#she used to have giant bloody jaws that tried to kill me but since i found out who she is and stopped abandoning her she chilled out

[giantkillerjack]

maybe if you didn't ignore her, she wouldn't need to yell so much.

not to get all sad for no reason but something nobody tells you about growing up is that a part of you is just a little girl who is yelling ‘please like me please love me please tell me i am good’ at everyone you meet and most of your day is just trying to ignore her

[archerofthemists]

Phantom Pains

TW: Blood/severe injury/loss of limb/mentions of suicide

Sparring was a very common pastime at Evernight Castle. If they weren't out on an errand or mission given by Salem, then her followers may as well be keeping sharp in their skills. 

Watts preferred to work in his lab, designing weapons and other useful tools. 

Emerald and Mercury, being the youngest and seen only as Cinder's underlings usually only had one another to spar with. 

Althea, having only recently risen in the ranks, still trained with Tyrian, her former master and now partner. 

Hazel, with his size and strength, typically wouldn't fight against any of his "teammates". 

And then there were the Grimm. Salem kept various breeds of them penned up for the sole purpose of training, but only Hazel and Cinder ever liked to use them for practice. 

However, ever since Salem had promoted Althea to her inner circle, the archer had felt the need to prove she was worthy of keeping the position. She had killed plenty of Grimm in her life, she'd gone to Beacon Academy for the God's Sakes. Killing the Grimm in her village had given her a spot in the damn school to begin with, to give her a chance to become a real huntress. 

Although, ever since she'd fled the school and had been living on her own, isolated and answering to no one, she hadn't had as many opportunities to fight Grimm. She'd had to save her energy, because she never knew when she would eat next, so she just did her best to avoid the damn things completely. 

But now that she had a purpose in her life again, it was time to get her head back in the game. 

Tyrian kept her on her toes plenty when he was still her superior. Surprise attacks right and left, whether he leapt down from the rafters onto her or hid under her bed at night, the man had had her looking over her shoulder constantly. 

Hazel was a behemoth that Althea had to beg to get him to spar with her and she was pretty sure he was holding back when he finally would give in. 

Watts didn't really fight, at least not in a style that was compatible with Althea's, but when he needed to test out a new weapon she was happy to play guinea pig for him. 

Cinder saw herself as "above" the rest of them, being a Maiden and she didn't like sharing her "disciples". 

So Althea began using Grimm for practice. She realized how rusty she was against the creatures, but it was any skill; you never really forget it. She had forgotten just how good she was at it though. But damn it...she never knew when to quit.

Taking on two Beowolves was a little ballsy to do by yourself, but Althea wasn't exactly alone. Hazel and Tyrian had grown accustomed to watching her when she practiced killing Grimm, out of the way and behind the safety of the pillars that supported  a balcony.

Tyrian, because he enjoyed the show and he was a little proud of himself for finding such a treasure as Althea. 

Hazel, because God's, there wasn't anything else to do around the castle at the moment. And plus he couldn't deny, the woman had skill and watching her certainly wasn't boring. He glanced down at his scroll and frowned; her aura was getting far too low, and one Beowolf was still alive and kicking. 

"She needs to stop." He glanced at Tyrian who looked almost mesmerized by his former disciple. "Her aura is almost gone. One of us should step in and finish it."

Tyrian waved the larger man off, not taking his eyes off the archer as she easily dodged the Beowolf's large paw as it swiped at her. "If she can't handle it then she will ask us for our help. Don't insult her abilities, Hazel." 

But Hazel grumbled softly and reached for the dust crystals in his pockets. "You shouldn't overestimate her abilities either just because you've got a crush." 

Tyrian's eyes flashed purple for a moment and his tail twitched. He growled to himself as he watched Rainart stab a couple of crystals into his biceps. "You just hate seeing people enjoy themselves, don't you?" The faunus sighed. 

"No, just when it's you. You're not denying the crush either, I see." Hazel remarked. 

Tyrian locked the man with a seething glare that would have made the average person shrivel up inside, but Hazel just scoffed. "Good, cause no one would believe you if you did deny it." 

He turned and stabbed his arms with the lightning dust, wincing only slightly as it spread through veins. "Althea! You're done, I'm gonna help you!" 

"I've almost got this!" She yelled before firing an ice-dust tipped arrow into the Beowolf's back legs, freezing it in its place. With a running start she used the Beowolf's back as a springboard to leap high into the air above it. 

Her plan was to deliver the killing blow from above - a dagger right through the Grimms eye as she had spent her last arrow immobilizing it. She had just grabbed the hilt, began to twist in the air, when the Beowolf had reared up on its frozen back legs and its jaw came down on Althea, taking her right leg in its teeth before falling back down on all fours, slamming her against the floor with the full force of its body. Her aura broke in an emerald swirl and she went rolling across the chamber floor. 

Most of her that is.

The two huntsmen were frozen in shock for a moment, gold and hazel eyes locked on Althea's motionless and bloodied body. 

Hazel was the first to snap out of it, the gnashing of the Beowolfs teeth as it swallowed the limb it had just torn asunder. It had broken the ice around its back legs loose and was completely free as the giant of a man began to charge it head on. 

When Tyrian began moving towards his fallen partner he didn't even realize it. His legs felt numb and yet they were still carrying him over to her crumpled, discarded body. 

The blood was everywhere, splattered and smeared on the chamber floor in morbid patterns that the faunus usually found pleasure in. 

 

The next thing Tyrian realized, he was running down the halls of Evernight, the dead weight of Althea bleeding out in his arms didn't slow him down in the slightest. 

It didn't completely register in the scorpions brain that he was running to Watts's office until he was bursting through his door. It was just purely instinct. Automatic. Where else would he possibly ever go?

The Doctor was at his desk, bent over some new contraption he was working on like always. His head snapped up at the intrusion, annoyance written on his face until he fully registered the scene standing in his door.

Tyrian covered in blood, cradling Althea's pale form, showing no signs of life. Where her right leg had been, was nothing but a bloody stub. 

"Help." It was the only word that left Tyrian's trembling lips, raspy and desperate. 

"Get her on the table. NOW!" Watts was on his feet, stripping off his jacket and tie as he helped Tyrian carry Althea into the small adjoining room that had been converted into a meager OR. However Arthur hadn't dealt with such a serious trauma in a long time and he'd certainly had more equipment, more help. His mind was racing as he tried to mentally inventory what he had, what he could use to save Althea's life.

"What the fuck happened?" Arthur pulled on a pair of surgical gloves with a loud snap, his emerald eyes surveying the damage.

"She...she was fighting Beowolves and…"

"More than one?!"

"Her aura was low and we thought she could handle it…"

Arthur sighed harshly as he gathered gauze and began to try and stop the bleeding of Althea's remaining leg. "You promised you'd never scare me like this again!" 

Tyrian could do nothing but stand and watch, his whole body beginning to tremble as he watched. He couldn't hear Watts yelling at him over the ringing in his ears.

"Tyrian! Tyrain, God dammit I need an extra set of hands!" Watts felt guilty for a fleeting moment as he tossed the box of latex gloves at the faunus. They bounced off his bloody chest but it did the job in snapping him back to reality. 

It was bloody awful work getting Althea's leg to finally stop bleeding. Once Watts was satisfied with her vitals and felt she was stable, he moved her into the tiny recovery room. Hooked up to various machines that would start screaming if her pressure bottomed out. 

So he gently led Tyrain into the adjoining shower and turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. They were both covered in Althea's blood and Watts was tempted to just throw his clothes away, burn them maybe. He had plenty of other clothes.

Watts automatically began to help Tyrain out of his stained jumpsuit and harness, and the faunus didn't resist in the least. His body was still gently trembling and Watts hoped that this incident wouldn't scar him too deeply. He didn't know what Salem might do if her best weapon was permanently damaged like this.

In the back of Arthur's mind, he was already planning the schematics of a replacement leg for Althea and oh Gods...someone was going to have to inform Salem about what happened. How would she plan to punish Althea for this? Because she surely would.

"One thing at a time…"

He unbraided Tyrian's hair, finding more sticky dried blood in it as well. Steam was beginning to spill out of the shower so he gently helped Tyrian under the water before Arthur got undressed himself and joined him, knowing that Tyrian was in no state to bathe himself. 

For a good long moment the only sound was the hissing of the shower and Tyrian's occasional sniffle as he pulled himself back together and Watts scrubbed the blood out of his long hair.

"What did you mean earlier?" He finally asked, so softly that Arthur had to take a moment to be sure he had heard him correctly. 

"About what?"

"When you said that she had promised to never scare you like this again, what the fuck did you mean?" Tyrian turned around to face Arthur.

The Doctor was quiet for a long while, staring into Tyrian's golden, begging eyes. There was never any easy or kind way of saying it.

"A few months ago, Althea tried to kill herself." 

He watched his words take time to register completely on Tyrian's face. A choked off whimpering sound escaped his throat. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"She asked me not to. She didn't know what Salem might do to her if she found out. And now this…" Arthur sighed. "Gods why did she take on two Beowolves at once?" 

" She tried to kill herself…" Tyrian murmurs gently and Arthur could tell that he was on the verge of losing it all over again. 

So Arthur pulled him close against his chest and let him.

Everything was fuzzy. Her head, her vision, even her body felt fuzzy and disconnected. And her leg...God's her leg….

"Don't move too much." Arthur's voice. Althea felt his hand gently stroke her forehead and she tried to make her eyes focus on his face.

"What...hap'n…" 

"You had an...accident." Arthur sighed "Although that word doesn't seem appropriate for what happened...because it wasn't an accident was it?"

"I...I had it…" Her throat felt raw, everything ached except...why couldn't she feel her right leg?

"YOU DIDN'T HAVE ANYTHING." Arthur hadn't yelled at her like that in a long time. Althea was ashamed to admit that she flinched a little. 

"Arthur…" Tyrian's voice.

"You lost your leg, Althea!" She may have heard a quiver in his voice that time. She wasn't totally sure.

"Guess that explains why I can't feel it." Althea couldn't remember a lot about the incident. She'd been twisting in the air one moment and the next she was waking up here. She vaguely remembered Tyrian rushing her through the castle.

"You were careless, reckless and for what? You promised you would never do something like this again." Arthur's voice was a little steadier now as he sat on the edge of the hospital bed.

"I promised I wouldn't hurt myself again." Althea hissed as she hoisted herself up in the bed a little more, her vision clearing enough to see how upset her partners were. 

"And so you've gone and replaced it with reckless endangerment of yourself!" Arthur looked like he hadn't been sleeping. How long had she been unconscious? 

"It wasn't like that." Althea wiped the sleepy gunk from her eyes as she got her bearings.

Tyrian was curled in a small chair by her bed, wrapped in a comforter. He looked just as tired and drained as Arthur. God's, what had she done?

"I should have stepped in sooner." Tyrian sighed. "Hazel, the sentimental giant, warned me. We knew her aura was low and…"

"You just didn't know when to stop." Arthur sighs. "Or you were hoping to get hurt."

"I wasn't trying to get hurt! Damn it!" Althea looked down at the bandaged stubb that had been her right leg and she swallowed the lump building in her throat.

"Don't worry, I'm already designing you a new one." Arthur sighs.

"Don't. I don't deserve it." 

"Well you bloody well can't work for Salem on one leg, can you? And if you can't can't for Salem she'll kill you." Arthur stood up. "Although that's probably exactly what you want."

Althea watched him leave and she rested back in the hospital bed, keeping her tears at bay.

"I'm sorry." She finally murmurs to Tyrain. "I really didn't mean to…"

"I should have stopped you." Tyrian crawled out of the easy chair and up alongside her in the bed. "When your body got slammed into the ground I…" 

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry I…" yeah keeping the tears at bay wasn't working very well. 

No, Salem had not been happy but she hadn't been nearly as angry as Watts had expected her to be.

Thankfully Hazel had been the one to tell her for the very first time, right after he'd finished off the Beowolf. Although, who the hell knew? She could act so calm and collected before the storm finally hit.

Watts had nearly had a heart attack one night when he'd gone in to bring Althea some dinner and Salem was right there, sitting at the foot of her bed and talking with her. It was an odd sight to say the least: a tall, ancient and immortal being just sitting there in the tiny recovery room. So out of place and somehow so horrifying. 

Apparently Salem had wanted to see how Althea was doing with her own eyes and it hadn't looked like she'd gone had hurt the injured woman in any way.  Perhaps Salem would see the loss of leg as enough punishment and leave it at that.

Tyrian hadn't left Althea's side once, getting her what she needed and Althea had started reading to him a lot to pass the time. Thankfully Salem hadn't sent him away on any missions. Arthur wasn't sure if the faunus would have been able to concentrate if she had.

Recovery was not going to be easy. Arthur had drawn the perfect schematics for a new leg and he had been coming and going from Evernight to trade for some of the parts he would need. 

Althea's phantom pains had started and were becoming almost unbearable. A mirror method had helped, but Arthur hoped that a new leg would do more good. Althea's balance on crutches was horrendous, and her ability to actually walk could be therapeutic in and of itself. 

Finally when he was satisfied with his work on the prosthetic, he showed it to her. Shiney and silver with green accents along the joints and toes and a small "W" engraved on the upper thigh. Watts always left his signature on what he created in one way or another. 

"The good doctor does such wonderful work doesn't he?" Tyrian mused as he looked the new limb over, his own shiney tail clicking behind him. 

Arthur smirked softly, he certainly didn't mind having his ego stroked. 

"I would have had this done sooner if you hadn't lost the leg above the joint." Watts sighs.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time." Althea chuckles dryly. 

"There won't be a next time." Watts says firmly as he prepped the stubb of her leg. "Right?"

Althea smirked down at him and nodded gently. 

"Don't you dare ever scare us like this again. I mean it." 

[themidnight-ghost]

I should tell you

“Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, are you dating Joanne Davidson?”

“Boss, I honestly don’t see an issue...” Kate trailed off as Ted massaged his temples.

“You don’t see an issue? She swears at her superiors, has affairs with her staff, shot an officer twice in the chest, set up a plot to kill you and replied with ‘no comment’ to almost every bloody question.”

The euphoria Kate Fleming felt around Joanne Davidson was extravagant. Even now, when they lie in bed together trying to come down from their high, Kate still felt energised. The DI rolled over to face her girlfriend, with the bedsheets pulled up to her neck and subtly smiled.

Kate ran her left hand through Jo’s hair and cupped her cheek with the other, “Morning, boss.”

Jo opened her eyes and grinned when she met Kate’s, “You don’t have to keep calling me that.”

“I want to,” Kate replied honestly.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” Jo simply said as she moved forward to kiss her girlfriend tenderly. No one would have expected that Kate Fleming and Jo Davidson would become a thing. Especially after Jo’s arrest. Heck, they didn’t even know if Jo would survive prison! Jo paused their kiss, and Kate looked unexpectedly at the DI, “You should probably tell Steve and Ted.”

The moment was ruined.

Kate tensed as she sat up, pulling the duvet with her and laughing when she pulled too hard, so Jo was left bare, “What?”

“I said-'' Davidson smirked as she deliberately rolled onto Kate’s chest, making her blush, “You should tell Steve and Ted. You may not be related, but they’re your friends.”

“What if I don’t want to tell Steve?” Kate challenged with a whisper, not looking away from Jo's eyes.

“You can look at my tits, Kate. I don't mind.”

“JO!” Kate profusely blushed and shoved her ex-boss to the side,

Jo snickered and leant back into the DI for a cuddle, “It isn’t like you haven’t seen them before.”

“But seriously,” Kate hummed when she went back to being serious, “Steve will support it; I know he will. But Ted? I don’t want to tell. He might not like it.”

“But he threw confetti at that proposing gay couple?”

“That’s different. Not only am I his colleague, but I’m also dating a woman who committed multiple offences to the law and it’ll be awkward, especially in a work setting.”

“Yeah, I still feel a little guilty for that,” Jo confessed.

“You shouldn’t. It was shitty, but you did it because Pilkinton had a gun to your head and somehow made things right, but,” Kate hesitated and wrapped an arm around Jo’s torso, “that still doesn’t change what happened.”

“Steve’s your best friend, and from what I can tell, you’ve known Ted for a good while.” Jo gently kissed Kate’s jaw before shuffling away, allowing the DI to go downstairs.

“I might.” Kate smiled as she grabbed her underwear and a towel from the floor, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kate.”

Both women had been dating for a significant amount of time. Their story started when Jo broke up with Farida, and the two started getting close. After that, there had been a series of unofficial dates, secret glances, handholding, confessions and a memorable car getaway. Kate was embarrassed that it took her so long to come to terms with her feelings.

The night when Kate shot Pilkinton was definitely memorable but for all the wrong reasons. Kate couldn’t care less that she’d shot an officer; the only thing she cared about was saving Jo and getting them far away from town. She was looking forward to a life of peace without bent coppers lurking around corners and getting married to the woman she loved. That being said, Kate didn’t confess her love until Jo was in prison.

Finally arriving at work, Kate scanned her ID and headed straight for Ted’s office.

“Morning, Kate.” Hastings didn’t look up from his computer.

Tapping her on the shoulder, Steve approached with two cups of coffee from behind, “The Gaffer thinks he’s found something worth looking at.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, “Oh yeah? What’s it relating to?”

“Our friend, Jo Davidson.”

Kate’s heart dropped to the floor. Was it bad? Who was she kidding? Of course, it was going to be bad.

“I don’t want to make any sudden moves,” Ted admired his coffee, “Let’s just wait it out.”

Steve knew that Kate had some sort of soft spot for Jo. He didn’t know the details of their relationship but was aware they were close,

“Has she mentioned anything to you since she was released?”

Kate shook her head.

“Strange.” Hastings began, “I was quite hoping we’d seen the last of her. The poor girl’s been through enough as it is.”

Kate picked her fingernails, and her stomach churned over, “Can I confess something?”

“Of course…” Hastings folded his arms and leaned across the desk, gesturing for Kate to take a seat.

“Do you want me out?” DI Arnott hesitated.

“It’s alright, Steve. I need to tell both of you anyway.”

“I’ve been seeing someone,” A beat, “romantically.”

The confession slipped out, and jumping the first hurdle was surprisingly easy, but unfortunately, it wasn’t as straightforward as that.

The Gaffer corrected his posture, and Steve cocked his head, “Oh? For how long?”

“About 4 months.”

Steve looked slightly hurt, “And you never told me?”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” Kate replied sheepishly.

Steve and Ted weren’t blood-related, but Kate still viewed them as her family. One of Kate’s strongest memories was when Steve slept on her sofa bed every night after her husband left.

“What’s his name?”

Another hurdle appeared that Kate had to somehow jump over - the gay hurdle. Until she met Jo, Kate never imagined herself to be bisexual. The haircut had always been misleading until now.

“He’s a she.” Kate wouldn’t say she was scared of her boss, but she certainly valued his approval and Catholic beliefs.

Ted paused to think this over before leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes, and smiling. The smile grew, and a flower of hope blossomed in the DI’s chest. Steve was grinning at both reactions and patted Kate reassuringly on the shoulder.

“I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to tell us,” Steve spoke for them.

“Does this mean you’re okay with this?” Kate didn’t know why she needed an answer, but she would feel even better with confirmation.

“It’s your life, of course, we are! Now, who is she?”

“Okay, okay”, Kate could burst with excitement! Even though they didn’t know it was Jo, Kate could still describe her lover in perfect detail. “She has short, dark brown hair, which has a subtle wave at the end. She is pretty pale, so in the sun, her freckles come out, but you won’t see them unless you’re super close! Her cheeks are always red because she is somehow always blushing!” Kate continued to gush, “Her eyes are brown, and her favourite colour is blue! She was also a police officer-”

“You told them yet?” Jo Davidson leaned in the doorway with a giant grin plastered on her face, “or are you just going to keep describing my facial features?”

Silence.

Jo stopped as she realised what she’d said.

Kate looked between Jo, Steve and Ted. She loved her ex-boss, but she really needs to learn to read a situation.

Steve and Ted simultaneously looked between Kate and Jo. Their brains slowly put the puzzle together in an organised fashion. The hair, the skin, the blush, the eyes and finally, the favourite colour.

The history hurdle.

The grinding of Ted’s chair against the floor wasn’t enough to pierce the tension between the group. Kate ushered her girlfriend into the office, closing the door, taking her hand and cautiously walking over to Steve and Ted.

“Jo, this is Steve. Steve, this is Jo.” Kate introduced them, and Jo waved shily. “Jo, this is Ted, Ted this is-”

“I know who Jo Davidson is.” Ted’s voice was a deadly monotone. “How did you even get in?”

“I walked through the door.” The awkwardness had obviously got to the former SIO, who proceeded to bite her lip as she glanced around the room, eyeing the wall with great curiosity.

“Davidson.” Jo’s head snapped back to the situation as Hastings addressed her. “Are you dating one of my officers?”

“Well-” Jo didn’t know what to say, and thankfully, Ted didn’t want to hear it.

“Katherine Laura Fleming.” Kate flinched at the use of her full name.

“Your middle name is Laura?” Jo tentatively asked before Ted shut her off. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, are you dating Joanne Davidson?”

“Boss, I honestly don’t see an issue...” Kate trailed off as the Gaffer rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“You don’t see an issue?” Ted tried hard to keep his composure, “She swears at her superiors, has affairs with her staff, shot an officer twice in the chest, set up a plot to kill you and replied with ‘no comment’ to almost every bloody question.”

“She also commanded multiple armed officers, is super observant, tactically agile, Scottish and be honest: we all know I was the one who shot Ryan Pilkinton.”

Steve sniggered. “I just can’t believe you both.”

“After everything, she's done? I don’t know if I should be impressed or appalled.” Ted corrected.

“You’re not mad?” Kate pushed,

“I'm not mad, but I’m seriously debating whether I should fire you for stupidity. You said it’s been going on for 2 or 3 months, but when did it even start?”

“Jo and I have been shagging on the sly for months.” Jo snickered at Kate’s comment, “But for me, it started in the getaway car and when Jo went to prison. I always felt different about her, but it only hit me when I thought I’d lose her for good.”

Kate’s sentence pulled on Jo’s heartstrings as she remembered the recent events. Throughout her short time in prison and working on Operation Lighthouse, Kate had been her friend and colleague. She cared for Jo more than anyone else in her life and Kate was the only person to make an effort and ask about her day. Overwhelmed, the smaller woman buried her head in Kate’s shoulder, forgetting all about the angry Ted Hastings. Kate kissed Jo’s forehead and smiled fondly down at her.

Both Steve and Ted thought they knew exactly how Jo Davidson worked, especially after interviewing Farida they pictured her as a manipulative, self-centred psychopath. The recent interview didn’t exactly change their opinions either. But this was different. It wasn’t normal for anyone to see Jo vulnerable, but it looked easy when she was with Kate. Jo relaxed, her shoulders dropped, breathing steady, eyes shut with a gentle smile. And in the years Steve had known Kate, he had never seen her blush as much as she did now or look at someone with so much compassion and… love?

“Just so you know, we don’t care that you’re gay, mate. And we shouldn’t care who you date either. I think it was just a shock for Hastings here.” Steve patted his boss on the back.

“It was a shock to me too.” Jo finally addressed the room, “I thought I was done. Mentally, physically and romantically.”

“I should apologise for my words,” Ted replied sheepishly, “I have nothing against anyone, but as you can tell, I’m still a little prickly.”

Jo awkwardly picked down the skin on her fingers, “I don’t blame you, sir.” It was still a little awkward between the trio, and Ted was determined to settle things, “I didn’t get a chance to mention it, but I’m impressed with your knowledge of the law, especially in that interview.”

Kate proudly squeezed Jo’s arm, “Thank you.”

“Unfortunately,” Ted continued, “I can’t let you back on the force-”

“Oh, don’t worry about that: I’m done with police work altogether.” Jo looked fondly at Kate, “I just want to focus on my life and what I have left.”

“Wise words.” Steve nodded, “Can I get anyone another coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Same here.”

Steve headed towards the door, gesturing Kate to follow.

“Is it wise to leave them there alone?” Kate jogged after her colleague.

Steve grinned, “Let them talk about rules for a while; I’d rather know all about this new development!” he playfully nudged Kate’s arm and jumped for joy when they were at the coffee machine and out of sight.

“You gonna calm down now?” Kate chucked before looking serious, “By the way, what did you find out about Jo? Should I be worried?”

“Go no! There was a small break in around your apartment. We checked the security cameras and noticed Jo Davidson walking past and holding hands with…” Steve dragged out the answer before pointing to DI Fleming, “you.” Kate turned pale as Steve continued, “I had my suspicions, and we intended to mention it today, see if we could get a reaction. Guess I didn’t even have to try, mate.”

☁️ First ever Flemson fic, fist time watching Line of Duty - that ending was NOT IT (expect a 4000 word alternate ending fic soon) if you read this, thank you x ☁️

[razieltwelve]

Leap (Final Rose)

“You do realise that you should probably have grabbed a parachute before jumping out of the transport.”

Yang smirked at Averia. “I figured I’d let you handle the landing.”

The pink-haired girl sighed. “Really?”

Yang did her best impression of Fang’s smirk. “Saviour bullshit, go!”

“...” Averia scowled. “I should let you hit the ground.”

“As if you would.” Yang grinned. “You like me too much.” She shifted in the air and extended her arms toward Averia. “So... help a girl out?”

Averia’s eye twitched. “You’re lucky that Ruby would be sad if you died.” She wrapped her arms around Yang. “I’ll handle the landing. I don’t feel like flying.”

“Aww...”

X     X     X

The team from Beacon Junior Academy was not having a fun day. A relatively easy weeding mission that should have involved fighting only the weakest of Grimm had rapidly gone to absolute hell. Now, they were holed up in a settlement with a horde of angry Grimm outside. They’d called in for reinforcements, but they’d been told that there weren’t any qualified hunter teams in their immediate vicinity. Instead, they’d be getting two students from the Senior Academy to help them out.

Just two? They knew the people at the Senior Academy were good, but there were a lot of Grimm out there.

And then two people just fell out of the sky.

One of them landed in incredibly cool fashion while carrying the other bridal style. Straightening, the pink-haired girl set the blonde on her feet.

“Heh.” The blonde smirked. “Nothing like hitting the ground at full speed and coming off with nothing more than a scratch.”

“Try not to make a habit of it unless I’m around,” the other girl replied. She glanced toward the Junior Academy students, green eyes taking their measure in an instant. “You must be the students. Report.”

There was something distinctly professor-like in her tone of the voice, and the leader of the students, Rouge snapped to attention. “Multiple Grimm outside the settlement walls, ma’am. We’re estimating at least a hundred with at least one A tier amongst them and multiple B tiers.”

“I see.” The pink-haired girl was wearing a suit, of all things, but she wore it so naturally that Rouge couldn’t help but admire the cut and style of the garment. “And your team?”

“We’re running on empty, ma’am.” It felt odd yet fitting to address the older student as ma’am. “But we can still fight.”

“I see.” The other girl nodded. “I want you and your team to take up defensive positions on the wall. Yang and I will go over the wall. Kill any that get past us.”

“You’re just going to go over the wall?” Rouge asked.

“Yes. We could fight a defensive battle, but going over the wall and killing them all is the simplest way to deal with the problem.”

“Relax, kiddo,” Yang added. “I know we’re students at the Senior Academy, but you’re looking at two of the best. Pinky over there is number one in our year.”

It was then that Rouge put the pieces together. Pink hair, number one ranking, and the ability to fall out of the sky and not die? That had to be Averia Yun-Farron. And Yang? That had to be Yang Xiao Long. Her teammates must have drawn the same conclusions because they were all staring in a combination of shock and admiration. The number one and number five from the Third Year of the Senior Academy were both here? Awesome.

“Right!” Rouge cried. “We’ll get any that you miss!”

X     X     X

If there was one thing that Yang enjoyed, it was punching Grimm. Of course, she also enjoyed kicking Grimm, stomping on Grimm, pulverising Grimm, and, well, anything that involved killing Grimm was pretty good in her book. 

A Beowolf leapt at her, and she ducked under its claws before caving its chest in with a punch. She allowed an older Beowolf to land a strike, so her Semblance could absorb the damage. With her increased strength, she turned the older Beowolf into a bloody smear before shattering the armoured plates of an Elder Beowolf with her gauntlets and then pulverising its torso with a right cross. A kick hurled another Beowolf back, its head ripped almost clean off, before a hammer fist crushed the skull of yet another opponent.

Showing off was one thing, but the best way to deal with this many Grimm was to just get things done the simple way. Small fry like these could only win by overwhelming her, so as long as she dealt with them quickly and efficiently, they weren’t really all that dangerous.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Averia doing her best impression of a killer robot. It was almost comical watching the other girl just decapitate anything that came within reach. One head was joined by another and another and another until they were just piling up on the ground.

“Someone’s feeling lazy,” Yang shouted as she jumped over a Grimm and then smashed its spine to pieces as it skidded past her.

“Efficient is the word you’re looking for.” Averia calmly decapitated another Grimm and then turned to kick the head at an oncoming opponent. As it staggered, she removed its head as well. “And you should be happy I’m not just killing them all myself.”

“How kind of you.” Yang was well aware that Averia could have simply killed all of the Grimm the instant they arrived, but this was a chance to get some practice in, as well as a good learning opportunity for the younger students observing them. Too many of the youngsters got into trouble by trying to be too flashy against the Grimm. Her dad had always told her to keep the flashy stuff confined to sparring. Against Grimm it was always best to keep it simple and efficient. The only safe Grimm was a dead Grimm.

Averia glanced ahead. The B tier Grimm had all been slain. The only real threat remaining was the A Tier alpha elder Beowolf. “Do you want to deal with that one?”

Yang took a moment to size the alpha up. It was at least twice as large as the elder Beowolves who had been twice as large as the normal ones. And it was A tier as well. Hmmm... “Sure. I’ll get it.”

As the alpha bellowed and charged, Yang rushed forward to meet it. They met in a storm of blows. It was fast, far faster than anything its size should be. It was smart too, using its superior reach to keep her at bay while only ever exposing the most heavily armoured parts of its body. Moreover, it had clearly been watching her fight since it was firing the occasional bony spike at her to keep her from closing the distance.

Yang, though, wasn't the same fighter she’d been when she first entered Beacon Senior Academy. She was in her third year now, only a year and a half away from graduating. She’d learned more than she ever thought possible, and her skills and power had grown in leaps and bounds. Two years ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed of fighting a foe like this alone. Now? This thing was already dead. It just didn’t know it yet.

She waited for the alpha to shoot another spike before she slapped the projectile out of the air. The sudden shock was absorbed by her Semblance, and she waited for the spike to fall back toward her before punching it and firing her gauntlet at the same time.

The spike rocketed back toward the alpha, and the Grimm barely managed to dodge. Yang used that split-second to close the gap. She ducked under the Grimm’s claws and then heaved an uppercut into its belly. The blow wasn’t enough to do any real damage, but there was enough force in it to knock the Grimm off balance. That was all Yang needed.

She lunged forward and drove one fist into the Grimm’s right leg. Her Aura surged and her Semblance flexed. The blow shattered the Grimm’s leg, and it toppled onto its side. Yang spun away from the Grimm’s retaliatory strike and leapt up onto its chest. She slammed two punches into the armoured plates that covered its chest, and the sharp, angry retort of her gauntlets was accompanied by the crack of breaking bone. 

The Grimm bucked and tried to throw her off, but Yang jumped into the air. Her Aura swirled around her, a golden mantle of power, and she landed fist first on the Grimm’s exposed chest. The shockwave of the blow cratered the ground beneath the Grimm and shook the area. Enhanced by her Aura, the shotgun slugs from her gauntlets turned the Grimm’s back into one giant exit wound.

The monster groaned, and Yang darted off its chest and grabbed it by the jaw. Bigger Grimm like this could often keep fighting despite taking wounds that would have killed lesser Grimm several times over. She punched it square in the jaw, and half its skull evaporated from the attack. She hit it one more time just to be sure and then flipped clear of its collapsing body.

“Heh.” Yang smirked. “That has to be at least a nine out of ten, right?”

“Hardly.” Averia grinned. “You could have killed it at least three seconds faster if you’d severed its head instead of punching it in the jaw.”

“Spoilsport.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Just Yang and Averia doing what they do best. As third years, they do get the occasional solo or pair mission, which is what they were doing when the call came in. It’s also not unusual for a bit of mix and matching between teams to occur if a mission calls for it.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[brutal-nemesis]

Ice Day 2021: Cool-stys

Hoo boy my fingers are cold. Happy Ice Day! I hope y’all are staying chilly, and here’s to more pain! And as for this one...it’s a lot of pain (⊙ˍ⊙)

Oh also because I don’t have a place for this information but I feel like you should know before you read so when it comes up you get what I mean: I imagine a Quibhassian accent sounds quite similar to an Icelandic one.

Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: self-amputation, suicide for convenience (immortal), self-harm to escape danger, stabbing, body horror, implied suffocation

Why was Castys somehow always in the wrong place at the wrong time? Seriously, he had the worst luck. Unless you counted accidentally witnessing a murder as lucky. Well, maybe it was lucky for the person getting murdered because then they could get justice or whatever. Except Castys didn’t really care about justice and never reported that sort of thing to the authorities. So, in conclusion, Castys witnessing your murder was unlucky for you and for him. Unlucky for you because he wasn’t going to tattle on the murderer, and unlucky for him because he was currently being chased through a forest by some murderer lady.

He was never a fan of running, and certainly not running through the snow while all bundled up because it was cold but running makes you hot so there’s no temperature happiness there. He was debating just giving up and trying to reason with the lady when he tripped over some hidden mystery object and landed face first in the snow, making that decision for him. A boot kicked his shoulder and turned him over before planting itself firmly on his chest. The woman attached to it was glaring down at him, holding a large icy spear-type-thing to his neck, which would be threatening if he could actually die. Well, maybe he could talk his way out before she decided to hurt him. Because he’d rather she didn’t.

“I would just like to inform you: I really don’t care about what I saw back there. I kill people all the time; it happens. So, if you’ll just let me go on my merry way, I promise not to tell anyone about the whole, uh, murder thing. We good?” He flashed her his most convincing smile, but all she did was narrow her eyes.

“I don’t know if I can trust the word of a man like you.” She had a strong Quibhassian accent, which wasn’t surprising as they were in fact in the frozen wastes of Quibhass. 

“A man like-wha-we just met?! You don’t even know me! You’d be totally justified in your whatever criticisms after, like, talking to me for more than five minutes, but it hasn’t been that long.”

“You give the impression of a wiry little mustela, saying anything to save your own skin.” She jabbed the sharp end of her giant icicle into his neck. Well, into his scarf. Still threat-y, though.

“I-I don’t even know what that is. Look,” he finally held up his hands, which he probably should have done initially, but he found it incredibly hard not to wave them around when he talked, “is there any way I can convince you not to stab me in the throat? Because if so I’d love to hear it.” Not that he was afraid she’d kill him, being that he couldn’t die, but if she did that, she’d find out that he was immortal, which...well, people didn’t typically react well to that information. Something about him being immortal made people really want to tie him up and hurt him, which was not a pastime he enjoyed. The woman seemed to think for a moment before setting her jaw and raising her spear. 

“No. Goodbye, little mustela.” Castys opened his mouth to protest, he didn’t want to get blood all over his clothes, but the sudden agony and the usual blackness told him it was too late.

When he came back to life, he was displeased to find that she had not just left his corpse lying in the snow. No, she had to be dragging him to wherever by the ankle. Great, he’d have to play dead and pray she didn’t notice that he was very much not dead. He supposed he could just wiggle free and rely on the element of surprise to give him a head start, but it hadn’t exactly gone well the last time she chased him. Better to just wait and hope that she didn’t set him on fire. No, she wouldn’t, because ice wizards don’t set people on fire. They set them on...cold. Holy shit where was she dragging him this was taking forever and he was starting to have incredibly stupid thoughts.

By the time she’d stopped dragging him, Castys’s thoughts had wandered into dangerous territory. Not in a “thinking about Bad things” way, but in a “thinking about funny things” way. Specifically that one time Eris got so excited about fried bread that she hit her head on the ceiling. He tried to keep quiet, he really tried. But before he knew it he was laughing uncontrollably, betrayed by the ridiculously low ceilings at that one tavern all those years ago. Why the hell did that have to be so funny? Hopefully she couldn’t hear him, didn’t see his allegedly dead body shaking with restrained chuckles. 

The very cold spear now stabbed into his stomach told him otherwise. 

His eyes snapped open, and once again, she was standing over him. She ripped the bloodied scarf from his neck and examined his neck that now had no hole in it. “Killing me again will accomplish nothing,” Castys said tiredly. “So if you would please-” he had to pause to cough up blood, “accept the fact that I cannot in fact be silenced and permit to run off into the woods, I would appreciate it.” The woman responded by shoving his scarf into his mouth.

“It seems you can be silenced, tricky little mustela.” Castys reached up to pull the bloodied scarf out of his mouth, but a muttered spell from the woman caused shackles of ice to appear on his wrists. She grabbed the chain now connecting his wrists and pulled it up, preventing him from removing the gag. “Any vermin that cannot be killed must be kept. It is the only way.” She snapped the shaft of the spear, leaving the frozen head embedded in his stomach, and began to drag him by the chain between his wrists into the nearby cabin. Castys was marginally grateful that he was at least being brought inside, but that gratefulness disappeared when she flung him down a flight of stairs. 

He was too dazed to resist as the woman started slicing through his coat, reducing almost all of his layers to shreds, which was incredibly rude of her. He’d really liked that coat, and now he had nothing to protect him from her frigid basement. “The cold will keep you trapped in here. Do some of my work for me,” the woman muttered, but Castys hardly heard her over the pounding in his head. And by the time said pounding went away, all he could hear was the door slamming shut and the click of a lock.

Laying on the cold stone floor, Castys yanked his scarf out his mouth and sighed. This was, without a doubt, the worst case scenario. Well, at least his mouth being stuffed full of bloody wool had prevented him from biting his tongue on the way down the stairs, so there was that. Worst case scenario minus tongue pain, but plus everything else pain. But hey, what are magic death rocks for? With frozen fingers, he pulled the pouch around his neck out from under his shirt. He wormed a finger into the pouch, sinking into the sweet release of death at the rock’s touch.

Sadly, dying couldn’t fix all of his problems. He was incredibly cold, for one, and healing himself wasn’t going to fix his coat or get those shackles of his wrists. And he was so, so cold, almost like it was coming from inside him...oh god he was a complete idiot. One of his injuries had been from that icy spear. The broken off point had still been lodged in his abdomen when he died.

And now it was stuck inside him. Fan. Tas. Tic.

Well, unless he was willing to slice himself open and dig it out, which he really wasn’t, that was going to be there for a while. Hopefully it would melt. Stowing away that problem for Later Castys, he sat up and looked around the room, eyes straining to see in the dark. There were shelves along two of the walls, lined with jars containing liquid full of...things. He hoped it was preserved food and not, like, human fingers or something, but it was too dark to tell. Of course, he’d had a lightstone in his pocket before all this happened, but his captor had taken his things while he was dead. Which was honestly fair, he would have done the same. But since he hadn’t actually died, it was rather inconvenient. 

Against the back wall, he found what felt like a table, littered with various tools and-holy shit was that an axe? Further examination proved that yes, that lady had been stupid enough to lock him down here with an axe. He considered breaking down the door right away, but if there was going to be a fight up there, he’d prefer not to have his hands chained together. Trying to break a chain with an axe in the dark wasn’t exactly the safest thing he’d ever done, but it’s not like he could cause any damage to himself that dying wouldn’t fix. He pulled the pouch off of his neck and shook the stone out onto the table, ready for if things went south.

He put the chain of ice against the axe blade and twisted, pulling it taut. Faint crackling noises told him it was working and after a few more moments, the chain snapped under the pressure. He stretched, glad to have his arms free again. Well, they weren’t completely free as those stupid ice shackles were still encircling his wrists. Honestly, he would have preferred metal ones, even if that meant he wouldn’t have been able to break the chain, because, shockingly, these ice ones were incredibly cold. They’d pressed themselves into his bare skin after he’d been relieved of his coat, and their chill felt like it was encasing his arms in ice. He rubbed his hands on his arms, trying to warm them, but the shackles seemed to cover more of his arms than he remembered, almost as if-

The shackles were growing. A layer of ice was creeping out over his skin from where the edges of the shackles used to be. He watched, transfixed in horror for a moment. 

And then panic set in.

He frantically scratched at it to no avail, the ice was starting to cover his hands, he didn’t have any time, and when he remembered the axe, he knew what he had to do. Do I really have to? Trembling fingers wrapped around the axe’s handle as he laid his right arm on the table. I’ve felt this pain before but I’ve never had to do it to myself and I’m not sure if I can- He raised the axe, feeling the ice spread around his fingers, locking them in place. Okay okay I can do this I don’t have time to hesitate I need to stop the ice before it’s too late just do it come on do it do it DO IT-

He did it. The axe buried itself in his arm, right above the elbow. No, no it didn’t go all the way through, he’d need to do it again. Fighting to keep his screams locked behind his teeth, he wrenched the axe out from the notch it had made in his bone and swung it again. This time, it chopped most of the way through with a sickening crack. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he had to get through that last bit of flesh, had to make sure it was completely severed, and then he could die. The axe sliced through the bits of muscle and skin still attaching his arm, and he dove for his rock, pressing what was left of his arm into it.

There was no time to rest after he woke up, because holy balls he was going to have to do that again. Looking at his left arm, he was going to have to cut it off closer to the shoulder at the rate the ice was going. He tried to open his left hand to let go of the axe, but it had completely frozen over, his fingers stuck gripping the handle. Fuck, he didn’t have time for this, the ice was almost to his shoulder and then it would be too late, too late. He wedged the end of the handle under the edge of the table and pulled down with his right hand, hoping he could pry his left hand open. He felt a bolt of elation as he heard the ice start to crack, and pushed down even harder.

The ice, and the fingers within it, cracked and shattered. Castys stilled, his gaze fixed in horror at the jagged stumps where his fingers had been just moments ago. His mind was screaming at him to move, to amputate his other arm before the ice encased it completely, but the fact that his fucking fingers had just snapped off was still setting in. It was only a moment of stillness, a moment of disbelief, but it was a moment too long. 

The axe clattered to the floor. Fingers scratched desperately at the ice now encasing his shoulder, spreading across his chest, creeping up his neck. But it was useless, useless, the ice wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t go away, it was so cold, part of him just wanted to lie down and sleep, succumb to the inevitable frozen cocoon, but part of him was too terrified of the ice growing over his skin, sucking all the heat from his body it was up to his face now was he even going to be able to breathe it’s so cold GET OFF MY EYE GET OUT OF MY MOUTH STOP IT STOP IT PLEASE PLEA-

And then there was silence. There was stillness. And there was cold.

Castys Cult:  @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @poppys-whumping​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch

[futurewriter2000]

Worth the Wait

A/N: This is the longest fic I ever wrote. It took me good three days but I finished it. I would have done it sooner but school. Like oh my God. I’m proud I could pull this off. Hope you like it. Feedback is always welcomed. Tell me if I did it good cuz it’s too long to make go through it again after writing it for so long. I hope I did good. Also I threw a bit of Fred x reader in there. Just to spice it up a bit. 

REQUEST:Hey can you do a fic where the reader is elder sister potter She's best friends with Cedric diggory since the first time they met on the train during first year She confesses it to Cedric during Goblet of fire, they are a couple And then when he dies she's screaming and heartbroken Time skip to the battle she dies saving Harry who is crying because she was his only family left Then Hermione says during the reader's dying breath "it's okay you can close your eyes and be happy with Ced" Thanx...

XX

Sometimes it was not easy being your younger brother’s older sister. All he ever did was get into trouble and you couldn’t even figure it out how. How could that boy get into so much trouble without even knowing it?

Then again, he was your father’s son and you could say that it ran in the family because you yourself weren’t the saint of the family. 

You however had a best friend who always got you into more trouble than you ever did him. The two of you met on a train, first day, and he was the sweetest boy you have ever met. He kept talking like he has lived 50 years not 11. He laughed so the whole train could hear him and he had one of the most wonderful laughs, The one you just fell in love with immediately. Since the first day, you knew he was going to be in your life. He was there when nobody else was. He was there when you were at your worst and unlike your previous “friends”, he didn’t leave. He stayed and he kept promising you that he will always and forever be there for you and your little brother. 

Little did he know that your little brother was one of the unluckiest little boys, who ever walked the Hogwarts ground. Harry was a confused little boy since he was little but he had a temper that nobody could control. He was funny, sarcastic, definetly taking most of the traits after his father but if he has anything else besides your mother’s eyes, it’s definetly her heart. 

The worry you held was always for your little brother. Always what kind of new trouble will he get into with his two friends but never have you thought that another person could worry you just as much as Harry could. 

“You can’t!” you shouted at Cedric. “It’s not safe!”

“It’s not like I’ll be fighting a dragon, (y/n)!” Cedric groaned, getting up, hugging you from behind and swinging you left an right. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me.” he kept cooing, knowing how much you hated when somebody talked ot you like you were a child. 

With him it was different. When he hugged you, it was like a warm cloud taking you into the sky and letting you float under the sun. You loved his embraces, you loved him since Third year. 

“Are you mad?” he continued to coo, causing a smile arrupt on your lips and making his laugh. He stepped back, pulling you with him until he tripped and fell on the bed with him. “Because I won’t let you go until you stop being mad at me.” 

“I’m not mad, Ced.” you sighed, moving away from his grip and laying beside him. You played with your thumbs and with a deep breath, you told him your worries. “I just don’t want to risk losing you. I’m risking it every year with Harry and I just don’t want to...with you.” 

He smiled in disbelief, pulling himself up on his elbow. “That’s what you’re worried about? Me entering a contest and not even being picked. We’ve done worse things that this contest- remember the giant squid back in Second year?”

You smiled, remeniscing that day perfectly. “Yeah.”

“Did we die?”

“Almost.”

“But did we die?”

“No, Cedric. We did not die.” you answered clearly.

“That’s because we are bloody tough and amazing. If we didn’t die that day with the squid, then we won’t die in this contest....if I get picked of course, which I definetly will because everybody likes me, and so will that goblet.”

“Firstly, you are extremely narcassistic, which you clearly get from your father.” you pointed your finger at him and he just rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Secondly, we? What do you mean we?” 

“Oh, baby. We’re in this together.” he kissed your forehead, jumping of the bed and towards his warderobe.”Now, what should I wear.”

You melted when you heard him call you baby. The two of you were not together, only friends and at times like this you desperately wished the two of you were more than just friends. He caused so many emotions run through your body when he did little things such as take your hand, call you nicknames, kiss your forehead and so on but never did he do more than this.  

“Earth to (y/n)!” he waved his hand in front of you and you quickly shot your head up. 

“Yeah?”

“What should I wear?” 

You rolled off the bed and stood up. “Maybe your school uniform?” 

“How about this shirt?” he put the white shirt on top of his chest. 

You rolled your eyes, bumping him away from the warderobe and surfing through his clothes. You noticed the red shirt on the bottom of the shelf and pulled it out. “Red.” you shoved it on his chest.

“I totally forgot I have this shirt.”

“Just put it on and let this be over with.” ---

But you were far from over, weren’t you. You thought your heart was dropped and stepped on when he was picked by the Goblet. He noticed it right away, hugging you and lifting you up. “I’ll win for both of us. You’ll see.” he whispered and put you down, giving you a reassuring smile. 

It was until the Goblet threw out the second name that you felt like the whole world has turned against you. When all the contestants, including your little brother were in the room with Dumbledore, you stormed inside, fuming and boiling from all the fury. 

“HE IS NOT GOING TO COMPETE IN THIS TOURNAMENT AND IF YOU KILL ME!” you stepped in front of Harry, glaring at the other in the room. 

“Miss Potter-” Dumbledore started but you cut him off first.

“He is fourteen!”

“I agree but the Goblet-”

“He’s going to compete in this tournament over MY DEAD BODY!” you kept shouting, noticing Cedric approaching you raised your hand for him to stop. “Don’t.” you warned him before turning to your brohter and looking into his eyes.

He was frightened, you could see that so perfectly in his eyes. You read him like an open book, knowing there was no where in hell he dropped his name into that Goblet. He couldn’t. “Why you? Why always you?” you said, your eyes watering and your arms bringing him close. 

“I didn’t do it, (y/n).” he tried to appologise but you knew he was telling you the truth. If anybody hated getting into trouble, it was your brohter. He just wanted to be a normal boy for once and it just won’t be given to him. 

“He won’t.” you stood firmly your ground, glaring at all the responsible people. 

“Miss Potter. The Goblet has chosen its contestants. The rules are rules.”

And before you could say anything you’d regret, Harry took your hand and looked at you. “I’ll be alright. I’ve lasted this long, haven’t I?” he gave you a weak smile and you felt helpless to do anything. 

“If anything happens to him-” you glared at Bagman, glancing at the other three Champions, later at Dumbledore. “-I’ll make sure-”

“(y/n).” your brother touched your shoulders, giving you a more confident smile. “I can do this.” 

“Oh, you better.” 

---

You’ve tried not to worry too much about both Cedric and Harry but it was not possible. You thought your hair was going to turn grey one night and you’ll be someone who belongs in a looney bin. When you heard about the first task, you weren’t worried, you were so furious you wanted to scream. Cedric was avoiding you, mostly because he was afraid of you and your family temper but also because he knew how this would go. 

“It’s nOt LiKE I’Ll bE fIghTING A drAgOn.” you mocked him as he closed the door in his dorm, jumping when he heard your mocking voice and chuckling. 

“What goes around comes around.” he awkwardly scratches the back of his head, noticing the worry and the stress in your eyes. He opened his arms and gave you his one of a kind, comforting smiles. “Come on. Bring it in.” 

“No.” you said, turning your head away. 

“No?” he said as if he was offended, placing his hand on his heart. “As if you have a choice.” he scoffed, running towards you and knocking you off your feet. He grabbed you tightly with his arms, locking your own against your body. You laughed being unable to get out of his grip. 

“Cedric!” you continued to laugh meanwhile he put his head on your shoulder and took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Ahh! Isn’t this hug just stress-relieving?” he closed his eyes and put his cheek on yours. 

“If crushing my bones is stress-relieving, than sure, go ahead.” you continued to smile meanwhile he left a soft chuckle, breathing in your parfume and breathing out his hot breath, so it brushed your neck and send butterflies flying in your stomach. 

His grip got gentler, so he wasn’t locking your arms anymore, but simply holding you in his own. You truned around, placing yourelf on top of his chest and looking down in his deep grey eyes. Your hand automatically moved to his hair and you mildly brushed your fingers through his hair. 

God, you were in love with him. You were so deeply in love with his charming eyes and his devilish smile, His skin was so warm, his nose in such a perfect shape, his jaw a bit uneven but sharp despite it. His hands were big and soft, as if they haven’t worked a day in their life, his chest broad, his whole soul just burning yours through the eyes. 

He always adored the look in your eyes. Whenever you gave him this look it sent him some sort of pleasure and joy through his bonest. In a way, with you or even just looking at you, he felt his mind go a little dizzy. He felt like he could tell you the world! Everything with you was just... safe. He felt safe with you. 

It was a heavenly moment, between the two of you. It was only you and him, nobody else to break it up. 

Until there was. 

A letter flew right through the window, cutting in the space between the two of you. It was written in a beautiful handwriting... in a girl’s handwriting with a Ravenclaw’s stamp. 

A jealous feeling started bubbling in your stomach as you got up and let him read it. A smile appeared on his lips as you asked. “Who is it?” 

He looked up, completely blind to your discomfort. “It’s Cho’s. She said yes to be my date to the Yule Ball.” 

Your heart jumped to your throat and you could feel your eyes burning. “You- you asked Cho Chang to Yule Ball. I thought we said we were going to the Yule Ball together?” 

He could finally see the hurt in your eyes, which was a different kind he usually got from your fights. He realized what he said to you before he asked Cho. He was completely sure that Cho would say no but now... now he knew just how much he hurt you.

Except the pain was worse for you. 

“Merlin, (y/n).” he got up and started to shake his head, eyes filled with guilt. ”I didn’t think she’d say yes.”

The jealusy turned into hatred in a second and the heart in your throat stopped to speak. “So I was just your back up plan?!”

“No!” he widened his eyes. “That’s not what I meant to-”

“You know what, Diggory?” you scoffed, pretending as if your heart wasn’t just crushed a moment ago. “Go to the ball with your precious Cho Chang. I don’t care. Go with anybody you want!” your voice started to raise. 

“Why are you getting so mad?!”

And you couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe he is so blind to it. You know he feels it. You know it in your heart he feels something towards you but he just won’t admit it. “Because I’m in love with you!” was all you could say, regretting it the moment it came out. “And I thought you feel the same but clearly you-”

“Oh, (y/n)...” he shook his head, watching you with pitiful eyes. “You’re like a -”

“Don’t!” you stopped him, tears falling down your cheeks without your permission. “It’s not true. It can’t be.” you kept looking at him. You were so sure he felt it. So Goddamn sure he felt the same way. 

“You’re amazing, (y/n). You are! You’re amazing and beautiful but I just don’t see us as- I mean, you and me- I mean- I- “

You shook your head more aggresievly this time. ��I was so dumb to think that I won’t be like those other girls!” you told yourself. 

“You’re not!”

“I clearly am, Cedric!” you shouted at him, tears coming out. “Because if I wasn’t then you wouldn’t asked me to the Yule Ball as a bloody plan B!” you continued, seeing as he wanted to argue with that but you wouldn’t let him. “But you know what, Cedric? I can get anyone I bloody want!”

And somehow that opened Cedric’s anger, making the unfamilliar feeling in his stomach speak instead of his mind. “Clearly not me! Just like the other girls, swooning over! Thinking you have a chance! I should have known you were just hanging out with me because you had a crush!” 

The hurt was just never-ending, wasn’t it. “You really think that?” you tone was weak. “You really think of me as someone like that?” you said backing away. 

“Isn’t it?!” he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t and he tried. 

“Yes, Cedric. I trusted you and poured myself to you just because I wanted to fuck you like the whore I am. I wanted nothing but your dick and be famous for dating the Hufflepuff chaser.” you said, seeing his anger fade.

He threw his head back in disbelief. He hated when anybody spoke low of you, and there he was thinking the lowest of you. “I didn’t mean it, (y/n). I know you’re-”

“Just save the sweet talk for Cho.” you said. “I don’t ever want to talk to you again.” you started walking away but he quickly grabbed your arm. 

“Please, (y/n)! Don’t leave! I didn’t mean what I said!”

“Clearly, you did.” you said. “Clearly, you think that I can’t live without you, Cedric Diggory but I’m going to show you just how much I don’t need you in my life.” you pulled your arm away from his grasp, walking away.

That day you never went back to your dorm, you went to Harry’s but before you could reach him, a ginger got to you first. You always thought of Fred as someone who was despite his humor incredibly charming and caring. Since Harry was in First Year, he always kept asking you on dates, flirting with you and being a real gentleman. 

He noticed right away that you were hurt. He always noticed everything when it came to you and maybe you said yes because he was the only one who made you feel wanted but after a while, you saw you said yes because he was kind and caring for you like nobody else ever did. 

The two of you got closer and so you did with the other Weasleys and their friends. Somehow, you realized you have gotten to Harry closer as well. He was much more open to you now then he ever was.

---

You loved spending time with Fred. He always made you laugh. Always made you feel so happy. On the day of the Ball, Fred was already waiting in the Hufflepuff common room, talking with some of your friends. 

Cedric, who was still a bit uncomfortable that the two of you weren’t on speaking terms, walked over to Fred just before he went to pick up Cho herself. “Hey, mate. Can I talk to you?” 

Fred raised an eyebrow, his grin staying in the same position. “Yeah. Of course.” he said, not knowing whether to like the guy or not. 

“I know me and (y/n) aren’t speaking right now but I still do-” 

He was cut, staring at the girl who was just coming down the stairs behind Fred. Fred turned around as well, scanning you from head to toe before locking his eyes with yours. His grin turned into a beam and he blinked, just to make sure that what he was seeing wasn’t a dream. 

You weren’t wearing a dress as the other girls did. You remember Sirius giving you the dress your mother wore to one of the Balls with your father. She was a diviant and brave woman, choosing the right dress for her confidence. It was red, just like her hair, and long, clinging your legs and your curves. Your hair was curled, pinned on one side, let down on the other. You chose a daring makeup, red eyeshadow and red lipstick, sharping the outline of your lips. There was a cut on your right side, from knee below, showing off your red heels with a sparkly-silver strap above the ankle. 

Even though you knew Cedric was standing beside Fred with his mouth on the ground, you kept your eyes on Fred’s brown ones, ignoring the grey ones behind and smiling triuphantly. “I’m ready.”

Fred’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he took your hand and kissed the back of it. “I can see that.” he said seductively, leading you away. “You look absolutely breath-taking.” 

---

The whole dance, you saw eyes lingering on you. It made you blush more times than once. You were pretty convinced that you were red as a tomato the whole night but Fred, amazing as he was, kept distracting you by dancing and making you laugh. He was an incredible date. He constantly made sure you were hydrated, pleased and smiling. 

“Fred, my jaw is hurting from all the laughing!” you laughed as the two of you made your way outside on some fresh air. “Be serious!” you sightly punched him in the chest. 

“I can’t. You’re so gorgeous when you smile.” his voice got softer and he took a step closer. His hand took the fallen strand on your pinned side and tucked it behind your ear, looking down at you. “I want to be all dominant and romantic with this but I can’t help the feeling to ask you.” his cheeks flushed red and you furrowed your eyebrows at him. 

“Ask me what?” 

He looked up, scratching the back of his head and barely speaking. “Can I kiss you?” 

Surprised by his question, you completely grew red in your cheeks, not knowing exactly what to say. This was your first kiss. You always imagined it would be Cedric but since the argument, you knew that was never going to be possible. 

You trusted Fred. You liked Fred. So you nodded your head and put your hands on his neck. “I’ve never kissed anybody.” you said shyly and quetly. 

“A beauty like you?” he grinned pressing his forehead on you. “I can wait if you’re not ready.” he said as you looked up at him with a glint in your eyes. 

“No. I want you to kiss me.” you smiled and he leaned it, kissing you gently at first, only the surface of your lips before pulling away and looking at your reaction. 

Your eyes were closed before you opened them, smiling and showing him you want him to kiss you again, deeper. And he did, slipping his tongue inside your mouth and taking the lead. Your cheeks started radiating heat as the kissing never stopped. You loved it. You loved kissing and you kept pulling him closer to you, smiling. 

It wasn’t long until that kiss was broken. You couldn’t feel Fred’s suit under your fingers, nor see him in front of you. Your vision was blurred and you couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on until you saw Fred laying on the floor on your right and Cedric panting on your left. 

“What-” you couldn’t quite figure it out. All three of you were panting, Cedric from fury meanwhile you and Fred had a different kind of cause for catching your breath. “What the hell?!” you looked at Cedric, narrowing your eyes at him meanwhile he turned to you, eyes widen from shock and his mind confused. 

“Why in the bloody hell did you do that for, mate?” Fred sat up, rubbing his head as you ran up to him. 

“I- I don’t know.” Cedric said, completely confused and watching you help Fred to his feet. 

“Are you okay, Fred?” you asked meanwhile Fred gave you his usual grin. 

“I’m fine, gorgeous. Why don’t- why don’t the two of you talk, huh?” he glanced between the two of you. “I’ll go get some ice.” 

“But-”

“I’ll be fine.” he took your hand and squeezed it. “You need to talk.” he said before leaving the two of you alone. 

As he was out of the view, you turned around, fuming, and shouting at the guilty boy in front. “WHAT THE HELL?!”

“I don’t know what came over me, (y/n), I swear. I didn’t mean to push him-”

“Oh, so you’re telling me that a House Elf possesed you and pushed him on the floor.” 

“I was aiming for the punch but I was afraid of hurting you during, so I had to push him first.” he kept blabbering, only confusing you more. He shut his mouth, looking at you with wide eyes and afraid to say anything similar. 

“You don’t get to interrupt my first kiss. You don’t get to do that after shoving a knife through my heart, Cedric!” you started to get furious, storming away and knocking his shoulder as you passed him by. 

He grabbed you by the wirst as he always did when the two of you fought. He pulled you back and close to his chest, meanwhile you pushed away from him.

“Don’t do that!” you looked up at him. 

“I was furious, (y/n)!” he shouted back. “I’m sorry for what I said that day! I shouldn’t have said those things to you, I realize that.”

“I don’t care anymore, Cedric. It’s all old bullshit to me.” you crossed your arms over your chest, backing away and deciding to leave. 

“I WAS JEALOUS!” he shouted on top of his lungs. Stopping you. Due to the music in the Great Hall a corridor down, nobody else could hear except you and him. 

You turned around, watching his face fall down in shame. 

“I was jealous, (y/n).” he said once again as he started to get closer to you. “When I saw you so stunning in your dress... and then see you walk away with another guy, I just felt angry. I felt angry the whole bloody night, watching you dance him... watching you laugh with him... and looking at him like you used to look at me.” he paused as he stopped in front of you, still unable to look at you into your eyes until he took a deep breath in and raised his head up to lock those greys with your own. “He got to see you in this dress, he got the honor to dance with you in it, he got the pleasure of hearing your laugh, the bliss of getting adoration from your wonderful eyes and I couldn’t even get a slightly bit of attention from you. Not a glance, not anything. I got nothing from you and when I was watching you with him, I was barely keeping myself away. When I saw you walk out with him I couldn’t control my feet, so I followed and when I saw you kissing him, I got so angry and so jealous that I just stop restricting myself from you. I couldn’t keep myself away.” he took your hands and squeezed them tightly. “You’re my best friend, (y/n). I’m pretty much sure you’re my soulmate.” he smiled and you couldn’t figure out where this was going; hurt or love, so you kept your expression the same. “I’m ashamed of what I did- because I had that, I could have had that but I threw it away. I threw it away because I didn’t know that I’m in love with you as well.” 

You gasped as he said that, feeling the air get caught up in your throat. Your heart fluttered, your stomach kept doing sommersaults but despite all of it, you couldn’t pretend as if he didn’t hurt you. 

You hugged him tight and feeling his arms seal your embrace, his nose dig into the crook of your neck and breathing the parfume that tingeled his nostrills. He let out a breath of relief, feeling safety spread around him. 

“I forgive you, Ced.” you said and he smiled to the shortage of his name which you call him. It always felt perfect when you said it. “But I need to figure out where I stand with Fred before I hurt anybody.” 

He pulled away, placing his thumb on your chin and brushing it gently with it. “I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you.”

---

It took you a few days and a few nights of frustration and over-thinking to get where you were. You and Fred had a long talk about everything, deciding to stay friends as it was obvious you were head over heels for Cedric. You could see he was hurt but he still put his usual grin on. 

“Reckon, he’ll never had the honour to say he was a first kiss to the most amazing and beautiful girl at school.” 

You smiled, feeling the redness wash over your cheeks again. “No, he won’t.” you said, taking his chin in your hands and kissing him on the lips one last time. You didn’t know why you did it but it felt right. Pulling away, you brushed your thumb over his lips and smiled. “It was a perfect first kiss, Fred.”

“Anytime.” he smirked, thinking for a moment then narrowing his eyes. “Shame. I always thought the Chosen one will become my brother-in-law.” 

“Don’t give up hope yet. I think he and Ginny would make quite a pair.” 

“Weasley and Potter. Has nice tone, doesn’t it.” he winked at you as you rolled your eyes. 

“Don’t take it too close to heart.” 

“Oh, I won’t. These Potters are dangerous when it comes to it.” he continued to tease.

“Goodnight, Fred!” you shouted. 

“Night Mrs. Future-Weasley.”

---

You and Fred stayed close. It was a strong friendship and you could always count on him. It drove Cedric over the wall whenever he would see the two of you even slightly together but he had you. You were his girl and that was all that he needed. 

When the second task came along, Harry was in quite a lot of distress. He was underground, watching three people closest to his heart being tied up underwater. 

He didn’t know who to save. He just kept pondering it over until Krum swam by and untied Hermione first. Harry trusted Cedric he would untie you, so whatever happened next, was the thing that was causing you too much worry. You were sitting by Cedric, wrapped around in a towel and looking Ron’s and Fleur’s little sister’s head pop out of the water, but Harry? He was nowhere to be seen. 

Cedric kept rubbing your back. “He’ll come out. He will.” but you worried so much that you almost felt yourself jump back into.

He finally appeared, making your heart-rate calm down. When he swam out, you gave him an enormous tight hug.

“Ger’ off.” he sturggled but you couldn’t let go. “You’re embarrasing me.”

“I don’t care.”

---

The night before the first task, you and Cedric were both laying wrapped in sheets, just enjoying eachother’s warmth and body. He kept making circles with his figner on your bare shoulder meanwhile you kept looking up at him with your googly eyes. 

He looked down, grinning. “Dreaming of a life with a Triwizard Champion?” he wiggled his eyebrows and you laughed. 

“Yeah. I think getting to say my brother is the Chosen one and a Triwizard Champion will be quite a privilage.” you replied and he scoffed. 

“Oh, so you’re rooting for my enemy.” 

“I just want this to be over and have you both safe in my arms.” your stretched your arms around his torso and placed your head on his chest, nuzzling closer. 

His hand moved up to your hair and he gently scratched your scalp, causing you to doze off. “We both got this far, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” you said sleeply, making Cedric smile. He adored your sleepiness. “I have to admit I was more sure you’d pull through than Harry. Looks like I underestimated him.”

“He’s bright, I’ll give him that. Must be in the family.” he said. “I don’t know what happened to you.” he teased, making your head shot up and your fist punch his chest. He laughed, taking your head in his hands. “I’m joking. You’re smart as hell.”

“Yes, I am.” you said, placing your head back on his chest, feeling his heart beat fast, then slow itself down.

“And you’re beautiful.”

“Keep them going.” you smiled and he chuckled.

“And sexy.” he left out a growl, pulling you up and kissing you. 

“Don’t stop.” you smiled against his lips.

He kissed you again, this time softer and genlter and as he pulled you away, he looked deep into your eyes. “I’ll make you my wife one day.” he cupped your face once again. “And I’ll spoil you until the ends of Earth.” 

“You’ll buy me  small dog I can carry in purse?” you joked and he smiled.

“I’ll buy you a monkey if you say!”

“I think one is enough.” you patted his chest and he chuckled, grabbing you around the shoulders and squeezing you. 

“Why are you so mean!?”  he shook you in his arms, laughing and pinning you on the bed. “Don’t answer that.” he said quietly, observing your every feature. “I love you no matter your flaws.”

You widened your eyes, hearing him say those words from the first time and feeling a rush in your eyes as well as your heart. You threw your arms around him and pushed him on the other side of the bed. “I love you too.” you whispered in his ear. 

---

The whole third task you’ve been impatient. Just this one task and everything will be normal. Cedric and you will graduate, both of you will get a job, you will be able to spent more days with Sirius, Harry will spend the summer with you- everything will be perfect.

You couldn’t stop smiling. You just couldn’t. This task was about to end your future is about to begin. You were so bloody excited. You just kept cheering and loving every second that passed. 

And there it was. Cedric and Harry both appearing together. You were so happy! Everybody was on their feet, cheering and shouting. Everybody was so excited that the Hogwarts Champions won the tournament.

Until you heard Harry scream in agony and it you felt your legs being cut below your knee. You stared, watching Cedric pale and stoic, Harry covering him. You heard Cedric’s father scream in the same agony as Harry, you tumbled back being caught in Fred’s arms. 

“No- no.” you told yourself before moving everybody out of the way and running on the field, tumbling over your feet. “No! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” you screamed throwing yourself over his body and screaming. “Cedric!” you screamed, framing his face with your hands and moving away his black hair. Everything that was alive last night was gone. There was no light, no smile, nothing. 

You felt yourself unable to breathe, you felt your heart being ripped out of your chest. 

You screamed for him. “You can’t! I love you! Remember! You love me! You said you’d get me the purse dog! You said we’ll get married!” you kept crying until Harry grabbed you and pulled you in his embrace, both crying.

‘At least Harry was alive. Harry is alive. Be thankful it’s not both.’ - you heard a voice in your head. ‘Harry. You still have Harry.’

But it didn’t cause any less pain and heartache. You just lost the love of your life, you lost your soulmate... you lost yourself. 

---

The last time you walked through the gates of Hogwarts, you were a completely different person. Harry always told the others that you haven’t been coping well with Cedric’s death. 

He was indeed, correct. 

You graduated with nothing but emptiness in your soul. You didn’t talk much, you couldn’t. He was your best friend. He was everything to you. Life without him did not cease to exist for you and every night you cried yourself to sleep and every morning you woke up to an enormous headache and pain in both of your eyes because of that. 

You didn’t care though. Since Sirius died, your sole mission was to protect Harry. Only Harry. He was the only family you had left. You protect Harry. That’s all you have to do but when you walked through those gates, through the gates where every single memory of Cedric splashed you like a rebel wave... you simply couldn’t hold yourself much together. 

“You changed.” you heard someone say beside you. You turned your head to see Fred with his usual grin. 

“Hey, Fred.” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” he whispered immediately. “For everything that happened to you.”

“I’m not the only one who lost a loved one in this war.” you said, putting your hand on his shoulder and giving him a weak smile,

But he saw it. He saw the pain in your eyes. He saw how broken you were just when he looked into your eyes. He also noticed something else. Something nobody else had. “You’re not afraid?” he asked but it sounded more as a statement than a question. 

“No, I’m not.” you looked at him, taking his hand in yours. “I’m going to look that murderous snake in the eyes and I’m going to show him hell he hasn’t even imagined.” you snarled, looking at the distance and squeezing his hand. 

He squeezed it back, differently than you, comfortly. You looked at him from the affection you were so foreign to and felt a smile reach your cheeks. “There’s the smile.” he spun you around slowly, making you giggle for the first time in a long time again. 

“Thank you.” you said, letting go of his hand and glancing at the courtyart. “Ready to beat some Deatheaters?” 

“Born ready, love.” he said, walking beside you.

---

You’ve been around Harry most of the battle until you lost him. Until there were Deatheaters coming from every corner and the two of you had to be seperated. You had eyes on most of the people. Remus and Tonks quickly disappeared somewhere into the towers, Harry was out of your sight after solid 30 minutes, Hermione ran into the castle, Ron behind her, George, Percy and Fred were all fighting together, covering their six. 

It was just as you finished the last two Deatheaters when you locked eyes with him in the distance, remembering the boy who gave you your first kiss. He winked, shouting something to Percy before the wall behind him exploading, wiping your smile off quicker than anything you’ve imagined. You apparated at the rubble, coming to his aid and helping his brothers pull him out of the dust. Percy was screaming, shooting at the sky and other Deatheaters with so much fury and anger you have ever seen in that man. George was staring at his twin, almost as he didn’t exist anymore. 

You framed Fred’s head, just as you did with Cedric all those years ago. Fred was dead... just like him. Tears prickled down your cheeks and you leaned your forehead on his, sobbing but quickly calming down. 

He was one of your best friends. He was the one who made you smile when nobody else could. He was the only one who knew how to deal with your attitude when you were grieving after Cedric. He was there, always and now he’s gone. “I’m so sorry, Freddie.” you pressed your head into his shirt, taking his usual scent in your nostrills. “Thank you.” you paused. “For everything.” you kissed his lips softly before getting on your feet and feeling the same rage fill your body as it did with Percy. 

You tightened your grip around your wand and made you way, searching only for one specific person. He was there, preparing to kill off your last family. You appeared in front of him before he got the chance, casting spells, one after the other. 

Your attack was aggresive at first. It took Lord Voldemort by surprise and off balance at first. “YOU KILLED EVERYBODY I EVER LOVED!” you cried, shooting curse after curse and hitting him once with Crucio but only for a slightest moment. 

People around you almost thought you’d win, your little brother thought that maybe, just maybe you could be the Potter to finish off Voldemort. But the Dark Lord was as well as immune to your crucio curse.

“You’re weak!” he cackled, shooting the crucio curse and making you kneel, agony running down your veins. “I should have killed you the day I murdered your pathethic parents! Should have finished you first before I moved to your weak brother! ALL OF YOU! WEAK!” he continued. “Maybe you can watch your little brother get the same fate as your mother and father?” he moved forward towards Harry, shooting a crucio curse at him. You broke free from his controll and jumped right in front of Harry. 

Black.

It was hateful, it was powerful. You didn’t know how much hatred Voldemort had for Harry until you faced his Crucio curse intended for him. 

You opened your eyes, your body burning, shaking, your brother holding you and crying. “Don’t leave me, (y/n).” he sobbed, pressing his forehead on yours. 

You couldn’t speak. You just needed to know.

“You can’t leave me now. It’s over. We won. You’ll get healthy and- and-”

“Harry.” Hermione said gently, putting her hand on his shoulder. “She won’t make it. I’m sorry.”

“DON’T SAY THAT!” he shouted, rocking you in his arms. “You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. I can’t lose you.”

Trying, forcing yourself to use the last bit of energy in your body. You put your hand on his cheek and gave him weak smile. “Remember, Harry.” you said, feeling blood rise up in your thorat but you forced it back down, tasting iron on your tongue. “You deserve the world. We’ll always-” you caughed, feeling drained and numb. 

“I know.” he closed his eyes shut and cried. 

Hermione was right beside you, forcing tears to stay in her eyes.’Take care of him for me.’  And it was like she could hear your thoughts, she nodded. 

She put her hand on your cheek and smiled. “It’s okay. You can let go and be with Cedric now.” 

And with that, you closed your eyes. As much as you thought that everything will get dark, you opened them to see familiar figure standing in front of you. “Cedric?”

The figure turned around, grey eyes smiling at yours. “I told you I’d wait for you.” 

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 57

Jae’s voice was an indistinct murmur in the back of her skull as all she could see was the gory mess of the young guard’s remains. Blood oozed from the stump of the giant’s neck, dripping over the stone and down to the ground far below them. Heat from the body sent faint plumes of mist into the air as though his very soul was departing.

Nenani’s mind was fogged over with a wall of numbness that buffered the reality of what she had done. He was dead and she had killed him. The phrase was a gnat buzzing around her head, one she barely noticed at all, though she was dimly aware that she should be feeling more than what she was. There was far less ceremony to the moment than seemed proper. And yet, she did not have it in her to try and care.

Someone grabbed her wrist and began to pull at her. Jae, her mind supplied mechanically.

He was trying to tell her something, but all she heard was the wind in her ears. Everything else was muffled as though being spoken through water. After what seemed like hours, something within her mind clicked into place and all sound came rushing back with a fearsome fury.

“Nenani!” Jae said. His voice warbled strangely as though fighting back his emotions. “We have to climb!”

“Farris...and...” she muttered in a witless delirium, looking around as she tried to remember where she was. “We have to...”

Jae’s face looked strange to her. Not like himself at all.

“No! We aren’t going to be able to help them right now!” He spun her around bodily to face him and shook her hard. The action bent her neck back, and her head and shoulders throbbed in protest. “Those other guards will swarm us and we’ll just end up making it worse.”

The fog of her mind was at last beginning to lift, and all that had been held back then began to trickle in. Her stomach became a churning knot. Looking at Jae, she finally saw him properly and without the fog of numbness to obstruct him. He was crying and looked terrified. Because of her. Because of what she had done.

She did this...

A renewed commotion from within the room derailed her mental downward spiral.

“SEVEN FUCKIN’ HELLS!” came a booming voice. “Fitz is dead!”

The phrase felt like a lead weight dropping onto her head. Her heart was pounding. But even as the true horror of what she had done began to seep into her, another emotion began to overtake it. To challenge it.

She had killed that guard. Just as he would have killed them. Her friend. Her dearest friend. Farris and Keral. Her found family. Would he have any second thoughts or regrets of taking their lives?

There was so much blood.

She saw red. And then the red became white. Anger. White and hot and all encompassing. It was familiar to her, having felt the same once before. Back when Aidus’s serpents had attacked them. It was a primal indignation that demanded retribution. Pain. Blood. They were trying to hurt her friends. Her family. Her people.

She had lost so much to the flames. To Aidus. To those murderous giants still willing to consume human flesh. But now she had befriended giants. She was a keeper of the flames. And she was no longer afraid of Aidus as he lurked and schemed in the shadows.

She was Princess Nenani, Duchess of Ravenwood, daughter of Oira and Hayron Daelg. Her grandfather was a king. Her mother was a queen. She was descended from warriors. She would not let them take anything else from her.

“What?” asked another guard. He grunted in sudden pain as though he had been struck. “Get the fuck back down or I’ll slice ye open!”

“What the fucking hell –!” came the cry of another startled guard. The corpse slid back into the room, and Nenani heard it drop to the floor. The cries of alarm and anguish inside the room intensified.

“Gods above...”

“His head...where’s his fucking head?”

“Go on and get those damn little fuckers!”

“Don’t ye fuckin’ touch ‘em!” Farris’s voice felt like an arrow, and it cut through all the bindings that had been keeping her grounded. She shoved Jae’s hands away from her and ran to the open window. The blood splashed under her bare feet.

Both Farris and Keral were on the ground, and several of the guards were having to hold them down while others tied their hands behind their backs. Farris’s eyes met hers and she could see real fear there. As her fury pulsed, so did her fire, and she held her hands out. The blue flamed vines spilled into the room, hissing viciously, and the wooden floor planks below began to smoke and smolder. Every guard held their position still as they took her in, not seeming to entirely know what to do.

Her eyes glowed a hot white and the air around her shivered with waves of heat.

“Seven bloody hells,” one cursed as he gaped at her slack jawed. “Is that…?”

“A fire mage?”

“There ain’t no fire mages left!”

“What the fuck do you call that then, Wendal?!”

“Release them!” Nenani demanded, her voice filling the room. “Or I will turn your bones to ash.”

The guard who was still in the process of tying up Keral’s hands was frozen in horrified awe. Keral sensed his hesitation and yanked his hands free of the loose bindings, bucking up with all his strength and flinging off the two men pinning him to the floor. He grabbed the sword from the belt of one stunned guard and drove it onto the meat of another man’s thigh. As the wounded guard rolled away with a howl of agony, Keral retrieved his sword from a few feet away and swung it in a wide arc, catching another guard’s shoulder as he scrambled out of the way.

The guards did not have the wherewithal or desire to stand and fight. There was chaos as the attacking giants turned and ran for the door, tripping over themselves as they pushed and shoved. The wounded guard limped pathetically after them, clutching his bleeding thigh.

Keral ran over to Farris, cut the rope binding his hands, and yanked him to his feet.

“Help me move the beds,” Keral said, and they each grabbed one end and pulled it to the door. They pushed it up onto its shorter end as a makeshift barricade and then repeated the maneuver with one other bed. They stood panting and breathless for a few seconds before turning their gazes back to the corpse and then to Nenani.

Nenani let the fire flicker away, expecting a wave of exhaustion to overcome her. But she only felt winded despite having expelled an exorbitant amount of magic. The fire opal set within her belt still buzzed with magic, but as she stood there, catching her breath, it slowly faded away. The power stone and Maevis’s training had served her well it seemed. Looking down at herself, though, she did not believe the kind magician would have a very high opinion of her actions. The headless guard’s body was still slumped down below the window, and the pool of blood she stood in was growing colder and congealing, except for a few places where the heat of her flames had cooked it into hard black slabs.

“Come on off there, my girl.” Nenani started, looking up to see Farris holding his hands out to her. She had not seen or ever heard him move. There was a bruise forming along his jaw, and his nose was bleeding.

“They hurt you,” she said as though trying to justify herself. “They were going to kill you.”

“Come to me,” he said in a gentle voice, cupping her into his hands and drawing her away from the window. If he minded the blood on her feet, he said nothing. He pressed her to his chest and murmured to her. He turned his eyes to the window. “Jae, are you alright, lad?”

“M’fine,” came the unsteady reply. “I just...I just need a minute.”

“Can’t afford to give ye one. Come on, son.”

“I can’t...the...the blood.”

“I know,” Farris said. “Just don’t look and you’ll be fine. Careful though. Some spots are mighty warm.”

“Uh...yeah. Alright.”

With slow and painful steps, Jae carefully made his way to the window. He stepped daintily through the blood, trying to keep his eyes focused on anything and everything else but the red gore. He lifted a foot with a hiss of pain when he accidentally stepped onto one of the still-hot blackened spots. When he reached the window at last, he caught sight of the dead guard’s leg poking out just far enough from the flood for him to see. With abrupt swiftness, he lifted his head up, eyes bulging, and sucked in a breath through gritted teeth.

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, clenching his hands as he tried to meet Farris’s eyes without seeing the corpse. “I hate this. I hate this so fucking much.”

“Yer fine,” Farris told him, tucking Nenani into one arm and reaching out with the other. Farris wrapped his hand around one side of Jae’s torso and allowed the young man to cling to his wrist and arm as he pulled him away. He moved to the last remaining bed and sat them down. Green eyes scanned them as he made visual inventory of their conditions. He lingered on Nenani a bit longer that Jae. When at last he seemed satisfied that they were not hurt, he brushed a finger gently against Nenani’s cheek, with a more earnest expression that she was used to seeing.

“We need to get out of here,” Keral said, assessing their makeshift barricade as he wiped a line of blood from his bottom lip where it had split. “The sooner the better.”

Farris looked as though he wished to protest, but then all hesitation in his expression dried up and he nodded. “I agree. But it’ll be a job.”

“I don’t think it will,” Keral replied, turning to pin Nenani with a meaningful look. “Ye spooked those fuckers real good just now, lass. And me. If I’m honest. Been quite some time since I last saw a real fire mage throw sparks. We can use that.”

With a snarl, Farris rounded on his brother. “Ye better not be thinkin’ what I think ye are, Keral.”

Keral’s gaze was steady and firm.

“She’s our best chance to clear the way,” Keral replied. “Throw out some sparks to clear ‘em off until we have a clear shot through and out.”

“Forgetting the actual details of how we keep those guys off our arses,” Jae interjected. “Don’t forget: the walk up the drive was long. All they’d need was a few arrows and a clear shot.”

“One problem at a time, lad,” Keral replied. “We just need to make it till Colemn’s men come. If we can get out into the open, we might be able to get over the fence or hide in the thickets. Given how fast those fuckers left, they may just leave us the fuck alone.”

“We’re not that lucky,” Jae quipped.

“And what of she uses all her magic like the time before and drops dead?” Farris demanded. “We have none of Maevis’s potion. She will die, Keral.”

Keral glanced at Nenani, the harsh lines of his face softening. Looking back to Farris, he placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“If we don’t find a way out,” Keral said grimly. “We will all die here.”

…………………………….

Despite Farris’s heavy misgivings, it was their best chance. And so the plan was implemented.

Nenani only felt a little tired, as though she had been merely running for a few minutes. But even her quiet assurances did nothing to sway his mood. He despised Keral’s plan and made no show of trying to disguise the fact. As they readied themselves for the first step, they all kept an ear trained on their makeshift barricade for any sound that signaled a second assault attempt from the guards.

Keral strung his arms through his pack, wearing  the bag on his front. Nenani was placed inside but stood on wads of strategically placed items so she was able to see clearly from the open top while also having free range of motion. Farris had Jae secured within his pack, strung on normally across his back. They wore twin expressions of unease and displeasure. Both brothers had their swords in hand, and once they deemed themselves ready, the two beds were pushed over to clear the doorway.

The corridor was clear.

Nenani felt the weight of the incredible amount of trust and faith Keral was placing on her small shoulders. But strangely enough she did not feel fear as she had always known it. Her mind was a narrow view, the world simplified, and the thing she understood above all else was she was going to do whatever it took to get her friends out of there. The heat that circulated through her body gave her a sense of control that she so rarely felt during her magic lessons. It dimmed her self doubt. She did not feel helpless.

She felt...powerful.

The short corridor leading to the stairwell was clear, and with Keral in the lead, they moved out. Nenani kept her hands at the ready, her palms and forearms glowing with stored magic. It would take her mere seconds to increase the flames should the need arise. But even as they made their way carefully down the stairs, ears straining hard for any sign of the guards, the estate was deathly quiet.

Without the windows to let in what little light remained from the fading day, the stairwell was dark and gloomy, with their only source of light being Nenani. Keral held his sword at the ready, the long metal blade angling across Nenani’s vision. On the metal surface, she could see herself, and it gave her pause. She didn’t recognize the face that stared back at her. Her eyes were wide, and dark circles colored the undersides. Her skin was pale and her hair was a mess of tangles and loose strands. Her mouth was twisted into a concentrating frown.

She saw more of her mother in her reflection than herself.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, everything was cast in deep shadow. No candles had been lit or lanterns brought out. No one seemed to be around at all. Far off in the distance, there was a sound that tickled Nenani’s ears, but she could not quite give it a name. It was an indistinct hum that rose and fell without sense or pattern.

Keral seemed to have heard it as well, and he tilted his head to and fro as though trying to better catch the sound.

“I think I hear – ”

“Augh!” A shadowed figure leaped from the dark corner, a short sword swinging wilding as the young footman from before descended upon the group. Keral took a single step back, bringing the hilt of his sword up to angle his blade down. The footman’s wild swing at the ranger’s legs bounced off the longer and stronger sword. Clearly inexperienced with anything other than a serving tray, the young giant’s hold on his short sword failed, and he floundered as he tried to regain his grip.

Nenani, having been startled by the sudden attack, increased her flames, and pale yellow light flooded the space. The footman stood several paces from them, holding his weapon more in the manner of a baton than a sword. It was an old blade, mistreated and rusting near the hilt. The footman was young and clearly terrified. His cheeks glistened with tears under red rimmed eyes.

“Put it down, boy,” Keral growled, holding his sword out. “Is it worth dyin’ for?”

“I’m already dead,” the footman sobbed. “If you leave here and the king finds out, he’ll have us all hanged.”

“That is the general punishment for treason,” Keral replied.

“I just needed a job!”

Farris snarled in disgust, unmoved by the younger giant’s pathetic weeping. “So ye turned a blind eye to kidnappin’ and murder fer a few fuckin’ coins?”

“It’s so easy for you to condemn me,” the boy said. “I have a family to feed. Fuck! I just needed a damn job! I didn’t sign up for any of this you know! I don’t hate humans, I swear. But once I knew all that was really...going on...I couldn’t just leave. They wouldn’t just let me go. They’d have killed me. I had no choice!”

“We all have a choice,” Farris replied.

The footman’s self pitying anguish turned onto the kitchen master, his sorrow turning to hate and disdain. “I know who you are. And it’s a damn fine thing for you of all people to look down on me. How many humans died under your hands and stewed in your pots?”

“Careful,” Keral snarled, swinging his blade to slap the footman’s sword and nearly knocking it from his hands. “Yer steppin’ mightly close to things ye don’t understand.”

The footman fumbled with the sword again but recovered quickly. He turned his gaze to Keral, his brown eyes staring hard. He started to openly weep.

“I understand perfectly well. I understand that you try and justify it all while it happens. That each and every time you weigh their lives with what you’ll lose if you don’t go along with it all.” He took a long, ragged breath. “And that you make your choice, but it’s no choice at all. It’s a noose that you wear. All the time. And bit by bit it slowly tightens and then one day you realize your standing on the edge and all that’s needed is that final push and all your sins will come to collect.”

He wiped miserably at his face while the sword fell lax in his grip.

“And that maybe you’re a little glad of it,” he told them. “Maybe you just want it all to stop. To just...finally be done with it all. One way or another.”

Movement to her left drew Nenani’s eye, and she watched with confusion as Farris walked towards the footman. Jae had hunkered down into the pack with only the top of his head peeking out.

“One way or another,” Farris echoed as he approached. The footman nodded and his hand let go of the sword, allowing it to clatter noisily onto the flagstone.

“I just want it to end.”

“It does have an end,” Farris said and not unkindly. “One way or another.”

The kitchen master thrust his fist into the footman’s abdomen, just below the ribs, and the only sound was the gasping breath from his startled lungs. Farris caught the falling body as it went limp with the force of the strike. The footman coughed and groaned.

“Not my place to place judgment,” Farris told him. “Yer sins are yer own to carry and whatever is made of ‘em...well, that’d be it. But if ye happen to not be around when we finally manage to get this fuckin’ mess sorted...well, I ain’t never heard of ye. Never saw ye.”

And without any ceremony, Farris rose to his feet and began to walk away. Keral followed a step or two behind but paused to regard the footman as he stared up with bleary eyed confusion.

“Since I have your attention, where is everyone?”

“Out...they went...outside,” he said.

Keral smirked in self satisfaction. “The lil’ lass give ‘em a good fright, eh?”

“No...not...well...not only her...there’s...there is a…” the footman continued to gasp and struggle to form words. “There is a…”

“Come on now, boy,” Keral said. “Use your words now.”

“There are...men...marching...towards the estate,” he managed at last. “The reserve militia...is being called...to help... fight back…”

“How many are marching?”

“I heard...eight hundred. Maybe a thousand.”

“How many are in the reserve militia?”

“Five hundred in the reserve guard,” the young man said. “But...in the standing...guard...there are closer to nine hundred.”

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[mythicamagic]

Sesskag week Day 5: Horror

Summery: Kagome resurrects Sesshoumaru using Tenseiga. He swears to repay the debt by any means necessary.

AN: Written for Sesskag Week Day 5 - Horror. I decided to write this with more the feeling of horror after experiencing something traumatic rather than for the genre of horror, so this is more angsty and hurt/comfort with fluff at the end. Enjoy!

Warning: Some gore so rated M

4,000 words

(all prompts posted on Ao3, fanfic.net and Dokuga)

Fall of the Mighty

Gulping hard and sucking fast breaths into her lungs, Kagome ignored the ache in her fingers and fired another arrow.

Sweat rolled down her temples, hair damp with humidity. She dashed to the side and narrowly avoided being cleaved in two by a boar demon, reacting off sheer adrenaline rather than skill.

She'd paid the Western Lands a visit with the intention of delivering some happy news. Sesshoumaru had been busy fending off small invasions for weeks, but Jaken had reported that there'd recently been a lull in activity. She'd thought it safe to visit.

Rin had progressed well with her studies at the village. Kagome thought he'd want to know that the petite teen now expertly rode horses without falling off and could render foes unconscious with the right herbal concoction.

I thought he'd want to know, to cheer him up...

Because he did so love to hear news of his ward's progress.

Getting caught up in the crossfire of one of the West's latest battles had not been part of the plan. Kagome glimpsed Sesshoumaru every now and then, gliding above the fighting soldiers in his true form. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed her presence.

Wincing upon seeing him collide with an enemy, her eyes widened. Wrestling in the grey overcast sky with a snake-like youkai, spittle and blood lashed out. Ravenous growls clapped above the battle like bursts of thunder. Rows of sharp teeth lunged and tore into flesh, ripping through sinew and snapping bone.

Kagome cried out, feeling a pain in her side. Shooting another demon between the eyes, she pressed a hand to the wound they'd lashed into her hip.

Despite the injury, she became distracted again, watching as the two giants twisted and scrapped, soon colliding atop a hill. Racing towards them, she panted hard, willing her body not to give in to exhaustion.

By the time the dirt had settled from the collision, their forms had changed. Inhuman, beautiful men drew swords and slashed at one another in a deadly dance. Bakusaiga couldn't seem to consume the grey-haired snake youkai, perhaps indicative of Sesshoumaru's power running dry.

Kagome focused on fending off approaching soldiers, firing again and again. She happened to turn when a blazing snarl ripped through her ears and in a blur of motion the unthinkable happened.

Swords met and parried, before both demons struck unexpectedly. Sesshoumaru's sword impaled the enemy through his chest- just as the snake's blade cleaved through a pale neck.

Kagome's eyes flew wide. Horror slammed into her chest.

Long silver hair was sent flying into the air. It happened too fast and yet agonisingly slow at the same time, like a punch being slammed into her gut only for Kagome to register the hit seconds later.

Hitting the ground with a sickening thud, the head of the Killing Perfection rolled twice before lying still.

Horrible keening, wailing noises filled the air. Kagome's lungs and mouth hurt, and she belatedly realised the agonised screaming was coming from her. Hurrying forward blindly, she tripped and scrambled over bloodied earth. The snake demon gave a wheezing cough, sinking to both knees. He then fell onto his side, eyes glassy.

Kagome approached the two collapsed corpses, trembling. With a whimper, she tried not to look at Sesshoumaru's bloodied, decapitated neck, unable to accept what she was seeing. Scrambling shaking fingers at his hip, she ripped Tenseiga out of its scabbard. Coughing and pressing a hand to her mouth, blue eyes squeezed shut.

Everything felt like too much. A buzzing noise filled her ears, heart thudding dizzyingly fast.

She forced herself to swallow and crack stinging eyes open, gauging the distance from his body to the silver-haired head about 20 meters away.

"Oh come on," she croaked. Setting Tenseiga down, the contents of her stomach churned. Stumbling over to it with legs like jelly, Kagome stared down at his upturned, handsome face. Half-open, golden eyes stared at her with hazed pupils.

Coughing and moving back to retch, the war-torn landscape became blurry as hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she emptied the contents of her stomach. Her nose and mouth strung with fire, breathing ragged. Swallowing thickly and wiping her mouth, Kagome made a noise of distress before madly lurching down. Numb, shaking fingers slid from a regal jaw to touch striped magenta cheeks, lifting his head from the ground. She didn't know how to explain the horrific weight, whether it felt heavier or lighter than expected.

Kagome could barely see a thing through her thick, unrelenting tears. Sobbing, stumbling and quickly placing the head down before his body like he were a doll to fix, she panted.

Leaning to grab Tenseiga, Kagome's stomach lurched again. Controlling it, she grit chattering teeth and straightened.

Holding the sword over Sesshoumaru's corpse, the miko waited.

Nothing.

Blue eyes widened. Kagome began to tremble violently with terror.

"No. No, no, no- please! Please, this is for Sesshoumaru!" she burst. "You were made from his father's fang, right?! I know I'm not a demon but so help me you WILL save him!" a snarl tore at her bile-laced throat.

Forcing reiki onto her fingers, Kagome allowed the holy power to spill out onto the hilt. Pink energy then skittered onto the blade, causing a noise of distress until Tenseiga glowed blue. Panting and not verbalising her victory, Kagome continued to whisper pleas and prayers even as she noticed small ghostly imps. They crawled over Sesshoumaru's body, readying chains around limp striped wrists.

With a cry, Kagome slashed the blade down madly. They shrieked upon being severed in two, fading away.

The ensuing silence sounded too loud. Tenseiga glowed and rattled in her hand, bathing her slick skin blue. Sesshoumaru's head now lay attached to his body, but he did not stir.

"S-Sesshoumaru?"

Crouching, and then weakening, Kagome's knees hit the ground heavily. Reaching out, fingers wobbled and touched soft, light bangs, bumping into his smooth, stern brow. She didn't realise she was still crying until tears began to land on his upturned, pale face. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop them.

"Why are you crying, miko?"

The air froze in her lungs, Kagome's head whipping up. Sesshoumaru gazed at her, golden eyes bright and very much alive. Confusion marred his expression, attention drifting to Tenseiga still gripped in her hand. His eyes then flew wide with understanding, tensing.

Making a strangled noise, Kagome ducked down and clutched at broken armour, burying her face in his shoulder and sobbing loudly like a child. Sesshoumaru remained frozen beneath her, and when she did not stop, he slowly curled an arm around the wailing miko.

---

Kagome had returned to the village severely shaken. Her friends had noticed and inquired, so she'd explained almost everything to them about getting caught up with a battle; neglecting to mention what had happened to Sesshoumaru.

She silently vowed never to tell another soul.

It didn't make it easy to deal with since the fighting itself wasn't what had upset her. Because of this oversight, her friends figured she'd be over it in a few days. As if confirming this, Kagome carried on as normal, burying the ugly blemish of memory and covering it with pleasantness. She started smiling again and even laughed when Shippo made his jokes or pulled pranks.

Something she did not anticipate was Sesshoumaru's unexpected arrival about a week since that awful, traumatic day. She'd figured he'd be busy with battle clean up for a while and would need to deal with war and politics, but he strode into the village languidly, in no hurry.

Kagome turned and busied herself with hanging some clothes up to dry outside Kaede's hut. Expecting him to ignore her and make a beeline for Rin's hut, she stiffened upon hearing boots deliberately drag on the earth behind her.

"Miko," his voice sounded crisp and clear.

Shippo squeaked from where he sat nearby, nibbling on a lollipop and observing them keenly.

Glancing over one shoulder and finding his proximity closer than necessary, Kagome forced a smile. "H-hi, Sesshoumaru. What can I do for you?"

Holding her gaze with rapt attention, Sesshoumaru's jaw ticked. "You have done enough," he uttered. "It is time this one returned the favour. I have come to repay you for your actions on the battlefield. Your assistance was…instrumental in our success."

"Wow, really, Kagome?" Shippo pipped up. "You downplayed it so much, what happened?"

"N-nothing!" Kagome laughed nervously, grabbing Sesshoumaru's sleeve and tugging. She shot him a warning look, gesturing to follow. "Uh, wanna help me gather herbs?"

Sesshoumaru's expression turned flat, however, he nodded and followed her away from Shippo's prying eyes. Stopping under the shade of the trees, Kagome faced the demon lord. "Look, you don't need to repay me. I didn't…do anything to make you feel indebted to me. Let's just forget it ever happened."

Burning, flashing eyes snapped to her face. "This one does not intend to ever forget, nor can I ignore a life debt. Proclaim what you want and it shall be yours."

Kagome groaned, running a hand through her hair. "I don't want anything!"

Noticing his unblinking, direct stare and pensive silence, she could tell he wasn't about to take 'no' for an answer.

"Geeze you demons always have to drag me into your weird rituals or traditions, huh?" Kagome grumbled. "Fine…" thinking for a moment, she hummed. "Kaede needs moss from a certain type of tree and some other herbs collecting. Help me get those and we'll count that as the repayment."

Expecting him to refuse, judging by the flinty look of disapproval he shot her way, Sesshoumaru surprised her with a regal incline of his head. "Very well."

---

They'd spent several hours doing what she assumed he thought of as 'peasants work.' However, Sesshoumaru hadn't complained once. In fact, he worked diligently, considering he looked like he'd never done a hard days work in his life and had impeccable, flawless claws.

Kagome covertly surveyed her own blunt, slightly chipped nails. Setting down a full basket of herbs, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. After passing over their hard work to Kaede, the former Shikon Miko wandered back to Sesshoumaru. Noticing him inspecting green-stained fingers with distaste, she smiled.

"You're off the hook now. Thanks for your help though, it was definitely sufficient payment, buddy-"

"No."

"W-what?"

Sesshoumaru dragged cool, icy attention away from green digits. "Do you presume to think that collecting moss equals the life of this Sesshoumaru?"

"Of course not, but-"

"Then more will be done to repay the life debt."

Kagome groaned, spreading her arms wide. "Like what?" At his stony, unrelenting expression, she sighed. "I guess...Sango mentioned something about babysitting."

She assumed he was about ready to throw in the towel, but Sesshoumaru set his shoulders and raised his chin. "Hn."

---

Kagome had never seen Sesshoumaru be used as a jungle gym before. If someone had told her she'd be witnessing three children climbing over the Killing Perfection's furs, clambering his back and swinging from imposing shoulder armour, she'd have called them a liar.

Miroku and Sango's children evidently adored him.

"Who knew he'd be so good with kids," Sango muttered to her behind her hand.

Kagome smiled, remembering his silent protective steak when it had come to Rin and Kohaku. "It's not that much of a surprise, is it?" she giggled, watching him catch Mitsu mid-fall without even acknowledging it.

As she observed him and cared for the children in Sango and Miroku's eventual absence, her stomach began to twist, tears pricking her eyes.

Ducking out of the hut and having to take a breather, Kagome forced the image of limp silver hair and glassy eyes back into its box. For some reason, witnessing him so attentive and alive in a domestic setting was messing with her emotions.

The sunset streaked the skies with vibrant red plumes by the time they were finally relieved of their duties. Walking through the village with her taciturn companion, she noticed the demon hadn't left. Glancing at him, Kagome shook her head.

"No way. That's it. This is getting ridiculous, Sesshoumaru. I'm a simple gal, I don't need much. Your help has been more than enough to repay the debt, I promise."

The Daiyoukai did not budge. Kagome stomped her foot, huffing.

"I'm done for the day! I can't keep making up tasks for you to do!"

Sesshoumaru looked thoughtful for a moment, as though registering that she may indeed have a point. "I should like to offer you something needed, rather than complete a simple task that you do not care about."

Frowning, she folded her arms and started to walk towards her hut. "Sure, sounds nice. I do need a new cutting board."

Heavy youki slid like water over her back. She felt his gaze with a visceral thrum of awareness, skin pricking in response. Kagome adjusted her priestess robes and pressed down the answering whisper of her powers.

"This Sesshoumaru extends an offer, miko."

Kagome stopped, shivering. "What is it?"

"You will look at me."

Gritting her teeth and whirling to face him, the embers of fire immediately died in her eyes at his intense, watchful expression. "I will mate you, should you wish it," he said succinctly.

Everything in her stopped and spun, backtracking to try and understand his train of thought, until her very being came at a standstill. A secret, buried flicker of emotion wormed its way into her heart.

"Why?" she breathed. "Why would you…do that?"

Sesshoumaru observed her, heavy attention dragging away to glance at the far off tops of the trees. "Upon completion, your lifespan would increase to match mine. An extra 2,000 years of life is something humans have coveted for years. Therefore mating would be a worthy repayment."

Kagome listened in silence, shifting slightly under the Daiyoukai's level, studying gaze. He continued with languid immediacy, new hesitance leaking into his words that hadn't been there before.

"It has also been suggested that the actions carried out that day by your hand may have been guided by...feelings. Personal attachment, different to simple friendship."

"But I-I-" curling shaking hands into fists, Kagome felt her heart constrict. "I'd...hate for you to extend that offer to me just because of a stupid life debt."

"If you do not harbour feelings for this one then why did you save me?"

Kagome took a breath, glancing away. Tears stung her eyes, the words tumbling out of her mouth unbidden. "I never said that I didn't," she confessed quietly. God, I never wanted to have to tell him like this.

Now the quiet, gentle crush she'd harboured for him felt exposed, like a cocoon being pried open too early. She felt vulnerable yet soldiered on. "But that had nothing to do with it. I saved you because you're my friend, first and foremost. Besides I couldn't...I couldn't just leave you there. Do nothing."

The demon's expression had morphed into something else now, however, she couldn't decipher what it was, tired from constantly tensing, relaxing, laughing and revolving around him all day. He took a step closer but Kagome backed up.

"Don't ever try to marry me out of some sense of duty again, Sesshoumaru."

"Miko-"

"No, please," her voice wobbled. "Leave me alone for a while," she mumbled, turning on her heel and hurrying away.

---

She felt a little childish, arms wrapped around drawn-up knees and sitting at the base of the Goshinboku. Even if she couldn't confide in Inuyasha about the memories of the battle, the sacred tree that felt like a part of their bond remained a pillar of support. Something sturdy that she could ground herself with.

Groaning, Kagome buried her face in her arms. I can't believe I confessed like that. What a mess.

Sensing a presence draw near and the familiar brush of cold, pressing youki, she lifted her head, spying black boots. Sighing, Kagome dragged her gaze up- only to be surprised when Sesshoumaru stooped to her level in a smooth crouch.

Heat flamed pale cheeks into a vibrant red, back pressing against the unrelenting bark. She realised a little belatedly that his armour had been removed. "What are you doing? I told you to leave me alone for a wh-"

"I find it difficult to believe you could care for me," he stated bluntly, face expressionless. Only his eyes gave him away, unable to appear casual.

Her breath caught in her throat, butterflies kicking up a storm within the confines of her stomach. Kagome glanced away. "What makes you say that?"

"You have been unable to look at this one for some time."

Her body stiffened, fingers tightening in her clothes. Ah, she'd been caught. It was true, the whole day she'd had to glance away from him every so often. Looking at him for long periods of time uninterrupted hurt. "I-I can't…"

"Why?"

"B-because," her tone became thin, fingers clutching hard at her legs until her knuckles bled white. "Every time I see your face I just remember it- h-how it looked in death. I can see the red line around your neck where he beheaded you-" Kagome choked on a sob, shuddering. "When I look at your eyes, they're not bright and full of life. They're vacant and glassy. Your mouth is grey, skin pale, and there's so much blood, I can smell it-"

"Enough."

Sesshoumaru's face loomed suddenly close, her chin caught and turned- forcing her to stare into his very real, very bright burning eyes. "That is enough," he said in a softer tone. "I am alive, miko. You made certain of this. Feel."

Taking her hand, the demon pressed her palm against his chest, heedless of the danger. She could easily let out a burst of reiki and wound such a vulnerable part of him, but the Daiyoukai, a peerless predator, left himself open to hurt.

Kagome's breathing hitched, feeling the thud of his heartbeat. It thundered strong and quick beneath her touch. "I'm sorry," she said in a hushed tone. "It must be harder for you- you're the one that died, not me."

"Hn, but I do not remember dying. Only waking to the sounds of crying."

His thumb dragged over her fingers, and Kagome swallowed. "I-I think I know what you can do for me," she murmured.

Making a non-commital noise, he tilted his head questioningly.

"Come here."

Sesshoumaru stared, watching as she shifted her legs down and gestured to her lap. He blinked with vague confusion. Kagome huffed and blushed, touching the side of his head gingerly.

"Lay your head on my lap...please."

The demon lord seemed impressed by her nerve, arching a brow. She remained quietly hopeful until he shifted and indulged her. Leaning down, Sesshoumaru rested his head onto her thighs, the grass warm and cushioning his back.

Warmth flooded Kagome's cheeks, gazing down at him. However, her attention shifted to his neck, and those terrible, piercing memories came flooding back. She could see the severed flesh, Sesshoumaru's body, feel the weight of his head-

Clawed fingers seized her hand, forcing frozen fingers against the warm skin of his throat.

"I am alive," he uttered.

Kagome exhaled, feeling him drag her palm over his neck. She then touched him of her own accord, brushing a free-hand into silky silver tresses.

Sesshoumaru exhaled a warm puff of air, and she felt him swallow beneath her finger-tips.

With each caress and explorative drag of her hand over the handsome plains of the Daiyoukai's face, she no longer remembered that awful day. Instead, her mind re-wired itself, committing the sweep of his nose, the arch of his brow, the high cheekbones, his hard jaw- to memory.

Snowy lashes slid shut and the demon tipped his face slightly into her palm. When soft lips pressed against the heated skin of her wrist, Kagome jolted.

"Y-you're um...letting me take a lot of liberties with you."

"Indeed."

Smiling slightly, she stroked a rich fall of hair away from an elfin ear. "Thank you," she said quietly, reluctantly forcing herself to stop touching him. Greedy fingers curled into her palms. "I feel...a lot better now. I'd say the life debt is paid off now."

Sesshoumaru's honeyed gaze cracked open. "It seems so," he rumbled, unmoving.

Reeling, the miko tried to pluck casual conversation out of thin air, floundering, wondering what to say, before a clawed hand reached- tangling in black hair and tugging.

Kagome squeaked, her neck craning down to follow Sesshoumaru's silent demand. Feeling a soft pressure against her lips, the miko's blood heated. She quietly gasped against his mouth, and he drank in her startled breath, claws lightly scraping her scalp.

Gaining control of herself, she slowly relaxed. Dark lashes fluttered shut, and she returned the kiss, hands carefully framing his face.

"I did not intend to insult you earlier, miko," breathy words escaped into the hairsbreadth of space between them when they parted. "Merely, this one has watched and waited. Before the battle, I did not think such...sentiments would be welcome."

"Why would you ever think that?" she said in a hushed tone, stroking a magenta stripe.

He made a lazy, pleasant noise that sang right down into her toes. "Inuyasha," he muttered, and she immediately understood.

Kagome smiled and gently pressed another kiss to his lips. "We've both moved on. I thought that much would be obvious."

"Hn. Jaken certainly thought so. It was he who suggested that you possessed feelings for me based on what happened on the battlefield. I did not initially agree...but then I became foolish."

"So instead of confessing like me, you repackaged your feelings into an offer of marriage entirely to do with duty," Kagome snorted, tapping his nose. "You know you're surprisingly dense when it comes to romance."

Sesshoumaru frowned and huffed, jaw clenching in a way that bespoke of his agreement. "I am not usually," he rumbled with mild defensiveness. "It seems you have this effect on me, ridiculous miko."

Quietly giggling, Kagome cradled him closer. "Ditto," she hummed. "You know I don't think I'm quite over the whole 'dead Sesshoumaru' thing after all. We'd better keep touching. It's the only surefire way of staving off the horror."

Amused golden eyes flicked upwards in a haughty version of an exasperated eye roll, humming in acceptance to her suggestion. With a tug she easily followed, Sesshoumaru guided her smiling mouth back down to his.

Their sweet and teasing airs did nothing to dispel the lingering memories, however, and it would take many nights awakening in a cold sweat to truly handle them. Still, with each nightmare, the Killing Perfection remained a newfound constant at her side.

When she cried, he would lick her tears away, and the miko would curl into his rich furs, lost to contentment anew within the safety of his arms.

End

[tuttifuckinfruttifriday]

End to this and this, first part done by @randomly-a-fan (Ik y’all can see it but I really like to mention how amazing she is) <3

Ready or not, here I come

Pairings: The Voorheese’s family x The Creeper, Malon x The Creeper and most importantly Freddy Krueger x MJ, The Voorheese’s family and The Creeper

Warnings: Violence, gore, angst, description of drowning and some cuteness with The Creeper and Malon <:

this one's shorter

Don't hesitate to tell me if i did any mistakes, it would be greatly appreciated!

-

“Alright… I’m ready.”

MJ said as she put herself comfortable on the mattress they put in the backyard. They didn’t want to have another broken window, so they took some precautions. It wasn’t windy, so with only a pillow and a small blanket, armed with a small knife, she fell asleep pretty easily once she clicked on the small button of the watch. The timer counted down from 10 minutes as they waited patiently, Malon back to colouring inside since they didn’t want her hurt.

-Dream Realm-

The brave woman looked around as she found herself into the boiler room, sweat starting to make her shirt stick to her back. MJ scanned everywhere as she tried to find him, with no success though. ''SHOW YOURSELF!! '' She screamed out as she did a 360 degree and tried to find any source of movement or indication that he was there. ''Missed me?'' A startled gasp escaped her as she felt his presence behind her. '7 minutes' The woman stepped back as she turned around to look at him, her now scared gaze fixated on his approaching figure. ''I think you better run, little MJ. '' The use of her surname made her panic a bit as she did just what he said, hoping that the 7 minutes would pass quickly and that she wouldn't die. As she was running, the scenery changed to the one of the cabin, which almost made her think she was awake until she didn't see anybody around. Almost knowing the woods by hand, she ran towards an opening, hearing the mocking laughters of the dream demon. Her heart was still racing as she abruptly fell upon... Crystal Lake's lake. She knew by the cabins that there was no mistake. The scenery was now of the lifeless camp and it brought her some bad memories, which she shook off as she waited for Freddy to come at her.

...

...Nothing.

'5 minutes'...

MJ took a big inhale as she waited, her body tense and her eyes wide open. She couldn't wait for this to finally be over and have a nice cuddling session with her husband, not in little pieces.. After another long wait, she started to step towards the water to wait for the demon to show himself. It was probably a really bad idea, but she couldn't stop herself. It was like something was tugging her towards the water, calling out to her. Panic filled her once again as she felt her feet starting to move on their own as soon as she tried to stop walking. Sudden realisation slapped her as she now had the water at her waist. ''Oh, no....... NO-!'' A silent scream left her as soon as she felt a hand on her ankle, dragging her down the depths, her arms falling miserably around the dirty water. The woman's pale eyes were still wide open as she looked down at Freddy's sadistic and burned face. ''.....!!! '' Her lungs started to burn terribly as MJ felt the lake entering them and taking her oxygen.... As a last attempt of protecting the ones she loves, she gripped his non-gloved hand with the last of her strength before she saw black.... The beeping of the watch faintly in the background as she felt the black engulfing her.

-

Jason immediately took action as soon as he caught glimpse of a thin horizontal line of wetness on his wife's lower lip, turning her body to the side frantically. He couldn't lose her, not ever. He wasn't stupid as to what happened, which didn't help his panicked state. He opened her jaw, the beeping of the watch ignored as he tried to save her life. He couldn't believe that Freddy would really dare to try to kill MJ just because she's with him... But he wouldn't let him win. Knowing what to do Jason started CPR while looking for a pulse as his is racing. After some time, he was finally going to abandon until he heard and saw her regurgitating the almost cleear liquid and her brows furrow. With extremely high hopes and his heart still racing, he turned her to the side and patted her back, a smile under his masked face once he saw colours coming back to her face. ''W-what..... What ha-happened..? '' MJ whispered raspily as she looked up at her unknowingly crying husband. He obviously didn't answer as he hugged her, being mindful of her almost dying on him. The couple were so happy that they failed to hear the noise of metal behind them, until they heard the unmistakable screech of The Creepers as he almost jumped on Freddy who was now in the real world. Their heads whipped to the side as they looked almost shocked at the two creatures fighting, almost not believing they got him out again.

''Oh no-'' Everything came back to MJ as she buried her face into Jason's shoulder, tears staining his new jacket. After the corpse insident (If you haven't read it, the kids found a corpse in the woods and Jason buried it), Jason had gotten another jacket. It looked like his original one, but it was obviously newer. Back to the fight, The Creeper and The Nightmare looked completely exhausted, especially Freddy though. He looked like he was going to die right here, right now(Not like anybody minded) ,his burnt 'skin' bloodied and his clothes ripped. He even missed a freaking arm! For The Creeper, he only had some rips in his clothes and a big slash across his face from Freddy's glove. The creature's gaze was fixed on his prey as he bared his pointy teeth to him, making him step back. As they continued to attack each other, MJ looked down as she couldn't bear to see what would happen, a wince escaping her as she heard Freddy's mocking laughter for the last time before the unmistakable squelching of flesh ripping was heard. She... She just hoped he was really dead this time and that everything would be over... A relieved sigh escaped the woman's mouth once she saw their friend coming back, his appearance back to normal except for the holes in his clothes as he tried to unstuck a piece of flesh from his teeth (hehe). ''Is...Is he dead.....? '' She couldn't help but ask as she wouldn't look in the now corpse's direction. A small nod was all she got as a weight seemed to be lifted from her shouldesr. ''Don't.. Don't you think we should do something with the body? Like, maybe burn it?...To not take any chances...?'' The last part was almost whispered. He looked pensive before he nodded, her husband doing the same as he helped her up.

They wouldn't take any chances of him coming back to life once again. After making sure all his remains were burned, the trio walked back into the cabin with better moods and Jason gave The Creeper a shirt and some pants, the creature thanking him with an appreciative purr. They were pretty happy about the result and just hoped that it was really finished....As soon as Malon saw The Creeper emerging from the bathroom from his clothes, she jumped towards him with a giant smile, forgetting about her mother for a second as a smile came onto his face. It was really something special that he liked Malon, since he wouldn't hesitate to kill a child to feed. But the Voorhees' were happy that Malon had another adult in her life, even if he didn't always act like one.

--

Food was served once everybody felt like eating and after they relaxed, Malon still playing with her friend in her room. The sky was starting to darken, which meant that it was almost time for Malon to go to sleep. So MJ decided that she would go see what they're doing. ''Mal-''

Her heart melted once she saw the two in the room, Malon in her PJs and tucked under the covers with The Creeper listening to her sleepily ramble about some things. As soon as he heard her, he turned his head with a small grin at the corner of his mouth, smelling the surprise on the woman. ''Huh.... Oh my... Thank you..'' She was speecheless. Still shocked, she smiled softly at the creature as he did the same, getting up the bed before he stopped in the doorway to give MJ a small head pat, which resulted in a chuckle escaping her. They walked to the door as Jason waved in the background. ''Have a good night, Creeper... Thank you so much for everything. '' You could hear the emotion as she was trying not to cry again. Once more, he nodded with another smile before he disappeared into the night with a wink and a content purr.

With a sigh and after closing the door, MJ plopped down beside her husband as they cuddled each other, enjoying the now calm night..

[nukyster-blog]

Changing Course chapter 21) Forty minus one

Ivar awoke by the first sunlight of dawn. The white rays were watery and cold, like the temperature in the dungeon. Frost had slowly allowed itself to enter the castle’s walls and inched inside, ridding Ivar’s prison cell of the last bits of warmth.  

Ivar did not recall if he slept or lost consciousness due to the cold. He guessed the latter, as the bitter cold had chilled his fingers into useless numbness and crept further down into his body. It spread painfully from his toes into his feet robbing his skin of all color.  

“Maybe”, he thought, “this is not the worst day to die”; he honestly didn’t believe he’d survive the winter.

The cold of night had robbed him of strength, but not of spirit. He would not fight his death but he’d do everything in his power to keep his jaws locked and mouth shut. He’d undergo whatever punishment those Christians thought proper for his crime and die with dignity.

A gust of frigid wind wrapped around him like a shawl woven by ice itself. His teeth chattered as he tried to warm his body by rocking back and forth.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He began to lose his sense of time. Back and forth, back and forth. Hunger gnawed a hole in his stomach. Back and forth, back and forth.  

The dead rat slowly but steadily became a reasonable meal. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Ivar?”  

Ivar glanced up to the barred window. It was Piglet; in order for her to peek into Ivar’s prison cell she had to lay her head on the ground.  

“Piglet?” Ivar crawled underneath the window and stared up, squinting his eyes. The young woman above reached back for a moment and managed to shove her arm through the bars.  

A polished, red apple dropped into Ivar’s lap.

“Ivar…” her voice was brittle and soft; she reached further down into the cell as a desperate attempt for a last connection.  

It was impossible. Even if Ivar had been able to stand, the walls were too high.  

“I guess this is it then Piglet, we had a good run,” Ivar spoke toneless, watching her hand reach and wave, “we were a proper match you and I. It’s a shame you believe in a false God…” and that was where he stopped himself from becoming sentimental. Because both of them were aware they would never see each other again, there was no reason to voice the truth.  

“A shame,” he ended and shut out all of her weeping. For a while, her arm remained reaching and waving, but as Ivar remained silent, Piglet eventually gave up and left.  

He’d never know if she’d spoken any last words of goodbye for him, because he blocked everything out, all while eating her apple. Even the core, because he did not want her to get in trouble and he could use all the strength given.  

.-.-.

Overnight the lessers of the castle had placed a beech wooden pole in the centre near the well. It wouldn't be the only silent witness of Ivar’s punishment. The rest of the bystanders were already buzzing and whispering about what was to come.  

The Giant hadn’t been pleased with Ivar’s forehead statement and had wiped off the Runen R with spit and his sleeve.  

The cobblestones bruised his knees as Ivar was shoved, poked, and kicked in order to get into the centre.  

The three rulers and the fair maiden had taken place nearest the pole, seated on wooden chairs. Their place had the best view for the spectacle, although Lambertus and his wife, Haedwien, did not look pleased with being present. The fair maiden had her hand pressed against her mouth, cheeks pale and on the verge of getting sick.  

And Ludolf, sat sunken on his seat, bored and maybe even a bit embarrassed. For it was due to his “wound” that the slave had to suffer and be an example for the rest. The bystanders were on foot, nudging and pulling to get to the front row.  

For some reason Ivar was pleased to see the Christians fight for the best spot, at least those soulless bastards had some sense of bloodlust. Maybe they were more Viking then they’d like to admit.  

Ivar was forced on his knees, facing the pole. His arms were stretched far above his head and tied to the beech wood. A knife was dragged jaggedly through his humble tunic, tearing the fabric open, baring his back, shoulders and neck completely.  

“Will they Bloodeagle me?” Ivar wondered stunned, as he pressed his cheek against the wood in an attempt to pick up everything that was happening behind him. But his arms were tied too high, leaving his face and most of his upper body pressed against the pole, minimizing his mobility.  

The Giant spoke some biblical nonsense; Ivar concluded from the Giant’s tone. Ivar’s assumption was completely confirmed when he heard the book slam shut.  

The first lash came completely unexpected and Ivar broke his solemn rule—to keep his mouth shut. A pain plagued hiss managed to escape through his teeth. The second lash managed to hit the exact same position as the first and cut through Ivar’s skin. A tortuously slow pattern emerged, one of two lashes and then a moment of ease. Ivar later learned that moment of pause wasn’t for him, no, it was for the Giant, so his arm would not tire.  

The lashes seemed to rip Ivar open to the marrow, like rigged daggers the leather dug deeper and deeper into his skin. Time did not matter anymore; all that remained was the rhythm of the lashes.  

A scream from deep within forced its way from Ivar’s mouth, it was not one of fright, but one formed entirely of anger that unleashed itself like a demon. It took two more lashes to silence him, fists clenching and teeth locking up all of his remaining sound. Now that his anger escaped him, there was only despair.  

Ivar lost count after fifteen, his ears were ringing and he could no longer see clearly. His mind seemed afloat; his body a vacant, aching shell. There was a low indistinct sound, almost animalistic. It took him a moment to realize those where his own hoarse moans.  

The cobblestones wore more and more spatters of Ivar’s blood. It did not take many more lashes for his battered skin to peel loose, falling down at his knees like bloody autumn leaves.  

A deep, raspy caw called down to him. Ivar’s eyes were able to focus enough on the top of the pole to see the black silhouette of a raven, contrasting against the milky white sky.  

“Father—“ Ivar watched the bird as his front teeth scraped over the beech wood.

The raven cawed again, its beady eyes mercilessly taking in the scene beneath it. With wings black as tar, it gracefully landed near Ivar’s knees. Ravens were known for their curiosity, but even they knew their limits. It wasn’t common for birds to come so near such a large crowd of humans. But the raven did not show any hesitation and pecked at the remains of Ivar’s skin. It peeked up again, taking a piece of Ivar before lifting off, heading off into the milky white sky.  

Ivar inhaled a sharp breath as the leather tore at his skin again, but this time he felt elevated.  

“You can beat every inch of my body,” he whispered hoarsely, “but you cannot kill me. Not today, because I am Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, and I have my father’s blessings.”  

His eyes rolled back as his body was close to giving in to the immense pain scorching his entire back. The crowd had grown silent; most faces contorted with plagued expressions. The fair maiden had fled the scene. Ludolf’s lips were twisted into a satisfied, lopsided and sadistic smile.  

Pain prevails over every emotion. It conquers lust, hunger, envy, hatred. Pain can divide brothers by blood; it can drive wise men mad.  

To triumph over pain, you need to be extraordinary—near Godly.  

In between the last few lashes, Ivar had an epiphany: he could not die before he’d fulfilled his destiny. And, although he did not know what lay in his future, he wholeheartedly believed the Gods had laid out an exceptional path for him. It became quite clear; he had beat death too many times to simply die by the hands of a Christian commoner.  

Maybe he deserved this punishment, for he’d questioned the Gods too many times and cursed them for turning him from a cripple prince into a slave. His mother had been a Vülva, able to see the past, present and future. But interpreting the will of the Gods was hard, maybe she’d seen his death wrong and had it merely been a rebirth.  

He’d been resurrected from death, by his father, time after time. So for today, Hellheim and Valhalla had to wait for his arrival, for he had his destiny to fulfill.  

.-.-.

In the bible Moses’ Law referred to flagellation; the law itself meant forty lashes less one; thirty-nine lashes. The term was meant as a biblical one, in that 40 lashes were determined enough to kill a man, according to the Old Testament and thus 39 lashes was the most you give a man without declaring a penalty of death.  

Today the crippled slave of de Haar survived forty.  

.-.-.

A/N: I’m not going to lie, I’ve been so impatient to write this chapter. At the start, I only had a few guidelines: hurt, massive hurt and excruciating hurt. But then I figured I had to keep Ivar’s spirit intact in order for him to survive. So yes, once again Ragnar in the form of a Raven reappeared. As I’ve mentioned before, you can see this every way you like, spiritual, emotional. Is it just a young man in desperate need of comfort, or is there truly a link between Midgard and Valhalla? Pick whatever you please. And in case you wonder, I’ve made up Ivar’s entire path towards his destiny like the moment I started writing this story. In my head, it’s all written out, wrapped into a trilogy. Now just the time to drabble it all out. The 40 minus 1 is a true thing btw, I’ve done some (too much) research, it’s believed that Jesus received 39 whippings and since I’ve thrown Christianity into the mix I figured I might as well add some information as well.

So that was it for today, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or sat there cringing in your chair, either way I’ve done my job well.

Xoxoxo Nukyster

The kickass beta: @Sarahh-Jane

The tagged ones:

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

@sarahh-jane

@peachyboneless

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Her Monster (part one)

[Wing AU; Tour!verse]

A new and improved rewrite of a very old fic! Hopefully this one will be better than the past one! I’ve cleaned it up a lot because GOD there were so many tense shifts lol

EB belongs to @spooner7308!!

TW: Blood

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

Chapter One - Devils Don’t Fly

Sometimes bad things just happened to good people. Sometimes fate just has other plans for someone. In EB’s case, that was very much true.

Elizabeth Barton--or simply EB--had been missing for a year and two months. She was remembered for her biting wit, harsh retorts, and overabundance of sarcasm. It wasn’t easy to get along with her, but there were a select few who were close to her, and that’s why her disappearance hit as hard as it did.

By now, though, mostly everyone had moved on.

The funeral was an open casket with just photos and one of her beanies inside. It was hard to look at, painful even. The idea that she was still alive, since her body was never found, came about, but it had been dropped for awhile.

EB became a mere memory in the back of the cast’s mind.

But Joan was still hanging onto the memories that she was still there.

Jane told her she needed to move on, and she knew she did, but she just couldn’t. She couldn’t accept the fact that her friend was really gone, that there was no one around to affectionately call her a “weird little creature” or beat up the hybrid-hating racists that sometimes loudly complained at stagedoors. No more warm hugs from giant griffon vulture wings that seemed to envelope her entire body, no more late night flies because nobody else would humor her nocturnal nature, no more wordy retorts that always made her giggle no matter how awful she was feeling.

No more best friend.

It was November, now. Fall was coming into full bloom. It was Anne’s idea to go to the park on their day off, and everyone obliged, knowing that the trip would be a good chance to stretch their wings. Joan hadn’t wanted to go, but Kat had sternly said she needed some fresh air, as she became more and more reclusive ever since EB’s death (not death, not death, she’s not dead, she can’t be--) and rarely ever went out. But she branched off from the group to venture further into the forest, wanting to be alone.

It’s funny, she thought. She hated the fact that she was alone that EB was now gone, but she hated the company of other people. There was only one avian she wanted, and everyone was sure she wouldn’t ever be coming back.

Joan spread her wings to the slim slivers of sunlight leaking through the canopy of trees. She used to hate them, but EB said they made her interesting. But now she was back to hating them all over again.

Rustling snapped her out of her trance. Deer jumped out of the underbrush and rushed right past Joan, causing her to leap away and fall on her back. Her wings thrusted outwards in surprise, tail lashing. She rolled over, wincing slightly, then realized the odd behavior of the animals. Deer normally didn’t run towards an avian.

They ran away.

Joan stood up and brushed herself off, ruffling out her feathers to rid them of any dirt. She was still pondering why the deer were acting so weirdly when she heard it.

The squeaking.

Curious and concerned, she tiptoed forward and peeked through the brush. There, only a few feet away, was a doe lying in a pool of its own blood. Its stomach was ripped open, but it was still alive, like whatever had killed it wasn’t interested in eating at the moment. The sight made Joan’s veins turn icy in fear.

What did this?

When she found out, she wished she had just ran off with the rest of the herd.

Growling came to the left. A large, bulky creature emerged from its hiding spot in the trees, perching on a branch with long, curved talons. It had molted green skin and bug-like eyes. Multiple rows of teeth poked out of its maw, dripping with drool. The barb at the end of its tail was just as menacing as its seven-inch claws. When it noticed Joan, it exhaled a low hissing breath and buzzed its four insect wings.

A WingEater.

But that’s impossible! WingEaters shouldn’t exist anymore! Wasn’t the gene to activate the form dead or something?

Joan flung her wings open but it was too late; the monster was upon her. There was a terrible pain- everything went black when she hit that tree.

Joan woke up on the ground.

No-- Wait-- Waking up implied she was in a bed, at home, safe.

Joan came to.

She was lying face-down on the ground, mouth full of dirt. There was a metallic tang on her tongue- she was frothing red at the lips.

Joan lifted her head up and coughed out gritty clots of scarlet. She saw the WingEater hunched over a few feet away, distracted by something. This was her only chance to get away so she crawled. She crawled until she could finally force herself to stand up and run.

She staggered back towards the park. Someone screamed. Multiple people scream. Jane was covering her mouth in shock- but why? Maria was shielding Bessie’s eyes, Aragon had backed herself up into Kat’s arms, Anne looked like she was about to faint…

Joan’s knees were wobbling and her vision kept blurring with a blizzard of black. She couldn’t focus on anything. She attempted to speak, to ask what was wrong, but only blood flooded out. Deliriously, she dabbed her fingertips against her lips and stared in bewilderment when they came back red, like she was just now noticing her body violently ejecting its own fluids. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Cleves, maybe Maggie, sprint somewhere- where was she going?

Joan couldn’t follow, couldn’t ask what was going on. Her legs gave out. She dropped into a pool of her own blood.

It wasn’t the deer that WingEater was eating.

---

The Flightless. That was what people who have lost their ability to fly were called. Almost as disgraceful as hybrids. That was what Joan was now sorted into.

The doctors spent six hours trying to stabilize Joan. Eventually, they got the bleeding to stop--it was a lot of blood for one body--and stitched up the gash, but nothing could bring back the wing that was ripped off.

Joan would never fly again.

When she woke up, she cried. Joan shivered and sobbed and had bad panic attacks. The anguish was blinding- the pain was worse. Even with the antibiotics, she was overwhelmed by white hot agony that seared up through her back, ripping her apart from the inside out.

Her world was crashing down.

She hadn’t realized the damage at first, apparently. She was in a severe state of shock when she came hobbling into the park, clothing drenched in her own blood. People who had witnessed it said she looked extremely dazed and completely out-of-it, unaware of the gore she was soaked in, unaware that her back was spitting like a spigot. She just kept asking herself why. Why her? Why did this have to happen to her? What did she ever do?

When she was released from the hospital, Joan went home and lay in her bed for six days. For six days she suffered. She didn’t eat, barely drank anything, and just about everything had to be forced down her throat.

Eventually, she recovered, but she didn’t get better. Not psychologically. That was why her new psychiatrist prescribed her antidepressants. She didn’t think they worked.

Still, she eventually forced herself to get up. Even when it felt like someone had just ripped out her spine and proceeded to beat her into a pulp with it, she hauled her body off to work.

Without her other wing, though, her balance was completely thrown off. She stumbled around like a giraffe with broken legs, unable to stay upright. Not to mention all the stares she got.

The one-winged fledgling was a freak.

The others did their best to ward off gawkers, but they couldn’t always be there. Not when kids plucked out her feathers or tried to touch the spot where her other wing used to be when she was at stagedoor or out near fans. Not when adults made snide remarks when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Not when other avians posted on social media about the Flightless hybrid in SIX.

The anger and despair from it all simmered inside of Joan.

After work one day, Joan avoided the other ladies in waiting and the queens. She felt delirious and achy and just wanted to be alone.

Guided by the evening light, Joan stumbled right into predator territory.

The WingEater came out of nowhere, ramming into Joan with the force of a charging bull and sending her sprawling across the ground. She tried to scamper away, but a powerful beak clamped down on her remaining wing and threw her into a tree. 

Joan was roughed up badly, so much so that she thought the WingEater that had taken her wing had come back for revenge. But that one had been a Cimex. This one was a very angry Avem.

It stood at a staggering eight feet tall, with choppy tail feathers and massive wings. Its plumage, sand-colored that faded to dark brown, was now smeared in her blood. Its narrow white head lacked feathers, rather having the fuzz that most vultures had, but that made its enraged expression even more clear to her.

The WingEater soon pinned her to the ground. A massive, bird-like foot that was tipped with razor sharp black talons pressed down on her chest with so much weight that she thought her ribs were cracking beneath the force. The beast opened its hooked beak around her neck, preparing to rip her throat out, and Joan sobbed, “Just do it.”

The beast’s jaws twitched, then it pulled back slightly. It looked down at Joan, bloody and sobbing beneath it.

  “Just kill me already!” Joan cried, tears streaming down her face. “Do it! Please! I-- I don’t even care. I don’t wanna be alive anymore.”

That did it.

Some humanity returned to those pitch black eyes. 

The WingEater dipped its head to Joan and gently began to lick one of her many wounds clean. Joan flinched, trying to squirm away, but the foot on top of her curled its claws around her and dragged her into the fluffy girth of the creature when it laid down. All she could do was look up at the sky and sob, letting the monster clean her of all the blood, though she was sure it was just trying to calm her down so she’ll be easier to eat. 

Goddesses, she wished EB was there.

[scribeofmorpheus]

As Fate Would Have It (part 21)

Paring: WinterSoldier!Bucky x Spy!Reader

Catch Up here | Masterlist | AO3

Taglist is open. Send an ask.

Warnings: Themes of mental illness, violence... eh, some other stuff.

Note: tripple post! | Vocabulary: Snezhinka is russian for ‘Snowflake’ and  Vot der'mo  roughly translates to ‘Shit’. Also, Voroshilov is a tank named after a military general.

--

Your white tactical gear was washed out by the snowy terrain. Alexei held two unconscious guards under his shoulders by the necks. He dropped them with a loud thud.

You checked your guns clips and silencer twice before kneeling next to the facility’s baulky doors. Your knife working to remove a panel to reveal intricate wiring. You wanted to square away any doubts before charging headfirst into trouble. Unlike the last time you did something risky, you didn’t want there to be any doubt.

“Alexei,” you said, stripping wires. “I need to know something.”

Alexei sighed, his big chest deflating more than you thought possible. He knew what was coming. It was obvious. “You need to know what, Snezhinka?”

“When I was a spider—” your saliva went dry. “When I was a Blackwidow…I did things.”

Alexei huffed, warm breath mixing with the crisp air. He sniffled, “We’ve all done things.”

The wires sparked and your fingers gained a burn mark, “I know. But I did something and I think I’m responsible for…your eye. And I think you’ve known this since before we met.”

The door opened and you stood to face Alexei. Guards on the other end of the corridor raised their weapons. You fired two precise shots. The silencer as quiet as a mouse. The guards dropped to the floor not as quietly.

“I gave them the research. For their super soldier project. Kathy said—”

“She wasn’t delusional,” Alexei said in confirmation. “It is as you think. The boy she spoke of was me.”

You narrowed your eyes to focus on his facial twitches, “And you don’t blame me? I gave them what they needed to experiment on you. I’m resp—”

“You’re not responsible,” he moved into the warmth of the facility, dragging the guards that were at his feet with him. “We are products of our makers. But that does not mean that is all we can ever be. You made choices. Those choices affected my choices. And now they will affect someone else’s. We are all dominoes falling blindly.”

“Why did you lie?” You worked on the inner-door, trying to keep a poker face.

“Because I know you,” Alexi began setting the C4 charges. “If I told you the truth, you’d blame yourself.” He took a long and deep inhale. “Truth is, I requested to be your recruiter. I wanted to meet the woman who…” His jaw worked over and he exhaled. “You were not what I expected. I realised, in that bar in Moldova, that we are all lost children looking for direction.”

The door began cranking open, slower than the first one.

“How do you not hate me?” You were confounded.

Alexei shrugged, “This Voroshilov you are risking your life to save, he has done terrible things…unspeakable things, no?”

You hesitated to answer and Alexei took that to mean you didn’t have the heart to.

“But you still want to save him?” Alexei cocked his head to the side. You nodded. He smiled, “It’s the same for me. You are my partner. I go where you go, Snezhinka. ”

Except you can’t go where I go , you thought. You turned to look at your ageless face reflected in a reflective surface.

The door ground to a halt once it opened fully. Your fingers reached for anything to fumble with. In that moment you felt an ache for the photograph Bucky—the Winter Soldier—had taken from you in Paris. You wanted to look at Sal’s young face. At Steve’s big, goofy grin and terrible posture. At Annie’s flirtatious wink and Hal’s perpetual scowl. At you and Bucky immortalised in a simpler time.

You let out a breath and were surprised to hear the shudder in your voice. “Promise me something, big guy.” You held your chin high to look over Alexei’s face one more time. To memorise every edge and curve, dip and line, spot and wrinkle. “If I don’t make it to the extraction point—”

“Don’t speak nonsense!” Alexei frowned.

You patted his chest affectionately, like a big sister reassuring her younger brother there were no spiders under his bed anymore.

“If I don’t make it…Don’t come back for me.” You waited to see if he’d argue against your order.

Alexei’s eyes fogged over as he let his chin fall, “The plan is to get the two of you somewhere secure until you can knock his bell straight.”

You chuckled at his improper use of the phrase, “Swear to me, Alexei. Swear you will find another partner. Swear to me that you will give them an annoyingly on-the-nose nickname and buy them two bottles of vodka on the first day.” You moved your hand from his chest to his cheek, patting it twice. “Swear to me you will shave more often.”

He laughed weakly, “I won’t have to. You’ll be there to set my ass straight. Now, let’s go save your boyfriend, da?”

You stepped away from the giant Russian, “No, Alexei. I’m going in alone this time. You’ve set the charges. I can handle the rest. Just hand me the detonator. Wait by the snowmobiles. If I don’t make it out, you’ll know.”

He started swearing in the mother tongue.

You yanked his jacket and shouted, “It’s best it stays this way!”

Alexei grumbled, but he could see the conviction in your eyes. He couldn’t fight against you this time. He conceded and handed you the detonator. Then he unloaded his clip and handed it to you.

“Just in case.” He pulled the hammer and the bullet in the chamber popped out. He caught it and took your much smaller hand in his. Placing the bullet on your palm as if it were a treasure. “I don’t own anything except this jacket and it’s too big for you, will only slow you down.” He feigned a laugh. “There is a saying where I come from, ‘there is no first and the is no last bullet.’” He scratched his eyebrow with his free hand. “No, that’s—Nevermind that. I’m trying to say this isn’t goodbye.”

You balled your fist around the bullet. “I’ll keep this safe.”

“Keep it until you don’t need to anymore, da?”

You nodded and walked into the elevator. As you pushed the button for basement, Alexei shouted: “Carter!”

“What?” Your heart started racing as the doors of the heavy elevator started retracting.

“In the bar, you asked me who we were. I never met them all. But I know who signed our checks—” Alexei had to squat and tilt his head so you could see his face is the small crack between the doors. “Her name is Carter.”

“Carter,” you whispered. You’d seen that name at the museum. It had been attached to an image of a beautiful woman’s newspaper cut-out on Steve’s compass flashed in your mind. “Oh…That Carter.”

The doors closed. The elevator started heading down. You had the strangest sense of Déjà vu. And then you remembered the heist to steal the serum from the military compound.

“Right,” you checked and rechecked your gun again. The doors opened to show several tactically clad men pointing submachine guns at the elevators entrance. “Showtime.”

The two gunshot wounds in your back stung, but not nearly as hot as the flamethrower burn on your arm. You had barricaded the door into the cryo-lab. The banging of soldiers going unheard due to the rapid pulse of your heart.

Bucky was in one of these pods, you could feel it. Home wasn’t a hopeless dream anymore. It was becoming real—tangible.

You felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Granted the situation wasn’t ideal, but you didn’t fucking care anymore. Hope was hope.

Your feet dragged slower than your body wanted to move, the blood loss made your stomach swirl. It was like being seasick on land.

A flutter of air left your mouth. Your heart skipped what felt like a hundred beats. Everything went quiet and for a moment you wondered if you were actually alive or if all this was some elaborate lie. Then your heart knocked against your chest harder than it had in a long time and you knew it was real.

There he was, cold and unmoving and trapped behind glass, but alive. You laughed, hobbling to get to the cryo-pods.

You disengaged the cryo sequence and waited. When the cold air turned to moisture on the chamber’s glass, Bucky screamed awake. Startled, you took two steps back.

“Gaaahhh,” Bucky fell out of the chamber. You tried to break his fall but you were too weak. You fell together. He shuddered over you, scrambling for purchase.

“Bucky,” You reached out to him and he recoiled. His mind as in a state of confusion and panic. This wasn’t the soft Bucky you’ resurrected in the safe house in Paris and it wasn’t the trained killer you’d fought bloody. This was the man in-between. Half broken and half patchwork. “Hey, Bucky listen to me! We don’t have much time, I have to get us out of here.”

“N—no!” He swung his arms like he was fighting ghosts. “Whe—where…Hhnnnggg!” He braced his head.

You held out your hand, “Come with me and I’ll explain everything.”

His head craned up and then down, fingers holding onto his ears till they turned red. “Arrrghhh! Don’t. Make. Me…Kill them…arggghh!”

You rushed to his side and forced him to look at you, “Soldier! I need you to snap out of this. There’s men coming for us on the other side of that door.” You yanked him hard, ignoring the fact that his breathing was wild and erratic. “I don’t care which version of you I’m dealing with, I just need you to get your shit in order long enough for us to get out of here!”

He removed his fingers from his ears and reached out to trace the outline of your jaw, “S—safe…harbour.”

You gasped, choking on air. You looked into his thunderous eyes, too frantic to tell which version of him had said those words.

Hope was blooming brighter and you whispered like a prayer, “Bucky?”

He dropped to his knees and groaned. “Make it stop!”

“I will. I promise baby, I promise I will. But first,” You slinked your smaller frame under his shoulder and heaved. You held back a whimper as you felt blood rush out of your back. “Get up, baby.”

Bucky steeled his legs, his weight not as heavy on your frame. He eyed you in strangely, with a glint of disconnect. The looked was wiped away by another grunt of pain. His eyes squeezed shut as you directed him towards the door that led to the secondary elevator.

You pressed the call button but nothing happened. “No, no, no.” You slammed the button three times and kicked it once for good measure.

“Lockdown,” Bucky answered. His voice cold one moment then shivering when he stammered: “H—how do I know that? What is happening to me?”

“I don’t know,” you answered truthfully. “But we can’t go back the way I came.” You hitched him higher onto your shoulder to take a second to stretch. “You must know another way.”

“I—I don’t…”

“Think!” You snapped at him.

“I don’t know!” He shouted back. Louder than you’d ever heard him shout before. Your instinct told you to move away from him, your heart was tired of this game of ‘is he or isn’t he the man you love?’

His eyes went large, as if he wanted to apologise and then he said: “Below. There’s an abandoned storage facility.”

You were about to question how he knew that when the door you’d barricaded indented, “How do we access it?”

“Maintenance access,” he nudged towards a grate with a turn wheel.

You set him down and pried it open.

The lower level smelled of damp and what could only be wet rat. Bucky had quieted down now. You moved slower due to the poor lighting from the flare.

Bucky suddenly flinched and you set him down.

“Hold on, I’’ll try and find the exit hatch,” you tucked a loose strand of long, sweaty hair behind his ear. “All the years I dreamed of you, you never had long hair. Now I’ll probably only ever dream about you with long hair.”

Bucky’s eye twitched, a slight discomfort from how intimate you were being. You were hurt by his reaction. You swallowed and apologised then turned to look for the door hatch he’d told you about.

“Do you know what this place is?” You asked as you scanned the room.

He replied clearly, “Old cryo storage.”

“Any others like you down here?” You jigged something you thought was a lever. It budged and let out a putrid gas. You quickly sealed it back up as you gaged.

“We don’t keep them here.”

“We?” You froze. The flare slipped from your fingers. You knew. Somehow, the entire time, you knew it had been too easy.

You pressed your lips tightly, sniffling back disappointment; heartbreak. “You’re not him, are you?”

There was no reply. You back was tingling from exposure. Self-preservation dictated you look your enemy in the eye. Defeat killed any last morsel of fight in you.

You pulled the detonator out from your pocket, “This was a trap.” It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway.

“Da.”

You turned around slowly to face him. One last question left to ask. “Do you know me?” Tears splattered on the metal floor.

The Winter Soldier’s eyes went small and then impartial, a thought working its way in his brain. He reached for something that you couldn’t see. It looked like the edge of a paper. When his hand dropped back to his side, his head was lifted higher. “No.”

“Then…” you licked your lips. “If I can’t save you, we’ll just have to burn together.”

You pressed the detonator. The sound of explosions going off above you. Dust shaking from old pipes. Water burst out of the stone wall, a blown pipe undoubtedly. Then parts of the ceiling began to cave in. A metal beam came crashing down above your head. A flicker of emotion ghosted Bucky’s face and he lunged to pull you back.

The two of you collided on the floor. You head hitting it hard. Fake stars blotted out your vision. And then you saw them again. Pink petals raining down in the dark. The smell of peach blossoms in the air.

Your muscles were numb. Like you’d left them under a running tap in the middle of winter. Your jaw felt frozen shut, pent up energy screaming for release against unresponsive muscles.

“Jesus Christ,” a man said in disbelief. “She hasn’t aged a day.”

“Neither have we,” a darker voice said, gruff and afraid.

“How long has she been on ice?” The sound of machines filled the room. When there was no answer to the man’s question, he asked again, “How long, Buck?”

The other man’s voice went softer, “Almost forty years.”

Bucky? You wondered. Who’s Bucky?

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch xix - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch 19 / ?? - In which Emma makes her choice

Emma was seated to the right of Jasmine again when they began to dine, Killian seated to the Sultana's left. If Emma didn't currently feel a sense of absolute frustration beyond anything she ever had felt for that man, she would have wished him closer for the way the four men sat across from them leered at her. Raja patted her hand in a comforting gesture from his seat next to her own, his paws giant over her sweaty palms. His deep, soulful eyes read hers with sympathy as the dinner began. 

"So, Princess Emma, is it?" Jafar smiled widely, stabbing at the vegetable tart served to them as their first course. "Regale us on how you acquired such an illness while eluding capture in your family's overthrow. It must be a fascinating tale."

He smirked at her, biting a piece of asparagus viciously as she tried to keep an easy-going grin plastered on her face. The way he drew out words as if she was some shallow and simple girl made her skin crawl. 

"Oh, I'm not sure how I caught it really," Emma cut at the tart, making tinier and tinier morsels. "I only know that whatever it is, it's baffling the most talented team of healers I have ever seen."

"Well, it looks similar to an ink blot hex -" Hades began, but Emma shook her head, and he paused. 

"I know. That's what they thought at first, because of Killian telling them about the black bruising." Glancing at Killian, she saw him stop pushing food around his own plate with a frown and stiffen. All eyes at the table rested on his tightening shoulders. "He didn't know, and I was unable to explain that the bruising is a good thing. I was gifted a soot sprite blessing by an ally. Killian…" Emma hesitated as she saw him stab at his food, but Jasmine patted her knee gently to push her forward. "Out of fear of poisoning, Killian disposed of medicine given to me by an ally to combat the illness before I could take it. He threw their herbal remedy into the sea. These soot sprites have been helping me, and are one of the only reasons I am here today. It was a mistake that cost me precious time; as they treated the charm, it weakened. I got worse. Now they are praying it continues to last."

"Oh, Princess, I'm so sorry. I'm sure the Dark One must have not done it maliciously," Arthur said, frowning. "It seems as if you both trust each other quite a bit -" 

"We do -" Emma tried to interrupt, but Killian glowered at Arthur darkly. 

"The Dark One is right here, and had no bloody idea about a soot charm, herbal remedies, or anything these 'allies' of yours gave you to possibly kill you; if the Dark One had known, he gladly would have mentioned it on behalf of the Princess." His words were clipped and seeping with animosity. Emma swallowed hard, and Arthur looked at her with worry, eyes darting back to look at Killian. Their plates were taken away as more wine was poured and various cheese, fruit, and bread was provided. 

"Ah, a soot sprite charm. Interesting indeed that it's helping. That is effective for a very limited scope of illness," Hades nodded, rubbing at his chin. "Where did you find such an ally that could weave such inane magics?" 

A chill ran down Emma's spine, Hades eyes piercing her with a fixated precision. 

"Oh, we have been in the Mortal world. It's changed more than can be even explained," Killian shrugged, and Emma nodded in turn. Not a lie, but not an admission of where the Dragon and Kitsune base was, or that it still existed. Killian pressed on, a lazy, indulgent smirk settling on his features. "I'm sure you have not been recently?"

"No," Jafar sighed. "I've heard they have the most interesting machinations though."

"Their wars are what excite me, and luckily, you need not be there to experience it when you have recorded written histories," Hades smiled softly, propping his chin in his palm. "The beauty of the ever cycling world that is mortal pettiness."

"As if we Fae are much better," Ali mumbled. Emma looked at him, his dark eyes surveying the meat now sliding onto the table. 

Arthur laughed, clapping a hand harshly on Ali's back. "Quite right, quite right - Always the altruistic idealistic ponce, this one."

Ali frowned deeper, picking at his meal. 

By the time dessert began, conversation had become a sort of cyclical pettiness itself. Hades, Arthur, and Killian had begun a sort of verbal sparring over each other's intelligence as Jafar egged them on with a satin finesse, Ali pushed small bits of food around his plate while only looking up to gaze at Jasmine with a strange vehemence, and Jasmine herself gripped Emma's hand or thigh almost constantly as the men flirted or bragged incessantly trying to win favor. 

Arthur seemed the most genuine in Emma's opinion, his heart broken by his would be queen, and seeking a tender hand to cradle it. He talked about his many feats of heroism, his philanthropic efforts, the hopes of his great kingdom, and how he would bridge a kingdom together with his own. Emma herself was surprised to find that he wasn't completely unattractive, and he seemed to treat her and Jasmine with a good bit of respect. 

Jafar and Hades both seemed too dark and somehow deeply unsettling. There was something about them that made Emma feel as if they were predatory; a flash of tooth and spark on the eye that she could have placed in wolves. They both looked as if they were piecing together where the people around them were weak, waiting like snakes to strike. Hades seemed less confident than Jafar, warmer in a more personable fashion, but quicker to bouts of anger. Jafar gave Emma the creeps many more times over. 

Ali was the wild card. Surprisingly, Killian had exchanged not a single barb with him when he had spoken. It was as if Ali did not exist to Killian, although Ali himself seemed to be half present; he flipped between wanting to be there and desperately wanting to escape. Emma could understand the emotion, although it had been over a year ago since she had last dealt with that specific unease in royal matters. Was his kingdom without social etiquette? Did being outside of the United Realms mean you did not follow any social constructs? But then, Jasmine, Jafar, Arthur, and Hades seemed to know most of the stiffer mannerisms and propriety. 

It simply was bizarre how clearly Ali disliked the Sultana while he still fought for her hand. 

When they rose to take an after dinner libation, Ali trailed behind. Holding back herself, Emma watched him approach a servant clearing their plates. They began to argue after Ali seemed to say something to shock the Palace staff. 

"I don't care how much it costs. Do it. On my orders, and if anyone asks -" 

"M'Lord, I m-mean you no d-disrespect, but your orders m-mean little here. You would need -" The servant stammered, and Ali sighed, taking off his turban to comb his fingers through his hair with exasperation. 

"It was going to be thrown away, was it not?" Ali snapped at the man. 

"Well yes, but -" 

Ali took a step forward as the man cowered. "Then why -" 

"Omar, what is happening here?" Emma asked, and Omar bowed low with a sputter. Ali looked irritated, his eyes narrowing. 

"Princess, I am honored that you have remembered my name, but there is no need -" 

"I asked for the leftovers not being reused to be given to the hungry people I am sure must live in this kingdom," Ali gritted out. "It seems, however, that is too difficult - "

"It's m-much t-too good to waste on them," Omar stammered again, and Ali's eyes lit with a dark rage. He gripped Omar by the vest, and Emma squeaked out a warning. 

"Stop! Stop please!" Ali lowered the trembling man, who breathed a sigh of relief just as Jasmine turned the corner. Emma nodded at her, Ali still gripping Omar's vest as his fingers loosened. 

"Just what is going on?" Jasmine chided, her hands on her hips. 

"Ali wanted this food to be given to the poor living in your kingdom, Sultana. Omar was stating that it could not be done, and that it was too good for 'them', whoever 'them' is. I would hope no kingdom as opulent as Agrabah would have hungry people on the streets, but…" Emma trailed off, watching Ali step back with a look of surprise. 

Jasmine raised a cocky eyebrow. "If we do, I certainly have never seen them."

"Maybe you aren't looking hard enough then," Ali challenged, Jasmine's jaw dropping. 

"How dare you!" Jasmine hissed, but Ali only shook his head with a condescending smirk. "I look after this entire kingdom -" 

"You look over things alright, Sultana. You look over the things you don't see, because your guards remove them from your view. Although, since you spend the majority of your time here in your gilded towers, it isn't surprising that you have no idea how many go hungry," Ali sneered at Jasmine. She scoffed, looking at him with rage. 

"How would you even know? How dare you, how dare you -" 

"Take this food down to the streets then. Tonight. No guard clean up beforehand, just them protecting you while you serve hot meals. Let's go. Right now," Ali challenged, Emma's eyes going wide. 

"I - We - That's a logistics nightmare -" Jasmine said weakly. 

"If the food will be thrown away regardless, Jasmine," Emma smiled, batting her eyelashes. "I've not gotten a chance to see the market -" 

"Oh, not you too!" Jasmine groaned. 

"I mean, the worst thing that could happen is some food allotted for waste gets a few more hours of potential use. Please, Jasmine?" Emma watched as Jasmine fought herself internally before sighing. Whistling with two fingers, Raja appeared a moment later. 

"Sultana?" the Anisapi asked, eyeing Ali suspiciously. 

"I want this food brought down to the plaza square, and my seated box brought before it. I am about to prove this," She pointed at Ali, glaring as her chin rose in defiance, “Fool that he has no right to disrespect me when in the grace of my hospitality.”

“Fine, then, Sultana,” Ali challenged. Omar scurried off, and Jasmine turned in a huff to walk away. Before she could get very far, Ali called after her. “But what if I am right?

Jasmine whirled around, stomping back to him to poke a finger into his chest. “You aren’t.”

Ali grinned cockily, and Jasmine fumed. “Willing to wager?” he asked in a silky tone. “I bet you an evening with me that you, Sultana, the Seer of the Sands, are wrong.” Jasmine opened her mouth to say something, but Ali raised a hand. “And no peeking into the future to cheat, Sultana. No. I wager you are very wrong. I wager you have looked at your life, at Kings, Queens, and Royal fuck all, but never the poorest you rule over.”

Jasmine sputtered, and Emma watched helplessly as the viewing box was brought to them. As she stepped inside to escape the awkward tension rippling off the two, she heard Jasmine’s clear reply. 

“And when you are wrong, Ali of Ab’Dua, you will leave my kingdom to never return.” 

The viewing carriage, or 'palanquin', for the Sultana was lined in velvet, Ali seated next to Emma so Jasmine could stare him down from her seat as they approached the public square. Emma tried to focus on the sweet and spicy scents that drifted in through the small windows, or the colorful stalls that they passed as Jasmine and Ali bickered. It seemed everything they spoke about had them opposed to the other, from the size of Jasmine’s guard to their personal preferences on fruit. 

“Figs are pretentious, even to eat,” Ali sneered, as Jasmine raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“You would know all about pretentious, as a spoiled, privileged, man-child -”

“Projection does not suit you, Sultana,” he replied coolly. Emma could practically feel the flame of Jasmine’s wrath, the heat of it as hot as the outside temperature. 

They arrived in the square in a silence that was thick with animosity, people scrambling to the shadows as if they were being chased away. Food was set forth as trumpets blared, an announcer stepping forward at the front. “The Sultana gifts you with this humble bounty, citizens of Agrabah. If you have not been fed, if you are hungry, step forward.” 

The square stayed silent, the bustle of the market dying within minutes.

“See?” Jasmine pressed, smiling slightly. Emma looked down at her feet, a strange feeling in her gut. 

Ali chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “I see alright. Your populace is terrified of you.” He stretched, cracking his shoulders and knuckles, then opened the door to the viewing box. The guards startled, but he gave a wave while he removed his fine clothes, leaving only a vest and trousers. 

“Ali, what -” Emma hissed, gesturing for him to return. He shook his head and offered his hand to her. “No! I can’t, people shouldn’t know I’m - “

At her protests, he rolled his eyes again, looking around. Spotting what he apparently needed, she saw him turn a corner. After a few moments he returned with a visibly shaken man who held several bejeweled veils. 

“Which one do you think suits this lady, good man?” Ali asked the man, who fumbled slightly. 

“The emerald, sir,” the man whispered. His forehead has begun to bead with sweat, and Emma felt intensely bad for him. 

“It’s beautiful. I’d be honored to wear such craftsmanship.” Emma smiled softly, taking it from his fingers. He flinched, but when her fingers gently took the material from his hands he relaxed. Ali placed several gold coins into his hands to pay, and the man’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. 

“I - This is too much -” he stammered, but Ali shook his head. 

“If you are hungry, if you have family that are hungry, or if you know anyone who is hungry: Please have them come forward. There is no ill will here. You are safe to do so.” Ali clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. “If you are hungry, eat.”

The man glanced over Ali’s shoulder, looking at Emma and Jasmine. Jasmine sat frozen, staring straight at him. Turning on his heel, he pulled away from Ali and walked straight around the corner. Ali sighed, looking defeated. 

“Well, Princess,” Ali said sadly. “I hope you like your veil, and I wish you well. It’s a pretty parting gift seeing as I will soon be banished.”

Emma ran the silky fabric through her fingers, unable to look at Ali. She nodded, swallowing hard. It shouldn’t have made her feel so sad when he looked at her like that, but she knew without the blessing of the Sphinx he was right. He believed what he was saying with absolute certainty; Somehow he knew that there were hungry on the streets here. This was personal to him on some level. 

Carefully slipping on the veil, she stepped out of the box even as Jasmine protested. “I wanted to see the market, though. This may be my last chance.”

“Well, then we shall have to see the market.” Ali smiled, offering his arm. 

The market was beautiful, spices and shimmering draped fabrics displayed with care as callers barked out prices or pushed their goods in front of her face. Fish was plentiful, as were jewels, leather, and soaps, fragrances shifting constantly in the warm winds. 

They wandered through the stalls for an hour or so before Jasmine joined them, wearing a hooded brown muslin dress. Ali appraised her with a grin. 

"You rough up nicely, Sultana. You could be a street mouse any day -" 

"Don't you mean a street rat?" Jasmine snapped. 

"Oh no, you are far too soft and naive for that." He grinned, while her lips pressed into a thin line. "And street rats aren't generally as pretty as you are." 

Jasmine blushed, Ali saying the last bit with a strange absent-minded surety. Emma smiled, falling back as the two began to bicker over fig prices, the merchant looking on with amusement. She stopped to rest occasionally, watching them prod at each other. It reminded her of not that long ago when Killian had teased instead of running from her. 

" You don't want Ingrid to worry. That's so sweet." Emma teased, and he couldn't manage a scowl, only a slightly irritated upturn of his lips. "See, I'm right! Don't deny it -" 

"We barely survived the wrath of a Sphinx, and a Satyr. They say third time's the charm, and it would give Ingrid the utmost satisfaction to be a means to my end." A twinkle of mischief lit his eyes and Emma laughed out loud before she could help herself. 

"She did say she needs a new throw rug." Emma giggled into a coffee mug with a sideways glance. "We could take turns beating you." 

When they made their way back to the viewing box, they encountered a long line of shabbily dressed women and children, a few men here and there. Ali quirked an eyebrow, ushering them to follow him through an alley, leading them around the people waiting for whatever it was. Turning a tight corner, they came out into the public square behind a fountain. 

Jasmine's mouth dropped in shock as she saw the square full of people, some clearly in need of a healer and others skeletal. A pair of children in patchwork rags shared a loaf of bread between each other, both looking as if the wind could blow through their skinny bodies. 

"Ali -" Jasmine tried, her voice thick as she swallowed. "I -" 

"Sultana, I wish I had been wrong. Please know that now, before our wager ends," Ali said quietly, approaching her to put a hand on her shoulder. "With that said, I will see you tonight at sun down." He gave her a peck on the cheek, bowed slightly to both Emma and Jasmine, then disappeared into the crowd. 

Jasmine looked stunned as they climbed into the viewing box, guards appearing to take them back to the palace as quietly as possible. Emma watched the Sultana stare out the window, half smiling, knowing that she was planning on making changes to benefit her kingdom. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  To say Killian found the Sultana's suitors annoying and disgusting would be an understatement. The time with them was torture, an exceedingly cruel and excruciating exercise in hatred. For one, both Jafar and Hades seemed eerily interested in his workings, bombarding him with unsubtle questions as if he was on display. They asked how the Darkness inside him worked, how its presence in his day to day life was made known, if he remembered his misdeeds, and if he felt remorse as if he would answer these questions in casual conversation. Instead he offered monosyllables, eye rolls, or simply ignored the question as if he was a petulant child. 

It suits you, you are a petulant fool of a boy. 

Then there was the fact that they were all pompous in varying degrees that were still largely high, with astounding vain and narcissistic streaks longer than the worst nobles Killian had met. All three referred to Jasmine as an object once alone in his company, as if they were speaking about the serving tray their liquor was served off of, Arthur only adding Emma in as an afterthought. Jafar treated anyone around him except the other two men with a callous disregard for their intelligence, and an outright malicious streak to boot. Hades was not only malicious, but talked openly about his hatred for women and multiple types of Fae he considered beneath him. Arthur should have been a Saint next to them, but his rapport with the two struck Killian as not to be mistaken for coincidence. If it wasn't forced, there was something to be said about what lurked below his composure. 

Topping everything was knowing that the so called 'Ali' was really the thief Aladdin, without knowing any of his intentions. What if they were in danger? Killian had suffered through this meal and now this after dinner dessert and drinks, while Emma had disappeared into the aether with no regard to anything. Again. What if she was a target? Or the Sultana, which could easily result in a wartime coup. He needed to get away from this group as soon as possible to regroup with Emma. 

The Darkness reveled in the chaos as Killian chewed his tongue, trying not to explode. 

"Yes. Do anything for that sweet princess of yours would you?" 

It's too bad you are responsible for killing her. Do you ever tire of making the wrong choices? Imagine doing everything in an effort to keep your little secret love safe, only to destroy her every step of the way. It's insidious, and I don't even have to help!

"Dark One!"

Killian looked up to see the three suitors looking at him expectantly. 

"I asked if your Princess told you where she, Ali, and the Sultana were headed!" Hades snapped, his voice cold. "You are the Princess’s lackey, are you not? Answer when I speak to you."

Killian grunted with a shake of his head. 

"It's as if you don't want a cure for…" Jafar purred, rubbing his beard and curling its ends around his long fingers. "What was her name again? Anya? Emma?" 

Killian’s eyes flicked over to stare at the grinning man, who leaned over, balancing on his staff. 

Jafar shrugged, both arms coming to rest on the curved golden head of the cobra as he continued to stroke his beard. "I'd hate for anyone to find out that the Dark One not only sabotaged an alliance that tried to cure your Emma before landing in Agrabah, but during their stay as well. Can you imagine?" 

The Darkness cackled in his head as he seethed behind an impassive stare.

Your Emma. If only they knew that she could never be yours without you obliterating her. 

"Honestly though Dark Thing, where did Emma and Jasmine get off to?" Arthur asked in a bored drawl. "Ali has one, someone should have a fair shot at the other; tis only fair."

"Ask a servant. I don't know, they were here, went to the kitchens, and then were gone with half of the guard. I assume they went to the market for whatever reasons," Killian bit out. "If you're so bloody inclined to see where they got off to, why don't you head there yourselves?" 

"Among the peasant scum?" Arthur asked as his face wrinkled with disgust. "Absolutely not. If I wanted to smell of camel dung, there are easier ways."

"Right, well. Then I'll excuse myself." Killian stood, giving a nod. 

"Yes, go fetch the Sultana and Princess, this behavior is silly. I can't do tests for this mysterious illness on a corpse. I mean, I could, but it doesn't seem preferential." Hades grinned icily and shooed Killian, the other men laughing. He left without complaint, heading down to the market with practiced ease. Taking a corner shortcut he'd discovered, he was surprised to hear Aladdin's voice. The man was arguing tersely with another as Killian stopped to listen. 

"I risked everything getting into the palace for you, and I got caught. They know to be on high alert, and if you think -" 

"Relax, Abu. She can't see us, we've cloaked the future from her."

"As if that isn't suspicious -" 

"It's not. She won't be able to tell. Djinn magic is the only thing that can take on Djinn magic. We have Djinn magic that I stole." Aladdin let a sly chuckle. "This job will be easy."

"It's not easy, and I'm not going to help you. Not when you're working with -" 

"Abu!" Aladdin hissed, and the Anisapi gave a series of scratchy chirps. 

"I'm out. I'm out, and I'm not risking it. I like the Sultana. I think today should prove she can change. What you want and what they want aren't the same," Abu said sadly, leaving in a scamper as Aladdin called after him. The Anisapi turned the corner around Killian without notice as Aladdin trotted behind. 

"Tough break there, uncommon thief," Killian drawled, pushing off from his lean against the wall. "Maybe betraying the Sultana and the Princess is not such a grand plan after all. Why are you here? You know you will be caught soon enough."

Aladdin laughed, clapping his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Not unless you say something. Which you won't."

"Oh? That's presumptuous of you."

"Yeah." Aladdin smirked, standing straight as his eyes glinted. "I know you are the reason that Emma is sick. You caused her illness."

"That's impossible. How could you possibly -" 

"The Princess talks. She talked to me in particular, desperate for someone after losing her best friend, who I assume is some type of elemental, and another close friend: namely, you." Aladdin smirked as Killian's jaw began to work. "It's very clear with a little bit of her sad back story of how you ended up in Agrabah. You were both close before you underwent some rite together, that no one can supposedly remember, then afterwards you avoid her and push a wedge between yourself and her. The question is, are you trying to kill her? Is that why you threw her medicine away and keep blocking her from getting better?"

"Of course I'm not trying to prevent her recovery, I never meant to hurt her!" 

Aladdin grinned, as Killian realized his admission. "So you did cause it."

"You - You great bloody -" 

"Ah ah, Dark One. Unless you want your princess to know everything, I suggest you listen to everything I'm about to say. She trusts me now, more so than you; and I can safely say now with certainty, you have feelings for her. Keep your mouth shut and I won't tell a single soul about what you did during the rite. Deal?"

"I have no feelings for her, and you have no proof - " 

Aladdin laughed again, examining his fingernails. "Neither do you. Shall I lay out your malfeasance, and hope for the best against my own?" 

"You -" 

"Deal?" Aladdin offered again, a sharpened edge to his voice.

"Deal," Killian grumbled, watching Aladdin turn away, his strides confident. They walked back to the palace in silence. Just past the gates they met the Sultana and Emma as they stepped from their boxed palanquin, Killian falling back as Aladdin moved towards Jasmine and Emma. Aladdin kissed Emma's cheek to her delight, earning a giggle as Killian felt a hot and unpleasant bitterness fill his body. 

Arthur stepped from behind a hedge, a rose in his fingers that he presented to Emma with a bow. Aladdin frowned as Arthur pulled Emma into the gardens, something unspoken passing between him and Arthur before they separated. 

Unease began to prick at the back of Killian's neck. 

Emma sat at the fountain side, her hair in a braid similar to what the Sultana seemed to favor, Arthur sitting next to her as they watched fish swimming. She looked relaxed, splashing her feet and laughing as Arthur animatedly told her something with large hand movements. Resigning himself to wait until the two separated to try to speak to Emma and at least get ahead of Aladdin or anything he could do, he returned to his chambers. 

He heard Emma return hours later as he studied Agrabah's constellations and their strange alignments, the sun long since disappeared from the pocket realm's sky. When he approached to speak with her, she was already in conversation with the Goblin from before, Iago. 

"What if it is him, Iago? These dreams have to mean something. I thought it was someone else, I thought it was… I thought it might be," Emma hesitated and he heard her sigh. "The man had different eyes than Arthur. They weren't - Arthur's eyes are green, with hazel gold. But everything else, the rough hands, the rings, the soft accent when whispering sweet nothings, the dark hair and bit of scruffy beard starting… Iago, what if Arthur is the one who keeps invading my dreams? The person I thought it was… it couldn't be him. He isn't kind, he is selfish and hurtful, and just… infuriating"

"You said that the man in your dreams makes you feel safe and loved?" Iago asked. There was a sound of something rattling, then a light clatter. 

"More than that, I loved him back. It feels as though I'm so close every time I wake up. I just desperately want him to be there instead of leaving me alone again. In the last one, he was… He kissed me. We kissed each other. I think - he saved me from something, but I don't know. Everything is so jumbled."

"The runes say that he knows your feelings, but is frightened. They say your dreams are leading you to love, and that he wishes to be with you as much as you wish the same. But… " 

"But what, Iago? Why are you frowning, what do you see?" 

"There's many obstacles for both of you. There's darkness in this man's past… And in his future. Be careful with your heart, Princess. Be careful who you trust it with."

"Thank you, Iago."

"My pleasure, and honor."

Killian swallowed thickly. His time was running out, she was remembering him more and more, Arthur a replacement in his stead. It broke him as the Darkness hissed, squirming to constrict his lungs. It paralyzed him as it drilled deep through his sorrow, then as if it was a corroding acid, began to burn away all of his once secreted feelings. 

When he was able to turn the corner by Emma's room at last, the Darkness crowed in its triumph, all love for her eradicated finally and for all time. 

Somewhere deep, deeper than the Darkness had ever dared to look, something within Killian burned . 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The smell of flowers and soft breeze playing with her hair does little to lessen the heat of him holding her. 

"Is this a dream?" Emma murmured, pulling away slightly. "It has to be, because you, it can't be you. You're not here. You would never treat me like this, I would never forget if you did."

"Love," His arms wrapped around her tighter, his dark hair tickling her cheek. A calloused hand gently caressed the back of her head. "I will remember for you, and keep you safe. It's better that way." 

"Please, I know it isn't you." Heat was pouring from him, his arms too tight but still somehow so comforting. Emma could feel flame licking her as she pushed him away. "You're not like this. This isn't you." 

He took a step back, and the sadness in the blue of his eyes froze her. She shivered, missing his warmth against herself. Her chest ached, and the air had become thin as cold seeped into her bones. "Emma. I'm so sorry."

"Stop it. Just -" It couldn't be him. It wasn't, it couldn't be him. Not him, not those eyes that screamed secrets at her; not the way he looked at her now with such anger and hatred. It wasn't him. 

His shadow seemed to grow as he turned away. Emma reached for him, unable to control her need for warmth as it began to snow over the bright flowers in the garden. "It's better for you to forget." 

"No, please don't leave me!" The wind whipped around her, snow hitting her face like freezing needles. It blanketed the world around her, absolving it of color and sounds outside her teeth chattering. Her breath puffed in the air as she yelled his name - 

"Killian!" Emma sat up, panting under the plush blankets as she shook. A coughing spell hit her with force, and she rolled onto the floor from confusion, unbalanced from the sudden awakening. The floor was cold under her skin, sweat trapping her in the sheets. An attendant quickly ran in to help her up.

"Oh, Princess! I heard you call out, what - oh you are burning up, let me -" Emma heard the Elven woman sigh as doctors and a few more attendants swarmed the room. She took a stumbled step forward, caught as more gasps sounded and her own breath would not come. 

In the dark of unconsciousness, it was uncomfortable and painful, eyes fluttering open on occasion to see bright light shone into her pupils or concerned faces poking her with this or that. The Sultana made appearances, as did Ali among the other suitors, but him more than most. Killian only appeared behind her eyelids as she tried to escape the strange dreams that featured him front and center. Her brain and heart were just as sick as her lungs for him to be appearing with such emotion. 

In the quiet she listened, straining to hear any sounds that could be him, only conjuring more hazy images of the imposter that haunted her dreams. His laughter and the thrilling feel of his lips against her own were so much more than she had ever hoped for. When she heard the soft hum of a man's appreciation, her hopes grew high until Jasmine's whispers identified who had made it. 

"I'm scared for her, Ali. She's been a good friend, and I - what if you don't find a cure? What if no one does, or if Hades or Arthur -" 

"Jasmine, it will be alright," Ali whispered in reply. "You have been a great friend to her too. We'll figure something out. With Jafar gone, Hades is working overtime, and Arthur wants… He doesn't want to marry you. He has his heart set on Emma. We're working together to identify a cure."

"Thank you, Ali. I know I should not hope or show bias, but after our date… After everything , I feel very strongly that…" 

There was a soft sigh, and Emma could hear the sound of their mouths moving together as she tried desperately to fall away into the blackness. Their date must have gone well, if they were this enthusiastic with her as an unwilling, unknown audience. 

The idea of being kissed like that, or of comfort brought by someone in the name of love, pulled her back into dreaming. Temptation lay underneath her fingers tracing trails under a naval suit, or letting a firm hand linger on the small of her back while they swayed. Emma fell back into memories of waking up enveloped in warmth, the flutter of happiness that burst upward when she stirred and was immediately comforted by a gravelly voice. What has she done to ruin the way he smiled at her while they danced? Had it all been a dream? 

When it faded next, a rough hand squeezed her own, the owner's voice accented and quiet. Her heart beat quicker in anticipation. 

"Princess, your beauty is still undeniable, even now." 

Emma coughed, turning her head with slight difficulty to see Arthur appraising her. 

"You're awake! Oh, Princess, I'm so happy to see those beautiful eyes of yours." 

Emma felt a strange disappointment, but smiled back softly. "Wha -" The words broke off into coughing that left her clawing at her throat. 

"Water for the princess! Please!" Arthur shouted, sending attendants scurrying. "Emma, hold on my delicate flower. I've got you."

A servant brought water, Arthur snatching it from his hands to pour into her mouth. Emma pushed his hand away as she sputtered, spilling water over herself in the process. Taking a small sip eventually, she sighed, turning to look at him. He was frowning, wiping away water from his tunic with disgust. 

"I'm -" Emma felt her lungs constrict and her throat burn even from the smallest bit of speech. Her attempted apology stuck like a shard of glass she could not swallow, sending her coughing again. When she looked at Arthur for help, she was surprised to see him looking at her with anger as if he was disgruntled. When she collapsed back against the bed again, it was if she had imagined it. 

"Oh, you sweet rose petal. It's alright. I know you didn't mean to get water on my velvet. It's fine. Lay back, let me speak for you as a King would for his Queen." His face was soft, and he gently stroked her face with a cloth. Though he was a great relief as he spoke orders to the servants, doctors, and attendants, his words didn't comfort her; Something there unsettled her, his bright smile half heartedly returned as she pondered on why. 

Maybe it was in the way he spoke over her, even in their moments alone together, or insisted that she should rest her voice so he could continue his lengthy monologues. There was also his treatment of the servants and her doctors, his orders given sharply as he ignored them otherwise. A realization hit her suddenly about her discomfort: Arthur reminded her of home. 

He reminded her of the courtiers, the many nobles that her parents admonished or grumbled about for their treatment of people, and their attitudes in general. Her father had used his powers as King to block her suitors, but she had been flirted with by men like Arthur. She had not tolerated it then, but now it soothed her, and Arthur charmed her… 

If she did accept his proposal, she could return to normalcy. She could love him as long as his veneer did not cover deeper problems than the banality of nobility. Coughing again, Emma pulled up the covers around herself. 

"I've gotten myself some breakfast, and a grapefruit juice for you. I hope that you don't mind, I didn't know what you would like," Arthur said, accepting a plate of meat. He dug into it vigorously while Emma was given a tall glass with a straw. She eyed the liquid suspiciously. Grapefruit alone was a questionable breakfast, sour and entirely too much for a sore throat. Taking a sip, she gagged. 

Arthur didn't notice right away, too engrossed in his ham, bacon, and sausages. When he did notice, he sighed and took away the full glass. 

"What would you like then, little flower? Some yogurt? Pudding? Maybe a hot drink?" At the last suggestion, Emma nodded vigorously. Imagining silky hot chocolate or tea had her mouth watering. Jasmine had introduced her to a spicy mix of tea and something like cinnamon milk that had calmed her stomach but also made her feel invigorated. Trying to speak and failing with a squawk, Emma reached down to write down the drink for Arthur. 

"A Kay Tea? Kye? Chay? I don't know these foreign foods, maybe a nice hot water with lemon -" 

A servant interrupted, Arthur's eyes going steely. "Chai, a chai tea. It's popular here, and we also make a hot rice drink that is very good for -" 

"Did I ask you to speak?" Arthur gritted out, Emma pulling on his sleeve to get his attention. The servant shook her head, stepping back. "You deserve better than these strange commoner's peasant fare. I'll get you some actual tea." 

Emma shook her head, annoyed, but Arthur began to talk about his home and their varying teas. Emma's mind began to wander when he spoke about artisanal rose blends, thinking about a life in a strange kingdom. At least it was above ground, and had florals.

Tea was brought for them, and she took the tea cup carefully, examining the details. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the herbal taste. It wasn't what she wanted but it transported her home, to the marble floors and carved arches in the palace, the stone walkways and brightly lit rooms with their gilded mirrors. She could hear the rustle of skirts, clinking of spoons against small dessert plates, or the muted laughter of whatever nobility was presently sitting in front of her. 

Arthur smiled broadly at her as she opened her eyes, taking her free hand in his. "I did so hope you would like this better. You deserve the best life a royal woman of your pedigree can get."

Emma sighed at his choice of words, but a smile hadn't left her face since the first taste of his gift to her. Curling her hand in his, she managed to clear her throat. 

"I like it very much."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Arthur left in the early afternoon, kissing her softly and leaving with another peck on the crown of her head. There was business to attend to, her cure to work on most prevalently. Emma had felt worse since her last nightmare, alarmingly feeling something move around her chest as if there was a sticky ball rattling within the cavity. The doctors were still perplexed, doing their best to keep the soot sprites alive as the true issue remained elusive. Emma needed a cure, badly. Every day, the time she had grew shorter. 

Despite it all, she resolved to hide it the best she could. Not willing to spend her weeks in seclusion or in bed, she wanted to keep her kingdom safe and be with her friends. They would be the family she could not have. They would have to help her finish what parts of her journey they could. 

Killian would get the shard, and Jasmine would take over the United Realms as a proxy ruler until a ruler was announced. Emma prayed whoever it was, her parents and the rest of her family would be spared for her failure. It was the best she could do in the worst case scenario that she was living. At least Killian would be free, and maybe even happily living his life. He could be with Ingrid and Anna, carefully seeking out where they could get a house somewhere with a bakery and a garden. Maybe he would laugh more eventually, or smile, even with the Darkness free to abuse him further. The thought of him baking some pastry with flour in his hair made Emma feel a bizarre mixture of happiness and deep sadness. 

Ignoring it was enough for now. With what time she had left, she promised herself not to fixate on the mysteries that made up Killian. 

"You shouldn't be here, darling," he whispers, holding her hand. They're both shivering, the water from the rain frigid and mostly ice. He tugs her forward as they climb, thunder pounding around them as lightning illuminates the woods. "Why did you come to my nightmare?" 

"You can," Her hand slips on a slick stone, feet digging in the mud. She's still barefoot from before. He pulls and she is again next to him, lifting her onto a rocky ledge. "See me?" 

"I always could. I couldn't do anything but watch, I can never do anything but watch it happen." Holding her while they both shiver, soaked through, he runs a hand through her hair to push the clinging strands away from her face. The wind is strong, making even her dress flap in its gusts. His arms feel safe, even as her bones vibrate the warning of impending doom. As if he knows, he holds her tighter. "I could see you. I could hear you, and I could feel your hand in mine or when you bandaged my side. I'm sorry you had to see this."

"Killian…" Emma whispered, his forehead meeting hers. "Killian, don't go. Please. Don't let it take you from me."

There's a great clap of thunder, shaking the ground and roaring like a great monster. Killian pulls from her, her hand still in his as he moves away. 

"I'm sorry. It's better if you forget."

The Darkness is in its full glory before them, Killian looking at her with those eyes as it sucks him in. Clamoring for his hand but held by unseen forces and howling winds, Emma tries to bring him back to her, tries to hold on and not let go. Wind swirls around her, spinning until she's unable to breathe in its vacuum and let's go of his hand as she falls. 

"Breathe! That's it! She's coming to!" Someone was speaking, and Emma took in a hiss of air that hurt to exhale. Shaking off dizziness, she stared directly into the worried eyes of a doctor, Jasmine, Prince Ali, and Abu. 

"What happened?" Her mouth felt dry, but her voice was back to a rasping drawl. 

Jasmine hugged her tightly, followed by Ali who easily wrapped his arms around both of them. He was wearing sleeves instead of just a vest, and Emma was about to tease them both for their matching formal dress, but stopped short. She held her tongue, examining the long, jagged, scars that ran up his arm. Confused, Emma tried to talk, but Jasmine put a finger to her mouth. 

"Hush," Jasmine admonished. "You were walking with us in my apartments, then you collapsed. Are you alright? What happened?" 

"Oh. I think I must have simply over exerted myself," Emma mumbled. Jasmine's eyes narrowed, and Emma shrugged sheepishly. "I'm still learning my limits, so I just needed a break I guess. I didn't have much of a breakfast with Arthur."

Ali pushed away, looking at her with concern. "You had breakfast with Arthur?" 

Emma nodded. "In fact, I had come here to ask when his meeting with cure researchers would be over. I'm curious about their progression."

Ali scratched the back of his head, exchanging a glance with Jasmine. 

"Why don't you come sit down in my quarters," Jasmine asked politely. Abu smirked, looking at Ali as they helped Emma inside with the Anisapi guarding the door. 

Inside the chamber was a massive bed and vanity, with a sheer and dark set of curtains blocking a large balcony. Jasmine and Ali helped Emma onto the bed where she laid back against the heaping pillows. 

"What's the bad news, then?" Emma whispered. Ali swallowed hard, and Jasmine looked at her with a sad smile. 

"How do you know it's bad news?" 

Laughing lightly at Jasmine's question, Emma cocked her head slightly. "When is it ever good news?" 

"Jafar is gone. He - he was disqualified for an attempt at… He's just gone," Jasmine stated carefully. Ali looked angry for a moment before taking a deep breath. 

"Where is the bad news in that?" Emma asked carefully. 

"He took all the research, and ruined Hades and Arthur's. They were struggling to find a cure without this setback." Jasmine looked down. "We don't know -" 

"I understand."

"Emma -" 

"I don't need to hear it out loud. I don't need you to confirm what I'm already feeling. Tell me something else instead." Grinning, Emma pointed between Ali and Jasmine. "Like how your date was."

Jasmine blushed deeply, and Ali laughed with a smirk. 

"It was very nice." Jasmine smiled, looking to Ali with clear affection. 

"It must have been for you both to make out in the room of a sick person. It was an interesting wake up call." Emma giggled, Jasmine's eyes going wide as Ali burst into laughter. She blushed a bright red as he tickled her with the ends of her braid. "You two look happy. Not to rush things, but if you like him, fuck this entire suitor nonsense. Choose him."

"Emma!" Jasmine choked, laughing. Ali curled an arm around her and sat, nuzzling into her side. "It's - I want to know someone. We are doing just that, and I like this. Is that not what you are doing with Arthur?" 

"I suppose," Emma said coyly. Ali stiffened slightly, and she leveled her gaze at him. "Maybe tell me about this date of yours, and why it was so very nice."

Jasmine wove the tale of a starlight ride by magic carpet across her kingdom, shared honeyed fruits and tarts with pistachios baked on top. Aladdin showed her beauty she had never seen before, his modesty shining through embarrassment while he blushed. He occasionally added in moments, both of them laughing at the inside jokes they shared. 

Emma felt the same pang of sadness even through exhaustion, the same doubts that twisted into fear in her stomach. She could never imagine this with Arthur, and certainly not with Nil. The only one that had ever made her feel close to the warmth Jasmine and Aladdin gave off was… 

His eyes were soft, and she wished that he could just remember more strongly than ever as thunder rumbled outside her tiny cottage. 

"Stay here tonight. You… You told me once that you hate thunderstorms. I don't know if that has changed, if this you does or not, but…" Emma begged unabashedly, half asleep in his arms by the fire. "Please."

Even in her exhaustion, she reveled in his proximity. Looking down at her, he smiled sadly. “I'll stay, I always stay."

"Even if I don't remember you at all, please don't go," Emma whispered, and he nodded. 

"I'll stay. I always stay." Killian whispered again, holding her closer. Emma was sure her heart was breaking, the truth in his statement clear as crystal. He believed it without question, but Emma had heard the same promise fall from his lips before. "I will stay."

Burying her face in his chest, she prayed this time it was not a lie. 

Emma woke in her chambers, attached to various equipment by strange tubing, spells or wards hovering above her that rhythmically swayed. She blinked, confused, looking around to see Arthur by her bedside once more. He was engrossed in a book, his dark eyes scanning the pages. 

"Anything… interesting?" she asked, with a cough catching her on the last syllable. He held up a finger and continued reading several moments longer, then closed his book. 

"No, I'm afraid not. Mostly Naval tactics for bracing a coastal kingdom against raids." Arthur shrugged slightly. "Nothing I didn't already know, and certainly not reading that you would find interesting. You need to focus on getting better and not pushing yourself with such difficult topics."

He pressed a finger to her nose gently as if his quip diminishing her intelligence was amusing, then placed his book aside to get better seated next to her. Emma bit the inside of her cheek, irritation at his dismissal making her wish she could argue. Her lungs burned from the effort of a few words; the conversation that she wanted to have would be far more than that at best. 

"I like… Strategic… Planning… I like… Battlefield… Tactics… They are -" 

"Sure, sure, my rosebud," Arthur interrupted, patting her hand as if she was a child. "Now, I'd like to talk to you about something actually important, something that matters. Please pay me attention?" 

Emma stared at him in frustration, giving him a grunt of acknowledgement. 

"You fell asleep in the Sultana's chambers, so they brought you back here. You're pushing yourself too hard." He squeezed her hand, and Emma felt conflicted once again. Although annoying and pompous, Arthur was trying. He was attempting to be kind. "You need someone to help you, and to share your burden with. Especially now."

A spasm in her lower body sent her coughing, the intense fit making her back bow. She was sure that her ribs were close to breaking from the strain. 

Arthur wiped her forehead dutifully. He sighed again as she looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. 

"My sweet flower beauty, my dream, my Emma… Will you marry me?" 

Emma's eyes shot open wide, her heart racing. She could not speak, pained gasps catching in her throat as she stared at the ring box in his hands, the giant sparkling diamond in its center surrounded by rubies. The immediate hatred of its gaudy settings almost eclipsed her need for air. 

"Need… to think -" she tried, and Arthur nodded. 

"I understand, but I have something you need to see before you say no. It's important." His smile faded. 

Arthur began to talk, and Emma's heart sank. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Pacing the floor and practicing what he would say to Emma had become Killian's only way of handling her strange schedules of late. When he requested her, or simply strolled by her quarters as he often did due to their proximity, Arthur or Aladdin were not far off. Either that, or the princess had taken to small walks or napping which he could not blame her for in her condition. There had been minor commotions that he had heard the tail end of, but when he made sure that it was safe he only found servants, attendants, and perplexed doctors scrutinizing his presence. 

"Hello, Princess," he began, still not over his anxiety at trying to broach his distrust of the suitors along with their timing. "I have something of urgency to discuss with you."

"I want nothing to do with you, and your mood swings. Poison another Princess, Dark One."

The Darkness sneered in a falsetto impression of Emma's voice, and he felt like a green lad again. His heart beat rapidly as he gritted his teeth and continued. 

"Regarding the suitors and their timing -" 

"Yes, fortunately they came so I could be relieved of your presence. Thank the Gods for it; Arthur is a wonderful catch."

"- I believe that it is due to a planned surveillance attempt, and that they are seeking out our weaknesses. I think they are planning something -"  

"Planning a ball, or an event for me to be paraded at. I'll be a figurehead once more! I'll be better off with him and you will never have your freedom."

"To do you harm. I know that I have made many mistakes." Licking his lips, he swallowed hard. "But I would never let harm befall you if I could prevent it. Your well-being, your life being safe…" 

Understatement, vessel. You are the harm she needs to prevent. Her well-being is worthless as long as you and her Goblin betrothed exist. Except that your fate is me and her fate is to die some broodmare. 

"It's the only thing that makes it possible to ignore the Darkness," he whispered, and in turn the Darkness growled in a low rumble of fury. "Please consider what I've said."

He practiced repeatedly, until a knock came at his door. A voice called out behind the wood, one of the servants. "Ah, sir? Your presence is requested by Arthur in the library. Are you able to -" 

Killian opened the door, brushing past the messenger as he walked straight to meet Arthur. It was a bold play on their part, but if he could talk to Emma first… He passed her room, noticing the lights dimmed within. Jasmine and Aladdin sat on a lounge, whispering to each other while an herbalist created a purple smoke that smelled of thick mint and blackberry. It poured over Emma, who behind the veil of her curtains did not move much more than a shuddered wheeze. 

He couldn't risk it now; Emma would have to understand the delay in his confessions.

The walk was brisk, his haste to hold off the Darkness, any other visitors, and her illness setting him in double time. 

The library doors pushed open, the deep purple walls within lit by a fire bowl resting in its center. Arthur sat lounging on an emerald and magenta couch smoking a hookah in large puffs, smiling broadly as he saw Killian. 

"Well hello, Dark One. Nice of you to join me, care for -" 

"What is it that you need, Arthur?" Killian growled. The room was filled with a light layer of smoke. "I have things I need to be -" 

"I thought you and I might share a celebratory drink and smoke. I hadn't gotten a congratulations yet and it's probably untoward without her actual confirmation, but…" He took another long drag of the hookah's hose, puffing out a long tendril of smoke. "I digress." 

Killian grunted, waving a hand in the air to clear his vision. "I have no idea what you're talking about mate, but I don't intend to celebrate with you. If you'll excuse me -" 

"I proposed to her. To Princess Emma, I mean."

Whipping around, Killian took a step forward, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. "You what?" 

"I proposed to her," Arthur repeated. "She's dying, Jafar is gone, Hades can't find a cure, Jasmine isn't interested in me, and Emma is. I'm not going to waste the opportunity to be considered a viable candidate to rule in her stead." He grinned, rubbing his beard in thought. "If I can get her to last through a marriage ceremony, that's all the better. If she can stay alive longer than that, I can claim loss of an heir by her untimely end. She knows it's in her best interest to accept."

"She won't. She'd never -" 

"She would. A servant said she asks for a Goblin to dissect her dreams that I am in. It's just a matter of time." Arthur smirked, leaning back in the chair. "It's alright to be jealous, Dark One. For all your fearsome reputation, the fact that you haven't drank your fill of her is surprising. If I was in your stead, I'd have left her wrapped around my fingers both figuratively and literally!" he laughed, and Killian stood abruptly, storming away. 

Arthur sprinted up behind him, still chuckling. "Come now, don't be angry, I was only joking. She's a fair maid if I've ever seen one. Even this illness can't dampen her beauty or how her body moves with so much…" He gestured with both hands, making two mirrored curving motions. Killian's teeth ground together, his muscles tensing. " Grace ."

"Arthur, mate, if you know what is good for you, you will -" 

"Are you mad about her dying? Is that it? I thought the Darkness in you would rejoice at that, especially since the shard is in the care of the Sultana." Killian turned on his heel, the Darkness heavy as it pushed up from the binds he'd tried to place on it. Arthur followed, at his side hounding him with his mockery. Covering his mouth with his hand, he mimed a face of false confusion and shock. "Oops. I guess you didn't know? And here I thought you and her were close."

"I will tear you apart mate," Killian snarled. "I will rend you limb from bloody limb -" 

"So that's it then. She's your weak spot, the Darkness isn't at rest. I had guessed it was on a thin leash chomping at the bit, but no. It's right under the surface if you know where to dig." Arthur's smile was wide now, his eyes dark. "How very, very interesting."

Hades appeared from the gloom, becoming corporeal from a column of dense, black smoke. "Can we drop the charade then? I'm frankly ready for this to be over."

"I'd rather wait for Emma's answer to my proposal, as now that the Darkness is awake I believe it will be a long while until our cover is blown. The shard awaits you, Dark One." Killian felt himself slipping further with each second, the undertow pulling him down while raising the Darkness from where it had laid in wait. It had control now, its prior mutterings nothing compared to its screeching at him as Arthur smiled. "You simply have to take the matters into your own hands." 

"My… Own… Hands…" Killian heard it speak through him, his panic rising as he lost control. "The shard. The shard ."

"Go. Get what was taken from you," Hades added before disappearing. 

"It lies in the treasure vault near the Sultana's apartment. Get what is yours, Dark One. Get what is yours and return to glory." Arthur gave a small bow, and Killian felt the Darkness pull him away, moving him against his will through the palace. 

"No! This isn't right -" he gritted, and held on firmly to a carved column. A servant stared at him as he passed, hurrying away much quicker when a fresh snarl rose in his throat. 

Get the SHARD. 

Get the shard and be done with this! 

"No, I - I can't -" 

How dare you deny me? I am your master, I am you! 

"I won't. I have to protect her, I have to warn her!" He tried to move his foot, but lurched forward instead. In an instant, he was before the treasury Arthur had mentioned, the magic on him fizzing from the internal power struggle. The door locks were enchanted, but the Darkness controlled his left side, his arm lurching forward to touch the lock. It clicked open within seconds of dark magic drenching it in full force. 

"No! Stop!" His right hand caught the door frame and held tight, the left side of his body pulling him forward as the right held back. He groaned in pain as the Darkness attempted to tear him in twain. "I will not let you, I won't!" 

He violently slammed to the ground, his left hand pulling him forward as his nails dug into the marble tiling. Several guards approached in concern but the black magic of the Darkness spun around him like a cobweb, dropping him in front of the pedestal that held the shard. He heard shouts of confusion from a small distance as his left hand made a flicking motion, barring the door with a screech of the locking mechanism. 

MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE AT LAST YES IT IS MINE - 

Killian wrestled with himself as his left hand desperately tried to close around the chain, throwing himself back with effort. He pushed back at the Darkness desperate to get it under control as it broke him, bent him, and refused his hold. 

Realizing with keen certainty there was only one way out of this, he took a deep breath, then let go of control. The Darkness grabbed a hold of the chain, shrieking its triumph, and Killian used its momentary lapse to move them. 

As he appeared in Emma's chambers and stretched to throw it at her, the Darkness became aware at the same moment as him that something was wrong, his body frozen with his arm stuck mid-throw. 

His eyes widened further to look at the grim faces surrounding him, all but a grinning Arthur wearing varying states of disgust. 

"Emma, bloody hell, I -" 

"As you can see, we caught him using Kraken ink. It temporarily causes paralysis, even on the most powerful of dark magic." Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose dramatically. "He went for the fake shard without a moment's hesitation, and then I believe his return to your quarters, Princess, was with the intention of taking your life." 

"No! No, I swear it, Emma. I swear I realized that I was out of control, and I was scared for you. I came to return it. If it's left where I can find it, the Darkness will never stop. You must hide it again -"

"A likely excuse now that he's caught!" Hades pointed out. 

Turning his eyes towards Emma, he realized just how long it had been since he had seen her. She was a gaunt caricature of what she had been with hollowed cheeks, the skin beneath her eyes darkened to the color of bruises. Her hair stuck to her face in stringy strands as her chest struggled to rise, and she breathed using a strange line of tubing in her nose with obvious effort. Her eyes were still bright jade, staring through him as they grew glassy and she tore them away from his own. 

"Emma, please..." His fingers twitched at the attempt to reach for her, his arms stuck by the ink’s magic. 

Emma shook her head, unable to look at him. 

"I am begging you Emma. Aladdin - Ali - is a thief and working with these two; I don't know why. I don't know what they're after, but they aren't working on a cure. Don't listen to a word -"

"Princess, I'm so sorry for this. I didn't want you to have to know the truth when I thought the Dark One and you were so close," Hades began. "There is no cure I can find, because… Well, because Ali discovered from the Dark One's own admission, he caused this illness in you."

"That's - Emma please listen to me, I never - I wouldn't." Killian felt his other arm twitch upwards, Emma's eyes downcast. "Please let me explain!" 

"No. No, I think you have done enough," Aladdin said, quietly. "You told me that you were the cause, and I kept your secret because I feared for the Sultana and the Princess’s lives. Now that it's out in the open, we can admit that we are no match for the Dark One's handiwork."

"That's not -" 

"Take him away," the Sultana hissed. "I want him in the dungeons, lock him in the best cell we have. Unless, do you have objections Emma?" 

"I…" Emma looked up, coughing for a moment as she stared at him with clear pity. "I have no objections." The whisper of her voice made him swallow hard, managing a small nod. 

He was led away, placed in the dark damp of a cell so much like the one he had lived in before, wondering again if this was the punishment he so rightfully deserved. 

[pernatius]

Lost in Space Part 12: Ch 3

Previous

Summary: The fate of the universe will be decided in the final five chapters.

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Back to back, Mikrovos and Saamuki fought alongside each other against the swarm of The Speaker’s desecrated people. His gauntlets punched through their mask after mask, shattering the faceless covering of unknown substance. Their pieces brushed against the metal and pelted his face before he finished them off with a furious shock wave of energy straight to the jaw. Saamuki kept Two busy as she controlled her flying sword with one hand and decimated row after row of those mindless cloaked figures with the other. I could hear and feel their explosive movements all the way here. So I could only imagine how incredibly loud and heated their zone of nothingness actually is. However, as they still remained to face away from each other, they managed to communicate incredibly well with each other. It is as if they are reading the other’s mind. A few Watchers from either of the two outsmarted the other, disrupting their once seamless attacks. Mikrovos ducked before getting half of his head blasted away. Saamuki’s sword wheeled away from their Lord, jutting the giant’s sword out of their grip in the process, and decapitated the Watcher that was about to kill her husband. While lowered, Mikrovos stabbed the incoming Watcher that was about to take advantage of Saamuki’s distracted state. Midway through that multi-souled being falling, Saamuki’s sword came spinning through them, decapitating before she sent them to dust and once more clashing with Two’s sword. 

Five, who’s still back to the floor, clapped, causing the ground beneath their coming rock opponent to open. Again, someone falls from the sky, but unlike the last time, Sakhra’s fall is a loop of him plummeting into the first hole from the second. The no-neck Lord gets a kick out of this. Literally, after a struggle to get back up, they wobble to the repeated falling of Sakhra and kick. He is sent rolling across the floor and tumbling onto Two’s throne, which brings out the nagger of the chair’s owner. 

That’s what brings his structure to crack. His chest is splitting and outcomes a bloody cough. He wipes off the green blood from his lips before Five grabs his throat. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had to move this much, but it’s also been the most fun I’ve had in quite a while, so thank you.”

None of us can help. Three placed their ridiculously long hands behind their back. They watch Kaishi having to fight against the laser coming out of One’s reddish eye. The floor beneath her is rupturing, curving inward towards her or piercing towards the sky as One’s veiny weblike structure around their intending to slay eyeball expand and depress as they muster out their mocking. “Commander Kaishi, I’ve heard so much about you. But, after all these years, this is all you’re capable of? Pathetic.” 

Out of the three, at least Syco isn’t on edge even though he is busy trying not to get his neck snapped from Six’s fists. Six’s gold swings along with the swing of their fist. Syco dodges and sends a fist the Lord’s way. The Lord catches it, and the two of them grab each other’s second hand. Both proceed to shake as neither wishes to release the other.

As for us three, the rest of the hundred or so other Watchers who aren’t out to kill the lover duo found interest in us, so I’ve barricaded us. All four of Bichak’s eyes, his hands and book, are glowing as all seven crystals spin around him, and the ends of his coat and entire body are drifting upwards. He is whispering what I assume is a spell from the first language. With each new word, they become meshed with the previous. The healer in our group and now brawn punches through the small openings I make. So, preoccupied just like the others. When Watchers begin to climb onto the dome I created around us, I add myself to the list of people that have barked at the defeated Sakhra’s ex-brother and the once late Shiitakee’s boss. “Explain to me why those damn crystals are so important.”

At that, the roof cracks with the strike of the group of Watchers climbing above. I repair it. “Besides the copious amount of years it took to convince the Nantos to grow these after the last time they were asked to farm?” 

“Yes.”

Our brawn punches the group of Watchers thumping above. 

“These were made to capture the Lords. Saamuki figured it would be impossible to kill the Lords. She said it was a very slim possibility after being corrected by Sakhra, who then said through the little possibility that the energy that would be released would be catastrophic. So, it was Commander Kaishi that proposed we should learn from the tyrannical Knox, which Mikrovos took offense to because it was how you—”

“How I died. Got it. So, how long until those things charge?”

“This isn’t as easy as it looks. I’ve studied for days on end. This is my first time actually doing anything remotely this powerful and will hopefully be the only time I need to. I’m under a lot of pressure right now, you know?”

“I get it, but we don’t have all the time in the world. Universe. How much time do you need?”

“Five minutes.”

“A long five minutes.” On one side, the brawn grabs the faces of two of the Watchers and smashes them together. On another, I send a beam of light through four of them, then another directly at One’s eye. One once again stumbles back. Their one-eye waters. They’re blinded as Three replaces One by taking on Kaishi. The clap from them pushes Kaishi back. She pierces two blades into the floor before getting swooped any further by the heavy breeze but is slapped into the ground. 

Three lifts their hand, revealing Kaishi and her broken arm. I’m about to scream, distraught, but I notice her arm reforming first. Nanites. Of course. She stabs right through Three’s incoming hand with her healed one. The Lord plucks it out and looks down, and grunts at the satisfied commander. 

Now encircling the floating Three is a golden ball of light. I try taking down Three, but my efforts are merely met with a bounce. Kaishi steps back before my ricocheting blast can hit her. Hundreds of arms even longer than Three’s cartoonishly long arms stretch out from their light. They twist, turn, hop, and glide over the other transparent arms. She’s able to dodge most. Those she can go right through the floor and those she can’t, she tries shooting and slicing through the all too close ones. These split into two, become more arms, and continue towards her until they pause before her when her back meets Syco’s.

I want to burst out of this dome and help them, but I can’t. Those floating crystals that are taking way too long to be usable are our only shot. I can’t keep letting my impulses take the better of me because not only do I know by now that it’ll somehow just make things worse, but it also means letting all their sacrifices go in vain. I choose to believe growing up means understanding there will be times you have to do things you don’t want to do, but that doesn’t mean I can just watch. It doesn’t stop me from flinging the bits of pieces of what was once my blade at Five. They cut right through the arm that’s clinging onto Sakhra. The hand falls with a hard thud, and plenty of blood spills all over Two’s seat. I ignore Two’s reaction and instead focus on the high-pitched cry, nearly the sound a pig makes when endangered, as they try to cauterize the wound.

In contrast, Sakhra tries holding in a cough, which is challenging considering their chest is crushed even if it is repairing, but there’s something different about his healing process. I see numbers, code, squirm towards each other. They bunch up as he tries landing a hit on the pig-like Lord. 

One hand creates steam as it heats up the bloody wound, so the Lord is technically handless, yet they’re still landing hit after hit on their not-so-privileged opponent as their kicks smack across Sakhra’s arms. He’s having a tough time defending himself against the surprisingly now light on his feet Five. 

With stretched gauntlets, she’s able to keep pace with the barrage of fists and the return of One, who has returned to trying to blast with their one eye. The cyclops’ target is also Syco, who can dodge, but is now having a tough time being Six’s equal as he gets punched in the face multiple times. Things are growing dim, which isn’t entirely figurative as the green giant and I are growing tiresome, pushing off the Watchers, causing us to lose light the slower we become. At least before I’m unable to see what’s happening outside of the dome, Mikrovos and Saamuki remain to have the upper hand. Saamuki even lands a cut across Two when her sword slides across their sword after a cling. The last thing I see before the rest of the Watchers buried us is Two inspecting their wound and being shocked at their blood having been spilled. 

I’m crouching because of the weight of keeping this dome from collapsing from the immense amount of added weight. Some parts are cracking again. I reknit them, but once I do, three more pop up. The sounds of their thrashing don’t help my frustration. “Please tell me those things are done charging.”

Both the green one and I try to catch our breaths as we turn around and look at the sweating figure behind us. Bichak’s words are slurred. “Almost. One minute.”

A chunk of the dome above falls between us. It shatters once it hits the ground. A charging hand slides through the hole. I summon a shield before the Watcher can shoot. It smacks their hand out and them away from the dome. We don’t have a second before another replaces them, and we don’t have a minute because the dome’s cracks have become too much for me to fix. “I don’t think we have a minute.” 

“Fifty seconds now.” More pieces of the dome are sent falling. The now not so silent one grunts as he shields us from the falling parts. On the other hand, I shoot at the wiggling hands, pushing off the Watchers as well in a seemingly pointless attempt at buying us some time. “Forty-five seconds.”

A pesky Watcher manages to squeeze themselves through one of the widening holes. Another is trying to force itself through as the two of us stand, protecting the four-eyed annoyance and his crystals. My partner punches the Watcher straight through their gut. He then sends another punch their way, but it catches it. With those two entangled, I teleport right beside it. The beam goes right through them and a couple more lying on the other side of the wall. We work through several until the long-awaited words are spoken. 

“Done,” Bichak finally announced. He raised a hand into the air, causing the crystals to spin faster as his other hand rose above the sparking book. “I just need room.” I push the remaining dome away from us along with the Watchers around us. I then burst out some more of my energy, killing most of the Watchers around us and the duo some feet beside us. Those left stare. 

All seven of the Lords fell on their knees. Streams of rich yellow light are being pulled out of them towards the crystals. Besides Four and Seven, they questioned their weakened states as they’re easily overpowered by Sakhra, Kaishi, Syco, Mikrovos, and Saamuki. Speaking of Seven, with trembling hands, they’re slowly slipping off the chain wrapped around them. Killing all those Watchers took a lot out of me, sure, but not enough to leave me weak, helpless. I’m charging up as I look at Seven who’s eyes smile upon noticing me. My hair is floating around me as I burn with not-so heavenly light. 

“There,” One realized and pointed at the levitating man behind me. “Get him.” When the Watchers turned to the Lord then looked back at me, they stepped back. One’s eye glowed. In unison, yellow light escaped from the crevice between their faces and masks. Along with that, their awe seems to die as they dart towards us. 

“Shit,” the vegetation finally spoke. 

“Yeah.” Back to back, the two of us are preparing for the long fight ahead as the others are busy with the Lords. I’m about to shoot, and he’s about to punch when suddenly Seven gets up from their throne and removes their chain. All of us follow the swinging of their chain as it coils around One’s neck. Before One can react, electrifying energy bolts across the metal, electrocuting the Lord, incapacitating them as they fall face first. As soon as they do, Seven yanks the groaning Lord towards them. 

“Seven? What are you—” But it’s too late because Seven sucks up the rest of One, leaving not only the rest of us to stand in utter shock but for Four to slam their book close with a sneer as well. 

[depths-of-hope-and-despair]

Cicatrix

(( Short story time guys! This will be a new series where I post the longer stories about the girls I write in my free time. These stories are events currently happening, that you are encouraged to send asks about. These are not build up to events though, just simple slice of life stories. That being said, enjoy my first character driven story, this time with Aditi and Iyabo. Feel free to send asks about the story to the girls! They'll respond as if it just happened. Enjoy! ♥️ ))

The sun shines bright on the riddling tides. The white sand hurt the tallest girl’s eyes, which were far more accustomed to the dark. Aditi, as objectionable as ever, leaned on the wall of the small beach-house, twiddling her thumbs. Fay had enthusiastically suggested the group spend this Saturday at the beach to enjoy the warm weather. Finn and Putri latched onto this idea to practice their respective talents, Iyabo seemed to hesitate but caved, and Aditi was carted a long since her vote no longer counted. Democracy and all that. Fay sat down at the end of the beach, letting the tide hit her feet, and giggling about how cold the ocean was. Finn was already a mile out to sea, all smiles and ready to “catch some waves,” as he put it. Aditi trusted he’d be safe, his title wasn’t for nothing, but her eyes always looked over to make sure he was above water. Putri, had selected a few fire dancing tools and set up shop very far away to avoid hurting anyone with the flames. Sand isn’t flammable like the grass of their backyard, luckily. All was as it should be. Wait. One. Two. Three…… Aditi’s attention turned to the beach house she was currently leaning against. Iyabo had disappeared inside to change into her swimsuit nearly thirty minutes ago. She barely took ten to get ready in the morning time. Concern filling her chest, the goddess took a quick glance back at the others, before making her way inside the cabin. —————— Nothing looked out of the ordinary inside the changing house, in fact, it was quite pristine and.. girlie. Pastel colored walls, polished sinks, stall doors for privacy with flowers on them. She was certain Iyabo would’ve rushed out of here as soon as physically possible, which only added to her concern. Noticing one of the doors being closed, Aditi walked closer on silent feet. Her hand reached out and knocked. “Iyabo.” “Geh-!” The girl behind the door jumped out of her skin, holding a hand over her chest to calm down. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, beanpole. Do ya wear shoes that absorb sound or somethin’? Fuckin’ hell…” That was definitely Iyabo at least. Ignoring the question, Aditi moved on quickly. “You have been gone for half an hour. I was concerned for your safety. Are you alright?” She asked, her tone flat. “Yea… yea, I’m straight. Wot are ya? My mum? I don’t need ya lookin’ out fer me. I’m a grown ass adult, y’know?” Iyabo answered back, her voice prickling defensively. “It just took me a minute ta figure out this damn bathin’ suit. That’s all.” “Grown adults don’t typically need thirty minutes to put on a swimsuit.” Aditi commented, earning a disgruntled sigh from her friend. “Is there something wrong? Aside from your struggle with your swimwear?” Silence fills the air for a second. Aditi bites her lip, hoping she didn’t say the wrong thing. “It’s….” Iyabo began, only to trail off back to saying nothing for a moment. Aditi hesitantly took a step back, prepared to leave if the other girl took this as a chance to yell and holler at her for being nosy. “Just-! Come in ‘ere. Te door’s unlocked.” Iyabo piped up. The taller girl blinked in surprise, at a loss for a moment. “... Pardon? You want me to come into your changing room?” “That’s exactly wot te fuck I said, now get in ‘ere, ‘fore I change my mind!” Iyabo said in a rush, pushing the door open slightly to urge her roommate to do as she said. “Don’t make dis weird, just come in!” She huffed. After a moment's worth of catching her mind up with the current events, Aditi did as she was asked. —————— The changing room wasn’t exactly roomy, Aditi finding herself only four feet apart from Iyabo despite how petite both girls were. The close proximity wasn’t a problem to the tallest, who often hovered for no other reason than a need to be close. Iyabo however… “Step back a lil’, will ya? I asked ya ta come in ‘ere, not breathe down my neck. Fucksakes…” She grumbled, doing her part in backing up. Aditi flattened her lip, but took a step back. “Satisfied? Why did you insist I come in here to begin with?”

“Ta see this fuckin’ bathin’ suit, dingbat! Look at it, will ya!?” Iyabo snarked, pointing down to herself. After that small outburst however, she looked unreasonably bashful, now that Aditi’s eyes scanned her.

Navy blue, that was the right color to describe the two piece swimsuit that Fay had graciously picked for Iyabo to wear on their beach day. The top was frilly with a small but noticeable star on the left strap, while the bottom was a plain bikini fit, to draw more attention to the top half obviously.

Despite all her observations, Aditi couldn’t see the problem. Was there a problem? Was she just looking for validation? “It looks lovely.” Aditi commented, tilting her head to the side. “The color serves as a good contrast to your hair and skin tone. I don’t see a problem with it.”

Iyabo blanked. “... There’s an obvious fuckin’ problem ‘ere, beanpole.”

Oh, she missed something? What could possibly be wrong? Maybe the compliments weren’t directed at her insecurities? Let’s try again. “Aside from the fact that half of your oversized hindquarters are hanging out, I stand by my previous statements. You look perfectly fine.” Aditi snickers.

“Wot!? Don’t-! Urrragh!” Iyabo blushed furiously, her hands flying up in the air to dance around aimlessly as she explained. “The scar! The bloody scar, Aditi! Good god-!”

It dawned on Aditi, she hadn’t even bothered to notice the scars on Iyabo’s body. They had become so mundane, a simple part of her being, that pointing them out felt uncalled for. One on her neck, one on her right arm under the bandages, and various on her left. They varied in size, shape, depth, color, so different and full of character.

Her eyes traveled downward to Iyabo’s torso and was greeted by the problem at hand. On the left side of her body, a giant scar had formed from the mistakes of her past. They were definitely teeth marks of an animal that had gotten a hold of her, the noticeability of the scar leading Aditi to believe the bite depth was harsh. Despite the wound being old, the bruised tissue had grown over at a poor rate, leaving it looking new and fresh. “... Oh.” Was all that Aditi could muster to say, as the realization dawned on her.

“Glad yer finally on te same fuckin’ page.” Iyabo sneered at her friend's befuddlement, at first. The scrutiny from the taller girl caused her to fidget in place, tempted to cover herself up. The zoologist settled for running a nervous hand through her bangs. “Do ya get it now? Why I don’t wanna be seen like this?”

“Somewhat.” Aditi admitted, one question sticking out in her mind more than any other. “What makes this one any different than the scars on her upper body?” She asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

Iyabo stalls for a moment, seemingly baffled that she needs to explain this to her. “Well, look at it, Dee.” Her bright orange eyes look down at her own body as best they can, not noticing the fact she had picked a friendlier nickname to use. “It ain’t like my other scars.Te other ones, they don’t look this bad. They’re neat an’ no one thinks twice when lookin’ at ‘em. I don’t care ‘bout ‘em ‘cause nobody ever really asks ‘bout ‘em. But…” Her hand grazed over the grizzly bite mark. “Everyone notices this one. It’s… an eye sore, an’ I hate te way people look at me when they see it. They look at me like some little girl who lost ‘er mum in te grocery store. Like, I’m helpless. Some poor victim. An’ when I tell ‘em that I’m fine, they still push! They wanna know every god dan detail ‘bout wot happened that day, they care all of sudden. I don’t want their bloody pity!” She yelled, full of indigence.

Iyabo took a moment to breathe and calm her boiling anger, and allow Aditi a moment to process this information. “I, just…” The zoologist began again, looking downward towards the ground. “I don’t wanna be looked at like that. Like I’m weak. I hate it..”

After what felt like an eternity of processing and trying to understand Iyabo’s point of view, Aditi finally felt some form of closure. She could see the need to be strong behind her friend’s sneering attitude. Her fear was being weak, or being seen as weak. Was she never allowed to be weak in the past? Would her pride not allow it? Aditi wondered about the source of the problem, but realized it should wait. She needed to act on the issue at hand.

“I believe you have a false narrative planted in your mind, Iyabo.” Aditi reaches out, placing a hand atop the shorter girl’s shoulder. “Scars are not an indicative of weakness. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Iyabo tries not to flinch at the touch, steading herself against the wall behind her. She met the ravenette’s gaze, confused. “Can ya say that in yer lamest terms fer me, Shakespeare? Because, I’m startin’ ta think yer takin’ this as a joke-!” She snarked, being cut off by the feeling of Aditi’s hands catching her wrists mid air.

“Meaning..” Aditi continued, ignoring the sass for this moment, her grip on the other firm but not damaging. “You don’t form scars from events that make you weaker. Your scars come from you powering through an event that could have likely killed you. Scars, mean you went through hell, survived it, and came back stronger. They are a testimony to your strength.” Her lime eyes scanned down back to Iyabo’s gruesome reminder of the past. “I, for one, respect that.”

Iyabo, held in place and forced to listen, felt her jaw work aimlessly at that statement. After staring blankly, her expression turned sheepish, looking towards the ground. “.... I never thought ‘bout it that way.” She admitted quietly, not even attempting to pull away curiously.

Hearing the gentleness in Iyabo’s voice made Aditi feel taken aback as well, her hands releasing the smaller one’s and giving her an unusual look. One full of relief and sympathy, when she typically looked so stoic and unreadable. “Well, I hope you do think about it that way, from now on.” She said softly.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence and stares, Iyabo let out a disbelieving breathless laugh. “Alright, alright. We done with this chick flick moment, or do ya still need to profess yer undyin’ love ta me or some shit?” She joked.

Aditi huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes despite the smile on her face. “Hardy har. I almost forgot how you cheapen every meaningful moment with your excuses for humor.” The tallest turned and exited the changing stall first.

“Yer life would be borin’ without me, an’ ya know it.” Iyabo proclaimed in a smug fashion, sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry in the air. She too exited the stall following her roommate over to the gateway back to the beach.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it would be.” Aditi agreed with a feigned tired sigh, smiling before it flattened once again. Opening the doorway, the breeze of the sea hit both parties’ faces like a truck. Aditi stepped out first, stopping on the third step once she noticed Iyabo was not following. There was a look of uncertainty on her face in spite of their heart to heart conversation from before. With a look of understanding, Aditi grabbed a towel from the stair rail, and offered it to Iyabo to cover herself. “Baby steps?”

Iyabo hesitated, looking from the towel, back to Aditi and her group of friends enjoying the sun. Nodding, she reached out, grabbed the towel and flung it around her shoulders. Aditi raised an eyebrow at this action, watching as Iyabo walked down the stairs and darted in front of her. “I’m more of a dive in head first kinda gal, beanpole.” She grinned, before running off to meet the others.

Aditi watched as Iyabo joined Fay on the beach towel, chatting with her until Putri came running over to pull the pair into one of her hairbrained schemes. Her mouth twitched into a smile once more. This time, the happiness lingered.

How strange.

[komotionlessqueenmm]

The Phoenix & The King (Part 1)

Short Story # 1

Harald X Oc

Words - 1,931

Year posted - 2020

Bare in mind.

Gregor is 6'9 Sandor is 6'6 Jade is 6'4 Harald is 5'9

The arrival of the Clagane siblings had been an anticipated and nervous year for Kattegat. Why? Because when the news reached Queen Aslaug that they were headed for Kattegat, she and everyone else had assumed it was not a good thing. She like many others had heard the rumors about the Clagane siblings, how brutal and merciless they were. How they would kill anyone standing in their way without a second thought. But what made the rumors so worrying was that they were rumored to be giants, or atleast part giant. So Queen Aslaug sent for King Harald and his army, to aid her and her people if need be. Harald agreed and set sail for Kattegat with his brother and a small army, not believing he would need all of his men if there was even a fight. They arrived a month before the Claganes, and in that time Harald and his brother sat at the main road leading into Kattegat, watching and waiting for their arrival. Oftentimes talking about the rumors going around about the siblings.

The day finally arrived as the Clagane siblings rode into Kattegat. The sight of the three siblings perched upon some of the largest draft horses Harald or anyone else had ever seen. "They really are giants." Halfdan breathed out in surprise watching as they dismounted simultaneously. "The biggest guy must be The Mountain, that would mean the one with the wolf helmet is The Hound, and their sister." Harald cut his brother off. "The Phoenix." He breathed out unable to take his eyes off of the tall woman. "Why do you suppose they call her that?" Halfdan wondered aloud. "Because she's nearly been killed in battle many times, but she always recovers within no time. She's believed to be impossible to kill." Harald replied to his brother pointing to her face subtlety. "They say she is covered from head to toe in those scars, and they say the scars on her face are the fewest on her body." Harald then pointed to The Hound, who had just removed his helmet. "And him, rumors say that The Mountain did that to him when they were children, melted his own brothers face because he was playing with The Mountains toys." Halfdan shook his head in disbelief watching The Mountain as he handed his horse off to a stable boy. "Come let's go greet the giants." Harald nudged his brother with his elbow, the both of them standing together figuring if they Claganes were hear to fight they would have known by now. "Let me be the first to welcome you all to Kattegat." Harald smiled tilting his head up a little to meet their gaze. "I am King Harald of Vestfold and this is my brother Halfdan." He smacked the back of his brothers shoulder with a small laugh. "It's a pleasure to meet you King Harald." Phoenix offered a small smile, ignoring the scoffs from her brothers. "I didn't realize we were expected." She added eyeing the King and his brother. "Yes well the news of your arrival was worrisome for Queen Aslaug, we have been awaiting you for some time now." Phoenix arched a brow. "Worrisome?" She all but hissed. "We have heard how fearsome and formidable you three are on the battlefield, Queen Aslaug had been worried that your arrival here wasn't a social one." Phoenix craned down to look Harald in the eyes when he finished speaking. "Do you really think you'd stand a chance against us, if we had wanted to tear this place apart?" The sinister gleam in her eyes caused Harald's heart to race, his stomach knotting in anticipation of being in such close proximity of her. "If the rumors are to be believed, I would imagine we wouldn't." He answered truthfully, his words causing Phoenix to smirk. "Smart man." She stood to her full height as Queen Aslaug made her way over, her son's trailing behind, while many of the townsfolk flocked around the nearby area to see the giants for themselves. "You must be The Phoenix." Aslaug smiled up at the taller woman. "Jade will do fine your grace." Phoenix bowed her head respectively. "Come you all should rest, I'm sure your journey was tiring." Aslaug smiled politely turning back to the Great Hall, the Claganes following her, then Harald and Halfdan following behind. "She's incredible." Harald muttered to his brother staring at Jades ass.

---A little while later---

"I'm going hunting, don't do anything stupid while I'm gone." Phoenix warned her brothers whom rolled their eyes in return. "Fuck off." Gregor scoffed downing the rest of his ale. "I'll be back later." She ignored her brother's harsh words a she left the Great Hall, Harald trailing after her. "Would you like me to join you?" Harald asked as Phoenix was removing her bow from her horses saddle. "I hunt best alone." She answered without even looking his way, as she tied her quiver onto her belt. "Well I wish you luck." Harald was disappointed she had declined his offer, but he smiled anyways watching her stalk away towards the woods.

---A few short hours later---

Steadying her bow Phoenix held her breath ready to take the shot, the buck a hundred yards away unaware of his nearing end. But before she was able to release the sting of her bow a strong force slammed into her back, knocking her bow out of her hands the arrow firing and missing its target. Quickly Phoenix spun on her heel as five wolves began circling her. "Fuck." She muttered to herself pissed she didn't bring her sword, and knowing she couldn't get to her bow. The first wolf lunged and Phoenix was able to catch it by the ribs, throwing it as hard as she could into a tree, the sheer force breaking the beasts back killing it. Pulling her dagger from her belt she stabbed the second wolf in the heart as it leapt at her. Managing to slash the thirds throat as she removed her blade from the second wolf. The fourth and fifth wolf's collided into her side knocking her down, her dagger sinking into her left shoulder, the pain only angering her more. The fourth wolf lunged for her throat as she got back to her feet, the blade still buried in her flesh. Without thinking Phoenix caught the fourth wolf by its bottom jaw, her hand inside its mouth. The beast tried biting down as Phoenix pulled its jaw down harshly, practically ripping the jaw clean off killing the wolf. The last wolf was clearly the alpha and was smarter than the others, so before Phoenix could prepare herself the fifth wolf latched itself onto her right forearm, knocking her onto her back. It's teeth tearing the flesh apart with ease, since she came in some simple leather armor rather than her normal metal armor. Crying out in both pain and anger Phoenix grabbed a large rock from beside her, slamming it into the beasts skull until it stopped breathing. Adrenaline and anger pumping through her veins Phoenix tossed the wolf aside then grabbed her bow. Figuring she shouldn't go back empty handed she roped the wolves together and slung the rope across her chest, being careful of the dagger still sticking out of her shoulder.

Trudging back to Kattegat was an angry journey for Phoenix, the pain only fueling the hate filled fire within her. And as she emerged from the woods covered in blood, Harald's heart froze. She walked passed his shocked form and made her way to the Great Hall, droplets of sweat running down her face and neck. It wasn't until Phoenix handed the wolves off to a slave that Harald was able to urge his body to move, jogging to follow her into the Great Hall. "Jade what happened?" Harald questioned as she barged into the Great Hall, the commotion starling everyone inside, the sight of Jade all bloody caused panic to rise in Aslaug. "I was attacked by those wolves." Phoenix grunted flopping down at a table off the side of the main room, a slave running to her side with clean water and rags. "Bring me a needle and some thread." Phoenix instructed the slave as she removed the ruined brace on her arm, then pulling the dagger from her shoulder with a deep growl rumbling in her chest. "Hold this against the wound would you?" Phoenix handed Harald a rag, working around him removing her upper armor to have better access to the gash. Harald had quickly sank to his knees beside her holding the rag in place, his heart racing a mile a minute. The slave came back a moment later with the needle and thread, and attempted to patch Phoenix up. "Don't." The woman growled shooing the slave away, then Harald's hands. Grabbing another rag Phoenix dipped it into the bowl of water, then began cleaning her shoulder. Once the wound was clean she stitched it shut, growling in pain every so often. After that was finished she got to work on her right arm, cleaning then stitching the already scarred flesh. "Let me." Harald muttered taking the wrapping from her hand to wrap her arm himself. "I'm fine King Harald." She sighed in annoyance at the throbbing pain in her arm. "I know you are, just let me help." He smiled at her with sincere eyes. "You should go before my brother's arrive, they may kill you." She added as he finishing up his handy work. The Great Hall doors bursting open before Harald could speak. "To late." She muttered as Gregor and Sandor marched over to her side, their anger wafting off of them in waves, making everyone within the hall shiver in fear, all except Phoenix. "What the fuck happened?" Sandor bellowed practically shoving the King aside without a care. "I was being hunted by wolves." She stated as if it was obvious, cleaning the blood from her hands. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Gregor growled at the King, glaring down at him. "He was only trying to help." Phoenix cut in before Harald would make the mistake of challenging her brothers. "Like hell he was, he's been eyeing you since we arrived. Planing to have you bent over like some bitch, until he's done with you." Gregor accused causing Phoenix to stand to her full height, shoving her eldest brother back. "You shut your fucking mouth Gregor." She threatened with a dangerous look in her eyes. "Stop being a whinny little cunt and sit back down, I need to make sure you stitched it right." Sandor intervened not so lightly shoving his sister back down, closely inspecting her work. "Stay away from her." Gregor warned the King before leaving the Great Hall again. "This isn't the first time I've stitched myself up, my work is fine." Phoenix argued with Sandor who sent her the faintest hint of a smile. "I know I just didn't want you and Gregor to tear this place apart trying to kill eachother." Sandor grunted before leaving the Great Hall as well. "I'm sorry about them." Phoenix offered an apologetic smile to Harald. "Don't be their only protecting their little sister." He smiled warmly. "Would you like to walk with me?" Phoenix asked standing to her full height, practically towering over the fawning King. "It would be my honor." He offered her another smile, following her out of the Great Hall. Leaving everyone in the Great Hall confused, and a little fearful.