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downwiththeficness · 4 years

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A Need So Great-Chapter 15

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~6,700

Warnings: There’s a lot here... kidnapping (kind of), assault, allusions to rape and sexual assault, smut

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape @revolution-starter @autumnleaves1991-blog @jedi-mando @buckysalefty @anaeve

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva knew something was wrong. The house was always quiet, save for the sound of the waves below, but this was stagnant. She stood in the kitchen, chopping fruit for a late lunch, the knife sounding dully in her hand. Her stomach twisted as she looked down at the mango, shredded from where she’d lost focus and slid the knife through it too many times. She stared at it, disgusted.

There was no sound, no indication of movement, but Eva knew there was someone behind her. The hair on her arms and over the back of her neck stood on end, her fingers twitching over the blade. For several seconds, she intentionally didn’t turn around. For several seconds, she let herself feel like everything was normal—that this was a completely normal moment in a completely normal day.

And then she turned.

“Hello, Birdie.”

Eva stopped breathing.

Zero was lounging at their dining room table. He was wearing tactical gear, a few days’ growth of a beard on his chin. He’d camped out for a bit before making his approach when he knew Horacio would be out getting the supplies. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, hair a pale blonde. He’d let it grow long over the last few years. It flopped over his forehead in a way that looked more careless than it actually was.

“Hello, Zero.”

His head rolled to the side, “We’re old friends, Birdie. Please, call me Alexei.”

Eva looked past him to the staircase, and over to the door. Zero clocked it.

“The helicopter came in about ten minutes ago. He’ll be another half hour before he makes it up the path. Very resourceful, your Colonel.”

Forcing her body to remain relaxed, Eva acknowledged the compliment with a tip of her head, “I’m happy with him.”

He smiled, straight white teeth, “Anyone with eyes can see how happy you are.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because I’m happy?”

Zero lifted a brow, giving her all the answers she needed. Eva widened her stance, thumb running over the handle of the knife. She wouldn’t be able to take him in a fair fight, wouldn’t be able to take him in an unfair fight, either.

“She couldn’t leave it alone.”

He shrugged, “That is her way, Birdie.”

The way he was looking at her—there was sorrow in his eyes. This was a ploy, a way to get her to lower her guard. She knew this, but wasn’t unaffected by it. So many people had looked at her with pity over the years, but none who knew intimately the things she’d done, the things that had been done to her. Zero had more reason to pity her than anyone she’d ever known.

Eva swallowed, hand tightening on the knife. Then, telegraphing as little as possible, she surged past him towards the staircase. He was too fast, on his feet and catching her arm in the blink of an eye. Eva grunted, turning and swinging the blade. She caught him in the forearm, cutting through his clothes to the meat and turning it.

He yelled, grip loosening enough that she got free. Stumbling, she reached the stairs and stomped up them, hauling herself up by the rail. Eva made it up all the way, rounding the corner and down the hall. She could hear his heavy footfalls following behind and her adrenaline spiked. Ten feet. Five feet. Three feet. She threw herself into the bedroom, was headed for the panic room when he got to her.

She fell to the floor hard, her hip taking the brunt of the blow. He rolled her beneath him, but pushed a little too hard and she got the leverage she needed to pin one thigh down with her knee and an arm down with her elbow. Knife in hand, she brought it up and down hard, wincing when he blocked it with his forearm, blood spurting from the wound she’d made.

Releasing the arm she’d pinned, Eva used both hands and most of her weight to try to drive the knife downwards and into his chest. Centimeter by centimeter, she gained the advantage, until she had maybe two or three inches before she met skin. A sharp pain tingled along her thigh. Eva looked down at the needle just as he pushed in the plunger.

Knowing she was on a timeline, Eva pushed harder, yelling. It did no good. Whatever he’d injected her with was fast, her vision blurred. Before she passed out, she got a good look at his wide, gleeful smile. She wondered if he would, indeed, keep his record at zero.

As she began to lose consciousness, Zero rolled her off him and swung her up and over his shoulder. Her arms hung down, limp, as he carried her. Far away, she heard the main door open and close. Drawing a deep breath, she let out a scream, a weak sound that died in her throat. Against the meat of her thighs, Eva felt Zero laugh.

Waking was terrible. Eva’s head hurt, her body hurt, everything fucking hurt. She was slumped against a wooden pole in the basement, her hands bound behind her. Eva blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. A welcome voice said her name once, twice.

Eva lifted her head. Horacio was sitting in a wooden chair that had definitely seen better days, his arms and ankles handcuffed to the legs. There was a bruise blossoming at his temple. A ginger twist of her wrists told her that she was similarly bound. Her legs, however, were free.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked, looking up and to her left.

“I should be asking you that question.”

Eva shook her head, regretting the action immediately, “I’m fine. A little woozy and my head hurts, but he hasn’t started in on me yet.”

Horacio cleared his throat, and she could see his shoulders and arms flexing against his bonds, “You know him, Eva. What is he going to do?”

She thought about it, “Could go a few ways. He could torture you in front of me, he already knows I have feelings for you. Or, we could go that other way, work on me while you watch.”

Eva heard him audibly swallow, heard his feet scuff against the floor. She looked around. Zero had disarmed Horacio, his preferred firearm sitting on a table next to...several syringes. They were laid out carefully. No labels, no indication as to what was inside. Eva glanced at the rest of the room. The wine rack, covered in a light layer of dust sat at the far end, near the washer and dryer. Above her was what used to be a drying line that reached across to another wooden pole about ten feet away, a remnant from before the place was modernized. On the table with Horacio’s gun was another set of handcuffs, possibly for her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked, feeling tears rise up. Guilt rode her heavy, she was sorry that she’d dragged him into her mess.

Horacio shook his head, “I should have taken you to the beach with me. I let my guard down.”

They both had. The stillness of the place, the quiet tranquility of the little home they had borrowed, had lulled them into a soft calm that shouldn’t have been there.

She could see the guilt written clearly on his face, just as it was written on her own, “No. This isn’t your fault. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me.”

The door to the upstairs swung open and Zero’s heavy footsteps dropped on each stair, an ugly beating drum. Eva sniffed, blinking away the tears and dropping into that place she hadn’t needed to go to for a very long time, the place where nothing could hurt her. It would be the only way she was going to survive whatever he was going to do to her.

Zero was smiling as he approached. He’d wrapped up his arm, the bandage a little pink, but it looked like she hadn’t cut him deep enough to hinder the flex of his hands, “I’m so glad you’re awake. I thought I was going to have to pass the time by removing his fingers.”

Eva held her tongue, but Horacio spoke up, voice terse, rapid fire Spanish flying out like little bullets. She was grateful for what he was trying to do, pull Zero’s attention elsewhere, but she knew the hitman wouldn’t be deterred for long.

Zero laughed, patting Horacio’s face. He responded, likewise, in Spanish. Eva only caught the reference to her and to blood, but she got the gist by the way Horacio paled, his jaw clenching. She had to intervene, and quickly.

“We both know you’re not going to kill me any time soon,” she said, hardening herself, “You’re too arrogant for that. So, why don’t you tell me what the plan is, Alexei. And then I can get on with telling you to go fuck yourself.”

Zero laughed, full bellied, head thrown back. Eva had never known such a joyful looking thing could be so terrible. Her fists clenched behind her as she fought to reign herself in.

Wiping at his eyes, Zero gave her an affectionate look, “I missed you.”

She sneered, “Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.”

He non-verbally agreed with her, a short tilt of his head to one side. With three steps, he knelt by her, touching her face, “Its a shame your in laws want you dead so much. I would have loved to have taught you the trade.”

The trade. As if it were carpentry, or something equally as innocuous. Eva felt bile rise to the back of her throat as she contemplated being trained and mentored by this man.

Unable to help it, Eva asked the question that had been on her mind since she’d figured out he was after her, “How long since you took the bounty?

His mouth quirked, “About five years. I told them I would need to play the long game.”

She’d been in Nevada at that time, in a vast desert instead of lush forest. Eva nodded, her eyes dropping.

“But, as for my plans,” he sighed, standing, “I thought I would indulge myself, just this once.” He moved over to the syringes, “The family perfected the serum. It will go to market in about two years, once clinical trials are complete.”

Eva’s blood ran cold. She stopped breathing as she stared at the syringe he held up for her inspection. No...

“You remember what your heats were like with Joshua, don’t you?” he asked, kindness in his tone, if not in his intentions, “He used to tell me about how he’d leave you tied to the bed for hours, crying to be fucked.”

She remembered. It was his little game that he played with her cycle-denying her nesting time, denying her fulfilled heats. Eva had worked very hard to process and move on from those heats, had thought she’d moved past them. And, now, before he killed her, he was going to do it again. She could not contain the horror she felt as she looked at the needle.

Zero gazed at her, pity in his expression, “I am not Joshua, and I will not leave you in such a way. In fact, my plan, since you want to know, is to knot you in front of the alpha you’ve claimed as yours. I’ll break the bond, I will break you, and then I will kill you both—as a mercy, you see.”

Eva very carefully kept her eyes on Zero, though she so wanted to know how Horacio was reacting. She forced her heart to slow and forced her breathing to remain as calm as possible. An overtly emotional response would be a mistake.

“I am on a limited time schedule, Birdie. I think I’ll give you the first dose now.”

As he leaned down, she kicked out hard, trying to dislodge the syringe. He caught her leg and pushed up the material of her shorts, sticking her with it. The movement was fluid, so much ease that it had to be practiced. Practiced, but not gentle. Eva screamed, throwing her head back against the pole behind her.

Zero pulled the needle back, capping it, “This’ll start the hormonal reactions. I’ll give you the other two doses in about ten minutes, okay?”

It was not okay. It would never be okay. Eva glared at him, fighting hard to keep her tears from overflowing her lids to fall over her cheeks. She was only moderately successful, a single tear escaping the control she exerted.

And then he was turning and heading up the stairs, leaving them to their devices.

“Eva,” Horacio urged, “I’m going to try to break this chair. When I tell you, I need you to scream. Scream loud.”

She looked at the chair, and then at him. He was so strong, she thought he might be able to do it. Nodding, she breathed deep.

“Three, two, one.”

Eva yelled, as loud as her throat would go. He jerked, rocking on the legs.

“Again.”

More yelling, more struggle. They did this three or four more times, until her voice cracked and she had to stop. He’d made only moderate gains, the legs rocking a little bit under his weight. Little by little, he loosened them, until they looked like they might detach from the body of the chair. When Eva had just begun to feel hope, the door opened and Zero came sauntering down the stairs.

He took them in, took in her red face, Horacio’s deadly glare. He looked, and he smiled.

“I see we’re getting along quite well.”

Without preamble, he reached for the second syringe, “But, you, Birdie, you’re not quite where you should be. Far too alert.”

Eva sneered, “Maybe your shit doesn’t work.”

His smile faltered just a hair, “No, I made sure the batch was good. Came across a nice little omega just outside of the border. It works. You have always been unusually stubborn, Eva. I should not have expected any different.”

Taking two steps forward, he knelt, grabbed her leg, warded off the kicks from her other leg, and stuck her.

“Let’s see how that does, hmm?”

Horacio spoke, his voice even, “Does that make you feel like an alpha, Zero? Hurting women?”

Zero leveled an amused look at him, “No, it doesn’t. Killing them, yes. But, hurting them, not in the least.” Then, “Do you want to know how I’ll do it?”

“You’re not going to get that far,” Horacio declared, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Zero ignored him, walking over to the table where he’d set Horacio’s gun, “I’m going to shoot her with your gun. Lucky for Eva, I don’t have time to use my knives, so the gun will have to do. I’ll shoot her, and then I’ll shoot you. So simple.”

Eva’s heart pounded, her skin growing clammy. A telltale cramp pushed its way into her stomach. She nearly vomited.

Zero inhaled lasciviously, “Looks like we’ve got a winner.” Fairly skipping over to Eva, he leaned over her, “How are you feeling?”

She glared up at him, mouth thin, “Like I’m going to kill you.”

He laughed, “You haven’t changed at all, Birdie. But, unlike your late husband, I don’t have the luxury of underestimating you.”

Setting the gun back where he’d originally laid it, Zero picked up another syringe and injected her without a word. Eva flinched bodily. It wouldn’t be long before she’d start feeling the effects. She’d slow down, fatigue overcoming her, and then her entire world would spin completely out of control.

“Now that you’re cooperative, let’s get you into position.”

She tried to fight back, tried to struggle, but he manhandled her, loosening the cuffs and flipping her to her belly before yanking her wrist around the pole and refastening them.

“I’m going upstairs to freshen up. You wait here, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as he was gone, Horacio was talking to her. She could hear the scratch of the chair moving as he told her to hold on, that he would get her free, that he would take care of Zero. She focused on it, fighting to breach the surface of her brain. His scent was sharp in her nose, rising above the scent of the other alpha in the house. Eva shivered, choking back a whine.

Blowing out a breath, Eva felt her mind clear just enough for her to pull her knees underneath her. Inching the cuffs up, she used them as leverage to help her stand, until she was leaning heavily against it, forehead pressed to the wood. Sweat dripped down her neck, but she was otherwise alright. If she could focus, she could work on getting free.

“Fight through it, Eva,” he ordered, and Eva snapped to attention, unable to deny him, even in this state, especially in this state.

Focusing as best she could, she spread her hands over the pole, testing if it was loose, looking for some thing to help her get free. Starting from the bottom of her reach, she worked upwards, feeling...feeling.

The nail. Above her head, maybe six inches, was the nail that had once held the other end of the drying line. A thin thing, half rusted, and sticking out enough that it might work. Eva shuffled around the pole, working to align the cuffs with it. With one ear trained to the door, she did blindly what she had done many times before. Push, tilt, pull. The cuff fell free.

The door opened. She squeaked, ambling around the pole and looping the loose cuff over three fingers, holding so that he wouldn’t initially see that she’d slipped it.

“I honestly can’t believe you’re standing. Really, I’m impressed. You are a treasure, Birdie.”

Eva snarled, turning her head to look at him. She could smell Horacio from where he sat—his sweat, his pheromones, everything. Eva had to dig her hand into the rough wood of the pole to keep from groaning. Focus.

“Nonetheless, in a few minutes, you’re going to be prime for a knot. It won’t matter whose cock you have in you, you’ll be begging for it.”

Zero approached, hands on his hips, admiring her. Eva turned her head over her shoulder and tried to spit at him. He laughed that stupid laugh that she’d been hearing all along and she hated him for it.

Spinning, Eva let loose of the cuff, swinging it first down and then up, catching him underneath his jaw. Using the butt of her hand, she shoved it home with a satisfying crunch. Then, she braced her hand on his shoulder and yanked as hard as she fucking could, pulling his jaw free from the joint and sideways, dislocating it entirely.

Zero screamed, falling to the floor, blood pooling beneath him. Almost without thinking, Eva grabbed for Horacio’s gun and took aim.

Hesitating for only a moment, Eva took the time to make sure he knew who was killing him, “Goodbye, Alexei.”

One shot. One kill.

The sound of it rang in her ears and Eva found that she had a hard time moving after that. Something in her body had acclimated enough to whatever he’d given her that she was seeing clearly, but it was as if her mind desperately needed a time out.

“Eva, get the keys from his pocket.”

She knelt, eyeing Zero’s cracked open skull as she pulled the keys out and unhooked the cuff still hanging from her wrist. Then, she moved to Horacio—one, two, three, four sets of cuffs opened, and then he was gathering her in his arms in a fierce embrace.

“You did so good,” he cooed, kissing over shoulders and cheeks, his hands keeping her close.

Eva’s breath stuttered, and she knew she only had so long before her body couldn’t keep up with the drug in her system. She was fighting it hard, though. Everything she knew about the serum was from either fifteen years previous or the little bit of information Zero had given her. She was warm, she was a little aroused, but she had more control over her body than she anticipated. For this, she was grateful.

He leaned away from her, “I need to take care of him, and then I need to get you to a medic.”

Too weak to argue with him, Eva let Horacio lead her upstairs, and then up to the bedroom where he laid her down on the bed. Very deliberately, he opened the panic room.

“If you need to, go in here. It locks from the inside.”

And then he was gone, doing God knows what with Zero’s body. Eva stared at the ceiling, wrapped in the comfort of their bed. She’d left the windows open that morning and the sound of the surf filtered in. A light breeze blew across her skin, sending a shudder down her spine. She swallowed, everything in her body beginning to tingle. She could feel herself getting wet, her folds swelling outwards for attention. Rolling to her side, she took deep breaths, moaning when all she could smell was him. He was in the sheets, in the pillow she laid on.

Eva didn’t know how long she lay like that, the arousal climbing steadily higher, her body trying to figure out how to process the chemicals. She pressed her knees together, fingers curling in the sheets. Deep calming breaths evened out as she drifted, falling into almost a meditative state.

Hot, sweating, needy, her mind following along a familiar path of fantasy, she could almost feel him kissing the skin of her shoulder, hands slipping under her arms to hold her to him. A firm grip lifting her leg so that he could slide up and into her until his hips pressed into the curve of her ass. Eva whimpered, knowing that it would feel so good to be split open, that the pressure of his cock would ease this building ache in her body.

He might try to take it slow, as was his won’t in the first few minutes of their lovemaking. She could already hear herself begging for more, harder, faster. With her hormones going wild, her body leaking all over him, he might indulge her, pushing her to her stomach and holding her down with one hand between her shoulder blades. He might pump into her as hard as he had the night he’d initiated the bond, until she could feel his knot at her entrance with every thrust. He might grind into her, until he could push it inside with a soft ‘pop’ that locked them together. He might come helplessly inside her, thumb rolling over her clit until she pulsed around him.

Eva woke with a strangled gasp, nearly a scream. The room was too hot, she was sweating through her clothes. Her jaw hurt from clenching, her fingers flexing with difficulty. She was so, so close. On a knife’s edge. Eva cried out, pulling at her hair. This wasn’t like the other heat, unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It hurt in a way that wasn’t natural. Tears fell over her cheeks and she wiped them away.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, a hurried pace. Horacio appeared in the doorway, dwarfing the entrance, his face a mask of concern.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Eva shook her head, reaching out for him. He could soothe this. He could make it better. Slowly, he approached, already lifting a hand to grasp at her.

“Amorcita, tell me you’re alright.”

Eva nodded, unable to speak. Just the touch of his skin felt like coming up for air after having sat at the bottom of a pool too long. He sat down next to her on the bed, arms coming up to hold her. She pushed as far as she could into his embrace, inhaling as much of her sent as her lungs could hold. It helped enough that she felt muscles she hadn’t known were tensed relax.

He ran a hand through her hair and down her back, “I need to get you to a medic.”

Eva huffed, “Its a mile hike to the road and several hours’ drive. I won’t make it.”

“I can get you there,” he retorted, pulling back to look her in the eye, “I can.”

She leaned in and kissed him chastely, “You can’t. I don’t think I can even walk.”

This was the truth. Her legs felt like jelly, the muscles ticking. On his chest, her hands were shaking.

“Its gonna get worse before it gets better,” she murmured, “How long has it been?”

Horacio checked his watch, “About an hour and a half.”

An hour and a half.

She blinked. Eva should have been writhing by now, begging, the heat overcoming her. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, she thanked whatever deity listening that she’d screwed her hormones up so much in her younger years. It had certainly helped in the long run.

She cramped, one hand touching her belly, “I’m on the upswing. Usually, I’d say I’ve got about two to four hours until full heat, but I honestly have no fucking clue.”

Another cramp. This time worse.

“I think its accelerating.”

His expression was pained, his eyes flicking over her body, as if trying to figure out how to help. His nostrils flared, and she watched as his pupils dilated. Drawn in by the shift in his scent, Eva touched her mouth to his cheek, his jaw, forehead, and lips. His taste, already one of her favorites, was richer with the fluctuation of their hormones. She dipped into him, running her tongue over the inside of his lower lip.

He groaned, hand at the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. The feeling burned through her, igniting her already unstable nerves, until she was leaning helplessly into him. She pushed her hands into his hair, loosening the hold of his pomade. Against her mouth, he moaned, his hands pushing under her t shirt.

Too quickly, he pulled away, “Eva, stop.”

She keened, reaching for him again.

“Stop,” he said again, “I can’t do this.”

Eva, breathing hard, asked, “Why?”

He looked as her, incredulous, “You’ve been drugged, Eva. I watched him inject you with—I...you’re drugged. I can’t do this to you while you’re drugged.”

Her mind took a hard left, trying to work out what the fuck he was so worried about. This was a heat, he was her alpha, there shouldn’t even be a discussion.

“Its fine,” she breathed, hands wandering up his arms.

He caught them, holding them down on her thighs, “Its not fine.”

When got up and headed for the door, Eva felt herself give an involuntary yell, her hand reaching after him. Not again. Not. Again.

“Please,” she bit out, “Please don’t leave me here alone. Please don’t make me go through this alone.”

Horacio turned and looked at her for a long moment, and she could see the wheels of his mind turning. She waited as patiently as she could, unable to really sit still, her body fairly vibrating with need.

Then, she watched the decision settle over him. His shoulders squared, his jaw set. Taking one step to the side, he leaned down and pulled the chair from the corner a little, angling it so that he had a clear view of the bed. Sitting, he rested his forearms on his knees, eyes darkly expressive.

“I’m going to sit right here. You’re going to stay on the bed. Understand?”

She nodded eagerly, ready to take whatever he was willing to give her. The air in the room electrified with the knowledge that she would not be going through this artificial heat alone. He would be with her, if not directly by her side.

He drew in a deep breath, eyes closing a little as he scented the air, “You do what you need to do, whatever you need. I’ll be right here with you.”

Eva’s cheeks colored, “You want me to—.”

Horacio gave a little affirmative hum, “Just like you did a few weeks ago.”

Her body pulsed, tongue licking along dry lips, “I don’t know…”

He nodded, wrist turning over, fingers extending, “Lay back.”

She did as he asked, trying to get her body to relax against the mattress. He shifted in the chair and she glanced down her body at him. He’d leaned back, arms draped over the armrests, legs spread so that she could see that he wasn’t unaffected by the situation.

Heartened, Eva touched her stomach, feeling it quiver in response to the stimuli. Clumsily, she unsnapped her shorts and pushed them down along with her underwear. They landed with a soft thud on the floor.

He drew in a sharp inhale when she spread her legs, letting her hips open naturally. His scent floated over to her—aroused, hungry. She let it roll across her tongue as she gingerly pressed four fingers to her mound, massaging gently. Eva was embarrassingly wet, her fingers sliding so easily that there almost wasn’t enough friction.

Control shattering, she lost herself in the momentum, in the motion of circling her clit to get the first orgasm out of the way. With her free hand, she pushed in two fingers, then three, trying to get a little pressure going from the inside.

Panting, Eva’s hips rolled, her back arched, her feet digging into the mattress below—she couldn’t get there. Desperate, she picked up the pace, until her forearms ached with the repeated motion.

A sob left her, and she stopped, hands clenching the sheets, “I can’t.”

“You can,” he drawled from too far away, “You can.”

Head whipping from side to side, Eva called out his name, the fire burning hotter, the pain rising. Tears formed in her eyes as she flung herself over to her belly, face pressed into the sheets. His scent was there, a little faded, but still there. Eva cried into it even as her hips flexed against the bed, seeking relief. The smell of him soothed her mind a little, igniting along her body.

“What do you need?” He asked, sounding just this side of panicked. “Did you bring your toy?”

She laughed, amused and frustrated at the same time, “No. I didn’t think I would need it.”

That earned her an unwilling chuckle, then, “What do you need?”

You, she thought. I need you.

The rational part of her mind, what little of it that was still functioning, was grateful for his consideration. The animal part of her, the omega in her, wanted to rail at him for not simply taking what was his in the first place. She needed him. She needed him. She needed…

Eva sat up so fast that Horacio flinched, his body pushing back against the chair, “Give me your shirt.”

A fresh scent, something still warm from the heat of him. That might do it.

When he hesitated too long, she whipped out a hand, flicking her fingers to indicate that she wanted it right now, “Your shirt, Horacio.”

His mouth parted, eyes a little glazed, and then he was reaching behind him to pull the polo over his head. He threw it at her and she caught it. Fuck, but it smelled good. Just like him. Her eyes rolled back as she fell to the bed, rolling over it and rubbing her face against the material. From his perch, Horacio growled lowly, but he didn’t move.

Another roll took her to the head of the bed, cosseted by the pillows. It was then that Eva had an idea that she wouldn’t have dared to execute at any other point in her life. Pulling one of the pillows beneath her spread thighs, she straddled it.

...feels too good when you ride me...

Holding his shirt to her nose, Eva began to roll her hips against the firm mass beneath her. Her slick soaked into the material, and the sound as she dripped more and more onto it was very nearly obscene. She squeezed her thighs, pushing the pillow up and into her, giving her a little extra pressure. Every thrust forward pushed her higher, until she had to brace her hands either side of the pillow, the shirt stretched over the mound.

Eva might have said his name, might have said any number of things, but her brain was mostly shut off, leaving only the primal need to come. It rose steadily, helped along by her fingers shoving inside roughly. It was the looking back that tipped her over, the looking over her shoulder and seeing him watching her. His eyes were focused on the sway of her hips, his hands clenching the armrests to keep himself immobile. Her strong alpha, her beautiful man enduring this in consideration of her needs.

It hit her hard enough that she yelped, her face scrunching, arms giving out. Eva rubbed her nose in the shirt, gathering as much of him into as she could while her cunt clenched on nothing but her too small fingers.

As soon as the contractions died down, the cramps started again. Exhausted, she rolled to her back, taking the shirt with her. It draped over her body and between her thighs. She took several deep breaths, trying to get her bearings as the need began its rapid ascent to spiral out of control.

Biting her lip, Eva reached down again, fingers tangling in the material. The sensation, the friction of the fabric as it slid across her skin was more than magnificent. It was exactly what she needed. Both hands buried in it, Eva pressed down hard, rocking up into the shirt.

She was soaking it, her juices flowing until they pooled in the hollows of her thighs and beneath her. Everything spun, her body reaching once more for the apex. Eva rubbed faster, using the shirt to gain just the right grind, until she came again moaning his name.

Somewhere after orgasm number four, Eva passed out. She wasn’t sure for how long, but it was almost dark when she awoke, the evening sun shining with purples and oranges through the bedroom window. Head lolling to the side, she looked at Horacio. He was sitting exactly where he had been when this all began, head resting on one fist, eyes dark and searching.

She tried to speak, her voice croaking. Clearing her throat, she asked for water. Robotically, he rose and went to the en suite, returning with a cup. She half sat up, leaning heavily against the headboard. Gently, he helped her drink, giving her little sips, his hand cupping the back of her head.

When she had drained the cup, Eva grasped his wrist and gave him a little encouraging pull. Hesitantly, he sat near her, though he was definitely looking for signs of another wave.

“I think its over,” she said. “I feel...I think its over.”

Horacio scanned her face, touching just beneath her chin. Seemingly satisfied, he slipped off his shoes and socks and joined her on the bed, pulling her to lay with her back against his chest. Propped up against the headboard, he held her for a long time, until there was almost no light left in the sky. Oddly, he reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, the warm amber glow filling the room.

Once the fog had cleared just a little, Eva lifted up and pulled off her t shirt and bra. They were sweat soaked and chafing her still sensitized skin. She lay back against Horacio with a sigh, earning herself a little strangled groan as he took her in. His hands brushed gently over her, far more gently that he probably wanted to, if the erection digging into the small of her back was anything to go by.

In her stupor, she’d noticed that he hadn’t moved, that he hadn’t touched himself through the whole ordeal. He was still hard, leaking enough that there was a circle of damp, darkened, fabric to the side of his fly. Her affection for him, already too intense by her own standards, swelled even more.

Head rolling, she kissed his jaw, giving it just the littlest nip. He pulled away, her name a warning that held no bite. Her arms covered his, wrapped around her middle. She skimmed them down to his hands, threading through them. Pressing down, Eva increased the pressure until his palms were flat against her, urging one to knead at her breast, the other to travel down. She felt him inhale, felt his whole body tighten up, knew he was fighting for control. Very slowly, she flexed her fingers over his, curling them into her center, still wet.

Twitching, he pulled his hands back, dropping them to his sides, “Its not over.”

She smiled, letting her head fall back to his shoulder even as she circled her clit very, very slowly, “It is.”

“No,” he countered, though his hips pushed up against her, “You’re still...fuck, you’re still…”

The sentence cut off, his head knocking back against the headboard as he fisted the sheets on either side. Eva, already laying most of her weight on him, pushed a little more into his body, feeling his cock throb.

“Do you want me to stop?” She asked.

He paused, his chest heaving, “No, you can keep—just, don’t...don’t touch me. I won’t be able to stop myself if you touch me.”

Eva smiled, biting her lip. Daintily, she lifted each leg and draped it over his thighs, hands already working. He arched over her, eyes dropping down so that he could watch, though he steadfastly did not touch. Knowing that this was going to end fast, Eva let her fingers swirl, whining a little when he spread his knees, stretching her wide.

She would be lying if she said she was only working to get herself off. Her body was so primed for it that it would take next to nothing to come all over again. This, though, this was also for him. She needed to show him how much he meant to her, how much she felt when he was near.

“I wouldn’t have done it,” she murmured, forehead slotting into the bend of his neck.

Hissing, he bit out, “Done what?”

Though he was attempting valiantly to remain still, Horacio was pushing his cock up and into her, a stilted, stuttering motion that she focused on, picking up his rhythm so that he got as much sensation out of every thrust that escaped his iron control.

“Begged for it,” she said. “He said I’d beg for him. I wouldn’t have.”

His eyes closed, and she could tell that he was tamping down the anger that mentioning Zero evoked. She hurried ahead, wanting to give him something he so deeply deserved.

“Yours is the only cock I would have begged for. He could have shot me full of ten syringes, and I’d still only want you to knot me.”

That was it. That’s what did it. Head thrown back, Horacio came on a rough yell, looking almost pained as he thrust against her. His released triggered hers, her first and middle finger circling her clit wildly.

It took a long time for their breathing to return to normal. He’d pulled her up a little on his chest, raining kisses down on her face, her hair, her neck, everywhere he could reach. Eva laughed, even as he shuffled out from underneath her, helping her to stand so that he could walk her to the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub as he filled it, both of them sinking into the water.

She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew, Eva was waking in the middle of the night. The sound of the ocean was coming in through the still open windows, and Horacio was relaxed in sleep beside her. She pushed an errant curl from his face, thinking that her heart would burst with how just how much she felt for this man.

#narcos #horacio carrillo #carrillo #A Need So Great

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dailyservingofhope · 5 years

Text

Bodies (Chapter 2)

Kyoko noticed first.

Maybe it was the monotone voice, or the way my eyelids drooped with world-weary cynicism. Something about me betrayed that I was no longer myself in the most literal way possible.

She lurched back, "It's him!"

The fifteen seconds that followed were a roller-coaster. Not those rickety, old wooden coasters. I'm talking about the metal ones that hurl you screaming through dives, loops, and corkscrews so fast, you can't even anticipate the next section before you've already rocketed through it.

After Kyoko alerted the room to Izuru's presence, an armed security team appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and just an arm's reach away. They must have hid themselves in the shadows, but even then, shouldn't I have heard them close in? And why were they raising their guns at an empty pod? By the time I realized they were aiming at MY pod, and that I had closed the distance without even noticing, my hands had already disarmed the nearest guard with a few deft movements. Then my legs whipped around in a tornado kick that sent her flying into the other guards, knocking them over like bowling pins.

Finally, Izuru raised my arm, which still held the confiscated handgun, and fired a series of quick, perfect shots aimed to cripple each guard's trigger finger. Their weapons clattered to the ground.

Izuru's power and apathy stunned me. So much blood, and the noise from the gunfire was incredible, yet Izuru strolled through the carnage, collecting the remaining guns as casually as a kid picking flowers. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't even control that.

"Stop!" Makoto shouted, laughably late. He ran in front of Izuru and stretched out his arms protectively. He seemed so small next to Izuru's overwhelming presence, but his bravery was admirable. This was the person we all put our trust in.

Izuru said, "I have no intention of harming any of you so long as you do not harm Hajime. There's no sense in violence between us. However, I will not allow you to point weapons at him." His voice through my mouth unsettled me, like when you hear yourself speak in an audio recording for the first time. It's technically you, but something just seems off about it.

"They're under my orders not to fire unless I say so, and I don't plan on saying so," Makoto said before turning his attention to a communication device pinned to his suit. "I need medical assistance in the pod room."

As Makoto and the rest of the trio tried to appease the moaning, pissed-off guards, I overheard Kyoko whisper to Byakuya, "Sedating the survivors was a good idea. Letting them all wake up at once probably wouldn't have ended well."

It was true. We were still dangerous. Even I was afraid of us.

The nurses quickly arrived and began escorting the wounded away when Izuru spoke up, "Hajime is hurt too." He raised my fists to show the broken skin on my knuckles from punching the glass lid.

Everyone gaped at him.

I almost laughed at how ridiculous it was. The guy who just shot up an entire security team was now worried about a few cuts and scrapes. I wondered why he even bothered asking when he seemed content to act on his own in every other way. Was he trying to... work with them?

Makoto forgot how to speak for a moment. His jaw worked until his words caught up, "Yeah, can someone please assist him with that? Oh, and Izuru? We'll be there shortly to ask you some questions."

"I will answer any question I deem acceptable." Izuru said while a very terrified-looking nurse led him away.

A fragment of glass plinked into a dish, then another. Izuru, armed with a pair of tweezers, cleared the debris from my wounds with a level of care that I didn't expect from him. The nurse offered to help, but he refused, insisting that he could do a better job himself. It was astoundingly rude, but I couldn't deny how painless it was when Izuru handled it.

Still, there was no way I'd give him a compliment after what he did. I scowled at him, however one scowls without a face of their own.

He ignored me, focusing instead on washing my wounds with soap and warm water. It felt strange, but pleasant. The hand he used to massage my wounded knuckles felt like it belonged to another person, like it belonged to Izuru. I blushed at the sensation of him sliding his soapy palm up and down my hand.

"Do you want me to stop?" Izuru transmitted.

"Uh... Yeah, I think they're clean enough."

He dried my hand and applied ointment, then finished with a bandage. "I know you're unhappy not being in control, but this will go more quickly and easily for you if you let me answer their questions."

"Fine, but once you're done, this body is mine."

"I predict you will decide otherwise when you hear what I have to say. So calm down, elevated levels of cortisol are linked to a variety of health problems."

I was about to transmit a big "fuck off" when Kyoko entered the room.

"If you're ready, please come with us."

Compared to the futuristic pod room, the conference room looked dilapidated. The lack of cobwebs and dust told me someone cleaned it recently, but long term structural damage from years of neglect couldn't be wiped away with a wet cloth. The walls cracked and water damage warped the floor. It was obvious they spent all their resources on the pod room. On us.

My shame at being powerless to control Izuru, after everything they did for us, made me feel tiny and pathetic. I wished I had the confidence to vow never to let it happen again, but at that moment, I was like a child locked away in a room. I was at the mercy of someone stronger; someone that my small, reserve-course mind didn't know how to reason with.

I sulked in the background as Makoto, Kyoko, and Byakuya interrogated Izuru. His answers helped me to fill some gaps in my memory, but there was one thing I kept asking myself.

As if he could read my thoughts, Makoto asked for me, "Why did you do this? Why did you upload the Junko AI into the simulation?"

"I had a question. Of hope and despair, I needed to weigh their merits and decide once and for all which side I would take. But I couldn't determine the answer with the knowledge I had on hand, so I ran an experiment. I learned of the simulation you were developing and concluded it would be a sufficient stage."

"There's something I don't understand. You seem to want to protect Hajime, yet you allowed that to happen to him?"

"I did not foresee him being harmed in any of my calculations."

Did I hear him right? Did he really just say that?

What kind of soulless freak did those scientists turn me into? All the death, the fear, the doubt, the grief. He didn't consider that harmful? My friends and I could have been happy! We could have walked out of that simulation, together! Now, we were either dead or traumatized. All because of him. Not harmed? I wanted to scream! I wanted to wrap my fingers around my own throat! I wanted to stand up and...

Somehow, the force of my emotions was enough to reclaim control. Rage flooded my chest until it burned away the cold of Izuru's grip on me. I leaped out of my chair, slammed my hands on the table and shouted, "That's wrong!"

Everyone looked surprised, including me. I'd fought Izuru and won. Even if it was only this one battle, that still meant something. And now that I could speak again, I just wanted to be heard. "I WAS harmed! It hurt to see my friends die! It hurt to live in fear every day that I would be next! I'm covered in wounds you can't even see!"

Emotionally spent, I flopped back in my chair and wept. I didn't care that others could see me cry. I was tired. So tired.

Through my sobs I thought I heard Izuru transmit a faint "I'm sorry", but that couldn't be right.

After my quaking body relaxed, Kyoko said softly, "Hajime, I assume we're talking to you now. I'm sorry, we misunderstood your situation. When we spoke to you and Izuru as distinct, separate individuals, we thought you were like a friend of ours who has a condition called Dissociative Identity Disorder. Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah, I've heard of it," I said, wiping my face with a hand. "It's like multiple personalities right?"

"Something like that... Although most people with that disorder aren't aware of their other 'personalities' and don't know what they say or do when they're in control. We assumed you were dormant. Hajime, if we had known you were aware and listening this entire time, this would have gone differently."

"Why are you so worried about me, you should be locking me up. I can't control him." I muttered.

Makoto looked horrified, "We didn't release you just to lock you up again! Don't give up hope. Izuru seems to care about you. Maybe we can convince him to not take control without asking."

Byakuya stood up, "Makoto, I've let you try things your way, but your naivete is going to kill us. Izuru is clearly using Hajime as a shield. He's counting on our leniency because whatever we do to Izuru, we do to Hajime. There must be something he still wants from us. That's why we're not dead."

"We shouldn't jump to conclusions, but that is something I've been wondering about," Kyoko said. "Do you know why he's so protective of you, Hajime?"

That now familiar sensation of cold water once again flooded through me. Izuru regained control and held it fast.

"That is not an acceptable question," he said.

Why was he so flighty around the subject of me? I suddenly found myself intensely curious. Maybe I could find a weakness in that nearly impenetrable armor.

"He's Izuru again." Kyoko sighed, "Do you realize it's unfair to Hajime to keep taking over without asking? Bodily autonomy is a basic human right."

"You misunderstand. I have no interest in taking control of his life. There's nothing I want out here. As soon as I've done my job, the body is his."

Makoto smiled, "That's great! Thanks for being so reasonable about it!"

"Wait," Byakuya said. "What is this 'job' exactly?"

"Hajime's friends who died in the simulation, I can revive them. All of them."

#kamuhina #hajime hinata #izuru kamukura #danganronpa #sdr2 #my fic

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alexboehm55144 · 4 years

Text

Alex Final Wars 2: Dark Alex, Chapter 25 - Cruise Control

In the waters outside Zootopia, a large yacht meandered through the darkened ocean on a peaceful night. It wasn’t a particularly large vessel, however, you still could get lost if you weren’t careful.

Many would view a trip around the ocean on a yacht as a luxurious experience. The peaceful seas, delicious food, and enjoyable activities would make anyone wish for this amazing experience. However, that’s not what the mammals currently on board the vessel wanted. They only wished to be off this boat and wanted nothing more than for this experience to end.

It turns out that Nick’s dark counterpart had been leading the latest Chinese assault, but now that the invasion had been thwarted, he and his remaining forces were attempting to retreat. They had been cornered by US and Zootopian forces, and to avoid being killed or captured, they had taken hostages at a nearby pier. Friendly forces then pulled back, fearing for the lives of the hostages. The hostages were bundled onto a yacht, which then slipped anchor and headed out to sea.

Facing a dangerous situation where innocent lives were at stake. Heroes were called upon to rescue the hostages, and eliminate the hostiles. Specifically, Nick, Judy, Jack, & Skye would be undertaking this mission. They were all geared up & ready to get out in the field.

As the yacht passed under a large cloud, it was shrouded by darkness, and the moonlight couldn’t provide much illumination. Undercover of darkness, a small zodiac boat made haste towards the hijacked vessel. Carried aboard the vessel were the rabbit & fox pairs that would soon stop the yacht in its tracks.

“How are Kion & Jasiri doing?” Judy asked as the boat continued its advance.

“They should be fine,” Jack said. “No serious damage. I tried to make them rest a bit, but they are really determined to get back out and into the fight as soon as possible.”

“That’s what happens when your home is threatened. Nick and I feel the same way.”

“Well, so do me and Skye.”

Closing in on the vessel, Skye cut the engines, otherwise, the sound would alert the Chinese guards. Jack prepared a crossbow with its bolt fitted to a rope and fired into the side of the vessel. The bolt dug in and held firm. The other end of the rope was then attached to a small winch, which pulled the boat closer to the yacht as Jack cranked it.

Nick was ready with his bow and silently fired an arrow, hitting a Chinese guard in the head. The fox then turned the bow on some lights and a security camera, destroying them & shrouding the area in darkness. The zodiac boat pulled up to the yacht, & the group of mammals used grappling hooks to clamber up onto the deck.

Moving forward, the team downed another Chinese guard and quickly hid the body into a supply closet nearby. The group then headed into the vessel, looking for the crew quarters, since that would be the most logical place to keep the hostages. Another Chinese soldier came down the hallway, but before she could react, Jack had already shot her with a suppressed weapon.

The team then split up to cover more ground, Nick, and Judy heading to a lower deck, while Jack and Skye went to an upper deck.

Nick and Judy continued through the ship’s halls, weapons at the ready, ears, and eyes scanning for hostiles. The pair soon came upon a large group of Chinese soldiers, all gathered around a central area. Assuming this large group was guarding the hostages, Judy radioed her allies while Nick kept a lookout.

“Jack, Skye” the rabbit whispered. “We’ve located the hostages.”

“Ok, we’ve found a security room,” Jack said. “I can see the whole vessel from here, I’m sending Skye down to assist, I’ll provide overwatch.”

“Roger.”

Judy terminated the call and gave a nod to Nick. The pair took cover, lined up their shots, & fired.

Bullets & arrows struck enemy soldiers in the head, instantly killing them.

The other soldiers Were slow to react, and the 2 warriors were able to put enough shots in 2 more Chinese soldiers to put them down.

The other enemies took cover and returned fire, shots flying back and forth. A few more Chinese soldiers arrived and began to press their advantage, slowly moving towards the fox and rabbit. But this act left their rear flank exposed, and when Skye appeared behind them, she emptied a magazine on the group, taking out 3 hostiles.

“Mind if I join you?” Skye said, joining her friends. She didn’t like leaving Jack all alone, but the hostages came first.

“Heads up,” Jack said through the radio. You have more hostiles incoming. 2 from the hallway behind you, 3 from the hallway to the left at the junction.

The trio spun around and aimed their weapons down the hallway. When the enemy soldiers turned the corner, weapons drawn, they stood no chance.

3 more enemies came into as the group reloaded. However, they were eliminated just like all the soldiers before.

Now that the area was clear, the bunny and foxes went to work on opening the crew quarters cabins, using their weapons as tools to reach the handles of larger doors.

“We’re with the ZPD and ZIA, we’re here to rescue you.”

Once the hostages understood the situation, they were told to keep in their cabins while the team regained control of the vessel. But letting the hostages know they were being saved certainly calmed them down. But all of a sudden the boat was thrown into darkness, & even stopped moving. The only light came from the full moon.

“Damnit, someone cut the power,” Judy said, flipping on her night vision goggles.

Skye and Judy took up positions to defend the hostages while Nick went to join Jack, who was already moving to the breaker room.

The fox found his way onto the main deck, but as he rounded a corner, suddenly a gloved fist hit him in the face. His bow was plucked from his hands and thrown to the other side of the deck. The fox was slammed about, dropping his pistol as he attempted to unholster it. His taser was also thrown away, the enemy wanting to disarm him completely. He finally got a good view of his adversary. It was his counterpart, rifle on his back, geared up, and ready for a fight.

Nick kicked his dark counterpart back and quickly tackled him. The fox flipped the dark warrior over and managed to get the rifle off his back to try and use it himself. But the other fox would not let this happen, grabbing the weapon. The 2 shoved and fought over the gun before Dark Nick pushed both foxes over a countertop and into a small snack bar area that was used to serve guests. They hit the floor hard, losing grip on the rifle and causing it to slide under a large freezer in the snack bar area. The 2 got up, and Dark Nick kicked his enemy away and drew his sidearm. He fired, but the ZPD fox sidestepped and ran as quickly as he could, with his armed enemy having to track him with the firearm.

In a flash, Nick flipped over a metal counter table in front of him, hid behind it, and pushed with all his strength towards the dark fox. The table was for larger mammals, meaning the officer had trouble moving it, but the bullets simply indented the table as they struck. Nick slammed his opponent into a wall, struck his arm, grabbed the sidearm, hopped back, and pulled the trigger.

The gun clicked. All the bullets had been used up. Before Nick could do anything else, his counterpart shoved the table back at him, disorienting the fox, and followed up with a few melee strikes.

The fight stopped for a moment, both combatants taking a step back to size up their opponent and breath.

Nick looked over his dark counterpart. The evil warrior didn’t pack a melee weapon, but his claws were long & sharpened.

It was now a strict paw to claw battle, and it would only end with one of them defeated.

The 2 mammals clashed together, claws and fists flying everywhere. Each combatant combining attacks and dodges into a fast-paced combat sequence.

Dark Nick swung his tail up & used it to stun his enemy before shoulder charging the ZPD fox and causing him to stumble back and slam into a large metal machine that was up against the wall.

There was a whirr from behind Nick, and he quickly realized he’d hit the machine’s on button when he was thrown against it. It was a large ice chipper machine, probably for creatures bigger than a fox.

The fox grabbed a small cooking knife from one of the prep tables and threw it like a throwing knife.

Nick’s counterpart wasn’t expecting this and had to quickly dodge out of the way. At this moment, Nick charged into his opponent and threw him against the wall. He followed up with a series of punches and strikes, scoring plenty of hits on the dark fox.

The ZPD officer then grabbed his counterpart and pushed him against the ice chipper machine.

“Goodbye,” Nick said.

The fox kneed his dark rival in the center of mass, stunning & disorienting him. In that second, with all his might, the ZPD officer threw his dark counterpart headfirst into the ice chipper. Screams quickly turned into low gurgling noises, as the top half of the dark fox disappeared into the device. The chipper soon ground to a halt, dripping and overloaded with material.

Nick breathed heavily, it was over, the other fox was gone. But Nick noticed that his enemy had dropped a communications device during the scuffle, which he quickly recovered.

“I think that was the hardest fight I’ve ever had,” Nick said to himself, grabbing a popsicle out of the freezer before leaving the snack bar, and heading to join the rest of Heroes.

000

The yacht was cleared, and US warships moved in to recover the hostages and take the vessel back to port.

Nick, Judy, Jack, & Skye were all commended by their friends for the exceptional work they displayed.

The Chinese had once more tried and failed to take Zootopia, & had suffered heavy losses. Another dark hero had been defeated, bringing their numbers down even more. This seemed like a time for celebration, but there were more pressing concerns. Analysis of the communications device recovered from Dark Nick revealed a disturbing recent transmission.

“Situation is too hot. To many hostile soldiers in the vicinity. Too far away from safehouses. Won’t put intelligence gathering operations at risk. Attempting to retreat via sea.”

This could only mean one thing. There was a network of Chinese spies in Zootopia.

00000000000

Thank you for reading, and don’t forget to wear a mask!

#writing #creative writing #fanfiction #fanfic #zootopia #zootopia fanfiction #nick wilde #judy hopps #skye winter #jack savage #action #advendure #Alex final wars #Alex final wars 2: dark alex #Alex final wars 2

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jamesbucksiclebarnes · 5 years

Photo

Rating: Mature: Language, violence, Major Character Death.

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6] | [7] | [8] | [9] | [10] | [11] | [12] | [13] | [14] | [15] | [16] | [17]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

Tag List: @crossbowking, @khaleesislytherin

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: At The Gates of Hades.

When we arrived at the gates of Woodbury, night had fallen.

We had parked the cars up the road, out of sight, and made the rest of the journey on foot. As per the plan, I separated from the group once we were within throwing distance of the gate, skulking off into the shadows to the right. I got as close as I could without being spotted and waited for Rick to fire off half a round into the gate.

Once he had drawn the attention of the two guards, I stalked forwards, keeping low and silent until I reached the building where the gate met the solid brick wall. It was easy to climb. I’d done it a dozen times before.

Neither of the two people lying prone atop the guard walk that ran along the top of the gate noticed me. It took me a second to realize I didn’t recognise either of them, meaning my sheer presence alone wouldn’t be enough to subdue them.

They continued to fire into the darkness, toward the upturned car Rick and Daryl were hiding behind.

“G’day mates,” I greeted loudly.

Both the burly man and athletically slender woman jolted at the suddenness of my voice. The girl was the first on her feet, swinging her rifle toward me. I stepped into her guard as quick as lightning, grabbing the gun by the barrel and twisting it to the side.

The woman let out a hiss of pain as her finger twisted inside the trigger guard, forcing her to pull her hand back. With her grip on the rifle loosened, I was easily able to yank it from her grip, turning in place to make a move against the man.

He was tall with wide-set shoulders and thickly coiled arms, but his size made him slow. By the time I’d disarmed the woman, he’d only just managed to get onto his feet.

I used the butt of the gun to strike him in the chest, winding him easily before smoothly reaching to pull my knife free from my belt. The motion was so quick and elegant that the woman didn’t even have time to register what I was doing until my arm was mid-swing.

She sucked in a breath of fear as I slashed the knife toward the man.

The strap of his rifle frayed and snapped. Having not expected the rifle’s full weight to suddenly be in his hand, the man’s grip faltered slightly. I lifted my leg and kicked at the man’s forearm, jarring his loose hold on the gun enough that it clattered to the floor.

The woman, overcoming her slight shock, stepped forward in an attempt to subdue me. I felt her coming and stepped backwards, ducking beneath her arm before straightening behind her. The rifle in my grip fell to the floor, enabling me to reach out and grab her, lifting my other hand to hold my knife to her throat.

The man’s eyes went wide, his mouth opening in shock as he raised his hands.

“No, no,” he pleaded. “Please. Take me, not her. Please.”

I watched him silently for a moment, taking in the pure fear on his face as his gaze slipped between my face and the knife I was gently pressing against the dark skin of the woman’s throat.

“Relax, big boy,” I said after a minute, letting my grip on the woman fall lax. Purposefully, I stepped away from her, sheathing the knife. “Just needed to get your attention.”

The woman took a quick step forward to stand beside him, her hand reaching up to the unmarred skin of her throat.

From the road bellow, Rick’s voice called up, “Open the gate!”

The man seemed to do a double-take when he looked down at Rick, his eyes going wide. Beside him, the girl’s face contorted into a scowl.

“We’re not letting you in here,” she said pointedly.

“Fine,” I sighed. “I will.”

I saw her eyes snap down to the discarded rifle by her feet mere seconds before she actually made a move for it. My knife was out of its sheath, flying through the air, and embedding itself in the wood between the grip and trigger guard before her hand could even reach it. She jerked back.

“We aren’t here to fight you,” I insisted.

“Tyreese! Sasha!” Karen’s voice called from the darkness.

The man, Tyreese, jerked his entire body toward the sound as he called out, equally confused as he was concerned, “Karen? Karen, are you okay?”

She stepped out from the shadows of the trees and into the light. “I’m fine!”

“Where’s the Governor?” Tyreese asked with a suspicious glance toward me.

“He fired on everyone,” Karen replied, a hitch in her voice. “He killed them all.”

Tyreese and Sasha shared a troubled glance before looking back down at her, gesturing a hand toward Rick. “Why are you with them?” he asked.

“They saved me,” Karen replied.

Sasha turned to look at me, her brows furrowed, thick lips turned down at the corners. “Who are you – why are you here?”

“Synnove,” I answered. Their instant, somewhat shocked reaction told me that they had definitely heard my name before. “We were on our way to finish this when we found Karen and the others.”

“They… He… He killed them all?” Tyreese asked, his voice shaken slightly as he gave me a heart-wrenched look.

I nodded once, swallowing against the sharp sensation in my throat.

With a deep sigh, Tyreese looked to the woman standing beside him and pursed his lips. Seemingly making up his mind, he turned and began to climb down the haphazardly built ladder. Sasha followed him. Once they were both on the ground, I jumped down, landing on the asphalt beside him with nary a sound.

Together, we pulled open the gate.

Rick approached purposefully, looking intensely up at Tyreese, his lips in a tight line.

Tyreese was almost comically larger than Rick, which would have made me laugh had the circumstances been different.

“Karen told us Andrea hopped the fence, made a break for the prison,” Rick informed them. “She never made it.”

Both Sasha and Tyreese’s expressions fell. They knew what that meant. The Governor had gotten to her first.

“She might still be here,” Rick stated, giving both guards pointed looks.

I felt something cold spread through my vines as both Sasha and Tyrese shared a troubled glance. Neither of them knew where to even begin looking for her.

But I did. And the realization made my stomach twist painfully.

“Follow me,” I breathed, grabbing Rick by the sleeve of his shirt and tugging him forwards.

I led them down to the cells with my heart lodged in my throat. The distant tang of copper lingered on my tongue, the smell growing stronger with each step toward the building in which we had always housed our prisoners. When we reached the hall, the stench of both death and blood was almost overwhelming.

“This is where he’d keep her,” I stated with a hoarse voice, gesturing down the hallway toward the ominous metal door at its end.

Rick made a move to step past me and I reached out to grab his shoulder. He turned his head jerkily, giving me an agitated look before his expression softened slightly at the sight of my guilty frown.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” I breathed.

He gave me a nod of acknowledgement before pulling away.

Michonne followed behind him, her hand gripping the handle of her blade as if she, too, had the sense she may need to use it.

Daryl lingered in the entrance of the hall, watching me as I stood there in indecision. Did I want to know what lay behind that door? Probably not. But I didn’t want them to face it alone. With a curt nod to the man beside me, I began to follow Rick and Michonne down the hall.

Rick tried to push the door open only to find the lock securely in place. He called out Andrea’s name and was met with a breathy, weak response from the other side. Spurred on by concern, he attempted to throw his body against the metal door, willing it to open beneath his weight. It held strong for a few moments before finally crumbling from the assault, bursting open and filling the hallway with an overwhelming stench of blood and death.

Rick stepped inside, followed shortly by Michonne. The looks on their faces solidified the idea that what lay beyond was nothing but bad news.

Daryl stepped in next. He let out a sigh through his nose at the sight before him.

Next, I slowly passed through the doorway.

Andrea sat, partially sunken to the floor, against the metallic wall beside the doorway. Her pale skin was almost grey, coated in a thick sheen of sweat. On her shoulder was a wide, gaping circular wound, spilling blood down the front of her shirt. I had lived in this world long enough to know a biter’s mark when I saw one.

While Rick, Michonne, and Daryl stood around her, I found my gaze being drawn across the room to the second body. Slowly, I stepped over to it, coming to a stop beside it with a sickening feeling beginning to well in my stomach.

Crouching down, I reached out to touch the corpse’s shoulder and began to turn him over. I needn’t have bothered. I already knew who it was. Looking down at his slackened expression was still a punch to the gut.

“Goddamn it, Milton,” I whispered to myself.

“He turned on him,” Andrea breathed from the other side of the wall.

I turned in place to look at her with a frown.

“He tried to help me,” she wheezed.

My frown slowly turned into a sad smile as I looked back at her, nodding. Figures the moment Milton did something out of his comfort zone, it’d get the poor guy killed. I turned him over onto his back, putting his arms over his chest as some kind of sign of respect, before straightening and coming to stand beside the others.

Tyreese and Sasha were both lingering in the doorway. Their matching expressions of horror would have been comical in a less devastating circumstance.

The group shared their final goodbyes with Andrea. It was heart-wrenching to say the least. I barely knew the woman and even I felt close to tears.

When she looked over to me, I gave her an appreciate nod. “Sucks to be the good guy sometimes, don’t it?” I asked with a sad grin. The remark made her chuckle which, in turn, made her wince.

Michonne’s goodbye was the worst. My jaw clenched so hard it began to ache. I was trying too hard to hold back the sorrow. But once all was said, Rick gave her a gun and we left her to do what needed to be done.

The sound of the gunshot made everyone flinch. Even me.

Later that day, I stood upon the steps of the town hall with Tyreese, Karen, and Sasha beside me. We told the people the truth of the Governor’s actions, of the stories he had spun in order to make us seem like the villains. Some had accepted our words as fact whilst others had argued that I was just trying to save face.

Karen’s assurances were the only thing that kept them from revolting against me and soon, when the sun reached the centre of the sky, many of the people of Woodbury accepted me once again as their friend and comrade.

Rick came to stand beside me, offering the people of Woodbury sanctuary at the prison. He wasn’t shy about describing the difficulties. Starting anew would be a lot of work but, with all of us, it was entirely possible to begin a community that valued its people more than its power.

Almost everyone agreed. Those who didn’t decided to leave of their own volition. We didn’t stop them.

I began yelling out orders for Nelson and Margarette to fetch the buses from the Governor’s yard and for the rest of the people to gather their belongings. We couldn’t be sure when or if the Governor would even return, so it was best to act quickly. I stressed that fact as calmly as I could. Everyone obeyed without question.

Once I was confident everyone was in motion, I led Daryl and Rick to the supply rooms. We still had a dozen or so seeds that had yet to be planted, a whole shelf full of canned goods, and whatever weaponry the Governor had deigned to leave behind. Daryl began packing the stuff up in boxes.

I grabbed Rick by the shoulder and jerked my head toward the second door. It led to a small enclosed pantry, within which I knew lay something that would be beneficial to Rick in particular.

He walked beside me over toward the door and I pulled it open with a wide grin, watching his expression as he saw what lay within.

The pure, elated look of joy on his face was enough to warm my chest, to set the sorrow toiling within aside for a welcomed moment.

“Our youngest was still dependant on this when she and her mother first arrived,” I explained, looking into the cupboard with a smile. “Believe it or not, most of it was found in the town itself. Didn’t even need to go out venturing for it. Lucky for you.”

Rick turned away from the shelf of baby formula and gave me a wide grin. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The day passed us by quickly. Everyone was almost ready to go before the sun had dipped beneath the tree line.

I was standing by the school bus with Daryl, making sure all the kids were getting on safely, when the thing I had been dreading the most happened.

Two girls, pale with curly red hair and wide, innocent eyes, came bounding up to me. Their faces were identical down to the last freckle across their tiny, button noses. The Helena twins had taken to me the moment we’d met, when their mother had first joined the guard alongside me. Since her arrival, we had spent a lot of time together, to the point where the twins had begun jokingly referring to me as “Aunty Syn”. The moment I saw them all but skipping up to me, their twin ponytails bouncing along, my heart froze mid-beat.

My entire body went cold. I could barely move by the time they reached me, both throwing themselves at me with such force I let out a grunt and had to step back in order to keep my balance. Their arms wrapped around my waist as they both let out a series of sweet giggles.

“We knew you’d come back,” Tayra said chirpily.

“Mommy said you wouldn’t, but we knew,” said Ava.

Slowly, my entire body fighting against the urge to break down right then and there, I wrapped my arms around them. My chest was so tight I was struggling to breathe, my jaw clenching and unclenching with the effort it was taking not to cry.

How the fuck was I supposed to tell these girls… These sweet, innocent girls that their mother was dead? That she’d been gunned down by the very man that had promised them safety?

My mask was beginning to slip. I couldn’t keep it in place. Face contorting into a miserable frown, I looked beside me with a desperate look at Daryl.

Understanding dawned on his face instantly. But what could he do?

The girls pulled away from me and I, against all odds, managed to slip that mask straight back into place with enough effort to tear a figurative muscle. Neither of them sensed anything was wrong.

“Are we all going to the prison now?” Tayra asked with a grin. “I’ve never been to a prison before.”

I lowered myself down into a crouch and touched both of their shoulders on opposite sides. “Yeah. We are. You excited?”

Both girls nodded gleefully.

I gave them what even I admit was a strained smile. They were ignorant to the reality that awaited them. Did I have the willpower to be the one to pull the veil of innocence from their eyes?

“Good. You got everything?” I asked.

They shared a thoughtful look before nodding at me with a grin. “Miss Silvia packed our bags for us,” Ava answered.

“Did she remember Mr and Mrs Piggy?” I asked them with a forced look of humorously exaggerated mock doubt, referring to the identical stuffed pigs they never slept without.

Tayra giggled. “Of course, she did!”

I nodded and rose to my feet. “That’s good. Are you ready to go?”

That was when things took a turn for the worst. Ava and Tayra shared another look in the way I guessed all twins did. It was a look that carried an entire conversation. When they looked back at me, their demeanour had shifted slightly. They seemed almost shy.

“We’re waiting for Mommy,” Tayra said.

“We don’t want to go without her,” Ava added.

I had hoped beyond hope that they just wouldn’t bring it up. A stupid hope, I know. Really, it was cruel of me to stretch this on. Selfish, even. But I’d needed a minute to gather the balls to do it.

With an unrestrained miserable look at Daryl, I lowered myself back down into a crouch and reached out to take both of their tiny hands in my own.

Daryl, understanding my need to do this alone, took a deep breath through his nose before walking away, toward where Rick and Michonne were standing by the other bus.

“Listen girls,” I began, fighting to keep my tone clear and crisp. The sorrow beneath my voice was unmistakeable, however, and both girls looked troubled as they glanced down at our joined hands. “Your mum… uh… Your mother, she… She’s gone, girls. I’m sorry.”

They blinked up at me in confusion. Both of them had already begun to tear up, their green eyes shining as they shook their heads in almost perfect unison. They pulled their hands from mine and stepped back.

“No – No, she’s not!” Tayra yelled angrily.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Ava, unlike her sister, was timid and confused. “Gone where?”

Fucking God. I was struggling to keep my own emotions in check, to keep my own eyes clear and my voice unhitched. “Hey, hey,” I said softly, reaching back out to take their hands again. Ava let me. Tayra didn’t. “I know it’s difficult to understand, but your mother was doing what she thought best to keep you girls safe. But the Governor… The Governor was a bad man and he hurt everyone. Everyone that was with him. Including your mother.”

“The Governor?” Ava asked, her pale auburn brows furrowing. “But he cares about us. He’s our friend.”

I shook my head. “He was, once. Mine, too. But he changed.”

Tayra’s tears had begun to slip free of her wide eyes, trickling down her reddened cheeks as she glared at me with a scowl. “You were supposed to protect us!”

My throat closed up. I was forced to squeeze my eyes shut in order to force back the tears that had begun to gather. “I know,” I said, my voice breaking on the last word. “I know, girls. I tried.”

“You didn’t try!” Tayra yelled, her voice now carrying across the street. People turned in our direction.

Ava was still standing there, holding my hands, as she began to sob herself. With her sister screaming at me in the background, she stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. I held her tightly to my chest whilst her sister watched, disgusted.

“Don’t hug her! It’s her fault!”

“Shhh,” I whispered to Ava. My gaze remained on Tayra as I opened one of my arms, inviting her in.

It took her a minute. She had to work through the anger first, I think. I could relate to that. But soon, almost screaming in defeat, she leapt forward and into my embrace.

We hugged for a good few minutes as I struggled to keep my own emotions swallowed down. I doubted my own breakdown would do them any good.

After a little while, Silvia stepped out of the bus where she had been organising the other children, and came to stand beside us with a sad look. I glanced up to her at her arrival, nodding as I pulled away from the twins.

“Alright, girls,” I breathed softly. “Time to go. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

They both nodded. Tears still streaked down their cheeks, but they had exhausted themselves with their own sobs. Tiredly, they staggered over to Silvia, who helped them up onto the bus with one final, thankful look in my direction.

I waited a few moments until the doors of the bus closed before making my way over to where Rick, Daryl, and Michonne still stood. They were helping some of the townsfolk load their belongings into the storage section beneath the bus.

Daryl noticed me first. He stepped around Rick with a concerned look. “You alright?”

“Absolutely not,” I answered with a forced grin. “When are leaving?”

“In about five minutes,” Rick answered. “Ready?”

I looked down the road. Memories played across my vision as I took in sight before me. The first time I’d seen it, overrun with biters in the dark, dreary light of dusk. Then, a few weeks later, the first time I’d looked down this street and seen nothing but the living. The feeling I’d had when I realized we’d actually done it. Made a place. A home. I had a vivid memory of Merle and Martinez running down the street, chasing a football that had gone astray from a group of young kids. They’d fought over who would get it first.

Merle had fallen flat on his face, which had tripped Martinez, who had rolled to a stop just a few feet away from where the ball had come to rest.

A small, bittersweet smile stretched across my face as I looked back to Daryl and Rick. “You guys go. There’s something I need to do.”

Both Rick and Daryl shared a concerned look before turning back to me with near matching frowns.

“You sure?” Rick asked, his forehead creased in worry. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

Daryl didn’t even give me a chance to respond. He stepped forward, glancing at Rick with a nod, before declaring, “I’ll stay.”

Rick nodded and looked to me. “Don’t be long. We’ll leave one of the cars behind for you.”

I nodded my appreciation and stood by as he climbed onto the bus and into the driver’s seat. Daryl and I stood side-by-side and watched the buses pull out of the front gate and onto the road beyond. Three of the cars followed closely behind.

The silence that settled once they were out of sight was almost deafening. I turned in place to look back down that long road, at the line of shops and houses that made up the majority of the place I had, until recently, called home. A sharp sensation began to build in my chest.

Without a word, I began to walk down the street, my hands shoved into the pockets of my jeans.

Daryl followed along behind me, respectively silent.

When we reached my apartment building, I stood by the front doors for a good moment before gathering the will to actually go inside. I’d lived on the top floor, in the apartment beside Merle’s and above Martinez’s. As I walked up the stairs, looking down each hallway, I felt myself hollowing out. Almost every door had been left ajar, giving me a decent look inside most of the apartments. They were barren, stripped of personal belongings, and had an almost ghostly air about them. Logically, I knew people had been through here no more than half an hour ago, but it felt as if this place had been abandoned for years.

When we reached the top floor, I found myself hesitating at the beginning of the hallway. My initial thought was to gather my own belongings in solitude, so that I’d have a spare moment to myself in order to finally allow the tidal wave of emotions welling within me to spill over. But now, I wasn’t alone. Though I doubted Daryl would judge me if I broke down there and then, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of exposing myself so vulnerably to him quite yet.

Walking into my own apartment after all this time would be hard enough, but the second idea that filtered in through my foggy mind was even harder. Yet, I knew, deep down, it was what needed to be done. I could deal with losing the majority of my shit. It was only stuff, after all.

Taking in a deep breath, I began walking down the desolate hallway with my heart in my throat. Passing by my own door, I came to a stop in front of Merle’s apartment. He’d never locked his damn door.

It swung open easily, exposing the room beyond before us in all it’s plain-ass glory. You wouldn’t really expect it of Merle, but he kept the place almost pristinely tidy. Even folded his damn shirts. I used to make fun of him for it, though I knew it was a habit he’d likely picked up in the army.

Remaining in the doorway a beat, I turned my head to look at Daryl with a sad smile. Without a word, I jerked my head toward the interior of the room. Understanding dawned on the young Dixon’s face, his mouth twitching downward in a sad frown. Taking in a deep breath through his nose, he nodded at me and stepped past, into the room.

I followed, gently closing the door behind me.

“Damn neat-freak,” Daryl remarked under his breath as he turned in place, taking in the room with a snort.

I let out a soft laugh, walking over to the haphazardly built bookcase against the right wall. We’d kept a stash of Russel’s moonshine in the cabinet beneath the last shelf, along with a handful of what Merle referred to as “keepsakes”. He’d told me a story about each one, and though I was almost eighty-seven percent certain half of them had been utter bullshit, there was one hiding in there that I knew he’d spoken honestly about.

As Daryl moved further into the room, lifting the lid of the trunk at the end of the bed, I lowered myself down into a crouch and pulled open the small cupboard door beneath the bookcase.

The box of bottles sat at the forefront of the shelf. There were roughly six bottles left, all mostly full of the clear liquid, with their lids firmly latched. I pulled them out with a sad smile, placing them on the carpeted ground beside me. Behind that box was another, smaller cardboard rectangle. Gingerly, I pulled it to the front of the shelf.

Inside, there were enough knick-knacks to make the Little Mermaid squeal with joy. A shitty, metal cigarette holder with a painted image of naked woman on the front; an old, rusted bullet, supposedly from World War Two; exactly two-dollars-thirty-five in coins; a belt buckle depicting a skeleton riding on a motorcycle; and a small, closed jewellery box.

I took out the plain box, holding it in the palm of my hand for a moment. The box had belonged to the previous occupant of my apartment. I’d kept it in my possession until Merle had shown up. I still remembered the day I’d given it to him, mockingly getting down on one knee and opening the empty box with a declaration of, “Would you do me the honour of fucking right off out of my life forever?”

He’d given me a mock-gasp and responded in a high, mockingly feminine voice, “Yes, yes. A thousand times yes.”

The memory made the corners of my sad smile twitch. My eyes began to sting with the urge to cry. I swallowed back against the sharp sensation in my throat and rose up to my feet, taking a deep breath before turning to face Daryl. He was partway through rummaging around in Merle’s old trunk, pulling out his shirts and discarded books and tossing them to the side without much thought.

I moved toward him, gripping the box in my hand tightly.

He noticed my approach and straightened, his gaze going from my frowning face to the box in my hand and back with a curious expression. “What’s that?”

I opened my mouth to answer, only to find no words would come. Looking back down at the box, I cleared my throat and let out a shaken breath before trying again. “It wouldn’t feel right leaving these here. I think he would’ve liked you to have them.”

I offered the small, black box to him with a sad smile.

He kept his gaze on me for a moment, furrowing his brows in confusion before taking it from me and looking down at it with indecisive confusion. The moment he opened it, I felt the change in the air instantly. His expression fell for a moment, contorting into a visage of complete and utter sorrow before a slow, sad smile spread across his face. Holding the box in one hand, he reached up and pulled the dog-tags from the small cushioned interior.

“He, uh… He wore them all the time at the start,” I explained, my voice shaky and slightly hitched. “They kept getting grabbed by biters when we were outside the fence, so I convinced the idiot to take them off whenever we went on runs.”

The sound Daryl made was halfway between a laugh and a sob. Honestly, I felt that sound in my damn soul. With a sniffle, he shook his head and lowered the dog-tags back into the box, handing it back to me without closing the lid. I took it with a confused frown in his direction.

He just shook his head again, eyes downcast, mouth pulled in a taut line.

“Daryl…” I breathed, but he turned away and walked over to the window, shoulders teased, head down.

My lips pouted in a frown as I stood there, looking at his back with my brows furrowed. After a silent moment, I looked down at the box in my hand, at the silver chain and small pieces of metal, the only things that remained of his brother… and slowly lifted them out. I placed the box on top of the junk inside the trunk before walking forwards, coming to a stop behind Daryl’s stiff back.

“I’m going to put these on you,” I said matter-of-factly. “And if you move, I might just choke you with them.”

Daryl jerked around to face me, his eyes wide and full of misery as he shook his head again. “I can’t wear them. They ain’t mine.”

“The hell you can’t,” I responded, keeping eye contact with him as I lifted the chain up, over his head.

To give him credit, he didn’t move. Just watched me with his brows furrowed as I lowered the dog-tags, securing the chain behind his neck with a small, sad smile. We were standing so close I could feel the warmth of his body, hear the way his heart-beat thundered rapidly inside his chest.

“He loved you, you know,” I said softly. “In his own weird, entirely fucked up way.”

Daryl’s miserable expression faded for a brief moment as he snorted a breathy chuckle. Surprisingly, he didn’t dispute me on it like I’d half expected him to. Instead, he looked down at the dog-tags that now dangled from around his neck and swallowed back against his emotions. Gently, he lifted a hand and grabbed the tags, pursing his lips in an effort to stop them from quivering.

I took half a step back in order to give him some room.

“I miss him,” he said after a moment, his voice soft, gruff and shaky.

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest at the admission and I, myself, had to swallow back against the sharp emotion stuck in my throat. “I know,” I breathed. “Me, too.”

His gaze lifted from the tags to meet mine, almost as if he hadn’t quite believed me. But the fact that I’d been able to say it at all told me it was true. I really would miss the problematic little fucker. It hadn’t really hit me until that moment. The reality of how much I’d actually cared about the man. He’d been a horrible person but somehow, he’d managed to wiggle his way into my heart more than I cared to admit.

Daryl seemed to see that realisation manifest on my face, and he dropped the tags to his chest, reaching out for me with one hand. His fingers curled around my tattooed upper arm and he pulled me gently toward him. I stepped forward, allowing him to wrap his arms around me in a tight hug.

I went stiff, unsure how I felt about the sudden, unexpected embrace. Truthfully, I think I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t need it. That I could handle the grief on my own. That I didn’t enjoy the feel of his hard, coiled arms around me.

Of course, that lasted all of three seconds before I all but collapsed into him. My own arms wound tightly around his waist and I buried my face into his shoulder. We stood together like that for a while, tightly holding one another, until I sensed the room beginning to darken. The sun was setting beneath the rooftops across the road, casting a long shadow into the windows of my apartment building.

With a sniffle, I allowed my arms to unwind from around him and stepped back. Neither of us made eye contact as we separated, each making some kind of excuse not to look at one another. I turned back toward the bookshelf, making a half-hearted remark about bringing the moonshine back to the prison, whilst he lifted a hand and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, declaring he’d go downstairs to start the car.

I tried not to let myself focus on his lingering scent after he’d left the room. Tried to pretend that each time I thought back to that moment, my heart didn’t try to leap out of my chest.

Blowing out a long breath, I bent down and lifted the box of moonshine. Whilst walking past my own apartment, I paused and glanced at the door. Did I dare?

No. No way. I’d had much too many emotional moments today. I didn’t doubt another one would just push my already unstable mind that one step too far.

True to his word, Daryl was waiting for me by the front gate with a running car. I loaded the moonshine into the trunk and slammed it shut before climbing wordlessly into the passenger side.

When Daryl was securely in the driver’s seat, he turned his head to glance at me. “Ready?” he asked.

I shook my head, glancing into the side mirror with a frown. “Not really.”

Daryl waited for my go ahead. It took me a second to mentally say my goodbyes to the place before I turned to look at him with a sad smile.

“Alright. Get me the fuck out of here.”

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aporeticelenchus · 5 years

Text

I had a few people want to hear about the doings of my mini-D&D experiment. My players could probably give you a more informative breakdown from their side, but here’s an encounter from my perspective over the last two times we played:

(Should be spoiler-free for my party members, but general spoilers for the Lost Mines of Phandelver campaign)

- My party infiltrated a bandit hideout to try to shake down the leader - or any of his flunkies - for information.

- Said bandit leader is - unbeknownst to them at this point - a squishy, cowardly mage who REALLY wants to avoid personal attention or capture. His MO for dealing with a threat, in descending order of preference is:

1. make the flunkies handle it

2. Run awaaaaaaay

3. Hurl some quick spells to either take down his enemy or make time to run away

4. Surrender if 3 doesn’t immediately work

- His bedroom is set up so he will know in advance if anyone is approaching said bedroom by the main door. He then has a second, secret set of doors to escape through. He will also run away if any of his bandits see the party and make it away to warn him. Basically, the odds are very good that the party will never interact with this man at all.

- However! The party comes into the hideout through a secret tunnel, bypassing the main entrance guards, and find the secret escape route entrances through some excellent perception rolls.

- (They had one fight on the way in with a creature that could have sent a warning, but it didn’t like the bandit leader that much and the party members gave it food to keep it happy.)

- So! My three player + one fighter NPC party bursts in on the bandit leader, taking him completely by surprise. He’s alone! He’s surprised! He only has 20 hit points! He doesn’t stand a chance! This mage is going to fold like a wet noodle, assuming the party doesn’t kill him first.

- “Well, this dungeon turned out pretty anticlimactic” I say to myself.

- Then the party just starts...talking to him. Ok, that’s fair, they wanted info and don’t know how strong he is. It’s probably good not to attack everything on sight.

- (I’d expected them to talk their way out of the one fight they’d had so far in the hideout, so I was batting zero re guessing party aggression.)

- He genuinely doesn’t have the info they want on a goblin tribe hideout; if he did he would tell them and hope they left. Desperate to stall for time in the hopes of thinking up a plan, he mentions (truthfully) that some of the creatures who work for him definitely knew where the hideout is. Perhaps he could guide them to have a nice chat with his associates?

- “Yeah, let’s do that!” say one of the characters. (Incidentally: this is the noble fighter whose stat points are all in strength and charisma.)

- ...huh?

- “This is a trap, right?” say all of the other players. The player whose character agreed to go also agrees it is obviously trap.

- ...technically, it is not a trap, because a trap requires some amount of planning. This mage was just saying whatever he thought would keep the players from rolling initiative and finding that his AC was approximately that of wet tissue.

- “Great!” says the bandit mage.

- “...ok? I guess?” say the two PCs who main stats are wisdom and intelligence respectively.

- “....uuuhhhhh...” say I

- I had planned a for a bunch of different possibilities, but this was not one of them. I start planning on the fly, reverse engineering from stuff I already had in place. I knew his preferred escape route, a way he could get in (slow and very limited) contact with other creatures in his hideout without the party member knowing, and where his guards were all stationed.

- However, he needs to seem like he’s playing along long enough to get reserves in place. He can take them straight to his 3 bugbear allies, who came from the hideout the party is seeking, but those odds still aren’t great for him and the party will be at an advantage given the way the space is set up. It’ll be hard for him to get away without being instantly recaptured, and it’s inconvenient for access to his escape route.

- So instead he leads them to a room full of animated skeletons and sends out a signal to everyone he can reach to come help. Skeletons are potentially distracting! Maybe they know something? Maybe the party will waste valuable time trying to figure out what they know? There are also some bandits though a connected door, but he can’t easily get their attention without alerting the party, and they’re not strong enough to constitute a serious threat on their own.

- (Frankly he’s sort of hoping the skeletons attack the party and he can claim innocence, but the party calls his bluff and he makes the skeletons calm down)

- The party DOES get useful info out of the skeletons, and discuss maybe just...leaving?

- Evil bandit mage cannot believe how well this is going.

- At this point, however, the party does a perception check and realizes that some villagers are being kept prisoner in the next room over (the one with the bandit guards).

- They storm in, but at this point bugbear reinforcements have arrived, and the party is outnumbered and being attacked on multiple sides.

- Evil mage paralyzes the PC keeping watch on him and gets the heck out of Dodge. He pauses for a moment to temporarily disarm a trap along the way. Our Wizard PC chases after him before the trap is fully reactivated, but eventually loses him.

- The party manages to fight off the enemy, although it’s a close thing and both fighters drop below zero hp at points. The cleric gets a serious workout!

- Noble fighter is left with 1 hp. She decides to follow our wizard and see what’s up.

- ...oh no, the trap is very definitely armed again. I can’t think of any in-universe reason it wouldn’t be.

- “......roll perception???” I say, even though she’s not looking for traps and by all rights shouldn’t get to roll. She didn’t even see Evil Mage mess with the wall earlier.

- Doesn’t matter. She rolls a 6. Then she fails her dexterity saving throw.

- ...she falls 10 feet.

- It’s a tiny pit trap. Barely any damage. The sort of thing to slow infiltrators down and make some noise. Buuuuut she’s at 1 hp.

- Unconscious fighter at the bottom of a shallow pit :x

- The cleric was out of spell slots and had to climb in and haul her out.

#dungeons and dragons...is a good game.#Elenchus chats

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quill-and-ink-writer · 6 years

Text

Are They Still Beautiful?

Content warning for death, blood, amputation, and ableist language/concepts.

Word Count: 1506

Edited? Sort of.

“Everyone, up! Up! Insurgents by the lower pass. Attack on the trade post an hour ago. Get up and get moving, people!”

Elvira was on her feet in seconds, already tying back her golden hair. She looked across the barracks and grinned at Loella, her sister-in-arms. Loella was a stern young woman, made so by too many deaths in her short life. She was all dark skin and onyx hair and eyes carved out of obsidian. She frowned at Elvira’s expression.

“You find too much joy in war,” Loella said. She buckled her armor, bright white and gleaming in the still-dark room. “Someday, you won’t find it so rewarding.”

Elvira disagreed. In her opinion, no better reward than glory existed. As long as she was a soldier, she would have it.

“What do you think?” she asked. “My bow or my blade?”

Loella didn’t answer.

There were thirty soldiers in the third regiment, and they fell into position outside the barracks without command. Their armor glittered in the night, silver weapons at the ready. All who observed the soldiers standing at attention there would have only one word to describe the sight: beautiful. And they were beautiful, in a terrible, deadly sort of way. Elvira loved the feeling of power that accompanied being beautiful. She was unstoppable.

“Be on the watch constantly.” General Idama, a regal-looking man of about forty, paced in front of them, words flying from his tongue faster than a horse could gallop. “The enemy has Aristidian hostages at Lerin-” Lerin was the official name of the trading post. “-and may be surrounding the area between there and Aristide. It’s a small uprising, so I trust the third regiment should be able to handle it. Off with you!”

The soldiers cheered, and within the hour, the regiment was well into the neighboring forest, horses thundering down the only road connecting Aristide and Wasteland. Elvira scanned the trees. Loella did the same.

Wasteland was a place where imperfect beings were sent. They were the blind, or the deaf, or the mute, or the diseased. They were broken, missing parts of their bodies or minds. It was better for them in Wasteland. Why should they remain in a society where they would never fit in, never feel at home?

Over the past year, the number of insurgent attacks had doubled. Traders from Aristide were killed on the road to Wasteland. Armed caravans were targeted, guards slain and new Wastes taken by force. There had even been talk of returning to the Outside. Elvira couldn’t understand. Wasteland was a gift given to those who were different. They should appreciate it for what it was.

Another hour, and the third regiment approached the only trading post between Wasteland and Aristide. The sun was just beginning to rise. Elvira and nine other soldiers hopped off their horses and drew their weapons. Elvira opted for her bow until they found the rebels.

Owen threw open the doors to the trading post and slunk inside, his bow at the ready. Elvire followed after him. Her stomach churned as she took in the sight before her.

Five Aristidian bodies - two women and three men - lay bleeding out on the wooden floor. Gemstone eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling. Ruby red blood matted golden hair and trickled from open mouths onto flawless skin. On the wall was written one question.

“‘Are they still beautiful?’” Owen read, dark eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “Where are the Wastes?”

Elvira didn’t answer.

After a quick search of the room betrayed no hidden Wastes, Owen and Elvira left the building. The door had hardly closed behind them when an arrow lodged itself in Owen’s chest. Elvira ducked, and an arrow whizzed past her head. Owen’s body fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

Elvira was used to fighting, but she never got used to death.

She nocked an arrow and let it fly, grinning with satisfaction as it buried itself in the chest of a rebel Waste. The man staggered back and fell to his knees. The woman next to him screamed and lunged towards Elvira, sword drawn. Elvira discarded her bow and met the woman blade for blade. Although Elvira was a skilled swordsman, the Waste got in a few good blows. Her iron sword caught on Elvira’s helmet, blade screeching across metal and dragging across her cheek. Warm blood trickled from the wound. The Waste snarled and danced around Elvira like a sprite, slashing wildly at her legs. Elvira evaded every blow but one, and she let out a terrible scream as the blade of the Waste’s sword sunk into her calf.

Elvira spun to face the rebel woman and stabbed her, her sword buried up to the hilt in the Waste’s flesh. It was quick work to dispose of her, and Elvira turned to her next opponent, bleeding but ready to fight.

The next Waste to challenge her couldn’t have been older than a teenager, but still he managed to disarm her. The grin was wiped off his face with a swift kick to his wrist. He dropped his weapon, and Elvira punched him in the face, savoring the crack of his nose under her fist. Maybe a broken nose was a lesson the youth could learn from.

A great, hulking brute of a man approached her. He was larger than any human Elvira had ever seen. She craned her neck to gaze upon his pockmarked face. Before she could react, the giant man had grabbed her by the arms and thrown her across the road. Elvira’s body crashed into the trees, her head snapping against rough bark.

Elvira heard Loella cry out to her, but she couldn’t form any words. She stared up at the sky, and everything faded to black.

When Elvira woke, it was days later. She opened her eyes to see Loella, stern as ever, staring down at her.

“Ellie,” she rasped, “why am I in the infirmary?”

“Your leg was amputated.”

Loella had always been straight-to-the-point.

“What?”

“The wound was infected. Fiona couldn’t do anything to save it. I saw it. The flesh was falling off your bones.”

Elvira’s heart raced. “I can’t- It can’t be gone. I can’t lose my leg. I can’t leave. Loella, I can’t leave.”

Loella’s face was stony. “The Wastes retreated. Half the regiment was killed or injured. We carried the injured back to Aristide and left the dead to be collected the next day.”

“Loella, stop-”

“We couldn’t find you at first. That man threw you into the woods farther than we thought. We left without you.”

“I can’t leave. Get my brother. He’ll-”

“We went back to collect the dead. I was the one who found you. I thought you were dead. You weren’t moving.”

“Please, Ellie, don’t let them force me out,” Elvira begged. “Please, Ellie. We’ve been friends for years. Get my brother. He can help. I promise.”

“When I picked you up, you groaned. I raced ahead of the others. By the time I arrived back at Aristide, there was no choice. Fiona had to amputate your leg, or you would die.”

“I would rather have died!”

Loella’s face fell. “I couldn’t lose you, too.”

“I don’t care,” Elvira snapped. “You should have let me die.”

Loella swallowed hard. She stood and walked out of the infirmary without a word.

Elvira would have looked at her leg, or whatever remained, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to see it. In any case, Elvira wasn’t alone for long. General Idama entered, his face somber. He wore white robes and several pieces of jewelry. Glittering rubies hung from his neck. Heavy sapphires and emeralds adorned his hands and wrists. A frown decorated his face.

“General-”

“Dame Elvira, daughter of Gemma, soldier of Aristide,” he greeted, using her proper titles, “I have come to thank you for your service to the city of Aristide. The Council commends you for your service and wishes you a long, peaceful life outside the service. Your courage and tenacity will be remembered for years to come. Believe me when I say that we have lost an invaluable warrior. Dame Elvira, daughter of Gemma, you are hereby officially discharged from the Army of Aristide on grounds that you are unfit for service.”

Tears burned in Elvira’s eyes. “General Idama, I can still fight. I can still serve.”

“I have also come to announce that you will be expected to depart from Aristide with the next caravan out of the city. Any attempts to evade departure may result in an even harsher punishment. Arrangements have already been made. The caravan is expecting you at the end of this week.”

“General-”

“Your relatives have been notified.”

“I can learn to fight with one leg.”

“It has been an honor to have you in my charge,” General Idama said.

With that, he left the room, stoic as ever. The door slammed shut. Elvira stared up at the ceiling, and the tears came.

She was going to Wasteland.

@inknindecision @jess---writes @ultimate-science-nerd @iamidentical @chaos-reign

Send me an ask or reblog this post if you wanna be put on my tag list! Or send me an ask if you wanna be removed lol

#my writing #are they still beautiful?#writeblr #writing #fantasy #flash fiction

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undertale-rho · 6 years

Text

Underearth: Book 1 - Chapter 26

The outside of the elevator was relatively cooler than back down on the first level. A quick investigation from Frisk showed why, as this new level is much higher up, far from the magma below. Just outside the elevator as well was a small flame with two arms, two legs, and a face. As Frisk looked at it, the face of the flame looked at him.

"Heh. I'm Heats Flamesman. Remember my name!" the flame said.

"Uh, alright." Frisk responded, not really sure on what to say.

After the interaction with the flame Monster, Frisk flipped around and walked down the narrow passage, a precipice on either side of him. Not long after, Frisk ran into a slightly wider area that boasted two Monsters holding hotdogs, and what appeared to be another sentry station holding Sans behind it.

"Hey buddy, what's up?" Sans said to Frisk when he approached the stand.

"Not much. So, you've got another sentry station up here?" Frisk responded.

"Nah, this ain't a sentry station. It's a hotdog stand. Speaking of which, wanna buy a hotdog? It's only 30G."

"I would, but I've still got no money." Frisk said a bit disappointedly.

"Heh, you should get a job. I've heard being a sentry pays well." Sans said jokingly.

"Yeah, I'll think about it"

Frisk, wanting to get a move on to get back to the surface, turned to face the pathway opposing the one he'd come down. "Anyway, I'm gonna get going."

"See ya, then."

Frisk began walking down the pathway.

The pathway was long and mostly uneventful. Frisk looked around at the area while walking, noticing several strange red-glowing things off in the distance. As he progressed, his phone began going off from status updates. First one from Alphys was a picture captioned "dinner with the girlfriend ;)", the picture was of a catgirl figurine next to a bowl of instant noodles.

The next update was from a user by the name of "CoolSkeleton95". It was another picture captioned "ARE WE POSTING HOT 'PICS???' HERE IS ME AND MY COOL FRIEND.", the picture was of Papyrus flexing in front of a mirror wearing sunglasses. Giant muscular biceps were pasted onto his arms, which were also wearing sunglasses.

"LOL, CoolSkeleton95! ... that's a joke, right?" Alphys replied.

"THE ONLY JOKE HERE, IS HOW STRONG MY MUSCLES ARE."

Ain't that the truth.

Just up ahead was a branch in the path, heading left. Not much further and Frisk received another notification. "NAPSTABLOOK22 has sent you a friend request."

"Who?" Frisk racked his brain trying to figure out who this was but couldn't remember anybody who'd go by the handle "NAPSTABLOOK22", so he rejected it, and stashed the phone back into his pocket.

The area he had entered appeared to be a dead end, with an apron lying on the ground. The apron itself had a large heart embroidered onto the front of it, taking up most of the area, and a big, brown stain on the top of it. Frisk decided to leave it be and get back on the correct path.

Another little bit down the path and Frisk came upon a set of conveyor belts, one going outbound, the other inbound. Frisk phone began ringing as he approached.

"H... hi...! It's Dr. Alphys. This p-puzzle is kinda... um... timing-based. Y-you see those switches over there?" she was referring to three red dots that ran along the outbound conveyor. "Y-you'll have to press all three of them within 3 seconds. I'll t-try to help you with the rhythm!"

"No thanks, Alphys, I've got it." Frisk responded.

"A-are you sure?"

"Yes. You don't need to help me with puzzles. If I need help, I'll call you."

"O-oh, alright."

The phone-call then ended.

Frisk got onto the outbound conveyor and pressed all three buttons easily, de-activating a force-field covering the exit, allowing him to proceed.

The next puzzle was right after the previous, just barely down the pathway. As Frisk reached it, he got a notification of a new status update from Alphys.

"that's the last time i try to help with a puzzle lmao"

Good, about time you gave up trying to help me. Frisk thought.

Frisk then looked at the area, which consisted of multiple islands with steam-vents pointing in all four directions on each island with a large switch in the middle. Three conveyors looped around the left side of the area allowing for those that wanted to to backtrack without entering the islands, but the only way forward was through them.

Frisk looked at the puzzle for a while before making a move, touching the switch located next to the steam-vent on the section he was on. This caused some steam-vents to de-activate, but a few to activate. With his collected knowledge, he then spent the following minutes preforming the puzzle, eventually solving it, and landing on the other side. Once there, Frisk proceeded down the pathway.

The pathway here was just as long and uneventful as the start of the level. This of course means, by just as uneventful, that Alphys was constantly posting updates to her status.

"OMG? ppl think Mew Mew 2 is better than Mew Mew 1? LOLLLLL that's a joke right..." and "omg... DONT THEY GET IT RUINS Mew Mew's ENTIRE CHARACTER ARC" - "My Mew Mew 2 Review: Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 Is Neither Kissy Nor Cutie. It's Trash. 0 stars"

Funny how people here are just as opinionated as back on the surface. Frisk thought to himself.

Further down the pathway, Frisk heard a deep, slightly muffled voice call out "Hey! You! Stop!" to him. Frisk turned to see what the commotion was. Behind him he saw the same two soldiers that were blocking a branch back before he entered Alphys's laboratory.

"We've, like, received an anonymous tip about a Human wearing a striped shirt." The one with what looked like armored bunny ears said. "They told us they were wandering around Mount Hot right now... I know, sounds scary, huh? Well, just stay chill. We'll bring you someplace safe, OK?"

Frisk stood still, as he wasn't wanting to go anywhere. "No thanks, I'll be fine." he told them.

"Hey, like, we've got a job to do, so if you could please co-operate with us, that'd be nice." the bunny-eared one protested, all while the other, who looked something like an armored lizard, just stared at Frisk.

"You're wearing a striped shirt." the lizard finally said, causing the bunny to look at him. They both remained quiet for something like a minute after until the bunny finally spoke again.

"Bro... Are you thinkin'... What I'm thinkin'?" The bunny asked the lizard, who just nodded. "Bummer. This is, like... Mega embarrassing. We, like, actually totally have to kill you and stuff." This last one was directed at Frisk. Next think he knew, they'd both drawn swords and readied to attack.

Frisk got ready to be attacked by them, and waited. These two Monsters were heavily armored in plate-mail, just like Undyne, meaning Frisk didn't have a weapon that could kill them. Then a thought came to his head. If I could get a hold on one of their swords, I might just be able to kill them. Frisk got ready to counter and maybe disarm one.

"Team attack!" They both said, nearly at the same time before lounging at Frisk, who backed up just out of their reach. When their swing had finished, both their arms were just hanging out in the open. Frisk too advantage of this and struck the back of the bunny's hand as well as the inside of their wrist at the same time. This caused his sword to fly out of his now half open hand and land on the ground not too far away. Frisk dived for the sword, grabbed it, then swung around and stabbed the bunny in the chainmail on his lower abdomen. The bunny gave a horrible shrike as Frisk pulled it out. The lizard stepped back, hesitating as the bunny dropped to his knees and Frisk cut off his head. The lizard looked on in horror.

"Robert..." the lizard then looked straight at Frisk. "you...!!!!" he then charged straight at Frisk, swinging twice, then jamming his sword straight into the ground, getting it stuck there. While trying to pull it out, Frisk took the opportunity to cut off the guard's left arm at the elbow. The guard recoiled from pain, stumbling backward and collapsing onto the ground. Frisk approached with the sword to cut off his head as well, but mid-swing, the guard brought up their other hand and caught the sword, pulling it out of Frisk's hands, then batting him away with the stub of his left arm. Frisk hadn’t flow far, fortunately, as the path was narrow and the drop was far into magma.

The guard regained his composure and picked up the sword of his fallen ally and approached Frisk with it, who too had regained composure. Frisk dodged the relentless swinging of the guard until one swing that left the guard wide open, allowing Frisk to shove him. Hadn't done much and wouldn't have done anything if the edge of the path wasn't right next to where the guard was. The guard saw how close to the edge he was and lost balance just enough for Frisk to shove him again over the edge. The guard screamed the entire trip into the lake of magma below, and everything fell silent.

Frisk sat back to catch his breath for a few minutes before going back and trying to pull the sword jammed into the ground, but to no avail. After trying for a minute or so, he just decided to once again press onward. Wasn't long before his phone went off again with another status update.

"oopswait how's the humnan doing"

What have you been doing this entire time Alphys!? Frisk thought to himself.

"Top 10 Shows That Make You Froget To Do Your Frickin Job"

Frisk kept the phone in his hand as he went forward, as he figured Alphys was going to call again. Just ahead after a bend in the pathway was a barely perceptible thick black curtain covering an entire section of the pathway, an opening in the curtain corresponded with the path.

Must be Mettaton again... Frisk thought as he entered into the area, resulting in a pitch-black view of everything. Frisk readied himself for yet another adventure with Mettaton.

A Whole New World : Mount Hot

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#Undertale #Undertale AU #Undertale Rho #UTRStory #Underearth #A Whole New World

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jordon-heart · 7 years

Text

Blind Sidearm

Warnings: fighting, war, death, comfort

[03:00] 3am

My post was silent as i stared at the black floor, the only thing that kept me awake was the burning sensation of the scalding cup of coffee in my hands. I had a lot on my mind and trying to sort through it all was painfully long. from Internal conflict to outside drama- It could be too much sometimes.

“Hey Stanger,” came a husky voice as a heavy pair of footsteps approached me. “Hey Kylo,”I smiled weakly. “What brings you to this sector?” i put my back against the wall, visibly relaxing in his presence. “I’ve been meaning to see why you’ve been so tense lately,” Kylo added and stood against the wall, opposite of me. “Oh..you don’t have to check on me,”I shrugged it off but his eyes told me he didn’t believe me. “It’s lower rank bullshit,” i added and Kylo shook his head. “The truth,” he said, sending a small smirk-that was rare. “I have feelings for someone and I’m just mulling over them, trying to see what the best plan of action is,”I sipped my coffee. “Who’s the lucky guy?” He challenged. “Not telling you,”I chuckled and i felt his gaze intensify. i looked at Kylo as his face changed. “Are you going to talk to him?” Kylo’s voice was Ice and i was caught off guard. “I-i’m not sure, he’s pretty i-important and i don’t think he’ll time for me,”I mumbled and Kylo scoffed. “Then why even bother with the conflict?” he snapped and my alarm went off, signaling the end of my shift. “I bother with the conflict because i really connect with the person. he makes me happy, he takes time out of his day to see me when he doesn’t have to and most of all he makes me feel safe,” i turned to leave. “Lucky bastard,” Kylo scoffed. “Not really, I’ve told him everything and he’s too stupid to realize what I’m saying,”I walked away, leaving Kylo in silence...

[20:00] 8pm

i had already ended, started and was ending my day once again before my 3am fire watch. My bed was warm as i curled up towards the wall, soaking up the peaceful vibes until there was the sound of chaos in the hallway. I jumped out of my bed and flung the door open only to be hit with tear gas. i slammed the door shut and hurried to put on my combat uniform. I clasped on the black gas mask before stepping back into the hallway. “CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE! RESISTANCE FIGHTER ON BOARD! ALL SPECIAL OPERATION SQUADS ARE ACTIVE! OPERATION ORDER: 8-6-6-3” the command was clear, order 8663 was to eliminate all enemy targets. I ran down the hallways towards the main bridge, many troopers and officers stopping to watch the solid black figures blur by. I skidded to a stop, my Platoon already formed up in front of the main bridge. “Squads 1 and 4! Stay here and protect the bridge! Kill all enemies who try and enter! Squads 3 and 6, guard the High command sector, make sure all are secure or being evacuated! Squads 2, 5 and 7 spread out and locate targets, terminate when possibly. Squad 8, you’re with me, we’re going head first into the madness! MOVE OUT!” i yelled and dark bodies moved swiftly to their assigned post. Squad 8 followed me carefully as we stealthfully made our way towards hangar 8, were all the Resistance ships landed. ‘O-Officer S-steller do y-y-you copy?’ i tapped. the earpiece which sent a ring to the communicator that i was listening. ‘They have a force user, do not engage- The knights of Ren will handle her’ the communicator said with a shaky breath before the Com went silent. i signaled to the squad members not to engage the force user, they reluctantly agreed.

[05:00] 5am

It’s a standoff, my squad Vs the Band of Resistance fighters, the only reason i didn’t stage a charge was the fact that the force user was among the line of fighters. but my patience was running out, there have been 8 hours of stillness and no action. I spoke quietly to my squad as i explained my plan. the high command said to wait for the knights of Ren but if there were a weak spot and a chance to take out the force user, to exploit that chance. “I’m going in,” i started off, their eyes went wide “I’ll enter from behind the craft. once i take out the two top gunners, you guys will stay behind this line but fire at any and all enemies. from there i will try and get my hands on that damned force user. maybe get some damage on her before i haul ass. got it?�� and i my message was well received.

the gunners were out, and now i stood, hidden behind the landing ramp of a cargo ship. footsteps stomping up and down as people ran up to ammo up. i took in a deep silent breath before i stepped out from the darkness, shots flying from my blaster and making contact almost every time. i moved quickly, advancing on the targets, some of them would be kept for interrogation-such as Poe Dameron and FN-2187 but my sights were set on the figure highlighted by Blue light. She stared at me, and i stared back but i made the 1st move. my blaster was set to full power as i fired on her but she blocked all incoming shots with the saber. i kept her occupied with the blast as i advanced closer to her. soon enough we were on top of each other and i was able to try and disarm her. sections of my uniform began to burn by the heat of the saber but i gritted my teeth, pushing through until i finally threw the saber from her, but it wasn’t a victory. a large explosion threw both of us part and i was left shell-shocked, ears ringing painfully. more explosions shook the hangar and i soon found myself enveloped in darkness.

[Unknown Time and date]

everything blurred together after the hangar collapsed, it was all according to plan to have it collapse but the plan didn’t involve me almost being a fatality. I was crushed under the wreckage but I was found a few hours later after the dust settled. apparently, it was bad- bad enough that i had 1-year intensive rehab, a regular rehab treatment would take 3.

Month 3 of rehab and i had already threatened every person trying to help me. My squad didn’t talk to me anymore, and my Position was handed off to another Captain. It hurt to wake up knowing that the day would be filled with failure but it hurt to go to sleep knowing i didn’t make any progress.

I sat in my quarters, tightening the two black braces on my legs. i would make it to the cafe to grab some food, eat and head back to my quarters- all on my own. they told me not to but by now mostly everyone knew i didn’t listen. i took careful steps to my door and slowly left my room. i used the wall for support as i painfully stepped towards the cafe which was a 5-minute walk away but it now felt like hours. the cafe was empty, thankfully, and i slowly made a tray of food and sat down. “Hey stranger,” i heard the heavy voice of Kylo call from behind me. “H-hey K-kylo,”I stuttered not expecting him to be here, his face was freshly stitched up by a med droid. “How are you doing?” He asked quietly as if we were trading secrets. “I’m fine,” i nodded and stabbed a pitiful vegetable with my fork. “You're tense again,” Kylo tried to lift his voice but we both know i wasn’t tense, i was suffering. “Yeah, just have a lot on my mind,” i sighed and i put my fork down. it was rare to see Kylo so raw, so human, much as i was now. “I’m sorry,” i said as i rubbed my forehead. “About what?” Kylo scoffed. “I disobeyed orders. They said not to go after her but i did, i dove head 1st into the fire,” i sighed heavily and i felt Kylo shift closer to me. it was the 1st time he was actually next to me. “Yeah, that was a pretty stupid decision but you made it thinking that it would do more good than bad,” Our voices were low. “Why are you here?” i spoke up, changing the subject. “I freed up some time so i could see you,” A small trace of a smile formed on his lips. “See me? I don’t want a pity party Kylo,” I grumbled. “it wasn’t meant that way, that was supposed to sound a lot kinder and romantic,” he glanced at me as we sat there, awkwardly. “So you finally figure out who i was talking about,”I perked up slightly. “you don’t give me enough credit, i am Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren,” He smirked playfully. “Ok, Mr. Master Knight, can you help me back to my quarters?” i finally looked up into his eyes. “Of course,” he smiled and planted a quick soft kiss on my cheek before he grabbed my hand, helping me up.

[main account: @jordon-heart ]

#Kylo #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren fluff #first order #resistance #poe dameron #rey of jakku #romatic #fluffy #comfort #starwars #star wars the last jedi #The Force is Strong with this one #The Force Awakens

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bevioletskies · 7 years

Text

everybody wants to rule the world [5/8]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

summary: peter is the one and only heir to the celestial throne. gamora is expected to successfully lead the titans to conquer the galaxy. a political alliance is in the works, and there may or may not be wedding bells in the air.

alternately: peter and gamora find themselves in an arranged marriage and want nothing to do with it, but might need each other more than they think if they want to escape their genocidal fathers forever.

word count: 11.2k

a/n: warning for creepy/abusive behavior from both thanos and ego towards their respective children throughout the entire fic. also note that this AU is very heavily based on the MCU versions of themselves, where things are basically only different because yondu took peter to ego after all.

fic title is from the song everybody wants to rule the world by tears for fears.

help me to decide...help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure...

ao3 | tag

To Gamora’s surprise (and relief), Ego had, for once, not been exaggerating when he proclaimed she had become something of a hero. Word spread quickly across the galaxy of the new Celestial princess and how she had saved everyone’s lives - especially that of her new husband’s. Leaders and common folk alike were practically singing her praises for how she handled the Kree invasion, not that she remembered much. The rest of the wedding night was a blur - even with her accelerated healing, blood loss was still blood loss - and she spent the next few days on bedrest, letting her body modifications do most of the work.

Unfortunately, the gash in her leg wasn’t the only injury she’d sustained, also having a sprained ankle, a couple cracked ribs, and bruises that made every muscle twitch and every cough burn like wildfire, but it was hardly the worst she’d ever experienced. In fact, she would almost consider them a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, if not for the other consequences of her injuries, such as -

“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own meals, Quill, it’s only a limp,” Gamora groaned as her bedroom doors swung open to reveal, for the fourth time that week, Peter, whistling cheerfully as he brought in a serving tray laden with food. The guard standing by looked like he was trying not to laugh at her plight.

“Morning to you, too,” Peter chirped, sitting by her feet. Rolling her eyes, she still turned over so he could place the tray on her lap. “Look, you said you wanted to stick to your super healthy diet, but that doesn’t mean I have to, so they have to prepare this separately. Really, this is just me bringing the chef’s personalized meals so they don’t have to come to you, and you don’t have to go to them. I’m doing you both a favor.”

“And gracing me with your presence at the same time,” she drawled.

He grinned. “Exactly! Wait, are you being sarcastic again? Because I can’t tell sometimes.”

She swatted at him with her book before picking up her fork. “What’s on the agenda today? Were you at breakfast with the others?” Peter looked at her, suspiciously doe-eyed, before she got the message. She let out an annoyed huff, pushing the tray towards him. “For someone who claims to not want to eat the same food as me, you’re very insistent on stealing it.”

“Food tastes better when it belongs to someone else,” he said defensively through a mouthful of grits. He began coughing. “Oh, never mind, what is this, soy? Ew.” Wrinkling her nose, Gamora leaned forward to slowly push his jaw closed. The sight of Peter chewing did wonders for killing her appetite. “Nah, nothing’s going on today. Dad’s doing his usual thing, which is who knows what, and Mantis is at that school-opening ceremony in the capital. You got any ideas?”

“I’m still confined to this bed for another couple days,” she said forlornly. “I’d get up and walk out right now if it wasn’t for your doctors. I swear I’m fine, but they’re acting like I’ll keel over the second I’m on my feet.”

“You wanna hang out with me, then? I could keep you company.” Peter tilted his head sideways in what she supposed was meant to look endearing. Personally, she thought he looked like he had a neck injury. “I could bring you more books. Or we could talk strategy, not that there’s really anything left to plan, I mean, you were super thorough in those meetings we had. Or maybe a holoscreen! We can watch a movie, I found a bunch of Terran videotapes at one of the Nova trading posts…” He trailed off when he noticed she wasn’t responding, looking at her expectantly.

Oddly enough, the incident at the wedding had brought them closer, despite the confusing conversation - or more accurately, confrontation - they had moments beforehand. After she had woken from her medical treatment, Peter remained by her bedside, both to apologize profusely for his childish behavior and to proclaim her status as the “kingdom’s resident badass”. Gamora, of course, had accepted, knowing he only meant well, and apologized in return for being evasive - he had a point; she couldn’t expect him to trust her if she wasn’t going to be straightforward herself. Ever since then, things were surprisingly smooth. No confrontations, no accusations, no secrets. She had even told him about Thanos’s order for her to seduce him.

“Seriously? What is this, a movie?” Peter had chuckled. “And, what, it ends with you having fallen in love with me for real, but me thinking you’re lying when you say so because you were lying the whole time, and I don’t know if I love you or just the fake you, and it’s all a bi-i-ig misunderstanding - yeah, I’ve seen this before.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I also find the idea of me being in love with you laughable,” Gamora had retorted.

“I’ll have you know that I’m super lovable. Just ask anyone. Literally, you could fly into any city on this planet, ask some random stranger - ” If Gamora hadn’t been so comfortable under her bedsheets at the time, she would’ve been tempted to sit up just so she could smack him on the shoulder.

Now, she stared back, wondering how she could possibly pass the time. Peter was right - everything they needed for the inevitable “pseudo-revolution”, as he liked to call it, was ready to go at moment’s notice. She also couldn’t exactly get up and walk out, what with the guards following the doctor’s orders to keep her confined. “If you spend all day in my room,” she said slowly, “do you think your father will interpret it as your newfound devotion to me, and mention it to my father? Keep him placated?”

“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds like we’re a bunch of schoolkids passin’ notes,” Peter laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Oh, sure,” she relented, cracking a gentle smile. “I’ll go stir-crazy in here otherwise. But if you make so much as one bad joke, I’m sending for Nebula to keep me company instead.”

“No bad jokes here.” He exaggeratedly puffed out his chest, chin held high. “I’m hilarious.”

“You’ve already done it. Get out,” she deadpanned, taking a long sip of her drink.

“Too late! I’ve claimed a pillow.” He threw himself down on top of the duvet, staring up at the underside of the canopy hanging over them. “Y’know, this bed’s never been used for sleeping.”

“What else would it - oh, Quill,” Gamora groaned, recoiling. “You’re disgusting. And your actual bedroom is just one door away, why didn’t you use that instead?”

“Privacy reasons,” Peter said defensively. “No one gets to be in there but me and my family. And oh man, if you think that’s gross - and it’s not, it’s totally normal - never use a blacklight on the Milano. Looks like a Jackson Pollock painting in there.” She blinked. “He’s like an artist...guy. I, uh - yeah.”

“Is it too late for me to move back into the guest quarters?” she sighed.

Despite herself, Gamora spent most of her recovery in Peter’s company, with occasional visits from her people (Peter was always mysteriously absent whenever Nebula was around). Though she was much more used to them, they were rather macabre in comparison to Peter’s cheerfulness. She didn’t exactly want to deal with Nebula’s attitude or Drax and Rocket’s squabbling when she was so lethargic from being stuck in bed. Peter was quite adept at entertaining her, telling her stories about his Terran childhood or creating random objects out of thin air for fun. It was a good distraction for an otherwise droll recovery.

Once the doctors finally let her go, she was back to her training regimen, pleasantly surprised to find Peter hadn’t slacked in her absence. Apparently, he had gone to Drax and requested his help (“Big mistake - I can’t count all the times he accidentally dislocated my shoulder”), and trained with him for at least an hour per day.

“Discipline,” Gamora echoed, smiling. “Good to see that we’re making progress in more ways than one.”

He managed to disarm her a few times on their first day back, practically knocking the wind out of her as he slammed her down into the mat. He was sharper, quicker, more precise than before - though admittedly, the one that had gotten her the most was where he was up to his usual tricks.

“Shit - I think you broke my nose - ”

“Hold still, let me see - ow - ” Gamora was flat on her back, Peter straddling her with a triumphant grin on his face, his nose completely untouched. She stared up at him, unimpressed. “Are you trying to crack my ribs again?”

“I’m sorry, I thought this was supposed to be serious, disciplined, combat pra - OW!” Now he was bleeding. A couple drops ended up on Gamora’s shirt, but as far as she was concerned? Worth it. “Okay, I deserved that one.”

As glad as she was to be back on her feet, they soon settled into something a bit too routine even for her liking. Gamora would wake early, have breakfast alone in her room, then train with Drax and Nebula before being joined by Peter. After their one-on-one session, she would shower and spend the rest of her day either reading, studying up on the kingdom’s history and policies (Yondu had been a great help in that regard), or in the company of her people. Dinner was always in the dining hall, where she and Peter mostly chatted with each other about nonsensical topics in order to satiate Ego’s little domestic fantasy. Evenings, once again, were either spent alone, or, increasingly more often, with Peter.

He had taken to sprawling himself across her bed after dinner, sleepily satisfied from the food and looking for a peaceful way to close out the night before eventually returning to his own room. Gamora wasn’t sure what to make of it at first - was this what friends did? - but after the first post-wedding month had passed, she came to expect him on a regular basis, even finding herself disappointed whenever he was absent.

One particular evening, Gamora walked into her bedroom to find Peter already there, looking more downtrodden than usual, clutching his Walkman over his chest. She could hear faint strains of a song playing through his headphones.

Everybody plays the fool sometime...there's no exception to the rule...listen, baby, it may be factual, may be cruel...I ain't lyin', everybody plays the fool...

“Something wrong?” she asked, disappearing into the wardrobe to change.

“I had a fight with Mantis,” Peter grumbled, pushing his headphones away from his ears.

Gamora paused before quickly changing into her sleepclothes and walking back out, staring at him in disbelief. “What? When? You seemed fine at dinner.”

“Yeah, only for Dad’s sake,” he sighed, settling into the pillows. “She’s just been actin’ real weird lately, so this morning after breakfast, I asked her what was up. I dunno, I thought she was stressing out over the plans or something. Changing her mind.”

“And she didn’t tell you anything, did she,” Gamora guessed, joining him on the bed.

“Not a word,” he replied. “I pushed a little harder, and maybe I shouldn’t have, but...I worry about her sometimes. I try not to baby her, but it’s hard when Dad still does it, y’know? And she doesn’t really have friends, other than the local kids. Sometimes I do weekend trips off-planet to have some fun, and whenever I invite her, she always says Dad’s got stuff for her to do. Don’t make any sense, considering he never has stuff for us to do. Ever.”

Gamora pursed her lips in consideration. “Have you ever looked into it? Maybe it’s related to that thing she wouldn’t tell us about at the wedding.”

He shook his head. “She’s always gone and done her own thing, and I usually leave it alone, but it’s like...it’s like ever since we started this whole plan, she’s got more to hide from me. We grew up together...spent so much time together. But now it’s like she isn’t around anymore. And I don’t know what I did wrong.” He lifted his head to meet her gaze, half-expecting her to make a crack about how he was always wrong. Instead, there was a sense of sadness reflected in her dark eyes.

Falling in love is such an easy thing to do...and there's no guarantee that the one you love...is gonna love you….

“Well, if I’ve learned anything recently, it’s that keeping secrets only makes it worse in the end,” Gamora said softly. “She’ll come around to you, Quill. You’re much too close to let this get in the way of your relationship.”

Peter smiled. “Thanks. And I hope you’re right.” Clearing his throat, he straightened up. “Hey, so, I was gonna ask you for a favor - ”

“That doesn’t sound good,” she said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It is, I promise. I was thinking, we’ve been sitting on our asses for almost two months now, waiting for Thanos to show. Meanwhile, he keeps insisting - ”

“ - not until your father starts showing signs of desperation, I know, I was there for all of those awful weekly calls,” Gamora shuddered. “What’s your point?”

“Maybe we gotta get it going ourselves, and get you some good publicity at the same time,” he suggested. “You’re stressed out about what might happen after we - y’know - if you’re just gonna get shoved into jail forever and never be free again. I say, we go pay Xandar a visit, show off a little and do an event or something. Maybe hang around the Nova Corps so Nova Prime keeps you in her good books. It’ll boost your reputation and make Dad all stressed out.”

“That’s...actually a pretty decent idea. And much better than sulking around here forever,” Gamora agreed, nodding slowly.

“See? I’m totally a genius.” Peter pumped his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she shot back. “But let’s do it. Are we bringing the others?”

“Might get me and Mantis back on the same page. So, yeah. Let Dad stew all alone for a few days. It’ll be fun!” ______

Once the Milano had settled in, cruising along smoothly through space like they had all the time in the world, Peter shooed Rocket and Yondu away, telling them he would join them and the others in a few minutes for breakfast. It was an early Sunday morning, and they were en route to Xandar to meet with Nova Prime. Their public personas would have to be on display for the entire trip, but Peter was confident by now that the others would be able to handle the pressure.

He leaned back in his seat, staring out into the cosmos in an almost dream-like state as he thought about what had transpired over the last little while, ever since the wedding. Some good, some bad - Mantis becoming increasingly distant, definitely bad. He liked the camaraderie of his new friendships (okay, friendship, singular, with Gamora), but he also missed the old days of just him and his sister. They were such opposites in so many ways, but it was what made their bond so strong. Now, she barely talked to him for more than five minutes before excusing herself to go do something else. And Ego, he was a tough one to crack as well, not that that was anything new. Peter considered confronting him about Korath, but what he could he possibly say? Gamora was almost certain Korath had been hired by Ego to go after Peter as a publicity stunt, but Peter wasn’t so sure himself - in what world did Ego think he could trust the Kree to not actually hurt him, especially one that worked for Thanos? He was lucky Gamora had been there to save him, to fight back in ways that no one else would.

Gamora. Peter smiled to himself, almost giddy. He couldn’t help it. Thinking about her made him happy. She’d been coming out of her shell very slowly, allowing herself to laugh more often, to sleep in longer and take bigger portions of food, to tease him and talk with him for hours at a time. She wasn’t quite the harsh, militant, no-nonsense girl he had met two months ago. Sure, she was every bit as confident and disciplined as ever, but the tension in her shoulders had all but vanished, the formality of her vocabulary loosened. She was still confused by his Terran references and became easily irritated by his antics, but there was a gentleness to her that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe it had been all along, and she was only letting it show now.

“Quill, are you daydreaming up here?” He nearly fell out of his seat at the sound of her voice. “Breakfast was ready ten minutes ago, your food’s going to go cold if you don’t come down.”

“I know, I was just...looking.” He gestured towards the glass. “It’s real nice, getting to see space like this. And not to be a big Terran cliche, but I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. And now, here I am. Peter Quill, next-level astronaut.”

“I’ve only seen glimpses of it, if I ever cared to look out the window.” Gamora took measured steps forward, her hands coming to rest on the back of his chair. “I didn’t exactly take the time to stop and observe. I had a job to do.”

“Do you want to someday?” he asked. “Get out there and explore?”

“It’s a nice thought, I suppose,” she agreed. “Where I lived, on Sanctuary, it wasn’t exactly a haven. And everywhere else I’ve been for more than a day was either a safehouse or a jail cell.”

“What if...what if that’s what we did, after all this?” Peter lifted his head to look at her. Her gaze was firmly cast outwards, among the stars. “Go on an epic adventure.”

She looked back at him. “Where?”

“Everywhere. Wherever you want.” He gestured wildly, arms spread wide. “I’ve only ever gone to planets that I can reach within a couple days, but imagine where we could go if we had our whole lives ahead of us!”

Gamora smiled sadly. “It’s a nice thought,” she repeated, turning and walking away. “Breakfast, Quill. Come on.”

They touched down in Xandar by the late afternoon. It was already getting dark, but still, Gamora found herself silently admiring her surroundings as she made her way down the landing ramp. Xandar was the complete opposite of Ego’s planet; modern, slick - stylish, even. There was something strange about being in a new place without having to immediately hide or establish a cover, and it left her feeling somewhat exposed. The rest of her people looked just as uncomfortable as she felt, especially as Nova Prime approached the landing pad in her usual brisk stride, flanked by two Nova officers.

“Good to see you again, your highnesses,” she said, shaking their hands firmly. “I hope you had a comfortable flight. You have a very...unique-looking ship there, Prince Peter.”

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Peter beamed, turning to admire the Milano briefly before looking back to Nova Prime. “I’d love to hear what you have in store for us, ma’am.”

“Why don’t we get you all settled in first?” she suggested. “Denarian Dey and Denarian Saal will escort you to your rooms. We’ll have dinner in my suite at eight and discuss everything then.”

The Nova officers led them into an elevator and then through a series of winding hallways, providing them with specialized access passes that would allow them into the common area of Nova Prime’s private floor, but keep them away from the work floors. Denarian Saal eyed Rocket pointedly as he mentioned the weapon laboratories (clearly, there was a story there that Peter was itching to know more about). Gamora was dismayed to find out that she and Peter would be sharing a room.

“At least it’s two beds,” Peter pointed out as he lugged his bag onto one of them. “There, we’ve avoided another cliche.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Quill,” Gamora sighed. She debated whether to unpack at all, considering they were only here for a few days. If something went wrong, if she needed to make a quick getaway, having to throw everything back into her bag would only slow her down. She then dropped her bag unceremoniously on the floor, by the nightstand. “Did you see the way Denarian Saal was eyeing me and my people? And he thinks we’re uncivilized.”

“What do you mean?” He flopped onto the bed with a satisfied exhale.

“You may be innocent at the moment, Quill, but we’re already criminals, remember? And now, here we are, with access to Nova Prime’s private rooms. He probably suspects we’re here to make an attempt on her life, or at least, commit some sort of petty crime. He’ll sweep our rooms when we’re not here to make sure we haven’t stolen anything. Scan hours of security footage to ensure we never went anywhere we weren’t supposed to be.” She shrugged. “It’s how everyone acts around us.”

“Well, hopefully, after this week, he’ll change his mind. Hopefully everyone changes their minds.” Peter sat up, his back against the headboard. “That’s the whole point of this trip! And you saved my life, that wasn’t nothing. People believe you’re one of the good guys. Now they just have to like you as a person, too.”

“Being likable is such an overrated quality,” she complained, sitting at the foot of her own bed. “It’s only ever people who are already liked who think it’s important, because they already have it. But if you’re unloved, unwanted...the desire to be liked can turn into desperation very quickly.”

He gave her a rueful smile. “You said once that my people look at me like I’m a hero, instead of some all-knowing master. You’d rather be the master?”

She shook her head, staring intently at the floor. “I’d rather not be anything to anyone at all if it means I’ll finally be left alone.”

Peter fell silent, mulling it over. “Y’know, if...if I was being too pushy earlier, about going on, like, adventures together after this, I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to stick around. It’s your life. It’d be fun, but...I understand if you just wanna leave. Even I annoy myself sometimes,” he added jokingly.

“Now you know why I don’t bother with friendships, or even alliances. It creates obligations,” Gamora chuckled softly. “I don’t like loose ends, unanswered questions. And relying on intuition...it’s just not me.” At his frustrated expression, she quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, waving her off.

“Quill, you can’t lecture me about keeping secrets and then - ”

“It’s not a secret, I just - I don’t think you wanna hear it.” He relented once she glared him into submission. “Fine, fine. I just wish you’d gotten your childhood back somehow. Then maybe, you’d have dreams like the rest of us, instead of thinking about worst-case scenarios all the time. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good that you do that stuff, but...I dunno.”

“So I was forced to grow up fast. That’s not exactly unique. You had to do the same thing,” Gamora pointed out.

“Yeah, but I live in a big fancy palace with tons of people lookin’ after me. You had to deal with so much crap, Gamora, all on your own sometimes, and I don’t know how you did it and still came out...normal. Sane.” He shuffled a bit closer, his knees swinging around the side of his bed so he could properly face her.

“Sanity is subjective,” she reminded him. Peter laughed, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in something of a half-smile. She found she liked the sound of it - his real laugh, not that odd, forced sound that escaped him whenever he was with his father or in the company of people who knew nothing about him. She wanted to make him laugh more. “I dream of being able to choose my own future, I guess. Do more than just survive. Beyond that, I have no real big ambitions.”

Before Peter could reply, a harsh knock-knock-knock cut through, followed by “Hey, idiots! Do ya check your messages or what? Nova Prime’s callin’ us up to her place, like, right now!” Gamora glanced briefly at her communication device, startled to realize it was already 7:45.

“Give us a minute to change, Rocket,” she called back, yanking out clothes from her bag at random before slipping into the bathroom without a second glance. Still, Peter smiled to himself before reaching for his own. ______

Gamora was grateful to find that Nova Prime, for the most part, steered clear of addressing her alone, considering they were yet to have a conversation in which Gamora didn’t run off. Rocket was a little ruder than Gamora would have liked, and Drax’s blunt nature made the Nova guards twitch, but at least Nebula stuck to her promise to be seen and not heard for the entire meal.

“I was surprised when you reached out to me, Prince Peter,” Nova Prime admitted by the time dessert came around. “Especially so soon after the wedding. I figured your sister would have come alone, since she’s been handling all of your interplanetary affairs lately.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Peter said, glancing over at Mantis. She seemed very invested in her pudding all of a sudden. “What affairs?”

“The...outreach center,” Nova Prime replied slowly, furrowing her brow. “Have you not been...you haven’t, have you?”

“I was going to surprise Peter with the news today, Nova Prime, do not worry that you have overstepped,” Mantis said reassuringly, finally lifting her head so she could address Peter. “We have been talking for a while now about setting up an outreach center that will help reformed criminals prepare for rehabilitation on our planet. Most are still unaware of what we do, but Xandar has one of the biggest holding centers in the galaxy. If we partner with the Nova Corps to provide them with a second chance - food, shelter, healthcare, education - they will be prepared to join us on Ego and expand our population.”

“I wasn’t aware we were lookin’ to expand,” Peter frowned. “Does Dad know about this?”

“Of course he does!” Mantis exclaimed. “He provided the funding and set one of his advisors to task in assisting me. But this is mostly my project.” She was practically glowing with pride. Still, both Peter and Gamora couldn’t help but be a little wary. Where was this coming from?

“And why wasn’t I in on this?” Peter demanded, leaning across the table. Nova Prime glanced briefly between the siblings in worry.

“The opening ceremony is tomorrow morning, your highnesses,” she interrupted a little louder than necessary. “I was originally expecting Princess Mantis by herself, but now that you’re all here, well, we might as well proceed with everyone. You can give a few speeches, explain the rehabilitation program and its relation to your planet’s social work system. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you would like afterward, but if you’re interested in good publicity, I’d recommend spending your time here volunteering to help.”

“And by all of us, that includes my subjects as well,” Gamora said. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Peter, who looked significantly more irritated than he had been five minutes ago. Sometimes, it seemed like his temper was worse than hers. “My people are non-negotiable.”

“Yes, of course,” Nova Prime promised. Groot looked pleased at being included. The others were scowling at Gamora as if she committed a great offense. “You are all distinguished guests of mine, Princess. We’ll have extra security for everyone’s protection, given what happened at your last public event.”

The moment dinner ended, Mantis practically flew right out the door in a hurry. Peter ran after her before Gamora could intervene, grabbing Mantis by the arm and pulling her aside, next to the elevator. “Really? An outreach center. When you know that we’re...you know, what’s about to happen,” he said quickly, furiously, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What’s this all about?”

“I just wanted to be of use for once,” Mantis replied evenly, her eyes darting sideways as the others entered the hallway. “Prove that I am not just a sleeping pill for Father, or a playmate for the brave, powerful prince.”

Peter blanched like he’d been hit. “What’s that s’posed to mean? And where is this coming from, Mantis? Did Dad say something to you?”

They were interrupted by the quiet ding of the elevator, its doors sliding open to invite them back to their rooms. Everyone filed in, Mantis immediately retreating into the furthest corner. Gamora slid neatly between the Celestial siblings, glaring at Peter in warning. To her surprise, it seemed to have no effect. “This was not his idea, if that is what you are thinking. Why have you been so suspicious of me lately?”

“Because you’re actin’ suspicious!” Peter exclaimed. He took another step forward, but Yondu reached over to clap him on the shoulder firmly, yanking him back.

“Quill, c’mon. Don’t fight now,” Yondu warned. “You been drinkin’ too much tonight, ain’t you?”

“And you, you know somethin’ I don’t, don’t you?” Peter snapped, shoving Yondu away. Yondu’s shoulder banged into the elevator wall with an unceremonious echo, causing the entire carriage to rattle precariously. Mantis let out a quiet gasp of surprise.

Yondu straightened his coat lapels, his eyes harder than they had been before. “You’re gettin’ paranoid, boy. I suggest you keep your hands to yourself,” he said cooly, jabbing a finger into Peter’s chest. “And you show your sister some respect. Don’t make me ask again.”

Before Peter could retaliate, Gamora grabbed Peter’s arm, pulling him away. “Quill.” He turned to look at her, his eyes colder than she’d ever seen. “Let’s go to the roof. You need air.” The others exchanged dubious looks before silently stepping out onto the guest floor, leaving Peter and Gamora behind.

“What if Mantis is turning her back on us?” Peter demanded once the doors had closed. “She could’ve been feedin’ Dad information on everything we’ve been doing this whole damn time, settin’ up this ‘outreach center’ so he can have his own personal army of criminals.”

“Get some air, Quill,” Gamora repeated, sighing. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

Upon reaching the rooftop level, they found a quiet spot away from the hum of the generators, settling down onto the gravel and staring out into the pitch black of the Xandarian night sky. Despite the fury that was practically radiating off Peter, he leaned into Gamora somewhat, their knees and shoulders brushing. Though she could smell the alcohol on his breath, his eyes were focused, his speech clear. No, he wasn’t exactly drunk. It was something else. “Look, Quill, you and I, we’ve had our fair share of fights. And from what I can tell, you like people, but you have trouble trusting them sometimes. Don’t let your anger towards your father become anger towards everyone else. I know what that’s like, and it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

“So, what, you don’t think Mantis is being weird?” Peter’s voice was quieter than before, almost sobering. “Even you think I’m crazy.”

“No, actually, I think you’re onto something,” Gamora replied. “And I want to question her, badly, same as you. But it’s late. We’re tired, and stressed. You think yelling at her in front of everyone else will get the job done? It’ll be direct, sure, but it won’t be effective.”

“And you’re all about results,” he snarked, though he seemed to regret it the second it left his mouth. He hugged his knees into his chest, blinking slowly into the darkness. Gamora’s clothes and hair were so dark, he could barely see her, save for the slight silvery glint of the metal in her skin. He had never asked her about it, but he hoped he would be able to someday. “What do we do?”

“If it’ll ease your mind - and your temper - I’ll keep a closer eye on her,” she promised. “Maybe she’s been conning us the whole time. Or maybe she’s just withholding information out of ignorance, and not contempt. We’ll figure it out. In the meantime, maybe try to not be so hostile?”

“Gotta say, never thought I’d hear you of all people give me that advice,” he laughed. “And thanks. For helping me outta there tonight. I owe you, again.”

“A working relationship isn’t a business deal, Quill.” Gamora gave him a reassuring smile. “We owe each other nothing.”

“Friendship,” Peter corrected, grinning. “And right, no obligations, got it. Can we head back now? It’s so freaking cold up here.” ______

After an unceremoniously brief breakfast in their own rooms - Peter spent most of it pestering Gamora on how to speak to the media, to which she retorted that he didn’t exactly have that much experience, either - they all piled into one of the Nova-issued secured vehicles, with two more boxing them in for safety. The short drive to the outreach center was filled with mundane conversation, mostly prompted by Nova Prime, while Peter and Mantis seemed to be trying their best not to make eye contact. Everyone felt horribly uncomfortable by the time they stepped outside.

“And I thought I looked ready to kill,” Gamora murmured as she looped her arm with Peter’s. There was a steady crowd of photographers and media already forming by the entrance, especially eager to catch photos or get quotes from the newlyweds who hadn’t been seen or heard from since the wedding. “I also thought our talk last night would’ve taught you something. Seems like I was wrong.”

“Prince Peter! Princess Gamora!” One of the reporters squeezed their way through to the front, sticking his recording device right under Gamora’s nose. She blanched before straightening, trying her best not to look so disappointed. “How have you been, your highnesses? Are you well, princess? We heard you were on bedrest - are you already pregnant?”

“I was stabbed - ” “Hey, hey, no one’s pregnant - oh god, are people saying she’s pregnant? - ”

“But there are plans for children in the future, yes?” another reporter prompted.

“Guys, guys, c’mon, our visit today is about the outreach center. It’s not about me and Gamora,” Peter laughed somewhat uncomfortably. “We’re lookin’ at how we can improve our policies and resource allocation, rehabilitate people who deserve a second chance. We’re not thinkin’ about babies.”

“But if you don’t continue the family line, the Celestial legacy dies with you, your highness,” the second one said snidely.

Gamora scowled. “And that’s none of our concern right now, thank you,” she shot back cooly. “Now will you let us pass? We have a job to do.” Peter wasn’t sure whether to wince or laugh as Gamora practically dragged him to the doors and nearly knocked the reporters over in the process, where everyone else was standing, watching them bemusedly.

In many ways, the opening ceremony was reminiscent of all the things Gamora had hated most about their wedding - the pomp and circumstance, the empty words, the stiff, insincere smiles that left her cheeks aching for relief. But there was a genuine happiness that positively radiated off Mantis once she began addressing the crowd. She had clearly found her calling, her passion. Once more, there was an explosion of sound and movement as everyone clapped and cheered at the very end, Peter reaching around Gamora so he could squeeze Mantis’s shoulder in congratulations. She smiled tightly at him before turning back to the cameras.

Afterward, they did an open tour of the facility, guided mostly by Mantis and Nova Prime. Gamora found herself genuinely interested in what they had to say. She had seen her fair share of criminals who had been led astray through no fault of their own, herself included, and a place like this could very well work miracles for them.

“Hey, I could give you a tour of the city if you’d like.” Gamora turned, not realizing Peter was right behind her, his fingers ever-so-slightly brushing her waist in an attempt to stay nearby. The event was over, and everyone was filing out of the building neatly, chatting to themselves and bowing as they passed the royal family members. “Not like we’ve got anything else to do today.” Raising an eyebrow, Gamora gestured wordlessly to Mantis nearby, who looked unsure of what to do next. “Oh, right - hey, Mantis! You, me, Gamora, the city? You wanna come?”

“I suppose,” Mantis said quietly. “I will have to check with Yondu.” Peter looked at Gamora pleadingly as his sister began walking away. Gamora rolled her eyes in disbelief - really, this was the extent of his effort? - before jogging after the other girl.

“I could use another tour guide. Your brother isn’t very observant, after all,” Gamora added, looking over at Peter with a smirk. He seemed half-offended, half-agreeable. “Either that, or you’ll be returning to Nova headquarters, where you’ll likely spend the rest of your day in the company of my people. I’m sure they would love to have you.”

Mantis looked disturbed by the prospect. “A tour sounds like a great idea!” Mantis said quickly. “Where shall we start, Peter? What do you think Gamora would like?”

He hummed thoughtfully, reaching for Gamora’s hand when he realized the nearby photographers were still snapping away, watching them, waiting for them to do something interesting. “Why don’t we start with a bookstore?” ______

“You and Peter get along much better than I would have expected,” Mantis admitted several hours later. The three of them were sat in a quaint homestyle restaurant, watched closely by Yondu, who was sat by himself a few tables away. Peter had disappeared to the bathroom after they had finished eating, leaving the girls by themselves. “I do not need my powers to see that you enjoy each other’s company.”

“Is this what we’re going to talk about while he’s gone? How gauche.” Gamora sipped her water. “He worries about you, Mantis. I doubt that’s news to you, but he does. You’ve been acting strange lately, and the fact that I can tell when I hardly know you is a testament to your odd behavior. He may have been rash last night, but he wasn’t entirely wrong.”

“He no longer trusts me. He thinks I mean to turn against him because I have been spending time with Father,” Mantis whispered. “It...it hurts. Knowing that after everything we have done together, he would still think so little of me.”

“Quill thinks the world of you,” Gamora insisted. “That’s why this weighs so heavily on him. And it’s no secret that Quill and I only get along about half of the time. But we know we can trust each other. And you both think you’ve lost that. All we ask is that you tell the truth.”

Mantis couldn’t help but grin, something rather awkward, yet endearing. “You and Peter have become a ‘we’, haven’t you?” she said slyly. “Are you not a little curious about what he thinks when you are around?”

“He’s almost too easy to read, so no, I don’t. And don’t change the subject,” Gamora said sternly.

“I am not, I just know he will be coming back soon, and - do you really not want to know?” Mantis blinked innocently.

“We are not having this discussion, not now, not ever - ”

“Discussion? What’d I miss?” Peter seemingly popped up out of nowhere, leaning against the back of Gamora’s chair with an easy smile.

“Mantis wanted to tell me stories of your shared adolescence, but I think it’s time we address some of our interpersonal issues instead,” Gamora lied easily, gesturing for him to take a seat. Peter obeyed, though he looked very much like he was regretting having returned to the table. “Your relationship with each other really isn’t my business. But clearly, you have unresolved issues, and I have no interest in letting anyone’s emotions get in the way of our plans. So either deal with it like adults and drop the issue, or talk it out like adults and solve it. We are not leaving until this is behind us, and there are no other choices.”

“Of course you’re giving an ultimatum,” Peter muttered under his breath, ignoring the dirty look Gamora sent his way. “Right, um, Mantis. Do you feel like...like you wanna back out?”

“No, not at all!” Mantis exclaimed. “You see how Father treats me. I mean so little to him compared to you. I had...I had absolutely no one until Yondu brought you home. You remember what I was like.”

“You were scared, like, all the time. You didn’t know how to read or write, ‘cause Dad didn’t think it was important.” Peter shook his head, disgusted at the memory. “And you were confused the first time I tried to hug you.”

“I thought you were going to strangle me.” Mantis let out a tiny, awful laugh. “I thought I had started to trust someone who wanted to hurt me instead. That I was stupid for thinking I could.” She glanced at Gamora, whose eyes were suspiciously glossy. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest. “This was probably not what you wanted us to talk about, was it?”

“No, this is...it’s good.” Gamora swallowed, clearing her throat harshly. “I just wasn’t expecting it. Maybe you and I aren’t as different as I first thought.”

Mantis smiled weakly in return. “I know what everyone thinks of me,” she replied. “Quiet, sweet, naive Mantis. She feels feelings, she helps people sleep. She is not very clever, or brave, or interesting. She just...is.”

“Mantis - ” Peter protested.

“I’m guilty of thinking those exact things when I first arrived,” Gamora interrupted. “And I also worried about what your powers would mean for my privacy. I trust you now. At least, enough to get this done. But that trust won’t last if you continue to evade us.”

“I would not betray your privacy,” Mantis frowned. “And I would not go out of my way to hurt you. Either of you.”

“Then where do you go when you say Dad’s got a job for you?” Peter asked, beginning to grow impatient. “All those times where I ask you if you wanna hang out, and you’re busy. Sometimes you’re both gone for days, Mantis. Where do you go?”

Mantis remained silent for a moment, staring into the candle flickering in the middle of the table. The warm yellow light cast an eerie, almost sickly glow over her face, illuminating her enormous, dark eyes. “The only secret I can tell you,” she said quietly, “is that there is a secret that Father and I share. And it is something you must never know about, or it will kill you.”

“Wait, literally?” Peter leaned towards her in concern. “Mantis...what has he got you doing?”

“Please,” Mantis pleaded, trembling. “I can see that it is frustrating you. And I hate not being able to tell you what it is. But if you still trust me at all, you will not ask me about it again.” She smiled weakly. “You are such a good brother to me, Peter. And you have always been so protective. So let me protect you for once.”

Peter looked over at Gamora then, who was watching Mantis carefully, her brow furrowed in contemplation. She was still so new to the Celestial siblings’ dynamic, knew far more about Peter than she did about Mantis, and there was still so much left to learn about them both. And yet, for someone who had been raised in such a barbaric, animalistic environment, she did indeed seem far more “sane” than Peter would have ever guessed her to be. He still remembered when she first arrived - practically stomping into the throne room, decked out in full armor, her mere presence demanding to be seen and heard. Her reputation preceded her, making him almost certain his future wife was going to be, at best, cold, calculating, devoid of feeling. And maybe she had started that way, or at least, appeared that way. But now?

“I believe her, Quill,” Gamora murmured quietly, leaning back in her seat. “What she said sounds ominous, but it also sounds true. Your father seems like the kind of man who would coerce his own child into carrying out his immoral deeds. This isn’t Mantis’s choice. This is his doing.” She turned to the other girl. “If we follow through with the plan...will it free you from his secret? Will you tell us everything that he’s done, so we can undo it and make things right?”

“Undoing what we have done will be impossible,” Mantis murmured. “But yes. It will, and I will.”

Gamora nodded sharply, a smirk beginning to form. “Good. Not that we needed another reason to take him out, but I suppose we’ll all sleep better at night, knowing you’ll be okay.”

Mantis smiled brightly in return. “Thank you, Gamora. I am very glad you are on our side. We would be forever stuck in our old ways, if not for your bravery.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” Gamora scoffed, though she looked pleased.

“I mean it,” Mantis said firmly, patting Gamora briefly on the arm. It was a testament to Gamora’s newfound comfort that she didn’t immediately pull away. “I was uneasy about the idea at first. And I did not know what to think of you, either. But it is something we must do, not just for us, but for everyone in the entire galaxy. Neither of us would have ever thought to do so, but you did.” Gamora faltered a little, glancing off to the side. Before Peter could ask her about it, Mantis spoke again. “Also, I think Peter is very glad to have you around.”

Peter let out an undignified squawk. “What’re you tryna say?”

“Just that you are friends.” Mantis blinked innocently once more. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Hah,” Peter said weakly. “Right.”

“So are all settled then? No more secrets, no more anger. We let nothing get in the way,” Gamora said, glancing between them.

“Yeah. And sorry that I lost my temper, Mantis,” Peter said gently. “For yellin’, for grabbin’ you...that wasn’t cool. I won’t do it again, I promise. I never wanna hurt you, ever.”

“And I am sorry for being so secretive.” Mantis reached across the table to grab Peter’s hands. “I want to tell you absolutely everything, but it is not safe. I should have just said that the first time you asked, instead of pushing you away. I could feel your distress, your anger, your sadness. I like you best when you are happy, Peter.”

“So do I,” he replied quietly.

They smiled at each other, relieved. Gamora couldn’t help but smile herself. “Are we ready to pay the bill?”

“Pay the - Gamora, we haven’t had dessert yet!” Peter exclaimed. Mantis squealed in delight, volunteering to flag down a waiter for the menu.

Sighing, Gamora slouched in her seat, unsure if she had the energy to keep up with their double act for the rest of the night. “Here we go.” ______

Mantis said something kinda weird to me before she left,” Peter said as he and Gamora returned to their hotel room. It was nearing midnight, and he was pleasantly tired, though there was an underlying fuzziness in his brain that he hadn’t quite been able to untangle since Mantis had spoken to him.

“What’s that?” Gamora kicked off her shoes, stretching luxuriously.

“That she thought you were one thing before today, and now she thinks you’re something else entirely.” Peter paused. “Then again, she’s been acting real cryptic all night. Maybe she just drank too much - ”

“She was having carbonated water, I highly doubt that affected her cognition,” Gamora snorted, though she couldn’t help but be curious as well. “Was that it?”

Peter flushed. “Yes,” he said quickly.

“Really?” Gamora deadpanned. “Your face says otherwise.”

Peter crossed the room quickly to stand by his bed, his back to her, heart pounding as he began undoing his tie. She thinks I like you. “C’mon, Gamora, Mantis and I might be back on track, but it don’t mean I understand everything she says and does.” She thinks I wish this was for real. “She hasn’t been around other people much, so getting to spend time with another girl - woman - is a good thing. And now she knows you're a friend. That’s probably what she meant.” She thinks I want you to stay. “She’s glad you’re here.”

I think she’s right. ______

Peter was sprawled across his bed, staring intently at the high ceiling with long, dangling lights that formed a geometric pattern his brain couldn’t comprehend at eight in the morning (or really, ever). He screwed his eyes shut in frustration. It was the last day of their Xandar trip, before they would have to return to a different kind of reality - one where his father ambled about, lurking like some affable, old-school Bond villain, where Gamora’s father sat comfortably in a stone throne millions of miles away, contemplating destruction like he was deciding what to have for breakfast, and where he and Gamora were friends with a marriage certificate and an expiry date.

“You seem very fascinated with the ceiling. Should I even ask?” His eyes flew open to see a fully-dressed Gamora standing over him, looking mildly amused. “Come on, Quill, we’ll miss the car if you don’t get ready right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting up.” He sat up slowly, watching her as she took a couple steps backward to give him space. “Hey, uh, thanks.”

“For what?”

“For dealing with all that stuff with me and Mantis. And all the other times you’ve, I dunno, helped me out.” Peter smiled at her, something soft, a little crooked, but entirely endearing. Gamora bit her lip to stop herself from smiling back. “Uh, not that it’s your job or anything, but...I’m glad you’re here. For me. With me? You know, like…” He trailed off awkwardly.

She paused before shaking her head and walking away. “Now who’s being cryptic? Get dressed. We’re leaving in ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted half-heartedly at her retreating back.

All things considered, their days at the outreach center were going quite smoothly. Gamora worked in the back with her people, where they carried out odd jobs here and there, chatting amicably. It was busy work, but it was better than the kind of jobs they were usually given. Peter and Mantis were out at the very front of the building, greeting and subsequently charming everyone that walked through the door. It was what they were good at - the sunny smiles, the friendly small talk, things Gamora could only muster on her best day. She couldn’t help but eye the group of young women who swept into the building first thing every morning since they had opened, who insisted on practically swarming Peter, asking if she really existed. It made Gamora itch, though she wasn’t sure why.

“She’s real shy sometimes. Not really a people person,” Peter would say with a wry chuckle. “But she’s great! I’m glad I married her.” Gamora would then feel silly for eavesdropping in the first place, retreating quietly before Peter could notice.

Today, however, was a different story. Nova Prime briefed them on the press’s perception of Gamora, how they had seen so little of her that they were starting to suspect she was as cold as her reputation implied. It resulted in Gamora and Mantis switching places, much to her dismay.

“This can’t be good,” Gamora murmured. She and Peter were stood side-by-side in the lobby, near the reception area. “Quill, these are ex-criminals we’re dealing with. Someone’s going to recognize me from what was likely their worst memory, and it won’t end well.”

“There won’t be that many people. First day was super busy, but now? Nah,” Peter said, waving it off. “Besides, I’m here. I’ll fend ‘em off if you want me to.”

“Yes, because a few training sessions makes you an expert at combat all of a sudden,” Gamora said dryly.

“I mean if they start acting like assholes. They’re not dumb enough to start a fight,” Peter corrected. “And hey, gimme some credit. I’ve been doing pretty awesome lately, you said it yourself!”

“You throwing me on the mat every now and then doesn’t mean you can actually beat me,” she teased, relaxing.

“Give it a few more rounds and I just might,” he grinned, gently nudging her with his shoulder. Gamora smiled back, shaking her head with a soft huff of quiet laughter.

“Hey, Quill! Quit flirtin’ with your wife and help me move these boxes ‘fore everyone gets here!” Yondu hollered from down the hallway.

“I’m not - oh god,” Peter groaned. “I’ll be right back, ignore him - ”

“I always do,” Gamora called as he jogged away.

Once the facility had opened for the day, Gamora found herself keeping her guard up, smiling tightly at everyone who came through. Peter did most of the talking, shaking hands and explaining what the outreach center was for. To her surprise, many of the visitors weren’t ex-convicts, but rather, affluent society members looking to provide donations or sponsorship. “You look confused,” Peter whispered after yet another sweet, older couple dropped by to hand over a stack of blank cheques.

“Sometimes I forget...some people are just inherently good.” Gamora looked at him with a rueful smile. “Maybe these people have ulterior motives, maybe they’re seeking a monument in their name. Or a way to cover their sins. But maybe they just want to help.”

Peter paused. “You projecting a little?”

“Maybe,” Gamora repeated, shaking her head. “It’s things like this that make me wonder if...if going after your father will do more harm than good. This could be your and Mantis’s legacy - well, hers, mostly - and I’m just ruining the potential of it by asking you to help me kill my father.”

“Our legacy,” Peter corrected, “will be stopping him, once and for all. Don’t mean this place will be going anywhere. Don’t mean any of us have to go anywhere. I really like doing this, this helping people thing. Makes me feel useful. And hey, you’re welcome to join me.”

“You really want me to stay, don’t you?” Gamora said, biting her lip.

“You’re my friend, Gamora.” Peter’s eyes were earnest, sincere. “I like hanging out with my friends. And if I get to do cool stuff with my friends, like kick some ass and help save lives? Sounds like a pretty awesome legacy to me.” Before Gamora could respond, the door swung open. A pair of familiar-looking Nova officers marched in, dragging a trio of handcuffed convicts along between them. She inhaled sharply at the sight. Here we go.

“Your highnesses,” Denarian Saal droned, sounding as bored as ever. “Nova Prime has requested we register these prisoners for the high-level rehabilitation program. We have their biometrics and IDs.”

“Sign in with Bereet,” Peter replied, gesturing behind him towards the Krylorian receptionist. “I’ll go see if any of the counselors are available for consultations, though I think they’re pretty booked right now.”

Gamora watched him rather nervously as he left, now alone with the officers and the snarling prisoners, who were rattling their chains like they were still behind bars. It was a familiar sound, some grotesque melody that she had hoped to never hear again. One of them, a particularly ugly-looking Badoon, growled at her, deep and guttural.

“Princess Gamora,” he sneered mockingly. “What a joke. Who could look at a monster like you, and call you a princess?”

“Your words will not phase me,” she replied calmly. “So save your voice for your counselor. You will need it.”

“Did you feel like royalty when you tore apart my village, princess?” the Sneeper with pointy teeth hissed. “You must have been so proud, driving your sword into the heart of my child.” The chains rattled again, this time more threateningly.

“You really are wasting everyone’s time,” Gamora said, plastering a fake smile as one of the donors waved goodbye on their way out of the building. “Officers, are you done yet?”

“Does your husband know you leave death everywhere you walk? He must, since you killed your brother at your own wedding!” the Badoon chuckled gleefully.

It was then that Peter returned, followed by one of the counselors. “They’re ready for ‘em, officers,” he said cheerfully before joining Gamora once more. “What’d I miss?” he asked, completely oblivious.

“Do you share a bed with your wife, Prince Peter?” The last prisoner, a smug-looking Rajak, smirked lecherously.

“That’s - super inappropriate to ask, what the hell,” Peter grimaced. “Have you been dealing with these jerks while I was gone? I shouldn’t’ve left, sorry - ”

“It’s fine, Quill, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before,” Gamora said cooly.

“She doesn’t even call you by your name!” the Rajak hooted. “And here I thought, maybe the little princess found someone as bloodthirsty as she was. But you’re just her pet, aren’t you? Do you roll over and show your belly, your highness? Or maybe you get on your knees instead, I bet she likes that - ”

“Officers, I don’t think these prisoners are ready for the rehabilitation program,” Peter said loudly, looking to the receptionist’s desk. “Tell Nova Prime to send them back. Maybe we’ll get a counselor over to you instead.”

“One second,” Denarian Saal called back impatiently, clearly uninterested in anything Peter had to say.

“You should know, your highness, that your precious wife takes great pleasure in everything she does,” the Sneeper simpered, yanking especially hard on his chains. “There was a Levian I shared a cell with, back on the Kyln. He told me of the time a mysterious traveler appeared in his town, seeking shelter. The lord of the land took her in, thinking she was a fragile young woman. She seduced him, of course. Made him feel special. She left within the week, and took all of his money and heirlooms with her, but not before killing the mysterious life force that powered their hearts.”

“I - ” Gamora began, but the Badoon interrupted next.

“Did you ever hear of her last mission before she decided to settle down with you?” He smirked. “You must have heard of Ronan the Accuser, your highness. They were on their way to Morag, seeking the Infinity Stone together, but I guess that didn’t mean much to her. She practically tore him apart for looking at her wrong, before Thanos got there and decided to finish the job himself. Though can you blame him? Your wife is quite the looker, your highness, even when she’s drenched in blood.”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Peter said firmly. His hands were held high, the light glowing rather menacingly from his fingertips. “What, you think telling me that stuff is gonna make me change my mind? Or that talkin’ shit about my wife helps your case? You think it’s gonna make your lives any easier?”

“Quill, it’s not worth it,” Gamora insisted, reaching for him.

“You speak of good deeds while you stand beside the woman who carved the galaxy’s history with her sword,” the Rajak spat. “We’ve all heard tales of the infamous Prince Peter, the powerful, charismatic do-gooder, but from what I can see, he’s either a coward or just stupid.”

“Hey!” Gamora barked, stepping in front of Peter. She wasn’t sure when she had drawn her sword, but it now weighed heavy in her hands, ready to strike, and now he was the one attempting to pull her away. “Choose your next words wisely. And keep our names out of your filthy mouth.”

“Well, I - ” With an unceremonious cry, the three prisoners jolted violently before collapsing to the ground, revealing Denarian Dey standing behind them, brandishing his stun baton. Denarian Saal was stood nearby, looking even more unimpressed than usual.

“Sorry about that,” Denarian Dey said cheerfully. “We always thought these guys weren’t really ready yet, but Nova Prime seemed optimistic. Back to the Kyln they go!”

“You guys need to do a better job at screening these dudes,” Peter said, staring down at the unconscious bodies sprawled awkwardly on the floor. “Did you hear all that crap they just said about Gamora?”

“Well, it’s not like they were entirely...wrong,” Denarian Dey coughed awkwardly, looking nervously at Gamora. It was then that she realized he was eyeing her sword, still held high, and she quickly tucked it away. “Um, no offense, your highness.”

“None taken,” she said, letting out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, though her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest like some sick adrenaline rush. “As I said, nothing I haven’t heard before.”

The Nova officers dragged the unconscious prisoners out the door as the receptionist stared on, open-mouthed. Peter stepped closer to Gamora once the doors were shut, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “Hey, you okay?”

“I don’t need reassurance after every confrontation, you know,” Gamora said with a wobbly smile. “I’m fine. I can handle it myself.”

“I was thinkin’ you don’t have to,” Peter said, reluctant to let go. “You need someone, you got me.”

“I just...I need a moment. Alone.” Gamora pulled herself out of his grasp, though not unkindly.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Peter nodded sharply. “Uh, there’s a storage room back there that’s basically empty, so no one’s gonna barge in. I’ll come find you later?”

“Okay,” she repeated. She felt like she was operating on autopilot, her mind overwhelmed with all the images, the absolutely awful images that had come flooding back to her. The smell of blood was more familiar to her than the smell of flowers, the feeling of a weapon in her hands more comforting than the touch of another person. She wanted that to change - no, needed it to change.

Gamora looked up at Peter, wondering what he was thinking. What had he pictured in his mind when he first heard of her? Did he think she took pleasure in what she did? Did he know how far she had gone, how far gone she was? All she could see in his face was concern, not of her, but for her. She wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I’ll cover for you if Nova Prime asks,” Peter added. “Though I think once she hears the story, she’ll probably apologize to you. Again.”

“She had hope,” Gamora shrugged. “She thought they were ready, and they weren’t. They were just as hungry and reckless as before.”

Peter looked at her consideringly. “You’re projecting again,” he said, though not accusingly. “You sure you wanna be alone with your thoughts?”

“Up until recently, they were all I had.” She took another step back, giving him a tight smile. “See you later, Quill.” ______

Hey.” Peter entered the storage room once Gamora had allowed him in, silently closing the door behind him. “Denarian Dey says they don’t have anyone else comin’ in, so you’re good to go back out whenever. Or, y’know, never. If you wanna just sit here.”

Gamora was sat, curled into herself, on the floor of the room, the fluorescent light only further emphasizing the exhaustion in her eyes. She looked... sad. Angry, hurt, even guilty, Peter thought he had seen it all on her before, but not like this. “Okay,” she said quietly.

“You want me to leave?” Peter asked. Wordlessly, Gamora shook her head. Peter approached her slowly as if she were akin to a spooked animal before sitting down across from her, legs folded beneath him. “That stuff they said about you - ”

“It’s all true,” Gamora interrupted. “And it’s like I told Nova Prime - having my record wiped doesn’t make me any less of a criminal. Marrying you doesn’t make me any less of a coward. I lost control again. I almost killed someone, and for what, for taunting me? For trying to get to you? Thanos was right. I am weak.”

“No, you are the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Peter insisted. “You came up with this plan all on your own because you couldn’t stand the idea of watching anyone else die. You betrayed Thanos by coming to me with your own agenda. You taught me about stuff I didn’t know I had in me, and you saved my life. That don’t sound weak to me.”

“A stronger person would have confronted Thanos from the beginning,” Gamora replied. “A stronger person would have accepted death, instead of being the cause of everyone else’s.”

“You were a kid,” Peter exclaimed. “You were scared, and alone. You had to fight for yourself. C’mon, Gamora. You wanna be a good person?”

“Yes, but - ”

“Then you start by giving a shit.” Peter said it so bluntly that Gamora couldn’t help but choke out a laugh. “I’m serious! And you’ve already done that by showin’ up here and tellin’ me you want to stop Thanos from destroying the galaxy. So don’t give up. I haven’t seen you do it yet, and I don’t think you’re about to start.”

Continuing to chuckle softly, Gamora unfurled her arms from around her knees, stretching out her legs until they brushed against Peter’s. He shivered a little at her touch. “Survival is what I’m best at,” she said. “And I’ll make sure to keep everyone safe, too. That’ll be my job.”

“There you go,” Peter grinned. “And Gamora...all those things you’ve done...you’re just tryna make them right. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“I guess I won’t know until it’s done.” Gamora stood slowly, brushing the dust off her pants. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss being on Ego. Xandar feels like a place I could never survive in.”

“Survive?”

“I meant live,” Gamora corrected, though even she didn’t look so sure. She paused. “Maybe there is no home for me after all. I could just be a wanderer after this. Float among the stars.”

“As weirdly poetic - and morbid - as that sounds, my offer is still on the table, if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Peter said half-jokingly, also getting to his feet.

“If I left the moment I was getting sick of you, I would have been gone within the first ten minutes,” Gamora said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll consider it. Ask me again after our fathers are dead.”

“Now there’s a sentence,” Peter whistled. “I’ll go grab Yondu and let ‘im know. Let’s go home.”

a/n: hey, all! not sure why i said i'd be posting this in the first two weeks of march when i knew very well that i had midterms, but i hope you enjoyed this (both late and short-er) chapter! next chapter will be late april, as I have a non-au peter/gamora oneshot that i'm hopefully posting on my birthday (second week of april) and i've got finals in mid-april.

the song peter was listening to in gamora's room is everybody plays the fool by the main ingredient. also, i’ve been getting requests for chapter previews lately, so feel free to do so by sending me an ask (though not right away, I just barely started writing chapter six, haha).

thanks so much for reading, likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and i'll see y'all in the next one!

#starmora #peter x gamora #gamora x peter #peter quill #gamora #myfic #myfic: rtw #marvel #i had way too much fun writing the banter in this one haha

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weisswinds · 8 years

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Another submission for @owbigbang !! i wrote this fic for my partner artist @erughostcat

A fantasy AU pharmercy.

mirrored on ao3, By Our Wings

It was a clear morning. Fareeha, captain of the Giza city guard, walked the wall. The rocky plains stretched almost as far as she could see, giving way to green just before slipping beneath the horizon. She breathed deeply, thankful as always for these quiet, warm mornings. The life of captain was one she fully enjoyed, happily serving her city, but she relished any time she got to herself. Between her own training, training the guards, and coordinating with the local Overwatch office, free moments were few and far between.

She continued her circuit of the city. Fareeha had started at the eastern gatehouse, a sturdy structure on the wall above one of the four city gates. Identical structures were situated facing each direction, with smaller towers at the corners of the square city. Catapults and ballistae lined the walls. It was well provisioned and defensible, a fact Fareeha was proud of. Despite her preparedness to do so, Fareeha hoped never to have to test the city. The captain approached the northern gatehouse, entering through a heavy wooden door.

The doorway entered on the second floor of the gatehouse, a sort of common area with wooden furniture and a recently extinguished fire. Above, guards kept constant watch. Fareeha left them to their work, walking down the stairs. Partway down the narrow stairway, she stopped between steps. A blonde woman clad in white and gold was walking towards her. Her eyes were downcast, scanning the thick tome in her hands.

“Angela,” Fareeha said, unable to hide her surprise.

Angela looked up with a pleasant smile, closing her book and clipping it to her belt.

“Just the one I wanted to see! Good morning captain. Would you come with me please?”

Fareeha nodded, following Angela back down the stairs.

“I didn’t think you’d be back already,” Fareeha said, falling in step beside Angela as they walked the city streets.

“Turned out to be some very motivated pranksters, not a griffin like the reports said. An impressive pair, let me tell you about them later. How have things been here?” Angela walked quickly along the main street, her destination clearly the local Overwatch building.

“Quiet. Some strange rumors, but quiet.”

“Rumors?”

Fareeha nodded, stepping behind Angela for a moment to allow a pair of workers to pass carrying a large box. She stepped back to her side and continued.

“Monsters acting strangely all over the kingdom. Dragons attacking at random, cyclopes leaving the mountains in the hundreds, shockingly organized goblin offensives. The rumors vary, but there does seem to be something strange going on.”

“Hm,” Angela bit at her thumb knuckle idly.

Before long, they stood in front of the Overwatch building, a large building with the logo hanging from a sign. A bell began to ring suddenly, and insistently. Fareeha looked towards the alarm. Angela gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Duty calls. Come by later, we’ll talk,” she said with a smile and a nod.

Fareeha nodded, setting off at a brisk run. She was somewhat thankful for the sudden exit she had to make; Angela wouldn’t see her blushing this way. As she ran towards the gate, an officer of the guard ran to meet her, struggling to keep up.

“A pair of cyclopes, captain. How do you want to handle them?”

“Take a group and attack one of them. I’ll handle the other myself,” Fareeha ordered quickly. The officer ran off to collect a squad. She stopped a short distance from the gate, waiting for it to open. The large mechanism protested at first, the gate rising slowly. As soon as it was open enough, she exited the city.

Some distance away from the city wall were two cyclopes, both dragging entire trees to use as clubs. Fareeha clicked her tongue in dismay, but summoned her magic to prepare for battle. Her magic aura rose to life with a rich gold color, the column of swirling energy reaching above the wall behind her. She held her hand out, siphoning a portion of the energy to form a brilliant orb below her open palm. When she clenched her fist a long spear composed of light sprang into existence. By then a group of a dozen guards had formed up behind her, armed with spears and shields.

“I’ll disarm them first. There’s no need to rush,” Fareeha began, walking towards the cyclopes. “Surround it, and fight carefully. It will only need one blow, after all.” She looked over her shoulder at each of the guards’ faces, nodding her encouragement. “Fight well.”

They charged together at the pair of cyclopes. Fortunately, they were fair enough from each other to allow Fareeha and the guards ample room to focus on their given targets. Fareeha stopped suddenly, pulling her spear back and aiming briefly. She let the projectile fly, aiming between the cyclopes. It split in midflight, the twin missiles piercing the cyclopes’ hands that held their makeshift weapons. Blood spurted from the wounds, the spears vanishing when their work was done. Both roared in pain as the guards gave up a cheer.

“Focus!” she snapped, marshalling another spear as she advanced.

The cyclops towered about her, swinging a bloody fist with slow but devastating power. Fareeha avoided its attack easily, stepping back from the initial swing and swatting aside the attempt to grab her with its unwounded hand. Fareeha stepped around the cyclops, thrusting repeatedly. Its thick hide was no match for her spear. Blood soon ran freely from a dozen wounds. The cyclops roared in frustration. It raised both hands high, aiming to bring both down on Fareeha. With a sharp report, another spear made from Fareeha’s aura came from the cyclops’ side. It pierced both hands and twisted, shackling them together.

Fareeha hopped back, aiming her spear once more. As she did her aura grew in intensity, and a dozen spears appeared floating behind her. When she let the one from her hand fly, the others followed. Pierced through with a dozen streaks of brilliant light, the cyclops fell dead instantly. As it fell, Fareeha looked towards the guards and their battle.

They had surrounded the cyclops, and were fighting it as ordered. When the cyclops turned to swing at one guard, three behind it charged and stabbed at whatever they could reach.

“Clear the area,” she shouted, another set of spears forming behind her.

The officer looked towards her, nodding as he led the the guards to safety. The second cyclops fell just as the other, pierced a dozen times over. She waved to the guards as they cheered and saluted. The officer ran to her quickly, awaiting orders at attention.

“We’ll need to dispose of them. Salvage anything we can use, you know the-” Fareeha stopped in midsentence, staring at the cyclops with her mouth agape.

Ominous purple runes had appeared on both of their bodies, pulsing darkly for a few seconds. Horrifyingly, the cyclopes began to stand, reanimated by some dark magic. Dark purple energy rose around them.

“Back to the city. Send Angela. I’ll keep them busy,” she spoke in short, clipped tones.

“Captain are you-” the guard began to protest, stopped by Fareeha grabbing a fistful of his collar.

“Now!” she ordered.

Fareeha looked impassively at the pair of cyclopes as the guards made their way back to the city. Their wounds closed before her eyes, formerly red eyes glowing purple. Fareeha’s aura flared, shining gold against the cyclopes newfound energy. She rose up a few yards, the wings emblazoned on the back of her uniform shining gold. The cyclopes charged together, footsteps heavy. Fareeha easily flitted out of reach, flying above them. At her gesture, a volley of spears assailed the pair. She clicked her tongue in dismay, watching the fresh wounds heal before her eyes. One of the cyclopes dislodged a chunk of earth, throwing it at her with startling speed. The other, in her moment of distraction spent avoiding the attack, made towards the city.

“No chance,” she muttered, darting towards the runner’s back.

A spear larger than the others appeared over her shoulder, matching speed. With a shout of effort, she sent it hurtling forward. It went through the cyclops’ calf, embedding in the ground on the other side. From the point of impact, light chains spread across the cyclops’ body. She landed as the gate behind her opened. A moment later, Angela was at her side.

“They were killed, and some dark spell brought them back. Any thoughts?”

“I’d have to get closer, examine the spell before breaking it,” Angela shook her head. “Risky, but it’s the only way I can.”

Fareeha chewed her lower lip, but nodded. “Hang on,” she said, putting her arm around Angela’s waist.

When Angela’s grip was secure, Fareeha took off again. The bound cyclops struggled in its chains. As it tore at them, they reformed. The other threw another large rock at them. Angela’s own pale yellow magic mingled with Fareeha’s as she held her hand towards the incoming projectile. It shattered harmlessly against the translucent shield she projected.

“I can see the runes from here,” Angela said, raising her voice over the wind as Fareeha circled the pair of cyclopes. She launched spears intermittently, having no other option.

“I’ll get you an opening,” Fareeha promised. She dove suddenly, then turned to fly directly at the unbound cyclops.

She let go of Angela, who rolled upon touching the ground and ran towards the cyclops in Fareeha’s golden wake. The captain formed her aura into two large blades, hefting them as if they were weightless. The cyclops swung at her. Fareeha’s blades flashed, severing the limb. In three more flashing cuts, the cyclops fell forward without arms or legs. The rune atop its head began to glow, dark purple energy already pulling the limbs back into place.

Angela rushed forward, pressing her hands to the immobile cyclops’ head. Tendrils of yellow pierced into the rune. She winced with the effort, as the rune seemed to press back, resisting her. With a clench of her fist and a harder push she overwhelmed the rune, shattering it. As it vanished, as did the purple aura. The cyclops limbs fell away again, and the beast was fully dead.

Angela looked around quickly, searching for Fareeha. She saw her in time to watch the captain lop off the other cyclops’ head. It seemed removing the rune entirely was just as effective, Angela mused, making her way back towards the city. Fareeha landed at her side, both of their auras subsiding. Angela breathed a sigh of relief, and interlocked arms with Fareeha. Fareeha looked down in surprise as Angela put her head against her shoulder. Angela smiled up at her.

“You know, you’d make a great member of Overwatch,” Angela said, not for the first time.

Fareeha laughed lightly. “How many attempts is that? My city needs me, you can see that.”

“You could stay here! Nothing would change, we’d just be officially on the same team.”

“There’s more than that I’d like to be, officially,” Fareeha said absently. Angela looked up at her, mouth slightly open until Fareeha looked back down. “I… I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

Fareeha blushed as Angela nodded, grinning. The pair stopped a short distance from the open gate.

“I’ve had some interesting confessions, captain, but that was certainly one of the worst,” Angela teased.

“I didn’t say love!” Fareeha stammered, averting her eyes.

Angela put her hand on Fareeha’s chin, gently guiding her gaze back to hers. “Neither did I, dear captain. It’s an accurate word though, in both our cases.”

Fareeha opened and shut her mouth a few times, seeming to have forgotten how to form words for a moment. In lieu of a proper response, she “Hmph!”-ed, and continued walking into the city.

Angela laughed again, jogging to catch up and lacing their arms together again.

“Goodness, killing a pair of enchanted cyclopes is quite a story we’ll be telling our adopted children, huh?”

“You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

The two passed the officer from before, and he seemed unsure of how to approach them. Fareeha retrieved her arm from Angela, who hung back.

“Err, yes, the disposal team is ready captain.”

“Good. I want the guard ready for anything, let’s see to it that they are,” Fareeha looked at Angela apologetically. “We’ll talk later.”

Angela nodded, blowing a playful kiss as she headed down the street towards the Overwatch building once more. She hardly paid any attention to anyone as she rushed up inside and headed towards her workshop. Angela pushed open the door to her workshop, and immediately set to work before the fiery inspiration faded. The spellbook clipped at her hip leaped to life, glowing faintly as its pages flipped quickly to where Angela had left off. It followed her to the workbench covered in loose papers. She stood at the bench, humming as she worked. After a long examination, she shut the book and picked up a sheet of paper. A faint chime could be heard accompanying the magic circle spinning slowly around her free hand. The paper pulsed with light briefly, hanging in the air when Angela let it go. She turned on a heel to the rack of weapons occupying almost the entire wall next to the bench. She chose a shortsword, taking a few practice swings before facing the enchanted paper. Angela swung and cut cleanly through the sheet. She watched with bated breath as the sheet fell in two halves. A moment later a louder chime sounded, the paper’s two halves glowing brightly before reconnecting in the air. The sword clattered to the ground as Angela rushed forward, examining the paper with her nose nearly touching it. It was as if it had never been cut. There was faint golden line where it had been cut, which Angela carefully ran her finger along.

“Ha!” she clapped for herself and hopped up and down.

Angela grabbed the sheet and turned to leave. She pushed open the door, taken aback by the thud and resulting cry of pain. Fareeha stood in the hallway, staring up and holding her nose.

“Ow,” she said, tone flat.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were there!” Angela stepped forward quickly, raising her free hand to help. “May I?” she asked, her hand shining gold.

Fareeha nodded and closed her eyes. Angela gently moved her hand from her nose, and set to work. She tilted Fareeha’s face back down so she was looking straight, and held her probably broken nose between two fingers. The glow intensified briefly, then subsided. Angela pulled her hand back and wiped away the blood that had rolled down to Fareeha’s lip. Her gaze lingered for a few moments too long. When Fareeha cleared her throat, Angela realized they’d both been staring.

“I-is that better?” she asked, flustered. Fareeha laughed at the reddening of her cheeks, and nodded.

“Much. Where were you going in such a rush, anyway?”

“To show you this!” Angela said, turning and picking up the enchanted paper. She held it inches from Fareeha’s face, waiting for a reaction.

“What, ah, what am I missing?”

Angela tore the sheet down the middle, handing one half to Fareeha and taking a step back with hers. She grinned as both halves began to glow, and let her sheet go to rejoin its other half in the captain’s hand. Fareeha blinked in surprise as the paper reformed before her eyes.

“I figured it out! That rune earlier was very strange. It gave me the idea to apply the magic differently. I kept trying and trying and trying, but always tried the same way. With a new approach, it’s a simple enchantment anyone can do with some practice.”

Fareeha was examining the sheet as Angela spoke, nodding appreciatively before she spoke. “Keep in mind, simple for someone like you might not be as easy as you think.”

Angela waved her hand dismissively and shook her head, “No no, I’m sure of it this time. I promise, this isn’t a repeat of the self filling quiver.”

“I still have scars,” Fareeha reminded her.

“But we learned so much!”

Fareeha raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help but laugh.

“So, you were standing at my door for some reason. Did you need something?”

Fareeha suddenly seemed flustered, stumbling over her words as she spoke, “Ah, err, yes. Well, I wouldn’t say need exactly. I’ve finished informing my officers of the earlier situation. Until training later, I have some free time, and thought you might want to spend it together. If I’m not intruding, of course. You seem to be in the middle of working?”

Angela waved her hand and shook her head, dismissing the notion, “I’m done for now. A breakthrough deserves a break, after all. Would you like to come to my actual room? It’s much more comfortable than, well, a hallway.”

Fareeha nodded with a careful smile, “Lead on.”

Angela raised her eyebrows, “Hm? Ah.” She pointed over Fareeha’s shoulder at the door across from her workshop. “Just there, Fareeha.”

The captain stepped aside, smiling in spite of herself. She couldn’t hide the fact that Angela often caught her off guard, made her flustered, and doubt her usually unshakable officer’s confidence. Perhaps, she mused, a break from being the captain would be refreshing. Angela shut her workshop door, a wisp of yellow magic trailing from her fingertips when she let go of the handle. She caught Fareeha’s curious look and shrugged.

“Not everything I work on in there is as harmless as paper, you know?”

“Of course,” Fareeha nodded understanding as Angela opened the door to her actual room, entering after her.

The room was dim until Angela snapped her glowing fingers, illuminating the room with a series of runes on the ceiling. The magic runes spiralled inwards, meeting in the center with a pleasant glow; bright, but without the harshness of a lantern. It was fairly plain, but well kept. One corner of the room was taken up by her bed, perfectly made, but missing pillows. The desk across from it was strewn with some documents. Its chair held the missing set of pillows. Against the wall on the other side of the room was a small dresser, beside it a full length mirror.

“I hardly sleep here,” Angela explained, gesturing at the bed as she hastened to tidy up her desk. She knocked on it when the surface was clear, smiling as she answered the question visible on Fareeha’s face. “Here usually.”

“Working?” the captain shut the door quietly behind herself.

“Like you, always. This desk,” Angela half sat, half leaned on the desk as she crossed her arms and spoke, “Is where my real magic happens.”

“What do you mean?” Fareeha stood, almost as if at attention to an officer, in the middle of the room.

Angela opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. She inclined her head towards her bed, “You may want to sit if you’d like a full answer to that.” The mage tossed the pillows from her desk chair to their proper resting place. Angela made to move towards the middle of the room, touching Fareeha’s arm gently as they crossed paths. Gently she said “And please, Reeha, relax.”

“Of course,” Fareeha relaxed her stance, and sat down, leaning onto one hand.

“So!” Angela began, her smile turning into a grin as she turned on her heel to dramatically face Fareeha. “Where to begin, where to begin. My real magic, as it were, can’t start with practical tests. It’d be far too dangerous to start throwing enchantments and runes any old way without thorough theorizing and testing, and more theorizing, and more testing, and so on. I start there,” she waved at the desk, pacing back and forth as she spoke, “With drawings, and miniature models. A small, controlled environment to work out the first of many snags in the magic. It’s not all just a wave of a hand, and some whispered words I- What?”

Angela stopped midstride, noticing Fareeha’s growing smile. The captain couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry, Angela, I’ve just never seen you like this. You are full of surprises.”

“Pleasant surprises, I hope?”

“Of course. Please, continue.”

Angela went on like that for nearly an hour, pacing and lecturing, stopping when Fareeha had questions. Occasionally they switched positions, Angela sitting on her bed or desk while Fareeha told her stories about being captain of the guard. It was a relief to talk to someone like this. She found herself wanting to keep talking to Fareeha, for as long as she could. Just being in her company was a delight, one she was loathe to end. Despite knowing and working with Fareeha for nearly a year, it had taken all this time for Angela to realize how much the captain meant to her. Hours passed without either of them realizing it.

A long silence came between them when Angela finished talking again. Gazing at Fareeha on her bed, holding her pillow to her chest, Angela felt something she hadn’t for years. In the captain of the guard Angela found herself home, a sense of belonging. It was written on her face, and she couldn’t care less, closing the distance between them to stand in front of Fareeha. The captain looked up at her, not breaking the delicate eye contact or the silence. Angela draped her arms over Fareeha’s shoulders. She felt the blush creeping up her neck.

“Captain,” she murmured, averting her eyes at long last, for only a moment. “Fareeha.”

“Angie,” Fareeha nodded her gentle encouragement.

“I do believe I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Fareeha stood, putting one arm around Angela’s waist and touching her cheek with her free hand. In lieu of an answer, she pulled Angela into a kiss, careful at first but deepening almost immediately. Angela pulled back first, opening her eyes slowly. She bit her lower lip and glanced at her bed.

“I might hardly sleep here, but gods you’ve made my bed seem so very inviting.”

Fareeha raised her eyebrows, then grinned. “In that case,” she sat again, pulling Angela onto her lap.

“Don’t you have afternoon training?” Angela teased, her thumb on Fareeha’s chin just below her lips.

“They can start without me.”

That afternoon, for the first time in her years as captain, Fareeha missed a training session.

Grim news came the next day. Fareeha was walking through the city, not thinking of her direction and letting her mind wander to the previous night. She was snapped out of her reverie by a single alarm bell and the sound of the nearby gate opening. It was only one ring, so danger wasn’t imminent, but she took off at a run anyway. Fareeha pushed to front of a group of guards standing around a wounded traveler. He clutched a bloody stump where his hand once was.

“Monsters,” he shouted, falling towards Fareeha.

She steadied him carefully, holding him up by the shoulders. “Go on,” she prompted.

He took a few gasping breaths, each one seeming to pain him. It was clear he was wounded far worse than a missing hand. Blood flowed freely from a large wound in his stomach.

“A horde of monsters, not half a day away. They’ve gone mad, destroying everything in their way.”

The man collapsed as Fareeha’s eyes widened. Before she could have him taken care of, he breathed his last. She crouched, shutting his eyes delicately. After a moment of thought, she stood and addressed the group of guards.

“I want every able guard ready for battle immediately. Ring the bells,” Fareeha walked away as she finished, the guard’s parting around her.

With a look of fierce determination, Fareeha made her way towards the Overwatch building. As she stepped onto the main street, the four bells began to ring together. It was a signal every townsperson knew, but hoped to never hear. The city was to prepare for a large scale battle. Fareeha quickened her step.

She stopped at the Overwatch door, hearing audible footsteps approaching rapidly. She took a step back just as the door swung open. Angela stood breathless in the doorway.

“Glad you learned to avoid doors,” she forced a smile in spite of the circumstances.

Fareeha tried to smile but her heart wasn’t in it. Angela walked beside her as she turned towards the nearest gate.

“The rumors are true,” Fareeha started, “A traveler showed up today, told me a horde of monsters was approaching, and died at my feet.”

“How long?”

Fareeha shrugged. “Not half a day. I’d guess we have until evening.”

Angela exhaled slowly. “Then let’s be ready.”

The town shifted quickly to prepare the defense. Anything the citizens were doing stopped, all hands offered in whatever form of assistance they could. Many volunteered to fight, arming themselves with anything they had on hand. With the afternoon sun beaming down on them, the monsters appeared from the east.

Fareeha looked out from atop the eastern gatehouse. She had never seen monsters in numbers like this. There were goblins operating crude war machines, accompanied by hundreds of cyclopes, wyverns, and other large beasts. A massive and sinister aura hung over the entire horde, clear evidence something was amiss. Angela, standing at Fareeha’s side, relayed as much to the captain.

The eastern bell began to chime, repeatedly. Battle was imminent.

“I hoped never to have to test these walls,” Fareeha murmured when the bell stopped.

Angela heaved a sigh.

“I must be frank, Fareeha. This looks grim.”

Fareeha nodded her agreement. The horde drew closer, almost in range of their catapults. She wouldn’t have to give the order; the city guard knew their jobs well enough. It seemed to take hours for the monsters to get close enough. Fareeha watched as the first volley of stones flew from the city walls. They landed crushing blows against the monsters, but they pressed on. Several cyclopes collected stones for use later.

“It won’t be enough,” she murmured, watching as the monsters paid no attention to the impacts.

Angela put her hand on Fareeha’s shoulder, both of their aura’s rising together.

“I’m with you,” Angela promised.

Fareeha took a final deep breath and nodded to Angela. “Together then.”

The pair jumped from the top of the gatehouse, Fareeha with her arm around Angela’s waist. She soared high above the horde, high enough to not have to worry about fire from the city. Fareeha rained spears on the horde, drawing from her own energy and Angela’s to amplify their power. Their auras became one, each spear just as much Angela’s as Fareeha’s. Countless monsters fell under their barrage.

“Company,” Angela shouted, pointing at a pair of wyverns heading towards them.

Fareeha looked at them briefly, then dove. She was on a collision course with the nearest wyvern. When it was close enough for its roar to reach her ears, Fareeha summoned a blade to her hand. She easily rolled herself and Angela out of the wyvern’s snapping jaws. Her blade flashed, severing one wing and the wyvern’s head in one motion. She turned in midair with the momentum of the swing, letting the blade go when she saw the other wyvern approaching rapidly. Angela gave Fareeha’s blade a boost, sending it below the wyvern and then straight up to pierce its heart from below. Both fell lifeless, crushing monsters below.

Fareeha turned her attention back to the battle. The monsters were advancing much faster now, clawing at the stone wall as arrows and stones rained on them. Several dragons flew back and forth from the horde to wall, transporting talons full of goblins to the top of the wall. Most of them fell to their deaths, but enough survived on the wall to give the monsters a foothold.

“The wall,” Angela said, Fareeha already on her way.

They landed amidst a tight knot of goblins, scattering them with a burst of golden magic. Fareeha launched herself at them immediately. Her spear found mark after mark. The goblins were stuck between herself and the guards shield wall, and fell quickly. Behind her, Angela held the rest of the group at bay with a transparent magic shield. The goblins slashed at it with crude blades, fruitlessly.

Fareeha turned when her group was finished, throwing her spear. It passed through Angela’s shield to impale one goblin. Fareeha snapped her fingers, causing the spear to split into a dozen miniatures and finish off the survivors.

She took the brief respite to examine the battle. Much of the horde had fallen, yet many more remained. The monsters seemed to be pulling back for now, a seething mass in the fading evening sun. Four large dragons circled overhead, seeming at peace with doing so for the time being. They had deflected the monster’s first attack with seemingly few injuries. Fareeha was sure the worst was still to come.

“I’ll tend to the wounded,” Angela said, setting off on her own.

Fareeha nodded, heaved a great sigh, and set off alone as well. It was going to be a long evening, she feared. Fareeha walked the wall, the fighting finished for the time being. She offered what support she could to the guards she passed; a reassuring nod, a hand to steady a shaking shoulder. She held her hand out to a guard sitting with his knees hugged to his chest. He looked up, the fear plain in his face.

“We’ve won for now. You’re still here. How many of those beasts can no longer say the same, hm?”

He hesitated for a moment, then forced a smile as he took Fareeha’s hand. Fareeha pulled him to his feet, then clapped him on both shoulders.

“Your comrades are counting on you now. Remember your training, and you won’t let them down.”

“Captain!” the guard saluted, right fist over his heart, with all the zeal he could muster.

Fareeha continued in similar fashion, making her way to the south eastern tower rising from the wall’s corner. Upon reaching it and finding the guards there relatively well off, she turned to make her way back to the gatehouse. She heard the telltale chimes of Angela’s magic inside, and pushed her way through the already ajar door. Angela had taken over the second floor of the gatehouse, giving medical attention to anyone who needed it. Bedrolls were lined up at the far wall, benches and tables scattered. Fareeha watched Angela tending the lone patient with a heavy heart. Angela looked at her with a strained smile, her own exhaustion plain as day. Angela looked up to the sound of the door closing, and smiled when she saw who had entered.

“Captain,” Angela spoke when she was finished working, the guard sleeping peacefully.

She stood and crossed the room to Fareeha quickly, and all but fell into her arms. Fareeha put her arms around her wordlessly. She buried her nose in pale blonde hair, breathing deep with her eyes closed in a futile effort to forget their troubles, if only for a moment. Somehow Angela’s hair still smelled of flowers. Angela’s grip tightened momentarily, before she let go. Fareeha couldn’t help but smile, despite the circumstances.

“How are things looking?” she asked.

“We’re holding. Morale is low, but we’re holding,” Angela walked to a bench, sitting as she spoke.

Fareeha joined her, straddling the bench to face her. Angela turned, propping herself up with an elbow on the table. They shared a long gaze, finding strength in simply being around each other. Fareeha scooted and leaned forward, a motion Angela copied as they pressed their foreheads together.

“We’ll get through this,” Angela murmured after a long pause.

Fareeha moved back just far enough to put her hand on Angela’s chin, tilting her face up. Angela cut off her plan to steal a kiss, darting forward and planting one on her cheek. She covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed, then pulled Fareeha into a proper cheek.

“You’re going to let me take the lead one of these days,” Fareeha said, blush creeping up her neck unchecked.

Angela adjusted herself so she was also straddling the bench, “Oh?”

She lifted her legs, draping them over Fareeha’s thighs. Fareeha’s mouth hung open, taken aback. To her credit, she recovered quickly, reaching forward and pulling Angela into her lap. Their lips met again, kissing passionately and deeply. Angela put one hand on Fareeha’s shoulder, the other gripping a fistful of black hair. She tipped forward and pushed Fareeha onto her back, straddling Fareeha rather than the bench. Angela ended their kiss abruptly, planting a trail as far down Fareeha’s neck as she could reach.

“But not this day, I see,” Fareeha bit her lower lip.

“No, my dearest captain. Not today,” Angela’s laughter was light, and music to Fareeha’s ears.

Angela put her head on Fareeha’s chest, thankful she wore armor light enough to be a comfortable pillow. Her hand glowed a gentle yellow and she held it a few inches above Fareeha’s stomach. She clicked her tongue in dismay.

“What is it?” Fareeha asked, looking down curiously.

Angela’s brow furrowed, “Your protection enchantments have faded. Let me redo them.”

She didn’t wait for Fareeha’s answer, immediately setting to work from her comfortable position. Her pinky nail lit up until it was painful to look at, and she used it to trace a series of layering magic runes, giving each a moment to disappear before adding more. As she worked, bells chimed along with the flow of magic.

“You were out there fighting like this,” Angela said quietly when she was done, turning her face to Fareeha.

Fareeha averted her eyes, chewing her lip.

“Reeha,” Angela spoke more insistently, reaching up to turn Fareeha’s face to her. She stared into her eyes, pleading. “You’re not just fighting for yourself out there. Be careful. Okay?”

Fareeha placed a swift kiss on Angela’s forehead, “I will. I’m sorry, Angie.” She half-smiled. “With your runes, though, what have I got to worry about?”

Angela scrunched up her face, “Hush and listen to your future wife.”

Fareeha laughed, “Yes ma’am.”

Hours passed, and night fell outside without incident. The bell ringing just above them woke Fareeha and Angela. Both fell from the bench, sharing a brief laugh before heading up the stairs. What they saw erased any levity.

The monsters had all scattered, and the ominous aura hanging over them had shifted. Approaching the gate, however, was an enormous dragon, nearly as tall as the wall. It seemed all the magic hanging over the horde had been concentrated into the dragon. Catapults and arrows seemed to have no effect, bouncing off its hardened scales.

“Hold fire!” Fareeha shouted. She locked eyes with Angela before taking her by the waist once more. “Ready?”

“Together,” Angela nodded.

They took off, a shining light in the darkness. Fareeha flew straight for the dragon, launching a volley of spears at its face. They shattered against its immense dark purple aura. The dragon spat flame, which Angela deflected with a magic barrier. They went back and forth with the dragon like that for a time, trading spears for blasts of flame.

“This isn’t working!” Angela said as the smoke cleared from another fire blast. “It must have a weakness. Those runes the cyclopes had, try to find me one!”

Fareeha nodded her understanding, circling the dragon. She dodged under its spiked tail, and avoided its massive wings. Angela pointed suddenly. Between the dragon’s wings there was a large rune, identical to the one affecting the cyclopes. Fareeha landed them right beside it, and Angela set to work. She knelt beside the rune, putting both hands on near it. Magic poured out of her unchecked, tendrils of yellow trying to force their way into the rune. Fareeha looked from Angela to the wall, then back to her.

“Not much time,” she urged.

“I know, I know,” Angela said, strain in her voice.

The dragon roared, spewing flame across the top of the wall and blasting the gate. It held strong, but it was only a matter of time.

“Angela!”

“Put your hand here!” Angela motioned to the space beside her.

Fareeha crouched, mimicking Angela’s position.

“When I tell you, push your magic into the rune as hard as you can. There’s no point in-”

“Save the theory. When you’re ready.”

Angela nodded, took a breath, and steeled herself.

“Now!”

Their golden and yellow aura’s shined like a beacon, quickly overwhelming that of the dragon. The rune began to crack, the dragon roaring in response. It seemed overcome with pain, shaking as Fareeha and Angela worked.

“More,” Angela said through clenched teeth.

More golden cracks appeared in the purple rune, eventually overwhelming it completely. It shattered with a sound like a breaking pane of glass. The dragon roared again. The flames it spat were weak, not even reaching the gate. As its aura subsided, Fareeha carried Angela away. Before their eyes, the dragon’s body was suddenly covered in countless smaller runes. Half a beat later, it ignited in brilliant purple flame.

Angela looked at Fareeha, eyes wide. Behind the enormous dragon, most of the monsters seemed to have turned and run. They were met with a raucous cheer from the guards when they landed atop the gatehouse. Fareeha pulled Angela into a tight hug. There was still much work to do in finding those responsible, but the day was theirs for the time being.

#overwatch #pharmercy #fantasy au #my writing

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