s blessing – which, of course, you’ll get as soon as you two finally make things official.”

The ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a ton. Maybe now would be a good time to talk to Poe about it; he’s not going to ask for permission – Rey is the Queen, after all – but it’d be reassuring to know that the closest thing she has to family is all right with him joining them.

Before he can say anything though, Poe points at the plaque; Ben swears he hears a faint hissing sound when the knight’s hand gets a little too close, and for a second there the writhing turns into the kind of shaking he associates with a provoked snake. Poe chuckles to himself, moves his hand a safe distance away, and the words go back to their endless cycle, almost like an Ouroboros trapped in the form of letters.

“The Eternal Reign of Kira and Kylo Ren,” Poe announces grandly, and playfully elbows Ben as he stage-whispers, “That’s you!”

“Right,” Ben feels more than hears himself murmur, a faint ringing taking up residence in his ears as Poe goes on to describe the contents of the prophecy itself.

“Previous reigns have never lasted longer than five hundred years – the Dark has a habit of consuming itself, self-imploding, plus there’s no shortage of backstabbing and coups, of course,” Poe explains. “But from the very beginning the prophecy has spoken of a couple, both of royal Dark blood in their own rights, neither born in the Dark but both born to the Dark. Sound familiar?”

“Um, yeah,” he forces himself to say, just so that Poe will keep going.

“Apart the two of them are already more powerful than any previous Dark monarch, but together they will be unrivaled in all the universe, their rule secured for millennia to come. You know,” Poe turns back to him, having apparently summarized the whole prophecy to his satisfaction, “for the longest time everyone believed this prophecy was bullshit. It’s been here since almost the beginning, and no one had ever come close to fulfilling it. Even when Rey took the throne and was anointed Kira Ren, no one thought she’d find her Kylo – no one except Rey, anyway. She just knew you were out there, said she could feel it the day you were born and has been waiting every day since.”

I knew Vader had a grandson, but I never bothered looking into it.

I never saw you coming, Ben Solo. You’re the best surprise that’s ever happened to me.

In a way, we have that tourist killer of yours to thank. Who knows if our paths would ever have crossed otherwise?

The day you were born, Poe says, and Ben thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Hey,” Poe frowns, concern lining his face as he takes in Ben’s blank stare. “Are you okay?”

“I–” the words can barely come out, not with his throat so tight that no air can get it. “I–” Ben tries again, doubles over and closes his eyes, takes deep breaths and counts to ten. “I need to see her. Now.”

Poe looks worried, but there’s no hint of wariness, of realization that he’s just given away his Queen’s master fucking plan. “Yeah, sure. She and the others should be wrapping up soon, anyway. Let’s get you back to your girlfriend, huh?”

It turns out that Mitaka took him on the scenic route; Poe ushers him out through a backdoor and has them in the main structure of the castle grounds within minutes. As soon as the throne room is in sight, Ben speeds up and leaves a puzzled Poe calling out behind him.

“Who–” Rey demands before she sees who it is that’s burst into her throne room without announcement or permission. “Oh,” she smiles, gets up from her throne to walk past her two knights and over to him.

The knights - Ẹsan the boy she rescued the night he killed the warlord who enslaved him and Tiếc the girl who lost a sister when Poe lost a wife – turn to him just in time to hear him say, “Out.”

“Beloved,” Rey frowns, “what–”

“Get out,” Ben commands, and the knights scramble to leave after a quick nod from their Queen. The doors behind them slam shut with a blast of power, the kind of outburst he’s managed to keep in check for decades.

Rey reaches for his hand, eyes wide with concern. “Ben–”

“You lied to me!” he growls, and she staggers back. “You promised me you weren’t just another demon who’d been keeping tabs on me since I was born, you swore you weren’t using me for my powers!”

“Oh,” Rey murmurs to herself, stumbles backwards until she collapses into her throne. “Oh.”

“The night we met – did you plan that?” Ben demands as he advances on her. “Fuck, did you plan all of this? Was it just a game to you all along, Kira Ren? All the others failed, so you decided you’d try good old seduction instead and turn me Dark by breaking my heart, is that it?”

“Ben, no–” she claims, rises from her throne to place a hand over his heart. “None of this was planned, none of it needed to be planned. We were always going to find each other, eventually. We’re fated, Ben, don’t you feel it–”

“Fated for what, Rey?” he spits, pushing her hand aside. “For an eternity of you ruling with me as your attack dog? All those times you brought up how much easier it’d be with me by your side – you never meant as a team. You were talking about my bloodline, about my powers. Fuck, to think that I almost gave in to you–” he curses, stunned by his own blindness after a lifetime of vigilance.

Rey stills, looks up at him with those shiny eyes and trembling lips she wears so well. “You… you what?”

He pulls the pouch from his pocket, tosses it at her with a little too much force. No point in keeping it, anyway, not when he’ll never find a use for it again. Let her have this, then, if she’s so keen on having a piece of Darth Vader’s fucking legacy.

“Ben,” Rey gasps when she fishes the ring out of the velvet bag, holds in her palms the symbol of love his grandfather presented to his grandmother when he promised them a future of light.

“This was never supposed to be just a visit,” he admits, taking a sick sort of pleasure in twisting the knife, in rubbing in just how close she’d gotten to deceiving him. “I was going to ask you to marry me today. Stars, I was going to kill someone for you– fucking idiot,” Ben growls to himself, pulls viciously at his hair while he paces the length of the dais. “Balance? What a load of bullshit, as if the demon queen could ever–”

From her spot where she’s crumbled to the ground, sitting on the stairs leading to her throne, Rey chokes on a sob. “Ben, please, I meant it, I meant all of it–”

“Because you’re the picture of honesty,” Ben scoffs with barely a glance in her direction. “Were you ever going to tell me, Rey? Would you have gone cold the second I tied myself to you and your mission was accomplished? Or, no, wait,” he hates how cruel he sounds, hates how his lips twist into a sneer when he finally turns back to her, hates the fact that he’s hurting her even though she’s cut him deeper than anyone ever could, “you would’ve kept it going a little while longer, wouldn’t you, until we had that big family you’re always talking about. A whole army of the most powerful demons to ever exist, you wouldn’t even need me after that–”

“Don’t!” Rey snaps, pulls herself up and dries off her tears. “Think what you want, Ben, but don’t ever imply that I would’ve used our children–”

“–the way you tried to use me?”

“Fine, yes!” she cries, and it’s almost a relief to have confirmation, to know for sure. Now he can walk away with no what-ifs, no regrets–

“Yes, damn it, I wanted you for the prophecy, but not the way you’re twisting it!” Rey claims, a little scream of frustration lodged in her throat. “I’d been alone all my life, Ben, and here was a prophecy telling me that my perfect mate was somewhere out there, that once I found him I’d never be alone again, never be in danger again – whatever twisted idea you have of me using you, it was never going to be like that.”

He wants, so desperately– “How can I believe you, Rey? How can I ever trust you again?”

This time, when she reaches for him he lets her. “I could swear on my grandfather’s grave,” Rey whispers. “I could swear on my throne, on my life. But we both know these things don’t mean anything to me.”

“How convenient,” he mutters, but doesn’t shake her hand off his.

“But if you trust me, Ben, if you give me another chance – I will swear on our love, on our children, on the only things that matter to me,” she says fervently, digs her nails into his arm, “that you will never regret it.”

Ben scoffs. “That’s a bit of a gamble, isn’t it? What love, Rey? What love, Kira?”

Her nails break his skin. “Stop calling me–”

“It’s who you are, isn’t it?” he confronts her, that old fear that never quite let go of him bursting to the surface, sustained all the months by the amber flashes of her eyes and her callous treatment of others. Idiot, idiot, idiot, what an idiot all along to believe that he was the only one, that he was special enough to change her– “Whoever it is I deluded myself into seeing… she never existed, did she? It was you all along, tricking me, manipulating me, playing me like a goddamn fiddle and I fell for it all like the lovesick fool that I was–”

“Don’t,” Rey whispers, a fresh wave of tears shining in her eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t say was as if you don’t love me anymore.”

And fuck it all but he does, she almost tricked him into an eternity of Darkness but it still hurts to see her this way, still kills him to know that he’s the one making her cry– “I love Rey,” Ben croaks in an attempt to cling to reason. “I love the woman I’ve spent the past two years with. If she never existed then–”

“She did, she does,” Rey insists as she hooks one leg around his ankle and knocks him off his feet, tackles him to the ground and softens the blow with her hands around the back of his head. “I love you. I’m her and I’m here and I love you, Ben please–”

“Please,” she whispers, brings her hands to cradle his face, her thumbs caressing his jaw the way she does when she’s trying to wake him gently in the morning, the way she does when they’re curled up together in front of the TV and her fondness for him overflows. “Please, Ben, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone.”

He closes his eyes, lets his head fall against the harsh marble floor as she invokes his oath.

“You promised, Ben,” Rey says quietly, her voice small like a child’s, like the lonely child she’s been all her life, the one that calls to his soul the way every other part of her matches every other part of him. So different, so alike, perfect mates the prophecy calls them.

The prophecy he knew nothing about, the prophecy that’s a hundred times worse than the destiny he’s been trying to outrun all his life, and where did that get him? All that running, a lifetime of it, and here he is anyway, his soul in the balance, his heart in Rey’s hands–

Would it be so bad? If she’s trying so hard to keep him now, if she tries this hard for the rest of their lives… would it be so bad even if this is a lie?

No worse than the alternative, than walking away from her today and spending the rest of his life wondering about the truth, looking over his shoulder, dreading the day his fate catches up with him… that’s not a life. Not the life his father would have wanted for him, not the life he wants for himself.

Ben takes a deep breath, pictures the life he’s been dreaming of since the day the devil appeared in his kitchen, and comes to a decision.

“I promised,” he concedes, opens his eyes and lets his hands rest on her waist. “I promise. You’ll never be alone again.”

This morning he was willing to fall to the Dark side for her love.

Everything, and yet nothing, has changed since then.

Rey smiles at him, and he ignores the flash of amber in her watery eyes as she leans down to kiss him. “You won’t regret this,” she murmurs against his lips. “I swear, Ben, on our happiness, I won’t let you regret this. We’ll be so good together, you’ll see, no one will ever stand in our way, no one will ever tear us apart–”

Because no one will ever be capable of it, but he kisses her again before she can remind him of that, of the fate he’s giving in to. Rey leans back, rests against his bent knees and produces something with a twist of her wrist.

The ring, he realizes as she hands it to him almost shyly. She must’ve hidden it away for safekeeping.

He had a speech planned, this morning. All of the sacrifices he’s willing to make for her, all of the love that overwhelms him each and every second.

Now… now there’s nothing left to say. Ben takes her hand, notes that they’re both shaking and tricks himself into letting that make him feel better, into letting that make him believe her.

The ring is a perfect fit, just like he always knew it would be.

Rey leans down, kisses him with a smile on her lips and warm tears that burn his cheeks. “My turn,” she whispers an eternity later, pulls him up with her and leads him to the throne where her sigil is carved into the gleaming onyx.

“This is my throne, my empire, my power,” she intones, still holding his hand, still smiling. “And all this I choose to share with you, will share with you for as long as we both live.”

She takes his hand, presses his palm to her sigil. The carved lines of the rune turn red, and his palm tingles but does not burn. Rey holds his hand in place, waits for a sign only she knows.

When the red glow disappears, she pulls his hand away and turns his palm to him so that they can see the mark he will carry for eternity slowly sink under his skin.

“It’s different,” Ben realizes with a start, looks up at the throne once the sigil on his palm disappears and finds that it’s changed too, grown more complex somehow, more complete.

“It’s ours now,” Rey tells him, uses his hand to trace out a mark he recognizes from before. “Kira,” she reads, and then traces the newer lines, “and Kylo Ren.”

She lets go of his hand to step behind him, wraps her arms around his waist and presses her lips to the back of his neck. “My consort. My emperor. My Kylo,” she whispers, her voice warm with affection but dark with triumph.

And Ben, newly engaged and crowned–

–Ben stares at the sigil, their sigil, and doesn’t let himself turn back to see what color her eyes are.

Not my usual ‘and they lived 100% happily ever after’ ending, but this was never meant to be my usual kind of story. This chapter - this whole fic, really - hinged on the big reveal. I hope I managed to pull that off.

When I first came up with this idea months ago, it was meant to be a tiny one-shot posted alongside all the rituals between you and me as a pair of parallel fics. Obviously that didn't pan out, and I ended up spending months adding bits and pieces to my original outline without knowing if this fic would ever see the light of day.

Now it's done and it's out there in the world, and I can only hope even a fraction of the people reading this have enjoyed this odd little tale as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life. (And psst, if you did: stay tuned for a slightly risqué - by my standards, anyway - bonus scene/epilogue coming soon!)

As always, thank you so, so much for reading. If you enjoyed this fic and/or have any thoughts/comments/questions, please don't hesitate to like/reblog/comment.

#reylo #reylo au #kylo ren/rey #rey/ben solo #rey/kylo ren #reyben #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #fic: the curse #my fics

12 notes · View notes

trinity-blood-translations · 6 years ago

Text

Radio Head - Chapter IV. (Trinity Blood RAM 5)

Radio Head - Prologue Radio Head - Chapter I Radio Head - Chapter II Radio Head - Chapter III Radio Head - Chapter IV Radio Head - Epilogue

* * *

Chapter IV

Page 228

At first sight it looked like a steel spider crawling up clumsy from the gaping wide hole on the floor. However it was impossible that such a being in nature would exist. The colossus which revealed himself on the deck with a giant body close to 4 meters in diameter, shedding a dim light from the steel body and with a weird rotating gatling gun tower ---- was XAM. Additionally from the head of the spider were rotating cameras to see. An external speaker occasionally spat scratching noises mixed with a voice.

〈CAN……CAN NOT die……〉

It sounded as if a dead person were sobbing while crouching at the entrance of the netherworld. At the beginning it was so quiet, that it was hard to understand. Lament with interruptions, but it tended to become gradually stronger till it reached a level of a shrill scream.

〈CAN NOT die, CAN NOT die, CAN NOT die, CAN NOT die, CAN NOT die, CAN NOT die, CAN NOT die, CAN NOT dieeeeeeeee!!!〉

“Huhh?!”

The screech of the woman and the scream of the sergeant overlapped each other. Giving a roar similar to the operating noise of the machine saw the gatling gun threw gunfire. The 12,75 millimeter machine gun bullet is enough to transform an armored vehicle easely into a honeycomb. As the detonation blast sounded on the surface of the deck, the above mentioned giant sergeant who was about to lift the muzzle, and the soldiers were turned in an instant into a bloodstained lump of meat. The salty sea breeze was mixed with terrible blood smell.

Page 229

“G…..gyaaaaaaa!!!”

The next scream came from all the passengers who stood a bit away from the place of the tragedy and saw everything with their own eyes. The iron monster that suddenly appeared and the death he has scattered seemingly made the people lose their mind. Although the soldiers tried to control the situation with warnings, but even so, everybody tried to escape by running as if they didn’t hear---- but nevertheless, the multi-legged tank turret rotated faster. Deep holes drilled into the deck, one by one, and severed the escaping people right in the middle like a devilish sword. Moreover the gunfire stretched out upwards without a pause and skewered the airship that noticed the incident and was trying to change the course straight from the front.

“Th…this voice is Francoise?! Idiot, she is…..”

The airship with the smashed gasbag turned into a gigantic fireball accompanied by a load explosion. Claude muttered dumbfounded while he was watching the explosion lights and the blaster above his head. The soldier just like he were watching a daydream wandered his gaze around, but suddenly came to his senses and raised his gaze, besides he drew closer to Puppeteer who was holding his chin with a self-satisfied look.

“Ex…explain it, you bastard! What on earth is that?!”

“Hmm, there is a theory of mine…”

Page 230

The young man answered in a serious and disappointed tone while on his beautiful face appeared sorrow indeed, but in fact he was desperately trying to resist to the urge not to roll around on the floor laughing. He pointed his sharp chin toward the iron spider, which was going berserk among the passengers and the soldiers who were running for their life, and took its victims en masse with its fireline and gigantic body, one after another.

“The brain of your beloved suffered by the accident an irreparable damage, isn’t that so? At the time Dr. Dupree made his wife resurrect, I guess, he gave up to restore the brain in its original state. And finally, instead, he was searching for an exterior replacement……at any rate, at that time this thing was obviously just around the corner with its high-powered electric intelligence, the computer that could be used for that purpose.” “The control system of XAM! Really? That’s why Lois was walking around the whole time with this monster. Because Francoise was in there…”

“Something like that. However, to be exact, most likely it’s only a part of her soul copied into the machine, because only the memory field was substituted.”

The evil speech of the young man did not seem to have reached the ears of Claude. No, even if he heard it, he probably would have ignored it. He dropped his gun and sauntered off empty handed on the shaken deck. The iron monster screaming with the voice of a woman was there still producing blood, flesh and death en masse. The man walked in front of the monster without a sign of fear.

“Francoise…….are you suffering, aren’t you……?”

The voice of Claude was soft and sounded for an insensate military person quite strange. Putting up both hands frankly as if he was about to hug his love he kept walking toward the multi-legged tank.

Page 231

Page 232

“Francoise, poor……”

〈CAN NOT die,…… CAN NOT die〉

The front camera similar to the head of a spider turned toward the approaching man. Accompanied by inorganic machine sounds the foot actuator began to operate and the colossus turned to Claude. But the man showed no sign of fear at all while he was standing in front of the approaching woman, tearfully in front of his former lover, whom he had stolen her life. He gently whispered with a solemn expression on his face as he looked up to the multi-legged tank which was moving his legs ominously smooth toward him. At this moment----- The foot of XAM stopped. Literally, the forefoot hung up in the air.

If the he would have stopped about 2 minutes later the body of Claude would have been squashed with the weight of more than 10 tons. The gigantic foot with the metal tube and the actuator implemented in it, touched even his hair but stopped in the air.

Was it because a god felt pity about the unfortunate soul or maybe an angel was emotionally touched by the love which had overcome even the fear, that it caused a miracle to happen ---- but it was such a beautiful sight completely reminiscent of a religious painting.

Page 233

In this sacred tranquility Claude reached out his hand to touch the tank and whispered to his beloved.

“No matter what shape you have become, you are still you..... I love you. Let us go together. Somewhere at a quite place, just the two of us, let us stay together, Francoise……”

The love of the man was sincere without and if nobody interrupts this confession may last until eternity ---- if that steel foot overhead wouldn’t simply crush down onto him and smash his brain.

“…….oops, that’s what I call instant death”

From the man whose head was easily trampled only his body was twitching on the foot of the multi-legged tank. On the other hand the tank gained again mobility. It didn't care about the man who just became a lump of meat. It lifted its leg and pulled up blood and cerebral fluid like a thread and returned to battle mode again.

“Oh, what a heartbreaking scene…. however it was the doctor who gave her this shape but the original cause were you, Lieutenant. Being told by such guys, 'I love you!', usually makes one just angry.”

〈kill,....me kill....kill, kiLL, kILL, KILL, KILL〉

While Puppeteer was immersed in deep emotion the multi-legged tank continued its death march. Over the armed group that have lost their will to fight and the surviving frightened passenger swirled the sword of massacre once again.

“Oh my, ……..is it totally out of control?”

Puppeteer lamented in front of the tank, which trampled the people trying to escape or continued to mow them down with the machine-gun fire.

Page 234

But meanwhile he moved his fingers, reminiscent of a pianist, with fine movements in order to implant his “threads” into the corpses lying around. No matter how many people died, he wouldn’t care but if the ship sinks he will be in a big trouble. It’s really cold. And he really didn’t want to swim in the middle of winter.

“I’m not supposed to have such a fight scene[1] as my hobby, ……..besides, this sort of trouble should be dealt with by “Magician”.

The young man grumbled while the “puppets” began to move.

Just a few minutes ago those lumps of meat lived, laughed, were talking about love. Now the heads were blown off by bullets, the internal organs were entirely squashed by the steel foot. But still, the muscles which were about to torn and the bones which were about to break have began to obey according to the pseudo-signal transmitted by the “threads”

and they started to deal with the requested tasks -------- the dead silently standing in the way of the multi-legged tank began to bury their claws into the monster. They used their already torn muscles to crawl up on the frame of the machine.

Of course the self-defense program of XAM bombed the opponents getting closer with a storm of bullets but as you know the dead have no fear. With half of the bodies blown off, though the strange insect-like crowd was still stuck to the frame and were trying to hook their fingernails into the tiny crevices of the armoring an tear it off. It seemed that the iron beast would be helplessly a prey of the crowd of the dead…..

“Wow!”

Suddenly Puppeteer who was looking bored by the sight of the awful scene turned his eyes away,

Page 235

because a flickering light exploded around the XAM. The field of vision which had dyed pure white for a moment, normalized again after a few seconds. In his sight which began to regain colors again emerged shadows of the “puppets” clinging on the multi-legged tank and now they began to fall down one by one. All of them carbonized beyond all recognition.

„Wow! That’s amazing! Was it an electromagnetic net? It was just killing more birds with one stone!”

The young man frowned by the stench of burned flesh rubbed his still unclear eyes. However as he saw that the multi-legged tank which burnt his “puppets” to ashes turned toward another direction, he couldn’t help but ducked.

“Oops, no time to admire. Well then, should I do…?”

For implanting his “threads” into the corpses in the surroundings and make a shield of them wasn’t enough time left. Moreover all the corpses have suffered heavy damages so that they aren’t suitable for manipulation. Nevertheless he still tried hard to launch his “threads” some of the bodies, but…..

„O-oh….don’t say it’s too late?”

The “puppets” just stood up with many trouble were trampled down easily again and the iron monster rushed over to “Puppeteer’s” direction ------- at this moment he showed an unusual serious expression.

MPH-ARSL-GAIOL[2]、By the name and the sign of the mighty and petty Nothingness, I summon the seal of the sacrificial blood.....

This voice sounded like it wouldn’t come from here but from another world. Maybe as if it was coming from across the distance of the stars or from the deep bottom of the sea.

Page 236

Tell me, you angel, even if you has fallen. By the water of life of the innocent, I will set the seal of the contract on this pontoon. Therefore the nameless one who has many names – according to old oath – brings the extermination of our enemy ---- seal of Baphomet, come!

At this moment the huge body of XAM fleshed with red lights.

No, it wasn’t that. At the feet of the multi-legged tank which was closing in on “Puppeteer” appeared suddenly a dazzling light. The source of that glow was a strange circle which unnoticed pierced the deck. It was painted with the fresh blood of the dead who have just died in devastating death. It was as if a crimson snake wriggled drawing a complicated and mysterious magic circle ---- just like as it were a trap to catch the prey.

〈”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”〉

A dull scream from came from the speaker of XAM. Despite the fact that no blood was flowing in the steel body, it sounded like there were blood blister mixed in the scream.

However a further abnormal phenomenon appeared on the car body: as the magic circle emerged from the floor as if it were the deep-seated grudge of the dead and covered the body of the multi-legged tank from the feets ---- Wait, no! If you look closely, where the body of the multi-legged tank touched the deck, it looked like as if red rust would gradually devour it quickly from the soles on. Although it’s unthinkable that ordinary steel rusts that rapid like this. Not to mention for such an armour-plate made of special steel is absolutely impossible. But actually, in a matter of seconds was the huge body of XAM completely painted with the color of blood.

Page 237

As the distinctive stench of iron rust occasionally tickled the nose of “Puppeteer”, the giant completely eaten up by the red rust crushed down to the ground with a thunderous noise.

〈”Ah, ah, die, I …..!”〉

The speaker partially buried by rust vomited the cracked noise with interruptions.

〈”Yes…. I can die with this…..with this…..With….Th….”〉

Perhaps it was just a mere coincidence that at the same time as the voice that used up all his strength stopped like a large animal breathes his last ---- the neck of the external camera broke off. However “Puppeteer” looked at this scene with eyes as he would see something very disgusting, he gave a deep sigh of relief in his heart.

“This method gives evidence of bad taste….was that you, “Magician”?”

〈” …..you always say that I have bad taste, don’t you?”〉

The sarcastic laugh resounded from under the feet’s of the young man.

As the reddish brown eyes looked down, his shadow strangely began to bent and then emerged like a thread of dripping darkness while as if somebody would pull it up.

“My “Seal of Baphomet” is an electrolytic corrosion ---- this is surely an extremely sophisticated “magic” using the potential difference between dissimilar metals and discharge of ions. Calling it as bad taste or something like this….besides that, by all means it saved your life. Apart from what you really think, how about to show a little gratitude at least on the surface, “Puppeteer”?

Page 238

“If you intend to make someone feel grateful take a bit better timing into consideration.”

The young man tried a meager protest against the completely black dressed gentleman who just literally gushed out from the darkness. He pointed at the bloodstain on his coat and pressed accusingly his lips together.

“You know, this coat was pretty much my favorite one….so if you can use your magic trick to get rid of the stain, I will thank you with all my heart.”

“Please don’t force me to something irrational like this. It bears repeating: my “Shadow”…… the wormhole isn’t available indefinitely. In the first place the wormhole is a micro-Black Hole of ultra small size. In the second place the world of quantum physics is dominated by far more troublesome principals than the macro-world…..”

“Oh, how nice of you to say that![3] You saw me being bullied[4] and you were engrossed in your typical immoral pleasure, weren’t you? I sense a faint perversion and scent of conspiracy in your current timing.”

Puppeteer looked at his colleague who was keen at trying to justify himself and made a roguish sound with his throat. Then his gaze randomly shifted to the rusty iron lump lying on the ground.

“Still, she was happy at the end to die, isn't that right?....Well, with this, I wonder if this story has a Happy Ending?”

“Honestly, it sounds like you're dissatisfied that the story ended happily, isn’t that so Puppeteer”?”

There was nothing but everywhere miserable corpses of people who had enjoyed their lives without worrying until a few minutes ago:

Page 239

bodies turned into mincemeat by the bullets, burnt internal organs, besides, by the influence of the “fibers” still struggling severed arms and legs ------ The black haired gentleman pulled out somewhere a cigarillo while walking towards XAM trying not to step on the human remains scattered in the bloody mud. While he relaxed lit a fire, declared whit a deep voice:

『Da der Tod (genau zu nehmen) der wahre Endzweck unseres Lebens ist”』[5] ----Mozart. Well, although many things happened, with this she got a rest, and even if we are bored, we will have from now on a calm journey. We all got what we were looking for. Isn’t that great? That’s right, if you like we could return to the lounge and get a drink to celebrate……..Huch ?

The sight of the “Magician” who was exhaling deep purple smoke fell unexpectedly at his feet. The eyes resembling of those of a dead fish were observing the crimson rotten scrapheap. A little while later he turned back to his travelling companion at ease.

“Oh, this is bad, “Puppeteer”………it seems like I have to take back what I said before.”

“He, what’s wrong?”

“Mmh, our wish for a calm journey is seemingly fallen through. It’s because of this…..”

〈The body damage has exceeded 90%〉

In the machine voice which interrupted the mellow voice of the “Magician”, there was no change at all since it was running wild just a while ago. However, it was neither the dead bride nor that ghost or something like this.

Page 240

The camera which should have stopped to operate rotated weakly and the lens captured the black-haired gentleman stood there very disappointed and the young man with the pretty face who was approaching from behind.

〈From now on in order to maintain the confidentiality of the prototype this machine will switch into self-destruction mode. Persons within a radius of one hundred meters please leave this machine as soon as possible and get into guard position. I repeat: this machine…..〉

“…..Hey Isaak, what does this mean?”

“Oh, it seems like the body has returned to sanity ---- presumably as the pseudo-ego in the operation system disappeared, I guess the normal program started to running.”

“No, that’s not I wanted to ask…… can you stop it? If it explodes in such a place this won’t this ship possibly sink?”

“I quite agree with you…..unfortunately, it seems it’s a bit too late.”

Raising one eyebrow expressively “Magician” slightly stepped aside in order to let his companion see the running counter from before on the digital display of the lower part the multi legged tank. Right after that all the numbers on the liquid crystal display changed to zero ---- an then there was a violent explosion.

(End of Part IV)

[1]荒事 - Kabuki genre with brave warriors and grim deities and demons

[2] In Enochian (occult language recorded by John Dee and Edward Kelley in 1582), Mph Arsl Gaiol is the Holy name of the element Water.

[3] そんなこと言って – used if somebody gets angry or mad

[4] I guess he means by it that he was in trouble.

[5] As death, when we come to consider it closely, is the true goal of our existence. - This sentence is in the original Japanese novel written in German with katakana.

#tb never forget #trinity blood #Sunao Yoshida #Thores Shibamoto #Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer #Dietrich von Lohengrin #rosencreutz orden #light novel #Rage Against the Moons #radio head #rco

23 notes · View notes