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veephoenix · 11 months ago

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the unmaking of a warrior | epilogue pt. 1

word count: 17k | reading time: 1h aprox. | series masterpost | my works ✨

Tags & trigger warnings: this takes place 2 years after the previous events; established relationship; noah & reader are married; fluff; sexual content including p in v (unprotected), creampies, masturbation (not on page), breeding kink, mentioned shibari practices; thoughts/feelings related to fertility issues; pregnancy; childbirth; dad!noah; angst; cliffhanger. — I'm sure I'm forgetting a bunch of things because this is super long and there's a lot going on. I'll keep updating it, but please do let me know if you notice I forgot sth.

This entire thingy is dedicated to @somebodyels3. Needless to say, this epilogue is 17k and not 3k because of her endless ideas and permanent brainrot. I'm forever grateful for your constant messaging and obssessive behavior towards samurai!noah. This fic is exactly what happens when readers reach out to writers 💕🥹

Thank you to all of you for reading and giving my writing a chance. I'm so happy how this turned out.

Author's note: writing this entire thing was a journey on its own. It's super long so I've divided it into "pages" (11), to make it easier to follow in case you need to take breaks or can't read it all at once :) Also, I've revised it a couple of times but my brain is mush now. Oh, and I have 0 experience with pregnancy and delivering a baby so please bear with me, I did my best 🫣

THE UNMAKING OF A WARRIOR — EPILOGUE PART 1

— page one

2 years later

I knew I was ready when I saw Noah coming down the steps from the training grounds, carrying a little girl in his arms.

She couldn’t have been more than three or four years old.

While it wasn’t unusual for parents at the sanctuary to introduce their children to defense and archery at a young age, this little girl seemed far too small. I didn’t recognize her, but she looked completely at ease in Noah’s arms as he made funny faces at her.

A light breeze blew through that spring day, and the sun graced us with a gentle warmth. The girl had her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, but Noah, whose hair had grown to his shoulders since his last haircut the previous summer, hadn’t bothered to tie his own back. When a gust of wind rustled the trees, it caught his hair too. His strands swept across the little girl’s face, and she scrunched up her nose, leaning back in his arms and closing her eyes, her hands flying up to shield her face.

“Sorry,” Noah said, stiffling a laugh.

“It tickles!” she giggled.

“I lost my hair tie,” Noah explained.

Moving her hands away from her face, she sweetly offered,

“I can lend you one.”

“That would be very kind of you,” he said, tapping her nose playfully.

Her response was a bright smile, followed by her resting her head on his shoulder, settling in comfortably.

Noah noticed me, then.

“Oh, hello, love.”

I was still in my training suit and gloves, having just finished an archery session. I had stayed a few minutes longer to chat with Rika before heading home.

“Hi,” I replied automatically, my mind elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern as he quickly scanned me to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

The girl glanced at me shyly, clearly unsure who I was.

Noah called my name, snapping me back to reality.

“Hm?”

“Is something wrong? Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Oh,” I stammered, “yeah, must be from training. I’m fine.” I smiled, but Noah didn’t seem convinced, studying me with a raised eyebrow—until a soft voice interrupted.

“She’s pretty.”

Noah and I both looked down at the little girl in his arms, who was comfortably settled against him, with one of his arms holding her easily—though that was no surprise, given how small she was and that he stood at 6’3”.

“She is,” Noah agreed, smiling down at her and then at me. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

If I was already blushing before, I was blushing more now. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Embarrassed in front of a girl? Or was it because seeing her in my husband’s arms awakened something in me?

Obviously, it was the latter, and even if I didn’t say anything explicitly, it didn’t go unnoticed by Noah, of course.

“This is Lila. Her parents want to know if she’d like to learn to train, but she’s still very little, so they’ve let her watch one of the trainings. She’s tired and hungry now, so I’m taking her home. Thomas has been left in charge of the group until I get back.”

When he touched my cheek (for his own amusement because my reaction was obviously amusing him), he watched me with an intensity that made me clench my thighs. Noah leaned over and left me a kiss on my wrist after assuring me that we would meet in the common dining room at lunchtime.

— page two

I couldn’t stop thinking about it since that moment. The realization lingered in my mind, and throughout the day, it haunted me like a secret I was too embarrassed to admit—even to myself.

I wanted to be a mother. I wanted Noah and I to become parents, to bring a life into this world that was a part of both of us. I imagined a little one, a perfect blend of Noah and me, running through the gardens, learning to wield a bow or defend him or herself with a sword, just like their mother and father.

At lunch, a swarm of butterflies fluttered wildly in my stomach, their wings beating in rhythm with the thought of Noah getting me pregnant. My hands trembled slightly as I held my chopsticks, moving them aimlessly across my plate.

“You’re very quiet today,” Noah observed, his voice soft yet curious.

I glanced up at him, caught off guard. His eyes, filled with a mix of curiosity and amusement, met mine. The faintest smile played at the corner of his lips, as if he knew I was hiding something.

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” he teased gently.

“Nothing special,” I replied quickly, lowering my gaze to my plate.

“Nothing special?” he repeated, not convinced by my response.

“No, nothing,” I insisted, shaking my head, hoping to divert the conversation. But Noah wasn’t so easily deterred.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with your reaction when you saw Lila in my arms, would it?” he asked, his voice laced with a knowing tone.

I felt my cheeks flush. “What? No, of course not.”

“Are you sure you’re not having any thoughts about… us?” He leaned across the table, lowering his voice to a whisper, “About me… emptying myself inside of you?”

“Noah!” I hissed, glancing around quickly to ensure no one could hear. My face grew even warmer, and I looked away, mortified.

Noah’s expression softened the moment he noticed my hesitation, his usual playful smile giving way to something more thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes searching mine, the stillness between us broken only by the quiet rustle of leaves in the wind filtering through the open gates and windows.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, leaning forward over the low table that separated us in the dining room. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, carried in by the breeze that swept through the open doors, revealing the stunning view of the distant mountains. The sacred sanctuary where we had made our home over the past two years was nestled deep within the heart of the Japanese wilderness. These mountains had become our refuge, our place of peace after years of turmoil and uncertainty.

I swallowed, feeling the weight of my own silence. My mind raced.

“Maybe,” I whispered finally, staring down at the uneaten rice in my bowl.

“Maybe?” he echoed, lifting a brow.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, glancing out at the garden where the soft glow of the sun bathed the wildflowers in golden light. The deer that roamed freely here, so at ease with us, grazed quietly in the distance. “I saw you with Lila earlier… and something shifted.”

Noah studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Okay…” His voice trailed off, his gaze still lingering on my face as if he were piecing together my unspoken thoughts. “Should we talk about it?”

“Can we finish eating first?” I asked softly. “And then take a walk?”

He agreed with a small nod.

After eating, we wandered through the gardens that stretched out beneath the towering peaks. The trees swayed gently, their branches heavy with late autumn leaves, casting long shadows in the fading light. This sanctuary was the life we had dreamed of since childhood, free from the constant pressure of being a born the daughter of a Shogun and a Samurai bound by honor and duty.

Yet, as we walked, my thoughts were anything but peaceful. The gardens, the scent of pine and mountain air, even the distant sound of water trickling from the springs—they all blurred into the background. My hand fidgeted at my sides. I couldn’t bring myself to hold Noah’s hand. His silence only added to the tension, until finally, after several minutes, he stopped.

Noah took my hand, forcing me to halt beside him.

“You can’t stop thinking about it,” he acknowledged quietly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. He didn’t need to say more; we both knew what he meant. We had been dancing around this conversation for months now, maybe even years, but it had never gone beyond the idea that it would happen… one day.

I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. We had survived so much together, ever since we were children. But this? This next step had me edgy.

Noah stepped closer, his broad shoulders blocking out the last rays of the sun as it dipped behind the mountains. His presence was strong, reassuring, as it had always been.

“You’re right: I can’t,” I admitted. “It’s been in my head every since this morning.

“Then don’t treat it like it’s nothing,” he urged. The weight of his words hit me hard, making my breath hitch.

I opened my mouth to speak, but for a moment, nothing came out. Then, I said,

“I want it, Noah,” I confessed, my voice trembling as I looked up into his eyes. “I want us to have a family. I want a baby. But I’m scared.”

He cupped my cheek with his roughened hand, the warmth of his touch grounding me. “Scared of what? Carrying our child? Of the journey? Of the future?”

“All of it,” I whispered. “But mostly… I’m scared I won’t know how to be a mother.”

I dropped my gaze, my fingers twisting anxiously in the fabric of my sleeve.

“I grew up in a palace, surrounded by rules, discipline, and duty. My mother… she was so distant, always the perfect wife to my father, the Shogun. But never my mother,” a loud sigh escaped my lips. “And my father… well, you know what he was like. The Shogun never had time for his daughter’s needs, only for his ruler’s duties. I was never shown love, not the kind I imagine a mother or a father should give.”

Noah’s hand paused for a second as he absorbed my words. His thumb traced a tender line along my skin, a soft contrast to the roughness of his palm.

“I understand,” he said quietly, his voice steady. “It wasn’t easy for you, living like that. So much expectation, and so little warmth.”

I bit my lip, the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

“How can I be any different? What if I make the same mistakes? I’ve never been shown how to love a child. What if I end up like my mother… cold, distant, too concerned with doing things ‘right’ to actually love?”

He shifted closer, his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my neck, his grip both grounding and protective.

“You won’t,” he said, his voice certain. “You already know how to love, even though you never saw it from them.” His eyes searched mine, unwavering. “Look at how you love me.”

I blinked, stunned by the simplicity of his words.

“You had nothing to guide you, no real example,” he continued, his gaze holding mine steady, “yet you love me with a strength I never thought I deserved. You’ve given me more than I ever dreamed of, and I know that same love will pour into our child. You didn’t learn love from your parents, but somehow, you’ve always known how to give it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

“But you’re different, Noah. You’re not a child. You don’t need me the way a child would. What if I can’t…”

He shook his head, his hand moving to cradle my face again.

“No. You didn’t just find a way to love me. You made me believe in it. If you can do that—show someone like me, who’s spent his life in war, discipline, and hardship, what love really is—you can do anything. And you won’t be alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

I closed my eyes, leaning into him, trying to absorb his calm certainty.

“But I don’t want to lose myself. I don’t want to become so wrapped up in expectations or doing everything right that I forget how to feel.”

Noah’s hand stayed firm, steady.

“That won’t happen. You’re stronger than you think, and more loving than you give yourself credit for. If we do this, we do it our way. Not the way you were raised, not the way your father would have expected. We’ll make our own path, just like we have ever since we left that castle.”

His words wrapped around me like a protective barrier, pushing back the fear that had held me in place for so long.

His eyes softened, and he smiled.

“You’ve already done the hard part: You escaped that world, found your own way. If you could only see the woman standing in front of me… You’re more than capable of being the kind of mother you want to be. And whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. That’s all that matters.”

I swallowed hard, feeling a wave of emotion crash over me.

“Is it really that simple?”

Noah’s lips curled and his eyes glimmered with something deeper than love—hope.

“It won’t be simple. But we’ll make mistakes and learn. You’ll show our child the kind of love you never had, and I’ll be by your side through it all, doing the same.”

His hand rested over my heart, where it beat fast beneath his touch.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he confessed. “You, carrying our baby, your belly growing with each day, and you—so radiant it’s like you’re lit from within.”

I scrunched my nose, fighting a smile.

“Radiant, huh?”

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Like nothing else in the world.”

He stepped closer and reached down to pluck a small daisy from the ground.

“I can already see it,” he continued, “you walking down this path, your belly sweet and round, a few flowers in your hair...” With a careful touch, he tucked the daisy behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Just like this. You’d be perfect,” he murmured, his hand brushing against my cheek as he pulled back. “When you’re ready,” Noah concluded, “I am too.”

When we returned, the sky had darkened, and the streets were alive with the quiet activity of the townsfolk. We made our way home, walking over the cobblestone streets and exchanging evening greetings with neighbors lounging on their porches. As we approached our house, the familiar warmth of its wooden walls and the soft flicker of lantern light welcomed us. The building was newly finished, larger than the first one we had been assigned, and tucked away from the busier center of the sanctuary. It stood in a peaceful corner with a few other homes nearby, offering enough space for a growing family—three or four children could easily fill its rooms.

I could feel Noah’s presence behind me as we stepped into our room. I needed space, time to process what we had talked about, and Noah—being Noah—seemed to understand that without needing to say a word.

I moved slowly, undressing in the quiet of the room.

The fabric of my robe slipped from my shoulders, falling to the floor with barely a sound. I could feel his gaze on me, warm, but he didn’t say anything. He simply watched me with a quiet patience, his expression soft, thoughtful. Noah had always looked at me like I was something precious—something worth waiting for.

I didn’t rush either. The weight of the day lingered, but it wasn’t overwhelming anymore. It was just there—settled between us like a quiet understanding.

When I finally slipped into bed, Noah was already lying there. He didn’t reach for me right away. He just watched as I settled beside him, the cool sheets quickly warming beneath my body. For a moment, we both just lay there, listening to the sounds of the night—distant crickets, the faint rustle of leaves beyond the thin walls of the sanctuary.

Then, slowly, Noah’s arm draped over my waist, pulling me gently into the circle of his warmth. I pressed my back against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his heartbeat a soft, reassuring rhythm beneath my cheek.

I could feel his breath against my neck, soft and even, as if he, too, had found peace in the quiet. He made no move to do anything more, no hint of impatience or expectation. Instead, his body curled around mine, protective and comforting, and I let myself start to drift to sleep in his arms.

For so long, our lives had been filled with chaos—fleeing the expectations of a princess and a samurai, navigating the dangers of our forbidden love. And now, we were here, in this quiet, sacred place we had found together, where there was no rush, no fear chasing us. Just us, in the stillness of the mountains, knowing that we had all the time in the world.

Eventually, my eyes grew heavy, and I felt Noah shift slightly, his lips brushing softly against the back of my head in the gentlest of kisses.

— page three

A week later

Verbalizing my desire to become a mother seemed to have triggered the doubts and fears I had felt briefly when I discussed it with Noah the week before.

In the days that followed, I kept asking myself what would make me feel ready—what needed to change for me to take the next step.

The answer, I realized, was nothing. I was with Noah. We were married, happy. We had a home, and we were safe and healthy.

Still, it took me a few more days to actually say it out loud. It felt like if I didn’t speak up, Noah would wait forever, unwilling to take any steps until I clearly told him I was ready.

So one morning, shortly after we’d woken up, I stood in front of a full-length mirror wearing cotton shorts and a plain t-shirt. My hair was still messy, and my face showed signs of sleepiness, even though I had already washed up and tried to make myself presentable in the bathroom just minutes earlier. We had slept well. The night before had been exhausting, but Noah had coaxed me into sleep by spooning me, his fingers moving in soft circles between my legs until I came with a gasp. I don’t remember much after that—I must have drifted off to the sound of his breath against my ear.

As I stood there, I placed a hand over my stomach, imagining it. A smile crept onto my face, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear Noah approach until he was right behind me.

He wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me not only with his long limbs but with his familiar masculine, earthy scent. He had just shaved and was wearing his training suit. The only thing missing was his katana, resting on the bamboo stand across the room.

He pressed a kiss to my hair, waiting for my eyes to meet his in the mirror. I let out a long, heavy sigh. Before he could frown, I said,

“Okay. I’m ready.”

His eyes darkened with realization.

“You mean...?”

I took one of his hands and gently slid it down until it rested over my stomach. His hand was so large, his slender fingers covered most of it. The sight was both comforting and thrilling.

I bit my lip and nodded.

“Ready ready,” I whispered.

He stayed tense behind me for a moment, holding my gaze with a fierce determination. Finally, his shoulders relaxed, and he nuzzled my hair with his nose until his lips found my ear. His hand, which had been resting on my stomach, slid a little lower.

“Should we start like this?” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver through me. “With you standing in front of this mirror, naked?”

“I—”

“I can undress you in no time,” he promised. “Are you thinking about it? Me thrusting into you from behind until I spill inside of you?”

I bit my lip harder, my mind going fuzzy as my body weakened under his touch.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Without giving him a verbal answer, I rubbed myself against him, pressing my body into his, my derrière against his front.

He growled softly and nibbled at my earlobe.

“I can’t believe this is finally happening...” His teeth lingered on my earlobe as his hands tightened on my kimono. After a brief pause, he let go with a growl of frustration. “Lamentably, I need to be at the training grounds in five minutes. I’m in a bit of a rush.”

Right, so did I, and I was still in my pjs. I couldn’t help pouting a little.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” he said, stepping back and adjusting his pants. “You don’t deserve a rushed orgasm. You deserve to be given a sweet time.”

Sensible enough to aknowledge our agenda, I turned around and wrapped my hands around his neck, hanging from him as his arms came around my waist.

“Tonight,” I concluded, my voice low but content.

“How could I say no?” he said, and he leaned down to kiss me.

— page four

What turned into some sort of frenzy began that night.

Noah became increasingly determined to achieve his goal of getting me pregnant, even when there was a high chance it had already happened within the first few days, when we made love on every possible surface in the house.

The first time was in bed, though we had undressed each other hurriedly against the wall, his lips on mine, our hands exploring every inch of each other’s bodies. We had been building up to that moment all day—stealing glances whenever we spotted each other on the training grounds, brushing past each other whenever our paths crossed, each touch sparking the fire that smoldered between us. Finally, when we reached the privacy of our newly built home, nestled further up in the valley just a ten-minute walk from the center of the sanctuary, we let that tension consume us.

What began as a heated, passionate encounter soon slowed, Noah letting me have my way with him. I flipped him over, moving above him as he panted beneath me, his lips parted, hands roaming my body, worshipping every curve and imperfection.

Noah let me take control for a while, his desire evident, but as his hands tightened around my waist, he suddenly shifted, rolling us over until I was beneath him. His body was strong, and his gaze filled with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. Hovering above me, he held back, his muscles tense with restraint.

“May I?” he asked, his voice thick, barely controlled. His eyes searched mine, waiting for permission, much like a samurai would wait for his commander’s signal to strike, bound by a discipline that demanded patience, even in the face of raw need.

I could only nod at first, my lips parted, a breathless “yes” escaping me.

He moved with deliberate precision until finally, with a growl deep in his chest, he let go. His release surged into me, filling me up as he trembled against my body. I could feel the warmth of his seed coating my insides, settling deep within me.

When he tried to pull away, I placed my hands on his rear, my fingers gripping him tightly, keeping him pressed against me. His body was still, hot and heavy against mine, our breaths mingling in the charged air.

“Don’t,” I said softly, feeling the heat of him inside me. “It’s warm,” I added, the sensation grounding me, making me want to keep him there, connected.

He let out a low, guttural sound, somewhere between a growl and a groan. His eyes darkened further, the control he had just moments ago slipping away. The disciplined samurai had vanished, leaving behind a man driven by pure instinct and desire.

We lay there in silence, our eyes locked on each other, and after a few moments, I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“It’s getting so long,” I said, my voice light. “We’re going to have to do something about it soon.”

But even as I spoke, I could feel him stirring inside me again, ignoring my attempt at distracting him. His body had barely softened, and now he was already hardening once more, his breath catching, his gaze growing darker. Where moments before he’d held the controlled discipline of a warrior, now he was undone, overtaken by the primal urge.

It turned him on, breeding me.

I bit my lip, my own body reacting to the thought, a flush spreading through me.

“Not helping,” he muttered, his voice low and teasing, though the heat in his eyes said otherwise.

As I tightened around him, I felt Noah’s entire body tense. He groaned, his muscles flexing, a thick vein protruding from his neck as he fought for control. His jaw was set tight, teeth clenched, nostrils flaring, and a bead of sweat slid down his temple. The sight of him like this—on the edge of restraint, barely holding back—was intoxicating. It felt like the first time all over again, because this time, everything was different. He had never emptied himself inside me before, and the look on his face, etched with fierce desire and control, was a masterpiece.

I tightened around him again, deliberately, savoring the way his breath hitched, the way he dug his fingers into my hips just a little harder. He muttered my name in warning, his voice a low growl.

I didn’t care.

“I’m not scared,” I whispered, my voice steady and full of intent. “Fill me up. Again.”

And he did. Over and over. Night after night. In the mornings, in the evenings—sometimes we couldn’t wait until we got home.

On some days, we’d pack a simple lunch and walk to the quiet spot we’d found months ago, a little clearing not far from our house, near a peaceful pond. We’d spread a blanket under the shade of trees, surrounded by flowers and butterflies, and sometimes we’d forget what we’d even come there for, losing ourselves in each other instead, making love under an oak’s shadow.

Some nights, we’d go two, three rounds. The energy surprised me—how neither of us seemed tired despite everything we did for the sanctuary. Noah spent hours training, guiding both children and adults. His dedication showed not just in his skills but in his body. He was bigger now, his muscles thicker, his presence more commanding than ever. I taught archery, though not for as many hours, and when I wasn’t teaching, I’d help tend the animals or the gardens. But no matter how much we exerted ourselves throughout the day, the moment we stepped into our cozy home, all that energy seemed to refuel. We’d fall into each other, our hunger and desire stretching well into the night, neither of us ever quite ready to stop.

One of the last times, I’d been on all fours, my head hanging low, utterly spent after Noah had had his way with me, first by tying me up to his mercy then having me in that position. Noah was still behind me, his hands gripping my hips firmly, keeping me flush against him as he pulsed inside of me. His breathing was ragged, rough.

“Round three?” he asked, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on my skin, teasing me even though I was already undone.

I turned my head, looking at him over my shoulder. My skin was flushed pink, my hair a mess, my legs aching, my core sore from the intensity of it all. But I didn’t care. I wanted Noah. I wanted him to move inside me again. I wanted him to get me pregnant. I wanted to carry his child.

“Round three,” I whispered with a tired but eager smile.

He pulled out slowly, muttering a curse when he saw some of his release slip out of me. In one swift movement, he flipped me onto my back, positioning himself between my legs. Still on his knees, he grabbed the backs of my knees, lifting me slightly so my hips rested on his lap. His cock was already hard again, throbbing and ready. He didn’t waste time sliding back into me, thrusting deep with a rhythm that never failed to steal my breath.

Every movement was controlled and purposeful, and each time he drove into me, I felt the fire build inside again, spreading through me until I was trembling beneath him. When we finally finished, he pulled out carefully, his hand immediately moving to my hips to lift me higher, ensuring none of his release escaped. He wanted it deep inside me—he wanted it to take.

We stayed like that for what felt like forever, my hips elevated in his lap, his hand gently caressing my navel and lower belly. The room was silent, the air filled with the scent of our intercourse and sweat. Even as we lay there, naked and sticky, a flood of images washed over us. I could feel Noah thinking the same things I was.

We could see it—our future. Us, lying in bed with a tiny baby nestled between our bodies, Noah cradling our child to sleep, gently cooing him or her. I pictured myself breastfeeding in the comfort of our bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets, Noah watching from across the room, his eyes soft and filled with love. His gaze would be alight with that same tenderness he had now, but even more so, as we became a family.

This is what we wanted.

— page five

Weeks began to slip by, and with them came a quiet restlessness. I kept waiting for something—some sign, a shift within me that would hint at the pregnancy we were working so tirelessly for. But nothing came. The thought that there might be a problem, that maybe we couldn’t have children, was a worry I hadn’t wanted to entertain, yet it was growing, subtle but persistent, at the back of my mind.

Noah and I were still consumed by each other, our sex life as wild and frequent as ever. Nearly every day, we made love, keeping it thrilling and passionate. On special days, Noah would devote entire sessions to binding me in every possible way he knew—tying me up, restraining me from different angles, making me feel like each time was the first time all over again. Some of the orgasms were so intense that I completely forgot why we were doing it in the first place. That was the beauty of it—to create life without the pressure of it hanging over us. In those moments, we weren’t thinking about making a baby. We were simply focused on each other and the joy and pleasure we brought to what we had.

I couldn’t have asked for a better husband. Noah was everything—attentive, loving, adventurous—but still, a creeping fear began to gnaw at me. What if we got tired of this? What if the constant focus on sex eventually wore us down, eroding the very foundation of our relationship? I was afraid that one day we’d need a break—not just from trying to get pregnant, but from each other.

When that fear became too loud, I started taking time for myself in the afternoons. I’d leave the noise and bustle of the sanctuary behind, wandering deeper into the forest, away from everyone. I’d explore areas I hadn’t yet ventured into, discovering hidden corners where the trees grew thicker and the air smelled richer, heavy with the scent of earth and moss. It was peaceful out there, a quiet place where I could escape the pressure I felt building inside of me. I found comfort in the endless varieties of plants and flowers that grew around the sanctuary, as if the forest itself was alive with possibility and beauty, even when I felt uncertain.

On one particular day, I set out farther than usual, letting my feet carry me to a part of the forest I hadn’t yet explored. As I walked, I heard a noise—a soft cry. It wasn’t the sound of a bird or any animal I recognized. I hesitated for a moment, my heart skipping in response, before I reminded myself there was no need to be frightened anymore. My father’s pursuit had ended, the Shogun’s reach didn’t extend here, and Noah had seen to every possible detail of our safety.

Still, I felt a strange pull toward the sound. I stepped carefully through the underbrush, following the cry until I saw it—a small creature struggling in a tangle of thorns and spiky branches, just beyond a mossy boulder.

A wolf cub.

It was tiny, barely more than a pup, grey dark fur matted and caught in the sharp tendrils of a thorny plant. I crouched down slowly, unsure at first if it was injured, but its trembling told me it was terrified. The cub dark eyes locked onto mine, wide with fear, and my breath caught in my throat. There was no sign of its parents, no sign of any other wolves. The pup was alone.

I approached cautiously, my voice low and soothing,

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

As I reached for the small creature, intending to gently free her from the thorns, the animal suddenly barked, a warning sound that made me pull back. The animal growled, baring its tiny teeth, its body trembling with fear.

I was unsure what to do. My instinct told me to help the cub, but its fear made it unpredictable.

I held my hands out, palms up, hoping the creature would sense I meant no harm.

“It’s alright, I just want to help you.”

It growled again but didn’t back away. I let the pup sniff my hands, my heart beating fast as I watched it and got closer. That’s when I noticed it was a she.

Her nose twitched as she caught my scent, and after a long, tense moment, she seemed to relax—just a little.

Slowly, I reached out to pet her, brushing my fingers lightly against the top of her head. She flinched at first, but then, to my surprise, she leaned into the touch.

“Good girl,” I whispered.

There was something calming about petting her, as though the trust we were slowly building was enough to quiet both her fears and mine.

But the thorns were still tangled in her fur, the sharp spines digging into her leg and holding her captive. She wouldn’t be able to free herself, not without more pain. I realized I couldn’t do it with my bare hands either, at least not easily. That’s when I remembered the knife.

Months ago, Noah had insisted that I carry a small knife with me, just for safety. It didn’t matter how much I had tried to convince him that we were safe here in this sanctuary, that nothing could harm us in these mountains. Noah had needed the reassurance that I would be able to protect myself if he wasn’t there, no matter how remote the chance of danger. Reluctantly, I had agreed, even though I never thought I’d need it.

Now, for the first time, I reached for the small blade at my waist.

“I’m going to help you, okay?” I whispered to the cub, more to reassure myself than her. She didn’t seem to understand, of course, but she had stopped growling, her dark eyes now watching my every move.

Carefully, I brought the knife to the tangled mess of thorns, using its sharp edge to cut away the thickest parts of the plant. The wolf cub shifted uneasily as I worked, her little body tensing, but she didn’t fight me. I spoke to her softly, trying to keep her calm.

“I’m almost done, I promise.”

The thorns were stubborn, but after several moments, I managed to free her leg from their grasp. I set the knife down and gently checked her leg. It was swollen and scratched from where the thorns had dug in, but the wound didn’t look too deep.

“There you go,” I said, stroking her head again. “You’re free now.”

As if in response, she licked my hand, her tongue warm and rough. The small gesture of gratitude caught me off guard, and in that moment, a strange dizziness washed over me like a sudden gust of wind.

I closed my eyes, steadying myself with a deep breath.

When the dizziness passed after a couple of minutes, I opened my eyes again to see her nuzzling my stomach, her small nose pressing curiously against me. I frowned, unsure why she was doing that. She nudged my abdomen again, and again. With her injured leg, she moved in slow, careful circles around me, her little tail brushing against my skin. Without giving it a second thought, I scooped her up into my arms, her small body trembling slightly but no longer resisting me. She felt fragile but also strong in a way that reminded me of the quiet strength Noah always said I possessed.

“Let’s get you to the sanctuary,” I said, standing up and making my way back through the woods.

The cub stayed nestled in my arms as I made my way back. I could feel her warmth against my chest, but I was worried, that’s why I decided I needed to get her to the temple. If anyone could help her, it would be the elderly couple that lived there, with their healing hands and wisdom.

As I approached the ancient stone steps of the temple, my eyes caught the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. The place always felt timeless, as if untouched by the worries of the world. The old couple, whom everyone in the sanctuary regarded with quiet reverence, would be behind the main gates, always tending to those in need—human and animal alike.

I climbed the steps carefully, the cub stirring slightly in my arms. When I reached the door, I knocked gently. After a moment, the door creaked open to reveal the warm, gentle smiles of Master Jiro. His wife, Yumi, who had tended to Noah’s wounds a couple of years ago, was kneeling in front of the hondō but immediately rose to greet me. Their eyes, bright with age yet sharp with wisdom, softened as they took in the little creature cradled in my arms.

“Come in, child,” Yumi said softly, her voice like a lullaby, soothing and warm. She stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter the quiet temple.

Jiro followed her, his movements slow but purposeful, a peaceful aura surrounding him. His ever-present gentle smile grew a little as he saw the cub, his eyes taking in the situation with quiet understanding.

“You’ve found a friend,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of calm, like a steady river.

I stepped inside, feeling a wave of calm wash over me as the familiar scent of incense filled the air. The temple was quiet, save for the soft sounds of nature filtering in through the open windows. I laid the cub down on a woven mat, her leg still swollen and bruised from where the thorns had gripped her.

Jiro knelt beside her with his slow movements, his eyes filled with compassion as he examined her wounded leg. The cub, sensing the shift, bared her small teeth and let out a frightened growl, her body tensing with fear.

Yumi, always watching, always knowing, knelt on the other side, her hands folded in her lap, calm and still. She smiled softly at the cub, her eyes twinkling.

“She’s scared,” she said quietly, looking at Jiro. “But her fear is only natural.”

Jiro nodded, his expression never changing. “Fear can be soothed with time and care,” he whispered, gently reaching out to touch the cub’s leg.

The cub snapped at him, her little teeth missing his hand by inches. But Jiro didn’t flinch, nor did his gentle smile fade. He continued working, his hands patient and sure, as if this kind of resistance was something he’d long grown used to. He dabbed a soothing balm on the scratches.

Yumi watched quietly, her hands still folded, her eyes flickering from the cub to me with that knowing look she always had, as if she could see more than what was in front of her.

“Are you feeling alright, my dear?” she asked, her voice kind but curious, her head tilting slightly as if she could sense something I couldn’t.

I blinked, caught off guard.

“I’m fine,” I replied, though her question left a strange sensation swirling inside me, the same faint dizziness I’d felt earlier. I brushed it off, smiling at her. “Just tired, I think.”

Yumi’s smile never wavered, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something almost maternal, like she knew something before I did. She didn’t press further, only nodded and patted my arm softly.

“Be sure to take care of yourself, child.”

I nodded, her words would echo in my mind later on as I made my way down the temple steps, the cub resting peacefully in my arms.

For now, the cub, despite her initial resistance, began to relax under Jiro’s steady hands. Her growling subsided, replaced by soft, almost resigned whimpers. Slowly, she allowed him to treat her, her body going limp as if she understood, finally, that she was safe.

“There,” Jiro said after a few moments, finishing up with a soft bandage. “She’ll heal just fine.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, kneeling beside the cub as she nuzzled into the mat, finally calm. My hand found her soft fur, and I stroked her head, feeling the tension in my own body begin to ease.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Take her home with you,” Yumi suggested. “She’s found you for a reason. She’ll rest better with you.”

I hesitated for a moment, imagining Noah’s reaction when I brought the cub into our home.

As if sensing my doubt, Yumi placed a hand on my arm, her touch light but grounding.

“Don’t worry. Sometimes, creatures like her come into our lives to remind us of something important.”

Jiro nodded slowly.

“She needs you,” he added simply.

With the cub nestled back in my arms, I made my way out of the temple, the warmth of their words still settling in my heart. The afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows through the trees as I walked back home. I looked down at the sleeping cub, her tiny breaths even and calm now, and I felt that same strange pull inside me. Something about her nuzzling my abdomen earlier still lingered in my thoughts, but those were quickly replaced by Noah. He was always so protective—of me, of this place. Bringing a wolf cub into our home felt like crossing a line, one I wasn’t sure he would understand. But leaving her alone to fend for herself wasn’t an option either.

With a sight, I climbed the steps to our porch. The house stood quiet and peaceful as I stepped inside. I set the cub down on a blanket near the windows facing the back garden, her leg still tender from where the thorns had torn at her. She sniffed around cautiously, her tiny paws padding across the floor as if testing her new surroundings. I watched her for a moment, chewing my lip.

Maybe I could explain it calmly, show Noah the cub’s innocence, how small and harmless she was. But the thoughts in my mind twisted into nervous energy. Wolves weren’t exactly house pets, especially in these mountains. He might see her as a threat, or worse, a reminder of the dangers we had escaped.

The main door opened a while after. I heard the familiar soft clink as Noah removed his katana. The thud of his boots followed, and his steps grew louder as he walked through the entrance of the house.

I exited the living room to meet him there. His dark hair slightly damp from his training session, his eyes softening when they found me. His presence, always so solid, always so calm, made my heart race for an entirely different reason now. He crossed the steps to me with a quiet grace, leaning in to kiss me softly on the lips, his hands cupping my face. But I was stiff, and the moment I pulled back, biting my lip nervously, he noticed.

He narrowed his eyes, instantly reading the tension in my stance.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly, offering a smile I didn’t feel.

“Why are you standing like that?”

Before I could respond, a loud crash echoed from deeper in the house—something falling and breaking. I winced, glancing toward the noise.

Noah’s eyes darted over my shoulder, and just as he stepped forward, the wolf cub came barreling into the entrance, her small body bounding toward us, paws skittering across the wooden floor. My heart leapt into my throat as I stepped aside, and before Noah could react, she leaped straight into the air, aiming for him.

His reflexes kicked in, and he caught her midair, holding her at arm’s length. The look on his face was a mixture of surprise, confusion, and disbelief.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, staring at the wriggling cub in his hands. The cub, oblivious to his shock, wagged her tail furiously, her tiny teeth trying to nip playfully at his fingers.

I hesitated, wringing my hands nervously.

“I found her in the woods,” I began, my voice shaky. “She was hurt, tangled in some thorns. I couldn’t just leave her there”

His eyes darted between me and the cub, still struggling in his grasp, as if trying to make sense of the situation.

“And so you brought her home?” His tone was incredulous, but not yet angry.

“She needed help, so I helped her. Then I thought… we could keep her,” I continued, stepping closer, my heart racing. “She’s just a baby. Look at her.”

Noah glanced down at the cub, her small body wriggling with energy, her bright eyes full of innocent curiosity. But his expression remained skeptical.

“You thought… what?” he prompted, still holding her at a distance.

“I thought we could keep her,” I said, biting my lip, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

His brow furrowed, and he gave me a long, searching look.

“You can’t be serious.”

“She’s a baby,” I argued. “She’s harmless.”

“She’s a baby wolf,” he corrected, his voice firm but not unkind. “And a she, on top of that.”

“What does that matter?” I asked, frowning at his tone.

“Have you thought about her mother?” he replied, his voice lowering as if explaining something to a child. “Wolves are fiercely protective of their cubs. If her mother’s nearby, and she scents her here, it could bring trouble.”

I shook my head.

“She was alone, Noah. I’m sure her mother abandoned her. I searched, but there were no signs of other wolves nearby.”

Noah’s eyes softened, but his grip on the cub didn’t loosen.

“Even if she was abandoned, this isn’t wise. Wolves don’t belong inside homes. When she grows, she’ll be wild.”

I took a deep breath, stepping forward and gently taking the cub from his hands. She nestled into my arms, her soft fur brushing against my skin as she relaxed against me.

“But she’s so small now. We can train her, teach her.”

Noah ran a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply.

“Training a wolf isn’t like raising a dog. She’s wild by nature, and when she gets bigger… it could be dangerous. She’s going to hunt the deer, eat the chickens… She could hurt you.”

“I know… You make a valid point…”

“A few, actually.”

“Yes,” I conceded, “and obviously you’re worried,” I said, understanding. “But look—she already likes you.” I gestured toward the cub, who was now pawing at his arm, her tail wagging furiously. “We could tame her and…”

He glanced down at the pup, his expression wavering. She let out a small bark, and Noah’s stern façade cracked just a little. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“She’s just a pup,” he acknowledged, more to himself than to me.

I sensed his resolve weakening.

“Exactly. And you think she’ll suddenly stop liking you as she gets older? From what I’ve seen, the opposite happens,” I said, smirking a little.

He chuckled at that, shaking his head and looking up from the pup at me.

“You’re impossible.”

I grinned, pressing closer to him, the cub still cuddled in my arms.

“Please, Noah? Just until she’s healed. We can decide what to do after that.”

He sighed deeply, giving in at last.

“Fine. But if she chews through my boots, I’m holding you responsible.”

I beamed, standing on my toes to kiss him.

“Thank you,” I whispered against his lips.

Noah glanced down at the wolf cub, who had now settled in my arms, her eyes slowly closing.

“But remember,” he said, his voice serious again, “a wolf isn’t a pet. We need to be cautious. Her instincts could change as she grows.”

“I understand,” I said, though I couldn’t help but feel a sense of victory.

— page six

Three weeks later

I found myself walking through the forest near the temple, Trouble padding along by my side.

Her legs had grown remarkably strong, her once clumsy steps now confident as she darted between trees, stopping occasionally to sniff the air.

Despite Noah’s concerns, she had become a loyal friend, never straying far from me.

I smiled as I watched her chase a falling leaf.

Her adaptability to the sanctuary had been extraordinary so far. Each day, she learned more about her new home, her instincts slowly reshaping as she experienced the tranquility of the forest and learnt to become familiar with our little community. At first, she had been wild and skittish, causing trouble wherever Noah and I took her—hence her name. Her eyes had been wide with uncertainty as she navigated the unfamiliar sounds and scents. But now, her confidence was blossoming like the flowers in spring.

In just three weeks, she had transformed from a fragile cub into a robust young wolf, growing almost a third of her body length and gaining noticeable muscle. She had gone from fitting snugly in the crook of my arm to nearly matching my height at the shoulder, her powerful legs carrying her with grace and agility.

Noah and I devoted ourselves to her training, determined to help her shed the wild instincts that could pose a threat to the sanctuary’s other inhabitants. We spent countless hours teaching her commands, introducing her to various animals, and reinforcing positive behavior. Her ears would perk up at the sound of my voice, her tail wagging excitedly as she responded to commands. With Noah’s patient guidance, she learned to obey—“come”, “stay”, “don’t”, and even the critical “leave it,” which became essential when we were near the smaller animals that roamed the sanctuary. She even seemed to grasp Noah’s firm “don’t you dare,” though I suspect it had more to do with the sharp look Noah would shoot her just as she was about to misbehave.

There had been a lot of misbehaving, of course.

One afternoon, I returned from tending to the garden to find Noah in the entrance of our home in a fit of frustration, standing over his chewed-up boots. Trouble had taken a particular liking to them, her little teeth having left marks all over the leather. Noah’s face was a mix of anger and disbelief as he scolded her rather loudly. He stood tall, his posture rigid and commanding, embodying the discipline of a samurai as he confronted the wolf. The authority in his voice was terrifying. Trouble understood quickly. She bowed her tail and retreated, her ears flattening against her head as she scampered off to hide beneath a bush in the back garden. For two long hours, she remained hidden, a small bundle of fur trembling in fear, while Noah paced back and forth, trying to calm down.

Eventually, his irritation faded, replaced by concern.

“Where did she go?” he asked after giving up on his boots—he would need new ones.

I pointed towards the shaking form behind the plants and bushes in the garden. He walked outside, barefoot and knelt down, taking a deep, resigned sigh before calling her name and coaxing her to come out.

“Come here, little one. I’m sorry I yelled. It’s okay.”

It took him fifteen minutes to convince her to come out. Her big eyes cautiously met his, and the moment they locked gazes, she stood on her four legs and stepped out, approaching him hesitantly.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, extending a gentle hand. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. I won’t do it again.”

She sniffed his hand, then gave it a quick lick.

“But please, promise you won’t chew on my boots again.”

Maybe it was the softening of his tone, but Trouble barked as if agreeing, and as soon as Noah smiled, she charged at him, knocking him down into the grass. I burst into laughter, watching the two of them tangled up, Noah grinning beneath her playful assault.

From that day on, they became inseparable. Noah had learned to temper his frustration, and Trouble, having experienced his wrath, understood the bond they shared was deeper than a moment of anger. She followed him everywhere whenever I stayed at home—otherwise Noah would command her to follow me. Her loyalty was so dedicated—it felt as if she had made it her mission to be by our side. Whenever the three of us went for a morning or evening walk, it was a sight to behold—my husband, once a formidable warrior, now calmly navigating the forest with a young wolf trotting obediently at his heels.

I could see the joy in Noah’s expression as he worked with her, his deep voice steady and calming. He took her on long runs through the forest, where she could expend her energy and learn the boundaries of her new environment. The more we trained, the more she thrived. She became a graceful creature, her body maturing rapidly, and I marveled at her transformation.

But it wasn’t just our training that made a difference; I couldn’t shake the feeling that the magic of the sanctuary played a role in her growth and adaptation. The land itself seemed alive with a higher power, its essence wrapping around us every second of the day. I noticed the way the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting ethereal glows that danced around us, and how the gentle whispers of the wind felt like the sanctuary itself urging us forward. Perhaps it was this nurturing environment that allowed her to adapt and grow so quickly, her size now nearly matching mine, her presence so majestic and commanding whenever she would walk next to Noah or just as she stood by herself guarding our home.

We even included her in our daily routines, teaching her how to interact with the animals we cared for in the sanctuary. I introduced her to the goats and chickens, her curiosity piqued as she approached them with cautious enthusiasm (she did, unfortunately, kill a couple of chickens the first few times we set her free when she was just a pup). However, the way we taught her to interact with the other animals was a step forward, and her behavior became more refined every day. Soon, she was lying beside the goats or running with the deer or chasing kitchens just for the fun of it. Her wildness was tamed but never fully extinguished, and it was beautiful. Her spirit was still there, vibrant and alive, just now channeled into something more harmonious in par with the place Noah and I were building our life.

As Trouble and I grew closer, I began to notice how she mirrored my movements, always keeping me in sight, as if she were as intent on protecting me as I was on protecting her—or as much as Noah was on protecting me. Although I suspected this had something to do with the time she spent training with him, a swell of pride filled me.

Now, as I watched her chase that leaf, I couldn’t help but think of the journey we’d both been on, how we were shaping each other in ways I never anticipated. The sanctuary was becoming a place of growth for all of us, and I looked forward to the adventures yet to come.

We meandered along a narrow path, the sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves surrounding us. I paused to admire a cluster of wildflowers, their vibrant colors brightening the forest floor. Glancing down at my companion, I noticed her ears perked up, as if she too was taking in the beauty around us.

After a while, as my feet began to ache a little, I glanced down at Trouble and ran my hand through her fur.

“What do you think about visiting the temple to pay our respects to the spirits of the forest?” I suggested.

Trouble tilted her head, as if contemplating my words.

As we approached the temple ten minutes later, a wave of nausea hit me, sudden and overwhelming. I stopped in my tracks, one hand instinctively going to my stomach. Trouble noticed immediately, her ears perking up, and she bounded back to my side, her bright eyes full of concern as she started to bark in alert.

I tried to steady myself against the wall of the temple, but the pain intensified, and I let out a scream. Before I realized it, Jiro and Yumi emerged from the temple’s main gates just a few feet away, their robes fluttering around them, faces a mix of sudden concern and reverence as they approached. Instinctively, Trouble placed herself between us, letting out a low, warning growl, her body tense and protective as she stood guard, ready to defend me if necessary.

“No,” I struggled to say to her, kneeling to her level and placing a calming hand on her head. “It’s okay. Let them.”

Trouble hesitated, her dark eyes fixed on the elders, then backed off slightly, though she remained watchful. I straightened, forcing a reassuring smile as the elders finally reached me.

They nodded toward the wolf, then looked back at me.

“We need to take you inside. You don’t look well.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but another wave of nausea rolled through me, stronger this time, making my vision blur. I nodded weakly, letting them guide me toward the inside of the temple, my feet feeling heavy and unsteady. As I took a step forward, Trouble let out a sudden bark and bolted into the trees, vanishing from sight.

The elders followed her with their gazes until she disappeared, puzzled, their brows furrowed with concern.

“She’s going to find Noah,” I managed to say.

They brought me inside the temple, laying me gently on a cushioned bench. The aroma of herbs and incense filled the air. My mind swirled with confusion and discomfort as I lay there, one hand resting protectively on my stomach.

I closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer, trying to calm my racing heart. The dim glow of the temple’s candles flickered against the walls, casting long shadows that danced eerily around the room. The gentle murmurs of the elders filled the space, their voices a soothing balm against my unease.

Suddenly, I felt the coolness of a cloth on my forehead. I opened my eyes to see Yumi’s kind face hovering above me, her expression warm and knowing.

“There is nothing to worry about. You will be fine,” she said calmly.

And I believed her.

— page seven

Ten minutes later, I found myself kneeling in front of the hondō, alone. The elders had slipped away, leaving behind a stillness that helped soothe my racing heart.

As I breathed in the fragrant air, I felt a shift, a subtle energy dancing through the atmosphere.

I heard the familiar rustling of leaves being stomped upon. The hurried footfalls of Noah drew closer, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness at the sight of him as I turned my head.

He looked especially handsome today.

Trouble padded softly behind him, her eyes bright and alert, darting between us as if trying to communicate something to Noah.

Noah’s voice cut through my thoughts as he called my name, his tone laced with concern. I felt a wave of warmth wash over me as he hurried to my side.

“Hey,” I said, feeling a joy that seemed to swell within me. He knelt to meet my gaze.

He looked into my eyes with such intensity, tilting my chin upward to assess me, and I saw the love and worry etched on his face.

“What’s wrong? You look pale. What is it?”

My heart raced. Before I spoke, I took a moment to look into his eyes—my husband’s eyes, the love of my life, the best choice I’d ever made.

“I’m pregnant, Noah.”

He blinked, still crouched on one knee, his grip gentle yet unyielding on my chin, as if he were trying to ground himself in my reality.

“What?”

“I was taking a walk with her in the woods,” I explained, gesturing toward Trouble, who now sat proudly beside me, probably feeling content that Noah was by my side and danger was out of sight. “I decided to climb up to the temple, and suddenly I had this weird nausea and dizziness. The elders took me inside. It’s because I’m with child.”

For a long moment, there was only silence, his eyes widening with every passing second. I could see the shock ripple through him as the words sank in.

“Pregnant?” he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief as if confirming that this was indeed real.

After so much trying, it finally happened.

I nodded.

“Yes, you know... the thing we’ve been trying for the past few weeks?”

The realization hit him fully now, and his expression softened, a mix of joy and concern flickering across his face. Without missing a beat, he stood up, glancing around the temple as if assessing the situation. “Sit down,” he said, his voice filled with sudden authority.

I laughed softly, shaking my head.

“I am sitting.”

“No, I mean... stay down. You need to rest. Let me find some pillows, something to help you feel more comfortable…” His eyes darted toward the elders, who were now gathered near the doorway, watching the scene unfold with gentle smiles and waiting for Noah’s orders.

“Noah, I’m fine,” I insisted, though I could feel a certain exhaustion settling in my bones.

His gaze returned to me.

“You’re pregnant. You need to—”

“I don’t need to be wrapped in cotton,” I interrupted gently, standing up despite the weariness tugging at me. A smile tugged at my lips, buoyed by the joy radiating between us. Noah immediately took my hand, his other arm wrapping around my waist, securing me to his side.

“You’re pregnant,” he repeated, more to himself than to me, his voice a mixture of wonder and disbelief.

I nodded, feeling a rush of emotion welling up inside me as I watched the realization dawn on him fully. The joy, the fear, the responsibility—it all played across his face as he held my gaze.

“We’re going to have a baby,” I whispered, feeling the weight of the words settle over us like a precious promise.

Trouble, who had been lying quietly beside me, suddenly lifted her head, her tail wagging with enthusiasm as if could understand the news. Noah glanced down at her, then back at me, letting out a soft chuckle.

“She knew, didn’t she?”

I reached out, running my fingers through Trouble’s soft fur.

“I think she did. From the very beginning…”

We stayed like that for a moment, the three of us surrounded by a profound sense of belonging.

“Let me take you home,” Noah said. “I’ll tell Rei I’m canceling today’s remaining training sessions.”

— page eight

As my pregnancy progressed, the roles Noah and I played began to reverse in a way I never expected. While I was growing a baby in the most comfortable way possible—despite the relentless waves of nausea, the weight pressing down on my stomach, back pain, sleepless nights, and constant trips to the bathroom—I felt an overwhelming joy. There was something profoundly beautiful about carrying Noah’s child; it felt as if my body had been designed for this purpose after everything we had endured together.

But Noah, who had once been so eager to embark on this journey, struggled in ways I hadn’t anticipated. His confidence eroded with each passing day. The man who had been so eager and enthusiastic about getting me pregnant now found himself gripped by anxiety, worrying that something might happen to me or our baby. His protectiveness, which had always been endearing, had escalated to an almost suffocating level. Even Trouble, who had grown really big, seemed unable to provide Noah with the comfort he desperately sought.

The situation began to wear on me. For two months, Noah let me continue my training sessions with children, which I loved. But one day, in a moment of desperation, he knelt before me, his eyes wide with fear, and asked me to quit the sessions.

“Please, just stop,” he begged, his worry hanging heavy in the air.

I began to question whether he might have a breakdown or if he’d have to distance himself during childbirth to maintain his sanity.

I wanted to handle this conflict as best I could. I didn’t want to let myself succumb to tension or anger, fearing the baby might feel it. But Noah was really testing my patience with his insistence that I stop my archery lessons when I was still perfectly fit.

“I will stop when I can’t walk two steps, Noah. There’s nothing wrong with me teaching archery. I’m okay. I feel good. I’m safe. The baby is okay.”

He rubbed his forehead, pacing back and forth in our bedroom.

His anxiety unsettled me.

“Noah…” I walked over and grabbed his hand. I could hear Trouble barking and growling outside, likely scaring the chickens away. “I know this is hard for you, but I need you to let me do this.”

Puffing out his chest to release a heavy sigh, he said,

“I need you to have the most restful, peaceful pregnancy any woman has ever had. I can’t risk losing you or the baby,” he said, his tone serious as he enveloped my hands in his. “I’ve spent most of my life fighting for you, always believing I might never get this chance. Now that I have it, I need to do everything I can to protect it.”

I wanted to be angry at his protectiveness, but his words only made me love him more. I was truly head over heels for him. I had fallen for a boy, and now I was in love with this man standing in front of me, begging.

“I wish you wouldn’t make it so easy for me to love you more every day,” I replied. “I keep falling for you every time you say these things, even when it’s to try to keep me away from the training fields.” I said the last part through gritted teeth, finally coaxing a smile from him. “What would make you feel relieved?” I asked.

“You staying home.”

I scoffed.

“Noah, we should go to the temple and talk to the elders. They’ll reassure you that there’s nothing wrong with me continuing my training. In fact, it’s good for me to keep exercising. I think the baby loves it,” I said, placing a hand on my belly.

Noah frowned, glancing at my growing stomach.

“How could you know that?”

“It started moving,” I replied, my excitement bubbling over.

His eyes widened.

“Not much,” I clarified quickly, “but I think it has. Please, let me keep training?”

For a few seconds, he stayed quiet, eyeing me. Then he sighed, shoulders slumping.

“Okay, but the moment I hear one complaint from you or see that it’s taking a toll and you’re exhausted, you’re listening to me. And may I remind you I’m a very skilled samurai with ropes?”

I opened my mouth in playful disbelief.

“Are you threatening to tie me up so I won’t leave the house?”

“Absolutely.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, a bittersweet chuckle that echoed through the tension. Here I was, a woman accustomed to overcoming challenges, and he was worried about me slipping on an apple on my way to the training grounds. I understood his fears; after all, this was uncharted territory for both of us. But it was hard not to feel like I was carrying not just our baby but his worries too.

In a strange way, I was learning about love and fear. With each flutter of our child’s movements, I could feel the weight of Noah’s apprehensions and my own anxieties blending into something more profound. We were navigating this journey together, even if it felt like we were often two steps out of sync.

Noah’s tenderness, though at times overwhelming, was a reminder of his commitment. I had to remind myself that he was doing his best, even if it sometimes felt like he was trying to wrap me in bubble wrap.

As the days passed, I found ways to reassure him. We created rituals together—talking to our baby, reading stories, and planning for the future. Slowly, I could see the tension easing from his shoulders.

In the chaos of our fears and hopes, we were finding humor in our new roles. And while Noah’s protective instincts might have felt overwhelming, they were also a testament to the love that had brought us to this moment. In this blend of laughter and anxiety, I began to understand that our journey was not just about bringing a new life into the world; it was also about growing and adapting together, one quirky moment at a time.

— page nine

But I wasn’t one to give up easily. I’d been defying my father’s rules since childhood, so it wasn’t surprising that I wouldn’t follow Noah’s either, though I didn’t like hiding things from him.

At seven months pregnant, I was restless. After a month of bed rest due to high blood pressure—which had sent Noah into a panic—I was desperate to move.

That morning, with Noah off in town with Rika’s and Milla’s husbands for supplies, I seized the opportunity. The moment the house grew quiet, I slipped on my boots and made for the door, but I wasn’t alone in my plan.

Trouble nudged my leg, her muzzle gently but firmly pressing against my thigh. Then, just as I reached the door, she tugged at the folds of my kimono with her teeth, trying to keep me from leaving.

I sighed, shaking my head.

“Oh, come on. You too?” I muttered, feeling a hint of amusement despite myself.

It was ironic, really, how Noah hadn’t wanted to keep Trouble at the beginning, when she was just a tiny bundle in his arms, insisting a wild animal would be too much trouble. Yet here she was, doing exactly what Noah would’ve asked of her—keeping me home, or at least trying to. I knelt down, giving her a gentle pat on her head.

“You’re just like him, you know? Always keeping me in line.”

Trouble gave me a soft, questioning look but didn’t let go of my kimono.

With a little coaxing, I finally managed to free myself, and Trouble, loyal as ever, followed me out the door. She walked silently by my side, her dark eyes still watchful, as though she knew she couldn’t stop me but would make sure nothing happened—to me or the baby— while I was out. She had grown so much during my pregnancy, just like the baby in my womb. There was something oddly beautiful in that—two lives flourishing side by side, both growing stronger with every passing day.

At the training fields, Trouble watched me intently as I practiced with my bow. Her eyes followed my every move, her calm presence giving me a sense of safety. I trained carefully, enjoying the freedom, while she sat watchful and protective.

Afterward, feeling the pull to visit the temple, I walked with her through the woods. The air was still, the sun filtering softly through the trees. Once there, I knelt before the hondō, my hands resting on my belly, offering a quiet prayer of thanks to the spirits for their protection. I asked for strength, for wisdom, and for the safety of our baby.

But merely half hour into my prayers, a sudden shift in the air made me pause. It was subtle but unmistakable, a change in the atmosphere around me that by then I knew too well.

Trouble, who had been lying at ease beside me, calmly stood up, her posture relaxed but aware. That was all I needed to know.

Without even turning around, I already knew who was there.

A voice, stern and unmistakably not happy, broke the silence.

“You’ve been to the training fields.”

I closed my eyes, biting back a curse.

So much for a peaceful praying day, I thought. I should’ve prayed that Noah wouldn’t find out.

I took a breath, biting my lip before getting to my feet with some difficulty. A sharp ache shot through my back, and I winced, suddenly aware that maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t have spent so much time training.

Before I could fully steady myself, Noah was there, his hands on my arms, helping me up. His face was close to mine now, and I could see the tension in his jaw, the silent disapproval written across his features. He was not happy.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, avoiding his eyes for a moment.

His grip tightened slightly, steadying me, but his voice remained low and firm.

“You shouldn’t be doing this, not in your condition.”

I met his gaze, trying to find the words to explain. But Noah’s eyes held a mixture of worry and frustration that left me speechless, and for once, I didn’t have a quick retort. Maybe, just this once, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“I haven’t been training the kids, I swear.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Noah replied, his voice low and measured. “You’ve been training yourself.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, biting back a retort.

“Noah, I’m pregnant. I don’t have a broken leg.”

He exhaled sharply, crossing his arms, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tunic, dusty from the road, smelled faintly of earth and the woods.

“Clearly you don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be wandering around in your condition,” he said, his tone a mixture of frustration and worry.

I threw my hands up, exasperated.

“Will you stop talking about me as if I had some kind of problem? I don’t have a problem. What I have is your child in my womb, that’s all. Now stop making a fuss about it. You’re really getting on my nerves.”

His eyes softened for a brief moment, sensing my own tension, but his stubbornness didn’t waver.

“You’re carrying my child,” he said quietly, stepping even closer. “For that to happen, I got inside of you. We did this together. You allowed me in your body, so now…” His voice took on a teasing edge, though the worry was still clear in his eyes “you have to allow me to get on your nerves.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Noah…”

“No, hear me out,” he insisted, his hands still dusted with traces of dirt from hauling supplies in town. He’d been gone all morning with the other men, gathering food and materials for the village. “You let me in your heart, your body, and your life. I’m in. I’m part of this. We’ve talked about this, for God’s sake. You don’t get to ignore my pleas and hide things from me when it’s inconvenient for you— not when it’s something this important.” His hands gently rested on my shoulders, his calloused fingers warm against the fabric of my kimono. “I’m worried because I love you—because I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you, to our baby. Do you not get that?”

I sighed, biting my lip as I met his eyes. His protectiveness had always been a double-edged sword, one that both frustrated me and made me love him even more. I softened a little, feeling the weight of his concern.

“I do, Noah, but you can’t treat me like I’m fragile. I’m not made of glass. I know my limits. I wasn’t pushing myself. I just… I needed to feel like myself again.”

As we spoke, Trouble, settled down beside me, lying on the ground with her head on her paws, watching the exchange. Her eyes flicked between us, calm and quiet, as if she too sensed the tension and waited for it to pass.

“I’m sorry I went behind your back when I agreed to take it easy…”

Noah stayed silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked down at my belly. His hand reached out to rest gently over the growing life inside me.

“Every time I see you like this—pushing yourself, running around—it scares me.”

I placed my hand over his, squeezing gently.

“I’m okay, though. Really. You’ve got to trust me on this.”

Noah sighed, the weight of the day’s work still visible in the way his shoulders slumped slightly.

“I do trust you. But you’ve got to trust me too. Last time, your blood pressure increased because you refused to rest, and you convinced me to let you do more, and look where that got us. When I say I’d rather you didn’t train or walk around too much, it’s not just worry. It’s because I need you to be safe. I need both of you safe.”

I nodded, touched by the rawness in his voice. My shoulders dropped as I let out a deep breath. I was actually tired, and my body felt heavier than it had all morning.

“Can we go home?” I asked, the admission quiet, almost as if saying it aloud made the exhaustion and guilt settle in deeper.

Noah touched my cheek gently, his other hand instinctively moving to my rounded belly, the connection between us—between him and the life we had created—undeniable.

“Of course.”

Trouble let out a soft huff, as if in agreement, her dark eyes fixed on us. I chuckled lightly.

“You’re in trouble too, as usual,” Noah said, pointing at Trouble. “We’ll have a talk when we get home.”

In response, Trouble barked and quickly ran to my side, hiding her face from Noah. Noah shook his head with a smile and focused on helping me out of the temple.

“And I’m sorry if I was too harsh,” he said to me, his voice lower. “Ever since we found out… I’m on edge. I can’t seem to relax.”

I raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile forming on my lips.

“Hmm. I can help you take that edge off.”

Noah paused, rising an an amused eyebrow at me.

“I can never win with you, can I?”

I shook my head, barely containing my grin.

“If I say yes, what do I get?” He asked.

“Besides your release?” my voice dropping to a teasing tone. “You’ll have me on my knees for as long as you want. I won’t move from there.”

Noah chuckled, the tension in him easing even more as he fell into my playful banter.

“On your knees doesn’t seem like the ideal position for a pregnant young lady,” he continued, his eyes gleaming. “Maybe I’ll just lay you down on the bed and tie your hands. Maybe I can take that edge off myself by keeping you on edge, considering you’ve been quite disobedient lately.”

“Whoops,” I said, grinning. “Am I in trouble?”

He leaned in closer, his voice low.

“In a lot of trouble, young lady.”

I met his gaze, my pulse quickening, and for a moment, the tiredness I had felt earlier melted away, replaced by the familiar spark that always flickered between us. Despite everything—the worry, the exhaustion, the uncertainty—there was still this. Us. That, no matter what, would never change.

— page ten

During my last month, even the simplest tasks had become nearly impossible. Bending down, sitting up, even turning over in bed felt like monumental efforts. And putting on socks? Absolutely out of the question.

One morning, as I sat at the edge of our bed, staring at the socks in my hand like they were the enemy, Noah walked in, fresh from the fields, his hair tousled and smelling faintly of the crisp morning air.

He looked at me, then down at the socks, and without a word, knelt in front of me, taking them gently from my hands.

“You know you could just ask,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he slid one sock over my swollen foot.

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh.

“And let you say ‘I told you so’ every day about taking it easy? No, thanks.”

Noah smirked as he slipped the second sock on, taking his time, being so gentle with me. But as he adjusted the fabric around my ankle, his brows furrowed, and he leaned back a little, scrutinizing my belly with a worried expression.

“You’re too big,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’m concerned. I don’t think it’s normal for you to be this big.”

I raised an eyebrow, barely containing a snort.

“Noah, I’m about to pop. What did you expect? I’m carrying your child.” I placed a hand on my belly, feeling the familiar stretch under my fingertips. “Besides, I bet it’s probably a boy with your long legs. He’s just taking up all the room in there.”

Noah’s face softened at that, his hand moving to rest beside mine on my belly.

“Long legs, huh?” His thumb stroked gently across the swell, a look of wonder in his eyes. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s a girl, who’s just as stubborn as you and refuses to stay still.”

I laughed, feeling our baby give a little kick as if in response.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Noah leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my stomach, then looked up at me, his brown eyes filled with tenderness.

“I’m just worried, you know. You’re everything to me.”

My heart swelled at his words, and I reached down to cup his face, running my thumb over the stubble on his cheek.

“And you’re everything to me, Noah. But I’m okay. We are okay. You’ve been taking such good care of us.”

He gave me a small, sheepish smile, but I could see the relief in his eyes. He pressed one more kiss to my belly before standing up and helping me to my feet.

“Okay, Mama. Socks are on. What’s next?”

I grinned, leaning into him for support as I stood, his arm slipping around my waist in that familiar, protective way.

“Next? I need some food. A lot of it, actually. And then maybe a nap.”

Noah chuckled, kissing the top of my head as we slowly made our way to the kitchen.

“I think I can handle that.”

As we walked, Trouble emerged from the back garden, her fur brushing against my leg. She sniffed at my clean socks before moving over to Noah, licking his hand as if to say thank you for taking care of Mama. I couldn't help but laugh.

— page eleven

It was a peaceful afternoon, the kind of day that seemed to stretch lazily under the warmth of the sun. I sat comfortably in the living room, surrounded by the laughter and light chatter of my closest friends, Rika and Milla.

We had gathered for tea and pastries, a weekly ritual that helped ease the wait for the baby. I wasn’t due for another estimated two weeks, so we didn’t think much of it as we munched on sweet biscuits and sipped warm tea.

Outside, the garden was bathed in soft light and green colors. I noticed Trouble pacing through the open gates, her large form moving with a nervous energy I hadn’t noticed before. This was not her usual behavior. I furrowed my brows, setting my tea down.

“Trouble,” I called. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

At the sound of my voice, she paused, her ears twitching in my direction. Then, as if responding to some internal command, she trotted inside, her eyes sharp and alert. She came directly to me, nudging my legs with her nose and bumping her muzzle insistently against me, something she rarely did unless something was wrong.

I chuckled softly, brushing a hand through her thick fur.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked, leaning down slightly to meet her gaze. But as I looked into her eyes, I saw something there—a kind of urgency, almost pleading. Trouble let out a low whine, and then, with a deep breath, she tilted her head back and howled.

Both Rika and Milla stopped talking mid-sentence, their eyes wide with surprise.

“Trouble!” I exclaimed, gently pushing her away. “There’s no need for that! I’m fine, really. We’re just having tea.” I pat her head to calm her down. “Go on, now. Everything’s fine.”

She stared at me for another long moment, as if trying to will me to understand something. But when I didn’t budge, she let out a resigned huff and settled on the floor next to me, her body close.

Rika chuckled, shaking her head.

“I swear, that wolf’s more protective of you than Noah sometimes.”

I smiled.

“She’s been like this ever since forever. Can’t blame her, really.”

For the next half hour, the afternoon continued in its gentle rhythm. We chatted about everything—Rika’s latest weaving project, Milla’s son learning to ride a horse… The tea was still warm, and I felt a comfortable tiredness spreading through me.

And then, it happened.

At first, I felt a strange pressure, followed by a sudden warmth that spread across my lap. My teacup slipped from my hand, shattering onto the floor as I looked down, wide-eyed.

Oh.

“My water just broke.” The words came out of my mouth as I remained frozen on my spot.

Milla’s eyes snapped to mine, and she immediately jumped into action, pushing the tea table aside.

“Rika, go find Noah,” she commanded with urgency. “I’ll get her ready.”

Rika bolted up, nearly knocking over the tray with pastries and sweets in her haste. She darted out the door, disappearing down the path toward the town to find Noah, her sandals slapping against the stones.

Milla turned back to me, her face calm but determined.

“How are you feeling?” She asked with her arms extended toward me.

I shook my head.

“I don’t know,” I truthfully answered. I felt like panicking.

The baby was coming, earlier than expected, and Noah wasn’t there.

“It’s okay. Let’s get you comfortable.”

She helped me up slowly, guiding me toward the couch where I waited with a hand below my belly while she quickly prepared a makeshift bed with a thin futon from a nearby cupboard and pillows and blankets, her hands moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this before.

The windows were quickly shut, and the curtains drawn to dim the light inside. Milla kept talking to me, keeping my mind focused. She helped me remove my wet clothes, and wrapped me in clean blankets. Then she helped me lay down on the futon.

But through the flurry of activity, I could hear Trouble outside the window, pacing and scratching at the door, whining softly to be let in.

Milla shot a glance at the door and shook her head.

“Sorry, girl. Not this time,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, before returning her attention to me.

I winced as the first wave of contractions began to ripple through me.

“Noah...” I muttered through gritted teeth.

Milla squeezed my hand, her voice gentle but firm.

“He’ll be here soon. Just focus on your breathing.”

Outside, the afternoon had grown still. All I could hear now was the sound of my own breathing, the soft rustle of Trouble’s restless movements beyond the closed doors, and the quiet urgency in Milla’s voice as she prepared me for what was to come.

Time seemed to stretch and bend, slipping through my fingers like sand as the minutes dragged on. The early contractions, though uncomfortable, had been bearable at first—just a dull, rhythmic wave of pressure that slowly grew more intense. But now, each surge felt like a storm tearing through my body, and Noah was nowhere to be seen. Every breath felt heavier, every muscle trembling with the effort of staying calm.

Milla was still by my side, her voice steady and reassuring, but I could barely focus on her words. My mind was elsewhere, spinning with thoughts of Noah. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here yet? Had something happened?

Another contraction hit, harder this time, and I let out a low, involuntary groan. Trouble’s whining could be heard faintly through the walls, her claws scratching at the door, and that small sound somehow gave me comfort. Even though she couldn’t be by my side, I knew she was trying to get to me. She knew something wasn’t right.

Then, just when I thought I was completely alone in the room, an old, familiar presence appeared at my side. I hadn’t even noticed her slip in, but there she was—Yumi, the old woman from the temple. She sat quietly, her weathered hand resting on mine, her face calm and wise. I didn’t know how she got there or when she’d arrived, but her presence brought with it an unexpected peace.

For a moment, I closed my eyes, listening to her soft, rhythmic breathing. But suddenly, a new feeling overwhelmed me. Fear. A deep, paralyzing fear gripped my chest, and my heart raced. I wasn’t ready. I thought I was, but now that the reality of childbirth was crashing down on me, I realized I wasn’t ready at all.

“I can’t do this,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

The old woman didn’t say a word. She simply gave my hand a gentle squeeze, her ancient eyes filled with knowing. She had seen countless births in her lifetime. She understood. But still, fear gnawed at me, filling every corner of my mind.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I finally heard it—Noah’s voice outside, low and tense. Relief mixed with fear shot through me, and my head fell back against the pillows as I listened, straining to hear his words.

“It’s time, man,” Kenzo, Rika’s husband said, his tone bright and cheerful, though it barely registered with me.

But Noah’s voice, quieter, held something different. A knot of dread. I could feel it, even from where I was lying. He was scared. For the first time since this journey had begun, I realized that Noah—the man who had fought for me, protected me, never once wavered—was afraid. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to face this.

“Noah,” Milla’s voice came from the doorway, soft but firm. “You need to be by her side. She needs you now.”

For a brief moment, Noah hesitated, as if unsure if he was even allowed to be there. I could almost picture him standing outside, paralyzed by fear, feeling utterly helpless. It was strange—this man who had always been so confident, now feeling as lost as I did.

He stepped through the door, and the room grew quieter, as if the world had been holding its breath for his arrival. The doors closed behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. He looked at me, and I saw the shock in his eyes. I was lying down, prepared for what was to come, but in that moment, I must have looked so fragile, so utterly different from the woman he was used to. My eyes were half-closed, unfocused, and I struggled to keep up with the pace of the pain that kept crashing over me in waves.

Noah knelt beside me, taking my hand in his, and suddenly, his presence made everything feel just a little more bearable.

“Baby?” he whispered. “I’m here.”

Through the haze of pain, I heard him, and my heart clenched. I turned my head toward him, blinking through the tears.

“Noah,” I breathed. “The baby is coming.”

“I know. I know. It’s time, isn’t it?” Were his eyes watery as he tenderly smiled and moved some hair away from my forehead with his palm?

I wanted to nod and smile but, but then my voice cracked with exhaustion and frustration as the next contraction tore through me.

I screamed.

His face twisted in anguish.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed to say, his voice trembling. “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Across the room, Rika, who had been helping Milla with preparations, shot Noah a sharp look.

“Noah!” she barked, her tone stern. “You’re not helping her.”

He blinked, startled, then nodded rapidly.

“Yeah, right. Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

He straightened up, squeezing my hand more tightly, his face a mixture of panic and determination.

“Okay, baby, listen to me. You’ve got this. You can do it. You need to push now, all right? Our baby wants to come out, and it needs your help. You’re strong, you can do it, I know. Now push. You’ve got to push.”

And so, I did. I gritted my teeth and bore down, the pressure overwhelming, the pain like nothing I’d ever experienced. Noah’s hand was firm in mine, his voice steady now as he guided me through the hardest moments of my life. Each push took everything I had, every ounce of strength I didn’t think I could muster, but Noah kept his eyes on me the whole time, kept talking, kept telling me how strong I was, how close we were.

I could hear the women’s voices around me, Rika and Milla encouraging me to stay strong, telling me it was almost time. Their words blurred together, just background noise to the sound of Noah’s voice and the pounding of my heart.

Finally, the pain reached its crescendo, and I felt the final push tear through me with a force I didn’t know I had left. Noah was right there, holding me, his eyes wide as he looked down at me, love and fear written all over his face.

“Push, baby,” he whispered one last time. “Just one more push.”

The world outside seemed to echo the chaos inside me. Through the walls of the house, I could hear Trouble howling, her voice raw and wild, piercing through the air. Her howls mixed with the frantic voices of the women around me, and everything felt as if it were spiraling out of control. My body was no longer my own—it was something caught in a storm, tossed and pulled by forces I couldn’t control.

Another contraction hit, and I let out a scream that tore from the deepest part of me. I gripped Noah’s hand so tightly, my knuckles white, as though he were the only thing tethering me to this earth. The room blurred, sounds became muffled, and the pain swallowed everything else. Trouble’s howls outside grew louder, almost mournful, as if she too could feel the chaos coursing through me.

“I can’t—Noah, it’s too much. I don’t think—” I cried, my voice strained and hoarse.

“You can,” Noah insisted, though his voice trembled, betraying his fear. His thumb rubbed small circles into my hand, trying to ground me. “You’re almost there. Our baby is almost here. You’re so close. Just one more push, sweetheart.”

Everything felt disjointed—Milla’s hands guiding me, Yumi’s soft murmurs of encouragement, the sound of the shutters being scratched from the outside by Trouble and her desperate howls still seeping through the cracks. It was too much. My heart pounded in my chest, my breaths came in ragged gasps. I could feel the sweat pooling on my skin, dampening my hair, as the waves of pain crashed over me, relentless.

I felt like I was losing control, drowning under the weight of it all.

Then, out of the whirlwind of chaos, I heard Noah’s voice, softer this time, cutting through the noise.

“I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

I forced myself to meet his eyes, searching for something—anything—to cling to. His face was a mixture of love and terror, his jaw tight, but his eyes were steady, fixed on me. He leaned in close, his forehead touching mine.

“Push,” he whispered. “One more push.”

With everything in me, I bore down, gritting my teeth against the agony that seemed to split me in two. Trouble howled again, her voice almost synchronizing with my own scream, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world was suspended in that single, agonizing moment.

Time seemed to collapse, and all I could feel was the raw force of life moving through me. The pain, the noise, the fear—all of it swirled into a cacophony, and just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, the pressure shifted, and suddenly, there was release.

A loud cry filled the room—small, sharp, and so precious—and everything stopped. Trouble’s howls ceased. The chaos around me faded into nothing, replaced by an overwhelming, breathtaking silence.

The world felt distant, like I was floating in a haze. The pain was still there, a dull ache in the background, but it was overshadowed by a deep sense of awe and exhaustion. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw wasn’t the room, or the people buzzing around me—it was a tiny, wrinkled baby, nestled carefully in my arms.

A baby girl.

Her face was scrunched up, her skin soft and pink, with the faintest tuft of hair on her head. She was beautiful in a raw, fragile way, the miracle that we had created, our daughter. I couldn’t stop staring, my breath catching in my throat as the weight of it all hit me. This was her. This was the life we had waited for, the one I had carried for months.

“Noah?” I whispered, barely able to tear my eyes away from our little girl. “It’s a girl. We made a girl.”

There was no response at first. I glanced up at him, expecting a reaction, but he was frozen, staring at the baby in my arms as if the world had stopped spinning. His lips parted slightly, his eyes wide in disbelief, taking in every detail of her—the small fingers, the way her tiny body fit snugly against me.

“Noah?” I said again, gently. “Do you want to hold her?”

Still silent, he finally moved, his hands trembling as he reached out. Carefully, oh so carefully, I placed our daughter into his arms. For a moment, he just looked at her as he held her kneeling on the futon, his breath uneven, his expression stunned. He held her close to his chest, cradling her in the crook of his arm as if she were made of the most delicate glass.

“She’s… tiny,” he murmured. “Like, very tiny.”

I smiled, warmth flooding my chest as I watched him—this strong, protective man who had spent months worrying over me, now completely undone by the sight of our tiny daughter. I leaned my head back on the futon, utterly drained but so happy, watching Noah hold our little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Minutes passed, whispered conversations from Rika and Milla filled the background as they sorted things out, quietly making sure I was okay, tidying the space, checking on me. Occasionally, they asked for the baby to ensure she was healthy, but Noah wouldn’t let go of her, not even for a second. His eyes stayed locked on her, as if nothing else mattered. She wasn’t crying anymore, she was content just being a tiny, warm bundle nestled in her Papa’s arms, her little chest rising and falling softly.

After some time, Noah glanced down at me, his expression worrying as he noticed how tired I looked. He brushed some damp hair away from my face, his fingers warm and soothing.

“Love?”

“Hm?” I responded, my voice barely more than a hum, utterly exhausted but content.

“She’s here,” he said, his voice filled with awe. “Our baby girl is here. And she’s perfect, just like you. I can’t believe you did this.” His fingers traced gentle patterns on my forehead, his other arm still cradling our daughter securely against his chest. “I never thought I would feel this much happiness. Thank you.”

A soft, tired smile tugged at my lips as I closed my eyes.

“It was worth it…” I said, my voice trailing off. “Everything we went through… it was worth it.”

Noah cradled our babygirl. The soft rise and fall of her breathing, the feel of her tiny hand curled against his chest—it was everything he—we—had ever dreamed of. Beside him, I was drifting into sleep, my body finally relaxing after the hours of labor.

But suddenly, the peace shattered.

It started as a sharp, burning pain deep in my abdomen, sudden and violent, like something was tearing apart inside me. My eyes shot open, and a scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it. It was primal, a sound I didn’t even recognize as my own.

Oh God, what was happening?

My muscles tightened in agony. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. All I knew was the pain. It was unbearable, consuming every inch of me. I heard Noah’s voice, panicked, but I couldn’t focus, couldn’t respond.

“What’s happening? Why is she in pain?” His voice trembled, desperate. “Baby? What is it?”

I could hear the women moving around me, their hands gentle but quick as they pressed on my stomach, their words hurried but distant, like they were underwater. Everything was spinning, slipping. I could barely keep hold of my thoughts. Noah’s hand was on me—warm, strong—but the pain swallowed everything.

I heard the cries of my daughter next to me. And I screamed again.

“Do something!” Noah shouted at the women in the room.

“You need to step back,” Rika said to him, her voice firm but fading in and out. “We need to focus on her.”

“No!” His voice cracked, and through the haze, I heard him. “I’m not leaving her!”

I wanted to reach for him, to tell him I needed him, but I couldn’t. My hands felt useless at my sides. I felt his presence, could sense him so close, but I couldn’t open my eyes. The pain was too much, pulling me under, making it hard to breathe.

“I’m not leaving her! She needs me,” I heard him say, his voice broken. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Noah, we need to—”

“Tell me what’s wrong!”

“We don’t know!” she spat back. “Just let us do our job,” she continued as she tried to get him to step away.

“I said I’m not leaving her. Don’t make me leave her!”

I wanted to cry, to scream his name, but I couldn’t. I could only feel the burning agony spreading deeper, consuming me. My breathing came in ragged gasps, my chest tight.

I could hear Rika and Milla exchange quiet, frantic words. That’s when I heard the shuffle, the loud whimpers of our babygirl, and Noah’s agonized voice.

“No,” he growled, a sound so raw, so desperate. “Don’t—don’t take her from me. Please. She needs to be with me. She needs to be with her mother.”

Rika stepped closer.

“Noah, she needs care. Give her to us, and please, step outside.”

“No! No, no, no,” he choked, his words tangled in sobs. “She needs to be with me—I need to stay with them both.”

I tried to focus, to fight against the haze. I wanted to hold them, to tell him it would be okay, but my body wouldn’t listen…

I heard footsteps. The presence of more people in the room. Men. Rika’s husband and Milla’s.

“Please,” Noah begged, his voice breaking as I heard the soft shuffle of our baby being lifted from his arms. His pain hit me like a wave. I could feel it, could hear his breathless cry.

“Don’t! She’s my daughter! Please!” His voice cracked with grief as he struggled. “She needs me. She needs me!”

I felt her absence too. The warmth of her little body slipping from his arms and out of reach. It was like losing a part of me, a weight crushing my chest, making it harder to breathe.

“Noah,” Kenzo said, restraining him with his brother’s help. “You have to let them work.”

“No! I’m not leaving her! I’m not leaving them!” His cries were frantic as they tried to pull him back.

“Asher, help me!” Kenzo called out.

“No, please, don’t—don’t make me leave them!” Noah’s voice shook as I heard the struggle. He was fighting them, trying to stay, but I could hear the scrape of his boots on the floor as they dragged him away, Trouble’s howls intensifying outside.

“Noah, come on,” Asher said, his tone tight. “They need space to work.”

“I said I’m not leaving her!” Noah shouted, his voice hoarse, but even as he fought them, he was being pulled farther and farther from me. “Please, I need to help her. I need to be with her.”

I felt the door close. His voice, distant, muffled, was slipping from me, as if he was being dragged into some other world. And I couldn’t follow.

Taglist:

@girlfromrussia-universe | @kankuurohs | @somebodyels3 | @missduffsblog | @respectfulrebel

@badomensls | @shilohrosechicken | @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @concreteangel92 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

#noah sebastian #samurai!noah #noah sebastian fanfic #the unmaking of a warrior #noah sebastian x reader #bad omens fanfiction #dad!noah

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veiledvvitch · 8 months ago

Text

Pleasure & Poison

Summary: The night before Rook impulsively takes on a dozen Antaam in order to save captured slaves, she's working on a contract at a banquet. Rook succesfully kills her target but is wounded with a poisoned blade. Viago rescues her, tends to her wounds, and one thing leads to another.

Tags/warnings: Slightly gory descriptions of wounds, near death, smut (but realy not too descriptive, I like to write it more vague and poetic), hints of love triangle drama.

Pairing: Viago de Riva x femme elf Crow! Rook (My OC Lucrezia de Riva / she's his protegé they are not related/)

Lucrezia fell back clutching at her chest. The poisonous blade had lacerated her several times and the venom had allready began rushing to her heart. Its wielder, a corrupted Merchant Prince that she had made damn sure to kill moments ago.

But now the music of the banquet had stilled and she was alone, and she was dying. Well, at least she had finished her contract.

"Fenhedis" she choked, regretting her own carelessness. If only she had not gotten too close, something her talon, Viago had lectured her on countless of times. She was afterall a mage and no warrior. Despite her spellblade, she had always been instructed to use it as a last way out and to finish her targets at range.

But Lucrezia liked getting close, it had afterall been such a great part of her reputation as an assasin. There was a saying in Treviso that there was no party, untill the Vampire had shown up (a mythic nickname earned during her bloodied fledgling days, after defending herself from a rival with her bare teeth). And this had been quite the party.

Just as her vision began faltering, she heard the sound of someone storming into the chamber.

"Lucrezia!" Viago yelled, pulling her limp body up into his arms. She looked up at him weakly. He had come for her again, her bastard Prince.

He stroked away the flaming curls stuck to the pearls of sweat on her forehead, assesing the situation as quickly as he could. Fifth Talon Viago de Riva, who had once taken her under his wing. Viago, who had mercilessly trained her untill the day she had become a fully fledged crow. A day that had finally arrived a mere year earlier. Ever since then, she had strived for his praise and approval, for her place in the House of de Riva.

"Viago. I'm sorry" Lucrezia whispered, barely coherently.

"No. You're not." Truth to be told, she rarely ever was.

"I forgot to take it again." Lucrezia nearly slipped out of his grasp, and Viago struggled to not slide on the blood soaked floor. She had once again forgotten the daily vial of diluted poison he had given her every day since she became his fledgling.

"You idiot." he spat through gritted teeth, desperately searching amongst his vials for the correct one. Lucrezia's eyes began rolling back into her head, her lips turning blue. She was fading, and there were so little time left.

Viago ripped the front of her dress open, it was an expensive one she had borrowed from Teia for the banquet her target attended.

He doused her wound in antidote, then opened another vial and forcefully poured it down her throat. It burned and she coughed weakly while he prayed to Andraste he was not too late. He kept patting her sickly pale face, desperately trying to make her stay with him.

"Ten years of training, don't let it all go to waste. I'll kill you if you die, you hear me. Luca. Even if I have to enter the fade and drag you out of deaths grip myself."

A small smirk appeared on Lucrezia's lips, that slowly returned to its former blush. Without thinking he pulled her further into his arms, embracing her tightly in divine gratitude. Feeling her heart beating against his own could have brought him to tears if it weren't for how angry he was.

"Viago." She whispered, "I didn't know you cared this much."

"Shut up. I don't." He hissed curtly, and she could not see it but he was smiling with relief too.

He got up and carried her back, all across Trevisan rooftops and alleys untill he reached his mansion. The house of de Riva.

There he tended to her wounds in his office; where she laid in silence upon a loveseat, patiently watching him stich her up without ever tearing a grimace. Barechested and exposed, Viago did not even seem to register how vulnerable she was.

"First scars ive ever gotten from a contract" she mused, "I hope it heals well, I won't be able to blend in much if i'm disfigured."

Viago's eyes never trailed away from the stiches, "It is a Crows milestone. Makes a contract more memorable."

Lucrezia blinked away the tears, sucessfully supressing them. "-Besides, it would not lessen your beauty."

She almost thought she had misheard him for a moment, perhaps her head was still woozy from the poisons close call. His eyes twinkled, Viago was a true artisan with the thread and needle.

"Do you have any memorable scars?" She asked, gazing at him and realizing for the first time that she had never seen his hands without gloves. Viago was always covered in his crow leathers, capes, poisoners belts and the likes. An arsenal of knives and poisons, always at the ready.

His eyes met her own sternly, he did not wish to answer. His will hardly buckled, seemingly. Untill he met her gaze.

"Please?"

Viago sighed and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, reluctantly revealing an old stab wound with a rather mortal placement. "Scars are memorable, because it means you can never make the same mistake again." He lectured her.

Her hand reached out tenderly to touch the purple socket of skin, after a moment she observed correctly "You let someone too close."

Viago's gloved hands moved back swiftly to cover it again but lingered for just a moment at the collar of his shirt. It was true, even now he struggled to let anyone have him as vulnerable. Not even Teia. Lucrezia's hand remained at his chest, tracing the scars texture softly. His gloves had always stayed on during any acts of lovemaking, more often than enough he kept himself as dressed as possible too. Having his tools at easy access, always ready for any attack, backstabbing or otherwise.

He noticed how her rosy cheeks had returned, she was allright. He had saved her. He could let himself relax again.

"Viago?" Her voice called him back again from wherever his mind had wandered. His focus returned to the stiches, he turned to a frown.

"You should not look at your Talon like that." He stated, warning her.

"Forgive me. It must have been the poison, I feel.. dazed." Lucrezia lied, it had not affected any sense of clarity at all. The relief they both felt had simply provided oppurtunity to act on what was previously unacted on.

The way he had always favored her, protected her, while berating himself for his weakness. This loving affliction, that made him so ferociously protective of his former fledgling. So much that, after she had gotten involved with Illario Dellamorte, he had jepordised his houses relationship with the first Talon by threatening her grandson. Teia knew too, she had called him out on it multiple times during their times together.

Viago placed the final stitch meticulously, and retrieved his tools to their assigned places.

"But what is your execuse Viago? No poison has afflicted your senses tonight, has it?" Lucrezia suddenly asked, just after he had believed he could put the matter, his desire, to rest.

"You are poison, Luca." He replied, throwing her a shirt disdainfully without looking back.

"Then what is the antidote? Or would you rather have me diluted as well?" She asked as she sat up, wondering if he would realy leave.

He gritted his teeth in response,

"Once every morning and night, perhaps?", she teased suggestively.

Just as Teia had snidefully remarked, he would continously micro dose his infatuation with his former apprentice. He would think about her during his relations with Andarateia, he would watch over her, make sure she stayed out of trouble even though she was no fledgling anymore. Always sticking his head out to protect her against their fellow crows, rivals and enemies.

Lucrezia knew she had struck a nerve this time, as he stood still in the middle of the room watching her without opening his mouth to berate her. She had him twirled right around her finger tips, but this time she was taking it too far.

"-Vi" she managed to breathlesly whisper before he stormed towards her, his lips crashing hungrily around her own. With great haste and without any of his usual self controll. Desperate and forbidden, he had failed to learn from his mistakes afterall. He was getting too close.

Lucrezia's hands searched for his as she pulled his entire being towards her. She slid a finger under his tight leather gloves, which made him hesitate. But only for a moment. She slid the glove of his wrist, then the other, and she gazed at his scars when their lips parted. Then brought his hand to the side of her face.

"Luca." He called her endearingly, before kissing her again. "This is... dangerous."

She laughed, it only weakened him further.

'Well, you did always call me reckless." Lucrezia whispered in between starved kisses, they had strayed far beyond the point of no return now.

"What are you afraid of? People seeing?" She asked,

"Stop talking."

The shirt he had previously thrown at her had mysteriously disappeared, and the ruined dress had been hitched up her waist to give him room and acess.

He felt her bareskinned, trembling against the palm of his bared hand. Skin soft, warm. Flesh to flesh, alive and not dead.

He sank into a pool of warmth, closing his eyes as he recited the chant of light in his head - praying that this indulgence would not jepordize her safety. She was the sole thing he cared more about than furthering himself. Even more than claiming his birthright, his throne.

Lucrezia wrapped her legs around him, then her arms. She felt like a venemous spider spinning her prey in her web. Then he took her, letting all his fears and frustration spill out along soft cries and kisses.

Afterwards, she laid in his arms as he laid there stunned. She had never seen him so relaxed before, so vulnerable. His knives were far away, thrown amongst his clothes.

When she discretly reached for her own he pulled her straight back into his arms, refusing to let her go yet.

"Viago? This is...."

"Shhh. Don't ruin it."

"What about Teia?"

"Teia is free to live as she wishes, and so am I."

He pressed himself closer to her, and she could feel his warmth radiating still against her back.

"I'm serious. We can't do this, can we?"

"We have allready gone too far. " Viago answered calmly, "We might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

He took in the scent of her red hair, closed his eyes and burrowed his aching head amongst her curls. His Lucrezia.

"You take your pleasures like you take your poisons, huh?"

"Sparingly." Viago whispered defeatedly. Just as he had taught her.

After a while, once Viago had slipped into sleep, Lucrezia slipped out of his arms unoticed. "My Luca." He mumbled asleep, "My little rook".

#viago de riva × rook #viago de riva smut #viago de riva fic #veilguard fanfic #datv no spoilers #dragon age fanfiction #viago de riva x reader #lucrezia de riva #dragonage #veilguard #veilguard no spoilers #crow rook #veiledvvitchwrites #veilguard smut

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chronicler-of-narrative · 10 days ago

Note

(drift-tzeen again)

ok woops i read the tags and saw 'operator' this time, can disregard my last question

instead, i'll point my curiosity in another direction and ask why is it your operator chose the name Chronicler? Does it have any special significance to them?~

Hi and thank you so much for the ask! Anyway, before i answer this, i wanna answer your previous questuion about Chronicler being THE operator because there is some nuance:

Afaik, operator can also refer to just the tenno, like how mechas have 'pilots' and the like (as in, operators operate the warframe). Chronicler isnt actually THE operator, at least not fully, because his lore diverges greately from cannon, specifically in relation to The Lotus and some of the quest events. If I wanted to, I could make it make sense, but im still unsure as of right now since it clashes with his main motivation of, yknow, not being a tenno.

As for why he chose the monicker, its quite self evident: Thats what he wants to be seen as, not a Tenno, not some warrior, but a simple, humble chronicler. Ironic considering hes more focused on the present rather than the past, but thats more of a certain character trait.

But once again, thank you for showing interest in my boyo. Since i saw you liked a few of my mini fics with him, may I direct you to two more, this time on ao3?

Ill put them after the cut so folks passing by dont have to worry about my rampant self-promotion

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53673253

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63230854

#warframe #warframe oc #operator oc #warframe operator #operator chronicler #chronicler asks

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random-fandom1984 · 1 month ago

Note

Hii can I request a child gn reader with the ancients form crk(platonic of course) where the reader is like nezha from lmk (or the nezha 1979 movie) it could head canons or a one shot

Lotus Prince Cookie (Headcannons)

Today's headcannons: Interactions with the Ancients

Nezha! Reader will be based on the one from the Lego Monkie Kid series

Relations: Platonic

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑┍━☽【❖】☾━┑┍━☽【❖】☾━┑┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

Is quite curious about you

Pure Vanilla Cookie

As a member of the Brave Gang, you kinda stand out with your stoic personality, and the only responsible adult of their group before he tagged along

You are strict, but you care about the children in the group, with the exception of Chili Pepper Cookie because she's a wanted criminal.

You have a protective nature towards healers, and since Pure Vanilla Cookie is also an Ancient, the level of protectiveness goes up to 11.

When it's just you two, it would mostly be spent in the garden, drinking tea. You are a good listener when he tells stories of his past and his troubles, and you give good advice ranging from feelings of guilt to helplessness.

Despite your age of over a hundred years, you are seen still as a child in his eyes. That idea solidifies when he hears of your strained relationship with your father. So, he decides to make teatime something personal between you two. There were a few times that you wished that your own father had some Pure Vanilla Cookie's personality traits

┍━☽【❖】☾━┑┍━☽【❖】☾━┑┍━☽【❖】☾━┑┍━☽【❖】☾━┑

You are always welcomed to his Kingdom, whether it is to spend time together, or train citizens of the Vanilla Kingdom to fight in case of an invasion.

Family-Figure role: The Uncle everyone loves and gets along with

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

Hollyberry Cookie

Tells you to relax

Likes to spar, usually ends in a draw, and she laughs like it was a game between old friends

She likes your passion to guard and protect, someone perfect as a guard of the Hollyberry Kingdom like Wildberry cookie

Her granddaughter, Princess Cookie, likes to climb you like a tree. Meanwhile, you are just frozen, worried that of you move, she'd fall and break her dough. Hollyberry Cookie finds this funny; a warrior of upmost strength that has brought enemies to their knees is nervous around a Cookie who takes after her tough grandmother

Any ally of Pure Vanilla Cookie is another friend in her book

You try to help get her alcohol problem under control. She's happy that you care for her wellbeing and sees you as another family member

She has a room in the castle open for you if you ever decide to move into the Hollyberry Kingdom

Family-Figure role: Cool Aunt

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Dark Cacao Cookie

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Sees you as an equal and respects your responsibility of watching over the Brave Gang

You both like talking about fighting styles

You liked spending your time sparing with his watchers, being great friends with Caramel Arrow Cookie and Crunchy Chip Cookie, which is a major sign that you are a trustworthy fellow

You are a Cookie that runs warm especiallyfrom your powers, meaning you don't mind the cold temperatures because of its little affect on you, something some of his troops envy- who have to wear multiple layers of clothes and fabrics to stay warm

You both like to debate over what weapon in his armory is superior- minus his own blade that holds his soul jam

Sometimes he can't help but see it like as if his sin, Dark Choco Cookie, was standing before him with how similar you both are; same treatment from fathers but different paths

He hopes that, if son were to ever return, you both would be best friends or brothers-in-arms. That he knows would be true

Family-Figure role: War Hero Uncle

╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗

Golden Cheese Cookie

╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗╔═.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.═╗

Thinks you need to indulge in yourself for once

To think that someone far older in her would've had the time to at least have fun in your life

During your visit, she tried to see what would bring out your inner greed. Unfortunately, you've shown no interest in anything golden in her kingdom. From tools to jewels, none of them caught your eyes.

She vows to find whatever it is that you desire and have an abundance just for you. It could even bee rubber ducks, or plants, or whatever for all she could care. She wants you to feeds your greed

One thing you two like to talk about is how spears are the best

If she could, she would give your father a stern talking to for how he's treated you. He looses his parenting privileges, therefore you are now another treasure child of hers

When you left with the Brave Gang, she gave you a golden bracelet to know where you'll forever be welcomed, another place to call home

Family-Figure role: Wine Aunt/Mother Figure

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

White Lily Cookie

You are a determined, loyal Cookie with a heart of gold

You get along with the faerie cookies very well

When she was released, even though she's only a half, you still treat her kindly despite who she became. It was really nice of you

She was a good part of the team a little after the Silver Tree cracked, releasing just the spirit of a familiar Beast Cookie of Deceit

After she became the new Guardian of the Silver Tree, you helped her understand such an ancient form of magic, which she very much appreciates

Although you didn't get to know her very well after such a short period of time, you considered her to be a trusted ally against the Beasts

You hope to see her again, she was a breath of fresh air to be around

Family-Figure role: Sweet Grandma (even though she looks young)

╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗╔══ ❀•°❀°•❀ ══╗

#crk #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #pure vanilla cookie #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #white lily cookie #hopefully I did a good job

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wildcatpaws · 10 months ago

Text

hai! my name is charlie or bugzy (bug is fine too)! I am 19 and use: he/him (hx/hxm), fae/faer, and it/its, I am agender and aroace. pronouns cc link (for flags & pronouns)

I am a therian coastal wolf & black wolf dog, fictotherian warrior cat and a maid archetrope.

I have a sideblog all about Lemon Demon go check it out: @fulltimelemondemon !!

🌱 more about me: I am vegan, a luciferian, furry and an artist. I have adhd (in process of getting diagnosed) & dyslexia, identify with xenogenders alongside being agender being: sparklefurgender, margender, messgender, emogender & dogboygender! I am pro endo as well

⭐️ interests: lemon demon, warrior cats, wings of fire, cookie run kingdom, phoenix wright, hannibal, psychology, genshin (not rlly anymore), scenemo, cats, piercings, tattoos & many more

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝

DNI: basic dni (transphobic, racist, homophobic, ableist, etc.), are truscum or pro life, support israel, support/use/interact with anything AI or crypto, support trump or elon, anti any alterhumanity (including those that are outside alt+h eg nonhuman, as well as physical therians, etc), believe in cringe culture (ewww yacky) NO ZOOS

also im not comfortable with nsfw, please me mindful of this when interacting

since i am 19 i am not confortable with people 14 or under following me & people under 16 msging me — otherwise feel free!!!! :D -> pls if you dont have your age on your profile and i follow you/interact (and you are under 14 or 16); either lmk or sb/hb me!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟 𓆝

My tags 🏷️ (this will probably change a lot mb)

🏷️ #bug barks ➜ general, therian experiences, archetropy, opinions

🏷️ #seawolf growls ➜ vent, complaining (LMAO), general annoyances

🏷️ #charlie chirps ➜ rambles, mainly related to alterhumanity & fandom stuff (lemon demon, phoenix wright, hannibal, etc), info dumps

🏷️ #silly squeaks ➜ silly things x3

🏷️#claw marks ➜ art!

#intro post #therian mutual #therian #alterhuman #therianthropy #archetropy

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chil-aglia · 3 months ago

Text

𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗜𝘀 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗪𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 |ROTTMNT| (Male OC)

~𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔~

Be sure to read the tags on my Ao3 so you guys know what you’re getting yourselves into.

Picture above is done by me. But PLEASE feel free to make your own art and idk tag me in it or something—

Warnings: None

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

Three sometimes wondered if all this was worth it. While he didn’t like disobeying Draxum when he was assigned a mission, he was seriously debating on sticking around while he watched the brothers cause chaos.

Or he should say that they were running away from the chaos that was created by none other than Donatello who had miraculously somehow invented a flying, laser beaming toaster.

“Ah! It’s gonna get me!” Michelangelo shrieked with unrestrained panic, diving behind a flipped table like a war refugee in his own home. Smoke trailed through the room as the hovering toaster spun wildly, sparking with unstable energy as it fired another blinding beam that narrowly missed the youngest turtle’s shell.

Three stood just outside the madness, arms crossed, expression unreadable, save for the subtle twitch of his eye and the unmistakable aura of judgment that clung to him like a shadow. He wasn’t amused. Not in the slightest.

It had only been a few weeks since he was dragged into this living circus and only a few days ago that Michelangelo had given him new gear since his previous gear was ruined by that annoying human girl, who went by the name April.

That was another thing that Three didn’t like about this family that he refused to believe were actually related to him. They liked humans. Loved them. Obsessed with their world.

Three had to choke back bile every time they talked about humans like they were divine. Like they were kind. Like they were worth something.

Humans. Tsk, they're nothing but dumbasses. But dangerous, sending yokai to hide underground.

Three recalled the brief conversation he had with Draxum years ago, about some prophecy and the destruction of the yokai if nothing was done about it. It was the whole reason Draxum made Three in the first place. A warrior to protect yokai and eliminate the threats.

A weapon of war.

A machine built and designed to kill.

And yet here he was, dodging away from a rogue laser bolt that nearly incinerated his toes. He hissed under his breath, fists tightening as he glared at the toaster now spinning itself dizzy and singing some old human jingle in a glitchy voice.

“Idiots.” He muttered, disgust heavy on his tongue. “The lot of them are idiots.”

He had looked away, catching sight of the rat mutant walking by, seemingly blissfully unaware of the chaos in the room.

He shuffled through with an old snack bag in hand, scratching his stomach as he passed the battlefield of his living room like a ghost in pajamas. The rat didn’t blink, didn’t comment, didn’t even glance at the exploding toaster that just took out a light fixture.

That was another thing they ticked off Three. This…rat man that the turtles called their father.

But to Three, there was nothing paternal about the sluggish old creature. He barely engaged with his “sons.” He didn’t train them. He didn’t teach them. He sat around all day watching commercials, stuffing his face, and yelling names based on the colors of their masks like some half-drunk game show host.

How had these brothers survived this long under such absent, careless parenting? How had they not been killed in battle? In training accidents? By each other?

Three couldn’t understand it. It gnawed at him in the back of his skull. How could a rat who didn’t act like a teacher, and brothers who didn’t act like warriors, be so strong? So... unpredictably capable?

His gaze drifted back to the toaster as Donatello finally managed to leap onto its back, stabbing a taser-staff into its mainframe while yelling, “For science!”

It exploded in a dazzling fireball of toast crumbs and blue sparks.

Michelangelo screamed.

Three didn’t flinch.

Maybe this was all a mistake.

Or maybe it was a test. One he hadn’t figured out the answers to yet.

Either way... he hated it here.

Before he could leave this chaos behind him, to go back to the solitude of the bedroom that belonged to him within his time being here, a ringing noise echoed to his ears, turning back and seeing Donatello answering a phone call.

“You are conversing with Donatello.”

He had pressed a button, making whoever was calling him audible for everyone else to hear and listen.

“Dude, I need your help!”

April. Her annoying voice makes Three twitch.

Keep it together. Gain their trust.

“For you, anything. As long as it does not involve bees, or spiders, or beach balls.”

Three gave a judging look towards Donatello’s fears, internally he figured he could use those against him if he needed to, but he was also just wondering how someone could at least be afraid of beach balls?

“Can you fix Albearto? He broke before singing ‘Happy Birthday’.”

Donatello blinked at the request, turning around to face the other brothers who were eyeing the damages around themselves. Donatello had noticed Three was suddenly next to him, making him scowl slightly at his closeness.

It was clear that neither of the two were friendly with each other. The two silently just somehow agreed that they didn’t like one another.

He clears his throat, shaking his head and announcing himself to the other three.

“April still hasn’t gotten through the ‘Happy Birthday’ song yet, guys."

Raphael tilted his head, perking up. “April still hasn’t gotten through the ‘Happy Birthday’ song?"

April must’ve heard him as she scoffs, "Am I on speaker?" April snapped, equal parts scandalized and annoyed. Donatello ignored her entirely.

"Or cake, actually."

Leonardo snorts in amusement. “Or cake?" He repeats with his arms crossed. "Albearto’s is the pizza place, right? We’ll be right over." Raphael cuts in, nodding eagerly with a smile, signalling for Donatello to hang up.

“Hey, if you guys are in the middle of something—" Her voice cut off once Donatello hung up, Michelangelo cheering as he bounced over to join his brothers. “Albearto’s! Here we come!” He exclaimed, looking to Three to see his reaction, only to widen his eyes when Three was already walking away.

“Aren’t you coming too?” The youngest mutant turtle inquired, but Donatello had butted in, scoffing dramatically. “Clearly not. Do we trust this guy to come out with us to a human infested area? What if he kills someone?”

Three’s pupils narrowed. For a long, drawn-out moment, the room got colder.

Then, he smiled.

A slow, tooth-baring, warning kind of smile.

“Actually, I am coming.” He said smoothly. “And unlike you, who can’t seem to control your urges to build tacky inventions that nearly annihilate the living room—”

Donatello bristled. “It was a prototype.”

Leonardo snorted, barely covering his laugh with a cough.

“—I am more than capable of handling myself. Even if humans are involved.”

He turns around once more, hands on hip as he hums in thought.

“Leonardo.”

The slider flinched slightly in surprise when his twin spoke his name, “Huh? I mean, yeah?” He straightens up a bit as Three gestured towards the sword on Leonardo’s shell.

“Make a portal to wherever this pizza place is.”

The slider smiled eagerly as he took out the ōdachi, “Oh, uh, sure thing, bro!” Leo replied, smiling eagerly as he drew the blade. Three’s expression twitched at the word bro but didn’t comment.

A portal shimmered open, glowing like an open wound in the air. The turtles walked through one by one.

And Three followed.

Coming out on the other side to find themselves standing in front of a pizza parlour.

Must be the place.

Raphael without warning slammed the door open as he and his brothers entered inside, grinning and striking a pose, while April gaped at the group.

“That was fast. Actually, I just needed Donnie."

Raphael laughed briefly, waving off her comment. “Oh, we know, we just came for the free pizza. Remember, blend in like you’re a birthday robot." He informs his human ally before looking back to the others who nod in agreement.

Michelangelo, Leonardo and Raphael immediately stiffened up, throwing on stiff-armed, robotic poses as they beeped and whirred exaggeratedly.

Three walked in last, arms folded, expression blank.

Then his eyes met April’s.

She froze.

A flicker of unease passed across her face, lips tightening ever so slightly.

Three said nothing.

He only stared.

April stiffened under Three’s gaze, and for a brief second, something flickered behind her eyes, perhaps uncertainty, discomfort, maybe even fear.

But she masked it quickly with a tight-lipped smile and turned toward Donatello. “Okay, so, like I was trying to say before the robot army rolled up—”

“Yeah, no.” Donatello interrupted sharply, grabbing her by the wrist and steering her away from the others with a firm grip. “Come on. We’re going to talk over there, away from the unstable toaster-hater with a superiority complex.”

Three didn’t react outwardly, but one of his brows twitched ever so slightly.

April let herself be tugged across the restaurant, away from the group and into the far corner near the soda machine. “Okay, ow, dude, let go!” She hissed, yanking her arm free once they were out of earshot.

Three rolled his eyes, walking away but sticking to the backstage as he didn’t want to get caught up in the human crowd that was behind the curtain.

He did curiously peek out though to see what this place looked like. And he twitched his eye in utter disgust. Children. Human children running about, playing games, spilling drinks and food everywhere.

Ugh. Human larva are such pests.

He walked away from the curtain, walking over to another spot instead.

He was either well aware but didn’t care or completely unaware as Donnie eyed him from afar, glancing over his shoulder.

Three was now idly inspecting a napkin dispenser, like he was bored but simultaneously calculating how to weaponize it.

“I don’t trust him.” He muttered to himself as April sighs at him, “Yes, yes. I know, he’s creepy, cold and clearly emo, you’ve told me about this multiple times in our texts. Now please fix Albearto?” She begs, taking the attention away from Three.

Donnie hesitated but turned away to inspect the damaged animatronic. He smirks, sitting down and opening up the robot, already beginning to wire him.

“And short-circuiting con-qu-ered. Now to juice up his…”

April groans, running a hand down her face as she walks away, pacing in circles and biting her nail. Three had noticed once he was bored once more at the backstage.

While the very idea of chatting with April made him shudder, he needed to gain all their trust. So awkwardly he shuffled closer to her, stood behind her and waited for a moment to think about what to say.

April exhales, turning around but had not realised Three was right there, making her yelp slightly and stagger back.

“…Uh. Can I help you?” She asked, voice casual, but her fingers subtly moved behind her to rest near her phone, just in case.

Three didn’t respond right away. His mouth opened slightly, then shut again. His eyes flicked over her expression, scanning it like she was a complicated machine, and he couldn’t find the screws.

After a long, deeply uncomfortable silence, he spoke, stiff, monotone, but not entirely hostile.

“…You care about them.”

It wasn’t a question.

April raised a brow, unsure if this was leading to something sweet or threatening. She was also confused by who ‘them’ was until she realised he meant the turtles.

“Yeah? I mean, yeah. They’re my family.”

Three’s gaze sharpened a fraction. “Even though they’re not human?”

She folded her arms slowly. “Especially because they’re not. What, is that weird to you?”

Three didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to compute that answer for longer than should be necessary.

Then finally he nodded once. “Hm.”

And turned away.

That was it. That was the entire interaction.

April blinked, watching him walk back toward the wall with the same quiet, rigid stride.

“What the actual hell just happened.” She whispered to herself.

Back at the animatronic, Donatello peered over the top of Albearto’s head, having witnessed the bizarre interaction from the corner of his eye. “Yeah. See? That’s not normal behavior. That’s NPC behavior.”

April didn’t respond. She was still trying to figure out if Three had been trying to threaten her, test her, or… connect.

Maybe all three.

Donnie had quickly gone back to tinkering with Albearto’s controls before he had then started putting him back together.

“You know, he might end up being the greatest entertainer-bot of his generation. And voila, Albearto 2.14.2.”

He gestured to the new and improved robot, proud as he looked to Three, huffing. He’ll show him that his inventions are not all a total chaos.

“I upgraded my upgrade in the middle of the upgrade.”

Three stood from the sides, side eyeing the robot as he tilted his head. He once again didn’t understand how humans liked this sort of thing.

Donatello holds the controller and presses a button.

“Now, to sync him to my remote, and it’s showtime!"

Albearto powers on, talking in that strange voice that had Three uncomfortable. “Bon giorno, kiddies!"

Three twitched. His face barely changed, but his shoulders went rigid. There was something about that voice—too cheery, too artificial. Like something trying to impersonate joy.

He muttered under his breath, “Why do humans enjoy this?”

April seemed happy regardless. “Yeah, let’s go give Timmy the Albearto-iest birthday ever."

Sounds of atrocious chatter and laughter from the children echoed to their ears, a little girl seen chasing the well-known animatronic President Pepperoni.

April steps out on stage and grasps the curtain pull. Donatello stepped out behind her with the remote control. Three leans against the wall, curious as to how the soft shell would screw this up.

Let’s see how long this one lasts.

“You ready?"

“Yep."

April bites her lip in anxiousness, pulling down the cord and watches as the curtain opens. Albearto seen holding a guitar and plays a power chord.

"Bon giorno, kiddies!"

Silence briefly overtook the room with a little girl deadpanning. "Is he going to break again?"

April narrowed her eyes determinedly, "Not on my watch. Again."

The animatronic placed on sunglasses, "Hold on to your birthday hats, kiddies.” He spoke with that artificial joy tone. The band robots behind Alberto suddenly start playing hard rock music.

Three flinched at the sudden loudness but blinked as he hummed curiously. He wouldn’t admit this out loud, but he supposed this genre of music wasn’t bad.

Donatello grins proudly. “And now, for a little guitar solo. You’re welcome.” He stated amusingly, pressing down on a button on the controls. "Check me out, I’m shredding this guitar like its mozzarella.” The bear-bot bellowed, voice peaking in synthetic enthusiasm. Albearto continues playing, hopping around on the stage at the same time.

Maybe the idiot manage to actually make a successful invention—

Three watched when suddenly he saw the robot malfunction, making him twitch a smile upwards on his like as he eyed Donatello who gasped.

"Uh, hold on. No, no, no, no. He should not be glitching. He should be rocking and or rolling!"

Electricity crackles and Albearto begins to spin, with Donatello grinding his teeth in anxiousness. "Oh, no, oh, the battery! Oh, I knew I forgot to change something. I can’t stop him!" He shouts out in panic, before he froze.

From behind him came a quiet, but unmistakably smug scoff.

He turned, already dreading what he’d see.

And there stood Three, arms still crossed, a single non-existent brow arched in mocking approval. A small, near-sinister smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

It wasn’t much but it radiated smugness like a power source.

Albearto began flying all over the stage, shoving his guitar into the air and piercing an overhead light box. The sparks of the electricity jolts down and through Albearto’s body. Dramatic music plays as sparks flash all around Albearto while the kids stared, mouth agape in shock, their arms still in the air from formerly enjoying the concert.

Then a sudden explosion. Electricity crackles in an arc overhead as the smoke starts to clear. Kids covered in soot.

April clutches her head and groans as Donatello awkwardly smiled. "Ta-da."

Three was still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one foot casually kicked over the other. His unimpressed stare didn’t waver.

He gave Donatello a single, slow clap.

“Bravo.” He muttered, voice bone-dry. “Truly a performance for the ages.”

Donatello looked ready to throttle him with a power cord.

April runs onstage, sweating from the scene they witnessed. "Okay, so that happened. But we can still sing ‘Happy Birthday’ without him.” She assures, clearing her throat to start singing.

“Happy birthday..."

Three noticed the way the robot stood up behind her, making strange groans as he widens his eyes.

He was going to attack.

April stops mid-song while the kids look beyond terrified; shrieking and whimpering. "Hey diddly ho, kiddies.” His voice still remained joyful, but now laced with eeriness, stalking towards the scared kids, who peer upwards in terror.

“Time to pump this party up. Let’s play!"

In utter terror the children scream and run. "Donnie, can you, um…?” April nervously spoke up, as Donatello grumbled at his controller

"I can fix this. I can fix this, I can fix this, I can fix this. I can totally fix this—“ He smashes the controls over his face as he had kept vigorously pressing buttons. Three, still leaning against the wall like he was watching a car crash in slow motion, blinked slowly. He tilted his head. “Why would you break the one thing that controls him?”

Donatello didn’t answer.

He stared down at the crushed controller.

“…You know what. It turns out I cannot fix this.”

April slaps her face in immense frustration and then runs towards screaming kids. Donatello rubs the back of his neck in panic while Three stands by his side, having walked over to watch the destruction.

Albearto is laughing maniacally as he reaches for the birthday boy who squeaks in fear before he was saved by April who snatches a pizza platter off a table and jumps in front of the kid.

"Play nice, Albearto!"

With a hard swing from the platter, Albearto groans as both his hands go flying through the air.

The child clings to April’s arm for a moment until April looks down at him. "Run, kid!"

The boy runs away screaming more like a little girl, while Three watches as Albearto lifts his right arm with robotic claws having spring forth to form a new hand.

"Whoopsie, thanks for the claws, April."

He yells and swings an arm back, preparatory to strike at April.

“He knows my name?!”

She waits for the pain. “April!” Donatello called out in concern, about to run in and help, but was too slow on doing so as Three ran by, sword in hand.

Three's sword met the robotic claws in a shower of sparks, grinding metal against metal as he blocked the strike mid-air. The mutant held his ground, expression hard, his teeth clenched with the effort.

Donnie skidded to a halt, eyes wide. “Three?!”

“Do you want her chopped in half or not?” Three snapped through gritted teeth, shoving the robotic arm back with a twist of his blade.

April staggered back and dropped the pizza platter, gasping. “That was…Okay. That was awesome.”

“Stay down, human.” Three muttered without sparing her a glance, already lunging forward again. He kicks at the animatronic, back flipping off its chest and landing on a table, sword aimed as April watches with wide eyes before settling her gaze on the kids who hid under the tables.

“Who wants to play a little game of follow the leader to safety?"

Not having been to be told twice, the kids immediately follow April who leads the way, holding open the front door and the screaming kids run outside.

"And tell your friends to celebrate at Albearto’s after you’re done fleeing for your lives."

April slams the door shut when the last kid leaves, looking back to find herself jumping back in surprise when Three was tossed towards her, skidding to a halt by using his sword as leverage as he glared.

Albearto appeared in front of the two, as Three clicked his tongue, standing up straighter and in front of April.

But before either of them can strike, Raphael hurdled in and punched Albearto with his tonfa.

"Knuckle sandwich!"

Albearto flies through the air and crashes into a table, crushing it but immediately sits up again.

"Bon giorno, kiddies!"

Three had been briefly stunned by the punch from Raphael but he focused back on the situation, making his way towards the group.

“We’ll fix it, April. He may have the crazy, but we got the numbers. Go ahead and bounce if you need to."

The snapping turtle confidently grins.

"Don’t leave, I haven’t handed out the party invitations yet." Albearto spoke up, the group tensing when power cords snake out of Albearto’s mouth, shooting across the room and striking other animatronics like Cheery Tomato.

Another set of cords plug into President Pepperoni.

Albearto retracts the cords, and both robots come to life, taking up fighting stances alongside Albearto.

“Uh, he’s bringing the robots to life?” Three muttered in puzzlement, never having encountered something like this before.

“No sweat, still got this.” Raphael assured nonetheless, but he spoke too soon when the pizza parlour’s music played. Albearto’s head spins around backwards and cords shoot from his mouth again to go into the Whack-a-Vole arcade game.

The voles come to life and leap out of the game, lining up with the animatronics.

"Uh, you didn’t have plans right now, did you, April?" Raphael awkwardly inquired, sheepishly smiling as Three stood beside him, unimpressed. “What is this place?” He asked flatly, blade still drawn. “Is this what you people do for fun?”

“Yes.” Donnie’s voice suddenly cut in from behind them, “Fun is exactly what this was supposed to be.”

“I am surrounded by fools…” Three sighed under his breath.

April had laughed out of the blue, narrowing her eyes determinedly, “Oh, I’m staying. I am the Party Captain, and I am saving Timmy’s party from disaster."

The scream of a kill kid had April look to see the birthday boy, Timmy, sitting in front of the Whack-a-Vole game, being surrounded by the Voles.

"Right after I save Timmy."

Three was the first to leave the group and get into action, with the others eventually following his lead. Albearto and his band charged at them, with Three swiftly ahead, jumping up and slashing the blade down at Albearto who dodged by staggering back.

Everyone else had their own targets to go up against, and Three was focused on Albearto, he figured as the more skilled fighter out of everyone he could be better off fighting the main enemy.

He ducked a swinging claw from Albearto and drove forward again, his blade clanging against the robot’s shoulder and carving into its metal hide. A solid hit.

“Got you—”

“Three! I got your six!”

Three’s heart immediately dropped at the sound of his voice.

Leonardo.

“Wait, don’t interfere—” Three snapped, only to be cut off by Leonardo suddenly sliding in at his flank, twirling his ōdachi with too much flare and not enough planning. He intercepted a wild swipe from Albearto but it threw off Three’s rhythm.

“No!” Three growled, barely pulling back in time to avoid Leonardo’s second swing, which nearly caught him instead of the enemy.

Leonardo however looked confused. “I was helping—!”

“No, you were getting in my way!” Three hissed, deflecting another attack from Albearto that Leonardo had left wide open. “This fight is mine, back off!”

The slider faltered for a split second, clearly stung, but tried to shake it off. “We’re a team now, remember? You can’t just go off soloing every threat like—”

“I can when I’m the only one capable of handling it properly!” Three snapped, shoving his twin aside with his shoulder just in time to intercept another slash from Albearto. “Go play hero somewhere else before you get yourself fried.”

“I’m not leaving you alone against this thing!”

“Then stop making it harder.” Three growled, voice low and venomous. His patience was wearing thinner than his sword’s edge.

Leonardo looked like he wanted to argue again, but Albearto forced both turtles to separate when he pounced in between them. The robot let out a cheerful, maniacal cackle.

"You’d think as a birthday bot, you’d be a little more chill at a birthday party."

Leonardo chuckled at his own joke before he dodges Albearto’s swings. Leonardo starts to attack, but Albearto punches him first, making him slide back, holding his sword up defensively.

Three rolls his eyes at him, annoyed that he got in the way before he then sees Albearto coming at the red eared slider again, this time holding a board.

“No, wait…!”

Albearto hits Leonardo who had then gone flying and slammed into the manager’s glass viewing window and cracked it.

The blue masked turtle groans when he falls back down to the floor, in a daze as he notices Albearto, holding a wooden plank.

Three huffs, shaking his head at the scene. He looked around and decided to leave Albearto be. He honestly wondered why he was even helping, this was clearly not his fight or fault.

He immediately heads to the exit, sighing in exhaustion from the day, but he stopped when he heard multiple groans, making him stop and look back to see everyone piled up on each other.

"Oh, your sorry skills make me snicker.” He taunted the others, Three biting his lip before groaning. Coming to the decision to help.

“You’re no match for the King of Birthday Parties, that’s for sure.” The animatronic added, while Three jumped over a table, landing in between the group and Albearto.

“I hate human technology…” He grumbles, sword aimed as it was now a standoff.

Unaware that Donatello looked around and spotted the birthday cake that remained untouched.

“Hey, Albearto!” He announces, quickly jogging over and picking up the cake, confusing everyone. “You know, you can’t be the King of Birthday Parties without having one of your own."

Albearto lifts his arms menacingly while roaring, but suddenly he stops, looking more so surprised at Donatello’s comment.

“Wait, what? A birthday party for meesy-weesy?"

Three himself was just as puzzled, lowering his sword and eyeing the soft shell who walked towards their enemy with the cake.

“That’s right, Albearto. Today’s the day you were born. Through a total accident that’s clearly nobody’s fault.” Donatello smiled awkwardly, holding up the cake more, "A birthday cakey-wakey?” He mumbled, gently taking the cake out of his hands.

“Oh, for meesy-weesy?"

The brothers all stand up once they had a moment to recover, standing beside Donatello, who smiles up at the right.

“Not just a cake, my friend. We’ve also got a little song for you.”

He clears his throat, “Happy birthday to you.” He starts off, gesturing for his brothers to join in while Three places his sword back into its sheath, crossing his arms with a deadpan gaze.

“Happy birthday to..."

Albearto looked as though he may begin weeping at the song being sung to him, but he never got a chance when April came up behind him, smashing Albearto on the head with a mallet she received from the Whack-A-Vole game.

The cake flies from his hands and hits Donatello in the face who licks it off his face while he and the others, including Three, watch April, who is yelling and smashing Albearto with no mercy.

"Take that!"

April stands on top of Albearto, who had long powered down during his assault, April panting heavily, covered in cake. “Sing with me, guys! I am finishing this party!” She announces, aiming her mallet at the turtles.

“Happy birthday!”

She narrows her eyes, snapping at the brothers, who all but flinch at her aggressiveness. “Finish the song!"

Awkwardly they overlap each other with singing, none knowing what to say exactly.

“Dear—"

“Kid—"

“Squirt..."

“Albearto?"

Three dared not sing, obviously finding this whole scenario he was in a mess for someone like him that be even more part of.

"Happy birthday to you."

Once they finished their strange song, a rumbling sound echoed and the building started to shake, before it all collapsed down.

Smoke from the debris in the air, everyone coughed as they waved away the smokescreen.

“Huh?” April blinked, gazing around at the mess, the entire restaurant fell down and broken-down robots that they roughed up visible. Indistinct chattering could be heard as then the turtles bounced out of sight, none wanting to clean up the mess.

“Later!” Michelangelo's voice echoed from the side.

“Have fun cleaning up!” Raphael added.

“Don’t call us, we’ll call you!” Donatello chimed with a sarcastic salute.

April’s face fell. “Seriously?! You’re all just gonna run?”

A faint whoosh of air passed behind her.

Three remained there, processing.

He stood silently in the crumbling mess; he looked around at the wreckage. It was chaos. A bizarre, absurd mess.

Then he gave a shrug, the faintest roll of his shoulders, like someone brushing off a ridiculous dream.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and melted into the shadows, disappearing into the settling dust as if he’d never been there at all.

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

Chat, I locked in on this. I loved writing the silly dynamic between Donnie and Three

Quotev - Blood Is Thicker Than Water

Ao3 - Blood Is Thicker Than Water - Chapter 1 - Chilaglia - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

First Chapter here

Previous Chapter here

Taglist:

@turtl3sk3tch3s

@katiemaycreate

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 months ago

Text

Fic: intent and opportunity - ao3 - chapter 1

Relationships: Appo & Slick, Slick & Slick's squad, Appo & Slick's squad, others on ao3 Tags & Warnings on ao3

Summary:

After the postmortem briefing on the Christophsis campaign concluded and the command staff allowed to disperse, Appo did not leave with the others, but stayed behind to talk to Rex. “Captain, do you have a moment?” he asked, standing at attention and waiting until Rex nodded to continue. “I noticed an error in the flimsiwork and I’d appreciate your assistance in fixing it. Specifically, it relates to Sergeant Slick -" (when the GAR’s most blindly obedient clone starts following in the footsteps of its first clone traitor, the galaxy starts to change)

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

After the postmortem briefing on the Christophsis campaign was concluded and the command staff allowed to disperse, Appo did not leave with the others, but stayed behind to talk to Rex.

“Captain, do you have a moment?” he asked, standing at attention and waiting until Rex nodded to continue. “I noticed an error in the flimsiwork and I’d appreciate your assistance in fixing it.”

Rex huffed a half-laugh. “You and your flimsiwork, Sergeant Appo,” he said, although his relatively light-hearted tone suggested that what could have been a censure was in fact a commendation, or at minimum a neutral observation. “I should’ve known. Given my little time and General Skywalker’s little interest, I think the 501st would fall apart if we didn’t have you.”

Rex paused at that point, as if he expected Appo to say something, but Appo remained silent, unsure of what aspect of Rex’s statement called for a response.

Possibly he was expected to issue some sort of expression of gratitude (“Much appreciated, sir”) or denial (“I’m sure it’s not that bad, sir”)? Both responses seemed inadequate, since Rex’s statement was fundamentally accurate: Appo’s immediate promotion, upon the 501st’s official deployment, to Master Sergeant (in addition to his existing duties as a regular sergeant) had been based on his patience for filling out flimsiwork, a task detested by General Skywalker and Captain Rex alike, and the 501st would have fallen apart if Appo didn’t regularly submit operations reports or procurement requests.

They might only be half a year into the war, but battlefields were costly, and the fact remained that replacement starship fuel and ammunition did not appear from thin air.

When Appo did not respond, Rex shook his head in a seemingly self-directed gesture, as if asking himself what he had been expecting. “Never mind. Permission to speak granted.”

“Thank you, sir. I identified an inconsistency in the personnel record following the campaign. Specifically, it is in relation to Sergeant Slick –”

Rex’s shoulders twitched. This was an anomalous gesture for him, something Appo would have expected to see in a more stressful situation than a casual conversation with a subordinate.

“Slick isn’t listed on either KIA or MIA lists,” Appo continued, filing the body language detail away as irrelevant. “But he also hasn’t reported in, which suggests –”

“Don’t worry about Slick,” Rex said, interrupting, and Appo paused.

This, too, was anomalous.

“Sir, you don’t understand,” he said. “There are only three categorizations for a trooper after a battle: killed in action, missing in action, or at their post. Slick isn’t listed in any of those.”

“I know that,” Rex said, which suggested a greater mastery of the art of flimsiwork than he had hitherto ever displayed. He was more a warrior than an administrator, though the same could be said for most clones, based on their template’s model. “However, in this instance, I’m telling you that it’s not a problem.”

Appo was baffled. Had he somehow failed to adequately communicate his concern?

Not talking right as usual, Appo. Acting like you’re actually some sort of droid in there under the muscle. Maybe you should dig your knife into your arm to see if there are wires –

Intrusive thought. Rejected.

(Appo had a problem with intrusive thoughts, which had haunted him for as long as he could remember. According to the medical staff back on Kamino, it was not entirely uncommon, even in troopers. One of the medics had described it as being a reaction to trauma, although Appo had developed it unusually early and without the battle that usually preceded post-battle shock. Regardless, the recommended treatment was the same, which was to learn to ignore them.)

“Sir, there are different procedures that need to be followed in each situation,” Appo said, and decided to start with the least unsavory option. “If Slick’s dead, we need to know so that we can add him to the remembrance wall –”

“Do not put him on the remembrance wall!”

Appo blinked.

Rex gritted his teeth and purposefully released a breath, as if attempting to regulate himself. “Listen, Sergeant,” he said. “Slick’s not dead, so you don’t need to add him to the wall or anything like that.”

“But –”

“I know you mean well. But I’m telling you, you really don’t need to worry about him.”

“But –”

“Is there a reason you keep asking about this?” Rex demanded. A moment later, his expression changed, softening with an expression of something like sympathy or empathy. “Is that it, Appo? I know you and Slick shared quarters. Were you and him – close?”

“No,” Appo said honestly. Slick was quick-witted, clever, and sociable, popular with his men, appreciated by his peers and superiors alike, while Appo was quiet and awkward, not the sort of person others would pick to spend off-time with. He was generally valued more for his skillset than any aspect of his personality, and he was fine with that, preferring to spend his time with the rare people he genuinely liked or else alone. He and Slick had never meshed especially well, though Appo wouldn’t consider their relationship bad, either; merely collegial and professional. The fact that they shared a bunkroom on account of their matching ranks (troopers were always at least four to a room except for high command, and sergeants were no exception) had minimal relevance.

It certainly wasn’t relevant to the inaccurate scenario that Rex had constructed for himself. Rex, himself, was known to occasionally get close with other troopers, a fact that everyone knew but politely did not say. This had already been well known back on Kamino, but following deployment Rex’s overly social tendencies had only intensified, extending beyond the clone ranks and encompassing even natborns like General Kenobi and previously-Commander now-General Skywalker. Lower-level staff gossip rampantly speculated that before the war was done they would see Rex run the whole gamut of emotional relationships, ranging from friendships, romantic entanglements, and even favoritism, though hopefully not enough to affect mission completion. Appo assumed that it was that tendency of Rex’s that had generated the misunderstanding, rather than any indications Appo had provided from his own conduct.

(Appo, notably, was not one of the troopers Rex had grown close to.)

(Prior to today, he would have said that Slick was.)

“No?” Rex asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. Quite sure.”

“I see. Then…why the insistence…?”

“Things must be in their proper place, sir. If Slick isn’t dead, then he’s missing. That means we need to revoke his permissions and put him on a watchlist for a minimum period of –”

“Enough, Sergeant.” Rex reached up and rubbed his forehead with his palm, as if he had started to develop a headache. “If this is just about the flimsiwork, then I’m officially telling you to drop it. The matter’s above your paygrade – and mine, too, for that matter. So just stop asking. Is that clear?”

“No, sir,” Appo said, meaning I don’t understand at all. When Rex glared, though, he grimaced and amended his words to “Yes, sir,” meaning I will put an end to this conversation as ordered.

“Good. Dismissed.”

Appo left.

He was no less puzzled, though. There simply was no categorization that fit the situation or explained Rex's bizarre instruction. A trooper was either at their post, dead, or missing, a category which covered both unidentified bodies left on the battlefield (the majority), those captured by the enemy (deemed dead), or potential deserters. In each case, the appropriate forms needed to be filed and appropriate actions needed to be taken: memorials for the dead, a watchlist for the living, instructions for those at their post. One could not simply “forget about” those processes, not even on the orders of a superior officer.

Under normal circumstances, Appo would always choose to obey orders. That was what clone troopers were made for, and it was trained into them from before they could even remember.

A clone trooper who did not obey orders was not worth anything.

On the other hand, if he’d listened every time either Rex or General Skywalker had said “don’t worry about it, we’ll get to it later”, the 501st would have run out of just about everything within months, if not weeks. They were a highly active battalion, alternating between joint and solo missions and regularly being redirected to new areas of high concern. Someone needed to stay on top of everything: not just replacing fuel and ammunition, but making sure there was enough food and water for all the men aboard, sourcing their clothing and armor and bedding, managing the euphemistic personnel shortage issues (everything from transfers to funerals to ordering replacement soldiers), ensuring critical spaceship repairs got done, resupplying with medicine and life-support units, making sure they got upgrades and new tech and sufficient pieces to keep their droids in working order…though they probably would’ve still had plenty of extra R2-line replacement parts, since General Skywalker always took meticulous care of his personal astromech unit.

Actually, that was a thought. Rex had said that the matter was “above his paygrade”, hadn’t he?

That meant it must have been marked as confidential at the Jedi General level.

Well, that was simple enough to solve.

Appo went to talk to General Skywalker.

You're violating protocol. They'll decomm you for this. They've just been waiting on an excuse -

Intrusive thought. Rejected.

Protocol said that flimsiwork had to be filed promptly and accurately, which required an answer regarding the present status of Sergeant Slick (confirmed not dead, but not listed as missing). Protocol also said that unusual or uncharacteristic orders from a superior that violated SOP had to be reported to command, in case the superior in question had been compromised. Appo would strongly prefer that not to be the case. A simple chat with the General would achieve both objectives while avoiding hitting Rex with the stigma of a formally filed complaint.

It was clearly the optimal solution.

Appo's nervous anxiety at the idea of talking one-on-one with his general, who usually limited his communications to Rex and whoever Rex had picked to be his immediate support squadron (typically a team composed of available troopers or relevant specialists, which had to date never included Appo in his Master Sergeant role), was purely his own issue. It was therefore his responsibility to ignore his discomfort and proceed.

He knocked at the General's door and waited until he heard a garbled "Come in!" before proceeding. "General?"

"Oh, hey!" General Skywalker lurched to his feet from where he'd been sitting at his tinkering desk. He seemed to be trying to stand in front of it, as if to conceal the R2 upgrades he was working on (a technically illegal upgraded flamethrower mod). Appo wasn't sure why he was bothering, both because Appo, as the General's subordinate, had no standing to criticize him regardless of what he was doing and because Appo had been the one to process the parts requests and oversee their delivery to the General's quarters. "Sorry, I thought you were Rex - probably should've checked first - anyway, yeah. It's, uh, Appo, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Right. Good. Rex’s mentioned you a couple of times. What can I do for you?"

"I'm hoping you can assist me with a flimsiwork issue -" The General's enthusiastic expression faltered. "- relating to the status of Sergeant Slick."

General Skywalker’s expression shifted once more. Appo was not particularly familiar with non-clone facial movements, but most human or humanoid species tended towards similar forms, which suggested to him that General Skywalker’s expression had moved from dread-imminent-boredom to dread-immediate-panic. However, there was no logical reason for an emotional reaction of that type, and no additional evidence to correlate or support Appo’s conclusion. It was entirely possible that he was mistaken regarding the nature of General Skywalker’s feelings at the moment.

He didn’t think he was, though.

“I spoke with Captain Rex about it –”

“You did? Oh, good –”

“– and he said the matter was confidential at a level higher than his,” Appo concluded. “That’s why I’ve come to ask you about it, sir.”

“Gee, thanks, Rex,” General Skywalker muttered under his breath. “Uh, listen, Appo…about Slick…”

He trailed off. Appo politely waited for him to continue, but the General seemed to have lost steam. Instead, he was glancing around the room as if seeking an answer somewhere in the mess of tools, parts, and miscellanea.

Alternatively, he was possibly waiting for Appo to be the first to break the silence, but that would have been a tactical error on his part. Appo was fairly notorious for what his trainers liked to call his “imperturbable even keel” and what his peers preferred to call his “stone face with dead eyes” – even the training sim droids lost patience faster than he did.

It wasn’t that Appo didn’t feel the awkwardness of standing there and staring blankly at his General while his General shifted from foot to foot and cleared his throat repeatedly. It was just that he was so lost as to what to do about it that it seemed safer to stay in position and wait.

“…listen,” General Skywalker finally said. “Listen, Appo. Slick’s – uh – that is – what did you say that Rex said about it, again?”

“He said that it was confidential at a level above his,” Appo repeated obediently. “Specifically, that it was ‘above his pay grade’. He requested that I forget about it, but that would be contrary to protocol.”

And would require a formal report of malfeasance that would go on the Captain’s permanent record, so it would be great if the General would countermand that order at once, please.

General Skywalker brightened. “Yeah, no, actually, that sounds right? You should forget about it. It’s not a big deal.”

“Post-battle personnel records must be updated with accurate information,” Appo said, starting to wonder if it was them that had all lost their minds or if it was just him. “If we don’t supply a status, we can’t take appropriate steps. The record will not be accurate.”

“It’s all right if the record’s not accurate this once,” General Skywalker said, for some reason waving his hand vaguely in the air, as if to bat away some invisible gnat. “You can just move on.”

That’s right, you should just move on. You have so much to do, and this is taking time you really don’t have. General Skywalker and Rex know what they’re doing. This is just the once –

Intrusive thought. Rejected.

(Oddly non-violent. Most of Appo’s intrusive thoughts about the Jedi involved killing them.)

“Sir, operational efficiency depends on accurate record-keeping,” Appo said firmly. “Even a single deviation potentially leaves room for future inconsistencies. We’ve got to file something, it’s not something we can just skip.”

General Skywalker grimaced. “Right. Yes. Of course… Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got unusually strong willpower and clarity of purpose, Sergeant Appo?”

“…no, sir,” Appo said. Was that relevant to the present conversation?

“Listen…okay…uh…he’s…what are the options again?”

“KIA, MIA or at his station, sir.” Appo paused, then added, helpfully, “Captain Rex has already confirmed the Sergeant is not dead, sir, and I can confirm he’s not at his post. Based on Captain Rex’s reaction, it also does not appear that he is ‘missing’.”

“…right.” The General groped around in the air as if trying to grab something, then appeared to hit on something. “You said Rex said it was confidential, right? Isn’t there some sort of form you’d need to file to get something confidential opened up? And some sort of status relating to that?”

“Yes, sir,” Appo said. “Newly issued Form 15b63. Anything related to an information request would be listed as pending.”

“Great!” The General beamed at him. “Why don’t you file one of those? By the time that’s done, there should be an answer for you, and you’ll be able to make the flimsiwork all nice and neat.”

The flimsiwork was only the means of making sure the record on which they based all other decisions was accurate, not the end in itself. But Appo did not bother to correct the General with information he was fairly certain the General did not wish to receive – the General was not a brother, who he trusted to respond to his inquiries in a reasonable and cooperative fashion. At any rate, he’d gotten an answer, or as close as he thought he was likely to get of one.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll do that.”

He went back to his quarters and called up the form on his datapad. It was one of the Jedi additions to Republic standard. It had been issued in one of the recent circulars, which had included an explanation of when it was appropriate for use and the reasoning behind it – something about how belonging to the Jedi Order meant entitling the rank and file to getting answers to questions from the Jedi if they had them.

It sounded like a whole lot of junk to Appo. Soldiers weren’t meant to ask questions that weren’t mission-relevant, they were supposed to obey. That was the point of being soldiers.

A clone trooper who didn’t obey orders wasn’t worth anything.

Appo checked, and, to his lack of surprise, the number of times Form 15b63 had been filed could be counted in the low double digits. Most of them appeared to have been filed in error, although there appeared to be at least one instance of Alpha-17 submitting a form requesting information regarding…hm. To translate it into the vernacular, he appeared to be asking “what the kark is wrong with General Kenobi”, and the answer provided was “he’s just like that, sorry”.

(Appo had only met Alpha-17 very briefly during his time on Kamino, and they had not gotten along particularly well. One time, relatively early during command class training, Alpha-17 had loudly said in the presence of his favorite training squad of commanders-to-be that if all clone troopers could be represented by landing strip lights, Appo’s would have been dim enough to cause a ship to crash. Appo still had no idea what he'd done to merit the comment.)

The form itself was easy to fill out. Appo listed his name and number, added identifying details regarding his battalion, described the nature of his request and the relevant background, and even attached his personal security clearances as support. He expressed, in the strongest terms as he could manage, that identifying Slick's ultimate fate was important not necessarily for itself, but as a matter of good conduct and appropriate protocol, which seemed more likely to be convincing. He made sure to indicate that he would be satisfied with mere notification that a resolution of the information issue had been reached, under the assumption that the matter likely exceeded his personal clearance level.

He submitted the form, designating it as urgent and tagging it for the next data burst headed back to HQ on Coruscant. These could often be unpredictable, creating all sorts of delays; there was a reason that urgent orders came through by holocall. But since Appo was in charge of the comm officer's schedules, it was easy enough to arrange for the burst to go out the same day.

Unexpectedly, he received a response in the very next return burst, only three hours later.

Your inquiry has been received and has entered processing. Your request for information is very important to us, and we are committed to answering it in a timely matter. If you have not heard back in two weeks and your question remains outstanding, please resubmit the form.

May the Force be with you.

~J. Nu

Appo stared at the message. He’d never seen anything like it before. The vast majority of the forms he filed went into the yawning black void of GAR High Command with no response whatsoever, and those responses he did get were brusquely dismissive. Presumably this bizarrely conversational tone was due to the involvement of the Jedi.

It was probably just an automatic filler response.

But...that didn't mean he couldn't take it seriously.

The response did say to resubmit the form if he didn't get an answer. Technically speaking, it was not an order Appo was obligated to follow, as it came from outside his line of command - but since the Jedi were involved, Appo could choose it treat it as one. All Jedi were Generals. It wouldn't be totally against protocol. Order were meant to be followed.

It would, however, be a waste of time.

Appo wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t actually blind, either. He followed orders without question, of course, but his strict adherence to protocol wasn’t about being dogmatic for the sake of it, the way it was for some others. It was because the rules were simply far too easy to break – and once you started breaking them, it was easier and easier to keep on doing so, and harder and harder to turn back. If Slick could be vanished without a proper designation, then so could anyone else, and that was a dangerous precedent to set. But in truth, one trooper more or less wouldn't actually cause any real issues. The 501st were due to get a new cohort of clones shipped out of Kamino relatively soon, exact details to be determined. It would be easy enough to just slot one of those into the right place, keep the numbers even. There would be no disruption in service, and the record would not really be affected.

In short, it would be easy to do as Rex and the General had instructed and to leave it alone. Appo had already filed the request form, which was more than anyone could have expected him to do on behalf of a fellow clone he had no particular feelings about. He could just leave it at that, and move on to the myriad of other far more urgent tasks he had to do.

Slick probably wouldn't have done even half as much if it had been Appo who had been left in this strange technical limbo, assuming he would have even noticed it in the first place.

Assuming anyone would have noticed.

A clone is just a copy, meant to be used up and discarded. Why must you keep persisting? You’re making a bad impression on your commanding officer, and for no reason at all. Isn’t it bad enough already that you’re you, without making it worse..?

Intrusive thought. Rejected.

Appo finished his work period and went to his bunk. All of the sergeants he shared a room with were on the same shift, meaning that they all rose and slept on the same schedule; there was another group that was on duty during the other shifts. There should have been more of them to fill out a full complement, but lots of people had died, and not every post had been filled yet. Officers in particular took longer to train and were harder to replace, even NCOs like him, and they were running low while they waited for resupply and promotions to be doled out. Every sergeant was meant to have had their own squad of five troopers to focus on, but they had already started grouping multiple squads under one sergeant - a temporary measure, they said, and meant it, but Appo suspected that as long as the war continued, personnel pressures would get only worse, not better.

Appo laid there, in the dark, and listened to the others breathe. Only two others, now, since Slick was gone, and the sound of the room that he had grown used to was different.

That wasn't uncommon. The war was savage, brutal, and there were new losses after every battle. There wasn’t a single trooper outside of the shinies that didn’t know the feeling of looking for someone and seeing only an empty gap, blank spots in their ranks filled only by the ghosts of the dead.

Only...Slick wasn't dead.

He wasn't dead, he wasn't missing, he wasn't at his post.

He wasn't anything. Not even a numerical designation on the right list.

"Hey, Riven," Appo said, staring blankly at the ceiling above his bunk.

A huff, cough, the noises of someone already mostly asleep waking back up partway. "Yeah, Appo?"

"Can we swap third squads?"

"Third..? Oh, Slick's old squad? Sure, you're welcome to them, if you're sure about it. It's tough luck, losing their sarge like that."

It was a nasty hit to morale, he meant. Clones were designed to be loyal, loyal to the Jedi, to the Republic, to each other, and that loyalty generally flowed up. Losing a superior was particularly hard, and a superior you actually liked was even harder. And when morale was low...

No one expected Slick's squad to survive for long.

Whoever their next sergeant was, they would have to be ready for that. Both emotionally and practically - it would be their job to make sure that the grieving squad didn't take anyone with them when they went down. That was the grim reality of life as a sergeant, right up close and personal with the troopers and the way the war devastated them in a way the commanders and captains and even lieutenants rarely were. It was not a task any of them enjoyed, and so they generally split it among themselves, taking turns.

Unless someone volunteered.

"I'm sure," Appo said. “I’ll take them.”

"All yours, then. I'll register the transfer in the morning."

Appo didn't say anything.

"...or I could register it now. Like the diligent, protocol-abiding soldier I am and aspire to be."

"Thanks, Riven,” Appo said, satisfied. “Tell me your preferred position for the next campaign, and I'll give you first shot at it if I can."

Riven made a pleased sound, even as Hutch in the bunk next to his immediately came awake with sounds of complaint and jealousy. He would almost certainly challenge Riven for the privilege during their next downtime, and only chance and the sabbac table would tell who actually had it by the time they went into the battlefield once more.

Appo closed his eyes.

#my fic #my fics #appo #slick #rex #anakin skywalker #new long fic #it's still in progress but several chapters are already done #lots of paperwork #mind the tags on ao3

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