#rib cage is doing funny little pains that knock the wind out of me and make me double over

[enochianribs]

I would like the physical agonies to cease somewhat

[septic-skele]

US - Heed The Signs (Part 4)

[Part 3]

A/N: Don't mind me projecting my own feelings about my chronic illness onto poor Pap. It's just nice having a character to relate to ^^"

Why did I lie to him? Why did I say I wanted to walk? Are we there yet? How much longer? This is taking forever…I’m so tired. Everything hurts, I just want to stop.

Lying was wrong. That was what his brother always told him and by the looks of it Papyrus’ body agreed; it was doing everything within its power to punish him.

True to Blue’s advice, his bath had been chilling but even with his clothes half-dry he was still shivering. The worse twitches sent crackly jolts of pain through his joints, akin to insect stings, and when he clenched his teeth to stop their clattering his head pounded dreadfully.

My skull’s a knock-knock door now, he mused dazedly, though it wasn’t as funny without a joke to tell. He couldn’t think of a good one for the life of him.

Sick. Sick who? Sick me. But don’t tell Blue.

He just wanted Blue to be happy. His brother had seemed sincere enough when he offered him the chance to stay but what if Papyrus had taken it and Blue had gotten mad at him? When he was honest about his fears and the idea of being left behind, that had upset him enough; the last thing he wanted was to disappoint him again.

If he disappointed him again, Blue might actually do it. Wasn’t that an awful thought?

“I will never, ever leave you behind. No matter how tired you are, no matter how slow, I will always be there to help and protect you.”

Those words should comfort him; they had at the time but now, through the slogging fog in his mind, they sounded so far away.

What Blue didn’t know when he made that promise—what he still didn’t seem to fully understand—was that Papyrus was always tired. In his soul he knew it wasn’t the “normal” tired. It wasn’t normal to sleep and sleep and sleep and still feel so drowsy, like he had never gone down. It wasn’t normal for his vision to go black and his legs to buckle just because he stood up too fast. It wasn’t normal to feel this weight dragging on him, like he was constantly trying to wade through a mudslide. Was that what it would be like at their new home, with all the snow in their way? The very thought of it stirred anxiety.

Something was wrong with him and nothing was wrong with Blue. His big bro was so cool, running and jumping and climbing and lifting heavy things. All the while he barely gasped for breath. How did he do it?

Jealousy was wrong too. Papyrus hated the sore, mean longing caged in each of his tender bones. He always insisted that he would never hope for bad things for his brother…but in a corner of his mind that would probably never come to light, he wished Sans could know how he felt, even if it was only one day. What if Papyrus was like this forever? He could never live up to Blue’s example, no matter how hard he tried. He could never be that good.

Yet again his nose and eye sockets stung with telltale moisture but perhaps he didn’t have enough magic left over to form real tears, given how much effort the rest of his body was putting forth.

Blue was right when he said he would run out of tears if he kept it up. Of course, Blue was always right. I’m such a baby bones.

How far had they walked by now? Lost in thought and misery, Papyrus couldn’t be sure. Over time Waterfall started to blur together whether one was paying close attention or not. All he knew for sure was that his feet throbbed for mercy and he had a stitch pulling in his ribs that made it harder to breathe with every step…so that must mean they were making progress, right?

Blue had been babbling on for a while, filling the silence, but only now did Papyrus register what he was saying. “Gosh, I’m starving! We didn’t have any dinner or breakfast, huh? Are you hungry, Papy?”

Strangely he wasn’t. His nonexistent stomach panged with discomfort, yes, but not in the raw, empty way. All he mustered was a shrug. Blue hesitated, eyes flicking uncertainly over him, but after a long moment he tried for a smile regardless.

“I’m sure there’s something around here we could munch on for a while. Umm…” As he turned to examine the area, he no doubt saw the same things Papyrus had: grass, water, flowers, and crystals in every direction. To Papyrus’ surprise, however, he lit up. “Hey, those could be pretty tasty!”

“Hmm?”

“Well, they’re called water sausages, aren’t they? Sausages are edible so if these go by the same name, they must be too!” With no further ado he snatched at the nearest group of new shoots, waving them wildly to rid them of droplets and pollen. Papyrus coughed, belatedly trying to muffle it in his sleeve as the cloud clogged the air and made his head spin.

Even the trash they had scavenged a couple of nights ago had been a little more appealing than muddy uprooted stalks. With some nausea he remembered the wet, mushy crab apple and the cracked bottle of fluid that was…hopefully sea tea. Both had been bitter and acidic, rather difficult to swallow.

When he noticed his distaste, Blue didn’t hesitate to share his lucky find of a gloopy, half-smashed Nice Cream, insisting that it was too big to finish on his own. He was so cool. That sweeter flavor was long gone now; Papyrus could still taste the metallic tang from the upheaval earlier, lingering in the back of his throat.

No, he was definitely not hungry. Cradling his arms close to his chest, trying to get the tremors under better control, he coughed twice, thrice more and hung his head. Tuning Blue out as he peeled and crunched thoughtfully on the weeds, the younger focused instead on savoring the break from walking.

If he sat down he had a sneaking suspicion that he would forget he had to get up again. Now that they weren’t moving, he became fully aware of how moist and heavy the air felt as it crawled over him. There was no breeze this way. Why was he still shivering and swaying, as if a supposed wind might knock him over? Was that sweat, too, slithering down his back? That didn’t sound right. What was hot and what was cold?

Tired, tired, tired…

“Papyrus?”

Blue’s hands on him made him startle but it was too much effort to reel back upright. Murmuring something that might not have been made of real words, he let himself wilt and trusted that Blue would catch him. He did, though he didn’t give him an opportunity to go entirely boneless. Hurriedly wrangling and propping loose limbs out of his way, Blue cupped his cheekbone.

“How are you still—? Never mind. I—I don’t think this is good for you, Papy, going hungry. You need something to keep your strength up!”

“Throat h’rts,” he mumbled, flinching away when he felt Blue nudge the end of the water sausage against his teeth. “Head h’rts.”

“Please, just a bite or two, alright? There’s only a little left and that’ll leave my hands free! I’ll be able to carry you.”

That deal didn’t sound half bad. Though his jaw ached from gritting for so long, he pried it open just enough that he could be fed. The stalk didn’t smell awful but it failed to belie the true sour taste. Suppressing a whine, he barely chewed before choking it down and absorbing Blue’s patting and praise.

It was more like six or seven bites before the stalk ended, the seventh going to waste as Papyrus coughed too roughly to swallow it. Nevertheless Blue kept his word, scooping him off his feet with surprising gentleness. Since Blue wouldn’t be running, all Papyrus could do was hope that this easier pace wouldn’t jar him into vomiting again. He fell asleep within the first thirty steps.

___________________________________

Thick black fluid bubbled up from cracks in the ground, taking shape. Sticky, spindly hands were grabbing at him, their touch burning, their grasp so tight that his bones started to crack on contact.

Sobbing and spitting, he thrashed to be free, phalanges snapping off his feet to be engulfed instantly. Somehow he ran—or swam—or was he drowning already?

The waves of blackness were overrunning the world. Trees and buildings and people were melting around him in every direction. As the hands gained purchase, they scaled the far walls. They would bring the mountain down on top of them!

“Sans, help me!”

He stood several yards ahead, motionless, with empty, gaping eye sockets—yet still he smiled, the blackness seeping between his bared teeth. Purring ominously in a language Papyrus knew he’d forgotten, he opened his stretched, warped arms for an embrace.

There was a voice somewhere beyond the pounding and crackling in his skull.

“—rus! Brother, it’s alright! You’re going to be alright. It’s over now…We’ve made it!” Familiar. Soothing, relief and hope.

When he broke the surface of his dream, he was only given a second’s glimpse to register—shapes, white, hurt, too hot, too much—before his eyelights rolled back in his head. Back arching, limbs flailing and locking wildly, he was hurled by momentum out of Blue’s arms into the snow.

[simpinforyoongi]

Shameless ~

Yoongi x reader

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Angst, (a lot of it)

Warnings: none

Summary: After coming back from Yoongi's studio heartbroken, you decide to scribble your thoughts down on paper, like you've done so many times. What you didn't know was how that little poem would led to your worst heartbreak yet.

Note: Heyy guys! So i just wanted to say that this one is heavily inspired by @krreader 's fic Jealousy and you can treat it like a sequel to hers (but mine ends in angst too and I've changed a few things up). Like you wouldn't believe how much i cried when i read hers amd i just couldn't not write it!! AnYWaYS, enjoy!!

• • • • • • •

"Can i go? "

"Go wherever you want hyung, why are you asking me??" Namjoon answered as he put on his winter boots to prevent the cold chilly November winds from freezing his feet.

"No i meant...I want to go..to her.." Yoongi's voice was unnaturally small and feeble, contradicting his usual deep tone.

Namjoon jerked up, standing straight suddenly.

"But hyu-"

"Please Namjoon, I know you care deeply for her, and don't want her to get hurt anymore because of me but I just.."

Namjoon instantly started shaking his head no,

"No no hyung, go, all that happened, i know you didn't mean it to." He gave the older man a small smile "I'll let her know."

"NO! No, she, " Yoongi said with wide eyes, "She won't even open the door if she knows it's me."

"Oh right haha lol ok uh.. I won't call her then" Namjoon says fidgeting awkwardly, almost wanting to say something, but when he saw Yoongi looking at the door with a certain amount of longing, mixed with regret, guilt, fear and everything in between, he decided it was worth a shot.

"Hyung, i know you love her," They held eye contact and Namjoon continued, "and if I'm not wrong, she loves you too. And she's been hurting, for long, just like you and even longer, actually. I know I'm younger than you, but i gotta say this. don't fuck it up."

Namjoon looked down for a moment before looking back up with a sincere smile, "Best of luck! Fighting!" and with that, Yoongi left for your apartment without any bodyguards, without anything at all because that was a risk he had to take.

---

You were still in bed, Namjoon had called earlier saying he's coming, and to be honest you actually wanted him to come. You needed someone to talk to, and he was the best person for that. You were completely undercovers, and came out only when it became too difficult to breathe in the carbon dioxide that gathered inside your little blanket-bubble.

It had been two weeks since the breakup, and you had even visited them in the meantime because you were strong, and knew how to keep your emotions in control when in front of others, despite the fact that you were about to breakdown any moment. You had cooped yourself up in your little apartment for way too long and your loving friends, aka members of Bangtan had dragged you back to their apartment, even though they knew it was dangerous considering the fact that the cause of all your pain was right there. But there wasn't much they could do and places they could go because, well, they're like only the biggest boy group on Earth. So you went there, insisting you were fine.

But you weren't.

Realllyy weren't.

But once the question left his lips, you knew it was over for you. This, this facáde was instantly crushed when he asked the question.

You had been playing "Truth and Dare" because no matter how sucky you were feeling, you just couldn't seem to say no to the three pairs of puppy eyes that you received. And that landed you in a somewhat boring, somewhat funny game of Truth and Dare, and even though he was there, you seemed to have fun until he asked you that question.

"Do you love someone else now?" and it was something you never in a million years had expected.

So you sat there, completely dumbfounded, much like the rest of the group, at the question that had left Yoongi's lips. And you just, couldn't do anything.

But shortly, anger bubbled up inside you.

How dare he accuse you of loving someone else when you were literally on the verge of just ripping your heart out? How dare he accuse you like that when he was the one who broke up with you? How dare he ask you that when he hadn't even given you enough time to speak before he started yelling at you that day?? How dare he??

"How dare you?" And that's all that seemed to leave your mouth before you stood up and stumbled out of the dorm with everyone except him calling after you.

Another tear escaped as you remembered the happenings of the day. But before you could wail in your sorrow any more, a bell rung throughout your apartment.

You stood up and walked to the door with tears still decorating your cheeks,

Finally Joon is here.

You felt like you could breath better for a second but all wind was knocked from your lungs when your eyes landed upon the face that stood in front of you.

Yoongi..

With a black mask and cap, and covered completely in winter clothes, there he stood in all his wintery glory, and you still knew it was him despite only his eyes being visible, that too, partly visible.

You felt your heart constrict and your rib cage felt too small now. A brand new bolt of pain jolted up your sides, almost as if physical, and striked your heart with such force you wouldn't be surprised if you had a heart attack then and there. But you didn't, you stood there, watching him, and he stood there ,watching you.

It wasn't until you shivered from the cold winds hitting your body which was bare of any winter clothing, that you jumped back into reality.

"Do you mind if I..." He trailed off, but you moved aside letting him in. He had expected a much harsher reaction, after all, he did throw some extremelt hurtful and lewd accusations at you that day. But he was grateful you didn't close the door in his face, or throw the little dried up potted plant at him. He took that as a good sign, but with you, everything wasn't as simple.

He took off his coat and hung them on the rack beside the shoe cabinet, before pulling off his boots and keeping them aside. Then he followed you into the living room.

"Coffee??" You questioned while preparing some. He wasn't sure if he wanted one, he opened and closed his mouth for a few seconds, and finally settled on a yes.

A few beats passed in complete silence, before you joined him and handed him a simple black coffee and took a seat on the single sofa opposing him.

Another few moments passed

"You still remember," he said motioning to the coffee in his hands

"It's not that hard to remember two ingredients, Suga. Besides, it's been just two weeks."

His heart shattered when you said that, firstly, on hearing 'Suga' instead of the usual 'Yoongs' or 'Yoongles' that you called him, especially because you knew he pretended to hate, but actually loved it. Hell he would've been more happy to be addressed by his full name, Min Yoongi, rather than Suga. And secondly, because of the small and almost inaudible, crack that he heard in your voice towards the end of the sentence.

You still didn't know why exactly you were so calm and not driving him out of your home. It was as if everything stopped mattering for a moment

"Two weeks. Yea," he finally spoke, eyes not quite meeting yours.

A few moments passed in complete and utter silence.

"I didn't know you wrote lyrics too." Ah yes, the song that Namjoon was producing, you had helped him with the lyrics. Not as much as helped actually, you had just randomly written some words and sentences and somehow he noticed it. He said it fit perfectly with the previous verse he had written and asked if he could use the whole poem in his song. You were completely flabbergasted and thought he was kidding, or perhaps pitying you, but after a lot of convincing, he told you he wasn't. And you told him he could, that's why you were in the professional studio in the first place. Another reason why Yoongi misunderstood you, but it was in no way Namjoon's fault. And Yoongi knew that.

"I didn't. It was supposed to be a poem. He saw it by accident." You yourself were pretty surprised at how calm you were.

"But.. I thought i read all your poems..?" his voice had a questioning tone to it.

"You did.. It was recent.." It indeed was recent. Painfully recent. You had written it just the night before, after coming back from Yoongi's studio without even talking to him properly, because he had, and i quote "a shitton of work to do" . Shit ton of work, with her. That completely broke your heart into a million pieces. You thought it couldn't break any further but you were terribly wrong. That was when you wrote it.

The poem was about, well, you guessed it, heartbreak; loneliness. Something about empty bed sides, lost warmth, tear streaked pillows, you couldn't fully remember. Your mind had been hanging like a 2005 Dell Laptop because of all the crying.

"When?"

"That night after i came back from your studio." You smiled a little, even if your insides were aching, "speaking of that, hows the production going?"

"Oh it's.. going well I suppose." He looked immensely intrigued by his cup of coffee,

You again smiled.

"Yea, you looked...quite happy." You took a sip of your own coffee, before looking out the window. Frosty winds were blowing, it was getting darker by the minute. It looked...serene.

But Yoongi was having none of this serenity,

"Happy? What...do you mean?" His voice had a sudden change of colour. But this question had your heart clenching and unclenching at a rapid, unhealthy rate.

"You and Suran." You finally croaked out, "You looked happy..with her. It was.. a sight for sore eyes, really." Earlier, whenever you even remotely thought about this, your eyes turned to waterfalls, but now, they seemed dry of any excessive moisture.

Yoongi was dumbfounded. He and Suran?

"What do you mean me and Suran? I'm just helping her!" He semi-yelled, but you didn't flinch like you did last time.

"I know that."

"But what did you mean by happy... wait...did you think we...oh my god." He slumped down back to his seat, coffee long forgotten on the coffee table.

"Y/n why didn't you tell me that?? Why didn't you tell me what you were feeling?? Why di-"

"I DID!!" You finally broke and yelled out with tears streaming down your eyes for the umpteenth time that day.

"I did tell you!!! I texted you a thousand times!! But you didn't read any of those. I called you a thousand times but i was always directed to voicemail. And the times that you did actually listen to me you had the same excuse every time. 'Im just helping her.' I know that Yoongi, I freaking.know. But what do you expect me to think when you cancelled evey date the past three months?? When the smile that you usually had when you were with me, could only be seen when you were with her?? When the way that you looked at her, the way that you smiled at her, the way that you admired every little thing she did completely resembled the way only a lover would. What did you expect me to do, when i felt like you were her mentor, her idol, her Min yoongi, not my...not my..." You couldn't finish the sentence before you completely bursted out in tears.

And as you sobbed uncontrollably, Yoongi was left to think about what you had said. And as he recalled everything he realized that none of your words were wrong.

The fact that he had ignored you so freaking much despite you being so patient with him hit him like a truck and he started spiralling into a dark deep hole of guilt and regret when you suddenly-

"Leave."

He was shocked back to his senses.

"Y/n wha-"

"I said. Leave. " You said as you stood up on lightly trembling feet and started walking towards the door.

"Y/n just listen to me give me a chance to expl-"

"Did YOU give me a chance to fuckin' explain??!! Did you even let me SPEAK when i was begging in front of you to calm down?! No. So leave."

Your heart was pounding at such an extreme rate that you feared he'd hear it and realize, that he was still your weakness. And you couldn't let that happen.

"Suga. I'm asking you to leave." With a shaking hand you opened the door and stood aside.

"Y/n please jus-"

"Are you that shameless?!"

That effectively shut him up. Just as you expected. As he finally left with a wounded heart, you slammed the door and slid down to the floor, trembling with quiet sobs.

"Are you that shameless?? That you finally resorted to seducing one of my brothers?? What else did you do huh y/n? Did you try your luck with Jungkook too?? Oh and what about Taehyung?!"

"Hyung it isn't what it looks like. Just listen to-" Namjoon spoke, trying to calm him down but to no avail.

"Namjoon just...just stay out of it. I just can't believe she'd do this to me. I can't freaking believe she'd cheat on me with yo-"

"Yoongi stop it!" You yelled while crying as you stood in front of the man you loved and who apparently loved you too.

"Why y/n? Why should i stop?? Just so you can go behind my back again? Just so you can break my heart again? Just so tha-"

"Can you pleeasee just let me speak Yoongi. I was here because -"

"Enough! Enough of your lies! I really can't believe you out of all people would do this to me. We're done y/n. We're freaking done." And with that, he stomped out of the studio, leaving you a crying, heartbroken mess.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪

[republicscum]

When Jumping into Battle Doesn’t Work

AN: 2,666 words

Male Sith Warrior x OC, Male Sith Warrior & Vette

I didn’t do this with anything particular in mind. I just wanted to practice my action/fight scenes and see how well my story paced prose does compared against my more Fancy(TM) pretentious prose. I also wanted to scribble things down for Grimm because he’s one of my favorite villains. I’m not sure how time is working for him yet in how my interpretation of events happens, so I just set this as though his apprenticeship happened at the same time it does in game and yadda yadda. It shouldn’t be too much different from my personal canon events except for some year transplanting.

Points to note: violence, blood, Grimm (Ansilm) treats Vette like property, and there is some mild language.

Past the Imperial barricade, the tombs were not restful. The rustles of other acolytes seeking their plunder carried through the cavernous halls from all points around, but there was a presence louder and yet all the more still to Ansilm Wx. In the murk there was an omnipotence breathing the stagnant air and biding the eons. Unheedful of things older than him, he pressed deeper into the temple.

The ground sloped into a steep fall beneath his feet. Eventually the shriek of wind blasting around sharp desert outcrops faded into a dull moan and the silence of the grave pressed in. The going for a while was painful and slow, since the sizable Pureblood had to fall back onto his haunches to avoid careening carelessly into a K’lorslug or another acolyte in the gloom. He found himself gritting his teeth. The physical part of his body told him that his muscles were expending laughably little exertion, but frustrated desires whelled so deeply in his chest that it tensed the thin band of rationality keeping him in place.

Ansilm bared his lips back so they stuck against his teeth. Strange power rested here and it would be strange power that would be the undoing of many an acolyte already pushed to fervor as they jockeyed to become Sith. But fighting ones inhibitions was discordant with the natural energy of the Force, and Ansilm did not suspend the tugging in his chest lightly.

Then the ground finally evened. He couldn’t hear the wind anymore. The tomb of Tulak Hord glowed a soft yellow from ancient lights that hid more than they exposed. But the retinal glow of the Pureblood’s eyes provided him an advantage over his human rivals. He wandered for a while encountering nothing until nothing weighed very heavily on his mind. The rooms and halls were built so similarly to the untrained eye that nothing but K’lorslug slime differentiated features. The chambers’ various meanings and purposes once common knowledge to Ansilm’s ancestors was now lost to monotony on him. Occasionally the shouts of someone being killed in darkness rang out, which was an unnatural comfort over the repetitive shuffling and mutterings.

Around the corner, a scream bellowed. Unlike the echoes that might’ve occurred a few paces over or an antechamber away, this was sharp and desperate on the ears. Not residual but real. The taste of electricity laid over the back of Ansilm’s tongue in a thin coating just a second before purple threw the caverns into stark relief. He charged forward to the strobing violet flicker of the Force energy.

The woman who’d screamed lay in the thick of a pack. From their practical minded blades and clothes they were nothing more than tomb dogs scavenging after artifacts. From the mouth of another hallway intersecting the antechamber, Ansilm could see another acolyte drawn out by the yells swiftly unsheathing his warblade. She was blissfully unware. It was an unnecessarily vulnerable position she’d put herself in to antagonize a few treasure hunters, but it was a situation he could leave to resolve itself and pick off the winner. Yet yawning tombs were lonely places for victors of petty fights.

Ansilm sprang onto the other acolyte as he brought his hands down to strike the lightening user. There was a yelp of pain as Ansilm’s warblade broke his grip and wrists, sending the combatant and his sword skittering across the floor. He lashed out with the Force in desperation, pushing Ansilm with a crack into the wall. His back hit hard knocking the wind from his lungs, but his feet and head remained steady. Lightening flared dangerously close to his wine-dark skin and danced off of it in violent crackles as he bared his teeth and advanced forward. Ansilm could barely see from the disorientation and the strobe from slowly frying bodies, but he could feel. He thrust his hand down where he could feel the other curled on the ground. He could feel the breath knocked from his cracked rib cage. One handedly, he drove downward and felt a gushing spurt of what could’ve either the living Force or blood whell into the sucking chest wound. Ansilm brought his other hand to the back of the pommel and forced the blade forward until it sparked against stone. The life drained like an ooze from his body and into the sealed tomb with his last rattling breath. Lost forever.

It fell dark again. The stench of cooked meat filled like blood in his nostrils. Ansilm wrenched his blade from the dead acolyte’s sternum with the protesting jolts of electricity propulsing violently away from sinew and bone. Behind him, the woman, a Red Sith, was poised in a textbook perfect combative stance. One hand raised to Ansilm and his heaving sweaty bulk fearlessly. Almost fearlessly. There was a line of tension down her spine that curved away from him in a guard.

“Well met, sister,” he managed between controlled but massive gasps of stale tasting air and sheathed his blade. His tongue felt thick with electrical charge and exhaustion.

The tense line of her body relaxed into a mistrusting question mark.

“I’ve no quarrel with you. Those Imps got what they deserved.” Her voice, in contrast with his even timbre was high, sharp. It danced on points, like her lightening.

Ansilm wiped away locks of black hair from his face and back over the top of his scalp. “And what was that?” he asked. Dry amusement tinged his voice.

“A dishonorable death. May they shit themselves in the place they were trying to befoul.” She stepped out of her stance to reveal a long siding of wall. The glyphs carved into the heavy rock had been removed into a long gaping trench, like a wound in the temple. From it energy flowed raw and damaged. There were many such gaps like it in other rooms.

“And what of it? Sith don’t concern themselves with petty thieves.”

“Sith? Funny word for one to use who isn’t concerned with his own heritage being raped and plundered.”

Ansilm’s eyes narrowed. She was quickly beginning to pluck at his nerves. “Sith is a legacy; it’s more than any one race. Unfortunate as the rape and plunder may be.”

She scoffed. “If that’s what you think, then you know nothing.”

Ansilm felt the band of irritation begging him to cave in to slaking his fill of power. It expanded with the adrenaline fueled rise in temper at this infuriating ungrateful woman-- It was that swell that ultimately brought him back to a steadying breath. His lungs were still shaky after the disturbed ozone and roasted flesh, but the rawness called attention to his surrounds rather than the provoked pool of emotions within. “Then you can tell me about it on our way into the tomb.”

The woman blinked. “I—I suppose a truce is a good idea. Then you feel it too? The need to give into your worst senses?”

“Yes, it’s tempting. And I think it’s the failure of many an acolyte. A smart Sith is a thinking Sith – not a beast. But at the same time, only Jedi are stupid enough to batter their true selves down. I believe an alliance is the best solution. You’re a good fighter and passionate; if nothing else, we might at least be able to have an interesting conversation.”

The woman’s sandy orange eyes sparkled with interest in the dark. She approached him and held out her hand. “You’re very flattering when you’re talking sense. My name is Jikksi. If you betray me, I'll kill you.”

"Noted." His four clawed fingers practically engulfed all of her small but corrosively smoothed hand. “But pleased to meet you Jikksi as long as you give me an honorable death. I’m Ansilm. Ansilm gestured her forward. “Well, we can’t waste the day talking.” She threaded her arm through his instead.

“What? Can’t a lady even get an escort from the big strapping man who saved her?” Jikksi fluttered her eyelashes coyly. Her tendrils swayed under smirking lips. A snide edge to the words told Ansilm she was feigning for her own amusement, but he returned the smile anyway.

“Of course the lady can.”

Since then, his trials seemed long behind him. The jungle before him. 

“Figures you’d get out at the Imperial Spaceport then have to walk uphill five miles wading through man eating beasts to actually get to the city.”

Ansilm spared a sidelong glance at the Twi’lek slave and considered the shock controls in his belt. She stiffened every time his hand strayed too close, so giving her another jolt for speaking her mind seemed like overkill. All Ansilm Wx expected was obedience and competence. It was a paltry price for he would’ve demanded the same from any other companion of status.

For now she seemed content to stretch the durable woven fibers of her new armored gear. He’d had her change into the new jacket and pants during their last few uneventful hours on the Black Talon and had been relieved to see that it fit. After the simple hide tunic and pants he’d refitted her in on Korriban, she seemed reinvigorated by the proper wardrobe. More importantly, it gave her a suitable edge in combat, while reinforcing the idea that her sense of identity wellspringed from him.

“Can you keep up?”

“Uhh-h, yeah, guy. Tomb raider who got you that nifty glow stick strapped to your belt, here?”

“And I thank you for that.”

“I—you’re welcome. I think. Can we go before you start being nice to me?”

Ansilm shouldered his sparse haversack of belongings then started forward into the looming trees.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t be nice to you? You’re walking freely in the middle of dense wilderness, are you not? If I valued your servitude over your well-being I could easily have you on a drag line in front of me.”

Vette, a few paces behind his shoulder in case of threats, winced. “I’m sure you mean that nicely, but it still sounds creepy. I guess, it’s because this is a kind of everywhere to hide but nowhere to run to situation.”

Ansilm saw her glance up to the canopy cover. As they stepped over an invisible line, it swallowed them. Something made a trilling cry from deep within.

“That in no way negates what I said. I think you’re in a different arrangement for the time being and need to stop overthinking things. Your situation is plain and you’d do better taking it a day at a time for your own sanity. Paranoia will make even the strongest person go crazy.”

She fell contemplatively silent behind him and a smile curved Ansilm’s lips. Remarkably simple how punishment and kindness worked in conjunction to reform injustice to complacency. But one thing was missing in his quiet assurances: the promise of freedom. It was important that Vette not have a goal to work towards. Just a long haul day by day of getting used to her new life. When she reached that next milestone Ansilm would reward her with something nice. Something she liked. He just needed time to parse her out.

Aside from some sparse chatter where Vette asked Ansilm where he was from (Kaas City) and some comments on the weather, they continued the hike in silence. Coming from Korriban to a planet where the atmosphere was the same consistency as soup and well above sea level, the few kilometers felt like parsecs. Every step felt like an overexertion and he was beginning to feel the edge of a chill. Vette was doing better with her stamina for exploring, but even experience couldn’t negate the harsh barriers of rapid climate change. He could feel them both beginning to flag, when they encountered their first Gundark.

They had seen movement in the trees occasionally but nothing desperate enough to interfere with the man-made pathway. The exception was foraging just off the path with its head bowed and grunting into the soil.

It had been a while since Ansilm had seen a Gundark, and the reality of how gruesomely large they were was a daunting eleven-foot reality made of mealy smelling taut stretched hide.

Vette groaned. Fatigue snagging even the edges of that. “We sh—” she choked off then glanced hesitantly between Ansilm and his belt.

“We press on,” Ansilm said as if nothing was amiss.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I know you’re built, but that thing is you and then on stims on top of the stims its already on.”

“Come on,” Ansilm said again as though she hadn’t spoken and reached for his blade.

As he turned it on, the creature’s head snapped up. He felt Vette lurch back bloodlessly over his shoulder and knew she’d be useless. She had already succumbed to the terrifying elements and exhaustion. Ansilm would, as usual, have to rely on himself.

He coiled his legs into tethers of energy that he didn’t have and made an impossible leap with his arms poised in an overhead cut to bring down across the creature’s body. Hopefully the thick hide would tear like canvas and spill intestines on the ground. In slow motion, blurred by the speed of his surroundings, Ansilm watched one of the creatures tree trunklike arms come up effortlessly to bat him away. Committed now to his plan, Ansilm followed through with the cut and closed his eyes. It was like hitting a wall on a speeder bike. There was a beastial scream of pain, his bones folding into something solid, and …

Vette looked like she was vibrating; it made him feel dizzy.

...

The next thing he saw was cloth tarping and a Sith woman. She was beautiful. With a fine face, and elegant features piqued by a naturally mischievous demeanor and drips of gold piercings against her angular tendrilled ears and pouty lips.

“Jikksi? What’re you doing here?” The words came out too slow even though he was speaking normally. Almost like his tongue was too fast but his mouth too thick, but he felt good. Fresh. Cooler and softer somehow. “Korriban was a long time ago.”

“Do you know what year it is?”

Ansilm frowned. “Why would I need to? I’m fine,” he insisted a little hotly and leveraged his weight onto his arms to stand.

Quicker than he could comprehend, she grabbed his arms. The practical coarseweave was rough against his bare skin. Her fingernails dug into his slippery skin at the same time her light floral scent dug into his nose. She was strong. Ansilm – who had seen her control convulsive torrents of electricity while keeping perfect saber form - knew this, but it was another thing to feel it gird down through his muscles.

“Where’s my shirt?”

“What year is it Ansilm?”

He took a deep breath knowing there was no way to convince her he wasn’t okay when she was so assured that he needed medical attention.

“10 ATC.”

Her hands relaxed as he became less of a flight risk.

“Where are you?”

“A few miles from Kaas City.”

“Who was the master you were hoping to apprentice under as an acolyte?”

“Darth Baras, and he will be very unhappy if I’m late.”

Jikksi smiled and let go of the pinning hold on his biceps. He felt cold again after she left but not in a pleasant way. “So you were successful then.”

“Of course.” Ansilm blinked. “Vette.” He tried to bolt upright again, but a current of stiff pain that hadn’t been present before stopped him with a gasping grunt.             “You took a harsh knocking. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a few fractured ribs,” Jikksi replied and compelled him back down with both hands on his shoulders.  “I understand you have a lot to worry about, but if you try and get up again, I will restrain you. Anything you need, I can do.”

“You don’t understand. My slave—”

“The Twi’lek woman?”

“Yes, is she—?”

“After you were knocked out, she killed the Gundark and went looking for help. She found me, and we brought you here. She’s being attended to for her own injuries.”

Ansilm blinked back to Vette’s out of focus face and the thunderous sky framed behind her. He recalled retroactively the sharp scent of sap and ancient soil. She must have dragged him on his back.

“Here is where?” 

He tried to turn his head, but found that the stiff rod of pain prevented that too. Glows of a fire danced along the dark tenting material and conversation ebbed and flowed in the distance. It wasn’t enough to make anything out.

A mysterious smile played around Jikki’s lips. “I’m not at liberty to say anything except that you’ll have to be marched out with a blindfold on. But… She’s a very loyal slave. You should consider yourself lucky.”

Ansilm slipped his fingers around Jikksi’s wrist – where her palm still rested flat and even on his shoulder, like an afterthought. “I do.”

[writingismyhappytime]

I Know I Shouldn't (Part 3)

Loki x OC

Warnings: language, violence, mild romance 

A/N: I am including characters from actual Norse mythology, as well as from the movie franchize. There might be some spoilers, I’m not writing this with any specific time line in mind.

I hurt.

I hurt, but not like before.

This was odd.

How was I alive? I was still breathing, and now every breathe didn't make me want to cry. In fact, my body was relaxed, lying in something soft.

How was I alive? I should be dead --- something stabbed me, the wound in my side ---.

I didn't understand, I couldn't comprehend ---.

What was that?

I didn't want to open my eyes, I felt so out of place, so disoriented. I didn't hear any voices, and I was warm, beneath blankets.

I hesitated, then let my eyes slowly open. I blinked a second, my vision blurry.

I was in a dark room, and the breeze I kept feeling was from open doors. A fuzzy form stood out on the balcony, his back to me, hair moving with the wind.

"Loki?" My voice was a whisper, almost a croak. The form stiffened, and then turned, moonlight shadowing half of his face.

"Dreyna."

It was him!

I blinked, a little surprised to see him. He was at my bed in a moment, so quick I didn't see him move.

"How do you feel?" He asked, hovering beside me. I squinted, just barely able to make out his features, his eyes seeming to glow in the darkness.

"Like I should be dead," I mumbled, uncomfortable. I wanted to shift, to shuffle where I was sitting up. I didn't like lying down with him over me.

"No, no, don't move!" Loki said quickly, his cold hand pressing against my --- bare shoulders!?

"Where are my clothes!?" I rasped, suddenly holding tight to the blanket. It was so soft, like plush silk, I'd never felt anything like it in Asgard.

"They were ruined, you were badly injured --- Dreyna, you mustn't move!"

Yes I could!

I straightened quickly --- instantly regretting the action! I hissed in pain as my side protested, announcing exactly where my wound was. Loki sighed, pressing against my shoulders and forcing me to lean back.

"Again, you shouldn't move. You had a sword broken in your rib cage."

How the hell did that happen?

"How do you feel? How bad is your pain?" He then asked, hesitantly sitting beside me on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap.

"I've had worse," I muttered, avoiding his gaze. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. I brought you to a healer, this is her home. She's returned to Asgard now, to help deal with the wounded."

That sounded too good to be true.

"It's unnecessary to lie to me, Loki. This is no healers home." I said, frowning. "Tell me what's happened."

Loki gave it a beat, then sighed again, as if having this conversation was painful for him. It didn't escape me that sometime before this he was in a cell and I his warden.

Funny how that changed.

"There was a riot of some sort in the dungeons, obviously. You stabbed your sword into my cell, creating a mass of forceful energy that knocked everyone down. Happen so, it also broke your sword. Into your ribcage."

...

I gave it a beat.

...

"My sword is broken!?"

"Only one! And repairable, I'm sure, once you have all the pieces." Loki told me hastily, brushing black strands of hair behind his ears. "The other is here as well. You've a change of clothes and your armor has been cleaned. When you're well enough you can change and return to Asgard."

I frowned, running my hands down my face.

I didn't understand.

I was injured in the Asgard dungeons, why didn't Loki just leave me there? Why not just leave me there for someone else to find? I'd given him his second (or fiftieth) chance for freedom and redemption.

"Did you carry me from Asgard?" I asked softly, looking at the selfish, power hungry god.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You would have died in Asgard." He said simply. "Eir would have been too busy healing others, and any other novice who attempted to remove that sword from your side would have brought about your death. You freed me from the cell, I saved your life. I figure we're even now."

Not even close.

"At least you acknowledge I let you out."

"I don't know why you did."

I wasn't sure either. I ignored his question, tightening my hold on the blanket a moment before forcing my fingers to relax. I gave myself a moment to just understand that I wasn't dead after all, when that's all I'd been expecting after such pain.

Loki had saved me.

Despite all his faults, his cruel, selfish, jealous, oh, and murderous ways --- he'd risked his freedom to save my life.

I suppose friendship wasn't completely dead.

Yet anyway.

"Thank you," I said after a moment, forcing the reluctant words from my lips. Loki's eyes cut to my face in surprise, although he quickly hid his reaction. "For not letting me die when you could."

He merely shrugged, as if it hadn't been difficult for him at all.

"I wouldn't thank me yet, Dreyna. After you're healed, you have to return to Asgard. They'll no doubt question you on where you've been."

"I'll tell them I was injured, that I awoke under a healers care. That's all they'll need to know."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Everything is simple. People make it complicated."

He arched one black brow, but didn't comment. He stood, looking back at the balcony, at the lights twisting their way across the sky.

"They're pretty, aren't they?"

"When you haven't seen them in years, yes."

I sighed, crossing my arms above my torso. "It was your own fault for getting imprisoned, Loki. No one else's."

"Says the one who kept me imprisoned."

"It was my job. I'm not the one who went against Asgard and got myself put in time out." I snapped, irritated. I appreciated he'd saved my life, but I didn't appreciate his attitude or his smarmy remarks. I hadn't asked for his help, I never had.

He'd been the one always coming to me.

He frowned at me, calculating eyes narrowing. "You could be more grateful that I saved you."

"I already thanked you. What more do you want? Should I bow? Kneel?" I admit, I was frustrated with him. To be so intelligent and educated, he was a fool.

He was so jealous of Thor and all the other Asgardians, that he'd never been able to realize that he was one! He kept straining for power, more and more to prove to his brother and father how worthy he was --- but as long as he kept down this path he would only meet hardship!

"I'm not from Midgard, Loki. I don't owe you anything, other then thanks." I muttered in the silence, rubbing my face. "We're friends, equals. You seem to forget that frequently."

"I don't see how you can call us friends." He sounded disgusted, and I couldn't help but bristle.

"So we're not then?" I demanded, aware my voice was still hoarse. It hurt to speak so loudly, but he was pissing me off! "Is it beneath you, the great God of Mischief, to be friends with the dungeon keeper? Is that it!?"

"No --- why would you think that?" He actually looked startled. "You have a great title, everyone knows that. Looking after the dungeons is supposed ---."

"To be some great honor? I'm as much a prisoner as those I keep in the cells." I shuffled, my skin growing cold. I pulled the blankets higher around me. "Is nothing to even speak of. I'm trapped in the darkness of those dungeons days on end, dealing with the prisoners and their remarks. I didn't want to take over, I ---."

"Sorry to interrupt this truly touching moment," someone suddenly said dryly, catching me off guard; I hadn't heard anyone enter the room! "But we don't have time for it."

"I don't recall asking for you," Loki hissed, and I squinted, seeing a shadowy shape in the doorway. I knew that voice from somewhere...

"You came to me, Laufeyson, and you're in my home! I expect you to behave yourself, or you and your injured keeper can find yourselves somewhere else to hide out!" The woman spit, crossing her arms.

Loki bristled, clenching his pale hands.

This was exhausting.

"What do you want then?" He finally said, his voice as cold as his heart.

"The Asgardians are looking for your friend. They tracked her through that cave you took, they know she's not in Asgard anymore."

Wonderful.

They were looking for me because my body wasn't amongst those left in the dungeons, and other then my broken sword half, I couldn't be found.

I wondered if the cells were broken, if that's why they searched for me. I did have an importance, after all.

Or did they suspect I was with Loki, seeing as he was free?

"Aren't they looking for Loki instead?"I asked, growing worried.

"Of course they are," the woman answered, as if that should be obvious. She gave it a moment before she walked into the room more where I could see her.

Amora.

Really, Loki!?

He brought me to that woman's home!?

She seduced any man she wanted, mostly to use them for their knowledge or power before she tossed them away. She'd been a student beneath a sorceress in Asgard, but she wasn't content learning magic that helped others.

Like Loki, she wanted more.

I knew her only weakness would be Thor, the one man who never held any interest in her and denied her advances.

Her hair was still blonde, held back by an emerald at the nape of her neck. She didn't wear much clothing, her dress slit at each hip, revealing her long legs. I knew she kept her appearance that way not because she wanted to be perceived as whorish as I thought she was, but because it drew the attention of men, weak and powerful.

She was a snake in the body of a woman.

Devious, vain --- she had no soul.

Her and Loki made quite the pair, actually.

"They search for Loki, they search for you. Thor is too preoccupied by his human wretch, but the warriors three are out and about, even Heimdell has his watchful eye out." She crossed her arms, pushing her breasts out even farther.

If I had a needle I'd ---.

"Do they suspect we are together?" Loki asked, hopefully not even noticing what she looked like.

Not that I was even concerned if he was.

"Of that, I know not. Heimdell cannot find this place, so you're both safe as long as you're under my roof. I don't want their attention here, so you must get her out of here as soon as possible." Amora scowled. "I hope she's worth all this trouble, Loki."

He didn't respond, but turned away, face darkening.

This is not how I expected my day to go.

When Loki didn't answer her, Amora huffed, turning on one sharp heel and leaving the room, mumbling something I couldn't catch.

I sunk a little lower into the bed.

"Drop me off in one of the worlds," I finally said, reaching for my side as it ached. "I'll call for Heimdall, he'll open the Bifrost for me to return. I'll make up some excuse, say perhaps I'd followed a prisoner and we struggled, fell into the void."

"Does sound plausible, but you'll still be under suspicion."

"I'm always under suspicion, Loki. Being associated as a friend of yours tends to make that happen."

"Oh?" He glanced at me. "What do you mean?"

I was too tired for this.

I just shook my head, not wanting to answer. He didn't need to know the details of my life, he shouldn't even be here with me. I was surprised he hadn't taken off and left me already, especially since he knew I'd live.

I kind of wished he would.

~~~~~~

I stared at my reflection in the floor length mirror, frowning. Amora was apparently kind enough to give me clothing, the type where most of the material was still intact.

Though we shared the same blonde hair, we had nothing else in common. I took my duty seriously, I didn't abandon Asgard because it didn't suit my fancy anymore.

I shouldn't compare myself to the Enchantress anyway, I knew better. She was a viper.

I hesitated, opening the robe I wore, turning so I could see the bandages wrapped around my waist. My skin was pale, I'd lost so much blood I still felt weak.

I sighed.

My own sword had nearly killed me.

The irony.

I glanced over at where the piece lay, cleaned and shining on the end table. I wasn't sure how long it had been in my side, but it felt like it was still embedded there.

It hurt.

I wondered if it would ever stop.

I hesitated, then tightened the robe back, irritated. I definitely didn't like how I looked right now, I needed my armor back.

I just... couldn't currently get it on by myself.

How did I get in this situation!?

Dammit.

I scowled, irritated. I didn't need anyone's help, I could put it on on my own! I needed to be out of this place before Amora forced me out. I didn't know her well, only in passing, but I could only imagine the consequences of staying in her home.

Loki had brought me to her for her to heal me, but at what cost? Who was paying the price?

"You shouldn't be out of bed."

"You shouldn't be skulking in doorways," I retorted, glaring at his reflection in the mirror. This room had no door, it wasn't secure and offered no privacy. Loki had even gone for a few hours, I wasn't sure where or even what he was up too, and I didn't ask.

It was none of my concern.

He looked annoyed as he stepped inside the room.

"Is your wound aching?" He asked, casually walking to my side. His green eyes went to my waist. "Do you ---?"

"It's fine," I snapped, moving away instantly when he reached for me. I crossed my arms tightly across my chest, disliking being so close to him.

I knew better.

For a moment, I thought he looked hurt, but he quickly changed expressions.

"Very well. If you're well enough to get up, then you're well enough to return to Asgard." He said briskly. "Get dressed and I'll take you to one of the worlds."

About that.

I frowned, turning to look dubiously at my armor. I merely wore a robe currently, nothing but bandages underneath. I certainly didn't want Loki dressing me, nor Amora. I didn't want anyone's help!

I should be able to do it on my own!

And yet...

I reached nervously for the necklace I always wore, my fingers twining in the silver chain. It was a habit I'd never been able to break, and I always wore it.

It reminded me of better times.

"You look peaked, you should sit," Loki said after a moment, sounding tired.

He looked more himself, dressed in his emerald clothing, no longer the rags of prison. I was surprised he didn't already wear his golden horned helmet and he wasn't waving around that staff he'd gotten when he'd attacked Midgard.

I didn't answer him, but did sit on the edge of the bed wearily.

I didn't want to be in this situation. I didn't know what to do or how to act. I was grateful to Loki for saving my life, for going through so much to ensure that I lived.

But I resented him.

I'd been forced into a job I'd never wanted, forced to be in darkness and listen to the jeers of those who didn't trust me because of my association with him.

I hated working the dungeons.

"Why do you still have that?"

"What?" I looked over, startled as Loki sat beside me on the bed, frowning. He reached over, taking the necklace I still twisted between my fingers into his own.

"This. I gave it to you centuries ago. Why do you still have it? If you dislike me so, why not throw it away?"

"I don't dislike you, Loki."

"You have an interesting way of showing it."

"Don't be a child," I huffed, leaning and pulling the necklace from his grasp.

His brows furrowed, and he studied me a moment, keen eyes calculating.

"You're angry at me."

"You're observant."

"You're angry but you do not despise me as the rest of Asgard. I... I am truly sorry about the death of your father, Dreyna. His end was never my intention."

I sighed, looking away.

"I don't care he's dead." I muttered, looking at my bruised hands. "I'm not even sad he's gone, relieved, actually. I'm not under his thumb anymore. I don't have to watch my every action, worried I'll be reprimanded."

"I thought as much. So why are you angry? I did you a favor it seems."

I shook my head. "He's dead, yet he designed the cells. Without someone to keep them up, all of them will start to go down, one by one. They'll malfunction over time, and then there'll be thousands of prisoners running amok all over again. Someone had to take over his job so that didn't happen."

"That someone didn't have to be you," Loki pointed out smartly.

"Yes, it did. Father never taught anyone else how to keep the prison up, it's just me." I sounded miserable even to my own ears. "I have to keep them going."

"No, you don't." Loki scoffed, rising to his feet. "To hell with Asgard! Who cares if it's destroyed!?"

"We both do!" He wasn't fooling me. "We both know some of the prisoners are too dangerous to ever get released into the realms! They must stay locked in the dungeons."

"And so they will. By someone else."

"No, Loki. My father taught me my entire life the ins and outs of that prison. Don't you think I'd have trained someone else to do the job if I thought I could!?" I snapped, standing restlessly. "It would take a lifetime!"

"So that's why you haven't bothered to leave? Why you've confined yourself to that place?" He didn't have to sound so condescending. "You let your duty to Asgard blind you to the fact Druinn controls your life even from Valhalla!"

"What else am I supposed to do!?" I hissed. "Abandon my home to the prisoners!? No one else ---."

"You keep saying that, but I don't believe it." Loki shook his head. "You're punishing yourself by staying the keeper, Dreyna."

I was aware.

But I couldn't change that.

"This could be your chance, you know." Loki said after a moment, pausing in his pacing to look at me. "You don't have to go to Asgard."

"Oh? Where else shall I go then?" I rolled my eyes.

"Anywhere." He responded simply, mischievous eyes glowing. "Anywhere in the nine realms."

"Heimdall would find me and they would bring me back."

"There are ways to block his site."

"I don't care. It's not what I want."

"You hate it, you've said as much. Why return there? Some skewed sense of duty?" He demanded,  clenching his hands as he looked at me.

"Loki, I've explained ---."

"You punish yourself. If you spoke with someone ---."

"Who? Odin?" I sneered, finally shutting him up at the mention of his father. "Thor? They don't care about me, they'd never help me! They only search for me now because of my status. Even if I had another task, it wouldn't make any difference!"

"Why wouldn't it?" He challenged, apparently refusing to drop the subject despite my harsh words.

"Because of you!" I hissed, finally saying the words I'd been biting back. "No one even looks at me the same because of my friendship with you! Do you really think your life was the only one affected when you pulled that stunt with Midgard? The Giants? You ruined everything for me!"

"How could I possibly do that?" He sounded exasperated, as if I was overreacting, and I hated that! I was so frustrated, I just wanted him to understand!

"No one trusts me." I muttered, averting my gaze from his. "I haven't left Asgard or even the palace in years. We were close, Loki. And because of it you cursed me."

For once he was quiet, he didn't immediately speak.

"Odin made me dungeon keeper, because of my father and so he could keep an eye on me. When you disappeared when the Bifrost was broken, everything changed. No matter what I do or say, how much I prove that I am nothing like you, no one listens! I'm trapped in that darkness because of you!"

"And yet you want to go back to that?" He looked scornful again. "To a place that treats you so?"

"Where else have I? It is my home, it always has been. I swore an oath to protect it, just as you did. Yet I hold to my word."

He scoffed, turning away. "They don't deserve such loyalty."

"They say the same about you." I retorted, walking away from him. I stepped out onto the balcony, wishing he'd just go away. My hands curled around the cold stone, and I stared out into the void.

I wasn't sure where Amora kept her home, but this wasn't Asgard. Her home seemed to float on a plot of land, lost somewhere in space I suppose. I wasn't surprised Heimdall couldn't find this place, he wouldn't know where to look.

"Do you really think so little of me?"

"I try not to think of you at all," I answered honestly. "Befriending you has brought me nothing but grief these past few years."

"Ah, but it used to bring you adventure," he countered, slipping up beside me. I scowled as I looked up at him, trying to look more irritated then I felt. "We had fun, didn't we?"

"Of course we did. Poor Thor was the one who always got in trouble for our escapades."

"He's a bumbling fool, of course he took the fall. It was worth it."

"Why? Because you got him in trouble?"

"No, because I had someone to spend time with."

Oh.

I frowned up at him.

He enjoyed spending time with me? We really did used to have lots of fun, playing pranks on the others, causing everyone grief.

No wonder my father had been so hard on me.

"We were terrors, you know that don't you?"

"That's what made it so fun." He chuckled, giving me a half smile I nearly returned.

"Sif still hates you for your little trick, she takes it out on me."

"Sif thinks more highly of herself then she should. She's no longer the apple of Thors eye, she's been replaced by a human. You know it burns her up."

"All she has to do is wait until the human is dead, it's simple. Thor will mourn her but he'll move on." I sighed, absently touching my side; I was moving around too much. "I'm sure Amora wants to make her move again as well."

"Amora wants to make a move now, she just knows better. How do you feel?"

"I feel irritated you keep asking me that question every five minutes."

"It shows I care."

"Do you?" I was curious. I shifted so I could look up at him, see his face more clearly. I wanted to see his reaction, I didn't want him to hide from me. "Is that why you saved me, Loki?"

"We are friends."

"If I hadn't released you from that cell and you'd gotten out on your own, you wouldn't have thought about me again. You only saved me because you felt you owed me." I dismissed the idea of his caring quickly. He did murder his own father after all, I hadn't forgotten.

Loki didn't immediately answer, just regarded me warily. He started to speak, but stopped, the breeze blowing his black hair off his shoulders.

I thought as much.

"Dreyna, wait ---." He reached out when I started to turn, disappointed. I wasn't sure why I even was, it's not like I thought Loki loved me or anything.

I was a dungeon keeper, there was no glory in that. I had nothing to offer any man who ever wanted my hand in marriage --- no wealth, status, not even a nice home. If anyone ever did want to be with me, their feelings would have to be sincere.

My father had ensured that I could never have anything but the dungeons.

So even though Loki and I had been close in our younger years, that time was past. I could give nothing to him, he was a prince --- in two realms, technically.

I was nothing but an overglamourized guard.

"Dreyna," Loki's hand caught mine, forcing me to stop. His hands were as cold as always, at least now I understood his lack of warmth. He twisted, turning to look down at me, refusing to release his grip when I pulled. "I have always thought of you, why do you think I tried to stop you from attacking that creature before? I knew it would kill you!"

"So you doubted me in battle then?" I huffed, refusing to believe for one moment he thought anything more of me. I wouldn't let him trick me.

"Of course not! But you didn't know what that thing was, and with what it was doing to every one around it ---."

"Oh, right, thanks for the vote of confidence!"

I jerked away from him, ignoring the awful pang in my ribs as I did. I turned furiously, not even sure why I was angry, I think --- I was so frustrated!

I wasn't sure what I even wanted him to say, I just ---.

I heard Loki curse, and then I felt his hand close around my arm, twirling me around so quickly I stumbled into him. He caught my shoulders firmly, and I looked up, a biting remark on my tongue.

I forgot it almost instantly.

Loki's lips closed over mine, his hands rising to cup my face. I went still, my heart missing a few beats as he kissed me, my body completely frozen.

My eyes were wide in shock when he leaned away --- did he really just kiss me?

"I always worry for you," he said after a moment, the cold from his fingers seeping into my skin. "You've been a friend to me when others scorned me, you've been at my side when even my brother turned against me. Even while imprisoned you let my mother visit and bring me whatever I wanted, and don't think I don't know how against the rules it is. I know I hurt you with my actions, but it doesn't have to be that way anymore. You don't have to go back to Asgard. Stay with me instead."

Stay with him?

I couldn't! My duty was to Asgard, I had to... to...

"I don't want to go back to Asgard."

Tags: @sdavid09.  @sama1314

[salted-barbed-wire]

Let’s Play Pretend

My fellow Shield sister is first! <3 Thank you @i-kneel-for-king-loki for the request!

Prompt: (4)”You should be kissed and kissed often and by someone who knows how” (9) “You made my fingers all dirty, you better lick them clean.” (10) We are pretending to be a couple to play a prank on our friends. But I think at some point we might have quit pretending. Featuring: Dean Ambrose

Master List Plug!

“Oh sweetie pie!” My voice dripped with a high-pitched, sugar-filled, lovey-dovey, tone that would make anyone who heard me cringe. “There you are.” I threw my arms around Dean Ambrose’s neck as I jumped on his back. “Hello, my baby.” He said joyfully as he positioned me into a piggy back ride position. “Where have you been, baby?” I said with a pouty lip. “I’ve been right here. Talking with our friends. You know? The one’s that don’t think we’re actually in love.” I smirked as I looked around at Naomi, Jimmy, Sami, and Chris. The disgusted look on their faces was perfect. “You know what?” Naomi said, “I’ve got to go vomit. I’ll see you later. Y’all are gross.” The rest of the group nodded and followed behind her to catering. “Alright, alright, Ambrose.” I grunted as I tried to dismount him. “They’re gone, let me down. It’s too high!” I felt his chuckle rumble through his back. “Nah. Let’s go walk around and gross out more people.” He started to stomp off like a dinosaur making weird roars. “You’re such a dork.” I giggled trying not to lose my grip. Dean Ambrose and I both loved just picking on people. It was what made us such good friends. That’s right, friends. The whole ‘lovey-dovey, heart eyes couple was all an act. We just liked to see how many of our friends we could gross out. It was all fun and games. Or at least it was, until I started having feelings for him. I leaned my head down on his shoulders, taking in his scent. It was a warm, musk that made me grin whenever I was around. With as much time as we were spending together, pretending to like each other, I was smiling twice as much as I had been before. “Uh oh.” He said quietly. “What?” I perked my head up. “Ex boyfriend! Three o’clock!” He whispered. I looked around to see Seth standing with Cesaro and a few other people talking and laughing. “Evasive maneuvers!” I said trying again to get off of him. “Not this time, doll face.” He said squeezing my thighs. “Let’s go have some fun with dear old Sethie.” “Dean-” I hissed. “Sethie boy!” He hollered at his old Shield-mate as we approached him. “Get me the fuck out of here now!” I whispered in his ear.” “No way. You’ll enjoy this.” he threw back to me quietly. “Hey Dean.” Seth turned at the sound of Ambrose’s voice. “And his new partner in crime, (Y/N).” His eyes locked with mine, then surveyed the scene of Dean and I in front of him. “So what you been up to lately, brotha?” Dean asked. “Not much.” Seth said a little too curtly. “I’d ask you the same, but I think I already know what you’ve been getting into.” “Now, now, now, Rollins.” Dean warned. “We’re all buddies here.” “Seems like it.” Seth turned away from us, “I didn’t know being buddies meant we got each other’s sloppy seconds.” Dean let go of me, setting me down carefully on the floor. “Would you like to say that a little louder, Rollins?” He growled. Seth spun around to face Dean, the two men snarled in each other’s faces. “You heard me, Dean-o.” “Ambrose,” I grabbed Dean’s arm pulling him back by his bicep, “You don’t have to-” “Oh I think I do, (Y/N). No one disrespects my girl.” “Dean… I’m not-” “She’s mine.” He glared at Rollins. “Have her then.” Seth snapped back, turning around and walking away. Dean took a step after him, but I pulled back harder. “Come on,” I whispered. “You’re causing a scene. Let’s go cool down.”

Later in Dean’s locker room, I sat on the couch while he paced back and forth. It reminded me a lot of a tiger stuck in a cage, wanting to go hunting for it’s next kill. “How dare he!” Dean growled for the fifth time. “Dean, you need to calm down.” I said soothingly. “Seth is just trying to get a rise out of us and it’s working.” “He can’t talk about you like that, (Y/N)! He just can’t!” Dean stopped and looked at me. “You are not his left overs and he can’t treat you like that.” “Dean, you should’ve just let me tell him, we were pretending as a joke. Maybe he would’ve lightened up a little. I’m sure what he said was out of jealousy.” Dean’s brows furrowed and his head cocked to the side, “What joke?” “Remember? We’re not really a couple.” The reality stung and I tried not to wince as I continued. “We’re just doing this to rib everyone.” “Oh yeah…” he said, his voice trailing off into uncomfortable silence. We sat there, staring at the floor for a while. I kept wishing I knew what he was thinking.. “Hey, (Y/N)?” “Hmm?” “What did you see in Seth?” Dean wouldn’t look up from the floor. I sighed, “I don’t know. He was always really nice to me, he’s funny, and smart. But he was just really flirty with a lot of the other girls and he could be rude without realizing it sometimes.” Dean looked up at me, “He flirted with other girls?” “Yeah, maybe not intentionally, but it still hurt you know?” I twiddled my thumbs. “They’d eat it up. They all think he’s so hot.” I rolled my eyes, “Jokes on them, the boy can’t even kiss correctly.” “What do you mean?” I shrugged. “He just never got me going whenever he kissed me, you know? When we would kiss. He wasn’t much of a physical person. He mainly just told me how he felt.” Dean’s hand brushed a thin piece of hair away from my face and brushed along my jaw line to my chin. Goosebumps ran down the back of my neck as his long soft fingers tilted my chin up to look at him, “You deserve better.” “Wha-?” Was all I could manage. I was drowning in those blue eyes. “You deserve to be kissed and kissed often and by someone who knows how.” I bit my lip as my gaze wandered down to his mouth, “Then kiss me.” I whispered. Dean’s lips came crashing down onto mine. They were warm and soft and gentle, yet fierce at the same time. I could feel myself getting riled up, especially when he rested his hand on my thigh. The heat from it warmed through my jeans, making me wet down below. I parted my lips just a little and flicked his lip with my tongue, he responded with a flick of his own and a squeeze of my thigh. His tongue searched my mouth, playing with me. My hands wrapped up in his hair pulled him off just long enough to catch my breath. Instead, Dean moved his mouth to my neck, causing me to let out a moan. His teeth grazed along my skin, nipping at the sensitive flesh. I knew I was going to have little love marks that the make up crew would have to cover up before I went on TV again. Right now though, I needed more. In fact, I needed to speed things along. “I want you,” I whispered in Dean’s ear. I felt his lips turn up in a smile as he planted more kisses on my neck. Trailing back up to my jaw, Dean nibbled on my ear. I cringed a little under the tickle of his breath.  “I want you too.” He growled, hands sliding underneath my shirt, unhooking my bra. “Are you going to let me have it?” He slipped my shirt off over my head, planting kisses on my exposed stomach, working his way up to my breasts. I moaned. Feeling his lips wrap around my left nipple. He nibbled and suckled and licked at it, then moved to the right. I impatiently squeezed his body between my thighs. Dean gave my lips a quick peck and then leaned back to remove his shirt. I bit my lip as his muscles were exposed. I reached up to trace the lines on his chest but he grabbed my wrist and firmly slammed them into the couch cushion. Something about being pinned down by him, unable to move was beyond sexy. He released his grip and slid down to my jeans, unbuttoning them and then forcefully ripping them past my ankles along with with my panties.  “If you’re as sweet as you look, I’m going to really enjoy this.” Dean threw my legs over his shoulders and began teasing my clit with his tongue. I moaned and wiggled beneath him as he licked and suckled. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I felt his index and middle finger enter me. They curled against my g spot and his tongue flicked my nub. I arched my back as my climax came.  “Oh my God! Dean!” I screamed as I came. Dean removed his fingers, they were wet and glistened with my juices. “Look at that.” He said holding them in front of me, “You made my fingers all dirty, you better lick them clean.”  I leaned up and sucked on his fingers. Dean groaned watching me taste myself. “Do you taste how sweet you are?” I nodded as I continued to lick up the juices. “Mmm. You never answered me, are you going to let me have it?” “It’s all your’s, daddy.” I grinned. Dean pushed my legs farther apart and slammed his throbbing member into me. I cried out in pain at first, but the whimpers became moans as my body got use to him. His thrusts were precise as he pounded into me. Lifted my left leg up to give him deeper access. Dean gripped my ankle and pushed into back rest of the couch. I started to cry out again. His cock was rolling right over my g-spot and the leverage he got from holding onto my leg had his eyes rolled back too. My orgasm hit and Ambrose pulled out. “I’m not ready yet.” He groaned. My head spun. “What?” Dean grabbed my body and flipped me over onto my stomach. “Let me see that ass up.” He growled lifting my hips up. The wind got knocked out of me as his hips slammed into my rear, his massive cock filling me up. He pounded me over and over again. The sound of our skin slapping together drove me crazy.  I bit my lip as I moaned, my eyes rolled back. Dean grabbed handful of my hair and pulled. I cried out as my roots tugged at my scalp. A swat went across my rear as Dean started grunting a little louder. His thrusts were starting to become sloppy, more sporadic. I could feel my next orgasm coming quick.  “I’m so close, Dean!” I whimpered into the cushion. “Good, baby.” He growled, “So am I. Cum already!” I released as he commanded, my walls squeezing around his member. The sensation must have sent him over as well, because as I clenched him, he gave three more thrusts and then his load filled up my slit. I fell forward and Dean fell on top of me. “Holy shit,” I whispered. My eyes were starting to droop, I could feel the blood pulsating through my body. “Holy shit is right.” His voice was gruff. “Why didn’t we do that sooner?” “Because we technically weren’t together.” “Oh yeah.” He said. Dean moved and began kissing my shoulder, then my neck. “I’d like to do that again.”  I felt his kisses becoming more passionate, “Right now?” I asked surprised. Dean’s breath tickled against my skin as he chuckled. “No, love. Maybe tonight after the show. If I do that again now, I won’t be able to move.” Dean got up and handed me my clothes. My legs wobbled as I stood, I couldn’t control the shaking in my knees. “ I think you broke me.” I said looking down at myself. Dean burst out in laughter, “Oh darlin’, wait until I get you in a bed.”

[angharad-jenkins]

Touch Sensitive

Blinds shudder, mimic human response in place of the dormant human laying still in a tightly tucked bed. The licks of icy wind trembling through weak window frames are seemingly powerless, for the cold cannot percolate skin that’s gotten out of the routine of simply sensing temperature. If she were awake, she would be shivering just as vigorously as the blinds that do so for her in substitution. But Angharad is asleep, and peaceful though it may appear, it is a sleep as consuming and restricting as a straight jacket. It has been days, there have been visitors and there have been treatments and procedures, all unbeknownst to the sleeping poet who’s words are souring behind redundant lips. She will awake to pain, no doubt. There will be confusion, regret and all kinds of angst she has had to omit from expelling. When she wakes she will discover a lost finger, a lot of bruises, aching insides, and a blip in her memory that will surely drive her insane. 

But that is yet to come; for now, the endless sleep prevails. 

6 days pass and when bloodshot eyes blink open, they focus on a clinical white shell of a room, with an empty chair and a closed door. She stings, but while her vision rules her senses she neglects to locate the source of the sensation. It smells like chemicals and poorly scented rose soap; she inhales but the stench isn’t a particularly clued up lead in aiding her to figure out all the what’s, where’s and why’s. It’s blatant, her whereabouts, she just cannot make sense of it. There’s flowers occupying every surface, and while so much information is missing, she realizes that she can’t be in the UK because they don’t allow flowers in hospitals. Funny the things you remember when you’ve been knocked out for God knows how long. As a frown props itself in the lines of her forehead, things begin blurring back and while they do, her heart constricts inside her delicate rib cage. She remembers names, circumstances, the hopelessness she felt before the nothingness ensued. She remembers all the women, all the love and all the confusion. A toxic taste stains her tongue as she remembers the poisonous habit that must have landed her in this bed. She sighs, air leaving laboured lungs with a puff of dust. 

A thump and a clatter snaps her out of her epiphany, she jumps a little, her ears wearing into use. Angharad’s foggy green hues land upon the source of the noise with initial panic, but then recognition clears her fear away and she feels a beat of home in her chest. “Catrin,” she croaks, something resembling a smile cracking at her stiff cheeks, and her sister whimpers as she joins her side. “Oh, Angharad. Yesi Mawr you had us all so scared,” Catrin spills words too fast for Angharad to spool. She leans toward her sister, a painful expression riddling her features as her back aches, like it’s breaking out of a cement cast. “You’ve been asleep for about a week, Harry. We-- we knew you were going to wake up. You’re a tough little duck, it’s just, we didn’t know when. Mam and Dad sent me to be with you because they couldn’t get the money together to get here both of them. All your stuff got pinched, you were in rather rough nick when they found you--” One glance at her younger siblings face told Catrin that nothing she’s been reeling has made the slightest bit of sense to her. It’s all too far out of context, all to clouded over. Something shivers up Angharad’s spine.

“I don’t know what happened. Do I want to?” Harry’s question is nothing short of hesitant. She’s twiddling her fingers, one of which she hasn’t noticed is gone yet, canine gnawing at dry lips incessantly. Catrin naturally doesn’t know how to respond, whether to lay it all out or let her sister remain in ignorant bliss. Except, the consequences are plain as day without a clear source and they have to be faced, so it isn’t bliss at all. There’s a few moments of palpable silence, Angharad’s eyes locked with desperation on her sister’s wise, brown orbs that are so much like her mothers, and then Catrin sucks in that cold air that until now Harry couldn’t feel. “...Do you want a tea?” Catrin asks, and Angharad doesn’t reply. She wants to know, and she doesn’t need to press her sister to get the information; the elder Floyd knows how the little one get’s her way. 

“You were on your own and you were very, very drunk.” The first sentence makes Angharad wince; she could have seen that coming she just didn’t want it. “When you were found you had been lying in a snowbank for about 6 hours. You had head wounds and lots of bruises and alcohol poisoning and a ruptured spleen. Someone had attacked you and taken your things. You probably acted up, you silly girl... And you were wearing those stupid ripped gloves and so you they had to amputate your finger. Didn’t you notice?” This prompts Harry to at last acknowledge the missing digit on her right hand. She doesn’t respond. “You’ve been to hell and back and not even known it, Haz. I’d give you an earful but I think you’ve been through enough. And that aside, I’m just so glad to see you awake.” A shimmer of a tear battles to the front of Catrin’s eyes and Angharad instantly notices. It isn’t something she’s used to seeing, her elder sister letting her guard down. It would be enough to get her going, too, if it weren’t for the numbness consuming her and the information she was letting buffer in her hazy mind.  “I think I deserve the earful. Other than that, I don’t know what to say. You know I wouldn’t have gone down without a battle. But I’m stupid, that’s the way I work. I’m so sorry, Catrin. So bloody sorry for putting you and Mam and Dad all through this. For putting everyone through this. I understand that it;s my fault, and I’m--” That’s when she cracks, and before the first splashes of tears can wet her cheeks, Catrin’s shoulder is there to catch them. Her sisters arms nest around her broken frame, and she let’s herself cry.

“C’mon,” Catrin hushes, soothing the back of Angharad’s bushy hair while she makes up for a weeks worth of suppressed grief. “Beat yourself up when you’re back on your feet, Cariad. For now, you get your rest. Not like you need it after sleeping all week, you lazy sod.” She thumbs at Harry’s chin, the smaller sister smiles just a little. “You should get some too,” Angharad says softly, knowing that Catrin must be tired out from worry and jet lag and the entire family’s stress on her shoulders. Catrin nods, places a firm kiss on Angharad’s forehead and gets up to make her way. “I’ll be back in the morning. If you need me, the nurses have all my details.” Angharad notes the softer side of her sister not often displayed. A soft smile teases her rusty lips.  “I love you, sister.” “I love you too, Harry. We all do.”

With that, Angharad is alone again. Only this time, she’s aware of it. Sinking into a plump pillow, she studies the index finger that now stops at the knuckle and contemplates days passed. Who might have sat in that chair, making conversation with her in such an uncharacteristically silent state? She hopes there were many. She hopes they’ll come and receive some conscious company. Until then, alone it is. Alone as usual. 

[katedoesfics]

Shadows of the Future | Chapter 81

See You Again - Wiz Khalifa

First you both go out your way and the vibe is feeling strong and what's small turn to a friendship. A friendship turn into a bond and that bond will never be broken and the love will never get lost… Everything I went through you were standing there by my side. And now you gonna be with me for the last ride. So let the light guide your way. Hold every memory as you go. And every road you take will always lead you home. It's been a long day without you, my friend, and I'll tell you all about it when I see you again. We've come a long way from where we began. I'll tell you all about it when I see you again. When I see you again.

Rusl’s heart dropped in his chest. He felt frozen in place, stirring only when Link and Zelda lurched forward. Teba shouted at them, but they ignored him, sliding down the sandy dunes until they stood just yards away from Kohga. They held their ground as Kohga faced them.

“There they are,” he said with a light sigh. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Kohga regarded his army over his shoulder, nodding his head slightly. At his command, Yiga soldiers sprung toward the Sheikah, and one by one, they disappeared, until only the Hyrulean army remained to fight off the other approaching Yiga soldiers. Unmatched to their power, however, the soldiers quickly fell at the hands of the Yiga. The Champions moved quickly in an attempt to fight off the Yiga, but in the chaos of the fight, they soon found themselves at the mercy of the Yiga. A Yiga soldier stood behind each of them, an arm wrapped around each of their neck’s, blades pressed against their skin. But the threat was just for show, for their own power was far greater and more destructive. The deaths they would suffer by a mere blade would have been a far kinder fate.

Through it all, Kohga hadn’t moved an inch. A pleased smile split his face and he turned his attention to Link and Zelda once more. “Now, I’m sure I don’t have to say this,” he started, “but if you so much as blink, I will have their heads.”

“Let them go,” Link growled. “And you can have me.”

Kohga laughed. “It seems you still don’t understand,” he said. “I will take what I want and destroy anyone and anything that stands in my way. There is no negotiating here.” He raised his arm, his palm out toward Link.

But Rusl lunged toward Link, throwing himself against him and pushing him down against the ground. Just as he did so, Revali sprang into action, moving at speeds faster than he ever had before, oblivious to the Yiga soldiers that held him and his friends at knife point. In one motion, he broke free of the Yiga’s grasp and grabbed the blade, slicing it immediately across the soldier’s neck. Before the Yiga soldier even dropped to his knees, he had the others free, bringing the blade across their captives’ necks as well.

Without hesitation, he moved to Kohga, but to his surprise, Kohga was seemingly just as fast, and the moment Revali appeared behind him, the Yiga Clan leader thrust a palm out towards him, sending him sliding across the desert sands. The force of it stunned him, and the speed at which he was knocked back caused road rash on his body from the sand.

Rusl quickly returned to his feet as Kohga turned his attention back to them, crossing his arms as Kohga hurled an explosive attack towards them. The attack exploded against Rusl’s defense instead, the force of it causing the wind to be knocked out of him and bringing him to his knees. The shield around them dropped immediately, and Kohga took advantage, stepping forward and grabbing Rusl, pulling him up violently.

Rusl gasped as his lungs tried desperately to fill with air and he found himself looking into Kohga’s wicked eyes. Before he could react, he felt the unmistakable pain of a blade being thrust into his torso, slicing through his skin and being thrust up into his rib cage where it snagged against his bones.

Rusl’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The pain was unlike anything he had felt before, ripping through his body. He quickly felt his mind darken, shutting down completely to block his conscious self from the pain. Time moved slowly, endlessly, as Kohga’s grip loosened, and he dropped to the ground. Link’s screams echoed in his empty mind. The air pulled and cracked, but everything felt and sounded muffled. His vision blurred, and he couldn’t make sense of anything happening around him.

He clutched at the knife still lodged in him, gasping desperately for air, but his lungs were punctured. He looked up briefly and recognized Dorian’s shape standing before him, and he fell back against the ground, unable to hold himself up any longer.

His mind came in and out of focus. His eyes squinted as they attempted to focus in on the world around him. Link came into his view, desperation in his eyes. Rusl closed his eyes, straining his ears to try to hear his voice. Their words were muffled for a moment, then Mipha’s voice came in.

“...he will bleed out as soon as it is removed. It will be too quick for anyone to heal.”

Rusl started to laugh, but choked and winced in pain instead. One lung had failed completely and the other struggled on its own.

“No,” Link started. He sneered at Rusl. “You think this is fucking funny?”

“Little bit,” Rusl managed to choke out.

“I don’t!” Link’s voice cracked slightly.

Rusl’s eyes closed. “It was me or you, Kid.”

“You’re an idiot,” Link said, his voice hard.

“Yeah, well.” His breath shuddered as he exhaled. He put his hand on Link’s. “Don’t let that bastard win.”

“Dad.” His voice softened and broke as his father squeezed his hand. “Don’t.”

He felt Link’s tears against his skin. He had said all he needed to say to his son, but it still didn’t feel like enough. There had to be more. There was so much more, and he wanted to be there for all of it. But he couldn’t. He had known that for a long time. He had accepted his fate, and he would have given his life for his children again and again and again. A shaky sigh left his body, and he felt himself drifting into a final unconsciousness, but not without watching them grow before his eyes one last time. The four of them were together again, laughing. Link. Aryll. And Uli. I told you I could handle it. They were happy. They were whole.

Her voice… he could hear her again. He knew then, in those final moments, that his sacrifice was not in vain. Everything would be alright. And he felt at peace.

*****

It was done. Link had found his power and used it to defeat Kohga. The Yiga Clan was no more. The war was won. Though, it did not feel like a victory with so many lives lost. The survivors were tasked with the duty of collecting the casualties to return them home where they belonged. It was a long and daunting task, and they mostly worked in silence. But only one casualty mattered to Dorian.

He watched as the helicopter took off over the desert with Hyrule’s Champions on board until it disappeared over the horizon. They were worn, tired, and defeated. They didn’t need to be there any longer. Their job was done. Dorian only wished he could say the same for himself. He didn’t pull his gaze away until he felt a presence, and he turned his attention to his daughters as they approached him. Their gazes were hard, much like their father’s, as they regarded him seriously.

“What do you need us to do?” Koko asked.

Dorian hesitated as he regarded them. Most of the bodies had already been collected, and many of the survivors were healed and ready to return home. There was not much left, and as eager as they were to help, he didn’t want his daughters to be a part of any of it. He did not answer them, unable to find any words. He felt a pull in the air as more Sheikah appeared behind him, but he did not regard them. He watched as his daughters’ faces paled as they looked passed him.

“Sir.”

Dorian’s stomach twisted at the voice, and he regarded the two Sheikah over his shoulder. One of them held Rusl’s body, carefully laying it on the ground. They bowed their heads slightly to Dorian, then disappeared.

Koko gasped and her hand flew over her mouth in an attempt to bite back a sob.

“No!” Cottla rushed forward, but her older sister pulled her back suddenly, and Cottla fell against her as she cried.

Dorian closed his eyes, then turned his gaze back to his daughters. Cottla was wrapped in Koko’s arms, but Koko’s tears fell down her cheeks as her gaze met his. Cottla pulled away slightly to regard her father, then moved toward him and let herself fall against him. In that moment, she felt like a child again, seeing her mother’s lifeless body on the ground, and she sobbed against him.

Dorian let his head rest against her. When Koko joined her sister’s side, Dorian wrapped his arms around them both, and for a moment, he allowed his own tears to escape their hold. He didn’t let them go until Cottla had quieted, then he pushed them away from him, averting his gaze.

“Go home,” he said, his voice stern. “You’ve done enough.”

Koko opened her mouth to argue with him, but Dorian shot her a glare, and she swallowed and nodded, wiping her hand across her eyes. She pulled at Cottla’s wrist, who was staring at Rusl, and in a snap, they disappeared.

Dorian turned his gaze back to Rusl’s body, hesitant. His lips pinched together as he forced each breath through the blockage that formed in his throat. His chest seared, but still, his legs brought him toward Rusl’s body, and he dropped to his knees. His hands hovered over his body for a moment, then gripped at the tags that marked him, snapping the chain from around his neck. His fingers curled around the tags as he sat back on his legs. He pulled Rusl onto his lap and let his forehead rest against his, and he cried.

*****

Impa stared at him. It was all she could do, her lips parted slightly in disbelief, but she knew Dorian would not make something like that up. The pain on his face was too real; the face of a broken and defeated man. Her chest ached painfully and she swallowed passed the tightness in her throat in an attempt to remind herself to breathe. She screamed internally at him, cursed his name. She had done everything - everything - to keep that man alive. She knew him before he was even born. In a sense she had only just realized, he was like a son to her.

And he was gone. Rusl was dead.

She finally pulled her gaze away, staring down at the ground as she blinked back her tears. Her brows knit together fiercely as she tried to steady herself. She nodded once, slowly, to acknowledge that she had heard him; she was not about to make him repeat himself, his voice already shaking when he spoke to her the first time.

“And Link?” she asked softly. She glanced at him, meeting his pained gaze.

“He’s fine,” he confirmed. “Everyone is fine.”

She cursed, this time out loud, both relieved and grief stricken with the news. She cursed herself - blamed herself - for Rusl’s death. But there was nothing she could do about it now. It was too late.

Her palms pressed against her desk as she held herself up, but she was too tired to fight back her emotions any longer. The tears fell from her eyes silently, dropping onto the scattered pages on her desk. Her fingers curled, her nails dragging into the wood. But, at least it was over. It was all finally over.

“Dorian,” she started softly. There was nothing she could say to him, and yet everything. He had lost so much, sacrificed so much. The war was long, and it had taken a toll on him. Her heart broke for him and all he had to endure. There was nothing that she could say that would change that, nothing to convey the mixed emotions she felt in that moment. There was a long pause before she finally did speak. “I’m sorry.”

His brows knit together. “Impa.”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “As of today, I hereby grant you honorable discharge from active duty to the royal army.”

Dorian’s gaze turned fierce. “Impa -”

She looked up and met his gaze. “Dismissed, soldier.” Her gaze softened. “Thank you.”

Dorian stared blankly at her. She waved him off with a hand, then turned her back to him. Dorian pulled his gaze away, then left her alone in her office. He stood alone in the corridor, staring down at the floor, and his brows furrowed as his mind worked. Though the war was over, there were still so many unanswered questions. The one that nerved him the most was of the woman who had approached Rusl in Tabantha. There was some significance to her, enough to cause Kohga to question him. But both Rusl and Kohga were gone, and Dorian didn’t have a single lead onto who this woman was or the role she played in the war with the Yiga. And he couldn’t help the nagging feeling that their war wasn’t truly over. Not just yet.

*****

Jini leaned against his car, his arms folded across his chest. He stayed in the shadows of the trees on the side of the road. Just across the way, Queen Zelda was giving a speech in front of the palace. Her voice echoed faintly from the media van nearby, and he listened disinterestedly. All over the city, and likely far across Hyrule, her voice was being broadcast on television screens and radios as she addressed the end of the war and paid respects to the soldiers who had lost their lives.

His brow furrowed. He had always suspected, and though neither Zelda nor Roham had been forthcoming about the war with the Yiga Clan over the years, it seemed his sources proved true. Hyrule had been at war for decades, though most of it was kept relatively quiet until Link came into the picture. He realized now just how deep Rusl had been involved.

He held the black and white security photo in his fingers, and his forehead creased as his eyes studied the woman in it. No, it seemed that only the battle had been won, but a great war still waged on. And he had a job to do. Not that he particularly felt close enough to Rusl to honor his final wish, but his own curiosity got the best of him. He had been in contact with this mysterious woman for long enough. It was time to get to the truth of who she was and what her involvement was in it all.

Jini tucked the photo into the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled it around him, then, concealing the weapon that was holstered on his hip. He slipped into the vehicle, then pulled out into the road, navigating the streets out of the city and into Hyrule.