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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 2

PART 1

Summary: PART 2 ! of Draco falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and dealing with the consequences of opening his heart to someone.

Warnings: angst !!! but just a little fluff as always, BLOOD, violence, more crying, very detailed sectumsempra scene, mentions of death

Words: 4.9K

A/N: omg i can’t believe so many people liked the first one and to everyone who left me a comment, I appreciate you so much you have no idea plsss you guys are so beautiful. but here is part 2 and I hope you guys like it as much as the first oneee !!!!!!!! this one got dramatic. I’m thinking of doing a part 3, but I’m not sure and i also want to make it be mostly fluff so PLS let me knowww <3 i do not own gif.

It was an awful feeling; the feeling of needing a specific someone to bring him a peace he so very much lacked in his life. It was a feeling of not being able to feel joy unless he had you by his side. He felt stupid and pathetic knowing he had made an even bigger mess of himself and regrettably of you. He felt more weak too, wondering to himself why he couldn’t stop crying and do what he needs to do without several potions or you with him to get him through the day.

He didn’t want to need anyone. He didn’t want to need help. He didn’t want to need advice.

“Why can’t I just do this?” he cried to himself one night in the room of requirement, kicking something by his foot across the floor in frustration. He stared at the dead bird in hopelessness, not wanting to move it from its spot in the vanishing cabinet. He had managed to send inanimate objects, but not living things and that was only a discovery he was able to make when you were still in his life.

It had been weeks, since he left you under the tree, broken and in tears. He regressed back into to his old ways of lacking proper self care, of sleeping and eating, his studies being the last thing on his mind, him distancing himself from his Slytherin friends again. It was right back to square one, maybe even below that this time.

In Potions, he didn’t dare look at you, ever. He moved to a seat in the very back of the class where he would be hidden from you and could sulk to himself in peace.

“Mr. Malfoy, forgive me as it is none of my business, but why are you no longer working with Miss Y/L/N?” Slughorn asked him one day as he came by to grade his potion.

“It is nothing of concern, Professor,” Draco answered bitterly, holding back the scowl that wanted to show but deciding against being any more rude to authority. “I just rather work by myself.”

“It’s a shame, Mr. Malfoy, you both were my star pupils,” Slughorn mixes the potion around, eyeing it with a frown. “Now the both of you are falling behind. This potion is not passing, you forgot to mix in the dried periwinkle leaves.”

Draco never noticed how you would glance at him throughout Potions class. Of course, he was ignoring you and you felt that nasty realization every time your eyes landed on the platinum blond.

You felt numb, to say the least. You cried for days and days on end. If you weren’t in class, you were in your dorm, wrapped underneath the covers wondering why someone you shared so much love and time with had dropped you with no explanation. You tried endlessly to get him to talk to you, cornering him in the corridors, going up to him in class, but he would ignore you until you went away. He never once met your eyes, and your heart broke more every time you saw the coldness in his icy gray’s that made you feel like you didn’t even exist to him.

Your roommates and friends had gotten involved, forcing you to take better care of yourself. Staying up and hugging you while you cried. Bringing you meals from the Great Hall into the dorm. Brushing your hair when it started to become matted. Encouraging you to divulge yourself in studies rather than your sadness.

“Y/N, you are so much more than what you’re feeling,” your closest friend whispered to you one night as you cried in her embrace. “You can’t keep going like this. It’s okay to cry and be sad, but this is eating you up. Remember how strong you are. Remember the healer you are trying to be. You’ve helped so many people, inside and out, let your friends help you now.”

You nodded sadly, and finally accepted the help your friends had been trying so desperately to give you. You allowed them to take you out into the Great Hall again for meals. To Hogsmead for a fun day out. To the courtyard where you guys would sit and just talk. It was nice, feeling your old and normal life coming to light again even if it was just for a couple hours. But when you couldn’t sleep at night and your mind wandered off to Draco, you felt that same empty feeling of a gaping hole in your heart sting at you.

There was nothing you could do or say anymore. The cornering him was getting desperate and made you feel weak. The ignoring was never going to stop. You didn’t cry anymore, forcing yourself to bottle up your feelings for him deep down into your mind, body and spirit to the point where you just tried your best to recognize him as a dream.

Your brain didn’t know any better, right?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Draco sat on the floor of his dorm, head resting against the side of his bed as he twiddled with the letter from his mother between his fingertips. His owl, Aquila, sat beside him and enjoyed the loving pets he was giving her with his other hand. It was rare she let him do this, but he figured it was because she felt that he might have possibly needed this. She nibbled on a crumb of a biscuit he gave her that she had brought with her on her journey from home. Draco sighed and opened the letter again, his eyes scanning over the perfect cursive of his mother’s handwriting once more.

My Dearest Draco,

How are you, my love? I feel as though we have gone too long without writing to each other. I must say, the Manor feels lonely without you and your father here, but the house elves have been keeping me company. They are quite entertaining, some of them. I do hope you enjoy the small pastries I sent with Aquila that the elves also send on their behalf.

I know the pain you are feeling, my son. I know it wears at you and I am deeply sorry that I cannot change it or help you. Please do entrust in Professor Snape, as he is the only one who can help you and understands your circumstances. You cannot get through this alone.

Please also remember that you are just a boy. In these times of turmoil, it is easy to lose yourself in your own despair. You are young, Draco, only 16 years of life and it has already failed you. Please find it in your heart to locate the little several joys in life that keep you going. Despite your situation, It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there. Do not succumb, it is what he wants.

I will always love you, and I hope to see you soon.

All my love,

Mother

He felt tears sting at his eyes, clutching the letter to his chest as if his mother had charmed it with the feeling of a hug. It wasn’t, but he swore he could feel it. He felt sad, knowing she was all alone in that house, but suddenly remembered that his aunt was seeking refuge with her at the Malfoy Manor and his mother left it out for the sake of keeping Bellatrix’s location secret. Seeing as she was a maddened Ex/Present Death Eater and escaped prisoner on the run. The thought of Bellatrix left a bitter and foul taste in his mouth, making him feel even worse that his mother was stuck at home with that beast who was nearly as bad as the Dark Lord himself. He didn’t care that that was her sister, his aunt, she had no empathy for anything, especially not for him. He recalls her telling him right before he went to school, that he should be grateful and honored for being entrusted with a task so important.

As much as Draco wanted nothing to do with his tasks, he didn’t ignore them. He begrudgingly let Bellatrix teach him Occlumency, something he desperately needed to learn and was now a little good at. He had even tried convincing himself that he needed to do this. It was all up to him. He was chosen for this. He hated it, but he was chosen nonetheless. And he would try with everything to save his family and to make them proud, even if it killed him.

He ignored the thoughts of his aunt and his dreadful life options, refocusing on the words his mother wrote to him. They echoed in his mind, imagining her saying them to him.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

His mind wandered to you, knowing full and well you were are the one and only joy in his life he so deeply desires. His mother’s words hit him hard, to the point where he almost ran out of his room to go look for you. Almost.

But he was stubborn and still couldn’t pull himself out of the mindset he had boxed himself in where he thought being with you would be worse in the end for you than not being with you.

So he went over to his desk, Aquila following him before flying up to the wooden surface where she perched herself in front of him as he sat down and pulled out a parchment and quill to begin his responding letter for his mother. He thanked her for the pastries, told her he would try his best in confiding in Snape, loosely promised he would fulfill her wishes of him finding some happiness, and gave her his love. He gave the letter to Aquila, smoothing the feathers on the top of her head one last time before she chirped and flew to the window and then out of his room and into the open dark starry sky.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

More weeks had gone by. And then a month. You were seeing less and less of Draco and for a healing heart, it was the best thing for you, but also the worst. He had even began skipping class as much as he could, not that anyone ever noticed, except you and Slughorn of course.

“Miss Y/L/N, may I have a word?” Slughorn came up to you while you were working on a potion with your friend. The same friend who had given up her seat to Draco who she now despised and regretted ever doing in the first place. She gave you and the professor a look before getting up and heading to the front of the class where she began to pick up vials and jars to store the potion.

“Of course, Professor,” you answer with a polite smile.

“I spoke to Mr. Malfoy about a month ago, he seemed rather distraught,” he began, placing a finger over his chin in thought. “I’m beginning to grow worried of the boy! Is there a reason he’s no longer showing up to class?”

You swallowed thickly before responding, “your guess is as good as mine, Professor.”

“Ah, well, one mustn’t pry too much,” he says. “Also, I’m pleased to see your marks improving in the last couple weeks. Keep up the good work, Miss Y/L/N.”

And with that the professor turned around and left to go check on other students, your friend returning.

“What’d he want?” She asked, setting the supplies down on the table.

“Wanted to know about, Mr. Malfoy,” you mocked quietly, your voice turning bitter when the name left your lips.

You knew Draco’s disappearance was your fault and you felt that twang of hurt beat against your chest thinking about it. That whole conversation with the Professor killed your entire mood. It wasn’t great to begin with, but the feeling of nothing had turned into hurt.

You were roughly stirring the cauldron, preparing to put the nearly finished potion into the two large jars so it could sit overnight. They were right beside your arm and you felt your elbow collide with the glasses, cringing internally when you heard them crash onto the ground and shatter. Luckily there was nothing in them, but you had still made a mess of glass. In your heat of embarrassment and with the people are you now staring at you, you forgot you could easily clean up your mess with magic so like a klutz, you instead bent down to pick up the shards of glass that scattered the floor with your bare hands.

A loud gasp left your mouth as you began to pick them up, feeling the largest piece of glass in your palm deeply slash the skin of your hand. You dropped it, feeling the blood begin to drip down your arms and onto the floor.

“Oh no, Y/N,” your friend sighed from above you, gripping onto your other arm and lifting you up. “Are you okay?”

The question was meant for your hand, but you felt it hit your soul just as it did whenever someone asked you that question when you were so overwhelmingly not okay. You shook your head no, the pain from your hand and your heart taking over you completely as tears began to trickle down your face.

Slughorn came up to the table, waving his wand over the mess of the floor and fixed the damage done to the vases and making the small puddle of blood disappear.

“Class is dismissed, students, you are free to go to the Great Hall for lunch,” Slughorn announced and everyone quickly packed up their things and hurried out except for you and your friend. The full-bellied Professor watched you with concern and you turned to your friend where she took your hand in hers and placed it palm up for you.

You shuddered, bringing up your wand to the cut and simply thought your healing spell before watching it completely fade into a faint light pink scar.

“I’m going to explain to Slughorn what happened and put away our stuff,” she says to you, a sad glint in her eyes. “Go clean yourself up and I’ll meet you at our table for lunch with everyone when you’re done.”

You could only pathetically nod before you slung your bag over your shoulder and trudged off into the direction of a bathroom. You decided to go up to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, wanting to be alone from everyone so you could clean yourself up in peace and also have a meltdown. You didn’t know why you wanted to torture yourself with the ghosted memories you shared with Draco in that bathroom, but you still went.

You took your time getting there and you were only down the hall when you saw the entrance. It was then when you heard a familiar ghastly screaming and wailing. It was horribly loud.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Moaning Myrtle floated from the large wooden double doors, screaming so loud it ricocheted off all the walls of the now deathly silent castle. You felt all the blood drain from your face as an awful and sickening feeling had bubbled in your stomach.

“It better not be Draco,” you said to yourself, your legs taking longer strides towards the bathroom. “Please, don’t let it be Draco.”

By now, you were sprinting towards the end of the corridor, throwing your bag to the floor as soon as you reached the doors and flung yourself through and into the destroyed bathroom, stepping into a pool of water that had streaks of crimson red. Your eyes followed the trail of blood, stopping suddenly when you found the source.

A blood-curdling scream twice as loud and stronger than Myrtle’s, left your throat as you tripped over your own feet to reach him. You saw Harry Potter, standing a little ways by the door, a panicked and pained look in his eyes as he tried to understand what he had just done.

Once you reached Draco’s nearly lifeless body covered in angry red gashes, you fell next to him, his eyes finally meeting yours for the first time in ages. He was breathing raggedly in choked grunts, clutching at his mauled chest as he struggled to breath. The stormy eyes you loved so much were clouded in fear. Nothing but fear.

You shoved your hand into your pocket, searching for your wand and pulled it out hastily. You shakily waved it over his cuts, thinking and saying any spell you knew that came to your mind in the matter of 5 seconds. This was what you did. This was all you did. Why couldn’t you heal him? None of your spells worked.

“I, I can’t heal you,” you sobbed, resorting to putting your hands over his chest at a failing attempt to stop the bleeding. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“n...o,” Draco said weakly and quietly. He mustered up all his remaining strength and placed a bloodied hand over yours, you grabbed it tightly and leaned over him when you realized he was trying to speak. “S-sorry. lo...ve. y...ou.”

It felt like there was a knife in your chest being repeatedly stabbed into your heart and twisted. His eyes closed and you cried harder, knowing you were going to lose him. Everything was happening so fast. You had only been in the bathroom a solid 10 seconds, everything around you moving in a slow blur but so quickly.

It was as if Merlin had answered your pleas, the sound of the door slammed open and a maddened looking Snape rushed inside, pushing Harry roughly to the side and looking down at Draco and then you only momentarily before dropping to his knees beside him and opposite of you.

“Vulnera sanentur,” he began running his wand over the cuts on Draco’s chest and you watched with wide teary eyes as the blood pooling around you began to retreat back into the wounds. He said it again, and once the blood was back in, the cuts began to close. He chanted it one last time, and the cuts had healed into thick and reddened scars. “Miss Y/L/N, please help Draco over to the hospital wing for some dittany, and quickly please. We might be able to help with the scarring, perhaps avoid it completely. I need to deal with, Potter.”

Draco was half conscious, a dazed and confused look in the gray of his eyes as they fluttered open and closed. You noticed the scar beginning to form on his paled face and you bit back a sob. You knew if that scar stayed there, it would only drive him into a deeper hatred for himself.

You quickly got up, Snape picking up Draco and throwing his arm over your shoulders so that you would be able to help him over to the hospital wing which luckily happened to be a hall away from the bathroom. The adrenaline and sheer love for the boy was pumping through your body which had made you feel stronger in basically carrying Draco through the halls. He was dragging his feet, mumbling incoherently and you couldn’t stop crying.

You saw the doors to the hospital wing open, Madam Pomfrey staring at the scene heading towards her in horror.

“DITTANY!” you called to her. She threw open the doors wider, nodding before she ran back inside in a hurry. A passing seventh year Hufflepuff had dropped all of his books and his bag and linked arms with Draco’s free side, helping you take him inside with much more ease. Madam Pomfrey yelled to rest Draco on the nearest bed and she quickly returned with the dittany, shooing the both of you away from him.

“I’m afraid the two of you are going to have to leave, immediately,” she demands, her hand reaching up to grab the privacy curtain before shielding her and the love of your life from you and the prying eyes of shocked students gathered at the doorway to see what had happened. The Hufflepuff that had helped was already out the door, but you couldn’t bring your legs to move.

“Away from the door!” McGonagall suddenly appeared from behind the crowd of students, a disgruntled look etched into her aged skin. “Return to your house’s common rooms! That goes for you too, Miss Y/L/N.”

She gently placed both her hands on either of your shoulders, guiding you outside the door and out of the hospital wing. She gave you an empathetic glance before grabbing the handles of the doors and shutting them with a loud clang.

The lingering students stared at you in discomfort and grimaces. You looked around, still in a daze and then looked down at your body. You were drenched in blood and water, looking straight out of a horror movie and closely resembling the clothing of the Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s house ghost.

Everything still felt quiet and slow. You didn’t even notice your friends rushing towards you in hysterics, throwing you in hugs as you only stood there, unable to react. You let them pull you away, leading you to your house’s common room, tripping every now and then. You caught a glimpse of Moaning Myrtle in the distance, her cries still very loud and apparent. She had gone around the entirety of Hogwarts wailing the same news that had broken you, only this time you heard the new choice words she had added along the way.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER! HARRY POTTER HAS MURDERED DRACO MALFOY!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You sat immobile on the edge of your seat besides Draco’s hospital bed. Much to your surprise, Madam Pomfrey had allowed you to stay overnight with the fallen Slytherin Prince. You recognized it might be her way of paying you back from all your countless volunteering and because of that, she trusted you in knowing exactly what to do when it came to the medical field of the wizarding world.

It was around three in the morning, the incident having happened well past twelve hours ago. You were showered now and in a fresh pair of robes, your pajamas holding in your warmth as a cold draft flowed throughout the dark dimly lit room. The hospital wing was tall and large, it felt like a castle in itself, and it only made you feel more feeble. You scooted your chair closer to the bed, placing a hand onto the mattress right next to Draco’s paled slender hand.

Fingertips ghosted over his knuckles, your body shivering at the closeness of the near contact. You didn’t know how he was going to react when he woke up. It was all a waiting game, and your heart squeezed with anxiety as you awaited his regained consciousness. You didn’t forget the words he said to you right before he slipped away. They rang and rattled in your head like a pinball game on loop.

He had told you he loved you.

The thought of him dying and you never being able to tell him you felt the same haunted you. You thanked Merlin that Snape got there when he did. You also made a mental note to hex Harry into the oblivion the next time you got a chance.

You sighed deeply, your voice quavering as your ran a hand through your tangled hair. His face glistened under the orange lamp on the bedside table, his skin tinged with a grayish undertone and his eye bags deep and dark. The scar you had seen on his face earlier was gone, the skin now just holding a skinny reddened line going across his features as if he was just hit with something. You smiled slightly, knowing it would be gone in the morning and feeling grateful for him that he wouldn’t be scarred with it.

His body was covered in a hospital gown and bandages infused with dittany, but seeing how bad his cuts were before they healed, you knew those would leave something behind no matter what. In your studying towards becoming a Healer, you read about the effects of dark magic and the marks it left behind on its victims. You didn’t know what spell had done what it did to Draco, but it was violent and radiated with darkness.

The softness of his his skin was met under yours, your hand finally allowing itself to fall over his and you let out a sharp exhale at the touch. It wasn’t like earlier when you were holding onto him for dear life, rough and filled with fear and pain, this time it felt familiar. It felt warm despite the coldness of your skin and his. You shook quietly, another set of tears rippling through your body as you tried your best to not wake him. You sat up and slowly leaned over him, looking down at him to observe his peaceful features. He slept soundly and peacefully, his breathing even and quiet. Even though he almost died earlier today, he looked as though he was having the best sleep of his life. The sleep he gravely needed but seemed to never be able to get.

Your free hand softly rested on his cheek now and you carefully moved your lips towards his forehead where you placed a long kiss. A stray tear had fallen onto his skin as you pulled away and you frowned, wiping it away with your sleeve before moving your hand up towards his hair. You smoothed it back, the soft blond strands feeling like silk between your fingers. He was a dream, an angel to you. You stood by what you had told him that unfortunate day under the tree, he was good, and you would tell him again and again until he believed it himself.

Just as you pulled back from him, a sharp gasp erupted and he shot up in bed, grabbing and tearing at his gown as breathless quick pants fell from his lips.

“Hey, Draco, I’m here, you’re okay, relax,” you coo gently, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly in yours so he wouldn’t tear his bandages. Your heart battered against your chest, the waterworks in your eyes beginning all over again. He stared at you, searching your eyes and he began to cry too. The same broken and deep sobbing from months ago you had grown accustomed to hearing.

He threw himself onto you, crying even harder as his arms wrapped around you, his hand on the back of your head pressing you into his chest. You climbed into the bed in deep shaky breaths so that you were now sitting on your knees between his legs. It was overwhelming, to put it lightly, both of you crying into each other as you remembered the fall out, the lonely days and nights, the wasted opportunities, the endless missing of one another’s presence in their lives.

“I’m sorry,” Draco chokes out. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought that by pushing you away, you would be safer, but I can’t do it anymore. I need you, I love you, Y/N.”

You cradled him in your arms, rocking the two of you back and forth, and you shook your head reverently.

“I forgave you the second I thought I was going to lose you,” you respond quickly. “Merlin, Draco, you scared me to death. I thought you were gone.”

The same words from his mother echoed in his head again and he finally understood what they meant.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

Darkness was going to arrive one way or another, it was going to steal the rest of whatever life he had left in him one day. It was out of his hands, out of his control. The time to live his life was now. Because he didn’t know when he would ever have this opportunity of love again, of safety, of light. Everything was undefined and unknown and he felt the anguishing regret of all his decisions when he had seen you in the bathroom hovering over him with a hopeless look in your eyes. He promised himself, to Merlin and to the sun, the moon and all the stars that in the 1% chance that he survived that close call with death, he would never abandon you again. His heart pained at the memory of him trying to sputter out his final ‘I love you,’ not knowing whether or not you heard it or if you understood how genuinely he had meant it.

The room was only filled with sniffles and shaky breathing, both of you still in the same rocking position, afraid that if you let each other go, the other is going to disappear.

“Draco,” you say, lifting his head up from the crook of your neck so that he could look you in the eyes. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. Please don’t ever, ever leave again.”

“Not in a million years, darling.”

PART 3

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azucanela · 4 years ago

Note

OMG I AM OBSESSED WITH YOUR WRITING YOU ARE DEFINITELY ONE OF THE BEST WRITERS ON TUMBLR NO CAP!!! i love ur zuko fics, and i wanted to request some sokka x reader!!! i want u to have complete creative freedom but i love how you write slowburn omg so some enemies to friends to lovers sokka content would be insaneeee! maybe reader is fire nation (zuko’s cousin/iroh’s daughter??) but joins the gaang after crossroads or something?

AFTER | SOKKA X READER

SUMMARY: Sokka didn’t expect the girl who held a knife to his neck to be the same girl he’d fall for. Y/N didn’t really expect to fall either.

WORD COUNT: 10k

WARNINGS: injuries, implications of death, kisses, bloodbending, threats of bodily harm, death threats

A/N: time to give sokka the attention and hype he is OWED, also im SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONGGG but this is quite possibly my favorite Y/N. writing for sokka is hard tho. im not sure how much i like this tbh but its really long omg. also thank you!!!! i feel honored to be considered the best :D you are too kind

When she was younger, Y/N joined Azula’s little troupe of girls. Though she wasn’t some loyal little soldier for her to order around, no, Y/N never feared Azula. Nor did she follow her blindly. No, it had always been a struggle for power between the two. Even when her father was booted from the throne as the rightful heir.

Losing her brother made her wonder if giving up like her father had in Ba Sing Se was the easy way out. Perhaps thats why she promised herself she would never give up. Maybe thats why she challenged Azula to... an unofficial duel when she’d heard her comment. Challenged her and won.

The new Fire Lord’s pride and joy had lost against his niece, a shame.

Y/N hadn’t thought much of it, but it probably would’ve explained why Fire Lord Ozai was rather pleased when Y/N had came to him and explained her intents to go alongside her father and cousin in banishment. She was, no matter how unlikely, another potential heir to the throne. And unlike Zuko, an actual threat. Sending her on a journey to find someone who’d been missing for a century was the best way to get rid of her.

If Y/N was honest, she viewed the banishment as more of a vacation. All her life, she had to deal with banquets, politics, war tactics, all at such a young age. It was tiring, and dull, spending day and night in the palace doing such things. Now, she had the opportunity to travel the world, though her grumpy cousin was rushing them throughout each spot, it was still nice. Zuko certainly didn’t think so, given that they hadn’t found the Avatar yet, not that Y/N believed they ever would but, it is what it is.

A sigh escaped her as she sat, on leg propped up against the other on the deck of the ship, they had arrived in the Southern Water Tribe after seeing an odd light in the distance. Maybe it was cruel, but Y/N sincerely hoped they didn’t find the Avatar. She didn’t want her vacation to end, she didn’t want to return to the politics, and she didn’t want to deal with one of the most powerful people on the planet. Aside from her own desires, Y/N couldn’t help but disapprove of Zuko’s need to please his father, the man who’d hurt him beyond forgiveness.

She sincerely doubted her father approved either. Though their relationship had been strained for some time now. Y/N didn’t hate her father, she doubted that was possible, he was a kind man and a good father. Things between them simply felt... off. She liked to think she’d gotten over it, the initial jealously she felt when she discovered her father intended to join Zuko on his hunt for the Avatar.

When she’d found out from Fire Lord Ozai.

Sometimes she wondered if her father even intended to say goodbye. But she wasn’t a fool, Y/N knew he had recently lost a son, they were both hurting and Zuko needed someone who wasn’t going to hurt him if he did something wrong. Though, Y/N saw him try to save the lives of the soldiers of the so-called great Fire Nation, not do something wrong. Regardless, Zuko needed a father figure, yes. But Y/N needed a father as she grappled with the death of her brother.

Maybe she was just a little bitter about it.

“Are you coming?” Zuko asked, his words coming out harshly.

Raising a brow, Y/N shook her head, “no. Don’t get too violent, though.” She warned, looking at him pointedly, “they’re a small tribe that’s going extinct.”

Zuko rolled his eyes as he exclaimed, “that’s not my fault!”

Sitting up to face him, Y/N smacked him upside the head as she walked past him, “considering the royal family, which you are a part of need I remind you, ordered the genocide of every single Waterbender they had...” She paused, cracking her knuckles before turning to look back at Zuko, “I would say you that everyone here probably blames you for it by assosiation.” Y/N reasoned. She had never liked the history that her ancestors had, much less approved.

Taken aback, Zuko exclaimed, “you’re a part of the royal family too!” Y/N was well aware of the circumstances surrounding his banishment, he’d tried to save lives, but war was the only thing that mattered to the Fire Nation it appeared.

His attempt at defense simply earned him a shrug, “perhaps.” Y/N didn’t consider herself a member of the royal family, and she doubted her father did either. And no matter what Zuko thought, though he was royal by blood, his banishment severed his ties to the throne permanently.

Unless they happened to find the Avatar, though that wasn’t very likely, Y/N decided she would rethinking her life choices should the Avatar be here of all places, as she rested her forearms on the side of the ship and watched Zuko march down his soldiers.

She wasn’t going to tell him that the Southern Water Tribe didn’t have a military, much less benders. As previously mentioned, the genocide destroyed the benders, and the most of the soldiers in the village had headed off to fight in the war against the Fire Nation. Though her brow did raise as she watched him yank an old lady from the small crowd of people, Y/N straightened her back, preparing to get involved.

Of course, a young warrior ended up running at her cousin, war paint and all as he attempted to attack. Key word being attempted. Watching him fall face first into the snow, Y/N realized he wasn’t a warrior, but a boy. The Avatar also happened to be a boy. A very, very young boy. Not a century year old Airbender.

Y/N supposed it was time to start rethinking her life.

Sokka didn’t know what he was supposed to do as he helped Princess Yue onto the Sky Bison. They needed to find Aang’s physical body, quickly, otherwise he wouldn’t be returning to the real world, and they happened to be fresh out of Avatars up until recently so that wasn’t really an option. Not when they needed the balance of the world to be restored immediately.

Sighing, Sokka moved to get onto the Sky Bison, only to be yanked backwards, stumbling before having a knife pressed to his neck. “What the hell!” He exclaimed in shock, garnering the attention of the others that were already on Appa. Katara’s mouth gaping open at the sight of him as Princess Yue cried out in shock.

The knife against his neck is certainly uncomfortable, and he realizes that he probably should’ve stuck around Kyoshi Island long enough to learn how to get out a situation like this. “I’m coming with you. Someone has to make sure Zuko doesn’t do anything else dumb.” Comes a voice from behind him, and Sokka’s brows furrowed in confusion, who was this? And why were they trying to kill him? More importantly, how did they know Prince Zuko, the guy who had been chasing them since Aang had come out of that iceberg. Questions ran rampant through his mind, and he nearly forgot that his life was being threatened.

That was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment.

Though he couldn’t see the person behind him, he could see Katara grimace at her demand, anyone associated with Prince Zuko likely had a similar end goal, to capture the Avatar. This wasn’t something they could allow, and Sokka recognized this as Katara asked, “why should we trust you?” Katara’s eyes soon met Sokka’s and he knew that no matter what he said, she would give into the girl’s demands for his safety. Sokka mentally scolded himself for failing to prevent this situation.

The girl behind him scoffed, “unlike my dear cousin,” Sokka couldn’t help the shock that flooded him, cousin? As in Zuko is this girl’s cousin? Or did she mean someone else? He was kidding himself, there was no one else it could be. “I like banishment, it’s like a fun little vacation. I could care less about the Avatar.” The knife draws in closer to Sokka’s neck, nearly drawing blood, likely expressing the fact that she could care less if Katara believed her. Though Sokka doubted she didn’t care about the Avatar, he was one of the most important people in the world.

But Sokka would likely die if she didn’t agree, or at least end up fatally injured. No matter how far Katara had come with her Waterbending, she hadn’t perfected it yet, and healing was only so effective. Sokka sincerely doubted she could beat the speed of this girl and her weapon considering the fact that she’d gotten the jump on them the first time around. Death wasn’t something he wanted, but anyone who knew Zuko couldn’t be trusted, much less someone who shared his blood. If he turned out... like that, Sokka didn’t want to imagine how this stranger ended up.

“Don’t try anything.” Katara warned, eyeing the girl wearily. Though it was an empty threat for the most part, in the air, there was little Katara could do against a foe. Though three, well two if you exclude the princess, against one seemed like favorable odds, this girl seemed talented in combat, even without bending.

She released Sokka, and he turned to see her beaming up at Katara, “happy to be doing business with ya.” Turning to Sokka, she looked him up and down, sizing him up before speaking, “be a gentleman and help me up?” Yeah, she was crazy. The pretty ones are always crazy. That, and she was Zuko’s cousin, it made sense. Though Sokka was fairly sure that she was joking, you could never be too sure.

“Who even are you?!” He exclaimed, exasperated and preparing to whip out his boomerang as he glared at her. He didn’t recognize her, but she’d likely been traveling with Zuko for quite some time now if they were related.

She just shrugged, “you can call me Y/N.” She got onto Appa with ease, Katara on guard a she eyed her, eyes piercing into her soul, Y/N raised a brow upon noticing this, “calm down. I wouldn’t have killed him.”

Katara inhaled deeply, trying to maintain patience as Sokka got into the saddle, “yip, yip.”

Y/N wasn’t really shocked when it turned out Azula was after them. Of course good old Uncle Ozai sent his most valuable asset to bring them back. Though some good at come of it, Zuko cut his ponytail, something Y/N had taken pleasure in bullying him over. Now they were on the run, in the very city that her father had tried to run to the ground all those years ago.

Irony at its finest.

Tugging at the sleeves of her Earth Kingdom garments, Y/N sighed, walking through the streets of the city. She didn’t know where she was if she was honest, and standing in the beautiful plaza, Y/N wondered if maybe, it would be better if she never returned back to that horrid apartment. Her father was starting over, getting them all jobs at a tea shop, even Zuko had tried to move on, going out on a date with a girl.

The Earth Kingdom was an odd place, but here, no one knew who she was. It wouldn’t be difficult to restart, alone. Without the expectations she’d been raised with. Fists balling up, Y/N exhaled slowly, turning a corner. There wasn’t graffiti in this part of the city, she realized, staring at the walls. Though there was an odd poster, squinting at it, she moved closer. It was a poorly drawn image of-

A Sky Bison. The same one she’d ridden on back during the Siege of the North, not that any others existed, the Sky Bison were a dying breed. Which could only mean one thing, the Avatar was in Ba Sing Se.

"Have you seen him?” She heard from behind her. Y/N recognized the voice, it belonged to the boy she’d held at knife point, “the drawing isn’t my best but-”

Turning around she spoke rapidly, “don’t freak out.” This was a problem.

Y/N liked to think she was the least threatening of the Royal Family, aside from her father that is. Though they could both be lethal in their own ways, neither demonstrated the true extents of their power unless it was truly necessary. Maybe that’s why Y/N hoped that the boy, Sokka, she believed his name was, wouldn’t freak out.

Of course, he did. Dropping the posters in his hand, he opened his mouth, likely to scream, only for Y/N to practically tackle him. She slammed his body against the wall, covering his mouth with her hand as she glared at him. Sokka let out a grunt of surprise, immediately beginning to struggle in her hold, “calm down! I don’t have a knife this time around.” Y/N cried out, her voice a hushed whisper. Of course, what she said was a lie, she always had at least three weapons on her. Upon entering the city, she’d knocked that number down to only two weapons, much to her dismay and Iroh’s relief.

She felt him lick her hand, and she quickly removed her hand in disgust, while keeping the other planted on his shoulder, they both exclaimed, “what the hell!”

Sokka’s eyes narrowed at her, “look. I don’t wanna cause a scene, so I’m just gonna go-” He sighed when her hand remained on his shoulder, firmly holding him against the wall as he tried to move away only to be pushed back into the wall. “Or not.”

“Look, you cannot go back to your little group and tell them that I’m here.” Y/N tried to choose her words carefully, if she didn’t need to, she didn’t want to suggest that her father and Zuko were also in the city. “I’m trying to have a permanent vacation, away from the Fire Nation and my crazy family, in Ba Sing Se.” She explained, slowly removing her hand from his shoulder, “think you can respect that?”

He looked at her wearily, during their last interaction, she’d made no attempts to actually injure them. And when she had the Avatar right in front of her, unlike Zuko, she hadn’t tried to kidnap him. Y/N had been honest last time, and chances were, she was being honest now. That didn’t make him feel any better about trusting her though.

“How do I know you won’t follow me and kill me in my sleep?”

Y/N looked at him incredulously, “is that a joke?” She’d considered that too though, the possibility that he’d follow her back to her shared apartment and alert his friends of their location. Y/N refused to be the reason that they lost their new lives in Ba Sing Se, and had already decided to check into an inn for the night.

Raising a brow at her, Sokka gestured for her to give him an answer, and Y/N stared at him momentarily, “well. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?” Y/N retorted.

Sokka rolled his eyes at her, “I’m a good person.” Came his response.

“Debatable.”

Sokka stared at her in disbelief, “I’m trying to save the world here!” He exclaimed, and Y/N wasn’t shocked by his response, her goal had been to fluster him and she had.

Tilting her head at him, Y/N replied, “sure.” Stretching her arms upwards, she waves to him, “don’t tell your friends I was here, and we’re good.” She began to walk further into the alley, towards the other side, “see you around.” If he was here, his friends were probably around the area as well, meaning she had to leave.

His mouth gaped open and he stared at her figure as she stalked off, pausing momentarily before groaning and running after her, ending up at her side. “What do you mean, sure?” Sokka asked, confusion laced in his tone.

Y/N raised a brow at him. “What are you doing?” She wanted to laugh at his reaction, though he was now following her liked a lovesick puppy, which could prove problematic.

Crossing his arms he responded, “making sure you don’t do anything bad.” Sokka eyed her suspiciously, “because I am a good person.” He asserted.

“And I’m a bad person?”

She already knew he was going to say, ‘yes, yes you are.’ After all, she was from the Fire Nation, and Y/N had no doubt she’d done terrible things in her life, especially when she’d fallen into a dark place and taken on... less than favorable coping mechanisms.

And he’s silent for a moment, leaving Y/N to wonder if he suddenly cares about the feelings of the enemy. Only for him to say, “in my experience... good people can do bad things.”

That wasn’t what she expected. Y/N found herself stunned, speechless as she looked to Sokka, though he simply continued to walk alongside her nonchalantly. Quickly collecting herself, she looks away from him and to the nearby food stand, “that didn’t answer my question.” And as Sokka opened his mouth to likely continue his statement, Y/N realized she didn’t want to know the answer as she spoke, “you want food? I want food. Let’s get food.”

Sighing, Sokka followed her, “as long as you don’t poison me.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed at his comment, looking back at him, “do you-” A small laugh escaped her, “do you think I just carry around poison?”

Sokka didn’t know why he swelled with pride when he made her laugh, “in case you run into your enemies, absolutely.” It was probably because she was the enemy, and it took real talent to make someone who hated you laugh.

“How often do you think I run into my enemies and invite them to get food with me?” She asked, picking up a few things from the stand, before heading over to pay.

Frowning, Sokka watches her pay, “I thought we were bonding over,” he paused to take a meat bun from her and shove it into her face dramatically, “meat! Yet, I’m still your enemy.”

Y/N simply shrugged, “this is a one time thing.”

It was not a one time thing.

Sokka found himself ‘coincidentally’ running into Y/N, more and more often. She’d be walking through the streets of the upper ring about once a week, though she had started walking through the streets of the inner ring of Ba Sing Se far more frequently than normal in recent weeks. He’d been meaning to ask her why, maybe she’d also grown accustomed to their meetings and started to come around more. During their meetups they’d talk, about things other than the war, which was a conversation difficult to come by with the others. Though he cared for his friends, talking to Y/N felt different, a good different. She wasn’t overbearing like Katara, or mean like Toph, but she also wasn’t as passive as Aang.

It was odd. Knowing someone who had once held a knife to your neck in a more friendly way. Though, if Sokka was honest, he didn’t trust her, and she likely didn’t trust him either. They’d both taken precautions due to the mistrust between them, not that be blamed her. At the end of the day, they were still on opposing sides, kind of. Y/N had never seemed to care about finding the Avatar, but she was certainly loyal to her family above all else.

She’d demonstrated that in the Northern Water Tribe.

Sokka was the same, if he had saw an inkling of betrayal as a possibility, he wouldn’t hesitate to tell the others. Their safety was his priority at the end of the day, and Y/N didn’t owe him anything, just like he didn’t owe her anything. Maybe that was the beauty of it all. But for now, everything remained peaceful, calming, and simple.

Of course, all good things must come to an end.

Katara had oddly disappeared after Aang arrived with news of his vision. And then, as though things couldn’t get any weirder, Iroh arrived, Y/N’s apparent Father Iroh. Toph seemed to know him well, which certainly came as a shock to Sokka and Aang. “I need your help, Prince Zuko has been captured.” He explained, opening his mouth to continue only for Sokka to interrupt. He couldn’t help it when his brows furrowed in both confusion and frustration, Y/N had never suggested that the rest of her family was here.

“Are you crazy? You guys were trying to capture Aang not to long ago!” Sokka pointed out, throwing his arms outwards, “why not get Y/N to help?” She was certainly capable of raiding the palace and retrieving her cousin.

At this comment, Iroh’s face darkened, “we were separated in the palace. I’m unsure if they managed to capture her or if she escaped.” Oh. So that’s what he was going to say.

Sokka couldn’t help it when his face dropped, looking to Iroh he exclaimed, “well- why didn’t you lead with that!” Pushing past Aang who had been prepared to start giving a speech on why they should assist Iroh, only for his mouth to gape open as Sokka headed for the door.

“Why are you so eager?” Toph asked as they began to follow him out the door.

He faltered, quickly trying to think up a good excuse as he replied, “no reason.”

Toph’s frowned, “I can tell when you’re lying Sokka.” She reminded him.

“We can discuss this later!” He exclaimed, flustered. “Let’s go.”

Y/N had contemplated killing Zuko before.

It had never really been serious, as far as she would’ve gone was maybe injuring him badly enough that she got her point across. But at the end of the day, she protected Zuko to the best of her ability, and tried to keep his mind from being poisoned by the Fire Nation ideals that she’d once lived by unquestionably.

Now she actually wanted him dead. He stood alongside Azula, who had offered Y/N her spot in her little gang hours ago, though she’d rejected the offer much to Azula’s chagrin. But she seemed sure that Y/N would accept some time soon. Perhaps it was because Zuko had betrayed her father and left him to the Dai Li.

He had betrayed her father, the man who had practically raised both of them.

Y/N had a violent past, she wouldn’t deny, and she liked to think that she was past all that. But looking at the situation ahead of them, watching the Waterbender, Sokka’s sister, Katara, cry over the body of the Avatar, she realized that maybe violence was the answer. Just this once.

So, when she hopped in front of them, she had a plan. A violent one.

“Pull yourself together.” She snapped at Katara, who looked up at her, bloodshot eyes and tears streaming down her confused face, “he’s getting out of here alive. But first, I need you to soak them.” Y/N gestured towards the troops coming towards them, Zuko and Azula accompanying them. Katara opened her mouth, and Y/N didn’t care what she was going to say as she ordered, “now!”

Katara’s brows drew together as she released the Avatar’s head onto her lap, raising her hands to use the waterfall behind them to successfully drench the soldiers, who groaned at the discomfort but pausing temporarily before they continued towards them. “What did you think that would accomplish? What a pitiful-” Azula’s taunts were paused when she watched as Y/N drew her hands together, inhaling deeply, and Azula stopped her movement. “That’s not possible.”

Suddenly, lightning was between Y/N’s fingertips, and she extended her hand into the large puddle of water that Katara had created. Y/N had learnt to bend lightning soon after she’d mastered Firebending, from her father, he’d insisted that she only use it when necessary, so she kept her ability to herself. This was necessary, she decided, hand touching the water and sending a shock throughout everyone with it, successfully putting all of the soldiers out of commission.

Unfortunately, Azula recognized the signs of lightning bending, and withdrew alongside Zuko, and the two were now coming to attack from above at a rapid rate. Y/N whipped her head around to see Katara, mouth gaped open at all the fallen soldiers. “You two need to leave, I’ll hold them off.” She began to move to create another strike of lightning

“No.” Called out another voice, and Y/N whipped her head over to see it was her father, Dai Li agents likely nearby as he moved in front of Y/N. “You all need to leave. Take Y/N with you, she will help the Avatar reach his destiny.” Y/N wanted to laugh at that, how could he be so sure? If the boy did die, then this would all be for nothing

Y/N scoffed, “are you crazy?” She moved closer to her father, “unlike Zuko, I’m not leaving you.” She exclaimed, exasperated.

Iroh simply smiled at her as he said, “I’m proud of you, Y/N.”

Sokka knew he seemed dumb. He knew how others perceived him, as the ‘extra’ member of Team Avatar, the useless one, because he lacked bending. At the end of the day, Sokka was the brains of their operations, he was observant, and this helped him develop plans that most people would never even consider.

Not that anyone else knew, but Sokka was the only one that had actually interacted with Y/N prior to what happened in Ba Sing Se. Sure, they’d all met once or twice in the past, but Sokka had a knife to his throat then, so Y/N probably didn’t seem that appealing to the others. And he doubted they understood how odd it was that she was so... apathetic. Normally she’d tease, and joke alongside him but now?

It was odd, and nobody else could notice the shift in her personality but him, and he was concerned. Y/N had lost her father, and been betrayed by her cousin, and she had yet to talk about it, at all. Sokka liked to think that they were close enough to discuss such things, and he’d tried to get some sort of emotion out of her, the key word being tried.

Despite her apathetic personality, the others had warmed up to her for the most part. Apparently Toph had met Y/N in the past, during the time she’d run off and encountered Iroh. So, the two got acquainted fairly fast, Aang was happy to have a Firebender, and insisted that once he was back to full strength, and they’d found a better place for practice, he’d learn Firebending from her. Y/N had agreed but it was clear Aang wasn’t as excited as he was acting, Sokka figured he still associated the time he hurt Katara with Firebending.

Katara had been far less weary of Y/N than Sokka had expected, but given what Katara had told him when she’d first joined, that made sense. Y/N was a powerful Firebender who had betrayed her entire nation to help save Aang’s life, and though Katara didn’t approve of everything she’d done in the past, she tolerated her. Which was better than nothing in Sokka’s book.

They were currently camped out in the woods beside a Fire Nation town, everyone had scattered to prepare for the few nights they’d likely stay in the area. Katara had gone to the town with Toph and Aang, in search of supplies and food, while Sokka and Y/N set up the camp and collected wood to help start a fire. Y/N had insisted that she could maintain the fire without any wood, but Sokka viewed this as an excuse to get her alone and force her to discuss her feelings.

“So...” Sokka mumbled, looking to her as she leaned down to pick up another piece of wood, “lovely weather we’re having.”

Y/N turned to him, raising a brow before nodding, “yeah.” It was clear she wasn’t entirely paying attention the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth as he tried to get her to listen to him.

Sokka grabbed another piece of wood, “how have you been?”

Tilting her head at him in confusion, Y/N brought another piece of wood into her arms, “fine.” Looking up at the dimming sky she frowned, “we should start heading back to that spot we’d found earlier.” Y/N turned to begin walking, and Sokka struggled to match her pace.

His brows furrowed in frustration as he stared at her, the light of the falling sun filtering in between the trees and onto them. Y/N seemed to glow as she maneuvered between the trees, “how have you been sleeping?” Even Sokka sounded confused at the question he asked, but he didn’t know how to broach the topic with Y/N.

She simply paused her movement, turning to him, he stumbled slightly due to the abrupt stop, and met her eyes. “Just ask what you wanna ask, Sokka. Stop dancing around whatever it is.” Y/N sounded tired, looking to him expectantly as she awaited his question. Sokka scolded himself for being so obvious that she’d noticed something was up.

He sighed, “are you okay?” And she opened her mouth to respond but he continued, “actually? You can say that you are okay, and not mean it. Y/N you lost your dad and were betrayed by your cousin, and you-” Sokka grimaced as he met her eyes, “you haven’t been the same since you joined us.”

Y/N is silent for a moment, then her eyes were piercing into his, “how would you know that I haven’t been the same?” She asked, turning away to continue walking back to the chosen campsite, “it’s not like you know me.” His statement had set her off it appeared, but her response had easily done the same for him.

“Are you serious? Not like I know you?” He scoffed, jogging to catch up with her, “I know that you do whatever it takes to protect the people you care about. I know that you really like Earth Kingdom food because most of the food within the Fire Nation is on the spicier side.” Y/N didn’t seem to be listening, and the camp was in sight, but Sokka continued, “I know that you get really cold easily unless you regulate your body temperature with your Firebending. And I know that you can’t pick a favorite color because you are very indecisive.”

Aggressively, Y/N dropped the sticks into the center of the campsite as they arrived, turning to him, “you can stop now.” Her voice was almost taunting as she spoke, sarcastic in a way.

Sokka simply followed suit, placing the firewood in the center and facing her head on, “and most importantly, I know what it’s like to lose someone.” He takes her hand, and Y/N practically growls at the contact, attempting to yank her hand out of his grasp, she ends up pulling him closer towards her. Sokka clumsily topples onto her, knocking the both of them down into the dirt with a grunt. His forearms preventing him from crushing Y/N under his body weight as he held himself up, his eyes meet hers.

Y/N finds herself glaring daggers at him, while Sokka finishes his little speech with, “you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

And in that moment, he looks at her, really looks at her. And she’s really pretty.

Y/N opens her mouth to say something to him, only for someone else to begin speaking, “are we interrupting something?” Toph. Looking up, Sokka sees the others as well, Aang looks rather smug as he wiggles his eyebrows at Sokka, and Katara gives him a pointed look, likely disappointed that he’d fraternizing with the former enemy. He can’t help it when he feels his cheeks warm, and before he can move to get off Y/N, she’s launched him off of her, and he’s flat on his back on the ground. Toph laughs at the actions, bending a seat of earth for herself and the others before falling backwards into it, the girl seems to wish she had popcorn as she watched the moment unfold.

“No.” Y/N mumbles, bringing herself to her feet and dusting herself off. “I’ll be in my tent if you need me.” She retreats into one of the tents they’d set up earlier, and Sokka groans as he lets his head fall backwards into the ground and runs his hands over his face.

When he removes them, Aang is standing over him, along with Toph, while Katara organizes the firewood. “So... did we interrupt something?” Toph asked.

Sokka just sighs, his plan failed. This time at least. Next time, his goal would be to make her laugh, to make her smile. At least she had expressed some emotion, anger was better than nothing.

Anger seemed to turn to annoyance, since Y/N doesn’t leave her tent until nightfall and Sokka can’t help but wonder what was entertaining enough to keep her in there for all that time. When she does exit, she uses her Firebending to light a fire, and uses the firewood they’d collected earlier to ensure it stays alight. The rest of the group was seated around the center of the campsite, and Sokka wonders if she’s going to go back to her tent when she realizes the only open seat is next to him.

She doesn’t return to her tent though and he’s grateful. Though she sits as far as possible from him on the bench that Toph had created, half-heartedly listening to the things that the others are saying. Y/N can feel herself getting cold and can’t help the resent that bubbles up in her chest as she recalls what Sokka send earlier. Exhaling deeply, a puff of blue fire escapes her mouth and Y/N feels nauseous at the small reminder of Azula.

This catches Sokka’s attention, though the others are too enraptured in the story Aang was telling, Sokka turned to her, “cold?” He asked, leaning to the side to grab a blanket from his small pack, he offers it to her.

Y/N knew she wouldn’t be able to regulate her temperature when she fell asleep, but accepting the blanket from Sokka felt like... it felt like accepting him and everything he had said about her. So, when she doesn’t take the blanket from his hands, Sokka sighs, moving to put it back, only for Y/N to snatch the blanket from his hand and wrap it around herself begrudgingly.

This was her way of apologizing, moving closer to Sokka on the small bench she huffed as she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and turned her attention to Aang. She’d been mean, she wouldn’t deny, but what was she supposed to say? Exhaling deeply, Y/N closes her eyes temporarily, allowing drowsiness to consume her for a moment, before looking back to Aang.

It isn’t until Sokka feels a weight fall onto his shoulder midway through his own story that he realizes Y/N has fallen asleep, his mouth gaping open in shock as he pauses his words. He quickly shakes off the shock, cheeks warming as he turns back to the rest of the group, who all regard him curiously. Aang once again wiggles his eyebrows and Sokka ignores the action, continuing his story. Though he’s more weary of his vivid hand movements in fear of awakening Y/N, and noticeably quiets his voice. Sokka finds himself wishing he was Y/N as he listens to Katara’s Water Tribe horror story intently, after all, this is the most peaceful he’s ever seen her.

It doesn’t last long, because she’s soon startled awake, hand going to her side where she keeps her dagger as she and Toph speak simultaneously, “someone’s coming.”

As an old woman emerges from the shadows, Sokka practically holds Y/N down to keep her from lunging at her and attacking as the woman speaks. And of course, Y/N’s distaste for the woman doesn’t stop there, even when she invites them into her home, though Sokka doesn’t blame her. She’s a suspicious woman.

It’s not until he and Aang are attacking each other that Sokka regrets preventing Y/N from attacking the old woman when she had the chance. Katara is struggling to move, and Sokka can only hope that Toph and Y/N return from the cave soon as he yelps upon nearly making contact with Aang, the old woman laughing cynically. Sokka watches as she shifts, hand outstretching behind her, “don’t think I forgot you little Firebender.”

His eyes widen in both shock and fear as Y/N’s body is suddenly thrown onto the ground in front of him. Her body rising almost mechanically, back to a stand, Sokka realizes there’s lightning at her fingertips, the woman manipulating her body to aim for Sokka. “A shame you’ll be the woman to end your friend’s life isn’t it,” She’s making eye contact with Katara who is crying out and begging for her to stop.

Sokka can see the panic in Y/N’s eyes as the her hands aim towards him, “Y/N. It’s okay.” He calls out her, in an attempt at assurance that he doubts does much to soothe her. “It’s okay.” He repeats, squeezing his eyes shut as he prepares for the lightning to hit him. Except it never does, instead, it goes upwards into the sky as Y/N cries out in pain, having moved her body despite the woman blending her blood.

She had overpowered Hama’s bloodbending, something that clearly came as a shock to the old woman as Y/N turned around sluggishly, staring at the shocked old woman as blue fire left her mouth once more, chest heaving. Sokka could feel the weight on his bones slowly disappear, leaving behind an ache, the woman likely intended to focus her abilities onto Y/N, who was struggling to walk towards her.

“Scared?” Y/N asked, looking up at the woman, “you should be.”

The next time that Team Avatar feared Y/N. She was face to face with Zuko.

He’d approached them as they sat in the Air Temple. And Y/N had practically jumped out of her seat, preparing for a fight as lightning seemed to dance at her fingertips. Though Sokka knew better than to allow her to attack her cousin, and grabbed her arm. “Can you guys handle this?” He asks the others, maintaining eye contact with Y/N. The others looked to them understanding what would likely occur if Y/N was allowed to be involved.

Zuko wouldn’t walk away from that fight.

“We got this Sokka.” Katara assured, pure hate in her eyes as she stared Zuko down, and Sokka couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he should remove both of them from the situation.

Sokka’s hand found Y/N’s, and it was almost burning hot, a sparks seeming to fly between them, he pulls at her hand. Y/N hesitantly allows him to drag her away, though she turns back momentarily to meet Zuko’s eyes. “I’ll kill you later, cousin.” She promises, and her voice is scarily calm. “For my father.” The condescending tone in her voice and the wince Zuko has in response is enough for Sokka to know that her intent was to hurt him emotionally if she couldn’t do it physically, and it was clear she had been successful.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N closes her eyes temporarily as Sokka brings her into one of many abandoned rooms in the temple, sitting her down onto a bed before kneeling down in front of her. “Are you good?” He asks.

“That’s a stupid question.” Comes her response.

Sokka tilts his head at her, giving her a smile, “well I’m a stupid guy.”

He’s rubbing gentle circles in her hand as she shakes her head, a small laugh escaping her, “no you’re not.” Her voice cracks and she cringes at the sound so she clears her throat, staring at the wall beside her. Sokka can’t help the way his heart swells at this comment, because for once he doesn’t feel like the comic relief, he doesn’t feel like the side character. Though he appreciates the rest of Team Avatar and loves them all dearly, at times, they didn’t take him seriously.

Y/N makes him feel important. Though he doesn’t say this as he looks at her, clearly shaken by Zuko’s sudden appearance, she speaks once more, “are you sure I can’t kill him?”

This time Sokka laughs, shaking his head, “I’m sure Katara would love to help you with that, but I doubt Aang would approve.”

Y/N nods slowly, letting out a shaky breath as a tear escaped her, though she quickly wiped it away and looks to the ground. “You wanna sit with me?” She asks, patting the spot on the bed beside her.

“Sure.” He replies softly, moving to sit on the bed with her. One he’s situated, Y/N leans her head onto his shoulder, and Sokka finds his hand wrapping around her waist. And they sit like this for several moments.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N removes her head from his shoulder and looks to him, “thank you.”

Sokka raises a brow, “for what?”

“Being here.” She replies, bringing her hand to move a hair from his face, Sokka watches her actions intently and in awe. “With me.” Her hand remains on his face for longer than necessary, and when she moves to let it fall back into her lap, Sokka’s hand cups hers.

They’re both silent when Sokka’s hand releases hers, and his other hand leaves her waist, both coming to her face. The look in his eyes tells her enough, and she nods to him.

The kiss felt like the first breath of fresh air in a while. Maybe it’s because it had been long overdue, but as Y/N brought her hands to his arms to pull him closer, she felt her head empty of all thoughts.

He pulls away momentarily, their foreheads resting against each others, he can see her eyes are shut, lashes pressed against her cheeks. “I hope,” Sokka pauses, and her eyes flutter open to look at him, he can feel his cheek warm as he continues, “I hope I can always be here, with you.” It’s a confession in its own way, and Sokka understands the weight of his words as he watches her reaction.

She opens her mouth, likely to reply, be closes it quickly, and Sokka can’t help the panic that floods him. Though this is quickly replaced by the feeling of her lips on his as her hand collides with his chest and pushes him down on the bed, earning a grunt from him.

“Guys, Zuko is gone-” Y/N throws herself onto the floor as she rolls off Sokka, and he sits up immediately. “Am I interrupting something now?” Aang asked, giving Sokka a look.

Y/N clears her throat, “no.” Sokka couldn’t help it when his brows drew together at this comment, bringing a hand to his temple as he sighed, and Y/N stood, dusting off her thighs as she mumbled, “see you guys later.”

She started avoiding him after that.

When Zuko joined the group, she’s also made a point to avoid him no matter how hard he tried to apologize to her. And of course, when Sokka first showed him to his room they had a... chat. To put it simply, Sokka had threatened him.

Just a little.

“So yeah, here it is, your room.” Gesturing to the room, Sokka gave Zuko a tight lipped smile, watching him wearily.

Zuko’s back was to him as he placed his stuff down, “thank you.” He said, expecting that to be the end of it, upon hearing the door close he assumed Sokka had left.

When he turned around, Sokka was still very much there. “Let’s have a chat, Prince Zuko.” It didn’t go unnoticed by Sokka how the boy grimaced at the use of his title, though that didn’t stop him from moving forward and placing a hand on Zuko’s shoulder a little too tightly. “Y/N does not want to speak with you.”

“I know,” Came his reply. “Thank you for keeping her from... killing me. The other day. I intend to apologize-”

A small laugh escaped Sokka, “next time. I won’t stop her.” This was for multiple reasons, one of which being that Y/N was avoiding him, and the other being that he wished to respect her and her feeling about Zuko. “And you need to respect her wishes. One of those wishes being, avoiding you. Until she approaches you, leave her be.”

Zuko’s brows furrowed at this comment, “she’s my cousin. You can’t expect-”

“Leave. Her. Be.”

Zuko became silent, nodding slowly as he looked to Sokka curiously.

And now, to avoid some of his problems and solve some of them, Sokka ended up running away in a hot air balloon with the person he related to the most at the moment, and the person he threatened rather recently. Zuko. Both of them were being avoided by someone important in their lives, and they both had slightly crazy younger sisters. Though their conversations were certainly... odd.

“My first girlfriend turned into the moon.”

Zuko looked at him for a moment before saying, “that’s rough, buddy.” There was silence after this, a temporary lapse in conversation that Zuko seemed determined to fill. “So...” Zuko mumbled. “You and my cousin huh.”

It wasn’t a question, Sokka realized this, but he disregarded it as he responded, “what about us?” Playing dumb would hopefully get him to drop the subject.

Zuko raised his brows at Sokka, “us?”

Scolding himself, Sokka realized he’d unintentionally dug a deeper hole for himself when he said this as he tried to avoid Zuko’s gaze. “Not really.” Sokka replied, “she’s avoiding me too.”

Nodding, Zuko gave him a tight lipped smile, “what did you do?”

“I wish I knew.” Sokka could only make assumptions about why Y/N had begun to avoid him, but at the end of the day was confused over it.

He really needed to talk to her.

As the day of Sozin’s Comet drew closer, Sokka had started trying to talk to Y/N more and more, she’d keep basic conversation but whenever he tried to address... the kiss, Y/N would shut down the conversation. And now, it was the day of Sozin’s Comet, and they established that Zuko and Katara would take on Azula, Aang would take on Ozai, and the rest of them would go after the army that was heading for the Earth Kingdom.

It seemed that Sokka intended to try to speak with her once more as he approached her while she strapped a dagger to her thigh. “We need to talk.” He said, plopping down onto a rock beside her.

“About battle strategy?” She asked, looking to him, “I had some ideas.”

Play dumb, play dumb, play dumb.

Sokka’s brows furrowed as he shook his head, “about the kiss, Y/N.” Y/N tried to hide her shock at his forwardness, he’d never been this blunt before, during his previous attempts to discuss this with her. Turning to him, she prepared to speak but he silenced her, “you’re going to listen this time.” Grimacing, he looked away, towards the horizon. “I don’t know what’s going to happen today. And if something goes wrong, I need you to know-”

“Nothing is going wrong.” Y/N stated firmly. “Nothing. So, we can have this conversation after.”

Sokka sat up from his place on the rock, moving in front of her, “there’s no way to guarantee that Y/N.”

Squeezing her eyes shot, Y/N took a deep breath, “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you guys.” She promised, “and I swear we can talk about this after.” She grabs onto his hands, holding them in hers as she looks away. Y/N knew why she was avoiding it. He was right, it was totally possible for one of them to die, and a relationship in the midst of a war was the worst possible idea. After would be better, or at least that’s what she’d told herself.

The pleading look in his eyes almost burns through her resolve as he asks, “will we?” It almost hurts that he doesn’t believe her, but Y/N can’t blame him.

“We need to go.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she releases his hands. Even if she wanted to continue discussing the subject, they needed to begin the battle soon.

Sokka frowned though, “if you don’t want this, just tell me and I’ll-” He sighed, bringing a hand to his temple. “I’ll stop bothering you.”

Y/n began to shake her head, “you are never a bother to me I just-” Sighing, she looked into his eyes, “I want this. I do, I’m just scared, and we’re in the middle of a war Sokka!” She exclaimed, the words spilling out of her mouth before she can stop them.

“You think I don’t know that?” Sokka cried out, exasperated. “Y/N I’m so scared that something is going to go wrong, and I’ll never get to tell you that I-”

“Don’t say it.” She interrupts, fear in her veins as she watches him.

So, he didn’t.

If she didn’t feel like she had something to come back to, maybe that would make it easier. Sacrifices would have to be made to reach victory, and Y/N wouldn’t hesitate to be the one to make them if it meant the others survived. They deserved to see the new world, the world of peace, prosperity, and freedom, the one that came after all this.

Y/N could feel the power flooding her as the comet drew closer, pure and raw power. Though this accompanied by her skill would likely help her in the upcoming battle, dozens of Firebenders with half her skill and the power of the comet was something she was definitely worried about. Overpowering them all was unlikely, and in the best case scenario, Y/N could slow them down. But she wasn’t a fool. In war, there were always casualties, and she was prepared to become one of many.

Then there were the thoughts in the back of her mind. Though nobody had discussed it, the throne could potentially go to her after all this, and that wasn’t really something Y/n was looking forward to debating. Perhaps it was selfish, but Y/N didn’t really care. Was it wrong of her to dream of escaping the shackles that bound her to the Fire Nation since birth, to leave behind the politics and the lies and the pain of it all?

Maybe.

Sokka knew Y/N had a lot going on in her mind right now. And he knew she was scared of what was to come, and no matter how much it hurt him, he respected her wishes to wait until this battle was over to discuss whatever it was between them. He knew where he stood. But now that Suki had left them, he found himself beginning to regret it. On the top of the Air Balloon, Toph was practically blind, and Sokka could do little in terms of long distance, aside from his boomerang. Which left Y/N to do her best to defend them from the Firebenders that had begun to swarm them.

“Go!” She cried out, knocking one of the Firebenders off the balloon. “Take out the rest of the fleet.” Y/N dodged the oncoming flames, intercepting them with her own to prevent the others from getting burned.

But Sokka wasn’t going to let anyone die today. “You still owe me a conversation,” came his response, looking down at the bridges on the Air Balloon. “Jump!” Sokka cried out as another ball of fire rushed towards them, he took Toph by the hand and hoped that Y/N followed.

Thankfully, she did, he took notice of her as he fell towards the bridges extending from the giant hot air balloon. They were all screaming as they fell, and Y/N grunted in pain as she hit Sokka, tumbling over him and off the edge, yelping as her hands grasped the bridge, with little leverage. Toph similarly went over the side, her screams filling Sokka ears as Y/N released one of her hands from the bridge and caught Toph’s wrist.

Panic flooded Sokka as he scrambled to the edge of the bridge, Y/N’s hand slipping, “Sokka! Hurry up-” Another scream rips out of her as she loses her grip on the edge.

Nearly falling as he grabbed her hand, his chest heaved. “It’s gonna be okay.” He promised, looking into Y/N’s panicked eyes. “It’s gonna be fine Toph!” He cried out to her.

“Yeah, right!” She called out into the wind, the fear evident in her voice despite the sarcastic nature of the comment. “Y/N I don’t wanna die.”

Y/N almost can’t hear her, too focused on maintaining her grip on both Sokka and Toph’s hands. She exhales slowly, eyes falling on the soldiers that are beginning to make their way down to them as she replied, “you’re gonna be fine, I promise. I’m gonna get you to Sokka, okay?”

Sokka was internally panicking, he wouldn’t be able to fight back against the incoming soldiers if both his hands were occupied, but his grip was faltering and he couldn’t pull them both up. Grimacing as he looked down at the two, he nodded in agreement to Y/N signaling that he was ready. It made sense in his mind, she would be able to use her free hand to Firebend, which was far more useful than anything he could provide at the moment.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N looks to Toph, “Toph, I need you to climb up my body, and grab Sokka’s free hand, okay?”

Toph’s death grip on her hand seems to grow stronger, tears brimming her eyes, “I- I don’t think I can.”

Y/N shakes her head at these words, “yes, yes you can. Bring your legs up to grab my lower body, and then make your way up, okay? Like a tree.”

Toph shook her head rapidly, “I’ve never climbed a tree!”

Sokka couldn’t help but grow impatient as he exclaimed, “there are soldiers coming, Toph please!” His hand was growing sweaty as he used his free hand to throw his sword at one of the oncoming soldiers, effectively knocking him down.

Y/N felt her arm swing slightly, and watched as Toph blindly extended her legs, finally managing to wrap them around her legs. She released Y/N’s hand and wrapped both arms around her lower body, slowly inching upwards until her legs were around Y/N’s waist and her arms were on her shoulders. “Good job, now reach up, as far as you can, and Sokka’s gonna grab your hand.” Y/n instructed using her free hand to pat the hand that Toph had wrapped around her.

Y/N could feel the young girl’s tears fall onto her shirt as she extended her hand upwards, Sokka’s freehand moving as far down as possible. The strain on Y/N’s body slowly becoming too much as tears leaked out of her eyes.

Maybe it would be better to just... let go.

She quickly shook off those thoughts, Toph, Toph, Toph, she couldn’t do anything brash until Toph was safe. Y/N watched as Sokka’s hand narrowly missed Toph’s. “Sokka, please.” Y/N whispered, looking to him with pleading eyes.

Maybe it was the desperation he heard in her voice that moment, or maybe it was pure luck, put his fingers grazed Toph’s and he latched on, extending his arm as far as possible and gripping her hand. “Now let go of me, and Sokka’s gonna pull you up, okay?” Y/N explained, looking to Sokka, his eyes meeting hers. Y/N quickly realized he couldn’t lift either of them up. Just like her, this was straining his muscles, and Sokka was struggling to keep both of them up.

“Sokka.” She said, demanding his attention, his eyes met hers, filled with fear as Toph relieved Y/N’s body of her weight and evened out the distribution on Sokka’s body. “You can’t fight back with both your hands taken.” More tears were streaming down her face as she spoke, “a-and... you can’t pull us both up.” Sokka was crying too now, shaking his head rapidly as Y/N simply pointed out the facts.

Toph’s grip on his hand tightened, “we’re all going to die.” There was resignation in her voice, and it hurt Y/N to hear it.

“We’ll figure it out. We are all going to be okay.” He stated firmly, a shaky breath leaving him as he made an attempt to pull them both upwards, a failed attempt.

Squeezing her eyes shut momentarily, Y/N allowed herself to imagine it, a life with Sokka and the rest of her friends. A life where they were all happy. Where everyone made it out of this war alive, and they helped bring balance to the world.

To give them that world, they had to end this war. And what was war without death?

Opening her eyes, she looked to Sokka, and he was panicked, noticing that far more soldiers had surrounded them and were preparing to mercilessly throw them off the balloon. “Sokka.” She repeated, and he looked to her with a tear streaked face.

“I love you.”

Everything seemed to slow as she spoke this words, and Y/N didn’t see the horror on his face for long as the grip of his hand faltered when she released it, he was screaming, crying, begging for her to stop. Toph clearly didn’t understand what was going on as she began to call out Y/N’s name in a panic.

And then she was falling.

It appeared there would be no after.

It felt peaceful, she decided. Falling. The stress on her body had dissipated and she caught one final glimpse of Sokka’s mortified face before going through the clouds. The comet was visible from where she was, the horizon, it was a beautiful way to die. But staring at the comet she realized she wanted to know what would come after, she realized that Toph was practically helpless and all Sokka had was a boomerang against dozens of Firebenders.

They would die. So, what was the point of her sacrifice? What was the point of her dying?

No, she wouldn’t be dying today.

Inhaling deeply, Y/N felt the power course through her veins, and she reminded herself that she was Y/N L/N, a force to be reckoned with. Nobody would forget that as fire tore through the soles of her shoes, and extended from her hands, propelling her upwards.

She was the daughter of the famed Dragon of the West. And she would take on his mantle, she decided, as she flew upwards and through the clouds.

She could see Sokka had managed to bring Toph upwards and onto the platform alongside him, and they were surrounded by Firebenders. It was clear that they’d seen her when their mouthes gaped open, and a few of the soldiers began to retreat, much to the chagrin of their commanding officer. Y/N found herself ceasing her Firebending and falling towards the platform, she landed in a roll and rose on one knee before opening her mouth and allowing fire to pour outwards.

The Firebenders fell off the bridges beside them one by one, and those who didn’t retreated back inside along with the others at the sight of the Air Balloon that Suki had evidently comandeered.

Closing her mouth, Y/N’s chest heaved, and she felt Toph tackle her from behind, “you’re alive!” She exclaimed, punching Y/N’s arm roughly, “idiot.” She dug her head into Y/N’s shirt.

“Yeah, I am an idiot.” Y/N replied breathlessly, holding the girl tightly.

When Toph finally released her, she gave her a smug look, “I’ll give you and him a minute.” Though this was partially an excuse to head back inside and into the safety of the balloon, maybe even attack some of the remaining Firebenders, it was also because Toph could read the room.

And there stood Sokka, mouth gaping open, tears streaming down his smiling face as he looked at her, before lunging towards her similar to how Toph had. Except his hands came to her cheeks as he brought their lips together, effectively knocking the two onto the ground of the platform, be pulled apart from her with a smile on his face, “I love you too.”

Yeah, after was looking pretty good right about now.

A/N: i hope you guys liked this SUPER LONG THING WOW, that was an accident. i was super close to like breaking everyones hearts and killing Y/N but then i felt bad so be grateful i was nice ksaljdlahfkj

anyways take care of yourselves!

taglists:

atla: @bubblebars @jada-cleo @art-flirt @the-deli-meat

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka atla #atla sokka #atla sokka x reader #sokka atla x reader #atla sokka x you #atla #avatar the last airbender #lok #legend of korra #sokka is a bottom change my mind #im sorry ignore this #i hope no one reads tags #anyways have a nice day #drink water

3K notes · View notes

honeybeezx · 4 years ago

Text

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 1

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! So this is the first fic I’ve ever posted on tumblr, low key kinda scary😄 But this man and his paramour have been on my mind for the longest. This is a self insert fic, but I don’t really use “Y/N”. Hope you enjoy and any feedback would be great!

Summary: You are an assassin hired by Tyrion to act as extra security alongside Bronn. He brings you back to King’s Landing just as the boy king Jeoffry Baratheon plans to marry the cunning Margaery Tyrell. But with all the guests roaming around, you begin to wonder who is a friend and who is a foe. No one makes you wonder more than the famed prince from Dorne and his captivating paramour.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of murder, allusions to sex

—————

You never knew anything in the seven kingdoms could make you feel so small. It wasn’t as if you’d ever let it show. You held your head high, walking alongside Tyrion as both of you entered the great hall of the throne room, Bronn on the opposite side of your employer. The Red Keep was even bigger than you had imagined it to be. The throne room was the tallest room you had ever seen. Against the dark ceiling the columns looked as if they stretched up into the night sky.

Every eye in the palace was on the three of you, and you felt no one’s eyes more than Cersei’s. You held her gaze. A woman who lived in luxury her whole life did not frighten you. She may have influence, but you had experience, strength, freedom, and skill with your bow that you were now acutely aware was strapped to your back. Having the protection of Tyrion’s influence and connections and Bronn’s strength and skill with a sword brought a sense of comfort, allowing you to remain calm under such scrutinizing gaze.

“Brother.” Cersei greeted with a soft smile that failed to hide all the vileness in her heart. “You come with friends.”

“Oh no, more like bodyguards. We have so many enemies now a days sister, I like to know I’m protected.” Tyrion smirked, leaving Bronn chuckling. You, on the other hand, would not let your intimidating demeanor fade, remaining as stoic and unyielding as the stone columns that held up the palace you wished to see fall. “May I introduce Bronn, Lord of Highgarden and-“

“Yes, I know all about the Silver Hawk from the North. I wonder if you are half as good as they say you are.” She mocked, her tone anything but genuinely curious. “I am told that you can hit your target 200 meters away and steal their breath before they even know what hit them.” If you didn’t know any better you’d think she was impressed, even if she did look at you as if you were the lowest creature she ever beheld.

“Perhaps I will have an opportunity to display my skills while I am here, your grace.” You’ll see first hand when my arrow is aimed just above your crooked neck.

“Perhaps.” She replied, feigning as much sweetness as a ferrel cat.

The both of you narrowed your eyes at each other. There was no outright exchange of harsh words or petty language, but the furious tension between the two of you was enough to fill the entire hall with uncomfortable silence. You hoped your unyielding gaze scared her. You wondered how many people actually defied her, you wondered how long it would take to get under her skin.

“Yes, well.” Tyrion interrupted, knowing you were bubbling with anger. Cersei was too, and although you allowed her to see your own emotions, it please you a bit to know you could anger her just as easy. You hated Lannisters almost more than anything, but you also knew Cersei’s time would come. She would pay for her crimes, fate would decide her end. You knew that fate had not brought you here to slay the queen regent, as much as you despised her. “As much as I love chatting with you sister, I simply wanted our arrival to be known. We have much unpacking to do and much to discuss.”

“Be careful, little brother.” She warned. “Your guard has little reserve and it seems your little silver hawk has a silver tongue as well. You would be wise to remember that people have been killed for that and less.”

“I’ll be sure to keep very close watch over them.” Tyrion retorted sarcastically before turning on his heal and exiting the great hall. You and Bronn followed, the later unable to contain his amusement.

“I’d say that went well!” He quipped, smiling at both you and your employer.

“She didn’t call to chop off our heads, that is some relief.” Tyrion noted. “But you both must be careful, especially you.” His scrutinizing gaze met yours.

“What? You expected me to just let her try and hold some dominate power over me? Just because she is draped in finest jewels in the seven realms and hides behind the her father’s influence does not mean I will tremble like a child before her.”

Tyrion sighed. “You must, for now, hold your tongue. Your wit does you credit, that’s why I like you, but you must check yourself. My sister is more dangerous than you can imagine. Don’t tremble, but don’t overstep either.” You remembered that Tyrion had been playing the game his whole life, he was basically born into it. He knew his sister better than anyone, and that meant he knew how to get around her better than anyone. You made a note to observe exactly what made Cersei tick, what made her preen under her usually reserved demeanor.

Despite the warm tones of the palace, you felt as though you were walking on ice. One wrong step and you were dead under a frozen tundra. You didn’t like this at all. Tyrion promised your freedom would not be at risk, yet you felt the freedom to speak your mind, the freedom to do as you pleased slip from you more and more. You were being watched here, you weren’t stupid. Every move had to be calculated, every word like honey laced with poison. The faster the boy king could marry, the less people there were for you to worry about. It made you uncomfortable not knowing who was an ally and who was a foe. The one thing you could appreciate about Cersei was that you always knew where you stood with her.

“I will try to remain civil if she approaches me, otherwise I will avoid your sister to the best of my abilities. But she would be wise not to challenge my reserve.” I huffed, earning a laugh from Bronn.

“Your reserve, little hawk, will be undone, whether it be from your words or your arrows.” He teased. You gave him a shove and he stumbled a bit, but not much. The last thing you needed was the oaf calling you “little”.

“The sooner we are out of this horrid place the better.” You huffed.

“I agree,” Tyrion agreed, nodding in understanding, “but don’t hold your breath. There is so much to be done before my nephew’s wedding and I will be relying on both of you to help me. While I am arranging more intimate details with my family, you two will be protecting me, but also doing some side tasks that I will not have time for. Bronn, for the most part you will be either at my side or Shae’s. If the palace discovers her they will use her against me. She can’t be found.”

Shae, Tyrion’s lover of sorts. You had grown close to her on your travels. You were wary at first. Your job was to protect Tyrion, naturally, you were cautious of anyone who might try to hurt him, to get close to him only for information or power. But it was a tough business, out spying a spy, and all your instincts told you to trust Shae. She had not left any of you astray thus far, and though the couple had not named their relationship, you could tell Tyrion and Shae cared immensely for each other. But Tyrion was right, she could be used as a pawn against him, especially if Cersei found out.

There was a sort of kinship between you and Shae. You were both strong, clever women, and she had tended to the few wounds you found yourself with on your travels. She seemed like a sister, and you were grateful for the company and friendship she provided.

“As for our favorite archer, you will be assisting some guests, getting information. I want to know the people attending this wedding, I want to ensure that this wedding goes smoothly. The Tyrell’s are a powerful ally, we cannot lose them.”

You nodded in understanding. Tyrion hired you to protect him, yes, but archery was not your only strength. You could be quiet, and you could listen as well as you could speak. You knew he would ask that of you with all the guests roaming around. You were curious to know what King’s Landing was really like, and even more interested in knowing the people who came here. “Ask it of me and it will be done.”

“Aye.” Bronn agreed.

“You are the most trusted of friends.” Tyrion gave the smallest of smiles. You were hesitant to even be in his service when the lord found you and offered you a job, afraid of losing your freedom. You knew the Lannisters, you knew their foul and power-hungry disposition. Being in their service seemed to you signing your life away. You were surprised to find he did not wish to take such things from you. He hired both you and Bronn to protect him, yes, but he would do the same for you both. You were an odd sort of family, but a family nonetheless. “Get settled and rested for the evening, we’ve had a long journey. We will reconvene later to discuss further plans.”

You nodded and left to your new chamber, one just across from Bronn and down the hall from Tyrion.

The trio was still not aware of the Red Viper slithering about the halls.

——————

Days passed with little to do. You hadn’t seen much of Tyrion. Since your arrival at King’s Landing your employer had become hand to his nephew king and married the pretty Stark girl you later learned was named Sansa. Still, you found ways to spend your time, keeping eyes and ears open for any useful information. You were particularly interested in Joffrey. It was astounding how a little boy could hold so much power, so much evil. You figured he inherited his terror from his mother.

Sansa was an interesting girl as well. Your heart broke for her. She was nothing if not resilient, staying loyal to her betrothed if only to keep herself alive. She was smart, you learned, but not useful when attempting to gather information. She did not deny her loyalty to Joffrey, even to those she liked. You were grateful that Tyrion stepped in to propose to the poor girl, if only to save her from the tyrant king. Both you and Shae kept close eyes on her. She was as smart and clever as Shae and yourself. You had a sneaking suspicion that she could be a close ally, if only your little family could get her away from the palace.

But today was different. Today you left your quarters to explore the palace a bit. You wanted to know what sort of battleground you were working with. It seemed surprising that a palace that was so heavily targeted was so...open. It seemed like light could illuminate any room. Even the gloomy and foreboding throne room could not escape a few beams of sunlight. If you didn’t despise every Lannister crawling about the palace, you had a mind to stay. The palace was only under the allusion of being warm and charming, the people who inhabited it ruined any chance of it being a lovely place. You noticed that the open windows and balconies made perfect outlooks should you need to eliminate a threat with one of your silver arrows.

But for now, the open windows became your place of peace as you ate a bowl of berries, just watching the rest of the sunrise. You saw the sun just barely grace the city with its light before you were called into Tyrion’s chambers. You arrived promptly, Bronn stumbling in a few minutes after you. You rolled your eyes at his lack of punctuality, which only earned you a playful nudge from the Lord of Highgarden.

“Behave you two. I swear I am dealing with children.” Shae huffed, but you could tell behind her sharp features was an air of mischief. Still, you straightened up and diverted your full attention to Tyrion.

“Well, much has happened. Prince Oberyn has arrived in The Capital. I visited him yesterday morning and he made it very clear that he wants to kill any Lannister that he sets his sights on. My father apparently ordered the death of his sister and her children. Our goal, for now, is to keep him happy, to keep him entertained. Bronn, your job will be to appear inconspicuous as you keep a watchful eye over my quarters, make sure no one goes in or out.” He ordered.

Shae huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself thank you.” She huffed.

“No one disputes that my dear.” Tyrion chuckled. You remember watching Shae stab a man she did not want for laying a finger on her. “I’m not worried about you. But my sister and my king nephew are very powerful. They will know how to use you against me.” He explained. Shae still was not pleased with the idea, but she relented.

“As for our hawk,” he turned to you and gave you a list with names you did not recognize, “you will present these girls to Prince Oberyn in my place. You will tell him that royal duties as the king’s new hand have prevented me from revisiting him, but you hope he enjoys the whores as a welcoming gift to King’s Landing.”

“Excuse me?!” You snapped your eyes narrowing in on your employer. “I am not a squire whose job is to bring in girls for spoiled princes!”

“Do not think of it as that.” Tyrion poured himself a glass of wine, knowing that he should chose his next words very carefully. He could feel your eyes burning into him. “Consider it a diplomatic mission. Besides, the prince wishes to meet you. The legends of the Silver Hawk have reached so far as Dorne and he is eager to make your acquaintance. This is the perfect opportunity for the both of you.”

You still weren’t pleased. “So I am now to serve as entertainment for the prince of Dorne.” You sighed and shook your head. “I am only staying long enough to bring him the girls, then I’m leaving.”

“Fine,” Tyrion relented. “But you will be cordial to the prince. Don’t be deceived by his charming words, he stabbed one of my cousins for a few unkind, brutish remarks. I don’t want to know what he’ll do when he hears your fire-laced words.” If it weren’t such a serious situation, Tyrion might have been amused to hear you use your wit against a prince, but the prince’s history with the Lannisters was anything but a joke.

“I’m sure she can handle herself. Hawks have talons after all.” Shae teased, but squeezed your arm affectionately. You offered a kind smile, but you still loathed this plan.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Tyrion rubbed his temple like the very thought of you getting into trouble was enough to send him over the edge.

You relented and chuckled a little before placing a hand on your friend’s shoulder. “I will be on my best behavior, but only because you will worry yourself ill.” You teased. “It can’t be too bad if I just deliver your message and leave. I better get going though. Can’t leave a prince waiting.” You snorted. As if you cared what a prince thought.

————————

Oberyn Martell lied in his temporary bed at the brothel, Ellaria Sand at his right, a blond haired boy on his left. He was the picture of lustful bliss, his golden chest glistened as the small rays of light entered the sinful den. But the prince was quiet deep in thought as he started out into the empty space before them. All the pleasure the brothel had to offer could not break his focus.

“Your thoughts are too loud, my prince.” Ellaria chided as she placed a kiss to his chest. “Tell me.”

Even then, Oberyn still could not break his thoughts of you, but he ran a hand through his paramour’s raven curls in acknowledgment. “I think I found our third partner.”

Next Chapter

#pedro pascal #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell #oberyn x reader x ellaria #game of thrones #ellaria sand #prince oberyn #oberyn x you #oberyn x you x ellaria #game of thrones fic #oberyn martell imagine #pedro pascal fic #got #armor

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gingerteaonthetardis · 3 years ago

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okay, @inkwardspots, so i went with eightrose! and your song choice was no. 23, which—don't judge me, it was a twilight year.

"and just in time / in the right place / steadily emerging with grace"

(eyes on fire, blue foundation)

The signal’s been pushing its way through for months now, alternately sending the TARDIS spiraling off course and stubbornly grounding her on unconnected, seemingly random planets. Red lights and mauve lights and always the same source: something outside of time. Outside of this universe, even. It’s a good mystery.

And normally, he’d appreciate the distraction of a good mystery over stability and predictable journeys. He knows what they say about calm seas and all that. But he’s so—

Admitting it to himself, even in the total, isolated silence of the TARDIS as she hovers in the vortex—stuck once again, arrested by this signal—feels a little embarrassing.

But he’s just so tired.

The time rotor pulses in sympathy and after running a hand through his hopelessly messy hair, he lets his fingers rest between a set of knobs. Not pushing or fussing. He takes comfort in the chill metal on his skin, and lets out a luxuriant sigh. It feels good to stand still, even for a moment. Even if it can’t last. He’ll have to stop the signal again—or try to, if he wants to get anywhere.

He runs his thumb over a little smear of something. Grease, or maybe dirt, working it away and into his skin. “Maybe I’m just getting old, eh, girl?”

“Who’re you calling old?”

The voice, the static suffusing it, is more of a surprise than it ought to be. He jumps a little, twirling instantly to look across the console room. By the fireplace, usurping the warm amber glow, is a glowing figure: bright gold, almost painful to look at. Dappled starlight in the shape of a woman.

“Myself, of course,” he says politely, giving the projection a little nod. It’s not like any holographic interface he’s ever seen before, but he’s certain that’s what she is. Little motes of light swirl around and through her, and the shape of the hearth warps behind her pale translucence. “I suppose you’re the source of the signal.”

“Something like that. You don’t look old, though. Not old enough. Actually,” says the projection, tipping her head down to look at him—toe to top, keenly observant, “I think you’re a bit younger than before.”

“I see. Well, that does happen.”

“It does,” she agrees. “Especially with you. But sometimes with the others, too.”

And then she smiles. He imagines that her teeth are white and her lips are very pink, and he’s not sure why the image comes so clearly. He’s certain her hair would still be gold, though, projection or otherwise.

“Now, I haven’t got much time. Stop fighting the signal, Doctor.” Her voice shifts toward the serious, and to his amazement, the interface moves—starts walking, like she has shape and weight and exists in the TARDIS, which isn’t possible. But she does it with utmost grace, crossing the console room in a few steps.

He can see the fine lines around her eyes, she gets so close. He can make out the impression of an old, long-healed scar on her chin. The clumps of mascara on her eyelashes. There is an impossible level of detail to the image of this woman he doesn’t know, but feels he should.

“Why?” he asks. What he is really asking is, why should I trust you?

“Because they’re calling you home. They need you. I need you.”

His eyebrows jump. “You’re a Time Lord?”

“Something like that,” she says, echoing herself. When she laughs, it’s a bright sound, far too alive to belong to a projection. “And not quite. But I came a very long way to see you—the least you could do is meet me halfway.” Again, an impish smile curls over her lips, her tongue brushing the corner. “Come home, Doctor. Don’t fight it anymore. Please.”

He has absolutely no reason to listen to her, and he knows this.

He also knows that he cannot float in space forever, taking refuge in the vortex. Taking refuge in the knowledge that there’s time.

He has no reason to listen to her, and yet he says, “I’ll think about it.”

“All right.” The projection seems to know this is the best she’ll get from him: the Doctor, famously evasive. Notoriously unreliable. Dangerously unstable, he thinks bitterly. But he tries not to dwell on it. “Don’t forget,” she says, poking a finger at him. “I know you do that, too. Don’t forget me this time, Doctor.”

He stills. “This time.”

A fleeting expression of sorrow works its way across her uncommonly pretty face, employing every muscle in the act. It has a rather piteous effect. “You’ve forgotten before,” she tells him, and her eyes dart sideways. She is looking at someone, he realises. Suspicion and worry race one another to the front of his mind. “You forget a lot of things.”

“Who are you?”

Her eyes return to him, and they are wide. Suddenly, she lurches toward him a final time, her flickering body starting to scatter. His hearts race.

“I’m not supposed to—Doctor, listen, don’t come. Do you hear me?” The susurration of static chips the edges of her words away. “Don’t come back to Gallifrey. I’ll be fine, I can end it. They want you to—”

And then, in a final burst of light and sound, she is gone.

The Doctor stands perfectly still.

The gaps in his memory—

Lost time.

Don’t forget me this time, Doctor.

He thinks back, and back, and thinks forward a bit, too. He’s good at that. And there they are: blank spots. Dead space. He’s been dancing around them for so long they’ve become part of him. But they aren’t.

They are lost pieces of him.

Of her?

He doesn’t even know this woman’s name.

Don’t come back to Gallifrey… I can end it…

The Doctor turns back to the time rotor, suddenly set on his path. He feels more awake than he has in weeks, maybe longer. Maybe years. He squares his shoulders and touches his hand to console, and the metal warms beneath him.

“Well, girl,” he says, smiling widely, “it looks like we’re going to Gallifrey.”

#i added a cut to this one because it was LONGER THAN I MEANT IT TO BE... shocking #this is why i never finish anything guys #this one goes out to amanda also because this is partially inspired by her 'rose goes to gallifrey' headcanons #eightrose #eighth doctor #rose tyler #dw fic #abbey.txt #inkwardspots

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ktheist · 4 years ago

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the hero.

knj / myg / jhs / ksj / pjm / kth / jjk

the first time jeon jeongguk met the demon lord was when he wandered into the forest while he and his friends were playing hide and seek.

“hey, have you seen anyone pass by here by any chance?”

well, before she became the demon lord, she was just an ordinary village girls collecting herbs with her younger brother.

“o-oh um, they climbed up that tree.” she pointed at a great oak tree a few feet away, cheeks flushed red.

“you promised you won’t snitch!” comes a voice from the branches.

the next time he sees her is downtown when she’s shopping for groceries with her mother.

“hey, you’re that girl that helped me win!” he grinned, recognizing an ally.

she held out her hand shyly, palm facing the sky, “where’s my share for helping you win?”

“uh,” jeongguk hesitates, looking left and right as if a prize would materialize if he kept looking.

“you can help me find some wood sorrels.” she proposes.

“yeah! i’ll pick all the wood sorrels in the forest!” he folds his arm inwardly, showing off what little muscle he has in his arm.

she gawks at his radiance as if he’s the meteor that lights up her night sky.

7 years later, he’s knocking on the door of the quaint little cottage her family lives in.

“jeongguk, did you get into a fight? again?” she rushes over to him, eyes brimming with worry and hands clasped in front of her chest.

the small tremble in her fingers tell him she wants to touch the hair and sweep it behind his face but won’t because she doesn’t want to end up grazing his cut.

“you’ll heal me, won’t you?” he puts on his best grin even though it hurts.

and the tremble cease. a smile tugs on the corners of her lips.

she flicks her wrists and the fire on the stove begins to dance. a cauldron levitates in the air and settles on over the dancing flames a second later.

she’s going to make that bitter healing medicine he hates so much.

“what am i going to do with you?” she shakes her head.

“oh, jeongguk, you’re here too. would you like to have dinner with us?” her mother asks, coming from the back door of the kitchen, hands full with the harvest from their backyard.

“no! mother!” only a day after he had a warm meal with her family, he’s holding her by her waist.

“we have to run,” he says, eyes not even looking at the flames that lick her mother’s body at the stake.

her brother and father have fallen at the axe of the villagers that came barging into her home, searching for a “witch”.

she was with jeongguk, picking stinging nettles because they’re only traceable at night.

they live together in a tiny cottage meant for one but they made it work for one more.

her smile is gone.

not really, but it comes and goes. and jeongguk suspects, they’re just shadows of what once was, if only to tell him not to worry about her.

at night, he hears he soft sniffles and he slips out of his bed to climb into hers. he holds her tight until she falls asleep in his embrace.

a year has passed yet they’re stagnant; living the same day over and over again. filled with sorrow and tears.

if he could take away her pain, he would.

jeongguk didn’t know that after a year of endless night sniffles and dried cheeks; this is the last night they spend in each other’s arms.

jeongguk doesn’t know where she is or if she’s found another person to hug her on nights when the cold gets unbearable.

he gets enlisted into the knight squad.

it’s like a miracle. like he’s meant to wield the sword.

no man his age would have the skills he has now without any prior practice.

“i did get into fights as a teen and won every one of them,” he would laugh whenever someone brings up his unmatched expertise in swordsmanship.

little does he know, it’s the working of fate, preparing him to kill a childhood friend and the woman he lives for.

“i won’t,” he declares, the clang of his sword ringing against these cold walls of the demon lord’s castle after he tossed the holy blade away.

“and this is the hero you so love and worship?” she looks at his comrades with eyes painted in blood red.

“j-jeongguk, snap out of it! she’s controlling your mind!” the healer’s voice reverberates against these walls.

she and the others stand a few feet behind him as if an invisible wall has separated them.

“no,” he says, taking steps to her throne until he’s cupping her face with his gloved hands, “my mind has never been clearer- i- i’ve missed you.”

a shattering silence.

a crack in the ground.

vines creep up the distance between the hero and his comrades until they completely shield them away from the rest of the world.

she leans into his touch like she would when they lived together in that little hut.

‘she’s not lost.’

‘not really.’

“do you know what causes the birth of the demon lord?” she asks.

“wha-“

“a heartbreak.” she finishes without waiting for him to say anything, “it has to be more painful than death. more sinful than the goddess’ blessings. and more hollow than the deepest depths of the hell.”

his fingers are wet from the rain the acid rain that has never tore through the skies.

until now, that is.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you,” he holds her in his arms like he’s always dreamed of doing.

she weeps and the blood in her eyes washes away. “i miss them, jeongguk...”

their tale becomes a legend. of a virtuous hero and the wretched demon lord.

the castle gets torn down by the emperor’s reinforcements that arrived a month later.

yet they couldn’t find any trace of the hero nor the demon lord.

it’s as if they’ve vanished like the wind that carries their tragic beautiful story from kingdom to kingdom.

over the years, their tale took different turns. some say the demon lord took on the form of hero’s most beloved. others say the demon lord’s lonely soul trapped him in her pitless dungeon.

her favorite, which she goes back to as she tucks her little ones in their bed, is-

“mommy, mommy, can you tell us about the story of the hero and the demon lord’s love that turned her back into a human?” the boy with his father’s deep brown eyes blinks at her with evergreen wonder.

“blegh, that again? i want to hear about the hero’s journey to defeat the dragon before he went after the demon lord!” says the little girl with rich black hair, as black as hers.

“my children, never grow up,” she sighs, gathering them in a tight embrace until they begin to squirm and complain about how-

“mommy, you do this every night.” the both say in unison.

“don’t blame your mother too much kids,” jeongguk laughs as he enters the room the three are huddled in together, “she just loves you a whole lot.”

“daddy! daddy! is it true? that love changes even the evilest of soul?” the boy sighs, falling into his bed with a dreamy thump.

jeongguk looks at her for the briefest moment. her dark, jet black hair looks magnificent catching the light of the silver moon. she’s smiling at her two younglings like they’re her world.

“you see, no one is truly evil...” and he goes on to tell the tales of the hero’s journey to be reunited with the love of his life.

though the journey has been arduous; though he wonders if life is worth living without her around; they always find their way back to each other.

back home.

he kisses the boy’s forehead and she kisses the girls before they cross each other at the foot of the bed, doing the same for the child they haven’t bid good night yet.

“they grow up so fast,” she’s holding back tears like she usually does.

she’s always had a faint yet strong heart.

he kisses the top of her head and wraps his arms around her, swaying their bodies gently to the tune he’s humming from their childhood.

how long ago that felt.

how long ago the tale of the hero and the demon lord had happened.

how glad they are, to have walked the road less traveled by.

#bts scenarios #bts fics #bts fanfics #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfics #jungkook fics #bts fic #jungkook fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook smut #sonder

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lalahbug · 4 years ago

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Guidance - Zuko x Reader Chapter 6

Fandom: Avatar the Last Airbender Word Count: 3,232 My Masterlist

Warnings/disclaim: General 18+ Angst

Author’s Note: under story ___ is a blank for your name/oc/whatever you prefer Written in 3rd person Line/header is to separate paragraphs to indicate time skips, as Tumblr hates my formatting.

Story under cut, 6 of 8, Guidance Masterlist

A few weeks had passed, ___ was healed and quickly became the new mother figure of the group. Teaching about survival, chi blocking, and helping with most of the chores. Of course, she also played with the group and lectured them like a mother as well.

___ and Aang were meditating together, during a sunrise, which Aang wasn’t too happy about after being up most of the night traveling. Aang peaked at her as she exhaled deeply, relaxing further, still keeping her posture.

“Staring at me isn’t going to help your mediating, Avatar.”

“You didn’t even open your eyes; how did you know?” He pouted but started meditating again.

“Your breathing went normal instead of trained.”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Hear so well, know when I’m doing something I’m not supposed to do.”

“I’ve had heightened senses for a long time. But as for knowing when you’re doing something, we’ll chalk it up to Mother Instinct.” She chuckled softly. “You’re really not in the mood to meditate, are you?”

“No!” Aang groaned before falling backward.

“Okay, practice your breathing with me for a bit then I’ll let you go.”

“Okay!” Aang agreed with a smile while sitting up.

Aang and Katara were practicing some waterbending, while ___ watched their movements.

“Why don’t you come join us? Aang could use the opportunity to fend off two waterbending foes.” Katara smiled and splashed some water at Aang.

“Thank you, but I don’t know many waterbending moves, I’d be an easy target. I can only whip water and create waves.”

“That’s right, being from the North Pole, they never taught you. But didn’t you learn on your own?”

“I only got the water whip and the wave, that’s all I learned on my own.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? We could have taught you.” Aang urged.

“I’ve never been a good waterbender, there’s no point in teaching me. I’m an average healer and I can do pretty movements with a full moon, but that’s it. My strength is chi blocking and fast reflexes.”

“Well, I think you could be a good waterbender. Why don’t you practice with us? You can learn some new moves and there is no pressure if you can’t do it well. Because like you said, your strength is chi blocking.” Katara urged, ___ shrugged before disrobing a bit, and getting into the water with the two masters.

One day before the invasion, The Day of Black Sun, and Aang wasn’t able to sleep. ___ was up with him, just after sunset.

“You can’t stay awake before the invasion. You need to be rested. But I think if you’re alone, it’ll be worse. So, would you like to go over the chakras to help you with the Avatar State?”

“I think I know them; I just can’t do the last one.”

“Ah, you mean the Thought Chakra? Is it because of Katara?”

Aang blushed a bit before sighing. “Yes, but also, I don’t know how to let go of Earthly attachments when I have to protect them.”

“The Avatar is bound to this earth to protect it. You must learn to balance these or they will be your downfall. You let Katara go completely at Ba Sing Se, you were then attached to cosmic, too attached to cosmic energy. As the Avatar, you must find balance with your cosmic energy and your Earthly attachments. You can open the Thought Chakra, by learning to balance your attachments. Earthly, Avatar, cosmic, love, spirit, and even your nomad teachings.”

“What about my nomad teachings?”

“There will be a day where you might have to sacrifice your beliefs for the greater good, to keep balance in the world. But because of your teachings, I know you’ll find a way to balance the good with your morals.”

“You’re talking about the Fire Lord, aren’t you?” Aang curled up and placed his weary head on his knees.

___ smiled at him gently, examining the bags under his eyes. “You can face him, you can beat him, we all believe in you, especially as he is powerless during the eclipse. But, what if, you can’t get to him in time. Don’t get me wrong, Sokka’s plan is amazing. Things don’t always go as planned. If you can’t get to him in time, you will have to fight him someday. How will you restrain him? Or will you have to take his life? I worry about the outcome of this plan a lot. From my talks with Roku to how devious the Fire Nation is. I just hope you know, if this fails. It’s not your fault. There will be some other factor that makes it so you can’t get to him in time. I have no doubt about you facing him, just our timing.”

“It’s terrifying to even think of facing Ozai, but hearing the faith you have in me helps. Hearing that you don’t expect me to defeat him tomorrow, really helps. But your question haunts me. How will I restrain him?”

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “I believe in you Aang, the world does. But in the end, you are just one kid, and you will need to listen to words of wisdom from your past lives. From ancient sources, and learn to bend life and energy itself if you are to defeat Ozai without taking his life.”

“Bend life and energy? How do I do that?”

“I’m not sure, I only read about it in the spirit library. You will have to hope that an ancient source shows you.”

“Well, with you and the Spirit World to access, I think I’ll be able to find it if needed.”

She smiled at him before meditating with him. She knew of the group's plan to make a bed for Aang so he could finally sleep, she was just keeping him company in the meantime.

“___?” She hummed softly in reply, still meditating. “What if we see Zuko during the invasion? What will you do?” She opened her eyes, a sorrowful smile formed as their eyes met.

“Depending on where he is in his journey, I’ll either have to disable him or listen to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“My first night in the Spirit World with Roku. He let me know of my future, to help me mentally prepare for it. He told me a beautiful tale of me falling in love, with his great-grandson. But he warned me, his great-grandson has the ability to be good or bad. As Roku and Sozin are both his great grandfathers.”

Aang gasped, “Zuko’s mom is the granddaughter of Roku?”

“Yes, that’s why he is at war within himself. Between his two natures. He also didn’t have the healthiest of families to help him cope with it either. His uncle, although wonderful, found his path in life a bit late. I hope Zuko will find that path one day too, but I can no longer be the one to guide him, he must find it himself. But only time will tell if he will find it soon or if he will live a long life trying to find it.”

“Do you still love him?”

Her eyes fell to her stomach and the bump there. “I do, but when he took another woman because I was unconscious for weeks, I feel as though maybe my love might have been blinded by the fairy tale Ruko told me. For he never mentioned a child. He only mentioned I would have to choose to forgive Zuko or not, and that it would be very difficult for me. I love him, but I'm not sure if I can forgive him just yet."

"It must be hard, not knowing if he loves you or not, yet still having this child."

"It hurts not knowing, but it's not too hard. I'm not worried for some reason, not when it comes to this baby."

Aang had a flash of the small baby named Hope that Katara had helped deliver a few months back. "Babies are a beautiful thing, especially when you have someone to share it with."

"Katara asked me to stay until the baby is born at the very minimum, so in a way I will, you guys are the closest thing I have to family right now. So, I'll share that experience with you."

"So, I get to be an uncle?" He smiled.

"You'll be the best uncle!" They giggled softly and she smiled at him fondly as the group approached them, ready to help Aang finally sleep.

After the invasion, Aang wanted nothing to do with the planning for the next steps, next attack. ___ shut herself away from the group and the others with them now. She should have been left behind with the other adults, but they wouldn’t hear her protest, since she was pregnant.

Walking along one of the many corridors of the Western Air Temple, she hummed softly to herself, enjoying her solitude, wanting to fix her mental state before joining everyone. No one needed a pouty pregnant woman around, all because they didn’t listen to her. They had her and the baby’s health in mind, they weren’t trying to make her feel more useless or weak. So; she needed to be alone to fix the brewing thoughts before they burnt anyone needlessly.

She walked until she felt lost and sighed and started to head back to the group, for dinner. But when she arrived everyone was sulking and arguing about something.

“What’s wrong?” ___ asked while getting some food after Sokka said something about not adding animal cruelty to the list.

“I’ll tell you-” Katara started, ready to vent to someone else.

“Wait,” Toph cut off Katara. "___ how would you feel, if Zuko came here asking for forgiveness and to teach Aang firebending?”

She understood what had happened just from Toph’s question, her heart sped up, the broken pieces throbbing, she took a breath to reply. “Aang needs a firebending teacher, and Zuko, well he’s a good firebender. I don’t know how I feel about him asking for forgiveness, but if you thought he was sincere, Toph, I would let him stay. Because if you think he was sincere the whole time, it hopefully means he’s finally found the correct path.” She looked to Aang with a sad smile, reminding him of their conversation when he was so sleep-deprived.

“How?” Katara asked softly. “How can you just allow him here? Forgive him and trust him? Especially after what he’s done to you?”

“I don’t forgive him; I don’t trust him. But the options of firebending teachers are pretty limited to Aang. Only time can tell if he can earn trust and forgiveness from any of us. We have to look past ourselves. The world needs the Avatar, the world needs Aang to learn firebending. If we still can’t trust him after he’s with us and he’s taught Aang, then you can give him the boot and send him packing.”

“I hate when mother is right,” Sokka grumbled.

“I am not your mother,” ___ snapped. “I’m a friend. I’m tired of being treated like some soft pregnant woman with motherly love. I’m a fighter. My pregnancy doesn’t change that. I will only let motherly change take me when the world is no longer at war. I can’t soften and hold everyone’s hand through this. You’re all kids to me, but the world can’t have the Avatar, a master of waterbending, master of earthbending, and a sword master, be kids. You have to keep the goal in your mind.”

“You’re still mad at us for making you come with us? Instead of letting you stay with the other adults, aren’t you?” Aang asked softly.

“Yes.” She exhaled sharply before taking a deep breath. “But I know you did it because you care about me,” she rested a hand on her stomach. “About the baby. But you wanted me here, so I’m here. And I think you should listen to what Zuko has to say without emotion.”

“All I know is that while he was talking to us, he was sincere. Maybe you’re all just letting your hurt feelings keep you from thinking clearly.” Toph said in agreement with ___.

“Easy for you to say, you weren’t there when he had us attacked by pirates.” Katara spat.

“Or when he burned down Kyoshi Island,” Sokka added.

“Or when he tried to capture me at the fire temple.” Aang finished.

“Why would you two even try to defend him?” Katara said so frustratedly she was shaking.

“Because, Katara, you’re all ignoring one crucial fact. One ___ has already told you!” Toph stomped up to Aang and poked him in the chest. “Aang needs a firebending teacher! We can’t think of a single person in the world to do the job. Now one shows up on a silver platter and you won’t even think about it?” She shook the ground with a couple more stomps.

“I’m not having Zuko as my teacher!” Aang walked away from ___ and Toph.

“Aang-” ___ started before Sokka cut her off.

“You’re darn right, you’re not buddy.” Sokka stood tall, finalizing his backup with Aang.

“Well, I guess that’s settled,” Katara said smugly. ___ sighed before looking at Toph.

“I’m beginning to wonder who’s really the blind one around here.” Toph stormed off, ___ followed behind her.

Toph and ___ were walking through the forest, to find Zuko.

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Toph sighed.

“I know, but I would like to talk to Zuko too. I think I know him well enough to tell when he’s lying, whether you can detect it or not.”

Toph giggled pointing to ___’s stomach, “I would hope you knew him well enough.”

“Oh shush,” she pushed Toph playfully, but it was clear she was a bit exasperated by the comment.

“Do you think Zuko would try to trick us all; like he did to you and Katara?”

“Zuko didn’t trick me. I don’t think he meant to trick Katara either. I think he loved me in his own way. He was good in Ba Sing Se. But the allure of home was stronger than the good.”

“But now that he’s here, you think the good called him back?”

“I’m hoping that. I’m hoping he found his true destiny.”

“I’m hoping you’re right,” Toph said with a sigh.

While moving through the brush the women alerted Zuko.

“Who’s there?” His voice was groggy, the sound of it stung ___’s heart. As they got closer, he yelled. “Stay back.”

“It’s me!” Toph shouted back, but it was too late, Zuko had already lashed out fire in his fear, Toph even tried to make herself an earth shield. She fell as the flames licked the soles of her feet “Ow! You burned my feet!”

Zuko was up and running towards her as she started to crawl away. “I’m sorry, it was a mistake!” He cried while chasing after Toph, but sudden strikes to his body made him collapse.

“Get away, Zuko!” ___ shouted while scooping up Toph.

“___?” He gasped, trying to sit up, she only chi blocked his right side. As she started to walk away, he called out to them. “No, please, come back! I’m sorry!” He tried to get up, but the weight of his right side would not shift and he fell back. He groaned along with his heart ache seeing ___ walk away and ignore his plea, his apology. “Why am I so bad at being good!” He cried to the sky, wishing to be able to rewind time.

He’d go back so far if he could, but he pleaded now silently inside his head. “Please let me go back, even just 5 minutes.” He exhaled in defeat, wondering what the girls had wanted to say, but now he’d never know.

Days passed and the threat of Combustion Man was gone, Hokada and Suki back. While sitting around the fire with everyone, Zuko served tea again, while he did so, he noticed ___ left the group. Excusing herself to go lie down. And the night where he burned Toph’s feet came to mind. She came with Toph, what did she want to say?

After his failed joke and everyone had settled their laughter. “Does ___ leave the group often after dinner or is that because of me?” Zuko asked softly, silence rang afterward. Katara and Aang shared a soft look.

“Before the invasion, I was restless, ___ was meditating with me. I asked how she would react if we were to run into you since, at the time, you were still an enemy, a threat.” Aang sipped his tea before continuing. “She simply said she'd either disable you or listen to you. She believed in you even then, she just wasn’t sure when you'd find your correct path in life.”

“But when she thinks about you, hears your name, or even just briefly has a polite encounter with you. Her heart beats sickeningly. Like the broken pieces are trying to pull together.” Toph added since she was able to hear and feel ___’s heartbeat.

“I want to explain myself, talk to her. But I want to do it alone.”

“You should be thankful she even acknowledges you exist,” Katara spat, still angry.

“I am, she’s always been forgiving. But I don’t know how forgiving she’ll be with me.”

“___ still loves you,” Toph encouraged him.

“But before we allowed you in the group, she did say only time would show if you deserved trust and forgiveness,” Sokka added, Suki elbowed him. “What? He should know the truth, the good and the bad.”

“Thank you, that helps. Maybe she’s not ready to hear my apology, because she doesn’t forgive me or trust me yet.”

“Make sense, you engaged her, impregnated her, broke your promise then left her for another woman because she was basically in a coma,” Katara stated with venom.

“I never left her, but I was too cowardly to tell my father no to the arranged marriage. Scared to not be his perfect son again.”

“Mai still seems to love you, since she helped with the prison break,” Sokka said.

“Another heart I broke, by being a misleading person. She loves someone within me that I’m not. She doesn’t understand that I’m trying to save my country, my kingdom. The world fears and hates the Fire Nation. I need to try and heal that and help the Avatar bring balance back into the world.”

“I think ___ just needs a little time, she was for having you here from the get-go with me,” Toph popped some more food in her mouth. “She’s just not ready to deal with you. Since she’s been having some health issues with the baby, every time we have stress, she gets sick.” Toph said sadly.

“Well with the invasion being over, Combustion Man gone. Hopefully, things will calm down.” Katara said before standing up. “I should go check on her and the baby before we sleep.” She stood and left towards the way ___ had left earlier.

Zuko sighed and sipped his tea. He would need to be patient a bit, wait for some alone time with his love, and keep an eye on her troubled health with the baby.

Author’s Note:

Hello, I know I’ve been gone for awhile, but I’m getting better mentally and personally. I can’t promise when the next chapter will come out, but I’m hoping by the end of May.

I’d like to thank everyone that’s liked previous chapters and stayed with me on this. This is still my indulgence, anime fanfics, but after this series. I might go into show/movie fanfics (like Marvel and Supernatural), make a list of who I’d be willing to write for and open a for request for a bit.

Also, for the one lovely who wanted to be added/tagged for new chapters, here you go; thank you for your love on this <3

@eridanuswave

#guidance series #fanfic #fic #zukoxreader #zuko/reader #avatar zuko #atla fic #lalah writes #lalahbug #reader insert #xreader #self insert #fire lord zuko #firelord zuko #x reader

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Note

Hey i heard that you are in our blonde man mood, so what about Maxwell and reader having a car accident. Angst hurts but you wrote that amazing.

Those Three Words [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: This was tough. I knew it was going to be tough the moment I received the request but oof— I don’t know if it hit differently because Maxwell is my comfort character or… I just. Thank you for the prompt though, and the lovely compliment. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: car crash, injury, blood mention, hospitals, coma mention, mention of stalking, angst.

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: 13+

MASTERLIST

READ PART TWO HERE

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal (let me know if you want to be added!)

You knew it would never be easy. Dating Maxwell Lord was never going to be a walk in the park. He had his moments, dazzling you with his smile and making your heart melt just from the simplest of touches. You forever cherished the moments on a morning where he'd hold you tight in his arms, your body pressed against his chest. He'd plant lazy kisses along your jaw and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. The strain on the relationship came from his fame. He had warned you before you had both decided to become official. He'd warn you that the paparazzi would go wild once they found out you two were dating. He knew he had obsessive fans who would try doing anything in their means to split you both up. It was hard, but you and Maxwell were more than confident that your love for one another would transcend any difficulty.

That morning was your worst fight yet. "We are going to be late for the meeting," Maxwell growled. "Will you just get your shit together and get in the fucking car?" You had never seen him so angry before. You'd seen him shout at his employees, treat them like dirt, but this was different. His voice was low and gruff and dripped with hostility. It scared you, just a bit. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and took a deep breath.

"Don't talk to me like that," you snarled back and his head snapped in your direction when he heard your tone of voice. "You need to do something Max. This is getting too much." you were practically begging.

"I can't- I- what can I do? Tell me, what can I do?" he asked, throwing his arms up in the air, completely exasperated. It was only the morning but his dark blonde locks were already falling out of place and he had loosened his tie. The work day hadn't even begun.

"I don't know!" you cried. "But you have to do something." you gulped. "You have to. Max please-" you sobbed, falling into his chest. You wanted him to hold you, and shush you, and promise you that he would handle it. That everything would be okay.

He rarely said I love you. You didn't mind so much, because he had his own way of showing it. They were just words and— actions spoke louder than words. But just this once you wished he would say it. You wished he would say those three damned words. He felt your tears dampen his shirt and he gently pushed you off him. He took the magazine out of your hand and sighed before throwing it in the trash.

He wanted to burn the magazine. The dumb tabloid journalists who had taken photos of you when you hadn't even realised. Stalked you. It disgusted him, it angered him.

You shakily folded your arms over your chest and looked at him with glazed eyes. He looked pained too, you could just about tell. The slight uncomfort in his posture. Although Maxwell Lord rarely spoke about his feelings and he did a hell of a good job at hiding them. You had known him long enough to just about identify when he wasn't doing okay. You swallowed the hard, anxious lump in your throat.

"Come on." he said quietly, but he didn't even move, and neither did you.

"Max," you whispered sadly, feeling another tear fall down your cheek.

"Don't," he croaked, pursing his lips together. He turned around and opened the front door, waiting for you to walk out of the house and get into the car that was waiting for you so he could lock up. "Jeeves is waiting. Go."

You sniffed, taking a deep breath and quickly checking your reflection on the way out you did your best to fix your appearance. No doubt the paparazzi would be trying to snap photos of you and your boyfriend. You and Maxwell both slid into the back of the car. Neither of you spoke a word during the first half of the journey.

"You're acting like this is my fault." Maxwell said stiffly, not even bothering to turn to you.

"Is it not?" you asked but regretted the words as soon as they departed your lips. It was unfair to blame him. He had warned you. He had.

Maxwell looked down with guilt and shame bubbling within him. "If you're not happy-"

"Stop it." you snapped.

"Because you don't seem happy." Maxwell continued.

"Stop!" you cried out, startling even the driver.

"Max, you can afford security. Or lawyers. You can afford to sue the papers or even pay paparazzi off. Fuck, I don't know how this shit works. I don't know but those people are crazy. They terrify me." you admitted. "I'm begging Max."

"I should have this business deal closed by the end of the week. Then I can-"

"Oh my God, fuck the business deal! Max, this is our relationship, this-" you stopped, your eyes fixating on the rear view mirror. "Jeeves… how long has that car been behind us?" you asked hesitantly, your fingers curling into an anxious fist.

"I'm not sure ma'am, would you like me to take a diversion?" Jeeves, the driver, questioned politely.

"No," Maxwell replied before you even had time to open your mouth. You scowled. "I'm already late for work. Don't need to be any later."

"Max," your voice was timid. Shy. Afraid. "I really think that car has been following us."

"You're paranoid." Maxwell rolled his eyes.

"No, Max I-"

"You're paranoid because of everything that's happened this morning. Because of the magazine-"

It was when Jeeves turned at the next junction, the car behind you crashed into yours. You heard the windows shatter and Maxwell scream your name, but then. Blackness. Darkness. Nothing.

***

Fuck, Maxwell knew he had fucked up. You didn't even want to leave the house this morning— he knew that. He knew you'd rather just lay with him, in bed, subdued in the morning sunlight. He knew it and yet he still selfishly chose to ignore it. He had to go to work; he had to close the business deal. Once again he had made the mistake of prioritising his damn job over you. Over your wishes. Over your relationship.

You grazed his thumb over the cut in his eyebrow as his feet tapped impatiently. The hard blue chair he was sat in grew more uncomfortable by the minute as he waited for the doctors to finish your check up. Jeeves was okay, the airbag hidden in the steering wheel saved his life. He'd gone home for the rest of the day. Maxwell suffered a few cuts and bruises from the broken glass and his face slamming into the seat in front him. He thought he had broken his nose but the x-rays showed that he was fine. A few stitches and he'd be healed within weeks.

But you…

Maxwell groaned, rubbing his head and slowly opening his eyes. His own seat belt had snapped and he cursed at the way his head was pounding. He could already hear sirens. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious for, but it mustn't have been too long. He shuffled upright into his seat, peaking over only to find that Jeeves was gone. He wasn't in the car. Then, he turned to face you.

You were curled up in your seat, your eyes shut. For a split second, Maxwell felt nothing. He looked at you and admired your beauty. Your softness and your angel-like features. You were as still as ever. Your hair was tangled in your seatbelt, your cheek pressed against the leather of the seat. Maxwell leaned over and cupped the side of your face, gently tilting it to one side. It wasn't until his action revealed a pool of blood dripping from a deep cut in your neck, he began to panic.

Panic was an understatement. His heart dropped. It broke within an instant. He looked closer, examining the cut and trying to make out how serious it was but there was too much blood. He couldn't see anything. He couldn't do anything. He was helpless. The sirens began to get louder but it was like everything was happening in slow motion.

"Baby," he whimpered, tapping you lightly. "Baby." he repeated, this time his voice louder and more stern. He dropped his hands to your shoulders, picking up your lifeless body and cradling you in his arms. Your arm flopped across his legs and your eyes remained closed, despite his pressure to awaken you. "Hey," he whimpered, tears spilling from his eyes. "Hey stay with me. Stay with me."

He cried your name. He sobbed hysterically. He placed his hand under your shirt and over your chest, desperate to feel your heartbeat. Your skin was still warm and a flood of relief washed over him, but you still weren't responding. Maxwell pressed his lips against your forehead, his salty tears dripping onto your face. "Please." he croaked. "Don't leave me. You can't. You can't-"

The doctor interrupted Maxwell from his thoughts. "Mr Lord," he said. Maxwell felt sick. He was preparing himself for the worst. What if this was it. What if you were gone. He'd lost the love of his life, just like that. It would be all his fault. He could never forgive himself. "She's stable, but unconscious. We think she might be in a coma which is concerning but we've booked her in for an MRI scan this afternoon. We'll have to take it from there."

"Can I go see her?" Maxwell asked. The doctor barely had to nod before Maxwell bolted past him and into your room.

You were laying in bed, tied to an abundance of machines by wires and tubes. Maxwell's heart sank. He slowly approached you, and sat on the edge of your bed. Hesitantly, he held your hand. He wasn't sure if he deserved to even touch you. He couldn't help but blame himself. If he had just listened to you...

He hissed when he felt how cold you were. Your hands were like blocks of ice. He gently smoothed your hair out of your face and cupped his hands on your cheeks, desperate to bring you some kind of warmth.

The worst part about it, he had been fighting with you all morning. He didn't even get the chance to tell you how much he loved you. He loved you so much.

"Darling," he sobbed, shuffling out of his suit jacket and wrapping it over your body. "I don't know if you can hear me. I heard- I heard on the television that sometimes, a person in a coma can hear you if you talk clear enough, I- I hope you can hear me." he choked out.

He prayed for you to make some kind of movement. Show him some kind of sign. But nothing.

"Listen darling, you're strong. Strongest person I know. I need you to wake up for me because I love you so much and I need to prove to you that I can fix this. I can handle it. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry I let this happen." Maxwell conceded, trying to compose himself. "I can't live without you. I need you. I love you."

It was the three words you had longed to hear this morning. Those three words.

I love you.

You stirred, only slightly, but it was enough for Maxwell to notice. "Nurse!" he screamed. "I need a nurse!" your eyes were still closed but he felt you give him a small, reassuring squeeze of his hand. It was weak, it was tired, but it was you. Tears began to spill from Maxwell's eyes. "Yes, yes baby," he cried. "I know you're there. I know you can feel me. Listen, I love you okay? I love you. You're going to get through this." he encouraged, pressing a kiss into your lips.

It was a doctor who pulled Maxwell away from you. Nurses scrambled around you, checking your vitals and the machines as Maxwell stood there and watched. "Be gentle with her." he whimpered, but earned no response.

He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't lose you. He loved you.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader

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imnotusedtobeingloved · 4 years ago

Text

EQUALLY LUCKY

(PLEASE DON’T REBLOG!)

Warnings: Internal conflict / Mental struggles.

Pairing: Azula x f!Reader

Characters: Azula, Zuko, Izumi.

Requested: Yes!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: You get a glimpse into Azula’s life years after Sozin’s Comet, with you by her side.

A/N: This was my first time making an x reader with Azula, so i’m very nervous to post this lol. It got way more angsty than i intended it to be, but i also wanted to try and stay true to Zula’s character to some extent. And i very much hope i did. Thank you for the great request @the-desert-shewolf i hope this is what you were looking for.

“Zuzu, you don’t look so good!”

The last Agni Kai. It was a day that was forever branded into your mind. You could still remember the heat of her flames. How her patient, strategic mind slipped into a rash and impulsive demeanor. She’d fataly wounded her own brother. Ready to do the same to Katara, if she hadn’t stopped her. And that was when you’d found her. Chained to a grid on the floor like an animal, crying in despair and spitting fire like a dragon. Nobody dared to go near her for hours. Nobody but you. “You need to stop, Azula,” You’d cried tears of your own as you forcefully hugged her, body winding against yours. Still trying to free herself. Still trying to fight. Still trying to win. “Please... I’m begging you...” Her whimper broke your heart. You were all that she had left.

There were times when not even a heartfelt “I love you,” could save her. Instead it was interpreted as a further manipulation through her mother. The so called ‘Puppetmaster’. She felt so far out of reach.

But not all days were bad. Sometimes Azula remembered. In the bright hours she recalled your supportive actions and words. You always hoped they would give her some kind of strength. And it wasn’t any easier to face those hardships yourself. To love someone who was hurt so very deeply.

“Being damaged doesn’t give you the right to abuse others,”

A lot of people called her crazy. Called you crazy for feeling affection towards the princess. But what were you supposed to do? You couldn’t just ignore them. Or turn them off. It wasn’t possible. It wasn’t what you wanted. All you were trying to do was to care for a person you’d known since you were a kid. A childhood friend, teenage crush and an adult lover. Where Zuko had been saved by Iroh, Azula had been saved by you. But it wasn’t quite the same. You'd just been a little kid yourself at the time.

“Are you going to see Azula?” You nodded, smiling at Zuko over your shoulder. The robes of the Fire Lord really suited him. “I am. I want to surprise her with a picnic,” He raised a brow, curiously leaning over the little basket on the table before you. You’d spent hours picking out different kinds of tarts and snacks, trying not to get in the way of the cooks.

It was a perfect summer day. The climate was warm and mild. Your timing couldn’t have been better.

Years had passed since Sozin’s Comet occured. Years full of anxiety and anger. But finally you’d arrived in a part of your life, where things were looking up again. The time spend supporting Zuko as the Fire Lord hadn’t been wasted. Both of you worked together on a daily basis. Especially when it came to his sister. Despite everything she had done, he couldn’t deny that he held a soft spot for her. So it was no wonder that she resided in one of the finest suites of the palace. After being monitored and treated for ages, her mental heatlh finally regained stability.

“She’s lucky to have you, (Y/N),” He said, attempting to steal one of the tarts only to earn a slap on the hand. Grumbling he retreated, watching as you checked the contents again, before closing the lid. “Maybe,” You turned around to face your friend. “But i’d like to think we’re equally lucky,”

Your picnic was set up in the gardens, by the fountain, under the old apple tree.

Her whole life Azula only gained approval from two people. Her father and you. The few moments of empathy she experienced were supported by you. If she had a nightmare late at night, you’d crawl into bed with her. When you reduced the choice between you two to physical affection, Ozai couldn’t keep up with you. The mixed messages her parents gave her as a child were what lead her into misery. But her best friend, someone of the same age, stuck by her.

Eventually you’d won her over. Relationships were rekindled. Needs were met.

And right this moment, you were beyond glad that you had. “There you are, sugarplum,” An involuntary grin spread on your face. You’d been so busy with displaying everything perfectly that you hadn’t heard her come up behind you. “I see you haven’t grown tired of the petnames,” That nickname would truly stick with you for life. She’d once used it mockingly, back when you visited Ember Island. And she did ever since. It was always used with an edge of sarcasm, but never empty of love.

“You wouldn’t have it any other way, would you (Y/N)?” You turned around to her, reaching for one of her hands. Her fingers intwined themselves with yours. “Of course not, Azula,” Pulling her towards your little arrangement, you sat down on the blanket, leaning against the strong stem of the tree and patting the spot beside you.

Since her recovery she’d formed a habit of over-sharing her feelings and often apologizing more than nessecary. Those were new sides that you had to grow accustomed to, but that weren’t unwelcome. Nevertheless you were relieved that she also kept some of her wit. She knew she could be free with you. Didn’t need to fear any jugdement. Some days were harder than others. On those Azula would cry a lot. And so would you. You couldn’t stand seeing her so broken.

“Keep it together, (Y/N),” She would say at first, making you laugh through your tears. “It’s okay,” You’d reassure her time and time again. “Healing takes time,”

It was hard to face all those bottled up emotions after such an amout of time. It wasn’t her favorite way to deal with things at first, but she quickly found it helped. And it didn’t take long for her to tell you.

“Sharing your tears doesn’t make you weak,” She’d repeat your words in her darkest times. It brought her comfort. Kept her from going back to her old ways.

The princess moved to sit in the spot next to you, but she never made it that far. Small feet rushed through the grass, running straight into her legs. A tiny, little person curled around them, hugging her as far as she could reach. “Zula!” They squeaked.

The so-called ‘Zula’ raised a brow and crossed her arms, looking down at the little troublemaker. “What do you think you’re doing here?” The girl only lifted her hands in response. You stiffled a smile as Azula picked her up. “Where is your father? Didn’t he want to spend time with you?” Yes he did. And he arrived right on time. “Izumi?” Zuko looked around, searching for her, until he spotted you. The princess was snuggling into her aunt’s chest, a place that always felt warm. You knew it best. “There you are!” His sister raised a brow, tapping her foot on the ground, when he walked up to the three of you. When they stood next to each other, the family-resemblance was undeniable. They shared the same shade of amber eyes, the soft umber strands, and the fair, spotless skin.

It was another person that had helped Azula on her journey. Izumi.

The girl got to experience the childhood the siblings never had. She was proof that princesses didn’t have to be perfect all the time. Nobody did. And she loved her aunt without any doubt or fear.

“You really need to keep better watch on her, Zuzu. This is already the fifth time this has happened,” The Fire Lord nodded, holding his hands out. “Of course. It won’t happen again, i promise,” Azula tried handing her niece over, who whined, clinging to her neck. “But i mean, now that we’re already here, we could also just join you on your picnic,” He argued, pointing to his daughter who held onto Azula’s clothes with all her might. “Izumi seems to like the idea,” You squinted your eyes at him. This was definetely not a coincedence. Accidents don’t repeat themselves that often. “Admit it, Zuko. You’ve purposefully told Izumi that her aunt is here, only so you could get your clutches on our food again!” You’d connected the dots and read the situation. He’d taken a glimpse into your basket every time before you went out the past times. Particular interest always occured when it contained those delicous fruit tarts. With rose pedals on top. He gasped. “No, i didn’t!”

“He’s lying,” Azula said, rolling her eyes. Izumi proceeded to tell her father that “Lying is bad!” which earned her a gentle pat on the head from her aunt.

Nevertheless they swayed you to share some of the ‘goodies’ as Izumi liked to call them. Finally you had Azula were she belonged. Next to you. Her niece sat in her lap, munching happily as your lover ran her hand through her hair. It had taken some time until she’d been allowed to see Izumi at first. Zuko and her mother hadn’t let them meet each other until his sister was completely stabile. Additionally he didn’t want to put Azula through something she couldn’t handle at the time. Their first meeting had been nervewracking for everyone who watched, but an eye-opening event for the two princesses. They seemed comfortable. Content with each other. Sometimes Azula would act as if Izumi bothered her. But she couldn’t deny that she was fond of the girl.

It was also no secret that Azula was clearly the ‘coolest aunt’. At least from Izumi’s perspective. She looked up to her as the strongest female firebender, to be known. Of course she was still too young to fight. But that didn’t stop her from constantly begging the siblings for stories. “Can you tell me a story?” She’d ask, making a pout. “I’ve told you stories countless times,” Her aunt replied, booping her upturned nose. “Another one, pleeease?” Azula sighed. Zuko chimed in, coming to her aid. He started telling the tale of the ‘Dance of Dragons’ in great detail, paying no mind to his sisters sarcastic comments interrupting the tale. Izumi was exstatic about both of them engaging in the narrative. When the story was completed, he beamed at Azula. “Remember when mother used to take us to watch the Ember Island Players perform this play? Afterwards you and i would reenact every scene. I don’t get why i always had to be the dark water spirit, tough,” His sister scoffed, not hiding her gleefull smirk. “Clearly, i made a better dragon emperor,” Her niece laughed at their antics, clapping her little hands. You could comprehend her joy. It was hilarious to have them both participate.

Unfortunatly, Izumi couldn’t escape her duties forever. “Bye, auntie Zula! Bye auntie (Y/N)!” She waved when Zuko carried her back inside. Upon her loopsided smile, Azula couldn’t help but grin, waving back. It wasn’t a sneer or a grimace. It was a genuine expression of so much beauty, that it took your breath away. When she turned back to face you, she furrowed her brows. “Why are you looking at me like that?” There were a ton of reasons. You didn’t even know were to start. So your delight had to be expressed differently. Her lips weren’t far from yours. It took a mere second to connect them. They were soft, as always. She tasted sweet, like the pastries she’d eaten before. “You’re my everything,” you mumbled, her lips still brushing yours. You see her eyes watering as she struggled to speak her next words. They reminded her of all that she’d endured. And yet you’re important enough for her to pull through. “I love you, (Y/N),”

A moment later the tears were replaced by a smile. Her hands came to rest on your cheeks, one of her thumbs running over your bottom lip, removing the lipstick hers had left. You yelped as she abruptly grabbed your shoulders, pulling you to rest your head in her lap.

She worked to untangle your locks, massaging your scalp in the process. Her nails lightly scraped your skin every so often. It felt relaxing. Heavenly. The smell of smoke and leather teased your senses. Something so familiar that it was like home. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a moment, being at peace with just... feeling her. Being in her presence.

“Agni, you look just as self satisfied as my niece,” She playfully remarked.

The slight breeze made the leaves rustle softly. “Why wouldn’t i?” You chuckled, slowly opening your eyes to look up at her. Her slim fingers hadn’t stopped spoiling you. She looked stunning in the midday sun. Her eyes glowed like molten gold, framed by long, dark lashes, casting shadows on her cheeks. “I’m being pampered by the princess herself. I consider myself to be very lucky,” Her lips pulled into a smile as she caught your gaze.

“You’re right, (Y/N). We are lucky,”

Because everything you did for her, she would return tenfold.

Despite all the hardships, neglect and abuse she’d suffered, Azula had managed to get out on the other side.

Stronger, and better than ever.

Reconnected to the world around her, she remained one of the most powerful fire benders. Her blue flames offering protection wherever you’d go.

When she’d first felt affection towards you, she thought you were her weakness.

Now she knew you were her strength.

#azula x reader #azula redemption #azula avatar #azula x you

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tenspontaneite · 3 years ago

Text

Peace Is A Journey (Chapter 24/?)

In which Corvus has some visitors, Rayla takes the princes somewhere nice for a change, and Runaan sits in a new cell.

Warnings: Food shortage; discussion and portrayal of recently acquired physical disabilities.

(Chapter length: 17.5k. Ao3 link)

---

Corvus regarded his visitors. His visitors regarded him right back. In that moment, arrayed in this back room of the House of Healing, they seemed at an impasse.

Lord Viren’s children had come to see him in the afternoon. Having heard of his presence here, and what scant details of his mission he’d shared with the townsfolk, they’d arrived already brimming with questions and impatience. They wanted to know the details of his mission. They wanted intel on his mission.

Corvus had, of course, told them in no uncertain terms that the details of his mission were classified. Certainly, they were not available to two children who wouldn’t even say why they were here. He told them nothing; not even what he had shared with the townspeople.

That had led in turn to some squabbling over the semantics of childhood, and then to further attempts to wheedle information from him, and then to this: silence.

Finally, after a considerable amount of wheedling, complaining, and prodding, the dark mage – Claudia – changed tracks. “…Look,” she said, slowly, and for the first time since they’d arrived, there was a hint of something sincere in her voice. Corvus watched, stone-faced. “You heard about there being two kids with that elf, right? Do you know what that means?”

He wished he could fold his arms, but they weren’t exactly in a fit state for it. “Do you?”

She sighed, plainly frustrated, and lifted a hand to her face for a moment. “It’s Callum and Ezran, right?” she said, impatiently. “It has to be. The last time anyone saw them, was with her.”

Corvus noted her wording, and said nothing.

She wasn’t impressed by his reticence, and scowled. “If you can’t trust anything else, you should trust that we want to help them,” she informed him, resolute. Beside her, her brother shifted uncomfortably. “They’re our friends. We grew up with them. And if we’re going after them and you can’t, because you’re injured – you should tell us what you know. Anything that could help.”

There was, he thought, some honesty in that. He didn’t know how close the friendship between the princes and Viren’s children might be, but they had grown up with each other. That much was true. But… “You didn’t come here looking for them,” he said, eyes narrowed. “I know that.”

Claudia hesitated. She looked at her brother, who seemed about to speak, and motioned him silent. She spent several long moments thinking. Finally, she said “No, we didn’t.” She hesitated again. “We…thought they were dead.”

A lie. Or at least, not the full truth. It was plain from her expression. Sceptically, he asked “Did you?”

She stared at him, expression caught between frustration and irritation and some thread of genuine worry. She exhaled, and admitted “We…didn’t know for sure. But it – it seemed like that’s what would happen, you know? Elves kill people. What else was going to happen, when they ran off with her?”

That was interesting. “’Ran off with her’?” he repeated, sharply, and again she hesitated, plainly uncertain how much she should say. He could get it out of her, he thought. It would take just a little more prodding. “Until I understand what you’re doing here – why you’re really here – I’m not telling you anything,” he said to her, flatly. “I don’t need specifics, if you’ve got your own orders. But I’m not going to share classified information when, from what I know, there’s no good reason for Lord Viren’s children to be here chasing that elf.”

“Isn’t catching a bloodthirsty elven assassin enough?” she asked, with some asperity.

“No. It’s not. If that was all you were here for, your father would be working with General Amaya, and I’d know to expect you. Instead…” He lifted his eyebrows at them, as if to draw attention to their presence here.

She sighed. Her brother tapped his foot, clearly irritated. It took a while for her to deliberate, pacing a little, looking at him uncertainly, biting her lip. For some of that interim, she looked startlingly young. It was almost enough to make Corvus pity her. But he didn’t let his expression change. The General was counting on his judgement – the princes depended on his judgement. So he waited, and then, finally…

The dark mage came to a decision; he saw it in the slump of her shoulders, the way she exhaled, the way she looked at him.

“The elf stole something,” she said, plainly.

Her brother looked uneasy. “Claudia…”

“Shush, Soren.” She didn’t look away from Corvus. “The elf stole something,” she repeated, as though willing him to believe her, and he watched her carefully.

“Something important,” he judged, when he had looked, and determined that she seemed to be honest.

“A weapon,” said Claudia. “I’m not going to tell you what it is. But it’s – magical, and incredibly powerful. My father was keeping it secret, and safe, for if something big happened, and we needed it to protect the kingdom. But then…”

“The elf assassin broke into the castle and found it,” Corvus guessed, and she nodded. He considered the words for a long few seconds, wondering. There was truth to this; he could see it. It didn’t fill in all the gaps, not by any means, but it was important information. He wondered at the implications. “Who knew about it?” he asked, following one thread of thought.

The girl shifted uncomfortably. “Aside from us, and dad, I – think only the King knew. No one else. It’s important, and secret, so – that’s why he sent us after the elf. No one else could know.”

A weapon as powerful as she was implying…yes, that would be something to keep close to one’s chest. Something only to tell the primaries of a Kingdom about, certainly.

But…not to tell Amaya? She controlled the front lines to the entire Pentarchy. What sense could there be in not telling her something so potentially significant? “If it was so secret, then how did the elf know it was there?” he asked, instead of following that up. He doubted the Lord Protector’s daughter would know, or tell him, why her father had judged this too dire a secret for the General of the Standing Battalion.

She blinked, and frowned. “I think it was just by accident,” she said, slowly, as if she wasn’t sure. “Maybe she was told to break into dad’s workshop? It’s not like they wouldn’t know we had powerful mages, and powerful ingredients.”

If the stories were to be believed, it had been dark magic of unspeakable power that had slain Xadia’s monstrous King. Corvus couldn’t imagine anything else managing the feat. If he was Xadian command, and he was sending assassins into the stronghold of the enemy…yes, he thought he’d have them do their best to uncover and remove anything powerful enough to do it again. It made sense. He filed it away. “And what about the princes?” he asked, finally getting to the meat of the interrogation. She’d said the princes ran off with the elf, like she’d seen it. She’d been there.

She scowled, hand clenching on thin air, as though for some weapon she missed. “The elf-“ she started, then shook her head, angrily. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what she said. But – she convinced them to help her.”

Corvus sat up straighter, intent. “Willingly?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I wasn’t there when she found them. I don’t know what she did, or what she said, or if she cast some kind of – Moonshadow illusion on them…I don’t know.” The frustration in her voice, her bearing…it was utterly genuine. The memory angered her. Corvus watched very carefully. “All I know is that when she stole the weapon, and I found them there – the boys helped her get away.”

He nodded slowly. “Tell me how,” he ordered her. She stared at him, mulish, as though considering cutting off her tale. But in the end, she’d already started, and it was easier to get someone to keep talking than it was to get them to start.

“I had a primal stone,” she said. “I was going to hit the elf with lightning to stop her. But – Callum made me miss, and then trapped me, and ran off with the stone, after the elf and Ezran. By the time I got free, I couldn’t find them.”

Corvus blinked. “Isn’t lightning primal magic?”

“Primal stone,” she repeated, impatiently, and – Corvus didn’t know what that was, didn’t have any frame of reference for what it looked like, but…abruptly, he couldn’t help but remember that last glimpse of Prince Callum, right before the wind had hit him. The memory was coloured and scattered by the snapping, searing pain of the minutes that followed, but…

There had been something in his hand.

“What does it look like?” he asked, slowly, trying to blink away the memory of the wind, the cliff, the fall. “This…primal stone.”

Claudia frowned, suspicious. “Why? It’s gone.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Corvus said, and then “Humour me.”

“…It’s like a glass ball, with a miniature storm inside.” She watched him, eyes narrowed. Clearly, she wanted an explanation of her own, now.

He nodded, and the pieces clicked together in his head. “Prince Callum still has it.”

She blinked rapidly. “What? Are you sure?” The incredulity made sense. What kind of elven captor would let her captives, deceived or not, keep hold of something that – in some measure – could allow them to attack with magic?

Still. “I’m sure,” he said, thinking of the campsite that looked like it had been ravaged by an isolated windstorm, of the dead fish floating in the lake, of – of the cliff edge. “And he knows how to use it, too.”

“That’s impossible,” the dark mage said, frowning. “He’s never learned any spells.”

“He knows at least one.” Corvus shrugged. “Maybe the elf taught him. I wouldn’t know. But if you’re in pursuit…” he hesitated, and sighed. He rubbed a hand over his eyes.

That was it, then, wasn’t it? He believed the girl. She had a legitimate – if suspicious – reason to be here, and she and her brother were able to make a pursuit. If they had a chance of getting to the princes…he had to give them something. Any less would be irresponsible. If they caught up and then failed, or were killed, because of a lack of intel…that would be on him.

The girl didn’t fail to notice his change of heart. “You’re going to tell us what we need?” she guessed, watching him.

After a moment, Corvus nodded. “I’ll share my observations with you.”

“Finally!” the Crownguard boy exploded, as though the outburst had been brewing through every moment of his unwilling silence. “I thought you were going to keep us here forever!”

“It would’ve been faster, if you’d been honest from the start,” Corvus told him flatly, and received a very grumpy frown in response. He turned back to the girl, who was waiting for him to speak, shoulders tense with barely-leashed impatience. “Do you have a way to track them?” he asked, instead of speaking. “They’ve gone through the mountains, now, and there were several days of snow to cover their tracks. They could be anywhere.”

The dark mage’s hand drifted to the satchel at her side. “…Yeah, we have a way.”

Her brother stared at her. “Wait, we do? Then why did we take the dogs all this – ow!” he cut off as his sister elbowed him, glaring.

“The dogs were before there was a storm and rain getting in the way,” she told her brother, sourly. “What do you think I was going through all those caves looking for? I needed components. It’s not like they grow on trees.”

Quietly, Corvus gritted his teeth, and banked the flare of fury that surged at her words. There was dark magic to track the princes. Magic that the Lord Protector could have offered…and hadn’t.

Nothing to be done, he told himself, and tried not to react outwardly. It was something else to tell General Amaya. Being angry at this witchling wasn’t going to get him anywhere useful.

“So?” she demanded, when he’d been silent a while. “What do you know?”

He exhaled, and looked at them. The princes knew them; would recognise them on sight. That was…good. If they trusted these two, they might well have better luck than he had. “The princes appear healthy, and don’t seem to have been harmed,” he said, directly. “They’re not restrained, and help with camping and travelling. I can’t say how much of that is willing, but they’re helping.” He hesitated, then finally sighed. “If you attack the elf, they might defend her.”

Both of them stared at him. “What?” the girl asked, bewildered. “Why?”

“She’s an elf,” Soren objected, similarly taken-aback. “Her gang killed their father. Why would they help her?”

Corvus shrugged tiredly, then winced. He had a lot of broken bones, and a lot of bruises, and every movement hurt. “Maybe they don’t know,” he suggested, half-heartedly. “I don’t know what the reasons are. Maybe they really are bewitched. But…” His hand drifted slowly to his sling. “Well. I’m in this House for a reason, you know.”

If they’d looked surprised before, they seemed astonished now. “Wait, but – didn’t the elf do that to you?” The Crownguard boy demanded. “We heard she’d pushed you off a cliff!”

He shook his head, silent. “You heard wrong. The elf – she’s injured. I almost had her, but then…” He couldn’t quite help it. It was all so tangled up in the memory of pain, and confusion, and fear – that image of the terrified boy with the glassy stone in his hand. He laughed, and it hurt. “Prince Callum pushed me off the cliff.”

“Callum?” Claudia repeated, fully incredulous.

“But he’s so scrawny!” Her brother protested. “And he sucks at fighting.”

It was hard to reconcile those words with the remembrance of what had happened to him. “He blew me off the cliff,” he clarified. “With magic. A – it felt like getting hit head-on by a sudden, horrible gust of wind…”

The girl had a hand over her mouth, aghast. “I – are you sure?”

“It certainly wasn’t the elf,” Corvus said mirthlessly. “She was on her back on the ground, and I was about to kill her. So it was either Prince Callum, or Prince Ezran. And Prince Callum was the one who was-“ His wounds ached, and he cut off, feeling a light tremor in his fingertips. Wordlessly, he gestured with one hand, as if holding a ball. It was explanatory enough.

“I…never thought he had something like that in him,” Claudia murmured, seeming almost shaken. “He was always so…goofy. And kind.”

“Maybe he really has gone elf-mad?” Soren suggested, worriedly. “Bloodthirsty, like one of them.”

Corvus shook his head again, and sighed. It hadn’t been bloodthirst, in that face. Only the awful, panicked terror of someone looking a friend’s death in the eye. “Be careful,” was what he said, in the end. “He knows you, so maybe he’ll trust you. But – be careful, attacking the elf.”

“We will,” the girl promised, still looking a little unsteady. “What can you tell us? You said she was injured…”

“She has some kind of magic tourniquet on her wrist that won’t come off. I assumed a dark mage must be responsible for it.” He looked at her, questioningly.

She frowned and shook her head. “Wasn’t my spell.”

“Your father?”

“Dad didn’t see her. He was in the tower.” And there weren’t any other registered dark mages, in this part of Katolis. Who then cast the spell? Something else to note in his upcoming report, to be certain.

“Well, wherever it came from, she’ll probably have lost the left hand by now,” Corvus said in the end, pursing his lips. “She’s a dual-wielder, so it should make her much easier to fight. On top of that – I did hit her, at least twice. She’ll have at least a shallow wound in the shoulder, and one or two severe injuries on her left arm.”

“Finally, some good news,” grumbled the Crownguard, rolling his shoulders as if they were growing stiff from standing still too long. “A one-handed elf will be easy to deal with.”

“Don’t get overconfident,” Corvus told him, remembering the elf’s skill and agility, obvious even when she’d been injured. “She’s a skilled opponent, with the senses and reflexes of any Moonshadow elf. Don’t let your guard down.”

“I was there at the tower, you know,” the boy said, a little irate, and a little uneasy. Like the memory was an unpleasant one. As well it should be; Corvus had heard most of the Crownguard defending the tower had died. How many survivors had there been, other than this boy? How many of his fellows had he seen die? “I know they’re dangerous. But this one’s going to be missing a hand. That’s got to count for something.”

“We’ll make sure to avoid attacking at full moon, too,” said Claudia, looking speculative. “You said you injured her? Like, with a weapon? Did you break skin?”

Corvus eyed her, strangely. “…Yes?” he said, slowly. “I use a hook and chain. I caught her with the hook, on at least two prongs – it was a ripping injury, would’ve been messy, and slow to heal. Why?”

“Any chance you’ve got the weapon around, and it still has some blood on it?” she pressed. “I can use something like that to track her. We’ve got hair from the boys we can track them with, but…” she trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid: if something happened to the princes, there’d be no way to track the elf.

He held silent for a moment. “I had to leave my hook behind, at the base of the cliff,” he said, in the end. “If it’s not buried in snow, there’ll probably be old blood on it. You’d have to find it, though.” He thought for a moment. “The bargemen who found me will probably have directions for you.”

She looked delighted. “Great! That just leaves one thing…”

Corvus lifted an eyebrow.

The dark mage, daughter of the Lord Protector, grinned sunnily. “Do you know where we can find a mountain guide?”

---

Some time later, with a few mental notes taken, Claudia took her brother and her supplies and left for the outskirts.

When they were a short distance outside the town – far enough to deter snoopers but not so far it’d be annoying to get back – she set out her bag and got to work.

“Can you maybe explain why we had to walk out here?” Soren demanded, while she was plucking vials and bunches of supplies from her collection with wild abandon. “I thought we were supposed to be looking for – elf blood, or mountain guides, or something.”

“We can go back later. First I need to know what we can do,” Claudia said, with half of her attention; she was far more focused on the spellwork now.

“That doesn’t answer anything.”

She flapped a hand at her brother distractedly. “Not now, Sor-bear. I’ve got to do some testing.”

He eyed her supplies, expression souring. “Great. More creepy dark-magic-stuff.” She didn’t deign to answer that, and after a moment, he asked “You’re casting spells now?”

“Yep,” she agreed, lining up her ingredients neatly, ready for use.

“But aren’t those, you know, supposed to be rare? I thought you were saving all-“ he waved at her bag, “that, for important stuff.”

“This is important,” she insisted, and eyed their surroundings calculatingly. “This is going to decide which way we need to go. And how big a mountain we need to climb.” She considered a nearby boulder-sized rock with interest, and then a sort of snowed-over grassy bluff of packed soil a little closer, about half as tall as the rock. After some deliberation, she took her selected ingredients and made for the bluff.

“How’s it going to do that?” he pressed, dubiously. “And why are we climbing mountains anyway? Aren’t we supposed to be catching up to the elf?”

Claudia laid her things out atop the bluff, running her eyes over them analytically. “Well, you see, my tracking spell is supposed to be cast from the tallest mountain,” she said, and plucked a leaf from a half-dead oak sapling peeking through the snow nearby. “And normally, that’d mean Kalik.”

Soren blinked. “But Kalik is at least two weeks’ riding away!”

“Exactly,” she agreed. “Which is why I’m doing this. I need to know what counts as ‘tallest mountain’ for the spell. Because it can’t just be tallest mountain ever, right? Pretty sure I’ve read that Del Bar has something taller than Kalik.”

“…The elves could have tall mountains, too.”

“Dad did say the lair of the Dragon King was on a really, really tall mountain. So, you’re probably right,” Claudia mused, and then approached Soren, holding the leaf out. “Here, lick this.”

“What?”

“Lick the leaf, Soren,” she repeated. “I need it for my test.”

He folded his arms. “But why?”

Her eyebrow twitched. “For the spell. It’s not a big deal, just lick the leaf!” She shook the leaf at him, more insistently.

“Why can’t you lick the leaf?”

“Because I’m doing the test! I can’t lick the leaf when I’m the one doing the test!”

“Why not?”

“Because then it won’t work! Just lick the leaf!” She shoved it in his face until it was up against his nose. He grimaced, snatched it from her fingers, and stared at it suspiciously.

“Is this going to do something weird and creepy to me?” he asked her, wary. “Like turn my tongue purple? Or make my pee green? I don’t want to have green pee again.”

“That was one time, Soren. And no, it’s not going to do anything like that.” She pinched the bridge of her nose to ward off a headache. Should’ve just pulled one of his hairs out, she reflected, morose. But no, she’d wanted to be nice to him, and not cause him the admittedly tiny amount of pain that the plucking of a singular hair would involve. Or, technically, two hairs. Maybe more. It’d depend how many tests she needed. Again, she repeated: “Lick the leaf.”

Soren stared at it, grumpily resigned. He licked the leaf. “Happy?” he demanded.

“Let’s find out.” She sighed, plucked the leaf from his fingers by the stem, and took it over to the rest of the stuff. “Stay there.” He made a belligerent noise at her but stayed put, arms folded as he watched her ascend the small grassy bluff again.

She’d been telling the truth about this being important, but still…it galled to be using such valuable and rare ingredients for experimentation. But dad wasn’t here to consult, so she had to make do. One way or another, they needed to know which way to go. So:

Claudia uncapped the wisp bottle, set the oak leaf down as the focus, and reached out to burn.

The heady power of the spell flowed through her veins, swelling behind her eyes. It ached, a little, but it was an ache she’d grown used to over the years; now, she imagined she could feel the way that the strength of the magic grew within her, making her an ever-greater vessel for its might. Great spells did that, dad said. The more magic you cast, the more room there was for it inside you, and the stronger you became. She believed it. She believed it more with every spell she wrought.

This wasn’t a ‘great’ spell. But it was what she needed, for now.

The magic on her lips distorted the words she spoke, so that they came out backwards and echoing. It loosed the spell, and she blinked black eyes as she watched.

The violet of the tracking spell glowed, then shot upwards; it formed an arc from the point she’d cast it from to – well. To the target. The magic came down on Soren and hit him solidly on the head, casting purple wisps all around him. “Claudia!” he spluttered, indignant, wiping furiously at his hair.

“Oh, shush, none of it even stayed in your hair,” she dismissed, observing him sharp-eyed. Well, that worked, she thought, a little disturbed by the ease of it.

An arc. Upwards from point-of-casting, and then down to the target. But it only went so far up.

What would happen if there was something taller between the target and the cast-point?

She had a feeling she knew. But it needed testing. So… “I need you to lick another leaf,” she told her brother, and he glared at her.

“What, so you can hit me with weird glowing things again?” he demanded, and she considered it.

“Yep,” she agreed, honest. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure it’s not going to work this time.”

He subsided a little, from confusion more than anything else. “Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I need to understand how it works,” she said. “And if it doesn’t work, then I’ll understand.”

Soren grumbled and complained at her, of course, but eventually she got another saliva sample from him. Then she directed him to stand a good distance behind the big rock, in a direct straight line from the grassy bluff.

She cast the spell again. And, as she’d predicted, the arc of the spell brought it up a short distance….and then its downwards arc impacted the intervening rock. Thwarted. The wisps burst around the stone and began to dissipate.

Claudia sighed, satisfied, then went to retrieve her brother.

“So?” he asked, looking considerably less grumpy now that he’d gotten out of being pelted with magic a second time.

“We don’t need to climb Kalik,” she determined, hefting the strap of her bag back onto her shoulder. “We just need the tallest mountain between here and where the e-“ She hesitated, then amended herself. “Where Callum and Ezran and the elf are.”

Soren seemed appeased by that. “Well, good. So where’s that?”

She shrugged. “Don’t know,” she answered cheerfully. “Let’s go ask around and find out.”

---

For all the difficulty imposed by the snow and ice, Rayla had been right: it did get easier to breathe as they descended. It didn’t do much for the developing blisters on his toes, but he started to regain his breath, and it became easier to talk as they walked. Time passed faster that way. He barely tripped over his snowshoes, he didn’t fall off of anything unfortunate, and the rest of the day’s walking went smoothly. He had the sense that Rayla was beginning to look for somewhere suitable to stop, but…

In the end, a few hours past lunch, their path was interrupted by a river. A very remarkable river.

Callum stopped short as it pulled into view, eyes widening, fingers reflexively reaching for his sketchbook. He had to stop himself from opening it and starting to draw then and there, and just stared with undisguised wonder instead.

Spilling over a rock wall around thirty feet high, there was a waterfall – wide and glittering and entirely frozen.

“Whoa,” he breathed, staring at it, Rayla slowing to a halt ahead of him. She looked back, eyebrow raised, and then back at the frozen river and the frozen waterfall as if it were nothing interesting at all.

“What?” she asked, looking almost amused. “Never seen a waterfall before?”

“It’s frozen,” Ezran exclaimed, neatly summing up the novelty of it.

He couldn’t get his head around how crazy it looked. If it had frozen steadily, he’d have maybe expected the surface of the ice to be sort of…drippy looking, as if water had sluiced down over the existing ice and frozen half-way down. But it wasn’t like that at all. Instead, the ice looked frothy, full of splashing and tumbling shapes that seemed to have frozen in a split-second, preserving all the life and movement of a living waterfall, now motionless in solid ice. The river that ought to have run across their path was frozen, too…although, now that he looked, he thought there might be water running under the icy surface somewhere.

“How does anything even freeze like that?” he wondered aloud, eyes drifting back to the waterfall and its astonishing appearance. It glittered under the sunlight, full of icy blues that deepened towards the middle, the colours shifting as he craned his neck to look at it. “It’s amazing.”

Rayla rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips as she glanced at him. “It’s just frozen water,” she said, dryly, and stepped towards the river. “Which is less awful than normal water, but…still not exactly my favourite thing. Let’s just cross over and keep going, alright? We’re not here to admire the scenery.”

Ezran pulled his eyes from the waterfall and scurried over to her side, pulling urgently on her sleeve. “But it’s useful, isn’t it?” he wheedled, eyes wide-blue and sparkling like the waterfall. “We should camp next to it! We’ll have so much water to use, right there!”

“We’d still need to melt it,” she said, cynically, and then blinked at the river. Perhaps she’d seen the hints of moving water underneath, as he had. “…Or…maybe not,” she amended. “Hm.” She tilted her head, and he wondered if she was thinking of how long it had been since any of them had washed…well, anything, really. Clothes, themselves, equipment…the most they’d had access to was whatever they boiled in their pot.

Though, he had to admit, he wouldn’t exactly be keen to wash in water that was literally frozen over.

“…It’s not too long from when we’d be stopping anyway,” Callum implored, after a few moments, and saw potential success in the way that Rayla sighed and did not immediately deny it. It was the truth, right? She’d been scoping places out to camp already. “We might as well just set up here.” And then maybe he could spend some time drawing the waterfall from sight instead of from memory, if there was a chance for it.

She didn’t answer, instead looking up at the waterfall, eyes narrowed. She moved her head from side to side, as if trying to gauge the distance, or…something.

“…Rayla?” he prompted, as she stepped a little closer to the ice, still tilting her head like she was trying to take its measure. “Is something wrong?”

“Is there something in the ice?” Ezran inquired, interested.

“This isn’t ‘The Sword in the Waterfall’, Ez,” Callum said, but he was looking too. Instead of answering, Rayla picked her way across the rocks jutting from the river’s ice, and then went up and to the side of the waterfall, peering at something there.

“I think there’s a cave behind here,” she announced after a moment, eyes on the side of the waterfall, by the rocks. “The shadows in the waterfall don’t make sense, for there just being solid rock behind, so…cave. If I can just…” She extracted a blade with her right hand, flipped it to pick-shape, and then hacked at the side of the waterfall. A large chunk of ice cracked off and fell noisily around her ankles.

“Rayla!” he reprimanded, indignant. “I was going to draw that!”

“I’m not going to break the whole waterfall, Callum,” she said, rolling her eyes, still assailing the ice, sending pieces flying everywhere. She might’ve claimed that the moon phase was making her weaker, but it certainly didn’t look like it. “You’ll have plenty left, don’t you worry.”

“It’s not like you wouldn’t just remember it anyway, you know,” Ezran added, from beside him, and Callum crossed his arms.

“I like to draw from life sometimes,” he said, a little sulkily, and then startled at a little at a pronounced cracking sound as Rayla broke through. The next moment saw her literally kicking in the side of that part of the waterfall. A whole section of the ice just caved in, crumbling inwards, and then there was a hole.

Rayla peered in. “Definitely a cave,” she said, with satisfaction. “So long as there’s nothing nasty in there, we might not even have to bother with the tent tonight.”

Carefully, Callum tried to venture across the frozen river to join her in looking in, though he didn’t even bother with attempting to step across the rocks like Rayla had. He’d definitely fall over, probably breaking the ice in the process. At least the river didn’t seem at all deep. It was basically just a very wide stream. The snowshoes were rough enough to offer some purchase on the ice, so – carefully – he crossed over, stopping by Rayla’s side.

He peered through the hole she’d made. Behind the ice, the river was still running shallowly, streaming down the ice, and…sure enough, there was a deep yawning shadow behind the waterfall that seemed to go quite far back.

“Define ‘nothing nasty’,” he said, after a moment, beckoning Ezran over. “Do caves usually have something nasty in them?”

“Caves are good places for animals to live!” Ezran chirped, still inching his way carefully over the ice. Bait was following grumpily at his heels; he loved water, but wasn’t a fan of ice. “They’re warmer and more sheltered. So there could be a bear or a banther or something in there.” He eyed the waterfall with interest, as though trying to peer past its darkness to the hypothetical animal denizens within.

And there was a thought. “Can you feel anything?” Callum asked, curious. “Like you could feel where animals were during the storm?”

Ezran blinked, taken-aback. He plainly hadn’t thought of that. “I mean, maybe? I could try?” Rayla nodded at him encouragingly, so he clamped his eyes shut and went silent. Whatever he was doing seemed to be a struggle. Evidently the power of the storm had magnified his abilities beyond what he could manage now. “…There are some alive-things in there,” he said, finally, opening his eyes. “But it’s hard to feel them from here. I think they’re pretty small, though.” He frowned. “And…fluttery? With wings?”

“Bats?” Callum suggested, thinking of fluttery winged things that might live in caves.

“Bats don’t like places this cold.” He sounded dubious.

Rayla didn’t comment on it either way, just tilted her head at the dark passageway. “Pretty narrow, a little further in. Don’t think a bear could get through there,” she decided, after a moment. Then she whistled sharply into the cave, seeming to listen to the way the noise of it resounded along the stone. “Goes pretty far in.”

“I want to see it!” Ezran said, intrigued, looking as though he were about to step into the darkness that very second. Before Callum could do anything, Rayla put a hand on his brother’s shoulder to stop him.

“Why don’t you let me check it out, first?” she suggested, gently nudging him back. “I’ll just go take a wee look around, make sure it’s alright.” Her lips twisted with a hint of humour. “Keep an ear out, and run if you…I don’t know, hear me yelling about mountain lions, or something.”

“I’d like to meet a mountain lion,” Ez objected, wistful, and Callum patted him absently on the shoulder, already distracted with watching Rayla stalk into the mouth of the cave, weapon still at the ready. Within a few moments the shadows had swallowed her, and he couldn’t see her at all. It was weirdly nerve-wracking; uncomfortably reminiscent of watching her disappear into that awful blizzard. He exhaled, forced himself to relax, and waited.

After a few minutes, for lack of anything else to do, they started speculating idly on what she’d find. Ezran wanted some cool animals, winged or otherwise. Callum wanted a nice vacant space that would make a sheltered and less-cold camping ground. Ezran agreed that a sheltered campsite would be nice, but remained very certain about wanting to meet some cool animals.

He was in the middle of unfolding the tale of the bats he’d found under the castle machicolations last year when Rayla suddenly re-emerged, bereft of her packs, looking intrigued and bright-eyed and in general not as if she were being urgently pursued by the occupants of anything. Nonetheless, she materialised so suddenly from the narrow darkness of the cave that he jumped a little, pulse jolting with surprise.

“I’m back,” she announced unnecessarily, her cheeks pink with excitement and a smile upon her lips. Reflexively, he found himself smiling back, a little startled by her obvious cheer. “The cave is – you’ve got to see this.” In a flash, she’d disappeared into the cave opening again. He stumbled after her, mildly alarmed.

“Er, Rayla?” he said, into the dark, exchanging a bemused smile with his brother. “You know we can’t see in there, right?”

There was a pause, and then she ducked back out into the light again, just close enough to the cave mouth that he could see her eyes glowing in the shadows. “Forgot about that,” she admitted, and then a hand extended from the darkness. “I’ll lead you in.”

He eyed it, shrugged, and reached out to close his fingers around hers. “…Sure,” he sighed, and then reached out behind him for Ez. “C’mon, Ez, take my hand. I’ll try not to trip over anything.”

His brother snickered at him, but obligingly reached out, and then they were walking in a little row along the tremendously narrow cave passage towards…whatever Rayla wanted to show them. Bait started glowing a while in, which at least let Callum see where he was putting his feet, and from there on it was easier to follow where she was leading. The air tasted like an echo of the waterfall, all damp rock and wet air. It was oddly pleasant.

“This goes pretty far,” he noted, craning his neck to try to see whatever she had found so remarkable. The air grew palpably warmer as they turned a narrow corner, squeezing past the rock, becoming damp and humid rather than damp and cool. A new scent came into the air; something green and verdant, like the smell of wet moss in an old forest.

“It’s pretty warm in there, actually,” she said, as if echoing his thoughts, still cheerful. “It’ll be a good place to camp.” He was opening his mouth to question her when she cut him off, announcing “Here we are!” Then, with a flourish, she bowed them into the wider cavern.

He stared, open mouthed, and stepped tentatively out into the open space, ghostly light spilling around him. Rayla slipped ahead of him and turned back, grinning a little as she watched for their reactions.

He tried to say something, but all he managed was “whoa.”

The cavern was relatively large, tall enough to accommodate thrice or more Rayla’s height, and wide enough that they could comfortably put up six or seven tents if they felt like it. The whole place was suffused with light: it glowed on the walls from strange phosphorescent mushrooms that grew in frilly clusters upon the rock; it glowed in points of light in the thick damp mosses under his feet; it glowed in the strange little wisps that danced around in the air. There were butterflies too, or maybe moths, fluttering this way and that in the glittering air, casting gentle light from their wings.

And there were plants! Not just mosses, but thriving leafy shrubs, and even what looked like a couple of young pine or spruce saplings – little trees with delicate needles on their branches. There were even a few larger ones, almost tall enough to brush the roof of the place, wreathed in glittering vines that climbed up their trunks. The whole cavern, trees and all, seemed suffused with a blue-green glow, moving and shifting as the light-wisps roamed.

A few of the glowing moths fluttered past, and he lifted a hand to one. He wasn’t really expecting anything, but – it landed on his finger, wings opening and closing, and he was absolutely certain that his face looked completely ridiculous right now, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He stared at the moth with wonder, admiring its enormous pale green wings and the metallic bronze patterning, and kept staring long after it fluttered away from his finger again. “Wow,” he breathed, looking out at the cavern with a sort of stunned awe.

“It’s so pretty,” Ezran said, similarly spellbound, and when Callum glanced at him he was already covered in the wispy light-things, and was amassing an entourage of moths. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“It reminds me of some of the parts of the forest I live in, back in Xadia,” Rayla spoke, and there was a contented smile on her lips as she looked around them. “All the glowing things, you know? And the colours, and Moon-moths. Feels a little like home.”

For a second, Callum was very, very jealous. But that envy lost cohesion quickly in the face of this kind of awe. He stared around, eyes drinking in the cave and committing it to memory as best he could. This kind of environment would be hard to do any proper justice with just charcoal and paper, but…with luck, in the future, he’d have access to paints again, and could capture this scene properly. “I can’t wait to see Xadia, then,” he said softly, and looked back at Rayla just in time to see one of the light-wisps fall into her cupped hands.

The wisp flickered gently in her palms as she smiled down at it. A moth had landed on her left horn, and another on her shoulder, and the wisps followed in their wake as if moving on some invisible current. She looked at once far more serene and far more content than he thought he’d ever seen her, and – and suddenly, he couldn’t quite seem to look away. The shifting light over her skin drew his eyes to follow it; he watched her white hair reflect the colours of the glowing cave, her eyes luminescing as though to match all the other magical things around her.

He forced his eyes away, heartbeat strange in his throat. More in an effort to distract himself than anything, he asked aloud, “How are all these plants even growing in here? Don’t they need sunlight?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Bait already off trying to hunt moths, and shook his head. Those moths were huge. Maybe too huge for a glow-toad. But then again, what did he know? Bait ate all sorts of weird stuff.

Rayla looked upwards at the cave ceiling as if trying to find some hidden aperture to the sky, then shrugged. “I guess not?” she offered, still with that small contented smile. “Magic’s like that, you know. Things that shouldn’t be able to live somewhere just…can. And then you get places like this.”

And, supposedly, that sort of magic was everywhere in Xadia. “I can’t wait to see Xadia,” he reiterated, fervently, and cautiously set his bag down. The ground was carpeted in moss of varying thickness, with very few patches that were just lichen-encrusted stone. He eyed it for a few more moments, and said “You know, we probably don’t even need to set out our cloaks to sleep on.”

Ezran turned his attention to the cave floor, his body still entirely shrouded in light-wisps. They seemed to like him, enough so that he had to brush a few away from his eyes to see. He giggled as they passed over his skin, and then carefully lowered himself and his bag to the ground, bouncing experimentally. “Yeah, this moss is pretty comfy,” he reported, cheerful. “What a great place to camp! I wonder if there’s any animals in here?”

Rayla huffed with amusement, wandering over to ruffle his hair, displacing a few wisps. “If there are, I’m sure you’ll find them.”

Within minutes, Ezran was off prancing through the cave, investigating every tree root, every stalagmite, every mushroom. It was such a delight to see him this happy that Callum didn’t even consider calling him back to help with setting up; practicality could wait a while.

“It’s good to see him so cheerful,” Rayla said to him, a smile on her lips, as if reading his mind. “I was worried.”

“Yeah,” Callum agreed, gut twisting a little at the memory. “Last few days…it’s been pretty tough.”

She glanced at him, sidelong. “They have,” she agreed, after a moment. “But-“ she broke off, and muttered to herself, “Of course you wouldn’t know,” before looking back at him again. “He’s having trouble sleeping.”

He blinked, and re-evaluated his memories of his brother throughout the day. Ez had looked tired, sure, but…well, recent times had been tiring. It had made sense they wouldn’t be fully recovered from it. But… “He is?” Was he having nightmares? Callum would have expected to wake up, if his brother had been having nightmares. He always had in the past.

“Mm. Azymondias is keeping him awake. I woke up a bit last night, talked to him.” She shrugged, looking briefly uncomfortable. “Don’t know how much sleep he got, in the end.”

Callum grimaced. One more repercussion from that awful storm. “Well, that’s not ideal,” he said, now a little worried. This kind of travelling was hard enough even on a full night of sleep. He’d slept pretty well last night, after all, and everything had still been exhausting. What if it was a persistent problem? What if it kept keeping Ezran awake? That…wouldn’t be good. “…Maybe it’ll pass? When more of the storm-magic is gone.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t look convinced. After a moment, she sighed and shook her head. “Well, we’ll find out, I suppose. For now…” she gestured at their bags, hers on the ground and his still on his back. “We could get set up?”

“We won’t need the tent today, right? It’s really warm in here.” A novel experience, really. Even the tent last night had turned chilly by morning. A thought occurred to him, and he huffed. “Gonna be weird to have space to sleep again. We’ve been squashed in that tent for weeks now.”

For some reason, she flushed and looked away. “Yeah. Weird,” she muttered, ears flicking back, and turned to kneel to the bags. “…We won’t need the tent, no. But I reckon we should get everything out anyway. The tent was covered in frost this morning – it needs to dry.”

He nodded, and crouched to help her. “And if we’re going to be washing clothes and stuff, we should probably get all of that out, too.”

“Might as well,” she agreed, and so, without further ado, they started unloading their bags. Over the next ten minutes or so, everything came out; even the slabs of frozen, yet-uncooked meat that had been wrapped and tied to the sides. Rayla took those out through the cave mouth to sit behind the icy waterfall, there to remain frozen, with the exception of an already partially thawing one that she left to defrost in the corner.

Ezran noticed her coming and going, and then noticed that they were doing work without him, and came over to complain. “You should’ve called me, if you were going to be doing stuff,” he said reprovingly. “I can help.”

“I know you can, Ez,” Callum smiled, and reached out to ruffle his hair. “You were having fun, though. And it’s not like unpacking is hard.”

“Still,” his brother insisted, and looked at what he was doing, calculating. “We’ll need wood, right?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

Ezran nodded, determined. “I’ll go get that, then.”

Rayla returned in short order, and the two of them went back to their tasks while Ezran saw to his. With clothes, food, medical supplies, and other miscellanea separated into their discrete piles, it became clear how much cleaning really needed to be done. “I really bled over a lot of clothes,” Rayla said, sourly, inspecting the torn shirt, undershirt, and jacket she’d been injured in. Not to mention the sweater she’d started to bleed through, early on. “These stains aren’t going to come out.”

“That’s…fine,” Callum said, trying not to think about the blood too much. “It’s just clothes, and we’re travelling. It’s not like we need to look good.”

She glanced at him. “Yeah, but these aren’t just dirty, they’re ripped. I can wear them, maybe, but only if I cut the arms off. Might be worth more as cloth to wrap food with.” She frowned at the clothing, and sighed. “Well, whatever. I can put my clothes back on, after this. They’ve got the arms bare, anyway.” Left unsaid was the fact that, with bare arms, it would be easier to get at the bandages. Though he couldn’t imagine she’d be travelling without a sweater on any time soon, with how cold it was.

Callum nodded, sparing a moment to despise the fact that she had to plan her outfits around how hard it would be to access her wounds. “…Is it hard to get in and out of, though? I don’t think I could get at your shoulder through your assassin jacket thing.”

She made a face. “Right. Shoulder. Stab-wound.” She shook her head, annoyed. “No, the light armour is kind of a pain to get dressed in.” Her eyes slid to her own arm. “Suppose I’ll just have to stick to what I’m wearing until I’ve healed up a bit more.”

“…You can always borrow some of my stuff, if you need to?” he suggested, vaguely abashed to suggest it. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t been borrowing and wearing his clothes for most of the journey already. “I mean. I think most of it needs washing, for now, but…”

Her expression was amused. “I’m technically already borrowing your stuff, Callum.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He coughed, embarrassed, and changed the topic. “So – how exactly are we going to wash everything? Break a hole in the ice?” The idea of having his hands in water that cold was very far from appealing, but…

“We’d freeze our hands off,” Rayla said, shaking her head. “Nah, I’d best just find somewhere we can heat water and make a pool to wash everything in. There’ll be somewhere that works for it around here.”

True to her words, Rayla went out into the cave again and did a quick circuit of all the walls, eventually finding a rocky hollow behind the waterfall where water had pooled and frozen. She promptly grabbed a sword and went to break the ice out, claiming it’d work just fine for what they needed. They lit the campfire outside the waterfall, Ezran making several trips around the surrounding area for wood, and steadily started heating pot after pot of water to create something vaguely warm and usable in their makeshift basin.

Washing everything took a while. They each did a round of clothing first, and Callum had the opportunity to use his primal stone for the first time in days, setting some of it to drying faster. When there was something vaguely dry for everyone to change into, they took it in turns to wash themselves in the swiftly-cooling pool; Rayla went first, after briefly and grumpily soliciting his aid in getting her sweater and second shirt off. She went away after that, handling the rest of her layers alone.

“It’s really nice to not feel like I’m covered in blood anymore,” she announced upon returning, newly-clothed in the somewhat-dry things they’d just washed. Her hair was wet, reflecting the lights of the cavern even more than before. “Might want to put some fresh water in, though. It was getting pretty gross.”

It took a few more rounds of heated water, and a little more taking of turns, but eventually they’d washed just about everything they had that needed it, themselves included. The rest of the clothes they hung on various cavern trees to dry, and then, miraculously, they were pretty much done. Callum sat back down in the cave beside his brother, the sensation of cleanliness bizarrely foreign after days of accumulating grime.

“Feels better, doesn’t it?” Rayla asked him, as if noticing his bewilderment. There was a wry twist to her lips.

“It really does,” he agreed, clothes and skin and hair still damp, and weirdly pleasant for it. He’d got used to being grimy. It had just…sort of fallen into the background, a sensation beyond his notice. And while he wouldn’t say he was immaculately clean, not when all he’d had was a little bit of soap and a rag and an increasingly dirty pool of lukewarm water…he felt strangely lighter for having washed some of it off.

She smiled ruefully. “Yeah, travelling’s like that. I’d never really done anything long-haul before this mission, so I wasn’t used to how gross it gets.”

“I’m pretty used to getting covered in mud and dust and stuff. Me and Bait go exploring in the tunnels a lot, or in the forest,” Ez claimed, blinking slowly at the egg in his arms, newly retrieved from the bag. He’d taken a moment to wipe it over with a cloth too, and now was just…sitting with it. Looking suddenly bleary. “It’s…kinda different when you can’t just wash it off at the end of the day, though.”

“I’m going to remind you you said that, next time you complain about me telling you to wash up,” Callum informed him, and received a half-hearted snicker in response. He frowned at his brother, noting how abruptly out-of-it he looked. “Something wrong, Ez?”

Rayla looked over too, alerted by his concern. In short order they were both scrutinising Ezran, who looked…very tired. Considerably more tired than he had even five minutes ago. “Feeling sleepy?” she guessed, looking at him.

“…Zym’s asleep,” he admitted, after a moment. “He’s been sleeping some other parts of the day, too, but…I wasn’t holding him, then.”

“And you didn’t sleep well last night.” Rayla peered at him, frowning. “Maybe you should have a nap, or something.”

He blinked, looking startled. “Isn’t it kinda late for a nap? And…isn’t there stuff to do?”

Callum, who’d been about to suggest the nap himself, shook his head. “What, you think you’re not going to be tired enough to fall asleep later?” he asked, rhetorically. They were all tired enough to just about pass out they second they lay down, after all. “A nap isn’t going to go that far, Ez. And anyway, we’ve already washed everything, it’s fine.”

“But…dinner?” The objection was very faint. Rote, more than anything. He looked on the verge of dropping off already.

Silent, Rayla took the opportunity to drape Ezran’s cloak over him. Callum approved. “We’ll take care of dinner, Ez,” he said, voice gentling. “We’ll wake you when it’s time to eat, okay? You just…nap there with Zym.”

It was a little alarming, how quickly sleep took him. He’d barely been laid down, arms around the egg, when his eyes closed and he very plainly fell unconscious. Callum stroked a hand over his brow, frowning lightly, though he didn’t speak. He looked questioningly at Rayla, and she nodded towards the cave mouth, so they stood and quietly made their way out.

“It’s kind of worrying me,” Callum said, finally, when they were at the other end, behind the ice of the waterfall. “His…connection. To the egg. I just…” he sighed, following Rayla further out to where the fire still burned, growing sluggish from lack of attendance. She glanced at him, plainly listening, and knelt down to add another branch to the embers. “It was pretty terrifying, how he got during that storm,” he said in the end, softly. “And you saw how fast he just fell asleep. What if that happens while we’re walking? He could – he could get hurt.”

She hummed understandingly, and gestured him over, waiting until he sat down at her side. “We’ll keep an eye on him,” she told him, gentle but firm, and rested a hand on his wrist for a moment. “Make sure he doesn’t drop off a mountain if he does come down all narcoleptic.”

He nodded, wincing. ‘Falling off a mountain’ was about the size of what he was worried about. “Yeah. I’ll make sure he walks ahead of me, or something.” He paused for thought. “I guess we can always try to switch so one of us is carrying the egg instead? He seems a lot more affected when he’s close to it…maybe it would help to take it away?” Rayla eyed him for a moment, as if he’d said something unusual, and he frowned, trying to figure out why. “What?”

She shook her head, the corners of her lips twitching. “Nothing much. I was just thinking about how neither of you’d let me anywhere near the egg when we first left, and now…”

Callum blinked, and tried to remember. “That feels like so long ago, now.” His stomach dropped weirdly, in a sensation alike vertigo, as he recalled how much he hadn’t trusted her in those first days. “How long has it even been?”

Rayla frowned, and shrugged. “Dunno. Ten days since we left, maybe? Eleven?” Her eyes went distant, as though looking at something he couldn’t see. “Feels about right, from the Moon.”

He pursed his lips. “I’ll go get my sketchbook. I was keeping track of it a while back, I think…”

So he rose, walked back through the cave as quietly as he could manage in the dark, feeling his way along the rock walls to the magical glow of the cavern proper. He checked on Ez, finding him still solidly asleep, and then receded back out with his sketchbook and an armful of medical supplies. It was about that time of day, after all. Rayla was poking critically at the fire when he returned. “Might stake some of the meat, today,” she said as he sat down again. “There was a big bit that had kind of…unfrozen, so that’ll need cooking first.”

“Sounds good?” he offered, setting himself and his things down. He shivered a little; none of them had wrapped up as warmly as usual after washing, what with how temperate it was inside the cave, which meant he was cold now. He inched closer to the fire. “You want any help?”

“Nah, I’m good. You can draw, or something. You brought your book, right?” At her words, she looked over as though to check, and evidently noticed the other supplies he’d brought: bandages, a couple strips of willow bark, scissors, disinfectant, lilium. “…Oh.” Her hand went reflexively to her arm. She was only in a short-sleeved shirt, so he could see the bandages there, arrayed thickly beneath her fingertips. They looked damp, like she’d got them wet while she was washing.

“Needs to be done at some point,” he offered. “It can wait till later, though. But you should maybe have some painkillers now.”

She opened her mouth, glanced at the supplies, and frowned. “I…don’t know if I want to take the lilium again. At least, not today.”

Callum paused, looking at her. “…Because of addiction?” he guessed, and watched her shift uncomfortably.

“Suppose,” she said, noncommittal. “I can just take more willow bark. It’s…fine.” She threw another stick into the fire. She wasn’t looking at him, in a way that felt decidedly avoidant. He watched her for a few long moments, concerned, and she seemed to notice. Her shoulders hunched a little. Finally, she spoke again. “I just…don’t like how it makes me act,” she admitted, eyes still averted.

“…Fair enough, I guess.” Tentative, he shuffled a little closer, so he could see her better. “You know we don’t mind, right?”

She glanced at him, then; quickly, and then away again. There was a hint of a flush on her cheeks. “So you’ve said,” she muttered, sounding embarrassed, of all things.

He took a moment to think of why, and then actually remembered how she’d behaved the previous evening. She’d been…cuddly. And had seemed to have some very definite opinions on her medically-indicated hand massage. Right. “…Still true,” he managed, abruptly a little flustered himself. He hadn’t lied, though; it wasn’t a problem, how she’d acted. Not at all.

She looked at him again, from the corners of her eyes. “Ugh,” she grumbled to herself, and tossed another stick in. It crackled. “Just the same, I’ll stick with the bark, today.”

Callum nodded, a little dubious. He really didn’t want to pressure her into taking addictive, mind-altering drugs, but… “Has that…been working out okay? Through the day, I mean?”

Rayla lifted her arm a little, as though testing it, and grimaced. “Okay enough,” she said, seemingly annoyed at, presumably, her wounds’ continued insistence on being sore and swollen. She must have caught the way he frowned at her then, because she elaborated “It’s not as strong as the lilium. Still hurts when I move it. But it at least stops it aching as much.”

“…Have some more bark,” he suggested, and passed a piece over. She sighed, but agreeably put it in her mouth to chew. “I can change the bandages now? Kind of looks like you got them wet, so…”

“Probably not the best idea to let them sit, no,” she agreed begrudgingly, and waved him over to her left side. “Go on, then.”

So, with the increasing efficiency of practice, Callum set himself down beside her and unwound the old bandages, looking over the wounds carefully. As yesterday, there didn’t seem to have been much change. They were still lividly swollen, as from a fresh wound, and there hadn’t been any obvious healing on the surface at all. They still weren’t showing any signs of infection, at least; that was a mercy. “Well, they’ve not opened,” he offered optimistically, and reached out to daub around the edges with an edge of alcohol-doused cloth. “And they’re not infected.”

She winced a little at the touch, even as careful as he tried to be. Clearly, the willow bark wasn’t going very far. “Best we can hope for at the moment, I suppose.” He winced, and nodded.

He did his best to be gentle, he really did – but she had two great big jagged tears in her arm. There was only so much that ‘gentle’ really counted for, with wounds like this. She winced and flinched several more times through the procedure, and all he could do was murmur apologetically at her.

He cleaned everything and set the fresh bandages on, then peeled back her collar as politely as he could manage to get at the shoulder stab wound. That was still doing fine; it was a much cleaner injury, after all, and smaller too. And then there was just the wrist.

After a while with its bandage off, the sores there had gone hard and dark and dry, like old scabs. He felt at the edges of them, very carefully, noting where the binding was even now applying pressure. “How are these doing? Are they painful?”

Rayla shrugged, uncomfortable, and flexed the fingers of the hand. “Maybe a little? It’s…really not much, compared to everything else.” She twisted the wrist a little beneath his fingers, experimental. “It hurts where the binding is,” she said at last. “That’s mostly it.”

Healing, then. But very slowly. She’d said that was normal, for this part of the lunar cycle, but it still left him anxious. He tugged at her hand to bring it closer, inspecting the tiny blister that had formed on one of her fingers, what felt like so long ago now. It, too, hadn’t progressed very far. It looked similar to the wrist sores, if on considerably smaller scale. “It’s barely healed,” he muttered, unhappy.

“New Moon,” she said, by way of explanation.

He made a low noise, disconsolate, and stared at her hand as he held it. “At least your hand’s mostly okay now, I guess.”

She didn’t answer. When he looked up, she was staring at the her upturned palm, brows furrowed as though it were troubling her. She didn’t look like she agreed with his words at all.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, a little anxiously, eyes moving back to her hand. The colour seemed fine, but…was there something else? Something she hadn’t mentioned?

Rayla remained silent for a few long seconds, then said “It doesn’t hurt.”

He blinked, startled. “…Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Well, it’s nicer than pain, I suppose,” she said, still staring at her hand as though it were something alien and disturbing, rather than her own limb. She pulled it away from his grasp, and started pressing her own fingers into its palm, as though testing it. She turned it over, and ran her thumb lightly over the back, tracing her knuckles.

Callum watched, worried, as she poked and prodded along her fingers as though searching for something. Her expression was bleak, her shoulders tense. It took her a while to speak again.

“It doesn’t hurt, anymore, except maybe…tiny aches, and prickles, I guess.” She trailed fingertips lightly over one edge of her hand. “So…that means it should be better, right?”

Slow, uneasy understanding dawned on him. “But it’s not?” He guessed, and shuffled closer, leaning to inspect her hand more closely.

Rayla flexed her fingers outwards until they trembled with visible effort; it took him a moment to figure out she was trying to straighten them. It…hadn’t worked, really. They were shaking as though strained beyond endurance, but remained somewhat bent. She clenched the fingers closed, well within his view, as though to demonstrate something…and the fist seemed looser than the amount of effort seemed to indicate.

She held the fingers straight again, or tried. The fingers shook badly, as if being forced beyond their capabilities, but still failed to extend properly. “I can’t straighten them out anymore,” she admitted, lowly. “I’ve been trying, but I just...can’t. And my grip is – not right. Weak. Before I thought it was just…recovering, you know? But now – it doesn’t hurt, but it’s still…” She didn’t finish, eyes dark as they rested upon her still-bound hand.

He’d noticed some of it, of course. The way she’d seemed to have difficulty with using the hand, the way its gestures had noticeable lagged during the sign language lesson today...he’d noticed. But she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. “…It hasn’t been that long, yet,” he pointed out, voice quiet to match her own, heart aching with sympathy. “Sometimes the deep stuff takes longer to heal. It could still get better.”

She made a noncommittal sound, and touched her fingers to the back of her hand again. “The skin feels weird, too,” she stated, not responding to his words, her eyes hooded. “Here, especially.” She traced a finger along the thumb side of the back of her hand, in a broad line along it and then up the first two fingers. “But the rest of the hand feels off in places too.”

He looked at it, and restrained the urge to reach out. “Off, how?” he wondered, and watched her press fingers against her own skin.

“Depends, really,” she said, and stroked along the back of the thumb, for a brief second. “Here, light touch is…it doesn’t feel right. Sort of itches, or prickles. If I press deeper, it feels a little bit numb.” She moved her fingers. “The rest of the back of my hand is weird with the light touch too. Firmer feels normal, but light...it’s weird.”

“…How long have you been noticing this?” he asked, uneasy, because there was a hint of practiced familiarity to how she laid out the symptoms. As if she’d chartered the strangeness in every inch of her skin, over and over, while he wasn’t there to see it.

She shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Over the last couple days, I suppose. Since it’s been hurting less,” she said, turning her hand over. “It’s been easier to notice, since I’ve been using it more.” She hesitated. “I’ve…been trying not to think about it.”

Callum held quiet for a few long moments, thinking. He was familiar enough with medical principles to know that certain types of wound could have effects on the mobility and sensation in parts of the body, but…he didn’t know nearly enough of the specifics to understand what this meant. He didn’t know what was causing it, didn’t know if it could be made better, didn’t know anything. “I guess we’ll just have to keep an eye on it?” he said, finally, reaching out for her hand after only a moment of hesitation. He took it between his own with a gentle familiarity, palm turned upwards, thumbs lingering on either side. “How’s the palm?” he asked, after a moment. “Is that prickly too?”

Rayla pursed her lips, watching him. “No, it feels mostly normal.” She admitted. “It’s not numb either.”

“Mostly the back of your hand that feels off?”

“Pretty much.”

He hummed, and wondered what that meant for the daily hand massages. Should he change anything? Be a little firmer on the back of her hand, maybe, to avoid setting off the prickling that seemed associated with lighter touch? “I wish I knew more about healing,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stall them. His shoulders hunched, and he glanced up to find Rayla’s eyes on his own.

“Can’t be helped,” she said, after a moment. “I wish I knew more about one-handed fighting. But I don’t. So.” She shrugged. “At the moment, I’d be pretty useless in a fight.”

“…More use than I’d be, anyway,” he muttered, somewhat distractedly, his gut unwilling to renounce the vague sense of guilt and self-recrimination. If he’d only learned more, that feeling said, he’d be able to help her. He could have done something different, would know what to do now…

Rayla shot him a sidelong look that seemed oddly penetrating, as though she knew precisely what he was thinking. She nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Stop beating yourself up over not knowing literally everything about healing,” she ordered him, words just a little gruff. “We had a deal, remember?”

He exhaled, and the breath felt a little shaky as it emerged. Some complicated emotion twisted in his gut: shame and gratitude conjoined. “Yeah,” he said, voice a little thicker. He glanced at her, hesitated, and shuffled just a little closer. Their shoulders brushed together, the pressure strangely reassuring. “…Thanks,” he said, more softly.

Her eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat longer, strangely intense, before she quickly looked away. She mumbled something indistinct that sounded vaguely like ‘you’re welcome’, eyes fixed forwards on the fire. Her fingers twitched in his hands, but she didn’t make any move to take her hand back. After a few moments…well, it just seemed sensible, given they were already there, for him to move his thumbs inwards and start pressing into her palm.

Rayla offered no objection. She just glanced down at their hands, then looked away again. She shifted, just a little, to move the arm more solidly across the front of his chest, fingers uncurling outwards from her palm. “It’s a little funny,” she said, after a moment, and he looked across at her to watch her as she spoke. “I started sleeping on my back because my hand hurt too much to sleep on. But now my hand’s stopped hurting, but I still have to sleep on my back. Because-“ she nodded towards her arm.

Callum considered that. “’Funny’ isn’t the word I’d use, probably,” he said, and she huffed, lips twitching.

“Funny in a depressing way, though.”

He was already thinking, though. He’d not known that her hand was why she slept on her back, but it made enough sense. Particularly after the fight with that tracker, when she’d gained the arm injuries as well as the abdominal bruising… “Couldn’t you just sleep on your right side?” he wondered, and blinked at the way she immediately barked out a laugh.

“If I did that, you’d probably slap me in the face twice a night,” she informed him, mirthfully.

His hands stilled on hers as he spluttered. “I’d – what?” Then, a second later, he remembered her previous comments about how active a sleeper he could be. “Oh.”

She held his gaze for a second, then ducked her head away, ears dropping. “And that’s if I was lucky,” she said, but now, abruptly, she sounded a little embarrassed. There was a hint of colour in her cheeks. He wasn’t sure he had the courage to ask.

“…I’m still an annoying tent-mate, huh,” he deduced, a little morosely, and wondered how badly he tended to keep her awake. She didn’t need that on top of everything else. “We can change places? I think Ezran mostly just hugs Bait or the egg when he sleeps now, so he probably doesn’t move too much…”

Rayla was quiet for long enough that he started to fret, particularly with how she was still determinedly avoiding meeting his eyes. “…No, it’s fine,” she said, eventually, a note of something odd in her voice. “Honestly, I think I’m getting used to it. I’ve hardly woken up in the middle of the night at all, lately. And when I do it’s because Ezran wakes up, not because of you.” She shrugged, trying for nonchalant and failing. He eyed her.

“If you say so,” he accepted, albeit dubiously. “I can swap with Ez, you know? If it’d help-“

“It’s fine,” she repeated, now with a distinct spot of colour on either cheek. She shook her hand aggressively at him, reminding him that he still had it and was supposed to be doing something. “Just – get on with this, would you? We need to get the food cooked.”

Callum huffed, said “Yes, ma’am,” and did as he was told. He pressed his thumbs into her palm, wondering if it hurt at all without the lilium. She’d said it still ached a little, right? He glanced at her furtively as he worked. She…wasn’t flinching, or wincing, and didn’t seem to be in pain. She did seem a little embarrassed, still. She was sat closely enough that he could literally feel the way her shoulders were hunched.

It didn’t last, though. After a minute or two, she slumped against his side, sighing. She still wasn’t looking at him, but…she wasn’t so tense anymore, either.

It wasn’t quite like the evening before, where she’d been so down in the marshes as to cuddle up without a care in the world, admitting things that she probably never would have uttered sober. She was self-conscious, he thought; like he’d been self-conscious last time, like he still was now. But this time she was fully in her right mind, and was sitting with him like this anyway. He liked it a lot better.

She looked at him, once; there and then quickly away again, as though checking his reaction. Then she mumbled something indistinct to herself, vaguely embarrassed-sounding, and settled a little more. She sighed again, and very slowly, started to relax. He could feel it in the ebbing of tension in her, could see it in how her eyes went half-lidded as she stared into the fire, watching the flames as they flickered and danced. He wondered at it a little, but…she had seemed to find this very relaxing, the other times she’d not been in pain from it. Maybe that applied now, too, even without the lilium.

Callum sat there with her hand in his, her form solid and reassuring against his side, and started to get a new, quiet sense of calm from it. Before, he’d always been too occupied with how much pain she was in, or how embarrassing the situation was. Now, though, he thought he was getting used to the whole thing. It was technically a subset of wound care, so it felt weird to actually find it nice, but…well, that was probably better than being awkward about it forever.

Rayla stayed there unmoving through all the quiet minutes of his working, and seemed a great deal calmer by the time he finished. When he glanced over, she looked…comfortable. Not half-asleep, as under the influence of lilium, but calm.

He let the quiet sit for a little longer, not quite wanting to speak. Eventually, very gently, he nudged her. “Alright?”

Rayla blinked, as though realising he’d finished, then looked across at him. A hint of colour rose in her cheeks. “…Yeah,” she spoke, soft. “Thanks.” For a moment, her fingers curled around his own. A tentative smile ghosted over her lips.

Some strange, light emotion fluttered in his chest.

Then she took her hand back, tugging it gently away. She didn’t move beyond that, at first; just looked at him, eyes lingering on his. Then she sighed, and sat up, the warmth and solidity of her vanishing from his side. “Time to get the food started, I think,” she said, still quiet, as though reluctant to break the calm that had settled over them, and started to shuffle closer to the fire.

He nodded, cleared his throat, and looked around. “Anything I can go get?”

She inspected the items around the fire: a stack of firewood nearby, the iron pot with the defrosted meat in it, and one of her swords. She shook her head. “Nah. I’ve got everything, thanks.” Again, she shot a smile his way. “Weren’t you going to figure out how long we’d been travelling, or something?”

Callum blinked. “Er, yeah, I was,” he admitted, rueful, and sat up to stretch a little, shoulders clicking. “I forgot.”

“You do that, then.” Without further ado, she set about cutting the meat and spearing the pieces on an array of sticks, arranging them carefully around the fire. She remained a lot calmer-looking than she had earlier; relaxed and loose-limbed in a way he hadn’t really seen outside of the influence of lilium. It was…nice.

He smiled to himself, oddly pleased, and reached for his sketchbook. He’d been keeping track of the days on a loose page tucked in at the back; he peeled it out, readying his charcoal, and inspected it. It hadn’t been very thorough, barely more than a tally. He considered it for a while, and finally, in script as small as he could manage, started trying to count back the days. He added a little note for each one: waterfall cave for today, left thundersnow cave for yesterday, and so on. With a little twist of grief, he oriented learned about Harrow onto the page, and then a note for the day before, and before that, and before that…

“The full moon was on the night of the twelfth,” he said to her, finally, when he was done. “So we started travelling on the thirteenth. It’s been twelve days since we left the castle.”

She looked up from the fire, blinking. “Feels like longer. But yeah, seems right.” She shuffled over to look at his notes, tilting her head to read. He’d noted the day she’d first had the binding loosened, and the day she’d been injured by the soldier; her eyes lingered on those for a while. “Probably a good idea, to keep track of things like that,” she said at last.

“Yeah. It might be important, if we ever find a proper doctor or healer for you to see.”

Rayla snorted. “Fat chance of that, in the middle of Katolis.”

“We won’t be in Katolis forever,” he reasoned. “And in Xadia – you have to have magic healing, right? If nothing else, someone over there should be able to figure out how to get your binding off.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” She lifted her wrist, staring at the binding. “Never heard of one of these being broken, though. Not sure how it works.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he said, determined. “Somehow.”

Rayla’s lips turned up at the edges. “I hope so. Can’t exactly keep Ez and his dragon loosening the thing for the rest of my life.”

Callum winced, a thought occurring to him. “And there’s another good reason he can’t just go back to Katolis and be King right now,” he muttered, chagrined. “Pretty sure Azymondias can’t do the binding on his own. You’d lose your hand.”

She blinked. “I…didn’t actually think of that.”

He hadn’t, either. With this holding pattern of loosening it, again and again…it was easy to forget that her hand wasn’t safe, yet. If anything changed, if Ezran’s trick stopped working…she could still end up losing it. She was already starting to have to face how much damage had already been done, but – that wasn’t necessarily the end of it. As long as the binding was there, she was still in danger. “…We’ll figure something out,” he repeated, as much to himself as to her. She grimaced, but didn’t reply, and he cast about for a change of subject. “You said new moon is in a few days, right?”

Rayla grimaced even more at that, expression sour. “Yeah. I can already feel it coming on.”

Carefully, he wrote out the dates for the next few days. “Do you know exactly what day it’ll be?”

She paused for a moment, as though consulting her magic lunar-sense. “Not the day after tomorrow, but the one after that.”

He noted it in. He had a sinking feeling that it wasn’t going to be a good day, and thought it might bear planning for. “At least we’ve probably got enough meat for a while. You won’t need to go hunting.”

“Yeah, we’re not going to run out of that in a hurry,” she agreed. “Still got loads. It’s something, I suppose. And on that note-“ she turned back to the fire, checking on the cooking. Already the smell of roasting meat was making his stomach growl.

She attended to the cooking, and after watching for a while, Callum returned to his book. He noted down a few more things in the makeshift travel-log, then set it back into the pages, folded. He flipped through the other loose sheets, finding Draconic vocabulary, his rough map, a sketch of some noteworthy rooms in the Banther lodge; mementoes from earlier in their journey. It felt so distant. He wondered how he’d feel in a month, or two, or three. It would take that long to get the egg home, wouldn’t it? Getting to Xadia was only the start.

Already it felt like his entire world had changed, and two weeks ago seemed almost a dream of a past life. What else would change? Would he think on today in a week or two, and feel like it had been an age ago?

He sighed, and turned the page to the front. Nostalgic, and a little homesick, he started to flick through. He lingered for a long time on the drawings of Harrow, grief twisting in his chest. And then he flipped onwards again.

Finally he was to an empty page, and he remembered where he was. Even now, he was sitting beside an entire magnificent frozen waterfall, at the mouth of a cave that held a little refuge of magic in its belly. There was plenty to draw. Plenty that wasn’t depressing. So, determinedly, he set his charcoal to paper, and made a start.

He’d made a respectable sketch of the waterfall and its surroundings by the time Rayla deemed the food ready, and put the pot back on the fire to boil some water. In went a few handfuls of pine needles, and away went Callum’s sketchbook. They brought everything back inside the cave when it was done, settling near Ezran and coaxing him awake.

“Ughhh,” Ez offered, groggy and grumpy as Callum tugged him upright. “I – what…?”

“Dinner, Ez,” Callum said to him, sympathetic, and coaxed him into putting the egg down on the mossy stone. That seemed to help; a hint of alertness returned to his brother’s eyes, and he blinked at the pot with sudden recognition.

“Oh.” With some difficulty, he seemed to pull himself awake, wiping a hand over his face. “Right. Bait?” he called for the toad, who was off in the cave somewhere. “Do you want food?” A croak echoed back from somewhere behind a tree, and Ezran nodded. “He’s fine, he’s been eating bugs,” Ez explained to them, shuffling lethargically over. “Can I just…eat and go back to sleep? I’m so tired…”

“That’s fine, Ez,” Rayla said, and passed him a jar. He accepted it, and stared at it with consternation for over ten seconds before he seemed to realise what it was.

“Tea?” he questioned, plaintively.

“Sadly, yes,” she nodded. “Drink up. The sooner you do it the sooner it’ll be over.”

Callum rolled his eyes, a little amused by how much they both seemed to disdain it, and waited patiently for Ezran to finish with the jar so that he could take custody of it. He sipped his with quiet enjoyment while they ate, then got a refill, and slowly depleted it while working through his own dinner portion.

He ate more than he’d have expected to manage, in the end. Meat really wasn’t that filling on its own; or at least, not in a way that lasted. He wondered if they’d be able to start finding more wild edible plants again, once they descended far enough for there to not be snow and ice on everything.

“I’m getting kinda sick of just meat,” Ezran mumbled, groggy and ill-tempered with it, evidently having similar objections as Callum. “It’s just the same thing, every day…”

“Travel’s like that,” Rayla said, shrugging. “It sucks, but unless you find stuff along the way, or can supply in towns…”

“What did you do?” Callum asked, curious. “Your…team. When you were travelling. You wouldn’t have been able to carry that much food, right?”

She looked briefly nonplussed, and then a little uncomfortable. She averted her eyes. “Well, we had…nutrient pills, and stuff,” she said, after a moment. “It didn’t go really far, but it at least meant we weren’t missing out on anything important if we did just eat meat. And we had some packets of seasoning and the like, so it wasn’t as boring.”

He inspected her, tilting his head. “So you’ve been eating mostly meat for like, months now.”

“I got sick of it a long time ago,” she agreed, expression sour. “Now it’s just sort of…fuel. I really miss proper food.”

“I already miss proper food,” Ezran sighed.

Callum looked between them, and his lips twitched. “…Would this be a good time to do that sign-language practice about our favourite foods?”

They both shot him disgusted looks. “No,” Rayla said, grumpily. “I had enough of missing Moonberries earlier, thanks.”

“Aw, come on, it’ll be fun,” he wheedled, and after a little more cajoling did actually manage to get a little practice going. It had the foreseen consequence of making them all hungry again, so they actually ended up eating almost everything they’d cooked for once. Rayla approved of that, at least; apparently none of them were really eating enough to support themselves on a meat-only diet, and she was getting a bit concerned about it.

“I’m thinking of cooking up a lot more tomorrow night, so we can just sort of start snacking as we walk,” she confided, when they were putting the pot away and filling up their waterskins for the night. “We’re never hungry enough when we stop for breaks. All the exercise, you know.”

“Probably a good idea,” Callum said, though his stomach rebelled at the thought of eating during exertion. “I never really feel full. Even when I stop eating…I don’t know, it feels like I just can’t eat anymore, instead of actually having enough?”

She looked troubled. “Yeah. It’s not great.”

“Maybe we can get some bread or something, when we get to Greatport,” Ezran mumbled, trailing along sluggishly at their heels. He hadn’t become significantly more alert over the evening, and had stumbled through the sign language as though half asleep. “That would be nice.”

Callum didn’t point out that Greatport was probably a good two weeks away, or that they lacked money of any kind. He supposed he could…try to sell something? Or trade? He wasn’t sure what he could sell that they didn’t need, though. “It would,” he agreed, instead of voicing any of his thoughts, and ushered Ezran gently back into the cave.

In the end, he settled his brother in the thick moss beneath one of the cave-growing trees, egg situated a careful distance away.

“I know you like to keep him close,” Callum said to him, laying the cloak over him like a blanket. “But it’s probably going to make it harder for you to sleep, if he does wake up in the night again. We’re not in the tent, there’s tons of room, so just…leave him there, okay?”

Ezran sighed. “Yeah, okay,” he blinked up at him, drowsy, and blinked as Callum settled the cloak on. “You gonna tuck me in?” It was a joke; it had been a good long while since Ezran had wanted tucking in at night. But Callum paused, nostalgia stirring in his chest, and leaned over to do precisely that, tucking in the cloak around his sides.

“Comfy?” he asked, leaning back as Bait shuffled over and insinuated himself under Ezran’s arm.

He smiled, small and sleepy, and hunkered down under his cloak with a sigh. “Mmhm,” he agreed, and then closed his eyes. Barely seconds later, his breath started to settle out into a familiar rhythm; already asleep.

“…He drops off fast,” Rayla said, very quietly, from where she’d been watching. Her eyes were soft when he turned to face her, and just a little sad. He wondered what she was thinking about.

“A lot of the time, yeah.” He gave his brother a last glance, then went over to settle where he’d left his bag. Rayla followed, sitting down beside him as he rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling his exhaustion. His legs were sore from all the climbing, his toes hurt from the descending, and he was just…tired. “…How late is it?” He couldn’t really tell, inside the cave. He’d been outside only a little bit ago, though, and it had been almost fully dark.

Rayla paused in that increasingly-familiar way, consulting a sense that was utterly foreign to him. “Not too late, yet,” she said, finally. “Maybe eight?”

He considered that. “I’ll go to sleep soon, I think,” he decided. “I’m…really tired.” He paused.

“But not yet?” she guessed, looking at him. He looked back, for a long moment. In the soft glow of the cavern, she looked…she was just…

He averted his eyes. “Not yet,” he agreed. “I want to draw a little more, if there’s time.”

“There’s time.” She blinked at him, eyes luminescing gently, and shuffled closer. Callum opened his sketchbook and hesitated for a long while, exhaling softly, nudging his artist’s mind away from the way it seemed to want to fixate on the light flickering on the edge of her face. He turned to the waterfall sketch, and kept drawing.

Rayla glanced at him, and when he didn’t object, settled in to watch. They didn’t speak for the rest of the evening, sitting in companionable quiet, until at last Callum’s exhaustion got the better of him and he put the book away.

Even with the whole cavern available to them, Callum settled only a metre or so from Ezran; in turn, Rayla settled a similar distance from him. Close enough to smile at him as she pulled her cloak over herself and nestled on her front into the moss, and to mumble a good-night as her eyes closed.

He echoed it, already half-gone, but…glad, in a way he couldn’t quite put to words, to have her nearby.

In the warm quiet of the cave, sleep came quickly; his dreams spun images of light and moon-moths all through the night.

---

The window was large, and wreathed in a cage of tightly-packed metal bars.

Runaan had assessed it as an avenue of escape when he first saw it, but more as a matter of instinct than of anything else. He was in no condition to stage an escape attempt, even if his captors had been more lax with their restraints and security. The bars were solid, and deeply embedded within the stone walls; even with how recently they’d evidently been placed, it was too much for him to pull out as he was now. Were he at his best, he would be stronger and faster than any human his size, but even that would do him little good against quality metal like those bars, or the restraints wreathed around his surviving limbs.

So, there would be no escape through that window. But he found himself pathetically grateful for its presence, anyway.

There was nothing of interest to be seen through it. The window opened out into some sort of courtyard, his location evidently high up enough that he couldn’t see any of the movements of the people within. Instead, he had an uninspiring view of the castle and its dark windows, and a decent strip of sky above it. A sky that offered light.

An hour after he’d been moved here, a well-ornamented Katolian soldier had entered the room, flanked by two adjuncts, the dark-clothed observer waiting behind. With a stiff posture and cold eyes that spoke very well of her animosity, she’d read to him the letter of the Millennium War Crimes Accords, a piece of legislation that he, as a prisoner of war, was legally entitled to the knowledge of. Within that knowledge had emerged the reason that he’d been permitted a cell with a window. The Pentarchy, it seemed, knew a little more about the weaknesses of Moonshadow elves than he was entirely comfortable with.

Despite it all, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret the presence of the window. Even if that lack did signify weakness.

Daylight was harsh against eyes that had spent so long in the dark, but welcome even so. Moonlight, though…

He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it – how much he’d weakened in its absence – until the waning Moon rose, and cast moonshadows from the bars on the window that filtered onto his skin. It had felt like an awakening – or like coming alive. In that moment, heedless of all the years he’d spent training, the years he’d spent uttering the creeds, a part of him had stirred and opened and yearned for life; even though he was already dead.

A few days. A few days more without moonlight, and he would be dead. The agony in his body and rasp in his lungs was stark testament to that. But already, the livid swelling on the stump of his left arm seemed cooler. Already, he was breathing easier. A few days more, and it would have been over. But now…

Strength and energy and vivacity filtered into his blood via the touch of the light through the window, and he was helpless to do anything but adore it, as must any creature who owes its magic to the Moon. He sighed, the exhalation shaky with relief, and could not help but feel the shame of the weakness.

I am already dead, he reminded himself. But…

It was deceptively hard to believe, with moonlight on his skin.

His eyes fell on the dim shape the moonlight cast through the window, with its bar-slatted shadows and the gentle shading of the near-New Moon. His impulses warred with him, and he did not know that he had the fortitude to resist them for long.

The length of his chains allowed him to move about the cell. They were heavy with weights, and fastened firm to the walls, but he could stand. He could walk, if only two paces in either direction. He could choose to sit in the slatted square of light cast on the floor in front of the window, and bask in the moonlight. If he were stronger, he might have been able to resist that call. Might have been able to stay to the shadows, and let the absence of the Moon chase a little more vitality from his body with every passing moment. If he were stronger.

But he was not so strong. The moonlight called to him, and weakened and diminished as he was, he was powerless to resist it.

So it was that Runaan settled in the Moon’s path with a metallic clatter of chains on stone, and stayed there for hours, trembling incessantly with the relief of the light. It was a testament to the days spent caged away from it that even the light of a near-dark Moon could affect him so, when usually this stage of darkness would have been chasing strength from his body. It drifted across the sky, the angle of the light upon the stone floor shifting, and he moved with it, turning to follow its path like a puppet on a string. He could no more have ignored that pull than he could have willed his blood to stop flowing. So he followed the Moon across the floor of the cell, mind gone mercifully quiet behind the soul-deep benediction of the light.

Until, a few hours from dawn, something strange flashed in the gloom.

His eyes, held half-lidded to behold the moonlight through the bars on the window, snapped fully open. His mind came awake as though pushing through fog, following that hint of strangeness, of movement; a conditioned response that had been stamped and fastened into him through year after year of his work. He stared, unerring and alert, waiting.

Another flash of light.

This time, he was looking for it, so his eyes sharpened quickly upon it: someone, in a window loosely opposite and to the left of his own, across the courtyard, was flashing light in this direction upon a reflective surface. Probably a small, hand-held mirror. Runaan watched, eyes tracking the light with more intensity and focus than he’d managed to muster since the first few days of his privations.

Humans wouldn’t have been able to pick up on signals as dim as this. Even most other elves wouldn’t see it. Their eyes were too blind to the moonlight. The differences in light levels would be too small for them to see these flashing reflections of the light of a waning Moon; perhaps they’d notice something, but not enough. Not nearly enough. But Runaan was Moonshadow. He could hardly fail to notice this.

The light flashed every ten seconds for the next two minutes, a standard opening to any coded transmission. His heart, though still weak and laboured, beat a little faster as he watched and waited. Then, finally, the light shifted to the shorter, more precise signals he knew. He watched them avidly, decoding it as it passed, and any chance of this not being the work of a Xadian operative passed into extinction.

Ave, sicarius, said the coded light, in the standard ancient Draconic, and he felt his breath escape him. ‘Hail, assassin.’

He’d have closed his eyes to brace himself against how powerfully those words affected him, but he needed to watch for the message. He felt himself trembling, felt his heart racing enough to make him dizzy in his diminished state, but kept watching.

The code came through entirely in that same Draconic, as was usual for communications between mixed forces covert operatives deep in enemy territory. Codes could and would be compromised, but very few humans had enough knowledge of Draconic to interpret such messages, even if they were capable of reading the moonlight, and capable of interpreting the code. It was secure, after a fashion.

Hail, assassin, said the message, in the usual abbreviated shorthand of ictus. I am watching. I am reporting. Take no drastic measures. Xadia wishes you home. Abide, and await further word.

He had nothing in the cell that he could possibly use to reply, over this sort of distance. No mirror, no candle-flame; and the metal of the chains was dull enough that it wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of reflective that he’d need. But….

With considerable effort, he stretched his foot across the cell far enough to retrieve the tray his evening meal had been given upon. It had been nothing but gruel in a bowl, and of course he’d ignored it, shoving it away across the cell in rejection along with the medicines he’d disdained, but now…now, he picked up the still-full bowl with his only remaining hand, fingers dipping into the gruel from the awkward angle, and set it carefully aside. Then, shifting his grip several times to get the proper leverage, he raised the tray.

The coded light was going through its second repetition of the message by the time he reached the bars, and raised the tray with his trembling hand to hit it against the bars. The noise was raucous and rang painfully in his ears, shrieking out through his skull as though to amplify every dull ache and sharp pain his skull had to offer – but it was necessary. The flashes of light stopped instantly as he rose against the window, and stayed gone while he shakily clanged out his response, in the same code. Noise was indiscreet, and would certainly invite investigation from the guards outside, so – he had to be quick.

AG, he spelled out with that sound, as hastily as he could. The signal for agnosco; ‘I acknowledge.’

He sat down as quickly as he could when the keys rattled in the cell door, pulling the bowl of cold gruel to his side. He painted his features with a scowl as the guards entered, bodies tense and hands at the swords on their sides. Their eyes ran over him, over his chains, over the state of the cell…and then they settled a little, though their features were tight and hard.

“What was that noise in aid of?” One of them, the man, demanded.

Runaan, of course, remained silent. He sneered contemptuously at the both of them, and maintained the expression until the man uttered an irritated tch and turned away.

“Of course you choose now to be silent,” he muttered, voice wearing the same contempt as Runaan’s face. His fellow nudged him, a friendly and supportive gesture, though her posture and expression remained coldly professional.

“Leave it,” she said, and offered Runaan a last cold glance as she ushered herself and her companion out of the cell. The heavy reinforced door was locked and bolted again, and he heard them muttering beyond it: “The hunger must have finally got the better of him,” the woman was saying, as they retreated a little way down the hall to their customary posts. “He had the bowl he threw away earlier, did you see? The noise was likely just him retrieving the tray.”

“Seemed a bit too much noise for just pulling a tray towards him.”

“Then maybe he was being spiteful. Either way, just add it to the report. If it becomes a habit…well, we’ll talk about it then.”

Runaan quietly acknowledged the words just as the other guard did. He couldn’t make a habit of sending ictusian code by noise, then. But it had been worth it this time, to tell the spy that he was watching. And, at least, in the absence of any scheduled meetings between himself and guards or healers…the code-breaker was not here to notice that someone had contacted him. That was good.

He listened, wary and guarded, for any sign that the guards were going to return. When there was nothing, he lowered his eyes to the cold slop in the bowl he held, brows lightly furrowed. His only meals these last weeks had been force-fed. He had accepted no medical aid that had not been administered by force, and the medicines the human healer woman had left were still sat tidily in their glass bottles to his side. Without sufficient feeding, and without the medicine…even the moonlight would not save him, soon. He had been counting on it.

It had been his duty as a captive, as a Moonshadow assassin, to die without giving the enemy anything of worth to use. This deep in enemy territory, it was standard procedure to consider oneself lost if captured, and hasten towards an honourable death through every reasonable measure. It was his failing that he had not succeeded yet.

But the message changed things. There was an operative here in Katolis – though whether a transient, a stray entrenched operative, or the more likely deep-cover agent, he had no way of knowing. But they were here. They were watching. They were reporting. Xadia had commanded him to live.

For the first time since his capture, Runaan allowed himself to consider the idea of returning home.

A face flashed in his mind and his heart at once; the pang was physically painful, and he closed his eyes to breathe past it. In the next second he thought of Rayla, and his heart clenched anew. Where was she, now? Had she managed to evade the General? Was she still on her way home…or was she lost, when he had only now gained the hope of being found?

He had no way of knowing, unless the agent deigned to risk themself sending him news. But…

Xadia had commanded him to live.

I am not dead yet, he thought, with a strange rush of energy. Hope, and fear, all at once.

He raised the bowl to his lips, and drank.

---

End chapter.

Chapter Notes: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1OGBo7nKVDIfWjhxGe90fwaS3lP0IfQJ3?usp=sharing

Link to PIAJ chapter notes folder (Google Drive folder including worldbuilding, commentary, medical notes, research notes, and misc notes for all applicable chapters within this section)

This chapter's notes cover: author’s notes on various scenes in this chapter, dark magic tracking spells, minor worldbuilding notes, and extended commentary on The Runaan Scene.

Timeline: https://docs.google.com/document/d/107eD8zmLAAFBWSOgsLyl8g4pAdQF4EgMh4rpN_m91U4/edit?usp=sharing Link to PIAJ Timeline Google doc ( to be updated as story progresses)

PIAJ Masterpage: https://tenspontaneite.tumblr.com/piaj Link to PIAJ Masterpage on tumblr (containing links to chapters, meta, art, Q&As, and resources) (Link may not work properly on mobile/app)

Author Notes:

God, I can’t believe I finally got to a Key Scene. I’m so proud.

There’s a much higher than average proportion of Really Old Scenes in this chapter. The frozen waterfall, glowy cave (first bit), and Key Runaan Scene were all written in 2019, I believe. Some of the cave scene could’ve been 2020 though, but not all. They were all edited of course, but it was nice to be able to give these scenes the light of day, metaphorically speaking, at last. Extended notes on these scenes, particularly the Runaan one, can be found in the chapter notes document.

A good chunk of chapter 25 is already written. I’d say it’s maybe 40-50% done? Not sure how long that’ll take, but either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Comments, as always, are appreciated.

(PS I might not update the timeline or the tumblr masterpage tonight as I’m very tired and it’s late)

#tdp fic #tdp rayla #tdp callum #tdp ezran #tdp runaan #tdp corvus #piaj chapters

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four-loose-screws · 3 years ago

Text

FE8 Novelization Translation - Chapter 17, Section 2

If you would like to start from the beginning, read a missed part, etc., click here!

FE Game Script Translations - FE Novel Translations - Original FE Support Conversations

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I call this a “section” because it is not a separate part of the chapter in the book, but divided from the rest of the chapter by a scene break.

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Chapter 17 - The Demon King's Shadow (con’t)

Frelia's pegasus knight unit was continuing to desperately defend against an overwhelmingly large enemy army.

Their entire unit had already been nearly wiped out, and the remaining soldiers were putting all of their strength into defending the bridges. If they fell here, then the enemy could invade in one fell swoop, and the people of Narube would likely be massacred without resistance.

"Those who can move, take the citizens south!" Syrene, the leader of the pegasus knight unit, shouted as loudly as she could while swinging around her lance and fending off the enemy's onslaughts.

However, she hardly had any knights left that could follow that order. Even if the knights managed to get the children atop the pegasi, their wings were damaged, and they couldn’t fly. Even the citizens who had panicked and cried at first had already lost the energy to do that any longer, and exhaustedly slipped into utter silence.

They’d made a major miscalculation. The Grado Army had lost the capital, yet still had a large number of soldiers left.

If the knights thought only about themselves, then they had the possibility to take advantage of their pegasi’s mobility and retreat, but they couldn’t abandon the people of Narube just to escape.

“We’re at our limit, Lady Syrene! We’ll buy you some time! Please do whatever it takes to get out of here!” A knight wearing armor covered in blood yelled at her.

But Syrene shook her head.

She had no intention of running away until the very end. The bodies of the Frelian soldiers who’d exhausted all of their strength lay around her. She was ready to die here in battle herself as well.

Her only regret was that she couldn’t live up to Prince Innes’ hopes for her. She remembered the day that she’d officially become the leader of the pegasus knights as if it was yesterday. The prince had personally given her a beautiful whip and said that the pegasus knight unit was the pride and joy of Frelia, and he wanted them to fight for their homeland so long as they drew breath.

His words filled her chest with deep emotions. She swore to herself that she would devote herself to Frelia… and Prince Innes and Princess Tana.

The plan was to unite her forces with the prince’s at Narube River and fight together at full strength under his orders. However, before that could happen, she would probably see her end. Regret burned in her heart.

Her younger sister was together with the prince. That was her only consolation. If her sister could protect the prince when she couldn’t… then that was all she could ask for.

“Lady Syrene, that’s…!” One of the knights shouted.

Was it more enemy reinforcements? Just how much leftover strength could the Grado Army have at this point?

The moment Syrene was about to succumb to her despair, she looked at where her soldier was pointing, and instinctively breathed a sigh of belief.

A large army was nearing from the south. They were still a considerable distance away, so she couldn't clearly make out who they were, but the color of their armor was different from that of the Grado Army.

"Is that… the Renais Army…?" The moment Syrene whispered, a single pegasus knight appeared from the oncoming crowd, and flew straight in her direction.

Syrene knew who it was before her eyes could even confirm the rider’s face, as she could distinguish the slight but distinct strong wing movements and neck shaking of individual pegasi.

She smiled without even thinking about it, and felt a weight be lifted off her shoulders that had been with her since the beginning of the war.

“Commander Syrene, are you alright?!” The knight riding the pegasus shouted, and swiftly threw a javelin at a Grado soldier coming at her while avoiding his own attack.

She effortlessly hit her target, showing her strength. ‘She’s gotten so much stronger in such a short amount of time.’ Syrene thought.

“Vanessa, you’re here! Meaning…”

“Yes, Prince Innes and Princess Tana are with me! They are safe as well!”

“Thank goodness…” Relief warmed her heart.

Vanessa continued in a commanding tone, “Please stand down, Commander! We’ll take it from here.”

“No, I...”

‘...am not severely injured,’ she started to say, but thought twice about it.

Both her and her unit were already at the limits of their stamina. Even if she continued to be stubborn and fight on the front line, she would do the exact opposite of help, and get in her allies’ way. It was wiser for her to retreat for the moment, recuperate, and then pick up her weapon again.

“Understood! I will stand down for now, and let your commander take over from here. Please tell them I said so.”

“Yes Ma’am!”

“And Vanessa.”

Vanessa tried to guide her pegasus higher into the sky, but Syrene called out to her again.

Vanessa turned back around and no longer had her previous tense expression on her face, perhaps because she had finally relaxed.

Syrene responded in a casual tone, “It looks like you’ve been playing a very big role as a soldier of Princess Eirika’s guard. I was really worried when I heard that you’d been betrayed in Carcino, but… I finally feel at ease.”

“Thank you Ma’am…!”

"Your spearmanship has improved greatly since we parted as well. And you've become a bit more beautiful too."

Vanessa’s eyes widened at suddenly being teased, and her cheeks turned red. “S-Sister…!”

No matter how good their relationship was as sisters, on the battlefield, they were commander and subordinate. To Vanessa, who was so serious it made her formal and strict, keeping that distinction was of vital importance. But right now, even she had forgotten herself.

Syrene laughed out loud and guided her pegasus to softly spread her wings.

Her pegasus had taken an enemy attack, which seriously injured her wing. She wanted her beloved pegasus to be healed as quickly as possible. To a pegasus knight, her pegasus was more than just a simple mount. They were invaluable partners whose fates were linked to each other.

“I’ll see you again later, Vanessa.” Syrene parted ways with her sister for the time being, and her pegasus flew off, leading her exhausted unit.

The Renais Army had crossed the bridge and was coming closer. Syrene stopped her pegasus and landed on the ground.

Everyone was injured and bleeding. Their uniforms had been beautiful and stunning when they left home, but now, they looked like they never could have been such dazzling garments. However, each and every one of their faces were lit up like the sun.

Syrene knelt down on one knee before Eirika and bowed her head. “Reporting, Princess Eirika of Renais! The Frelian Army was surprise attacked by the Grado Army, and we regrettably lost most of our soldiers. But only a few of the people of Narube have been killed since the beginning of the attack, and the rest are safe.”

“Good work. All of you please take whatever time you need to recuperate.”

Eirika’s voice was soft and kind. Just her words alone healed Syrene of her exhaustion.

“Are you alright, Syrene?”

She recognized Prince Innes’ voice, and looked up.

He was standing next to Eirika. Among his dirt-covered army, he stood out as the one refined person. He of course should be tired since he had traveled on a long journey together with the soldiers, but he didn’t show it in the slightest. His clothing looked as if a tailor had just dressed him.

“Lord Innes… I am sorry. The Frelian Army is unable to merge with Renais’ Army. We’ve suffered too much damage, and…”

"Never mind that. None of you have anything you need to worry about. We’ll take it from here.”

His words were reassuring. ‘It appears that Vanessa is not the only one who’s grown up while we were apart.’ She felt that Prince Innes had also become even stronger since the last time they’d seen each other.

‘Perhaps…’ Syrene thought. ‘Vanessa has become more beautiful because of Prince Innes?’ It was difficult for her to imagine Vanessa falling in love with any ordinary man. If he wasn’t a partner that she could respect with all of her heart, then he likely wouldn’t be able to steal it. And If there was any man that Vanessa could respect, it was of course...

“Syrene, do you know any information about the enemy commander?”

Innes asked her in a harsh tone.

Syrene shook her head. “There is a fort on the other side of the river. The enemy commander is using it as a base. I heard that it appears to be Prince Lyon leading the army. I have not been able to confirm that myself, but that is what my subordinates reported.”

“Hmm… Do you know anything about Prince Lyon? ...No wait, nevermind.” In a move that was entirely unlike him, Innes hesitated and changed his words. “Asking won’t change anything. For now, Syrene, please get healed, and return quickly to the battlefront. We still need your power.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

He seemed worried about Prince Lyon for some reason, but knowing that she and her soldiers were living up to the prince’s expectations made Syrene happy. The pegasus knights had survived their long, grueling fight, retreated for the time being, and were healed by Natasha and the other healers.

“Leave the front line to us. We’ll defend the northern bridge.” Ephraim said and charged his horse straight north.

His loyal knights Forde and Kyle led his other soldiers and followed after him.

Eirika went with Seth and the others to save the citizens. The group totaled a few dozen men and women huddling together and shaking. Eirika talked to each of them individually to encourage them, helped the injured atop her horse, and led them to a safe place.

Eirika worked as hard as she could, trying not to think about anything she did not need to. But every so often, she would remember that wicked voice. Whenever she thought about Lyon and the pain the Demon King had caused him, she couldn’t stand the feeling she felt.

‘I ate his heart.’ Or so the Demon King said. If she accepted his words literally, then Lyon’s heart was already gone, and his body entirely controlled by the Demon King. She did not want to believe that such a terrifying thing could be reality.

It had been for only just a moment, but she'd heard Lyon scream. “Run away…” He’d pleaded with all his might. “I’ll destroy you…” There was no way that could have been the Demon King’s voice.

Lyon’s heart had yet to be completely consumed. He'd nearly suppressed the Demon King’s consciousness, and was continuing to just barely manage to fight. He was struggling as hard as he could to remain in control. And that was why they had to press forward. They had to defeat the Demon King and restore his heart.

But on the other hand of that thought, the Demon King's last words weighed heavily on her heart. Ephraim told her not to worry about them, yet she couldn't help but think about them.

Kill Prince Ephraim, and claim Princess Eirika. The Demon King said that was Lyon's desire. A kind man like Lyon shouldn't have such a twisted and ambitious desire… or so she wanted to think, but her heart was no longer sure.

As Lyon was a sickly person, Ephraim had always been the object of his admiration. In situations like when Ephraim was praised by Duessel, or he won a match against a senior knight, Lyon would cheerfully say "You really are amazing, Ephraim!" Those were words of wonder and amazement.

At the time, Eirika didn't think much of it, and just took his words at face value. ...There hadn’t been any warped feelings hiding underneath that adoration, right? He thought Ephraim was amazing… and wanted to be Ephraim… but he couldn’t. Those feelings of inferiority hadn’t turned into jealousy, had they?

“Lady Eirika, we have finished leading the people to safety.” Seth reported.

The pegasus knights had also finished receiving their treatment, and were awaiting Eirika’s orders. Now was not the time to be guessing what was within Lyon’s heart. She had orders to give as her army’s commander.

“Let’s go! We will take the fort across the river and capture Prince Lyon!” Eirika hesitated for a moment, then added, “You must not kill him! We still have a lot of questions for him.”

Syrene and her pegasus knights immediately accepted the order and all flew up into the sky at once. The pegasi had all been healed alongside their riders, and their energy was restored. They flapped their white wings at full strength.

Seth looked up at the pegasus knights and said, “Lady Eirika, I understand how you feel, but Prince Lyon is already…”

“...I know.” She cut off the rest of his sentence, not wanting to hear it.

He looked straight at her. "Our enemy introduced himself as the Demon King. We still do not know whether he truly is or not, but if he is, then this is very serious. Even if we fight him at full strength, we still might not win.”

“...You're right.”

“It’s a shame that his heart is in chaos on the outside, but…”

“I know. I’ll be fine, Seth. I’m prepared to fight him.” Eirika nodded with conviction.

She couldn’t make Seth worry, and so she spoke those words to him immediately. In truth, she still didn’t know. Would she be able to turn her sword against him?

Eirika maneuvered her horse to the front line, where Ephraim's group was fighting. She shook off her hesitation and gradually picked up speed.

A harsh battle was unfolding on the northern bridge. Grado dragon knights attacked from the sky, making the fight difficult for Ephraim and his soldiers, but the pegasus knight unit rushed to their side, and started to change their situation bit by bit.

Pegasi were of a smaller build than dragons, but were utterly fearless. They flew bravely at the enemies' chests, and threw them into confusion. Once the dragon unit's movements had broken out into a panic, Innes and Neimi shot arrows straight at them. The arrows flew through the dragon's wings. Their cries pierced the sky, and their riders lost their balance and fell into the river.

Once Eirika's army finally captured the bridge, they used that momentum to continue moving east. They could now see the fort the enemy was using as their base.

"He's in there, right?!" Ephraim asked when Eirika rode up next to him.

Eirika noticed that her brother refused to refer to Lyon by name.

Perhaps Ephraim felt just as lost as Eirika, and that was why he was purposely avoiding referring to Lyon by name. If he said it aloud, it might dull his resolve to fight, no matter what else he did.

The enemy was waiting for them outside of the fort. Eirika's army shifted into a fan formation and surrounded the Demon King.

He had a cruel smile on his face, and waited calmly for them. He no longer seemed to have any interest in pretending to be human. His facial features were clearly Lyon's, but his expressions did not feel human at all.

'That's not Lyon… such a wicked, cold stare could never be Lyon's.' Eirika told herself. But she still could not rid herself of her hesitation, rather, she tried to find if Lyon was left anywhere in his face.

"...So you intend to challenge me?" The Demon King asked.

The chilling sound of his voice made Eirika's horse tremble so hard she could not calm her.

"You are all so lucky to not yet know my true terror…”

"Get out of Lyon's body!!" Ephraim roared.

Eirika jumped. His voice was filled with an intense anger that she had never once heard come from him in her entire life.

Ephraim did not fear the Demon King, although perhaps it was more accurate to say that he was so infuriated by someone hurting Lyon that he forgot how afraid he was.

Ephraim's powerful voice boosted the morale of Eirika's army, but the Demon King met Ephraim's anger by laughing at him.

"It's not healthy to make your blood boil, prince of Renais. Don't you get it? Prince Lyon and everything about him is no more. I ate him. This body is no longer his.”

"Damn you…!" Ephraim raised his lance, and his soldiers each readied their own weapons. The archers and mages behind them also prepared themselves to support them.

But the Demon King’s spell was faster. Its waves rippled through the air, and a split second after, a horse collapsed.

Eirika looked over at them and felt fear send a chill down her spine. The neck of the fallen horse was turning in unnatural directions as if a huge, invisible hand was twisting it.

“Nosferatu…?!” Lute gasped. As someone so confident, it was entirely unlike her, but even she was panicking. “Please be careful! That is an extremely powerful dark magic. If you take a direct hit, then…!”

The army’s movements fell into chaos. The terrified horses burst out into a full gallop and tried to shake off their riders. Only Seth, Forde, and a few others managed to keep control of their horses, while the other knights all clung desperately to their horses’ necks.

The Demon King cast another spell. Another horse fell down.

The army was in a panic trying to rush outside of the spell’s range, but among them, Eirika was doing the opposite, and pushing ahead.

Seth and Ephraim noticed her and rushed over to her, flustered. They stood behind her, ready to protect her, as she faced the Demon King.

His expression changed, sharp eyes narrowing in satisfaction.

Eirika tightened her grip around her horse's reins. Her horse stopped shaking, the strength of her resolve seeming to communicate with her mount.

"Can you hear me, Lyon?" Eirika said and stared straight into the Demon King's eyes.

"It's useless!!" Ephraim shouted and tried to stop her, but she paid him no mind and continued.

"You're in there, aren't you, Lyon? Please do not abandon hope. We will defeat the Demon King and save you… so please, don't give in…"

The Demon King's expression shook ever so slightly. He furrowed his brow and glared at Eirika. "Pitiful girl… You still believe that there is any of Lyon's heart within this body? How fascinating. Then come here. I will tear you apart limb from limb with these very hands…"

"Get away from him, Eirika!" Ephraim shouted and kicked his horse's side. Seth followed after him a second later.

Ephraim thrust his lance with a sharp battle cry. The Demon King narrowly dodged a fatal blow, but blood sprayed out from his shoulder. Seth followed up without a moment's delay, thrusting his own lance.

The Demon King flailed his arm around wildly, but there was no power in his movements.

"Support Ephraim! Archers, step forward!" Innes ordered, and swiftly shot an arrow of his own.

His silver arrow pierced deep into the Demon King's chest.

'Stop!' Eirika tried to scream. 'If you kill him, then Lyon's heart will die, too!!'

The Demon King staggered, but his eyes did not lose the intensity within them. "This little is too much…? The human body is so frail." He muttered in annoyance and pulled the arrow out of his chest. Blood flowed from the wound.

He glared at Eirika with eyes burning like a blazing fire. "I have learned the extent of your power. In this case… I will hasten my resurrection. I will abandon this frail body and return to my true flesh. That is the day when this continent will once again be shrouded in darkness. There is no longer a single place any of you can run to!” He said in a tone not unlike that of one giving a curse, and disappeared.

Ephraim yelled at him, “You’re running away?! Do you really think I’ll let you desecrate Lyon’s body ever again…?!”

Ephraim ordered the soldiers to search the area and turned back towards Eirika. “Are you alright, Eirika?”

“Yes…”

"Don't do anything reckless. You know he's not Lyon. The Lyon we were friends with is already…"

"Brother, I want to believe him. The Demon King says what he does, but Lyon's heart is still alive… he's suffering and waiting for us to save him. I can feel it." Ephraim furrowed his brow. His blue eyes clouded over with hesitation.

He was still suffering, too. Just like she was.

He sighed deeply. "...I understand. Right now, finding him comes first. Eirika, you rest for a bit."

"No, I'm going to search too…"

"Your face is terribly pale. You've pushed yourself past your limit. L'Arachel, could you please take care of her?"

L'Arachel was standing near him, so he called her over.

Eirika went into a tent with L'Arachel, deciding that she would take a short rest.

ー

#fire emblem #fe #fe8 #sacred stones #eirika #game boy advance #gba #japan #japanese #translation #novel #light novel #fe8 novelization translation

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