#someone who sees his classmate as a fellow knight but as someone that needs to be 'protected'

[alteredphoenix]

The virgin Leo’s “LOL you remind me of my grandma” VS the chad Celia’s “LMAO I have no idea what’s going on but what’s wrong with just being you”

[tada-no-honzuki]

Ascendance of a Bookworm Fanbook 4 Q&A [3/?]

This translation is not supposed to replace the official releases of the series. Please purchase the official fanbook when it becomes available!

Contains spoilers for Part 4

Ⓠ Am I correct to assume that Tuuli prepared more armbands than asked for, because Rozemyne said they would be “gifts for her friends” and therefore Tuuli felt she would need more than the one she had ordered?

Ⓐ That’s right. Tuuli has a lot of friends, so she believed, “She is definitely going to need more.”

----

Ⓠ Rozemyne compared the people around her to various objects. What would Charlotte be?

Ⓐ I wonder. She is cute and precious, and just looking at her makes her want to work hard… Maybe a beautiful ornament that’s worn on formal occasions? To wear it without shame, she must carry herself appropriately. To Rozemyne, Charlotte is something she needs to put the effort into even when it’s already within her reach.

----

Ⓠ Why is Rozemyne still prohibited from entering the library until she passes all her exams in her second year? Wilfried’s thoughtless words caused a lot of trouble for her fellow classmates in their first year after all. I don’t believe it’s necessary to ban her from entering the library to make the better grades committee a success.

Ⓐ In their second year, the requirement that all her classmates had to pass was dropped. Rozemyne is banned from going to the library until only she passes all her exams. Archduke candidates cannot go to the library alone and her parents and guardians agreed that she would neglect her studies were she allowed into the library any sooner.

----

Ⓠ When they were discussing the magic circle in the bible, what would Ferdinand have done had Rozemyne said, “I want to become King”?

Ⓐ Since there are many things he could do without directly opposing her, I think Rozemyne would likely have climbed the towering staircase soon after the dedication ritual.

----

In Part 4 Volume 7, in “planning for the tea party” Rozemyne, Charlotte, and Hannelore are discussing Royal Academy Love Stories. Who is the story of “the apprentice knight who stayed resilient even after failing many times” modeled after?

Ⓐ Heisshitze.

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Ⓠ In the side story Rendezvous at the Gazebo, what does the sentence “the God of Darkness spread his cape and enveloped the Goddess of Light” imply? Something like giving someone a hug or sitting very close to them?

Ⓐ The exact meaning depends on the situation and sexual knowledge of the person in question.

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Ⓠ In “The Ditter Match” of part 4 Volume 7, the attack that Hannelore launched at Ferdinand at the start of the match appears to be a physical attack, but what did she hurl at him? Also, did she throw it by hand, or did she use a weapon of some sort?

Ⓐ Rozemyne couldn’t see it, but Hannelore used a slingshot like the one Judith uses to shoot a magic tool at Ferdinand.

----

Ⓠ Did no one find it suspicious that Ferdinand did not react to Rozemyne’s mana when she healed him during the ternisbafallen attack at the Interduchy Tournament?

Ⓐ The repulsion would only be felt by Ferdinand, who is being infused with mana, it’s not something others around them can feel. To Rozemyne it just felt like washing black sludge off with magic. Since it’s a rare feybeast, others may wonder whether such purification is necessary, but would not question the healing process itself.

----

Ⓠ Is it necessary to be trained as an archduke candidate, or to have more mana than the user/concealer to be able to discover the traces of usage of the teleportation circle of old Werkestock?

Ⓐ One would need to have taken the archduke candidate course and have a keen eye for spotting subtle differences. Thanks to Gundolf’s report, Anastasius was able to confirm it was used, but without that information, he likely would have missed it.

----

Ⓠ They found evidence that the teleportation circle of old Werkestock had been used, but the location of Werkestock’s foundation is still lost, right? Does that mean it was used by someone who received permission from the previous Aub Werkestock before the purge? Or did someone else manage to dye the foundation? Do they know anything other than “it was used”?

Ⓐ The location of the foundation remains lost. The investigation of the Sovereign knights revealed that it was used by someone with an authorization stone. Whether the terrorists received their stone directly from the previous Aub Werkestock or obtained it through illicit means is unknown.

----

Ⓠ Should I envision the translation of Dunkelfelger’s history book mentioned in Part 4 Volume 7 to be like a modern translation of a text originally written in classical Japanese or entirely in kanji? (If you don’t know the specific rules, you cannot read them right away.) Or is it more accurate to say it’s like translating Chinese into Japanese?

Ⓐ It depends on the age of the text. Since Dunkelfelger is one of Yurgenschmidt’s oldest duchies, it feels like making a modern translation of a text originally written in man’yo-gana, an early Japanese syllabary composed of Chinese characters used phonetically.

----

Ⓠ Rozemyne’s translation of Dunkelfelger’s history book was well received, but am I right to assume it’s different from a translation their archducal family would make?

Ⓐ Since the mentality to “read the original to study!” is in their nature, they eagerly welcomed an easy-to-read modern translation.

[expvrgction]

🍒: how much does my muse value companionship? do they constantly keep people around them, or do they prefer to be alone often? do they have or desire to have many friends? do they see every meeting as an opportunity to make a new friend? (For doom slayer and tulip!)

Source!

Both value companionship, but have different views and ways to go about it.

The Slayer, as a mortal, was once surrounded by family, loved ones and friends. While he and his younger brother both have rough patches throughout their lives because of their father, it didn't deter them from socializing with people around them.

He, specifically, made friends with his classmates, some of whom joined the US military as well. Then there was his instructor, one colonel (who is also the friendliest one can ever meet in his chapter of the United States Marine Corps) and fellow UAC staff in the Mars habitats and research facilities before shit hit the fan. And when he came to Argent D'nur, those who warmed up to him made his stay worthwhile, naysayers be damned.

Life isn't always rainbows and sunshine, though. He lost a majority of people he knew from his time. Hell, he should have even died. Even as a Primeval, no man is truly complete without company.

The crushing fear of having any new companion be in danger just by association with him still exists at the back of his head, though.

Tulip... Well, she lost both her parents and was, instead, raised by a community of survivors in a camp, which eventually settled as a small village. Being the only child there was... Hard. Her homeworld's radiation, coupled with hordes of fiends still loyal to her father running around made reproduction risky for remaining citizens of Jekkad, and the fact that she develops psychokinesis later on made her struggle with communication.

The upside to this is access to reading the thoughts of animals and other creatures incapable of speech, which was how she managed to tame and keep an injured Pinky named Brun with her. It was also why a couple Lost Souls followed her instead of outright trying to blow up in her face.

After her ascension to the throne as Queen (Or aptly nicknamed the Ashen Queen; mainly because of how she often wears greyscale outfits), she usually lives alone with some more Pinkies as company and constant castle guard against intruders, and Lost Souls to console and try to undo the curse inflicted upon them by her father and his armies. Her caretakers and others in the village, some local Hell Knights and Barons of Hell-- As well as faraway travelers still visit her, but none are currently her regular castle assistants.

As much as she is normally content with animals and other nonverbal creatures as company, she badly needs someone to fill in social gaps. She isn't the best at talking to those outside her immediate territory of influence (Isonkast), but it is better than being alone without sentient interaction for very long periods of time.

[feline17ff]

Ayo!! you saw my Cerise/Ramona/Rosabella ask!! very rad /pos /g!! I've been keeping an eye on your blog since I stumbled upon it whilst digging through the EAH tag, and I gotta say, your blog is!! Rad!! Now, I have a question, fellow EAH enthusiast: if you could rewrite EAH, how would you do it?- Narrator Headcanon Anon

Thank you so much! 💖 Awesome to know my blog is fun for someone other than me 😋

I did see your ask! In my EAH rewrite I'd use your idea and rewrite Ramona, Cerise, and Rosabella to have beast forms that we actually get to see.

More about Briar's powers aka that she can hear stuff when she's asleep.

The Good King and the Mad Hatter being great father-figures (found family my beloved) to the EAH boys: Daring, Dexter, Sparrow, Hunter, Hopper, Tiny, Merry Men etc. They're just such great dads.

More of Hunter, Cerise, Maddie, Melody, Cupid and other rebels acting as Raven Protection Squad.

Apple White is perfect as is. I'd give her more happiness.

Faybelle, Lizzie, Raven, Baba Yaga, Dancing Madame, and more, acting as Duchess Protection Squad and helping to find a solution for her unhappy destiny. Just got the idea of them being her Knights of the Round Table!

Kitty, Ramona, Faybelle, Sparrow, Blondie as prankmasters. Blondie's the voice of goodness but that's not saying much.

More little rebel things by Ashlynn and Briar after they out themselves as rebels, like sitting on the rebel side of the castleteria, having the winged purple heart as a little pin on their bag or dress, hanging out with fellow rebels who have always been outside their social circle, like Briar hanging with Hunter, Ashlynn with Cerise.

More connection with Monster High - Cupid taking EAH students there and vice versa. Cerise and Ramona letting their hair down. Twyla taking Briar's friends into her dreams when she falls asleep and they hang out there. Sparrow interacting with Holt and Heath. Raven getting help with her magic from Casta. EAH seeing Cupid's MH form and in for the shock of their life. Kids with villainous or unhappy destinies just thriving at MH. Getting Bella and Brutta's ghosts and talking to them and FINDING OUT THE TRUTH!

PESKY THE SQUIRREL! More of him! More of his interactions with Hunter and the EAH boys! Just him messing their lives whenever he can and them leaving everything to chase him.

More of Queen Charming and Maid Marian's rebellious nature as heavily implied in Semi-Charming Kind of Life.

Clear indication of how much better a father the Good King is over King Charming. By indication I mean show us that Dexter and Daring are encouraged to pursue other interests and prefer Good King's company, they have picnics together and Raven's like "What are you doing with my dad?" and the bros are like, "We're having lunch with your dad. Do you wanna join us?"

Sparrow and the Merry Men just vibing.

Tasteful depiction of Ashlynn's stepsisters or stepcousins. Idc if they're evil or not, just tasteful. Same with Crystal and the Snow Queen.

More of General Villainy class shown in Next Top Villain — did you know Sparrow's the only guy in that class of strong female characters? Just him vibing with these classmates, them getting up to mischief or protecting each other aka Ginger and Raven are in that class too.

Ramona! More info about Ramona!

Daring, Duchess, Hopper being 💯 theater kids and putting on the most dramatic play ever!

Sparrow getting some sense knocked into him Wonderland style.

Chase comes back to EAH!

Boys in Damsel-in-distressing and girls in Heroics! Gus, Hopper, Daring, coz beast, need to be in DiD! Helga, Jillian, Rosabella need to be in Heroics! Helga and Gus in both.

And adding the three musketeers' daughters who are also in Heroics!

More of Humphrey and Dexter, being BFFs, and being tech geeks with Blondie!

More of Sparrow, Humphrey, and Alistair's friendship.

[i-dont-exis]

you’re all getting zane because he had the big first paragraph and no one gave any specificities!! also i’ll be putting a few ages at the start of paragraphs/by names {mostly for me to get a feel for time stuff since i hate character age garbage <3}

zane ro’meave, he/him, cis no romo/sexuality label, 36 at the end of season 1

he’s the youngest because i thought it was like that when i was watching as kid

the ro’meave children loved playing in the snow, zane was the best snowman decorator

when vylad {15} had come back after being pinned as dead a lot had happened. zane {12} can’t remember much of that day except that his mother was missing and that his father gave him a nasty scar along his right eye and impeded his vision

when zane {16} was in the practice grounds he saw long wavy auburn hair, and as soon as he rounded the pillar it was gone. zane would remember the small glimpse of the person he saw when he was an adult

his final test to prove to his father that he could rule o’khasis was to ‘deal’ with falcon claw. he did all as instructed, and felt no remorse when he heard screams of innocents from the fires as he rode away on his horse

he became a priest for two main reasons. 1. to get out of an arranged marriage, since priests couldn’t be married and 2. him and his spouse really didn’t like eachother

when he was at ‘priest training’ as him and his classmates called at, he found how easy it could be to use people to his advantage

he doesn’t like to be called ‘father zane’ and likes the more important sounding title that ‘high priest zane’ gives, as it also shows how high up he is on the ‘scale of religion’, again being his words

he doesn’t take worship seriously, and when he finds out there are reincarnations and that he is related to the reincarnations of esmund and kul’zak while not being one himself he feels furious.

im gonna go in paragraph-ish order now this is a lot more difficult to make nice than i thought it was gonna be lol, and this is it trying to be even ‘nicer’

also you might see my brain devolve throughout this, thats just me being tired since im writing all this late at night lol

so. kiki, emmalyn, and aphmau. what do they have in common that relates to zane? they show intense emotions iguessBUT! emmalyn is very standoffish as she had heard about him through her connections through her fellow scholars, kiki basically thinks of him as an animal that needs love and care, and aphmau knows that he is up to basically nothing good {he determines how he interacts with someone based on their reactions to his introductory teasing which is partially how him and janus got close}

he thinks kiki is the best option for the pendant experiment. the way it works here is that it needs a beings blood on it and it mixes all of the dna together and makes a child. zane didn’t know this when he was burning down the eastern wolf tribe and stomped on bodolf’s paw as he reached for it; eventually when janus reported back on his ‘child’ they noted the child had werewolf ears and a tail as zane understood what he did wrong immediately, although he had no way to correct this when he learned about it

{34} on the topic of child experiments {lol what a combo of words} alexis was another one. he read up on shadow knights and how if they were turned soon after they were born something would happen. since this something was undefined he had to find out for himself, so when he heard about the newborns in phoenix drop he had an idea

all priests have the symbol of irena somewhere on their body to show their dedication, zane chose the back of his neck so he wouldn’t see it all of the time

he sits as the obsidian father in the jury of nine, because everyone is under his ‘care’. he looks over all of the paperwork and looks over candidates, he is known amongst the jury to bump up those who is seem promising, such as iverline. he is also the speaker for the group and is stuck on a rotation of meeting hells for a lot of the time which impedes his traveling, so he uses the jury for whatever he needs

he also had to break them to a certain point to get them to work under him without making them resent him. janus was easy as the two are naturally close, jeoffery was about an intermediate difficulty and katelyn fought but fell into line soon after meeting jeo, lillian was more mental manipulation focused, kim and ken are indebted to zane, june was excelling in the most famous guard training camp in ru’aun and was ecstatic to join from the reputation of the jury, and ein was just basically stocked to be himself i guess

also, fun fact, continuing on the ‘getting people to do what he wants’ and stuff, he gets touchy/in personal space/flirty to throw them off guard and has never followed through with this. he is a priest after all, to think he would do such a thing is blasphemous!

he uses his connection to the patron irena and their friends above religious locals and people

when zianna tried to ‘save’ him {17} from garte, he dismissed her and reported to his father. he rarely saw her after this and was one of his last regrets before losing himself

jeoffery was instructed to talk with the phoenix drop kid at the academy, because young minds are easily malleable, he {zane, 34} thought it would be helpful to try and get him on the jury’s side. brian, who was called velius at the meetings and between jurors and told them to treat velius like the little brother of the group. he gave false promises to the kid, and the night he was going to leave for home zane called him in and handed velius a communication amulet between him and the jury; the kid was ecstatic and, eventually, when he let it slip he was sent to the royal o’khasian jail

once he was out of irena’s dwelling {irene dimension} he called back the jury, some came running back after missing him for so long and others, like iverline, were summoned since they were at the top of the waiting list

when aphmau finds out she is the direct reincarnation of irena she holds it above his head, and he despises it with his very being. it gets even worse when he finds out the group are more reincarnations, he is practically livid.

when it came to kiki he was very good at playing the pitiful-boy card, for emmalyn he played the demanding-overlord-with-a-soft-heart and would hang around the library, and with aphmau he would always stand a little too close and get too touchy with them as he would push him off

the baby shower present he gave alexis, a maroon teardrop necklace, he knew it had something to do with shadow knights from janus and lillian, his eyes and ears of information. the only similarities between the reports were shadow knight energy, netherrack, youth, and proximity to obsidian. when he saw that alexis had turned into a fully-grown shadow knight he thought she would be under his control and mentally developed, as he was about to hit her for not listening to him and being sluggish aphmau got him in his bad eye and started cussing in olden tongue {more on that in another post} and alexis snapped out of it as he stumbled backward; least to say he was not pleased and marked her on his list. after this molly came down and helped with the situation as best she could

okay nighty night i have school in like 6 hours lol

[tetsurobunni]

The Final Battle

☞ harry potter x jjk crossover au // 3.9k words

☽ the battle of hogwarts: jjk style, remnants of satosugu friendship, pain, hurt, more pain…sigh… pure angst with a magical twist for flavor

☽ warnings : major character death

☽ pairing : satoru gojo x suguru getou

☞ my inner harry potter geek really came out full force with this one…so did my sad writer juices i apologize beforehand :)

“satoru….hey, professor nanami cast the spell to defend the school. it won’t be long…”

“i know. i’ll join you when it’s time.”

the illuminating sheen of the dome rose high over the towers of hogwarts. gojo could hear the hum radiating from it, the power from the spell glowing against the overcast sky.

this is it.

should he count his blessings? pray? to what deity, or god, or higher being should he speak to before his world comes crushing down?

gojo’s wand feels heavy in the palm of his hand, thumb gently grazing over the smooth spruce. he imagines the dragon heartstring at its core, the beast he knew lived inside.

he had seen it himself, his peers had too. how even before traveling to hogwarts in his first year just how powerful a wizard he was-and would grow up to be.

if only he knew where he would be in his seventh year. standing in front of the large oak doors leading to the great hall, his fellow students young and old rushing into place all around him, wiping their brows and preparing for a war.

a war that would cost gojo everything.

he knew who he would see on the other side of the battle. the image of his face made gojo’s stomach churn and his chest ache.

his best friend.

his only friend.

he felt a hand rest atop his left shoulder, the scuffed toes of professor nanami’s boots coming into view beside him. he met his professor’s eyes, receiving a small nod of acknowledgment. gojo had grown quite close to his professor throughout his years at hogwarts. he was one of the only people that had garnered gojo’s appreciation and trust.

nanami knew. he had watched all of them grow up, after all. he was the one who informed gojo of the news that sent him spiraling.

that was two years ago.

now, as voldemort rallied his followers and dark creatures of the forest, gojo knew he would face him again.

“the spell is weakening.”

“it was only a matter of time.”

“are you prepared?”

“no.”

“neither am i. but we must.”

with a pat on his shoulder the professor left his side, sheathing the oak wand in his sleeve.

“strength. endurance. tolerance. balance. practicality. that is what my wand stands for. each of you have your own unique wand that chose you; yes, the core of your wand does hold great power and meaning, but so does the wood that keeps it intact. it is a vessel. and it is strong.”

gojo remembers listening to his professor and thinking he was absurd. but his friend had watched on with glimmering eyes, thirsty for new knowledge, and he had decided that maybe the idea wasn’t all that abhorring.

“hawthorn. somewhat arrogant, reflection, intelligence, vigor, new beginnings or endings. feels most at home with a wizard of natural talent. wicked, eh satoru? what about yours?”

“ah, mines spruce. quick-witted, adaptable, flamboyant, strength, resistance, is known for its unusually fast reactions and somewhat stubborn nature in the hands of a nervous or untrained wizard or witch. good thing i’m not that, eh?”

“your wand is supposed to be stubborn? you’ve had no problems!”

“well of course i haven’t! i don’t remember a moment in my life where i’ve ever been nervous. no wonder…”

the conversation had drifted away in a few minutes, the flickering of the lantern lulling gojo to sleep. when he came to, the weight of a second robe rested on his shoulders. he had ignored the blush that rose on his cheeks and wiped drool from the corner of his mouth

gojo had looked down at the book that ended up as his makeshift pillow and found himself mindlessly reading more information. gojo had failed to mention the extra research he had done; it was innocent, just an extra flip of a page. what he read he never told.

‘although hawthorn is a very powerful wood, it is adept to curses. many of those who practise dark magic have been affiliated with wands made from hawthorn. they are not to be taken lightly in the wrong hands.’

he didn’t regret it then, but after he had gotten the news from nanami about what his friend did, the guilt ate him alive.

now as he looks out the castle doors to the cracks spindling in luminescence revealing the murky darkness of the stormy sky, gojo realizes that this might be his last day at hogwarts.

the realization is fleeting. he can’t afford to be thinking that way. not now. he feels the eyes of his classmates pouring into his being. they’re looking to him to save them.

you should just try to save yourselves.

itadori comes to stand to his right, fushiguro to his left. maki and nobara flank behind him.

this is is family. they all know their tie to one another. they’ve been training together for almost a year on their combat skills. itadori had been experiencing some difficulties, but nonetheless proved to be the closest match to gojo himself.

“holly. with a phoenix feather core. why?”

“just curious. look up what your wood means sometime, will ya?”

“yea…sure. not sure what that has to do with anything…”

gojo and professor nanami both had thought his wand would be made of dogwood- it matched itadori’s personality-the holly was a surprise. paired along with a phoenix feather core was practically unheard of.

but as the dark magic started to rise, itadori started to blossom. he was an amazing wizard.

gojo had his own hypotheses, but as always kept them to himself. no need to cause any further turmoil in his life.

“gojo?”

“you can call me satoru, y’know.”

“sure…gojo?”

“…yes itadori”

“i’m scared.”

gojo felt his heart clench. the boy beside him might be powerful, but still just that- a boy. he didn’t deserve this. none of them did.

“you can always back away. you know that, right?”

he watched as itadori looked across the bridge towards the darkness, then to his friends and classmates surrounding them.

“gojo?”

“hm?”

“are you scared?”

“no.” yes.

despite what lay ahead of them, itadori cracked a smile. “same as ever, eh?”

gojo forced the corners of his lips into a smirk. “you know it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

as soon as the remaining bits of professor nanami’s spell wore off, the fighting commenced. the huge stone knights began at the putrid giants that shook the ground as they walked, but, as expected, they didn’t hold for long.

there were hundreds of death eaters that immediately swarmed the entrance to the castle. gojo and the others had already gotten separated. he found himself looking for glimpses of them as he fought, power rushing through his veins as flashes of light shot through his vision.

one death eater after another fell to his wand. a goblin here. an enormous arachnid there. a shield spell shot itself from his wand to catch a pillar that threatened to fall on a young girl. gojo didn’t spare a second to marvel at how his wand seemed to act on its own.

itadori was nowhere to be found. nobara was matched against a witch he swore he had seen on the cover of a newspaper. she had been locked up in Azkaban for upwards of ten years.

a patronus he knew belonged to megumi weaved itself through the dust and dirt of the fight, closely followed by its darker counterpart. he made the mistake of watching the white wolf too closely in its decent over one of the towers and felt the breath get knocked from his chest as he flew backwards into a wall.

he coughed weakly into his hand, rubbing the blood that surfaced there onto his pants. the wall he flew into crumbled around him. he wasn’t sure who had landed a blow on him, but whoever it was had to be powerful.

only three people had ever managed to conquer such a thing, and two of them were currently fighting for hogwarts.

gojo petrified a lone death eater that had tried to sneak up on his left. he quickly ran over to the frozen body to lift the mask, though he knew it wasn’t who he was searching for.

“gojo, on the bridge!”

the yell had come from megumi, whom he saw battling three death eaters at once. after quickly disarming one them, gojo turned towards the bridge.

a flash of pink hair caught his attention. he watched as itadori seemingly chased after someone and raised his wand to cast his patronus to follow him. he stopped in his tracks when he saw a figure across the ravine.

it was him.

gojo’s hands shook with a ferocity no one had seen before. his wand illuminated the battlefield so bright many had to shield their eyes. the fighting ceased for only a moment as everyone turned to look at the being that stood in place of gojo satoru.

the short silence was broken when a death eater sent a curse flying towards nobara. a flick of gojo’s wrist was all it took for the death eater to fall in a heap on the ground, dead.

gojo’s entire being felt laced with ice. he knew he would see him. he knew. so why…

why did it hurt so badly?

screams and cries fell on deaf ears as gojo made his way across the crumbling bridge towards the forest. his hands trembled at his sides, legs weak as they carried the weight of this moment.

the figure had seen him and immediately dissipated into thick black smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~~

the forbidden forest had never scared gojo. he actually found comfort in the deep hollows and twisted roots that overcame the dense woods. he spent a lot of time here throughout the years even though students weren’t allowed.

his feet led him along the familiar pathway he had taken numerous times before. a lone centaur raced towards the castle, not sparing gojo a second glance. he had long since become acquaintances with the creatures of the forest.

“gojo!”

“itadori? what in the- what are you doing out here? you’re going to get yourself killed!”

“i saw voldemort go into the forest so i-“

“well, what a sight.”

gojo’s eyes widened as he registered the voice that came from behind him. itadori looked over his shoulder in confusion; when he saw who the voice belonged to, his face morphed into a look of pure rage.

“itadori. this is my battle.”

“but-“

“you need to leave.”

“no, no i’m not just going to leave you here-“

“yuuji? wow, it’s been a while… you’ve grown.”

gojo turned to face the voice, visibly wincing as his eyes landed on his old best friend.

“satoru”

“suguru.”

getou had gotten taller since he last saw him. a scar ran across the length of his forehead and his hair had grown longer.

i always said his hair would look good long.

“i can feel the power radiating from you, satoru…it’s delicious. my lord will be quite pleased to meet you”

“your ‘lord’ can kiss my ass.”

getou chuckled, “no need to be vulgar”

gojo’s hand clenched around his wand. one spell and this could be over, but it would be irreversible. even though gojo knew getou wasn’t the same person he was a year ago, he still trembled at the thought of his old friend not being alive.

“gojo-“

“no, let him stay awhile satoru! it’ll be so much more fun”

itadori sneered at getou before pointing his wand towards him. gojo could see the slight shaking of his hand. he was terrified.

getou laughed, his arms opening wide as if welcoming the two into his home.

“so much more bite than when i last saw you, hm? the dark lord spoke highly of you…”

“stupefy!”

gojo’s head whipped around in a flash just in time to see itadori’s body fall to the forest floor. a man with long gray hair skipped towards them, giggling maniacally.

“ah mahito, just in time!” the man bowed in getou’s direction, inching closer to itadori’s paralyzed body. “master informed me that yuuji itadori had followed him here and sent me to fetch him…who is this handsome fellow, hm?”

gojo stood tall, senses on high alert. he was almost okay dealing with getou alone- but now there was an unknown wizard present. if voldemort sent him to do his biddings, then he must be strong…

“this is my old friend from hogwarts…satoru, meet mahito.”

“i’d rather not.”

mahito licked his lips in response to gojo’s remark, sending an unpleasant shiver down his spine. every aspect of this man screamed lunatic…and he was here for itadori.

a grunt escaped itadori from his position on the ground. gojo could see him trying to regulate his breathing, but it was obvious the younger boy was panicking.

“oh satoru, don’t be crass. the dark lord has been yearning to meet the young boy for a long while.”

“a long while? what the hell are you talking about?”

getou chuckled, brandishing his wand from the dark cloak that hung around his shoulders. gojo’s hand instinctively tightened around his wand as he watched his old friend walk towards itadori.

mahito tapped his fingers rhythmically against the handle of his own wand, seemingly awaiting orders. getou kneeled down closer to itadori’s face.

“yes, a long while.”

gojo still didn’t understand what that meant. itadori hadn’t met getou when he was at hogwarts, so how did his presence suddenly become voldemort’s pentacle of fascination?

“take him.”

“WAI-“

before gojo could even move to cast a spell, itadori’s scream was cut off as mahito apparated them both away.

“he’s just a boy!”

“maybe so…but a very powerful boy indeed.”

“his power doesn’t justify voldemort’s infatuation with him! i don’t understand why his involvement is needed-“

“they are tethered, satoru. remember?”

gojo’s body turned ice cold.

“…no, you…you…it was just-“

“just a suspicion, yes, that is what you told me, wasn’t it?”

no. no. it couldn’t be.

“the dark lord was very delighted with the information, so, i have you to thank, satoru. whatever may happen to the boy will be because of you.”

gojo’s mind went stark. he didn’t think, just moved with no purpose; he just let his rage pull his limbs into action like a puppet.

unspoken spells flew from both wands, the two wizards trapped in their last battle. the two were evenly matched. this didn’t surprise him.

after all, getou was one of the three people who had been able to land a jinx on him.

it was nonstop. gojo couldn’t stop himself if he tried. he was seething with anger not just towards getou, but towards himself. there was such a sinking feeling in the air, like they were dancing on cracking ice.

for an instant the two locked eyes. gojo felt his footing slightly tip, and that was all it took for getou to find an opening and send him flying backwards through the air. he landed hard on his back, wincing as a jolt of pain went through his head.

he knew he should get up. continue the fight. run and find itadori.

but he didn’t.

“you didn’t kill me.”

he didn’t see getou’s reaction to his comment. a patch of night sky that had broken through the clouds caught his attention.

for a moment he wished getou had killed him.

“get up.”

“i don’t want to.”

“satoru, get up and fight me.”

getou snarled and grabbed gojo by the collar of his jacket, pulling him up to meet his face.

“don’t you hate me?”

“…no.”

“why not! you…you should despise me! i betrayed everyone-including you!”

“i don’t.”

and it was the truth. gojo had spent hours in his dormitory stuffing his leaking eyes into his pillow, trying to be revolted by his best friend. he still had scars on his hands from punching the stone walls of the dungeons, trying to force his own physical pain into hatred.

it never worked.

“…i still don’t understand why you did it.”

that seemed to catch getou off guard. he slackened the grip he had on gojo’s collar, backing away with his head hung low.

“…he found my father.”

gojo’s eyes widened at the statement.

“i…i thought your father was-“

“dead? me too…” he paused for a moment, scoffing before continuing, “but he wasn’t. all that time we spent searching for letters, newspaper articles, headlines on the news- hell even muggle police reports- was for nothing.”

“so you went with him.”

“what other choice did i have, satoru?”

the atmosphere that had engulfed the two snapped.

what did he mean? ‘what other choice did he have’? gojo felt the anger from before start to trickle back into his veins.

“you could have stayed.”

getou met his eyes. they stood in unison, gaze never faltering.

“i had no reason to stay.”

“that’s bullshit and you know it, suguru.”

“what reason then? i was a horrid student, i didn’t care about grades, our so-called friends loathed me satoru! i had no family, no home to call my own i-“

“you had me, suguru!”

getou went silent. the only noises that could be heard were their heavy breaths and muffled yells from the castle. the wind sent a chill straight to gojo’s bones and he shivered, suddenly realizing there were tears trailing down his cheeks.

“i betrayed you satoru. without a second thought.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“i pushed you to investigate itadori’s powers. voldemort told me he would reveal my father’s whereabouts if i gave him information on the boy,”

“but-“

“i broke your trust! i didn’t even try to warn you of what i was planning, or that my father was alive-“

“suguru-“

“don’t you see!”

gojo stared at the look of pure exasperation and pain on getou’s face. he had a feeling it mirrored his own.

he watched as getou pulled the sleeve of his cloak above his forearm, placing the mark of the death eaters etched into his skin on display.

“this is what i am now, satoru.”

“and i’m just supposed to…what? hate you? was i supposed to hate you then? because i didn’t, and don’t.”

“that’s- that’s exactly what you should do! i would hate me-“

“well guess what suguru!” gojo was yelling by now, the words clawing their way from within his chest, “you don’t get to decide how your decisions make others feel!”

he ignored the fact he was moving steadily towards getou as he yelled. when he got close enough, gojo realized they both were shedding tears.

“i don’t understand why you care so much about me-“ gojo let out an unhumourous laugh, “what’s that supposed to mean, huh? you think i stayed up all those hours searching for your father out of what- obligation? pity?”

getou searched for an answer, stammering over the thoughts running through his head.

“i don’t understand why-“

“because i loved you!”

no more skirting around thin fractures, or waiting with baited breath to discover to truth. it was done.

and it broke him.

gojo had done well hiding his pain the past two years. the signature smirk was automatic-it appeared on his face without effort. conversation passed through his mouth without falter. he had trained himself to be the perfect student.

but this…this he couldn’t pretend to recover from.

“you…”

“it doesn’t matter now. what’s done is done.”

“were you ever going to tell me?”

“…i don’t know.”

when did his wand become so heavy? was his chest supposed to hurt this bad?

“oh god…satoru…”

he didn’t want to feel this way anymore. the sorrow was eating him alive, peeling back layers and layers of his soul.

he repressed the urge to comfort getou as he watched his past love fall to his knees.

“i’m so sorry, satoru.”

“sorry can’t fix everything, suguru,”

if only you had said it then…

“not now. not ever.”

please make this pain stop.

“…i know.”

“so let’s finish this.”

every fiber of his being was screaming at him to stop. a tiny voice yelled ‘you can help him!’. he forced the thoughts from his mind, they would only get in the way.

he had made his decision.

getou didn’t falter from his position on the ground. his wand stayed by his side. the only movement he made was to lift his head towards the night sky as gojo himself had done before.

i love you, suguru. forgive me.

“avadakdavra!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

the walk back to the castle was torture. the weight of getou’s body was heavy in his arms. it was worse than he ever could have imagined.

the silence that had encompassed him the forest was shattered the moment he stepped foot onto school grounds. the battle was over, it seemed.

the carnage left behind was gut-wrenching.

gojo ignored the gazes of his peers as he wandered into the great hall. he knew this was where they had planned to house all of the wounded, and despite the hollow feeling in his gut, he needed to find his family.

“gojo!”

he turned to see who had called his name and felt relieved when he saw it was itadori. the relief was short-lived, however, when he noticed the sobs wracking the young boys’ body.

gojo retrieved a lone bedsheet and carefully placed getou’s body down, taking one last look at his past love’s face before he covered it. he left getou there and made his way over to where itadori was crouched over a figure lying on the floor. megumi and maki were both there too.

where was nobara?

“it happened right before you went after itadori…”

gojo’s gut wrenched when he saw who the figure was.

“i assume you saw getou…you didn’t even realize what had happened…” the memory of the battle flashed before his eyes.

“i killed that death eater. the woman. i- i could have sworn…no i know i killed her-“

“it was too late.”

“…gojo?”

he kneeled down and took one of nobara’s bloody hands in his own.

“yes, it’s me, i’m here now nobara.”

“you found getou…didn’t you?”

“…yes. i did.”

this wasn’t supposed to happen. gojo swore he had done everything to prepare them… butit wasn’t enough.

nobara wheezed as a chuckle tried to escape her body, the action causing her to cough uncontrollably as air tried to seep into her lungs.

“i can’t believe…out of all of us…that i’m the one dying…could have sworn it…would have been yuuji…ha!” itadori offered a small laugh, more tears escaping his eyes.

“wow, even on your deathbed you’re still fighting with me…”

gojo met the eyes of maki, who he could tell was choosing not to say anything. megumi refused to look at nobara’s face. instead he stared at the floor, silently crying, not bothering to wipe the tears away.

they’re so young.

gojo felt a sob lurch in his throat but he refused to let it free. he had to be strong. or, at least, act strong. it wasn’t time for his facade to break.

for their sake.

“you ok, nobara?”

“yea…i’m ok.”

gojo watched as she took her final breath.

“gojo…gojo she’s… she’s dead, gojo…”

he pulled itadori’s smaller body into his own, holding him there as the boy sobbed openly. megumi took ahold of maki’s hand, the latter turning her head into the boys’ shoulder as she let her own cries break free.

i’m sorry… i’m so sorry…

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

¤°~Ghost Marriage: Lovely Bride To Be?! Part 3°~¤

Previously... 

"STOP YOUR STEP!!"

At the end of the hall, Senior Vanrouge and Sebek were conversing with the ghosts knights. "They became angery just because of a mere joke I made about them. Such a bunch of narrow minded ghosts." Lilia jests with ignorance in his tone.

"Ugh, the guys from Diasomnia! Why did you bring these ghosts here?!" Ace yells out in fear. "You naive ghosts who dare to snarl at Lilia. I'll get rid of you guys!" Sebek said with very little amusement.

Present Time..

After the fight with the ghosts. The student's and Headmaster go to the field so ghosts won't bother them. Students who were also kicked out the school stayed at the field. "Ha...haaa. Ugh the sides of my stomach hurt so much." Ace tries to say as he and Deuce groan and grumble in pain.

"Ace, Deuce." A familiar voice spoke. "Ah, Prefect Roseheart!" The two huff out as they nod. Azul and Kalim stood next to Riddle, but Azul looks at the two with confusion. "Where is Prefect (Y/N)? Shouldn't you two be with her?" The prefect of Octavinelle points out.

The A-Deuce combo only shrug. "I think she got mixed up the crowed." Deuce says as he looks at the growing crowd of students. "How did you guys get put here?" Ace asks the three dorm leaders.

"We had gotten chased out by some ghosts that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Even though it was valuable time for the three of us to study together." Kalim responded, while Azul shot him tired glance. "Kalim. Shouldn't it be "valuable time where we teach you about studying."?" Riddle could only sigh and cross his arms. "We almost got Kalim to understand the question..!"

"When we stayed in class, a bunch of ghosts appeared. They chased us out while saying, "this will be the brides fitting room!"" Grim watched as more students came up to them. Telling the same tale. "Everyone who was kicked out from campus has already gathered around..!"

"It seems like the whole campus has been taken away by those ghosts." Deuce said rather calmly. Ace on the other hand was more shocked than calm. "Oi! Principal, what's going on!?"

Before Mr. Crowley could respond, Ortho decided to explain. "I'll be the one to explain. You see, yesterday..." Once the young Shroud told everyone of the events that occurred. Everyone went silent. The only person who spoke after Ortho, was Riddle.

"The ghost groom has been searching for his ideal princess. Then had chosen (Y/N) as his ideal bride... That's the idea, correct?" Riddle revised as his expression was oddly calm. "WHAT!!!!" The group of NRC boys all screamed in anger and fear, a lot of other expression as well.

"We need to save her!!" Ace says immediately after the video was shown. "What will happen to (Y/N) if she does marry the Ghost Groom?!" Deuce asks the principal with fret. Mr. Crowley casted his eyes downward, with a somber voice he said.

"If (Y/N) marries the ghost prince, that is the same meaning of signing a contract. Which will mean, once the wedding is over.. SHE WILL FOLLOW HER SOON-TO-BE-HUSBAND TO THE UNDERWORLD!!!" "EEEEHHH!!!" Everyone yelled out in shock.

Mr. Crowley continues: "I put my guard down because I never would of expected someone who meets the conditions of the prince and his ideal Princess would exist in this world." Headmaster Crowley said with dread in every word he spoke.

"(Y/N)... Is going to be a ghost..!?" Epel gasps out with fear. "We can't let that happen!" Jack gruffs out as he bared his fangs. Many others agreed at helping the female student from her impending doom.

"We need to come up with a plan then!" Ortho tells the group of fired-up teens. "How about we start talking with them? We can throw a party! I bet that the ghosts will definitely let (Y/N) go if we just explain the situation."

The young Al-Asim heir suggested to his fellow peers. Rook nods, agreeing with his classmates. "A truly splendid idea, Roi d'or." A slim smile crepts on Rooks lips, "though..." The huntsman drawls out, his eyes turn a bit narrow.

"Do you think you'll be able to persuade a groom who has been searching for his bride for so long?" Rook crossed his arms over his chest as he continues on. His voice hinting with amusement. "If I was in his place, I'd never let my beloved go."

Leona growls, "so our only option is to just beat those ghost into submission." Vil scoffed at Leona and his idea. "Have you forgotten that we all ran all the way out here because we couldn't do just that." The male model said sassily with a frown gracing his painted lips. "No matter what we did, we couldn't defeat all those ghosts."

The headmaster starts to speak, "they are truly a infuriating opponent to take on. We should avoid confrontation as much as possible." Lilia starts to ponder as Crowley squawked about. "Lord Sam is well versed in the ways of ghosts and things of a spiritual nature. Shall we go see what he has to say on the matter?"

"Lord Sam... Do you mean Sam from the student store?" Deuce questioned the old fae. Lilia hums, "I was acquainted with his great grandfather." Cater starts to laugh dryly. "I still can't tell when you're joking or when your being serious... Lilia."

"Then we must make haste to the student store!" The headmaster yells as he and the others rush to Sam's shop. As soon as the shop door closed, Sam greets them. "Yo, headmaster and little demons. Whay could you be looking for that brought you all here?"

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. "Kidding! I know you're looking for something to deal with that ghost groom, right?" Sam told the group of teens and headmaster. Riddle is perplexed by Sam and his words. "This speeds things up but it sounds like you knew we would end up here."

Sam starts to laugh once more. "My friends on the other side bring me all kinds of info." Soon Sam's voice quickly turns less cheerful. "But things are getting really dicey. Ghost are tied to this world by a really powerful "lingering attachment".

Sam explained more in depth on what he meant. How they still come back because of the "attachment". "And as long is it remains, they'll keep comin' back." Grim felt realization struck him like lightning. "That's why the ghost of Ramshackle keep coming back!"

"Bingo! Precisely. That's why ghosts are so hard to handle." Ortho asked how they can save (Y/N), saying there was no such item like that to get rid of the ghost permanently. Sam grins and says, "IN STOCK NOW!" Azul looks at Sam selection while Leona tsks.

"Groom and brides are especially quick to meet tragedy. So they turn into ghosts all the time." Sam then holds up a item, "to get rid of a ghost groom. You need the "ring of severance." Slide this ring onto the host's left finger while saying "I shall love you till death do us part." And it will forcibly send him to the other side."

"How could (Y/N) give this to him? She's not even here!" Vil said as he picks up the small ring. Crowley gasped as he remembers something about the ghost groom. "Hold on a moment, the ghost groom was a boy who loved a challenge."

"So if one of you asked for (Y/N)'s hand. He'll see it as a duel for her hand in marriage, you don't have to win. But you must be able to give her the ring and tell her what to say." Lilia giggles at the crows plan. "It'll be fun to watch the drama unfold by stealing someone's bride."

"We shall call this plan... "Operation, Lovely Bride To Never Be!"" The headmaster said confidently, "it's a bit long for a name." Ace mutters under his breath. "Now I must decide on who the grooms will be for his plan." Crowley exclaimed as the male students to crowd and shout. "I'll do it!" "Let me do it!" "As if!"

The headmaster started to sweat with nervousness stirring in him. The gleaming eyes of the students were scaring him! It was almost as if each student was ready to take a role as a groom by ANY means necessary. Which it seemed like the students were readying themselves for.

"Alright alright! Will do a vote! I will write down all of your names and put them in my hat. I'll choose four grooms for this operation. So that means four names will be drawn." Mr. Crowley says with a exasperated look on his face.

_________________________________________________________

(Y/N) sat in the far corner of the "fitting room." She held a blank expression as she looks at herself. She wore a beautiful wedding (gown/suit/ect) as her hair was spruced up and was placed into a (loose/ponytail/ect). A (white/gold/silver) tiara with a veil attached to it was on her head. (Y/N) wanted to rip the thing off her, but then the ghost would force the item back onto her head again.

Sighing and cursing under her breath. (Y/N) felt queasy, or maybe it was because she hadn't ate anything yet. This was all happening so fast! (Y/N) did not want to be married to this ghost groom. She hoped that her friends would find a way to get too her before the wedding started.

"Bleh..." The female utters as she looks at her bare feet. A knock was heard on the door as a soft "coming in" was heard. A slim ghost that wore a white suite appears in front of her. He was the nanny of the ghost groom.

"Come, my dear lady. Your fiance is waiting, he needs your help with decorations and would like your words on it." (Y/N) felt herself become stiff, but agrees. Playing along was her better chance of escaping her "wedding". "Of course," (Y/N) said politely as she walks with nanny ghost.

The two reach the cafeteria, now transformed with pretty decorations and tombstones. Along with dark blue flowers and white sheets cover each table. The nanny smiles at his prince with nostalgia. "It seems like only yesterday you were a small child. Trying to find follow your dream and find your dear princess. A dream you lost long ago with your life as well. What a cruel twist of fate." The nanny said as his voice started to crack.

"If only I had arrived at your room faster, I could of helped you escape..." The sweet prince smiles at his caretaker. "It is alright now, know need to bring up the past. Don't let all that stuff bring you down."

The young princes smile never faltered. "Besides, going through all that pain and sadness is what allowed me to meet (Y/N)!" His caretaker could feel his spirits lift at the princes words. "Oh prince Elias, you are always so courageous and strong."

(Y/N) could feel her heart cry at what she heard. She didn't know that... Breathing in a gulp of air, she slowly walks closer to the two. 'It's gonna be okay..' "You did a great job Elias." (Y/N) said as she gives him a small smile.

The ghost groom returns her smile tenfold as he looks at his bride. "My goodness, (Y/N)! You look just as beautiful as a.. Well beautiful than an' undead flower!" Elias said happily, (Y/N) giggles at his childish wording.

"Thanks." The caretaker gives the two a tender look. "You both are just perfect for one another. Prince Elias, we must get you ready before nightfall. You have to look your best for your princess."

The caretaker jests as he pushes the prince out of the cafeteria. "Wha- but I wanted to-!" "No sir, you must get ready. *Sigh* your still a stubborn little boy too." Elias waves at (Y/N), "I shall see you soon, my love!"

Once the two were gone, the ghost soldiers take (Y/N) back to the dressing room. Before the door closed, (Y/N) asks them something. "Can I please have something to eat? I haven't ate in a few hours."

To be continued...

(Okay, part three was supposed to be the end of the series. But that didn't happen, so I'll do my best to make sure part four is the last installment. I really wanna get to work for the Halloween event for Twst and a bunch of other stories I wanna put on this account! But I have to wait until I finish part four. Thanks for reading!)

[solohux]

Hiya! Can i request a prompt where hux one day from the corner of his eye discovers a little girl just wandering around.- a force sensitive orphan taken in by ren. Only he diden’t tell hux who is very confused

There’s a story on board the Finalizer, a tale that is told by officers when the lights go out and the skeleton crew tends to the engines. Ensigns quiver behind their pillows as lieutenants recite the newest ghost story to them as though it’s a rite of passage into their crew, to listen to each chilling detail, get to the end and still be able to sleep.

A story of a ghost girl who wanders the corridors in a black nightgown, her white hair floating around her like an eerie fog. Barefoot, the girl can be no older than seven or eight standard years, walking alone in the cold night of the ship as though she’s in a trance. No one dares to talk to her or approach her, freezing with fear if they get too close to the lonely ghost and then falling to the ground in a deep sleep.

But Hux isn’t fearful of anything on board his ship, especially not silly stories that sound more akin to something his fellow cadets would have told each other in the dead of night to prove who was the bravest. Little Armitage always thought such tests were ridiculous, choosing to ignore his frightened classmates and, instead, bury his head beneath his bedcovers so he couldn’t hear them.

Even Mitaka, one of General Hux’s most trusted officers, claims to have seen the wandering girl. Hux had rolled his eyes and told his Lieutenant to stop drinking on the job but a tiny shiver runs down Hux’s spine once he sees the fear in Mitaka’s eyes.

The very next night, Hux’s eyes hold the same flash of fear.

He’s been working in his private office, running tests and simulations for one of his newest weapons, and time has gotten away from him. It’s late into the night cycle, leaving droids and the bare minimum crew members present in the corridors. In the silence, Hux is suddenly aware of his lone presence, succumbing to his nervousness and checking over his shoulder for any small figures dressed in black that may be following him.

But he finds nothing.

“Childish worries,” Hux scoffs, straightening his greatcoat upon his shoulders. “Ghosts aren’t real.”

He rounds the corner towards the turbolift that will take him to his chambers and the very fear that his officers have spoken of overcomes him, freezing his core, his skin, and almost stops his heart.

Just ahead, there’s a figure. Small, with long white hair. A child, no doubt, walking slowly as though lost, so light on her feet that her footsteps don’t make a sound. Hux swallows hard, rooted to the ground. His shuddering breath and trembling hands are his only company; does he reach for his blaster and stun it? Will his attack pass through her and result in his death? Hux cannot know but regardless, he reaches for his blaster and pulls it out of its holster, raising it slowly.

The child stops. She turns. Her eyes are open, shining like amber jewels, but the rest of her pale face is vacant. Truly, a ghost of these haunted hallways.

Hux hadn’t imagined that his end would be at the hands of a little ghost girl in the bowels of his own ship but as his finger hovers over the trigger, he’s certain that his death is nigh.

“Neeva!”

At the other end of the corridor, a familiar voice calls out a strange name, which gives Hux slight comfort that his co-commander may have come to rescue him, perhaps sensing his terror through his mystical Force powers. But Kylo looks as though he’s just leapt out of bed, barefoot in a casual pair of baggy pants and a loose, grey shirt and his hair unkempt. His dark eyes flick from the girl to Hux as he walks slowly towards the girl, every step careful and calculated.

“Ren!” Hux whispers loudly, scratching his throat. The Knight clearly has no regard for the ghost stories and approaches the girl without making any sudden movements. Hux fumbles to hold his blaster in the shooting position but Kylo holds his hand up and freezes the General’s moves without needing the Force.

“Neeva,” Kylo says again, only softer this time. His voice is laced with concern, eyebrows furrowed. The girl stops walking, shuddering to a halt. “Neeva. Wake up. Come back.”

Neeva? The ghost girl has a name, it would seem. Her amber eyes loose a speckle of their glassiness with each mentioning of her name as though being drawn out from a spell. Hux frowns, watching with a concoction of fear and curiosity that roots him to the ground as Kylo kneels down in front of the girl and takes her hand, reaching to tuck a portion of her white hair behind her ear.

“It’s just the Force,” he says, her hand dwarfed in his. “Come back to me.”

“D-Dad?”

Hux hadn’t remembered that he was still holding his blaster until it drops from his hand and clangs to the floor, startling him—though it doesn’t make him jump in surprise even nearly as much as the word that the girl has just uttered; ‘dad’.

“Yeah, brave one,” Kylo whispers. “I’m here.”

“Daddy!”

The girl blinks and suddenly, her ghostly aura seems to disappear as she throws herself into Kylo’s arms, holding on tightly to him. He’s whispering calming words to her but part of Hux wishes that someone were here to do the same for him; his heart feels like it may give out at any moment.

“Ren?” Hux picks his blaster up, noting his hands are still trembling. Kylo stands up with Neeva at his side, her arms wrapped around his waist and one of his hands rests protectively on Neeva’s back as though he thinks that Hux is still going to harm her but the General holds his hands up defensively once his weapon is back upon his belt. “I would very much appreciate a little light shed on what the kriffing hell is going on here.”

Kylo smiles, clearly amused by Hux’s lingering fear. “This is Neeva.”

Neeva raises her hand in a small wave, yawning but still managing to give Hux a smile afterwards. She looks like a perfectly normal seven year old child now that she’s snapped out of whatever strange Force-veil was covering her.

“H-Hello,” Hux replies. “Uh. Who is she?”

“My daughter,” Kylo says, and Hux’s mouth falls open. “Not...biological, before you assume anything. I adopted her when she was young after she was orphaned on a small moon.”

Neeva yawns again and Kylo picks her up, holding her effortlessly on his hip whilst she snuggles into him and rests her head on her shoulder.

“Daughter,” Hux parrots, shocked to the core. “How in hell’s name have you managed to keep her a secret? All this time!”

Kylo shrugs casually, “It was easy when she was a small child and I was living on my own ship. When we moved here, it began to stress her and caused her to begin sleepwalking.”

“You look amused, Master Ren,” Hux folds his arms.

“I am. Your officers have created ghost stories about her, scaring each other until they’re afraid to walk the corridors at night.”

“You have to admit, Ren, that there’s something eerie about her when she’s...sleepwalking.”

Kylo looks down at Neeva, who’s fallen asleep in his arms. “She’s strong with the Force, like I was when I was a child but I didn’t have anyone who understood me. But Neeva has me, and I won’t let her down.”

In his arms, the girl stirs and snuggles against Kylo’s shoulder, her arms wrapped around his neck as she smiles in her dream.

“She sees you as her father.”

Kylo’s expressions turns stern, “That’s because I am. I found her when she was no more than a toddler on the streets, lost and alone. I couldn’t leave her. She doesn’t remember her parents. From what I’ve felt in the Force, they’re dead. The only things she remembers of her life before me is hunger and cold. I’m her father.”

Hux can see the passion and the love that Kylo has for this child burning in his eyes; he’d truly Ro anything to protect her. “And the, uh, sleepwalking?”

Kylo ponders, “Perhaps isn’t it isn’t sleepwalking per se but a waking Force coma. Sometimes, the Force guides her to things in the dead of night, putting her under its hold until the trance is complete. She can’t be stopped by anyone except for someone with a strong connection to her.”

“But my officers have seen her. They’ve described her perfectly.”

“Yes,” Kylo nods. “The white hair, the bare feet. But they haven’t seen her for very long. It takes a while for our Force energies to connect so Neeva may have been walking for a while, and officers may have found her before I do. I use the Force to put them to sleep before altering their memories and carrying my daughter back to her bed. The next morning, Neeva is safe and your foolish officers think that they’ve seen a real, supernatural entity.”

Hux sighs, relief lifting a weight off his shoulders, “So there is no ghost girl haunting the halls of my ship. I knew it.”

“Liar, Kylo scoffs. “I sensed Neeva’s wandering presence and found her here. When I came around that corner, I thought the ghost was you. You were so pale, Hux.”

“I’m pale anyway.”

“Paler than usual, then. Your projecting, terrified emotions nearly knocked me over.”

Hux huffs. “Well. Do forgive me for thinking that your secret, white-haired daughter was a ghost.”

“It’s alright,” Kylo closes the gap between them. “And now that you know of her existence, I need two things from you.”

Oh, hells. “What two things?”

“One,” Kylo begins, holding up one finger. “I need you to continue to keep Neeva’s presence here a secret. It would only jeopardise her safety. She’s powerful, some would seek to exploit that.”

“Of course, Ren.”

“Two. I need you to continue to the rumour about the ghost.”

“Why?” Hux exclaims, wanting to put all of this behind him. What purpose could that possibly serve to you?”

Kylo shrugs, giving Neeva a little kiss on her head before turning away to head back to their chambers, “It’s funny.”

[mckinlily]

.the force

Summary: Learning the ways of the Force is not always an easy process. Sometimes lessons can take years, even lifetimes to master.

Sometimes your master seems to go out of his way to make it worse.

Shiro felt the chaotic stirrings in the Force just before Keith stormed into their shared quarters. 

“You ASSHOLE!”

A faint warning had him snapping his hand up to catch—

A rock?

It was a decently pretty rock, with nice blue and green flecks scattered through it, but overall no more interesting than any other mid-sized pebble they might pick up on a mission.

Keith fumed at Shiro’s shoulder behind the couch, massive waves of fury and irritation flooding off him in Force. So far, all lessons on releasing emotions into the Force had only taught Keith to get better at projecting his feelings, rather than control them.

Ah, well. It was progress. 

Maybe. 

With deliberate casualness, Shiro put down the mission report he had been reviewing and turned to his padawan.

“Hello, Keith. I could have sworn that wasn’t the correct form of address on Coruscant. Or did I miss a memo?”

“Stop being an ass,” snapped Keith.

Shiro raised his eyebrows. Keith just glared back. So this was going to be one of those conversations. Shiro leaned back into the couch.

“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, Keith. Precisely what part of my assery do you want me to stop?” 

Then, recalling he was supposed to be a master and not a fellow padawan, he quickly added, “Ah, not that you should be using that kind of language anyway.”

Keith responded with several words under his breath that made it quite clear he was not taking Shiro’s advice.

Shiro sighed. “Keith. If you have something you want to talk about, I’m here. But for that to work, you’re going to have to actually, you know, talk.”

Keith gave an explosive exhale and flung himself over the back of the couch to land in a sulky sprawl next to Shiro.

Shiro bit back the urge to correct. He still wasn’t certain how to be a Master to a padawan learner—wasn’t even sure he knew how to be a Knight— and Kolivan’s old lectures echoed in his ears. Kolivan wouldn’t have let such impropriety slide. But what his master would have done and what Shiro’s instincts said were constantly at odds, and Shiro just didn’t know which one was right.

This time, his instincts won out. Shiro slumped against the side of the couch, and nudged Keith with the toe of his boot. “What is it.”

Keith shoved Shiro’s foot off the couch and scowled. He pointed at the object in Shiro’s hand. “That’s a rock.”

Shiro double checked that he was, in fact, still holding a rock. He looked back at Keith. “Yes?”

“It’s a kriffing rock!”

This time Shiro ignored the language. “Keith, you’re not giving me much to work with here.”

Keith flung in hands in the air. “It’s from Dazibalb! You said it was special!”

“I...did?”

Keith’s face was getting flushed as he waved his hands about. “Yes!”

“Um…” Shiro examined the innocuous stone in his hand, trying to see how it could be the source of the drama with his padawan.

“I spent a year—a kriffing year!—meditating and researching on it because my master—who is supposed to be TEACHING me—made it seem all important and special. And. It’s Just. A Fucking. ROCK!”

Shiro took a single breath in. Keith was clearly worked up. Shiro was a Jedi Knight and Keith’s master to boot. He needed to react calmly, rationally, with precision and compassion. He let out his breath—

And burst out laughing.

“Shiro!”

“I—aha!—I can’t—”

“Stop it!” Keith grabbed a pillow and started walloping Shiro with it. “It isn’t funny, Shiro!”

“Argh! Keith, get off me—a whole year—”

“Stop laughing, you asshat! I spent MONTHS on this! I went to Master Slav!”

Shiro lost the battle and dissolved into peals of laughter. He could barely breathe through his wheezes while tears gathered on his face.

“I can’t—I can’t—Slav?!”

“I didn’t want to fail!”

Keith’s voice—hardly reliable at the best of times, poor preteen—cracked on that, and Shiro, even crying with laughter, recognized it for what it was. He pushed himself upright, failing (though trying) to force down his laughter.

“I’m not laughing at you.”

Keith pulled back and folded his arms. “Yes, you are,” he sulked.

Shiro choked back another bout of inopportune laughter. “I’m not. It’s just—” A snort slipped out of him, his cheeks hurt—and, nope, he was laughing again. “It’s not you. But your face—”

“Really helping your case there, Shiro,” grumbled Keith, looking away, and damnit, Shiro really needed to pull himself together.

He couldn’t stop the snickering, but he could throw his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders and pull him close. “I adore you,” he promised into Keith’s hair.

Keith still grumbled. “You said—I asked if there was something special, and you said it held the secrets to the Force!”

“I was teasing,” said Shiro, slowly remembering a seemingly meaningless conversation from ages ago. He snorted. “I didn’t expect you to take it seriously.”

“How was I supposed to know that?!” snapped Keith. “You’re my master. You’re supposed to be teaching me, and half this Force stuff doesn’t make sense! You said and—I didn’t know!”

And that, Shiro realized, was the crux of it. The Council hadn’t been happy when Shiro took Keith on as a padawan, claiming he was too emotional and too old, and Keith knew it. He worked hard in his classes, but he was up against classmates who had been studying the Force and the way of the Jedi since they were in diapers. Shiro knew Keith worried. Nevermind that he was a prodigy, insanely powerful, and picked up new Force techniques faster than anyone Shiro had ever seen. Keith felt like he was constantly behind.

“Every padawan has fallen for something like this,” Shiro reassured, ruffling the kid’s hair. “Every. One. Someone started a rumor that the Force comes from little microbes in your body, and that rumor still circulates the creche to freak out Initiates all the time. It happens for everyone.”

Keith huffed. “You didn’t have to laugh at me.” He sounded annoyed, but hurt burnished his presence about the Force. 

“I’m sorry,” said Shiro earnestly. Keith’s outrage was funny but not his hurt. “Keith, I would never intentionally make you feel or look stupid.”

Keith flung his arms out. “I don’t know anything! Everyone knows all this stuff, and I don’t know any of it! I’m supposed to be a padawan.”

“You are a padawan,” said Shiro, tugging on Keith’s padawan braid to emphasise the point. “It doesn’t matter what everyone else knows. You’re a padawan learner. The point is to learn, which you’re doing. Where everyone else is doesn’t matter.”

“Younglings know more than me,” grumbled Keith.

“What did I just say?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Stupid Jedi crap. It’s easy to say when you’re not the one people are calling a non-sensitive in class.”

Shiro snorted. Hard. 

“Not at you,” he said to Keith quickly, shaking his head and smashing down dangerous fury that threatened at the mistreatment of his padawan. He snorted again. “If your classmates can’t tell how strong you are in the Force, maybe they are the ones who are non-sensitive.”

Keith slumped, somewhat pacified but still unconvinced. 

“You know, Master Yoda didn’t even talk until he was fifty years old. His species ages so slowly most of his clan had already become Masters before he even left the Creche.”

“But he’s Yoda,” protested Keith.

“And how do you know that in ten years, someone won’t be saying the same thing about you?” challenged Shiro. “You’re already one of the best pilots in the Order, and you’re not even a senior padawan yet. You might feel like you’re struggling to catch up now, but I guarantee that before long, all of us will be fighting to keep up with you.”

Keith snorted. “Sure, Shiro.”

“You’ll see,” said Shiro, his nose in the air. “I’m right.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” And Shiro let him have that. They wouldn’t break through all of Keith’s issues in a day. Instead, he changed the subject.

“Did you really spend months researching?”

Keith slumped into the couch. “I didn’t want you to think I failed you,” he muttered to the floor.

Shiro’s heart trembled and melted. It was deeply humbling to realize how seriously Keith had taken his offhand remark. And a little terrifying. His padawan trusted him so completely, and he—he wasn’t even sure he deserved his rank of Knight. 

(How did one go about being a master? How did he be a master when he couldn’t even go to his own master for help? When he couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t been Knighted merely because no one had wanted to finish his own training?)

((No one had wanted to train Keith, either, he remembered. Shiro was determined to make sure his padawan never grew up with the same doubts.))

“Did you keep your research?”

Keith looked at him with narrow-eyed suspicion. “Why?”

“I figure if you put in all the work, you might as well get something out of it,” shrugged Shiro. “I bet we could put together a good case for an independent study. Free up your time for more advanced piloting classes.”

Keith’s eyes slowly lit up. “You mean it?”

“Of course, kiddo,” said Shiro. “I didn’t mean to send you on a wild goose chase.”

Keith huffed. Shiro squeezed his shoulders.

“I promise. I’ll be more careful about my teasing. And when I set you a task, I’ll make sure you know it’s an assignment. None of this vague hint stuff.”

Keith grumbled under his breath, but relief whafted off of him in the Force. Shiro really didn’t understand how so many in the Temple described his padawan as unreadable. Keith projected everything. Loudly. If only you took the time to listen.

Shiro tugged on Keith’s padawan braid again. “We good?”

Keith flopped grumpily against Shiro’s side. “You’re the worst,” he said, though the pulse he sent through their training bond didn’t back it up.

“I really am sorry,” said Shiro.

Keith squirmed against his side. “I just feel so dumb,” he admitted in a low mumble. “Anyone else would have known it was just a rock.”

“Well…” Shiro held up the rock, running his senses over it. It had certainly started as an ordinary rock, but things that were in close contact with the Jedi rarely stayed that way for long. Shiro could feel the vague impression of Keith in it, his loyalty and passion, all wrapped up in his fierce determination. Shiro concentrated on the rock as well, focusing on what he felt for Keith, his pride and joy in his padawan, and pushing that into the Force.

When he finished, the sense wasn’t as strong as he would have liked it—Shiro wasn’t very practiced in Force Impressions—but it was there.

“Here,” he said, passing the rock back to Keith. Keith took it somewhat suspiciously, and Shiro felt him prod hestistantly at it in the Force.

“Oh. Huh.” Keith looked up at Shiro, clearly looking for a confirmation that what he was feeling was real.

“Maybe it didn’t start out special,” said Shiro. “But it certainly is now.” He took a chance and ruffled Keith’s hair. “Just like you.”

“Argh!” Keith batted his hand away. “What are you so sappy?”

“Excuse you, I am genuine, charming, and eloquent.”

Keith frowned at him. Then, taking Shiro completely by surprise, he shoved him with the Force, knocking him off the couch and sending him sprawling on the floor.

“Ooof. This is how you repay me?” groaned Shiro from the ground. 

“Yep.” Keith preened, unrepentant from his position on the couch. Shiro took a moment to appreciate how far he’d come from the bitter, scared slave he had been when they first met. Smug and triumphant was a good look on him. 

“All right.” Shiro accepted defeat. “Pass me my datapad. I need to finish that mission report.”

“Your—What? You’re going to work from the floor?”

“Yep,” said Shiro, not even bothering to sit up.

“You are so weird,” concluded Keith, but a second later Shiro’s datapad was dropping onto his face and he snatched it out of the air. 

“Thanks,” said Shiro. He started scrolling through his notes, trying to find where he left off. 

“You’re the strangest master in the Order,” said Keith.

Shiro looked up from his datapad. “Would you rather the Council reassign you a different master?” he said hesitantly, trying to hide how the possibility cut him.

But Keith quickly shook his head. “No. I’ll stick with what I’ve got.”

“Me too,” said Shiro, quietly hiding his relief. “I wouldn’t trade you for any other padawan out there. Not for the entire galaxy.”

“Good,” said Keith. 

But still, the bond between them seemed to hum just a little warmer and stronger after that. 

[philliamwrites]

The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.3]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Chapter 03: Ties That Bind

Where war, and joy, and terror Have all at times held away; Where both delight and horror Have had their fitful day.

The happiest under heaven A king of powerful mind; A company so proven Would now be hard to find

Gawain put on a good cheer. ‘Why should I hesitate?’ He said. ‘Kind or severe, We must engage our Fate.’

[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]

    „Breathe,“ Hanneman says for the third time. At every tap of his pen against the table, you flinch as if someone is knocking right against the inside of your skull. “You have to feel the Crest, become one with it. Don’t think of it as an addition; see it as an extension of your very self.”

    You exhale but it’s hard to focus after you’ve been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours and your legs keep falling asleep.

    “Focus on it,” Hanneman continues. He starts to gesture with his free hand, an indicator that he’s just as frustrated with your lack of progress as you are. “Focus on the feeling that took hold of you when you fought the bandits. Imagine what you want. Ask yourself what it is you really want, and take hold of that picture.”

    Well, first of all, you really want a sandwich.

    For the past few weeks, you’ve been waking up before sunrise to attend private lessons with Hanneman to get a hold of your Crest’s power. Now the end of the month approaches, and still your body refuses to get accustomed to work at such an early hour, and more importantly without eating first. An hour ago, your stomach started growling, but Professor Hanneman has proved again and again to be very successful in ignoring factors that disturb his lessons. You continue breathing through what you consider hunger pains instead of the raise of new powers, but with the sound of screaming students outside and the occasional flapping of wings as Pegasus Knights fly by on their patrol, it’s anything but successful.

    “Focus!” Hanneman chides again as if he can read your mind and knows exactly you’re thinking of the pheasant roast with berry sauce on the menu today.

    “I’m trying,” you groan and slump into the chair, defeated. “But I don’t feel anything.”

    “Hmm hmmm,” Hanneman hums and looks at you like you were supposed to understand what he’s conveying with that sound. “Maybe we’re looking at it the wrong way,” he says once you don’t follow up on his inexplicable sound. “Maybe we should stop thinking of it as a common Crest, but approach it like it is something entirely different.” He quickly notes something on his paper, then proceeds to flip through the open books he’s splayed out on his desk. “There is so little we know about the Crest of the Herald. I am much frustrated no one thought of studying it a thousand years ago!”

    “I don’t understand. How can it be different?” Your first lesson solely focused on Crests. How they are thought to be power incarnate, bestowed upon humans by the Goddess countless ages ago. Today those who are descendants of Fódlan’s Ten Elites and Four Saints, who fought during the War of Heroes beside Saint Seiros, wear Crests, a sign of wealth and nobility.

    “Well, one possible explanation could be that for whatever reason, the first Herald was different from his fellow warriors, the Ten Elites,” Hanneman offers, leaning back into his chair and looking a lot more interested in the conversation now. “The Goddess must have found him worthy of her power just as she found Saint Seiros worthy.”

    “Then why wasn’t he a Saint?” you wonder. From your understanding, the Four Saints were special comrades of Saint Seiros, just as guided by the Goddess as their leader. What had made the Herald from back then different? “According to everything you told me, he sounds a lot like this Macuil person. Focusing on strategy and all that.”

    “Saint Macuil,” Hanneman corrects you, but there’s no bite in his voice. “And yes, perhaps he was akin to the Saints, but that clearly wasn’t what determined the final decision to name him Herald.”

    “Well, that’s just my kind of luck,” you mumble, but when Hanneman makes a puzzled sound, you ask instead, “And you’re sure I’m a descendant of him?”

    “Most likely! You bear a Major Crest, which means the Herald’s blood runs strong in your body. After he disappeared, he might have settled down and started a family. Unfortunately, nothing is recorded about him after the War of Heroes concluded.”

    “Then how come there was no one else in a thousand years who bore the same Crest?” You aren’t sure you fully understand how they work. Apparently, Crests grant special powers to those who hold them such as high aptitude for magic or enhanced strength. But you know better than anyone that the Crest of the Herald is special. It doesn’t simply give you a boon, it allows you to command the flow of battle. But is it really a blessing bestowed by the Goddess? You don’t remember a divine revelation or talking to a Goddess. Or did that maybe occur even before you were found by the Officers Academy’s students? Before your memory loss? You certainly don’t feel chosen by a deity.

    “Trying to explain the Goddess’ whims would wield about the same result as asking this question,” Hanneman says. “Sometimes a Crest may skip generations. No one can say with certainty who will be chosen. If it will be the first or third born. That is why we must further study Crests! For example, why, unlike other Crests, has your appeared physically visible?” Hanneman mutters more questions under his breath and notes them quickly on his paper. It’s remarkable how enthusiastic he approaches the topic if it only didn’t make you feel like an experiment lying on a dissection table.

    “I want to know so much more about the first Herald,” you mumble. “What was his name? Where was he from?” Why did he disappear and what were the costs he had paid for such a title. Only one month in and Lady Rhea already granted you an impressive room to reside. People treat you with respect and admiration even though you aren’t doing much besides wave at them on the streets or hold some conversations. If being the Herald only encompasses these tasks, you’ll gladly take on the role and speak to people. But that would be a dream too good to be true.

    “We can only speculate,” Hanneman says. “Some believe the Herald came when Seiros needed him most. Our Goddess’ answer to her cry of help. Others believe he was simply a general who originated form a farmer’s family. Other, smaller sources talk about a prince from a far off land who passed through Fódlan and decided to stay. But in all cases, the Herald was a great asset to win the War of Heroes and save Fódlan from the tyranny of the Fell King.”

    “Yeah, no pressure there,” you mumble, sinking further into your seat. Hopefully no one expects you to save Fódlan from evil monarchs. If yes, it certainly won’t happen on an empty stomach. When Hanneman releases you, there’s only one place for you to be. The Dining Hall is crowded at this time of hour. Students and faculty bustle everywhere, eager to get their favourite meal on a plate. Just like them, you are drawn in by the amazing smell of roasted meet and freshly baked pastries.

    The only thing you can live without is how once you enter the room several heads turn in your direction, and a ripple of “Look, it’s the Herald” goes through the crowd, spreading like a wave. Or a disease, you think with a sour taste in your mouth as you move through the parting sea. They want you to acknowledge them but Goddess forbid you actually engage in conversation with them and they flee like you’re the Herald of Pest.

    “Herald!” Well, not everyone escapes. Some seem to like living dangerous.

    Edelgard looks straight at you from between the other students from the Eagle class sitting at a table, removing any doubt she means anyone else but you. Running from her would be a sign of defeat, so you drag yourself over to the Eagle table and give the round an uncertain smile. “Hello.”

    “Herald, if you have time, please sit with us,” Edelgard offers but the look she pins on you doesn't give you any choice. The silence of her classmates speaks louder than words, and a quick glance to Hubert tells you that he very much would like for you to notsit with them.

    “Sure,” you say lamely and sit opposite from her where Bernadetta quickly shuffles to the side to make room, and then further down the bench until she jumps to her feet and flees from the hall. It’s a miracle she’s out of her chambers in the first place, undoubtedly Byleth’s work.

    “Did you manage any progress with Professor Hanneman?” Edelgard asks, carefully cutting her pheasant roast into small bite-sized pieces. She looks the complete opposite from someone capable of hacking away their enemies but you wouldn’t dare to underestimate her.

    “It’s slow,” you admit, solely focusing on shoving potatoes from one side of your plate to the other so you don’t have to look at anyone. “I’ve only grasped the basics of how Crests work and the Herald’s is so different.”

    “Research might prove more fruitful if you’d be called into action,” she says, and it’s difficult to determine if that statement is a simple observation or underlying critique towards Rhea’s decision to leave you out of the major education system. At least that’s something you’re sure of. Edelgard is difficult.

    “Maybe. But chances are higher I get myself killed somehow on the battlefield.” You’re already dreading the approaching noon hours. Byleth has worked out a special training programme for you and the house leaders. So far there hasn’t been a day without aching muscles and bruises for you. Thinking of Byleth, you can’t help but ask, “So how’s Byleth as a Professor?”

    Edelgard considers her plate with mild interest, but her index fingers start tapping against her cutlery. She has small, delicate hands. Cute hands. You gawk at them for two seconds before noticing Hubert starring daggers at you, and quickly avert your eyes to your cup of ginger tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

    “Our professor shows knowledge in the most curious things,” he says, surprising you by joining the conversation. “I think the Adrestian Empire will benefit greatly from that.”

    You aren’t sure how leading the class correlates directly to joining the Empire, but you don’t want to point that out. Hubert is still too much of a puzzle you’re adamant on not piecing together because whatever picture waits for you after the assembly might be one of horror.

    “She really is one to look up to,” Edelgard agrees, but she isn’t looking at anyone, so it seems she’s saying it more to herself. You want to try and read more out of her expression, but distraction comes quickly in form of more students from the Eagle class. Caspar is the first bouncing excitedly towards the table, and still he somehow miraculously manages to keep his food from flying everywhere. “Herald!” he calls and slides right on the seat right next to you. “How’s the head situation going?”

    “Caspar,” Linhardt chides and gives his friend the disappointed look of a parent that can’t bring his child to use a fork to eat. “Would you stop pestering the Herald with the same question every day?”

    Linhardt hits the mark. It was nice in the beginning to have someone show so much interest in your wellbeing, but now you don’t know if the daily reminder how you fail to regain pieces of your past is rude or just Caspar’s naive politeness.

    “Yeah well.” You try to stuff as much potatoes in your mouth as possible just to avoid talking about it. “Nothin’ yeff.”

    “Herald, please try to keep your manners in check, will you?” Ferdinand comments because of course he catches you with your mouth full and sauce dripping from the corners. Unlucky for him, you don’t really care.

    “Well, sorry.” Caspar frowns and scratches the remains from his plate. The two minutes you needed to finish your potatoes, he’s cleared his whole plate. “I just thought it might help.”

    “Help to be reminded what’s missing?” Linhardt doesn’t look convinced. “I think the Herald knows so better than anyone.”

    “Guys, drop the subject,” Edelgard intervenes. “Let us finish our meals now. Classes resume presently and I don’t want to hear any stomachs growling, understood?” The last part goes with a pointed look towards Linhardt, who answers with a lazy shrug while continuing to poke at his food, looking bored out of his mind. It lasts about three seconds before he brightens up and turns towards you while rummaging through his school bag. From that, he pulls out notes and a pen, and unceremoniously shoves them into your hands. “I have a question, Herald. Would you be so kind and look over these strategic proposals I’ve developed from the last lesson? I understand what you taught us were basics as we find them in the library. I simply took the time and applied those to the strengths and abilities of my classmates.”

    You raise your eyebrows. “You did?” Up until now, you didn’t know Linhardt was paying attention whenever you gave the students your sorry excuses of lessons. You feel like you’ve seen him asleep far more than actually looking at the board or writing, so him presenting his notes to you now is more than a surprise. He has a clean handwriting, small letters that curl into themselves and forget to take a break between words. You squint at the sentences, trying to make them out. It sure doesn’t help that half of it is crossed out by what looks like a strategy sketch with little circles and everyone’s names filling out the space.

    “This looks … elaborate,” you comment, unsure if you’ll ever be able to solve this enigma.

    “No worries.” Linhardt gives a little smile. “Please give me your answer report until tomorrow. And feel free to correct me on anything I’ve done wrong.”

    He’s probably done a much better job than you on your lesson notes, but you nod with a lopsided smile. “I will.”

    “Oh, and while we’re at strategy talk,” Caspar jumps right in, “any good ideas how to take on a taller opponent?”

    “A good kick to their shins?” you suggest.

    “A dagger to their liver?” Edelgard says.

    “Poison in their cup?” Hubert offers.

    “You’re all animals,” Ferdinand says.

    Linhardt groans. “I toldyou how to win in a fight like that, Caspar. Why won’t you listen to me?”

    You don’t want to be part of the argument breaking out between them, so you turn away and try to see what the other students are doing in the dining hall. At the opposite end, Claude catches your eyes and waves like he’s been waiting way too long to finally get your attention. He points at Edelgard and flaps his arms like a chicken. He points at you and spreads his hands behind his head, forming antlers with his fingers. When Edelgard follows your eyes, his head whips around and he pretends to agree with whatever Lysithea just said.

    “I hope you forgive Caspar’s enquiries,” she says, steering your focus back to her. She’s gently tapping the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin, and oh there they are again, her delicate fingers. You look away before Hubert catches you staring again and decides to put poison in your cup7. “I speak on behalf of everyone in the Black Eagle House when I say we wish for your full recovery to be soon.”

    “If wishing would only get the job done, I might have something to work with by now.”

    Edelgard doesn’t blink, her expression frozen. “Meaning?”

    “I thought I'd come here and one of the Church's healers would just wave their hands to return my memories,” you mumble, scribbling a tiny Claude with little, evil horns on his head in the corner of Linhardt’s notes.

    Edelgard looks at you like you've just insulted her whole noble lineage. “That isn't how magic works.”

    You throw your arms up in frustration to emphasise that yes, that's the point. You don't know how anything works in this place, and you doubt Byleth's four pages of lesson plans are going to help.

    “If no one comes to your aid, maybe it is time you take matters into your own hands.” You flinch at the scornful sound in Edelgard’s voice. Judging the expression on her face, she seems just as surprised about her outburst. She gets up abruptly and bids farewell with a curt nod, followed closely by Hubert as always. Her classmates look after her, each more puzzled than the next.

    “Didn’t she seem … angry to you?” Linhardt thinks aloud, blinking into the empty space.

    Ferdinand harrumphes. “She’s always like this. Please excuse her, Herald.”

    You don’t think she’s done anything wrong, and yet she certainly doesn’t appear as always. Something about her last words strikes you as especially sharp; reproachful. Those weren’t meaningless words, but you don’t have any ways to decipher the message. A little voice tells you she isn’t wrong either. So far nothing has helped returning your memories—Manuela’s medicine, herbs from the Greenhouse, Hanneman’s spells. It seems like your brain has built defencive walls to repel any probing, which begs the answer to the question what is hiding in secret even more. But can you really do it on your own, like Edelgard suggests? It seems impossible.

    With newfound doubt you finish your meal, saying your goodbyes to the now scattering Eagle students as they scurry off to their next lesson. Two hours are left before you’re meeting with Byleth and the house leaders, and since you agreed to look over Linhardt’s notes, the library seems a good next stop. You still want to go over the seven classical manoeuvres of war, especially since the students didn’t really grasp the remaining two last time, and it gives you a good excuse to look over them again as well. At the beginning, you thought there was nothing you could teach those children, not with experienced colleagues at your side who have participated in countless battles themselves. Who could have thought that talking about tactics and strategies came as natural to you as breathing. Well, Rhea did for certain, and even the students drink up your every word like it is a message from the Goddess herself and you her chosen herald. The irony of it.

    But it isn’t only the students accepting your guidance. Something inside you changed in the last couple of weeks as well. When you started going through the books in the library, it was more stumbling and slipping on foreign terrain, but just in a couple of days, you moved through the matter like a fish following smoothly the currents of its native waters. It felt like home. Like building the foundation of a house from thousand variables, the result different each time but still the same: art. You build the art of battle, the last decision that will bring victory or death. You love every second of it. Which opens the possibility that it really isn’t your first time, but also more questions: Who taught you? What battles have you fought? How many of them did you win? Since those aren’t as simple to answer, you focus on fulfilling the first purpose, and hope that it will some day be enough for the students to survive battles.

    If only it would end there. Your second duty isn’t as easy or pleasant, and it lies in wait for you everywhere, stalking you like a dark shadow with monstrous fangs.

    “Herald.” A soldier gives a courteous bow, intercepting you in the Great Hall on your way to the library. “Pilgrims ask for you near the Entrance Hall. Please allow me to escort you.”

    Immediately, your nerves tingle with nervous anticipation. This is the scary part. Meeting the people, seeing the hope in their eyes. You’d gladly send them back where they’ve come from, but some have travelled for multiple days, and denying them audience would be cruel.

    “Don’t let me stop you from your duties,” you say, unconsciously tugging your clothes in order to appear presentable. “I will welcome them on my own.”

    The soldier nods and bows again, his expression barely readable under the helmet before he disappears as quickly as he came.

    Planning lessons is easy. You can find whatever you need in the library and work out the flow with the students. But nothing can prepare or teach you how to act like the Herald people wish for. Nowhere is anything written on the old Herald, how he talked to them and what promises he’d whispered when day broke. That is where you are on your own. Not even Rhea could answer that question. She only instructed that you see them, and remind them about their devotion to the Goddess—for she was the one who made it possible in the first place.

    The Entrance Hall is emptier than usual. Most of the students are in class, and a handful of knights and soldiers might be at the advanced training camp Jeralt and Alois hold in honour of the Blade Breaker’s return. So spotting the pilgrims isn’t difficult. Especially with the Gatekeeper waving his arms in wide arcs as if fearing you might overlook him.

    “Greetings, Herald!” His grin is blinding. “The pilgrims are waiting for you just at the at the foot of the stairs.”

    “Yeah,” you say. “I can see them.”

    “Oh, yes, of course! If anyone causes problems, count on me to help!”

    “Thanks.” You answer his thumbs up with one of your own before moving downstairs. What a refreshing young man. Certainly good looking under his helmet. Byleth seems to like talking to him a lot as well.

    Today’s pilgrims aren’t much different from other days. Old people are supported by their family members, who have brought baskets with sweets and flowers, presenting them at your feet.

    “Herald,” they breathe in awe, bowing. No matter how often you’ve seen it by now, it still feels incredibly wrong.

    “Raise your heads,” you tell them, helping an elderly woman up to hrer feet. She gasps at your touch, then clings to your hands. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat. “The Archbishop and I bid you welcome. The Goddess will smile upon your devotion.” Your cringe slightly when echoing Rhea’s words and wonder if any second the goddess might punish you by throwing lightning your way.

    “We are blessed to finally meet you,” a younger woman says, taking the old woman from your hands—mother and daughter maybe? “Please accept our gifts, and may the Goddess guide you on your path to light.”

    “She will answer your prayers and guide me so I can bring you peace,” you reply just so you can say something they might want to hear. Judging their delighted expressions this wasn’t the worst you could have said. Dorothea would probably be proud looking at your acting skills. Or point out your bad posture and how you’re avoiding their eyes. Dorothea would probably tell you how much you have to polish your acting skills.

    “Bring us peace?” someone from the last row spits, pushing to the front. “You know nothing, the Herald will bring chaos and ruin!” A man in his forties looms above you, an ugly, padded scar crossing his face from one temple to his chin. A war veteran? They way he holds himself looks like he’s been beaten up once too much to get up again.

    “You heathen, don’t you dare speak to our Herald like that,” the old woman barks, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit. Her daughter supports her, glaring at the man. “Go in peace, but go if you only came to talk ill about our Herald,” she says, clearly upset. "Doubting them is doubting our Goddess. How dare you."

    “First I want to see the Herald do something! What if … if this one is an impostor.” The man turns towards the others, throwing his arms in the air. “Bring forward proof that you are not here to ruin our lands, but to actually serve in the Goddess’ name!”

    This time his demand meets less resistance. Until now people were fine with seeing you and the Crest, but to want actual prove? You could easily threaten them and ask if they doubt the Goddess’ decision, but you’d rather leave that method to Rhea. You don’t want to sound like her. You don’t want to scare people. Yet admitting that you don’t really have a clue how to really use the Crest would surely support the man’s accusation. Diminishing the people’s trust in the Herald is the last thing you want, especially if it means facing Rhea’s scorn.

    “I—”

    “Herald!” A voice calls from the top of the stairs. When you turn around, Sylvain waves and jogs downstairs, looking like he’s been running for some time. “There you are. The Archbishop wants to see you.”

    Oh no, has she heard of your failure already? Giving the choice of facing a group of doubting people or Rhea, you’d immediately go to the people. You give him a curt nod, unable to speak because you don’t trust your voice.

    “I apologise,” you say to the pilgrims, clearing your throat when it comes out as a croak. “I will have something prepared for another time.”

    “No, you do not need to prove anything to us,” the elderly woman says. “We will always believe in you. Please tell Her Grace we are constantly praying to our Goddess and thank her for sending you to us.”

    “I will.” You squeeze her hand a last time. “Save travels.”

    The man still glares at you, but without a chance to keep you present any longer, he turns away and follows the rest. You can’t wait to leave all that behind, and as you steel your nerves for what’s waiting for you in the Audience Chambers, you look up to Sylvain and ask, “Did Lady Rhea say what it is about?”

    He looks over at you and blinks a couple of times, then seems to remember. “Ah ... yeah, about that. I lied.”

    You stop dead in your tracks. “You lied?”

    “Yup. I don’t know what Lady Rhea’s doing. But you looked like you were about to puke at those poor pilgrim’s shoes. As hilarious as that would have been, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” He stops now as well and smiles a boyish crooked grin. Sylvain knows exactly what to do with his face so girls fall over themselves to do him a favour, and boys grow jealous of all the attention he gets. Two weeks in, and you’ve figured out his game, keeping a respectable distance that wouldn’t birth the thought you’re avoiding him. In fact, this could be the very first time you’re actually holding a real conversation.

    “Well, I … thank you? But I had everything under control.”

    He looks like he doesn’t believe you. The gatekeeper you’re just passing looks like he doesn’t believe you. You press your lips into a thin line and dare any of them to disagree.

    “Okay.” Sylvain shrugs. “But now we’re here.”

    “Sylvain, what do you want?”

    “Cutting to the chase, huh?” He crosses his arms behind his head. “Why do you think I want something?” Your raised eyebrows seem to be answer enough. Sylvain laughs a little helplessly and returns his hands back to his front, raised as an offer of peace. “I promise, I want nothing. Just a little talking. A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone.”

    Something inside you wants to argue against it, but without a solid argument in hand, you follow him silently, wondering where his destination and intention lies. He belongs to the many students you can’t really read, nothing about his ambitions or goals. Sometimes he gives you this strange look through half lidded eyes, his gaze focused on your right eye—his interest in your Crest undeniable, and yet he’s been one of the few not to talk about it with you. It’s strange because whenever you come together, he looks like there’s something he’s dying to say. This time is no different.

    He leads you to the wooden pavilion in the gardens, but instead of offering you a seat, Sylvain leans his slim hips against the table, half sitting on it. Seteth would be furious seeing this.

    “How’s the Herald business doing for you?” he asks the one question you wouldn't expect from him. “Other than you having ‘everything under control.’” He has the audacity to air-quote. This isn’t a conversation you want to hold right now, leastwise with him. Sylvain must discern that you’re ready to bold from whatever your body is showing. With a quick step, he’s standing between you and the escape route, lazily leaning one arm against a column to uphold the illusion that you’re only having a pleasant talk when in reality his body stands between you and your freedom.

    “Do you talk to the other faculty members like that as well?” you say through gritted teeth, crossing your arms. Sylvain blinks like he doesn’t understand, but you’ve seen this act before, followed by an eerily precise repetition of a subject to one of his classmates when he thinks none of the teachers pay attention. Sylvain is playing dumb and deliberately hiding a sharp mind.

    “Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” he quickly says, nothing about this crooked smile appearing apologetic whatsoever. “I’m generously curious. You’re holding up really good.”

    “In comparison to what?” you demand, your heartbeat picking up. Is he trying to call you out on something? That you aren’t heraldy enough? But to your surprise, Sylvain looks genuinely surprised by your reaction.

    “To nothing. In general?” He shrugs. “Back on the ceremony day, you didn’t look so good standing up there, and His Highness told us everything happened really uh … ‘suddenly.’’ More air-quotes, whatever they mean this time.

    “If you mean I wasn’t really asked to become the Herald, then yes.” Your arms drop back to your side. “It was suddenly.”

    Sylvain watches you for a moment, and again, there’s this look in his eyes; the need to say something he can’t. He kneads the back of his nape, avoiding your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is … having that Crest out of nothing is cool. Probably. And maybe terrifying? And just—”

    You grow impatient. “Come on, get the words out, Sylvain.”

    “A Crest isn’t just this nice letter of invitation to a privileged life. Just take care, is all I’m saying.”

    And there’s another page to the book of surprises with Sylvain’s name on it. The immediate lack of response catches him off guard; it’s like he only notices now that the vital part to understand this conversation is missing: The source of his doubt towards Crests.

    Sylvain’s body turns in a split second, his feet facing the direction he’s ready to bold towards, but this time you stand in his way and block him off. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

    He blinks in confusion, then furrows his eyebrows in deep thought like you demanded he recites the Ten Heroes from memory or else fails classes. His face contorts with the effort of looking fine. “Why, yes! Just peachy. Why would you think something is off?”

    “Because I have eyes in my skull.”

    “Very pretty eyes, if I dare say.” His answer comes out like a fire spell, hard and fast, seemingly more instinct than anything else. He clears his throat and scratches his chin, loosing momentum. “Goddess, I am bad at this.”

    “You are.” No need to sugar coat it. “If something happened, just say it.”

    “Nothing really happened, I just—” He exhales audibly and stares into space for a long minute, before side stepping you without difficulty. “Actually, I remembered Professor wanted to see me after class. Something about extra lessons about eh. Horse riding. Yeah. I’ll catch you later, Herald.” He winks and bolds away, darting under your outstretched arm before you can catch him. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly agile and fast, already disappearing behind a tall hedge towards the main building.

    If that wasn’t the strangest conversation you’ve held with anyone, you don’t know what might excel that. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding Sylvain.

    The Training Grounds smells of sweat and oil. Many students and knights train, which is surprising at this kind of hour, the short break between afternoon and evening classes. You’d like to know what they’re working on, but Byleth doesn’t tolerate inattention in a classroom or on the battle field, and demands you do push-ups each time your eyes wander somewhere off. You hate her a little for that. For whatever reason, Claude has taken on the role of your partner in crime, and does whatever necessary to make Byleth punish him as well.

    “What can I say, I like a good workout,” he said when you asked. He didn’t even try to hide his lie, looking as miserable as you felt. Probably hating Byleth a little as well.

    It’s the fourth week of private training with her and the house leaders, and so far you can definitely say that you were not meant to fight on the field. You see how your opponent moves, you can somehow predict what they’re going to do next—but your body simply protests to act accordingly. You stumble, you fall, you need a second too long to get up and before you can do anything, a training sword is at your throat. Byleth always looks like she wants to facepalm her fist through her forehead. Or yours.

    “Herald, this is not how you disarm someone,” she says, as always, and demonstrates it in one smooth, swift movement, as always. You blow hair out of your eyes, knowing you’re about to fail again. At least that gave Claude a reason to give you a new nickname, though if it’s better than the last is debatable.

    “You gotta twist your wrist, duckling!” he calls from the other side of the hall, immediately drawing Byleth’s attention to him. He and Dimitri are facing off, both wielding a spear which should give Dimitri the upper hand. So far, he hasn’t landed a single hit on Claude.

    “Keep your elbows in!” Byleth berates Claude. “Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken.”

    Claude lets out a disturbingly convincing cluck.

    You raise an eyebrow. “At least someone’s having fun.”

    Byleth sighs. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner than later.”

    “I don’t know. He’s managed so far, hasn’t he?”

    “I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a fault.” She turns back to you and nods her chin towards the side. “Take a break. I’m going to see how the boys are doing.”

    You nod, tensing all over because that’s where Edelgard is currently standing and picking out a training axe. You haven’t talked to her since lunch, and you can do without it for a couple more hours. She barely glances at you when you walk over, and instead checks out the edge of the wooden blade, turning it left and right.

    “Is she as strict in the classroom as in here?” you ask, unable to go on in awkward silence. Edelgard hums, throwing a quick glance towards Byleth from under her long, white lashes. “She’s systematic and consistent. Capable in both fields. I have no reason to raise any kind of complaint.”

    “That’s impressive.” You sure as heck still wouldn’t want her as a teacher. “Even though she’s been pushed into all this, she handles it like she’s never done anything else.”

    “I think as a mercenary, she is used to changing approaches depending on the employer.” Edelgard is still looking at Byleth. Reading her expression is impossible, and you don’t want to point out that sticking a sword into thieves and bandits is not the same as teaching kids how to fight in a battle. Her head whips to you suddenly, and she considers the training sword in your hand. “Speaking of different approaches,” she continues, “have you considered that your field of combat might be magic?”

    You have, so the answer comes immediately. “Chances are higher I set myself on fire.” You stare at her. “I didn’t mean it to rhyme.”

    Edelgard ignores your last comment. “But you haven’t really tried it out, have you?” Your lack of response is answer enough for her, and she nods like that proves a point.

    It’s complicated. You haven’t really tried it out because … the simple answer is, you’re afraid. It gets tricky once you try to search for the answer to that. There’s just a strange sensation when you try to use magic, like there’s a vast sea of possibilities and one step inside is enough to get you lost. It isn’t as bad with wind spells or white magic. You haven’t touched Fire spells because a crippling fear chills you to the bones every time you manage to nourish a small flame inside your palm—the complete opposite to Dark magic. When you tried a MiasmaΔ for the first time it felt strangely … secure. The rope tying you to a shore, it had felt like—

    There’s a loud crash when the spears collide and Claude knocks Dimitri off his feet. The whole room is silent as everyone watches how Claude taps the blunt end of his practice spear against Dimitri’s chin. “Steady on there, darling,” he says with a smug grin. Dimitri flushes bright red, and pushes with more force than necessary the spear away, quickly climbing to his feet.

    “That wasn’t bad.” Byleth quickly steps in before Dimitri can throttle Claude. “Dimitri, you rely too much on your brute strength. That’s a big disadvantage against someone like Claude. And you, young man,” she turns to Claude who’s been smiling victoriously, “are scheming too much and lose time to take action. In a serious battle, you won’t be as lucky as today.”

    “Noted.” Claude whirls his spear from left to right, almost dropping it when Dimitri drills his elbow into his side. “But in a serious battle, I won’t be upfront. I’ll be hanging back nicely, and skewing my enemies with a myriad of arrows.”

    “You can barely shoot three at the same time,” Dimitri grumbles, his cheeks still splotched with red specks.

    “You wanna bet—”

    “That’s enough, guys, save it for then next round.” Byleth ignores their sulky expressions and turns to you, raising a single eyebrow. The message is clear. What are you waiting for?

    Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. Edelgard doesn’t hesitate at all. “Let’s go.”

    She strides in the middle, training axe raised. It’s made out of wood, but you don’t doubt that she’s able to severe a limb from your body if she only tries hard enough—and what you know of Edelgard is that she alwaysexceeds even her own expectations. You grip your sword tighter. It’s a clear disadvantage, but better than anything else you can handle. Maybe it won’t be as bad.

    The fight lasts for about seven seconds. The moment you raise the blade, Edelgard is on you and unleashes fierce strike after strike, the power behind each hit forcing you back. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when she easily disarms you, the wooden sword flying over your heads and the edge of her axe on your throat. Somewhere behind her, you hear Byleth sigh. “Again.”

    The next hour is torture. Edelgard throws you to the ground, again and again. Byleth keeps telling you to get up, again and again. One might think they would cut you some slack, being the Herald and all, but it feels like Edelgard is so much more aggressive today because you’re the Herald. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe she’s appointed you to be her sworn enemy, and won’t miss out any chance to make it as hard as possible for you.

    This isn’t fun. Being watched by Dimitri and Claude, who whisper conspiratorially to each other isn’t fun. Luckily, Byleth notices them gawking and bellows them to focus on working on their stances. Right now, you’re thankful nothing escapes her eyes and she calls her students out on their bullshit. It doesn’t make your current situation easier though. Every muscle burns, just raising the sword is exhausting and your feet feel like they’re about to give out any second. This must be hell.

    When Byleth finally ends lessons, you ignore everything and crumble to the ground, splaying your limbs out in all directions. Surely they can clean up without you, two hands less will barely make any difference.

    A shadow settles over you. You know who it is, and don’t bother to open your eyes. “Go away, Byleth. I don’t want to hear how bad I am.”

    “Personally, I think you have improved, Herald.” Your eyes snap open. Dimitri looks down at you, his forehead still glistening from perspiration. “But facing Edelgard as an opponent usually wields those results. Don’t let it bother you.”

    You want to point out that he and Claude don’t seem to have as much problems as you, even though yes, none of them have defeated her yet in practice. He goes down to your level and sits beside you, and you hate how this all barely made him breath hard, like it’s just a stroll around the monastery whereas you’re trying to climb the mountains surrounding it.

    “I think she hates me,” you blurt out. Luckily, most students have already left the hall, Edelgard included. Dimitri considers this a moment, and you don’t know what to make of his lack of immediate response.

    “I doubt she hates you,” he finally says.

    “But?”

    “But she has a hard time warming up to people. Give her time. Once the ice is broken, you will see that her personality is one you’d like to have around.”

    “Oh?” You watch him for a moment, but Dimitri doesn’t blush or look away. It was a heartfelt, sincere statement, which flusters you for some reason. No one should be that honest.

    “Talking about breaking ice. Do you know if something happened to Sylvain?”

    “Sylvain?” Dimitri raises both eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me he harassed you in some kind of way.”

    “No, no, he just—” You finally get up from lying on your back, and try to explain it by frantically moving your hands. Dimitri still looks puzzled. “He said some weird things about Crests in general?”

    “Hm.” Dimitri stares at your hands for a moment, then quickly raises his eyes back to your face. “It’s complicated.” Well, that answer is as good as none. “And I won’t go into details without his consent. I can only say that if he talked about Crests, in whichever way, his brother must have upset him again.”

    “He has a brother?” Now you’re wide awake. Many students have siblings. You know of Hilda’s brother and Raphael’s sister. It shouldn’t surprise you Sylvain has one as well even though he’s never mentioned it before.

    “Do you have siblings?” you ask, generously curious. As heir to a kingdom, it’s hard to imagine his parents would have settled with one child. But he hasn’t mentioned any sisters or brothers as well.

    “Hmm, I have a step-sister,” he says, although very hesitant and you can see if someone doesn’t want to talk about a specific topic. He doesn’t return the question, which is kind of him and makes you wonder … maybe you have a sibling as well. Somewhere. Maybe somewhere in Adrestia or Leicester a younger brother or an older sister is currently looking for you, unrelenting in their journey to be reunited at last. The thought alone brings a flicker of hope alive. Maybe they'll come once word of the Herald’s return travels far enough.

    “I guess as long as Sylvain doesn’t disturb classes or acts out of order, I would leave him to his brooding. I can tell out of experience, only Felix is capable of cheering him up.”

    “Felix?” Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Are we talking about the same Felix?”

    A smile forms on Dimitri’s mouth. “I understand why imagining that might prove difficult, but I assure you, Felix is one of the view exceeding in handling the mess Sylvain is from time to time.”

    “Felix and Ingrid?” you guess, earning a nod from Dimitri. “Ingrid is a very nice girl,” you continue, picking at a loose thread from your uniform. “But Felix seems detests me. Every time he sees me, he looks like he wants to throw his sword at me.”

    “That is—” Dimitri stops mid-sentence. “That might be not so far off from his true intentions.”

    You groan.

    “But I assure you it is for a different reason than you think. Felix is simply … difficult with people holding a commanding position.”

    “He doesn’t seem to have the same problem with Byleth,” you point out. No, whenever he trains with her, he manages something close to a smile and accepts her guidance. Then again, she isn’t his teacher.

    “I’m sure you’ll be able to make him consider his opinion on you during the Mock Battle. I as well am looking forward to how you will guide us.” Dimitri beams. You stare at him like he’s just lost his head.

    “What?”

    “The Mock Battle three nights from today?” Dimitri’s smile falters a little. “Have the Professor and Lady Rhea not told you yet? You are to participate in the Mock Battle as the commanding unit of the Blue Lions.” Now he’s pulling his eyebrows together in worry. “Herald?”

    “I—” You jump to your feet. “I have to go.” Go far far away. Just yesterday you introduced the students to the tactic called Feigned Withdrawal, which involves staging a retreat in order to induce the enemy to abandon its position and plunge ahead in an attack. Dimitri abandons his position, getting up to go after you, but instead of turning back to surprise him with an ambush, you flee the battle and hope the enemy doesn’t pursue.

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

[bevvydraws]

Sweet Justice (cont.)

Prev.

Chapter 2 

The soft click of her heels against the pavement was the only sound that registered to Princess Justice. Each click just one more step forward on her path to making things right. In the back of her mind, she was grateful for her decision to take her earrings off, but it was a fleeting thought because she wasn’t sure just how deep the connection to Hawkmoth was. Hawkmoth wasn’t yet aware of her plan to take him down, otherwise he wouldn’t have given her the knowledge of his lair. Of course, he didn’t explicitly tell her, but she knew. She could feel it. It almost made her sick, having that connection with him.

For all of the grand schemes and countless villains with potentially cataclysmic powers, Hawkmoth wasn’t particularly bright. His plans relied solely on his blind trust that those he bestowed powers to would be unwaveringly loyal to him. And that would be his downfall. Marching on with determination and grace, Princess Justice knew that by the end of the day, everything would be different. 

As she came to the more crowded areas of Paris, she caught the attention of more than a few bystanders. Princess Justice barely spared them a second glance, the sight her mask gave her allowing her to see the injustices of those around her as well as the true intentions lying in their heart. If she were to describe it, it would be like a flame sitting in the middle of someone’s chest. Burning bright enough to shine through any facade someone might try and put up. The brighter and larger the flame, the more they had done to hurt those around them. The hotter the flame (showing up as blue rather than the more common orange) the more it showed their intent behind their actions. 

The average person only had a tiny, red flame, as no one is perfect but very few intend to hurt those around them. That was what she saw most often. But occasionally, there would be someone she passed by that had a more alarming flame, bigger and hotter. Princess Justice would stop them, under the guise of someone simply passing out samples in costume for a nearby bakery, and give them a macaron. And then she would be off without waiting to see what came of them. Occasionally she felt the presence of a knight joining her ranks and she would smile. That meant that the macaron did as she intended, and helped the misguided find their way back to the light. Those who were determined to stay unjust got their punishment, and were rooted to their spot in stocks, their misdeeds displayed for the rest of Paris to see. 

It took a surprisingly long time for people to realize that she was not a simple advertisement stunt, and was actually an akuma. But even when people put two and two together, no one ran from her. As she strolled throughout the streets of Paris, people simply made way. Once her cover was blown, she made no effort to stop any more to pass out her macarons. She couldn’t afford to be sidetracked. She needed to get to her school before any kittens could get in her way. 

---

The school was still full and bustling with energy when Princess Justice arrived, and she wasted no time making her way up the stairs. To those who questioned her--while still recognizing her as Marinette--she simply smiled and gave them the excuse that she was just helping her parents while showing off her costume making prowess. The naivety of her fellow schoolmates allowed her to pass out many macarons without much problem. She gave and gave her macarons with nothing more than a smile, and no one questioned it at all. 

Walking through the front doors of the school, Princess Justice felt a slight wave of emotion wash over her, causing her to purse her lips in disdain. The feeling only got worse as she glanced under the stairwell where she overheard Lila and Alya talking. With narrowed eyes and more determination than she had previously, she marched towards her classroom with renewed urgency. However, despite her rising emotions, Princess Justice could not bring herself to handle things with little tact. 

She gently opened the classroom door, strolling in with elegance and a presence that demanded awe and respect. Mme. Bustier did not look up from her book, and only got a “Marinette, you’re late once again--” out of her mouth before the rest of the class broke out into chaos. 

Questions of what she was wearing and why she was late, pleads to make a dress similar to the one she was wearing, and inquiries on how she managed to make her mask glow and if she was still able to see out of it. The noise grew louder and louder and was beginning to get overwhelming. She had to make it stop. Out of desperation she banged her scepter into the ground a few times, like a judge calling for order with their gavel. Silence fell over the classroom and Princess Justice smiled in relief. She scanned her eyes over her classmates, her heart breaking at the flames she saw. Some were relatively large, but they weren’t hot. Adrien was one of the first she looked at, and his was larger than she expected from him. Large, but not hot. She supposed that made sense, given his naivety. Even those with pure intentions could hurt others if they lacked the social know-how of most. Chloe’s was unsurprisingly large, and the orange flames had wisps of blue within them. 

But it was nothing compared to the blue inferno that was surrounding Lila, who had fixed her eyes on Princess Justice with a heated glare. The glare soon melted into a sweet smile as she walked up to Princess Justice with her arms open as if about to initiate a hug. The heat of her ill intentions would have made anyone else flinch if they had the power to feel it, but Princess Justice didn’t react as she began speaking,“Marinette! That costume is absolutely stunning! But isn’t it a bit late for costumes? And won’t it be a bit… distracting to others?” Blinking her eyes innocently at Mme. Bustier, Lila’s voice dripped with faux concern. 

“Actually,” Princess Justice spoke calmly, “This is something I’m doing for my parent’s bakery. I spent my lunch break passing out macarons in this costume, and I would have gone home to change… but I decided to bring the rest of the samples here for you all.” As if to prove herself honest, Princess Justice reached into her purse and produced a box of macarons big enough to give one to each person in the class. No one seemed to question how illogical it was for a box that size to fit in such a small purse, but that only worked to her advantage.

With a cheer resonating throughout the room, her classmates happily took one a piece, and then expectantly looked at Lila who had yet to take one. Before Lila could rattle off an excuse as to why she didn’t want to take one, Princess Justice took a step closer to her. Putting on the sweetest smile she could, her voice dripping with sugar, she said, “I really wanted to apologize, Lila. I’ve been so cruel to you because I didn’t know you had such a rare disorder that caused you to lie. It isn’t your fault, and I shouldn’t have held it against you. I hope you take a macaron as a sign of good faith and I hope we can be friends moving forward.” 

Princess Justice was so focused on Lila taking a macaron, she didn’t notice the blonde boy--who recognized the energy coming off of her as the energy of an akuma and chose to hide in the background--slip out of the classroom and sprint down the hall. 

Lila, feeling the pressure of those around her, hesitantly took a macaron. Once she took a bite, everyone else in the room followed suit. As soon as she saw that everyone had bitten a macaron, Princess Justice cleared her throat. 

“Forgive me for lying to you, my dearest friends,” she said gently as those around her stiffened, their eyes glazing over as the effect of her macarons took hold, “I’m afraid there was no other way for justice to be served.” She watched as tears began falling down the faces of her classmates, them likely witnessing the torment they had put Marinette, and occasionally others, through. Soft whimpers and occasional sobs broke free and bounced softly off of the walls of the room. 

“Mari…” she heard Alya sniff, and Princess Justice moved to her friend in an instant, her hand gently wiping the tears from her face. 

“It’s alright, Alya. I know that you are kind, and that your heart is good,” she whispered, “Please, fight with me once again. Help me take down the injustice in this city.” 

As Alya nodded, the majority of those in the room began to change. Their school clothes were replaced with shining white armor of different kinds. Once again her friends were on her side, and feeling the magical connection she had with them all gave her peace. The peace was short lived though, as she heard an ear splitting screech from where Lila had been standing. Lila was still there, but she was now in tattered clothes, her head and arms stuck in magical stocks. From her stocks a flyer was hung, with her name and misdeeds displayed for all to see. 

Lila Rossi: 

Liar - Conspirator - Harasser - Villain

Lila struggled and cursed and threatened, jerking and thrashing as she tried to escape the confines of the stocks. Even under the influence of the magic macarons, the classmates and teachers looked at Lila with disappointment and pity. All they could do was shake their heads at the pitiful display in front of them before turning to look at Princess Justice. Getting down on one knee, those around her bowed their heads in respect. 

“Rise, my dear knights,” she made a motion with her hand and in unison, everyone stood. “I need two of you to move this misguided soul to the front of the school, to let everyone know of her misdeeds so that her injustice is put on display and she can no longer hurt anyone with her lies,” Princess Justice chose to ignore Lila’s increased rage. The blue inferno that surrounded her only grew larger and hotter. “Everyone else, let us--” 

There was the sound of glass breaking as a black streak tumbled into the room. It didn’t take long for it to be evident that it was Chat Noir who had crashed in. Princess Justice didn’t have time to think as his baton extended outward quickly in her direction, intent on knocking her down. With reflexes that came only from being Ladybug for so long, she knocked his attack away with her scepter and stepped to the side, a frown on her face. 

“Chat Noir,” she spoke, her voice the same calm tone as before, only slightly laced with disappointment, “I was so excited to see you again, yet you attacked me before even saying hello? That’s not very charming of you.” 

Chat Noir stood, his expression pained but determined, “Marinette, please,” he begged, “I don’t want to fight you. And I know Ladybug doesn’t want to either.” 

For the first time since she had become Princess Justice, she felt a brief flash of rage. How dare someone assume what she would have wanted? That was all anyone ever did, pretend that they knew her and her intentions. Her voice was laced with malice, despite still remaining an even tone, “I’m not worried about Ladybug stopping me, she can’t. Not anymore.” 

The conflicted look on Chat’s face only got worse at those words, not sure what to think or how to feel. Princess Justice found herself confused by that. Sure Chat had helped her occasionally, and did know her civilian name, but there was no reason for him to be so conflicted. He’d never seemed so serious before. There had to be something more to this. That’s when she noticed the flame at his chest. She was surprised by the slightly larger than average flame, but it wasn’t hot. A flame of one who had hurt others unknowingly. A flame she had just seen a moment ago in a classmate. With a glance around the room she realized that classmate was not among her ranks and it all clicked together. 

This train of thought took only a second or two, and Princess Justice felt her rage disappear as quickly as it had come. She felt her gaze soften, which only confused the feline hero in front of her even further. 

“What did you do to Ladybug?!” Chat Noir cried, desperately trying to stay focused on the fact that Marinette was now a villain and he would undoubtedly have to defeat her. 

“Oh kitty,” Princess Justice whispered, stepping slowly towards Chat while the knights around her remained on guard, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. Chat stepped back, baton at the ready but obviously not intent on using it. She stopped a little bit in front of him, leaning forwards slightly and smiling gently. She dropped her voice to a whisper so no one else could hear, and said three words that nearly brought Chat Noir to his knees: 

“I was Ladybug.”

-----

taglist:  @fandom-trapped-03 , @justafanwarrior , @ultimatetornshipper , 

I know i’m missing someone for the taglist but i’m to worst and lost the message to be added :( so if you want to be added in future updates, just comment and i’ll be happy to add you! 

[silverwhiteraven]

Wings of Broken White - Ch.8

Tag List: @marichatmay

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 7 ] [ Chapter 9 ]

Marinette and Chat Blanc continued to see each other sporadically after their midnight meeting full of emotional rollercoastering and winged secrets. He had told Ladybug about it a few days after, leaving out the part about Marinette’s revealing of having wings. It made her heart skip to know that he would keep a secret that wasn’t his to tell even if he didn’t have to. Ladybug thanked him for being honest with her and told him to be careful, but she was happy he got the chance to spread his wings around another friend.

Ladybug also offered to increase their patrols together if he ever wanted to practice flying with her. She even teasingly said something along the lines of them both needing the benefit of practicing with each other, just in case they ever had to have each other’s backs during a fight in the skies. He accepted, looking giddy to get even more opportunities to fly with another. She also found it unfairly adorable when he joked that he wouldn't get jealous if she wanted to fly around with one of her own civilian friends.

The two even thought about the possibility of some day both flying with their civilian friends together. Ladybug had to hide her giggle at the thought that she might have to break the news that Ladybug and Marinette could never fly together, if this proposed group flight practice were to ever take place.

But Ladybug did confess to Chat Blanc, that if she were to ever choose a civilian to fly with, it would be either Nino Lahiffe or Alya Césaire, because if there was anyone besides Marinette Dupain-Cheng that was trustable, it had to be the people Marinette herself trusted most. Chat hardly held back on his approval of the choices, and it made her laugh to see his bright antics.

After that, several more months passed by the duo, and the world. School was nearing the end of another year. Akuma’s were just as rare and random as ever. Best of all, Chloé had continued to be reprimanded by an ever vigilant Adrien. She was starting to almost mellow out as the fact slowly sunk in that someone she cared about and who cared about her, too, was actually willing to go against her, and even leave her, because she was in the wrong.

All of this led up to an end of school project for their class.

The students were to work together in equal shares to put on a play, telling either one of the fairy tale stories they had studied in class, or one they made up on their own. Nino had proposed that they make a short movie out of the project so that the fruit of their joint efforts could be shared outside of class. The teacher thought the idea was brilliant, and gave them extra time and afterschool privileges to help them set up.

Marinette had been a little tired the day the class was assigning the roles. Her mind only half paid attention, causing her replies to be badly timed and delayed. Because of it, an interesting selection of character parts were assigned.

“Now, I know we’ve been delaying assigning the lead roles,” Nini spoke from where he stood at the front of the room, acting as one of the movie’s directors, “ but I wanted to make sure everyone knew what the other options were before a bunch of people tried to jump at being the Knight of the Princess. So let’s start. Any volunteers or votes for the Knight’s Princess?”

There was various various calls of names and a few ‘me!’s, and most of it all went over Marinette’s head. The only part that really registered was ‘votes for the Knight’, so Marinette half-heartedly pipped in, “Adrien could do it.”

The room went quiet and all eyes turned to her like she had just declared herself to be an Akuma or something. She blinked, wondering what she said.

Nino was the one to break the silence with a crooked and amused smile. “Marinette, you want Adrien to be the Princess?”

She gaped like a fish, realizing she had heard his earlier question completely and utterly wrong. She waved her arms around and she stuttered, trying, and failing, to clear away her mistake. She froze when Adrien burst out laughing, clearly not offended or even upset.

“Why not?” Adrien chuckled as he calmed. “Not the first time I’ve been told I’m pretty enough to be royalty. It would be a nice break from the cool-guy look I’ve been doing at photoshoots lately, too.”

The room started to buzz again with noise. It seemed everyone was considering it, liking the idea of breaking away from assigning a girl to be the Princess.

Alya pipped up above the others mischievously. “So if Adrien get’s to be the Princess, who’s taking the role of Knight? Another of the boys, or one of the girls? At this point, anyone can take the spot since we’ve decided to ignore traditional gender roles. Any volunteers?”

There was more discussion filling the room at that declaration, and a few people glanced at Chloé. She had probably been gunning for the role of Princess, but now she seemed to be pouting. “If Adrien is taking the lead role, then I still want a good one. But I refuse to be a smelly Knight! I’d rather be the King.” She stated decidedly, and the class chuckled and murmured their acceptance of her decision. They were happy to have her not throwing a fuss. It was rather refreshing, actually, to see her still being dramatic but cooperative with the class.

Murmurs continued as the class discussed the role of Knight. Marinette stayed out of it, too embarrassed that she might mess up again. It wasn’t long before Adrien hummed to himself and turned to her.

“Marinette? Would you like to be the Knight to my Princess?” She squeaked at the sudden proposal, and the class hushed. Adrien turned to the others, a small but confident smile on his lips. “She’s helped all of us in Akuma attacks before, right? Marinette acts the part of a Knight saving dames and damsels in distress naturally. I think she could do this, if she wants to, that is,” he adds with a reassuring glance. There wasa round of agreements from the others, before all eyes turned to her, breaths held in anticipation of her answer.

Retreating into the neckline of her oversized shirt to hide a fluster, she nodded her acceptance. There were a few excited woops, and Kim even whistled.

After that, all the roles and assignments for the project were set.

Marinette and Adrien were to be Knight and Princess. Chloé and Juleka took to the King and Queen. Kim and Ivan claimed a joint role of the Dragon for themselves. Rose volunteered to be the Evil Sorceress. Mylène wanted the role as the Knight’s Fairy Guide. Alix was to make props and set backgrounds in the art room. Nathaniel and Alya were the script-writers for the story. Max and Nino were on camera duty with the help of Markov. Sabrina was put in charge of coordinating, scheduling, and final edits.

Lastly, everyone was given two tasks as a group: First, if they had nothing to, they were to help their fellow classmates who were still working. And second, everyone pitches in for the costumes if they can.

Everything went surprisingly smoothly for their project once everything was divided up. Adrien got Chloé to pitch in for the costumes with him, both allowing their immense closets to be raided. Alya and Nino were able to check out cameras from the yearbook and photography clubs. Props became a group-effort when most of the class rather enjoyed, and got carried away with, the art room’s free to use supplies. Some of the musically inclined were putting together a playlist for mood and background music. Kim helped the cast members practice their lines, even standing in for a partner if someone wasn’t there.

It was fun, Marinette had to admit. Up until the inevitable hitch caught up to them, though.

The days of filming their project were upon them. The school’s courtyard had been commandeered for the majority of their sets, empty due to it being a weekend. Large green rolls of poster paper had been used like wallpaper, hung from the second floor banisters to act as a greenscreen. The stairs got covered in painted cardboard so they would look like castle walls and towers from the side.

The entrance to the school was left clear, since the class had deemed it worthy to be its own set background twice over. The first was to act as the front gate to the King and Queen’s castle for the opening scene outside. The second would be from the inside, doors closed and covered with curtains to make it look like the inside of a Great Hall. To give the makeshift Great Hall its finishing touch, Chloé had ‘borrowed’ the fancy chair from her Father’s office to act as a throne.

All in all, things went great. The story and filming opened with the Knight, Marinette, decked out in painted cardboard and foam armor, returning from a mission in another country. He was summoned by the King and Queen immediately upon arrival, to be told that the Princess, Adrien, had been cursed and kidnapped by the Evil Sorceress. To their credit, Juleka and Chloé actually did an amazing job of acting and looking like emotionally distressed parents who just lost their daughter. And when they did a flashback scene in one of the classrooms, Rose proved to be one scary Evil Sorceress with Adrien a perfect damsel in distress. They did have to redo the scene several times, though, because the Queen, Juleka, was having trouble not looking like she wished she was being kidnapped by a very pretty girl instead.

The Fairy Guide, Mylène, was then called forth to help assist the Knight in tracking down the Evil Sorceress and navigate through the Magic Woods. This part took a mix of walking along the makeshift greenscreen wall multiple times and actually going out to a few of the parks around Paris. They had to admit to themselves, though, that they mostly just wanted to run around in-costume and have fun, as well as eat a picnic that Alya’s mother and Marinette’s father had both contributed to after hearing about the project.

It was the pre-rescue battle scene that caused the hiccup. The class artists had done a too-good job on the two-person costume of their Dragon. Kim sat upon Ivan’s shoulders, allowing the Dragon to have an impressive two and a half metre height from head to ground. Kim was also very set on being very animated and expressive with the Dragon, so the mouth, full of sharp paper mache fangs, opened and closed at his command while he threw glitter out like it was fire. Ivan controlled the legs, wings, and body, which all had moving parts for mobility. The legs were strapped to his own, so they walked and stepped when he did. The wings were controlled by Ivan’s Raven wings, allowing them to move realistically. Kim, acting as the neck, would twist around, and Ivan, needing to keep balance, would follow his movements, causing the whole dragon to lumber around and sway like it was alive.

The Fairy Guide, Mylène, couldn't bring herself to face the Dragon at all, let alone appear on set with it. What really took them off guard, however, was the Akuma that came along as the class was gathered around Mylène.

[crystalstar8]

Knights of the Night (Epilogue 2)

Epilogue 2

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12, ch 13, ch 14, ch 15, ch 16, ch 17, ch 18, ch 19, ch 20, ch 21, ch 22, ch 23, epilogue, epilogue 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,053

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France, human trafficking

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j  @daechwitad-2​ @zobadak​ @fallenstar-7​​​

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing...

Jungkook was waiting for her outside the building, a rose in his hand. Catalina’s nose scrunched into a smile as she skipped down the stone steps.

France was overwhelming; the architecture everywhere was ancient and beautiful, and the history was fascinating and rich. The people were a bit rude, especially once they realized they were Americans. They were only a bit more forgiving when Namjoon, Taehyung, and Yoongi showed off their fluent French.

The theater Catalina had her audition in was stunning. The outside was all white columns and friezes, the inside was mosaic tiled floors and painted ceilings.

               When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she dropped her dance bag and threw herself into Jungkook’s arms.

               “You got me a rose?” she asked, leaning back just enough to look at the rose in his hand.

               “Of course I got you a rose,” he said. “You think I’d let you step out of an audition without a rose?”  

               Catalina giggled and took the flower from him.

               “How did it go? Did you get in?” he asked.

               “I don’t know yet,” said Catalina. “They’re going to do callbacks in a few days.”

               “Good thing we’re staying for a while,” said Jungkook.

               “But honestly, it doesn’t matter if I get in or not,” said Catalina. “There’s always next year. And There’s always plenty of shows.”

               “Yeah, you have all the time in the world,” said Jungkook. He stared at her for a moment, then whispered, “I want you to turn me.”

               “Oh yeah?” Catalina asked. She had been waiting for this. She knew that he was worried about aging without her, she could see it his eyes sometimes when they went to bed together, knowing she wouldn’t fall asleep. She especially saw it on his birthday. “You’re still young.”

               “I know, but I’m already the same age as you now,” he said.

               “Oh no! You’re the same age as me! You basically have one foot in the grave already!” Catalina giggled.  “You should take your time. You get hotter every year. Let yourself ripen a bit before doing this.”

               He laughed loudly and tugged her closer.

               “That’s true,” he said.

               “Wait until we both graduate,” said Catalina. “We can talk then.”

               “You’re pulling an Edward on me?” he said. “Next thing I know, it’ll be, ‘wait until we’re married’.”

               Catalina giggled and swatted his arm. “You’re being a baby.”

               “I know. I’m kidding,” he said. “I can wait.”

               “Besides, we need time to explore the wonders of blood drinking during sex,” she said. “Did you know there’s aphrodisiacs in the venom when you drink from someone? It’s supposed to make them pliant, but it doesn’t turn them into a vampire.”

               “That sounds hot,” said Jungkook. “Also, I am a fan of being manhandled. I’m not ready for that to end just yet.”

               “I know. We might need a chaperone though,” she said, tapping her chin. “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop once I got started. You smell way too good.”

               “We have plenty of time to work out the specifics,” said Jungkook. “I need time to get hotter each year, so we’ll figure it out.”

               They both laughed as they went to the car waiting for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~

               Taehyung loved the Louvre. It was like a dream come true, wandering the unending corridors, seeing all the classics he’s idolized for hundreds of years.

               “Taehyungie, what’s this one called?” Jimin asked. His hand was covering the informational plaque under a series of paintings depicting a man looking at a celestial globe. Jimin had been doing this for hours, but Taehyung didn’t mind. He loved sharing what he knew about all his favorite pieces.

               “That’s ‘The Astronomer’, by Vermeer,” said Taehyung. Jimin smiled and strolled ahead down the corridor, in search of his next quiz. It was a weekday, so the museum wasn’t very busy. There was a tour group of young students, which Taehyung and Jimin ran into a few times, but otherwise there were only a few stray artists wandering around doing sketches of the statues.

               In the back of his mind, Taehyung knew that the rest of their group was supposed to meet them here at some point, but Taehyung and Jimin were so far into the maze of art that he wouldn’t even know how to direct them once they arrived. He wasn’t worried about it either. He was having too much fun with Jimin to care about the others right now.

               Every moment spent with Jimin was special to him. He still couldn’t believe sometimes how quickly Jimin had reassured and forgiven Taehyung; he was so sure Jimin would hate him for making that decision for him. And while Jimin was struggling getting used to his new life, he made it clear that he was thankful to be alive, that he was excited to spend forever with Taehyung.

               “What about this one?” Jimin asked. Taehyung strolled over to look at what painting Jimin was at.

               “‘St. Michael Vanquishing Satan’,” said Taehyung. “Raphael.”

               Jimin continued down the hall, eyes flitting across each painting. Taehyung was most excited to see David; he heard that the statue was way bigger in person than one would expect.

               Taehyung stopped. The painting he was looking at made his eyes widen and his mouth fall open. The plaque said that the artist was unknown. Jimin must have noticed that Taehyung had stopped moving, because he wandered over, letting out a gasp when he saw the painting.

               They didn’t say anything for a while. The school group wandered past behind them, the children’s voices bouncing off the stone walls.

               “Hey, that guy looks just like you!” a voice shouted from behind them. Jimin turned around to talk with the girl, who was pointing at Taehyung. Taehyung didn’t take his eyes off the picture though. He felt a tear roll down his face.

               “Can I take a picture of you with that painting?” the little girl asked. Taehyung wiped the tear from his cheek and nodded, turning around to face the girl. She lifted her phone and snapped a picture. She gave them a toothy smile before running to catch up with her classmates.

               “Is this Adrianna’s work?” Jimin asked. Taehyung nodded. He turned back around to stare at the painting of himself with his dog.

.

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.

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A/N:

And that’s a wrap! Thank you to everyone reading this and sticking with me during this story. Reading the comments was my favorite part of this journey. 

This story is officially novel length! I’ve never accomplished that before with a complete work! I’ll be posting this story on Wattpad, and I’m also thinking of changing names and adding scenes to make this a publishable work, so keep your eyes out for updates on that!

[cornholio4]

United Heroez: Spideybug

Okay I finally saw the New York Special after seeing my recording of it; honestly yeah I think I did like it despite the many flaws. Did Damocles seriously think he was going to join in an actual supervillain fight? Alya and Nino and their plan with Aeon and Jess... Seriously go check out Confrontation by ChaoticNeutral on AO3 and Nobodyfamousposts on Tumblr. Plus why are there no Spider-Man crossovers before this involving the special? I am not just saying this hoping that it would lead to the stupid Maribat craze to die down (I will keep saying that I don't see Marinette even TOLERATING the actual canon Damian Wayne let alone dating him). Plus as before the special I am open to the idea of Marinette X Jess and if I get any ideas I may try it myself. Like how about Jess hearing Marinette speak of how cool that she thinks Sparrow is.

Also I will get this off my chest now: sorry Aeon but the best robotic girl in animation will always be Penny Polendina from RWBY.

Aeon the robotic superhero secret known as Uncanny Valley was with her best friends and sister figure Jessica "Jess" Keynes (secretly the Superhero sidekick Sparrow) in the museum as they were about to enact the plan that they had came up with along with the visiting French students Alya Cesaire and Nino Lahiffe. They had wanted to bring their friends Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Adrien Agreste together and Aeon not long after noticing them had decided that they were perfect together and Jess was going along with it for the fun.

Jess was looking towards the nearly empty exhibit room to see Adrien and Marinette there but her eyes opened and stopped Aeon before she could hack into the electric outlet. Jess pointed a happy looking brown haired teenage boy go up to Marinette and she was equally happy to see them as they embraced.

"Looks like our fellow young hero has met Marinette himself..." Aeon whispered to her and they both knew who it was, it was a shy teenager who went to the local school for gifted science students by the name of Peter Parker. They both knew that he had spider powers and was using Web-Shooters that he had created along with a suit to fight crime as Spider-Man for the past year.

Peter thought that no one knew that he was Spider-Man (not wanting his Aunt May to get worried especially after losing Peter's Uncle Ben) but the truth is that the both of them along with Jess' mother Barbara Keynes (secretly the superhero Knightowl) and Aeon's mother Olympia Hill (secretly the superhero Majestia) both had figured it out. It was not really that hard to figure it out especially since just after the news of his uncle's murder, the murderer was the first criminal that Spider-Man had caught and started being a hero afterwards. The four of them were basically humouring him and honestly Jess wondered how his classmates hadn't figured it out already.

Jess admired Peter for being Spider-Man and his own hero her age without having to be a sidekick to someone else, not having to wait until partners are called before they could help out. Barbara was not exactly thrilled to let him go forth unsupervised but Olympia told them to let the young hero figure out his own path and they would step in if he really needed it.

They looked and saw Marinette introduce Peter to Adrian as her pen pal friend and they both blinked vaguely remembering that Marinette brought up having visited the US with her family on vacation the previous year and had met someone her age there. So it turned out to be Peter...

They both blinked when they saw that Peter and Marinette's faces were red and they both wondered if there would be something between them and it seemed that Adrien noticed as well. He offered to leave them alone, "So should we as they say pull the plug on this plan I believe that I made an error before and I can say that Marinette and Peter are perfect together." Aeon asked and Jess gave a big nod, there is no point now as faking a villain attack would just mean that Peter will go to change into being Spider-Man and be the knight in shining armor.

However to their surprise coming in was Techno Pirate who somehow escaped, they had to transform to deal with them and soon enough there was Spider-Man and then Ladybug? Then Chat Noir. "Why hello there Ladybug, nice to see Paris' greatest hero. I am honoured to be your first American team up here with my buddies Sparrow and Uncanny Valley." Peter said as Spider-Man as Ladybug giggled.

Aeon and Jess noticed how formal the two interacted and both realised who must be happening, Marinette had to be Ladybug and she knew that Peter was Spider-Man and vice versa.

This took a turn for the bizarre...

After a long adventure (that culminated in stopping a possible third World War and Jess gaining a new identity with the Eagle Miraculous), Aeon and Jess were spotting Peter and Marinette embrace while saying goodbye to eachother, there were their classmates and they both noticed Nino and Alya looking disappointed. Then there were their moms coming next to them to watch and there was some huffing from Barbara.

There was Peter before webbing up her helmet's vision to give Ladybug and Chat Noir time to make their escape when she had demanded that they surrender the source of their powers for the remainder of the trip. Jess and Barbara however had some amusement with the disappointed look on the face of Olympia who they knew considered trying to hoop Aeon up with Peter due to seeing what a brave and bright boy he was.

[twistinghearts]

Hi! Can i please request a fluffy/ funny imagine with Malleus X fem mc who wants to talk to him/ ask him out and approach him but ends up either embarrassing herself (tripping over/ biting her tongue) or stalking him(not in a creepy way just tailing him to find a way to talk to him)? Thanks a lot:)

How does one talk to a boy? Especially when that boy was status wise way out of your league, way out of your height zone, a little bit scary and never alone! Talking to people first was never your strong suit and it felt like everything about Malleus made it even harder to approach him. Yet you still wanted to, you wanted him to know how you felt, how he was constantly on your mind. It might be the only way to get him off it. You told yourself the next time you spotted him alone you would approach him. 

It didn’t take too long  for you to find him one day participating in his club activities. While you weren’t planning to back down, it did take you a little while to work up the courage so you simply followed him for a bit; being sneaky of course. It wouldn’t end well if he spotted you before you were ready. Just as you were about to pop out of the tree you were hiding behind you felt someone pull you to the ground. “Why are you following Malleus-sama! What are you planning! Out with it!” Sebek shouted, as he always did. “I-i- jus-st.. w-well…” You stuttered out, basically shaking. You were so close, why did he have to yell at you too. You didn’t even get a chance to do anything!  “Look over there!” You yelled, pointing in a direction. Sebek’s head turned and you scrambled away, running full speed all the way back to your dorm. It didn’t seem like he followed you. 

It took about a week for Sebek to stop glaring you down anytime he noticed your presence. You were grateful he didn’t push for information about what happened. You could only hope he hadn’t told Malleus either.  Now that Sebek was less agitated you decided to try again, this time waiting for a moment when Malleus was alone with Silver. You spotted them one day tucked away in the corner of the library, and decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Clutching your books tightly to your chest you strolled over, a bit of excitement boiling inside you put a spring in your step. A bit too much of a spring as your bouncy walking caused your chin to smack into the top of the textbook you clung too, your tongue getting pinched between your teeth in the process. You let out a gasp from the pain, but you could still do this. “Helow” 

Oh no. 

The sleepy knight shifted, sitting up straighter to try and seem more alert. “Do you need something?” He asked, as Malleus raised is head. “If you’re going to ask for me to grab a book off the top shelf the answer is no. I’m trying to study.” He had enjoyed the attention at first but now it was just a nuisance. “Noo, noo��� I juth wanned to s-sawy… I liewk yowr… ah.” You started but between the shaking of your voice and the slurred speech from your hurt tongue neither were able to understand you. Silver rose a brow glancing from you to Malleus. “You’ll need to come back another time… we’re studying.” Silver stated hoping you would leave. He felt a little bad but it was a job to keep people from bothering the young master. Despite how it shattered your courage to hear that, it was probably for the best. “S-sowwy..” You gave a bow before scurrying off once again defeated. 

With two attempts down, maybe the third one would be the charm? You figured out by this point that talking wasn’t your thing so you decided to try a different approach and confess in a love letter! It took you a while to write it, after all it had to convey your feelings, but you also didn’t want it to sound too desperate or be too personal since his guards might read it. Finally it was done, a lovely handwritten letter on some light green paper. You even doodled a little gargoyle, bat looking creature and some hearts on it. Now the next step was to deliver it. You didn’t think you could work up the courage to approach him directly and have it go wrong again, so you decided to leave it on his desk to see. With the professor's permission you left the letter on the desk and left to go to your own class. You returned later that day to ask Trein what happened, “Yes, Lilia picked up the letter.   He seemed quite pleased when reading it… I wish you the best of luck however do not let your relationship get in the way of your studies.” You honestly didn’t fully process the second half of what Trein said. Lilia picked up the letter… you got the wrong desk so LILIA got your love note. You wanted to die all over again, of course you hadn’t written a name on the envelope. Now you absolutely had to avoid them… now that Lilia knew your feelings, and you had upset his other retainers. 

Well you could still love Malleus in your heart… this was fine.... 

The next time you encountered the Diasomnia crew was one day at lunch, and it wouldn’t have been an encounter if you hadn’t tripped on something right in front of their table! “Oh no! Are you okay hun?” Lilia’s voice called out, as he moved his leg back under the table. “Malleus, will you take them to the infirmary?” You remained frozen on the floor at Lilia’s suggestion. Maybe if you were still enough you would just disappear. “No, the young master should not be troubled with such things. Silver can-” Sebek started. “No.” Lilia answered coldly. “This is a good opportunity to show your kind side and bond with a fellow classmate.”  Noting how determined Lilia seemed about this Malleus agreed and lifted you from the floor. Before you could protest you felt Lilia tuck your hair behind your ear and whisper, “Don’t protest. This is your chance to tell him how you feel.” He gave a wink as he pulled back and finished dusting some of the food off you. “You look rather faint. You can lean on me.” Malleus offered, his arm slipping around you as the two of you headed off. 

It was a long quiet walk as there was not much to say, besides your heart was beating too loud for you to think. You were sure he could hear it. “Thank you… for walking me.” You muttered as you finally got to the door. “Of course. Lilia seemed insistent on it after all.” Twiddling your thumbs. You didn’t want him to go just yet but there was no reason for him to stay.

“You have something you wish to tell me don’t you?” Malleus crossed his arms, “We cannot be interrupted now after all.” 

How did he know? Well then again your failed attempts kind of gave it away. “I do… Malleus.. I…” You took a deep breath before raising your head and summoning all your courage you yelled. “I REALLY LIKE YOU MALLEUS!!” 

There he had to have heard that, you did it! However Malleus just stared at you blankly as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Did he not hear you somehow? Or worse was he simply unimpressed with your confession and all hope of being with him was gone? You felt like you were about to cry everything was working against you wasn’t it. Before the tears in your eyes could spill over you felt his hand rest upon your head a soft smile on his face as he looked down at you. “I was merely teasing, little one. Fufu~ I heard you just fine.” You couldn’t help but start crying anyway, and so Malleus just held you until you were ready to hear his answer.