#our homeland and i don’t have a husband and family to lean on and i’ll just get washed away in such a big country with no one who loves me.

[spelllingandthemysteryschool]

perhaps the disapproval and dismay my mother has been beaming my way since she finally figured out that my gf and i are together is having a negative effect on my mental health. maybe

[idy-ll-ique]

baby names

pairing: loki x pregnant!f!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none, it's very cute 😩

requested: nope

word count: ~1.6k

summary: y/n is pregnant and loki can't stay away from her

author's note: hiya peeps! a loki fic after such a long time, kinda got tired of writing bucky fics all the time,,,, (though next week there's gonna be a bucky x f!reader 👀) enjoy!

masterlist

---

"Loki."

"Don't call me that."

Y/N raised an eyebrow at her husband and he grumbled angrily, pulling her closer to him. "Sweetheart," Y/N began, "You should go." Loki whined childishly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he firmly mumbled Y/N sighed, running her hand through his silky soft hair. "6th time. Yet they always invite you. Why aren't you leaving the house?"

"Because you're pregnant! I'm not going anywhere until the baby is safely out of you and you both are well taken care of." Y/N smiled softly at his concern but pulled away from Loki. "Well I think you need some sun, you should go. And no is not an option. You know what? I'm calling Tony right now and telling him you are going with all of them." Before Loki could object, Y/N picked up her phone and called Tony.

Loki had been invited by Thor and the other male Avengers on a weekend trip to the beach, sponsored by Tony Stark. Everyone was going; Tony, Steve, Thor, Bruce, Clint, Scott, Sam, Bucky, Vision… they'd also invited Loki, since he had now permanently settled on Midgard with his lovely wife Y/N, but he'd initially refused because he didn't want to leave Y/N alone.

She was 8½ months pregnant. Though there was still a week or two of estimated time remaining for the birth, Loki didn't want to leave because what if the baby came early? Tony, Clint and Scott, who were also fathers, had assured him several times since Y/N's pregnancy announcement that the baby would be okay, Y/N would be okay but he still worried himself sick everyday.

"Do I absolutely have to go?" Loki groaned, lying flat on his back on the bed as Y/N sat back down after her chat with Tony. "Yes. I need some time alone— you need some time alone. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack one day by how much you worry over this baby of ours. A nice trip to the beach with clear skies and golden sand and the blue sea will do you much good."

Loki sulked. Y/N, getting a teasing smirk on her face, nudged his shoulder. "Hey, there are gonna be girls in skimpy bikinis on the beach, you know," she suggested and Loki made a face, pulling Y/N down to give her a deep kiss. "I love you," he glared at her, "I don't care about those scantily dressed women. Fine, if it makes you feel better, I'll go."

"Yay! Now I can call Wanda and Nat and Sharon and Pepper and Maria and Darcy over so we can have our own day out! It's gonna be awesome," Y/N squealed, already busy texting as Loki sputtered.

Is that why she wants me out of the house that bad?

He couldn't blame her, though, the pregnancy had taken a toll on both the parents. Y/N used to be in pain all the time, had severe nausea and couldn't go out with all her friends like she used to. Now that the symptoms had started wearing off, he really couldn't blame her for wanting to have a nice day out with friends. "Have fun, darling," he smiled, giving her another kiss.

---

"Yo, Lokes, you ready to go?" Clint called out cheerfully as Loki walked towards the group of men, a scowl on his face. Yes, at home he'd agreed to accompany them on the trip but now that the day was actually here… "Not really but I don't have a choice," he grumbled and Steve smiled amusedly. "Y/N kick you out?" Loki rolled his eyes. "Yes, how did you know? She wants to have a girl's day out with the other ladies."

"I overheard Wanda and Natasha talking. Anyway, come on, let's hit the road!"

All of them got into two cars: Steve, Sam, Bucky, Thor and Loki in one while Clint, Scott, Tony, Bruce and Vision got into the other. Sam was driving, Steve was in the passenger seat, Bucky was in the middle seat and Thor and Loki were in the extreme back. "So, how's Y/N doing?" Bucky asked Loki, leaning back on his seat.

"She's doing well, the nausea and pain has stopped," Loki answered, following Bucky's lead. "I'm glad to hear it. Have you decided on a name? Because I assure you, Bucky is a really good contender," he grinned cheekily and even Loki laughed, shaking his head. "We haven't thought of any names as of yet."

"Are you looking for a Midgardian name or an Asgardian one?" Sam piped up. Loki blinked. "You know, that is a really good question," he muttered. "How about a Midgardian first name and an Asgardian middle name?" Steve suggested. "Why not the other way around?" Thor frowned. "Well, yeah, that works too," Steve shrugged. "Hm, that's a good suggestion. I will talk to Y/N."

"So is Bucky on the table—"

"No."

"Aw, man."

---

"Hey girl, after a long time!" Natasha grinned, giving Y/N a familial hug. "Hi, gals! Yes, I even got Loki to leave, took a lot of begging but he finally agreed," she sighed. "Could've just given him head or something," Pepper muttered and Y/N burst out laughing as the other ladies gasped. "Pepper!" Sharon exclaimed, shocked.

"What? It usually works on Tony," Pepper defended herself as everyone joined Y/N in her laughter. "So, ready to shop?" All the ladies got into a 7-seater car, with Maria in the driver's seat. "Can't wait! This Avenging stuff doesn't give me time for self-care, I swear. Haven't shopped in ages!" Wanda sighed. All the women agreed with her, muttering their yesses.

"By the way, Y/N, I've wanted to ask you this for so long now, have you decided on baby names yet?" Darcy questioned with a grin. "Oh! No we haven't as of yet, I have lots of good names but I haven't talked to Loki…" Sharon looked up from her phone. "Do you have Asgardian names or like, normal, Earth names? I have a feeling that Loki would want Asgardian names," she suggested.

Y/N frowned in thought. Sharon was right; both the brothers, Loki and Thor, took great pride in their homeland. She didn't mind, to be honest, Asgardian names were wonderful. "I like Asgardian names too, though, I'm open to it," she chuckled.

"Great! So if it's a girl, Darcy—"

"Darcy!"

"What? I'm just saying…"

---

"Brother?" Loki startled out of his thoughts, turning to Thor. "Sorry, I was… thinking," he cleared his throat and Thor smiled, sitting next to him. Around 6 hours had passed since they'd arrived at the resort and Loki couldn't get Y/N out of his mind. What is she doing? Is she okay? Should I go check on her? What if the baby is coming? Surely she'd call me if that happens…

"About Y/N?" Loki went red and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah." Thor clapped him on the back once, guffawing good-naturedly. "Don't you fret, brother, the ladies she is with are extremely competent! She will be okay, and plus, the baby isn't going to be here for another week or so," Thor assured him but worry gnawed Loki. Nope, I can't do it. He abruptly stood up, startling Thor.

"I'm going home."

"Loki—"

Just a second later, Loki disappeared.

---

"Mm," Y/N moaned, a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, "Isn't it delicious? What do ya say… Rosie?" The baby kicked once. "No? Okay, well… Sarah? Petunia?" The baby kicked more. "Oh, you want masculine names, huh… Uh, Alex?" One kick. "I know, Chris!" Another kick. "Tom?" More kicks. "So you don't want Midgardian names? Well, I don't know very many Asgardian names…"

"I do."

Y/N shrieked loudly, dropping her tub of ice cream as she turned to see Loki standing near the bedroom door. "Loki?" She picked a book off the nightstand and threw it at him. He caught it easily, sitting down next to her while keeping the book where it was. She instantly cuddled into his side, tearing up. Sure, she was the one who was too eager to send him away but she was also the one who couldn't stay away from him.

"Aw, hey, I'm here, my love," Loki whispered comfortingly, rubbing her back as she sobbed into his arms. "Don't go again. I missed you," she sniffled and Loki pressed a soft kiss to her head. "That is also why I came home early, darling, I missed you too," he laughed and she snuggled even closer to him.

"Little baby Axelia missed you too— ow! No? So… what about Lucinda? Ow, ooh… Priscilla? No?" Loki watched with an infatuated smile as she tried out different names on the baby. "What if our baby wants a more masculine name, love?" he asked and she turned to him.

"Hm, have you got any names in mind?"

"Well, Barnes was suggesting we name our child Bucky—"

"Ow! Nope, they don't like it."

"Oh well. He's going to be disappointed but what the baby says goes," Loki teased and Y/N burst out laughing. She stopped all of a sudden, giving Loki a small smile. "Please don't go anywhere again," she whispered and Loki shook his head, gathering her in his arms. "I missed you just as much as you did me, Y/N, I'm not going anywhere."

"I love you."

"I love you, too, min kjæreste."

"...That's Norwegian, isn't it?"

"Beautiful, though, isn't it?

"Yes, very."

---

a/n: thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

[mrsalwayswrite]

Hvítr gown, nýr life (Ubbe x Reader)

This is my contribution to @geekandbooknerd​ 2k followers challenge! Congrats again, my dear! 

My prompt was: "People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." - Cassandra Clare, City of Glass. 

Couple notes for this fic- Bjorn & Torvi are still together because reasons. Italics mean speakers are using Old Norse. 

The title means ‘White Gown, New Life’ in Old Norse. 

Also, this is my first time writing Ubbe so.... hopefully its not OOC?

Words: 4800

Warnings: one or two swear words. implied sex. I think that’s it???

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius​

"You cannot truly be considering this!" Bjorn thundered in the small, enclosed room. 

 Ubbe observed his elder brother- a man he had aspired to be like his whole childhood, a man he still looked up too, regardless of his faults. "Of course I am."

 Bjorn slammed his hand on the wooden table, making it shake, as his voice shook like thunder in the room. "You are throwing your future away!"

 "I am protecting our future!" Ubbe snapped, finally rising to his feet, irritation leaking into his tone. He met Bjorn's incensed blue eyes with his own resolute gaze. "We need allies, alliances, everything to make father's dream come true. If this is the price I must pay to fulfill Ragnar's dream, then I will gladly do it. It is not about me. It's for our people."

 After a long, tense moment, Lagertha pushed off the wall she and Torvi were leaning against. Gliding closer, she moved to stand in front of Ubbe, tears swimming in her eyes. Gently, she cupped his cheeks. "Your father would be so proud of you, Ubbe. I pray the gods bless you with happiness in this."

 "Thank you, Lagertha." Relief swelled in Ubbe's chest. If he had Lagertha's support, he knew Bjorn would come around. 

 Since they fled Kattegat and came to England, he had watched the shieldmaiden age before his eyes. He could not help but wonder if her soul yearned for Valhalla and to be reunited with Ragnar. Not that he could blame her. To hear her speak of Ragnar and his approval of Ubbe's actions, it only further solidified his choice. 

 Torvi spoke up, surprising him.  "I think Ubbe should do it." When Bjorn opened his mouth to interject, she snapped her gaze over to her husband. "This is his decision, Ubbe. He has asked for our advice but it is up to him. We need security and this, though we don't trust them, this can provide that security."

 Bjorn huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine! Do what you want!" 

 "Thank you." Ubbe softly said, looking at all the family he had left in this world. "I'll go inform King Alfred now." 

 With a firm stride, he left the quarters they had been given in Wessex. After some time trying to locate the young king, a passing servant was able to tell him Alfred's location. Thankfully the king was in his private study, reviewing petitions from the worker's guild. The guards at the door allowed Ubbe entrance only after the king called out to allow him entrance. With a look of unrestrained animosity, almost begging him to give them a reason to throw him out, the guards opened the door for him to pass. Ubbe nodded his thanks, but never removed his hand from the sword at his side until the door closed behind him. 

 Straightening in his chair, Alfred looked up from the papers spread out over his desk. "Good afternoon, Ubbe. I suspect you have sought me out because you have an answer for my proposition."

 "I do, your highness." Ubbe paused, knowing how his life was going to irrevocably change once he answered. "And I will accept. I will take a Saxon wife to further the alliance between us."

 "I am greatly pleased by your decision." The dark-haired man pushed away from his desk. He moved to a nearby table to pour them both a cup of wine, something these Saxons seemed to favor, as he continued speaking. "Alliances must be built on trust and understanding. A political marriage certainly helps solidify that trust."

 Ubbe received the cup, missing the taste of ale from his homeland. After taking a small sip, he stared at Alfred. "So what do we do now? Do I meet some potentials or is there a matchmaker?"

 "No, I already have someone picked out for you. My cousin." Alfred answered without hesitation before pausing in contemplation. "What your father and my grandfather would think of this arrangement….our families tied by blood."

 "Yeah…. What is her name?"

 "My cousin? Lady Y/N. Fear not, she comes from a well-respected family and with a substantial dowry. She has spent most of her life at a nunnery, so there is no fear of her virtue being tainted."

 "Great." Ubbe sighed out. Though he knew Alfred meant all that to be reassuring….it felt anything but. 

 *****

 It was not until almost a month later, Ubbe met his intended bride; with the wedding set for three days after her arrival. Apparently King Alfred and some of the Saxon noblemen were keen on the arranged marriage happening as soon as possible. 

 Ubbe stood off to the side in the throne room. With his hair freshly braided and pulled back and wearing one of his nicer tunics, he hoped he appeared princely. Even if by Saxon standards, he knew he fell woefully short. Lagertha had given him a nod of approval as they waited in the throne room. Though outwardly he kept his face passive and calm, his insides twisted into knots and his hands were clammy. 

 "Are you still certain about this, brother?" Bjorn clapped Ubbe on the shoulder as he whispered, eyeing the Saxons standing around. 

 The flaxen-haired Viking glanced over at King Alfred, who sat on his throne, talking in hushed tones to one of his advisors while his mother looked on with a sour expression. 

 Ubbe answered solemnly. "Aye, we need this alliance."

 With a grunt, Bjorn removed his hand but stayed at his brother's side. Something Ubbe appreciated. Although Bjorn had no issue airing his thoughts on this foolish alliance and how Ubbe was making a mistake in regards to choosing a wife again, he kept his complaints behind closed doors. In front of the Saxons, they presented an united front. 

 The large doors to the throne room opened with a groan. All eyes turned to witness as a sole figure cautiously yet gracefully walked forward, head held high and hands clasped in front of her. 

 "Cousin!" King Alfred exclaimed, rising from his throne, arms spread wide. Immediately, he descended the few stairs with a fond smile on his face. "Your presence has been missed here at court."

 The woman dipped into an elegant curtsey, her dress gliding around her like water. "You are far too kind, my king."

 As King Alfred embraced his cousin in a warm hug, Ubbe could only stare in shock. Standing there in a deep red gown, the woman looked like a goddess. Ubbe had prepared himself mentally for his intended bride to be marginally pretty like most of these Saxon women, but someone he easily overlooked. Not her though. Without even saying a word to him, he felt beguiled by her. It was more than just her physical beauty, it was in the way she carried herself, with grace and a nobility. It reminded him distantly of his mother. A woman who knew her place and dignity. This woman, his intended bride, was truly stunning. He could not help but wonder if the true reason for her prolonged residence at a nunnery was not because of piety but to preserve and protect her. Something he was suddenly immensely grateful for. 

 "This is your betrothed." Alfred walked her over to where the Vikings stood, at the bottom of the steps leading to his throne. With a pleased smile on his face, he introduced the two. "Ubbe, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, this is my cousin, Lady Y/N." 

 She curtsied to him, her movements so graceful like they were part of a dance. When she spoke, he was further enchanted, for even her voice was beautiful. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Ubbe."

 "It's just Ubbe. Since we are to be married, we can skip the formalities."

 A coy smile played on her lips. "As you wish….Ubbe."

 "Excellent." King Alfred beamed. "Perhaps a walk in the gardens to better acquaint yourselves would be desirable?"

 Before Ubbe could whole-heartedly agree, wishing to learn more about his intended bride, a sickly-sweet voice interrupted. 

 "Y/N has only just arrived. We have wedding plans to finalize and she must try on her dress." Princess Judith interrupted, wrapping an arm through her niece's while pointedly ignoring the Vikings. "Maybe another time, but I am sure y/n will be quite busy with preparations. Come, my dear."

 With that, she swept her niece out of the throne room as if the Vikings had the plague and she refused to breathe the same air as them. But before y/n disappeared, she peeked over her shoulder and met Ubbe's gaze with a tender smile teasing her lips, then disappeared from view. 

 "There is much to finalize and my mother wants to ensure the wedding will go smoothly. You and y/n will have time after the wedding to become acquainted." Alfred said, studying the direction his mother and cousin vanished. With a sigh, he pulled his gaze back to Ubbe. "Now that introductions are made, I have matters with the clergy to attend to."

 Ubbe barely paid attention when Alfred walked away, returning to his throne and listening to some priests whine about something petty. 

 A bump of a shoulder against his own drew Ubbe's attention back from thinking about y/n. 

 Bjorn leaned over to whisper conspiracingly in his ear. "Well, at least you won't have a problem bedding her." 

 *****

 The wedding ceremony was outlandish and dragged on for entirely too long. Between the many prayers of the priests and the rigid formality of everything, Ubbe was ready to draw his sword and spill some Christian blood, just to break up the monotony. Even Lagertha appeared ready to fall asleep from where she stood. 

 The only aspect that kept his attention was his bride. Watching her walk down the aisle, he almost swallowed his tongue, leaving him gaping at her in a slack-jawed awe as she slowly approached. In her flowing wedding dress, a crown of flowers in her hair and eyes alight, she appeared ethereal. Standing in his nicest tunic and pants, he knew he paled in comparison to her, but he did not mind. 

 When the priests tried to forcefully convince Ubbe to dress in Saxon clothing for the wedding, he not-so-subtly threatened to decapitate them if they mentioned it once more. He was a Viking and would dress as such. Besides this was to be a physical representation of an alliance between Saxon and Viking, it would make no sense for him to dress as a Saxon. 

 Thankfully Alfred agreed with his thoughts, so the clergy kept any further comments to themselves. 

 Once the wedding concluded with Ubbe and y/n proclaimed man and wife, the couple was escorted to the celebration. The following feast was beyond lavish, with drink and food in overflowing abundance. To his dismay, Ubbe found himself unable to converse with his new bride. Either Alfred was introducing him to someone new, some nobleman pestered him with questions or worst of all, Judith purposefully continued to make excuses that pulled y/n away. When their eyes met, he could see the apology in them, which lightened the stone in his heart. 

 As the feast progressed, Ubbe found as more time passed, the more his gaze drifted to his bride. The gods had truly blessed him with this marriage. Watching her, he was captivated. Although, he found his hand frequently shifting to reach for the hilt of his sword no longer strapped to his side. All the appreciative or lustful looks she received from other men did not go unnoticed, and if one of them tried to lay a hand on his new wife, he would not be held accountable for his actions. His fists could be just as deadly as any weapon.

 Finally, the time was called for the bedding ceremony. 

 Alfred and some of the clergy explained to Ubbe what happened during a bedding ceremony when he was learning about the wedding's customs and the vows he would have to recite. To say the Ragnarsson was shocked was an understatement. It sounded barbaric…. and him and his people were called the heathens. But he understood the need to maintain protocol for building the alliance and the trust of the Saxons. 

 So that was how he found himself walking down a corridor with Bjorn at his side, while the feast and celebrations continued on without him. 

 "Are you sure about this?" 

 Ubbe rolled his eyes at his elder brother, his stride never faltering. "You did not have to agree to it."

 Bjorn scoffed, keeping pace. "And miss out on all the fun?"

 The two brothers laughed, the sound loosening some of the tension in the bridegroom's body. When Alfred told Ubbe he needed a witness to represent his people at the bedding ceremony, Bjorn was the only option. When Ubbe initially told his brother about the tradition and asked for Bjorn's presence, the hulking Viking had doubled-over in laughter, followed by making several crude comments about the need to instruct Ubbe on how to properly bed a woman. The discussion ended in a brotherly tussel but Bjorn agreed. 

 Especially when Ubbe explained his plan. 

 The bedroom was in the wing of the royal families' rooms. Since y/n was related by blood, she was given a room there whenever she came to visit and naturally, this meant it was where the marriage would be consummated. Several candles were lit but the bedroom was kept dim to give an illusion of privacy. A quick glance at the bed made Ubbe raise an eyebrow at the generous size and the curtains draped around it. A fire burned in the fireplace providing warmth in the bedroom, a sharp contrast to the stern, cold faces of the clergy who waited. 

 The bishop who married them stood off to the side with two other clergy, all in their robes and barely suppressed looks of disgust on the priests' faces. Two female attendees fussed over y/n, clearly everyone waiting for Ubbe and Bjorn. Once again, Ubbe had to force himself to keep his eyes from staying glued to his new wife. She stood there in a thick robe, with her hair falling about her shoulders loosely, free from the bridal veil. Her gaze jumped from Ubbe to the clergy and back as she nibbled on her bottom lip, clearly nervous about what was to occur next. Cheekily, he sent her a quick wink, hoping that would help settle her nerves. If the blush that grew on her cheeks said anything, at least she was not repulsed by him. 

 The bishop stepped forward. "Are you prepared to consummate your marriage to Lady Y/N before God and man?"

 "I am." Ubbe defiantly met the man's eyes. 

 "Then by the power given to me by the Holy Church, let the two become one in the sight of God and these witnesses and the marriage shall be complete." With that, the man drew their strange cross sign in the air and stepped back to rejoin his fellow clergy. 

 The two attendees helped y/n out of her heavy robe, revealing a thin, white nightgown that seemed to only enhance her beauty and innocence. Desire thrummed in his blood at the sight of her, but Ubbe ignored the sensation for the moment. The heavy robe was laid on a nearby chair and the two women left the room with a quick curtsy, leaving only the men and y/n. 

 After a shared look with Bjorn, Ubbe walked over to his new bride, keeping his movements slow so as to not startle her. Her hands were clasped before her, but even as he approached, he could see the faint tremble in them. Her gaze never strayed from the floor. The confidence seen previously in her seemed to have melted away into anxiety, making him think of a skittish colt. He could not help but wonder what changed, if it was due to him or what was supposed to occur between them. 

 Standing before her, he gently reached out to take her soft hands in his own larger, calloused ones, pleased when she did not flinch at his touch. Although her gaze remained downward. 

 "Are you alright?" He whispered, aware of the four pairs of eyes watching their every move. 

 "Of….of course, my lord husband."

 "Remember, I told you to call me by my name."

 That caused her head to snap up and meet his gaze. Now he could see the tears welling up in her eyes and her swollen bottom lip from constantly worrying it. 

 "It'll be alright." He tugged her bottom lip from between her teeth. The way her breath hitched at the intimate touch made his heart pound. He gave her hands in his, a quick squeeze. "Trust me, yeah?"

 After a moment, she gave a faint nod, still eyeing him warily but appearing less like she wanted to flee, mutely squeezing his hands back.

 A voice broke the stillness in the room, immediately causing her to tense again. 

 "The two of you must proceed to the bed to finalize the union. We do not have all night to wait for confirmation of her virginity and consummation." One of the priests drawled with an apparent undertone of disdain. 

 "Then it is a good thing you don't have to wait any longer." Ubbe retorted, narrowing his eyes at the priest. The man huffed but a quiet rebuke from the bishop had the priest pressing his lips together. With one final, assessing scan, the flaxen-haired Viking shifted, pulling his new bride into his side and wrapping an arm around her waist. He felt her tense against him but ignored it to stare at the three clergy with a mocking smirk. "Bjorn."

 At the sound of his name, his brother moved from leaning against the doorframe. A scowl on his face, and with the shadows cast over him, made him appear more looming and menacing. "Everybody out."

 The three clergy looked back and forth between the two Viking brothers, clearly confused and intimidated. 

 "You can't….we must witness…."

 "I SAID EVERYBODY OUT!" Bjorn roared, pulling the axe from his side and waving it in the air. "OR DO I NEED TO SPLIT YOUR SKULL TO HELP MY WORDS REACH YOUR TINY BRAINS?!"

 The three scrambled, eyes wide in terror, tripping over their long robes in a pathetic attempt to reach the door faster. The bishop turned around, hands grasping the golden cross hanging from his neck. "King….King Alfred will hear of this." He stuttered out in feigned confidence. 

 A deafening war cry from Bjorn practically shook the room in answer. That was enough to silence the bishop and have him flee, following his companions.

 At Bjorn's roar, y/n began shaking like a leaf, her hands tightly holding onto Ubbe's arm wrapped around her. He further pulled her against him, providing shelter from his brother's fury. Even as the room fell back into silence, he could still feel her trembling in his arms. He prayed to the gods that this did not darken her view of him and cause her to fear him. 

 Once the room cleared and the pounding footfalls of the clergy could no longer be heard, Bjorn turned around with a grin, scratching the back of his neck with his axe. "You know Alfred will be upset when he finds out." 

 Ubbe smirked. "We can't let him have everything he wants, yeah?"

 That made Bjorn chuckle. "I'll go guard the door." He pointed his axe at Ubbe, still grinning. "You owe me for this."

 "Scaring priests shitless isn't enough for you?"

 Bjorn scoffed. "I can do that whenever I like."

 "We'll name our firstborn after you."

 Bjorn waved him off, opening the wooden door and stepping out. When the door closed, the echoing sound seemed to fill the empty space in the room. 

 Ubbe peeked down at the woman in his arms. "Are you alright?"

 "Your brother….is….frightening."

 "Aye, don't tell him that though. It would only inflate his ego more."

 Once he was certain she was steady on her feet and would not faint, he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head before striding away to the other side of the bedroom. Quickly he pulled off his tunic and boots, tossing them onto a nearby chair and then flopped onto the massive bed in only his pants. If nothing else could be said for tonight, he knew he would sleep well. The bed was comfortable, even rivaling his own bed back in Kattegat. With a pleased groan, he tucked an arm under his head and settled under the covers. A wave of exhaustion crashed over him, his eyelids sliding closed.  Even though he felt like he spent most of the day standing around and kneeling for the wedding, it was still tedious and draining. Thank the gods it was over. 

 "Um, my lord…." 

 "Ubbe." He interrupted, lips twitching in amusement. "Or husband. Whichever you prefer."

 "Ah, Ubbe….are we not….?" Her hesitant voice trailed off, but the unspoken question lingered in the air. 

 He snorted. "I have no plans to force myself upon you just to appease your priests and bishop."

 "But we must consummate the marriage."

 "I will only have sex with you if you desire me as your husband and not just to fulfill an obligation."

 The following, prolonged silence caused him to open his eyes and look over at his new wife. It was apparent she had not moved from where he left her. He expected to see fear on her lovely face or revulsion at the idea of her ever willingly wanting him to touch her. Instead, she seemed to be studying him with a mixture of curiosity and respect. That confident woman he had previously met, making a reappearance. 

 After holding her gaze for a moment, he patted the bed next to him. "Come lay down. I doubt standing there all night will be pleasant."

 With a soft smile, she stepped over and crawled under the covers, but maintained an arm’s length distance between them. They both laid on their backs, together yet alone. The only sounds were of the crackling fire and their breathing. 

 Before he realized it, Ubbe found himself speaking, filling the silence with his babbling but strangely felt he needed to share these thoughts with the woman beside him, the woman whose life was now tied to him, whether she wanted it to be or not. 

 "I doubt this is the marriage you were dreaming of as a little girl. Probably expected some prince or lord….not a Viking. Your people only see us as heathens, as barbaric devils, at least that's what one of the noblemen said. That we cannot stop the evil and destruction we cause because we are possessed." He snorted, rubbing a hand down his face. After a deep breath, he turned his head to look at her, amazed to find her already watching him. His tone softened as he continued. "I'm sorry you were forced into this marriage. I know it might not mean much to you but I vow I won't ever physically harm you or force myself upon you. After all the wedding ceremonies, you can return to the nunnery if that is what you want."

 Her eyes widened momentarily, then drifted away as she worried her lip once again. As he waited for her to speak, his gaze traveled over her face, taking in the small details that until now he had not been able to observe. It would be a blatant lie to say he did not desire to lie with her, to touch and taste her. The current state of his manhood was evidence enough of how simply gazing at her beauty affected him. He made a vow to her. If nothing else, he hoped they could be friendly to one another. 

 To his shock, she rolled onto her side, facing him completely, hands tucked under her cheek. Without hesitation, he mirrored her action, but kept his head cradled on his arm. 

 "I have not traveled much," she quietly said, almost shyly, "but there is one thing I've learned through my studies and the observation of others. People aren't born good or bad. Maybe they're born with tendencies either way, but it's the way you live your life that matters." She paused as if choosing her next words carefully. "I do not think you are a barbaric devil or….or possessed. I think…."

 "What?"

 "I think you are very brave and strong. Not many would seek an alliance with those that fervently claim them as an enemy….nor be kind to a simple noblewoman."

 He smirked, finding himself charmed by her honesty. Carefully, he reached over and brushed a thumb over her cheek. "You are no simple noblewoman, my lady."

 "If you are just Ubbe, then I request you call me, y/n."

 An unexpected, loud banging on the door startled them both. Y/n gasped and rushed to sit up against the headboard, eyes wide with fright. Ubbe immediately pushed himself up, making sure to put himself between his wife and the door, unsheathing a dagger he had subtly slipped under his pillow. 

 "Are you two done yet? Some ugly priest out here wants to know!" Bjorn shouted through the door. 

 Ubbe groaned, putting the dagger away, before calling back. "No! This woman is insatiable! Tell the priest to come back in the morning! Hopefully I can still walk!"

 A harsh bark of laughter preceded loud arguing, which could be heard through the door. Raised voices crept underneath the door frame, the loudest being that of Bjorn. Ubbe stayed perched on the bed, to assist his brother if the need called for it. No matter what Alfred or those whiny clergy ordered, no one would be witnessing any consummation of his. Ever. Eventually, the voices dwindled like a dying flame until only silence could be heard from outside. Ubbe figured Bjorn must have won the argument, or used enough threats of bodily harm, since no one entered the bedroom. 

 The dagger returned to its sheath under his pillow. A habit he had since childhood. A glance to his side showed his wife still shifted as far away from the door as possible, hands clutching the sheets in a tight grip. He reached a hand out to her. "It's alright. Bjorn won't let anyone in."

 She took his hand, still eyeing the door warily. "What did you say to him?"

 "Ah, nothing important. Just to keep the priests away."

 "Ok."

 "We should go to sleep. Today has been long." He stated after he coaxed her back under the covers and no longer sent glances towards the door. Only after she was settled did he relax. Laying on his back, an arm behind his head, his eyes closed almost instantly. He could hear her shuffling occasionally but he paid it no mind. Sleep slinked into his mind, hovering on the edges. 

 "Ubbe…." A barely-heard whisper pulled him from the brink of sleep. 

 "Yes?"

 "What if….what if I want to."

 "Mmmm?"

 "Um, fulfill our marital duties."

 Well, that got his attention. He turned his head to the side, noting how her gaze traced over his bare chest slowly then lifted to meet his gaze. "Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

 "Yes." She bit her bottom lip, even as her eyes never strayed from him.

 "Are you sure?"

 She nodded. 

 "Hmmm….well, I may be convinced but….you have to kiss me first."

 Cautiously yet deliberately, she scooted closer until they lay side by side. In a graceful movement, she leaned over and pressed her lips to his in an innocent, chaste kiss. Her lips were softer than even the pillow beneath him and by the gods, she was going to be his undoing. After a moment, she leaned back, gazing down at him with a nervous yet endearing smile. Before he could say anything, to encourage or instruct, her lips descended on his once again, but this time hungrily. His initial surprise transitioned to a carnal satisfaction when a soft moan slipped out of her after he tugged on her bottom lip. Their mouths connected with a needy kiss, sending a jolt of electricity through him. All thoughts of sleep forgotten. 

 Suddenly, he flipped them over, pinning her underneath him, taking charge of their love-making. She giggled at the abrupt action but that was quickly silenced by his mouth crashing against hers and thrusting his tongue into her mouth. 

 As she kissed him back passionately, he wondered if maybe this marriage was not such a bad idea. If the way her lips eagerly sought his, her hands gripped onto biceps as if to keep her steady, her back arched as he trailed open-mouth kisses down her neck….maybe the marriage could be more than just political. 

 Soon enough, all thoughts vanished from his mind that were not related in regards to exploring the exquisite body of his Saxon wife and listening to her moan his name repeatedly. 

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 5 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Loki returns to claim what is his - willing to kill everyone in his way.

Warnings: Angst.

Words: ~1800

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @catlover092402152, @hi-there-x, @haloangel391, @misssilencewritewell, @babayaga67, @accioremuslupinn, @mochimommy2002, @just-someone-who-likes-to-write, @damalseer, @bethanystan, @loser-alert, @star017, @nina1800, @queenariesofnarnia, @n1fangirlsblog, @vengefulsokovian, @lunamoonbby, @freyagallileaevans, @emmojoy, @literate-lamb, @aninnai​, @justsomerandompersonintheworld​

A/N: Sweet little Feedback Anon, I took your suggestion. You know which one I mean if you see it. (:

Btw guys I have like 60+ Drafts I need to finish so pls be patient with me.

Word sure spreads fast among the folk of Asgard, about Odin’s shame and your innocence.

Since his lies had weakened the favor among his subjects, the Allfather was desperate to clean his name and reputation, ultimatively inviting you to come back.

But you declined, stating that this wasn’t your homeland anymore ever since they betrayed you to fullfill their selfish ambitions.

However, Asgard’s hypocrisy wasn’t the only reason you chose to stay on Midgard - you just knew that it would break your heart every day you’d spend on a place with so many memories connected to your deceased husband.

Earthlings, the people of S.H.I.E.L.D and especially Thor’s friends Jane and Erik Selvic had basically become like family to you. Even though they could never fill the void Loki had left in your heart, things being like this was more than you could wish for.

“Lady Y/N!” a familiar voice greeted you, yet his worried tone startled you. Thor was already standing in your room, practically kicking in your door as he was visibly upset.

Immediately, you put Liam into his crib and rushed to his side. “What’s the matter?!”

A strange mix of horror and excitement was stretched across his face, making your heart sink to your stomach.

Actually, you didn’t want to involve yourself with the Asgardians any further. All you ever wanted was for your child to be healthy and happy, no matter where this was possible.

But Thor was still your cherished brother-in-law, as well as a wonderful uncle, never ceasing to provide for you and Liam, even when everyone else had forsaken you.

Yet what he was about to tell you let your blood run cold: 

“Loki is back.”

Immediately, all the walls you had built up over those past months were crumbling as you collapsed to the floor, crying out of anger and relief.

“H-How? How is this even possible?! He’s dead! Loki died!”

“Pull yourself together, Lady Y/N!” Thor has always been a rather touchy-feely kind of person, in opposite to his raw and bulky appearance.

But right now, he wouldn’t dare to hug or console you, like he’d usually do. Instead, he was offering you a hand to help you get back up - which you wouldn’t be able to take just yet. “There’s no use in overthinking this! We need to hurry!”

“What do you even want me to do?” you wondered, because if your husband was really alive, you’d doubt him wanting to see you. “He’s changed...killed a lot of people before he disappeared. And still, I don’t wanna fight him. How can I be of any help at all?!?”

“We know he’s probably after you and the child” the God of Thunder stated coldly. “So you need to be transferred to a safe location.”

What can be more safe than a base of S.H.I.E.L.D? If only you knew he had already demolished a whole, giant outpost of them with ease...

“I’ll explain everything to you on the way.” “Let me quickly get the baby.”

“What, did you forget the name of your nephew already?” you chuckled awkwardly, but seeming to have struck a nerve.

Thor was only slowly approaching the crib in which your lovely baby was resting, staring at it with awe while his trembling hand caressed Liam’s cheek.

“Incredible...” he whispered mainly to himself,  as if this wasn’t the thousandth time he would lay eyes upon him. “He’s just like I remember him.”

Something was off.

Of course Thor had a spare key to your flat, but you had never heared him unlock it - he had just kind of appeared in the middle of the room. Could as well be that you had been to invested with something, or buried in thought to notice him, and yet...

“Wait” you stated, making him flinch away from the child and turn around. “My knees are still weak. Help me up first.”

With heavy steps, Thor would force himself away from the crib and towards you again, lending you another hand and easily pulling you up - just for you to point a sharp dagger to his throat.

“Lady Y/N, when did you summo-”

“Shut up!” you hissed, and the god held his hands into the air to assure his goodwill. "Drop the disguse. Now!”

The man let out an amused huff, a taint of green covering his body to revert it back to normal - revealing your husband.

His hair had become longer, and dark rings showed how devastating those past months went by for him. Yet still, he was unmistakingly your husband.

Yet a faint, mad spark in his eyes was what worried you the most.

Now he was holding a knife as well, both circling around the crib with a knife at each other’s throat, as if to dance with each other.

“So it’s really you, Loki?”

“The one and only” he declared, chest swelling with pride at his performance and completely ignoring your hostile undertone. “I missed you painfully, my sweetling.”

He looked to the side where your son was still sleeping soundly, regret clearly visible on his face. “Wha- what name did you give our child?”

“Liam it is.”

The smallest of smiles tugged on his lips, swallowing harshly to surpress the sobs wanting to break free. “Beautiful name. Very well chosen.”

Pain was stretching across your features, desperately trying for the dam of emotions to not break. The dagger in your hand vanished, rather choosing to reluctantly caress his cheek - to make sure this was really him, and not one of his illusions.

And it was really him, leaning into your touch with a content purr. “Yes, my love, just like tha-”

A loud noise drang to his ear, effectively cutting him off. He needed a second to understand that it was in fact you slapping him what caused the interruption.

“Dear, wait, I-” Another hit, this time it was your knee digging into his groin, making him gasp in pain.

With his current power, it would be a piece of cake to block you - yet he knew that after everything that had happened to you, and everything he had done...

...it was what he deserved. So he would allow you to let off some steam.

Yet much to his surprise, you were done already - now grabbing desperately on his cloak and pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

He immediately reciprocated, dropping his weapon as well to embrace you fully, lips mingling with each other over and over again.

Oh, how long had both of you craved for each other?

“Sorry” you panted as your lips finally parted, “Just needed to get that off my chest.”

“Do not apologize, my love” Loki declared, chin resting atop of your head, still no intention to let go off of you. “I deserve far worse than that.”

You looked up to him, the kiss having made something surface in his eyes: So solemn, and incredibly fragile, it made your heart ache.

“Wha- what happened to you? Where have you been all this time?”

Loki’s face contorted at the question, as if the thoughts in his mind were physically painful. But his mind was clouded, unable to make his proper memory resurfacing. “Places far beyond your imagination, dear. And I have learned many things.”

“I-I thought I had lost you...” you ultimatively began to sob, face dug into his chest.

“No” the god whispered softly, his gaze still unwavering. “You always have me. I promise.”

“What now?” you sniveled as he gently pet your head, just as back in good old times. “Where do we go?”

“What do you mean?” Loki’s features creased into a slight frown, “We stay here. There’s no need to leave or flee.”

“Bu-” you hesistantly took a few steps back, to take in his full reaction. “But you’re a wanted criminal, Loki! On Asgard as well as Midgard!”

His manner became more defensive again, glee radiating off of him. “Oh, my sweet, innocent Y/N...still the idealist, I see.”

“And you are still insufferable” you scoffed back, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

Actually, you dreaded the answer.

The man seemed to be thinking about many things at once, eyes narrowing before he finally took a hold of your hand, squeezing it ever so slightly when he saw that you were still wearing his ring - even after everything that had happened.

“Y/N, my love, those deaths were a necessary evil.” He tried to peck a quick kiss on your hand, but you pulled away at those words. “The only crime I feel guilty for is having left the love of my life. But don’t you worry, I’ll make up for it.”

He summoned a staff, glowing in the same blue as the tesseract - and much to your terror, his eyes started to adapt to them as well.

“I will create my own kingdom, Y/N! Here on Midgard, with you as my queen! This is what you deserve, my love! You and our child will have everything you desire and more!”

“This is madness, Loki!” It wasn’t the first time he had heared that.

People always treated him wrongly, afterwards wondering why he was trying to create felicity on his own. “Is it?” he croaked, “Is it madness for a person born to rule two kingdoms to create a home he never had?”

His plan did not merit awe or any such feelings he hoped you to have - the only person in the world he thought would understand him.

“Loki, what your parents have done to you is inexcusable, yet-”

“They’re not my parents!” he screamed enraged, eyes then widened in shock that he had raised his voice at you. “My apologies, I...”

“They have kept the truth from you so that you’d never feel different. You know you’re their son, and the Asgardians are your family. You must know that!”

“You speak like mother” he spat, and still Frigga’s words he could not shake off as easily as Odin’s. “There is no going back to that place, and Jotunheim I never had a connection with. You most likely heared that I tried to kill Laufey, yes?”

Nodding in silence, you nervously bit your lip. “Please...” Wrapping your arms around him and placing one ear at his sternum, you could clearly hear how his heart was fighting a war, struggling to decide.

“You can still stop whatever you were gonna do. We can start anew somewhere, lead a peaceful life with Liam. I don’t need wealth or power, and you clearly know any of this wouldn’t give you the satisfaction you’re searching for!”

“As always, you’re right” he grumbled deeply, already regretting what he was about to do. “But it’s not that easy, my naive little dove.”

“No~” With his hand on the back of your neck, he infused a powerful magic inside your body, slowly shutting down your nervous system completely. As careful as possible, he cradled you in his arms and slowly led you to the floor, then proceeding to take his heir.

“The only thing I need for myself is our little family - and I will avenge you by murdering anyone that did you wrong, or tries to separate us again.”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Words: 3800+

Rating: M

Pairing: Benimaru (TSSK) x Reader

Summary:  Rimuru-sama had told Benimaru about a tradition from his world called a 'honeymoon'. He thought it was a great idea.

AO3

It had been several months since the night you and Benimaru had become true husband & wife.

After the envoy left, you talked more about things. As expected, there were still a bit of growing pains in forming your relationship from what it once was into what it was now. However, you were making it work.

Benimaru was patient and kind as ever, but unexpectedly different when you were alone together. You hadn’t thought he would be like this. You had only seen him in a ‘formal’ capacity most times, the job of the Commander in Chief of the Jura forces was one that never really rested, or appropriately close when with the rest of your friends. Now though, you got to see another side of him.

He was funny. Playful. Once he let his guard down, he wasn’t nearly as intimidating as you’d originally thought. Actually, he could be quite goofy. His devotion was not only to Rimuru-sama and your people, but also devoted to you. He was always asking how your day was and if things were alright. Making sure you were provided for. Passionate.

You blush as you put away the linens you had folded up from outside. Benimaru had apparently not been kidding when he declared he’d claim your body everyday if he had to to prove it was his. Not that he needed to prove it. You had openly and willingly accepted yourself as his, and he yours. Still, almost every night, he came to you when you laid in bed together to physically profess his love. The man seemed insatiable. Though you weren’t exactly complaining.

You look up from your chores as the devil himself appeared. Coming through the door as if your thoughts had conjured him.

“Benimaru-kun! You’re back early. Did the meeting go well?” The kijin nodded as he removed his sword and sat it in it’s usually place next to the door. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t expect you home so soon, so I haven’t started dinner. I’ll get started now, but it will be a little bit.”

“In a moment [Y/N]. I need to talk to you.”

You pause on your way out the door and back track back over to the table to sit across from your husband. “Rimuru-sama has asked me to go on an ambassador mission in the mountains. To seek an alliance with the Yuki-Oni there.” You blink a little in surprise at the news. Though you were sure Benimaru could handle this, and seemed very pleased at being selected by your lord, you have to wonder about the forethought he put into it. Sending a fire oni to speak with a village of snow oni seemed uncharacteristically irresponsible of your lord.

“Well, I’m happy for you dear. I’m sure your trip will be successful.” Benimaru seemed to beam brighter at being complimented by you. “So I’ll see you in, what, a few days?”

“Actually, I was hoping you would come with me.” You were taken by surprise again. Had Rimuru-sama asked you to come? “I asked Rimuru-sama about it, and he said he could spare you for the few days.” Benimaru added, as if reading your mind. “It would be a nice chance for you to see places outside of Rimuru City. And Rimuru-sama told me about a tradition in his former world called a ‘honeymoon’. It’s when two newly wedded people go on a trip together shortly after their married to spend time together.”

“But, Benimaru, we’ve been married for more than a short while now?” True, your real married life had only begun a few months ago, but you had been married for over a year now.

“I know. But we didn’t go on one or do anything when we got married. I thought it would be nice.” The usually proud warrior looked down at the hardwood of your table, blushing and rubbing the back of his head in a shy manner. “Plus, I don’t want to go if I have to leave you here. I was serious when I said I never want to be without you by my side.” A declaration he had also made more than once since that night. “I’ll…be lonely without you.”

You put your hand against your mouth, pretending to be in thought. In reality you were trying to hide the goofy grin spreading across your face. How could someone so fierce and intimidating also be so adorable?

“Ok, I’ll go with you.” You finally announce, as if you had thought it over and come to a decision. “It would be nice to see the world a little. And, if Rimuru-sama can spare both of us, I see no reason not to go.”

The red head beamed ecstatically at your reply, then leaned over the table to give you a peck on the cheek. “Excellent! I’ll let Rimuru-sama know and tell Shuna to finish making your cold weather wardrobe!”

“Shuna? Hey wait.” Benimaru stopped in the doorway. “You asked Shuna to make me a cold weather wardrobe before you even asked me? What if I had said no?”

The oni looked at you like the thought had never crossed his mind. Then he grinned again and said ‘well, it all worked out’ in a rush before he left again. Alone, you shook your head. Honestly. What was your husband thinking sometimes?

*****

It took some time to get the preparations set, but soon enough you were ready to travel to the mountains to visit the Yuki-Oni.

“Safe travels, onee-san!” Shuna told you in parting with her usual bright smile.

She had called you that before, but in recent months it sounded more like she meant it. Thinking of you more now as a true ‘big sister’, married to her brother, than an older woman she could depend and rely on. The former was still true, but it was clear in her tone she thought of you more as family.

You depart Rimuru City with everyone’s blessing. Coming to see you off until you were out in the country side and off on your journey.

It took a few days to make it to the Yuki-Oni village. Between the distance and intentionally treacherous path up the mountain, it had taken a bit of time. It hadn’t been all bad. While still down in the valley you had stopped for a picnic once or twice, and laid in a field of flowers you had come upon for a bit to soak up the sun and sweet smell. Benimaru said that this was one of the things that Rimuru-sama told him people did on their ‘honeymoon’. You weren’t sure about that, but it was a much-needed respite from your travels.

Arriving at the village, you were greeted warmly by the ice monsters. They all seemed very demure and polite. A cool sort of air about them that really fit with the cold aesthetic of their homeland. The men were all tall and hard looking, while the women were all beautiful and waif like. Pale alabaster skin, long white hair, piercing blue eyes. You were glad you came with Benimaru now. Not that you thought for a moment he would be unfaithful to you, but you still didn’t like the idea of those beautiful creatures lingering around him.

You were shown to your quarters in the elder’s home before you were to meet with the council of elders. The idea of having to convince a council concerned you. It was harder to persuade a group than one. And the Yuki-jiji all looked like they were a group of men not to be easily swayed. “Maybe I should stay here?” You question as you unpacked your things.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t think the Yuki-jiji appreciate women in their council meeting.” They didn’t even let their own women in. Let alone a human one. The last thing you wanted to do was insult these people, and their traditions, by forcing yourself in to the situation. “It might be best if you just go.”

“Ridiculous.” Benimaru said with a sneer. “We didn’t come all this way for you to sit in a room and be cast out.”

“I thought we came for our ‘honeymoon’?” You said as a joke. Trying to break this awkward tension.

“We came for two things.” He quipped back at you. “I want you to come with me. I want us to go together. I’m…not good at this sort of thing on my own. Rimuru-sama put his faith in me, and I’m grateful for this opportunity, but I think it’s misplaced. I’m much better at forcing an agreement at sword point, not conversation.” The kijin looked away, clearly irritated at himself for not being better at it no matter how hard he tried, before looking back at you. “If you’re there though, you’ll keep me grounded. I find your presence calming. So I’ll be less likely to make a fool of myself.”

“You won’t make a fool of yourself, whether I’m there or not.” You assure him while placing your hand against his cheek. It hurt your heart to hear him berate himself like this. Rimuru-sama picked him because he was more than just a strong arm at the end of a sword. Why couldn’t he see that? “Alright. I’ll go. I don’t know if it will really help but I’ll try to be supportive. To you and our cause.”

Benimaru smiled. Then tilted his hand to kiss your palm before squeezing it in his hand. “Let’s go then.”

*********

The meeting lasted most of the day, and well into the evening. By the time you both return to your provided quarters, you were both exhausted.

“Rimuru-sama will be happy to hear of our success.”

“I’m sure he will be. Jura seems to be growing by leaps and bounds.” Who would have thought?

“It’s all thanks to you.” Benimaru said as he came up to sit on your right.

“Me?” You remark in surprise. “I didn’t do much of anything?”

“That’s not true.” The oni said with a soft smile, shaking his head. “The way you talk to people. The way you talk about our home, and the virtue it brings. Not just it’s strength. How it’s a place for all. They could see that’s something they want to be apart of. Rimuru-sama was very wise to have you come along. As he always is.”

Your cheeks tint at Benimaru’s words. Such high praise something you never seemed to get used to. No matter how much he or the others lavished you with it, you always felt so awkward to be complimented by people.

“So, the evening is ours now. What shall we do?”

“Well, I was going to take a bath, buuut….” You look over at the provided tub. Not looking warm & inviting like a bath should, but cold & dark like a vat of despair. “I guess the Yuki-Oni aren’t a fan of hot baths.”

“I can heat it up for you.” Benimaru declared. Already activating his powers to do so. “A thing like this is not so hard. I’ll have it warmed up for you in a moment.”

“That’s amazing Benimaru!” You gush at your husband’s resourcefulness. Who knew he could be so handy?

The oni grinned wide. Briming with pride at the praise. He went over to the tub and slipped his hand into it. The water almost instantly steaming at the contact. “There! That should do it.”

“Ahhh…warm bath…” You sigh happily. Moved nearly to the point of tears at the idea of being warm for the first time since you got here.

You move to discretely remove your clothes and get in the bath, when you notice movement out of the corner of your eye from Benimaru. The man not moving to leave as you’d anticipated, but undress as well. “What are you doing?”

The red head stopped in removing his undercoat and looked at your curiously. “Taking a bath?” The expression on his face saying ‘didn’t we just have this conversation’.

“Wait a minute! This is my bath! Did you really heat this up to steal my bath from me??”

“What? No! Of course not! I thought we could share.” He looked back to the tub, completely missing the blush and sudden halt in all function from you, as he examined it. “It’s big enough.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate to do that here.” You reply nervously. Cheeks still pink as you had a pretty good idea where this would lead.

“Come on. It’s just a bath.” Bemimaru insisted. “Besides, my powers for this work best when I’m in close proximity. If I’m not touching it, the water will just grow cold again.”

You have the sinking suspicion that he was lying to you. But it was a very convincing lie, and one you couldn’t really argue with. “Alright. But behave! We’re here as Rimuru-sama’s ambassadors. We shouldn’t be fooling around while guests in another person’s home.” A person whom you were trying to sway to your cause.

The red head nodded and assured you he meant no funny business. Again, you had the sinking suspicion he was lying to you, but couldn’t actually prove it, so you went along. You both stripped down and get in the tub. The only way you would both fit was if you practically sat in Benimaru’s lap. His back resting against the side of the tub while your back rested against his chest.

“Aaaahhh…” Your ‘chair’ sighed loudly. Feeling his sigh vibrate through your back as he relaxed. “This is great. We should have done this sooner.”

“Agreed.” You reply as you relax too against him. The warm water soaking out all the tired muscles from your journey and tension you had felt before the meeting. Making you complacent.

You both stay like that for a little while. Relaxing in the warm water in complete silence. Until you feel Benimaru’s hand brush against your arm. “What are you doing?” You asked in a drowsy, but mildly suspicious, tone.

“I was going to wash your back for you.” He replied against your ear. Making you shiver. “Can you lean forward for me?”

That nagging suspicion of his intent still clung to the back of your mind, but it was getting pushed further and further back by the warm water and his soft words. Having your back washed did sound nice.

The water slouched around a little as you moved to sit up and lean over the other side of the tub. “Is this ok?” You ask. Looking back over your shoulder from where you had cradled your head in your arms on the rim.

“Yeah….” Benimaru replied in a low voice. Looking at you. “That’s perfect.”

Your husband shifted around carefully, both to not hit you or splash the water out of the tub, as he came up on his knees behind you. The soft, wet sponge touched your back tentatively at first. But once you relaxed and even let out a soft sigh it became more diligent. His hands pressing a little harder with the sponge to give you a dual back wash & massage. It was extremely pleasant. The warm water and his warm hands on your body. So much so that you might moan a little when he came to your lower back.

“Ah…don’t do that to me…” Benimaru said. His voice sounding odd. Pained. It sounded so strange that you opened your eyes a little. You hadn’t realized you closed them. “I’m trying to be good and honorable. But if you moan like that, it gets very hard.” You’re not sure if he meant ‘it’ by the situation in question or the erection you were now feeling brush against your leg. When had that gotten there? You gasp at the feel of him against your thigh, but also the sponge and his hand shifting to your front; just at the top of your breast. “Please [Y/N]. Let me be with you. I can’t stand being without you anymore. It’s been so long.” You want to tell him that it’s only been a few days. But apparently, in ogre time, that was an eternity. He genuinely sounded like he was in agony right now. Not to mention that his hands wouldn’t stop touching you.

You’ll blame the warm water, and being so relaxed, and his damned skillful hands later, but your resolve broke quite easily. “Yes. Yes, I want you too Benimaru.”

You think you hear a happy rush of air level his lips before he moved forward and enveloped you. His broad chest encasing your back as he laid against it. His hands dropping the sponge to make direct, intentional touches with your body. His cock slipping between your legs to brush against your apex in pseudo-love making. You both moan.

He rutted against you like that for a moment. Thrusting against the outside of your opening. The hard lines of his cock brushing against the bundle of nerves at the top, making your insides quake and spasm greedily around nothing. “B-Benimaru….” You whine as you pressed back against him. His torturous touch driving you mad. “Please.”

Your husband groaned a little, low in his throat, before he kissed his mark behind your ear, where he had bitten you that first time, before lifting off to enter you. Being relaxed and the warm water made it easy, but he was as gentle as ever with putting it inside you. There was still a slight stretch with his size, but it’s a feeling you grown not only accustom to but relish. Just having him inside you made you moan wantonly.

“Ah…I keep telling you. Don’t do that to me.” Benimaru replied to your moan. You couldn’t see it with him behind you, but you could hear the hint of a smile in his voice. He pulled back and began to thrust, low and slow, into you. “I can’t control myself when you moan like that for me. How am I supposed to keep calm, and quiet, when you make my blood boil like that?”

“I’m…sorry…” You stutter out. Your voice staggered from his deep thrusts and your own labored breath of pleasure. “It just….feels…so good…..!” You moan again when his thrust went deeper this time. Hitting that place inside you that made you see stars.

He couldn’t control himself? What did he expect you to do when he was making love to you like this?

If anything, this was his fault

“Hmmm…this is no good…” You let out a surprised noise as Benimaru pulled out. You look over your shoulder. A little wounded at the comment. Not good? But before you could ask, or get more upset about the comment, Benimaru turned you around so you were facing him. Thrusting back into you in one swift move of your back hitting the tub and knocking all words out of your mouth. “I wanna see your face. It’s no good if I can’t see you and kiss you any time I want.” Then he did just that.

His tongue thrust into your mouth like his cock into your lower half. Swallowing your moans now that were flowing out unabashed. Doing it the other way had been nice, but you have to agree. This way was much better. Being able to kiss him. See his amazing body. Look into his beautiful eyes burning with such passion & love for you was bringing you closer to the edge than ever before.

“B-Beniamru! I…I’m close!”

“Me too.” The oni grunted out. Kissing your ear when you wrap your arms around his neck. “Cum for me my love. Let’s go together.” He always seemed to have a way with words with you, because you did as you were told and came around his cock.

His thrusts continue for a few moments longer, pounding through your orgasm, before they stop and Benimaru shuttered in your arms. A sign that he had finished too. You stay there for a moment. Holding each other loosely in the tub, before the kijin pulled back and looked around you like he just remembered where you were.

“I think we fucked all the water out of the tub.”

Your mouth scrunched up and you pinched Benimaru’s shoulder. “Don’t be vulgar.” He was right though. Now that your brain had resumed function again, you could see that half the water in the tub was gone. The floor soaking wet to the point you had to groan. No way you were going to be able to clean this up or explain this away without attracting attention.

The oni yipped at your pinch before he chuckled, then kissed you softly. He then stood from the tub, wet and naked and proud, before lifting you up out of it as well like a princess and carrying you over to the bed.

“We’ll clean it up later.” He stated, seeming to read your mind once again, as he laid you on the soft futon. “It’ll be alright.

“I still can’t believe you talked me into it.” You grumble. Pretending that you had been seduced, rather than whole heartedly accepting your husband in all aspects, as you dried yourself off. “What will the Yuki-Oni think.”

“That we are too people in love.” He replied quickly and with a smile. “The elders are all men. I’m sure they remember what it’s like to be young and in love, and unable to keep your hands off their young, beautiful wife.”

You blush a little at his words, but don’t really want to think about those old men being happy with their wives. “I suppose it’s a natural thing, but it’s still very rude to have sex in someone else’s house.”

“Maybe for humans. But we oni don’t see it that way.” Benimaru replied. Tossing his towel away. “Besides, Rimuru-sama said that this is something that most newlyweds do on their honeymoon.”

You shook your head as he pulled back the covers to let you both get under them. The room growing cold again now that you weren’t in the warm water, or doing other warm, pleasurable activities.

You snuggle together under the blankets. Watching the fresh snow flutter down outside the window. “Did you really need to be touching the water for your powers to work?” You finally ask.

You don’t know what his answer was going to be. But judging by the way your husband stiffened and balked at the question, you know now that he had been lying to you. “Well….it does work best that way. In theory. But….no….”

He turned away to not look at you. Or the steely stare you leveled at him. “Benimaru. I can’t believe you lied to me.” Sweat drops seemed to start pooling at his forehead as in flinched at your harsh words. Then he let out a startled sound as you flipped over on top of him, forcing him to look up at you with a confused expression. “You’ll have to be punished.”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 14)

νοσταλγία  Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: The usual, tho I should add mentions of polygyny

A/N: Hi!! Hope you like this chapter, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this!! Thank you so much for reading <3

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr

You catch up to Ivar near the main hall, waiting for him outside the room Prince Hvitserk told you he’d be in with your hands crossed behind your back.

He eyes you with suspicion when he sees you, but still approaches and starts walking at your side.

“You are not here to apologize.”

Why would I? You want to retort, but instead you just shake your head.

“No, but…” You shrug, “I have trusted my mother more than anyone on this world, I will trust she knew what she was doing. I’ll choose to believe maybe the Goddess she worships has a reason for this to happen.”

“So you have accepted it, you will not fight anymore.” He states, and you raise your eyebrows in response.

“If you expect to see me defeated, King Ivar, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

“I would never want that.” He replies easily, squaring his shoulders as he returns his gaze ahead, and something tells you he is telling the truth. You do not know what to do with that knowledge.

“What do you want, then?” You ask boldly, surprising even yourself, “You get nothing out of marrying me. You are a smart man; you know you might lose power by making me your wife.”

“Why?”

He knows the answer, he knows. You have an inkling he is testing to see if you do, with how much certainty you can speak of power and its intricacies.

“You could marry a woman with…land here, a princess or an heir.” You explain, but Ivar just shrugs.

“I could still do that, I could find a second wife.”

You stop dead in your tracks at the realization that he could, and sensing you stop walking Ivar turns to you, eyebrows raised and the beginning of a mocking smile on his lips.

But to a child born in the cult of Persephone, promises of unloyalty are not something to be simply accepted. You were told that the Goddess you dedicated your life to was loyal and true to her husband even if she was a victim of him; you saw many new couples at your temple there to bless them with faithfulness and prosperity. You refuse the humiliation of sharing the one you are bound with before the Gods themselves.

So you walk the few steps that separate you, back straight and posture that of a woman with a confidence you do not truly have. What you do have, though, is arrogance, is pride, is relentlessness.

No man has made your nature change before, and certainly no King can, no matter how cruel.

You tilt your head and look into his eyes, unwavering.

“A Hiereia of Despoina does not take lightly to marriage. Your people may do things differently, but my people don’t, my Gods don’t,” Your heart remembers your homeland, your mother’s smiles as your father passed by and left a gentle caress on her face, her empty eyes as she waited for weeks for the ships that never returned, the love that years after their deaths all the way in Laconia -even with the bitterness of having lost their heir to Sparta to an Athenian- your family spoke of how blessed were they to have each other as husband and wife. The bitterness and grief make your resolve falter for a moment, but you still continue, “Before your Gods and my own I will promise loyalty to you, I will promise faithfulness. I ask-…no, I demand the same in return.”

“You demand.” He repeats, clearly a mock, a bait that you choose not to bite this time.

You nod.

“Which brings me back to my question, Viking,” You lift your eyebrows, “What is it you want?”

“I want many things,” He replies vaguely, shrugging before turning eyes like Greek fire to your own. “But I demand nothing more than that.”

With a small sound of exertion, he turns his back to you and continues walking towards the main room of the longhouse, leaving you dumbfounded and partly impressed, leaving you with the realization you played exactly how he wanted you to.

It feels like those times you would run to cross the dangerous and wild stream near the temple, your hair wild and feet bare. It feels like the deafening noise of the current in your ears, the fear and excitement running through your veins, the possibility of failure or success.

You smile.

____

“Why am I not surprised?” Ivar starts from behind you, and you turn to him without removing your hands from your task.

“Because I am predictable.”

“Stubborn,” He corrects as he steps into your room, eyes on the small sapling you planted on a ceramic vase. “You know it will not grow here, it needs warmer and softer ground than ours.”

You nod before leaving the plant by the window, hoping it will absorb as much sunlight as it needs, as it can.

“I have to try.”

He remains silent for a few moments, before the rustling of him moving where he stands brings your gaze to him. The King extends a hand and motions with his head,

“Come with me.”

You frown, but still stand up and walk slowly to his side. Your eyes travel to his still extended hand, but you cannot bring yourself to take it, choosing instead to ask,

“What is it?”

He doesn’t reply, and his jaw clenches before his hand drops back to his side. Still, he insists with a gesture of his head that you follow him.

The paths through his home are familiar to you by now, and you follow blindly as you try scrubbing off the dirt from your hands. Selene’s chariot is high up in the skies, the people have already retired to their homes, the thralls are making quick work of the mess left behind after tonight’s dinner.

After crossing a doorway, you find yourself in a spacious room with only a hearth in the middle of it, and some chairs and lunges. Chairs where, expectantly, the sons of Ragnar sit.

Prince Hvitserk greets you with your name, and you smile faintly, and he smiles back as he states, “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Prince Hvi-…”

“What is she doing here, Ivar?” The older Prince interrupts, eyes burning on you with a distrust and a vitriol quite alike his brother’s but more contained.

And you know it is not a mere question. Years alongside mercenaries, alongside warriors and leaders, they let you know this is a public defiance, a test of both mettles.

The way Prince Ubbe speaks, with the same tone in his voice, the same carry of his loud words, that has made you fear before; it makes you stay frozen in the doorway for a moment too long.

The King only shrugs, walking ahead and taking a seat, absently using his crutch to move a chair at his side back so you can sit.

Before replying to his brother, he turns to you and motions for you to sit.

“She is my…advisor.”

His gesture may speak of nonchalance, but his words have that slight carry you have noticed before, the pride of authority and the will and strength to carry said authority.

But his brother still takes his words with a dismissive smile, shaking his head, “You take a Greek witch as an advisor?”

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying that better men have tried better insults, and that nor your blood or your gifts, and the titles they warrant, call for you to feel offended at their mention, even if he wills it so.

Instead, you grit your teeth and swallow your pride to keep silent as you take your gaze to the King, studying his façade as he lifts purposely falsely innocent eyebrows at his brother, his mouth curved in a small mocking smile.

“I never did things the normal way, did I?” Some silent conversation seems to flow between the two sons of Ragnar, and you catch Hvitserk’s eyes for a moment.

He smiles, an apology, a gesture that says you ought to get used to this; and you offer a small smile in return, one of the first honest ones you’ve given the Prince.

“Why?” Ubbe insists.

Stithulf’s disgust as you are caught in the tent where they discuss war, his demand for answers when he turns to the man that would be your husband, “What is the witch doing here?”

“She is to be my wife, I trust her advice.” Narses replies simply. It irks of too little when the Gods know you are the reason he won against the Saracens, but you are still grateful, because you have to be.

“She is a smart woman,” Ivar replies, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I trust her judgement when it comes to Stithulf more than yours, brother.”

Before he can taunt his brother into throwing an axe to your face, you decide to intervene, voice low as you lean closer.

“Ivar…”

“Dublin is being hounded by Stithulf’s forces,” He explains without a second thought. He leans on the table before him, not turning to you as he speaks so you are left studying the way the light draws his profile, “We are leaving in two days.”

“We?”

“Hvitty will stay here with you.” He reassures, or attempts to at least, yet all he manages is to make you frown.

“Why are you going?” You hiss, and as he turns to you the King furrows his nose in annoyance, the beginning of a snarl starting to curl at his lip.

“Afraid the cripple can’t defend himself?”

“Stithulf couldn’t care less about Dublin. He wants your head, Viking.” You insist instead of replying to the obvious taunt. He opens his mouth to retort, clearly surprised by your revelation, but is interrupted before he can speak.

“Ivar, witch,” Ubbe calls out, startling you out of your conversation. He raises his eyebrows, “Share with the rest of us, will you?”

After a breath, you explain, “Stithulf is after the men that killed his King. He doesn’t care about cities, or land, or…fame. He wants the sons of Ragnar.”

“So you think he is trying to draw us out.”

I know so. You want to say, but you bite your tongue, you swallow your pride, your arrogance, even if you know that if you were a man they’d call it confidence.

“He reached my homeland searching for an edge over your armies, and found it in Arab and Greek forces. I doubt he will waste them destroying buildings, my Prince.” You answer with a nod, not missing the way Ivar’s eyes remain glued to you as you speak. It thrills you when it should make you want to crawl out of your own skin.

They continue talking to each other, discussing what they ought to do, how they are to approach the city. You doubt the reinforcements from Ivar’s army will hold the same element of surprise as they did the last time Stithulf readied his army near Dublin; and it seems they have the same idea for they don’t plan on being subtle about Kattegat’s navy supporting Dublin.

And as the moon travels through the skies, when you should be exhausted and ready to sleep; you are thrilled and beyond interested. The song of war, Athena’s boardgame, it all wraps around you like a familiar cloak.

So you soak in their talks about formations, about ways they can approach, you rejoice in listening to the way Dublin can be defended. With your elbows on the table and your head in your hands, you listen and observe, for once without fear of being told you are out of place.

____

And before you know it two days have passed. On the last night, when the ships are readied for the journey, the warriors celebrating their last night in Kattegat; you sit with Freydis and other women from the apothecary, exchanging laughs and stories as the feast goes on around you.

More than once during the night, your foolish heart makes your eyes roam the hall in search of the King, and you find yourself smiling like a fool at the sight of him drinking and laughing with his brothers, with his men.

The times where you look for him only to find him already with his eyes on you, those times make your foolish heart beat faster, but you will deny it if anyone asks.

You swirl the mead in your cup as you lay back on your chair, taking in the ongoing celebration and trying to remember the last time you felt this comfortable and safe and…

“You feel at home, witch.” Freydis states quietly, almost by your ear, interrupting your thoughts.

Wide eyes find hers, but she only smiles calmly, with that hint that she knows a secret you don’t.

Before you can ask her to kindly be a bit less cryptic for once, she looks at someone behind you, and a hand gently calling for your attention when it rests on your shoulder stops you.

You turn to meet the warm eyes of Prince Hvitserk, who offers you a silent greeting and a small smile.

“My brother calls for you.” He whispers, eyes on yours and the promise of what is to come written on them. You wonder how much of how you have come to become his brother’s wife is known to him.

Ivar stands before his throne and your heart lurches when you see another seat arranged besides it. You find his eyes, and he extends a hand.

“I will not sit there.” You hiss at him. He grits his teeth, the annoyance at how you are unwilling to follow even the simplest of commands clear in his expression.

“You will be at my side, get up here.”

Your eyes travel to his still extended hand, palm facing upwards, fingers open and vulnerable expecting the touch of your own. Rationally, you know there’s a feast going around you, you know there’s yells and songs and laughs, but you cannot hear anything but the ringing in your own ears.

You cannot see anything but his hand expecting the touch of your own, and his eyes searching yours.

And though you know it is the tug of the invisible binds set upon you what makes you take the steps necessary and hold his hand, the chains don’t feel as heavy as you thought they would.

Calloused but warm fingers close around your hand, and Ivar stands taller.

He calls for the attention of his people, and when the hall quietens and you feel all their eyes on the pair of you, it is you that grips tighter onto his hand on yours.

“My people,” He starts, proud and confident and infuriatingly performative, “Most of you already know of this fine woman I have at my side since our return from Dublin, Greek by birth but a daughter of one Sieghild Vorsdottir,” You hear the mumbled replies, the hushed whispers at the mention of your mother, and you narrow your eyes. Ivar continues, “You will all soon know her as your Queen, for when we return from Dublin again, she will be my wife, and Queen of Kattegat.”

You hold your head high as the Varangians lift their cups and horns and hands and voices in celebration and congratulations. Ivar thanks them with a smile and a gesture of his hand, and aside from a few men that approach to give their congratulations face to face, soon enough the aura of calm -or what calm has come to mean in these strange lands- returns to the room.

You eye the chair they set for you at the side of Ivar’s throne cautiously, but you will not lie to yourself and say it feels constricting to sit up there.

You make a point of letting go of the King’s hand as soon as you sit, though, and based on the way his jaw clenches and his head moves to the side in clear anger, you can tell he’s obviously noticed.

The feast lives on, and a few times -repeatedly, actually, which you will blame on the mead and ale- toasts arise to wish for the Gods’ favor on the incoming battles across the sea, to congratulate the King and his foreign bride, to celebrate the death that is to come and the death that might escape them.

It is all incredibly strange to you, painfully foreign. You have no choice but to remain at your seat, facing the loud and boastful warriors, listening to foreign tongues, trying to understand strange customs.

It makes you think of what Sieghild would make out of this. She always accused you of being too arrogant, too proud, too ambitious for a Greek woman. Boasted about it being her influence what taught you to stand straight and never bite your tongue.

What would she make out of her daughter being fated to become wife of one Ivar the Boneless?

“My mother,” You start, and almost startled the King turns to you. “You brought up her name twice now, as if she is…”

“Famous?” He supplies, beginning of a smirk in place, “She is.”

“Sieghild?”

“Women with hair and eyes like hers are not easily ignored. Doesn’t help she is taller and stronger than many men,” He shrugs, looking ahead, “King Rorik had to fight a bear to get her hand, or so the Danes say.

You have heard that name before, only once in your mother’s lips. It doesn’t cease to make disgust and hate churn at your stomach.

At your silence, Ivar insists,

“You know of him, don’t you? The only madman before my brother Bjorn to take sail to your Mediterranean.”

“He didn’t reach the Mediterranean,” You offer quietly, “His ships docked in a land colder than this one, many died because of cold or hunger. And though he and the warriors that were left founded Aldeigja, it is still a long way from the Mediterranean.”

“Did you ever meet him?” He asks, and your eyebrows raise in surprise. The King only shrugs, “You mentioned travelling a lot.”

You shake your head, “Sieghild…she was betrayed by him. She would never let him close to me.”

“But she told you of him.”

“To warn me of what men in power are capable of.”

“A woman made Anassa,” He retorts, the word still foreign on his lips but you find it oddly endearing that he tries speaking your tongue, using your titles, “wouldn’t have much to fear from men in power, now would she?”

You only raise your eyebrows in response, “You think I had any real power back in Greece?” Before he can answer, you shake your head with a chuckle, “Ivar, my own people didn’t take me as a leader until I died for them. Even that wasn’t enough, Anassa is only a title, it wouldn’t change their hearts. I am a woman that refuses to fight like a man to achieve my goals, I had no place being queen in their eyes.

He stays silent, one of his hands by his mouth and his eyes intent on yours, and you let your lip curl in anger as you lay your back once again on the backrest of your seat, looking ahead.

“Because of me and what I learned they managed to fend off the Saracen raiders, because of me and my blood Laconia came to their support with the finest warriors in the Mediterranean, because of me they had time to escape Eleusis when the Christians came,” You grit your teeth, and if it is bitterness and anger and hunger all that’s left within you once the veil of nostalgia is gone, then so be it. “And yet I had to prove myself more than any man, more than-…

More than Narses.

You stop yourself, stealing a glance at the Viking that still keeps unwavering interest in the words that leave your lips. You shake your head, and reach for the cup a thrall refilled a few moments ago.

“It doesn’t matter. Most of the free Attics are dead somewhere near Aneridge, the rest will perish when winter comes. It doesn’t matter.”

The King touches his own cup with yours, and you eye him carefully, wary of what the outburst might mean for you, but Ivar only smirks.

“If you say so.” He mocks, drinking from his own cup but with his expression still dripping mirth and skepticism.

You roll your eyes, and settling better in the undeserved seat, you let conversation between the two of you go somewhere else.

And so it does, because frustratingly enough the Viking will never cease to be fascinating to you, and no matter what the two of you talk about it always manages to fill you with curiosity and warmth.

The ruckus of the feast eventually dies down, although not that far from the time the sun will rise over the sea, and you shake off your drowsiness as you watch people take their leave from the main hall.

Ivar stands up from his throne and gestures the mock of a bow your way, mumbling his goodnight. You watch him leave, reminded of the ships that are to depart over the horizon soon.

So, stealing a glance at the few remaining people and guards around you, you stand up and follow.

____

A bit of a cliffhanger, ik, I’m sorry. If I continued the last scene till the end this chapter would be a 10k word beast, so cliffhanger it is.

Also yes Rorik (Rurik) as in Igor’s father, as in the King that sailed East and started the Rus dynasty is in my canon a Danish King and Sieghild’s former husband, whom she followed in that adventure to wherever-the-fuck. Then they parted ways, and she found herself in the Mediterranean. I will probably go in more detail about this in Sieghild’s PoV, which should be the spinoff chapter uploaded next Tuesday.

Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, I hope you don’t completely hate where the story goes after the Sieghild revelation and all that. But yeah, would love to hear back from you, thank you for reading, and have a nice day/night!!

[thewidowsghost]

Fox - Chapter 31

Previously on Fox:

"I'm Agent Barton," Clint says and the General nods. "This is Agent May. We're with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." The archer couldn't even bring himself to say SHIELD with one his best friends missing. "We'd like to go with Colonel Rhodes, with your permission sir."

The General nods and the three turn and head up the ramp and into the loading bay.

3rd Person POV

On the jet, the two SHIELD agents sits down, apart from the others, Clint reliving the last three months.

Flashback

"Clint, we've got a problem?" Natasha says into the phone, her voice shaking.

Clint freezes at the distress in Natasha's voice. "Nat? What is it?"

"(Y/n)'s been kidnapped!" Natasha answers. Clint's eyes widen in horror, Laura turning to stare at her husband, the brunette having heard since the phone had been on speaker.

"Okay Nat," Clint says, hiding his concern to keep Natasha as calm as possible. "I'll come to you, then we'll go to the SHIELD base and have Fury start a search." Clint continues to talk to Natasha on the phone and Laura hugs her husband on the way out the door.

"Bring her home," Laura tells the archer.

"I will," he vows, sprinting outside to the Quinjet and flying to New York. Once he lands, he runs to Natasha and (Y/n)'s house, knocking on the door.

The door opens and he sees a defeated looking Natasha, tear tracks staining the Russian's face. The archer steps forward, wrapping his friend in a hug. "Nat, we'll find her," Clint tells the distraught woman. "Come on, let's get to base and we can start looking."

Natasha nods, "S-she called. She had m-me track the call. I have the origin."

"That's a great start," Clint says. "Let's go!"

He grabs Natasha's hand and he pulls the redhead out the door. Natasha locking it on the way out, and the two hail a cab to get to the SHIELD Facility near the flying command center that (Y/n) had been working on for the past year.

Once the two arrive, they head up to Maria Hill's office. Natasha knocks on the door and Maria tells them to come in.

Maria looks up from her paperwork, instantly concerned by the grave looks on the agents' faces. "What's wrong?"

"(Y/n)'s been kidnapped," Natasha says, sliding her phone across the desk, the call's origin on the screen.

Flashback End

Since that day, SHIELD's entire operation turned to finding (Y/n). Missions were put on hold, and Agent Coulson desperate to find the woman he though of as a daughter, and Agent Hill desperate to find her friend.

Back inside the cave, Tony and Yinsen are at a work bench. A sensor on Tony's leg is coupled to a contraption. Yinsen watches intently as Tony plugs a wire into his 'heart,' after a moment, dates races up on the laptop.

As Tony moves his leg, the contraption on the table springs to life, responding to his actions. Tony's chest-device dims with the power loss, the two men's eyes meet, shining with triumph.

"We're ready," Tony says, unplugging himself. "A week of assembly and we're a go."

"Then perhaps it's time we settle another matter..." Yinsen says.

A little while later, Tony and Yinsen are eating and playing backgammon.

"Ah, anchoring with 13-7," Yinsen realizes. "You know, I have never met anyone who understands the nuances of this game like you."

"Right back at ya," Tony responds. "You never told me where you're from."

There is a moment of silence then Yinsen speaks, "I come from a small village not far from here. It was a good place... before these man ravaged it."

"Do you have a family?" Tony asks softly.

"When I get out of here, I am going to see them again," Yinsen says, then he asks, "Do you have a family Stark?"

Tony's eyes cloud with grief for a moment, "A daughter. She was kidnapped when I was, yet, I haven't seen a sign of her since I've been here. I just hope she isn't dead."

During one of the short times she is alone, (Y/n) rips her right hand out of the leather strap and strains to grab her leather jacket, her phone still inside the secret pocket. She grabs it, pulling the jacket nearer to her and pulling the phone out of the pocket, her head lolling on the bed.

She unlocks it, and presses Natasha's number on the phone.

"(Y/n)!? Is that you?!" the redhead's stricken voice comes from the other end of the phone.

"Nat!" (Y/n) murmurs weakly. "Are you near a computer?"

"Yeah," Nat goes silent for a moment. "Are you okay?! I'm sending our agents to come get you!"

"Good, I ain't walking anytime soon," (Y/n) jokes weakly, ripping her arm out of the other strap, the knife in her shoulder rubbing against her collar-bone.

"Don't get off the phone!" Natasha says, her voice quavering as (Y/n) burns through the straps restraining her legs to the table.

All of a sudden the door bursts down and (Y/n) covers her face, staring up at someone in an iron suit.

The man's face plate comes down and (Y/n) stares up into her father's face. "Dad!"

"(Y/n)!" Tony walks over and picks up his beaten daughter up in his metal arms.

"I need my jacket," (Y/n) demands, leaning down to grab her jacket and pulling it on, Natasha laughing weakly in her ear.

"We're getting out of here!" Tony says, and he runs outside.

"Nat, I gotta go. I'll see you soon," (Y/n) murmurs. "I promise," (Y/n) waits a moment.

"Okay," Natasha whispers. "I love you, and I missed you so much!"

"Me two," (Y/n) murmurs, and then ends the call, slipping her phone into the leather jacket's pockets again.

"Hold on!" Tony says, and the thrusters of the suit light and fly the two out of the cave, which explodes behind them.

The two get pretty far in the air before the thrusters loose their power and the two crash into the ground.

"Okay, that's not cool," (Y/n) groans, staggering to her feet and almost collapsing but Tony catches her.

"Careful kid," Tony says, a worried tone in his voice. "Looks like you've been through Hell," he glances at the cuts and bruises littering her face and legs.

"Wait a second," (Y/n) says, shrugging off the one side of her jacket and pulling the knife out of her shoulder. (Y/n) keeps the knife in her right hand as the two trudge along as they hear a USAF Blackhawk and then see it and the two Starks wave, the helicopter landing in front of the two.

James Rhodes, Clint Barton, and Melinda May exit the helicopter. Clint and Melinda run to the injured SHIELD Agent and (Y/n) grins weakly and two agents take over for Tony, helping the injured woman onto the helicopter.

"Clint? Melinda? What are you two doing here?" (Y/n) asks, hissing as May stitches up her knife wound.

"SHIELD's been searching for you for months," Melinda answers.

"Fury, Hill, and Coulson decided to put off all other missions until we found you," Clint says and (Y/n) raises an eyebrow.

"Nice to feel loved," (Y/n) grins weakly, wincing as Melinda continues to stitch up the wound.

"How are you even joking right now?" Clint asks in disbelief.

"I've learned that during hard times, find a way to make a joke out of it," (Y/n) explains and Melinda nods in approval.

"Good thing to live by," Melinda says.

"Of course you'd say that," (Y/n) teases, then her face falls.

"What?" Melinda asks, a concerned look on her face.

"Nat's going to kill me," (Y/n) groans, leaning her head back.

"I think she's going to be relieved," Clint says.

"She's been looking everywhere for you," Melinda agrees.

"That's nice," (Y/n) murmurs, closing her eyes.

"You did good kid," Clint says, sitting down next to (Y/n) and the injured woman leans up against him.

"I hope it's enough," (Y/n) murmurs, falling asleep.

Melinda and Clint exchange looks and then Melinda picks up her phone and calls Natasha.

"Melinda, did you get (Y/n)?" Natasha asks.

"Yeah," the Asian woman says, then turns to Clint. "Where we headed Clint?"

"Malibu," Clint answers.

"Meet us in Malibu," Melinda tells the redheaded former assassin.

"Can I talk to her?" Natasha asks, her voice quavering.

"She fell asleep on the helicopter," Melinda answers.

"Okay, I'll see you soon," Natasha says.

"See you soon Nat," May says.

A few minutes later, the helicopter lands in the desert next to a huge plane. Clint thinks for a moment before picking up (Y/n), Tony watching the archer lift his sleeping daughter worriedly. The soldiers make their way onto a C-17, Rhodey helping Tony, and Melinda walking beside Clin[p-[].

A few hours later Pepper and Natasha are standing at the Malibu military bast waiting for Tony and (Y/n).

Pepper turns to Natasha, "So Natalie, you're (Y/n)'s roommate, correct?"

Natasha nods, "(Y/n)'s my best friend."

Pepper goes to say something but she is interrupted by a loud roaring noise and the two women cover their heads before the large plane lands on the ground. The rear ramp of the C-17 opens up and light blinds Rhodey, Tony, (Y/n), Melinda and Clint. Rhodey wheels Tony down the ramp and Clint goes to grab the handles of (Y/n)'s but she shakes her head. (Y/n) wheels herself down and stops in front of Natasha.

"Hey," (Y/n) murmurs sheepishly. Natasha shakes her head, grinning weakly down at her girlfriend. "Give me a hug, dummy," (Y/n) teases, holding out her arms.

Melinda walks up, Clint at her side, and glares at (Y/n). "You tear your stitches, I'll sedate you, and put you in a hospital."

(Y/n) and Natasha exchange glances and then the four burst out laughing, Tony and Pepper watching the young woman with, presumably, her friends.

"Okay Melinda, jeez," Natasha says, kneeling down and wrapping (Y/n) in a gentle hug. "I missed you so much!" she murmurs.

"Same here," (Y/n) says. "Help me up?" (Y/n) asks.

Natasha stands up, looking uncertain; then she nods. The redhead holds out her hands and (Y/n) takes them, shakily standing up, Natasha then turns to the side, sort of, her arm under (Y/n)'s right shoulder.

"Fury said that once we brought you home, we could have a month off in a house in San Diego," Natasha says and (Y/n) looks quizzically at her.

"Why San Diego?"

"There's no SHIELD facilities near there," Natasha says and (Y/n) nods.

"First," Melinda interjects, amusement evident in her dark brown eyes, "we need to get back to New Mexico. Tell everyone the good news. Coulson was pretty worried when you went missing."

"Yeah," (Y/n) says, "well, he's basically like my second dad, so... Anyway, I'd like to say goodbye first. Help me out girlfriend," (Y/n) tells Natasha. The redhead rolls her eyes and helps (Y/n) limp over to Pepper and Tony. "Hey Pepper, sorry I missed your birthday," (Y/n) says and Pepper stares at her for a moment. "I would have sent you something but I was a little tied up," (Y/n) lets out a snort of laughter and Natasha rolls her eyes again.

"(Y/n), it's nice to see you," Pepper smiles, hugging (Y/n) gently. "And don't worry about it."

"Ah, well, I'll send you something when I get home," (Y/n) says and Pepper's smile widens.

"Saint child," Pepper says and (Y/n) laughs.

"Let's get you home then," Natasha says and (Y/n) nods in agreement.

"I would like to sleep in an actual bed, not strapped to a metal table," (Y/n) says, rolling her eyes as Natasha leads her back to Melinda and Clint.

"To the Quinjet," Clint says, running away. Melinda rolls her eyes and supports (Y/n)'s other side, (Y/n) glancing gratefully at the black haired woman.

"That idiot knows I can't run right?" (Y/n) asks in amusement. "He did have to carry me at the vehicle change. So I don't really understand . . . Wait, yes I do . . . This organization has too much testosterone," Natasha laughs at the statement.

"Up this ramp we go," Melinda says cheerfully and (Y/n) grins.

"I love cheerful people," (Y/n) says as her friend and girlfriend help her into a seat.

"I'd buckle up," Melinda says, sitting down in the pilot's seat, pulling on a pair of aviator sunglasses.

Natasha sits down beside (Y/n) on the little couch thing and buckles (Y/n) up, and then buckling up herself. (Y/n) shrugs herself out of her leather jacket, Natasha staring at the bruises and half healed cuts along her arms. Natasha sighs and wraps an arm around (Y/n)'s waist and the (H/C) haired woman rests her head against her shoulder. Natasha rests her head against (Y/n)'s and a tear runs down (Y/n)'s cheek.

"I missed you so much," (Y/n) murmurs, her voice quavering.

"Me too," Natasha says, tightening her arm around her waist a little, then continues. "I was so scared when you called me that day."

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) murmurs, sad that she had made her girlfriend upset.

"You don't have to be sorry," Natasha says hastily, seemingly knowing exactly what was going through (Y/n)'s head. "I was just worried. I love you," Natasha whispers into (Y/n)'s hairline.

"I love you too," (Y/n) murmurs back, her eyes closing in exhaustion.

"I'll wake you up when we get there," Natasha says softly. "Sleep now, you look exhausted."

(Y/n) murmurs something that Natasha couldn't make out, closing her eyes, her head still resting on the redhead's shoulder; Melinda looks back, sending Natasha a smile. Clint looks back, pulls out his phone, takes a picture, and sends it to (Y/n), Nat, and Laura.

Laura responds immediately.

Laura: You found her!?

Clint: Yeah, we're taking her to the facility. Then she and Nat are off for some much needed alone time. Poor kids...

Laura: When she wakes up, tell her that me and the kids are happy to know she's okay

Clint: I will

Natasha falls asleep against (Y/n), her head resting against (Y/n)'s.

Word Count: 2416 words

This one's a little shorter than the others, but the next chapter should be pretty good. Chapter 33 or 34 is going to have a little Easter Egg for later in the book just heads up.

Anyway, I hope you people are satisfied with (Y/n) being alive and whatnot.

See y'all!

Love,         Kaitlynn ❤😍

For anyone who doesn't know who Melinda May is, she's a main character from Marvel's Agents of SHIELD.

Imma tag peoples now: @confusinggemini612, @gay-disaster826, @thelastavenger-3000, @osugahunnyicedtea, @night-howl199, @minicastle, @happilyeverafterfantasybooks, @billiebanner, @me-and-sweatpants, @scottjudah, @scarlet-raccoon, @whore-for-charlynch, @nyx-aria, @night-howl199, @brittanyrenne2004, @juegamiri29, @minicastle, @peggycarter-steverogers, @gay-disaster826, @guitargodme, @avengers-avenging, @natashadeservedbetter2, @awesomesuperbat2universe, @witchxaf, @marvel325​, @natashadeservedmore

[misssunflowersandsangria]

Where the Wind can Reach

Hello my lovely dearies!  I've had this in my drafts folder for a while.  I hope that you enjoy some cute Suna family fluff!

Summary:  Leaving Suna to be with Shikamaru wasn't an easy decision.  A quiet moment with her brother reminds Temari about what matters most.

*

** Where the Wind can Reach 

“Hey Tem, you ready?”

Temari turned to look at her brother who smiled brightly at her. Kankurou wasn’t often stunned speechless but this was one of those rare occasions. 

“Well ...who knew that you could clean up so nicely.”  He teased her not used to seeing her in fancy clothes and without a weapon.   She probably had one somewhere.  Seeing her in a sparkling white, elaborate kimono hit home that his big sister was getting married.  She was a vision of excitement and joy. 

“I hate you.”  The smile on her face took the bite away from the statement.  

“I know.”

“You look nice.”  Temari complimented him smoothing down his hair.  It reminded him of their younger days when she’d make sure that he was presentable before any meetings.   

“I don’t know why you insisted that I couldn’t wear my face paint.  I look like dad without it.”  He was genuinely surprised by the request and initially called her a bridezilla.  That earned him a few well deserved slaps to the face. Ultimately, he was smart enough to comply with her wishes. He was there bare-faced and it felt unsettling but there were very few things that she’d asked him to do for the wedding.

Her eyes were soft and contemplative.  “I know you do.  I think that for today, for this occasion.  It’s okay.”  He waited, staring at her confused. 

“I know it’s silly but it's kind of like both you and dad are giving me away.”

Kankuro had to bite back a sob.  He pulled her into a tight hug.  “Damn it Tem, making me cry is really going to mess up my reputation.”

She chuckled returning the hug, hiding her own tears. 

Temari knew that it was strange but there was a part of her that wished that her father was there.  Unlike her brothers, she had a few hazy memories of life before the jinchuriki. When her mother was alive and her father wasn’t a monster.  

Kankuro hated that he looked so much like the previous Kazekage. Seeing himself in the mirror oftentimes felt like a cruel reminder of his father and what he’d done. They’d all tried to work through the issues of their past but the scars remained. Regardless, if Temari wanted to feel like their father was there for her wedding, he’d happily do this for her. 

“To be clear.  I’m not giving you to Nara.  If anything you’re just on loan.  You sure you wanna go through with this?  I could make a big scene, hide you in one of my puppets, leave you in the desert where no one could find you.  It could be like a fun treasure hunt.”

She rolled her eyes, this wasn’t his first time he had some hair-brained idea to stop this wedding.  “You moron.  Shikamaru would find me.”  

Kankurou shrugged.  “He is as stubborn as you are, you’re probably right.  However, say the word and Gaara and I will start an international incident and bring you right back here.”

She began to worry the pendant on the necklace Shikamaru had given her the night before.  She’d been avoiding this conversation but it was now or never.  “Are you two going to be okay without me?”

“You’re talking about the Kazekage and his adviser, of course, we’re not going to be okay.  Being with the deer keeper is what you want so we will survive.”

She sighed before admitting her true feelings.   “I feel like I’m being selfish, leaving you and Gaara, moving to Konoha.”

Kankurou waved off her concerns, not surprised by the admission. “It is totally selfish and it is completely the right thing to do.  If we didn’t fight that war for you to be able to be with the person that you want, what was the point of all of it? You deserve whatever it is that will make you happy.  And Nara makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you.  Nothing means more than that.”

She knew that she loved Shikamaru and wanted to be with him.  Still, it was hard not to worry about everyone else in her life.  This was never her dream.  She wanted to be helpful and acknowledged by her brothers.  Now, a happy life with Shikamaru was what she wanted. 

Kankurou could see the hesitation in her eyes.  His sister had always been selfless and loyal to the core.  If he or Garra made a fuss she would cast aside her own happiness for them.  He would never allow that to happen.  

He wrapped a comforting arm around her.  “Come on Tem.  It’s like you always warned me when we were kids.  There’s nowhere on Earth that the wind can’t reach.  Even when you’re in Konoha you’ll be here.  The work that you do will have far-reaching consequences here.  You’re still our Princess.” Temari leaned into his side, thankful for the reassuring words.  Her homeland and brothers would be okay.  She raised them well.  

“How’s everyone doing out there?”

“It’s a circus act.  Tons of dignitaries and important people from all the great nations.  Thanks for saving me from it. Garra is out there playing host. We could have probably sold tickets to this. It’s not every day that the Princess of Suna gets married.”

Initially, she and Shikamaru wanted a small wedding.  They very quickly discovered that was never an option.  Between their respective roles in their villages, the political ties, and familial ones this wedding was going to be an event. She hadn’t realized how many people were invested in their relationship.  It represented not only the bringing together of two families but two nations. Their marriage ushered in a new era.   Proof that peace had been achieved.

“How’s Shikamaru?”

Kankurou was ready with a snarky remark but just smiled reassuringly.  “He’s ready to be married to you.”

He’d check on the groom as one final chance to play the protective brother role. To his credit, Shikamaru hadn’t been intimidated. Whether it was because he knew Kankuro only wanted the best for his sister or that he knew Temari would be more than capable of taking care of him herself, they bonded. Kankuro may joke but he knew that his sister had found the best partner for her.  He recognized without a doubt that Shikamaru would love and protect his sister with all that he had.

“I’m ready to be married to him too.” They’d spent so much of their relationship apart, she was excited to finally wake up each day knowing that he was there. 

“Stop it, you’re being gross and romantic. It’s weird.” 

Temari rolled her eyes but was thankful that he could help calm her nerves.  “It’s my wedding, what do you expect?” 

He just chuckled giving her another affectionate hug.  

“I love you, big sister.”  For so long it had just been the two of them. Eventually, Garra completed their set.  The famed sand siblings against the world. Their lives were much different now. Filled with so many people that they loved and stood by their sides.  It was reassuring to know that at the core would always be the three of them.  They weren’t losing anything their family was just growing. 

“I love you too Kankuro.” 

Surprising them both another set of arms enclosed around them. 

“Garra?”  He just nodded and they held onto each other tightly.  Temari tried to subtly wipe away her tears.  How many times had she held them together just like this in less happy circumstances?  Now it was for something much different.  Her brothers were holding her together. 

‘Mother, father, I hope you can see how happy we are now.’ 

“Ready Temari?”  Garra asked while both of her brothers reached a hand out to her. 

Taking their hands in hers she nodded. “Yes.” 

*

**

Temari held onto her new husband tightly. Shikamaru danced so awkwardly but she refused to let them end the night without slow dancing.

She smiled feeling his warm lips kiss her forehead. 

“I love you wife.”

Wife...she was someone’s wife.  Not just anyone’s wife. She was Shikamaru’s wife. So much for marriage being a drag. 

“I love you too Shika.”

“Have you enjoyed everything?”  It had been a busy and emotional day but she was finally married to the love of her life.  For all that it was, it was perfect for them. 

“It’s been a lot but something I’ll always cherish. Can you believe that we’re actually married?”  She grinned, joy sparkling in her eyes. 

“Honestly, no.”  He chuckled and she couldn’t help but agree. They both probably would have remained single if they hadn’t met.  How their wants in life had changed. 

He placed a kiss against her palm.  His lips meeting the cool metal of her ring the outward symbol of his love for her.   “Still, I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.  Thank you for marrying me.”  She nodded resting her head against his chest overwhelmed by emotion and relief.

“Are you okay?”  He knew all about her worries and anxieties about leaving home. There were moments that he was genuinely afraid that her love for Suna and her brothers would outweigh her need to be with him.  He’d asked her for so much.  For the rest of their days, he would prove that her decision was a wise one. 

She gazed out at the crowd.  The people that they loved the most in the world enjoying themselves, happy and carefree.  Kankuro was celebrating with the best of them and had a pretty intense drinking contest against Killer B.   He was now trying to convince Garra to let loose. 

“Come on Garra! Your sister just got married, you should dance!!!!” 

Temari just smiled to herself watching the scene play out.  Her heart felt at peace seeing them there happy and at ease. She knew that no matter where she was she carried her brothers with her. 

So she nodded settling back into her husband’s arms before reaching up to kiss him. They had all been through so much and could have lost everything time and again.  In the end, she had everything that she wanted.  

“Yes, I have you, we’ll be together. Everything is perfect.” 

*

**

This story was born from the headcannon that Kankurou wears face paint because he looks so much like his dad.  He hates it so the facepaint.  I have a special place in my heart for him being a middle child as well lol I love the Sand Siblings so much!!!!

Maybe one day I’ll actually write out ShikaTema’s wedding. 

Thanks again for reading!  Likes/Comments are never required but always appreciated! 

If you're interested I have a few smutty prompts that were shared with me that I can't wait to get my hands dirty with lol and I have a few other ideas jumping around but work is starting up again soon. :sigh:  I'll be back soon!  Till then take care of yourself and know that I love you!    

[thorne93]

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 62)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count:2392

Warnings: Language,self-isolation, fighting, attempted robbery, misery, keeping memories alive, hopeful new start. Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time seemed to pass… slowly as it were. 

You’d begun a new chapter in your life. If you could call this your life. It was just sort of existing at this point. You didn’t want to hurt Shannon with an untimely death, but you didn’t see much point in going on. Shannon had her life. She had Tony, Bruce, Steve, Nat, Rhodey. She was surrounded by those that she loved. Sure, she lost Peter in the snap, but in the grand scheme of things she’d lost very little. 

You on the other hand had lost your homeland. Your birth parents -- dead. Your semi-adoptive parents, Odin and Frigga -- dead. Your closest friends, Stephen, Vision, Wanda, Pietro -- gone. No one knew where Clint was. Thor didn’t even talk to you now. No one at the Avengers Compound would even miss you besides Shannon. 

Although, at this point, you might as well be dead. You left no clue for Shannon to find you. You left behind your phone. You’d completely gone undercover. 

The world was fragile, more so than it had been before. Governments were falling apart. There were societies crumbling. World leaders had disappeared. People that were heavily needed to run the world, were gone: doctors, nurses, engineers, politicians, police, mechanics, scientists, veterinarians, farmers… everyone. Every person in this world had a vital role and for the last two months it had been scrambling to make up for the gap.

The world started to function again, barely, but when push came to shove, cities had to keep things going. One of those cities was Paris. 

You were walking back to your hotel from a night at the Louvre. This was what your life had been, one sight to see after another. On the way through an alley, you heard rustling up ahead, and just as you were about to hone in on it, three guys jumped out from behind a corner, armed with knives.

“Nous ne voulons pas vous faire mal mais nous le ferons. remettre la bourse,” the big one demanded and you frowned, trying to remember French. Although, you didn't need much context. Knives, alleyway, darkness, and the only thing you had valuable was a purse. 

“Parlez vous anglais?” you asked, cocking your head.

The three men laughed, throwing their heads back. The confidence was unnerving, and displaced. 

“Oui, uh, sweetheart?” he said with a thick accent. “Hand over the purse.” 

“Oh… Oh you mean this purse?” you asked, holding it out. “Come and get it,” you challenged, your eyes narrowing as the rage bubbled up in you easily. 

They charged at you but you dodged the first one, the largest one. He tripped behind you and turned to try to grab you in a headlock, but you flipped him over. The other two ran forward, their knives out. 

You kicked one of them before punching the other one. The one you punched came up behind you and hit the back of your knees but you didn’t buckle. You turned to face him, your hand hitting his throat quickly. He grabbed it, gasping for breath as he backed up.

The third guy grabbed at your hair but you grabbed his wrist quicker, bending it and squeezing it until you heard a break in the bones. He looked at you with fear in his eyes before he cried out from pain. 

The big one tried to wrap his arms around you, but you were tiring of this so you lit your hands, grabbing him with your power and launching him into some trash bins several feet away from you. The other two looked on in bewilderment and fear as they backed away. They started to run away, quickly.

“What’s the matter? Purse wasn’t worth it?” you called after them angrily, smirking. 

“Trouble just seems to find you, doesn’t it, cher?” that all too familiar Cajun voice said from behind you. 

“Go home, Remy,” was all you said in a cold voice as you picked up your purse and began to make your way back to the hotel, taking the streets this time. Remy walked beside you. “How did you find me?” you asked, nothing but contempt in your tone. 

“Is this any way to greet your oldest friend?” he asked, feigning offense. 

“I’m really not in the mood. I didn’t want to be found.” 

“I’ll say! Do you have any idea how long I been lookin’?” he asked. 

 “Remy,” you groaned. “I left for a reason. I didn’t want to be around anyone.” 

He stopped walking, grabbing your shoulders as he became serious. “I know, cheri. I know you lost him,” was all he said. 

And that’s all it took for you to fall into his arms, a sobbing mess. It was embarrassing, breaking down like this in the middle of the street, but you couldn’t help it. Truth be told, you don’t think anyone could. 

After the snap, it was almost second nature to see people randomly burst into tears. Every place you went someone was mourning someone else. This made the guilt of not finishing Thanos off that much worse. 

Did these random citizens of France know that you were involved in this? Know that you were a great deal of the reason their loved ones were gone? You hoped not. 

Several minutes later, you leaned away from him and he asked if you were alright. You nodded and began walking again back to your hotel. The two of you stopped into the bar in the lobby. It was rather full, and it made you wonder if more people were drowning their sorrows more than usual. 

You two sat next to each other. You ordered a simple drink, as did Remy. Once you got the drink, you didn’t take one sip, you just played with the glass. 

“So...how’d you find me?” you asked again. 

“Well… when that… when the event happened, just about every one in the mansion disappeared. Only people left were about three students, Logan, Jean, and myself.” 

“So Charles...Hank.. Scott...” you started listing off people you cared for. “They’re all…?” 

He nodded solemnly while closing his eyes. The news slammed into you, hard. “Yeah. Well, after tying up loose ends there, I wanted to go find you. You’re the closest thing I got to family.” 

All you did was nod. 

“I went to the compound, but Shannon told me you ran away two months ago.” 

You bobbed your head side to side. He wasn’t wrong. 

“From there I started to think of places you might go. I checked New Orleans. I checked our hometown. Then I realized you once told me you and him planned on taking a trip over to Europe here. You said he wanted to go to Paris the most. Thought I’d give it a whirl.” 

“Yeah,” you softly noted. “I thought I’d tour the places we wanted to go, you know? In honor of his memory.” You tried your best to swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Why’d you run away?” he suddenly asked. “You’ve never been the type.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Ever the charmer.” 

“I’m not lyin’. So what is it? Shannon seemed pretty broken up that you were gone.” 

You shrugged. “I’m sorry for that,” you started, “I just… After the snap, we thought we lost Tony, right? He was lost in space for over three weeks. We had no way to get in touch with him when he and Stephen and Peter all went up there. They were lost to us. Shannon and I were both facing grief. Her’s was worse, I think, because she didn’t know if he was dead, lost, or vanished.”

He nodded before you took a deep breath. 

“Then just before Tony came back, I think I caught something between Bruce and her. I know both of them pretty well, and I think she loves Bruce. I think Bruce asked her to move on with him, when the time was right. The next thing I know, Tony’s home. Which was great. I was so relieved and thrilled… Then all this happiness was around me. Everyone gained Tony back. Bruce had Shannon and Tony, even Nat. Steve had everyone he cares about, except Bucky and Sam. Everyone was rallying together. Friendships were getting stronger. I just felt like I wasn’t needed. Shannon was so focused on Tony, focused on everything. Thor was my last connection to Loki and we haven’t spoken one word to each other since the snap. Asgard was destroyed a few days before Thanos came to Earth. So my home planet is destroyed. The love of my life is gone. My birth and adoptive parents are dead. We tracked down Thanos only for him to tell us he used the infinity stones to destroy them. So there’s no hope of any of them coming back…” 

He reached over and placed his hand on yours, squeezing. “Y/N, cher, I am so sorry.” 

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be there for Shannon, who didn’t appear to need me anyway. I couldn’t pretend to be strong, or pretend like anyone wanted me there. Thor went to find a home for our Asgardian people who managed to escape with Valkyrie. I just was so… jealous of Shannon. She had her husband back. She had Bruce. She had Steve and the rest of them. All her friends, her family. She lost Peter but… I have nothing.” 

“Hey, now, that’s not true. You got me, and you got her.”

A sad smile touched your face. “I know. I appreciate you coming to find me. But that’s why I left. When Tony came back, it reminded me that things always work out for her, and never for me. I just snapped, realized I couldn’t watch everyone be so happy. I was so bitter about it. I’m just in too much misery to watch that. I didn’t want to bring them down. Half of me was filled with bitterness, half of me didn’t want that bitterness to spill over into the small bubble of happiness they’d all found in all of this newfound Hell.” You shrugged, voicing your feelings for the first time, realizing them. It wasn’t so much that you left because you were jealous of Shannon. Of course you wanted her to be happy, she was your best friend. But you didn’t want to be an emotional burden on them, nor could you be there to pretend like you were fine, like everything was okay, when it was the furthest from okay you’d ever been.

“Sounds selfless, to me.”

You laughed without humor. “Ah, yes. Telling you I’m jealous my best friend is happy and that I can’t stand being around it. I’m a true saint.” You raised your glass and took a sip.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m sayin’ at all. I’m sayin’ that you recognized that you needed to be alone.” 

“You don’t think it’s selfish to leave Shannon?”

“Not really. She’s got tons of people who care about her. She’s gonna be fine. She’ll worry about you, but we both know if she knew where you were at, she’d come lookin’ for you. She might even try to convince you to come back, that everything will be okay. You need time to grieve and you can’t have that if everyone around you is crowding you with hope and positivity. You gotta do what’s best for you, darlin’.” 

You nodded, slightly grinning. “That’s, uh, exactly right.” 

The two of you caught up some more on what you’d been up to since the snap, nursing your drinks until the bar closed. You failed to mention the proposal. It somehow felt hard to bring it up to anyone. Tony was an exception because you thought he should know why you were so miserable. The bartender all but kicked you out, forcing you to stand in the lobby making you awkwardly bid Remy goodbye. 

“Where you stayin’ anyway, cajun?” you wondered, nudging him slightly. 

“Just up the street,” he informed. “I’ve only been here two days.” 

You nodded. “Well, I appreciate you finding me. It was nice to have a friend again, for a little while anyway.” 

“I came all this way just to find ya, and you’re just gonna kick me out? That’s cold, Y/L/N.” He gave you a signature smirk. When you didn’t really respond, his tone lost all jest. “Cher, I can’t let you be alone. Not like this. Let me stick around, be a shoulder to lean on. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You know as well as anyone that I can take care of myself,” you remarked seriously. 

“I’m not talkin’ about getting into fights, which I know you’re gonna get into, given the state you’re in. I’m talkin’ about emotionally, mon cher. You’re hurting, and even though you don’t wanna be around the Merry band of the Avengers, maybe my company might make you feel a little less alone.” 

“It would, Remy, but I don’t want to bring you down.” 

He shook his head as he put both hands on your shoulders. “You could never do such a thing. I’m already pretty broken. You and I are just about all we got left in this world. I say we don’t waste that on feelin’ sorry for ourselves. We can grieve together, if you’ll have me.” 

It took you a second, staring at him, weighing the pros of having him around. Of course you wanted him around. It wasn’t so much that you wanted to be alone, you just didn’t want to make anyone more depressed than they already were. But if Remy was certain that you two wouldn’t do that to each other, then you didn’t see the harm. In fact, he was probably right. You two needed someone in the world. All the Avengers had their counterpart… you needed yours too. 

A soft look touched your face. “Alright. Yeah. let’s do it.”

“Glad to hear it. We can go everywhere you two planned on goin’. Tell me all about him. We can keep his memory alive, you and me.” 

You nodded, feeling a dash of hope for the first time in forever. “I think I’d like that, and I think he would too.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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UC: @lokis-high-priestess​

[alarawriting]

Inktober 2020 #2: Wisp

“I don’t know what it is,” the ghost exorcist said, “but it is definitely not a ghost.”

Mark had already sent a couple of his demons to check the entity out. They hadn’t reported back yet, which meant it wasn’t a ghost… ghosts were easy to identify. He knew nothing had happened to the demons; they were just having difficulty figuring out what the thing was, as far as he could tell.

“I feel you,” he said, agreeing. “I’m guessing you ruled out psychokinesis as well?”

Melvin Farber, the best ghost hunter Mark knew, nodded. “Nothing’s being thrown around. Nothing’s breaking mysteriously. The family just sees a wisp, a vaguely human shape in shadows, and then it’s gone. But…” He shook his head. “Normally, if you’ve got a ghost, you can command them with the names of God, and if you’ve got a psychometric projection or a fragment of a ghost, you can tighten up reality to dissolve them. When I tried to tighten reality… nothing happened.” He shoved graying, curly hair back from his forehead, where sweat-soaked curls had fallen forward.”

Kabbalistic magic was not Mark’s strong suit. “What does it mean to ‘tighten’ reality?”

Melvin shoved his hair up again. “Okay, so. Malkuth is the sphere we are in, the sphere of matter on the Tree of Life. The one directly above us is Yesod, which represents communication, contact with the spiritual, connection in general. Yesod allows us to connect with entities outside the Tree – the dark entities on the Tree of Death, the ghosts, the fragments of broken memory imprinted on reality, all that kind of thing. What I did was I – briefly—blocked the connection to Yesod. Without Yesod we cannot perceive spiritual realities. Obviously we can never permanently block Yesod, we’d cease to exist without the emanation of energy that comes from God at the top of the tree. But if you block it for a moment, in your local area… you cut off the spirit world’s ability to communicate with us, and us with them. So ghosts vanish.” He pointed at the small golden demon sitting on Mark’s shoulder. “Your Sharro Varánas, your demange homeland – blocked. Your demons wouldn’t be able to get through.”

“It’s not my homeland,” Mark said. His father might have been a demange, and as such belonged in Sharro Varánas, but Mark was half-human, and couldn’t go there any more than, alive, he could go to Valhalla, or Hell, or any other realm outside the human world.

“Whatever. My point is, the wisp – whatever it is – didn’t go away. So it’s not above us on the tree, or below us. It’s at our level but it’s not actually here. Or, it’s not part of God’s creation, which sounds ridiculous but it could happen. If it doesn’t naturally connect to Yesod then what I did wouldn’t have done bupkiss to it.”

“All right,” Mark said. “That gives me some idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“The family is very stressed out. I called you in because they say you’re good.” The short, middle-aged man looked up at Mark, shaking his head. “But you’re young. What are you, 18? You’re a child. A child.”

“I’m 25,” Mark said, a note of irritation in his voice, “and thanks for reminding me about the babyface right before I have to go in and get some entity to take me seriously. You’re doing wonders for my self esteem.”

Melvin waved his hand. “Oh, you know I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said. “You must be up to your armpits in girlfriends. Wish I’d looked like you when I was 25. But you see me here? Skinny old guy, glasses, long face, big nose? I looked just the same when I was your age except I was a skinny young guy and my hair was black.”

Mark had no idea what Melvin expected him to do with this information, but he was used to it. When he first met people, either they were uneasy around him and they clammed up or made excuses and disappeared, or they were drawn in, compelled by his preternatural charisma. They overshared, they tried to give him their number if they were attracted to men at all, they hung on his words… and then eventually, the unease got through to them too. Hopefully that wouldn’t happen with Melvin – the man was a professional exorcist, he had to be pretty used to unease, and he knew what a demange was. Also, Mark hoped he wouldn’t be around Melvin long enough to trigger such a reaction.

“Well. Like you said, the family is stressed out, so I’d better go get to work. Does this wisp have a preferred place to appear?”

“Anywhere the family is. It likes to try to be around people.”

That didn’t sound like ghost behavior, no.

“Golden, make yourself scarce,” Mark told his familiar. No point in freaking out the homeowner with the demon on his shoulder.

*will do, boss*

Golden vanished, and Mark headed into the house, Melvin following.

A blonde woman met them at the door. “Mr. Farber? Any luck?”

“This is my colleague, Mark des Demanges,” Melvin said. “He’s an expert in cases like this.”

“He looks so young,” the woman said.

“I get that a lot,” Mark said, offering her his hand to shake. “You’re the homeowner?”

“Well, my husband and me. And we have two children.”

“This is Ms. Mitchell,” Melvin said.

Ms. Mitchell, who had to be 40 if she was a day, was looking at Mark with entirely too much interest, as her hand held his for just a little too long for a simple handshake. “Where was the last time you saw the wisp?” he asked.

“In the living room.”

***

The living room was exactly what he expected from the lawn and the clothes the blond woman was wearing. Lawyer foyer, hardwood curving staircase that looked downright slippery, white shag carpet, white leather couch. Glass coffee tables.

Shadowed shape of a person sitting on the overly wide bottom step.

“You see?” Ms. Mitchell’s voice was shrill with fear. “Right there! You see?”

“I do, actually,” Mark said. He approached the shadowy figure.

There was absolutely no reason for the figure to be in shadow. The living room had monstrously huge windows, and all of the rest of the staircase was brightly lit in the afternoon sunlight.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you,” he murmured. Even without help from his demons, he could tell that much.

The shadowy figure looked up at him. No features were visible, but its slumping shoulders and downward-pointing head went back and up, the figure leaning back slightly and looking up at him. With interest? Hope? Fear? No way to tell through the shadow.

“I’m gonna get some info and I’ll be right back,” he told the shadow. He turned back to the homeowner. “I need to perform a ritual and I’m going to need privacy. Are there any rooms around here with doors that actually shut?”

“There’s the first floor bathroom…”

Mark sighed. “Yeah, okay.” Obviously the hired help wasn’t allowed to go upstairs where there were actual room rooms.

***

In the bathroom, he summoned Golden back. “What have you got for me?”

*we can’t get there, boss*

“Can’t get there how?”

*anyhow*

Mark rolled his eyes. “That is not helpful, Golden. I need to know where, exactly, that entity is. If you can’t get to where it is, tell me where it isn’t.”

*anywhere. it’s not in your world. it’s not in ours. we can get to a lot of places. this one’s not one of them.*

“That gives me a good idea of what I’m working with.”

***

He returned to the being. “Okay. First we need to establish whether you understand me or not. If you understand me, and you want to say ‘yes’, nod your head, like this.” He demonstrated. “If you understand me, and you want to say ‘no’, shake your head.” He did the back and forth motion that generally meant “no”, or sometimes “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around how dumb you are.” “Now I’m going to ask you, Do you understand me? If you do, nod yes.”

The shadowy head nodded. “Great!” Mark said. “We have a basis for communication. I’m going to ask you some questions about where you came from and where you’re trying to get to. First of all, it’s my theory that you’re stuck here, between branes, and you are trying to get to a different brane, which is not where you are now. Is that correct?”

The entity nodded.

“Wait, branes?” Ms. Mitchell asked in a very loud whisper. “Isn’t it ‘planes’?”

“Don’t look at me,” Melvin said. “I just chase out ghosts.”

“Are you attempting to get into this one? Yes or no.”

The answer was “no.” “Are you attempting to get out of this one?” Mark asked, and again got a no. “Ugh. What am I missing, what am I missing… oh! Okay. Are you attempting to get to a completely different brane but you are for some reason stuck on the edge of ours?” That got a yes.

“If I open the door to let you into this one, will that help you?” No. “If I open the door to let you free of this one, will that help you?” Yes.

He turned to Ms. Mitchell. “Do you have any chalk?”

“Chalk?”

“You have kids, right? Chalk. Like the stuff their teachers use, or the stuff they draw on the sidewalk with.”

“At the summer house I think they have some… but we’d never let them draw anything on the driveway, and this area doesn’t have a sidewalk. So I don’t think so.”

“Figures,” Mark muttered. “Oh, well. I’ve got my own, it would just be more powerful if it was strongly associated with this place.” He turned back to the shadowy creature. “I’m going to have to ask you to stand up and walk forward… no, not onto the carpet, stay on the hardwood. Okay. Now, stand there and don’t move.”

Quickly he knelt down and drew a sigil around the shadowy thing. It was a lot like a banishment sigil, but it lacked the modifiers for “force” and “destination”, so instead of banishing someone to somewhere, it would give them a gentle push to get out of the universe and go find their way to something else.

“You’re drawing. On my hardwood floor!”

“It’s chalk, Ms. Mitchell,” Mark said, not entirely able to control his exasperation and keep it out of his voice. “It’ll wash up the moment the floor is mopped.” With his ritual knife, he slit the fingertip of the ring finger of his right hand – he was left handed – and dripped his blood onto his sigil. “As will this.”

Demanges – somewhere between demon and angel, or perhaps both at the same time – had enormous amounts of magical power. Mark was only half demange, child of a demange in male form and a human mother, but that still left him with far more power than most people. Melvin had to call on the names of God to perform any kind of serious working; all Mark needed was his own blood.

The sigil flared to life, glowing with excess magic. “The door is open,” Mark intoned. “Go you now in peace, traveler, whenever it suits you to do so, and good luck to you in finding your way to the destination you chose.”

The shadow bowed its head, once, and began to fade. In a few moments it was gone.

“And it won’t come back?” Ms. Mitchell asked nervously.

“I don’t think so.” Mark pulled the power he had fired the sigil with back into himself, now that the trapped entity was gone. “It never wanted to be here in the first place. Can you grab me a wet sponge? Not dripping wet, just, you know. Wet but wrung out.”

“I… I’ll see if I can find one. My cleaning girl isn’t working today and I’m not sure where she put the sponges.”

As soon as Ms. Mitchell was gone, Mark rolled his eyes. “How do you not know where your own sponges are?” he murmured.

Melvin nodded. “Rich people. Useless, the whole bunch of them.”

“Not all of them,” Mark said, thinking of his mentor. Andre qualified as rich, although rather than buying a tacky McMansion on a postage-stamp sized piece of land, he used the money to have multiple decent homes he could stay in, all over the world, and then he traveled all the time.

Ms. Mitchell returned with the sponge, and Mark knelt down and mopped his sigil up, taking care to get every last bit of chalk, and especially blood. After they’d been charged with so much magic, it was important not to leave any bit of it around. He had Ms. Mitchell show him to the sink, and thoroughly rinsed and wrung the sponge out. It’d be safest to throw it out, but he didn’t know how well supplied Ms. Mitchell kept her cleaning lady.

“All done, Ms. Mitchell. Pleasure meeting you.”

“Yes,” she said, still staring at him almost hungrily. In fact, she hadn’t taken her eyes off him unless she had to, such as when she went to get the sponge, the whole time. “A pleasure. What did you say your name was?”

“I do have to get going. Melvin, call me once you’ve wrapped everything up.” Ms. Mitchell was Melvin’s client; Mark would be getting his pay from Melvin, not Ms. Mitchell. He’d have done the job for free, but when there was a ridiculously wealthy client who obviously didn’t have enough to do with her money, why not take advantage?

Outside, he whistled as he went to his car. This had gone surprisingly smoothly. They didn’t usually go that smoothly.

He looked around himself nervously, as if the universe might have overheard him and decided to do something about it. Nothing seemed wrong, so far.

Mark got in his car and headed out.

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

I am pretty sure that if I turn this into a full story, the universe will have heard him and decided to do something about it.

I’m not Jewish, so the Kaballah stuff with Malkuth and Yesod might not be fully accurate to how Kaballah is actually interpreted, but in this particular series I’ve never paid a lot of attention to real-life magic or spiritualism; this is fiction set in a universe where there are entities between demons and angels, so I make a lot of shit up.

I actually have a published story about Mark’s origins on Amazon.com, under my own name, called “Tainted Blood”, if anyone is interested in the character.

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Unforseen Chasm (Part 62)

Part 62 of Unforseen Chasm

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together. Word Count: 2392 Warnings: Language, self-isolation, fighting, attempted robbery, misery, keeping memories alive, hopeful new start. Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my other fic series). first major Collab with my best friend @thorne93​ what was first a simple “what if” moment turned into a two year writing session and I’ve never been more prouder of myself than when i started my first series. goes through most of the MCU plots there are some changes to accommodate for what we wanted and there is a bit of a crossover between the MCU and other characters. I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Time seemed to pass… slowly as it were. 

You’d begun a new chapter in your life. If you could call this your life. It was just sort of existing at this point. You didn’t want to hurt Shannon with an untimely death, but you didn’t see much point in going on. Shannon had her life. She had Tony, Bruce, Steve, Nat, Rhodey. She was surrounded by those that she loved. Sure, she lost Peter in the snap, but in the grand scheme of things she’d lost very little. 

You on the other hand had lost your homeland. Your birth parents -- dead. Your semi-adoptive parents, Odin and Frigga -- dead. Your closest friends, Stephen, Vision, Wanda, Pietro -- gone. No one knew where Clint was. Thor didn’t even talk to you now. No one at the Avengers Compound would even miss you besides Shannon. 

Although, at this point, you might as well be dead. You left no clue for Shannon to find you. You left behind your phone. You’d completely gone undercover. 

The world was fragile, more so than it had been before. Governments were falling apart. There were societies crumbling. World leaders had disappeared. People that were heavily needed to run the world, were gone: doctors, nurses, engineers, politicians, police, mechanics, scientists, veterinarians, farmers… everyone. Every person in this world had a vital role and for the last two months it had been scrambling to make up for the gap. 

The world started to function again, barely, but when push came to shove, cities had to keep things going. One of those cities was Paris. 

You were walking back to your hotel from a night at the Louvre. This was what your life had been, one sight to see after another. On the way through an alley, you heard rustling up ahead, and just as you were about to hone in on it, three guys jumped out from behind a corner, armed with knives.

“Nous ne voulons pas vous faire mal mais nous le ferons. remettre la bourse,” the big one demanded and you frowned, trying to remember French. Although, you didn't need much context. Knives, alleyway, darkness, and the only thing you had valuable was a purse. 

“Parlez vous anglais?” you asked, cocking your head.

The three men laughed, throwing their heads back. The confidence was unnerving, and displaced. 

“Oui, uh, sweetheart?” he said with a thick accent. “Hand over the purse.” 

“Oh… Oh you mean this purse?” you asked, holding it out. “Come and get it,” you challenged, your eyes narrowing as the rage bubbled up in you easily. 

They charged at you but you dodged the first one, the largest one. He tripped behind you and turned to try to grab you in a headlock, but you flipped him over. The other two ran forward, their knives out. 

You kicked one of them before punching the other one. The one you punched came up behind you and hit the back of your knees but you didn’t buckle. You turned to face him, your hand hitting his throat quickly. He grabbed it, gasping for breath as he backed up.

The third guy grabbed at your hair but you grabbed his wrist quicker, bending it and squeezing it until you heard a break in the bones. He looked at you with fear in his eyes before he cried out from pain. 

The big one tried to wrap his arms around you, but you were tiring of this so you lit your hands, grabbing him with your power and launching him into some trash bins several feet away from you. The other two looked on in bewilderment and fear as they backed away. They started to run away, quickly.

“What’s the matter? Purse wasn’t worth it?” you called after them angrily, smirking. 

“Trouble just seems to find you, doesn’t it, cher?” that all too familiar Cajun voice said from behind you. 

“Go home, Remy,” was all you said in a cold voice as you picked up your purse and began to make your way back to the hotel, taking the streets this time. Remy walked beside you. “How did you find me?” you asked, nothing but contempt in your tone. 

“Is this any way to greet your oldest friend?” he asked, feigning offense. 

“I’m really not in the mood. I didn’t want to be found.” 

“I’ll say! Do you have any idea how long I been lookin’?” he asked. 

 “Remy,” you groaned. “I left for a reason. I didn’t want to be around anyone.” 

He stopped walking, grabbing your shoulders as he became serious. “I know, cheri. I know you lost him,” was all he said. 

And that’s all it took for you to fall into his arms, a sobbing mess. It was embarrassing, breaking down like this in the middle of the street, but you couldn’t help it. Truth be told, you don’t think anyone could. 

After the snap, it was almost second nature to see people randomly burst into tears. Every place you went someone was mourning someone else. This made the guilt of not finishing Thanos off that much worse. 

Did these random citizens of France know that you were involved in this? Know that you were a great deal of the reason their loved ones were gone? You hoped not. 

Several minutes later, you leaned away from him and he asked if you were alright. You nodded and began walking again back to your hotel. The two of you stopped into the bar in the lobby. It was rather full, and it made you wonder if more people were drowning their sorrows more than usual. 

You two sat next to each other. You ordered a simple drink, as did Remy. Once you got the drink, you didn’t take one sip, you just played with the glass. 

“So...how’d you find me?” you asked again. 

“Well… when that… when the event happened, just about every one in the mansion disappeared. Only people left were about three students, Logan, Jean, and myself.” 

“So Charles...Hank.. Scott...” you started listing off people you cared for. “They’re all…?” 

He nodded solemnly while closing his eyes. The news slammed into you, hard. “Yeah. Well, after tying up loose ends there, I wanted to go find you. You’re the closest thing I got to family.” 

All you did was nod. 

“I went to the compound, but Shannon told me you ran away two months ago.” 

You bobbed your head side to side. He wasn’t wrong. 

“From there I started to think of places you might go. I checked New Orleans. I checked our hometown. Then I realized you once told me you and him planned on taking a trip over to Europe here. You said he wanted to go to Paris the most. Thought I’d give it a whirl.” 

“Yeah,” you softly noted. “I thought I’d tour the places we wanted to go, you know? In honor of his memory.” You tried your best to swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Why’d you run away?” he suddenly asked. “You’ve never been the type.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Ever the charmer.” 

“I’m not lyin’. So what is it? Shannon seemed pretty broken up that you were gone.” 

You shrugged. “I’m sorry for that,” you started, “I just… After the snap, we thought we lost Tony, right? He was lost in space for over three weeks. We had no way to get in touch with him when he and Stephen and Peter all went up there. They were lost to us. Shannon and I were both facing grief. Her’s was worse, I think, because she didn’t know if he was dead, lost, or vanished.”

He nodded before you took a deep breath. 

“Then just before Tony came back, I think I caught something between Bruce and her. I know both of them pretty well, and I think she loves Bruce. I think Bruce asked her to move on with him, when the time was right. The next thing I know, Tony’s home. Which was great. I was so relieved and thrilled… Then all this happiness was around me. Everyone gained Tony back. Bruce had Shannon and Tony, even Nat. Steve had everyone he cares about, except Bucky and Sam. Everyone was rallying together. Friendships were getting stronger. I just felt like I wasn’t needed. Shannon was so focused on Tony, focused on everything. Thor was my last connection to Loki and we haven’t spoken one word to each other since the snap. Asgard was destroyed a few days before Thanos came to Earth. So my home planet is destroyed. The love of my life is gone. My birth and adoptive parents are dead. We tracked down Thanos only for him to tell us he used the infinity stones to destroy them. So there’s no hope of any of them coming back…” 

He reached over and placed his hand on yours, squeezing. “Y/N, cher, I am so sorry.” 

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t be there for Shannon, who didn’t appear to need me anyway. I couldn’t pretend to be strong, or pretend like anyone wanted me there. Thor went to find a home for our Asgardian people who managed to escape with Valkyrie. I just was so… jealous of Shannon. She had her husband back. She had Bruce. She had Steve and the rest of them. All her friends, her family. She lost Peter but… I have nothing.” 

“Hey, now, that’s not true. You got me, and you got her.”

A sad smile touched your face. “I know. I appreciate you coming to find me. But that’s why I left. When Tony came back, it reminded me that things always work out for her, and never for me. I just snapped, realized I couldn’t watch everyone be so happy. I was so bitter about it. I’m just in too much misery to watch that. I didn’t want to bring them down. Half of me was filled with bitterness, half of me didn’t want that bitterness to spill over into the small bubble of happiness they’d all found in all of this newfound Hell.” You shrugged, voicing your feelings for the first time, realizing them. It wasn’t so much that you left because you were jealous of Shannon. Of course you wanted her to be happy, she was your best friend. But you didn’t want to be an emotional burden on them, nor could you be there to pretend like you were fine, like everything was okay, when it was the furthest from okay you’d ever been.

“Sounds selfless, to me.”

You laughed without humor. “Ah, yes. Telling you I’m jealous my best friend is happy and that I can’t stand being around it. I’m a true saint.” You raised your glass and took a sip.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not what I’m sayin’ at all. I’m sayin’ that you recognized that you needed to be alone.” 

“You don’t think it’s selfish to leave Shannon?”

“Not really. She’s got tons of people who care about her. She’s gonna be fine. She’ll worry about you, but we both know if she knew where you were at, she’d come lookin’ for you. She might even try to convince you to come back, that everything will be okay. You need time to grieve and you can’t have that if everyone around you is crowding you with hope and positivity. You gotta do what’s best for you, darlin’.” 

You nodded, slightly grinning. “That’s, uh, exactly right.” 

The two of you caught up some more on what you’d been up to since the snap, nursing your drinks until the bar closed. You failed to mention the proposal. It somehow felt hard to bring it up to anyone. Tony was an exception because you thought he should know why you were so miserable. The bartender all but kicked you out, forcing you to stand in the lobby making you awkwardly bid Remy goodbye. 

“Where you stayin’ anyway, cajun?” you wondered, nudging him slightly. 

“Just up the street,” he informed. “I’ve only been here two days.” 

You nodded. “Well, I appreciate you finding me. It was nice to have a friend again, for a little while anyway.” 

“I came all this way just to find ya, and you’re just gonna kick me out? That’s cold, Y/L/N.” He gave you a signature smirk. When you didn’t really respond, his tone lost all jest. “Cher, I can’t let you be alone. Not like this. Let me stick around, be a shoulder to lean on. I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“You know as well as anyone that I can take care of myself,” you remarked seriously. 

“I’m not talkin’ about getting into fights, which I know you’re gonna get into, given the state you’re in. I’m talkin’ about emotionally, mon cher. You’re hurting, and even though you don’t wanna be around the Merry band of the Avengers, maybe my company might make you feel a little less alone.” 

“It would, Remy, but I don’t want to bring you down.” 

He shook his head as he put both hands on your shoulders. “You could never do such a thing. I’m already pretty broken. You and I are just about all we got left in this world. I say we don’t waste that on feelin’ sorry for ourselves. We can grieve together, if you’ll have me.” 

It took you a second, staring at him, weighing the pros of having him around. Of course you wanted him around. It wasn’t so much that you wanted to be alone, you just didn’t want to make anyone more depressed than they already were. But if Remy was certain that you two wouldn’t do that to each other, then you didn’t see the harm. In fact, he was probably right. You two needed someone in the world. All the Avengers had their counterpart… you needed yours too. 

A soft look touched your face. “Alright. Yeah. let’s do it.”

“Glad to hear it. We can go everywhere you two planned on goin’. Tell me all about him. We can keep his memory alive, you and me.” 

You nodded, feeling a dash of hope for the first time in forever. “I think I’d like that, and I think he would too.” 

Unforseen Chasm Tag list- @reigningqueenofwords @oldfreakything @adefectivedetective @dontbetooobvious

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[mrneighbourlove]

Burnt Heart: Ch 2. Trust Thunderstruck

Many years had passed, and the Kikai Empire's power had never been higher. Under Zannah's rule, she had obtained four different islands, and the unclaimed tip of a land from another continent. Her people had spread like wildfire after interbreeding with colonialized races into the Empire. The baby boom was high for Hasai birthrates, and she couldn't be more overjoyed. Her citizens were almost fanatically devoted to her, working hard to fit and find a place in the gears of her well-oiled Empire. The Waku in particular, while young, were growing in secret exactly to her design. Most grew up being completely loyal to the Empire. However, there was always resistance, and with her reach so far, there was bound to eventually be a loose gap in her defenses.

Flying on a Wyvern, a Waku, descended from his Dal mother and Emperor Zannah's vision, grew angry with their life. They grew complacent training to be a fighter for the Empire. Most of all, they grew resentful that they never grew up with the love and care of a father.

It started a cold trial from her ignorant mother, which lead her to the heart of the Empire. There, she secured the name of the first Waku. A man of great renown known as Kahli. She needed to find this man, and she knew that word would travel to ears belonging to agents of the Empire quickly that she escaped from her mother's watchful eye. Maybe the agents weren't fast enough, or maybe they didn't catch on at all, but she found herself flying into the borders of Hyrule. Her Wyvern only slightly bigger than a horse, starting to fly closer to the earth. Grievous would find this man and make him answer dearly to their questions.  

Kahli had volunteered to take the exports to the docks so Zizi could have a day to prepare for Manaco's upcoming birthday. He was a man now, and had completed his first trial of manhood. Her son had purchased a plot of land for his family one day. Now, he was in the process of finishing his house. So, to celebrate the occasion, Zizi was baking his favorite dessert; strawberry cake. No matter how tough her son acted, he still had a weakness for the sweet, tasting fruit. When Kahli returned, the two of them would go over to Manaco's new place with the cake. She was in the middle of spreading the whipped cream over the cake when she heard a knock at the door. Glancing at the clock, Zizi thought it was odd. Kahli was not due home for another couple of hours. Who was visiting?

Opening the front door, Zizi was surprised to see... someone new.

"Yes? May I help you?"

"Where is he woman?" Grievous had white war paint on her face, giving her the impression of a skull. Yellow eyes and red skin were the norm for any Waku, yet due to her Dal heritage, a primate tail was flicking back and forth angerly. Her hair was bountiful, parting more backwards due to a war helmet she wore. Honestly, due to the massive amount of protection in Hyrule, most would find it ill advised to threaten someone so openly in public, but not this girl. "Where is the man known as Kahli? Show yourself you coward!"

"... okay, I've been through this before." Zizi had a very unimpressed look on her face. "Look, everyone wants to fight my husband, or has wanted to kill him at some point. So, what is it? What could he have possibly done this time in the past? I'm in the middle of baking a cake for my son and you're interrupting. Kahli is not here, so go ahead and leave or else I will just launch you off my doorstep myself."

Grievous shot a streak of fire at one of the flowers that Kahli gardened for her.  "I have no quarrel with you woman. Are you his servant perhaps? I will ask only once more before I tear this house apart to drag him out into the streets. Show yourself! You dare call yourself Father to the Waku?!"

Zizi was old. Zizi was tired. Zizi was the earth sage. She had patience and kindness in her heart. But right now? Zizi was very annoyed. This was going to end very quickly. The Zemlja did not even have to move. Her magic was advanced far beyond what was normally expected due to her sudden status as earth sage. She did not desire the title, but it was entrusted to her. Most of the time, she did not have to use such harsh magic.

The earth suddenly opened and swallowed the stranger up to her neck. It hardened and kept her in place. There would be no way she'd be able to move.

"I. Am. His. Wife." Zizi bent down to look the young girl in the eye. "You mess with him, you mess with me."

"Let me go! Or my mighty mount will rip you to shreds."

To Zizi, the Wyvern might as well be a house cat compared to the dragons she knew from her homeland. At first it looked surprised at its owner being trapped under the earth. Next it spread its wings wide, baring its teeth. With one leg kicking the dirt, it looked as though it was either ready to charge head first with its horns, or snap at Zizi. "That man owes me! You will not deny me my hunt for him! I've come too far!"

Zizi merely whistled and from there, three enormous Lorleidian dragons arrived outside her house. Ari'phompha was one, glaring down at the little Wyvern. The earth dragon was older than the rest of the group, but still able to fight. She snorted loudly and tapped her claws.

"You won't win this battle, young one. I suggest you back off." Ari'phompha warned the Wyvern. "You shall not harm our friend."

"Kahli owes you nothing." Zizi poked the girl's head. "Why don't you calm your temper and tell me what this is all about or else, I'll have my friends escort you away."

"Fight for friend. N-not scared of you." The little Wyvern growled back at the much more powerful and far bigger dragons. He couldn't shoot any type of energy from his mouth, and had no arms to fight with, but he had his spunk.

Grievous nearly let her age get the better of her and almost was on the verge of crying. "That bastard is my father! A father I never knew! Release me vile earth witch!"

It was as if the world stopped. Time stopped. Everything came to a screeching halt.

"...!!! WHAT?!" Zizi shouted so loud that even the dragons winced at her volume. "YOU LIE!!!" She pulled the girl out of the ground by the collar and held her there. "He is MY husband! He would never cheat on me! The bond prevents him from doing so!"

The Waku was currently still too weak from the earth having gripped her like a vice to fight back physically, but the fire in her eyes didn't mean she would stop trying to express her fury. "Look into my eyes! I am Waku! The one known as Kahli is the only one who can be my father! I am one of hundreds!"

"Hu... hundreds?" Zizi felt her heart sink into her gut. Her eyes. None of the Hasai had eyes like that except for Kahli. It couldn't be true! It just couldn't! Kahli wouldn't hurt her like this, wouldn't hurt their family like this... would he? "How? How can this be possible? Kahli said... the bond..."

"I took so long to pry the information from my mother, but eventually she caved. She said she was given the honour of being a donor for the Empire." Her tail had enough strength slap at Zizi's hand. Catching her landing, Grievous' scowl deepened. "I was disgusted by this revelation. All my friends and allies had fathers they knew. Father's they loved. I never did. What more, I was born a freak, one of hundreds from a test tube." The last two words held undeniable malice in her voice, the seriousness of the matter dripping from every word.

Zizi's knees buckled and she hit the ground hard. The Zemlja was in shock. The girl had no reason to lie. There was evidence enough by her appearance. Judging by the girl's age, this happened years ago. This was a plan of Zannah's and Kahli was her pawn. She was angry and hurt by Zannah using her husband for personal gain, but also at Kahli for allowing Zannah to use him. There was no way Kahli would be manipulated so easily. Zannah had to have something on him. Yet still... did he even try to fight this? Hundreds... hundreds of them... so this was not just a one-time occurrence. Zannah had been doing this experiment of hers for a long while now.

"I... didn't know..." Zizi's voice was so soft, the dragons barely heard her.  

Grievous leaned down to grab Zizi by the collar. Clearly, she had not known, but she still needed answers out of this little woman. "Where is he?"

Kahli had been making his way back from work early. He worked extra hard to come back home to his wife as to help her prepare in celebration for their son's birthday. Manaco was a bright man, and his father was so proud of all his accomplishments. He arrived with a crate of fresh milk he loved, hoping to have time to wrap it in paper. What he saw next shattered any and all current plans.

In his house was a Waku girl. He wasn't a fool. Kahli knew what this meant. This was the end to his longest and darkest kept secret. When he saw this girl grab his wife by the collar, however, Kahli snapped into action. Swiftly leaping into action, he grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, throwing her back off his wife.

"---!!! You---!!!"

She didn't get to finish her surprise as Kahli brought his palm forward, breaking her nose. With the next strike, he delivered a swift kick to her chest, sending her rolling backwards down his front steps and onto the dirt road. "Leave my house. And never return. You bring danger to us all by coming here. I don't know you, and you don't know me. Try anything other than leaving, and I will turn you into ash." Kahli was dark, cold, and unkind in his words to this girl. Before she could answer back, he shut the door on her. Might have a minute or two as she got the wind back in her sails to check on his wife. Carefully, Kahli turned to Zizi, feeling the weight of his sins crawl down his back and sit on his chest as his hands carefully rested on her shoulders. "Zizi… did she hurt you?"

Zizi was still processing what just happened. A girl, no... Kahli's daughter had shown up on the doorstep. He had a part in this. He had to be willing. What was she thinking? Kahli always ran to Zannah like a lost puppy whenever she called. He missed birthdays and holidays. He'd leave suddenly and then return. When did she go so blindly in love that she refused to see it anymore? Kahli's loyalty was never to her, it was to Zannah. Any order the Empress gave, he'd carry out in a heartbeat. All those years ago when the two of them visited with Malik and Asakoniegei, he had even gone so far as to defend Zannah's actions. The Zemlja tried her hardest to find a way to rationalize an excuse, but... she could not find one. It was a soul-crushing sensation which now weighed on her. Good spirits, what would her children think? Not only was she heartbroken over this revelation, but her babies... oh, sweet spirits, they would never look at Kahli the same again. Her family would never be the same again...

"No... she didn't." Zizi then looked up at him with absolute rage in her eyes. "But you're going to hurt."

With a massive blast of magical energy, Zizi shot Kahli through the front door, across the flower garden, and slammed him into the statue in the middle of the fountain.

Grievous was rising from the ground, finally catching her breath, when Kahli was sent flying outwards. His foot caught her in the head, cutting her temple and sending her crashing back into the ground.

Kahli didn't fight back as Zizi raised her hands to rocket him away. He knew that he deserved her anger, her hatred. The door was hard enough against his back to smash through, and he didn't know what he hit on the way to the statue, but upon crashing into it, he suffered six broken ribs upon impact, as well as his left arm snapped in two. With awful breathing, he took on water as he tried to keep his head a float.

"You... how could you?!?!" Zizi tromped out of the house, her anger causing prickly thorns and massive vines to rise from the ground. The magic swirled violently around her being, green sparks shooting through the air. This was the first time that Kahli would ever sense such rage from his wife. "I gave you my heart and my soul! A family, a home, I saved you and loved you and this is how you repay me?!"

Kahli took a solid minute to pick himself up from the fountain, only able to lean his body on the outer ring. "I didn't stop loving you. I provided for our family. I understand your anger... but this? I've never... struck any of you."

"You think that is an excuse for your infidelity?!" Zizi nearly shrieked at him. "That is your fucking daughter that showed up on my doorstep! And by the looks of it, she's fully grown! That, and she told me she has hundreds of brothers and sisters?!" She then told him, "Hit you!? You're lucky that I don't castrate you!!! You liar! You cheater!"

"I NEVER FUCKED ANYONE!" For that yell, Kahli's felt a bile of iron rise up his throat and trickle out his mouth. "Zizi… gods. It's complicated. But she's not my daughter."

"I don't care if you fucked a cow! That is your daughter! There's no denying those eyes, Kahli!" Zizi screeched. "You think I'm stupid?! I don't care how complicated it is, the bottom line is, you have other sons and daughters out there that were grown in test tubes and utilized for Zannah's benefit! After all this time, you still chose her and not me?! Not our family?! Spirits, when did I ever become so foolish to believe that one day, you'd chose us over duty to the Empire?!"

"I didn't choose jack shit. My sons and daughters are my fifteen children with you. They... they may be children, but they are not my children."

"Now you're just deluding yourself." Zizi scoffed with tears running down her face. "Don't bother coming home. You're not welcome anymore." She then wiped at her cheeks and sniffled, walking back to her house. Along the way, she saw the young girl staring at her. Whether it was awe, fear, or a mixture of both, Zizi did not know. Yet, the girl did not deserve her hatred or angry. Offering a hand, she helped her to her feet. "You, however, may come in."

Grievous looked back and forth between the two. At the invitation, she was taken aback. "Why?"

"Because you've done nothing wrong." Zizi told the girl quietly. "You don't deserve this."

Grievous looked to the bitter husk of her father seeking to pull himself out of the fountain, yet struggling to do so. Quirking an eyebrow at Zizi, she asked a question that was simply that. "What if I came all this way to kill him?"

"Wouldn't it be better to let him suffer?" Zizi's voice sounded cold. "Death might be too easy according to Waku traditions."

"Him? He's survived worse." Zizi then instructed Ari'phompha. "Take him to the healers. Leave him there and don't brign him back here." Ari'phompha carefully picked up Kahli within her large claws and flew him in the direction of the Dusa's hospital. "You have questions. I have answers. Come inside."

“No. I have questions for him and him alone. Ask them to bring him back. I’ll heal him.”

"No. You want to talk to him, you go to him." Zizi used her magic to grow a makeshift door out of the ground since she blasted off her other one. "He's not coming back in here. If you want to go talk to him, he's that way."

“Do you not have same questions I do?”

"He lied to me. I no longer trust his words." Zizi was trying to keep her voice from trembling. "I don't care for answers."

“I do. I will never get close to him again if you send him away. Please.” Grievous felt suddenly woozy, sitting down on her porch.

"... you got knocked pretty hard, didn't you?" Zizi bent down to look at the bruise on the girl's head. "Worry about yourself first. Stay right there, I'll get you some ice." Within a few moments, she returned with a bag of ice and handed it to the daughter of Kahli. "Keep it against your forehead."

“What is this?”

"It's an ice pack. To help against the sting of pain."

“What’s ice? It’s cold.” Grievous frowned, throwing the pack away. “I don’t like tricks.”

"Hey, missy!" Zizi picked up the ice pack and held it to the girl's head herself. "You're going to hold it right there to keep the area from swelling so much, whether you like it or not." She scolded her, the motherly side getting the best of her. "It's not a trick. It's ice. My sister can make it. Keep it there until I find the kit, are we clear?"

Grievous rose her hands, ready to punch, yet slowly started to calm down as the ice eased her head. “I don’t have ‘ice’ where I live... I will stay if you feed me and Sylvain.”

"... you're lucky that I'm known to feed just about anyone." Zizi helped the girl to her feet and steadied her as she walked inside the house. "And your name again?"

“Grievous. It’s a Dal name.” She frowned, her anger suddenly starting to melt the ice into water.

"Grievous. Mind if I call you Grivy for short?" Zizi then placed a plate full of leftovers in front of the young girl. "Baked honey salmon, grilled asparagus, and cream corn. Eat up, sweetheart. You've traveled a long way."

“That’s not very serious...” The teenager didn’t push her nickname further though. Being offered salmon she tried to not let her mouth water. “Fish please. Do you have a bathroom with a mirror?”

"My name is Zizi, that's about as far as serious as you can get." She instructed, "Down the hall, to the left. It's the blue door. You can't miss it. Don't take too long, your food will get cold."

Grievous made her way to the bathroom per instruction. Quickly grabbing a towel, she cleaned up the blood that had trickled down her face.  Once she stopped the blood trial, using only a finger, she burned her wound shut with a searing fire. Even she was not able to keep herself from screaming profoundly.

The scream caught her off guard. Zizi rushed to the bathroom to find the door lock.

"Hey young lady! You open this door, right now! What's wrong?! Don't make me take it down!"

She finished yelling in her own language, finally calming down. “I’m fine. Just cleaning up the wound.” Opening up a pouch she carried at her side, the girl reapplied her war paint. Needed to keep up appearances in unknown territory. Be scary before being nice.

Since Zizi was a Zemlja, she simply swung open the wood door with her magic.

"You're going to get it infected."

“I know what I’m doing. Burned it close.”

"And it can still get infected, goodness, why did you put that paint back on your face?" Zizi took a rag from the cabinet and soaked it with warm water. She also pulled out a jar of aloe and medical herbs to use as a paste over the wound area. "There's no going to war around here, no one will harm you. You're completely safe---stop squirming. You're worse than Manaco when he was little. This might sting a little." After she had removed a good portion of the paint, she applied the paste. "There. Now it will heal twice as fast and keep bacteria out."

Her face was a fine light red, with brown rustled hair all over. She struggled at first of course, but eventually simply froze as Zizi went to work on her. Her tail smacked the woman as she applied the paste. “That hurts. And my paint is a symbol of courage and my rage.”

"... do you really think that this paint means anything around here?" Zizi placed an adhesive on top of the paste to keep it there for the rest of the day. "Look, it's peaceful here. You don't need to fight. So, come back in the kitchen, eat, and I'll answer what I can and you answer what you can. Sound fair?"

“I wear it for my preparation with Kahli. It’s... its part of my heritage as a Dal.” She sulked, sadly applying more paint. She wanted to cover her fear and insecurities. “It gives me a mask of protection. I’ll join you soon.”

"... then only on half of your face, away from the bandage. Or I'm cleaning it off again." Zizi returned to the kitchen and sat down with a hard thump on her chair. She sighed, her shoulders sagging as she ran a hand back through her hair. This was never going to go away... there were more children of Kahli's out there. Hundreds more... she wanted to yell and scream and cry... but what good would it do?

When Grievous returned to the kitchen to take her seat, half of her face was appeared tame, docile even. With no paint, she had small scratches on her face, but was rather petite. On the other half she tried to detail the terror in the skull factor. “Is Sylvain being fed?”

"I asked the other dragons to take Sylvain to the stable." Zizi tapped the side of the head. "We have a mental link, so we don't need to talk face to face like this. Sylvain is gorging on fish and dried jerky."

“Good.” The Waku leaned forward over the table, even her unpainted side pulling off a mean look. “Who exactly is my father? Don’t think of today. What kind of man is he that you know of him?”

"Kahli... he's..." Zizi was not expecting such a question. She took a breath to steady her nerves. Even though she tried to keep her voice from shaking, it was difficult. "I-I... I met Kahli over 25 years ago in one of my greenhouses. That day, he was hurt and running from enemies. I helped him and... he's been at my side ever since. He's a great father and does his best to look after everyone he cares about. He works very hard on the plantations and provides for many people with his job. Despite having harsh beginnings with my brother-in-law, he has done his best to mend that relationship." She swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. "He always said he loved me, but... I can't trust him anymore. He... he cares more about following orders than he does his family and I was a fool not to see it sooner." Zizi took a napkin and wiped at her cheeks. "Sorry, I... this is a lot to take in."

“Following orders is the way of a Hasai. It’s like this mental string.” She tapped at her own forehead. Stopping, she studied this sad woman. “How much did he love you? Your family? Was he a good man?”

"Kahli loved me enough to stay here in Hyrule. To give me a family, to help raise his family, to protect his family... nearly panicked when I hemorrhaged giving birth to our triplets. To leave his life of duty for the Empire behind... so I thought." Zizi looked so... so defeated. She felt like she had not only lost her husband, but her whole foundation of trust. "He... he is a good man... was a good man... but... I just can't trust him after this." She told her, "Grivy, Lorleidians feel a pull of magic to their soulmate. It's not based on attraction or lust, it's just... you look at that person and you can't imagine life without them. It's rare, but it happens with Lorleidians. It happened with me." The Zemlja then said, "But when trust is broken... when secrets are kept... it brings nothing but pain. And some wounds just never heal."

“How many children do you have with him? Who are the offspring more important than I?”

"More important?" Zizi placed a hand on Grivy's shoulder. "You are no more or no less important than my children. Everyone has worth." She then added, "And to answer your question... I have fifteen children. Five sons and ten daughters."

“But I wasn’t good enough for him, now was I.” Grievous took a bite from the food presented to her. Was lukewarm by this point. “They probably are perfect. His hand-crafted biological children.”

"I don't know the whole story, Grivy, so I'm a bit in the dark too. Though Kahli kept this secret from me, he shouldn't be cruel to you either." Zizi sighed and then told the girl. "I love my children, but all of them have their flaws. Manaco is too impatient like his father. Ahusaka is a perfectionist. Keira hates last minute surprises... I could go on. But I do know he loves them."

“I’m one of 660 clones more or less. I’m supposed to be raised as a soldier for the Grand army of the Kikai Empire... they sound like people who received individual care.”

"... it figures Zannah was trying to formulate a plan to increase her army. She's obsessed with power." Zizi felt her temper flare, cause the table to begin to sprout thorns. "That... that bitch manipulating my husband..."

The girl rested her fork on the table, silent for a long time. “The Emperor is God to the Hasai. To oppose her will is nigh impossible. I like to fight, I like adventure, but to be an iron clad soldier? I wanted my personal freedom. To be a warrior for my own battles. I’m one of the only Waku to think this way though. I might be the only one.”

"She's a damn mortal, don't believe her lies. If she bleeds, she can die. The true immortals are in the heavens. To try to copy their design is blasphemy." Zizi told Grivy firmly. "She might be the ruler of the Hasai Empire, but she's just that. Another ass on a throne. To treat her own people as nothing more than pawns for her benefit is abuse." She held Grivy's hand. "Even if you are the only one who thinks this way, you are allowed to think this way. You are your own person. You decide what you want. Not someone else." Zizi took a breath and then added, "And until you decide what you want for your life, you are welcome to stay here."

Grievous didn’t know what to think at first to that. While formulating an answer, her attention was grasped by something. Grabbing a knife, she hid behind a couch. “Someone is coming. Hide.”

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a minute, that's probably just one of my kids!!!" Zizi hurried after Grivy. "They all know how to get into the---"

"Mom?" Keira walked in, seeing her mother hovering over a stranger. "... what are you doing?"

“You can’t take me back!” All Grievous saw was another Waku ready to take her to the Empire. With a roar like a panther she leapt to pin Keira.

"WAIT!" Zizi grasped Grievous by the tail and ended up sailing forward with the stranger. It was the maternal instinct to protect her own child, but the forethought of not harming Grivy either. Keira yelped and managed to jump out of the way. Yet the tail grab resulted in Grivy and Zizi both ending up on the floor. Zizi fell on top of Grivy, and Grivy's face met the floor. Muffled by the girl's back, Zizi grumbled, "I said to wait. Some of my kids live here too besides me, you know. I'm not that old."

"Uh... Mom? Are you okay?" Keria helped her mother to her feet as well as the stranger. She then sniffed Grievous and looked perplexed. "You smell... familiar. Have we met?"

"... sweetie... let's just say you're in for a long story." Zizi told her daughter with a sigh. "And your dad is in the doghouse."

Grievous gave out a shrill scream as her tail was yanked, not exactly thrilled to eat the floor again. Getting up, she locked eyes with Keira, slowly backing away. This woman was much older. She must have been a threat.  

"What did Dad do this time?" Keira thought it was one of the usual nuisances that made her mother mad. "Did he eat all your ingredients for a strawberry cake again?"

"No, he..." Zizi had to swallow her emotions again. "Keira. This is Grievous. Your sister."

"...? Huh?" Keira really looked confused now. "Sister? But... how can that be? The bond prevents Dad from---"

"Zannah made him give... donations from what Grivy told me."

"...?!?! What?! But she's... that had to be years ago!"

"I know. And he didn't tell me or anyone else."

Grievous stepped away from Keira a little further. “Are you the eldest daughter of Kahli?”

"I am..." Keira was still processing the situation. Her father had other children out there. Exactly how many? Why did he let this happen? Oh, spirits, how was Manaco going to take this? This was... was bad. Very bad. "I have nine sisters and five brothers. I... um..." She was more like Zizi in the sense of viewing this was not Grivy's fault. The newcomer did not ask to be placed in this situation. "I guess... it's not too bad to have another sister. We already outnumber the boys, so... that's a good thing." She then paused and thought for a moment before asking. "What did Dad think of this?"

"I don't care what he thinks," Zizi returned to her seat at the dining table. "I put him in the hospital so he's going to stay there for a little while."

"The hospital?! Mom, what did you do?"

"What do you think I did?" Zizi retorted as if it was obvious. "I kicked his ass for lying to me."

"... I don't know what to say." Now, Keira really appeared to be shocked. Her mother did not have a violent bone in her body. She hardly ever raised her voice even, but here, she was admitting to attacking her dad?! "Is he... dead?"

"No, he's not dead, but he's going to wish he was if he comes crawling back here." Zizi told her daughter. "If you go to see him, he's not welcome here anymore. He can stay with Manaco if he wishes."

"... you're not going to talk to him?"

"Not right now. I lashed out... and you know a Zemlja can be deadly if we wish it so."

"I know, Mom... I just... I can't believe Dad did such a thing."

"You know how many times Zannah called him and he followed like a puppy."

“No one can defy the will of the Emperor.” Grievous immediately reflected, knowing the hypocrisy of that statement. “Not for long...” Looking back to Keira, the teenager started to tiptoe around her. “You are the eldest of our generation then. Chief female... you look soft.”

"The Emperor can kiss my shiny brown ass."

"Mom!"

"I was a good friend to her, Keira, you know it, and she was laughing behind my back all this time."

"We'll figure this out eventually." Keira then jolted when Grievous started to circle her, as a predator would a prey. "Soft? I... um... is that a compliment or an insult? I assure you, I can fight, Dad taught me how. I'm a Vatra, though Urboro and Miku are both Zemljas."

“Vatra?” Grievous was nearly to the door, still eying Keira like the older woman was going to snap her in two.

"I use fire. Mom uses earth." Keria explained to Grievous with a smile. "It's a Lorleidian trait! Come, I'll show you what I mean." And, like Zizi, Keira was the bubbliest of her siblings. She also had that sixth sense about others. While Keira could tell that Grivy was hurt, confused, and angry, she was also afraid. That had to be redeemed. She simply took Grievous' hand and walked out the front door. "Mom, I'll be back with Grivy in a bit, I'm going to show her the community. Then, she won't be too afraid."

"Very well, make sure you don't stay out too late. Your younger siblings will be home from school soon enough, and you promised to take them dragon riding today." Zizi was starting to thank the spirits for everyday normalcy. At least it kept her mind off this... this betrayal. "And don't tell them about your father. I'll explain it to them myself later."

"As you say."

Grievous was shocked, being so quickly pulled along. “Where are you taking me? I am not afraid.”

"To the plantations! Every single type of Lorleidian works there, as well as some Hylians, Gorons, Moblins, Goblins, a few Hasai, and even dragons!" Keira knew she had to make the best of the situation. While her mother was hurting, and she herself was upset, she had to remain strong. Not only for her mother, but for her siblings too. "I'll introduce you and you can see how we work."

“You said you’d show me your fire.” Grievous had enough, pulling away to stand her ground. “I see no strategy in getting to see your plantation.”

"I figured you'd want to meet a few more of your siblings and see our close knit community." Keira shrugged her shoulders. "It'd be fun. We can always stop by the Lon-Lon Ranch for ice cream! They just introduced a new flavor called blackberry lemonade! I can't wait to try it!" She then added, "But my fire isn't like my father's fire... well, not exactly." She held out her hand and a flame flickered to life in her palm. "Since I'm half Lorleidian, my magic is a little more stable."

“I... no. No! I did come here to meet a family I do not know.” The teenager felt dreadfully confused, knowing she was losing track of her purpose. She pointed her finger at Keira’s flame. “And do all of you lack passion in your flame?”

"Why not? They'd want to meet you." Keira told Grivy honestly, having no reason to lie. "That's how Lorleidians are. We take care of our own and those we call family and friends." She glanced at her flame and then back at Grivy. "Passion? Oh, I can do a lot more than this, I just didn't want to show off. My brothers do that enough."

“You are not proud of your fire? You are not proud of the flame that burns within? I am Grievous! Waku of Hasai and Dal combined.” The teenager felt her time was being wasted with her half-sister. She wanted her to see with her own eyes that this younger woman could be taken seriously. With each hand, Grievous lit a blazing bone fire in each hand. In the right, a green flame. The left, a blue flame. With a little dance, she brought both hands together to fire lightning into the air, making an explosion of fireworks of blue and green. “Look and feel my passion. You will take me seriously, or you can step down as eldest to Kahli. I do not care for your cream made of ice. I will not be tricked. Now I demand you reply in kind.”

"Goodness, you don't know how to just... chill, do you? Or even have fun?" Keira felt sorry for the girl. Knowing Zannah, this half-sister of hers was raised to be nothing but a solider. "You don't get it, do you? Rank? Being the best? That's not what gets attention here. What gets attention here isn't passion or fighting or even having the most power. Here, we simply love each other for who we what. Not what we can do." Keira gently took Grivy's hands, and then closed her eyes. There was suddenly a ring of fire surrounding them and circled higher and higher, toward the sky. The two of them were standing inside a vortex of flames. She then opened her eyes, glowing a soft yellow. "I have passion, like you asked. Though here, there's no need to use such unless we are protecting who we love."

Grievous looked up, her yellow eyes wide with wonder. She didn’t look away for a moment, wanting to capture it in her mind forever. “Passion is not tied to battle. Or ranks. It’s not wanting to be the best. Passion is wanting to do your best. Passion is being the most serious about your abilities and drive. Passion is your art form. Keira. You have a dazzling fire. I truly believe you are my blood.”

Slowly, the vortex started to sink to the ground and disappear.

"Then I have plenty of passion. Though, I'm more like my mother in the sense of fighting; I don't like to fight unless I have to." Keira explained to Grievous. "You shouldn't have to fight unless you want to as well. You're not a pawn, you're just you. You're special just the way you are." She then sighed and said, "And I'm really sorry for... well... all of this. I had no idea. My mother didn't either. I think... we're all pawns in Zannah's game somehow. But now, that you're here, you can stay with us for a while if you don't want to return to the Empire."

“In my experience, to fight is to battle. To battle is to throw your all into a cause. The Empire is highly restrictive on who you can battle against. It is not my own battles I fight for, but the Empires. That is why I risked deserting my platoon. It is why I came here, to seek answers on my bloodline. I seek to battle our father if we must.” The teenager examined Keira up and down, wondering if she could take her in a skirmish. “Do you like to spar? Still an activity of strength, yet does not have the same stress of battle? How about to fish or hunt wild game?”

"Oh, my siblings and I spar almost everyday. I'm not big on fishing, cause ew, worms. But I do go hunting." Keira told Grivy with a grin. "Dad insists, but I'm curious. Why do you want to fight my---I mean, our father?"

“I want him to feel the sting of defeat. He is a legendary whisper amongst the Waku. I wish to test if he’s a legend, or merely a whisper.” Grievous squeezed her right hand into a righteous fist. “I would make him proven wrong to look down on me.”

"Uh... how did he do that?" Keira wanted clarification. "Look down on you? Wait, did he come to like... see you, years ago or something? Or no? Sorry, I don't have all the details."

“He must have. We’ve never met him. Some of us never had any father figures. He claimed we are not his children. Yet he had love for you, didn’t he? What makes you so different?” The look Grievous gave Keira was burn in her eyes. There was a great hatred, but also a terrible pain.

"... my mother." Keira admitted to Grievous with a small frown. "His love for my mother makes him love me since I am part of her. But... even though I love my father, he shouldn't deny you just to try to appease my mother. That's not right."

Grievous kicked the dirt, turning her back on Keira. “Her? That little woman? What’s so great about her? The fact she can nearly obliterated him in one magical torrent, while I am thrown out like trash in my first interaction with the man?”

"... the fact that she loved him when no one else would." Keira said very softly. "Dad didn't have... the greatest of upbringings. He has his faults and flaws, though... Mom saw past that and chose to love the man. Not the Hasai."

“What is so wrong with being Hasai?” The tone Grievous spoke was not one of being offended, but in fact as if she knew the answer. “Is he a good father to you?”

"... I think you know, Grivy. You see how Zannah treats you, what she did to our Dad." Keira then nodded her head. "He was very good to me. Never laid a hand on me. Taught me right from wrong. To try to see the good in others even though we might not care for them. And to always be there for each other. He wanted a family because he never had one growing up where he felt loved."

The Waku’s tail wagged aggressively about, not liking the story of hearing Kahli be so loved, and loving in return. “I don’t belong with the rest of you then.”

"Why not? What makes you so sure?" Keira used logic. "Dad thought he didn't have a place here. Mom proved him wrong."

“You think I can prove Kahli wrong? He broke my nose!” She pointed at her still bruised face.

"... my aunt proved her husband wrong. He broke her ribs and she busted his nose." Keira pulled Grivy in for a hug. "And so what if you can't prove him wrong? You proved me right. Wait, that came out... feh, you know what I mean."

When Grievous was hugged, she heated up with the force of a radiator. “What is this? Pity? You hug me because you’re older and feel sad for me?”

"No, I hug you cause well... you look like you've never been hugged. Like a real hug." The heat did not bother Keira. She could absorb it and store the magic later. "Why would I feel sorry for you? You're obvious still here. You didn't give up."

“I don’t know what to make of you.” Grievous broke free from the hug, opting to sit on a park bench. “I’ve decided to wait here for Kahli. I care not for your ice flavoured cream.”

"Good, I like to keep people guessing." Keira then asked. "Are you sure? I was going to introduce you to your other brothers and sisters."

“No. I don’t want to meet them. I don’t care about you. I don’t care about any other children. I just want to fight Kahli and force him to answer all my burning questions. Now go away.” Grievous closed her eyes tightly, trying to push her growing frustrations away.

"... if you need a familiar face, I'll be in Greenhouse #9." Keira decided not to push Grivy further and headed in the right direction for work.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/610964435241140224/burnt-heart-ch-1-the-emperors-will

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/611455983362949120/burnt-heart-ch-3-breach-of-trust

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse. 

[fuwafuwamedb]

Difficult In Laws (Hakuno, Ozymandias, Nefertari, Gilgamesh Archer/Caster)

She had set the picture in her chest of drawers, pulling it out from time to time when the others weren’t around.  

It was nice. Family. Parents.

After the events of the Moon Cell, it was nice to think about having someone who would protect her and support her like that. It was nice to think about what parents would be like in terms of caring for her and doting on her.

Of course, she had never expected to see them in the flesh.

She’d never expected to summon two servants that would stand up bearing their faces and look down at her. The two came together, hand in hand. Adorned in robes and attire that would have made Gilgamesh proud, the two stood over her and smiled.

No one had understood when she began to cry except for Da Vinci.

“Master?”

The woman, bearing her mother’s face knelt down at her side, wiping at her face.

“What’s wrong? What has brought you to tears like this?”

Hakuno shook her head. She could feel Archer coming closer, but a cane slammed down near her. Her father-resembling servant knelt down next to them, eyeing Gilgamesh before he looked to her.

“Speak, little one.”

The woman was hugging her closer, pulling her into her arms.

“M-mom.”

She whispered the words, finding the woman pulling back.

Her eyes looked at her a moment before she was looking at the other servant. “…Ramses, I think she’s one of ours.”

The man froze.

“You are, aren’t you?”

One of?

Hakuno found herself pulled in close, her body enclosed into the embrace of the man and his woman.

“Hakuno!”

“Your name is Hakuno?”

She nodded, feeling the man lean in and press his lips to her cheeks.

“Nefertari and I are your parents then.”

She tried to find words, but there were more hugs. There was more attention.

She could feel herself being lifted up.

“Hold on!” Gudako raised a hand. “Names!”

“Fools! I am the great pharaoh of Egypt! My kingdom was far greater than anything in the universe! I am the incarnate of Ra, the husband to Nefertari,” he motioned to her mother figure. “The reincarnation of Hathor, herself. I am Ozymandias,” he declared.

“Ozymandias?”

“You may look upon me and be amazing.”

They moved to the hall.

They were heading through Chaldea.

She couldn’t fathom what was happening, couldn’t breathe through the news.

She had the two pulling her into their designated room. She had them spoiling her with things. There were foods. There were laughs and games.

Nefertari was telling her how beautiful she was.

Ozymandias was declaring this and that.

They were so touchy.

They were so loving.

How long did the glow go on, she wondered. This euphoric state, this bliss of being encompassed in the warmth of a parent’s embrace, she wondered how anyone got used to this.

Perhaps hers were special. Perhaps this was part of their power as servants.

A knock came at the door, just as her mother was showing her how to clip the sphinxes’ nails.

Her father was talking about their homeland, wrestling a couple of the cub sphinxes, when the sound came.

“Come in!”

“Pharaoh.”

Caster Gilgamesh stood in the doorway, coming inside a moment before he gave a small bow.

“Ah, a fellow pharaoh,” Ozymandias leaned back, smiling. “What is it that brings you to our realm?”

“I have come seeking the hand of your daughter.”

“You’ve failed. Is there another reason for you to be here or shall you simply leave?”

Hakuno stared at him.

Her hand?

“I see.” Caster closed his eyes. “Hakuno has been sleeping with me and my Archer self already. We have kissed her, a fact that I would like to justify by-“

“She is my daughter,” Ozymandias told him simply, narrowing his gaze.

“I’m aware,” Caster told him impatiently. “Allow me to show justice by-“

“There is nothing that can make up for you and your other self as you call it touching what belongs to my sweet wife and I.”

“Father-“

Ozymandias looked over at her a moment before standing up.

“Come with me.”

Caster nodded, giving her a small smile.

He thought he was going to persuade the pharaoh.

A series of thumps made it apparent that that wasn’t going to work.

Hakuno looked for Gilgamesh when they went to dinner.

She could see a collection of the Hassans sitting at the table with them. She could feel Nefertari remaining close to her side and talking about training ideas. The pharaoh laughed a little with Arthur.

No Gilgamesh though.

Waking up in the depths of the night, she moved from the bed.

She would go to check on them.

It had been a while.

“Where are you going?”

Hakuno took a large gulp of air at the sight of King Hassan at the doorway. The sword glinted in the moonlight.

“…bathroom.”

Those icy blue eyes went to the door to the bathroom in their room.

“…Father made a smelly poop.”

Oof.

The being moved back though, despite how childish and silly that sounded.

She moved into the hall, heading in the direction of Gilgamesh Archer’s room. She could see the shadows moving, shifting in her direction here and there.

The hassans were watching her.

Hakuno moved into the bathroom, looking around a moment before she hurried to the other side of the room. She peeked out the door, moving to the next set of doors.

An empty room with a door on the other side.

She moved through that one quickly as well.

She was trying to sneak away from assassins. Who would have guessed?

There was a gut feeling that they would be upset if she went to Gilgamesh though. She had the feeling that the Hassans were keeping the others at bay.

She found Caster’s room at least. The door was opening, Archer glancing around a moment before he saw her.

He didn’t say a word.

Hakuno felt the floor wobble beneath her feet.

She felt onto a mountain of golden jewels.

She could see an array of valuables, filling all of her vision.

And then she was falling again, some of the gold falling with her onto the bed.

Archer was locking the doors, pulling her closer to him.

“I won’t ask for your hand,” Archer growled.

“Gil-“

“You said you’d stay by my side already. You already agreed to be mine.”

“Gil!”

There were blue eyes forming from the depths of the corner of his room.

The king glanced to towards his peripheral.

“So you did steal her,” Ozymandias’ voice growled from the doorway.

“Stealing implies that I was taking something that doesn’t belong to me.” Gilgamesh turned, pulling her to his body. “I am a king, not a lovesick fool. I will not grovel. All treasures belong to me. Including her.”

“Gil-“

She was back through the Gates.

She was in Caster’s bed now.

“Finally,” Caster breathed, pulling his vest off. “While that fool keeps the pharaoh distracted, I’ll simply claim you myself.”

“WAIT!”

There was no waiting.

“I warned the pharaoh of what Archer did. I don’t have much time. I will be very good for you though, Hakuno.” Caster promised. “The pharaoh will give in when you’re lying in my arms.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“Even if he does not, Archer and I will simply toss you in the gates until he agrees. He cannot stop us if he does not have what we want.”

“Gil-“

“I won’t make you choose between your parents and myself,” Caster murmured. His hands were pulling her clothes off. “I’m simply going to force your parents to accept that they now have a son as well as a daughter. As far as sons are concerned, they should be grateful. There is no man better than myself.”

She was doomed.

[dontshootmespence]

Supernatural AU: Episode 2- Phantom Traveler

Part 3

Bobbie came out of the dressing room of the small store, closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. “I feel so weird right now.”

Jeans, a t-shirt, crapp knock-off converse or vans and a leather jacket. That’s what she was used to. That was the Bobbie Deanna Winchester uniform. Standing here in a pencil skirt, white blouse (tucked into the skirt of course) and fitted blazer with the most plain, black shoes? Hell, absolute hell. One of the many reasons she never would’ve made it outside of the hunter’s life.

Sam snickered under his breath. “You look like a businesswoman who’s wearing her mother’s clothes because she can’t afford any of her own. Like you’re playing dress up.”

“I hate you.”

The three of them had come to this particular store because it was cheap. The hunter’s life was not lucrative. When her brothers emerged from their dressing rooms clad in black suits with long, skinny ties, she threw her head back and laughed. She always got the last laugh. “You look like the Blues Brothers.”

“Shut up. We look cool.”

“That’s highly debatable.”

Even with shoddy “uniforms” and even worse IDs, all it ever took was a bit of confidence to get where they needed to go. Inside the warehouse, pieces of the plane were scattered about like fallen crumbs. “This is all they were able to find?” Bobbie couldn’t believe it. Every inch of what they’d found was burnt to a crisp. If the plane looked this bad, she hesitated to think what the crash had done to the passengers.

Behind her, Sam and Dean walked in the opposite direction, gliding back and forth between the pieces of the wrecked plane with the EMF meter that Dean had made out of an old Walkman. It looked like hell, but it worked. “What did you expect me to do?” She heard Dean ask their little brother.

“I don’t know…buy one? Anything except walking around with that glorified Walkman.”

“This is a Walkman! We’re hunters, man! What about no money do you not understand?” He shook it proudly in front of Sam’s face. “I made it myself.”

“We made it!” Bobbie screamed.

Bobbie shook her head and smiled. Still bickering like little children after all this time. Meeting up in the middle of the room, all three of them descended upon the emergency exit door. Like everything else it was covered in black ash. The handle though was tinged with something else they couldn’t immediately identify. Dean leaned in to scrape some off into a vial. “I think I know what it is,” he said.

With a little further examination, Sam and Bobbie did too. They’d have to have Jerry test it out to know for sure, but if it was what they were thinking, then the Winchester kids did have a demon on their hands – a demon whose sole purpose was destruction on a massive scale.

A sense of dread hung in the air for a moment when the cracking of an opening door and a herd of incoming footsteps interrupted them. “Move,” Sam whispered harshly. They ran quickly out the door before anyone could catch them but then an alarm went off.

“Shit!” Bobbie picked up her pace and threw her blazer over the fence before jumping up and over. It was probably for the best that she wasn’t wearing her leather jacket because then it would have the tears in it rather than the damned blazer. Dean copied her, throwing his suit jacket over the fence and Sam didn’t even bother. If they got caught impersonating Homeland Security they were royally fucked.

Somehow they managed to get into the Impala and peel off and away without getting caught. They had a habit out of getting out by the skin of their teeth. One day it would backfire on them, but today was not that day.

 -

Just outside was what he feared most. Coincidentally it also ran in his blood. Chuck Lambert had always wanted to be a pilot, but then tragedy struck out of nowhere. He felt like it was his fault. On his watch more than 90 people died. How was he ever supposed to get behind the wheel of a plane again? “Baby steps,” he muttered to himself as his heart raced.

After much coaxing from a friend, he’d agreed to fly a small jumper plane. Actually driving something smaller might make him feel like he had some control again. It had so painfully slipped through his grasp before; he couldn’t let it happen again. He wouldn’t survive it.

As he rubbed at the searing pain in his head, he stilled. Now he felt fine. Like he was a whole new man.

“Ready to go, Chuck?”

The pilot’s friend had been weary about him getting back into a plane so soon, but Chuck was the kind of man that needed to get back on the proverbial saddle.  He wasn’t going to be convinced otherwise. “Yea, let’s go.”

When they walked outside into the cloudless day, he asked Chuck one last time how he was feeling.

“I’m great,” he said with an earnest smile. “I actually feel really good.”

He’d been so nervous just a few minutes earlier. What the hell had gotten into him?

Despite what he’d been through less than a week earlier, all seemed well as they picked up off the ground. “How long have we been up?” Chuck asked.

Honestly, he hadn’t even noticed. Looking down at the watch at his arm, he spoke. “About 40 minutes.”

“Wow, time really does fly,” Chuck said.

In an instant, Chuck tipped the plane toward the ground.

-

On the way back to the motel, Jerry called to confirm their suspicions. The stuff on the handle was sulfur – indicative of a demon. Dammit. “Why the hell would a demon possess someone to kill an entire plane?” Dean asked. “Don’t demons normally go for the one on one?”

“They do,” Bobbie said as she cleared her throat.

Sam leaned back into the seat of the Impala and raked his hands through his hair. “Do we even know what we’re doing?” He asked.

“What do you mean?”

They were used to vampires and werewolves and vengeful spirits. This was all together different and much more difficult. On top of that it was a demon that was causing damage on a larger scale.

“I mean we thought it was a demon before. We don’t know how to handle them, not specifically anyway, and now we have confirmation that it is actually a demon, so what are we going to do?”

Dean straightened in his seat, demeanor changing in the face of Sam’s doubt. “We do know what to do. We just haven’t done it before. We’re going to go back to the room. Delve into all that lore you love so much and figure out how to track it down and the exact exorcism we need to use. Then we’ll do it. We have to stop this Sam. You know we do.”

“I know,” he replied taking a deep breath. “I just wish Dad was here.”

He’d know what to do.

-

An hour later, Sam’s fingers were still gliding over the pages of all the research they could gather on demons. “So get this,” he said suddenly. “Some cultures believe that certain demons cause particular disasters, both natural and unnatural. So there would be a demon or hurricanes, a demon for earthquakes, a demon for plane crashes…”

Dean blinked in surprise as he tipped the bottleneck of a beer toward his mouth. “So…what? A demon just found a way to ratchet up the body count?”

“It makes sense,” Bobbie interjected. “That’s a demons drive. Death and destruction. It could be a demon that’s been one for so long that killing one by one just doesn’t do it for him anymore.”

“Jesus.”

“Yea. Alright Sam, can you scan Dad’s journal for what exorcism to use?”

“Sure, but we haven’t even found it yet.” Sam replied.

“But if we happen upon it, we need to be prepared.”

“Okay, yea, I’ll do that. What about you?”

“I’m going to get us some beer.”

Dean smirked as he drank the last of the beer he had left. “I knew you were my favorite sister.”

“I’m the best you’ll ever get.”

-

Sure the store was just down the road, but stealing the keys to the Impala and the running like a bat out of hell from her baby brother was much more fun. Him giving her the finger as she drove away made her feel like she had a normal family for a split second. Dysfunctional sure, but normal.

However, once she was out of his sight the smile drained from her face. They were so in over their heads. It had been that way since they were children. Neither Dean nor Bobbie had been able to get a hold of John, but she pulled out her phone again on autopilot. Even as the oldest of the three of them, she still needed her father and she wasn’t afraid to admit it – to herself at least.

“Hey Dad,” she said softly, her voice shaky as she tried to keep her composure. “Dad, we’re in over our heads. We’ve got a demon on our hands. You’ve handled these before. We haven’t. If you are getting these messages, can you call me? We need you.” Bobbie’s lip quivered as the anger bubbled over. “I can practically hear your response. ‘You don’t need me, Bobbie. You are stronger than I’ve ever been.’ Well, you know what, that may be true, but I’ve had to be your emotional sounding board and their mother since I was five because of your fucking vendetta. I’ve had to be an adult for 21 years and I want my damn father to show up and do his job. You’re not just a hunter and a husband. You’re a father. Act like it.” With shaking hands, she ended the call and threw the phone to the bottom of the car. When she returned from her beer run, she heard it buzzing on the floor.

In a perfect world, it would’ve been John, saying he was sorry and that he’d be there as soon as he could. She wouldn’t have accepted the apology right away, but it would’ve been a step in the right direction. Unfortunately they didn’t live in a perfect world. Instead it was Jerry. “Hey Jerry. What’s up?”

“My pilot friend, Chuck. He’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry,” she replied. “What ha-“

“His plane went down in a field outside Nazareth.”

-

Indulging in a couple of beers with family was something that normal people did. Instead, Bobbie rushed back to the motel and informed her brothers of Jerry’s phone call. “Where’d it go down?” Dean asked.

“Right outside Nazareth.”

Sam couldn’t help but see the connection. It was yet another nail in the proverbial coffin that said ‘this is a demon, you should probably back off.’ “That can’t be good.”

It took the three of them about a half hour to get there. It should’ve taken about 45 minutes, but with Dean behind the wheel you could always count on getting to your destination 10 or 15 minutes ahead of schedule.

An enormous plume of black smoke greeted them as they drove down the road toward the crash site. Jerry was already there of course, shake to his core that two planes had gone down in less than a week, one carrying a dear friend. “We have to hurry here. The authorities will be here again soon and I can’t explain the three of you away.”

Sam quickly climbed into the open cockpit being careful to leave little evidence of their search behind. “There’s sulfur.”

“What does that mean?” Jerry asked. A momentary hint of panic flashed behind his gray-green eyes.

Dean pointed him toward his car. “Let’s go back to your office and talk there.”

The second they were back in Jerry’s office he demanded to know what was happening. “You were right,” Dean started. “It wasn’t mechanical failure. It was a demon.”

Jerry’s eyes went wide. “What? Are you serious? Like hell spawn demon?”

“Unfortunately,” Bobbie replied.

Sam went on to explain what demonic possession was actually like. “It’s likely Chuck was possessed before he got on the plane.”

“But how?”

“Demons seek out people who are in a state of weakness. They can take over stronger people, but if someone is sick or ridden with anxiety or even just has a cut it’s easier for them to take over,” Bobbie explained, turning towards Dean and Sam. “Did you notice how the plane went down after 40 minutes?”

Dean nodded.

“2485 went down after 40 minutes too,” Jerry said slowly. “What does that mean?”

Taking a deep breath, Sam told Jerry what they’d only just put together themselves. “Forty is biblical numerology. Like 40 days in the desert. The number stands for death.”

“Remember when the EVP said no survivors,” Dean asked, “but we all knew that made no sense because there were survivors. That’s because the demon is going after everyone that survived 2485.”

@remember-me-forever-silent-angel @gaylemonshark  @marveldivergentouatdctvfangirl @lalirang @averagekansan @addsomesalt @stusbunker @sebba-hiddles @fanfictionrecommendations-com @hoppy519 @thatwrestlingfan91 @extremeobsessions101 @spence-imagines @bettercallsabs @whaaatthefuuuuck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @your-imagination-runs-wild @cryinglots @steggy01 @gigilame @sedulous-mind @a-unique-girls-heaven @just-antiyou @rmmalta @original-criminal-fanfics @ties-n-suits @veroinnumera @eurusholmmes @fanficienjoyedreading @astridstark13​

[buttsonthebeach]

Prompt: We all know Krem is TIB's son. And Krem strikes me as a family dude. I want to see TIB and Dorian as grandparents, babysitting Krem's baby/ies while Krem and his partner go on vacation. Ellana/Solas/Ashara cameo optional.

So, this turned into a bit of a Dorian-pondering-fatherhood character study, but I think you’ll enjoy it

Pairing: Dorian Pavus x the Iron Bull, with background Krem x Maryden, Solas x Ellana, and very background Maevaris Tilani x Unnamed Husband (I really need to name him one of these days)

Rating: Teen? Bull and Dorian have some half-clothed snuggles, but there’s nothing else, really.

***********

“This is patently ridiculous,” Dorian scoffed, looking at the structure before him. “Surely you are aware that this is unsound. And, furthermore, that your choice of colors is rather outdated.”

“Kadan,” Bull said. “Something tells me that she doesn’t care.”

And, sure enough, the little girl on the rug before them went on giggling and building her increasingly precarious tower of blocks. Dorian winced when they all came down, but she only shrieked with delight.

“You’re not going to leave a mess for your grandfathers, are you little love?”

Krem’s voice was equal parts proud and tender. Dorian turned to see him standing at the door to the sitting room where he and Bull were entertaining his daughter. Maryden was on his arm. They were quite the dashing pair, arrayed in the finery he’d helped them choose.

“I’m sorry, did you say grandfathers?” Dorian asked.

“What - is your hearing going in your old age?” Krem’s grin was boyish, even though he himself was no longer quite so young. Dorian personally didn’t care to do the math there, as that would involve doing the math for his own age. He didn’t care about it, most days, but that word did strike a strange chord in him. Grandfathers.

“We can’t thank you enough for this,” Maryden said. “Truly, we haven’t been able to go on a trip just the two of us in years.”

“Anytime, kids. Apparently this rascal is my granddaughter, so I guess it’s my duty.” Bull punctuated his statement by placing his huge hand on top of Elissa’s head and ruffling her fluffy red hair. She squealed in delight.

“What, you didn’t realize you’d gained a son when you lost an eye for me?” Krem said.

“No - if I had, I would have been at least twice as hard on you over the years.” Bull turned again to Elissa and assumed a menacing growl. “I would have treated you the way the tamassrans always treated us. You’ve gotta be tough on those little kids to make sure they come out big and strong.”

With that, he began to tickle Elissa, his ferocious snarls only barely audible over her shrieks of laughter. It was quite a sight, really. This great grey mass of a man bent with infinite tenderness and false rage over a laughing, breathless child. Dorian couldn’t help but smile.

But still, that word. Grandfathers.

It took some time for him to work out why it bothered him, if it wasn’t the age (because he was becoming quite distinguished, thank you, and he wasn’t even close to actually being old). It was that he hadn’t actually been a father.

Not yet, at least.

His work with the Magisterium was so vital, and so time-consuming, and so delicate. First it was the fallout of the Venatori, and then the fallout of ending slavery, and then the fallout of Solas’s actions, and then the fallout of the fact that Solas got pardoned, and that the elves got a new homeland south of Orlais, and then the Magisterium fell through on their promise to grant freed elven slaves who didn’t join the forces of Fen’Harel land of their own (over Dorian’s own strident ojections, of course), and really it had all nearly been downhill from there. And of course, there was the fact that the man he loved more than he loved his own life was Qunari, even if he was Tal-Vashoth and a hero of the Inquisition. Bull didn’t exactly enjoy living in Minrathous, which was why they tended to divide their time between Qarinus and their villa, and most of his time in the capital was spent alone.

Of course, Maevaris had found time for a family in the midst of all of this, as she loved to remind him. She and her husband had just adopted another child only six months before.

Most of the time he didn’t think about it much. Being a father. But that day, alternating between watching Bull and Elissa tussle and play, and checking on Lysander where he still slept in the crib they bought just for this purpose - he began to wonder. What would it be like, if this was their life day in and day out? How would it work, with his busy schedule? Bull still took contracts with the Chargers sometimes, too. Did Bull ever wonder these things himself?

Did he actually want to be a father?

“Did you know that children are exhausting?” He said that evening when Ellana called him through the crystal while he was reading alone in bed, waiting for Bull to join him.

“Of course not. My daughter is a perfect angel who never makes me want to tear my own hair out, especially now that she is twelve and thinks she knows everything. Why do you ask? Are Krem and Maryden’s children there?”

“Yes, indeed. I forgot that playing all day is actually quite strenuous. I think I’ll be the one who needs a vacation after this.”

“Aren’t you literally at your villa right now?”

“Hush. Why did you call, anyway?”

Bull entered at the room at that moment, his eyebrows going up when he noticed the glow of the crystal. “That the boss, or Mae?” he asked.

“The former,” Dorian said. “Sorry to cut you off. I do forget that you’re still the boss.”

“Oh, it’s no matter. It just occurred to me that we hadn’t spoken in a few days. A delegation from Ferelden just left, and I feel like my head is just now back above water.”

“I know that feeling.” The bed sank down with the addition of Bull’s weight. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Dorian’s bare shoulder, making him shiver. A question occurred to him, then. “How do you manage it, Ellana? Chief Ambassador of the Elvhen Republic of Enasan. Mother. Partner.”

Her chuckle was warm and instantly recognizable. “It doesn’t usually feel like I’m managing anything. I’m just along for the ride. Solas helps a great deal. He can always be here for Ashara when I can’t be, as much as I hate not being there all the time. Well - it’s a difficult feeling, actually. Sometimes I long for the time away from her, and then when I have it, I miss her terribly. I barely saw her this week, with all of the events with those Fereldans.” There was a pause, and then she spoke again. “It would have been harder if we’d been able to have more children, of course.”

He hummed his sad agreement. It had been years now since they stopped trying for another. Ellana was almost certainly too old for it now. He wondered if they had ever talked about adopting a child. There was no time limit on that. There was no time limit for he and Bull - not in the same sense. They weren’t as young as most first-time parents, but they were hardly too old. Suddenly the thought nauseated him. This didn’t have to be theoretical. He could turn to Bull right now and say maybe we should be parents and then they could go to an orphanage and find a child in need and then their whole lives would be different forever -

“Dorian?” Ellana sounded confused.

“Sorry,” Dorian said. “I missed what you said.”

“I asked if you have heard from Varric recently. I sent him a letter a month ago and I haven’t had a reply yet.”

“No, I haven’t. He’s probably still trying to avoid paying me that money from the last time he lost to me at chess, though.” Dorian glanced at Bull and saw that he was settling into the covers, closing his eyes. “Unfortunately, I think we are ready for bed over here. Give our love to Solas and Ashara.”

“Always, lethallin. Sleep well.”

The crystal dimmed, and Dorian extinguished the candles with a flick of his wrists, and settled under the covers, curling instinctively towards Bull’s warm bare skin. Bull slipped an arm around him to make it easier, and Dorian felt the nausea his own train of thought caused begin to slip away.

“Having Elissa and Lysander here got you thinking, huh?”

Kaffas.

“It may have,” he said. No point in denying it. They’d been together too many years for that. “It was odd, Krem calling us grandfathers. Not unwelcome, just - odd. We seem to have skipped a stage. We didn’t actually raise Krem. Not together, anyway. Although I don’t think you could ask for a better son.”

“You’re right there.” Bull let out a long breath. “I guess it’s different for me. Coming from the Qun. Fatherhood was never in the picture. It’s not even a word in Qunlat, not really. The closest is just ‘one who seeds.’ The tamas do all the real work. How about for you?”

Dorian thought immediately of his own father. Of things said and unsaid. Of pride and betrayals and legacies, and family trees.

“Well, for a while it was simply expected of me. I would bed some poor girl who hated me whether I liked it or not and breed a few more Pavuses for the Imperium. Of course, it became rapidly apparent that that was never going to work for me. Well - it became rapidly apparent to me. And after that it was the Inquisition - and you. And so many other things I couldn’t have imagined as a child.” Dorian rolled away from Bull, onto his back. His eyes hadn’t fully adjusted yet, and he could barely see anything in the dark. He felt like he was floating - like he was already in the Fade, perhaps. “I suppose it never occurred to me that I could have the kind of family I actually wanted to have. One that was about love, and not about duty.”

Bull was silent for a long while. Then he reached out and brushed the back of his hand along the length of Dorian’s side, making him shiver.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

They spoke no other words before they drifted off to sleep.

*

Elissa and Lysander stayed with them for three days before Krem and Maryden returned from their trip - three days in which Dorian rocketed back and forth between a heartfelt desire for a family of his own, and blind terror at the mere thought of another person depending as entirely on him as Elissa and Lysander did.

He and Bull didn’t speak of it again until the afternoon when Krem and his family left, and they sat in the suddenly empty villa together, just the two of them.

“So,” Bull said then. “You want that to be our everyday?”

Dorian had to swallow before he answered. “Well, you certainly don’t beat around the bush.”

“Aw, kadan - you know that isn’t the kind of beating I enjoy.” Bull’s grin was sinful. Then it faded into something more thoughtful. “I thought about it over these past few days. I don’t know exactly what a family like that looks like - but I’d be willing to find out with you.”

Dorian had to swallow again. “Well - then we’ll just have to keep thinking about it, won’t we?”

So much need. So much fear. And what if I am no better than my own father?

Bull reached across the distance between their armchairs and cupped his cheek.

“But I’m also perfectly happy with this family. The two of us. You know that, don’t you?”

Dorian felt the weight of the dragon’s tooth beneath his clothing and smiled. “I do, amatus. I do.”

He did keep thinking about it in the months that followed. Where would the time come from? He often ran from meeting to meeting, party to party, often stayed up late in his study researching or arguing with another magister. He asked Mae the same question he’d asked Ellana, and found it gave him no clarity.

“Of course we make it work. We always knew we would. We want it to work, and so it does. It isn’t easy - but it’s worth it.”

Why could no one make this clear for him?

Why could neither the longing for the joy and connection he’d experienced with Krem’s children, nor the irrational terror he felt whenever he thought about turning out like his own parents win out?

Then came the evening that he was in Qarinus, returning to his family home after a long and very boring dinner party with a man whose support he needed, and saw that there was a commotion surrounding the nearby bakery. The bakery where he and his family had gotten their bread and other sundries for years and years and years. The town guard was even there. He immediately turned his steps in that direction.

The bakery itself seemed unharmed, so it wasn’t a fire - had there been a robbery, or, Maker forbid, a murder? He parted the small crowd with ease, his bearing and fine clothing making the only statement he needed. At the center of the crowd, he saw more guards - and with them, a cart just outside the bakery itself, carrying two long shapes wrapped in cloth, and standing beside it a girl he recognized as the bakers’ daughter. What was her name, again? The last name was Naevar - her parents’ names were -

“We’ll take the bodies then, miss,” the guard was saying with infinite gentleness. “We’ll start seeing to the proper rites.”

Bodies.

The two long shapes covered in cloth.

“What happened?” The words escaped his mouth. When the guard turned, he drew himself up and lifted his chin. “I am Magister Pavus. I live just down the road, and my family has patronized this bakery for many years.”

The guard made a quick bow. “I am afraid there has been a terrible accident this evening. The Naevars went out on an errand together, and were struck by a carriage while crossing a road not far from here. We brought them here to confirm their identity with their daughter.”

Dorian’s eyes went again to the girl. She was staring at the bodies, even covered as they were. Her brown eyes were full of disbelief.

“Claudia,” he said. She turned. “That is your name, isn’t it?” She nodded. “I am Dorian Pavus. I -”

“I know who you are.” Her voice was quiet. Her eyes were rimmed with red. How old was she, again? A little older than Ellana and Solas’s daughter, if he remembered right - so perhaps around thirteen. He’d made a point to come to the bakery in person several times to pay the Naevars their regular fees. He’d only spoken to her a few times before. Looking around at the crowd, at the dark and empty bakery behind her, at the bodies on the cart - his heart ached for her.

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight, Claudia? Any other family in Qarinus?”

She shook her head ‘no.’ She was meeting his eyes now. There was something very steady in her gaze. Almost piercing.

“Then you are welcome in my house, if you wish. I have plenty of room.”

“That is an excellent idea, Magister Pavus. We had planned to take the girl to the Circle for the night, but it would be better for her to be with someone she knows.”

“The Circle? I did not realize you were a mage.”

Claudia nodded, and raised a hand, and summoned at once a perfect blue flame.

“Impressive. You are welcome to show me more if you wish. If it would comfort you.”

Claudia’s eyes went to the shapes on the cart once more. “I don’t think anything can comfort me right now.”

Dorian thought of the day he got the letter that his father was dead. Sitting there in the absurdly bright, lush garden of the Winter Palace. It didn’t seem real. They hadn’t spoken since that day in Redcliffe. He hadn’t been able to cry. He hadn’t been able to breathe, either.

“I think you’re right,” he said.

*

Claudia was only supposed to stay the night - and then she was only supposed to stay a week while the Circle reshuffled things to make room for her in their dormitories. She was fourteen, not thirteen, and she was a quiet, watchful girl, and a very talented mage. She spent hours in his library. When Bull returned from his latest contract with the Chargers, they took to each other right away.

“If we were still with the Qun, I’d make her Ben-Hassrath,” he said. “She’s observant, and smart, and too small and quiet for anyone to suspect.”

A week turned into two, because Dorian saw the dormitory they wanted to put her in and frankly it was a disgrace, and her parents had always been such good people, as had her grandparents before them, and he would be damned if such a talented mage would stay in such subpar quarters.

“Surely you wouldn’t mind staying just another month, if it means you can have a better room - on me, of course,” he said to her when they’d left.

Claudia clutched her books to her chest, and looked up at him with those expressive brown eyes. “No.”

She lingered around them, he and Bull noticed. Not always speaking but still seeking their company. She learned chess. She cried alone in her room, and they agonized over what to do about that, because she played her emotions so close to her chest, and they were in such a limbo, the three of them. Who were they to her but helpful strangers?

She asked for his help with her studies. When he noticed that she was too tall for her clothes - although she remained short, even for a woman - he offered to take her shopping, and they passed a very pleasant afternoon together. He went to the Circle to berate an idiot Enchanter who thought that her healing technique was wrong, and proved that it was actually a sign that she might be able to train as a spirit healer.

A month turned into two months, and then three. She cried a little less. She kept her parents’ ashes on a shelf in her room. Sometimes she went to the kitchen and helped the servants make bread. She bought him a ring out of her own allowance when his birthday passed, and Bull a small and beautiful dagger on his. She was funny, and insightful, and they took her with them to the villa when they went, because naturally she couldn’t be left on her own. And eventually, a year after her parents died, Dorian turned to her and said:

“Claudia, I think at this point you should just stay forever.”

She smiled. “Obviously.”

She never called either of them father, but she didn’t have to. They never called her daughter, either. But the words were there in their every action in the years that followed - in every worry, every stress, and every joy. It was a family of their own making, an answer to the terror and the longing he’d felt before, a blessing he never looked for but counted every day.

[airiustide]

Day 19: Moonlight

@zutaramonth

Zuko stirred in bed, patting the space to his right when he noticed the lack of warmth. Immediately realizing he was the only one in bed, he bolted upright, searching the darkness for any movement. It was eerily quiet. The Fire Lord closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before exhaling and the candles lit up aglow.

Concern crossed his face when he became fully aware that he was alone. Where was she?

After perceiving his surroundings, Zuko threw the comforter off his body, brushing past a slumbering baby Druk to retrieve a robe to cover his bare torso.

After tying the sash to his night robe, Zuko first decided to check the wash room. A sigh escaped his lips when no one was in sight. He then made his way to the balcony. The cool autumn breeze brushed his warm cheeks when he stepped outside. The bright glow of the moon basked down like a lighthouse. A beacon he knew only one person could be drawn to like a butterbee to honey.

"Zuko, do you wonder if there's more out there for you than being a Fire Lord."

The banished prince knitted his brow at the question. Since he was young he had thought of nothing but his birthright. How it was his destiny to take the throne and follow in his father and forefather's footsteps. It was everything he had ever dreamed of. Everything he was meant to be. Anything else seemed irrelevant.

Until he betrayed his uncle. It was after coming home he realized how much of a fool he was for thinking things would ever be what he wanted. What he really wanted was his family. But what was left was a father who demeaned him and a sister who sought his downfall. His mother was gone and the only man who ever gave a damn about him was behind bars before going missing and it was all his fault.

"Honestly, that's all I ever thought about. Now? I don't know. Besides, once my father is defeated, it would be my uncle's right to take the throne. It was his to begin with."

"Then what?" Katara asked. She had been down since Aang went missing on Ember Island. "What do you do when you don't see a future past your current state?"

Zuko frowned. He wasn't sure if she was insulting him or generally asking the question. "I can't really say. I suppose I can help my uncle with whatever he would need. I would assume I could take my place at his side until he produces an heir of his own. I really don't know where you're going with this, Katara."

She sighed in frustration. He had only happened to pass by when he seen Katara submerged in water by a small pond. The moon was full that night and she was wide awake. Dark circles under her eyes and red nose displaying evidence of cryng.

They sat in silence for a moment, the only sound was Katara playfully bending the water in a daze. "I just…" she started, "I just wonder how it will all turn out when this is over. I know we'll win and these thoughts running through my head are the last thing that should be on my mind but I wonder where I'll go from here. After this is all over, I mean."

"Well, rebuilding your home would be a good start, I assume."

"Then what, Zuko?" her voice rose. "I'm already feeling useless and nothing's changed yet."

Zuko paused, taking in her words while pressing his lips together. "Maybe you're looking too much into it. My uncle always said that you have the ability to shape your own destiny. If, and I only mean 'if', there is a chance we make it out of this alive, maybe consider taking the steps you need to make to get where you truly want to be. So what do you want Katara?"

"I want-I want to help people. As many as I can. And not just healing either."

"Then everything you do from here on out should be in favor of that. Don't forget, Katara, you're the only one living your life. Don't let what others are doing or want you to do dictate that."

Katara's eyes widened but then a small smirk graced her lips. "Who knew former prince Zuko, chaser of the Avatar, could be so wise."

A blush crept up his cheeks as he began to mumble incoherently.

"I'm just teasing." Katara chuckled. "I'm sorry. Thank you, Zuko, I appreciate it."

Reminiscing their first serious encounter gave the Fire Lord the clue he needed. Pacing down the palace halls, bare feet tapping against the marble flooring, he headed straight towards the palace gardens.

Just like he thought, there she was, submerged shoulder deep in the water of the palace garden fountain. The gentle sound of water pooling from the fountain statue seemed to sooth the waterbender as she hummed a song Zuko grew accustom to over the years. He recognized it as a lullaby from her homeland.

"Katara?" He spoke softly. "You okay?"

Her striking blue eyes opened slowly to meet her husband's. A smile stretching on her face in an expression of content. "I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep."

"I should have guessed. The full moon keeps you up."

Katara chuckled sweetly. "It also doesn't help when this one also happens to not want to settle." She rubbed her round belly.

"How is our little waterbender doing."

"Stop it, Zuko. You don't know that."

"I know for a fact." The Fire Lord sunk his hand in the water to trace his fingers down her swelled belly and laid it flat against her lower stomach. "The only time you seem this clam is when you're in water. Even more so when the moon is full since you've been pregnant. You can't tell me that's not a sign."

The Fire Lady placed her hand over his, "I guess I can't."

Zuko leaned in, kissing his wife on the forehead. Taking her hand, he helped Katara stand, her night gown clinging to her body. "Come on, love. None the less, you need rest. You're not too far along."

Katara allowed her husband to pull her out of the fountain, wrapping her arms around his neck when he lifted her legs up to carry her bridal style back to their bedchambers.