#outlander feedback

[zepskies]

re: your tags -- omg thank you, Liane!! I'm so glad that the additional characters grew on you along the way, and that you enjoyed how the story unfurled. And thank you also for noting the research -- I did do a lot of historical and cultural deep diving on this series, and it was very rewarding to learn more about Lakota culture and the historical landscape during the late 1800s. 💓💓💓

Outlander - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester!! 🥳 Now, the actual grand finale…

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, blood and violence, angst, fluff, and spice.~

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: One People

Dean straps on his bow and arrow, but first he takes up his gun from his thigh holster. Then he saddles up Mato and climbs up on his back.

The horse is raring to go, and for once he responds to the firmness of Dean’s tone and trusts him enough to obey his commands.

Šóta, Otaktay, and the other men do the same with their horses. Soon, they’re thundering down the hill into the village.

It’s already chaos.

Dean recognizes the blue uniforms of the U.S. Cavalrymen tearing through tipis and shooting with rifles and revolvers. They must’ve tracked Šóta and his men back to the village.

Men and horses are the main targets, but women and children are getting caught in the crossfire. Šóta purposefully knocks his horse into an officer who had his weapon aimed at Misae and her two daughters. Otaktay guides them in the opposite direction, pointing the way to escape into the forest.

Dean rides onward through the village. He and Mato leap over fallen bodies and horses, and Dean shoots at an officer who would’ve shot him first. He has to be careful with his bullets though. He only has two left.

He fights his way to the center, all the while searching for any sight of Mila’s dark hair. It’s almost impossible to see with so many people running and screaming and fighting. But when he hears a familiar voice, Dean cuts to an abrupt stop.

Chief Tahatan rides his horse, white and dappled black. He wields an ax as the horse rears up on his hind legs and lets loose a powerful bray. Just ahead of him is Colonel Sanderson, flanked by Benny and another officer. The Colonel holds a rifle poised in his hands.

“Stop!” Dean shouts.

He rides hard towards the scene. He takes aim with his gun, and he shoots. The bullet clips Sanderson in the shoulder. Yelling in pain, he recoils from the force of the bullet and misses his shot.

Dean’s just not fast enough.

The Colonel’s bullet ricochets off the ground and hits Tahatan’s horse. The animal whinnies and buckles, and he brings Tahatan down along with him, rolling onto his side and crushing the Chief’s legs and most of his torso under the horse’s weight. Dean hears the crunch of bone as the Chief utters a stifled grunt.

Gritting his teeth, Dean brings Mato to a short stop in front of the Chief. Dean aims his gun at the Colonel. By now, the man is clutching his bleeding shoulder and staring at his former captain in disbelief. Benny is maybe a little less shocked to see Dean, but there’s conflict in his eyes—happiness mixed with turmoil.

The other officer is Jack Kline. He recognizes Dean too, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“You…” Sanderson trails. He blinks, his brows furrowing. “Dean Winchester.”

Other officers come to join him, both on their horses and on foot. A few of them have wrangled women and their children, along with a few men. One man is dragging Mila along by the arm, even though she pulls and struggles against his hold. He has a long, jagged cut over one closed eye that streams with blood, and Dean doesn’t have to wonder how it got there. The man holds Mila’s own knife to her throat.

Dean’s heart falls into his stomach as he meets her gaze. Hers is angry, until she finds him. Her brown eyes are relieved and hopeful, but then worried for him. Dean reads it all there. He knows her face as well as he knows his own.

“Now this is what we call an interesting development,” Sanderson says, dragging Dean’s attention back to him.

Dean only feels moderately better when Šóta, Otaktay, Chatan, and a couple of the other men come to flank him on either side. Weaya manages to shuffle away from the officer at her back, just to go to Tahatan. He’s still lying there under his horse, breathing shallowly. Šóta itches to climb down from his horse and go to his father, but he can’t allow Dean to stand on his own.

“Apparently your death has been greatly exaggerated, son,” Sanderson says. He glances at Benny, who wears a grim, guilty frown.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean says, his voice laden with grit. His hand tightens on his raised gun.

Sanderson tsks at him while Jack wraps a rag tightly around his arm to help stem the bleeding. Afterwards, he adjusts his blue jacket and his Stetson.

“Is this really how you’ve been living for all these months? Like a dog, sleeping in the thatch with the fleas,” he remarks as he glances around. But his gaze stops on Mila. His brows crunch together as recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Ah, now I see why,” he says. He reaches for his pistol at his belt and points it at Mila, like it’s merely an extension of his hand. Dean’s jaw clenches. Chatan and Šóta become even more tense; their horses shift in place, picking up on their riders’ unrest. Sanderson notes their reactions, and finally Dean’s too.

“Instead of putting this savage bitch down, you took her for yourself, didn’t you?” Sanderson wonders aloud. His face breaks into amusement, as his deep chuckle echoes in the clearing. “You threw it all away. A promising career, your respect as a man, and even your life. A traitor to your goddamn country. And for what?”

His thumb pulls back the safety on his revolver.

“Enough, you bastard. You deal with me,” Dean tersely demands. He slowly lowers his gun, and his last bullet. “Let her go. Let them all go, and you can have me. Court martial me. Hell, put me in front of a firing squad, or put me down like a dog if that’s what you want… But let them go.” 

Mila breaths in sharply. She stares at Dean like she wants to protest.

“Ah, but ya see, I didn’t come here for you,” Sanderson says. Without taking his aim off Mila, his shifts his gaze down to Tahatan, who struggles for every breath. “I’m gonna wash this land clean, from here to the West Coast. However long it takes.”

“Colonel!” an officer calls out. He approaches on a horse, though he leads a man by a rope that ties his wrists behind his back.

Dean’s eyes widen in shock. It’s Cas, and he has Sam as his captive. Sam is dirtier and more disheveled since Dean saw him off not too long ago. He’s lost his hat and his horse, but he doesn’t look afraid when he meets Dean’s gaze, then the assessing Colonel.

“Mr. Winchester. I should’ve known,” Sanderson says dryly. “Here to reacquaint yourself with your brother? Though I’ve got a feeling you already have.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Kill me?” Sam says. “In case you’ve forgotten, I work for the government too. I’m a prosecutor for all the surrounding counties in Kansas City.”

Sanderson raises a brow. “Is that supposed to intimidate me, son?”

“It should, Colonel,” Sam says. He nods at his brother. “The world already thinks he’s dead. Fine. But there’s plenty of people who know I traveled to Fort Laramie. People high up in the chain of command. If you hurt me, my brother, or these people, someone’s gonna hear about it. And soon.”

“He’s got a point there, Colonel,” Benny says.

“You shut the fuck up!” Sanderson barks at his captain. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot you down where you stand. You and Novak. But believe you me, I’ll be dealin’ with you later.”

Sanderson continues to seethe. He thinks hard about the decision he makes next as he stares down at Sam, and then back up at Dean. He grits his teeth, his mustache twitching. Dean holds his breath, though he briefly meets eyes with his brother.

Slowly, Sanderson lowers his weapon away from Mila. Dean can breathe again, if shallowly. He doesn’t drop his guard though. In fact, he watches Sanderson even closer.

“I’ll give you dirty mongrels one hour to clear out of here,” Sanderson says, his eyes narrowed. “Anything left gets tied down and burned to charcoal.”

With that, he sharply tugs on his horse’s reins. He commands his men to fall back, and like the soldiers they are, they obey. Benny and Cas both cast Dean a backwards glance—one that tells Dean that he still has the loyalty of his friends. He now realizes that Cas brought Sam back for a purpose; it wasn’t to hurt him, but to help him. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole “capture” was Sam’s idea.

After the soldiers clear out of the area with the Colonel, Dean and the other men dismount from their horses. He beelines for Mila, gathering her into the safety of his arms. Then he spares a hand to grab his brother’s shoulder as he smiles.

“I think I’m more glad to see you the second time,” Dean remarks.

“I’ll take that,” Sam says. His grin is infectious, but Dean returns his attention to his wife. He touches her cheek and runs his assessing gaze over her body. He frowns as he examines the thin cut along her neck where the soldier pressed the blade of her knife.

“You okay? Are you hurt?” he asks.

Mila shakes her head. “I’m fine.” Though she inspects him the same way with a wandering hand across his chest. Dean takes that hand and gives her a reassuring smile.

It falls when he hears Weaya crying. She sits beside three other women, including Šóta’s mother.

“Father,” Šóta says lowly. His voice is a rasp as he kneels beside Tahatan’s broken body, holding his hand. The chief manages to raise his head slightly. He looks at his son, and then his gaze travels. Eventually, it falls on Dean.

Tahatan smiles.

“Under this sky,” he says. “We are one people.”

 He takes three more labored breaths before his eyes close. Šóta lays his father’s limp hand over his chest, which no longer moves.

Šóta’s mother gently raises her husband’s head to remove his long headdress. Among other things, it’s made of leather, glass beads, horsehair, and eagle tail feathers. Each feather represents a warrior’s honor earned in war, like a soldier’s insignia. 

With shaking hands, she places it on Šóta’s head. He takes a deep breath, and he looks up at the many tear-stained faces that mirror his own.

“We have to go,” he says.

Sam stays to help mobilize the tribe. He helps a mother join her children into one of the caravans, then he and Otaktay heft rolled up tipis and supplies into the back of it.

“You are a law man?” Otaktay asks him.

Sam nods. “That’s right.”

“Make better laws,” Otaktay says, and walks away.

Sam is left with a bemused look on his face. Dean comes over and thumps him on the back.

“Making friends?” he says dryly.

“Don’t think so,” Sam replies. He shakes his head and follows his brother over to the second caravan.

“Eh, consider yourself lucky. That guy pretty much hates my guts,” Dean whispers.

Sam raises his brows. “What?”

Dean explains the story in its simplest, briefest terms. Meanwhile, the mood around their packing is somber and quiet.

For Mila, it feels wrong. It’s wrong for them to have to leave the river where they’ve tilled and nurtured the land for three generations. It’s wrong to leave Chief Tahatan’s body wrapped beside Takoda’s on the hill without at least one proper night of mourning. She feels her grief down to her very core, but all she can do is sit in the caravan beside her mother and hold protective hands around the small swell of her stomach. Her tears fall silently down her cheeks and dissolve between the indigo beads on her dress.

She only raises her head when Chatan comes to check on her and her mother. He touches Mila’s cheek, drying her tears there. He leans in to kiss Weaya’s hand.

“We leave soon,” he says.

“Where is Dean?” Mila asks.

“Helping Šóta,” Chatan replies, but he stops short and corrects himself. “He helps our Chief.”

A few moments later, the caravans begin to move as the horses pull with the reins. Šóta leads at the front with a few of the warriors, but the rest of them ride strategically around and behind the caravans. Sam and Dean fall back to ride beside Mila’s caravan, where Chatan sits at the helm. Sam has been given the horse of a fallen warrior, while Dean rides Mato.

Despite how low she feels, Mila smiles at the sight of her horse allowing Dean to ride him, even with a saddle and bridle.

“Mato is being agreeable,” she remarks.

“You sound surprised,” Dean says, teasing slightly. “Told you I’d get him to trust me eventually.”

“More like wear him down,” she quips back.

“Hey, he impregnated my mare. Without my say so, I might add. I’d say we’re proper father and son-in-law.”

“Yes,” Chatan chimes in wryly. “That is what that means.”

Mila scoffs at him, but the gleam of good humor in his eyes amuses her. She smiles as she rubs a hand over her belly. Dean smiles too. It’s strange that he can still do that after a night like tonight, but seeing Chatan do it, along with Sam, and Mila, and her mother too, it gives him hope for them—for all of them.

Until the first gunshot fires into the air.

Dean freezes. His body coils tight, and he turns to look sharply over his shoulder.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Colonel Sanderson went back on his word. His cavalrymen are gaining behind them on horseback, hooting and hollering like it’s a game for sport. His jaw clenching in both anger and determination, Dean tells Chatan to speed up the caravan. He locks eyes with Mila for a moment.

Be safe, he tries to say with that look.

Then he gives Sam a nod; together they speed up to alert Šóta at the front.

“They’re gaining on us,” Dean says, gesturing behind them. “We need to lead them away from the caravans and pick ‘em off—as many as we can.”

Šóta nods in grim agreement, but he has a moment of hesitation as he considers Dean.

“You go with the caravans,” he says.

Dean shakes his head. “No, I’m ending this. Once and for all.”

“You are willing to fight your people?” Šóta asks.

The set of Dean’s determined face doesn’t change.

“I’m protecting my people,” he says. He looks to Sam. “Stay with the caravans. Make sure they get across the river.”

Sam agrees, and the men split ways. Dean turns Mato away from the group along with Šóta and Otaktay, and a few other warriors. The caravans continue with Sam to help guide them. Mila clings to the edge and watches with growing dread as her husband rides farther and farther away from her.

Dean can’t allow himself to look back. Instead of drawing his gun, he reaches for his bow strapped to his back and an arrow from his quiver. He takes aim at the first soldier he sees raise his gun, along with a steadying breath, and he shoots his arrow before the other man can fire. The arrow embeds itself in the man’s chest and knocks him clean off his horse.

Šóta and Otaktay follow suit. They shout out yips and battle cries on the air as they take aim. The soldiers begin to scatter out of their formation. They weren’t expecting the Lakota to go on the offensive. Sanderson has conveniently let his men ride ahead of him, but Dean hears him giving the orders from behind. The Colonel has his left arm wrapped in a sling while he holds his gun aloft.

“All right, mustang,” Dean says to Mato, tightening his hands on the reins. “Remind ‘em why they should be scared a’ you.”

He gives the stallion a subtle kick. It’s just enough for him to pick up into a full gallop. Dean tucks his head down and lets the horse speed forward like a bullet carving across the plain. The soldiers take aim, but that’s when Šóta and Otaktay join in from behind. They begin to take down the uniformed men, one by one as they weave between bullets. 

Dean tears between two officers and unbalances them. Mato, with his big head and chest, bulldozes straight through them. They shout in surprise and fear, and one of them even topples off his horse. Dean banks left and turns Mato around to finish what he started.

He retrieves his knife from his thigh holster and slices into one man’s neck, making him choke on his own blood. Dean forcefully takes the rifle off another man, and after flipping it around, hits him dead between the eyes with the butt of it—once, then twice until his nose breaks. He careens back off his horse into the dirt. Dean wracks the rifle and shoots the man for good measure.

The sound of a safety clicking back alerts him and turns his head, but he’s too late.

An arrow flies into the officer’s throat.

Dean looks over sharply. He finds Otaktay, lowering his bow.

Dean’s eyes widen. The other man just saved his life.

Dean nods in thanks, and Otaktay slowly returns the gesture. The moment is cut short, however, when Dean sharpens in alarm. Instead of opening his mouth to warn, he knows he has no time, not even to grab another arrow. He just throws his knife.

It carves through the air and hits Jack Kline where his arm meets his shoulder—his shooting arm that would’ve clipped Otaktay with his pistol. Jack falls off his horse and hits the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a hot rush. He groans in pain while clutching his arm. It’s not an easy wound, but he’ll live…as long as Otaktay doesn’t kill him first. Still on his horse, he towers over the younger man with another arrow notched.

“Wait!” Dean shouts.

He meant what he said about finishing this, but now looking at Jack, all Dean sees is a kid following orders. He doesn’t deserve to die like this, hundreds of miles away from home, just trying to make something of himself.

Otaktay looks up, wasting a precious second. Another beat, and a bullet tears into him, almost forcing him off his horse. Dean grits his teeth and speeds forward. Šóta rejoins them in time to help lead Otaktay away; he’s been hit in the side. There’s no telling how deep, but all Dean can focus on is the path ahead.

He comes face to face with Colonel Sanderson.

Dean raises his bow and arrow and ducks his head against another bullet, still shooting off his arrow. It misses its aim at the horse’s legs, but it spooks him enough to whinny in distress. It begins to buck off the Colonel.

“Whoa!” he shouts, trying to take back control of the horse. Dean rides in close and cracks a fist across Sanderson’s face. His head whips back with a pained grunt. Dean grabs his wrist and twists, until he feels tendons popping and the gun loosened from the other man’s hand. Then, Dean brings his elbow up into Sanderson’s nose and spills blood.

“Fuck!” Sanderson growls. He manages to land a punch of his own with his left arm, despite how it makes his shoulder bleed again. Dean recovers from the blow to his cheek and goes to grab that wound, digging in his fingers hard. He’s satisfied by the howl of pain Sanderson lets loose.

Dean doesn’t care if it’s a dirty tactic. He’s taking any opportunity he can, because right now, it’s not about his honor. It’s about protecting what’s his.

But Sanderson fights back just as dirty. He grabs Dean by the back of his neck and headbutts him, so hard he sees stars. Sanderson lands one more kick to Dean’s chest that almost sends him off of Mato. Dean has to grab on tight to the saddle and pull himself up, just in time for a lassoed rope to circle around his neck. Dean’s eyes fly wide in alarm. He slips his hand between the rope and his neck just in time before it tightens—because Sanderson tugs hard as he urges his horse into a gallop.

“Aw, sh—” Dean is yanked off Mato. He lands hard in the dirt, before he begins to be dragged across it.

Once again, the current is strong across Little Cheyenne. The first caravan has more horses to pull it through, but the caravan that Chatan is trying to lead starts to take on water. Mila and her mother sit behind him, along with Misae and her daughters, Tahatan’s widows, and Eyota and her husband.

The colt is doing his best to keep going, but Baby and two of the other horses are struggling in the pull of the river. They’ve hit a deeper patch under the water, and now it’s all the way up to Baby’s chest. She can’t handle the weight of the caravan along with the river’s current.

Sam comes closer with rope in hand, but Mila can see in his eyes that he’s trying to decide what to do. She grasps the edge of the caravan to pull herself up, and she points to the black mare.

“She needs help!” she calls out to him.

“Mila, sit down!” Chatan orders.

Mila turns back to her father with a determined set to her face. She knows his ankle has never healed entirely right. If he tries to do what she’s about to do, he’d probably fall into the river and get trampled by the horses. She knows what she must do.

She carefully stands up all the way and moves to the edge of the caravan, ignoring her father and mother trying to stop her. Sam’s eyes grow wide, but he tries to come in closer to support her. She steps out onto Baby’s back and slides into an astride position. The frigid water climbs up Mila’s dress and reaches her waist, making her shiver, but she ignores that too. She reaches out for Sam.

“Throw me the rope!” she calls out.

Sam follows her lead and does what she says. Mila not only catches the rope, but loops the ends of it around Baby’s bridle and around her chest. It’s hard work, especially because Mila has to tread water just to get the rope around the mare’s wide chest, but Sam helps her as much as he can.

When they’ve finished securing the ropes, Sam pulls ahead. With his horse leading Baby, she gets the momentum she needs to climb out of the dip, and eventually, cross the rest of the river.

Mila is sopping wet by the time they make it to the other side. Her braid has come loose, and so her hair becomes a black curtain around her face. She clings to Baby as she catches her breath, stroking the horse’s neck.

“Good girl. Big, strong girl,” she soothes. “Your father will be proud of you.”

Speaking of, Mila turns to look back. Across the river, the men are still fighting off the soldiers that sought to finish what they started last night. Mila scans with narrowed eyes for Dean.

“You all right?” Sam asks. He sidles up next to her and grasps her shoulder to make sure.

“Fine,” she breathes.

But she hesitates on a sharp inhale. Her brows furrow as she tries to make sure of what she’s seeing. Her mouth drops open in shock.

“Sam!” She points out the shape of a man she thinks is Dean. Sam follows her line of vision and becomes just as alarmed at what he sees.

Mila immediately takes her father’s knife from her shoe and cuts the ropes that bind Baby to the caravan. Mila puts her fingers to her lips and whistles sharply instead of kicking the mare. Baby sharpens to attention and heeds the command, just like she’s done for Dean a hundred times before.

Mila guides her back through the river.

Dean is being road hauled across the plain. He hits every bump, rock, twig, and dry patch of dirt in several yards as he twists and struggles to break free.

He lost his knife to save Otaktay, and he’s probably lost all his arrows along with his bow. Dean grits his teeth, as he can hear Sanderson’s insane hooting and hollering on the wind whipping past his ears, and not much else.

He doesn’t know where Šóta is, or if even Otaktay’s still alive, but his last thoughts aren’t about them. Instinctively, he thinks of his wife. It’s not even a coherent thought. It’s just her name, her face, her hand on his heart.

And the rope snaps.

Dean grunts as his momentum slows. He rolls across the dirt and grass to a stop. He probably has road burns and cuts and bruises all down his back, but at least he can stare up at the morning sun and breathe.

Heaving for free air, he tugs the rope from around his neck and shoves it off. He hears familiar horse hooves galloping his way. Somehow, he manages to raise his head.

Now, either the sun is playing tricks on him, or a black shape is thundering towards him.

Apparently, his eyes aren’t lying to him. Baby slows to a stop, and Mila climbs down from her back. Mila rushes to his side and kneels beside him after putting away her knife. She takes his face into her gentle hands.

“Dean?” she says, her voice tinged with desperation.

He grabs onto her wrist and smiles weakly, looking up at her soulful brown eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

She sighs and shakes her head, despite the tears in her eyes.

“Be quiet,” she laughs. Dean just grins.

She cups the back of his neck and guides him up slowly into a sitting position. His back is a bloody mess, but they’ll deal with that later.

“You all right, brother?”

Dean’s smile drops. He clutches at Mila’s arm protectively, but he looks up at Benny Lafitte. His horse shifts in place. Dean finally notices Sam is there too, with his gun trained on Benny. But Benny’s gun is raised right back at Sam.

They’re joined by Colonel Sanderson. He wears a self-satisfied look on his face as he approaches with his pistol held aloft.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “Ain’t this a picture. Traitors and savages.”

Mila keeps her back to the Colonel; she stubbornly defends Dean with her body, even though he’s gathered her to his chest protectively. With his right hand, he subtly reaches for the gun holster at his thigh. One last weapon. One last shot.

He shares a look with Mila, silently asking her to trust him. She gives him a subtle nod.

“Captain Lafitte,” Sanderson addresses Benny, even though his gaze is straight on Dean and Mila. He holds Sam in his periphery. “Now’s the time to take a stand. Are you gonna serve your country and put these three in the ground where they belong, or are you gonna join ‘em?”

Benny stares back at his superior officer. He thought he understood before, but today is when he truly understands why Dean made his choice.

Benny lowers his weapon down to his side.

“This ain’t the law,” he says. “This ain’t justice. It’s just pride, plain and simple. Your pride, Colonel.”

After a moment of genuine surprise, Sanderson rolls his eyes. He shifts his gun off of Sam and points it at Benny next.

A trigger fires, but the bullet that hits its mark is not the Colonel’s.

It’s Dean’s, and it hits Asmodeus Sanderson between the eyes.

Dean lowers his silver, smoking Colt down at his side, where Mila moved just in time for Dean to take his shot. He holds her to him now, taking in deep breaths.

Benny and Sam both look to Dean with shock still in their eyes, but before either of them can say anything, they notice Cas stumbling over on foot with a wounded Jack Kline leaning heavily on him. They’re flanked on both sides by Šóta and Otaktay. The latter has a cloth tied tight around his middle. His bullet wound just looks like a nasty graze.

The other warriors that remain follow behind, and they have Mato and Baby in tow by their bridles.

Dean realizes that Cas and Jack are the only other survivors from the rest of the unit. Šóta has taken them prisoner. He orders the other men to force Benny off of his horse. They shove him closer to Cas and Jack.

Dean quickly tries to raise up onto his knees, though it’s hard for him to stand. Mila helps him the rest of the way, and he keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“We will make an example of these,” Šóta says, nodding at Cas, Jack, and Benny. They look rightly nervous, shifting their gazes towards Dean.

Dean raises his hands to placate Šóta (and hopefully reassure his friends).

“Šóta, I know these guys. They were my men,” he says. “They were just following the Colonel’s orders.”

“And what does that mean to me, Dean Winchester?” Šóta says. He climbs down from his horse, his headdress of feathers tousled as a breeze rushes through.

“It means they won’t follow us,” Dean says. “They won’t tell the Army what actually happened here. They’ll keep their word if I ask them to. So I’m asking you…trust me. Trust me like you’ve trusted me before.”

Šóta seems to consider it, even though he doesn’t exactly like the idea. Otaktay seems to like it even less.

“We won’t betray you, Chief,” Benny says to Šóta, and to the other warriors. “We respect you, and we don’t want any more trouble. For us, or for Dean.”

Šóta considers this with a tilt of his head. Before he decides, first, he turns to Otaktay. Other than Dean, he’s now the man Šóta trusts most.

Otaktay looks over at Dean. Between them, there’s an understanding. Finally, there’s also respect. Otaktay returns his gaze to his leader, and he nods.

Šóta expels a deep breath. He addresses the three soldiers.

“Go. Go in peace, or next time, there will not be peace,” he says.

The soldiers breathe in relief.

Dean steps forward with Mila’s help. There he shakes each man’s hand. He’s said goodbye to Cas and Benny before, but somehow, this feels even more final than the last.

Benny and Cas are given back their horses. They help Jack up first, then Cas climbs up with him. Benny mounts his own horse, and Sam, Dean, and the Lakota watch them leave the way they came.

It takes days to cross the plains and maneuver through the mountains, but Šóta leads the rest of the tribe to safety within Sioux territory. They find a place to settle along the Big Cheyenne River, northeast of the Black Hills.

There they will learn the land and what to plant and forage there for the late autumn harvest, as summer ends. There is where they will honor the dead who couldn’t make the journey. There is where their traditions will be celebrated, old and new.

Like today. The men have painted each other with blue circles around their faces and blue lines across their foreheads, chins, and cheekbones. The women are painted similarly in red. It symbolizes change in its many forms, but most of all, it symbolizes new relationships, and new responsibilities.

Today, it’s Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. This ceremony formally welcomes Dean into the tribe by marriage. It also recognizes Sam as his brother, and so, it acknowledges Sam as a friend to their tribe as well. They are now all family. One people.

Dean sits with his brother around the large firepit, where a roasted boar is already half-eaten. Dean has shared a lot of meals with these people, but somehow, this one is the best he’s ever eaten. Maybe it’s the company, he thinks, as he laughs at some old story Sam is trying to tell.

“No, no, no, that’s not what happened. Let me tell it—”

“What, so you can make stuff up?”

“Oh, I’m making stuff up?”

Mila giggles quietly, but it’s enough to earn Dean’s attention. She sits at his left, and he turns to her with an amused smile.

“What’re you laughing at?” he teases. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her in.

“You,” she replies. “You and your brother. You’re worse than me and Šóta.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. He points over at her cousin, their esteemed Chief, who’s busy making shadow creatures with exaggerated voices to impress the kids. Right now, it’s a big grizzly bear that threatens to eat the closest child.

“Worse than the grizzly?” Dean says.

“Hmm, maybe not,” she says with a laugh.

That evening, Dean is glad he convinced Sam to start sleeping in his own tipi. He agreed to stay until Mila has the baby, but while Dean is grateful to have his brother here for a few more months, he still wants some much-needed privacy with his wife.

He “helps” her undress for bed, all the while distracting her with lingering kisses across her neck and shoulders, winding his fingers into her long hair. He wraps his arms around her and cups her full breasts from behind, satisfied by the arousing way she moans.

“They’re heavier,” Dean whispers in her ear, gently squeezing her breasts. She hums in response. “Your thighs and hips are thicker too, nice and soft for me.” He squeezes those too for good measure.

“I am changing,” she admits. “Are they good changes?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, his lips moving against her throat. He gently turns her around and guides her down to lay on the bedding and furs. He palms at the best change of all—the growing swell of her belly. She’s gotten bigger, and growing a little more each week. Dean really wants to meet his kid.

He dips down to lay a path of slow, tender kisses down between her breasts, and over her belly. Mila smiles and threads her fingers through his hair. It’s getting long, brushing past his ears.

“Do you want a son, or a daughter?” she asks him. It’s not the first time she’s asked, but she wonders if his answer will change now, after everything they’ve gone through to get here. She finds that her own answer hasn’t changed.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t care. Either one.”

All he wants is for the baby to be healthy, and for Mila to be healthy too. He moves back up to claim her lips. When he kisses her like this, he hopes she knows what he’s really saying. Just in case, he says it anyway. He says it out loud to her for the first time.

“I love you,” he says. He pauses, then smiles a little. “You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever said that to.”

She smiles, because she knows. With her hand over his heart, she knows.

And when their son is born a few months later, she has a dream. She dreams of an eagle’s wings that shift from white to gold in the light.

Dean plans to give him a name he picked out weeks before, Elijah. It was his father’s middle name. But she will also give their son a name.

Ikíphi, the name her uncle, Chief Tahatan, gave Dean Winchester himself.

Because one day, she knows her son will be worthy of it.

AN: And there we have it! A more definitive end to Dean and Mila's story. 🥹

For those of you who read and enjoyed this, thank you so much for sticking with me through this sequel of The Honorable Choice. This was an idea that wouldn't let go of me once I started, and it's the first time that I've written something like this. 💖💖

Pronunciation Guide:

Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew") Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

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Outlander Masterlist

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[samsheughan]

approving all the lovely comments on ao3 yall really making me feel seen and loved coming out of fic writing retirement i love you guys so much

[christiwhitson]

Just a snippet of what might be the first chapter of my next Outlander fic (after Brave New World). But I want to gauge interest before committing to this plot bunny, since I write one fic at a time. So if you like it, please comment and say so!

——————

Title TBD:

This was a mistake. I knew it with the first breath of Highland air, while the sound of my apparition still reverberated off the standing stones.

In less than a second, my blood was humming with energy, and magic pulsed through the circle in visible waves of silver and white, as though my mere presence had ignited a firestorm. It ebbed and flowed in a dizzying pattern of currents and eddies, pushing and pulling at my body like an angry sea.

I could neither take a step nor stand completely still, and I attempted to brace myself against the nearest stone—standing alone in the very center.

That was a mistake too.

—————

As the haze of unconsciousness receded, it was the pain that reached me first, urging me to open my eyes and find the source of it. I had fallen at some point, for the earth was at my back and the trees danced in the wind overhead. Wincing, I took stock of my body and struggled to sit up. The solid presence of a wand in my hand was an immense relief, and the pain was already leaving me, making it easier to focus on my surroundings.

The hurricane of magic that had sprung to life only moments before had vanished, and that in itself was bewildering. I’d heard of chaotic magic being unpredictable near some ley lines, particularly in places where they converged—places like Craigh na Dun. But I’d never read anything about it being so volatile. A magical backlash strong enough to knock me out was the last thing I’d been expecting on this mission.

I rose unsteadily to my feet and resisted the compulsion to touch the stone again, instead moving several paces away. I lifted my wand to perform a quick scan of the environment, and the results were even more baffling. It was as though nothing had happened. The magic levels were low enough to be classified as dormant, which made absolutely no sense. Whatever magical phenomenon I had walked into, it seemed the show was over.

I huffed in exasperation and scowled at the tallest stone. Whoever had set the apparition coordinates to land me almost in the center of the circle was a bloody idiot, and I was already looking forward to giving them a good rollicking. We were Unspeakables, for Merlin’s sake, and that sort of miscalculation was a rookie move.

Concerned that I might have somehow drawn the wrong sort of attention to myself, I surveyed the area for any indication that someone else might have witnessed the incident. The last thing I needed right then was to run into a muggle. They were at war just as we were, and they were likely to be highly suspicious of me—an oddly dressed woman who’d simply popped into existence atop a faerie hill. It was just the sort of folktale the Scots would turn into some parody of actual magic.

Not that encountering an unfamiliar wizard was an altogether safe bet either. Grindelwald’s war seemed to have reached boiling point, and the Department had been researching possible options for ritual magic to strengthen Britain’s defenses, utilizing particular ley lines. The nexus of lines at Craigh na Dun had been assigned to me.

Fortunately, it seemed I was alone. I glanced upward in search of the sun, but the Highland sky was as clouded as ever. I cast a quick tempus and frowned at the results. I couldn’t possibly have been unconscious for ten hours. Modifying the spell slightly to check the date, I produced a wispy set of numbers beneath the ghostly clock face that hovered in the air and nearly dropped my wand in shock.

May 2, 1743.

[cajon-desastre]

Celebrating Outlander's 10th Anniversary with a special interview ft. Matthew B. Roberts and Maril Davis - Enjoy!

Season One

Hello Sassenachs of Reddit!

We hope you’ve been enjoying our celebrations in honor of the ten year anniversary of Outlander! This subreddit has been such a phenomenal resource and community for Outlander fans that we wanted to do something special for you all. So this week during the production of Season 8 we pulled both Matthew B. Roberts and Maril Davis from their busy schedules to do a quick Q&A about their early days on the show. The resulting answers are transcribed below for a bit of bonus reading material. -XO, Bestie

Let’s talk about the premiere episode, “Sassenach,” which is turning 10 years old. When you look back, what do you remember that fans might not know?

Maril Davis: Well, I don't know if this is a fun fact, but our first shot of that episode was Claire in the scene where she comes out after treating the soldiers and the war is over and she drinks the champagne. That was literally our first scene that we shot from that episode. We took a picture of the clapboard and all kinda looked around and felt like, oh, this is the start of something special. I didn't know it was gonna be this special. I didn’t know it would be this many years. That was my first memory of it.

Caitríona Balfe on her first day on set.

The day the magic began!

Matthew B. Roberts: Going back to the first episode, everybody was new. In a weird way, we were all Sassenachs. We had this group from Los Angeles that came over here and even though everybody spoke English, it was like being in a whole new world. And then we had a cast that was new to a big, American television show - certainly Caitríona and Sam. So, there were a lot of newbies, so to speak. I know a lot of people had worked in the industry for a long time but it just felt like we all stepped through the stones in that first episode. The first day was a little weird because it was not in Scotland, it was in “France,” because we did Claire being a nurse in France for our first day. And I believe we even did a little side unit of Claire learning how to smoke with Uncle Lamb. So, we were all over the place but it was really exciting. I remember the group of us being so excited to hear the word “action” and get going, you know? 

Do you remember the first time you ever watched the finished episode either in edit or among fans at the first premiere?

Maril Davis: I remember the first two episodes because they were kind of like a pair… watching those and just being so excited because, as a fan of the books, seeing that come to life was very special. I knew so immediately that we cast this series so well. I knew in that moment, “Wow, this is gonna work!” I remember having that feeling in the edit.

Matthew B. Roberts: I don't remember the day but it's like this: we've all watched premieres. We've all watched pilots. But when you watch something and you go, “Wow. We have a show…” I remember the feeling of watching it. “Wow. This is something I have not seen.” You congratulate yourself but you never know if you’re ever gonna get a back 9 or if you're ever going to get a second season. You're always hanging on a thread. We didn't know. And it wasn't broadcast television, so you still didn't know. I don't think we were quite done when we started airing. So we got some feedback and we were living in the days of social media really gearing up so that instantaneous feedback was something new. I'll tell you, that was weird! ... I didn't really get it until around the end of the second season how impactful the show had been to a lot of people. We put it out there but the fans bring the characters into their homes each week. They fell in love with them, they fell in love with the show, and they wanted more. And I know how I felt when I would watch my favorite shows and they would go on hiatus and you're like, “Oh god, please come back!” You wanna spend more time with these people that are now your friends and family that you care for.

As for the fan events… we had a really big premiere in LA for Season 5. So many people came up to me and said how much it meant to them. They didn't say it was good. They didn't say they liked the show. They said how much it meant to them. And that to me is different than, “I like the show.” That means a lot to me. 

The Season 5 Premiere in Los Angeles.

The story goes that Matt gave Maril the books around 2011/2012 because she was looking for a new project with Ronald D. Moore. Matt, how did you come upon the books?

Matthew B. Roberts: In one of my first jobs in the industry, a long time ago, I was a reader where you read scripts and books and do coverage on them. The production company I was working for handed me these books and they wanted to make TV movies out of them. I read the books and I liked them but I passed on them. I said, “They're just too big, there's too much in them. There's no way you could do it.” … I just couldn't imagine Outlander, any one of the books to tell you the truth, in an hour and forty minutes. You’d lose so much. So, I passed. And I literally made the note, “But it would make a great television show.” … Then Maril was outside my office one day talking to another friend of ours… she was looking for something epic. I just so happened to have the books on my shelf still. I kinda carried them along, they were too big, so I kept them in my office. I brought them out to her and I said, “Here, read these.” And she read them and fell in love with them. As the quote goes, the rest is history!

What stood out about the books that let you know this would be a fantastic TV show? 

Matthew B. Roberts: The shows that I loved and really bonded with had love stories that endured and it could be different kinds of love stories. There are friends. It could be husband and wife. It could be boyfriend girlfriend. Girlfriend girlfriend. Boyfriend boyfriend. It didn't matter, they were love stories. And when you start reading Outlander and you get into it, you start to realize, “Wow, this is an epic story!” When you start getting into over the course of time, you go, “Oh, it could be very episodic too. It's not only episodic, but it's serialized.” You can kind of come into it at a different time because there's time travel. If you started Outlander in Season 3, Season 3 kind of stands up on its own and then you go backwards and you go, “Oh, that's how they got there.” Oddly enough, when they handed me the books, I just took the top book off and read it and it just happened to be Dragonfly in Amber. I didn't read Outlander first. They didn't tell me there was an order. So I just read Dragonfly in Amber and it held up perfectly fine. Then I went back and read Outlander, and I was like, “Oh, that's how all that happened” but it still held up perfectly fine. You could tell Outlander in 50 different ways–pick a spot, start there and go backwards and forwards. As a storyteller, in television terms, you realize there's so much material here but there's also so much emotion over the course of this journey. And isn't that what we hear stories for? It's to be afraid, or to fall in love, or to fantasize, or to travel somewhere you can't go. Well, Outlander does all that.

Was there anything about the first season of the show that you fought for—for example, casting, certain lines or plot points, characters, etc.—and are proud to have in the show? 

Matthew B. Roberts: You know, that first writer's room was fun. It was fun to bring all the ideas and favorite parts because everybody had different things that they really liked about the book. And, to tell you the truth, that's how it works. You bond with certain parts of the story. I think the one thing that we felt very strongly about was can we tell this book the way it's meant to be told in the sense that Claire's narrative and inner journey is very big in these books. We had to go with the conceit, be bold and go, “We're just gonna do voice over.” It’s something that we don't keep up with all the time now because Claire has people to talk to. It's one of the reasons why, not only did we love the Murtagh character, but Murtagh gave Claire and Jamie someone to talk to when you're trying to get out of the head. We always say you can't film a thought and because so much of Claire's emotional journey is in her internal dialogue and monologues, we had to figure out how to get that out. We just dove into the conceit. But we learned our lesson in the first season. We had probably too many and they were too long, so we'd have to pause shooting and the actors would have to just stand around because we knew 45 seconds of voice over would come and we went, we can't do that anymore. So, we had to struggle and figure out, alright, what's the best way of doing this? Let's just play the action and see where it fits. So rather than make room for it, we kind of calibrated it in the timings.

Maril Davis: You could say I fought for Caitríona but I wasn't the only one. I remember we were about three weeks away from filming. We had potential other choices and we could have easily made the call to pick one of the other actresses for the role because production was really on us. It's very unusual to start in 2-3 weeks on a shoot this big and not have an actress. And Costume needed a Claire. I just remember saying to Ron in our office, if we don't get these two right, if we don't get the right Jamie and Claire, if they don't have the right chemistry, we're never going to succeed. So, I felt very strongly that we had to wait for the right person. And literally the next day, Toni Graphia sent me an email saying I found this woman named Caitríona. We got so many casting tapes. She was in an area we hadn't seen, maybe overlooked, or maybe that hadn't been presented to us for some reason. We all watched her and instantly knew and flew her out to Los Angeles. It went very fast from there.

What has been the most difficult thing about adapting Outlander for the screen?

Matthew B. Roberts: The challenge is to take what is meant for a book, that medium, and bring it to life. We simply cannot do certain scenes the way they're written just from a sheer time and budget standpoint. And you know it as soon as you read it, you go “God, I wish we could do this.” And you know you can't. We can't get this many people, or they can't build this many costumes in this amount of time. So, we pick the moments. … Oddly enough in Season 3, the Battle of Culloden technically isn't in the book. We find Jamie after. On the first pass, Culloden was really big and we realized we couldn’t film it, not the way it was written, so we had to figure out a way of bringing all that emotion to the screen but still have the feeling of a battle. That's what I think we've done really well. I think the group has done such a magnificent job because we don't need to show all the battles, we need to show the emotion and why it matters to Jamie and Claire. Once we went, “It's not about the fighting and the blowing up... It's about who we care about in these battles, focus on them,” then we brought down the scale a little bit and filmed what was important. 

Sam Heughan filming the Battle of Culloden (Episode 301).

Maril Davis: I think a lot of seasons have been challenging. I actually think this last season has been the most challenging. Every season has its challenge but some seasons just work out so well. I’m incredibly proud of Season 7. We didn't know if we were ending with Season 7 so we took two books and had so much material to choose from. The first season was also very easy because it was so easy to follow the books. … Season 8 has been challenging not only because we're ending before the books (so that is its own challenge) but it's also the last season. There's a lot of pressure. I feel like this book is a set up for the next book and its finale. So it's been challenging to try to go out on a season when you don't have the ending at hand.

Maril Davis and the crew on the set of Season 8 (from her Instagram @nightmaril)

Looking back at when you first started production, what were the main challenges or surprises of shooting Season 1 in Scotland?

Maril Davis: When we first started here, we were told that everyone shoots 11 day fortnights. So, for the first 3 months, we were in 11 day fortnights. For Americans who don't know, we shot the full week through Saturday and only had Sunday off, basically. It was very difficult and I think we were all dragging. Then we found out they do 11 day fortnights in the UK but usually on very short runs, shows that are 4 or 5 episodes long. About 3 months in, we went back to a more traditional 5 days a week and that was a huge relief. It was also very challenging in the beginning with the weather in very remote areas. But I honestly look back on those days and those are some of my happiest memories. I think we felt like we were all in it together and doing something really special. Even though it was tough, I really cherish those first seasons.

Sam Heughan and Caitríona Balfe during the filming of Season 1.

Matthew B. Roberts: It’s been a pretty amazing transformation, I'd say. When we started out, the studios that we have now manufactured parts for cell phones or something. It was just hollowed out empty warehouses and we transformed it over a decade. Now, it's essentially a working studio. We have construction. We have a mill. We have costume warehouses. We have prop warehouses. We can fabricate almost anything there. We also now have seven stages. We started off with two. And they weren't soundproofed! When it rained really hard we had to yell “cut” and we had to open up the doors to get the smoke out because we used real candles. Now we have extractors. It's soundproofed. It's a modern studio. We've really come a long way! Also with the crews. The first year, we brought crews up from different parts of the UK and once Outlander became established, so many of the Scots who had had to leave home to work came back and they got to go to their homes and families every night. They could work on a show that they were proud of, or I think they're proud of.  

Our cast of characters have become so iconic! Do you have any favorite memories from seeing any of the cast embody their characters for the first time? 

Matthew B. Roberts: We started in the writers’ room a year before we started filming. We had lived with these characters for a long time. I'd read all the books up to that point multiple times before we even started. So, I was fighting what I'd already imagined. And then you have people stepping on the stage and you go, “Is that Jamie Fraser? Is that Claire Fraser?” … You get something that you didn't expect and that you didn't even know you wanted. I didn't know I wanted Murtagh to live on but after seeing Duncan play him, I did. And that just happened over and over and over. I mean, think about what Lauren Lyle did with Marsali. She brought her to life and then you just keep writing to that. You dig those stories out of the books and go, “Let’s tell those stories.” That happened over and over again. Jamie and Claire were always going to be the through line. The more Caitríona and Sam embodied them and brought their own take to the characters, we found that current in the river. You go, “Let's take that path because that's the way they're taking the characters and those are the stories you want to tell.” So you mine those out of the book.

Maril Davis: Caitríona and Sam, obviously… seeing them together for the first time in Los Angeles. They met for the first time at Sony Studios. They have a very small screening room that's outside one of the office buildings and that's where they first met the first time. We all just were like, “Oh, this is really going to work. That was amazing.” Also, we cast Sam first, so Sam was able to read with some of our other cast besides Caitríona. I was in London once with him and got to see him read with Graham McTavish for the first time. It was really exciting seeing their chemistry. It came down to Graham and another actor, and their chemistry really popped on the screen. What was also interesting about that casting session is that we had Sam read with Laura Donnelly. At the time, she was a potential Claire contender. As soon as we saw her we all were like, this is our Jenny. She was fabulous, so she could’ve easily done any part, but just seeing them together and realizing “we have Jamie's sister” was also really special

What has been the most surprising thing that has happened to you, or to your careers, because of Outlander?  

Matthew B. Roberts: I don't know if I can answer “surprising.” I can answer that Outlander's given me a lot. I've gone from Producer to Showrunner and it's given me the ability to do a lot more in my career than I might have imagined ten years ago. It's given me a new family in Scotland that I didn't know that I could have. I've built lifetime friendships. We talk a lot about Outlander being a family. We've established this place, this studio, and so much of our crew that's worked from the very first episode are still here. Some have gone out, but they come back. I think it's because we built a really caring family. That's why we've had so many babies born. If Outlander ever comes back in ten years, we have a full crew just ready to go!

Maril Davis: I was talking to Diana Gabaldon the other day because we can see the light at the end of the tunnel, although that's not an appropriate way to describe this ending because light at the end of the tunnel means you're almost done and you're pleased about it. It's such a bittersweet ending. We're all incredibly sad. It's been a tough season because of the emotions of it all. But I was just thanking her because I truly feel like I'm not sure I'll have this experience again on another show. I have other shows, and I will have other shows, but I feel like this was, in a weird way, my first, along with a lot of other people's first—Sam, Caitríona, Toni, Matt… so many of us. This was the thing that really launched us all and we did it together. The TV industry has changed and now there's so much more saturation that this is just a very special one. When you're involved with something like this and you get a crew, cast, and writers you love… we all realized how special this was. That's one of the reasons it's hard to leave it, because it feels like such a defining moment for everyone's career at the same time and you don't often get that in this industry. You certainly don't often get 10 years of making a show.

After all these years, is there anything that you haven’t been asked about Outlander that you’d like to talk about?

Matthew B. Roberts: We get asked a lot, you know, what are funny moments or what are your favorite moments? I don't have favorites. I think that every episode is supposed to do the thing it's supposed to do and if you take one away, then you can't get to the next one… So many of us care about this show and I mean deeply care about it. We put our hearts and souls into this show for 10 years, 12 years for some of us that started on day one, and we want to see it all the way through. Is it important that people like it? Of course. But I think it's more important that it means something to them.

Maril Davis: Oh my god. What question have I never been asked? I will say, when you're not an actor, you get asked the questions that are a little more dry. You don't get the fun things, like, who cracks up the most in the writers' room? Actually, I'm not sure anyone totally cracks up. I don't know if that would be me. But we don't get asked the fun questions. We get asked: What's the tone of this season? Can you describe this season in 10 words?

Okay Maril, here’s one fun question to close us out then… obviously, the costumes on Outlander have been amazing. If you could steal any of them, which would you steal?

Maril Davis: Claire, in the first season, had this amazing riding coat with fur trim that she then gave to Brianna and that Brianna wore. I love that. And, I mean, the Dior suit. It feels like you gotta go with that.

The riding coat and the "Dior Suit."

Reddit

[starlightlacrimosazpsff]

꧁cσηsтεℓℓαтιση gεηεsιs꧂

​

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓶 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭, 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓼𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓫𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮, 𝓱𝓪𝓼 𝓯𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓱 𝓾𝓹 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓿𝓮.

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓭𝔀𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼, 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓲𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓮.

The idea || The follow up ideas

🄿🄻🄰🅈🄻🄸🅂🅃 || 🄿🄻🄰🅈🄻🄸🅂🅃

⚜ ⓅⓇⒺⒻⒶⒸⒺ ⚜

》 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄: ❝𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬❞

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 || The Outlanders

》 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈: ❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐬❞

𝐂���� || The Legend of a Creator

𝐂𝟐 || The Seven Sovereigns

𝐂𝟑 || Blessing of Seven

𝐂𝟒 || Into the Lunar Palace

𝐂𝟓 || King of the Dragons

𝐂𝟔 || Dynasty of Mythos

𝐂𝟕 || A Timeless Dragon

𝐂𝟖 || The Unexpected Guest

𝐂𝟗 || Four Decades of War

𝐂𝟏𝟎 || Memoirs of Seven

》 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈: ❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

》 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈: ❝𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲❞

》 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕: ❝𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐕𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐬❞

》 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕: ❝𝐈𝐧 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲❞

》 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟎: ❝𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬❞

》 𝐃𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐒, 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃, & 𝐏𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐒

》 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒: ❝𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤❞

》 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒: ❝𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐆𝐨𝐝❞

》 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄: ❝𝐀𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬❞

》 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐄: ❝𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐘𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰❞

©ɪɴᴛᴏᴛʜᴇɢᴇɴꜱʜɪɴᴡᴏʀʟᴅ || ©ꜱᴛᴀʀʟɪɢʜᴛᴀɴᴏɴ • Do not copy, repost, translate, or take heavy inspiration from my content without explicit permission. Please report any plagiarized copy posted by accounts that are not my indicated socials across other writing platforms. Some general feedback and constructive criticism are encouraged, and interactions are always appreciated. Reblogs and Comments also help. Thank you all for reading.

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

17: Chanson Triste

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle, life as lovers

Warnings: death, cemetery, angst

a/n: I'm back!!!! God, you guys have no idea how much I missed Violet and Lando, I was so excited while writing this chapter. I hope everyone is doing amazing, having good days. I came from a really really needed break and from a trip I was so excited to make, and with a lot of ideas for this story. But here you have some bad news... I can see the end of this story! Is not close yet, some things have to happen, but that means too that THE chapter is coming :)

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I knew I was going to be in the mouth of everyone. Dating him, a well known driver in Europe that drives for the second most famous team of the world, would mean that my social media would be full of notifications, of people sending requests of following, of attempts of messages. I knew that once we landed back in London, people would recognize us and follow us. 

But I have to love the present. I have to keep being who I am, I can't show a weakness because they would be attacking it immediately. If I want to be with Lando, I have to fight against the odds to make them see that I don't care what people say about me.

“I don't want to leave tomorrow…” I sighed, laying on the bed and looking through the window, observing the pyramids.

“Me neither” I heard him sigh, laying on his side and kissing my arm. “Maybe we can stay some more days…”

“You know we can't” I sighed looking at him, smiling weakly. “My worry is growing and I need to see Eloise. I'm really worried, she's not answering my texts or calls…”

“Did you call her parents too?” he smiled weakly, rubbing my back softly. 

“They decline my calls…” I whisper, sadly. “I just… What if she's really mad at me because I chose to stay with you instead of talking with her? I mean, I did explain to her why I did that, what happened… But she didn't answer, just left me on read”

“It will be okay, love” Lando sighed, kissing my shoulder. “You want me to go with you? So we can talk with her and explain to her…”

“I don't know, I think I want to do it alone” I smiled weakly. “We have to talk, many things have happened since last time I saw her and I just want to have some time alone with her”

“I understand” he nodded, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me to his chest. 

“You are the best” I smiled, kissing his lips softly, cupping his jaw with my hand. “You know, I think we broke the internet some days ago”

“Oh, yeah. I know” he laughed, making me smile when I felt his chest move with his laugh. “My manager texted me saying that people just went crazy, kinda”

“I just… I don't want to be like those girlfriends that are models and influencers” I said. “I mean, they are perfect. Every time I talked with some of them I felt like an outlander, kinda. They just dressed with important brands like Gucci, Dior, Tommy Hilfiger… and the most expensive clothing I have is a dress I bought for a gala in the museum, and it's nothing compared to what they wore”

“I know you are not like them, Violet” he said, kissing my head. “And that's what I love about you. You are natural, careless. You are like a breath of fresh air for me, really. You keep my feet in the ground”

“That's cute” I smile looking up at him. “I just… I guess I want to be worth it? Yesterday I read some of the comments of the posts and they kept repeating that finally there's a girlfriend that is not famous. Like, I'm normal, I guess. Not an influencer, not an athlete, not a model”

“And that's perfect, really” he smiled. 

“But that made them think that I want you for your money” I smiled weakly. “I mean, if they say that, I can just take a screenshot of my bank account and show the money I have. But that's not what I was saying…”

“I just imagined you posting on Instagram that screenshot with a caption like… I'm not poor, I have a job. Go mind your own business” he interrupted me laughing, making me laugh too. 

“You and I both know that I'm capable of doing that” I laugh. “But what I was saying! Why are they so determined to say that every girlfriend is with their partner just because of money and fame? Why can't they think that it is because of something else, like love?”

“Because… I don't know” he sighed, brushing my hair with his fingers. “I guess they want drama, gossip. They think that a love story is not dramatic or important for a driver. They just want to make and believe their own narrative and take things out of context”

“That kinda sucks” I whisper.

“It does, yeah…” he sighed. “But I don't care about what they think. I only care that after every race I'll have someone waiting for me. I made many mistakes before, like letting them get in my mind and make me push away people that cared for me. I won't make the same mistake again, I will fight for us”

“I love you, Lando” I smiled, hugging him tight. 

“Tomorrow I will take you to a place before we leave” he said. “So I want you to take that white dress you bought the other day at the market”

“Are you going to propose?” I laughed. “Isn't that a little soon? I don't know, wait for next year maybe. We have been dating for a week!”

“No, silly!” he laughed. “But I'll keep that in mind”

“Idiot” I laughed softly.

He just held me, both of us watching the pyramids before falling asleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, after I woke up I grabbed my phone, checking if I had any answer from Eloise. But like the last few days, I didn't have messages from her.

“I'm sure she's fine, Violet” I heard Landon whisper, kissing my shoulder. 

“It's just… I feel something is wrong. We never have been this long without talking. I just want her to send me whatever…” I whispered.

I heard Lando sigh and wrapping his arms around me tightly, making me take a deep breath and close my eyes, getting comfortable in his arms.

The next morning he woke me up, peppering soft kisses all over my shoulders and neck, rubbing his hand over my back in soft circles. His smile was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes, making me answer him the same way.

“Good morning, beautiful” he whispered, making me chuckle softly and hide my face on his bare chest, pressing a soft kiss on his skin. “Ready to do one last visit?”

“Mhm” I nodded, wrapping my arm around him. 

We just got up and while the room service came with our breakfast, we put out clothes back in the suitcases, making sure they were ready and sent to the reception so we don't have to come back before leaving. 

I looked at the white dress, smiling. I have no idea what he wants to do, where are we going now. But somehow I was excited about it, I was excited because I saw him excited about being in this place. I'm excited because he was so interested in things I like. He looked at me with a smile while he nodded, paying attention to everything I explained to him. And it made me fall even more for him, if that was possible.

“You ready?” he smiled, watching how I tied my hair on a braid after hanging my bag on my shoulder. “Let's go”

I laugh softly, walking out with him and going to the main door of the hotel. A van was waiting for us, ready to take us to the place he planned to go. He held my hand all the time, rubbing soft circles on my knuckles.

“Where are we going?” I asked him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“You'll see” he whispered. “Just be patient, we are close”

I laugh softly and nod, looking out of the window and enjoying the land that surrounded us. After a few minutes, the car stopped.

“Let's go” he smiled, opening the door and getting out of the car before me.

I smiled at him, holding his hand as he helped me get out of the van. I looked around surprised, recognizing this place.

“No you didn't” I laughed softly.

“Oh yeah” he smirked, hiding my hand tightly and walking with me. “You know what this temple means?”

“It's Hathor’s temple” I nodded, looking around and smiling. “Egyptian goddess of the sky, music, joy, dance and love”

“And you told me that she was associated with Isis, right?” he said, wrapping his arm around me. “The goddess of the loyalty and the maternal love”

“Mhm” I nodded.

“Well, I want to make a promise, in front of her” he said, holding my hand and stopping right in front of one of the many statues of the goddess.

“Lando” I laughed softly, watching how he grabbed something from the pocket of his jeans, making me swallow the lump and laugh nervously. 

“I want to promise you that I will treat you how you deserve to be treated. I promise that I will never hurt you or touch you when you don't want to. I promise that I will never make you cry. I promise that I will be only thinking about you, when I wake up, during the day and at night. I promise to cherish you and make you happy and fight whoever dares to make you feel sad”

“Lando…” I smiled softly, feeling my eyes getting wet when I saw him open his hand, showing me a silver ring with two small rocks placed next to the other.

“This is my promise. I'll give you this ring to seal my promise of loving you forever. You owe my heart since the day I first saw you” he said while he put the ring on my ring finger. “This ring has our birthstones, together. Because I really think that we were born to be together, that you are my soulmate, Violet. And now that I found you I will never let you go. I won't leave you”

His words sank in my heart, filling my chest with a warm flame he only knows how to turn on. His touch is delicate, how he holds my hand while I admire the beautiful ring with both stones, topaz and and tanzanite, together.

“Idiot, you are going to make me cry and you just promised me that you won't make me do it” I laughed softly, wiping the little tears of joy that were running down my cheeks. 

“Come here” he laughed, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close to him, heart by heart.

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mclaren it was so nice having you during the testings and the launch with us!

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Driving through the road that takes me to my childhood village was bittersweet. The first year I was away for my studies I was excited to come back and finally be on my childhood bed with my family again, but as years went by, that feeling started to disappear and it turned more into an obligation rather than something I used to do for pleasure.

Once my life was in order after coming back from the trip with Lando and both of us got used to living around the other, I took some days off from work and forced myself to grab my car and drive home. 

The past few days I tried to call Eloise again, as well as her family. But again, none of them answered. She only has her parents, her family is not as big as mine with grandparents that are still alive, uncles and aunts and cousins. That's why she always loved to spend time at my house during holidays, because she had more people around besides her parents.

As I drove past the signal that indicated the main entry of the village, I saw a few flowers on the ground, as well as marks of rubber of the tires that lead to the side of the road. And watching that made me feel shivers running down my spine.

When I parked my car in front of my house I looked at the house next to it, to her house. The light of her room is turned off, even the curtains are closed. Her car is not parked next to the garage.

If she's not here, then where?

I sigh, walking towards the main door of her house and pressing the doorbell, sighing when I noticed the lights were turned off.

“Hello? Eloise, I want to talk!”

Seconds later the door opened, and my smile dropped when I found her mother looking at me. I was surprised to find her wearing dark clothes, always used to see her wearing bright and neutral colors. Her gaze is not even the same, and the smile she always drew when I came to their house is no longer there.

“What are you doing here?” she frowned, her voice sounding rougher than I expected. “You are not welcomed here anymore”

“What? But… Jane, I want to talk with Eloise… I-”

“Leave this house now! You already did enough. How dare you come back here after everything you did to her? Are you insane?!”

“But… I just…”

“I don't want to see you” she groaned, closing the door on my face.

What did just happen?

I frowned, trying to call again, but I was  answered with silence. I sighed, giving up and walked to my house, opening the door and closing it behind me.

“Lottie, is that you?”

I smiled weakly and sighed when I recognized the voice of my grandma, so I walked towards the living room. She was there, on her chair next to the fireplace and whatever she was knitting. The moment she saw me I could see her face light up, smiling softly and leaving both needles on her lap and opening her arms, inviting me to a hug.

“I'm home, nana” I whispered, kneeling to be at her height and hugging her. “Did Eloise come by? It's been a while since I talked with her…”

“Oh, little Lottie…” she whispered. “You came late, my girl”

“Late? Why?” I frowned, pulling away from the hug and looking at her. 

“She's no longer here” she smiled weakly.

“What? Then where? She lives here”

Eloise's dream since she was little was to be the owner of the restaurant we always visited when we were little. Everytime we got out of school, we went to that place to have a chocolate milkshake while we did our homework. It was our place, sitting on the fourth table that is next to the door, facing the window and with views to the park. 

In that restaurant, during summer, she worked there to make money. She was a waitress, a cashier, and she cleaned the place. But what she loved the most was the moments she worked in the kitchen. She discovered her passion for cooking in the stoves of that restaurant and it helped her decide that she wanted to be a professional chef.

When we moved to London, we lived together during the first years of our studies. She went to the cooking academy while I went to the university. And when she finished her years of formation, she started working on restaurants until she gained a name, a reputation.

Her dream was always going back to our village and make that restaurant a place tourists would go to experience the gastronomy of our country. She always wanted to be a reference in the kitchen.

“Maybe she's in the restaurant” I frowned, getting up and looking around. 

Maybe that's why her car is not parked. Because she stayed longer in the restaurant, as usual.

“No, Violet”

I took a deep breath when I heard my cousin's voice behind me. Maya, the oldest one, already married and with a kid. 

“Come on, will someone tell me what is going on? Why did Jane say that I'm no longer welcomed? I'm so lost! Where is Eloise?”

“Let me take you somewhere” she smiled weakly, grabbing the keys of her car.

I frown and look at my grandma, watching how she nodded with a sad smile on her lips. Somehow, what is happening it's not good, I could tell because of the shivers that were running all over my body.

I followed Maya, getting inside her car and watching out of the window, hoping she would take me to the restaurant where I thought Eloise would be working. But when she turned to the left, going to the road that goes to the church and next to it to the cemetery, I heart skipped a beat. 

No, right? This can't be happening.

“Where are we going?” I frowned, feeling how my hands started to get sweaty, feeling how my heart was beating in my throat making me feel nauseous.

Maya didn't say anything, she only looked at me with a sad smile while she parked the car. She got out and waited for me to follow her, something that took me around a minute. But she waited for me, she stood in front of the car with her hands inside of the pockets of her black coat.

“Come on” she sighed, biting her lip and walking.

Every step I made sounded louder in my ears and it increased the anxiety I was feeling. That anxiety started to become panic and fear. 

“Here” Maya sighed, standing in front of a gravestone.

I didn't want to read what it said. I didn't want to know who was buried there. It was recent, the smell of flowers was still recent and I could see that the marble was still shining.

“No” I mumbled, feeling how I was choking with a scream. “No, no. It can't be. No. You are joking, right? This is a cruel joke. Eloise is working in the restaurant and she just wanted to play around, making me pay for something I don't even know I've done. Please, Maya…”

“I’m sorry” she mumbled. “It happened some weeks ago… But Harry came and said that you two stopped being friends and something about you betraying her”

“No!” I exclaimed, looking at her and letting my tears fall. “None of that! Why would I betray her? Just because I chose myself first? Harry is the problem! He manipulated me so many times!”

“May I remind you that you couldn't stop saying that you loved him?” she said, and somehow that made me flinch. “That he saved you from being raped? That he was always next to you and that you felt so bad and jealous because you wanted to be in Eloise's shoes?”

“That was before I knew the truth…”

“So what? Now that you are having a love story worthy of a fairy tale with that driver you think that you can forget about your family and friends?!”

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. Maybe she's right… Maybe I was too focused on Lando and I stopped caring for my family… No. Lando has nothing to do with this. He showed me how it is to be loved, he showed me how it is to be loved by a family.

“I tried” I whisper. “I tried to call her, to talk to her. Lando told them to leave the trip because of things that happened between him and Harry. And Eloise wasn't the best friend during those days either. But I never stopped texting her and calling her. She was the one that ghosted me…”

“Look, I'm sorry, okay?” she sighed. “Eloise was a good girl, she didn't deserve this ending”

I swallowed thickly and looked at the flowers. I smiled sadly. There are roses on it, her favorite flower. 

“Can you leave me alone?” I whisper.

I heard her walk away without saying anything, and when I felt I was alone, I let out a sob. 

How on Earth could this happen? When? Why? Why her? Why did no one tell me? My own family forgot to tell me that my childhood best friend is dead. Those tyre’s marked at the entry of the village and the flowers… It happened that way? 

I felt incredibly nauseous and the need to throw up was real, making me run to a tree and bow, emptying my stomach. I tried to breathe, but the tears and the burn on my throat made it impossible.

“Just… why?” I cried, looking back at the grave. “Why? It's not fair! I didn't betray you. Did you feel like that? I chose myself first, for the first time, Eloise. I chose love first… Why did you never answer my calls and texts? It wasn't my fault Harry blackmailed Lando, it wasn't my fault at all… And still you believed him. If there was one who was betrayed, that was me”

I wanted to blame her. But… Is she the one to blame? She loved Harry, she followed him. Of course she did. I would do the same. 

“It's not fair at all, Eli” I mumble. “What am I supposed to do now? I just… God. Who am I supposed to talk with about my problems? About my life? Life is unfair, why the hell did you have to leave this way? Who am I going to tell that Lando and I are dating? That he promised me he's going to marry me? Who am I going to ask to be my maid of honor? What the hell am I supposed to do without you, Eloise?”

It hurts so bad. It hurt realizing that she's not here anymore. It hurt so bad realizing that she won't be next to me anymore, that she won't make her dreams come true.

“I'm nothing without you…”

It hurts. But what hurts the most is that for the first time I experienced what is it to lose someone you love, someone that was important for you. 

“I just… I'll miss you, Eli, so much. I already do”

I took a deep breath and just let the tears fall while I fixed the flowers on her grave, tracing with my fingers the letters of it.

“In loving memory of Eloise Taylor. Born on the 23 of October of 1999” I whisper, feeling a knot on my throat as I traced the next words of it. “Dead… The 27 of December of 2023”

-

I felt empty, so empty.

When I returned to London,instead of going back home, I went somewhere else.

The park where Eloise and I went to spend our afternoons together was close to the first apartment I ever lived in, with her. It was on the other side of London, in a small neighborhood. I sat on a bench, right next to a streetlight, and hugged myself. 

I didn't notice how long I stayed there until I looked at my phone, reading the notifications of messages and missed calls.

Lando🧡: how are things going? Did you talk with her?

Lando🧡: text me once you are coming back home, okay? I'll make something for dinner

Lando🧡: Babe?

Lando🧡: is everything okay? I'm worried

Lando🧡: Baby, please answer. Where are you? It's late and it's getting dark

Lando🧡 missed calls (3)

I took a deep breath and smiled weakly, pressing the call button and placing the phone on my phone.

“Violet? Thank God!”

“Lando…”

“Where are you? Are you still in your village? You are staying with Eloise? Did you talk?”

“Lando, she…”

“God, I was so worried” he sighed, relieved.

“She's dead”

“What? What did you say?”

“Eloise” I mumble, sniffling softly. “Eloise is dead… she's no longer here. She… she died”

Silence. He was quiet. I could hear his breathing, how it got stuck on his throat. 

“Where are you”

“I… I need to be alone” I whisper.

“Violet please…”

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath, telling him the address of where I am. He didn't end the call, he stayed on it, making me hear everything he did, how he walked out of the apartment, how he went to his car and turned the engine on. 

“There you are” he sighed, ending the call and sitting next to me.

I felt his arms wrapping me and pulling me to his chest, holding me tight.

“How did it happen?” he mumbled, brushing my hair with his fingers.

“She… she crashed” I whisper. “She was going home and the road was frozen…”

“Oh…” 

“What am I going to do without her?” I whisper “I… I feel like someone took something away from me, a part of my heart. A-and she left thinking that I betrayed her… she left and no one told me because Harry said…”

“Harry knew?” Lando frowned. “And he didn't tell you?”

“N-no…” I mumble, looking up at him. “He told her parents that we argued… That's why they didn't call me”

Lando took a deep breath and kissed my forehead. He held my hand and kissed it.  

“This just made me realize how scared I am to lose you” I said looking at him.

“You won't lose me” he said, cupping my cheek and resting his forehead against mine, closing his eyes. “You won't lose me, ever. I made a promise, remember? I promised that I will never let you go, that I will never leave you”

“What am I supposed to do, Lando?” I whisper. “I lost Eloise because of a car… How am I supposed to feel knowing that you work in one? I just…”

“You will never lose me” he repeated, squeezing my hand. “I'll make sure of that. I'll start every race and finish it to be next to you. You are my checkered flag. I'll race as much as I have to just to get out of the car and hold you”

“Just… never leave me” I whisper. “Never, okay?”

“Never” he nodded. “You have my heart, I can't live without it. Just keep it safe with you and everything will be alright”

taglist

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[sgiandubh]

Ugh, your recent anons, we get it, Cait is the best actress on television and Sam's the worst actor. But for the record anon, Money Monster with all the Oscar winners you could shake a stick at was not good and she was forgettable in it, Ford vs. Ferrari she was in it for 10 minutes and was almost an afterthought. Belfast obviously was the part that, while not making her a household name was a breakthrough role for her. I think Sam picked crappy movies, I think he took a lot of things because he was concerned that he wouldn't work again and it was offered and fit the schedule. Although, I liked TCND. I do like how he has said recently that he has said no to a lot of things and he understands that the next thing he picks after Outlander is really important. For you and these hateful anons (for different reasons) perhaps that breakthrough is out there for him and people can stop doubting his ability or maybe he'll stop acting and they can find something else to complain about.

Dear Decent Anon,

Thank you for a balanced feedback in this insane inbox, at last!

I am confident the breakthrough is out there for both of them, but very skeptical about haters' ability to stop hating. By now, those women need their daily fix, no matter what 🙄

Whatever he might choose to do, he will probably do it well. He's a man with a plan - always was.

I have nothing else to add to your common sense rant. You're always welcome on this page, Anon, I like the way you think!

[shadowsofdread]

dragging out the conspiracy board. so vitiate's whole plan, right, was for - one way or another - the empire and the republic to be eradicated and leave only his perfect society, the eternal empire, left standing in a galaxy without competition. if we accept that zakuul was in the plan from the beginning, there would be a genuine reason why he kept trying to blow up the galaxy back in the base game.

but his plans kept getting thwarted by tiny little bugs (the jedi knight), so he has a buffet on ziost and jumps ship back to zakuul ... for why?

wookieepedia (because i can't fucking remember the details of KOTXX, only the major plot beats and even those have gotten fuzzy) says it was to "revitalize the valkorion body", whatever the fuck that means, and frankly i don't entirely buy, for the following reason:

valkorion must be hundreds of years old already, since he was the one who united the tribes of zakuul and built its city from the ground up - quite literally. there was also finding the eternal fleet. even with vitiate pouring resources into zakuul from the sith empire, this had to take at least upwards of 100 years or so. though we see valkorion aging in the cinematics, i'm kind of wary of the canonicity of the cinematic trailers. but, regardless -

but, okay, fine, some of that could've gone to valkorion and superseding whatever was left of valkorion's consciousness. after all, unlike vitiate's previous vessels, the emperor is Pretty Fucking Dead (aside from his original body, that's different) after we kill valkorion in the dreamscape. he had hopped into the outlander's body, yes, but it seemed like he couldn't go anywhere else - he didn't have the same freedom of movement as he once did.

but like ... dunno. twirls hair. perhaps it's the endwalker inspiration still churning around in the back of my mind, i'm deeply fascinated by ziost and perhaps ... expanding a little on the cosmic horror potential of it all and, like. ziost did not really seem to take energy from vitiate. perhaps at first, but as more and more fell to his influence and wrought violence upon each other, it was like a positive feedback loop. and if he could do that, why risk zakuul and the eternal fleet at all? why not gorge himself on the refuse of this miserable, blighted galaxy - take advantage of the hardship, the despair, the fear, and use it to fuel his conquest. nihilus with different mechanisms, if i understand that guy correctly (i need to get back to playing kotor 2 someday)

again, the ultimate question of what gets done about vitiate is ... shrugs. but i'm getting there. don't ask me how much i think about this rewrite.

[writingquestionsanswered]

hi!! i'm currently writing a story which revolves majorly around time travel, specifically to the past. however i'm facing a problem of not being able to describe it properly, i don't exactly know how to write about it. do you have any tips that could help me? thank you!

Trouble Describing Time Travel

I'm making a leap here in assuming that when you say "I'm having trouble describing it," the "it" in question is time travel. If you meant something else, please feel free to resubmit with clarification. :)

Time travel--in terms of traveling back to the past or forward to the future--is a fictional concept that has appeared in storytelling for centuries. It has been depicted a million different ways... some characters travel through time in a "time machine," like in The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, Hot Tub Time Machine, Back to the Future, Doctor Who, and Timeless. Some people travel backward or forward in time by stepping through some sort of time portal, such as in the Terminator universe, Outlander, Mirai, and Kate & Leopold.) Some people travel via a special device like a clock or a pendant. In Somewhere in Time, the main character used self-hypnosis to travel to the past. In Octavia Butler's Kindred, the main character is pulled through time every time something particular happens in the time she's linked to.

My first point is that how you describe time travel depends first on the method you use... are they using a time machine? A time portal? A time travel device? Something else?

My second point is that how you specifically portray and describe time travel through that method is entirely up to you. Since time machines, time portals, time devices, and other methods of time travel aren't real, there's no right or wrong in how you portray them or describe them. It's entirely fictional. As long as you make it make sense in your story, that's all that matters.

Your job as a writer is to use your imagination to envision the circumstances you want to illustrate. You may look to other stories for inspiration and ideas. You might even find that inspiration in real life. Either way, the functionality of time travel in your story, and how you specifically describe how it looks and feels to the characters, is entirely up to you as the writer! Have fun with it! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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[zepskies]

There's a lot packed in that 8K, huh? 😂 Thank you so much for diving in -- I'm SO glad you enjoyed the ride, even in the deeply angsty heartbreak moments. 🥲

And yeeeep, that ending... 😬😬

Outlander - Part 3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Back into the saddle, so to speak. 😏 Plus, we have a very special guest joining the cast...

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 8.1K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, blood and character death.

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: A Warrior’s Death

Mila has never enjoyed being an early riser, but sometimes, it has its benefits. In the rare times that she wakes up before Dean, she’s taken to counting the small nicks and scares that mark his body, from his chest and arms and back, down to his calloused hands. They mark him as a warrior.

Today, she slips her fingers through his brown hair. It’s grown a little more, and it’s easy to spike wildly in all directions. His breathing shifts from the deeper, slower ones of sleep to shallower ones.

“What’re you doing?” he grumbles, despite the way his lips twitch at a smile. His eyes are still closed. 

“It’s morning, and I’m lonely,” Mila teases. She leans in to kiss his chin, then slowly and sensuously across his prickly jawline.

“Can’t you entertain yourself until the sun comes up all the way?” he says, in a voice laden with grit and sleep.

“That is what I’m doing,” is her cheeky reply.

Dean releases a deep breath that’s more like a sigh. Mila continues, smoothing her hand across his shoulder and squeezing warmly as she makes her way down his neck with kisses. She takes to nibbling his skin, then soothing it with her tongue. He makes a throaty sound of pleasure, gripping her hip.

“Wake up, my love,” she whispers.

Dean feels the shape of her smile against his skin. His lips tug upwards too, before he chuckles and finally succumbs to her wily ways. He twists onto his back and takes her with him, guiding her leg to slip over his lap. She squeals in surprise to be moved, but it ends with her smiling down at him as she straddles his hips. His hands travel under her the thin fabric of her shift and squeeze the supple flesh of her thighs.

Her fingertips drag down his chest, teasing his nipples along the way. She begins to tease him in other ways too, subtly rolling her hips, rocking against his hardening length. She wears a heated, playful look he knows all too well. He smirks up at her lazily.

“You’ve been more demanding than usual,” he remarks. His hold on her hips tightens, encouraging her to grind down harder onto him. He groans in pleasure at the feeling of her bare, wet folds against his clothed erection. Still, he can’t help but tease her too. “You already got what you wanted. I got you good and pregnant.”

His knees slide up to press against her ass, angling her more firmly against his cock. She hums in pleasure at the feeling of him, nice and hard and ready to fill her. It doesn’t matter that he’s right.

She’s pregnant, and has been for over a month now, according to Eyota. Even so, Mila still craves her husband. She wants to take advantage of a good morning, one where she doesn’t feel sick to her stomach.

“Yes,” she agrees, “but you think that means your duty is done?”

She takes his hands from her thighs and moves them up her body underneath her shift, until he can palm her breasts. He obliges her, rolling the sensitive buds under his thumbs.

Dean chuckles deeply. “Haven’t you had enough?” 

“I will say when I’ve had enough,” she quips back. 

He smiles, more genuinely this time. “Yes, ma’am.”

He takes back control of his hands. One holds her steady by her waist, while the other drags back down her body, brushing over the thatch of hair covering her mound. His fingers slip between her wet folds, and they find what they’re looking for.

She utters a keening moan when the pads of his fingers probe gently at her entrance, pushing inside for a few pulsing beats. He gathers some wetness there and begins to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves above her entrance. She grinds her hips down as she tries to press into his hand. A shudder of pleasure tingles down her spine and throbs deliciously in her core.  

She grips his arms tight. “Please,” she says, “I’m ready for you.”

“Already?” he smirks. “I’ve barely touched you.”

Instead of answering him, she drags down his pants herself and reaches for his heavy cock. He moans at her touch, demanding, but still careful as she pumps him to full readiness. Then she notches him at her entrance. Dean grabs her hips and slowly guides her over him in one smooth plunge.

Their breathing becomes more labored as they take beat, just to revel in the connection.

During the day, they both lead busy lives. They each do their part for the tribe to make sure there’s food to eat, clothes to wear, and that the tribe stays protected—but the time they spend together here doesn’t need to be rushed. This is their time.

Mila hesitates to move though, her hands flexing on his shoulders. Her thighs squeeze his hips experimentally.

“How should I move?” she asks in a whisper. “I’ve never…ridden you.”

Dean grins. He rubs her thighs encouragingly. “Trust your instincts, baby. Try just rocking on me.”

He helps her by guiding her hips in a smooth, rolling rhythm, in and out. Mila moans as the shallow friction builds a slow momentum inside her.

“See,” he pants, “you’re a natural.”

She smiles, her face warming in a blush. As she craves more, she becomes bolder, letting his cock drag out of her almost to its tip, before she pushes all the way back in. Dean utters a faltering moan, and tries not to let his eyes close in pleasure. He wants to keep watching the way she gets herself off on his cock, the way her full breasts bounce with her movements.

Dean’s hands slide up her back to feel the gentle slope. He leans up to kiss and suck at her tightened nipples, his teeth catching on them. She gasps and arches against him. Her nails scramble for purchase between his shoulder blades.

Dean chuckles into her skin. “So sensitive. Being so fucking good for me, huh baby?”

Mila nods, half out of her mind. He blazes an upward path, kissing and sucking between her breasts, along the line of her collarbone, and then at her neck. He stops there to suck hard at her pulse point, burying his fingers tightly in her hair.

She moans and clings to him as she rocks a harder rhythm on top of him. She chases her release, and tries to help him reach his. But when his fingers slip in between them to massage her clit again, she shudders deeply and gasps. “Dean.” Her inner walls clench tightly on his cock and begin to flutter and pulse around him.

He drives his hips up into her with a few wild, harsher thrusts with his own release. He grunts sharply into her neck as he spills deep inside her.

Mila holds him tightly to her while her heart races. She pants for breath, huffing because her hair has fallen into her eyes. Dean brushes the strands behind her ear as he too catches his breath. He lays back down and takes her with him, gratefully stroking her back.

“Well, good morning,” he says. His voice is like hot gravel. “Fuckin’ hell…”

She giggles breathlessly against his chest. By now she’s learned many of the English curse words. They often sound both harsh and funny to her. Though she knows that right now, it’s a compliment.

They lay together for a while, even after she untangles herself from him and grabs a washcloth to clean them both. She finds herself led back into Dean’s embrace under the warm furs. His large hand spans her lower belly, resting there.

“You want a boy or a girl?” he asks. His deep voice is still a bit coarse with sleep.

Mila considers his question while pillowing her cheek against her folded arms.

“I want to give you a son,” she says.

Dean’s lips twitch into a smile. He hums thoughtfully while he slips his fingers through her hair.

“I guess that means I’ll have to teach him things. Things about the world,” he says. She turns in his arms to face him.

“What would you teach him?” she asks, with a smile of her own. She asks the question not only because she genuinely wants to know, but because she likes the soft glow of optimism and possibilities reflected in Dean’s eyes. In some ways, he’s already different from the hardened soldier she first met. Or maybe she’s just continuing to learn more and more of who he really is—layer by layer.

“Well, how to learn from his mistakes, for one thing,” he says. “How to protect himself, and his family. How to survive, but also how to live.” He thinks about it a bit harder for a second.

“Come to think of it, I’d teach my daughter all that too,” he says. “So I guess I’ve got no preference.”

And we can always try again, he thinks.

“He will be strong, like his father,” Mila says. 

“Or like his mother,” Dean playfully replies. She smiles back, and she leans forward to kiss his lips. She cups his cheek with a gentle, loving hand. Dean squeezes her waist and pulls her tighter against him.

“Are you two going to sleep all day, or are you going to join the rest of the world and start working?” Šóta interrupts, loudly from outside their tipi. “The horses need to be fed, Horsemaster.” 

Dean and Mila break apart from the kiss, and they share a look, hers more annoyed than his. Her cousin has taken what she said to him before about being a leader to heart, if in some unexpected (and annoying) ways. 

She sighs, but unfortunately, Šóta has a point. It prompts them to get up and start getting dressed. 

“What do you got planned today?” Dean asks, while he tries to find a clean shirt. 

“I have some mending to do and laundry to take down. Then I will help my aunts skin the hides and prepare the vegetables for lunch and supper,” she says.  

He pauses, leveling her with a warning look. “Hey, remember to take it easy, all right. Don’t strain yourself.”

She just smiles and touches his cheek. This man is a protector in all senses, and it seems, also a worrier.

Dean takes pride in corralling the horses and making sure they’re fed, brushed, and given water. Just like he suspected would happen, Mato and Baby have been getting along a little too well. She’s now pregnant too.

Ironically enough, it means she’ll give birth to her foal around the time Eyota believes Mila will deliver their child, maybe a month or two after.

Ain’t that just life, he thinks.

There’s another colt that Dean has spent the past week breaking in. He’s wily and precocious, giving Dean a challenge, but that’s what he likes about the guy. 

“You’ve got spirit, kid, I’ll give you that,” Dean says. 

He has a rawhide lead tied around the horse’s neck while he runs around the corral. He’s waiting until the horse tires himself out, so Dean can really begin training him, getting him used to a bridle, teaching him verbal cues, and all the rest. 

Back at Fort Laramie, there were those like Colonel Sanderson, who believed that breaking a horse meant you had to break his independence, his spirit. Dean’s father had always taught him that a bond between him and an animal, a bond based on trust, will serve him better with a loyal horse rather than just an obedient one. He’s glad that the Lakota here share his views on horse rearing. 

At about mid-morning, Chatan comes over to inspect Dean’s progress. His ankle has healed, mostly, but he’s allowed Dean to take over the harder work when it comes to breaking the horses. Chatan is still teaching him their ways in training them, making bridles and simple saddles, and all the other ways they care for their horses here. He inspects Dean’s work with the colt and nods. 

“You’re doing well,” he says. 

That’s a big improvement from all the times he’s given Dean some form of correction or instruction. Dean is about to reply, when Šóta and Takoda come over the hill on horseback. Šóta calls for both Chatan and Dean—especially Dean. 

“You should see this,” Šóta says. 

“Are the other men coming?” Dean says, keeping his voice low as Baby plods along beside Šóta.

“No,” Šóta replies. “We must keep the group small.” 

Dean namely meant Otaktay, who still tries his best to ignore him.

Takoda has warmed up to him more though. He doesn’t call him Outlander anymore, let alone wašíču. He’s also the tribe’s best fisherman, and when they eat lunch together, he’s started to save Dean the second-biggest fish after Šóta.

Takoda even showed him how to fletch his own arrows. And when Dean broke his whet stone while sharpening his knife, Takoda gave him his own whet stone.

“I make new one,” he said, in broken English, even with a smile. “This one old anyway.”

At first, Dean used to wonder why some people in the tribe seemed to have better English, like Mila, Tahatan, and Šóta, but others didn’t. After he thought about it more, he supposed he wouldn’t want to learn his enemy’s language. He asked Šóta about it once.

“It’s the opposite for me,” Šóta told him. “I want to know what my enemy says behind my back. Then, I will be ready when he strikes.”

He now leads them away from the forest and across the grasslands. In an hour, they reach a desert valley, where Dean already hears the construction. A new stretch of railroad is being laid out, courtesy of the U.S. government. Dean even spots Benny, Jack, and Colonel Sanderson himself supervising the construction. 

Shit, Dean thinks.

They stealthily crept back into the forest and returned to the village. They bring the news of what they saw to Chief Tahatan in his tipi. His wives are there, along with Chatan, Weaya, Mila, Eyota and her husband Hanska. The last two are the medicine man and woman of this tribe, but Hanska is also their wiseman. He advises the Chief.

“We should move the village again, farther north along the river,” Hanska suggests. 

“And what? They will keep pushing us back until there is nothing left—until we fall of the edge of the earth!” Šóta shouts. He’s getting more and more angry as the conversation becomes a deliberation on what to do next. 

“It’s the Northern Pacific Railroad,” Dean says. He doesn’t know if it’s place to speak, but he feels that he has to. “They mean to keep building until they reach the coast in the Northwest.” 

“See? They will rape more and more of the land to do it,” Šóta says. “Our land. We cannot let this stand.”

Dean gives him a wary look. “This is bigger than the tribe. If you try to hit them, they’re just gonna hit back harder. And they’re going to bring the full weight of the U.S. Army on top of you.”

“So what do you suggest we do, Dean Winchester?” Tahatan says. “Sit and do nothing while they continue to carve into our home, where we have lived and died for generations?”

“I think…you should look at the faces around you,” Dean says. “Ask yourself how many of them you’re willing to lose.”

That evening in the privacy of their tent, Dean tries his best to soothe Mila’s worry, but his own trepidation and sense of urgency wins out as he paces back and forth. 

“Just moving up the river won’t be enough,” he says. “We could go southwest into Montana, towards the Yellowstone River.”

Mila shakes her head warily. She sits by the fire and watches him cross the room again. He makes her anxious, and so she grabs onto his hand and leads him to sit beside her.

“The Crow people live along Yellowstone,” she says. “The Lakota have fought them for generations.” 

“About what?”

“Land,” she admits. “Our tribes are proud and do not like to share hunting territory. The Crow are bitter enemies. They will not accept us there.”

That is putting it mildly. She shudders to think what the Crow would do to them if they crossed paths in their own land. 

Dean nods. “Okay, well, what about if we go further north?”

She ponders the idea. Even though she doesn’t like the idea of leaving the river, where her people have settled for decades, she believes what he says is true. Her people wouldn’t win in a head-on fight against the U.S. Army.  

“East of Big Cheyenne, there is a bigger territory of land. Other Sioux tribes live there,” she says. “The path is long from here to there, but it could be the answer.”

“Okay, that’s good,” Dean nods. “…I just don’t know how Tahatan and the rest of ‘em are gonna take the idea coming from me. To them, I probably sound like a coward.”

Mila shakes her head and grasps his arm. “You are no coward, Dean. I will help you talk to my father. When he understands, then we will speak to my uncle.”

“And Šóta?” Dean says wryly. 

“Šóta is young and wants to prove himself to my uncle. He is brave and strong, but doesn’t consider what we could lose,” Mila says, holding a hand over the small swell of her stomach. Dean covers her hand with his. 

“Whatever comes next, I’m not letting anything happen to you. You understand?” he says.

Her face, and the tension in her shoulders, relax. She doesn’t quite manage to smile, but she rests her head against his shoulder. 

“Yes,” she nods. 

Days become a week, and the men of the tribe begin to notice Cavalry patrols edging closer to the village. Too close. 

Dean tries to convince Šóta to let them pass by in ignorance. Attacking them would not only heighten the risk of the military discovering Dean’s alive, but it would just put the entire tribe in more unnecessary danger. 

It’s getting harder and harder each day to persuade Šóta to stay his hand, so it becomes even more important to convince the Chief to mobilize the tribe.

While Dean and Mila manage to get Chatan to see the wisdom in the idea of moving the village north of the railroad, Tahatan isn’t so easily convinced that they should leave the river where their tribe has tilled the land, fed their families, built their traditions and their way of life. It’s understandable, but it leaves Dean with a worry in his gut that only grows with every new day.

Mornings are no longer peaceful for him, and while he knows Mila’s beginning to notice, it’s something he can’t help.

They dress for the day in silence after breakfast. He straps his gun to his right thigh and his knife on the other—a new precaution he’s started taking. 

“Don’t go past the corral by yourself,” he warns Mila, when he sees her piling up a bundle of clothes for washing. She glances up at him with raised brows. 

“I’m only going to the river,” she says.

“Take someone with you,” Dean says, shaking his head. “Like your mom, or a couple of your aunts. Hell, take Šóta with you. Or at least Takoda.”

She gives him a look that says she’s trying to be patient. “I will see if others have washing to do.”

Dean stops her with a hand on her arm. 

“Or you could wait ‘til I get back,” he says. “I don’t mind going with you.”

“Dean,” she replies, her brows furrowing. “I may be with child, but I don’t need a caretaker. I’ll be fine.”

Again he stops her from moving past him. “Hey. Just listen to me, damn it!”

She gives him a sharp, surprised look. He stops himself short and realizes he’s losing his temper. He takes a breath, his face tight with frustration. 

Mila frowns at him, trying to keep her own temper from rising to the surface. She knows he only wants to protect her, but nothing has even happened. Cavalry patrols haven’t gotten more than a couple of miles close to the village as the railroad construction continues. She’s begun to wonder if it’s necessary to move north after all. 

Dean sighs, raising his hands in apology. He gently grasps her arms and looks down at her, meeting her gaze. 

“Sorry,” he says. “Just…humor me, okay?”

Her brows furrow. “Humor? You want me to laugh at you?”

At that, he actually breaks into a chuckle. It eases some of his tension, but doesn’t completely expel his worry.

“What I mean is, I know how I’m being right now. I just want you to be safe,” he says, staring into her eyes. “Actually, I need it.”

Mila softens with a sigh. She reaches up and caresses his cheek, and she nods in agreement. She reaches up for his kiss, and he holds her tighter, more securely. 

Okay, he thinks. 

Dean leaves her to see to his responsibilities, caring for the horses, while Mila goes her own way to resume her daily chores. But when she asks her mother, Misae, and even Eyota if they want to go with her to the river, they say they’re too busy with other tasks to wash clothes. Her mother does give her an extra bundle to do for her though. 

So even though it makes her uneasy to go against Dean’s wishes, she carries the bundles by herself to the river. Honestly, she prefers to do this alone sometimes, so she can be alone with her thoughts. Dean’s being overcautious. 

Sure, it takes extra effort for her to get down on her knees at the riverbank, considering her protesting back, but she manages to do it. Because in her tribe, one does what they need to in order to live and eat.

She settles into her work after a few minutes, and bit by bit, she feels settled enough to relax. She even hums a little tune to herself. It’s part of a lullaby her mother used to sing to her when she was little, and now Mila sings it for her child, even before she gets to meet him…

Or her, she thinks, smiling to herself.

Her smile drops with a sharp inhale of breath. 

She hears hoof falls on the earth. A horse treads nearby. 

Slowly, she lowers the wet clothing back into the basin. She sees two reflections growing on the water: a horse and a man. The man gets down from his horse first. 

“Hey there, miss—”

Mila swiftly turns and unsheathes the knife she keeps strapped to her ankle. 

Dean finally takes the colt out for his first ride out in the open. He’s a little twitchy, but he responds well to Dean’s commands, enough that he chances leading the horse farther out of the village. 

Maybe he’ll join Šóta and the rest of the men. They’re likely planting in the fields today, some of the women too, if they’re done at the river. Dean thinks of Mila then, and he hopes she’s finished her work there. He wonders if she got her mother to go with her, or maybe a couple of her friends. They’re new mothers, just a few years older than her. 

I’ll just check on them, make sure everything’s on the up and up, Dean thinks. He guides the horse towards the river. He’s relaxed and focused on how the colt is behaving, until he hears a man’s voice on the wind. Dean looks up sharply and sees his wife there alone, crouched down on the riverbank. 

A man stands just a few feet away and towers over her. 

Dean’s gun is in his hand before he realizes it. With a small but purposeful kick, he urges the colt to a full gallop. 

The man seems to be approaching her, taking meaningful steps forward. Mila says something sharply to him as she brandishes her knife and prepares to use it. He stops short.

“Hey!” Dean shouts.

He aims for the dead center of the man’s chest. His hair is long enough to brush his shoulders and obscure his face, but the closer Dean gets, a certain twinge runs up his spine and triggers his senses.

When the man looks up and raises his hands in shocked surrender, it’s like a physical blow to Dean’s chest. The man staring back at him is broad-shouldered, slightly taller than him in his dark brown duster coat, Stetson hat, and boots. He’s scruffier than usual, but unmistakable; he too stares at Dean like he can’t believe his own eyes.

“Dean,” he says, a hint breathless. His gaze drifts from Dean’s face to his pointed gun. He chuckles. “You gonna shoot me?”

Slowly, Dean lowers his weapon. He quickly moves to Mila first and slips an arm around her waist to help her stand with him. He makes sure she’s all right by the silent conversation that passes between them, through their eyes.  

Then, he looks over at his brother and smiles, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Hey, Sam,” he says. His gaze roams over the younger man’s face, sporting what he’d call half a beard. “What the hell’s that ferret on your face?” 

Sam laughs. It ends with a too-bright smile that’s a little teary. Dean’s throat begins to close up on him a bit as well, but feeling Mila stir at his side, grasping his arm with a questioning look on her face, he gives her a reassuring look. 

“Sweetheart, this is my brother. Sam,” he says. 

Her eyes widen, but as she looks between the men, her face dawns with understanding. She smiles and releases him, only to guide him towards his brother with a gentle push. 

Dean needs no further encouragement. His grin widens as he goes to meet Sam, who’s already coming straight for him. They meet in a warm, solid embrace, even if they’re both still on shaky ground on the inside. Sam’s grip is just as strong and desperate as Dean’s is reassuring, cupping the back of his neck. 

“They told me you were dead, you bastard,” Sam says. His laughing words have a suspect shake in them.

“Yeah, my fault,” Dean says. He chuckles too, as if that can make this easier. “Why’d you come all the way out here?”

Sam pulls back after a moment. “Because I didn’t believe them.” 

Dean’s smile falls. How the hell is he going to explain this? To Sam, to the Chief and the rest of the tribe…

He notices Sam looking past him, and finally Dean remembers himself. He keeps a hand on Sam’s shoulder and beckons Mila over to them. She’s hesitant, but she trusts him. She goes to him and leans into his side while he wraps his arm around her waist. 

“Sammy, this is Mila…my wife,” he says. 

Sam brows raise high, his mouth nearly falling open. Dean recognizes the question in his eyes.

You married…an Indian?

Dean just raises his brows.

To his credit, Sam gets ahold of himself and internalizes most of his reaction.

“Ah, right. Nice to meet you…ma’am,” he says, chuckling awkwardly as he extends the offer of his hand. She just looks at his hand curiously.

Sam clears his throat and takes his hand back.

“So, when did—uh, how…”

Dean smiles slightly. He can’t remember the last time he saw his brother this tongue tied; maybe since the time Jessica Moore kissed his cheek when he was nine after he gave her his last juice box.

“Come on,” Dean says, tightening a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got a lot to tell you before we get back.”

“Get back? Where are we going?” Sam asks. 

Dean doesn’t answer him just yet, but he wishes he had brought Mato. He doesn’t trust putting Mila up on the colt, who’s still being broken in, but he doesn’t think she’d feel comfortable riding with Sam. So they walk back together to the village while leading their horses. Dean tells Sam the story of how he and Mila met—the good, the bad, and skimming over most of the ugly. Though he does admit to killing Dick Roman. And Dean admits that he made a choice to help her based on gut instinct alone.

“I knew what I was supposed to do, but…” Dean trails, glancing over at Mila. She’s been holding onto his arm as they make their way up a grassy hill, and now, their eyes meet. “I guess I’m just not the man they wanted me to be.”

She smiles a little at that, squeezing his hand. 

Sam watches them together. He’s unable to stop the wonder from crossing his face, along with his smile. But his smile fades.

“You let us believe you were dead, Dean,” he says. Anger creeps into his voice, earning Dean’s sigh.

“It’s not like I could mail you a letter, Sam. It was…easier this way.”

“Easier?” Sam scoffs. “You think it was easy for me? Easy for Mom?”

Dean looks away. This chips open every part of his grief.

“We had a funeral for you,” Sam says. “Not that we had anything to bury.”

“Okay, I get it,” Dean says, rubbing at his eyes. “Maybe easier was the wrong word…safer is. For you, for me, for my wife, and for her people.” 

Sam glances at Mila, who stares back at him with reservation in her eyes. She understands his anger, but she’s grateful to Dean. She knew what he’d done to protect her all this time. However, faced with part of the family he let go for her sake, she now feels guilty. So she doesn’t speak as she walks beside Dean.

Sam also stays quiet for a while. The gentle plodding of the horses and their boots on the grassy earth are the only sounds for a while, along with the wind in the distant trees of the forest. 

“So, her tribe just…accepted you?” Sam asks. 

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it hasn’t been that easy.”

“He has worked hard to earn the Chief’s respect, and the respect of everyone in our tribe,” Mila says. It’s the first thing she’s contributed to the conversation, but she feels that this is something that must be said. 

Once again, she and Dean share a meaningful glance. He’s going to need all of that respect and goodwill if he’s going to bring Sam to meet the Chief.

Dean is actually glad Šóta is gone on a hunt with most of the other men. Tahatan, Chatan, and Hanska are enough of an audience when he brings Sam to the Chief’s tipi. He and Mila explain why his younger brother came to find him, and Sam fills in the rest of the blanks from his point of view.

Apparently, he and their mother, Mary, received a letter from the U.S. Cavalry that Dean had been killed in the line of duty, but when Sam reached out to military personnel through his law connections, no one could tell him specifically how Dean had died. 

So Sam took a train out of Lawrence, Kansas and headed to Wyoming. He travelled the rest of the way on horseback to Fort Laramie. There he requested to speak to Colonel Sanderson, but the only one who would talk to him was Captain Benny Lafitte. 

“Captain now, huh?” Dean remarks. He smiles to himself. “Good for him.”

“He’s the one who told me that you had fallen into the canyon…in pursuit,” Sam says, tactfully when he glances at Mila. “But I looked all over that canyon. I never found your body, or your horse. So I just kept looking.”

Dean sighs. He can’t fault Sam for not leaving it alone, because he knew if he’d been in Sam’s shoes, he would’ve been searching all over the state for his little brother too, even if it was just a body to bring back to his mother. 

“What if they followed him here?” Chatan speaks up. It reminds Dean that it’s not just him and his brother here. In fact, his father-in-law and the Chief are wearing similar grim looks while they seize up the younger Winchester. To see if he’s a threat to their tribe.  

Dean meets his brother with a firmer look. “What did you tell them, Sam?”  

“What do you mean?” Sam asks. “They lied to me.” 

“Yeah, but what did you say to Benny? To Sanderson. To anyone. Did you tell them you didn’t believe I was dead?” Dean asks. 

“No, I didn’t even talk to Sanderson. He couldn’t be bothered with me,” Sam says. “All I told Captain Lafitte was that I was going to find your body.”

Dean breathes out in relief, but the feeling is short lived. Šóta and Otaktay bring in a wounded Takoda into the tent. He’s bleeding and groaning in pain, clutching at his chest with a hand covered in scarlet. Blood drips to the ground where they lay him before Hanska. Tahatan calls for Eyota, the healer. Mila and Dean go to help Takoda. 

“What happened?” Tahatan demands to know. 

Šóta can’t look his father in the eye at first. He opens his mouth to reply, but Takoda groans in agony. Mila pillows his head in her lap and brushes her half-cousin’s hair from his face. She feels someone’s gaze on her, and she finds that it’s Otaktay. He hasn’t spoken to her since his fight with Dean several weeks ago, and she’s certainly not gone out of her way to speak to him. But there’s no time for awkwardness right now. Takoda writhes in pain while Hanska examines his wound. 

Dean recognizes what it is right away. Takoda has been shot twice—once in the shoulder, and once all too close to his heart. Dean looks up at Šóta with furrowed brows.

“These are bullets, not arrows. Where did it happen?” he asks.   

“I warned you not to engage the White Men!” Tahatan reproaches angrily. “Now look at what has happened!” 

Šóta looks like he wants to bow his head, but he holds stubbornly to his convictions. 

“They’re starting to build closer to the village. We were just watching them at first, but we were spotted,” he says.

“You got too close!” Chatan growls. 

Eyota arrives with more supplies to help stem the bleeding. Dean is no doctor, but he knows a gunshot wound better than the others do, even Eyota and Hanska. The problem is, they don’t have the tools to get at the second bullet in his chest, and he’s bleeding out fast. 

“I gotta dig it out,” Dean tells Šóta in English. He translates to the others. Dean looks down at Takoda and tries to reassure him. “This is gonna hurt like hell, brother. Just hold on.”

Takoda nods. He literally holds onto Dean’s shoulder and pleads without speaking. Help me.

His jaw clenching tight, Dean tries his best to find the bullet with the thinnest utensil Eyota has for him. Takoda attempts to keep still. His writhing is too much though. Even Sam comes to help hold him down. He’s a lawyer, not a doctor, but he knows what Dean is doing is the man’s only chance. 

It just takes too long. Dean eventually does find the fat piece of the bullet and pulls it out, but the fight has drained from Takoda along with his life blood. His sweaty chest stills in its movements. His grip on Dean’s shoulder and Šóta’s knee become lax, and then limp. 

His dark eyes stare up at the ceiling of the tipi, now unseeing as the light drains out of them. 

Takoda. His name meant Friend to Everyone. And so he was.

After Hanska and Eyota clean his body, they dress him in his best clothes and wrap him in robes. Then they bring his body to the highest point near the village, at the top of the grassy hill. Under the night stars, it’s the closest they can bring him to the heavens, where the Lakota believe his soul will ascend to the spirit world. They won’t bury him in the ground, but instead will give him an “air burial” for a warrior’s death. 

When a member of the tribe dies, usually the night is spent telling stories, laughing at old jokes, and food passed around. But this isn’t a night for joke-telling. The whole tribe is gathered in mourning at the foot of the hill. 

Tahatan sings a somber song for his second son, and his voice rises high over his second wife’s wails. She kneels beside her son and cuts her long hair jagged with a knife while she weeps. Mila grieves more quietly, but she tells Sam and Dean that hair cutting is part of the custom, and even cutting at their own bodies if their grief is that great.    

Eventually, the tribe disperses for the night. Tahatan leads his wife away, but Šóta and Otaktay stay with his body. They will sit in a vigil with him all night.

Meanwhile, Mila and Dean take Sam to their tent. She finds bedding and furs for Sam to sleep on, and Dean helps her lay it all out. 

“Thank you,” Sam says to her sincerely.

She offers him a small smile, then she prepares to sleep herself. Dean stops her by taking her hand. He leads her into a comforting embrace. She lets out a shaky breath as her fingers curl into his clothing.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t save him,” Dean confesses quietly. 

Mila shakes her head. “It was not your fault.”

In her mind, she can’t help but put that blame on Šóta. It hurts to have that anger in her heart, but it’s there, no matter how hard she tries to let go of it. She clings harder to Dean, pressing her face into his chest while her body shakes with silent sobs. He caresses her hair, kisses the top of her head, and then her cheek. 

After a little while, she pulls away from him and rests a grateful hand over his heart, before she goes to bed. Dean helps her settle down on the ground and pulls the fur blanket over her form. He squeezes her shoulder one more time before he joins Sam on the other side of the room.

All the while, his younger brother has been watching him, admiring the way he’s always been a protector, but also a man who takes care of the people around him. Sam remembers it well, when they were kids. 

Dean gives him some bison jerky to snack on, and for a few minutes they eat in silence while a small fire burns in the coals piled in front of them.

“You’re all in danger here, Dean,” Sam says, breaking the silence. “It’s only a matter of time before the Army finds this place.”

Dean nods slowly. “I’ve been trying to convince the Chief to move the tribe up north. Other Sioux tribes have been able to settle there, but more and more, they’re being forced out of their land.”

Sam considers that with a slow nod. A grim realization dawns in his eyes.

“It’s not fair,” he eventually agrees. He falls into his thoughts for a moment, trying to decide how to say what he wants to. “You should come home, Dean. Come back with me.”

Dean sighs. He knew this was coming. It might as well be now. He glances over at Mila, who finally seems like she’s sleeping peacefully. He rests an elbow above his knee and looks back at his brother.

“You’re asking me to leave my wife?” he asks. “She’s pregnant, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes widen. That news probably shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, but he’s a little hurt that Dean would think he’d suggest leaving her. 

“No, Dean, of course not,” he says. His frown fades, turning into a smile. “Congratulations.”

Dean lightens, his lips curving slightly into a smile as well. He nods in thanks.

Sam sighs. “Look…ask her to come with you. With us. You can live out with Mom on the farm and raise your kids there.”

“You forget that I’m supposed to be dead? Hell, for God’s sake, you already had my funeral to prove it.” Dean rubs tiredly at his face. “Lawrence is a small town, and Mom has, what, fifteen, twenty people working that farm? Word’s gonna get out, one way or another. If the Army hears it, I’ll be court martialed for desertion, not to mention all the rest of it.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue back with that earnest, determined look in his eyes. Dean expects nothing less. It’s what makes his brother a good lawyer, but Dean raises up a hand against whatever he’s going to say. Again, he glances back at Mila.

“Sam…this is what she knows. These are her people, her family,” he says. After a hesitant pause, he adds, “They’ve become my family too.”

Sam’s jaw clenches. He glances down at the ground between his feet, before he’s able to meet Dean’s eyes again. There’s hurt and anger in his own.

“And me?” he asks. “What, I’m not your family anymore?”

He doesn’t know just how deeply that hurts Dean. He shakes his head, drops his jerky into the dirt. He reaches out and grasps Sam’s shoulder.

“Sammy,” Dean says. For a moment, he can’t speak. His throat constricts, and no matter how tight he presses his lips together, he can’t stop the slight tremble in them. “You don’t know how hard it’s been…to convince myself that I wasn’t ever gonna see you again. But I’m happy. I’m so fucking happy that you found me.”

Dean tries and fails to blink past the way his eyes burn with tears. Sam’s eyes are getting just as red and shiny. He lays a heavy hand on Dean’s knee, and they sit like that for a while in silence, until the embers on the coals dim from red to black.

Šóta hasn’t slept. It’s evident in his red-rimmed eyes and unkempt, dirty clothes, but he’s still adamant about hitting back against the railroad construction.

“Father, they stand at our doorstep!” he argues to the Chief. “They take our horses, run off our wild game with their machines, cut down the forest, and now they build iron tracks through our lands. You went to war against the Crow for less!” 

Tahatan seems heavy in his thoughts as he listens. The words of his eldest son, and from his first wife, have weight—not just with him, but with the entire tribe as they sit together in the place where they typically have group feasts. Otaktay stands behind Šóta in support. 

Dean is reluctant to single himself out, but after sharing a look with Mila, he stands.

“Chief, what happened yesterday was more than just a tragedy or a crime. It’s a warning,” he says. “We need to leave, before the Army finds this village.”

“You suggest we run like cowards,” Otaktay says. His tone is icy and angry. 

Dean shakes his head. “I’m not doubting your courage or your skill. I’m not doubting any warrior here. But this ain’t a fair fight.”

He shifts his gaze, addressing Tahatan directly. 

“We’re out-manned and out-gunned, literally. Arrows and knives against bullets—pistols and rifles,” Dean says. “They’ll tear through this village until there’s no one and nothing left. We have to go north. It’s the only way we’ll survive.”

Chatan sides with Dean, and Mila stands with him too. 

Tahatan thinks hard. After a long, silent moment, he stands from his chair of whicker and wood.

“We will pack the caravans today and move out tonight,” he says. 

Then he commands Šóta and Dean to start preparing the horses. Šóta shoots Dean a hard, angry look, but Mila steps in and pushes at her cousin’s arm. 

“Don’t look at him,” she warns tersely in their language. “This is the cost of what you have done.”

Šóta is affronted by her words, but he doesn’t answer her. He just turns away with a sharp pivot on his heel. Otaktay glances back at Mila and Dean impassively, but he follows after Šóta, his friend and his leader.

Dean understands what she said; he’s spent enough time here that he’s able to follow every word. He gives her a look that’s mostly resigned, but he holds her to his side in comfort. He knows this isn’t easy for her either.  

“I will start packing,” she says.  

Dean nods. “I’ll come help you in a bit.”

He watches her leave his side to make her way back to their tent. Sam approaches him, and together they walk to the horse pen, where his horse is grazing with the others under the great sycamore tree that shields them. 

“We’re leaving tonight,” Dean says. “You should head home.”

“What if something happens to you on the road?” Sam says. 

Dean smiles ruefully. “I could say the same thing to you…but it looks like you don’t need me to protect you anymore.”

“Yeah well, doesn’t mean I won’t always need my brother.”

They share a smile, followed by a strong embrace. Dean thumps his back.

“Take care of yourself, Sammy,” he says, a coarse whisper.

Sam chuckles weakly. “You’ve got a harder road than I do.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s gonna have to face Mom.”

Dean says it as something of a joke, but all it does is sober both of them. Sam pulls away reluctantly.

“I’m not going to get to meet my niece or nephew,” he says. 

“I’m sorry about that too,” Dean says, meeting his brother’s glassy eyes. “I’m sorry about a lot of things.”

Sam jaw clenches, and he shakes his head. “Don’t do that.”

Another beat passes between them. He clears his throat.

“I’ll tell Mom…”

“Take care of her,” Dean says. 

Sam nods his agreement. Dean finally releases his brother’s shoulder, and there below the sycamore tree, the brothers part ways. Sam straps up his provisions and climbs up on his horse. Dean opens the pen for him, long enough for Sam to ride through.

He stops at the foot of the hill and looks over his shoulder at Dean, who gives him one more lax salute. Sam smiles, nodding back at him. Then he keeps riding.

Dean watches him cross the grassy plain until it becomes too hard to look straight into the afternoon sun. Distantly he hears Šóta’s voice behind him, giving out orders to other men. Dean looks away from the sun.

He has work to do.

He locks up the rest of his grief to begin with the horses, not knowing that Otaktay watches him. 

Dean doesn’t want to load up Baby with too much cargo. She’s still early in her pregnancy, and he could even ride her if he wanted to, but he can’t help but want to protect her more. It’s going to take days to move the tribe across the state, maybe longer. So instead, she can help pull one of the caravans with the colt and a couple of the other horses.

He saddles up Mato to ride. Hopefully he actually cooperates with Dean this time. 

Mato begins to stamp nervously though, like he senses something coming. Dean perks up and notices the way the horse’s ears flick back and forth. Baby makes an anxious sound as well. Dean turns his head in the direction of the village with furrowed brows. 

Šóta draws near to find his horse, who’s just as unsettled as the rest of them.

“The horses are spooked,” he says.

“Something’s wrong,” Dean nods in agreement. His gut tells him so, while a spark of unease licks up his spine.

And then he hears it. A warning blow of a buffalo horn on the air, followed by screaming, shouting, and gunfire in the village down below. His eyes widen. 

Mila.

AN: 😬 Sorry about the cliffhanger, but we're almost to the end! What did you think of Sam's big entrance into the story? 😉

Coming up, the grand finale...

Next Time:

Gritting his teeth, Dean brings Mato to a short stop in front of the Chief. Dean aims his gun at the Colonel. By now, the man is clutching his bleeding shoulder and staring at his former captain in disbelief. Benny is maybe a little less shocked to see Dean, but there’s conflict in his eyes—happiness mixed with turmoil.

The other officer is Jack Kline. He recognizes Dean too, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“You…” Sanderson trails. He blinks, his brows furrowing. “Dean Winchester.”

Pronunciation Guide:

Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew") Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

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The Leper King

Chapter 3 - Stained Silk ⚜️👑💖

Author's foreword: English is not my native language, so my humble skills were not sufficient to translate this fanfic and share it with a wider audience. However, the current accessibility of AI has somewhat simplified the task and solved the problem. Of course, I made minor adjustments to the AI-generated version to enhance a natural, organic flow. Hopefully, the result is not much worse than the original. I decided to start with the 3rd chapter because it is one of the most sensual and touching parts of the story, allowing readers to grasp the general mood and main intrigue without any spoilers. If it receives a positive feedback, I will continue with the translation.

Main characters: Baudouin (Baldwin IV), the young leper king-knight of Jerusalem in the late 11th century. I chose to spell his name as French (Baudouin) as it seems more accurate according to history. Elin is a foreign healer and herbalist of royal (tsar) origin, a young, educated, and beautiful girl.

*****

The alluring aromas of various meat and vegetable dishes, pastries, and spices wafted through the air. The rapid footsteps of the staff, the clinking of dishes, the rustling of clothing, and other sounds of fussy activity were continuously heard from the hall. Harmonious, pleasant music created a festive mood. Something magical and surreal was hidden in all this commotion. Despite the busy preparations, the atmosphere in the castle was more cozy and welcoming, rather than solemn.

"It's just a meeting of local feudal lords," said one of the court ladies helping Elin with her attire. "No foreigners this time. Usually, we have more visitors. Probably the king is not feeling well and doesn't want outlanders gossiping about his illness, so he has reduced the number of guests."

"Our king is in much better shape than some of the current foreign rulers, both physically and intellectually," objected Elin to her assistant. "I'm sure he has no reason to limit the reception of guests. I think the format of today's event simply doesn't involve the arrival of foreigners."

Sensing the obvious disappointment in Elin's tone, the court lady quickly changed the subject to women's trinkets, offering some amazing jewelry sets. The girl chose small dangling earrings with chrysolite, which perfectly matched her magnificent dress made of light silk embroidered with silver threads. Loose curls were held back with an elegant tiara entwined with fragrant jasmine branches. The festive decoration emphasized Elin's natural beauty and at the same time created the image of a mythical fairy.

The healer was able to see her king only in the evening, when the arriving guests had gathered in the hall around a long table. Baudouin looked stunning. Nothing about him revealed a serious illness. Even the mask and gloves, designed to hide the wounds inflicted by the disease, seemed like a successful addition to his masculine, knightly appearance. His calm gait and open demeanor only enhanced the overall favorable impression. It's no wonder that the monarch completely captivated the audience's attention, and even the most delicious food and drinks could barely distract the guests from His Majesty.

Approaching Elin, the young man reached out his hand to escort her to the table. Politely bowing, the beauty touched his palm and followed him. But suddenly, feeling a sharp jerk downwards, the girl saw that Baudouin fell to one knee, his mask fell off and rolled on the floor, exposing his disfigured face. Holding the king by the elbow and shielding him with her long flowing hair, Elin fearfully called out to the knights.

"Everything is fine, my dear. I just stumbled on the uneven flooring. I'm much more accustomed to being in the saddle than parading here on Persian carpets," he hastened to reassure the beauty.

Several strong men rushed to help their patron. The guests gasped in amazement and began to whisper. Within a couple of seconds, nothing prevented them from admiring the monarch again. It seemed that Baudouin was not at all embarrassed by the awkward incident. As usual, he radiated charismatic confidence and composure.

It was the first time Elin had seen the real face of the king. The girl knew that Baudouin was not ashamed of his flaws and could easily do without a mask among his close associates, who were accustomed to his illness. However, the fact that the young king appeared in such a vulnerable state in front of a wide audience was quite pitiful. Leprosy had not yet destroyed his natural attractiveness. Nevertheless, the lesions on his skin turned out to be more significant than the healer had expected, and this especially upset her. Elin guessed that the cause of the fall was not a fold or any unevenness on the carpet, but his injured feet.

On the same night, right after the revel, she persuaded the king to allow her to thoroughly examine him. As usual, Baudouin resisted and tried to find a reason to evade.

"How can I heal you if I don't see the whole picture?!" the girl exclaimed, pacing the room and actively gesticulating. "It's just ridiculous! A doctor must have access to their patient to observe even the slightest changes in their condition."

The healer was so engrossed in her own monologue that she even forgot about the presence of the monarch for a while.

"Elin," the young man decisively interrupted her and took off his ceremonial mantle, and then his tunic...

The beauty froze. Inside her, it felt as if everything had shrunk, and she dared not say a word anymore. Biting her lip, the healer quietly approached Baudouin. Suspicions were confirmed: the king had suffered enough physically, and therefore some movements were difficult for him.

Concentrating on studying the lesions, the girl gently touched some areas of his skin. Baudouin caught every movement, trying to guess whether this sight disgusted her. At some point, the young man stopped the girl, pressing her palm to his chest. He looked at Elin in confusion. Understanding Baudouin's discomfort, the beauty gently kissed his injured hand and then continued her work. This sweet and sincere gesture immediately brought inner relief to the king.

Upon returning to her room, Elin discovered that her wonderful dress had been quite stained due to the procedures she had performed. Burying her face in the blood-stained fabric, the beauty burst into tears. "A treasure in my hands... so strong and yet so fragile. No, I won't give up. We will definitely defeat this disease!" she decided.

The original text was translated using ChatGPT. Images:  Book cover character: the movie 'Kingdom of Heaven'   Photo of the carpet: unsplash.com

Video trailer:

[black-arcana]

Xandria announce new EP “Universal Tales” for November 22, 2024

German symphonic metal icons Xandria are about to chart new paths with their epic upcoming nine-track EP, “Universal Tales”, out on November 22, 2024 via Napalm Records! This EP follows the success of their latest top 10 charting album (German charts), “The Wonders Still Awaiting” (2023), which introduced an impressive new line up featuring the fantastic Ambre Vourvahis, who stuns audiences with her vocal talent that blends elements of rock grit, operatic highs and even growls.

This fresh sounding masterpiece highlights Xandria’s reinvention by elevating their trademarks to a new level, setting the bar for modern symphonic metal while presenting four brand new majestic songs that showcase the band’s refined versatility and impressive intensity.

Today, Xandria unveils the new offering of the upcoming EP, “No Time to Live Forever”, together with a visually stunning official music video. Driving drums and fast-paced riffs underscore the dramatic lyrics of the apparent loss of reason in the world and the rise of chaos, while the five-piece aligns with their signature sound of impressive orchestral interludes and the majestic operatic highs of vocalist Ambre.

You already know ‘Universal’ from our upcoming EP, and after receiving such overwhelmingly positive feedback from you, it is now time for ‘No Time To Live Forever’. If you loved the bombastic choirs and operatic vocals in ‘Universal’, you are in for a treat with this one… prepare for a ride!Xandria

Each of the songs highlight a different facet of Xandria’s musical range, alongside a new recording and beautifully re-arranged version of the title track from their recent album, “The Wonders Still Awaiting”. From bombastic film score atmospheres, choir-and-orchestra-driven anthems to real Celtic atmospheres and instruments like fiddle and whistles, the songs blend both classic and modern metal influences. “Universal Tales” offers a wealth of discoveries, while singer Ambre Vourhavis explores new heights and depths in her voice, making her even stronger than on the last album.

The former standalone single “Universal”, alongside an official music video, is a statement in support of a free, open, and diverse society, standing against authoritarianism and religious fundamentalism. It is dedicated to Jina Mahsa Amini and all those fighting for freedom. “Live the Tale” focuses on the apparent loss of reason in the world, showcasing that despite dark clouds, humankind could head in a positive direction as there is so much yet undiscovered and so much potential in mankind to live the tale of its imagination. On “200 Years”, Xandria fully embraces their Celtic roots like never before and explores the realms of the well-known book and TV series “Outlander”. Accented by renowned violinist Ally Storch (Subway To Sally), mesmerizing violin merges with resolute drums and with the blockbuster-like atmosphere, immediately transporting fans to distant realms, fighting for a free and fair world.

The “Universal Tales” EP concludes with orchestral versions of the four new tracks and will be released just before the band embarks on worldwide tours with genre peers Sirenia and Delain in the fall of 2024 and spring of 2025. While Marco Heubaum once again oversaw the recordings as the producer, Jacob Hansen (Volbeat, Arch Enemy, Evergrey) handled the mixing and mastering.

This EP is a big ‘Thank you!!’ to all our fans who welcomed us back in such an amazing and heartwarming way last year. The energy and connection we felt during our live shows with you inspired us to quickly write new songs, and we couldn’t wait to share them with you. Each of the new songs shows a different side of us, so there’s a lot to discover on this EP – and we can’t wait to play these new songs live for you! We’ll see you all at our shows in Europe this November and in North America next March!Xandria

Pre-Order Your Copy of “Universal Tales” NOW:

“Universal Tales” tracklisting: 1. No Time To Live Forever 2. Universal 3. 200 Years (feat. Ally Storch) 4. Live The Tale 5. The Wonders Still Awaiting (Acoustic Film Score Version) 6. No Time To Live Forever (Orchestral Version) 7. Universal (Orchestral Version) 8. 200 Years (Orchestral Version / feat. Ally Storch) 9. Live The Tale (Orchestral Version)   “Universal Tales” will be available in the following formats: 1LP Gatefold BLACK 1CD Digipak + 2CD Mediabook (incl. 2CD Mediabook “The Wonders Still Awaiting”) – (Napalm Records Mailorder exclusive) 1CD Digipak  Digital Album

Xandria Live 2024/25 Double Headliner Tour w/ Sirenia 19.11.24 PL – Warsaw / Hydrozagadka 20.11.24 CZ – Prague / Storm 21.11.24 AT – Vienna / Viper Room 23.11.24 IT – Milan / Legend Club 24.11.24 CH – Pratteln / Z7 25.11.24 DE – Berlin / Cassiopeia 26.11.24 DE – Munich / Backstage Club 27.11.24 DE – Essen / Turock 28.11.24 BE – Kortrijk / DVG Club 29.11.24 DE – Hamburg / Headcrash 30.11.24 NL – Uden / De Pul   North American Tour 2025 Xandria as special guest for Delain w/ Edge Of Paradise 07.03.25 US – Phoenix, AZ / The Nile 08.03.25 US – Los Angeles, CA / Whisky a Go Go 09.03.25 US – Sacramento, CA / Goldfield Trading Post 10.03.25 US – Portland, OR / The Bossanova Ballroom 11.03.25 US – Seattle, WA / El Corazon 13.03.25 US – Salt Lake City, UT / Metro Music Hall 14.03.25 US – Denver, CO / The Oriental Theater 15.03.25 US – Lawrence, KS / Bottleneck 16.03.25 US – Joliet, IL / The Forge 17.03.25 US – Detroit, MI / The Token Lounge 19.03.25 US – Columbus, OH / The King of Clubs 20.03.25 CA – Toronto, ON / Axis 21.03.25 CA – Montreal, QC / Fairmount Theatre 22.03.25 US – Cambridge, MA / Middle East 23.03.25 US – New York, NY / The Gramercy Theatre 24.03.25 US – Baltimore, MD / Soundstage 26.03.25 US – Atlanta, GA / Masquerade (Hell) 28.03.25 US – Dallas, TX / Granada Theater 29.03.25 US – Austin, TX / Come and Take It Live   Xandria are: Ambre Vourvahis – Vocals Marco Heubaum – Guitar Robert Klawonn – Guitar Tim Schwarz – Bass Dimitrios Gatsios – Drums

[twistedpink]

(“Iron Legacy Anon”)

Last time on “Feedback Loop”, I lost a whole bunch of writing due to me deciding to write it out in tumblrs ask box. I am still doing it this way. For actual content, our villain was revealed to be the Ramshackle Prefect. For anyone treating themselves as all 7 “!readers” you now had 8 people to be. If you managed to do that, I recommend trying to write for Outlander or Proletariat. Anyway, ruin came and with the help of 7 billion instances of ongoing destruction we somehow lived to now…

TURN 4:

[RAMSHACKLE] needed to get everyone off their tail, metaphorically. So they called upon their history to distract. This did not work. So… They tried again, seeding ruin once more. And finally, with a chuckle they found it… The manifestation of the inevitable end! “YOU SEE NOW! IT IS POINTLESS!” As the burden of a known end suffocated the group… Turning the watch back to normal and shattering the water barrier. And removing everyone else’s options.

The intense psychic wave of dread loomed over the group once again, with [Savanaclaw] trying their damnedest to protect the group… But the twins actually opt to take their hit… [Scarabia] dealing a parting blow alongside [Savanaclaw]‘s attempts to hit back…

[Ignihyde] meanwhile, just slammed the watch into the anomaly’s face… Recharging the overcharge… Altough no damage was dealt, key pieces were put back into their pack… Now just to use that extra time to find them all…

[Savanaclaw] Infact, could not take 10 more rounds of whatever that psychic brainwave resource destroying thing was. They gave [RAMSHACKLE] one more parting bite straight to the ribcage before backing off… There’s got to be something there in those pockets… Just a bandaid huh… Well, they might aswell use it… Ah, sweet healing.

[Pomefiore] was still hurting from the intense psychic blast… But they didn’t care… It’s brewing time. The poison that could be imbued with hexes was here! Now just to actually brew it. And for that, ingredients… No time to let the others simmer… Stuff was needed… Yeah, that’s an acceptable amount of stuff.

[Heartslabyul] had nothing to use… No ideas… So they pulled [Diasomina] aside… “Listen, [Diasomina] I know a lot… but this is outside of my grasp. I’m just a knight… So please tell me what do to here… Because if you weren’t here I’d be running for the hills…” [Diasomina] sighs, before saying… “Well… We just start again, find something new and build from there! We’ve got our sword and our shield… And to me, that’s good enough.” And so, the two knights ducked into an abandoned mess hall… And looked around… Sure they didn’t get much done, but they were safe and could act again soon.

(Writing double skips is funny!)

[Octavinelle], well they think this sucks a lot. Ironically it doesn’t hurt too much… But still, no water barrier to make sure healing… So they give out assurances where they can. [Heartslabyul] and [Diasomina] have gotten their stuff together, [Savanaclaw] for once has their stuff together and has retreated… God knows [Octavinelle] can rest for a while knowing that… And [Ignihyde] and [Scarabia]‘s watch seems to be keeping them alive. It was all fine… They could take a breather.

And [Pomefiore], in their own twist of luck… Found something helpful… Seems a prepackaged snack fell out of [Diasomina]‘s pack in the past… It wasn’t the smartest idea but… Would make them feel better… Yeah. They chow down and for once it actually works… They feel a little more pep in there step during this late night beyond time… (Yes, Environment did food this turn.)

But, with the author of a grim future, [RAMSHACKLE] still haunting the present… Will all this recovery be enough to satisfy their grim demands? Join us next time in… “Feedback Loop”

RRAAAAAAAAAHHHHH

[monikafilefan]

20 Questions for Fanfic Writers

Tagged by @slippinmickeys <3

1. How many works do you have on A03?

75 (maybe one day I’ll reach 100?)

2. What’s your total A03 word count?

589,435

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Basically just txf fandom but I have dabbled in GoT, The Fall, and Sex Ed.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Five Years and a Lifetime

Only One Choice

All Eyes Lead to the Truth co-written

Together

Language of Love: Prompts of Angst and Romance

5. Do you respond to comments?

I absolutely do, just not every one of them. Unfortunately A03 counts author responses as comments and that bugs me, but I wholly appreciate any and all feedback!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh damn. Probably a chapter in my prompts collection called That Night in 2014 when Scully left, and one called Bone Deep set post Tithonus are angsty enough. I love writing angst, but prefer to leave my fic on less of a dreary note.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Ha it turns out I write a lot of fic with happier endings, but I guess Brother Bill ended very happily considering it was during the cancer arc. There’s plenty more I could’ve chosen though.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I know of.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what?

Yes, I mix it up. Lots of soft, sensual sex, but also some downright dirty smut too. Depends on the tone of the story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I wrote one where Mulder and Scully go see Jean Milburn from Sex Education and have a therapy session. Coming Undone. It’s ridiculous and funny and was way too fun to write haha!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of but I hope not.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes but I can’t remember which one 🫣

13. Have you ever co-written before?

YES many times and I love it. I’ve written with several amazing writers @cultureisdarkbeer @admiralty-xfd @fridaysat9 @gaycrouton @slippinmickeys one several different fics.

14. What’s your all time fave ship?

MSR ofc! I do also love Jamie/Claire and Stella/Reed.

15. What WIP you want to finish?

I have this Unruhe fic that isn’t even that long but I cannot seem to fucking finish it for the life of me. I will eventually though.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Details? Creating a scene and capturing the characters as close to THEM as I possibly can comes easier to me than other things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Probably dialogue and writing longer novel length fics.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I want to dive into the Outlander fandom very badly but I’m too scared to try Gaelic/accents and be happy with the outcome. Maybe one day.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

X-Files! I was just a wee 15yr old on my dialup desktop trying to write a post FTF fic on the original XF storyboards. I never did finish it past the second chapter.

20. Fave fics you’ve written?

I have a few I really love, but I am kind of hard on myself as a writer. I enjoy writing but can’t seem to reread my own stuff and come away beaming about it. The ones off the top of my head I’m proud and have not mentioned above of are A Life to Remember - an AU were Mulder and Scully are doctors and meet under interesting circumstances. Lots of UST, angst and family fluff as they flashback to their past on how they met.The Things They Say in the Dark is another one I love. It has angst, lots of hurt/comfort (not to mention Scully washing Mulder’s hair post Amor Fati) and serious yearning! Honestly love these two so feel free to check them out if you haven’t, I’d be blessed if you loved them too!

Tagging @today-in-fic and anyone else who wants to join in. This was fun!