#she had four brothers and they were all in the same little cage area thing and everyone adopted her brothers and left her alone

[angelnumber27]

lil baby

[ray-ray-writings]

Could I totally request a small angst of a reader who is dating Technoblade suddenly going missing only for everyone to find her weeks later in Dreams collection room, similar to how Dream has a cage for Skeppy? Cause it’s the one thing the blood god cares about? Like all the angst and grief Techno goes through trying to find her and how he just becomes more unhinged or maybe Dream taunting him once they all found out like ��do you want to know exactly how long it took her to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment she gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second she became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Ever with love - 🌻

🌻, your brain is so big. I love your ideas so much, they’re always so flipping good.

A Part of the Collection-Technoblade x gn!reader

Techno was going crazy.

No one had heard or seen you for two weeks. You told him you were going to visit the nearby village and that you’d be back in a few days. For the first few days, Techno and you chatted consistently through your communicators. But then you stopped responding to his messages.

After two days with no response, Techno himself made his way to the village to search for you. You’re not there. The villagers tell him that you had got what you went there for but that you had left a few days prior. With this information, Techno calculates that your messages stopped when you got about halfway back home.

He thanks the villagers before heading back out. He heads to the main area of the SMP and asks around. He literally questions everyone as to whether or not they’ve seen you.

It’s no’s at every turn.

It takes everything Techno has to hold himself back. To not storm into each and everyone’s home and property and tear it apart in search of you. He does force his way inside everyone’s home to “talk” to them. Most people just let him in and do what he needs, well aware of the situation and the worries at hand.

Especially with the upcoming plan.

Techno forgot about the plan. Forgot about the help that his younger brother was soon going to need as he and Tubbo came to face Dream in what was being referred to as ‘the final showdown.’ He has to be there to help take down Dream. He’s the best PVPer on the SMP, he knows that, everyone knows that. He’s the Blood God after all. He takes care of those he loves, would go to the ends of the earth to protect them, and Tommy needed protecting.

The choice for him was hard. Techno knew that while everyone was busy with Dream, he could do a more thorough search through everything to try and find you. But he also knew he needed to be there to protect his brother. His baby brother that was on his last cannon life that Techno knew Dream would do anything to take.

It tore him up inside ,which in turn caused him to tear things up. The house looked like a tornado went through it. Techno had been spiraling the night before the final battle. He was angry. Angry at you for not coming home or answering his messages, angry at himself for not being able to find you and make sure you were safe. Angry at not being able to protect you and take care of you. Angry that he let you go by yourself even though you very clearly wanted him to come with you. Angry that he can’t find you and that no one knew where you were. Angry that he had made a promise to his little brother and that he had to be at the final battle instead of out searching for you.

All of that anger built up inside of him and burst. The outcome was his knocking chests over, spilling their contents onto the ground. The paintings on the walls were slightly crooked and torn due to his rampage. The furniture was misplaced and books were strewn about the room.

Heavy breaths racked his chest as his ruby eyes scanned the destroyed rooms. A heavy weight sat in his heart and his stomach. Guilt quickly replaced the anger inside him as he collapsed to his knees. His hands reach out and connect with the ground in order to steady himself. His fingers clutch at a fabric spilled from one of the chests.

It’s your old cape. The one you wore before you stole his cape. It looked better on you anyway. Techno brings the cape up to him and nuzzles his face into the fabric, trying to find a slight bit of comfort in it. It still smells like you. Being tucked away for so long hadn’t let it lose the piece of you that usually clings to the fabrics you wear.

Your scent calmed him, only slightly though. He still felt guilty, but with this small piece of fabric, he could pretend you were here, tucked into him, safe.

It was cold.

Being underground, surrounded by obsidian, trapped in a hole by iron bars made things cold. You were exhausted. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there. Been in Dream’s collection room. Dream had explained it to you when you woke up. You were the most important thing to Techno, the only thing he was attached to.

You tried to call out for him. You first thought you were somewhere near the SMP, hoping either he would hear you or someone else would hear you and tell him… then Dream told you where you were. It didn’t stop you calling out for him though. You called for him until your throat was raw and sore. But even after, you were stubborn in your resolve. Telling Dream that he would never get away with this.

“That’s the thing my dear… I already have. No one has seen you since you left the village. No one knows what happened to you and no one knows where you are. You simply… have disappeared.”

His words hurt you. They worried you. He was right. He had kidnapped you while you were on your way back from the village. He had your communicator. You were gone. No one knew where you were. Did they even care you were gone? You tried to hold up your resolve, but Dream’s words hit your head hard, and he knew it. The blond simply smirked after watching you for a moment before walking away and leaving you to your spiraling thoughts.

You were exhausted. Your mind was tired, your emotions depleted, your body sore. Everything hurt. You missed Techno more than anything. Your heart ached more and more with each passing day. Did they even care or notice you were gone? Did Techno miss you too? Was he looking for you?

A voice broke you out of your thoughts. For a moment you thought it to be Dream, coming back to taunt you more… But it wasn’t. It was a familiar voice, one you hadn’t heard in a while. But you would be able to tell who that voice belonged to anywhere.

It was Tommy.

Why is Tommy here?

You manage to make it to your feet and stumble forward, catching yourself on the iron bars. You pressed your cheek against them and looked out as far as you could. You could make out three bodies there. Tommy, Dream… and… Tubbo. The third seemed to be Tubbo.

Why? Why were they here? What is going on?

The three then turned and began walking toward you. As they drew closer, you could hear Dream giving the boys the same spiel he had given you about the server’s attachments. The things people cared about more than anything.

“Tommy! Tubbo!” You couldn’t help but croak out, your hand reaching out of the cell.

“Y/N!” The boys both scream in unison, racing toward you. Tommy’s hand grabs yours and you almost cry at the warm contact. You’ve been in here for what felt like forever. You hadn’t had any friendly touch, let alone any warmth. It felt nice to be seen as a friend again and to see a friend.

Before any of you can say anything, Dream’s hands clamp on the shoulders of the two boys and rip them away from you. A dry sob escapes your throat at the loss of contact. “No touching.” Dream barks, forcing them back down the hall and away from you.

“Please,” you beg, wanting just a bit longer to be with them. But Dream ignores you and continues to walk away. Tommy and Tubbo try to fight, to turn around and come back to you, but they can’t. Dream’s grip is too tight and too strong.

You’re left all alone yet again. Small tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you back up again, your back hitting the wall, and sliding down to a sitting position. You can vaguely hear what’s going on in the other room, but not very well. Everything seems so far away. To get a glimpse of the outside world through another person only to have it ripped away from you just as you get a taste takes a toll on a person, especially one as exhausted as you.

You’re zoned out for the most part, just hoping Tommy and Tubbo would be okay. You’re suddenly brought back to reality though when a lot of footsteps and voices joined you in the underground. It was hard, but once again you manage to stand up and brace yourself against the iron bars. Pressing your cheek to the cool metal, you let out a gasp as you can see everyone. It’s everyone. Everyone in the SMP was there.

Your eyes scanned the crowd and caught on the familiar pink hair of your boyfriend. You could sob. If you weren’t so exhausted you would be already. He had come for you. He was there. Techno was there.

You couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, but you didn’t care. Your heart soared as mostly everyone turned around to face the collections hall and begin making their way down it.

Puffy led the pack and was the first to see you. A gasp ripped from her throat as her eyes met yours. Heads turn to look toward her and more gasps sounded in the room. “Y/N,” the Captain breathes out just above a whisper.

You’re about to respond when another voice interrupts you. “Y/N?” Techno shoves his way to the front, pushing people out of the way, not caring enough to ask them to move. He comes to a full stop in front of you and stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you croak out.

Techno takes a step back and you’re hurt. Why is he moving away from you? Does he not want you anymore? Why would he--

Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of iron breaking. Something that would typically take four or five swings, is broken in just one by your boyfriend Techno. The bars are gone. You’re free. Techno tosses the pickaxe back into his inventory and stalks forward. Before you can do or say anything, you’re being pressed into Techno’s chest.

The warmth from him immediately seeps into your skin and floods through your whole body. Techno always tends to run hot, being part piglin does that, but you’ve never been more thankful for it than right now. You nuzzle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

He holds you the same way. Techno is scared that if you were to pull away, you would disappear again. That he would be alone again. He doesn’t want to be without you. Techno presses you close to his chest, and presses his face into the top of your head. His lips give your head sweet kisses as he revels in the fact that you’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

You two are hugging like that for a while, but all too soon it’s time to go. You want to get home, change clothes, get something to eat, and fall asleep next to your lover. Techno lets go of the hug, but immediately grabs your hand and leads you out of the cell. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you tightly to his side. The two of you walk out into the main room together… Just in time to see Dream being led away by Sam.

Dream smirks at the sight of you. “You know… of all of the attachments I gathered, I’ve got to say, collecting them was my favorite. The others didn't know what was happening. Being inanimate or an animal… A pet. But they were your pet. They could talk. And oh boy did they talk.”

Techno’s jaw clenched as Dream spoke. He just wanted the green clad bastard to shut up and go to prison, but he just kept talking. “They called for you. Their screams echoed off of the obsidian, begging for you to come save them but you never showed… Do you want to know?”

Techno knew he shouldn’t get involved, shouldn’t respond and give him what he wanted, but he couldn’t help himself. “Know what?”

“Do you want to know exactly how long it took for them to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment they gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second they became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Techno’s jaw clenched even harder. He saw red. Without realizing it, he left your side. His arm unwrapped from around you, causing you to protest and try to hold on to him, but he was too far gone. Techno marched forward, drew his fist back, and punched Dream square in the face. The smirk from Dream’s lips fell as Techno’s punches began rolling in faster and harder.

Techno was livid. Livid that Dream could even think that for a moment that he had any say over you and what you did. That you were anything other than the one he loves and the one that loves him. You were his. No one else’s. His.

Sam was the one to pull Techno off, but he fought it. Dream just lost two cannon lives, Techno wanted to take the third. Techno fought against Sam tooth and nail, trying desperately to continue. It’s not until he feels a gentle hand on his arm does he stop. The touch is familiar, one he’s been missing for weeks now.

It’s yours.

He stops fighting the creeper hybrid and turns to you. Your big, watery eyes meet his and he immediately feels all the anger leave his body. The voices that were screaming to kill a moment ago suddenly switch their tune, telling him to protect you, take care of you, wrap you in his arms and not let go until you got home.

That’s just what he does.

Without another word, Techno scoops you into his arms bridal style. He then walks to the portal and with a small nod to the rest of the group, disappears into the nether. You’re in his arms the entire journey through the nether and the nether portal near your guys’ shared home. The warmth of the hug paired with the warmth of Techno’s body fills your whole body and causes your toes to curl.

The tundra is freezing and immediately depletes a lot of the warmth you had just gained, but Techno is quick to wrap his cape around you and make haste to get you inside. The house is still a mess, you’re about to ask why when you catch sight of the paintings that were torn by his hand, and you immediately understand. So you choose to say nothing and just enjoy when Techno carries you into your room.

He sets you down and helps you change into clean and warm clothes before helping you crawl into bed. Techno wraps the two of you up in the blankets before pulling you close to him. Your head and hands rest on his chest while his arms wrap around you and rest on your back. Soft patterns are traced on your back, lulling you to sleep.

“I love you. I love you so much. You’re not going anywhere without me ever again.”

You know that that’s physically impossible and that there would be times he wouldn’t be able to go with you, but right now that didn’t matter. You nod against his chest. “I love you too. Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, my love. I’m right here.”

You let out a small sigh and sink into him even more at the comforting words. The past couple of weeks exhaustion wash over you and you fall asleep before you know it.

Techno stays awake for longer though. He stays awake and just watches you. His eyes study your face and his arms tighten around you. You’re here. You’re in his arms. You’re safe. He repeats that mantra to himself over and over again as he looks you over.

Finally he decides he’s too tired to stay awake, the past two weeks also having taken a huge toll on his mental and physical health. Techno’s arms wrap around you a bit tighter and hold you a bit closer. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your head before settling in for the night. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath in through his nose, inhaling your scent which makes him relax even more.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you… You’re mine. I’ve got you.”

Ending sucked, but the idea was amazing so praise 🌻 because she deserves it. I hope that I did this justice! Thank you so much for letting me write it!!

[maddiwrites]

Let Me Go

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: This was requested! Y/N still lives with the Cameron’s following the death of her brother, but she’s being held there against her will. After many failed escape attempts, Y/N finally gets out of Figure Eight, but she’s far from safe. (The request was long so I’m going to link it here so you can see the full summary of what anon wanted!)

Note: I’m sorry this took so long to get out!!! I literally had half of it written and then it all deleted and I’m so upset because my first attempt at writing it was better but oh well. I hope you like it. Again, sorry for the long wait!

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: MENTIONS OF DRUG ABUSE, CHILD NEGLECT, GUN VIOLENCE, ATTEMPTED SUICIDE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THESE TOPICS TRIGGER YOU. PLEASE. SUICIDE HOTLINE: 800-273-8255

Masterlist

You weren’t always like this - sitting up in your unmade bed, staring at the blank wall in front of you like you could see through it, unshowered, trembling from your shoulders down to your toes, feeling empty from the inside out. 

You forget what it’s like to be free. Following the death of your brother, you’ve been trapped like a rat in a cage. Figure Eight is no longer the luxurious part of the island to you. It’s filled with lies, manipulation, secrets, murder. 

You’re still living at the Cameron’s. No, not living. Surviving. Ward refused to give his guardianship of you up. Some people wondered why - why would Ward want to live with the sister of a murderer? Yeah, that’s what they thought - that your brother killed Sheriff Peterkin and tried to kill Ward too. But you knew why.

Ward no longer treats you like a member of his family. He has you locked in your designated room on the third floor that’s basically only used as an attic and storage area. Your own personal prison. Because you know what he did - not only to your brother and his daughter but to your dad. 

You felt like you were losing grasps of reality. You only knew fall was approaching because you could hear Wheezy talking about it to Rose outside your door. You guess the time of day by the sunlight through your window and the meals brought to your room. 

Of course there have been times you tried to escape. You managed to run away a few times. The first time, you went straight to the police station and tried telling them that Ward was keeping you trapped in his home. Of course they didn’t believe you. Instead, they called Ward to come pick you up. He told the police that you’ve been experiencing delusions since the death of your brother. Without a second thought, they believed him and ignored your cries for help completely. The second time, you tried going to Kie’s, but the police found you first and brought you back to Ward’s now that they think you’re going through some kind of mental breakdown. 

By now, you’re exhausted. You’re tired of fighting and arguing and screaming. You feel empty inside, craving some sort of release or embrace of comfort. You haven’t seen your Pogues in weeks, maybe months. You wonder if they still think about you. Do they blame you for leaving John B to go off by himself with Sarah? Do they hate you?

Not only is living inside an enclosed box hard enough, but dealing with the loss of your brother, friend, and father, is killing you inside. You can’t help but feel guilty that you weren’t with them. You and your brother were supposed to be partners in crime and you totally let him go off on his own. You feel like you abandoned him and that keeps you up at night. 

Since your ways of coping are limited, you’re not proud to say you found an unhealthy way of relieving your pain. 

When you were first locked up, you would scream and kick the door that hid you from the rest of the world, begging for anyone in the house to let you go. Never did it work, but one time Rafe got extremely fed up and raced upstairs to make you shut up. You didn’t know it, but Rafe was on the verge of a breakdown himself. His dad complete shut him out as he tried to fix the damage he caused. He assumed Sarah was dead. And Barry basically owned him, making him do all his dirty work. Maybe he deserved it, but he didn’t live a luxurious life either despite living in Figure Eight.

You took a couple steps back when you heard heavy footsteps approaching your door. Rafe quickly undid the locks and barged in so fast that he almost knocked you down. 

“Oh my god. Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Rafe was breathing hard and quickly getting red in the face. You stumbled backwards, suddenly afraid of being alone with him. 

You sniffled. “I need to get out of here.”

“You’re not leaving.”

“Please, Rafe. You got to get me out of here. Please!” You never thought you’d be here, begging Rafe of all people for help. Yet here you were. With no other choices left.

Rafe paced the room and raked his fingers through his hair. “You do realize you're not the only one going through something, right?”

You swallowed back your tears and scoffed at the Kook in front of you. “Seriously? Your family is keeping me locked in here like some kind of zoo animal! My brother is dead -”

“Sarah is too!”

“But that’s not my fault!” You screamed. You pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “That’s yours!” Rafe froze and turned to look at you. You didn’t know where you grew the balls to keep going but you did. “I know what you did. I know what your dad is trying to cover up. And he’s using my brother to do it.” You saw Rafe’s adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. “Why do you think your dad is keeping me locked in here?”

“Shit,” Rafe cursed. Now he knew why his dad gave him strict instructions to never come up to your room. He started shaking his his head and shaking in his skin. “I didn’t mean to - I - I - it happened so fast.”

You could go on and on about how Rafe would never be able to dig himself out of this hole. How he will never be able to convince you that he wasn’t guilty. But you didn’t. Because he’s the only one who could help you.

“Rafe, please,” You begged. “I won’t say anything. I just need to get out of here.”

Rafe sniffled back his own tears and fears and looked out the one window that looked out into the backyard of his home. He couldn’t let you go. He knew it was selfish, but he had to save himself. 

“I can’t,” Rafe said.

A new wave of tears hit you and you felt defeated. You fell back on your bed and cried into your hands, hunched over above your knees. 

“I’m sorry,” Rafe said, but his apology was as empty as you feel. 

“Just go,” You rubbed your eyes hard enough to see stars. 

You hear something light hit the bed next to you. “I know it’s not much. But this helps me get through all this messed up shit.”

When you didn’t look at him or whatever he gave you, he took that as a hint to leave and quietly left the room. You listened to each lock being fastened again, each one leaving a crack in your heart. 

Rafe offered you something you should have never taken. A small baggie filled with fine white powder. You should have never even considered it. Drugs were never your thing. You wouldn’t even smoke with JJ when he offered a hit of whatever he was smoking. But the idea of anything taking your pain away enticed you.

And that’s how you ended up here. Broken, alone, and craving something only Rafe could supply you with. Literally. He came around every so often, sliding a small baggie under the door for you. It was the closest thing you and Rafe had to a friendship. 

Today was particularly a bad day. It was dark and rainy outside and you remembered John B’s birthday should be quickly approaching. You missed him. God, did you miss him. You would do anything to hear his voice again or steal his clothes or go surfing in the ocean with him. 

You trudged out of bed towards your dresser that held a faint line of coke left over from yesterday. With a one dollar bill, you sniffed the rest of it up your nose and blinked back the sting of tears that pricked your eyes after you did it. A rush of energy sparked up your body, through your toes and up to your head. You immediately felt lighter and that the world was spinning a little faster. But with that rush came a surge of emotions. You went from being sad to being angry real fast. 

You hated Ward. You hated Shoupe. You hated this house.  You hated Kooks. You hated yourself. You hated everything about the Outer banks. You just wanted to leave. 

You find the closest thing to you, a small makeup mirror, and smash it against one of the locks on the door. You’ve done this hundreds of times and by now the door was scratched and bruised from your abuse, but you didn’t care. You didn’t feel the glass of the mirror slice into your skin as you continued to bang it on the metal lock. You didn’t care if Ward and the others heard you throwing another temper tantrum. You just wanted out.

When you felt the lock stumble to the side of the door, you froze in your place. You stared at the broken lock, wondering if this was all a dream or a hallucination from your high. “No fucking way,” You mumbled. You looked down at the door knob and repeated the same movements until the handle completely fell off and clattered to the floor. 

You dropped the mirror and stuck two fingers through the hole in the door where the door knob use to be. While holding your breath, you slowly pulled the door open and couldn’t believe when it moved without any hiccup. 

You never thought that you would get this far, and now that you were here, you didn’t know what to do. You felt scared. Cautiously, you stuck your head out to make sure no one was in the hallway. When the coast was clear, you tip toed throughout the house, listening to the eery silence that filled it. No one was home. 

When you passed Rafe’s room, you stopped. You were out of supply and you needed more. Rafe owed you anyway, you told yourself. So you ransacked his room. Found about four more small baggies and stuffed them in your pocket before leaving.

As you walk through the halls, you pass Ward’s office and paused. It was open and unlocked. Even before all this shit happened, you never remember it being this way. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the adrenaline from another escape attempt or maybe it was the cocaine, but you walked yourself into that office and looked around. 

You cursed at all the accomplishments hanging on his wall, the trophies, and expensive relics of random shit. His desk was neat and orderly despite the major crime he was trying to cover up. You sat yourself in his chair, trying to imagine what it felt like to be him. Motherfucker probably felt like a king. 

You went through his drawers, thumbing through random files you had no business looking through - most of it work related stuff and banking information. You tucked that one in your pocket for later. 

Then you hear something thump against the drawer when you pull it out. A revolver. Small and silver. Cold against your fingertips. You breath hitched as you brought it up to your face. It felt like you were holding a bomb. An object that could change your life forever. Another fresh set of tears threatened to roll down your face but you shook them away. No. No more being sad. 

You shut the drawer hard and walked out with a couple new items in your possession.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

The Pogues were spending another dreary day at The Wreck. The September sun might be out, but their spirits were down. Two of their best friends are dead and the other is trapped with two murderers. They were scared for you and have tried everything to get you back. They tried talking to the cops, they tried breaking her out. But each times the cops got in the way. They were running out of hope. At this point, they didn’t even know if they would ever see you again. They just hoped you were okay. They knew you tried escaping a few times and prayed that you would eventually get yourself out of there soon.

“JJ, you gotta eat,” Kie sighed as she watched JJ play with the fries in front of him. If anyone was handing it the worst, it was JJ. Both John B and Y/N were his best friends first. Hell, he was in love with Y/N. Had been since the sixth grade. One of his biggest regrets is that he never told you. Now he didn’t know if he ever would. 

“’M not hungry,” JJ mumbled. 

The door above the restaurant entrance rang as a couple of police officers walked in for their lunch break. The group of three glared at them as they walked in with their cocky stride and their hand resting on their tasers and guns as if everyone should be scared of them. 

“Fucking cops can’t do their goddamn job,” JJ sat back in his seat and flicked one of his fries down on the table. He hated them. More than he ever had. He couldn’t believe these people took an oath to protect this county. Fucking cowards, all of them. 

“Fucking assholes,” Kie said and watched her father approach them with a friendly smile. 

Pope snapped up when an idea popped into his head. “Sarah’s sister.”

“What?” Kie’s brows furrowed. 

“School starts next week,” Pope explained. “She’s starting high school, right? What if you tried talking to her? Maybe you can -”

Pope paused when he heard the sound of the police radios echoing off the walls from their belts. 

“Code10-92. Runaway teen last reported on Baker’s Street. Proceed with caution. Last seen wearing black sports shorts and a white tank. Suspect may be armed and dangerous.”

JJ’s head snapped back to his friends with his brows pinched together. Could this be you? Could you have made it out again? But what did armed and dangerous mean? That didn’t sound like you.

Shoupe radioed back to the station. “On our way.”

The officers dropped ten dollars in the tip jar before charging out the door to go to their vehicles. 

“We gotta go,” JJ stood up first and stuffed his phone and keys into his pocket. The other two nod and follow him out the door. If that call was about you, they wanted to find you before the cops did. “Okay. Kie, go home. She tried going to your house last time. Maybe she’ll try that again. Pope, go to Heyward’s. She trusts your dad. She might try to find him for help.”

“Where are you going to go?” Pope asked. 

“Everywhere else.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You trudged through your old home with heavy feet. Nothing in there felt familiar to you - like it belonged to you in another life time. You first went to your room and stared at the girl in the mirror. You didn’t recognize her. Bones sticking out of your skin, dark bags under the eyes, and cracked lips and dry skin. 

Without thinking, you took the gun that’s still in your hand and smashed it against the glass, shattering it all around you. 

Ignoring the stinging in your hands from the shallow cuts on your skin, you moved on to the next room. Your brother’s room. It looked like a tornado made its way through here. Everything was tossed and turned from the police and FBI ransacking it during their search for John B. Nothing felt like it was John B’s anymore. Nothing felt private. And that pissed you off. 

Next you went to your dad’s office, somewhere you haven’t been since you found the compass. Even now, it felt like you weren’t supposed to be in here. If you believed in an afterlife, you would think your dad would be shaking his head at you. 

The office looked like John B’s room did. Whatever belonged to your dad now belonged to the state. The only things left were random files and belongings the police didn’t find of importance. But they were important to you. 

The first thing you found was a picture in a cracked frame of you, your dad, and your brother from when you were ten. Your dad was holding both of you as you blew out the candles on a birthday cake. Looking at the picture, you felt your heart being shredded apart. The picture only brought back pain and grief. You wanted that happiness back that ten year old you portrayed in that picture. But you can’t have it. Ever again.

A cry ripped through your throat as you chucked the picture across the room. From there, you went on a rampage, throwing and kicking anything that was in your way. You took one of the baggies out of your pocket and dumped it on the desk in front of you. Without any precision, you fixed the lines up with your finger and took a long whiff. You gripped the roots of your hair and tugged as you sobbed loudly and felt one of the biggest headaches explode in your brain. 

You paced back and forth in the office with the gun held in your shaky hands. You were mumbling to yourself about your options and how horrible of a sister and daughter you were for leaving your family behind. You wanted to see them. You wanted to be with them and prove to them you never meant to abandon them. 

You didn’t hear the door to the Chateau open or the sound of footsteps following your cries. It wasn’t until you heard his soft, delicate voice that you turned around and stared at your best friend with wide eyes and a startled expression. 

“Y/N...” JJ breathed out. He didn’t see the gun yet. He just saw you, crying and broken and not looking like the girl he knew only a few months ago. 

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t recognize your voice either. Hoarsed and scared. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“The cops are looking for you! Okay? We need to get you out of here!”

“I’m not leaving!”

“What?” JJ looked at you like you grew two heads. “What are you talking about. We -”

“No! I said I’m not leaving! Agh!” Your hands flew up to your pulsating head and gripped at your hair again. The pounding in your head was excruciating and wouldn’t go away. Between the cocaine, your cries, and the exhaustion, you didn’t think it would ever go away. 

That’s when JJ saw the gun and took a shocking step back. His hands immediately flew up in surrender and he gulped down his nerves. Now he knew why the cops had called you armed and dangerous. Probably because Ward reported a stolen gun. JJ never knew you to be a violent person. It wasn’t in you. You couldn’t even hurt a fly. Which meant you didn’t steal this gun to hurt someone else. But probably...

Then his eyes flickered to the desk where he saw the reside of white powder next to an empty baggie. Now he was petrified because he didn’t know how to get through to you - if he even could get through to you.

“Y/N, baby. Put the gun down.”

“No,” You shook you head. “No, no, no. I need to see them. I need to see my dad and John B!”

“Y/n...”

“I should’ve gone with them. I should’ve - I - I didn’t mean to leave. I’m so-sorry, John B. I’m so sorry.” You were a mess. Tears and snot and running all over your red and puffy face. 

JJ kept looking between you and the gun. His only comfort was that he knew you didn’t know how to use it. You wouldn’t even touch the one he stole from Scooter Grubs. But that didn’t mean accidents couldn’t happen.

“I can’t do it anymore,” You continued. “I can’t go back there. I won’t. I won’t. I just want to see my dad.”

JJ took a hesitant step closer to you and nodded his head, keeping his hands up. “Okay. Okay. What if I helped you see your dad?”

“H-How?” You hiccuped. JJ didn’t know where he was going with this. He just knew he had to get that gun out of your hand. He took another step closer to you, but this one made you jump back. “No! No! Stay away!”

“Okay, okay!” JJ yelled back at you. “Hey. I’m here to help you, okay? Whatever you want to do.”

“I want to see them. I want to say sorry. I - I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, they’re not mad at you-”

“I’m sorry, daddy, I -”

With you distracted, JJ took the opportunity to run at you and tackle you to the ground. He ignored the pang in his heart when he heard you cry harder, wondering if he hurt you, but he cared more about keeping you alive. He wrestled the gun out of your hands and quickly emptied the cartridge. He chucked the multiple pieces across the room and wrapped himself around your crumpled body.

“No! No!” You shrieked in JJ’s shoulder and gripped onto his shirt for dear life. “Please! Let me go!” 

JJ held on to your crumbling body as you wracked with sobs. Exhaustion quickly took over you as the adrenaline slowly vanished out of your system. Your throat was on fire from all the crying and the screaming. Your chest felt empty and your lungs heavy. All you wanted was to close your eyes and never open them again.

JJ couldn’t hold back his own silent tears as they ran down his cheeks. He hated seeing you like this. And he hated even more that he didn’t know how to help you.

“It’s going to be okay,” He said as he brushed the hair out of your face. He kissed the top of your head with his soft lips and kept mumbling into your head. “You’re going to be okay. I’m never leaving your side again. It’s going to be okay.”

He didn’t know if he was trying to convince you or himself. He jus knew he had to make you believe it.

About ten minutes later, he felt your body relax against his. When he found you fast asleep, he pulled out his phone and texted Kie to pick the two of you up. 

Until Kie got there, he stared at the delicate skin on your face with such admiration. Rage bubbled through this veins as the ideas of what you possibly went through in the that hell hole in Figure Eight. 

He knew it was going to be a long road to recovery. He knew there was a lot of fixing that needed to be done. But he made a promise that he will never let you out of his sights again. Because today was a close call. And he never wanted you to be that close to death ever again.

[ao3komorii]

Lost Love’s Ruination (Viego/Reader)

Done at last! Was desperate to get this one out before Isolde was released for obvious reasons, so glad I got it done xD Once again, I tried to make it that you don't need any lore knowledge to get what's going on, though I would recommend maybe watching Ruination (the league short). Also no apologies for all the Senna because I love herrrrr

As a warning, there is smut at the end. Hope you enjoy it :) ----

A woman’s body, her beauty spoiled in apparent death, was lowered into beautiful crystalline waters. You couldn’t see who was lowering her into the water, or who stood around viewing the scene. You never could.

As it always did, the water grew poisoned with death as the woman revived from the dead, her features twisted with anger and confusion. Like a caged animal that had been freed, she lashed out, ripping a great blade out of someone’s grasp, and before you could react, the blade was plunged into your chest.

With a gasp, you woke up, your body broken out in a cold sweat, like it always did when you had that particular dream. You had had that dream many times before, but it never got any less terrifying. Long ago, you had considered visiting a dream reader to decipher what the horrifying nightmare meant, but you were scared that you would be told you were cursed and gave up on ever knowing.

It was a relief that most days you didn’t have much time to worry about your nightmares. You had been working on a farm in rural Demacia ever since you had been taken in at age four. You had been told that you were the only survivor of a fire, but you had been so young that you had no memories of the fire, or of your parents.

The owner of the farm had given you a home, but he was far from being family. You were given enough food to survive, but no more, and it was always contingent on you working on the farm seven days a week. You were grateful to have a bed to sleep in at night, even as hard as it was, but couldn’t help but feel some envy watching the other girls in your town go about their lives without the responsibilities that you had.

You might as well get up, even with how early you had woken up. Today was sheep shearing day, the longest day of the year for you. The sheep liked you more than they liked the owner, so that meant that you were stuck shearing all the sheep by yourself while he went to the town bar all day.

Putting on your old and worn boots with a sigh, you wished you could find a way out of this life. But you had no skills besides farming, and no money. The only way a girl like you could get out of this life was to marry a likely-older man, and that was something you wanted to avoid at all costs. The owner’s brother had previously expressed an interest in you, but luckily for you the owner hated his brother, or you would have likely had to live on the streets to avoid that marriage made in hell.

The owner was out in the field feeding the sheep when you exited the farmhouse. He glanced up at you, but you knew better than to expect a good morning, instead heading towards the small shed to fetch your shears.

Only when you returned to the field did he finally speak up. “Have some buyers comin’ for the wool tomorrow, so make sure it’s done today.”

“Right,” you answered. He was always the gruff, no-nonsense type, so you knew by now that talking back would get you nowhere. You had learned that lesson soon after you had come to this place twenty years ago. He was your employer, not your father, and he made sure you never forgot that.

“Alright, I’m off then,” he said, giving the field of sheep one more look over before heading inside to change out of his overalls.

You finished setting your things up as the owner left for the bar. You watched as he headed down the road, knowing that he wouldn’t be back until late. You didn’t really mind when he was gone, even if that meant you had a larger workload; he never seemed to have any interest in you other than what you could do on the farm, so he wasn’t one for long conversation. Without him around, you were at least able to relax and work without feeling like you had someone breathing down your neck to finish faster.

Luckily, the sheep were more than willing to listen to your worries, even if they didn’t understand what you were saying.

“I just want to stop having that dream,” you said as you began shearing one of your favorite sheep, Tulip. The owner had no interest in naming his livestock, so the job was left to you. Names didn’t make a difference to the owner, but it made a big difference to you, even as sad as it was to have your only friends be farm animals.

“I just wish I could make them go away,” you told the uninterested sheep. “Things would be much easier if I could dream about grass like you probably do, Tulip.”

Tulip turned her head to face you and you sighed, petting her freshly-sheared back. You always felt silly talking to the sheep, but it wasn’t like you had any better options around here.

Every time you had dreamed of a more exciting life, you had backed down and given up on your plans. Beyond your lack of money or skills, you knew very little about the world outside your small farming town. You had only been outside the town once, many years ago when you went with the owner to help pick out some new livestock from a larger town.

As your life stood right now, you had very little idea of what your future would be like. Would you eventually get tired of this life and set out on your own, get married off, or stay here until you were old and gray? None of those options seemed particularly appealing to you, but for now, all you could do was sit here and talk to sheep about your nightmares, wishing you could have a chance to see more of the world than your small town.

It was already a pretty warm day, and handling heavy sheep’s wool wasn’t helping. You had sheared about half the sheep by midday, but your work had been slowing down, likely due to your poor night of sleep. You would have to pick up the pace considerably if you wanted to finish in time to get any sleep tonight.

You had been pushing through your increasing thirst for at least an hour in the name of finishing on time, but had finally given in and headed inside for some water. Your dry throat ached, but the water was still nice, as you knew the owner would be upset if you passed out from dehydration before you finished your day’s work.

As much as you didn’t want to go back out there, you knew you had to work to earn your keep. It was a little harder to stay focused on work when you were dirty, sweaty and covered in balls of wool, but you had to push through and just look forward to a nice bath after the day was done.

You paused to stretch as you stood before the front door, knowing it would be back to work as soon as you were back outside. Stretching only served to emphasize how sore you were feeling after several hours of tedious work, with many more still to go. That was the same reason why you hadn’t bothered to pick the excess wool off of your clothes; why bother when you would look like a patchy sheep by the end of the day anyways?

Saying goodbye to your brief moment of rest, you opened the door at last, reluctantly ready to get back to work. Looking out over the area, you were surprised to see the field in more chaos than you had left it.

Your stool had been knocked over, but that was easy enough to fix; your real problem came from the sheep. You had expected them to wander around the field while not under your supervision, but the scene before you was something you had never experienced before.

The sheep were all crowded along the fence that faced the way into town. Walking closer, you could see nothing along the road that led past other farms and into town, at least nothing that would catch the attention of the entire flock of sheep. The dirt road was clear, the only noise around drifting over from the other nearby farms, but that wasn’t unusual.

You walked closer to the sheep, still unsure of what their problem was. You had never seen them act like this before, not even when large carts would pass by them travelling on the road. Could they see something that you couldn’t? You had never heard of sheep having supernatural senses, but were having a difficult time coming up with any other explanation for their sudden strange behavior.

Approaching the sheep, you tried to gently pry one away from the fence, but it wouldn’t budge, digging its hooves into the ground with an indignant bleat. You tried the same tactic with several other sheep, but were met with the same stubborn refusal to move. Even Tulip rebuffed you, regardless of any pleading on your part. What was wrong with these sheep?

You covered your eyes with your hands, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. You really didn’t need this right now. You had a job to do, and a limited amount of time to get the job done or the owner would surely be upset with you. You would have to do whatever it took to get the sheep to comply with you, even if the owner was unhappy with you using extra hay as a bribe.

Before you could return your focus to the sheep in front of you, you were interrupted by a loud bleating from all around you. Removing your hands from your eyes, you looked around you to the flock of loudly-bleating sheep, and then back to the still-empty area ahead of you, still utterly confused as to what was happening.

All of a sudden, the sheep were desperate to be anywhere but where they were as they all turned and fled away from the fence. Unfortunately, you were unable to move in time and were sent falling to the ground, which was not helping your already-sore back. Sitting up with a groan, you lamented how rough your day was going, at least until you looked out at the scene beyond the fence.

Where there had been nothing out of the ordinary before, now you could see something that was not there before. Far off in the horizon, so far that you had to squint to see it, was a patch of dark black-green in the sky.

Standing up, you leaned over the fence, trying to see what it was when suddenly the patch grew bigger, or as you realized with a gasp, it was getting closer. The horrible black-green sky got closer still, close enough for you to tell that it was not sky after all, but a thick, dark mist, and it seemed to be closing in on your small town.

And then your world was swallowed by black.

Senna sat in the small boat, watching as the black-green mist began to dissipate, knowing that its creator had vanished as well. She could feel nothing but guilt and dread; she had failed not only herself, but all of Runeterra. Now that the ruined king had the memories, he was one step closer to achieving his goal, and then his focus would turn to the world that he felt had let him down.

“We have to find the girl,” Senna said suddenly, watching as the last of the mist faded from the cliff they had just been on.

“The girl?” Lucian asked.

Senna turned to face her husband. How often she forgot that Lucian hadn’t seen what she had seen, didn’t know what she knew. But this was no time to get lost in the past, not when so much was at stake.

“His wife died a long time ago,” she began as Lucian took hold of the boat’s steering wheel. “I’ve held her memory within me since the mist came to my island when I was a child. Now that he has her memory, he will seek out her body to reunite the two.”

“He’s looking for a thousand-year-old corpse?” Lucian sounded dubious.

“No,” Senna sighed ruefully. “His wife was reborn, but she has no memories of her past life. He thinks that he can force her memory into her new body and return her to his side.”

Only when it got closer did you realize the true amount of trouble you were in. The dark mist began to swallow the land, the sky, covering everything in its path as it headed straight towards your farm.

As it got even closer, you began to see more detail in the ominous mist, taken aback when you noticed ethereal green streaks in the mist that crawled along the black mist as if they were alive. This was no ordinary storm, no, this mist looked downright sinister. You stared, frozen with terror, until the screams from one of the neighboring farms snapped you out of your petrified stupor.

You had to run. Now.

You backed up a few steps, knowing that you had to leave but afraid to take your eyes off of the rapidly-approaching deathly black mist. Turning around at last, you ran across the field and towards the woods beyond the back gate of the property, hoping to find some safety within the dense forest.

The sheep had already got there first and were trying to break down the back gate to escape. The field was large, as you also had many crops growing, sections of which had been trampled underfoot by the terrified animals as they fled.

You were halfway across the field when the sheep scattered, bleating loudly as they gave up on the back gate, running instead to cower in their pen. As they moved away from the gate, you noticed with horror that the black mist was now rolling out from the woods as well. Stopping in your tracks, you looked around you, only to see that the mist was coming at the farm from every direction. You were trapped, and the mist was only getting closer to engulfing you.

Desperately looking for any way out of your impending death, you caught sight of the farmhouse. If you couldn’t escape this mist, then maybe you could delay its effects by hiding in the cellar of the farmhouse long enough for help to arrive. It was the only option you could see other than waiting here to die, so you took it.

Your legs were burning from all the sprinting you had been doing in the last few minutes, but you couldn’t stop, not when it was the cellar or certain death. You were almost to the farmhouse, so close you could almost feel the temporary safety within your grasp, when the looming mist beat you there, swallowing the house into its depths just as you were about to reach the door.

Jerking back with a scream, you backed away from the writhing mist, not wanting it to touch your skin. By now, the mist had surrounded the farm, so close to you that you could no longer see the fences that surrounded the property.

You stood still, having nowhere to run as the mist surrounded you on all sides. Shaking with fear, you were surprised when the mist stopped advancing, leaving you in the middle of a circular patch of field.

You watched with wide eyes, waiting for the mist to swallow you, but it didn’t come any closer. You weren’t dead, but it wasn’t like this situation was much better. You couldn’t fight off a supernatural mist with sheep shears, and even if you could, they were on the ground somewhere in that mist.

The farmland was deathly silent; you could no longer hear the screams of your neighbors or the bleating of the sheep. Now that it was so close and with nowhere to go, you had nothing to do but stare at the mysterious fog that surrounded you.

It was dark, so dark that you couldn’t see through it, the sickly green streaks running around the edge of the mist like circling sharks. Following them with your eyes, you struggled to figure out what they were. You had a very limited worldview to draw on, the only comparison coming to mind being like a ghoul described to you in stories when you were a child.

You weren’t sure what was happening; the mist had swallowed everything else without mercy, so why were you a different case? You weren’t left waiting long, as the mist gave way to a tall figure who entered into the open section of field.

He was tall and ethereally pale, clothed all in black, which contrasted sharply with his short, wavy silver hair. Looking at his well-defined torso, you realized that he was too pale; his face and shirtless torso were gray-white, like all the life had been drained from him.

His outfit was simple, a black pair of pants and dark cropped jacket, obsidian armor covering his arms and legs. More than anything, your eyes were drawn to two unusual features; on his head was a sharp three-pointed crown the same color of the ghouls still circling you, and on his chest was a black triangle, so dark that it seemed like it was a bottomless hole.

His eyes glowed with a supernatural light, a shiver running down your spine as your eyes met his. Immediately, he began to stride towards you, sending you into a panic.

There was nowhere to go but into the mist, and that wasn’t an option, but that didn’t mean you wanted the ghostly man anywhere near you. You clutched your hands to your chest, backing up as far as you could without entering the mist, but the man would not be deterred.

His eyes never strayed from yours, his gaze so intense that you felt it hard to look away from. With nowhere to run, he was quickly upon you, but to your great surprise, he came to a stop before you.

He raised one gloved hand, and you flinched as he reached towards you, stunned when the hand came up to gently cup your cheek. Shaking with fear, you stared at him, scared to even breathe and attract his ire.

“My love,” came his voice, gravelly and in an accent that you did not recognize. “Finally you return to me.”

“Who are you?” you whispered, shivering from the cold of his armor-tipped fingers against your skin.

His head tilted slightly to the side, as if he was appraising you. You wanted to shrink away from his gaze, to remove his hand from your face, but you were terrified of upsetting him and risking yourself. As stagnant as your life was, it was your life, and you didn’t want to die here.

“You do not remember me,” he spoke softly, voice laced with disappointment. “A shame. But you will soon.”

You were scared to ask him what he meant, but felt relieved as he finally pulled his hand away from your cheek. Your relief was short-lived as his hand instead went to lay over the deep black triangle on his chest. Now that he was so close to you, the triangle truly did look like it was made of endless darkness. You could see no flesh in the black space; it looked like a keyhole to a dimension of utter black, the sight of it reminding you of the black mist that swirled around you.

There was also the fact that he had spoken to you like he knew you. You had never seen this man before, that you knew for sure. The only part of your life that was hazy was your life before the fire that had claimed your home and parents, but you couldn’t imagine meeting this ghoulish man back then and not remembering him.

You inhaled sharply when out of his chest materialized an orb of wiry light. The strands of light that made up the orb buzzed with energy, and seemed to act as a sort of cage for a small white light in the center that looked like a flickering flame. You knew that it was not natural; but no matter how long you stared at it, you would not be able to place its origins.

The orb was so bright, and felt very out of place in the void of darkness that you were currently trapped in as its light helped to illuminate the face of the stranger before you.

Even with how deathly pale he was, his face was still handsome, jawline sharp and free of even stubble. No matter how much you stared at his face, you couldn’t tell how old he was; he looked around your age, but also had the aura of someone or something much, much older. He looked down at the thrumming orb with a strange fondness in his eyes before he turned his attention back to you.

“I have missed you so dearly, Isolde,” he said as he began to bring the orb towards you.

“No, please!” you cried out in response.

You weren’t sure what that orb was; all you knew was that you didn’t want it touching you. He didn’t seem to hear your desperate pleas as the orb got closer and closer to your chest. You had nowhere to run, and nobody to save you from this ghostly lunatic.

The orb was almost at your chest, a tear dripping down your cheek as you stared down at it, and then everything was light.

You closed your eyes against the bright light, but were surprised to feel no pain. Hearing a male grunt, you opened your eyes as the light beyond your eyelids faded as quickly as it had come.

Looking around you, you saw the stranger across the field, the orb on the grass nearby. Immediately, you noticed that the area was better lit, looking over to see a large split in the dark mist that led across the field to a figure holding a large metallic device.

“Hurry!” Came the call from the figure, too far away for you to see them in much detail.

A snarl from behind you had you looking back to see the strange man getting up, the sight spurning you into action. You made a mad dash for the gap in the mist, ignoring the stranger’s angered calls for you to stop. You didn’t recognize the figure in the distance, but you would take any help you could get as you sprinted towards them.

As you got closer, you noticed that the figure you were running towards was a woman. She was dressed in black and white, gold-accented dreadlocks hanging out of one side of her white hood. You couldn’t place the large metal device that she held; you had never seen anything like it before.

“You will not interfere!”

You glanced behind you, seeing the stranger following behind you, now holding a sword that was longer than he was tall, aglow with supernatural energy. The sight of him, of the fury in his eyes tripped you up, sending you tumbling to the ground.

You scrambled to your feet, but the delay was enough that he was rapidly catching up to you. The look in his eyes froze you in your tracks, only able to manage small steps backward until your arm was suddenly grabbed from behind.

You yelped as you were picked up and then quickly deposited back on the ground a short distance away from where you had been. Looking over, you saw a man in white standing protectively in front of you, twin pistols raised and pointed at the silver-haired man with the sword.

He quickly turned his head back to face you. “Go.” When you hadn’t moved after a few seconds, he barked the order again, his deep voice loud and commanding.

You nodded rapidly before turning to run, hoping that the man would be okay. You knew that you wouldn’t feel confident facing that ghoulish man down, but the man that had come to your rescue seemed to exude a quiet confidence, so you had to trust that he would be okay as you desperately sprinted towards the woman and her strange weapon-like device.

As soon as you were in her reach, she pulled you behind her. You saw the man who had saved you facing off with the sword-wielding stranger, rapidly firing bolts of light at him while narrowly dodging blows from the giant sword.

“Is he okay?” you asked, consumed with worry.

The woman nodded. “He can handle himself. We need to get you out of here while Viego is distracted.”

“Viego?” you echoed, turning your gaze from the fight in front of you to meet her startlingly green eyes.

“I’ll explain everything when we’re away from this place,” she answered, resting her large weapon against her shoulder. “We need to go.”

You were reluctant to leave the man fighting alone, but you had no power to help him. You couldn’t insist on staying here when it would doom all three of you.

As you and the woman ran towards the road, your thoughts turned to the owner, your neighbors… your whole town. Hopping over the fence, you found yourself facing down a wasteland.

The nearby farms looked like they had been hit by a tornado, fences broken and chunks of wood gouged out of houses. You couldn’t see anyone around but you and the woman at your side. Just an hour ago, those farms had been full of life, and now, nothing.

You were led around a bend in the road, where a metal cart waited with two large creatures hitched to it. One of the creatures turned its head to look at you and you stared back, trying to figure out what exactly it was.

“Greathorns,” the woman answered your unspoken question. “They’re very reliable.”

You nodded your head slowly; you felt like you had heard the owner mention greathorns before, but you knew that you had never seen one in person. They were bigger than any horse you had seen, with beige beardlike tufts of hair under their chins and large jagged horns that almost looked like a dragon’s wing sprouting from their heads.

The woman looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by a horrible guttural screech from the direction you had just fled from. You met eyes with the woman, feeling unnerved when you noticed the worry in her expression.

Your momentary panic was shattered as a figure zipped around the corner. You were relieved to see that it was the man in the white jacket, though his clothing looked considerably more scuffed up than it had a few minutes ago.

“Is he–” the woman started to say.

“He’s down for now, but we have to go,” the man answered, running over to join you at the cart.

They both sprang into action, the woman placing her weapon into the cart before jumping in herself and helping you in while the man took his place at the reins, spurning the greathorns into movement.

You turned back to try and see what had become of the farm you had called home for most of your life. The dark mist still lingered over the farm, but it was getting thinner by the second. You didn’t see the strange man, the owner, or even the sheep. It was almost unbelievable how quickly your entire way of life had been decimated; as you watched the ruined farm get farther and farther away, you wondered if you would ever return.

You hadn’t realized that you had dozed off until you were being gently nudged awake. You weren’t surprised you had fallen asleep after the day you had, combined with the long cart ride.

You opened your eyes to see the woman who had rescued you, who offered a kind smile your way when she noticed that you were awake. “We’re here.”

“Here…?” you replied sleepily, before your attention was drawn to the scene around you.

You felt like you were in a world straight out of a fairy tale. Tall buildings made of polished white stone surrounded you, much more extravagant than anything you had ever seen before. The roads were paved, people in fancy dress and armor milling about. You were in awe of the fashion, suddenly feeling like a country bumpkin in your wool-covered overalls.

“Welcome to Demacia City,” the man said, steering the cart to a waiting stable.

You got off of the cart with shaky feet, feeling overwhelmed by the reality of the big city you had always dreamed of visiting. Looking out at the beautiful architecture of the city, you only wished you could have come here under better circumstances. The beautiful city instantly dulled in your eyes when you thought back to the state of your hometown, desolated by the dark mist.

“I thought it would be better to let you sleep,” the woman’s voice broke through the fog in your brain and you turned to look at her. “Now that we have a moment to breathe, I thought we should introduce ourselves. My name is Senna, and this is my husband Lucian.”

Lucian nodded to you when he was introduced, and you shyly gave your name back. Once the introductions had been made, you followed Senna through the streets after she had insisted that it would be safer to explain everything once you had arrived at a more secure location.

The more secure location ended up being a large building at the edge of town, the inside of the building a large circular chamber. You could see a few doors on the other side of the chamber, but didn’t get to see where they led as Senna stood in the center of the room, the light from a glass panel far above her bathing her form in a gentle glow. Lucian stood close to his wife, and you came to a stop a few feet away, nervous for what you were about to hear.

“Alright, so the start of this all goes back over a thousand years ago,” Senna started, the sheer amount of time involved stunning you. “That man… Viego… he was a king back then.”

“He was the king of Demacia?” you blurted out. It was hard to imagine someone so ghoulish and cruel being the king of Demacia, even a thousand years ago.

“Not here,” Lucian denied with a shake of his head. “A long-dead empire on a continent east of here.”

Another continent? You had never even heard of another continent; the farthest your geographical knowledge went were the other kingdoms that bordered Demacia. But if he was from another continent…

“…then how did he get here?” you voiced your sudden thought, watching as Senna’s expression hardened, as if your words hurt her to think about.

After a pause, she answered. “Viego was a poor king who instead focussed all of his attention on a peasant girl he had made his wife, Isolde.”

An unsettling feeling made its way into your stomach as Senna spoke her name, but you kept your feelings in, not wanting to interrupt her story.

“With his attention on Isolde, Viego did not govern. Wanting to be rid of their useless king, assassins came to take Viego’s life, but their aim was misplaced. Their poison dagger sliced the arm of the queen, who fell deathly ill from the toxin.”

As her story went on, the bad feeling got worse and worse. It was not at all helped by the knowledge of your mystery scar, the one on your arm that you had no memory of ever getting in the first place. Still, you kept quiet and listened.

“To cure his wife, Viego brought her to the Blessed Isles, but she didn’t survive the journey and was brought as a corpse,” Senna explained. “The elders refused him entry, as the blessed waters could not bring back the dead, but Viego forced his way through.”

You were beginning to have a hard time breathing, terror seeping into your skin as you thought about that dream, the same dream you had been having most of your life. You felt compelled to listen to rest of Senna’s story, even if you suspected that you knew how it would end.

“Isolde was angry and confused after being ripped from death. She stabbed Viego with his own sword, the touch of the ancient sword to the blessed waters turning the whole island into unlife. Viego’s death is what created the Shadow Isles.”

The Shadow Isles? You had thought they were just a myth. Everyone in your town had heard of the terrifying land that was said to be cursed with unlife, its residents thralls to the terrible curse. It had been said that anyone who ventured to the Shadow Isles would lose themselves to death and madness, but you had only heard the place mentioned by parents trying to discourage their children from behaving badly, telling them that the monsters from the from the isles would come and get them if they didn’t behave themselves.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t bear to say it out loud, feeling like the words were too horrifying for you to speak. Thankfully, Senna decided at last to get to the heart of the matter.

“Viego took Isolde’s memory from me, and now he intends to reunite her memory with her body,” Senna said, her eyes tinged with regret. “And that is why he’s after you.”

“So then that orb…” your voice trailed off as you thought about the ball of light that had nearly been forced upon you.

“Isolde’s memory from when she was alive,” Lucian confirmed. “Senna has had it with her for a long time.”

“And you think that I’m…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“Yes,” Senna confirmed gently. “You are the reincarnation of Isolde. Viego would not have come after you if you weren’t.”

“But I’m not… I’m just a farmhand…”

You knew that she was right. There was no other explanation, but you still didn’t want to believe it. You were a farm worker, not a long-dead queen. Yesterday you had been pulling carrots out of the ground, and today you were on the run from a demented king who believed he could use your body to bring back his dead wife. You didn’t have an exciting life, but it was yours, and you didn’t want to lose it to fulfil Viego’s twisted obsession.

Senna and Lucian had stayed silent, giving you a moment to try and calm yourself down, which you appreciated. You would probably cry about it tonight, but for now you would stay as strong as you could. You were used to talking about your feelings with the animals on the farm, but felt uncomfortable with being overly emotional in front of other people, considering the main person you talked to was the owner, and he was not one for heartfelt conversations.

“We won’t let him have you,” Senna promised.

“And besides, after what I did to him, he’ll need a few days to recover his strength,” Lucian added.

“Thank you both,” you said, bowing your head low. “If it wasn’t for you, I don’t even want to think about where I’d be.”

“Raise your head,” Senna said gently. You looked up to see her with a smile on her face, which made you feel a bit better. “Don’t go thanking us yet. Not until we send Viego back into the darkness for good.”

“Can we really stop him?” you asked.

“We’ll sure try,” she replied as you silently wished you had the confidence that she did. “But first, we have something else to do.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what she meant. What could be more important than dealing with the looming threat of Viego’s return?

“You’ve never left that town, have you?” Senna asked with a raised eyebrow, and you nodded. “How would you like to see the city?”

“But don’t we have to–”

“I’ll handle the work for now,” Lucian cut in. “We haven’t been back here in some time and Senna might aim her gun my way if she doesn’t get some downtime.”

“Me?” Senna replied with mock incredulity. “You were the one going on about missing Demacian sugar rolls.”

Lucian didn’t look bothered by his wife’s sass, staring at her with a pout until she relented with a smile and a shake of her head. “…we’ll get you some when we’re out.”

“Thank you kindly,” Lucian replied fondly.

After giving Lucian a quick kiss goodbye, Senna turned back to you, gesturing towards the door. “Ready to get a look at what the city is really like?”

You had thought the streets of Demacia City were big, but found yourself thoroughly blown away by the sheer size of the grand plaza in the center of the city. It was mostly empty now, but according to Senna, the entire space was packed with people when they held special events. It was hard to believe that you were standing in a place where wars had been declared and kings had been crowned.

The marketplace was less spacious, but no less overwhelming. Merchants of all types lined the streets, selling wares you could only dream of before today.

It was in the market that you got to try one of the sugar rolls that Lucian was so fond of, the crystalized sugar melting on your tongue. With so many new sights and smells, you were having a hard time deciding where to look, at least until you laid eyes on a colorful stand selling various types of clothing items.

Walking a bit closer while Senna perused some metalwork from a nearby shop, you found your attention drawn to a dress hanging on one of the racks in front of the seller. It was short, probably knee-length at best, and the same light blue as the sky. The dress was simple, with long sleeves and an a-line skirt, but it was the finer details that had caught your eye; sewn into the hem of the skirt and collar of the dress were little white birds in flight across the fabric.

You had never seen such intricate design work; in your town, people wore practical clothing for working; there was no need for a nice dress when you were just going to get mud all over it anyways. The more you saw of this place, the more you began to feel dissatisfied with how you had been living up until now. But then again, you may not live at all beyond the next few days, not if the ruined king got ahold of you. What a mess you had made of your own life, and Senna and Lucian’s as well.

“You know you’re not a burden, right?” Senna’s voice right behind you snapped you right out of your thoughts and you turned to look at her, her green eyes piercing right through you.

“I, uh…” You weren’t sure how to answer her as you processed her words. It was hard to think of yourself as anything but a burden; your existence itself had caused your town to be invaded by a long-dead king from the Shadow Isles, and now Senna and Lucian had to protect you or face the destruction of the entirety of Runeterra. You were an incredible burden.

“No, none of that,” Senna said, shaking her head with a smile, before her voice turned serious. “You’re a person with feelings and desires. You don’t deserve to be used in Viego’s plot to bring back his queen. You are worthy of being helped, so don’t you dare think otherwise.”

You were stunned speechless. You wanted to refute her words, but the look in her eyes was telling you that doing so would be a bad idea. Instead, you nodded reluctantly, and her stern face finally relaxed back into a smile.

“Good, then we’re going to practice being confident,” she said. “If we don’t work on your confidence, then you’ll never be able to stop fearing those who reside in the dark.”

She was right. You knew she was. “…okay.”

“See that dress over there?” Senna asked, jerking her chin towards the blue dress with the white bird trim. “You like it, right?”

You stiffened. You thought that she had been perusing the metal works being sold, but clearly she had been paying more attention to you than you had given her credit for.

“…it’s nice,” you admitted at last. “I’ve never owned a dress before. The owner of the farm said they would just get ripped and dirty.”

“I think we should get it then,” Senna replied, voice quieting so the seller couldn’t hear her next words. “Sometimes we all need a reminder that we’re not trapped in the dark. This dress can serve as your reminder that you’re brighter than the darkness that chases you.”

You were reluctant to accept the dress, but Senna paid the seller before you could properly object. Handing the dress to you, she looked pleased as she watched you marvel over the soft fabric and beautiful design. Looking back up at her, you were about to thank her, but stopped when she held up a hand.

“If you want to thank me, you can help me set the wards around the house. Besides, we’ll both get an earful if Lucian has to wait any longer for his sugar rolls.”

You thanked her anyways as you both turned to head out of the market, arms full of dress and sugar rolls.

The next morning found you outside with Senna, helping her set up complicated devices around the outside of the building while Lucian worked to set some of the same devices on the roof. You watched carefully as Senna demonstrated how each ward had to be placed in order to work properly, not wanting to mess up when you set up the next one yourself.

“Will these keep him out?” you asked as you bent down to place a ward against the wall.

“A little to the left,” Senna corrected, and you moved the heavy metal device to the left until she nodded with satisfaction. “Nothing can keep Viego out, but these should weaken his strength enough to give us a chance.”

You winced; you had anticipated her answer, knowing how powerful Viego had seemed from your short interaction with him. Hoping to defeat him seemed like a futile effort, but you wanted to believe it was possible. You knew so little about the world outside of your farming town, so at this point, anything seemed like it could be possible. You had no choice but to hope anyways because if you failed, you would be lost forever, at least if Viego had his way.

Your life had become infinitely more precious now that it had come under threat; you wanted to help Senna and Lucian, the people who valued you for being you, not a dead king who looked at you and only saw his departed wife.

“The roof’s all set!” Lucian called out from above you.

“Good!” Senna called back as she heaved another ward into her arms. “Then you can test the wards when I finish setting this one up.”

“On my way, dear,” came Lucian’s lighthearted reply.

The rest of the afternoon was spent finalizing the ward setup. You had never seen them before, and were surprised to see them light up as Lucian ran by them, leaving him looking exhausted by the contact. You had been even more shocked when Senna had told you that the wards had been set to their lowest setting for the test. If Lucian had been that tired on the lowest setting, then maybe you could have hope that the highest setting would have a significant effect on Viego.

“But are we sure he’ll set them off?” you asked Senna as she turned the wards back off.

��I’m sure,” she replied confidently. “Anywhere you are, he’ll go, except now we can use that to our advantage.”

The only problem being that you didn’t know exactly when he would come. Lucian’s guess of a few days was just that; a guess. He had explained that the day they had saved you was only their second time fighting Viego, the first time being when Viego had stolen Isolde’s memories from Senna. But it had been a few days without any sign of the dead king or his black mist, so you figured that Lucian’s estimate had been accurate.

By the fifth day with no sign of Viego, you began to prepare for the worst. He could come for you any day, at any time, so you were confined to the home with either Lucian or Senna with you at all times. You were disappointed that you could no longer explore the city, but you couldn’t make yourself an easy target for Viego to snatch from the streets.

There were some back rooms with beds to sleep in, but you spent most of your time in the circular chamber that made up most of the building, talking with Senna and Lucian or helping them with tasks. The time going by was wearing on you all as you wondered when Viego would come. By the seventh day, you were unable to relax, constantly worried that every noise you heard denoted the return of the ruined king.

It was late into night of the seventh day, but none of you could sleep, all finding yourselves in the chamber room. You were sitting against the wall, watching Senna as she cleaned one of Lucian’s guns, her own large gun resting on the floor next to her. Lucian had been pacing for a while, and you could tell it was beginning to wear on Senna’s nerves.

“Lucian, if you need to–”

Senna’s quip was cut off by a loud chime sounding from outside. The wards.

Immediately, Senna was on her feet, tossing the gun she had been working on to Lucian before picking her own gun up as they both turned to face the hallway, which was the only way in and out of the building.

“Hide yourself!” Senna called hurriedly to you before turning back to face the hall, Lucian at her side with his guns trained on the hallway.

You quickly heeded her words; you couldn’t see any sign of the dark mist yet, but you knew it would only be a matter of time. You dashed over to an ordinary-looking panel on the wall that you would have found otherwise unnoteworthy, if it hadn’t been for Senna showing you how it worked a few days ago.

Pulling the panel to the side, the secret door slid open to reveal a small nook, just big enough for a person to stand inside. You looked back to Senna to see her staring at you, giving you a quick nod when you looked worriedly back at her. Not wanting to trouble them by ruining the plans, you got into the nook, closing the door carefully behind you.

You were largely in darkness, the only source of light being the small eye-level slit that gave you a one-way view into the chamber. You were glad there was a wall directly at your back, because the lack of space was the only thing keeping you standing right now in the face of the onset of terror you were feeling.

Viego didn’t leave you waiting long; Senna and Lucian jumped back as mist flooded the chamber, retreating to the center of the room.

“There!” Lucian called as a figure suddenly appeared through the mist.

Viego moved quickly to the side, dodging a bolt of light from Senna’s gun. He emerged fully from the mist, eyes scanning the area, assumedly looking for you. You knew that he couldn’t possibly see you, but it didn’t stop you from shrinking back.

“Where is she?!” Viego demanded, the anger in his voice sending a cold shiver down your back.

“Nowhere you need to worry about,” Lucian answered.

“I can feel her,” Viego snarled back, his mystical sword appearing in his grasp. “Where is she?!”

“I think you have bigger concerns right now,” Senna replied smoothly, and then she and Lucian jumped into action.

Lucian quickly moved to one side of the ruined king, firing bolts of light at him before backing out of Viego’s range. Meanwhile, Senna sent several strong blasts of light from her own gun Viego’s way, the two working together to try and take the king down.

Viego let out a frustrated growl as the bolts hit him, but didn’t appear to be injured like you certainly would be if you had been on the receiving end of the might of Senna and Lucian’s weapons.

Now that you thought about it, he didn’t seem any less powerful for someone who had triggered a series of wards that had winded Lucian on their lowest setting. Your theory was confirmed when he didn’t seem affected by anything Lucian or Senna threw his way. You would be frustrated, but neither one of them wavered, sending shot after shot at the ruined king.

“Enough!” Viego shouted, waves of mist pushing Senna and Lucian back. “You will surrender her to me or you will drown in my mist!”

As Senna and Lucian recovered their footing, the mist grew denser as it swirled around the room. You gasped as demonic green figures made of mist rose from the haze of black, and at the same time that Viego vanished into mist, they charged.

Lucian was firing bolts of light at the mist creatures left and right, but they were endless; as one was struck down, another one rose from the mist to take its place. As Lucian tried to fend off the creatures, Senna was forced to fight off Viego himself as he appeared before her, attempting to strike at her with his sword. It was a strange image, the two and their oversized weapons locked in combat, each trying to overpower the other.

The fight was quickly going bad for your friends; Viego was holding back nothing, his creatures aiding him by swiping at Senna, backing her into a corner as Lucian tried desperately to fight his way closer to her as she continued to shoot the creatures that tried to grab at her.

“You shouldn’t have the strength–” Senna growled as she fired at Viego.

“Your feeble wards cannot harm me,” Viego jeered as he swung his sword towards her. “Nothing will keep me from my queen.”

Viego stabbed his sword forward, but Senna was able to swerve out of the way, causing his sword to imbed into the wall opposite from where you were hiding. Viego then was forced to pull the tip of his sword from the wall, and Senna used that time to send a wide blast of light Lucian’s way, destroying the creatures that had surrounded him. Shooting Senna a grateful smile, Lucian began to fire at more creatures around the room, but his efforts still didn’t seem to be making a dent in the influx of creatures that filled the room.

Senna and Lucian’s luck ran out as Viego’s impatience reached a boiling point. With an angered grunt, he swung his sword at Senna, missing her body but striking her gun. The impact set Senna’s balance off, sending her falling to the ground, her gun spinning out of her grasp and onto the ground a few feet away from her. She made a desperate grab for her weapon, but was again stopped by a warning strike from Viego’s sword narrowly missing her arm.

Senna’s moment of weakness was quickly capitalized on by the mist wraiths as she was immediately swarmed, her body held down by many ghoulish creatures while Viego stood over her.

“Senna!”

Lucian’s desperate shout pierced the air as he charged forward, but was unable to get to Senna, his way blocked by the mist creatures. He shot bolt after bolt, but the demons pressed onwards, only growing in number. Soon he too was overwhelmed, pushed against the wall by the wraiths, his twin guns knocked to the floor. You watched with horror as they both struggled under the grasp of the wraiths, but were unable to break themselves free. The hope in your heart that this fight would be the end of Viego was snuffed out entirely as you watched Viego stand over Senna.

“Your life matters little to me, but I will offer one final choice. Give her to me or die,” Viego threatened, his voice cold with fury.

Senna glared up at him, struggling against the wraiths’ hold even as Viego loomed over her. “You will destroy this world.”

“I will destroy you,” Viego corrected. “And all of those who stand in the way of my love. I hope your impudence was worth your life.”

Viego raised his sword to strike Senna down, and you knew that you would only have seconds to act.

Senna and Lucian were willing to give their lives to protect you, but you couldn’t let that happen. You were not worth the lives of two strong, kind people; people who had rescued you and treated you with more care than the owner ever had, despite only knowing you for a week. One thought rang out loud and clear in your head as you watched Viego prepare to take Senna’s life; I can’t let her die.

You would only have a moment to save her life, so you didn’t waste a second, noisily shoving the secret door open.

“Stop!”

The attention of the three people in the room was drawn to you as you stepped forward, dark mist swirling around up to your knees. Viego’s eyes widened upon seeing you, but behind him, Senna was shaking her head, her eyes begging you to run. But you couldn’t run, not if you wanted to save her and Lucian.

“Please stop,” you implored the ruined king, forcing your legs forward even if the thought of moving closer to him terrified you. You had to do this for Senna and Lucian. You couldn’t allow your fear of what would happen to you to still your steps.

Viego’s sword dissolved into mist as he turned to face you, but the wraiths did not loosen their grip on your friends.

“My love,” Viego called as he began to approach you. “I knew I felt your soul call to mine.”

Ignoring his flowery words, you stopped a few feet from him, scared you would lose your nerve if you got any closer. “I’ll go with you, just please… please let them live.”

You stared into his otherworldly green eyes, trying to stay firm despite a desperate cry of your name from Senna. This was the only way, you reassured yourself. This was the only way to save their lives, even if it meant losing your own. You thought of the time in the marketplace with Senna, of listening to Lucian’s bad jokes, allowing the memories to keep your soul warm against the onslaught of dread you were facing down.

“You’ll come back to me?” Viego’s voice was kinder, softer than you had ever heard it sound as he continued to approach you.

“If you let them live,” you repeated. You could not see your friends beyond Viego’s broad form, but your voice still cracked with a sob as you addressed them. “Senna, Lucian… I’m sorry. And thank you for helping me.”

Viego raised a hand to wipe your tears away, ignoring the protests of Senna and Lucian behind him. “I knew I would find you again, my love.”

You knew it was coming, but you still let out a whimper as he once again materialized the buzzing orb of memories from the dark triangle on his chest, but unlike last time, there was no escape for you now.

“Together at last…” Viego whispered as he pressed the orb to your chest.

The orb felt cold, and then warm, too warm, as it pressed into your skin, absorbing into your body. You collapsed into Viego’s arms with a silent gasp of pain, the last thing you heard before passing out being Senna screaming your name.

There was a beautiful girl, her fingers delicately working a threaded needle through soft fabric that lay in her lap. You had never met her, but you knew who she was; after all, you had seen her corpse in your dreams. It was undoubtedly Isolde… you, from your past life.

You were surprised to find that you were watching the scene as yourself, not through her eyes. The realization brought you some measure of relief; maybe you were not lost entirely to her memory, at least not yet.

The scene around Isolde was blurry, but her figure was clear as day as you watched her gently sew along the fabric, and then it all blurred again. When the scene reformed itself, you watched a man approach her, young and handsome, his brown hair falling in waves to his chin. He was easily recognizable, but a far cry from the figure of unlife that he had become. Viego.

You couldn’t hear their voices, or the scene around them, but you watched as Viego bent down on one knee before Isolde and felt the shock and happiness that Isolde felt, and then the world around you warped once more.

Now you were in a magnificent castle, Viego and Isolde dressed in beautiful wedding clothes, figures leaning towards each other as they kissed. You could not see the faces of the crowd that watched, nor hear the vows exchanged; all you could feel was Isolde’s joy, which left you feeling warm, as if it was you there on your wedding day. It made sense; since it was you, the past you.

You felt the next scene before you saw it; a slow sadness appearing in your chest that left you feeling confused. Then the figures appeared; it was Viego and Isolde in a huge room together, his arms around her. Viego looked happier than you had ever seen him in unlife, but your eyes were drawn to Isolde. On her face was a small smile, but you knew she was sad, you could feel the quiet sadness radiating from her. But what did she have to be sad about? You followed her gaze, looking out a window to see a garden outside, birds flying around and flowers swaying gently with the breeze, but before you could get a closer look, you were gone again.

Now you saw Isolde standing behind Viego, her smile dimmer than before. Viego was wordlessly shouting at a faceless girl in servant’s clothes, a messy assortment of wildflowers crushed under Viego’s feet. Isolde was clutching at her skirt, and you felt a sense of powerlessness from her, along with that same sadness that held tight to her chest.

And then the scenes began to go by faster. Viego, blocking the way to the garden, sending Isolde back to their shared room. Viego, refusing entrance to the castle to an older woman who had the same eyes as Isolde while she watched the scene from a window high above in the castle. Viego pulling Isolde back to him when she tried to leave the room.

As the scenes flashed by, you could feel Isolde’s sadness grow. Time went on, and Isolde stopped smiling; you were watching her soul wither away a little more each time Viego cut another person out of her life. She was not allowed to see anybody but him, not allowed to leave his side even for a second… she was not a person anymore, but a doll to be moved at Viego’s whim.

She felt powerless, trapped by the man she had once loved. Your chest hurt, feeling like you were slowly being suffocated by the loneliness she felt; she was caged, shackled by his love, knowing there would be no escape.

But Viego still looked the same, no matter how many scenes passed by you. It was like he didn’t notice her pain, or maybe he didn’t care; didn’t care for anything but himself. You wanted to make it all stop; Isolde’s deep pain had nearly brought you to your knees, tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately wished Viego would see her pain, but he never did. He always smiled that contented smile, never noticing that Isolde’s own didn’t reach her eyes.

The days finally slowed down and you were left standing in a large chamber room. The scene was tense; men in black swarmed the chamber, purple-tipped daggers poised to take the life of the king. Viego’s soldiers fought back valiantly, but one enemy broke through their ranks, dagger aimed at Viego’s heart, but their aim was put off course by a clever swipe from a spear. The poisoned dagger missed its target, but sliced Isolde instead, cutting through the sleeve of her dress and into the flesh of her arm.

Isolde knew as soon as the poison pierced her flesh that she would die. But while you expected to feel fear, worry, panic… all you felt was calm. The poison would slowly take her life, but that was what Viego had been doing over years with his possessive grip. At least at the end of this, she would be free in death, free of the iron grip Viego had on her in life. But alas, even death would not free her from his grasp.

The scene shifted one final time, and you knew what was coming. Viego held Isolde’s body, cold and dead, in his arms. The scene should have been upsetting, but the feelings that rushed through you were anything but. Isolde was dead, but her spirit was free at last, no longer a prisoner to Viego’s will.

But Viego would not allow her to be apart from him, even in death. So she rose, her anger finally unable to be contained, and stabbed him with his own sword. You watched the scene with no pity for the mortally-wounded Viego; Isolde had killed him, but she had been dead for many years before she had been poisoned. His love for her was more poisonous than any toxic dagger; he had been killing her slowly from the moment they had met, and only in death did she find the courage to return the favor.

Isolde had wanted a loving husband, but had ended up with a loving monster. This was nothing like the tale of true love Viego had spun, but he was the only one delusional enough to not see his marriage as what it was.

The scene faded to black at last, leaving you hurting body and soul, Isolde’s pain and sadness making your body feel numb from the inside out. You felt her emotions as if they were your own, and you supposed that they had been yours, a very long time ago.

The memories faded, and were quickly replaced by a soreness all over, like you had fallen from a decent height. Opening your eyes with a pained moan, you realized that you had beaten the odds; you had confronted Isolde’s memories, but you had not lost yourself to them. You were still you.

But with that good news came a lot of bad. You woke up in a bed, in a room that you had never seen before. The room was ornate, but looked dilapidated due to time. The gold posts of the canopy bed you laid in were speckled with dust, the blanket you laid under severely wrinkled.

Sitting up, you were relieved to see that you were still in the blue dress you had been wearing back in that chamber when you had given yourself up to Viego to save Senna and Lucian. You had passed out before you could ensure Viego kept his word, the memories too much for you to handle. For now, you chose to believe that they were alive, because knowing that you had done everything you could and they had still perished would crush what was left of your spirit.

You doubted you were still in Demacia, and one look outside the half-scratched window was enough to confirm that fact. The outside of the castle was even more depressing than the inside; the outside walls were cracked, the stones covered in black vegetation that you would have thought was ivy if it weren’t the color of tar. Angel statues on raised platforms stood tall in the outside courtyard, looking extremely out of place amidst the sinister green mist that seemed to hover over the whole area.

The supernatural layer of mist confirmed it; you had been taken to the Shadow Isles. The realization made your chances of escape nearly nonexistent. The Shadow Isles were filled with undead creatures hungry for the souls of the living, if the stories you had heard about this place were to be believed. And looking over the land that seemed to radiate unlife, you were certainly inclined to believe them.

Footsteps from outside the room broke your focus away from the view outside. Looking quickly around the room, you did not see anywhere to hide. With no other option, you began to back up to the far wall, staring at the large ornamental door as terror burned in your chest.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing the figure of the man you least wanted to see right now. While your mood dimmed upon seeing him, a smile lit up his face when he caught sight of you.

Viego wasted no time striding over to you while you stayed still, back against the wall both physically and metaphorically. Strangely, as he approached you, your fear began to morph into disgust. This man would not let you go, no matter how many lives you lived or places you went. As he took you into his arms, one word repeated in your head like the beat of a drum. Selfish.

He had stolen Isolde’s happiness, locked her away like a bird in a cage, and now he was doing the same to you. Letting out an internal sigh, you wished that you could go back to your boring farm days, which felt like they had been years ago, not weeks. But Viego did not give up his possessions easily, and that’s what you were now. A doll for a selfish king to keep by his side forever.

You hadn’t realized you were crying again until Viego had pulled back, his fingers sweeping across your cheeks to catch the tears.

“You’re safe, my queen,” he whispered, his words doing nothing to comfort you. And besides, you were clearly not safe if the biggest threat to your safety was standing before you, oblivious to all he had done.

You didn’t know what to do now; he wasn’t going to let you go, but you would rather die than live the rest of your life trapped in this place, pretending you were still the dead king’s dead wife.

“I have waited so long for you to return to me again,” he said, his jade green eyes staring into yours, ignoring your plight, just as he always did with Isolde.

You were tired, you were sad, and you were angry. But Viego only saw his own reflection in your eyes. He only saw what he wanted to see; you wondered if he even saw your features when he looked at you, or just superimposed Isolde’s features over yours in his mind’s eye.

It was a strange feeling; you wanted to be anywhere but here, but at the same time, you wanted the man before you to at least see you as you were now, to know your name even if he addressed you by another. Your mind was a mess, your heart even more so, but you would find no comfort in Viego’s arms, nor in his words.

“Isolde–”

“Don’t call me that!” you shouted, ripping yourself from his arms as you could no longer calm your rising anger. “And don’t call me your wife either! You have never cared about me, not back then and not now. You have never cared about anyone but yourself, Viego! You should have let Isolde stay dead!”

Viego looked shocked and hurt by your words, his silver eyebrows raised high on his forehead. You were expecting him to yell back, to tell you to know your place, but he just stood there, and then like the mist, he vanished.

His form turned to mist, and as you watched him flee, you couldn’t help a desire to have the final word.

“My name is–”

He was gone before you could say your name, but you shouted it anyways. Even if he didn’t use your name, it felt good to say it, even just to remind yourself that you were not the person you had been in your past life. Whatever happened, you would not allow this place to steal your identity from you.

You waited in silence, but Viego did not return. After some time, you reluctantly sat back down on the bed, your feet tired of standing, but Viego still did not come back to the room.

You were unsure what to make of what had happened. The Viego you had seen flee the room contradicted everything you knew about him. Could your words really have reached him? It was the only conclusion you could come to, but it sounded so unbelievable; an all-powerful dead king fleeing a room after being called selfish by a small town farm girl.

The encounter had been short, but you found yourself already tired. With no sign of Viego returning, and not much else to do, you slipped back under the ruffled covers, laying your head on the same pillow you had woken up on.

Maybe it was owing to your trip through Isolde’s memories that you were so tired now. Closing your eyes, you were relieved that you were still you, though you were still having a hard time reconciling how to see yourself with your time as Isolde. You had been her a long time ago, but she still felt like a different person, like a character in a story. You looked different, and lived different lives, but you were still weighed down by the possessiveness of the same man.

You had been surprised to see Viego look so hurt, but you refused to feel bad about what you had said. It seemed like everyone around him, including Isolde, had been too afraid to confront the king on his faults, at least that was what you assumed. You didn’t know where you got the courage yourself; maybe it was Isolde’s sorrow and frustration finally boiling over from a lifetime of being controlled that emboldened your tongue.

Either way, what you had said could not be taken back, so there was no point in ruminating over the situation, not when you were already having a hard time focussing on anything with how exhausted you were. There would be time to lament your situation when you woke up, you decided, consciousness drifting off at last.

You were surprised to feel so well-rested, but your mood was brought back down when you opened your eyes to the same dusty room you had fallen asleep in. It was just as empty as it was before, save for your body under the covers.

With how dedicated he had been to capturing you, Viego’s sudden absence was surprising. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but everything in the room looked the same as it had before you had gone to sleep, so you had to assume that he had not returned while you were sleeping. It was probably for the best; you wouldn’t know what to say to him even if he was here.

Upon waking up, you were confronted with a new problem; your empty stomach. Come to think of it, when was the last time that you had ate something? You still had no idea how long you had been unconscious after Viego forced Isolde’s memories into you, but you had a vague recollection of eating some steamed buns Lucian had brought back from the market a few hours before Viego had attacked. But clearly that had been a while ago, if the gnawing emptiness in your stomach was any indication.

You were reluctant to leave the room and risk running into Viego, fearful of his anger after what you had said to him, but your stomach was so empty it hurt. Maybe you would get lucky and find a fruit laying around and scramble back to your room before you were caught. With that hope in mind, you walked quietly over to the door, prepared to do what you had to in order to survive for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately for you, the rest of the castle was just as dusty and dilapidated as your room had been. It was clear that this place was very old; anyone who had lived here in life was long dead by now. Eventually, you located the closest thing to a kitchen you thought you would find in this place, but instead of food, you found dust, cobwebs and the occasional brittle rat skeleton, which crumbled to dust under your touch.

There was no food here, that much was obvious, which led you to a new dilemma. You couldn’t ask Viego for food; for one, he terrified you, and there was also the fact that you had no idea where he even was. The castle was too large for you to check every room for him with any great speed, and so far you had not heard or seen any evidence of anyone else in this place but yourself.

So what were you supposed to do now? The thought of walking out into the Shadow Isles terrified you to your core, but what alternative did you have? Stay here and starve to death, a prisoner to a man who seemed like he had no further use for you if you weren’t the same person you were when you were Isolde?

It seemed that Viego avoiding you was a blessing in more ways than one, because now he wasn’t here to stop you from leaving the castle. It was easy enough for you to find the front door, following the patchy red carpet until it led down a long staircase that took you to another ornate door. Whoever’s castle this had been must have either been royalty or obscenely wealthy to live in a place this grand. The entryway alone was almost the size of the entire farmhouse back in your hometown. As grand as it was, you hoped that you would never see this awful, lonely place again once you exited the door.

The door was a lot heavier than it looked, but you managed to pry it open, the chill of the outside air telling you immediately that you were about to do something very dangerous. But it was this or starve, you reminded yourself as you took the first step outside, and it was better that you tried to find your way off of this island before you were too weak from lack of food and water.

Sinister green mist clung to the land, thick enough to obscure the far away, but just thin enough for you to see twenty or so feet around yourself. You remembered hearing as a child that the mist of the Shadow Isles was made up of the souls of the damned that had once lived here, but seeing it now, you hoped that it wasn’t true.

The stone angel statues were even more unsettling up close, standing on either side of the pathway like guards, their stone eyes seemingly staring down at you as you passed. Every step you took, you were scared the cracked ground would give out under you, but it held fast. It was a miracle that this awful place didn’t just crumble and sink into the cursed waters that surrounded it.

You quickened your steps, eager to be rid of this place as soon as possible. That, and the faster you were out of here the better a chance you had of getting off this island before Viego noticed you were gone.

The angel-statue-lined pathway opened up to a network of crumbled stone walls of all different heights that looked way more worse for wear than the castle behind you. It looked like this might have been a city over a thousand years ago, before the isles had fallen into this eternal darkness. But now you were the only person here, likely the only living person on this whole cursed island, at least until you got yourself back to civilization.

You picked up your pace even more as you entered a forested area, though the forest itself consisted solely of long-dead trees, their branches black and thin. What you hoped was wind howled, shaking the spindly branches, leaving you to duck and weave through them, their thorns scraping against your clothes and skin. You kept moving onward, pressing on despite the pain from the new cuts on your body, unwilling to turn back now that you had come this far.

You pushed through a difficult thicket of branches, panting from the effort as you looked down at your dress. The once-beautiful blue fabric now bore many tears, stained by your blood where the branches had cut you. You couldn’t imagine your face and hair looked any better, but you could worry about that later.

Taking in your own sorry state, you failed to take in the threat that was quickly closing in on you. You looked up from your dress, expecting to see more branches in your way, but jolted back with a gasp when you noticed the large figure standing fifteen feet or so in front of you.

The figure before you was giant, easily the width of several men, its gray flesh packed with bulk and muscle. It was bald, and wore no shirt, wearing only spiked shoulder armor on its upper half, while its lower half was covered by a large loincloth and equally-spiky leg armor.

It must have been human at some point, but it was far from that now. Its eyes were the same spectral green as the mist that hung over the island, that same green dripping out of his mouth in a drool-like fog. Its skin was tough-looking, like it was halfway between skin and rock, two large chipped horns made from craggy stone jutting out from the sides of its head. It had a manacle on each wrist; broken chains hanging from both of them. That gave you one more terrifying insight; while it was alive, it had clearly been some kind of criminal. And now it was here in front of you, unchained, its focus solely on you.

You turned to run, but the creature was faster. Its gaping maw opened wide with a horrible roar, and you were forced to grab onto a branch to try and resist the sudden pressure you felt pulling you back towards it. Looking back, you saw even the spectral mist being sucked into its sharp-toothed mouth, but you knew that you were its target, not breaking its focus as it stared you down with empty, dead eyes.

You couldn’t escape, you couldn’t even move an inch farther away from the monster’s supernatural pull. You tried to reach for a farther away branch to pull yourself to, but were forced to bring your hand back to the branch you held onto as holding on with only one hand made it much harder to keep yourself from being dragged further back.

Your fingers were hurting, the pressure pulling on you becoming more and more intense, and evidently the creature was done waiting. Not letting up on its pull, it began to move closer, and the pull got even stronger. Shaking from the effort of keeping your hold on the branch, you had no way of escaping it.

Was starving to death really a worse option than this? You had been so stupid, thinking that you had any chance of escaping this island; now this creature would ensure that you would never leave.

With a pained cry, your grip gave out at last, the branch slipping from your fingers as you fell to the ground. You tried desperately to grab at the cracked earth, but your hands could not find purchase in the ground no matter what you did as you were pulled closer and closer to the creature’s open jaw.

The closer you got to it, the weaker you felt, as if the monster was draining your very soul from your body. As the thought came to you, you realized that it was very likely to be the truth; the Shadow Isles were a place of eternal torment, it would not be out of place for this island to be filed with soul-sucking monstrosities.

You were almost within the creature’s grasp now, no more than five feet away from its razor-sharp teeth and black clawed nails. You were feeling more and more drained as it pulled you closer, your vision getting fuzzy as you tried to focus on anything other than your impending death, but it just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t like you had been expecting to see your life flash by your eyes like you had heard happened to people when they were about to die, but right now you would welcome any sight other than the one you had right now of the creature pulling you in, his eyes aglow with sinister satisfaction.

Just as a clawed hand reached down to take hold of your leg, it was sliced clean off at the elbow, stone skin clattering to the ground next to you. The creature let out a pained howl, which turned out to be the last sound it would ever make as it was then cleaved in half by a sword longer than you were tall, one you had thought you had left behind in that castle along with its wielder.

Freed from the monster’s pull, you scrambled away from its dismembered parts, wanting to be as far away from the horrible creature as possible. Shaking from your ordeal, you stared at Viego’s back, then at his face as he turned your way, letting his sword turn into mist as he caught sight of your quivering form.

You went still, afraid of the king’s wrath at your escape from his castle, but were surprised when he rushed over to you, pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you.

“I thought… I thought I would lose you again,” he spoke into your hair, his words full of sorrow and pain as he held you to him.

You weren’t sure what to make of his behavior; it almost sounded to you like he was crying as he spoke, but you were reluctant to pull back and check. Instead, you reached up with sore arms and wrapped them around his waist, closing your eyes and leaning your head against his chest. A day ago you could never have imagined embracing this man, but he had saved your life, and right now you just wanted to feel safe, even if that safety came in Viego’s arms.

“Why did you save me?” you sniffled, voice muffled by his jacket, but loud enough for him to hear in the now deathly quiet forest.

Viego pulled back from the embrace with a sad exhale, his red-rimmed eyes telling you that he had indeed been crying as you had thought. Resting his forehead against your own, he stared into your eyes, brushing some stray hairs away from your face.

“I saved you because I love you,” he answered, voice quiet and hoarse. “Now tell me… why did you leave?”

“I…” You pondered how to answer his question, but decided there would be no point in lying to him, not when he hadn’t made any moves to harm you despite having good reason to be upset with you. “I was scared… and hungry.”

“…hungry?” he echoed, looking perplexed for a short moment before his green eyes went wide.

“Please forgive me, my love,” he spoke, sounding genuinely panicked. “It has been so long, I had forgotten–”

You couldn’t help yourself. “…you forgot that people need to eat food?”

“I haven’t… not since I became…” He was lost in his own world for a moment, before something seemed to come to him. “You’re…”

Without another word, he raised an arm, summoning one of his mist ghouls, who took off ahead of you, passing harmlessly through the mess of thorned branches along the forest path. You weren’t sure where it was going, but if it wasn’t after you, you found yourself lacking the strength to care about the ghoul’s mission.

Feeling drained, you leaned more of your weight into Viego, having a hard time keeping yourself upright. Viego’s eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looked down at you, but your eyelids were already drooping. You felt strong arms lift your body up as your eyes closed, head resting against cold skin. You could only hope that the creature hadn’t drained the life entirely out of you, but for now you had no consciousness left to worry about anything as you drifted off again for the third time since Viego had taken you.

“I pushed her to this…”

Waking up, your stomach was no less empty, but your head felt clearer. You had never considered yourself a lucky person, but you weren’t sure how else you could still be alive after all you had been through recently.

Your eyes didn’t want to open, not yet, but you were immediately aware of a feeling on your head. It took you a few groggy seconds to realize that it was a hand, slowly petting your hair. You had never had anyone stroke your hair before, but found it comforting; maybe your parents had done this before the fire, but the owner had never coddled you like this, even as a child. Absently, you mused that it had been a long time since you had anyone in your life that cared for you, when you were used to an existence of being merely tolerated.

Opening your eyes, you finally remembered where you were as you looked up at the man whose lap your head rested in. Viego’s hand stilled when he noticed that you were awake, but resumed petting your hair when you leaned your head into his now-gloveless hand, seeking out his comforting touch. Neither of you spoke, and you closed your eyes again, deciding to accept the comfort this moment offered you.

“…I was scared,” Viego said at last, and you opened your eyes again to look at him. “I felt that you had gone, and then I felt your terror… I thought that I had lost you again.”

You weren’t sure what to say, but it worked in your favor as Viego was not finished. “I have done awful things, committed atrocities, all to return you to my side. But I never realized that I was only thinking of myself. Your pain… it is all my fault.”

You felt overcome with the need to deny his assertion as you stared at his sad eyes, but you couldn’t. It was true. He had done terrible things and caused you pain not only in this life, but in your life as Isolde.

“I do not deserve your forgiveness,” he said, sounding like the words were hard for him to say. “But I will do anything to earn it. I…”

His voice trailed off as he removed his hand from your hair. You looked away from him and towards the same door you had exited when you had thought you had been leaving this room behind for good, as you considered his words. With those words, the power dynamic was shifting between you for the first time; he was willing to do whatever you asked of him in order for you to forgive him. And while you weren’t sure what it would mean for you to forgive him, you couldn’t allow this chance to pass you by.

“I want you to call me by my name now, not Isolde,” you said, sitting up and staring into his eyes, trying to silently communicate to him how serious you were with your stare. “And I would like some food and water.”

“Your… name,” he spoke softly, looking down at the bed sheets.

You repeated your name, and he still didn’t look up, but you weren’t quite done. If he was offering anything, you were going to see how far you could push your luck.

“…and I want to go back to Demacia.” You saw the alarm in his face and quickly made to soften the blow. “I want to tell Senna and Lucian that I’m okay. You can come with me if you want.”

“…if that is what you want,” he said eventually.

You could tell that he likely felt rejected by the stiffness of his shoulders and his refusal to look at you, but you would not back down, not when you had gotten him to agree to take you back to Demacia. You weren’t sure how Senna and Lucian would react to seeing you show up with Viego at your heels, but you knew that it was likely the only reason you had gotten him to agree to your request.

Your eyes had been wandering the room again when a soft call of your name had you turning back to face Viego, surprised that he had actually called you by your name. He was looking at you at last, but looked uncomfortable, like a fish thrown onto land.

Reaching down beside the bed, he picked up a simple stone bowl, handing it over to you. Inside, you found some circular objects that looked like oranges that were well past their prime, the orange of their rind mixed with patches of gray.

“Are those… tangor?” you asked. Demacian tangor were a mix of orange and tangerine grown all over Demacia. They were a little sour for your liking, so you hadn’t had one since you were a child.

“I had my servants fetch them. They are the only thing that grows here that will not poison you,” Viego replied.

His voice had hitched at the word poison, but you didn’t mention it, not wanting to draw attention to it. That was how Isolde had died, from a poisoned dagger. Even though you were with him now, it wasn’t like your presence erased the wounds of his past. You were just grateful that he had stopped being so domineering, at least for the moment. You weren’t sure what this was, or what you wanted this to be, but you knew that you were stuck with him at least for the foreseeable future.

Viego left the room to prepare for your journey back to Demacia, leaving you to eat in peace. The tangor were even more sour than you remembered them being, but you happily ate them, relieved to have some food at last.

With Viego gone, you allowed yourself to relax, free of his stare and his unstated expectations. He didn’t have to say it for you to know that he still wanted you to be his wife, or lover, or however it was he saw you in his mind. You hated yourself for even considering being with him in any capacity after the things he had done, but at the same time, you found yourself reluctant to fully close the door on the idea.

He had shown to you that he could do good things, even if they had only been for your benefit. You didn’t have to agree to anything right now, you reminded yourself, at least not while he wasn’t pressing the topic. But as of right now, you wanted to see if you could help Viego, even if you weren’t sure exactly how.

You stared at the bowl of tangor rinds, wishing an answer to your problems would come to you, but you knew that it wouldn’t be that easy. At least you would get to see Senna and Lucian soon; you wanted to make sure they were both okay, and you knew they were probably worried about you.

Placing the bowl back on the floor, you decided to take a look into the large closet in the corner of the room. Your own outfit was a mess; barely hanging together in places after running through the thorned branches. As much as you loved this dress, it was not in any shape to be worn. Hopefully the closet would have something passable to wear in it.

There were quite a few old-fashioned dresses, but they were too gaudy and frilly for your tastes. Sifting through the clearly upper-class clothing, you eventually came upon a dark green hooded cloak that looked out of place with all of the fancy dresses. Pulling it out, you realized that it would probably make a good disguise for Viego; Senna would likely shoot him on sight before you could explain, and you didn’t want Viego to have any reason to try and harm your friends.

Setting the cloak on the bed, you leafed through the rest of the closet, finally settling on the simplest dress you could find, a non-corseted, non-frilly purple dress with long sleeves and a scoop neckline with a hem that went to your ankles. The dress was a bit long for your liking, but it wasn’t covered in frills up to your neck, so it would have to do.

You changed into the purple dress, laying your old one on the bed, and had been running your fingers over a tear in the skirt when Viego re-entered the room. Sighing, you turned away from the dress, mentally apologizing to Senna for ruining the beautiful dress.

You waved Viego over, and he approached immediately, face stony and uncertain. Picking up the cape, you just hoped he would agree to put it on.

“So you won’t stand out in Demacia,” you said, holding the cloak out to him.

“If this is what you desire,” he answered. Though he didn’t seem to understand your concerns, he dutifully wrapped the cloak around his shoulders.

Reaching up, you fastened the clasps at the front of the cloak, trying not to feel shy being so close to his intense stare that you was pointed right at your face. You couldn’t avoid his eyes as you pulled the hood over his silver hair, careful not to let the fabric get caught on the metal bands that tied off sections of his hair into low ponytails. With the cloak fully closed, the black triangle on his chest was also no longer visible, which would definitely invite suspicion if left uncovered.

“Promise me you won’t hurt my friends,” you said, needing to hear him say it.

His glare was deadly. “If they harm you…”

“They won’t,” you replied quickly. “Haven’t you had friends before?”

That was evidently the wrong question to ask, because Viego looked like you had hit him in another sore spot, like back when you had yelled at him. Come to think of it, you didn’t remember really seeing him with anybody else when you had watched Isolde’s memories. No wonder his world had collapsed when Isolde… when your past self had died; she was his world, as sad and lonely as that was.

“How are we getting to Demacia?” you asked, figuring you should be merciful and change the subject, feeling bad as you looked up at Viego’s awkward stare.

“The mist,” he answered, and you turned your eyes to his chest where you knew the triangle of black lay hidden under the cloak you had forced him into. “It will carry us over the waters.”

You weren’t thrilled with the prospect of being surrounded by the black mist again, but the unknown waters that surrounded the Shadow Isles were even more daunting; at least you were confident that the mist would not harm you now.

You followed Viego to the cracked window, standing behind him as he opened it, revealing a clearer view of the dark, desolate isle. You were too far inland to be able to see the ocean, your view out of the window largely consisting of millennium-old rubble and patches of dark forest that must have been where you had run into that creature. You stared outside the window, wondering why he had led you here, at least until you noticed the mist that had begun to seep through Viego’s cloak.

“We’re not going to… jump?” The thought horrified you. There was no way you would survive a fall from this high up, mist or no mist.

“I will carry you in my arms,” Viego corrected you. “And then we will travel in the mist.”

You shivered as you considered his plan. “…you won’t drop me?”

You were half-joking, but Viego didn’t seem to pick up on that, one hand cupping your cheek as he stared down at you, voice deathly serious. “I will not allow any harm to come to you. Not again.”

You were once again taken aback by the intensity in his green eyes, even under the shadow of his cloak’s hood. You were still getting used to his devotion to you; it was a weird feeling having someone care about you after so many years of being without anyone who even cared enough to ask you about how your day had gone.

You weren’t sure what the owner’s fate had been, but you were confident that if he had seen you with Viego that day at the farm, he would’ve turned tail and ran, unlike Senna and Lucian, who came to your aid even when you had been a stranger to them. Maybe you should stop thinking of the farm as your home; because if you really thought about it, the only thing that tied you to the farm in the first place was your own fear of not being able to make it if you left.

You allowed Viego to take you into his arms as the mist surrounded you, pressing your face into his shoulder in order to avoid seeing just how far below you the ground was. You felt Viego move, likely exiting the window, and braced yourself for the drop that didn’t end up coming.

You could feel that you were moving, like you were in the arms of someone who was walking on solid earth, even if you knew you were walking through the sky and not the ground. You weren’t sure if the mist blocked your view of the ground entirely or not, but you were too scared to look.

“You were never this afraid of heights back then,” came Viego’s teasing voice from above you.

You doubted that Isolde had ever seen heights like this from the sky, but you welcomed his attempt at conversation, desperately needing a distraction from your growing curiosity to look away from Viego’s shoulder.

“How are you not scared?” you mumbled into his shoulder.

Viego let out a soft, sad laugh. “After what I have seen, what I have lost… there are more horrifying things in this world than heights.”

That was true; he had over a thousand years of life experience on you. Even if you had lived back then, your only memories from that time were ones you had seen flash by you when you had been exposed to Isolde’s memories. You couldn’t pretend you had experienced the hardships that he had; you had died, and he had been left behind, stuck as an undying mist wraith.

“…I’m sorry I yelled at you,” you said quietly as you listened to the sound of the wind whipping by.

“They were words I should have heard long ago,” he replied. He was silent for a long time, so long that you thought he was done talking, but then he spoke up again. “I led your life to ruin back then, and I was about to do it again.”

You let out a soft exhale against the soft material of the cloak. You couldn’t deny his words, you knew you couldn’t, but you also didn’t want to give up on him entirely. Right now, here in his arms, it really felt like all you had in this world was each other. You knew that you also had Senna and Lucian, but you didn’t have the history with them that you had with Viego. That, and while you considered them your friends, they would always be each other’s most important person; you didn’t want to admit it out loud, but you really wanted what they had, to be the most important person in the world to someone.

You both seemed content to let the conversation drop as you adjusted your face against Viego’s shoulder, the ends of his silver hair brushing against your forehead. Opening your eyes at last, you stared at his hair as it swayed with the wind. If you hadn’t seen it yourself, you would have found it hard to believe that his hair used to be a rich brown, a far cry from the silver it was now. But he wasn’t the same person he was then, both physically and mentally.

You couldn’t deny that you found him attractive; his eyes were deep-set, his jawline sharp and lips soft-looking. You immediately regretted observing his face when he looked down at you just as you were staring at his lips. You hurriedly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring. Viego did not say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, even after you closed your own eyes again, leaning your face fully back into his cloak.

The trip to Demacia felt very long, and you had been drifting in and out of sleep, with little else to do, when you felt Viego’s feet touch down onto the ground. Opening your eyes at long last, you watched as the mist that surrounded you faded away, returning to Viego’s chest and revealing the area around you.

You were standing on a cliff, the beautiful blue waters of Demacia at your back. Demacia City stood before you in all its pearly glory, looking exactly the same as it had the last time you had been here.

It looked to be mid-afternoon, the sun shining high in the sky. It was nice to see light again instead of the dreary permanent dark of the isles.

While this was not your first time here now, you still had a difficult time figuring out the way to Lucian and Senna’s place from your current location. You looked over the paths that led into town, trying to figure out if any of them seemed familiar, finally settling on a small stone path that led along the coast. You remembered that their house had been close to the coast, so you hoped that you would eventually find it if you kept on the path.

You turned back to Viego, making sure his hood was down over his head before you two set off on the path. The last thing you needed was for anyone to notice Viego before you got to your destination; you were just lucky he had let you put the cloak on him or else you’d be much more worried about your chances of going unnoticed.

Viego walked at your side, sticking fairly close to you, eyes casually but tactically scanning the area as if searching for threats. There were some people milling about the area, but not many, and none that looked like a threat to you, not unless Viego threatened them first.

“Your… friends,” Viego spoke up, sounding as if the word itself was foreign to him. “Are you certain they will not welcome me with weapons drawn?”

You frowned. “I hope not.”

“They would not be the first,” he sneered bitterly.

“Viego.” You grabbed onto his arm and he looked down at you, staring first at your hand on his arm and then up to your face. “I will make sure they won’t attack you, but you have to be nice as well. No mist, and no giant sword.”

You felt like you were lecturing a child, but hoped Viego wouldn’t feel like you were treating him like one. You swallowed nervously as you stared at him, pleading with your eyes for him to agree to play nice with Lucian and Senna.

His eyes seemed to soften as he stared at you. “I can deny you nothing.”

“Thank you,” you replied happily, letting out a small noise of recognition as you spotted the building that you were looking for in the distance.

Leading Viego over, you signalled for him to wait behind you. He half-obeyed, but stood much closer than you had meant. You let it go, knowing you weren’t likely going to be able to convince him to leave your side, instead knocking on the door.

The wards that you and Senna had set up still lay scattered around the outside of the building, the lack of glow about them telling you that they weren’t activated. You knocked again after no response, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you waited. Just as you were about to knock a third time, you heard movement from inside at last, stepping back slightly as you waited for the door to open. You felt Viego tense up behind you, but had to focus on the door in front of you as it opened to reveal a frantic Lucian.

He called your name with relief in his voice until he noticed the figure behind you, his features turning grave instantly.

You raised your hands up in front of you, desperate to stop the incoming fight. “Lucian, wait! He’s not here to hurt anyone!”

Lucian looked very skeptical, but paused his hands reaching down to his guns. “Y’know, I can probably activate those wards from here.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, relieved by the joking tone in his voice. “Can we come in?”

Lucian sighed, stepping away from the door to allow you both to enter. “Senna’s not gonna be happy when she gets back.”

“She’s not here?” you clarified.

“Nah,” he answered. “She went out earlier to get some supplies for, uh, findin’ you…”

“…oh,” you replied guiltily.

Lucian led you down the hall and into the large chamber that you had been in when Viego had ultimately captured you. But now there was no mist filling the room, and no weapons drawn, at least not for now.

Lucian stood awkwardly in front of you, picking at invisible lint on his jacket while you looked between him and Viego, who had taken off his hood when you had entered the room.

Nobody was saying anything until Lucian finally broke the oppressive silence. “So how have you been?”

“Good,” you said, desperate to latch onto Lucian’s attempt at conversation.

“Dead,” Viego answered at the same time.

You and Lucian stared at each other for a short moment before you were interrupted by the sound of the door opening down the hallway. Lucian sprang into action immediately, quickly dashing into the hall, likely to warn Senna about what she was walking into.

Once Lucian’s figure was out of sight, you turned to Viego, knowing you had to keep him calm.

“Please don’t hurt her, Viego,” you pleased. “She doesn’t–”

You were cut off by a loud exclamation from the hallway.

“He’s where?! Lucian, get out of my way!” came Senna’s enraged voice from the hall.

You heard rapid footfalls coming your way, Viego stepping in front of you before you could think to stop him as Senna entered the room.

“You–”

You began to panic when you saw dark mist trickling from the front of Viego’s cloak as Senna stormed towards the two of you.

“I won’t let her harm you,” Viego hissed quietly.

“She won’t hurt me,” you insisted quickly, grabbing onto his arm.

You stepped in front of Viego as Senna came over to you and quickly had your wrist snatched by Senna, who pulled you behind her.

Viego stepped forward, but Senna wasn’t having it, pinning him with a fierce glare. “You can stay there, ruined king. You’re lucky you’re still breathing in my home after what you’ve done.”

Viego didn’t look happy at her words, but kept his eyes on yours as you desperately shook your head at him, pleading silently for him to back down. You stared into his green eyes, hoping he would listen to you, and slowly, he backed down, fists unclenching but face still tense. You let out a quiet exhale, relieved that he had listened to you, although a glance at Senna told you that she was no less angry.

Lucian slowly stepped forward with an overly friendly smile on his face. “How about we have a conversation while the ladies talk?”

Viego stared at Lucian, face blank, but Senna didn’t hesitate, pulling you with her to the other side of the chamber and out of earshot of the boys. Once she had felt you were far enough away from them, she stopped, letting go of your wrist and pulling you into a short hug.

“You had us so worried,” she scolded, pulling back from the hug.

“I’m sorry,” you said, guilt pooling in your stomach.

Senna sent you a hard look. “Why would you do something so dangerous?”

You bit your lip as you thought back to that moment. “It was the only thing I could think to do. I couldn’t let you and Lucian get hurt.”

Senna let out an amused breath, shaking her head. “I can’t say I didn’t appreciate what you did, but it was stupid.”

“I know,” you agreed. “I thought I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t,” Senna countered. “Though I can’t say I understand why. What did you do to tame him like this?”

“I, uh…” It felt weird to say out loud, but you had no other explanation that made any sense. “I called him selfish.”

Senna stared at you for a second, and just as you were starting to think that she didn’t believe you, she surprised you by bursting out in laughter. She took at least a minute to calm down, and you just stared at her in confusion, not sure what you had said that was funny.

“Well that’s been a long time coming,” she said at last, before noticing you staring at her in shock and shrugging. “Never thought I would see the day.”

“I may have been a bit mean,” you admitted, voice dropping to a whisper. “I told him he should have let Isolde stay dead.”

Senna’s eyebrows raised in surprise before she let out another small huff of laughter, glancing briefly over at Viego. “Can’t say he didn’t deserve it. Probably deserved worse.”

“It was just… after seeing how he treated Isolde for so long… I couldn’t stop myself,” you said.

Senna nodded. “I’ve thought the same things myself, but the difference is Viego actually seems to listen to you.”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” you replied, sneaking a quick glance at Viego, only to find him already looking your way. You looked back to Senna, feeling awkward locking eyes with Viego like this in front of Senna. “I was so mad at him, but now I’m just confused about what I want.”

Senna didn’t reply, merely raising an eyebrow as a prompt for you to explain. You swallowed nervously, resisting the urge to look back at Viego as you explained your thoughts. You told Senna about Viego fleeing the room, about escaping the castle and running into the soul-sucking monster, and then Viego coming to your rescue.

“At first, I just thought he was scary, but after that… I don’t know. After going most of my life without anybody who cared about me, I…”

“…you want to give him a chance?” Senna finished for you, her voice frustratingly neutral, not giving you any insights on how she was feeling, but it wasn’t as if she was off the mark. You didn’t want to lie to her, so you nodded, unable to help but feel like you were letting her down.

Senna sighed a slow sigh, but didn’t look angry. “So have you told him?”

“Told him?” you echoed.

Senna rolled her eyes at you. “Told him that you want to be with him?”

You averted your eyes, staring at the stone floor. “…no.”

“He won’t know unless you tell him. Men aren’t always great with that kind of stuff,” Senna joked. “I had to spell it out for Lucian, and he’s one of the smart ones.”

“Right,” you agreed. She was right; you couldn’t just hope that Viego would somehow understand what you were thinking, though the thought of opening yourself up to him like that made you nervous.

“We have a smaller place just outside the city for when we need to lay low,” Senna said, fishing a key out of her pocket and handing it to you. “It should have enough supplies to sustain you while you figure things out with him.”

“Thank you,” you replied, stunned by her generosity.

“Come back and see us when you’ve got things sorted,” she replied with a smile. “And make him earn your forgiveness. If he does anything, just let me know and I’ll make him regret it.”

“I will,” you promised with a smile. You really didn’t deserve a friend as good as Senna.

Senna seemed happy with your response. “Then let’s go and save Lucian. He never was great at making small talk.”

You both turned your attention back to the two men across the room and their conversation.

“…so the mist, does it come from inside you or something?”

“The mist flows from my black heart,” Viego answered in a monotone.

“Oh, uh–”

Lucian was saved by Senna’s approach. “Alright boys, we’re done.”

You stifled a laugh at Lucian’s obvious relief at being rescued from his attempted conversation with Viego. Viego, on the other hand, seemed to forget Lucian existed the moment you came close, which was both flattering and embarrassing.

“How about you come with me to return the armor I bought and we pick up some sugar rolls on the way back?” Senna proposed to Lucian.

“Huh? But–” Lucian looked tempted by the offer, but looked back at you with a concerned frown.

“They’re fine,” Senna insisted. “They have somewhere to be anyways. I’ll explain it to you on the way.”

Lucian finally relented, allowing Senna to drag him towards the front door. But before they got too far, Senna turned her head back to you.

“Keep down the road for about an hour. It’s the one with a sun on the front door.”

You nodded and Senna wished you luck before pulling a still-confused Lucian with her out the front door. You really owed her; you would have to try and make it up to her and Lucian after you sorted things out with Viego.

Once they had left, you turned your attention back to Viego, knowing you had to have this conversation with him whether you wanted to or not.

“I was talking to Senna about what I want… with you,” you said, cursing yourself internally for how shaky your voice sounded.

Viego looked like he had been forced to swallow a Shadow Isles tangor, his posture rigid. “Now that I see how happy you are here with those two… I know that you were never truly happy being at my side.”

You were shocked speechless, the words you wanted to say fleeing your mind, your lack of a reply prompting Viego to continue.

“The Shadow Isles is a place for monsters like me. I won’t make you return there with me,” he said, sending you a sad smile before his body began to turn to mist, starting with his legs.

“No!” you cried out, grabbing his arm. You hadn’t expected him to let you go, but you found yourself not wanting him to leave you, even though that was all you had wanted only a week ago.

The moment you touched him, he turned fully solid again, looking down at you with furrowed silver eyebrows, uncertainty plain on his face.

“Don’t leave,” your voice came out quiet and weak, but you kept your hold on his sleeve. “Please don’t leave.”

You were trying not to cry, and it must have been obvious, as Viego quickly brought you into an embrace. Being alone with him again, you finally felt like you could say what you wanted to say, even if you were partially fueled by desperation to make him stay.

“I want you to stay in Demacia with me,” you said, pulling back to look at him, placing a hand on his cheek like he had done to you so many times. Viego seemed mesmerized by the contact, leaning into your palm as he stared at you with hopeful eyes.

“I will go wherever you are,” he replied softly.

“But,” you said, steeling your nerve. “I want you to see me as me, not the me I was when I was Isolde.”

You felt relieved that you had finally gotten out what you wanted to say, but were nervous at how he would take it.

“You are much stronger now than you ever were a thousand years ago,” he replied. “No matter what form you take, you are still my only love.”

You couldn’t help yourself. “Even if I was reborn as a sheep?”

“I would become a sheep myself if I had to,” he responded, and you giggled at both the seriousness in his voice and the mental image of Viego as a sheep.

Staring up at Viego, who seemed puzzled by your laughter, you were struck by just how much your opinion of him had changed since you had watched Isolde’s thousand-year-old memories. It was hard to believe that you could feel like this about someone who had brought you such sadness in the past, but as you stared at Viego’s handsome face, all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

But Senna had given you the key for a reason, and you didn’t want to trouble them by still being here when they returned, so you decided to be brave like Senna, taking one of Viego’s hands in yours and pulling him towards the front door. Viego’s hand was cold in yours, but his fingers held tight to yours. You found yourself wondering what kind of look Viego had on his face, but you were too nervous to look back at him until you got outside, taking the walk down the hallway to gather up all of your courage before turning back to him.

“Senna gave me–”

You were cut off by a gentle tug on your hand by Viego, pulling you back to him. Faster than you could comprehend, his other arm wrapped around your back, pulling you against him as he leaned down to kiss you.

You were shocked, Viego’s arm behind you being the only thing keeping you upright as his lips pressed against your own. You closed your eyes, hoping your inexperience wasn’t too obvious as you tentatively tried to kiss back, wishing your face would stop burning so hot; there was no way he wouldn’t notice the heat in your face, not with how cold he always was. Just as you were getting worried that you were too stiff, Viego pulled away, touching his forehead to yours.

He looked too pleased with himself, his jade eyes glowing with the same mischievous aura as the smirk he now wore on his lips. “You were saying something, my love?”

You sputtered, face red, trying to catch your thoughts. You hadn’t been expecting the kiss, and had also never kissed anyone before, so your brain was struggling to work again as you stared at Viego’s sly grin.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to focus. Right, the key.

“Senna gave me the key to a place of theirs we can stay in,” you explained. “It’s about an hour’s walk out of the city.”

Viego raised an eyebrow. “It would take much less time to travel there with the mist.”

“No!” you exclaimed hurriedly, noting the few people who were still out since it was only early evening. Your face only flushed more as you realized he had kissed you in front of other people, even if it was only a few. Noticing two women staring at you and Viego, you quickly pulled his hood back down over his head from where it had fallen askew, taking his hand again and pulling him with you in the direction Senna had indicated.

“People are already staring… if you use the mist, they might call the Demacian guard!” you explained as you pulled him with you down the road.

“They can try,” Viego scoffed. “No power in this world will take you from me again.”

You sped up your pace, desperately hoping the two women hadn’t heard Viego’s not-so-veiled threats against the Demacian guard as you pulled him along with you. While you didn’t doubt that Viego was likely strong enough to take on the whole of the Demacian military, it was a confrontation that you desperately wanted to avoid.

For his part, Viego didn’t seem bothered by your increased pace down the path; rather, he seemed to be in too much of a good mood for someone who had just threatened to take on a kingdom’s entire military force. Part of you wondered if he was just talking like that to keep you holding his hand to pull him along, but the notion was too embarrassing to possibly be true, so you dismissed it from your mind, choosing instead to focus on the scenery around you as you walked.

The path out of town was not too different from the roads you had walked back in your hometown. Once you were out of Demacia City, the path of finely-cobbled stone became a simple dirt path lined occasionally with simple houses on either side. The people who lived just outside the city didn’t seem to conform to the fanciful beauty standards of the city, instead dressing more like the people you had known back in the Demacian farmlands. Seeing the more ordinary people go about their lives brought you comfort; as nice as Demacia City was, you had a hard time feeling like you really belonged among its finery.

“I have never seen how the peasants live,” Viego commented from your side, the lightness in his voice making you feel like he didn’t quite get that most people took the word peasant as an insult. “They look happy.”

“I’m a peasant too,” you mused. “I lived on that farm most of my life.”

Rather than looking displeased, as you secretly feared he might, Viego let out a quiet hum. “I cannot help but wonder, if we were both peasants back in Camavor… could we have lived happier lives?”

“Viego…” You looked over at him to see him gazing sadly your way, and for a second you could have sworn you saw the Viego of his youth when you looked at him, tan skin and rich brown hair instead of the pale, silver-haired man you had come to know in this lifetime.

“I led us to ruin, and I almost lost your beautiful smile for good,” he added with downcast eyes. “I will not allow myself to be so foolish again.”

While you were trying to think of a response to his words, your eyes caught sight of a small house in the distance, a golden yellow sun painted on its front door. The house itself was fairly isolated; the last house you had passed had been a while back, and you couldn’t see any other houses in the distance ahead.

It was a relief; while you were still feeling awkward around Viego after that kiss, you knew it was better for everyone for Viego to not be around anyone but you for now. You pulled out the key Senna had given you, overly conscious of Viego at your back, fumbling a few times before getting the key slotted in correctly and unlocking the door.

Stepping inside, you were surprised to see how well-furnished the place was, despite it just being an out of town hideout for Senna and Lucian. The home consisted of a combined kitchen and entryway area with a simple bathroom down the short hallway. Opening the last door, you found a small bedroom containing no more than a bed and a small chest of drawers.

As you were looking over the room, you were surprised by Viego’s arms circling your waist, his chin resting against the side of your head.

“I have missed this dearly,” Viego’s low voice in your ear sent a noticeable shiver down your spine, which he definitely noticed. “It has been over a thousand years since I have felt your body against mine.”

His tone was sultry, and accompanied by a gentle nip at your ear, your cheeks were feeling incredibly warm. You had to assume that you had been with Viego like this, back a thousand years ago. But you hadn’t seen any of Isolde’s more suggestive memories, so you had no idea of what to expect from Viego. That, and you were as inexperienced as they came; it wasn’t like there were many boys around your age in your small town for you to do anything with. You were nervous, but glad it was Viego, and not someone like the owner’s brother who always hit on you whenever he visited the farm.

Viego withdrew from you, a metallic clang sounding out in the small room as he released the clasp on his cloak, allowing it to slide off his shoulders and hit the floor. Chancing a look back over your shoulder, you made eye contact with a once-again shirtless Viego, the black triangle on his chest bared once again.

Approaching you again, he took hold of your wrist, bringing your palm to lay against the spectral-green lined dark triangle in the center of his chest. You inhaled sharply, surprised when your hand was not swallowed by mist or sucked into the black void, but instead pressed against the triangle of black as if it were normal skin.

“The mark you gave me,” Viego said, voice surprisingly soft for someone talking about the wound that had ended their mortal life. “The mist is a part of me, so it will never harm you.”

“It feels warm,” you murmured. How could it feel so warm when the rest of his body was so cold?

“Only ever to you,” he replied, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was a short kiss, Viego giving you several short pecks as he slowly backed you up to the bed. He pulled away as the back of your knees hit the bed, and you opened your eyes as you caught your breath, only to see Viego with a wicked smirk on his face. Before you could question him, you were sent backwards onto the bed with a yelp as a rush of mist from Viego’s chest blew over you.

You found yourself on your back, the sheets a lot softer under you than you had expected. Realizing that the mist had left you feeling a lot colder than you had expected as well, you let out an embarrassed squeak when you discovered that the mist had somehow done away with your clothing, leaving you completely naked against the sheets.

The mist faded as quickly as it had appeared, revealing Viego at the foot of the bed in nothing but his tight black pants, which were noticeably tighter at the front. His gaze was smouldering as he took in your now-fully-revealed form, and while you were overtaken with the desire to shy away, but you were not given a chance as Viego quickly joined you on the bed.

He gently cupped your breasts in his hands, thumbs rubbing against your nipples, the cold of his fingers only heightening the jolt of pleasure that heated your face. Viego stared down at you, looking awestruck, strands of his silver hair falling over one of his eyes. He was so handsome that it was hard for you to believe this was real as you looked up at him, fighting the urge to run your hands through his hair as you let out a soft moan.

“You make it hard to focus when you sound like that,” Viego admitted as he leaned down. “It has been too long since I have heard your sweet voice moan.”

Crawling over you, Viego tilted your chin up with a hand on your cheek, allowing him to lock your lips together again. Unlike the previous kisses, this kiss was heated and intense, your tongue meeting his as his other hand laid next to your head, supporting his body closely above yours.

His body caging yours in should have felt cold with how frigid his skin was in unlife, but all you could feel was warmth as Viego kissed you like his life depended on it. Deciding to act on your earlier thoughts, you slid your hands into Viego’s soft hair, your nails running along his scalp. Viego groaned into your mouth, hips rutting into yours, letting you feel just how hard he was under his leather pants.

Viego’s hand strayed lower, your back bowing slightly off the bed when he began to move his thumb over your clit. He continued the passionate kiss as he kept up with the movements on your clit, the sensations making it hard for you to concentrate on the kiss. Finally, the pleasure got so intense that you jerked back against the pillow with a breathy moan, your face flushed with heat.

Viego pulled back from you entirely, spreading your legs and grasping your thighs, pulling your legs over his shoulders. Startled, you realized what he intended to do, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to…” you trailed off, fingers grasping the sheets at your side as you stared at him.

Viego’s mouth turned up in a sly grin, looking up at you with his mouth inches away from your naked pussy. “There is nothing I want more in this world right now than to hear you cry out for me, my love.”

Before you could reply, Viego surged forward, tongue licking against your clit while his fingers pressed inside you. He seemed energized by the noises you made, fingers moving faster against you as you closed your eyes, moaning his name as his tongue brushed against you at a spot that had you seeing stars beyond your eyelids.

He was relentless, determined to get you to reach your peak, not slowing down until you cried out his name, nails raking against the sheets as you came.

Viego withdrew, looking very proud of himself as he stared down at your wrecked form. You laid flat against the bed, panting as you tried to catch your breath. As you took in Viego’s disheveled hair and satisfied smile, you let out a soft exhale, still not fully understanding how he was able to make you feel so comfortable with him after all that you had been through. Or maybe it had been because of everything you had been through together, the thousand years you had been apart and the short time you had been together again.

He didn’t make any moves to remove his pants, despite the fact that they looked painfully tight by this point. You stared at him from under your lashes, not knowing what to say as you slowly came down form the high of pleasure he had given you.

“Your form has never been more beautiful,” Viego said, leaning down to kiss you. “Now if only your lips were as honest as your eyes.”

“What?”

“Your eyes are telling me what you want me to do to you,” he murmured into your ear, voice low and sultry. “And I cannot find it in me to deny my queen what she desires.”

Viego sat up as mist flew from his chest, sweeping over his lower half and turning his pants to mist before dissipating entirely, leaving him just as naked as you. His cock was just as pale as the rest of his body, but clearly was still functioning just fine; in fact, you were slightly worried about the sheer size of him.

Viego took his place between your legs, his cock so close to where you wanted it. He took himself in hand, slowly lining himself up with you, looking down at you appraisingly before his cock was sinking into you.

You let out a soft sigh as you felt the stretch of his cock, surprised that it was nowhere near as painful as you had imagined. Once he was fully inside you, he leaned down, caging you in with his arms as he began to roll his hips into yours.

Sliding a hand into his hair, Viego happily allowed you to pull his lips back to yours, groaning into your mouth when you clenched around him after his cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. While you had struggled to focus amidst the pleasure you were feeling, Viego had no such problem, easily able to kiss you breathless while maintaining a slow and gentle pace with his hips.

But as you continued to move against each other, slow and gentle began to be too little for you. You pulled back from Viego’s lips with a whine, looking at him with pleasure-hazed vision as he continued to move against you.

“Viego… faster, please,” you whined, watching him swallow as you spoke.

With a deep groan, Viego picked up his pace, each thrust of his cock hitting exactly where you needed it. Viego seemed to be as lost in the feeling as you were, eventually trading speed for increased intensity as you clung to his biceps.

Viego came first, slowing with a groan, but kissed you hard, rubbing at your clit until you joined him over the edge, feeling your energy drain from you as Viego pulled out of you before pulling your body to his, wrapping his arm around you.

“My heart, my body… they have only ever belonged to you,” Viego spoke, his words sending fondness blossoming in your chest.

Closing your eyes, you leaned against his chest, feeling happy but drained, at least until the reality of where you were came rushing back to you. You were in Senna’s house… in Senna’s bed. What had you been thinking?!

Noticing your panic, Viego lifted your chin, tilting your face up towards him with an eyebrow raised, quizzically speaking your name.

“Senna’s going to kill me,” you groaned in embarrassment.

“What?” Viego hissed, voice flat and dangerous, some mist tricking from his chest.

“No!” you exclaimed, placing your hands over his chest in a futile effort to keep the dark mist in. In your embarrassment, you had forgotten about Viego’s tendency to react against any threats directed towards you. “I just meant she would be upset with me for…. getting intimate… in her bed.”

Your words didn’t particularly seem to ease the severity of Viego’s misinterpretation of your words, but that would have to something to work on over time. With how harsh his life had been for so long, you shouldn’t have been surprised that hyperbole was largely lost on him. For now, all you could think of to do was distract him, quickly pulling his lips down to yours to hope you could make him forget about his current dangerous intentions, at least for the moment.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt5)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

“Please I am begging you, not Coruscant. Take me anywhere else, do whatever you like, just don’t send me back to him.” You ramble as you're pushed down the stairs from before and forced into a small cell.

“Sergeant's orders,” The clone shrugs. And tears fall freely, whatever awaited you as Nythons wife has now become impossibly worse as a result of your running. You try to stifle them when you see Tech again, and your hands grasp the cold bars.

“Tech!” you screech like a madwoman, “you said you would help me, you said you knew him!” You see him guilty look away, and pull a crate of medical supplies into his arms.

“Wrecker I need you on the deck, Crosshair needs a stim and you know how he gets…” He says to the larger clone, who must go by Wrecker, making the one called Crosshair presumably the one injured in your saving. Wrecker nods and follows him towards the stairs.

“P-please,” You try once more, standing in a cell, with a ruined dress, gunpowder in your hair, battered muscles and tears leaving the only trails of clean skin on your face.

Neither of them even turn to look back at you.

For whatever kind of terrible wife you may have made, you’re a decidedly worse stowaway. You groan at it all, not even having made it a full cycle hidden on the ship before being caught. And the pain from having smashed into the hull of the vessel itself hurts so much, like all of your muscles are stuck in a permanent cramp. You flop onto the wooden floor of the cage the clones have thrown you in, but refuse to cry again.

Above you, an intense argument starts.

“Wield that thing at me again Tech and you’ll lose your hand.” Someone snaps

“It is a stim Crosshair not a kriffing viroblade!” Tech’s voice is easily discernible for that of a clone. You realise it’s softer, and has less of the gritty depth and rather more of a thoughtful comforting sound. So even when he’s frustrated he still sounds kind.

“Wrecker you’re fucking terrible at stealth.” Crosshair, you presume, states.

“Just take the needle vod you need it!” a deeper set voice chimes in.

“Give it to the girl, she hit the hull hardest, not to mention the iron hold Hunt’er must have had on her.” You hear him sigh after that.

“Cross don’t start something…” Tech warns,

“It’s Volim -kriffing- Nython.” He seethes. “Maker forgive us if we give her back to him.”

“I was not aware you had suddenly become so religious…”

Tech.” Crosshair cuts in, “He used to collect Lekku for fun-”

“I know.”

“And Zabarak horns.”

“I know.”

“How many of our brothers did he kill?” “Crosshair I Know!” You hear Tech shout before everyone falls quiet. You hear mumbling next but can't make out what's being said. “Take the stim or don’t, see if I care.” You hear him slam something down before you hear and see footsteps approaching.

Tech makes his way back down into the brig, walking past your cell to put the medpack back on the furthest wall. And you let him walk by you again before saying something.

“Tech?” You croak out, thinking he will keep walking up the few steps back onto the bridge, except he stops, does not turn to you, but stops nevertheless. “I do not know much about Clones…” You admit gulping. “But at least I thought mandalorians had more honor.”

“And do we look like mandalorians to you?” He counters, not with malice but almost as a genuine question.

“Your armor did.” You say and you watch as he turns. Blocking the light that's coming in from the door, his auburn hair and curious eyes that he knows usually get the better of him. And underneath the baggy pants that are tucked into his boots, you see a flash of the under most shirt, a faded symbol on his chest beneath the white layers of loose fitting cloth.

“How do you know what clone armour looked like, and yet not know anything about clones?” He enquires earnestly.

You take a deep breath thinking about how to phrase your answer, and considering you’re on borrowed time you think it's best to keep it short.

“Lekku and Horns weren't the only things he collected.”

His face plummets before he bolts out of the brig.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

The Captain of the havoc Marauder has just about finished his first flask of whiskey when one of his soldiers comes bursting through the doors to his private rooms.

“Have you ever heard of knocking Tech?” Hunter Inquires, his heavy coat draped over his sleeping area and his hat thrown somewhere amongst his pile of clothes. Leaving him in rolled up sleeves, his red bandana and threadbare pants that desperately needed replacing. From here tech can see his traitor branding on the inner arm and the pirate sigil necklace that he’d nicked from Hondo some years back.

“Captain - Sarge…” Tech says quickly knowing his brothers are probably nosing their ways over here sooner rather than later. “I want to propose an alternate route.”

“To Coruscant?” Hunter asks with a raised eyebrow.

“The Alderaanian trading post.” He states firmly. “We’d be there in a matter of rotations, the wind and the currents are in perfect conditions. She’d be out of our hair in days…”

“I’m not harbouring a fugitive, soldier.” Hunter cuts him off glaring.

“She is not a fugitive.” Tech argues, turning around as Crosshair and Wrecker join him in the captain's quarters before turning back to his captain. “That woman has done nothing wrong.”

“He’s right.” Crosshair says agreeing with someone for once. “The Corellian Run is a straight shot to Alderaan.”

“This is not up for debate soldiers.” He grits out.

“We are not giving her to that monster sarge. We’re just not.” Everyone turns to Wrecker in shock, despite his appearance and love for all things gunpowder, Wrecker is always the one to follow orders, to do what needs to be done - never challenge the hierarchy of power.

“Is this a mutiny?” Hunter threatens,

“This is us not throwing an innocent woman into the hands of Volim Nython!” Tech exclaims and even before Hunter can respond the room erupts.

Well, Clone Force 99 was never really known for its teamwork skills anyways.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

You cast your eyes towards the boards that make up the ceiling of the brig when the yelling starts. For all the subtle differences between each Clone it becomes impossible to pick out who is yelling at whom and what they are arguing about.

Well, given your current predicament maybe it was not too hard to pick out what the crew is shouting about.

With a soft sigh you lay flat on the floor of the ship and close your eyes, rocking with the creaking of the hull and your ruined dress splayed out creating a wonderful contrast to the dark wood floor. Perhaps the sea was not as terrifying as you thought. Your fingers explored the wooden floor, gently as to not catch any splinters. Cracked nails brush over hardened wood and cascade over a cold nail. And you stay suspended in what could be your last moments of peace.

After a few moments of trying to block out the shouting your brain catches up to itself. And you roll to one side, fingers moving quicker now as they try to find that same spot. Where everything else is flush, flat barely a difference between warm wood and the cool metal circles of nails firmly embedded one stands taller than the rest.

You stop your frantic hands before they make contact with the rusty nail, it’ll be tricky to work out of the dry wood, and your likely to cut yourself or start an infection through a split fingernail. So you pivot on your bottom, put your hands behind your back for stability and give the nail a calculated kick.

Your foot does little more than bend the thing, and push your skirts up in an unladylike manner, but with this new angle you can safely work the chunk of metal out of the floorboard. And later rather than sooner you are now sitting on the floor, one rusty nail richer.

The obvious call to action is to pick the lock and you doubt your abilities before quickly realising there’s no better plan in sight. And so you push yourself against the steel bars and crock your arm at the worst angle to start working on the lock. Every large wave threatens to snap your shoulder from its socket. Your knees are bruised, your arm hurts so much, and with every fall you were reminded of the not too pleasant experience from earlier and how much your ribs still hurt. And in some combination of luck, movement of the nail, a crash of a wave and maker only knows what else, that final wave sends the nail into place and you crash through the door to the cell as it swings open.

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[thicctails]

Summer of Whump Prompt Day 2 [Food Poisoning/Starvation]

Hunter learns the true meaning of hunger when he and Echo are captured and tortured for information.

It had been four days.

 Hunter leaned against the side of the cell, the metal cuffs on his wrists chaffing the already raw skin. He had been leaning against this wall for the better part of the day, trying to conserve his energy and strength. Their captors hadn’t been feeding them, an attempt to break their spirits, he was sure. The lack of food was really starting to get to him now, he had a constant ache in his stomach and he hadn’t been able to get any rest last night. Clones lived an active lifestyle, and thus they needed a higher amount of calories to keep them going. Hunter had, at most, gone a day and a half without eating anything.

 In the cell across from him sat Echo, stripped of his prosthetic arm and any kind of tools or weapons he had on him. Echo was lying down right now, recovering from whatever torture he’d been put through today. His sides sometimes faltered, and Hunter sincerely hoped his squadmate wasn’t getting sick or had an infection. Illness hit Echo hard, and he didn’t need any extra suffering.

 His stomach growled, as it did most of the time. It had started to eat away at his fat reserves, but he had little to give. Soon, his body would start to cannibalize his muscle tissue, and then it would be all over. He rested a hand on his stomach, mentally willing it to stop making noise. His heightened hearing and already agitated state meant that any sound was louder than it should be and it pissed him off.

 Slumping down, he tried to force himself to go to sleep. He lay there with his eyes closed, staring at the darkness behind his eyes. Sleep danced around him teasingly, darting in close and then prancing back. After about half an hour of listening to his own breathing and the sound of his stomach acid eating away at his stomach’s mucus layer, he decided that sleep wouldn’t be coming to him tonight.

 Rolling over onto his side, he pressed his face against the cold stone. They’d come for him soon, he figured. At least that meant that he’d get water afterwards. They obviously wanted to keep them alive, although Hunter wasn’t quite sure how long their captors’ patience would last. They wanted information on how cloning was done on Kamino, and no matter how many times both he and Echo tried to explain that they didn’t really know, the aliens didn’t believe them. He’d been beaten, electrocuted, waterboarded, and, of course, starved, yet he couldn’t say anything that would make it stop. Of course, he wouldn’t say anything even if he did know, but it would have given him a sense of control if he’d had the choice.

 He growled and pressed his head into his arm, angry at himself for being caught. He’d been out scouting with Echo while the others stayed with Omega on the ship. She was still recovering from her brush with an icy death from a few weeks ago, and had been happy for the company. Pillow, her ever loyal guardian, had opted to stand guard at the door, ready to aggressively honk at anyone who tried to remove him.

 He’d just vaulted a rocky outcropping when he heard it. A quiet whizz that would have been imperceptible to anyone else. He’d looked for the source, but couldn’t see anything. Feeling cautious, he’d tried to com Echo, but had received no reply. That had solidified the idea that something was wrong in his head, and he had quickly started making his way towards Echo’s location. He’d just been reaching up to com Tech and Wrecker when a sharp prick of pain had appeared on the back of his neck. Suddenly, his legs no longer supported him, and he had hit the dusty dirt hard. His vision had swum, and he couldn’t feel his limbs. The last thing he remembered was seeing Echo’s prone form being dragged by an armoured humanoid that he couldn’t see the face of.

 Then he had woken up in this dark hellhole, incredibly sore and wishing he had eaten breakfast.

 The sound of footsteps made him sit up. He grumbled angrily as he waited to be taken away, his tired mind pounding inside his skull. The complete lack of food and pathetic amount of water he was given to drink was almost certainly slowly killing him, and he refused to go out like that. He’d rather be shot than slowly waste away.

 As the cage door slid open, he contemplated rushing the man that had come to drag him into the interrogation room. His arms and legs ached a the mere thought, and he was once again reminded of his weakened state, and a fresh wave of irritation rippled through him. He should have attacked his captors the first chance he got, but he’d been waiting for a better opportunity. That, it seemed, had been a mistake on his part.

 The man roughly grabbed his arm, yanking Hunter to his feet and shoving him out the door. The room swam slightly, and he wobbled a bit. He grit his teeth, frustrated. Damn this place. Damn these people for making him so weak by simply doing nothing.

   His ribs stuck out now, and it hurt to lie on his stomach. It hurt to lie on his back and side as well, but it hurt more to lie on his stomach. He was curled up in the corner, far away from the cell door. He listened to his own breathing as he simply existed in the darkness. It was slower now, strained too. His body was giving out, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Their captors hadn’t come in today, perhaps they’d given up and were now just waiting for him to expire.

 He wondered what death was like. Was it dreamlike, full of the spirits of his friends and brothers who had already crossed death’s vale? Or was it like sleep, dark and empty, but you didn’t know it because you were asleep. He almost hopped it was the latter, he wasn’t sure he could look his brothers in the eye after what they’d done. What they’d been made to do.

 He wished he wasn’t alone.

 Clones did poorly in prolonged isolation, as did any social creature. Sometimes, he wondered if the loneliness affected them more because they had always been raised alongside their squadmates. Their bonds allowed them to work harmoniously, which helped keep them alive. He always slept better when his brothers were around.

 He really wished he wasn’t alone.

 Hunter did not want to die here, but if he had too, if this was it, couldn’t he at least have some company?

 …

 Beyond the boundaries of his cage, something exploded.

 The loud noise shocked Hunter back into a state of semi-alertness, and he stared wide eyed at the cloud of dust that now filled the room. As the dust settled, he saw the body of one of his captors, the one that had delighted in electrocuting him. He lay there, unmoving.

 Dead.

 The hulking figure of Wrecker stepped into the dimly lit area, Tech not far behind him. The two made eye contact with him, he could tell, even if they had their helmets on.

 Hunter smiled, then promptly passed out.

   When Hunter awoke, it was not on the stone floor of his cell.

 The material beneath him was soft, and it felt utterly divine on his poor abused back. The room was lit with a soft yellow light, washing the pristine white walls in a golden glow. A comfortable pillow was tucked behind his head, and he could feel the ache in his neck begin to melt away. A twitch of his wrist revealed an IV drip had been attached to him, which explained why he no longer felt like he was on the verge of death. But… what was that weight on his chest?

 “Honk.”

 Hunter’s eyes landed on the fat little salamander that was resting on his chest. Pillow blinked at Hunter, his round eyes shining in the light.

 “You sir,” Hunter croaked, feeling a bit loopy, “are spectacularly round.”

 “Honk.”

 “It’s true.” He replied. “You are a pudgy boy.”

 “Hunter?”

 Omega’s voice pulled him from his riveting conversation, and he coughed a bit when he felt her arms wrap around his neck.

“You’re awake!” She cried, still sounding a little raspy herself.

 Pillow slid off the bed as the rest of the Bad Batch, sans Echo, awoke. They had been sitting in some rather uncomfortable hospital chairs for some time now, waiting for their leader to awaken.

 “Hey hey, look who’s finally up!” Wrecker said, grinning.

 “Wrecker,” Hunter said, smiling as he looked at the relieved faces of his brothers, “Tech, how long have I been out?”

 “Two days. The damage your body received, both from those sniveling scumbags and from itself, took a while to fix. You’ve been hooked up to that IV ever since we brought you and Echo here.” Tech said.

 Hunter sat up, taking Omega with him. “Echo! Where is he? Is he alright?” He questioned, moving to get out of bed. Tech and Wrecker both reached forward and stopped him, gently pushing him back down.

 “Echo’s fine, he’s just resting right now. He’s in the next room over.” Omega said quickly, releasing Hunter from her death grip.

 Hunter visibly relaxed, exhaling. He looked around the room, his senses coming back to him a bit. They were muted, and in that moment that was a blessing, as he didn’t know if he could stand to just sit in a room and listen to the sounds of his body.

 “Where are we?” He asked. They obviously were not on the ship, so they had to be at a medical centre of some sort.

 “We’re at the same medical centre we took Omega to. This was the closest one we knew that would be safe to take you and Echo to.” Tech said. “We were… very worried that you wouldn’t make it.”

 “Well I did, and so did Echo. We’re gonna be just fine.” Hunter reassured them.

 “We shoulda been faster. If we had just found a way in sooner, you wouldn’t have been so hurt.” Wrecker said, crossing his arms. Both Tech and Omega looked away as well, guilt written all over their faces. Hunter frowned.

 “Hey now, none of that. You saved us, that’s all that matters.” He said as firmly as he could, his voice leaving no room for argument.

 Pillow honked from his place on the floor, seemingly in agreement.

 “See, Pillow gets it, don’t you buddy?” Hunter smiled, tilting his head to the side to look at the salamander.

 “Buddy? I thought you didn’t like Pillow?” Wrecker asked, confused.

 “I never said that. Besides, just look at him.” Pillow blinked up at them, unsure as to why he was receiving attention from all of them. “How could you not get along with such a cute little marshmallow?”

 “Marshmallow?” Omega questioned, looking at Tech and Wrecker. Wrecker shrugged while Tech’s eyes drifted over towards the IV.

 “Hmm, must be a higher dose than I thought. Usually painkillers don’t affect him this much.” He said, looking back at his usually stone-faced squad leader stretching his hand down to rub Pillow’s head.

 “Hehe, look at those wrinkles.” He chuckled softly.

 “Definitely a higher dose.” Tech laughed.  

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

[kkeidawrites]

Her.

Chapter 7

The long wait is over! Here’s chapter 7 for you lovies! Enjoy! Buckle up it’s going to be a long one!

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this chapter and the next chapter includes violence and lots and lots of murder that includes gore and blood. And language because of Trevor Belmont. If you do not like any of these things please feel free to leave this chapter, unfollow me, whatever you need to do to not want to read this anymore; I completely understand and will not have any hard feelings towards your decision. Thank you.

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

The cold wind blew through the air and Alia shivered from the feeling. She was glad that the wire had finally stopped tightening around her middle and peaked an eye up through her curtain of black curls to see the sun was setting.

She has been in this place for a whole day. A whole day where she’d lost her niece and nephew. The only family she was supposed to be watching after when her brother and sister-in-law were away working. If she did get out of here, what was she to tell them? How could she tell them?

She was supposed to protect them and yet here she is, locked up in a cage, bound by a fairies weakness and probably will be joining her relatives in death soon.

Tears fell down her cheek and Alia jumped slightly when she felt her cage shake. Looking up, she saw the yellow teeth of her captor outside of the cage, leaning towards the bars with an evil smirk.

“Hey there little fairy,” he mused as Alia stared blankly at him.

“You got some good news. In two days time, you will be escorted to an auction for your wings. It’s very rare when creatures like you are sent straight to the auction and you want to know the best part about this news?” He asked as Alia glared at him.

“I have the pleasure of being your escort there and I can receive the reward for bringing you there!” He laughed as Alia turned away from him as the man walked away from her prison still laughing.

‘I hope that my death is quick. I don’t want to suffer.’ Her tears fell down her cheeks as she squeezed them in anger.

‘I should have done more for Desiana and Samuel and now they’re dead!’ Her silent sobbing wafted through the quiet forest and it suddenly grabbed the attention of someone nearby.

)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

With Alucard and co.

The golden haired man watched from two miles away of the camp and looked down at his current attire. Nobleman clothing and black hair fitted to his person as Sypha was able to conjure up a spell to change his appearance.

Alucard’s face had changed to a different one everyone is familiar with and his eyes were now a brown color. He prayed that with this spell that it will stay as long as Sypha said it would.

Flashback

The five all gathered in Dracula’s study and listened intently to Lisa’s idea to rescue Alia.

“A rich man who is ‘buying’ night creatures? Isn’t that a bit to coincidental?” Trevor asked.

“Actually, from what I have read about these people is that if you are willing to offer a high price to buy even the most valuable night creature, they won’t refuse a good sack of coin. Remember this is still considered the black market. Be very cautious on how you talk to them.” Lisa told him.

“One of you will be a rich merchant looking for service in your estate and you believe that using night creatures will keep people away and not have many people ask questions about why you have monsters in your care. If they ask why night creatures, tell them you are a very private person who thinks people shouldn’t be in your business and the night creatures are your ‘insurance’ to make sure people won’t say a word.” Lisa concluded and the four in front of her mulled over the idea.

“What if they don’t believe that story? How can you insure they will believe you are a ‘rich merchant’?” Alucard asked his mother who smiled and pulled a sack out of her pocket letting it drop on the desk below.

“This is a sack full of rare diamonds that I had found when I was still traveling from town to town. This should be enough to sway them if not, give them the whole thing. When that is done they will allow you to browse the area and during that time you will be able to find Alia and get her out of there. How you go about getting out is all on you three.” Lisa said and Sypha placed a hand under her chin, thinking.

“I can make a spell to change your appearance.” She tells her two companions and Trevor immediately raised his hands in defiance.

“No way am I changing my person, I can’t act for shit.” Trevor said and Sypha rolled her eyes.

“I wasn’t talking to you anyway.” Sypha said and Alucard looked at Sypha with a raised eyebrow.

“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to change my appearance, I have to play the part.” He nodded to Sypha and the woman took a step back to get some space for her spell.

Concentrating, Sypha’s hands began to glow red and a mist flowed around Alucard’s body, sheeting him where no one was able to see his person anymore.

Once the mist disappeared, everyone’s eyes widened and their mouth became agape as the man looked down at his new clothes he looked at his friends and parents shocked expressions. He raised an eyebrow at their peculiar behavior.

“What?” Lisa was the first to approach her son and looked over his appearance. Her son basically pictured the younger and human version of her husband and she raised a black loc off his shoulder.

“Oh Adrian, you look so much like your father when he was young! You are just as handsome with black hair than your blonde. How incredible!” Lisa squeals as Alucard felt flustered by his mother’s praise.

“Mother, please.” He tells her a blush coming onto his cheeks.

Lisa then turns to Sypha who was panting a bit. This spell takes a lot of her and Lisa moved back over to Sypha to help her sit down in a nearby chair.

“So this is what you would have looked like if you had black hair, extraordinary.” His father mused. It was as if he was looking at himself a whole century ago. Even in his younger years, Vlad had the same brown eyes and long black hair his son sported and felt a bit nostalgic. Although he had changed into a vampire, there were times where he kind of missed being human.

“I’m sorry, I forget that this particular spell is very taxing on my body.” Sypha tells Lisa, who shakes her head.

“It’s fine dear, you have an amazing talent of magic, you just rest a bit.” Lisa tells her motherly.

“We should get going, who knows when and where they will be moving next and we need to get moving in order to save your lady friend.” Trevor tells everyone, his tease targeted Alucard who glared at the hunter.

“He’s right, I can still fight.” Sypha stood from her place in her seat, feeling a bit dizzy as Lisa helped her steady herself.

“But, we must be quick, this spell can only last an hour or so before it wears off.” Sypha tells them and Dracula was quick to move to the mirror where the camp was located and moved it to see a different place that looked a good mile away from the camp.

“This should be close enough to the camp to sneak into. Be careful they may be henchmen but they are not idiots.” He tells the three.

Alucard adjusted his sword at his hip and moved to stand in front of the mirror with his two companions behind him.

“Let’s go.” Alucard says and he and the others stepped into the mirror leaving Lisa and Dracula to watch after them. Lisa worries for their safety but knows they will come out victorious in the end.

Flashback Ends

Trevor approaches Alucard and the dhampir turns to the man who had a concerned look on his face.

“Sypha can’t go for too long, she has returned to the castle to recover but, she will help us from there. Your father says to return to the area to go back through the mirror once we retrieve your friend.” Trevor tells Alucard who nods in understanding.

“Let’s get going. This spell can only last for an hour or so, that should give us enough time to get Alia out of there.” Alucard told him and the two made their way towards the camp.

Their identities were hidden as best as possible. Trevor had doned his fur cloak, hiding his Belmont crest on his shirt and Alucard made sure that the both of them walked as quick as possible in order to prolong the spell. If the spell broke, their plan would be ruined.

Trevor would play as Alucard’s head bodyguard and he would be playing backup just encase things don’t go as smoothly as possible.

As they approached the camp, two men with swords by their sides stood guard at the entrance and immediately their swords were drawn when Alucard and Trevor came closer.

“Who goes there?” One of the men asked as Alucard held his hands up to show he meant no harm.

“I am here to buy a couple night creatures to serve me.” He tells the man who stared at him.

“What you need night creatures for? You a business man?” He asked Alucard who nods. A smirk plays on his lips as the guard turns to his fellow guard.

“Tell the boss we have a buyer.” He says and the second guard nods giving an apprehensive look to Alucard and Trevor before quickly leaving the area.

A few minutes pass and the second guard returned with a burly man who was quite stout with red hair and matching mustache.

“I heard from my men that you are interested in the product we have here. What you interested in buying?” He asked.

“I wanted to browse around your camp to see if the creatures you have vacant here will be what I need for my estate.” Alucard tells him.

“Hmm, your estate huh?” The red head looks over Alucard’s attire and realized he was dressed like a rich nobleman but, anyone could do that.

“How can I know that you are a buyer? I see no large coin purse on you.” The man says and Alucard lifted his palm out to Trevor who reached his left side and grabbed the large pouch of diamonds.

Giving it to Alucard, the dhampir unlaced the strings of the pouch and the diamonds on top of the pile spilled over to shine. If you looked closely, you could see the money signs bling in the red haired man’s eyes.

“Well then! I guess I ought to show you what we have in our catalog, won’t I, Mr...?” He coaxed to Alucard who fluffed out his collar to keep up his act.

“Arikado. Genya Arikado.” Alucard says.

“Mr. Arikado,” he says and then nods moving over to place a hand on his shoulder to guide him into the camp.

“My name is Henrik and I am what I guess you could say is the manager of this camp. Feel free to ask me anything as we browse through the merchandise.” He says.

He notices that Trevor is following close behind and moves to whisper in Alucard’s ear.

“Do you need him to come as well?” Henrik asks.

“He is one of my bodyguards, the best I had hired. He stays with me at all times.” Alucard tells him as Henrik nods quickly seeing that his comment made his potential future client greatly offended.

“But of course sir, you seem to be a very important man and as such must have a lot of protection and money as well.” Henrik says with a smirk as they begin to pass cages with different creatures inside of them. Alucard’s eyes scanned the cages closely and so far there was no sign of Alia.

“Yes, my family has been quite wealthy for almost forty years and quite familiar with the church of my hometown.” Alucard fibs.

“What town, I dare ask?” Henrik asks.

“Aldra. Although we lack a lot of men, we are the most prosperous city on the countryside.” Alucard says.

Money signs played in Henrik’s eyes and he licked his lips in greed.

“Then I shall show you our most exclusive creatures we have on the market that you may be of interest.” He tells Alucard and guides him towards the back of the camp where a long chain cut off the other cages nearby.

Removing the chain, Henrik motioned to Alucard and Trevor to step in first then followed behind them. Again his eyes scanned the cages and then the sound of sobs reached his ears as he turned his head right to see a pair of familiar wings and curly black hair.

“Here we have a rare blue eyed werewolf, caught him a week ago. Had a hard time bagging this one, he’s been our most asked and most popular creature on the market. Bout to be on auction in the next two days.” He explains to Alucard who clearly wasn’t paying any mind to Henrik.

“What about that one?” Alucard points to Alia’s cage and Henrik looks to where he is pointing and raises his eyebrows.

“The fairy? What could you possibly want a fairy for, sir? They are actually the least valuable ones in the black market.” Henrik tells him. Alucard’s steely glare shifts to Henrik and the red head jumps back in fear.

“But, that doesn’t mean I won’t stop you from being interested in buying! Why don’t we check the fairy out and see if she is any of your liking.” Henrik says with a nervous chuckle as he moved to where Alia’s cage was. Alucard and Trevor followed and once they were by the bars of the cage Henrik banged the bars to get the fairy’s attention.

“Hey wake up! You have a potential buyer, make yourself presentable!” Henrik yells into the cage as Alia’s slumped form jumped from the sudden banging.

She slowly shifts her body to where she was sitting on her knees and looked at Alucard with sad, defeated eyes. Alucard’s eyes widened at the state Alia was in and his jaw clenched in anger.

Her vibrant and glowing brown skin was now a pale ashen brown color, her wings were down and fluttering every now and then and it looked like every time she did flutter her wings she would winch from the pain. Her head dropped to look down at her knees and her black curls curtained her face.

Something was holding her around the middle as her arms laid trapped by her sides.

“What is that around her middle? Rope?” Alucard asked, keeping his anger out of his tone.

“That is actually an iron wire that is around her. It’s their kinds weakness and it has what been keeping her in check. Came in last night and from my sources she is part water sprite and fairy. She raises in value in the market, if they are more than one creature their value increases-”

“How much for her?” Alucard asks interrupting his rant.

“My good sir, she’s unfortunately not for sale.”

“Excuse me?” Alucard turns to the man with murder in his eyes.

“I-I simply meant that she is not allowed to be purchased right now! She’s up for auction!” Henrik explains in fear.

“I have enough here to buy your whole camp. You would dare prevent me from purchasing just one fairy. What kind of business are you running?” Alucard asked Henrik who gulps.

“I’m sorry sir, but it has already been sent to other camps that this fairy is up for auction, I can however show you other fairies that are available-”

“I said I want her. I want her. NOW.” Alucard says darkly getting close to the man. Henrik gulps heavily and begins to nod profusely.

“Yes sir, right away sir! Right away!” Henrik says and calls for some men to open the cage.

It took three men to open the cage, one to unlock the chains and two to raise the bars leading inside the cage. Alucard moved to enter the cage and approached the hurt fairy.

Alia scrambled to the edge of her prison to get away from the black haired man that he knelt in front of her. His brown eyes softened and he reached his hand out to brush away her hair and look in her scared eyes.

His hand then fell down to her cheek and gently caressed it, he then smiled gently at her and Alia tilted her head in confusion. He looked familiar.

“She’s perfect.” Alucard says and Henrik nods with a rub to his head. He knew his higher ups would be upset with him but, when he shows them how much he had for letting someone else buy the fairy they would probably let him get a higher position.

“Shall we have her packaged for you, sir?” Henrik asked.

Alucard nods to Trevor who grabbed the back of Alia’s rope and tugged her roughly towards him. Alia yelps and grunts from the pain of the wire tightening around her.

“I believe my guard has a pretty good hold on her. Now, your payment.” Alucard says.

“Yes, her original price was 7,000 coins. But, with the extraction fee, and the storage fee-”

“13 diamonds to cover all the expenses should be enough, yes?” Alucard asks as he dug inside the pouch to grab them and then toss it to Henrik who greedily caught them and inspected them to see they were indeed real diamonds.

“Of course sir, she is all yours. Pleasure doing business with you.” He bows to Alucard and the dhampir nods to the man taking his leave.

“We shall be on our way now. I will be sure to return soon for more creatures.” Alucard tells the man as Henrik escorted them out his eyes twinkling at his the treasure he held in his hands.

“Please do return soon sir, we appreciate your service here.” Henrik says.

Alia begins to struggle in Trevor’s grip and the man pulls her closer to stop her and leans his head down to her ear.

“Be still and be quiet we are here to help you.” He tells her and Alia immediately stills at the new information.

Help her? Who the hell were they?

As they were approaching the entrance, the bottom of Alucard’s long brown cloak began to revert back to its original black and slowly the rest of his outfit followed suit. Trevor quickly noticed and cleared his throat to get the dhampir’s attention.

Alucard side eyed his companion and Trevor pointed his eyes down to his cloak and Alucard realizes the spell was fading away.

Henrik noticed that his client was suddenly tense and placed a hand on his sword, thinking nothing of it, Henrik continued to guide them back to the entrance of the camp.

As they approached the front Alucard’s whole outfit was different from the one he was in earlier. He prayed that Henrik didn’t notice but unfortunately the red head did as he turned and raised an eyebrow.

“Mr. Arikado if I may ask were you always wearing that outfit?” Henrik questions.

“My attire is able to change on its own, my hometown has made a thread that allows my attire to change its appearance depending on the time of day. It’s quite extraordinary, I have went from business attire to casual attire. Now, then I must take my leave-”

“Does that also include your hair changing from black to blonde as well?” Henrik asks and flicked his fingers in the air.

“Adrian?” Alia’s breathless voice called to the dhampir and he turns his head to her with a small smile.

Suddenly, men surrounded the four of them with weapons drawn as Henrik frowns and takes a step back to allow the men to circle the three.

“You see Mr. Arikado, I don’t like to be played the fool and though you have payed me handsomely for the fairy, it would seem that you have made my interest in what you are to take you to the auction than her.” Henrik says as he smirks.

Alucard’s grip on his sword tightens as he frowns.

“Get them!” Henrik yells and the men slowly approaches the three with sickening grins.

“Fuck.” Trevor curses as he looks around the men.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

End of Part 7

1// 2// 3// 4// 5// 6// 7// 8// Bonus!!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Makayla Part Four

Sam Winchester x Reader

Words: 3673

Part One, Two, Three

Summary: You race to save Makayla and Sam from Montgomery and his fellow vampire creeps. Dean confronts you about the past and Sam finally gets some answers. But will everyone live to be one big happy family?

Notes: Alright, here it is! The final part for the Makayla series (or is it?) I’ve had so much fun writing this series and you guys have seemed to enjoy it. Like The Deal, I made sure the end of this series had a little bit of a cliffhanger so make sure you’re paying attention to future posts! You may see more Makayla sooner than you think. 

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural​ . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

- “Makayla! Sam!” You opened the door to the garage, Dean and Mary both close behind you. A rush of cold air chilled you to the bone. “Dean, is the garage door usually open?” You gulped. 

“No.” He pulled his pistol out from his waistband and you did the same. The three of you creeped towards the exit cautiously. Something was wrong. You could feel it. When the coast seemed clear, you ran out, eyes scanning the area for any sign of your daughter. 

“Makayla!” You screamed. Nothing. “Sam!” Still, nothing.

“Uh, guys.” Mary motioned to a spot on the cement where a red streak sent your mind into an absolute panic. It was blood. 

“Oh my God.” You felt sick. Four years on the run, you’d never felt like this before. You started to hyperventilate and Dean grabbed you by the shoulders, trying to snap you out of it. 

“Hey, listen to me.” He ordered, giving you a hard, determined look. “They’re both gone, which means that they were taken together. Sam is with her. He isn’t going to let anybody hurt your little girl, okay?” 

“This is all my fault. I should never have dragged you two into this.” You said, trying not to look him in the eye. “They want to hurt me, Dean. Now they have my daughter and they have Sam…” 

“We’re going to find them.” Dean went into planning mode, trying to keep his emotions in check. This was personal. Not only had those fanged sons of bitches taken his brother, they took his niece. “We’re going to need to split up. Mom, you go with Cas to find traffic cam footage and find out what direction they headed in. They can’t have gotten far, so my money is that they found some place here in Lebanon to hole up.” 

Mary nodded and rushed inside to find the angel. 

“And Y/N…” Dean turned to you with fire in his eyes. “You’re with me.” 

-

Sam woke up to the sound of quiet whimpering and distant screams. It took a minute for him to remember what was going on. He bolted upwards, but found that his wrists were tied to one of the beams holding up the ceiling. It must have once been some kind of a barn. His eyes scanned the room, trying to adjust to the dark. It wasn’t long before he found the source of the crying. 

“Oh God, Makayla!” He called out, her teary eyes flashing up at him from across the room. 

“Daddy! You’re okay!” She exclaimed. “I-I thought you weren’t gonna wake up. I thought the bad man k-killed you.” The terrified tears streamed down her face and stung Sam’s heart. 

“I’m okay, sweetheart. Everything is going to be okay.” He spoke gently, though the anger was starting to burn through him as his eyes adjusted. She was in a cage. Those bastards put his daughter in a dog kennel. “Did they hurt you?” 

“N-not really.” She curled up, seemingly hiding her leg from him. Sam gritted his teeth, but tried to keep his voice calm. 

“Makayla, honey, you need to tell me what happened so I can help you.” He pulled against the rope, feeling the rough material rub against his skin. Makayla slowly showed him her leg. Sam gulped. It wasn’t too bad, but the skin of her knee was scraped and bleeding. 

“When the bad man hit you, the mean lady tried to pick me up. So I bit her.” She smiled proudly. “She didn’t like that and she pushed me. I hit my knee.” She pointed at the scratches from the cement. “But it doesn’t hurt, Daddy. I’m too tough for that.” Sam chuckled, shaking his head. She was definitely his kid. 

“Oh look, Papa Brat’s awake.” A woman sneered, strutting towards him with a smirk. She pulled a knife up to his chin. “Now we can have some fun.”

“Leave my daddy alone!” Makayla yelled, standing up as tall as she could in that kennel. 

“Kayla, honey, it’s okay.” Sam stared the vampire down. “Do you really think your little toothpick scares me?” She shrugged. 

“No,” She crossed back towards the cage and smiled, “but this might.” She put her hands on either side of the kennel and started shaking it. The metal clanged in Makayla’s ears as she was jolted back and forth, colliding with the sturdy bars of the cage. Her screaming cries pierced her father’s heart. 

“Stop it! Leave her alone!” Again, he pulled hard against his restraints, only making the rope burn worse. The vampire laughed. 

“You’re lucky Montgomery has bigger plans or else the Rugrat would be an afternoon snack.” Her nostrils flared, staring down at the bloody scrape on Makayla’s knee.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” 

“Oh Samuel…” 

“It’s Sam.” She ignored his sass and continued. 

“We have other plans for you.” She smiled and Sam looked helplessly at his frightened daughter. 

“Then let her go.” He bargained, Makayala stared back at him, her lip trembling. 

“No! I won’t leave you, Daddy!” She yelled, trying to put on a brave face. “S-she doesn’t scare me.” The blood sucker slammed her hand down on the cage and Makayla screamed. With an annoyed glare, she looked back up at the younger Winchester.

“See, little Kayla is here to make sure everyone does exactly what they’re supposed to.” Her eyes darted across the room at another vampire emerging from the darkness.

“Sarah, would you be a lamb and grab Mr. Winchester’s phone for me?” The man’s drawl was too sweet and it made Sam’s skin crawl. She obeyed and the new vamp stepped in between Sam and the kennel, blocking his view of his daughter. “My name is Montgomery. I would like to start by saying that I have no grievances with you or that machete-happy brother of yours, Samuel.” 

“You do now.” Sam growled. The anger had been boiling inside him and he was ready to bust. Montgomery peaked back at the trapped little girl. 

“Ah, yes, the little one. She is an unfortunate byproduct of the tangled mess that Y/N has gotten you into.” Montgomery looked hungrily down at Kayla. She cowered away from him. “Not to worry. As long as you and your brother do exactly what you’re told, Miss Makayla here will be safe and sound with her family.” 

The woman came back in, carrying Sam’s cell phone, dialing Dean’s number. She handed Montgomery the phone and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was made him smile. He put the phone to his ear and Sam could hear Dean’s growling yell on the other line. Montgomery clicked his tongue. 

“There’s no need for that kind of language, Dean.” He scolded, earning another string of curse words. 

“Where are they, you son-of-a-bitch?” Dean boomed. You jerked your head towards him. You’d been driving for the past hour with nothing to show for it. Dean’s face changed as he listened intently to the vampire’s words. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “You’re a sick son of a bitch, you know that?” 

“What is it?” You tried to take the phone, but he sent you a death glare. He hung up. “Did he say where they are?” He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled the impala to the side of the road. “Dean!”

“Yes.” 

“Then what is it?”

“He wants me to trade you for Sam.” He said, intensely staring you down. “And believe me, sweetheart, I wouldn’t blink.” You tried not to show how much that stung, but you still winced slightly. “But everything is different now that Kayla is in the picture. That little girl needs her mother. I, of all people, know that. We’ll figure out another way to get them. One where Makayla gets to walk out with both her parents.” 

“Dean, if giving  me up is the only way to save them-”

“I already said no.” Dean started to car again and the two of you rode in silence. You pushed your ego aside and gulped. 

“Dean, can I ask you something?” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” You ignored his annoyance. 

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Your voice was sincere and Dean let out a sigh. 

“Because I made you a promise.” His eyes slid from the road to you and you felt shame burning in your cheeks. “He looked for you for years, Y/N. Even when I told him to give up, he kept searching for you. And when you showed up here… I saw that same thing light up in him again. So when the dust settles, you can explain to him why you took off.” 

You looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. Dean watched your body stiffen and felt his burning anger towards you grow as he drew his conclusion. 

“You’re leaving.”

-

Five Years Ago

You already had three missed calls from Sam. He would have realized you were gone about an hour ago and, having read the note, he knew that you hadn’t been taken. You left. You didn’t even know how long you had been on the road for and your stomach was growling. The bus stopped in a town called Casper, Wyoming and you got off. You slung your duffle bag over your shoulder, weighing down on you despite your lack of personal items. It was the emotional toll that was back breaking. 

You missed him, even having only been gone for a short time. You wanted to go back. To write this all off as a lapse of judgement and curl back up in his arms. But eventually, Sam would realize that you weren’t the one. You weren’t Jessica. And you would just end up getting hurt. 

You found a fast food joint that was less swamped by the lunch rush and bought yourself a sandwich and a Coke. When you stepped out into the parking lot, the sleek black car had you frozen in place. Dean leaned against the car door, arms cross and eyes boring into you. 

“Get in the car.” 

“Dean, I can’t-”

“Get in the damn car.” His tone didn’t give you a lot of hope for winning the argument, so you climbed into the front seat. 

“Where’s Sam?” You asked cautiously. 

“He’s back at the motel trying to get a hold of you and get some answers.” Dean snapped in reply. “But you already knew that.” He didn’t start the car like you expected. He just sat there, staring furiously at you. “A note? Are you serious, Y/N? You’ve been with my brother for two years and all you leave is a ‘I have to leave. Don’t come for me.’?”

“I couldn’t stay, Dean.” You tried to keep your voice level. You were sure of this. You had to be. 

“Is this about that shifter? Y/N, Jessica died a long time ago.”

“It’s not just Jessica, Dean. It’s the life Sam was supposed to live. The life you and I can never have.” His shoulders tensed. You had hit a nerve. “Sam deserves that life. He deserves family and happiness and I pray that someday he finds it. But when he does, he’ll know that I can’t be a part of it.”

“So you’re just dumping him before he can dump you, is that it?” Dean scoffed. “Christ, Y/N, this isn’t high school. You’re part of our family. Sam loves you, Y/N.” You brushed away tears as they fell and tried to keep your head up high. 

“He won’t. Not when he realizes that I’m not what he wants.” You looked Dean in the eye, waiting for his response. 

He knew what this was. This was you protecting yourself from the idea of getting hurt, even if it meant hurting his brother in the process. You were only interested in saving your own skin. So if you wanted to burn this bridge, fine. 

“Don’t tell him about this.” You pleaded when he didn’t say anything. “Sam will think this is his fault and he’ll try and find me. Promise that you won’t tell him we talked.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that.” Dean reached across you and opened the door. “Now get the hell out of my car.” You nodded silently. “Y/N?”

“What?” Couldn't he see that you felt bad enough about this? Dean spoke through gritted teeth. 

“Down the road, when you figure out how stupid this all is and you need us… don’t come back.” He slammed the door behind you and took off, the impala disappearing down the road. 

-

Present Day

Montgomery paced in front of Sam mockingly, standing just out of his reach. If he could just stretch his leg out a little further… no. He would just fall flat on his ass. There had to be a way out of this. If he could find something sharp, he could cut the ropes and decapitate the cocky vamp. 

“This should be very quick and simple, Sam. Your brother hates Y/N, so I’m sure he’ll have no hesitation to hand her over to me in exchange for your life.” Montgomery said haughtily. “Not that I blame him. I mean, after what she put you through.” He shook his head. “I feel for you, Sam, I really do.” 

“Why don’t you shut the hell up?” Sam snapped. He had had enough of this. 

“Language, Mr. Winchester, you forget we have a young lady with us.” Montgomery knelt down by the kennel and Kayla hid her face in her hands. 

“Stay. Away.” Sam’s entire body was ready to pounce. “What’s your obsession with Y/N, anyway?” If he could keep Montgomery talking, maybe it would buy him time to plan an escape. If anything, it would keep him away from Kayla. 

“When we killed Makayla Emerson all those years ago, my wife went to finish off our little witness. Y/N cut off her head and ran.” His fists clenched as his sides. “She started a war that night. A war that ends tonight.” 

“About that.” Dean burst through the door, holding you by the hair with a gun jabbed between your shoulder blades. 

“Mommy!” Makayla cried. She didn’t understand why Uncle Dean was hurting you. 

“Everything is going to be okay, sweetie.” You assured her. Dean tugged your hair, dragging you in the direction of Montgomery. 

“Ah, I’m glad we could come to an agreement, Dean.” The vampire gave you a wicked grin, licking his lips. He snapped his fingers and two more blood suckers appeared from the dark, grabbing Dean by each arm. 

“What the hell?” Dean exclaimed, trying to break away. 

“There’s just been a slight change in plans.” Montgomery smirked. “I made Y/N here a promise that I am more than happy to keep.” He pushed you down to your knees and you let a terrified expression cross your features. 

“No.” You gasped. He held his arm over you, prepping a blade to slice his skin and draw blood. 

“And to think, I have gathered your whole, twisted family to witness your transformation.” He mused with a disturbing giddiness. 

“Well…” You stared up at him, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. “Not quite.”

A loud crashing sound signaled the arrival of Mary and Cas. Dean elbowed one of his captors in the face and broke away, grabbing a pair of machetes from inside his jacket. He tossed one to his brother and Sam quickly freed himself from the rope. Furious, Montgomery lunged at you, but you quickly rolled out of the way, grabbing your own blade from your boot. 

Sam and Dean made quick work of the two vamps that had ambushed Dean. Heads rolled towards the door where Mary burst in, clothes splattered with blood and blade swinging in her hand. You battled with Montgomery, finding your footing and slashing at him with your knife. He got a hold of your arm. 

“You. Will. Bleed.” He seethed. 

“Bite me.” You spat, head butting him hard enough to stun both of you. 

Sarah joined the battle, screaming as she jumped onto Dean’s back. While the boys struggled with her, you regained composure, your head still spinning from the impact. Montgomery landed a kick to your stomach, sending you back into the beam Sam had been tied to. 

“Mommy!” You barely heard Makayla’s shouts over the sounds of the fight. Her scared voice distracted you long enough for Montgomery to grab you by the color of your shirt, lifting you up in the air. 

“Don’t worry about her, Y/N. Once the Winchesters join you in death, I will raise her as my own. She will be a killer. She will be-” 

Sam tackled him to the ground before he could finish. Taken by surprise, Montgomery didn’t stand a chance against the taller hunter. Sam’s eyes connected with yours and you knew that he was waiting. He was saving this kill for you. 

You stood over the monster that had killed your best friend. The monster that had hunted you for almost a decade. The monster that had changed your life. You didn’t have a final clever quip for him. He didn’t deserve it. 

“Makayla… close your eyes.” With one strong, swift motion, the vampire was dead. 

-

Dean’s coolness towards you had only grown since the fight. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye. Whatever had happened, Sam could sense it and kept sending questioning glances your way. You held a trembling Makayla in your arms as everyone filed back into the bunker. 

“I need a beer.” Dean announced gruffly. You moved to follow, but he shot you a glare. “You’re not going anywhere.” Sensing the tension between you, Mary offered to take Makayla back to your room. Sam looked even more confused. 

“Dean, can we not do this now? We’re all tired and covered in vampire guts.” 

“You don’t get to just pretend like everything’s fine and disappear again.” Now both Winchesters were staring at you, hurt filling Sam’s eyes. 

“What?”

“I haven’t decided on anything, Sam-”

“You’re going to leave!” He yelled, making you flinch. “What about Makayla, huh? You bring her into my life just to take her out?” You were silent. Sam’s jaw dropped. “You want to leave her here?” 

“You were right, Sam.” You admitted hopelessly. “I dragged her into our screwed up life and I was making her as screwed up as we are. And I know, I can’t change. But with you, she can have a life. A family. You can finally have the life that I wanted for you. The one I couldn't give you.” 

Sam’s anger fell away, replaced by understanding.

“That’s why you left.” He sighed, years of wondering finally coming into focus. “You thought I’d always want something else?” 

“Sam, I’m not what you need. I’ve never been what you needed and I’m sure as hell not what that beautiful little girl needs.” Your voice cracked and you pushed back tears. “I love you both too much to try and force my life onto you.” 

“You’re her mother.” Dean interjected. 

“Which means that I am the most likely person to mess her up.” You exclaimed. You couldn’t see any other way. “You said it yourself, Sam, I’m doing what John did to you.” 

“He made the mistake of trying to do it alone.” Sam put his hands on your shoulders. “But you are far from alone.” His eyes softened and you watched them fill with hope. “You’ll both move into the bunker- it’ll be safest here- and we’ll hunt together, but someone will stay here and watch Makayla. We can do this. We can be a family.” He gave you a tearful smile and even Dean felt himself dare to wish. 

“Would you be happy? I mean, really happy?” You asked. It’s all you wanted for him and for your daughter. Sam laughed. 

“I can’t think of anything that would make me happier, Y/N.” You still looked unsure so he continued. “Say you’ll stay. Say we can be family together. Because I’m not letting you go again.” 

You were speechless. All these years, and here he was, telling you what you’d only dreamed about. Sam closed the space between you and pulled you into a kiss, five years of yearning built up into one moment. It was the life he wanted. A life with you.

-

You and Sam made up. You really made up. Which left Dean alone in the kitchen when Makayla wandered out looking for her parents. 

“Uncle Dean, where’s mommy and daddy?” She asked. Dean’s eyes went wide. 

“Um- they’re- um- well-” He tried to think of something fast. “They’re watching a movie.” She pouted her lips. 

“They’re watching without me?” 

Dean just panicked. 

“It’s an adult movie.” Luckily, his niece was four and didn’t understand innuendos. She accepted his answer and climbed up into the seat beside him. “What are you doing up anyway, kiddo? Did you have another dream about the shadow man?” A big grin spread across her face. 

“He doesn’t scare me anymore!” She exclaimed happily. “He said he wants to be my friend and that he’s sorry for scaring me. He didn’t mean to. He’s just shy because he used to be in time-out. He’s not anymore and he wants somebody to play with.” Dean nodded, half listening and half thinking about how he was going to strangle his brother. “He said he’s daddy’s guardian angel, like Uncle Cas is for me. He even showed me his wings!”

“That’s really nice, Kayla.” He stood, knowing that he was going to regret this. “How about you go pick out a movie for us to watch on Netflix and I’ll make popcorn?”

“Really?” She squealed, latching onto his leg. He smiled, unable to resist those big blue eyes. “Thank you Uncle Dean!” She ran off to his room and Dean braced himself for some cheesy princess flick, putting Makayla’s new angel-friend to the back of his mind.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy​ @livshaes​;  @d-whinchestergirl87​;  @mrspeacem1nusone​

Sam Winchester: @theamuz;  @adeliness​

Makayla Series: @rhiannon-the-troublemaker​; @hoboal87​

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Seklos and Gaylen, They Were Cagemates! Chapter 3: Reaching Out

Aja and Archie try to talk to their respective allies. Douxie is experimented on.

Thank you to everyone who reblogged and commented on the previous chapter 🥰

Spoiler/trigger warning: kidnapping, medieval torture (referenced only), needles, medical torture, dehumanization, unsafe medical practices (explained in more detail at the end of the chapter), referenced death.

If you would like to skip the torture scene/unsafe medical practices, skip the second scene; the end of chapter notes will have a brief recap of the scene with any plot-important stuff in there.

AO3

FFN

“Hey, hey, Aja, it’s gonna be okay,” Steve said to her over the phone. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he just went for a walk this morning as well?”

Aja sniffled. “He doesn’t like it outside, though. He doesn’t like trees.”

“But he went outside yesterday, right? When you were on the phone with me? Maybe he came back and then went for another walk?”

“I mean, I guess, but I don’t think so. Zadra’s been on the alert all morning.”

“Could he have snuck out when she was asleep?”

“Zadra is a taylon; they’re trained to need very little sleep. Plus, I think I saw her making coffee using one of the energy drinks Stuart dropped off for her as a welcome-to-Earth gift.” Aja laughed a little at that, thankful for the distraction from her missing brother, and then she frowned.

She shouldn’t have been distracting herself from the fact that Krel was missing.

“Does anyone else know that Krel’s missing? If we get a big enough group searching for him –“

“No, we can’t. Maybe if he were human, sure, but if anything, people are going to see him as the enemy! If we get a big enough group, he’ll be dead!” Steve made a concerned noise; she had scared him. “I’m sorry for yelling; I’m just worried.”

“I know, I get it. But you weren’t around for all of yesterday’s battle; the people of Arcadia Oaks don’t mind the trolls. They gave them shelter from the sun.”

“But trolls were seen helping humans. Akiridions weren’t. Even if there are humans who would help us, how could we be sure no one would sell us out to bounty hunters, especially when Krel’s hurt? Or what if they did the same to Varvatos, for that matter?”

“Okay, I won’t push you if you aren’t ready. But do you have any other options – people who already know and you trust – than just me and Zadra? Because more people looking for Krel means more people that might find him and bring him back safe.”

Douxie was strapped down to a metal table by his arms and legs. He was cold, because his only clothing was a thin hospital gown, and the table was a cold metal. His head hurt from where he had been hit. He was hungry because he didn’t know when the last time he had eaten was. It had been a long time since he hadn’t known if he’d be getting a meal any time soon, but unlike back then he wasn’t sure if he would be able to eat even if food was offered. He felt too nauseous with dread.

He was going to be tortured. Even the knights wouldn’t have tortured Douxie. He was a wizard, yes, but he had been a child living on the streets. He wouldn’t have been any use in finding the few covens and independent wizards living in Camelot in defiance of King Arthur’s laws. They wouldn’t have tortured him for information; they would have just given him a swift death by the sword. They nearly had, until Merlin had saved him.

Douxie suspected that Merlin wasn’t going to save him from this Area 49-D (or whatever the four-armed alien had called it) place. Yes, his master was going to come back for him, despite all the sympathetic looks that Archie, Zoe, and Tatik Margarid gave him when they thought he wasn’t looking. But Merlin had said to wait in Arcadia. And despite Douxie’s efforts, he wasn’t following them. Hopefully Merlin wouldn’t be too disappointed in Douxie, despite how he always was. A better apprentice wouldn’t have been caught by humans with tasers who were about to…

Honestly, Douxie wasn’t quite sure what they were going to do to him. He remembered hearing about how people would be hung by their thumbs and have fires lit under their feet. Neither of those made sense with being strapped down.

An elastic band was tightly tied around his lower arm, and one of the orange suited technicians jabbed a needle into one of the veins in his hand.

Douxie whimpered as the blood began to flow out from his hand into the vial. It hurt so much.

“Hey, how many vials do we need for testing right now?” asked one of the two technicians.

“I think the tests are being done in pairs, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” They switched to a second vial. “So, how many extra should we take?”

“We don’t want it to die on us too early.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Besides, we can always jab it more later.” The room was silent aside from the pained noises escaping Douxie’s throat. They finished filling the second vial.

“Okay, time for the second pair.”

“Wha-“ Douxie started, but he felt an odd jolt run through his system as one of the technicians took a remote and turned a dial. The lights on his cuffs dimmed slightly. He still felt cold, sore, nauseous, hungry, and scared, but he felt more normal than he had ever since the Battle of the Bands.

“Do y’think its blood samples will be any different from that other freak we captured?” asked one of the technicians.

“Eh, that’s our job to find out. Plus, we’ve gotten more funding since that other magical freak died.”

Douxie tried very hard not to hyperventilate. They had captured another wizard and probably tortured them to death. They would probably do the same to him.

“Maybe now we could see if there’s any changes in its blood when we turn down the magic suppressors.” The technician grabbed the remote and turned the dial again. Once more, he felt better.

Douxie’s eyes widened. Magic, of course! That’s what the cuffs were doing to him. Gritting his teeth, Douxie reached out to his magic. It was barely there, but his hands started glowing. Maybe he could force the needle out of his hand. His eyebrows drew together in concentration, and his hands began to glow.

A fist connected with his jaw. Tears formed in Douxie’s eyes as he lost his concentration.

“Don’t even think about it,” the technician who had punched Douxie said to him. “I’d be more than happy to beat you up, you fucking freak, so go ahead and fight back. There’s more where that came from.”

Douxie lost track of the time until they finally finished collecting his blood. Before they undid the restraints they took his magic from him once more. He was lightheaded when they finally threw him back in his cage. He gazed at his reflection. There were multiple bruises forming on his face. He looked beyond the glass and frowned, then winced because that made the bruises hurt more. The four-armed alien was gone. Douxie hoped he would come back. He could use a friend.

His face hurt. He was cold, because the glass cage and thin gown didn’t keep the chill from his bones. He was nauseous and hungry at the same time. Once more, he couldn't feel his magic.

The technicians hadn’t even given him a bandage for the bleeding.

Hex Tech didn’t open until nine AM, but Zoe always got there at a quarter to eight. She had to as manager and matriarch. Well, mainly as matriarch, because her business skills caused her to constantly be working the front desk in longer shifts than the state of California considered legal. It didn’t help that, as much as Zoe tried to keep up to speed with the modern era, wizards born after the industrial revolution were a little more proficient with picking up new things. Like how to play nice with the witches running corporate.

Zoe stretched and yawned. Her coven would have to have a meeting soon about how much they would reveal. The youngest members of the coven wanted to reveal themselves since the whole town knew about trolls. Older members of the coven were concerned, whether it be about the town potentially turning on them, or about the potential that revealing that their franchise was a coven would put all the other Hex Tech-affiliated covens in danger, since presumably they didn’t have to deal with trollish invasions. And, of course, since the majority of her coven had been born after Killahead, every single wizard who refused to learn more than an extremely basic monsterology was demanding answers on why lumps of rock had attacked the town.

Well, at least most of the rubble was gone, probably eaten. Most of it, except for a broken red-and-white guitar laying in front of the door to Hex Tech. Great. Just great. She hadn’t seen much rubble on her way her way to work and here it was. She knelt down to grab it and then she saw a stray black cat curled up next to the guitar.

No.

Not a stray.

No stray cat had a pair of glasses on his face.

“Archie? What’re you doing here? And is that Douxie’s guitar?” As forgetful as Douxie could be, he had always been rather responsible. Zoe knew she had gone soft when she caught herself thinking he was too responsible, not when his childhood was far more similar to her own than that of the children of this century. Douxie knew the value of craftsmanship and the fear of shortages, and he wouldn’t just leave his guitar on the sidewalk with his just-waking familiar.

Archie looked up at her. The fur around his eyes was stained by tears. “I need your help. I can’t sense Douxie anymore.”

Zoe staggered to the door, trying to keep her breathing steady. She fished in her pocket for her keys with one hand and made a fist with the other, digging her nails into her palm to ground herself. She was the coven matriarch; she couldn’t break down even though she wanted to right now. As far as she could recall, the only thing that could break a familiar bond was death. No. No. She was used to outliving people she cared about, but the last few centuries had made her go soft. Douxie was only a kid; he shouldn’t be dead.

“Let’s go inside,” Zoe said, voice shaking.

A/N: Sorry about the lack of Krel in this one; I promise he'll be here next chapter! Also, Douxie's backstory is a bit different from show canon, mainly because I'm changing up the Wizards lore in such a way that time travel isn't needed because I'm not a time travel fan.

Torture scene recap: Douxie is strapped down and has his blood taken from him. He learns that the cuffs are blocking his magic, but can be adjusted so that he can have access to it. Area 49-B is attempting to learn if the amount of magic he has access to can be detected in his blood. He also learns Area 49-B captured another wizard previously, but that wizard is dead now. Douxie attempts to use his magic only to be punched for fighting back.

On the unsafe medical practices found in this chapter: hand-based blood draws suck; I've had them and they've always hurt. However, they can be safely done, and work especially well if you're too dehydrated for the nurses to find the veins in your elbows. The personnel are only doing it in the hand because it hurts, though. In addition, they chose not to sterilize the injection site, even though this could lead to Douxie getting an infection. In addition, Douxie not receiving a bandage contributes to both blood loss and risk of infection. Torture ≠ sound science.

[aria-i-adagio]

30 Day DA OC Challenge, Day 19: Courtship

Day 19: Courtship

Does your OC get involved romantically or sexually with anybody? When do they first fall for them or get involved? If they fall in love, when does it happen? Does the relationship last?

Anders! (And yes, it lasts, for better or worse.)

[most of this is a repeat from this post]

I tend to go with the idea that no matter what romance route is played that Anders has at least some romantic interest in Hawke from Act 1. But after Karl’s death, I think there’s a combination of both not being ready and believing that he’s too dangerous for anyone to be in a relationship with him.

Adrian was interested in Anders from very early on. An oddly attractive man with a ‘sexy, tortured look’ develops into honest admiration of the fact that Anders is one of the few people in Kirkwall who’s actually interested in doing something good. But he’s A) used to playing his cards close to his chest (as while Ferelden may not particularly care about same-sex relationships, there does seem to be something of an expectation that such relationships shouldn’t get in the way of family expectations and making children, Leandra has definitely messed with his head, etc.), and B) he’s a small, somewhat insecure ball of anxiety who’s afraid of rejection. He also very good at repressing things, so for most of Act 1, he’s in denial of being interested beyond a “yep, that one’s handsome.”

However, have a show rather than tell.

Hawke has determined that he does not like the Deep Roads. And he hates Bartrand. Who the fuck does that? Leaves their brother to die over a chunk of stone, or whatever that idol was made of?

You let your brother die. You left him.

That was different. I couldn’t protect him. I tried, I swear.

Bethany sneaks up on him from behind and loops her arm through his. She leans her head on his shoulder. “Carver was already dead, ‘Dri.”

He knows that she can’t actually read minds, but sometimes he wonders whether she picked the skill up somewhere. Or maybe it’s a little sister thing. He stops walking and tilts his head to the side, touching his cheek to her hair. “I should have -”

“If any of us could have, we would have.” Bethany pats the other side of his face. “Look about, is this a decently safe place?”

The Deep Roads do require a qualifier for the word safe. Adrian lifts his head and glances around. Ahead, there’s a bridge over a chasm. If it’s sturdy enough, it will give them good lines of sight and walls on two sides. “Ahead will do.”

“Thanks, ‘Dri.” Bethany lets go of his arm and jogs ahead to where Varric and Anders are walking together, both with their weapons in hand, reasoning that if Anders could sense darkspawn, Varric might be able to take them down with Bianca before they got too close. Or thin them out. “Hey. Think it’s night yet?”

“You’re the only Sunshine I see. What’s your opinion?”

“That I’m tired.”

Varric looks around and shrugs. “Then it’s night. Might as well make camp.”

Hawke keeps watch well after they've eaten a sad and meager (who knows how long they'll be searching for an exit now?) meal of hard bread. Bethany told him that he didn't need to; the glyphs she and Anders had set on either end of the bridge would last far past the time Varric's little clockwork watch was set to come. But he couldn't talk himself into following her advice. Darkspawn had killed Carver. They were not going to take Bethany from him.

He isn't the only one still awake. Anders had laid out his bedroll as close to the fire as he could, and he huddles close to the glow of the embers. He’d panicked when Bartrand swung the door closed on in, and once it became clear that neither Varric nore Hawke would be able to pick the locking mechanism, cast multiple spells at the door before giving up on the idea of breaking through it by force. The mage had been quiet since, not even Varric had been able to draw him out.

"You alright?"

Anders lifts his face. There are always dark circles around his eyes, but they look worse in the low light of the fire. "I hate the Deep Roads."

"You could have said no." Hawke asked him to come because he had experience with the Deep Roads, and Darkspawn, and according to what was said of the Grey Wardens would be able to sense them ahead of time. "I would have understood."

Anders smiles grimly. "They're worse without a cat."

"You should try to sleep."

"You should too. Those glyphs I set were designed by a Warden mage. They're strong. This spot is as safe as it's going to get."

"Good to know." Hawke lies down, unsure whether he'll sleep, or just rest his eyes and listen for trouble. "Hey, Anders -"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Well, I'm here now."

It might have been an hour, it might have been two, and Hawke might have fallen asleep, or he might have been awake the whole time, but his eyes snap open the moment he hears something other than the crackling of coals. A low, distressed groan and panicked, incoherent mumbling. Hawke opens his eyes. There’s just enough of a glow left in the few embers to see Anders rolling over fitfully, flinging his arm out, nearly managing to catch his fingers in what’s left of the fire. His other arm falls over his mouth, muffling what might have been a scream if allowed to escape.

Hawke tosses off his blanket and crawls across the pavers to him. As he pulls Anders outstretched arm back from the fire, the mage’s eyes snap open and he bolts upright with a gasp, forehead knocking against Hawke’s chin.

“Hey there. You were dreaming.”

“I can hear them.” Anders curls forward, draws his long legs against his chest, and wraps his arms around his knees. “I can still hear it.”

"Hear what? The darkspawn?"

Anders doesn't respond with words, he just goes limp and slumps to the side. Adrian catches him and lets him lean his head against his shoulder. He's perfectly still for a minute, then awkwardly runs his hand through the mage's hair, not entirely sure Anders is awake enough to know where he is, much less who's holding him.

"Take a few deep breaths, okay?" Adrian wraps his other arm around Anders' and pats his shoulder. His joke about Anders 'sexy, tortured look' didn't seem quite as funny at the moment. "Nothing has tripped the glyphs you set. We're okay."

Anders' breathing calms, at least a little. "It's so dark. I can't do this again. I can't."

"I'd build back up the fire for you, but there's no fuel left." Varric had carefully gathered a certain dry fungus from the walls of the cages as they walked. It was the only combustible material available. "Do you hear them more, in the dark?"

"Or I hear nothing in the dark. Not a sound, not a word. I'm alone in it again, and..." The pitch and volume of his voice begins to rise and on instinct, Adrian hugs him tightly. Maker, the poor man is miserable. Hawke never would have asked him to come if he had only known.

Anders shudders and hiccups. "I can't be alone in the dark."

"I'm here." What happened to Anders that made the dark so terrifying? The Deep Roads themselves weren't always dark. Parts were. Other parts were lit by the glow of some sort of marvelous dwarven lamps that still worked after centuries. This wasn't one of those areas, and the lower the embers grow, the more Anders trembles. Without really noticing it, Adrian begins to rub his back and whisper in his ear, the way he sometimes had when one or the other of the twins woke with a childhood nightmare.

He doesn't know Anders well. It's maybe been three or four months since he sought him out to get the maps of the Deep Roads. He's good to know though - a good man. Bethany agrees. And Varric had taken the mage under his wing; Hawke knew the dwarf was paying off the Carta to leave the Darktown clinic alone.

Anders is also handsome in his own way, devilishly funny, and flirtatious, despite the very sad look he gets in his eyes if someone mentions the word Tranquil. 'I hadn't seen him in years,' Anders said, the one time Adrian got him to talk. 'But you know how it is, with first loves.'

Adrian does not actually know how it is with first loves. What relationships he had in Lothering weren't love affairs, just temporary flings with a presumed end date. A Ferelden freeholder needs a wife, needs children to help him work the land. It's just the way of things. No sense in getting too attached.

Like he's getting attached to this mage who hides years of sadness underneath dry humor. Anders has put himself back together a few times already, and right now, the cracks are showing.

"Lay back down. I'll stay with you."

It takes a few more shivers and hiccups before Anders does stretch his long limbs back out. Adrian intends to just sit next to him, maybe keep their fingers together, but Anders pulls at his arm until he lies down beside him on the narrow bedroll, on his side with his head cushioned on his folded arm. Adrian hesitantly strokes Anders' hair, and when that earns him a soft sigh, loops his free arm around the other man and snuggles a bit closer.

After all, it's not just dark in the Deep Roads, it's damn chilly as well. That’s what he tells himself.

When Varric’s little mechanical clock chimes a fake morning, Hawke still curled up around Anders, and Bethany is smirking at him.

[wanderingmirror]

They kept him chained down within his own mind. The mask of being human always causing his anger to spike. Dean hid his rage behind smiles and attitude. But when Sam chose a demon over him, the room they had been in turned into an even greater mess. Archangels, Angels, and demons across the world could feel the wave of dark and golden grace. Ruby shivered and whimpered silently to herself while away from Sam.

Dean felt the rage overflow, he could not control himself as he searched for his human brother. Words are the nicest thing he could have with the She-demon.

———————————————————————

When Lilith was slain, her blood opening the cage, Dean entered the room, a dark look in his eyes. Sam felt fear spike in his chest when he saw the darkened look coming from his brother’s eyes. The moment Ruby was in sight, the words died in Dean’s throat at what the She-demon manipulated his Sammy into doing. Ruby, fortunately for her, was only stabbed with the knife Dean had taken with him. Dean letting out a vicious roar as he did so. Sam shivered and the beings in the area did the same. As Lucifer came up from the cage he felt the vengeful, dark grace push against his own. He yelled and his wings fluttered. Dean looked over to the fallen angel, his eyes glowing a pure white.

“Abbas?” He said softly and moved closer to the human who should not have grace coming from his form. Dean twitched and felt the signs of a black out coming for him. Sam’s eyes widened when Dean’s rolled into the back of his head. Lucifer lounged for the elder Winchester as he collapsed, but he only caught air as both brothers vanished. Sam was the only one awake to see the old church get destroyed. Dean unconscious.

———————————————————————

When the two brothers returned to Bobby’s, Dean fled into the panic room. Locking himself in and screaming in agony and rage. A long locked away secret clawing to get loose. To find their anchor. “LUCIFER! MICHEAL!” Dean screamed in Enochian. “GABRIEL!” His voice shaking the house entirely. The names of his brothers and his anchor sending shivers through Sam and Bobby’s spines. “Bobby what’s going on?!” Sam shouted as Dean’s wails got louder and louder. Bobby shrugged in terrified confusion. He scurried with the younger Winchester when the screams, worryingly, stopped. They found Dean laying limp on the wall farthest from the door. All of the Archangels shivered when the screams stopped.

Lucifer curled within the vessel he inhabited. “I hear you brother. I hear you.” He whispered with his grace nudging against the darkened grace surrounding his in a bond made long ago. His eyes sealed shut and his body shivering.

———————————————————————

Sam and Bobby dug deep into the books and lore to figure out who Lucifer had called Dean, since the eldest Winchester refused to come out of the panic room to do so. “Castiel, can you come down here? We need your help.” Sam prayed and got an answer through the book before him being flipped and a page being turned to. Faded, but still legible. Abbas, Archangel of Judgement. Three pairs of wings, bronze, gold, and white. Dirty blonde hair and eyes the same as Dean’s.

Dean’s wails started up again. He wanted to be freed. He wanted to spread his wings, to reap judgement past due. His grace wanted to wrap around the grace of his anchor, to feel it cool and calm his own. And after four days of this cycle of quiet then chaos. Dean left the panic room in a daze. He leaned against the door frame as he walked to his and Sam’s shared room. Laying down and passing out. “Dean?” Sam asked softly when he woke to find Dean curled around him later on. Arms wrapped protectively and legs tangled with his. Dean just pulled the younger closer and encouraged him to sleep too.

———————————————————————

The chase to find and reseal Lucifer was long. Castiel and the other angels tense and nervous around Dean when they were needed. Dean was quiet, hands itching to touch the remains of grace from his anchor only to find him long gone. Bond eerily quiet and cold. When they found Gabriel, the archangel froze. Eyes locking on Dean when he brushed his grace against that of Gabriel’s. The amber eyed male tearing up. He was then pulled into the arms of his big brother. Sobbing and pushing his grace into Dean’s, seeking comfort he hasn’t had in millions of centuries. Though the elder Winchester was surprised at first, he still soothed the other with his own. “You’re awake! I heard you! But they wouldn’t let me find you!”

Dean soothed Gabriel with soft words. Leaving Sam confused, bitch face in full swing. “De, start talking. Now.” Sam demanded as he crossed his arms. Dean gently nudging Gabriel into his side to rest. The three had sat down after Gabriel was finished checking Dean over. Dean was reluctant to talk about his angelic history. It being far to sore a subject that even Bobby was strictly in the dark. “If I had it my way, Sammy, I wouldn’t tell you shit.” Dean grumbled. He rubbed Gabriel’s back, between wings in severe need of grooming, as he thought how best to talk to Sam. “Well, I’d like to know how long this Abbas asshole has been with you. So, start from there.” Dean wanted to laugh. Sammy thought that Abbas was someone else entirely. When in reality, he and the archangel of judgment were one and the same.

“Sammy, here’s what you don’t seem to get. I am Abbas. Abbas is me. I’m, how you say, in my own personal prison. I never wanted to be human.” Dean said with no small amount of irritation. “Before, and even after the rebellion, I got a little too twitchy for the old man’s liking. So he and Death decided to seal what they didn’t like away. What better way to deal with an Archangel who just lost the one thing keeping them sane.” Dean’s mouth twitched in a humorless smile for a moment. Gabriel shivered when the short haired male decided to groom messy wings. Though Sam could not out right see the wings, Dean could.

It was common that Dean, while still with his brethren, would check the wings of fledglings and even the archangels. Grooming them like a mother hen. The others realized long ago that it reassured Dean they were still there. As many had disappeared suddenly over time. “That doesn’t explain everything. You damn well know that.” Sam stated and Dean did laugh then. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. They bound me in a human form, many human forms actually. Gotta move with the times right? I constantly had to grow back up. Lived with different human parents.” Dean shrugged at the horrified expression on Sam’s face.

“Then I was born in the Winchester household. As Dean Winchester. Eldest brother to you. I couldn’t access my grace back then. To save Mary. She was actually a mother I wanted to grow up with. To make proud.” Dean sighed with grief. “But, seems Azazel had other plans. And I got raised differently. Well, I didn’t get raised. I raised you and grew up being a parent instead of a child. Didn’t mind since I’d had children in my past lives.” Dean smiled fondly at those memories. Gabriel purring in his lap.

The other archangel had moved to nuzzle under his brother’s neck. Laying chest to chest to give Dean better access to his wings. Dean sat the feathers on the floor next to the couch after they either fell or were pulled. Sam found it both very cute and oddly enough didn’t seem bothered that the smaller archangel was curled like a cat against his brother. But then again, he had seen weirder. Dean grumbled when he found things within the wings, muttering about washing them later.

Dean felt his own wings flutter at the thought of bathing. His own grace shivering in quiet excitement that did nothing to pull Gabriel from his sleep. Dean poked the bond connecting him to his anchor, scowling when he found the bond was still icy and silent. “Who’s your bond with, Dean?” Sam asked after Dean gently kissed the side of Gabriel’s head. The smaller angel nuzzling subconsciously. “Lucifer. I did mention that I was going insane after his fall, ya know.” Dean arched a brow when Sam choked on his own spit at the declaration. Sam looked at Dean like he had two heads after that. Watching as the elder Winchester picked the archangel up and started for what he assumed was the bathroom.

Sam didn’t follow. Something Dean was grateful for, as he wasn’t keen on letting the giant of a man see his baby brother naked. To Dean, it’s like looking at your children. He raised the younger angels and Archangels after they were created. And once Lucifer and Micheal were old enough they helped him raised the others. Dean snorted while getting the water warm. Gabriel was always with Lucifer, both having tricks and pranks to dish out. Never against Dean though, as he could do much worse than them.

Micheal learned fighting styles and other more warrior like things from Dean. Always copying the elder Archangel, Dean pretending he didn’t see the boy as he trained beside him. Rafael was raised into books, and much to his delight, Dean always had stories to tell or books to help him learn. While he did have their father’s wisdom and knowledge, it was Dean who helped him channel it. As time went on, Dean and Lucifer fell for the other. The elder of the two seemingly calming down from his more destructive habits. Much to the annoyance of their Aunt Amara. Dean snorted again as he sat Gabriel in the bath, his wings spread out over the edges so Dean could reach them. Dean hummed softly, it sounded like a far away church organ. Gabriel purred as he woke up, blinking sleepily as he caught Dean humming in his more angelic voice.

“You still sound beautiful, big bro.” He said softly, earning a chuckle as he shuttered his eyes. Dean kept humming. While he was by no means a choir angel, he still could sing. Baritone was his most used tone. It rumbled deep in his chest and caused the fledglings and younger angels to giggle. It also calmed down the Seraphs after a day of battle. Gabriel made a small sound of relief when he felt the debris leave his wings under the spray. He hadn’t paid much attention to his wings after Abbas was sealed away and Lucifer was cast out of heaven. “And you wonder where the youngling Choir angels got it from.” Gabriel teased and made a large exhale as his oil glands were cleared. Dean snorted at the memory of having little choir angels trying to sing with him. They couldn’t keep a tune for long but they got better with time and patience. Patience, the angel race found, was ever present for them alone.

Dean scowled a bit, remembering how he got twitchy after their father created the humans. Lucifer had the mark containing Aunt Amara at the time. So the twitchy attitude Dean had at the time was thought to be understandable. It wasn’t until Lucifer snapped that Abbas felt the tugs to cast judgment upon the humans. He even felt the urge from Lucifer from time to time to do it. Though the younger archangel tried to hide it from him. Their father realized that Abbas wasn’t handling the new creations as well as he did with the angels. Lucifer being cast down was only the icing on the cake after that. Since the Archangel had no way of keeping a calm and rational mental state.

So much like Aunt Amara, Abbas was sealed in a different type of cage. “You’re brooding again.” Gabriel mumbled sleepily, getting wing massages and bathes were lulling the youngest Archangel to deep sleep again. Dean smiled softly as he emptied the tub, pulled Gabriel into a warm towel, and dried the man off. He walked to Gabriel’s room and found warm fluffy clothes to wrap his brother in. Along with boxers, Dean clothed his brother and put him to bed. “You really do have the mindset of a mom.” Sam snickered, quietly laughing when Dean turned a half hearted glare onto him. “Well when you have nothing else to do but be a parent to your younger siblings, it tends to stick.” Dean responded with no heat, Sam still felt a little guilty for not trying harder to be a better brother. Dean huffed a breath, he twitched his wings as he walked. He couldn’t do anything more than twitch them, they were bound by holy leather to his back. All three sets.

———————————————————————

Dean rolled his neck and popped it, grunting softly. It would be a long time before he could rid himself from these straps. Since no one but his bonded, who was still missing, or Micheal, who he hasn’t seen in millennium, could cut them off. Dean had tried ridding himself of them, but all it did was tighten the straps to his back. The blonde felt a growl well up in his chest, felt his darkened grace lash out at forces that were no longer within his reach to feel. With his grace locked and his wings restrained, the calls to cast Judgment were few and far in between. Sam had gone to bed, Gabriel had remained asleep still. Dean didn’t feel the need to rest. He poked at the bond, quiet still, but warming up. Dean smiled softly in quiet relief that his anchor didn’t feel he had to block Dean from him. Even if it was only to give the sense of safe-alive-home that Dean really needed.

“I’ll find you, beloved. Neither Father nor Death will keep me from you.” Dean muttered with a steadfast promise. And somewhere in the world, Chuck shivered, knowing full well that Abbas would keep that promise.

———————————————————————

Elsewhere, Lucifer was in hell. Dealing with things that had gone down while he was away. Feeling the constant pokes and prods of his Archangel of Judgement. Abbas was worried, and a small bit of anger. Lucifer knew damn well why Abbas was angry. Being separated from his grace, from his wings, from their brothers, and from Lucifer himself. Abbas was twitchy even before they were separated. Lucifer gave Abbas a small bit of reassurance, and felt the anger and worry ease into something he was sure Abbas could now manage. The darkened grace almost having a purr of its own now that Lucifer has acknowledged its owner. Lucifer can’t meet with Abbas now, in his mind Lucifer isn’t ready to see him again. But feeling his Archangel through the bond was enough to reassure him that Abbas still loved him.

As the demons around him moved, Lucifer allowed his wings to brush against the walls and the pillars of the throne room. None of the others understood what their lord was doing, nor did they need to. Lucifer stretched his wings, feeling the pops and cracks of disuse leave. With a sigh, Lucifer vanished to the surface to explore. Trying to get an idea of where his Archangel was. However, the shift in placement told Abbas where Lucifer was anyway. Lucifer was sure of that. It didn’t take much for Abbas to figure out where Lucifer was when the bond they had formed so long ago was so strong. But the younger Archangel knew that, without his wings the Archangel of Judgement could not fly to him. Something Lucifer was sure Abbas was roaring internally about.

“Do you think he’ll let me see him soon?” Lucifer looked at the sky without the need to turn around. Rafael was there behind him. “Don’t count on it, Elder brother.” Rafael said simply as he felt the warmth of Abbas’ grace flow over them both. While the archangels could only move their grace at Will to things nearest them, Abbas could reach across the world if he needed. Judgement is passed to everyone, not just a few. “I say the old man will. He can’t keep Abs away from his anchor forever.” Lucifer snarked. “Besides, he doesn’t want Abs to cast judgment on his favorite toys too soon, right?” He snickered when Rafael’s eyes went wide before the other vanished to tell their brother. “Don’t have to wait too long, Abs. I’ll find you before he has the chance to try and control you.” Lucifer muttered as he vanished back to Hell.

[writernomore]

Two sides of the same coin.

Chapter 4.

Summary: It’s now the end of Y/n’s first year and now she would be in her second year at Hogwarts, spending some time at her grandparents house while her family are on some official business without her.

Masterlist

enjoy.

Chapter 4.

After the drive we finally arrived at a country side place where my Grandparents decided to live, away from the muggle and wizarding world having created a world between them and their family.

My Grandfather attended Hogwarts back then his day and when he graduated he met my Grandmother.

My Uncle and His wife were a Wizard and Witch, So is my Cousin.

My Adoptive Family’s Family Tree was mixed between Muggle and Wizard/witch in it.

Getting out of the car and on to the cement of the road, and there it stood, My grandparents house.

It wasn’t that big neither was it that small, it had two floor, an attic, and five rooms, The Master bedroom, My father and his’ brothers shared bedroom and three guest bedrooms.

The master bedroom and 1st guest room on the Main floor, My Fathers and his brothers room along with the 2nd guest bedroom and lastly was the 3rd guest room up in the attic like space, it was a big space, and it was where I always slept cause I was always the one to visit much more often back when I was young when mom had to go do some errand's, My two older brothers at school, and my Dad at work.

The scenery surrounding your Grandparents house was beautiful almost like Hogwarts but without the Forbidden forest.

The Forest behind your Grandparents home was a forest that was claimed and when your Grandparents had brought the property, the house was old but your Grandparents always did maintenance check.

They were old, yes but they didn’t have to make the house look old as well after all they can manage on their own as well.

They always liked to act like they were in their 20s and back in their time era.

The Driver was getting your trunk inside the house and you followed in to the house.

Inside, was a little welcome party there, a banner saying “Welcome home!” with your grandma and grandpa standing under it with their hands out spread, taking this as a signal you ran up to them and tackled them into a hug.

“Grandma! Grandpa! I missed you guys so much!”

“We miss you too pumpkin” “Come on, we got some cookies and cake with your favorite treats” Your Grandmother said.

The four of you sat on the living room, inviting the driver to eat with you while they listened to you talk about your studies and the eventful things that happened, with your first time watching a Quidditch match, to the troll event and to the Gryffindor house winning the house cup.

Meeting new friends along the way.

It was time that your grandmother was going to the kitchen to cook dinner, your grandfather telling you to call him if you needed anything that he would just be in the Livingroom and your driver bidding goodbye to tend on some wizarding business.

Going up the stairs to settle in the attic room bringing out your books to set on the table, setting down your remaining parchment paper into a little drawer and setting down your quill and ink.

You decided that you would write to Hermione, Ron and Harry soon but for now you changed into a blue shirt and white shorts with black polka dots.

You opened the window and stared ahead to the woods behind the house, it was getting dark and it looked like the fireflies were flying around from a far.

You closed the door and went to plop down your bed, your owl Archimedes was making noise and shaking it’s cage wanting to go outside to fly.

You carried your owls cage and set it down on your table and opened a window for her to get out and fly about the area opening her cages door she went on your arm for you to set her free to fly, you did so and she went to glide around in the sky.

Deciding not to close the door you decided to run down stairs and see if you could help your grandmother with cooking.

The food was set on display and you put some onto your plate and began eating after praying, your grandfather had asked you where and who gave you the necklace that was wrapped around your neck.

You told them you had received it from the mail alongside a letter saying that you would understand more better when you grew older.

You opened it to show your real parents in it, your grandfather ruffled your hair and smiled at you.

It was a week already and you had already sent and received letters from Ron and Hermione.

But never from Harry, you were worried and wrote to him much frequently.

Deciding something you lettered Ron asking if the both of you could meet up, but before you did that you had asked your grandparents first.

Didn’t want them to worry now would we? It was also better to tell them face to face than leaving a letter so your could assure them that you would be okay and in safe hands.

Travelling by floo you arrived at the Weasley’s place, Ron had to put a hand over your mouth so you wouldn’t scream.

‘Bloody hell Ron you scared me!’ You whisper shouted.

“Sorry but we have to go over to Harry’s and see what’s going on.” He said

“So there is something wrong” you murmured. “But how would we even get there?” You asked raising a brow.

“Don’t worry” He took a step to the side revealing his older brothers, Fred and George Weasley.

“So their going to help us?” “Yup” “Alrighty then” You said clapping your hands together.

You where seated at the back with George and Ron while Fred drove it.

“That’s a pretty necklace” George said.

“Thank you, it has my parents in it” you gestured opening the locket.

George raise his brows and nodded looking up ahead, Ron looking at the necklace to see if they had seen it right, it was Harry’s parents in it.

Only meaning one thing only,

You are Harry Potters sister.

Gulping he turned to his side seeing that they had arrived to the place where Harry lived.

Harry went to his window wide eyed and mouth agape asking why are you guys doing there.

“Where here to rescue you of course!” Ron said. “Come on get your trunk ready.”

Harry was packing his stuff to his trunk when the car was moving forward while Ron put the hook on the bar that was on Harry’s window.

Car moving forward puling the bars off they went on reverse to make the car go closer.

Harry putting his trunk inside, the car trunk and handed Hedwig to Ron and jumped to get inside the car but his uncle had grabbed onto his leg preventing him to do so.

The car moved forward for Harry’s uncle to let go of him, and fall out of the window landing on the bush.

We smiled at each other proceeding to go back to the Weasley household.

“By the way Harry, Happy Birthday” Ron said.

Harry looked back and smiled at Ron and turning to me I gave him a smile.

Landing on the ground we went out of the car to go inside George shushing us to be Quiet.

Then..

“Where have you been!?”

“No note, beds empty, car gone!” “But it isn’t your fault Harry” 

“And- Uh who’s this?” She points at you.

“My name is Y/n Brighton, nice to meet you Mrs. Weasley.” you said smiling.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you dear.”

Breakfast was at the Weasleys, and you and Harry had met Arthur Weasley, Their father.

Letters had arrived from Hogwarts having a list of things/ books required for this year.

You had to leave early and just agreed to meet Ron, Hermione and Harry at Diagon Alley.

After using floo powder to get back home you were greeted by your grandparents asking if you were okay or if you were hurt.

You had reassured them that things went alright.

Archimedes had flew in from the kitchen window dropping your Hogwarts letter having the list inside.

Your grandfather told you to clean up and change clothes before the both of you went to Diagon Alley for school supply shopping.

You were wearing a green sweater and black pants with a red ribbon in your hair like a headband.

You and your grandfather went to Diagon alley to get your things.

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

Sorry that todays chapter was short but I had to rush this one.

And I will try and make it up to you guys next chapter, making it longer.

Anyways, I have also now posted this series in Wattpad for you guys to read under the username of Moonwrites @/I_Potter .

Noone has read it but it’s just there for those who can’t read it here or that there’s some problems.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 38: Aunt Marge's Big Mistake

Remus had never really considered the smell of dog repugnant before, but the puddle he landed in and the odor that met his nose was really trying to change that. "Are you shitting me!" He howled in disgust as he pulled himself free.

Sirius whistled from atop a rickety pile of empty dog crates. "You must have really pissed off someone in another life."

"I hope you fall on your head from there," he snapped as he waved his wand to remove the mess, though that still didn't remove the lingering scent from his own nose.

The two took eyes off each other and instead spent a moment to glance around and realize they were the only two out here. Sirius, in his usual feats of ease and grace, landed on his feet beside Remus and the two cautiously circled the area to find themselves in some sort of barn, which mostly seemed to be used for storage. Stacks of dog-food, of a high premium quality, were in carefully managed containers as well as an assortment of collars, and even a few medical supplies.

"I'm feeling a little creeped out now," Sirius muttered, rubbing his neck and eyeing the cages he'd been upon.

Neither got the chance to make much more sense of it when the barn doors swung open wide, and Frank's surprised face peered in. "Oi, I found um!"

"Where are we?" Remus asked as they joined him at the door to find an even wider expanse beyond, quite the gorgeous acreage for some sight beyond, and a bulldog sitting at Frank's feet wagging it's tail curiously up at the pair.

"You're guess is as good as ours," James assured as he came up beside Frank. "Everyone else is inside that house," he gestured beyond the two where they couldn't yet see from the inside, "but I'm suspecting we're dealing with an animal lover. There's bulldogs all over the place round here."

The one watching at their feet was on the younger side, completely white, and rather healthy in weight Sirius decided as he knelt down and scooped up the pup.

"Let's go see if they've found the book yet, spread some light on this nonsense," Frank sighed.

Circling around the side of the barn found a very nice bungalow, clearly very well kept up with bright shutters opened wide. Even from their view as they approached what must be the backdoor they could already see inside the kitchen, where bright yellow wallpaper was abound and even more pictures of bulldogs hung from surfaces. Inside saw Peter at the table, face in hands and looking exhausted, with two more bulldogs sniffing curiously around his feet and Regulus at the table beside him. The two stopped talking when they entered, but to the others surprise there hadn't been much noise of hostility in either tones.

"Come on Wormy," Sirius said at once with chipper, going forward and clasping him on the shoulder while forcefully putting the puppy near his face. "Won't get back to our world tell we find the book, sitting around worrying ain't going to fix that."

"Alice already found the book," Regulus shrugged without concern.

"Well then let's get to it," Frank agreed going past them into the living room. Alice was sitting on the floor next to a snoring pooch as tan as the carpet rather than the plastic bound furniture, while four more dogs of the same breed were all lazing about comfortably, one nursing a litter of three. Lily was crouched down beside the proud mama, stroking a little fawn one.

"Don't be getting ideas now," he cautioned as he offered to take the book from Alice before sitting down by a brindle colored one with a rather rotund stomach and very round teets, likely promising another litter soon. "We don't have time to be hunting down formulas for puppies."

"I know," she sighed as she relaxed against the wall and glanced out the front window where a picturesque well stood on a hill. "It's just nice to land somewhere so pleasant for once. This isn't any of our houses, seems to just be some nice person who breeds dogs. I don't know what Harry has to do with this place, but it seems to be something good for once."

"Chapter title doesn't indicate as much," Frank said in surprise as he cracked the book open. The opening was as horrendous as usual, none of them ever actually enjoyed hearing of the Dursleys many ways they managed to make Harry feel as unwelcome as possible in that house.

Things picked up with interest though, when the Muggle news casually said a certain name.

The other five walked slowly into the room, eyeing Frank like they thought he was playing his first prank. Even Pettigrew was looking more lively again, still clutching the little white pup to his chest a little too tight as he went from looking at the book to not only his best friend, but the brother that shared the Black name.

"Did we miss something?" Potter demanded, wand clutched in one hand and the other balled into a fist. Frank found that a tad dramatic. It was the Muggle news after all, and while it had caught him off guard, there was certainly no reason for his him to be getting defensive over it.

"No, not really," he said calmly, already turning back to the book. "I'd think you heard as well as I, someone named Black broke out of a Muggle prison." The group remained cluttered in the doorway while Frank finished, though there really wasn't much more to be said from the news.

Lupin made an awkward sort of noise that may have possibly been an attempt at a laugh. He put a casual arm around his friend and eyed the brother with that same pained sort of look that was desperately striving for carefree. "Well, what do you suppose you two get up to in the future?"

"Stop exaggerating Moony," the elder of the two brothers pushed his friend away with a much more natural look of uncare. "Just something being stirred up in the Muggle world, how could anyone break out of Azkaban for it to be related to us?"

"Yeah," Regulus quickly muttered agreement, but his brows were still ruffled with confusion and uncertainty. Frank couldn't blame him. Of the two, he'd put money down the youngest would certainly break the news first in You-Know-Who's service rather than the toerag and self proclaimed savior to James Potter.

Harry very obviously had no reason to dwell on this, so it made sense he was distracted by the next interruption of someone named Marge coming about. His reaction to the news was distracting enough to get to them as well.

"What's that horrid woman done then?" Lily snapped in frustration. Already more than sick of the way these horrid people treated her son, she had half a mind to slap Petunia across the face when she saw her again, even if she still doubted herself to go through with it. This perverse future version of a life without her in it already featured a bitter best friend who treated her son so horrid and she was still bound and determined to find a way to an answer for that, her sister was a slightly lesser concern but one she'd have to deal with eventually.

At least this particular problem wasn't on her plate, this Marge was Vernon's sister, and the location they happened to be at suddenly made more sense. Then her hand froze on the little pups warm fur as the their surroundings went from cheerful to claustrophobic in seconds as the laundry list of misdeeds she'd done to Harry were listed. The bright wallpaper was sickening, the little box of dog treats placed sporadically had her clenching her jaw in disgust, and the walking stick left propped against the back door was something everyone was eyeing to be broken in half.

This was no innocent woman breeding dogs for a living, this was a horrible woman, just like every other person in Harry's life who treated that kid like scum, for what?! Lily felt fooled as she sat there shaking with rage, taken in by the beautiful countryside and calm animals around her not to realize there was always something repugnant under the surface.

Of course things only got worse when the woman arrived, Lily couldn't help but get defensive. Of Potter of all things! And not just Harry! This Marge woman shamelessly took to taking criticizing to an inhuman level in regards to Harry and even going so far as to putting this blame on his parentage. As many times as she'd wanted to curse Potter's face off, at least she knew why he deserved it! This woman didn't know anything about them, and what she was saying to a child was reprehensible!

Between this, Petunia not having the decency to say a single word in defense like some part of her still hoped for, and the revelation the woman actually had puppies drowned, Harry magically blowing her up was a blessing.

Lily didn't burst out with cheers like the Marauders, or even resort to the other three muttering things they'd like to do to this woman instead of something so mild, Lily just let herself relax. She released a stream of breath, her shoulders slumped, and she scooped the little ball of folded skin that was the wrinkly puppy just finished nursing and tucked the babe into her neck. It was by far the most mild victory Harry had ever dished out on his own, but really, it was somehow the most satisfying.

Defeating Voldemort, twice, was still such a fantastical thing for something of their future, let alone a kid of hers to be doing it, she still just hadn't quite grasped that concept. This however was something she and her son could readily agree on, no one would be saying such atrocious things and getting away with it.

The news that Harry was leaving that house was a welcomed one, she couldn't stop herself from laughing in relief. Of all the times she'd escaped a very similar house and words from her sister, the idea of escape was one she knew intimately. As Frank warned the closing sentence was upon them, she regretfully set the little pup back down next to its mother and watched Pettigrew finally do the same.

[foradecision]

‘ the agony of my feelings allowed me no respite; no incident occurred from which my rage and misery could not extract its food. ’ — mary shelley ; frankenstein.

HARRAN COUNTRYSIDE, DAY 175 ; 14:56:23.

     “— goddamn it. of course.” 

     the tank is dry, nothing but stale air coming through the siphon hose. same as the last one. same as the last dozen fucking vehicles he’d checked, gutted, stripped, and abandoned, up and down this fissured backroad to nowhere. from nowhere. this whole place is nowhere. 

     a thin line of trees borders the gravel to his left, curtaining the wide spread of empty fields like a patchwork quilt. farmland, mostly. dead and disused. to his right, past the scrub, the ground slopes gently downward to a rock - lined creek. there’s a spitting toad nearby; he can hear the guttural heave of its bloated throat from here. 

     distantly, high up on a cliffside, an eagle’s cry goes unanswered. 

     the creek is tempting. he’s tired. sore. filthy, to the point where it’s getting to be a concern. where, if he were to walk up to the gates of jasir’s place looking the way he does right now, they might mistake him for a zombie and shoot him on sight. threadbare amusement curls the edges of that chasm in his chest, just for a second: then it’s gone again.

     leaving his buggy where it’s parked, fishtailed at the road’s grassy shoulder — useless, gas gauge riding on empty — crane hangs a right and heads for the water.

     a bolt is loosed from his crossbow. the toad falls before it can hit him with an acid burn. there’s a scar on his neck from the last time, an inch or so of rougher tissue that runs above the line of his collar. 

     he does a quick scan of the shoreline. two or three biters linger maybe a hundred yards away, but they haven’t noticed him. they’re slow. far enough that he’ll see them long before they get too close. 

     fuck it. 

     he unloads his gear. strips off gloves, vest, boots; clothing peeled from his skin layer by layer until he’s bare except shorts and the grime - caked chain around his neck, dog tags sticking to his chest. one set, of the two he was issued. deanna has the other set.

     no. no goodbyes.

     no goodbyes. just hold onto ‘em for me.

     it’s a freshwater creek; murky and tinged green with algae, but clean. uncontaminated. he wades out until he’s waist - deep, takes a breath, and dives beneath the surface. the shock of cold wakes him up like a rush of adrenaline. he stays under until he can’t, and then he stays a few seconds more. when he comes back up, there’s a clarity to it: a sharpness to his senses, focused as the finely whetted edge of a knife. he swims again to the shallows and starts to wash. 

     this is day ten, since the others returned to the slums. since they’d chased a clue given to them by a dying man delirious with fever. since their last - ditch, desperate search for a cure had come up empty and every move he’d made leading up to it — everything they’d done, everything they’d lost — slipped through his fingers like fine sand. he couldn’t face them. none of them. couldn’t stomach the thought of going back, of walking into the tower to tell lena and brecken and everyone else that it was all for nothing. he just needed time. that’s what he’d said. just a little time to work through it all, get it straight again in his head. camden was still working, sure. still holed up in old town in a lab littered with corpses. he’d hit some kind of breakthrough, but his labors since then hadn’t borne fruit. bad samples. limited testing material. crane doesn’t understand the science of it. what he understands is that a month after that radio call, people keep getting sick. people keep turning. people keep dying.

     crane, why do you even give a fuck what happens to these people? you don’t belong here! this is just a job for you!

     no. not anymore it’s not.

     there’s no contract now. no mission objective. no target. there’s just him, and them, and a long stretch of nothing.

     this is day ten. 

     the afternoon sun hikes steadily across the cloudless sky. six hours ‘til nightfall. he fills his canteen, redresses, gathers his gear. shuffling footfalls and the solitary groan of a biter drifts downwind towards him. a pause, mid - step. a glance over his shoulder. 

     she trips up the slope as she tries to follow. he doesn’t glance at her again.

     there’s a gas station up the road, beyond the fields and half a klick east of the creek. a ten minute walk without interruptions. all told, he makes it in less than fifteen. the pumps are a no - go, but he finds enough fuel left in a semi and a rusted jeep to fill his jerrycan two thirds of the way. gnats hum in his ears as he cuts through the tree line and he’s sweating again by the time he returns to the buggy. fucking gnats. fucking heat. 

     fucking harran. 

     the buggy itself is a battered thing. mesh and steel, spikes up front, hood rigged with electrical cylinders to fry at the push of a button. UV lights mounted to a protective cage around the single seat. at some point, the paint job was blue. it’s lost under a spattering of mud and streaks of dust, blood in varying shades: dark brown to copper to fresh sprays of red. she’s not quiet, and her suspension’s been shot halfway to hell since he flew off that overpass near the train tracks, but she’s solid. fast. decent off - road traction, even through the roughest terrain. she gets the job done. 

     crane turns the keys in the ignition. a loud, vibrating rev, a scrape of tires against gravel. behind him, the biter from the creek makes a clumsy lunge for the vehicle’s rear. he leaves her in the dust and drives. 

     he’s been doing a lot of that. driving. maybe he missed it. maybe he likes the solitude, except for that ribbon of isolation that runs through him constantly like a wound spreading poison. no: what draws him is something else. 

     static crackles through the radio hooked to his dash. 

     “kyle, can you hear me?” 

     the skip of his heartbeat drops back to a dull rhythm. he should have known better. communication between here and the slums is shaky on a good day, worse down here behind the mountains. 

     “yeah, bilal, i hear you.” 

     “i’ve got the parts to fix your ride, if you want to come by and let me take a look.” 

     “she’s doin’ fine for now.”

     “you sure? it’s no trouble. hell, i can probably have her running again by —”

     “yeah, listen, i’ll stop by tomorrow, alright?” he says it without the intent to follow through on it. 

     “whatever you say, brother. hey — don’t be a stranger, okay?” 

     “sure thing.”

     he ends it there. veers left to avoid an upended van and a spill of toxic waste. doesn’t correct to avoid clipping the biter crouched over a strewn mess of gore, greedily devouring someone’s remains. or several someones. the buggy jumps a little. his expression stays as unmoved as if he’d just bucked over a speed bump or a pothole. 

     the sun is behind him now, dipping westward. 

     he drives. 

     it’s beautiful out here, in its own right. the kind of place he might’ve visited by choice, before, when the world wasn’t like it is now. the road unspools behind him, twisting south towards the dam. he hears the water before he sees it. rushing noise off to the right. he doesn’t stop. keeps going past the turnoff and down a winding side - road until he pulls over onto a patch of asphalt that used to be a small parking lot. a couple of vehicles, a truck, a trailer hitched to a hatchback with luggage piled high. he’s checked them all before. cleaned out the bags and the gas tanks, salvaged what parts he could from under their hoods. there’s a single building, a two - story cottage converted to a restaurant converted to a safe house, UV bulbs strung along the balcony railing like christmas lights. 

     past it, where the road dips into a curve, the open maw of a half - collapsed tunnel is just visible beyond the scattering of trees and abandoned cars, biters meandering listlessly in the afternoon heat. 

     four hours. 

     he parks the buggy and climbs up to the balcony, barricading the door once he’s inside.

     no one uses this place. that’s why he’d picked it. quiet, deserted, off the beaten path. no one uses it because of its proximity to the tunnel. deep within the reeking darkness, volatiles nest and thrive. they prowl too close after nightfall. no one wants the risk.

     no one except crane. 

     the note was pinned up on an old door used as a bulletin board at jasir’s farm. warning people away from the area, to steer clear at any cost. during the day, the hive is full. they only scatter when darkness falls, emerging to hunt, to feed, to roam the countryside freely and without borders. that’s what he’s counting on. 

     but there’s a trick to it. something he discovered — stumbled upon — when he went looking for sabit and found a nest instead. volatiles can breed. they’re not made exclusively through the natural evolution of the virus, but nor do they procreate in a traditional sense. hive mother is the closest comparison he can make: sentient creatures within the hives that somehow trigger the mutation. again, it’s a science he doesn’t fully understand. he knows the logistics. he knows enough. destroying those things stops the spread. 

     kill the beating heart, and you kill the beast.

     he hefts his duffel bag onto one of the tables and unzips it, a side pocket where a tightly - wrapped pouch is nestled within the folds of a spare shirt. inside, a medical injector and tool slots that used to house five vials of antizin. the final vial is loaded into the injector. the shot is quick. practiced. another four days bought on the calendar; beyond that, the pages are blank. 

     it should worry him more than it does. 

     after he checks the alarm on his watch, crane moves to the sleeping bag unrolled on the floor and lies down fully clothed. he’s trained himself to fall asleep like he’s stepping off a curb. no thought, just muscle memory. 

     four hours, then he can go. 

     dreams are less muscle, all memory. he sees them every time: living faces turned to dead ones turned to taunting, hungry ghosts. children screaming. a little girl and then a little boy, the plush yield of a bloodstained teddy bear under the tread of his boot. you can’t go yet, i thought of a name!

     someplace safe.

     the monsters are gone. 

     semper fi, marine. 

     residual hallucinations blend seamlessly, threading sepia and bronze through the black and mottled grey, the arterial red. jade’s voice brushes the threads like a hand searching for fever; soft, then bleeding, then telling him to let her go, and then jade isn’t jade, she’s deanna, and she isn’t saying let her go — she’s saying let go.

     no goodbyes, remember?

     make it count.

     you don’t know what suffering is.

     there’s an old ache just under the hook of his left clavicle. a starburst of pain sings sharply outward with the waking breath he sucks in, then pushes back out. he presses the heel of his right hand against the scar from rais’ dagger, the one he didn’t dodge fast enough. that’s a running theme. not fast enough. not soon enough. not enough. his other hand lifts, wrist tipping, as the digital numbers on his watch go from 20:59 to 21:00.

     he cuts the alarm.

     night out here sounds nothing like night in the slums, or in old town. there, it’s all infected moans, wind rippling through tarps and rustling trash; it’s all crackling fires and the creak of scaffolding, clangs of metal as virals throw aside manhole covers to scrabble out into the streets.

     here, it’s quiet. crickets chirp, cicadas chitter and hum. an owl hoots from somewhere in the trees off to the right of the cottage. 

     he waits by the balcony door until he hears them passing by. ragged, growling breaths. heavy steps. they come out of the nest in droves but then they scatter. then they fade into the dark. 

     crane hops the railing and heads toward the tunnel’s waiting mouth. 

     years ago, on the ground in fallujah, he led a stealth mission of five other marines to infiltrate a hostile - run outpost at the city’s downtown core. tactics he relied on then to evade detection are called back on now. he stays low. hugs the shadows. mindful of every move, every breath, every beat of his heart. the first biter he kills doesn’t have the time to react. he snaps its neck, fast and clean. drags it off into the cover of the trees and slices a deep line across its swollen belly. then a second line, stem to stern. 

     bandanna tightly secured over his mouth and nose, he reaches gloved hands inside the wound and begins to cover himself in gore.

     the smell is overpowering. sour and almost chemical, thick with rot, seeping through the fabric. but overpowering is the entire point. dahlia claimed she had a magic potion to move amongst infected, to blend in; everyone thought she was crazy. so did he, or delusional at the least — until she’d asked him to gather what she needed to make more tincture. one whiff of those mushrooms, and he understood. 

     she didn’t have a magic potion. she just knew which plants were odorous enough to mask the scent of living flesh.

     and if that worked, crane figures this will too. 

     three measured strides into the tunnel confirms it. the biters don’t turn. don’t react at all. he passes them in silence, a chameleon, unnoticed and undisturbed. this is the easy part. the deeper he goes, the more perilous the risk. virals twitch and mutter, grouped around piles of reeking carnage mounted nearly ceiling - high in some places. he doesn’t turn on his flashlight for chancing exposure. it takes his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the gloom. 

     he has eight hours, give or take, before the volatiles return and this excursion goes from dangerous to suicidal. eight hours is plenty.

     bones. the ground is littered with them, crunching underfoot. some are smaller; animal, maybe — birds, rodents — but most aren’t. bigger things. human. skull fragments that are all teeth. the smell has gotten incrementally worse, distinguishable even through his own cloak of viscera. it’s suffocating and rank. biological. metallic like a slaughterhouse. choked with dirt like a grave. 

     edging a pool of stagnant water that fills the crevice between cracked slabs of cement, he pushes on. 

     he’s getting closer. he can hear it now. an unearthly vocalization that pitches above the rest, echoing off stone. it’s a howl and a groan and a wail and a scream all in one, wordless, feral, made of pain and desperate hunger. 

     he sees it near a blocked door to a maintenance hall, in front of a wide wall of concrete debris. tethered to the earth by flesh and tendon like roots. there’s no lower half: only a head and torso, its other parts impossible to identify. the head is thrown back. spikes of bone push through bloody sinew in odd places, and the jaw is split along both sides, a wide, disjointed yawn. nothing about it is human. nothing about it suggests that it once was human.

     circling behind it, crane braces one hand on its shoulder and draws his blade with the other. the machete is driven clean through, back to front, gleaming point emerging from its chest. 

     kill the beating heart — 

     the death rattle is jarring, a wet, retching sustain, and then it stops. the thing stills, goes limp. he pulls his blade out again. 

     — you kill the beast. 

     there are three more of them, nestled deep within the labyrinth. he finds them by sound, repeats the same routine with each. in a way, it feels merciful. killing sabit was merciful. he wasn’t long in this state when crane had found him; too far gone to save, but with enough human left in him to plead for release. 

     these ones don’t plead, but release is granted anyway. 

     because of how deep the nest goes, of how careful he is in navigating it, it’s coming up on midnight by the time he turns around to work his way back. that isn’t worrisome: sunrise starts washing the horizon in swaths of pale peach at 5:30, doesn’t fully spread her rays ‘til six. he still has a seven - hour window, and all he has to do is reach the cottage again. the camouflage is working. his pulse is steady. 

     everything is playing out accordingly, right up until it’s not. 

     a viral staggers from behind one of the vehicles in the tunnel, an old city bus that blocked it from view. he misses it, focused on a through - path to avoid the others. it knocks into his shoulder. hard. 

     crane stumbles a little. it wouldn’t be enough to throw him had his footing been on even ground. 

     his boot slips off the edge of the crevice. 

     his ankle, the same one roman had fucked up months before, torques harshly in a direction it isn’t supposed to go, skewing his balance sideways.

     “oh, f—”

     the curse is caught before it’s anything more than a breath. 

     he falls. water splashes around him. 

     four feet away, the viral lets out a screech. 

     the noise. that’s all, he tells himself: just the sudden noise drawing attention. but the filthy pool around him begins to turn filthier, a runoff of blood and entrails slipping from his clothes. he freezes. holds absolutely still, unblinking, barely breathing. three more virals and a handful of shuffling biters are starting to congregate around the water. sensing some disturbance, some change in the air. one of them presses in closer. he realizes what’s about to happen a microsecond before. 

     the biter trips over the slab and lands in the pool with him, dousing him in a second wave. he scrambles backward, kicks it back when it lunges, but the damage is already done.

     they smell him now. they see him. 

     crane jumps from the pool and bodies the first viral that comes at him. the tunnel fills with shrieks and groans, a ravenous stampede with a single piece of prey. 

     his machete cuts through the nearest throat. then he breaks into a run.

     the firecrackers he throws behind him buy enough time to clear the tunnel’s entrance, to dip into the trees, to move at a flat sprint until ultraviolet lights wink at him between the black canopy. he vaults the awning, grabs hold of the balcony rail. 

     a volatile’s hunting cry reverberates through the moonlit night.

HARRAN COUNTRYSIDE, DAY 176 ; 6:02:45.

     “lena. lena, do you copy? ... shit.” 

     still nothing, just the static noise of a poor signal. the transmission is weak. he curses under his breath, throws a glance down the ridge behind him, hikes further up the crest. the air thins. he stops and tries again. 

     “lena, come in. do you copy?”

     this time, finally, the static catches traction. 

     “crane? is that you?"

     “thank god. yeah — yeah, brecken, it’s me.”

     “holy shit.” relief, even through a weak transmission, hits him center mass. “it’s good to hear your voice, mate. it’s been too fucking long.” 

     “i — i know, man. i’m sorry. really. i —”

     “nah, nah, save that for later, okay? tell me you’re finally through with this poxy country holiday and you’re ready to come home.” 

     home. that hits, too. emotion swells in his throat. a dammed flood he’s been so diligent to keep at bay. 

     last night was sleepless. he’d kept watch until sunrise, kept alert, because it occurred to him when he’d hit the water: he doesn’t want to die. losing hope is a dangerous thing. and maybe it is hopeless. maybe the antizin will run dry and he’ll turn, and one of them will have to put him down, like he did rahim and jade, and there won’t be any stopping it. no cure. no way out. 

     maybe he thought he did want to die — or maybe it was just that he didn’t care if he lived. 

     home. come back home.

     it’s not about him. it’s not himself that he’s living for. 

     not anymore.

     “yeah,” he manages. “yeah. i, uh — i think it’s past time for that.”

     brecken blows out a breath. “sanest thing i’ve heard you say in a while. look, let me grab the others and —”

     “no. no, don’t do that. i don’t have a lot of time — could lose the signal again at any second. brecken ... listen, just — just tell ‘em i’m on my way, huh? tell ‘em ...” 

     “yeah. i will.” 

     “i’m sorry.” 

     “i know, crane."

     a steady inhale is pulled and released. 

     he hears something. something that seems to shake the air around him, above him; something a lot like the whirring engine of an aircraft. but it can’t be that. there haven’t been any drops in months. squinting against the sun’s rays, crane scans the skyline, searching —

     “hang on,” brecken says, “you hear that?”

     “what? you’re not tellin’ me it’s loud enough t—”

     “there’s a — oi, get ayo up here, right now! — there’s a fucking plane. what the fuck, crane, i thought the GRE weren’t dropping supplies anymore?” 

     “no, they’re not, they’re — wh— hang on, what do you mean there’s a plane? there’s a plane right —”

     “listen, call me again once you’re close, okay? get your ass back here as soon as possible, we’ll talk then.”

     “n— wait — brecken, don’t —”

     the radio goes dead.

     overhead, a fixed - wing transport plane banks left and makes a hairpin turn to circle the cliffside. minimum altitude over rural land is five hundred feet. it’s close. 

     close enough to catch a flash of color from the massive logo painted on its fuselage.

     a medical cross inside a circle, bold letters spelling out GRE.

[atomic-taco-muffin]

The Lost Princess Chapter 28

Warnings: angst?

Rating: SFW

You and the trio had left the Fourth World Entrance and had entered the world, Monstro. 

“What a weird place! Everything's kinda springy and soft,” you said. 

“Nice and warm, too. I'm startin' to feel like a nap,” Goofy said. 

“I think you should be a little more worried,” someone said. 

“Who's there?” Donald asked. There, Pinocchio was hiding behind a wall.

“You're inside the belly of Monstro the Whale,” he said. Jiminy jumped onto the ground.

“Why, I know that voice... Pinocchio? Pinoke, it's you! Come on out!” Jiminy said. 

“Is that you, Jiminy? Gosh, I thought I'd never see you again!” Pinocchio said. 

“Gee, there's no way you wouldn't find me again. I'm your conscience. And your conscience will always be your guide. Remember?”

“Sure, Jiminy. And I've been a good boy, promise. I didn't tell a single lie.” All of a sudden, Pinocchio’s nose grew longer. 

“Uh-oh!” he said. 

“Well, for Pete's sake!” Jiminy said. 

“Oops! But...how did YOU end up inside Monstro, anyway?”

“We, uh, sort of used a special way...” Sora said. 

“It's so special, we don't know how we did it!” Goofy said. 

“That's too bad... I was hoping you could help me and Father get out of here.” 

“Well, I'll be! Geppetto's here, too?” 

“Sure he is. Follow me!” You and the others followed PInocchio to a ruined ship inside Monstro's mouth, where Geppetto was.

“Geppetto!” Jiminy said. Geppetto walked over to the ship's edge.

“Bless my soul, it's Jiminy Cricket. How in the world did you get here?” he said.

“You tell me! How does a clockmaker wind up in the belly of a whale?” Jiminy said.

“Well, it's a long story...” You and the gang climbed onto the ship, and Geppetto told his story.

“So you sailed out to look for Pinocchio...” Donald said. 

“...and Monstro swallowed you!” Goofy said. 

“Yes, but I found my son. I would do anything for my Pinocchio,” Geppetto said. 

“But now you can't get out, can you? Being stuck in the belly of a whale is awful,” you said. 

“Not if Pinocchio and I are together. That makes everything a little bit better. There's nothing better than being reunited with someone you care about.”

“Yeah... I know what you mean,” Sora said. 

“Me too,” you said.

“I don't care if I'm trapped here, so long as I have Pinocchio. He's such a good boy.” 

“Well, he still tells fibs. But with a little help from me...” Jiminy said.

“Oh, Jiminy, you worry too much.” 

“Speaking of Pinocchio... Where is he?” Sora asked.

“He was here a minute ago. Where's he gone this time?” Donald said.

“I expect he's off exploring. That boy has been poking around just about everywhere inside this monster. He won't tell me why it's so important. I tell him it's dangerous, but he won't listen.” 

“That boy's a handful! Sora, (Y/N), if you don't mind...”

“I know, I know. You want us to help you find him, right? C'mon, guys, let's get going!” Sora said. You, Donald, and Goofy nodded in agreement.

“Oh!” Pinocchio said. You, Sora, Donald, Goofy, and Jiminy found Pinocchio in another area of Monstro.

“Pinocchio! What are you thinking?! You know Geppetto worries when you wander off by yourself,” Jiminy said.

“Jiminy was worried, too!” Donald said. 

“I'm sorry...” Pinocchio said. 

“What are you doing, anyway? Looking for something?” you asked. 

“Um...yeah, I'm looking for treasure!” Pinocchio’s nose grew longer.

“Here we go again!” Jiminy said.

“But, Jiminy...” 

“Now, don't be so hard on the little fella, Jiminy. We promise not to get mad, Pinocchio. Is that why you're afraid to tell? No need to fret. Tell us the truth---we'll understand. Put yer trust in Goofy!” Goofy said. 

“...I was looking for a way out. Father says he's happy, but it's my fault we're stuck here. I shouldn't have run away from home. I want to help Father get home to the workshop. But he'll worry if I tell him what I'm doing.”

“So that's why you thought you had to tell a lie,” Jiminy said. 

“You did it 'cause you love your dad!”

“All you need now is courage!” Donald said.

“What?” 

“Tell Geppetto the truth. With a little courage, you can do it! If you tell him how you really feel, I bet he'll help you find a way out,” you said.

“And we'll give you a hand!” Sora said.

“Really? You'll help us? Okay, I'll give it a try! Wish me luck, Jiminy!”

“No more keeping secrets, then. Have we got a deal?” Jiminy said.

“Sure! I'll be brave and tell Father how I really feel. No lies this time!”

“Great! Then your nose won't---” Suddenly, the ground started to shake.

“What's happening?!” you asked.

“I have no idea!” Sora said.

“I got a bad feeling about this!” Donald said.

“Pinocchio, run for it!” Jiminy said. Pinocchio ran away. A Parasite Cage Heartless fell from the ceiling in front of him.

“Pinocchio!” you and Sora said. Pinocchio was trapped inside the Heartless.

“Help! I'm trapped!” he said.

“What?!” Sora asked. You and the trio fought the Parasite Cage. After the fight, the Heartless was knocked out, but Pinocchio was still trapped inside.

“Help me! I'm scared!” he said.Pinocchio was trapped inside the Heartless.

“Help! I'm trapped!” he said.

“What?!” Sora asked. You and the trio fought the Parasite Cage. After the fight, the Heartless was knocked out, but Pinocchio was still trapped inside.

“Help me! I'm scared!” he said.

“Pinocchio, be brave!” you said.

“How?”

“Don't give up! Try fighting your way out!”

“Be brave... Okay, I'll try!” Pinocchio jumped up and down, which opened the Heartless' cage and allowed Pinocchio to climb out, right before the Heartless was destroyed and its heart was released.

“Pinocchio, are you alright?” Jiminy asked.

“Don't worry, I'm okay. Just a little sticky...” Pinocchio said as he got up.

“But I have a great idea! That thing spit me out when I started fighting back. Why don't we try the same thing with Monstro?” he said.

“Of course! If we're lucky, Monstro might cough us up!” Sora said.

“Great idea! Let's go deeper inside and try it!” Donald said.

“I'm going, too!” Pinocchio said.

“No, it's too dangerous,” Jiminy said.

“Aww, c'mon...”

“You should be with Geppetto. No use escaping from Monstro if you two get separated again!”

“Leave this to us,” Sora said.

“I guess you're right. Be careful, everybody!” You and the trio left to explore Monstro. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy entered Monstro's throat.

“Looks like this is as far as we go,” Goofy said.

“Ready, then? Let's shake things up!” you said.

“It would be easier if we had someone to fight...” Donald said.

“Perfect timing. Looks like we've got company!” Sora said. Several Shadow Heartless surrounded you and the trio. One spooked Donald. The four of you defeated the Heartless.

“Whew...” Sora said. Suddenly, the ground started to shake, which shocked you and the trio.

“A-hyuck?” Goofy asked.

“It's working! Monstro's gonna sneeze!” Jiminy said. Monstro started to sneeze. The four of you group was risen out of the throat and landed in Monstro's mouth.

“Oww... Now I know what getting shot out of a cannon feels like,” Sora said.

“Where's Pinocchio and his dad?” Goofy asked.

“They're gone. They must've gotten out safely,” Jiminy said.

“Without you, Jiminy? I thought there was no escaping your conscience!” you said.

“I don't mind being left behind, as long as they're both safe. Maybe Pinocchio doesn't need me after all.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“That little puppet used to have trouble telling right from wrong. But he's come a long way. Maybe he doesn't need Jiminy Cricket anymore. Seems like he's got a conscience of his very own.” 

“Don't you remember what Geppetto said? ‘There's nothing better than being reunited with someone you care about.’ I bet Pinocchio's counting the days till he can see you again,” Sora said. Jiminy jumped back onto Sora's shoulder.

“Well, what do you know... You might be right,” he said. Goofy and Donald nodded while you smiled in reassurance. You and the group then left Monstro. You, Sora, Donald, and Goofy entered the Fourth Floor Exit Hall.

“Who could that have been before in my memory?” Sora asked. 

‘It wasn't Kairi... But another...girl? Maybe... I think her name was...’ Sora thought.

“Sora!” Donald said. 

“Ah!” Sora said surprised.

“(Y/N)’s having another headache,” Goofy said. He saw you on the ground, clutching your head, and breathing heavily with your eyes tightly closed. 

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Sora asked as he knelt down to your height. You didn’t say anything but continued to breathe heavily. 

You were back where you saw Vanitas during your last headache and you ran up to him.

“Vani! What’s going on? Why am I getting these headaches? What are you not telling me?” you asked. 

“Follow me,” he said. You walked with Vanitas and you saw a silhouette of a boy on a chair.

“Is that you, Vani?” you asked.

“Not technically,” he said. You looked at him confused. 

“I was originally part of him when dad ripped me out with his keyblade. I’m back in him now but it’s only a matter of time before dad does it again.” 

“What should I do?” 

“I need you to use your powers to protect me and him.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“100%. It’s the only to protect me. I don’t want be part of his schemes.” 

“Okay.” You used your powers and placed a protection spell on Vanitas and the boy. 

“What’s his name?” you asked when you finished the spell.

“Ventus. Ven for short,” Vanitas said. 

“Will I ever get to meet him?” 

“Maybe. You never know.” He started to disappear and you gave him a hug before he went. 

“I love you, big brother,” you said. 

“I love you too, little sis,” he said. He disappeared and you returned back to the trio. 

“Are you okay?” Sora asked. You nodded and slowly stood up. 

“That was your second headache. Are you sure you’re okay?” Donald said. 

“I-I’m fine. I think this castle is messing with me,” you said. 

“If you say so,” Sora said. The four of you continued, you staying close to Sora so that you could keep your balance. Somewhere in the castle, the girl was still in the white room, drawing. She was drawing a picture in her sketchbook of you, Sora, Kairi, herself, and Riku holding hands. You, Sora, and the gang entered the Fifth Floor. Goofy and Donald nodded as the four of you walked toward the door.

“I remember!” Sora said. 

“Huh?” Donald and Goofy asked. 

“There was another girl!” 

“Really?! Me too!” you said. 

“What? A girl? Where?” Goofy asked.

“No, no, I mean on the islands where (Y/N) and I used to live. Besides (Y/N), Kairi and Riku, there was one other girl I was friends with. The five of us played together all the time,” Sora said. 

“I remember that too! She was really sweet!” you said. 

“Sora, (Y/N)...Seems to me that's the first time you've mentioned her,” Jiminy said. 

“Yeah...I guess we forgot all about her. I think...she just suddenly went away when we were still really little,” you said. 

“What do you think made you remember that now?” Donald asked. 

“I'm not sure. But it's been coming back in pieces as we go through the castle,” Sora said. 

“Gawrsh, do ya remember her name?” Goofy asked. 

“I don't remember. I feel kinda dumb. We said we weren't gonna forget our friends, and well now... I can't even remember her name,” Sora said. 

“Me neither,” you said. You and Sora put your head down, ashamed.

“Sora...(Y/N)...” Donald said. 

“Aww, you shouldn't be worryin', none! If it's been coming back to you in pieces... You're sure to remember her name just like everything else!” Goofy said. You and Sora nodded, still a bit worried. You and Sora held up the next card at the Fifth Floor world entrance, and entered to the next world.

To be continued...

[callsignbaphomet]

1. Abigail Thieves Guild - Nightingale

2. Trevor Dark Brotherhood - Listener

3. Ginger College of Winterhold - Arch Mage

4. Jelani Volkihar Clan - Advisor

5. Loke N/A - Healer

6. Latoya N/A - Ruin and Tomb explorer and expert

7. Angelus N/A - Master enchanter

Abby met Trevor when he came to The Ratway to find Delvin Mallory. She led him to Mallory and helped escort him safely out of The Ratway. They spoke along the way and she offered her services as a fence to him.

Ginger met Abby when she and Karliah were looking for Enthir. She was in the pub drinking away her exhaustion after the events that unfolded in the college with the Eye of Magnus. They caught each other's eye and after Abby became a Nightingale she faked needing the Arch Mage's assistance but it turned out Ginger was the Arch Mage. Both got to talking and both became very involved.

When some Thalmor came around looking for Ancano who was nowhere to be seen they posed a threat to the College but Ginger knew she couldn't start and out right fight with them so while she was venting to Abby she learned of her connection with the Dark Brotherhood. In comes Trevor after Abby asked for his help in eliminating the Thalmor digging into the College's business. Ginger met Trevor through Abigail and Trevor became the third wheel.

Latoya had found some rare Dwarven items but had zero idea of how to check if it was worth anything or not. She'd gone to Calcelmo but was quickly thrown out because she was "disturbing his work". So she did what any annoyed person would do: go get a drink at the inn. There she spoke to a man that said to take it to the College and see if they knew something about it. So with nothing better to do she went to the College. There she met Ginger who admitted that the one person that could've helped her just up and vanished one day but if she waited at the inn for a few days she could make an introduction that might help her.

After a few days Ginger introduced Latoya to Abigail who let her know of two people that might help her. Both rode back to Riften, along the way Abby learned that Latoya loved exploring old tombs and ruins and had made quite the name for herself and often took in jobs where she helped guide people through these. Once in Riften they showed the items to Vex who was unsure so they all went to Delvin and he said the items were extremely rare if a bit hard to move but knew of someone who would definitely want them. Latoya got paid and left happy. Calcelmo bought the damn things.

One of the professors in the college wanted to arrange an expedition to an old tomb but was unsure as there were a lot of tales of people entering said tomb and never coming back from it. During a conversation with Abby she told Ginger that the woman they'd met a bit ago was an expert in tombs and ruins and so Abby and Ginger contacted Latoya to arrange safe passage through the ruin. The expedition was a success and now Latoya was the 4th member of that group of friends.

During a forced transformation by the moons Trevor was out hunting when he caught the smell of another werewolf. Curious he stalked the source of the smell and found a Nord still in the middle of changing into a werewolf. Now alerted to Trevor’s presence the Nord and Trevor sniffed each other up to see if they were hostile to each other and in a kind of silent agreement both spent the night hunting together. At sunrise when they transformed back they introduced themselves and Trevor learned that the Nord, named Loke, was a healer by trade and lived in near Falkreathe with his younger brother. After that Trevor and Loke met under full moons to go hunting and formed a tight friendship.

One day Abigail, Ginger, Latoya and Trevor were hanging out in Riverwood and spent a few hours in the Sleeping Giant inn drinking and drinking and laughing and having a good time. They rented two rooms for the night but before going to sleep they decided to walk around and get some fresh air. They explored the area around Riverwood and heard some yelling a ways off. With the alcohol clouding their judgment they decided to take a look at what was making all that noise. They found a trio of Vigilants of Stendarr attacking someone. As a werewolf Trevor felt the need to help and the girls went after Trevor to help as well. The Vigilants were attacking a vampire and had almost killed him but Trevor and the girls managed to overpower them and killed them, however the vampire was gravely wounded. The injuries were too much for the novice level of healing spells some of them knew and no potion could help. Trevor then remembered Loke who was a healer and he knew he lived closed by as he’d stopped by to visit a few times. So the four of them grabbed the vampire and rode to Loke’s manor to see if he could help.

Loke was not only an alchemist but was one of the few healers in Skyrim that could heal and work with the undead so he gladly helped the vampire heal. Loke asked his younger brother, Jelani, to help the injured woman to one of the guest rooms. Trevor introduced Loke to Abigail, Ginger and Latoya and in turn Loke introduced Jelani to them all though he already knew Trevor. The group spent the night talking and catching up and getting to know each other better. Through Loke the group met Uthorim (@/thesleepypaladin’s wonderful Orc OC) who is Loke’s love interest. The group would frequent Uthorim’s inn and would share their tales of misadventures in Skyrim while tasting some of the best meads and wines they had ever tasted.

Jelani, at the time 14, spent a lot of time with the group and each would teach the teenager a few things from each of their trades while at the same time learning and perfecting his illusion and necromancy studies. At 16 he officially joined the group of mercenaries and at 17 while he and Trevor were returning to the manor they fell for a trap setup by a group of vampires. They escaped but Jelani had been bitten enough times to contract Sanguinare Vampiris and some time later turned into a vampire. At 18 he found himself mixed up with the Volkihar Clan where he’d been turned into a vampire lord. After the debacle came to its climax Jelani helped in defeating Harkon and became an advisor to Valerica.

On his way back home from assisting Valerica with a security matter Jelani was making his way around the back of Solitude where he spotted a group of bandits making their way back to a ship they called home. Having not fed in a few hours Jelani stalked them and once at the ship he attacked the small group of bandits and fed. As he made his way through the ship he sensed another person so he made his way to the lowest level of the ship and found crudely put together cage and an Altmer passed out on the floor. Jelani opened the cage and tried to wake the elf up but it was no use. Unsure of what was wrong with him he carried him out and placed him on his horse and rode back home where Loke took a look at him.

A few days later the elf awoke and demanded to be brought back to his home in Solitude despite still not being well. Loke tried to reason with him but the elf wouldn’t budge so Jelani escorted him back to Solitude where he learned they thought he’d been killed by the bandits and his manor had been emptied and sold in the few days he’d been gone. Now homeless and with nowhere else to go Jelani offered the elf one of the guest rooms in his manor. The elf was somewhat offended but yielded so they made their way back but stopping somewhere so the elf could retrieve the small fortune he’d come to Skyrim with and ended up living with Loke and Jelani. It was rough at first given Angelus’s spoiled attitude but he quickly fell in line. Through Loke and Jelani Angelus met the rest of the group and soon they learned he was a master at enchantments. Thriving off the praises which served to inflate his ego he happily enchanted anything they group brought him whether it was for personal use or to hike up the value of an item in order to fence. With the help of the group Angelus became a little efficient in combat though he avoided it as much as he could.