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popculturebuffet · 3 years ago

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Danny Phantom Reviews Poll Winner: Kindred Spirits!: Danny Really, Really Hates Clones

Hello all you happy people! I”m Jake , I review animation comics and film and today marks the return of one of the most popular segments on this blog: My Monthly Danny Phantom reviews! To make up for the lost review I had you fine folks pick from one of four episodes, two of which are selected by my patrons, over on Patreon. 15 of you fine folks voted, as well as myself though I do not look at any results till I have just to make it fair, voted and while every episode got some love...

The winner by a LANDSLIDE was Kindred Spirits, picked by good friend of the blog and patron @weirdkev27. If you’d like to throw your own dog in the fight next time, join by the end of the month!

Any level backer gets a REVIEW OF THEIR CHOICE on joining, two months after and 5 dollar backers get a half hour or single issue review of their choice EVERY MONTH so if there’s some danny you want to see sooner rather than later, sign on up. Not only that every person who does gets me closer to my stretch goals. Next one is monthly reviews of owl house season 1 and a few after that nets an EXTRA DANNY PHANTOM REVIEW A MONTH. Guarnateed till I finish it. So if enough of you join, i’ll be happy to double down on your monthly percription of SPOOKAY GHOST BOYS!

So come on RIGHT OVER HERE AND BECOME A PROUD PATRON!

And if you’d like to help with my next poll click this link to pick one of 5 insane superhero weddings!

This one’s overwhelming win dosen’t suprise me though: While there were other fan favorites in the mix with Identity Crisis and Fanning the Flames and one of my own favorites with What You Want, they simply can’t compete with the million dollar debut of one of the series most popular characters: Danny’s younger clone/”Cousin” Dani. Despite only having two episodes, Dani left a huge impression on fans for reasons we’ll get into.

It’s also the first episode i’ve reviewed that I saw all of ONCE as a kid.

Yeah shocking isn’t it? I still saw it, but due to being later in season 2, i.e. right before the network stopped caring about the show, I didn’t catch this one until AFTER D-Stabalized, which was one of the ONLY danny phantom episodes from season 3 I caught in the initial run along with Urban Jungle, Forever Phantom, Living Large and Phantom Planet. That also makes it the ONLY chapter in the brilliant seasons long saga of Vlad and danny I missed prior to season 3.

And it’s also the first time in that saga we’re skipping ahead slightly since I haven’t gotten to my next story arc, covering Jazz’s knowledge of Danny’s secret identity and the episodes around that, yet. Thankfully this one dosen’t follow up on the previous Vlad episodes Secret Weapons and Masters of All Time, even though it was produced after both so you got me there, so we’re fine to jump around jump around jump up and jump up and get down. It still builds off previous events in intresting ways and still slaps though like always so join me under the cut as I recap as we send in the clones, those laughy daffy clones.

So we open.. with a really dope opening. Had I seen this one more as a kid it probably would’ve stuck to my brain the way Vlad’s speech to danny in his first apperance and chess speech and reign storm did. Vlad watches over some recordings of fights between Val and Danny.. and we find out besides having a pawn stored for later there was yet ANOTHER purpose to giving Val equipment: Her helmet has been recording field data on Danny and his biological structure this entire time. It’s brilliant and unsettling all at once, letting us know both how Vlad’s had such detailed info on Danny and that there’s something far worse at stake he’s been working on since season 1 and to finish his ghastly project he sends three other ghosts, one under a bed sheet, one looking like a frankenstien and one that’s pym sized to go get Danny. It’s an ominous as hell opening and knowing exactly what he’s up to.. dosen’t make it any less creepy. Knowing h’es CLONING danny and has been working toward it this whole time honestly makes it even MORE creepy but we’ll get into that more later.

So one title sequence later, Danny is late meeting his friends for mini golf and tries making up a story about fighting Pariah Dark again.. but since that’s like saying Darkseid omega beamed your homework he’s forced to admit he simply slept too long. But Tucker and Sam are annoyed for more than just half assed excuses: Lately Danny’s been ditching them and leaving them with the aftermaths of his ghost missoins, treating them mroe like sidekicks. And this.. COULD be an intresting plotline, having Danny deal with the fact he exploits his friends good will a bit too much secret ID or no, especailly with how vital they are to his superheroing. Instead this plot falls a bit short but we’ll circle to why soon enough.

For now he admits he’s been a bit much and vows to change it.. just as the sheet ghost attacks, leading to an awesome fight. We also get an awesome reveal as Danny is unimpressed with the ghost.. till it removes the sheet revealing a HORRIFYING LOOKING SKELETON

The design here is just top notch and deeply terrifying.. especailly once you know this is a version of DANNY. And that’s another key part of the design: while the failed clones look diffrent enough to not give the game away there are subtle hints like the face structure and eyes that tell you this is danny.. or at least a warped horrifying near mindless versoin of him.

Danny wins the fight by DOING A GODDAMN KAMEHAMEHA. Like no really, his beams have gotten so strong he can do that now. Like I know he had the charge ball from desire but holy shit.

This leads to .. Danny booking and leaving his friends to get blamed for it. Also they don’t you know, blame a ghost since their public and that happens for no reason. And this is one fo the big reasons why this plot dosen’t work: they CONTRIVE reasons for the others to be left holding the bag to make Danny look worse. They have to actively work to make him be a shitty friend.

Another problem.. is that they’ve ALREADY DONE THIS PLOT AND BETTER BEFORE. It ended up being fitting I put “What You Want” in the poll for this episode because this subplot rehashes part of that. In that underrated Gem, Tucker also is left with consequence after consequence due to Danny having powers. But in What You Want instead of contrivances, they think of less over the top but still understandbly frustrating ways Danny accidently, key word being ACCIDENTALLY screws over his best pal (Sam is out of comission with a cold for most of this one). He has to bail at a football game and leave tucker as mascot to suffer the teams wrath, has to bail on the movies to stop an attack there leaving tucker with a less good film, and in general has something Tucker DOSEN’T after they’ve shared their whole life in his secret powers. It’s used to resonably build up some resintment in tuck so when Desirree gives him powers of his own, her wish has something to warp, some reasonable things Tucker was annoyed by but shrugged off that get twisted into rage and egotisim.

Here? Danny’s just kind of an insenstivie dick and in this case especially left his friends. He says it was to protect his identity.. but his ID isn’t in any danger here. While he keeps it secret for good reason the fact is NO ONE suspects he isn’t a full ghost while gone ghost. Even Vlad didn’t know till he’d nearly beaten Danny to death first. It’s like with Superman: most people don’t go sniffing for Superman’s other life.. because they don’t think he has one. He dosen’t wear a mask, he dosen’t talk about another life, and he even has a well known if remote HQ that people assume is his home (and he likely has slept in on ocasion). Most people who found out who he was were either really perceptive like batman or new 52 lois, or he outright told. The fact he he HAD another ID was a huge shock to most people when he went public.

It’s the same here: while Danny Phantom is a heroic ghost, no one has ANY reason to suspect he’s only human. There were only two halfas before this episode and BOTH keep it secret. And they only know each other’s id’s because Vlad nearly pummled danny to death and saw him transform back to human and then decided, of his own accord to reveal his secret identity. So while yeah Danny’s id’s in danger if he goes missing or something like that, it’s not in danger from him happening to show up after a bit dust up at the golf course and nothing stopped him from simply flying a distance away, changing back and taking full responsibility. It makes him a dick for no good reason. And the baffling thing is both this episode and what you want HAVE THE SAME WRITERS. Series architecht and real dad Steve Marmel and Sib Ventress. So how they fucked up THIS BAD boggles the mind.

Thankfully we get to the good part of the episode as Danny returns home.. and finds an 11-12 year old sitting on his bed.

He’s understandably put off by his supposed “cousin” danny, especially since she seems to like everything he does from Nasa to Dumpty Humpty, a nice call back to Val’s origin story ep. She books it though when he tries to bring his parents into this because you know, lost homeless child, kinda need their help to take care of her.

Being a good guy and having questions, Danny rushes after her.. only to run into a frankenstien because that’s how his life goes. Try to do something personal, get beat up by a ghost, rinse repeat. I do really like frankendanny, from his finger claws to just how DIFFRNET he is from the original and how intimdating he looks. Frankendanny fucks regular dannys’ shit up.. till Dani shows up... and reveals she’s ALSO half ghost. Danny’s reaction is understandable.

So Danny decides to table his questions about.. all of this and the two easily hold back Frankendanny working together. It’s a damn cool scnee that shows Danny is just as capable as her brother from another mother. Her mother is a purple pod with Danny’s dna jammed inside. She loves PodMom.

So the next day Danny tells tucker about her annnndd... instead of focusing you know on the fact there’s a second ghost kid and she seems to be on their side, they focus on.. Danny ditching them the other day.

Their right to be mad.. but a SECOND hybrid showed up, is seemingly on their side, but also knows everything danny does and has all his powers, meaning if she’s not as friendly as she seems she COULD be really dangerous. And their thought is “we’re still pissed off about your golf assholery?!” This is.. badly out of character. I buy they’d still be mad.. but I also buy they’d at least pivot to this new mystery person. Their STILL more pissed abotu the stuff when Dani does show up, and Dash frames them for the distruction she caused... than the fact THER’ES ANOTHER GHOST KID.

So this time it’s the tiny ghost, but Danny soon has bigger issues.. as Vlad has arrived and we get a truly awesome scene, for all parties involved. Danny tries using Vlad’s own mental blindspots against him, asking why he’s not talking about wanting maddie or making danny his son or hating jack.. but for once.. Vlad is all business. And the reason for this is very simple: if he beats Danny this time.. he’ll be able to clone him perfectly and thus be done with his arch enemy once and for all. For once he has no buttons to press, no tricks to play, and no desire to SPARE danny and save him for later: just to beat him up and take his dna so he can make a better danny and throw out the old model. His fighting style dosen’t really change to reflect that.. but it dosen’t need to. Until now he’s always had the advantage over danny, only loosing because his own ego and deranged obessions blinded him.

But this time.. Danny fights back equally. And i’m glad this scene is here as it’s Marmel’s last Vlad episode, sad I know, and thus the last time someone would CARE about how far the characters have come. Something I love about the show, something I feel a GOOD superhero work about anew hero like this should do.. is progress. Learning new skills and powers, making them better, getting better bit by bit and the joy of seeing this young hero you respect only get better and better and fight better and better, going toe to toe with those who would once curbstomp them. Not by cheap power ups, but by hard work, traning and dedication. THe best shows of this time did this and Danny is the gold standard of that.

While we don’t see him train every episode, tha’td be boring, we see him running improvised Danger room style training with Tucker and Sam every so often, and we see subtle progress. While he struggles with powers the first time he gets them, having the ghost ball thing backfire, having his pants fall down due to intagablity that osrt of thing, that stuff slowly peters out as he gets better at each skill. It even shows here: he’s gone from doing maybe a few beams an episode to being able to do a giant one that can level a building. And it all cumilates here as this time, when fighting vlad they have a dbz style beam struggle.. and both hold it. Danny struggles with it sure.. but the fact is earlier on.. vlad would’ve won without a thought and easily curbstomped danny by now. Every victory he’s had over vlad has beeen due to cleverly exploiting vlad’s flaws. Here while he’s close to defeat.. he still stands a chance... until Dani back blasts him and we get a great reveal line “did I do good daddy?”

Genius. So after the commerical break, which I didn’t have because paramount+... though if I may rant for a second. While I don’t get most commericals with Paramount+, when I watch stuff aimed at kids... they ALWAYS air an ad before it. Always. It’s really annoying. It’s bothersome enough right now when it’s for Rumble.. aka a film I was already going to watch and now have for a review, and likely woudl’ve at some point anyway out of curosity. But it was even more annoying when it was for the Jojo Siwa movie or The Loud House christmas movie. On the formrer I have nothing against the person I just don’t want to watch a J-Team unless it’s lead by Jackie Chan and the latter just looked awful and I already watched one terrible loud house movie last year. I didn’t need to go for two. I probably will eventually because they apparently half assedly break up Luna and Sam OFFSCREEN

And yes I know i’m not who their aiming at but 1) Dosen’t mean adults don’t watch this and ads free MEANS ads free you dicks. I dont’ see Hulu, Prime, or Netflix pulling this kind of thing. HBO Max does.. but it’s skippable and only in front of HBO Content. So it’s mildly annoying sure but it’s standard policy and again SKIPPABLE. 2) More importantly THEIR ONLY PUTTING ADS IN FRONT OF CONTENT FOR CHILDREN. I.. I shoudln’t have to explain WHY that’s scummy right? Trying to shove kids over to your original stuff by implanting it in their heads right? I get this was standard practice on a cable network, having adds for a show inbetween shows.. but this isn’t it. If they want to watch it they’ll watch it. Don’t try and hedge your bets.

Okay... got that out of my system

So Tucker and Sam come out to find.... Vlad and Dani carrying an unconcious Danny in the alley behind the school now. When they were in the street earlier. Something @jess-the-vampire pointed out and still confuses me. Guess the street was behind the school?

So yeah the two feel RIGHTFULLY like dicks for not having you know, actually thought two seconds about any of this. Then Lancer comes in.. and yells at them for not being in the cafeteria.. even though the two came out to put trash in the cans.

So not having time to deal with an aging balding idiot or a situation they got themselve into by agreeing to get the mop instead of at least TRYING to defend themselves, they instead call Lancer old and run off. Well Tucker does. I’m going to get this part of the plot out of the way now. After some more Dani stuff we’ll circle back to, they run into the fenton’s house, and then the basement to steal the specter speeder and the boo-merang (because it can still track Danny from having his DnA during the events of The Ultimate Enemy) and bounce, getting into trouble.. because Danny needs them. And we needed a subplot about Danny taking them for granted to get here .. why?

No really, while I apricate TRYING to add some character depth in stuff, it’s so half assed in execution that really makes me wonder.. why not just have Tucker and Sam save him and get in trouble? If your not going to put in the effort you have in other episodes to make it work, why have it at all other than to pad out the episode.. oh okay there we go. And if your wondering why so harsh.. it’s Steve Marmel. He’s had off days sure, no writer is perfect and splitting images is proof of that, but this is the MAIN WRITER OF THE SHOW. It’s head. The reason it was so good for two seasons and his absence is why it went off the rails without his direction.. or rather because Butch wanted to change the direction clearly. I love the guy dearly and while he’s botched subplots before, their usually covered by better writing. Here the better writing in the other story.. just exposes how half assed this plot is and how unecessary it feels. He can do better.. so I EXPECT better. While I don’t let a writer escape because I don’t expect much from them, hi butch, I’m more pissed when a writer I know can do better half asses it.

Now REALLY back to the good part. Danny wakes up in the cube from Bitter Reunions and finds uh oh, he’s back to the lab again. And Vlad has plans. As i’ve made no attempt at hiding because anyone reading this likely knows and if you don’t.. sorry about that... Vlad is trying to make a perfect clone of danny. He used Val to get biometric readouts and data on Danny and apparently got his Dna.. at some point. I won’t mock this though: having covered most vlad episodes up to this point he had PLENTY of opportunity to get Danny’s Dna samples

Danny stayed at his house overnight, god that does not make it sound better, he stayed at Danny’s house overnight, even worse, and they’ve fought 5 or 6 times at this point. While Danny dosen’t shed like the majestic moongoose, he still likely left something Vlad could use...and just.. i’mg oing to stop. Point is he has the dna to make his perfect boy AND I TOPPED MYSELF OKAY MOVING ON.

Problem is he ONLY has 2/3 samples he needs: he has morphed and unmorphed.. but cleverly he needs Danny MID-MORPH. It’s why the kidnapping: it’s the one bit of his dna he CAN’T get casually without Danny knowing.

The other clones were failures in Vlad’s eyes... both for being mindless.. and for having a short life expectancy as using their powers causes them to burn out quick. So to stabilize it he needs that sample.. and Danny resisting isn’t a problem as he has micro danny OVERSHADOW HIM. For the first time in the series Danny is on the receving end of overshadowing and it is CHILLING.

So after more Sam and Tucker stuff, we cut back to Danny who has been fighting it every step of the way. While Danny is badass for holding off something only his dad has been able to, and only for a minute, before, it also makes sense: Jack was fighting off Vlad, who as we learn in this ep has decades of experince with overshadowing people and has likely done so for far longer. Danny is fighting off someone who not only has the same brain if not thoughts, but dosen’t have a will of his own that we’re aware of. It’s a lot easier to fight someone else trying to take control of your mind when they don’t have much of one.

And yes we do get some nice backstory with vlad as we found out HOW he got so rich as Danny taunts him for being a fruitcake “Could a fruitcake rob countless banks without being caught? Could a fruitcake overshadow countless billionares to build his empire?”

It’s called being a supervillian dude. Just because your a master manipulator, scientest and combatant.. does not make you any MORE sane. Lex Luthor’s solution to dying of cancer was to make a younger clone and pose as his own australian illegitmate son, Norman Osborn let his arch enemy think he was a clone just to fuck with him while chilling in Europe, Doctor Doom BUILT A FREAKING TIME MACHINE and runs a small nation yet once faked a diary to try to turn the FF against reed, recently stuck Johnny Storm in nova mode for sleeping with his future wife BEFORE he asked her to marry him or be in a relationship (Though that’s also a whole other can of stupid stupid worms to get to another day. “SIGH”), and stiffed Luke Cage on 20 dollars just to be a dick. Being a rich super genius and cool as hell as a villian.. dosen’t mean you don’t do stupid shit.

So Danny escapes by shorting it out and Dani arrives. Vlad spins him a story and while Jess questioned why she bought it I have a simple answer: she has no reason to doubt it. She likely hasn’t been around THAT long, and as we see Vlad’s been putting on a front of geninely carring about her. And if he can manipulate someone like Val whose naturally skeptical and has every reason to be wary of a creepy old man taking an intrest in her, if THANKFULLY platonic, can easily be fooled.. why woudln’t a 12 year old who only knows him as her loving father? Vlad is a master manipulator: he knows exactly what buttons to press on a person to get what he wants. So manipulating someone whose life story he’s written from birth.. that’s child’s play.

So he naturally just tells Dani the reason for the dna is to fix her, not to make another clone, and she buys it. A fight ensues between the two with Danny TRYING his best to convince her of the truth... and while Dani is clearly worried she’s wrong she decides the best way to fix this is to give Danny back.

So Vlad’s just about won.. and as usual that means it’s time for him to shoot himself in the foot. The ghost from earlier burnt out, horrifically and in front of Danny. So logically, as Jess once again pointed out, Vlad could just overshadow danny himself. But he dosen’t WANT to. And that’s one of his biggest flaws I didn’t think about till now, even if I always knew it was there: Vlad is entitled. He feels he’s owed everything by the world because of the accident. It’s why he can never see Maddie never was attracted to him: To him him he DESERVES her more and jack by being smarter and better looking. That by being who he is he gets what he wants.. not getting that’s not how people work. They make their own choices.. and Maddie choose jack because she loves him and while he’s a moron.. he’s a good man. Vlad isn’t. It also explains something i’d wondered about in the past: his minons. Why are his only minons three hapless vultures and skulker. ANd the answer is simple: the rest of the ghosts likely wouldn’t put up with his controlling bullshit. The Vultures are old and clearly loyal and DO carry out their tasks with absolute obdience, something an enttield control freak needs, while Skulker.. gets paid well in upgrades. It’s mutually benifical: Skulker robs some places or designs a device for vlad once in a while, Vlad gives him shiny new toys. Vlad is basically alone because he’s an ineherntly selfish manchild.

And that’s why he looses her, telling Dani to overshadow her brothercousin and not carring about the risk to her “I made you, you obey me!”. Vlad can’t fathom that Dani geninely LOVES him, and that had he asked nicely or just done so himself, he might not be alone. Instead he sacrifices her.. because she’s not what he wants and he wants a perfect obdient danny clone. And because he can’t EVER accept what he has.. because he’s a selfish entitled bastard.. Dani frees Danny and we get a badass transformatoin sequence as the two team up against vlad. The fight, as you’d expect is impressive and damn fun to watch, and this time Danny dosen’t have to trick vlad to win.. he simply uses his own talent: the Ghostly Wail, destroying the lab and making sure this won’t happen again any time soon. Also Vlad’s maddie program tells the dick she never loved him. He had a maddie hologram. Are you suprised?He also made a jack program for some reason. (Shrug)

Sadly this isn’t enough to totally beat vlad, so Dani valiantly gets ready to fight even if it kills her... only for Vlad to get run over with the specter speeeder.

They save Danny who geninely apologizes and thanks them. But now they have bigger issues as Tucker and Sam broke a lot of laws to pull this off. Thankfully for once.. our heroes aren’t severley punished. I know right.. that NEVER happens. This is thanks to Dani who, while not wanting to stick around, is greatful and thus overshadows Maddie and Lancer into saying “kids will be kids etc”, confusing both enough to get the kids off. As for Jack.. she dosen’t bother instead just pointing out as Lancer he can just make a cooler ship thingy because she knows her dad.

So our heroes head to Danny’s room and Dani pops by both to reveal she did that and to say goodbye.. and see ya real soon. And thus Dani Phantom flies off into the sunset. I REALLY wish we’d seen what Steve Mamel would’ve done with this character.. as for what Butch did.. that’s a long ways off

Final Thoughts:

This is a decent episode. It’s not AS good as it could’ve been for reasons i’ve already hashed out plenty, but taking another page from spidey and having a clone saga was a great move and Danny Phantom’s own take on it was brilliant. Dani is also a great additon to the cast: a younger, more naive verison of danny who also has her own touches, being more sarcastic and playful than her big bro. It’s a REAL shame we never got around to her being adopted by the fentons or joining the main cast as planned and a bigger shame the one who got to write her again was not the man who created her. Hopefully a reboot or revivial fixes that.

Next Time: We take a break from polls and storylines for Valentine’s Day as Danny and Val hook up, and Technus decides to use the distraction of a new relationship to their advantage.. and also gives Val a terrible new costume. Also we go to space. Zoom! If you want to hear more nonsense from me here’s my twitter and my discord server. Thanks for reading and see ya real soon.

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#danny phantom #danny fenton #kindred spirits #dani phantom #danielle fenton #vlad masters #vlad plasmius #tucker foely #sam manson #mr lancer #jack fenton #maddie fenton #clones #clone saga #nickelodeon #paramount+#reviews

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featherymalignancy · 4 years ago

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PART ONE — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ❤️

Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before.

This is a two-part story, you can jump to Part Two here. ♥️

The Eyes of Texas, Part ONE

No matter how many times he made the journey, Rowan Whitethorn always found a wonder in returning home. He’d been glued to the window on the plane’s final descent into Maui three days ago, drinking in the sight of the Kahului Bay’s glittering waters and the distant peaks of Haleakalā rising up like silent guardians in the distance. It had only been six months since he’d last been home, but it still made his heart race; he doubted it would ever fail to take his breath away.

It had only gotten better when he’d landed and found not just Cash and Fen waiting for him, but Lorcan as well. The self-proclaimed success story of the friend group, Lor had gotten a full-ride to MIT and graduated with a 4.0 before being recruited to some tech giant in the Silicon Valley. It didn’t matter how times Rowan tried to point out that he himself had needed a recommendation from a US Senator to get into the Naval Academy; Lor would simply start rattling off college rankings and acceptance rates until Rowan conceded defeat just to shut him up.

Even though they lived down the California coast from one another, Rowan rarely got to see Lor. So far as any of them could tell, Lorcan’s whole life was his job, and despite his obscene salary, he rarely took days off, let alone vacations. So for him to come to see Rowan play in the tournament--Ro didn’t think he needed to tell his friend what it meant to him. Not that it would have mattered if he had; the only thing Lor wasn’t good at was talking about his feelings. A likely culprit for why he didn’t have a girlfriend, considering their friend Essar had once dubbed him “the hottest man on all eight islands”.

From the airport they’d driven across the island in Cash’s beater pick-up, Rowan in the cab and Lor and Fen riding in back. It had reminded Rowan of old times, of being 18 and carefree. It reminded him of life before his mom had died, before the Academy and his naval service, before Lyria and the cancer and all the heartache that had come after.

Sitting in the truck, the radio blasting and Cash’ squawking tunelessly along with it, Rowan had felt more himself than he had in months. The stress of studying for the detective’s exam had been wearing on him more than he’d realized, and in that moment it had struck him how badly he’d needed this distraction. A glance at Cash had told him his friend was thinking the same thing.

Cash had been Rowan’s best friend since before he could honestly remember, and despite Lor’s obnoxious declarations to the contrary, Cash was hands-down the smartest person Rowan knew. It had come as a surprise, then, when they’d all started growing up and talking about college and Cash had shown no interest. Neither had Fen, but that Ro had expected. The free spirit of the lot, he seemed perfectly content to stay at home and work odd jobs so long as he could still surf every day. But Cash...he’d always seemed a little lost to Ro. Just a late bloomer, his mother had always insisted. Some of the best people take the longest to develop. Still, Rowan had assumed that now that they were in their mid-twenties, Cash would have figured it out. As far as he knew, though, Cash was still working at the same stuffy restaurant he’d worked at when they were teenagers, though he’d thankfully graduated from a dishwasher to a server and an occasional bartender.

As if he’d known what Ro had been thinking, Cash turned to grin at him, a secret smile that traditionally had spelled trouble, getting grounded, and occasionally running from the police.

“I have some news,” he’d said, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to tell you later.”

Ro had meant to ask the minute they’d gotten back to the house, but suddenly there was a shot in his hand and everything else had faded away. They’d partied all night and well into the next day, a decision he’d regretted when they’d all piled onto the ferry to Waikiki for the tournament. Thankfully they’d still had half a day to recover at the hotel before the tournament began, though the trip had gotten decidedly less restful when they’d arrived to find Remy waiting for them, already pissed off.

According to his friends, Remelle St. James was Rowan’s greatest sin. They’d dated on-and-off through high school in what Cash had generously described as a slow-burning dumpster fire, but had lost touch after Ro had left for the Naval Academy and Remy accepted a scholarship to play volleyball at UC Irvine. It was only after Lyria’s diagnosis, and—a devastatingly short six months later—her death that Rowan and Remelle reconnected. For all her other faults, Remy had also lost a sister to cancer young, and she’d been there to counsel Rowan through the worst of his grief.

Her romantic pursuit of him the following year was admittedly less admirable, and Rowan had been quick to lessen his connection to her when it became clear what she wanted from him. Still, that had been almost a year ago, and when she’d called to suggest he come to Hawaii and play in this invitational with her, it had been an offer he couldn’t refuse. Remy was one of the best amateur players on the circuit, having just missed the opportunity to play professionally on the AVP tour the previous year. It was why she’d called, she claimed. This tournament was a great way to get exposure, and mixed doubles was a much higher profile division than that of female twos.His friends, on the other hand, had immediately called bullshit.

“As much as I want to see you,” Fen had said when Rowan had first called with her proposal. “She’s playing you, brother. No offense, but there are tons of guys here she could recruit if she wanted. She asked you because, once again, she’s trying to dig her claws in.”

“Hate to agree,” Cash had chimed in. “But he’s totally right. She just wants in your board shorts.”

“Are you saying you don’t think I’m good enough to win?” Rowan had countered.

He could picture Cash rolling his eyes from 2,500 miles away.

“Of all the things we just said, how was that your takeaway?”“I never get to play anymore,” Rowan had admitted. “And I miss it. I think I’m just going to do it.”

“In that case, can’t wait to see you, brother.”

And that had been that. It had seemed a great idea up until he’d spotted Remy glowering at him in the lobby yesterday, and now, in the midst of the fourth set of the semifinal match, he was wondering if his friends hadn’t been right.

Game Point, he reminded himself. Just one more point and they’d be in the finals. Just one more point and he could take a blessed break from Remy and all her castigations.He stretched a hand behind him as Remy stepped back to serve, flashing two fingers to signal he would be blocking cross. He could hear her huff of disapproval even with his back to her. They’d been having problems with their coverage all game, and though Rowan could have very reasonably argued it was because of Remy’s defense, she’d blamed his position on the block.

“What’s the point of being a giant,” she’d snarled after the last point they’d lost. “If you can’t shut a hitter down at the net?”

“I’m trying to force the spot you keep saying you want,” he’d snapped back. “Maybe after this game you might want to look into a digging clinic.”

He heard the snap as the ball was served, tracking his opponents through the net as they received. It was a less than stellar pass from the guy, and though the set his teammate gave him was decent, Ro could see the swing was going to be exactly where he wanted it.

He lingered to the left until the last moment, feigning a block that would force the hit line. He struck just as the hitter began to make contact, taking a quick step to the right before exploding up. Rowan could feel in the way his muscles uncoiled that it had been a perfect jump, and he turned his face away to avoid a broken nose as his hands made contact with the ball. He could tell from the sound alone how dominating a block it had been, and he wasn’t surprised as he watched the ball fall into the sand on the opposite court, it’s angle so punishing there had been no chance for a defense.

The gathering crowd erupted in cheers, and Rowan turned to Remy in celebration, only to find her lips pursed.

“Nice block. I hope this means you’re going to actually listen to me next match.”

Too annoyed to respond to that, Rowan turned to shake hands with the opposing team before stalking past Remy to where his friends were lounging. Unsurprisingly, she was right on his heels, pushing the water bottle he’d about to take a sip from away and scowling at him.“I told you that you needed to be more aggressive on the block,” she said. “Would it honestly kill you to admit I’m right?” “Every block can’t be a roof, Rem! You need to be quicker at reading the coverage or we are going to lose in the finals.”

Remy crossed her arms.

“You’re just mad because you don’t have the stamina to keep jumping like that.”

“Don’t start with me about stamina,” Rowan said. “For someone who is hoping to get on the tour, you’re lagging on defense.”

Rowan was unsurprised when she reached back and slapped him in the face, though the blow had admittedly come fast enough that he hadn’t had time to avoid it.

“You’re an ass,” Remy snarled, tears in her eyes.

Once, that might have been enough to get him to soften his tone. After ten years of dealing with her gaslighting, he was now sure that they were manufactured.

“Do not do that again,” he said in a quiet voice. At this more tears welled, and she reached up to touch his face, her small palms resting on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Ro,” she said, eyes flicking briefly to his lips. “I’m just--there’s a lot riding on this for me.”

“Our next match is in twenty minutes,” Rowan said, peeling her hands off of him. “Get some water and walk it off.”

She seemed put out at the dismissal, but she must have known she had little recourse to argue after slapping him, so she simply nodded and turned away, giving his friends a hateful look for good measure before stalking off. Fen watched her go with unveiled distaste before turning to Rowan and shaking his head.

“Dude, I know I’m gay, but I will never understand what you see in that girl. She straight sucks.”

Cash bubbled his lips in agreement.

“There’s nothing to see,” Lor said. “She’s a fucking nightmare.”

“Here, here,” Cash said, and Rowan rolled his eyes.“We’ve been playing together forever,” he protested. “And Remy knows we aren’t...seeing each other anymore.”

“Does she?” Lor drawled. “Just because you’re not banging her right now doesn’t mean she’s done with you, Whitethorn. Remelle St. James is not a girl you can just walk away from.”

“We’re twos partners, not soulmates,” Ro said. “And if playing with Remy means winning this tournament, I don’t really care what you jackasses think of it, or of her.”

“The sets cannot be worth it,” Lorcan drawled, sounding bored.

“She’s the best amateur female player in this tournament,” Rowan snapped back.

“Please,” Fen said. “She’s barely in the top five.”

“And who’s number one, then?”

Fen grinned, dark eyes fiendish.

“You haven’t heard? There’s a chick here from the University of Texas, and apparently she’s—”

“Holy shit,” Cash interrupted, eyes skating over Rowan’s shoulder. “Who is that?”

Rowan turned in time to watch the hottest woman he’d ever seen saunter towards them. She was taller than average—easily exceeding six feet—and corded with a sleek musculature that would have heralded her as a volleyball player even if they weren’t at a tournament. Her gorgeously tanned legs went on for an eternity, and he felt his mouth go dry at seeing the minuscule bikini bottoms she wore, the burnt orange Lycra hugging a toned ass that told him she probably had a damn good vertical. Her long blond hair was pulled into a high ponytail and braided in the popular style, and when she turned to smirk at him in a flash of pearly teeth and dazzling blue eyes, he felt a little weak.

“Goddamn,” Cash said, interrupting Rowan’s reverie. “She is fucking gorgeous.”

“That’s her,” Fen said. “From UT. Aelin Galathynius. Ro, I hope you and Remy can pull it together for this match. Otherwise this girl is gonna fuck you up.”

They all watched as she trotted onto the court, bending over in a stretch Rowan was afraid was going to make his board shorts too tight.

“God lord, she is perfect,” Cash said, tilting his head slightly to better admire her well-formed assets.Rowan felt a prickle of irritation at his friend's appraisal, but before he could address it, or—more realistically—dismiss it, Lor gave an unimpressed snort.

“She’s too tall.”

“I don’t understand how a guy pushing seven feet can have a maximum height restriction for the women he dates,” Fen said.

Lor only shrugged with a smirk, but Rowan was barely listening. He felt another twinge of displeasure zip down his spine as he watched a muscular blonde frat star stride onto the court towards the Galathynius girl, who beamed at seeing him.“That her boyfriend?” He asked, trying not to sound overly put-out by the idea.

“Cousin, I think,” Lor said, expression gloriously bored. “Aedion Ashryver. I played him in a tournament in Miami last year. He’s marginally above average.”

“High praise, coming from you,” Fen said, earning only an eye roll in response.They watched as Ashryver took several exploratory swings, Aelin working out her wrists as he did. Rowan admired her flawless form as she gave her cousin a tight set and he crushed the ball into a sand on a punishing downward trajectory.

“Nice hands,” Cash said, eyes alight with appreciation as she shot Aedion a quick set to a similarly successful result.

“I can block him,” Rowan said, trying to read Aedion’s form for flaws. “He’s swinging hard, but he’s hit that same spot every time.”

“That’s not going to be enough on its own,” Lor said dryly. “Your best bet is to force Galynthius to receive first then shut her down on the block. I bet her swing is weak.”

“That opinion is completely baseless,” Cash said. “You have no idea what her swing is like.”

“I know that cocky assholes are never as good as they are obnoxious,” Lorcan retorted, gesturing to the Galythinius girl again.She’d seemed to have taken note of their attention, hands on her hips as surveyed Rowan from head to toe. Something about the way she looked at him—her tongue tucked almost suggestively into her cheek—had pleasant goosebumps breaking out on his arms.

Given her brazen assessment, Rowan felt justified in studying her as well, trying to school his expression into that of a player sizing up an opponent for weaknesses. In reality, he was just admiring her.The sports bra she wore did nothing to minimize her gorgeously firm tits, and her stomach was an alluring tapestry of muscle, the smooth bronze skin unblemished save for the corner of a tattoo which peaked out from the top of her bikini bottoms. From it’s color and shape, Rowan thought it might be a flag, though he couldn’t see enough of it to tell which country. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined peeling the offending garment off her and getting a better look. Rowan tried to get his mind right as Aelin Galynthius gave him a smouldering grin and turned away, but he was still so caught up in her that he flinched when he felt Remy’s fingers trailing down his back.

“You ready, babe? Let’s do this.”Rowan definitely debated telling her not to call him that, but not wanting to reignite the tension when they were so close to winning he simply nodded and headed towards the court to warm up as well.

“Good luck, champ,” Fen said. “Make sure you find out if she’s single for Cash.”

Rowan flipped him off and jogged onto the court, trying to ignore the way Aelin Galynthius’s eyes raked him appreciatively as he passed her.

Still relatively loose from the previous match, Rowan sped through warm-ups, not wanting to give the Ashryvver cousins too much insight into his skill level. When they were done, the tournament organizer came over to congratulate the four of them on their place in the finals before briefly running through the rules.

“There will be a line judge to settle any disputes, but you’re mostly expected to police yourself. We’re all adults here, so I expect everyone to behave like it.”

At this the Ashryvver cousins exchanged a mirthful look that failed to go unnoticed by any of the assembled. Rowan could feel Remy bristling beside him. She only grew more rigid when Aelin let her dazzling blue eyes slide to Rowan and she winked.

“It’s best of five this match, first to twenty-five, win by two, cap at 30. Switch on hard sevens. Any questions?”

“I have one,” Aedion said, a bronzed grin stretching wide enough to reveal dimples in his cheeks. “When we win, am I going to get lei-ed?”

Rowan rolled his eyes, fighting down a searing stab of annoyance. Ethnically, his family may not have been kānaka maoli, but Rowan had lived in Hawaii his entire life, and the culture was important to him. Why wasn’t he surprised that this haole douchebag had just gone for the most tired pun in existence?

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” he told Ashryvver. “The losers don’t get shit.”

At this, Galathynius laughed, the sound low and musical.“I love a man who knows how to dream big.”

“Shall we?” The coordinator cut in, his gaze flitting between Aelin and Remy, who Rowan presumed was scowling.

They nodded and he flipped a coin, which Rowan called in the air.

“Heads.”The shaggy-haired coordinator extended his arm to show them the gleaming head of Sacagawea on the gold dollar coin.

“We’ll serve,” Rowan said, forcing himself to shake Aedion Ashryvver’s hand as he did.

Enough of this bullshit, he was ready to beat this punk into the dusk. He was also ready to put some distance between himself and Aelin Galathynius before her beauty robbed him of any good sense. Together or no, Remy would have his balls on the grill if he openly flirted with someone else in front of her, and it was a complication he couldn’t afford this close to victory.

It was easier said than done when Aelin slid her hand into his, squeezing in a way that felt oddly suggestive. However, it only lasted a second before she was turning on her heel and strutting to her side of the court.

“Good luck,” she said over her shoulder, brushing the long tail of her braid down her back. “You’re going to need it.”

Remy growled something that sounded suspiciously like “bitch” as she took her place behind the serving line. Rowan gave her what he hoped was an encouraging nod as he made his way towards the net, hand stretched behind him to give Remy the block signal.

Aelin Galathynius grinned at him through the net, blue eyes glittering before she slid on a pair of sunglasses.

“So,” she said as Remy continued to prepare. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

There was a pleasant cadence to her voice when she spoke, the trace of an accent he couldn’t quite place.

“Trying to get in my head?” he shot back, willing himself not to fall for her tantalizing games.

Aelin gave a sultry laugh.

“More like your pants.”

At this he heard the snap of the ball being served, and he swore as he watched it sail into the net. It wasn’t like Remy to make service errors, but the dirty look she gave him as he retreated to receive Aedion’s serve told him she considered it his fault.

“Are you done flirting,” she hissed as he passed her. “Can we focus on winning now?”

Rowan longed to snap back a retort that he hadn’t been flirting and she was the one who seemed to be lacking focus, but by this time Aedion was behind the line, preparing to serve. Rowan watched the toss and adjusted his position the minute Aedion made contact, easily receiving the ball. He called for a hit outside, but Remy’s set drew him into the interior of the court instead, almost as if she were trying to pull him away from Aelin.

Adjusting his position, Rowan swung. It was Aelin who received the dig and Rowan quickly retreated along the net, ready to stuff her on the block. He was in the perfect position to cut off the diagonal hitting lane, leaving her to either tap it over—an easy receive for him—or shoot line. Rowan thought of what Lorcan had said about her weak swing as she approached, and part of him hoped she would attempt a cross so he could show her how it was done.

He crouched, muscles burning in anticipation to spring up and stuff the ball right back in Aelin Galathynius’s smug face.

Except, he didn’t.

Aelin exploded into the air as the ball reached her, her vertical impreeven given her height. In a flick of her wrist, she’d tattooed the ball right down the undefended right line. Remy made a dive for it, but Rowan could tell from the minute Aelin had hit it that it was a point.

It was—she was—

Rowan shook his head, slightly dazed. Whatever skill Rowan had expected from her, she’d just blown right past it. She was phenomenal.And what was more, she knew it. When Rowan had finally gathered his wits enough to glance at her, it was to find her grinning back.

“Welcome to the majors, Big Boy,” she purred, and Rowan couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss her or throttle her as he retreated back to his receive position.

Ashryvvers: 1 Remy & Ro: 0.

Rowan’s warring aggravation and admiration raged on all through the first set, which he and Remy lost...badly.He tried to ignore his friends’ jeers as he retreated to hydrate before the second set began, trying to analyze Aelin’s game for flaws.The problem was, there were none, at least that he could see.

“So what’s she like?” Fen asked as Rowan took another sip of gatorade. “Seems like you two were really hitting it off out there.”

“Annoying,” Ro replied. “She’s got Remy all riled up.”

Remy had refused to speak to Rowan after the set, and she was currently standing alone in the middle of the court, glaring daggers at the Ashyrvver cousins.

“Like I said,” Lor said in a dry voice. “That she-demon has plans for you. She doesn’t like that Galathynius is moving in on what she sees as her turf.”

“What are you even talking about ‘turf’?”

“I think he means your dick, man,” Cash added, grinning when Rowan turned to glower.

“I do,” Lor said.

“I’m not sleeping with either of them,” Rowan said, trying to reassure himself.

“Sure you aren’t,” Fen said, shooting Lorcan and Cash a conspiratorial wink. “Do you mind if I quote you on that in my best man’s speech? Aelin seems like a girl who appreciates irony.”

“You aren’t going to be his best man,” Cash said. “Obviously it’s going to be me.”

“Ro can’t choose a best man who's already slobbered over his bride,” Lor pointed out. “So it has to be me.”

“It will be none of you,” Rowan said. “Because I would never marry a girl like that.”

Cash gave a bemused laugh.“Like what, gorgeous?”

“Athletic?” Fen added.

“Sharp-tongued?”

“Talented?”

Rowan growled.

“Remind me why I bother with any of you,” he said, tossing his empty bottle to Cash before jogging on the court.

One good thing about his friends’ teasing: it had fired him up. Even with Remy obviously still mad at him, he dominated in the second set, and the third. Between both Ashryvvers’ ability to jump and play defense, he never managed a clean kill—the kind he normally wracked up by the dozens against other, lesser opponents. Still, it was enough.

Unfortunately, Aelin continued to make comments and give him sly looks even as the score turned against her, and Rowan could feel it wearing on Remy. By the fourth set, Remy was visibly flustered, the sizable lead Rowan had given them late in the game shrinking as Remy continued to make useless mistakes.Rowan fought not the swear on game point as Remy went against Aelin on the block and was smoked.

“Lucky shot,” Remy said as she was forced to shake Aelin’s hand to signal the end of the set. Aelin flashed Remy a taunting smirk that Rowan could tell meant trouble, and he debated the merits of interfering just as Aelin said, “There was nothing lucky about that, and we both know it. Please don’t embarrass yourself.”

“You think you’re better than me?” Remy demanded.

Aelin only laughed.

“No,” she said.

Rowan may have relaxed at hearing that, but before he could Aelin added, “I know I’m better than you.”

Remy turned, lip curling up.

“Not what the scoresheet says.”

Aelin pushed the sport sunglasses she was wearing on top of her head, presumably so Remy could see her roll those sparkling azure eyes, ringed at the iris with pure gold.

“I think we all know why the score looks like it does,” Aelin shot back, pausing to give Rowan a bone-melting smile.

Honestly, there was so much sexual charisma in it that he had to actively fight his body’s natural reaction. His brain might not have been a fan of Aelin Galathynius, but his cock sure was.

Remy jammed her hands onto her hips, the rage in her eyes cold enough to burn as she stared Aelin down. Rowan, she ignored.

“I don’t need him,” she snapped.

Aelin smirk went slightly wicked.

“Good, then you won’t mind when I take him home later and give him the ride of his life. After my cousin and I bury you in this match and win the tournament, that is.”

Aelin flashed her pearly teeth in a razored smile, letting it rake over Remy before falling on Rowan. He should have been insulted by her objectification, but in reality it just turned up the tension that had been simmering between them since the match had begun.

Remy’s answering laugh was cold, and Rowan braced for impact. Despite her bravura, he doubted the Galathynius girl understood what she was starting. Remy could be downright cruel when provoked, and the gleam in her eye told him she was preparing to go from the jugular.

“As if he’d be interested in a flat-chest, loud-mouthed cunt like you.”

At this Aedion growled, the first serious emotion Rowan had seen him display all day.

“Hey,” he snapped. “Watch your mouth.”

“That’s enough, Rem,” Rowan cut in. “We didn’t come here to talk trash.”

Remy turned, sneering.

“She started it.”

“That can’t honestly be the retort you’re going with,” Aelin said, crossing her arms with a smirk. “I expected better from you, short stack.”

At 5’9, Remy was above-average height for a woman, but compared to Aelin’s towering frame she looked positively impish, a fact Rowan knew probably filled her with rage. She wasn’t used to being looked down on the court, either physically or metaphorically.

Rowan caught her around the waist a second before she lunged, causing Aelin to laugh.

“You’re a bitch,” Remy snapped.

“I’ve been called worse by better,” Aelin said, tossing the ball to Remy with no small amount of force. “Better luck next time.”

Remy let out a small grunt as the ball knocked some of the wind out of her, but she seemed determined not to give Aelin any more than that. Tossing the ball to the ground, she made a show of storming off.

At this Aelin turned to her cousin, cocking her head back in Remy’s direction.

“Voy a destruirla.”

Aedion laughed and gave a longer response in the same language, and Rowan found his eyes trailing down to Aelin’s tattoo again. At this close distance he could clearly see the white star set into a red triangle, inverted by the position of the tattoo.

The Cuban flag.

Good god, and he thought she’d been distracting before. Knowing that she spoke Spanish…

When he glanced up it was to find Aelin grinning.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said, running the column of her braid through her fist in a way that had him inevitably imagining her wrapping her hands around something else. “They don’t make gringas this gorgeous.”

“Is this your strategy?” Rowan shot back, desperate to find his footing with her. “Work my partner into a frenzy so we’ll lose?”

Aelin laughed, though her gaze had chilled somewhat.

“I don’t need tricks to beat you, handsome. I think I’ve already proven that.”

“At yet that match is still all tied up, two sets a piece.”Aelin and Aedion exchanged a dangerous smile.

“Maybe I just wanted to prolong the match so I could spend more time with you,” she said. “Clearly I shouldn’t have bothered. Try not to be too embarrassed by what comes next, mi amor. It’s going to get ugly.”

“I can handle it,” Rowan shot back before adding, “And you.”

Far from seeming unnerved, Aelin preened a bit at that, clearly pleased by the challenge.

“Prove it, big boy,” she said, hands on her hips as she squared up to him.

He took a step in her direction, standing toe-to-toe with her now even with the net still between them. She may have been tall for a female, but at 6’6 he still had to tilt his chin down slightly to meet her eye.

“I intend to,” he said. “Repeatedly.”

She bit her lip at this, the first blush he’d seen burnishing her beautiful bronze skin.

“Basta, Aelin,” Aedion called, cocking his head. “Dale.”

“Good luck, Hulk Smash,” Aelin told Rowan, turning on her heel towards her cousin.

Rowan couldn't’ find the good sense to move his feet as she sauntered off to join her cousin, the two of them bantering back and forth in rapid Spanish. Cash was going to die when he found out Aelin was Cuban.

Half-Brazilian himself Cash worshipped Latin women, and for the most part, they—like most women—worshipped him right back.

Ro tried not to let the idea of Cash and Aelin hitting it off bother him as he continued to watch the Ashryvver cousins. Perhaps Aelin would be immune to Cash’s easy charm, though Rowan had to admit it was unlikely. Unlike Rowan, who often came off dour despite his best efforts, Cash was engaging and almost impossible to dislike. More likely than not, Aelin Galathynius would take one look at that million-watt smile and enviable head of dark hair and forget she’d even met Rowan.

The thought was surprisingly irritating, and Ro forced himself to put it aside as the line judge called for the final match to begin. He glanced around in time to see Remy striding back onto the court, her expression more neutral than when she’d stormed off.

“Ready?” he asked simply.Her eyes blazed with a determination she’d lacked since the Ashryvver cousins had gotten in her head.

“Absolutely,” she said. “Let’s end this.”

Something in her bearing had changed, and Ro felt adrenaline surging through him.

This was the player who’d dominated in the matches leading up to this one; this was the teammate who was going to help him shut the Ashryvver’s down once and for all.

They lost the initial coin flip and the Ashryvvers elected to serve, Aelin blowing him a kiss as she stepped behind the line. Rowan ignored her.He had bigger fish to fry.

She had a punishing jump serve that stung Ro’s arms as he received, but he still managed a decent pass, and the set Remy gave him was damn near perfect. Aedion and Aelin shifted as the former dropped back for coverage and the latter prepared for the block. She’d yet to stuff Rowan, but he couldn’t deny she had hops enough to cause him real problems if he wasn’t careful.Still, the set had drawn Aelin farther into the court than he could tell she liked, leaving the line undefended. Rowan intentionally approached at an angle as if he meant to swing cross before changing his body position last minute and aiming line.

Aelin jumped, but her effort was futile. Her left hand just missed the ball, which sailed down the line and struck deep.Rowan’s first kill of the entire match.He couldn’t help a glance down at Aelin as he smiled.

“Welcome to the big leagues, Galathynius.”

Aelin only rolled her eyes, but she offered no retort as she retreated to Aedion, switching to Spanish presumably to discuss strategy.

With Remy more in the game, she and Ro got out to an early lead, a fact that he could tell filled Aelin with fiery displeasure. As hard as he was swinging, Rowan had finally figured out Aedion’s swing, and though Aelin tried to move him around the court with her sets to avoid Rowan’s block, they were finding only middling success.

Rowan didn’t permit himself to think too much about it as they steadily racked up points, but when he looked up to find the score was 24 - 18, his pulse sped up.

It was match point.

One more point, he told himself. One more point and he and Remy would have won the whole damn thing. It was so close he could almost taste it.Still, as he watched Aelin take note of the same thing, her blue eyes flashing, he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as all that. Aedion finally managed a kill the next point, and when Aelin stepped back to serve, everything in her posture signaled danger ahead.

Rowan watched the ball spin as she tossed it in the air, timing her jump to perfection. Remy adjusted to defend the line, but the ball unexpectedly hit the top of the net instead, the force of the blow pushing the ball over onto their court. Remy dove for it but it was no use; it was in the sand even before he hit the ground.

24 - 20.

Aelin gave a self-satisfied smirk as Remy tossed the ball back to her.

“Dare you to do that again,” she snapped, and Aelin’s smile only widened.

Tossing the ball, she did just that. The ball hit the tape and fell in the same spot, proving it wasn’t a lucky shot. She’d clearly practiced utilizing the net, and now it had cost them back-to-back aces.

24 - 21.

Remy gave a small scream of frustration as she went down hard for a second time, brushing sand out of her hair and off her face as she glared at a preening Aelin. She readjusted closer to the net lest Aelin try the tricks third time, her body poised to spring. Except Aelin didn’t try it a third time. She aimed for the back corner instead, tattooing the ball into the space Remy had just abandoned.

“Goddamnit!” Remy snarled, storming towards Rowan. “Switch me.”

24 - 22.

Repositioning again, Rowan was blessedly able to receive her fourth serve, Remy’s set putting him tight on the net. He’d expected Aedion to cover him but in a flash Aelin was there instead, exploding upwards just as he made contact.He heard the snap of the ball against skin, and only had time to cast a hand out blindly as the ball came back onto his side. Unfortunately, it wasn’t high enough for Remy to get to.

Aelin beamed as Rowan turned to gawk at her. It was rare at his height and speed that he got stuffed on the block. Even Aedion, who was close to his height, hadn’t managed it.

24 - 23.

“I told you it was going to get ugly,” Aelin purred. “I don’t make idle promises.”

“You’re still behind,” Rowan said, but Aelin only smiled.

“But we have the momentum,” she said. “And chiquita looks like she’s running scared.”

A glance at Remy told Rowan Aelin was right; she looked flustered, and when she caught Rowan looking at her she scowled.

“Let’s just finish this,” she said. “Sideout. No quarter.”

If they scored now, they’d win the match. But if Aelin and Aedion got more up on them, it would force at least two more points as they had to win by two.

Aelin only chuckled at this, heading back to the serving line for a fifth time. She served a floater this time, the lack of spin on the ball sending it sailing over the net at an unpredictable angle. Remy received, and after Rowan put her slightly too close to the net, Aedion stuffed the ball back in her face.

24 - 24.

The next point Aelin won on a deep roll shot to the right corner, and suddenly it was match point in the opposite direction.

24 - 25, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Thankfully this time, Rowan and Remy were ready. Rowan went head to head with Aedion on the block and won, earning only his third kill of the entire match.

25 - 25.

The next point was a service error from Remy after she attempted to tickle the tape the same way Aelin had, resulting in another scream of frustration.

25 - 26, match point for the Ashryvvers again.

Rowan gave Remy a set off the net and she managed to catch Aelin off-balance for a rare shank from the blonde.

26 - 26.

Aedion shot Aelin a quick set to the middle and she had the ball in the sand before Rowan could even react.

26 - 27, match point for the Ashryvvers.Service error from Aedion after a bad toss for his jump serve.

27- 27.

Rowan wiped sweat from his eyes as he tried not to dwell on the score. With a cap at 30, there were only a possibility of four more points either way. He let out a steadying breath as he stepped up to serve. Aiming deep, he caught Aedion in an awkward position that resulted in an unredeemable pass.

28 - 27, match point for Rowan and Remy.

One more, Ro told himself. One more just like that and they would have won.He aimed for the same spot only to realize that Aedion and Aelin had switched positions, and where Aedion was powerful but cumbersome in the sand, Aelin was lightning fast. She managed the receive Aedion couldn’t, and when Aedion set her tight, she crushed the ball cross-court, right into the corner.

Remy threw up her hands, beaming.

“Out!” she said. “It’s out. That’s the match! Ro, we won!”

However, Rowan could tell in her bearing something was off, and he let his eyes flit to the line judge to investigate. The man came over just as Remy made a move to casually swipe at the sand with her toe, and he gestured to the imprint of a ball still visible in the sand.

“In,” he said, giving Remy a warning look as the Ashryvvers murmured to one another. “Point to the Ashryvvers.”

28 - 28.

Rowan tried not to tense at the realization Remy had been willing to cheat. It set his teeth on edge, and served as a reminder why he normally kept his distance from her. It was a rule he’d have to remember after today.

Aelin stepped up to serve with an unkind smile twisting at her full mouth, and tattooed the same deep corner she’d just hit. The line judge--not waiting for Remy’s assessment this time, ruled it in.

28 - 29, match point to the Ashryvvers.

Unfortunately, Aelin miscalculated as she attempted to hit the same spot with her next serve, and this time it was ruled out.

29 - 29, the final match point.

Whoever won the next point would win the set and the match. One point to decide who would be the tournaments champs and who would be the losers.

Rowan’s could see the same thought in Aelin’s eyes as the both approached the net, Rowan’s hand stretched behind his back to signal his block to Remy.

“So,” Aelin said as Remy went through her pre-serve ritual. “Where are you taking me to celebrate after?”

Rowan flashed her a feral grin.

“Didn’t take you for a girl who celebrates her losses.”

“I’m not,” she said. “But buy me a few congratulatory drinks when I win and maybe I’ll show you what type of girl I really am.

”Rowan heard the short whistle to signal Remy was asking for a re-toss on her serve, and he focused his attention back on Aelin momentarily.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.

She bit her lip, eyes falling unmistakably to his cock. Her gaze was like a fist around his dick, and he had to fight back a groan.

“You know exactly what it means,” she said.

At that moment Remy served the ball, saving Rowan from his pitiful lack of retort. He forced himself to refocus as Aedion received, trying to forget the offer of casual sex Aelin had just thrown onto the table. Or perhaps she was just teasing him, trying to get under his skin so he’d forget what he was doing.Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t so easily rattled. Tracking Aedion as he received the ball and swung, Rowan forced him cross on the block. Remy returned with no issue, and Rowan’s muscles coiled in anticipation as Aelin dug the ball. Aedion set was right where Rowan now knew Aelin preferred it.

She swung hard but met his block, and just when Rowan started to think he’d won the point, she threw out a hand on blind instinct, sending the ball back up into the air on her side of the court. Instantly Aedion was there to feed her a quick set, and Aelin swung again just as hard.

Again Rowan jumped and managed to block her, and again she recovered.

Breathing hard, she approached a third time, exploding upwards at the same time Rowan did. This time, however, she pivoted mid-air, managing to avoid his outstretched hands and send the ball careening down.

Everything seemed to slow as Rowan turned to watch Remy dive for the ball, but it was too late; it had already hit the sand.

That was it; game, set, match.

The crowd erupted in cheers as the line judge made the official designation, and Aelin beamed.

“Nice game,” Rowan told her, stretching his hand out to her. “I thought I had you.”

Her smile only widened, eyes glittering as she tugged off her glasses and slid her palm into his to shake.

“Play your cards right and you still might.”

Rowan opened his mouth--though to say what, he wasn’t sure. Before he could formulate a response, he felt the brush of a hand down his back as Remy appeared at his side.

“Congratulations,” she said coolly, her arm slithering around Rowan’s waist now even as he subtly tried to peel her off. Undeterred, Remy tightened her grip as her eyes flitted to Aelin’s tattoo.

“Not bad for a pair of--”

“I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence,” Aelin warned in a soft, dangerous tone. “And take your hands off him; he’s clearly not interested.”

Remy scowled.

“That is none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you started manhandling him in front of me. He’s too polite to embarrass you, but I’m not. Keep your hands to yourself.”

At this Remy loosened her grip a bit, even as she turned to glare up at Rowan.

“Are you serious going to let her speak to me like that?” she demanded.

“She’s not wrong,” Rowan said, wishing they could do this without an audience. “We’ve talked about this before.”

Remy only gave a cold laugh.

“Oh I see. Some slut offers to suck your dick and suddenly you have no loyalty. You’re a pig, Rowan.”

“Don’t call her a slut,” Rowan said, losing patience. “And stop acting like this is anything new between us.”

At this Aelin huffed a laugh, and Remy snarled.

“You are a miserable bitch, and you fucking deserve each other.”

At this she stormed off, and Aelin turned her bronzed grin on Rowan.

“She’s lovely,” she said. “You make a charming couple.”

“We’re not together,” he said uselessly.Their exchange just now had already made that clear.

“I know,” Aelin said, waggling her eyebrows as she gave him another suggestive up-down. “Lucky me.”

Rowan debated for half a second if he actually wanted to take this girl up on her tantalizing offer, even knowing it could never be anything more. After this weekend he would go back to Los Angeles to continue studying for the detective’s exam and she, presumably, would return to school in Texas. It wasn’t just the distance, either. Something about the idea of a one-night stand with her left him feeling a bit hollow. He’d gone through a ‘casual sex’ phase in the dreary months and years after losing Lyria, and now mindless hook-ups--even with a girl as hot as Aelin--had lost their luster. Besides, Aelin seemed like a girl who deserved better.

On the other hand, Rowan was only human, and goddamn him, there was a part of him which very much wanted to accept. Before he could stop himself, Rowan imagined stripping off Aelin’s bikini and teasing her until she begged for his cock. As dominant as she was on the court, something wicked told him she would be submissive in bed.

However, before he could make a decision either way Aedion appeared, flashing Rowan a cocky grin as they shook hands before throwing Aelin over his shoulder and jogging towards a throng which had gathered at the center of the court. They were young--mostly likely still college students like Aelin--all of them dressed in various articles of burnt orange clothing, chanting “Ashryvver” at the top of their lungs.

Rowan could help himself as he tracked Aelin through the adoring crowd, beaming as the tournament administrator fought his way through the mass to place a beautiful fresh lei of white orchids around her neck. As when the man handed both Aelin and Aedion a crystal vase—serving in the place of a trophy, their throng of admirers burst into even louder cheers as the opening bars of All I Do is Win by DJ Khaled blared over the speakers. Rowan fended off a sensation dangerously similar to disappointment as Aelin scrambled up to sit on the shoulders of a sickeningly-handsome man with dark hair and striking blue eyes. Rowan watched as she strung a hand under the stranger’s chin to grin down at him, his smile similarly enraptured as they traded a laughed.

Rowan forced his shoulders to drop from their rigid position. Perhaps she had just been teasing all that time. After all, she didn’t seem to remember Rowan even existed as she swayed to the music, fingers casually strung through the strangers hair to keep herself steady.

Forcing himself to look away, Rowan retreated back to where his friends waited. It was fine, he told himself. He came here to play, not get his dick wet, and he’d done that, and done it well. Now was the time for celebrating being back with his favorite people, not sulking over some girl he barely knew.

“Great game, man,” Fen said as Ro approached,accepting the Gatorade in his friend’s outstretched hand. “That was a tough break at the end.”

“No shame in that match, Ro. That girl is just unstoppable,” Cash added.

“And one good thing about you losing: I think you shook Remy for good,” Lor said. “She stormed over her to spew a bunch of bullshit about how much she hated all of us before she stormed off. Don’t think we will be seeing her again any time soon.”

“Oh amen to that, brother,” Fen said. “That’s worth losing a match any day.”

“I can’t say I was sorry to see her go,” Rowan admitted. “You were right; she had ulterior motives.”

Lorcan pretended to examine his nails in feigned indifference.

“I, for one, am shocked.”

“Speaking of ulterior motives...” Cash said, eyes trailing to where the Ashryvvers were still celebrating, Aelin perched on the mystery man’s shoulders. “Talk to me about Galathynius.”

Rowan clenched his jaw, debating the merits of making up a lie before relenting and saying simply, “she’s Cuban.”

“Oh fuck,” Fen said. “You’re in trouble now, Kahukore.”

“I knew it,” Cash said, grin wolfish. “She’s perfect.”

“Cousin’s pretty hot, too,” Fen observed, eyes tracking Aedion as he posed for photos for the tournament website. “What have you got on him?”

“He’s a douchebag,” Rowan said. “The first thing out of his mouth before the match started was a joke about getting lei-ed.”

Fen only laughed, teeth bright against his brown skin.

“Lighten up, man. If I dismiss every haole guy who makes that joke, there won’t be any dick left!”

“There’s an obvious solution here,” Lor said, cuffing Fenrys affectionately by the back of his neck. “Stop chasing after white boys.”

“No promises,” Fen said, grinning. “Let’s go get drunk.”

“Can I shower first?” Ro asked, pushing his silver hair out of his eyes. “I feel like a vagrant.”

“And you smell like one, too,” Cash said. “You’re a jackass,” Rowan said, though he couldn’t help laughing as he strung an arm over his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You owe me fifty bucks, by the way,” Cash called to Lor.

Lorcan rolled his eyes.

“You said she was Puerto Rican,” Lor said. “She’s Cuban, so I don’t owe you shit.”

“At least a drink, then. Fen thought she was Swedish!

“We don’t know!” Fen said, laughing. “One of her parents could still be Swedish. We’ll have Ro ask her later. Double or nothing, Kahukore?”

Rowan’s jaw clenched, and he fought not to scowl outright. A quick glance back at the court told him that though Aelin had finally alighted from the brunette’s shoulders, they were now kicking sand at each other like children. He wondered how long it would take him to get her bright, infectious laughter out of his head.

“If you want to know, you better ask her now.”

“Wait, seriously?” Cash said. “You didn’t get her number? What is wrong with you?”

“She’s not my type.”

“What does that even mean, ‘type’?” Fen said. “I don’t like even women and she’s still my type. Don’t turn into Lor unless you’re cool with dying alone.”

Having no reasonable response to this, Rowan just rolled his eyes.

“Rude,” Lor said, not actually sounding bothered by the comment.

“Let’s just go already,” Rowan said.The sooner he got drunk, the sooner he could forget about Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius and all the promises he’d seen in her dazzling eyes.

“Last chance,” Cash warned. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for her number? If nothing else, she looks like she’d be willing to give you the ride of your life.”

Rowan had to admit he was tempted, especially as he remembered Aelin promising him the same thing. Still, when he watch the same dark-haired guy string an arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple, his mind was made up.

Jerking his head towards the parking lot, he permitted himself one final glance in Aelin’s direction before he turning his back to her for good.

Several hours hours later, Rowan found himself sitting on the beach with a beer in hand, watching the sun set over the glittering azure water. Oahu wasn’t quite home— not in the same way that Maui was—but Rowan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the islands until that moment. It was the familiar sound of the surf and the balmy air, much cleaner here than in LA.

More than that, though, it was being here with his friends. He couldn’t remember the last time all four of them had been together, and he didn’t want to think about how long it might be before it happened again. He just wanted to enjoy the evening and...forget for a while

.“What are you thinking about?” Cash asked from beside him. “You look a million miles away.”

Not wanting the dampen the evening’s light mood, Rowan took a swig of beer and said, “

Just wondering if I should take out a bigger insurance policy on my motorcycle. Remy knows where I live, and part of me is afraid she’s already en-route to the mainland to destroy all my shit.”

At this, Lor laughed.

“Listen, you’re not wrong.”

“Just please tell me we are done with her,” Cash said. “I don’t think I have any more fake nice left in me after this weekend.”

“We’re done with her,” Rowan confirmed. “Also, she is never going to make the tour.”

“I don’t think AVP was very even on the table,” Fen said. “She just made that shit up to get your attention.”

“It might have worked, too, if Galathynius hadn’t stepped in,” Cash said, holding up his beer.

“At the very least, we’d be stuck entertaining her all weekend while she tried to slither in your pants,” Lor told Rowan. “For that, at least, I’m grateful to Galaythius.”

“Now, she will make the tour,” Cash said.

“Future Olympian, no doubt,” Fen agreed. “And Ro missed his chance to be right there with her. Instead he’ll be watching her win gold on tv and jacking off into a pool of his tears.”

“Are you done?” Rowan said, lobbing his empty can at Fen.

“No,” Fen said. “I have enough material to last us the night, at least.”

Rowan rolled his eyes as they all labored to their feet and headed towards a rowdy pub farther down the beach. No one had to ask where they were headed; drinks at the Hideaway had always been their tradition when they came to Waikiki.

Despite the early hour, the bar was already bumping by the time they arrived, and as soon as they walked in and surveyed the scene, Cash burst out laughing. Lor, who’d followed his friend’s gaze, gave a good-natured groan.

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

There, sitting on top the bar, was Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius, her usual coterie fawning around her as she tipped her head back to drain a shot of tequila. She’d traded her bikini for a pair of cut-off over-alls worn over a distractingly lacy bralette, her long blonde hair falling to her waist in two French braids.

She still wore her lei from earlier, the white standing out brilliantly against her burnished skin.

Everyone she was with cheered as she held the glass aloft, and before Ro could think to make a quick exit and save himself the awkwardness of having to face her. Aelin’s mouth stretched into a sensuous grin as she surveyed his blue button-down and slim-fitting chinos.

“So we all agree now, right?” Cash said, giving Rowan a gentle shove. “Ro has to go over there and talk to her.”

Rowan’s stomach twisted unpleasantly as he watched Aelin lean over to whisper to the same dark-haired guy she’d been with earlier.

“Definitely,” Fen said. “It’s fate.”

“No,” Rowan said, turning towards the bar in an attempt to block Aelin out. “And I think she has a boyfriend, anyway.”

“Only one way to find out,” Cash said, grinning as he slid past Rowan. “Wish me luck, boys.”

Rowan had to actively fight a scowl.

“You’re seriously going over there?”

“Listen, brother: if you’re really not going to take your shot, then I am.”

He gave Rowan a challenging look as if daring him to call his bluff, but Rowan only shrugged.

“Go for it, man.”

Rowan told himself not to look, but curiosity got the best of him as Cash approached. Aelin watched him do so with keen interest, eyes glittering as she slid from the bar to her feet. Rowan was too far away to hear Cash’s opening line, but whatever it was, Aelin tipped her head back and laughed, her hand inadvertently falling to his arm as she did so.

“I need a fucking drink,” Rowan muttered, flagging to the bartender and gesturing for three shots of whiskey.

Draining his, he glanced over again. Cash’s head was bent slightly as he spoke in Aelin’s ear, her smile dazzling as she listened.

Lorcan reached for his own shot, but Ro grabbed it before he could, throwing in back in a single movement before taking Fen’s as well.

“Damn boy, you’ve got it bad,” Fen observed.

“Cash better take her somewhere else to fuck,” Lor added, frowning. “She strikes me as a screamer, and I forgot my earplugs.”

“You both suck,” Rowan said, resisting the urge to look at Cash and Aelin for a third time. He already felt pathetic; he didn’t need to look it, too.

However, after a beat he couldn’t help himself, and he glanced up just in time to see Cash brush a kiss on Aelin’s cheek before retreating back towards them.

When Aelin caught Rowan looking she crooked a finger towards him in an obvious “come hither” gesture, and Rowan felt his stomach flop pleasantly. Cash grinned as he reached their group again, jerking his head in Aelin’s direction as she crossed her legs in an expectant gesture.

“What did you do?” Rowan demanded.

“Greased the wheels for you,” Cash said, smiling. “Go get her, champ.”

At this he turned to Fen, smile widening.“And the cousin’s bi, by the way. You’re welcome.”

“Good work,” Fen said, clapping Cash on the back before turning to frown at Rowan. “What are you even still doing here? Go already, before she comes to her senses and chooses someone else!”

Flipping him a casual middle finger, Rowan smoothed back his silver hair and headed towards her, trying to seem more suave than he honestly felt. Jesus, he hadn’t been this tied in knots by a girl since he’d met Lyria as a first-year cadet. Normally the idea would pain him, but in that moment he had the oddest sensation of her standing beside him, smiling as if to say, “make me proud.”

Aelin smirked and uncoiled to her feet as he approached, grin widening as he said, “You stalking me?”

She gave a lover’s laugh, low and sensuous.

“Oh, you know how the songs goes: The Eyes of Texas are upon you, do not think you can escape them.”

He couldn’t fight his smile at this.

“I should have known,” he said.

“I’ll forgive you this once,” she said. “But you owe me. Why don’t we start with...your name? I’m Aelin, as I’m sure you already know.”

Not wanting to give her the pleasure of agreeing, he simply said,

“Rowan.”

“Nice to finally meet you,” she said. “Took you long enough. I thought I was going to have to kiss your friend just to get your attention.”

“He would have loved that.”

Aelin laughed.

“He’s charming, but too pretty for me; I have a rule of not dating guys who have better hair than I do.”

“Don’t tell him that,” Rowan said. “It will go to his head.”

“Quite literally,” she said. “Let me introduce you around,” she said as Aedion approached.“My cousin, I think you know.”

Aedion only grinned, holding up the lei of purple orchids around his neck. “Told you I would.”

Aelin rolled her eyes as she ran a hand down the back of the dark-haired man she’s been with earlier, seeking his attention. When he turned, she gestured to Rowan.

“Galen, this is Rowan. Rowan, this is my other cousin, Galen.”

“Nice to meet you,” Galen said, his accent thicker than either Aelin or Aedion’s.

Her cousin.

It seemed so obvious now. Though his hair and skin were darker than hers, he had her same brilliant eyes, as did Aedion. Rowan was never going to hear the end of it from his friends.

Galen gave Rowan a quick up-down before firing off in rapid, staccato Spanish, the words so fast Rowan couldn’t even pick out a single one.

Aelin only gave her cousin a good-natured eyeroll before pushing on his chest.

“Vete,” she said. “no me molestes.”

“Let me guess,” Rowan said. “He threatened to string me up if I even so much as blink wrong?

”Aelin gave a look of theatrical mock surprise.

“No way, you speak Spanish?”

“Tell him I come in peace,” Rowan said.

“He knows I can fight my own battles,” Aelin replied with a strug. “He and Aedion just like to prove their usefulness. Where were we?”

“I think you were introducing me to your court,” Rowan said, gesturing as the legion of people surrounding Aelin.

“Everyone else can wait,” Aelin said, gesturing to the bartender for drinks. “I don’t feel like sharing you quite yet.”

When two tequila shots and two beers appeared on the bar, Rowan threw down a fifty before Aelin could put it on her tab.

“Trying to butter me up?” She asked, batting her eyelashes coquettishly.

“Do I need to?” He replied, accepting the shot from her.

She only smirked, grabbing his fist and running her tongue down the back of his hand before covering it with salt. He had to fend off a pleasant shudder. The gesture had shot straight to his cock.

“We’ll see,” she said, offering him a lime now, too. “Ready?”

He lifted his glass to her, but before he could lick the salt, she grabbed his wrist.

“You can’t drink without a toast, are you insane?”

“I don’t have one.”

She rolled her eyes before coaching his arm up above his head.

“Arriba,” she said before gently guiding his hand down. “Abajo. Al centro,” she prompted him to clink his glass to hers in the center. “Por dentro.”

With that she licked the salt off her hand before throwing the shot back easily and sucking on the lime. Rowan decided not to read into the suggestive look she gave him as she did so.

When they’d finished, Aelin grabbed his hand, gesturing for him to pick up his beer before she pulled him away from the bar.

“Where are we going?” He asked, hazarding a glance back at his friends to see them all watching him with knowing smirks.

“Somewhere quieter,” Aelin said, leading him up a set of rickety stairs that lead to an upper lounge.

The low couches were open to the air and overlooked the beach, and considering how things with Aelin had begun this afternoon, it felt…dangerously romantic.

You can’t fall for this girl, he reminded himself.

She didn’t live here, and neither did he. He was busy studying for the detective exam, and she was still in college, for Christ’s sake. Whatever he did, he couldn’t catch feelings for her.

However, it was an idea that felt easier said than done as Aelin yanked him down beside her on a couch, her head propped on a fist as she studied him with those mesmerizing blue eyes. She was so beautiful it was almost hard to breathe.

“So,” she said. “Start at the beginning.”

He laughed.

“The beginning of what?”

She grinned, her lips the most kissable shade of pink.

“Everything. I want to know it all.”

IF YOU LIKED THIS AND WANT MORE, CHECK OUT PART TWO, OUT NOW! 🏐 🍺 ♥️

TAG LIST: @tswaney17 @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @nalgenewhore @superspiritfestival @mis-lil-red @pilesofriles @whitewashedasiangirl @http-itsrebecca @starkovsnesta @thebitchupstairs @sometimesimthatbitch @islareds @faerie-queen-fireheart @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @enpointe10 @justgiu12 @thesurielships @awesomelena555 @alyx801 @carbconnoisseur @ladywitchling @keshavomit @stardelia @thewayshedreamed @annedub @cityofchelsea16 @spyofthenightcourt

#tog modern au #tog x acotar #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #In Vino Veritas Prequel #featherywrites

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hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cabin on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

There was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but it ended up being really long so I split it up into two chapters. Hope you enjoy!

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it.

Catch up: Pro I Ch 1 I Ch 2 I Ch 3 I Ch 4

Also available on: AO3 I FF.N

Chapter 5

Emma surveys the crowded sanctuary, feeling out of the loop and out of place as she is escorted down the aisle by a young usher. It’s been so long since she’s seen family in this capacity, she feels like an outsider. Being distant is her modus operandi. And being a surgeon makes it far too easy for her to use work as an excuse, because then she doesn’t have to socialize or express her feelings or discuss uneasy topics, such as a social life she doesn’t have. Talking about Graham used to be her social lubricant. When she talked about him, it took the focus off her, which she usually prefers, because she hates being in the spotlight; she hates having to talk about herself. While she is always in the literal spotlight of the operating room, she’s able to tune out that fact by focusing on her patients and the procedures. One of the many perks of being a doctor is that her job is to focus on her patients, and she’s good at that. The hospital is her comfort zone because nothing she does there is about her—it’s about her patients; it’s about helping them get better.

But that feeling of uneasiness had crept up inside her the instant she had entered the church with her adoptive mother. Ingrid had insisted Emma ride with her to the church since Emma's house was on the way. She was reluctant at first because she knew she wouldn’t be able to escape the reception early this way. Or if she ended up getting called into the hospital, she’d have to ask someone to leave and take her. But she also knew she couldn’t say no because it might hurt her adoptive mother’s feelings.

After Ingrid assured Emma she could use her vehicle if she got called in and that she would be able to hitch a ride home from Elsa, Emma couldn’t really think of any other excuses that wouldn’t make her intentions transparent. Besides, riding to the wedding with Ingrid gave them the opportunity to catch up. But it also gave Ingrid the opportunity to ask Emma how she was doing since her colleague had passed. And suddenly, what was once a social lubricant became an encumberment. It made Emma sad and teary-eyed and not want to be around people. Suddenly, talking about herself didn’t seem so bad after all.

They found Anna in her dressing room, which was pervaded with many laughs, a few tears and a bride who had worked herself into a frenzy of emotions. Nevertheless, Anna and Elsa expressed their deepest condolences for Graham and made a fuss over her and how she is dealing with his death. It’s a painful topic, but knowing the attention aimed at her would be short-lived, given that it's Anna and Kristoff's wedding day, gave Emma a bit of comfort. She'd returned to the sanctuary without Ingrid since her adoptive mother will be the one giving Anna away. After Anna and Elsa’s parents died, Ingrid raised them by herself. The younger sister was only eight at the time and lived under Ingrid’s roof before leaving for college. So Anna saw fit to be given away by the woman who had been more like her mother and father for ten years, rather than her aunt.

As Emma nears the front row of the sanctuary, her smile falters when her eyes stumble upon him. That damn detective, David Nolan.

When their eyes connect, she suddenly wants to disappear into a cloud of smoke or run away.

What the hell is he doing here?

Oh right, he was Elsa's late husband's best friend and work partner. Thankfully, when he interviewed her about Graham’s murder, he had skipped the pleasantries and had plunged right into the questions. He had seemed to be all business, which she appreciated, she really did. In fact, he reminded her of... well, herself. Very polite, but at the same time asking unpleasant questions. He was only trying to do his job, even if that meant making others feel exposed. Like homicide cases, surgeries are sometimes a lengthy, unpleasant process, but they’re an essential part of the job. So she understands David’s persistence and his need to get down to the nitty-gritty. But to make her a suspect for murder is preposterous! No, they had never met before Graham's murder, but David knew her family, and for him to point his finger at her, for him to think she could collaborate with a murderer left an unsavory taste in her mouth. She supposes his job requires him to separate personal feelings from work-related agendas—her job requires the same—but still, what he has on her is flimsy and pretty damn pathetic.

Emma drops down in the front pew with a humph. Normally she'd be opposed to sitting in the front, but since Ingrid will be seated next to her after she walks Anna down the aisle, and since Emma's not forced to look at the back of David's head like she would be if she sat in the back, she’s glad to sit in front.

After Kristoff’s parents are seated on the groom’s side of the sanctuary, Kristoff, the groomsmen and the ushers make their way to the front. Next comes the bridesmaids. Emma looks over to see Elsa, the maid of honor, walking down the aisle in her plum-colored gown, holding a matching bouquet and a big smile, her long, silver-blonde hair French braided in the back. Elsa takes her place next to a bridesmaid as her daughter trails after her, scattering purple rose petals along the bridal path. Emma smiles at Camila, who’s brown curls bounce around her shoulders as she walks. Her miniature ball gown makes her look like a princess as she makes her way toward her mother. When she reaches her, Elsa kisses her daughter’s forehead and prompts her to sit by her Aunt Emma.

The bridal procession song begins, and everyone stands for the bride’s grand entrance as she’s escorted by Ingrid, who has a proud smile on her face. Anna proceeds down the aisle in an elegant, off the shoulder gown with a wide neckline as she flashes a big grin, showing off her pearly white teeth. She looks every bit the blushing bride.

Emma still feels guilty for not attending Elsa’s wedding, even though it was several years ago. Or Liam’s funeral, even though her husband died three years ago. Actually, his death made her feel even more guilty. And she wishes she would’ve known him more, but alas, she had strayed away from family gatherings. She’s a terrible cousin. She’s always had trouble connecting with people, probably because when she was a kid, she never stayed anywhere long enough to connect with anyone. That is until Ingrid adopted her.

It took Emma a long time to fully feel accepted by Ingrid—to know she wouldn’t be sent off to another foster home. But Ingrid was a very kind and caring mother to her. Even so, Emma failed to develop the social skills her cousins had, even when they moved in with her and Ingrid three years later. Elsa is a little shier than her sister but still less so than Emma. The sisters had done their best to include her in activities and outings, and even though Emma had a close bond with Ingrid, she always felt like an outsider of the group. And the gap between her and the sisters gradually widened over the years.

After the conclusion of the ceremony, the front row is dismissed, and as Emma and Ingrid head down the aisle, she sees David once again, those familiar unpleasant feelings returning. Being the polite gentleman he is, David nods courteously at her, but she only scowls in return.

“Everything okay, Emma?” Ingrid asks, sensing how tense she is. Probably from the way Emma's jaw twitches as she glares at the detective.

Emma nods. “Yeah, I just recognize Mr. Nolan as the detective assigned to the case of Graham's murder. He questioned me and my other colleagues who were at the Rabbit Hole that night.”

“Ah, I see. Well, he's a good man. He and Liam worked together at the SBPD.”

“Yeah, that's what I've heard.”

“Speaking of Liam, I wonder if his brother is here,” Ingrid says, scanning the pews for him.

Emma averts her eyes from David, trying to rid the negative thoughts of the detective and the case and that creep, Neal Gold. She had thought about calling the police after the phone call Neal made. But she couldn’t get over the fact that David actually thought she, Elsa and Anna’s cousin and a doctor for Christ’s sake, could possibly be capable of murder, even if he didn’t think she had been the one wielding the knife.

She knew she should've driven her own car in case she felt the need to escape. Hopefully, David won't stoop so low to question her at her cousin's wedding.

“Oh, there he is,” Ingrid says, pulling Emma from her thoughts.

She looks over to see who Ingrid is waving to. And she guesses the man whose eyes light up as he looks their way and shoots up his hand in the center of the back pew, is him.

Emma loses a breath as she catches a glimpse of him, then quickly looks ahead and keeps moving. Two words come to mind as she makes her way to Ingrid's car.

Fucking gorgeous.

If only she had her phone in her hand when she saw him, because pulling it out of her clutch purse and stopping to point her phone at him would've been too obvious. It would've been just as bad as snapping a photo of him without knowing the flash was on. Like when Elsa had snapped a photo of Liam the night they met. Emma wasn't there, but she's heard the story several times over the years to know she doesn’t want to be caught in that type of situation.

~*~

Killian thought she was lovely when he saw her on the video footage of the interrogation room with its dim, unpleasant lighting, but bloody hell, she's much more gorgeous in person. He had shown up to the ceremony as late as he could possibly get away with and sat in the back to avoid attracting too much attention from the people who knew him—at least until Emma and Ingrid had left and headed for the country club.

He could only see the back of her head during the ceremony, but he’d seen enough to know she’s wearing a short, royal blue mermaid style dress that’s sleeveless and shows off her soft curves and bronzed shoulders and arms. Her hair is parted to the left and swept loosely into a swirl bun embellished with a blue flower, and her skin looks tanned, a contrast to the pale, creamy complexion on the video; she must've used a tanning bed or sunbathed on the beach. But he couldn’t get a good enough look to figure out which tanning method she’d used.

He'd been jealous of the usher who had the pleasure of escorting her down the aisle—had the pleasure of being so close to her, the young lad could probably smell whatever perfume she was wearing. Then Killian had chastised himself for having those thoughts. Emma's a subject of an investigation, regardless of whether or not he thinks she did anything wrong, and he has to think of her as such. He's not allowed to be jealous of ushers or anyone else who comes in contact with her. He has to admit he was very pleased she didn’t show up to the wedding with a date though.

When he arrives at the country club, he parks his truck and grabs the gift he got for Anna and Kristoff. He carries it in with him and leaves it on the table draped with white cloth. He signs the guest book and sees Emma Swan and Ingrid Swan's names above his. He hadn't expected Emma to ride with her adoptive mother. At first he worried it would interfere with his plans, but actually, if he plays his cards right, Emma not having a car to escape early in and unexpectedly might be to his advantage.

Killian sits with the Nolans, just as he would if he weren't helping David with the case. They don't dare breathe a word about work; they share some laughs and after the bridal party makes their entrance, the tables are dismissed one by one and Killian helps his nephews fill their plates with food from the buffet. He tries not to stare at Emma, but he can't help himself. Every now and then he steals a peek as she sits at a table across the room, conversing with Ingrid and other guests. She’s not facing him, but he has an excellent view of her toned, sexy legs, one crossed over the other.

The normal traditions are carried out through the reception—the speeches and toasts, the bride and groom’s first dance as husband and wife and the cake cutting, where Anna and Kristoff smash a piece in each other's face. While Killian chuckles along with the audience, he takes a sip of his water, nonchalantly glancing over at Emma once more. He can’t hear her laughing, but he can see her showing off those pearly white teeth, her cheeks swollen as she watches the scene unfold at the three-tiered cake.

After Emma finishes a slice, she grabs her glass of clear liquid and makes her way through the room, chatting with people he doesn't recognize, and that's when he decides to make his move.

He drains the rest of his water in one gulp before setting down his glass and rising from the empty table.

David had brought the boys each a slice of cake to keep them occupied while Killian planned his escape. And it worked like a charm. It didn't take long for Liam's hands to get covered in cake and frosting so Mary Margaret took him and his brother to the ladies' room to clean up. David is now off chatting with Anna, Kristoff and Elsa, keeping them distracted while Killian makes his way across the room. He sticks to the fringes of the crowd on the side opposite of the head table, lest someone from the bridal party wave him over, call out for him or approach him.

Killian hears the tail end of a conversation Emma is having with a couple before she backs away from them. He casually darts into her path as she's turning around and they crash into each other, her drink splashing over the front of her dress.

“Bloody hell, lass, I'm so sorry.”

She peers down at herself assessing the damage. When she looks up at him, at first she is stunned, as though he'd literally knocked the wind out of her. He’s pretty certain he has the same awestruck expression on his face because she’s even more beautiful up close. Her emerald green eyes sparkle under dark, elongated lashes that are framed by black eyeliner, and her lips are coated with shiny, rose pink lip gloss. And she smells incredible, like floral, citrus and cinnamon; all of his senses are tingling from her scent.

The only difference between their reactions is she recovers quickly and he can’t quite seem to.

“You got me all wet,” she mutters, her lovely facial features forming a scowl.

Killian flashes his flirtiest grin. “If I had a penny for every time a woman has said that to me…”

Just when he thought she couldn't glare at him any harder, she does. She glares at him so hard, he thinks she might burn a hole through his head.

“Here, let me get you another drink,” he says, taking the glass from her hand. When his fingers brush hers, his breath snags in his throat.

After recovering from that and the way his heart skips a beat, he raises his hand to signal a waitress who gives Emma a napkin and takes the glass away.

“What were you drinking, love?”

“Ice water, thank God,” she grumbles. “This dress is brand new.”

As she scrubs at the wet spot on her dress, he can’t help but notice the pale tan lines on her skin in the shape of a bikini top. The kind that ties around the back of the neck. And her tan looks too perfect and even to have been caused by the limited angle of the sun. He had envisioned Emma in only a bikini bottom while laying in a tanning bed, but he has to admit, the tan lines look pretty damn good on her. Now he’s wondering what the rest of her looks like.

Stop thinking of her like that, you wanker! he chides himself.

He clears his throat… and his thoughts. “Would you like something else, love?”

When she looks up again, she's still glaring at him. “No, just water. And I’m not your love.”

Killian arches a brow. “There's an open bar and a devilishly handsome gentleman offering to buy you a drink and that's what you choose?”

He's expecting her to laugh or even crack a smile like most women do when he comments on his own looks, but instead, she rolls her eyes. “I'm on call tonight. I don't even have a champagne toast when I'm on call.”

“A tall glass of water on the rocks it is then.” He'd been drinking water too, but for different reasons.

They walk to the bar together and he orders ice water for her and a rum for himself. As the bartender pours their drinks, Killian turns toward Emma, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. “So you're on call? What kind of work do you do?”

“I'm a doctor,” she answers simply as she crosses her arms and looks away like she's searching for the exit doors.

“Really? What kind of doctor?”

She reverts her gaze to his. “Medical.”

Killian shakes his head and snaps his fingers, disappointment clouding his features. “That's just my rotten luck.”

She arches a brow. “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because I'm as healthy as a horse.”

Killian can actually see the walls erecting around her like a fortress guarding a territory in warfare. He scratches behind his ear, thinking this might be more difficult than he thought. He only met her a couple of minutes ago but he can already tell she's a tough nut to crack. Which is fine. He loves a challenge.

When the bartender slides their drinks toward him, he grabs both glasses and hands Emma her water.

“Thanks.” She takes the proffered drink with a slight smile and he clinks his glass against hers.

“My pleasure,” he flashes a cheeky grin and imbibes his rum.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” As she brings the glass to her lips to take a sip, she turns and walks away so other guests can get to the bar.

He pretends not to recognize a brush-off when he receives one; he tries not to let it sting, but it kind of does. He quickly shakes it off and falls into step beside her. “Do you specialize?”

She sighs, most likely realizing she won't be able to get rid of him so easily. “I'm a general surgeon.”

He throws on his most charming smile. “Well, I have to say, I haven’t met a lot of surgeons—like I said, healthy as a horse—but you are the prettiest surgeon I’ve ever seen. In fact, I’m surprised the bride hasn’t kicked you out by now.”

She looks offended. “Kick me out? For what?”

“For being prettier than her.”

Emma’s cheeks turn as red as a tomato. And is that a hint of a smile he can detect? No, it can’t be. “You’re the cockiest, most self-assured man I’ve ever met. And believe me, I’ve met some doozies.” Oh, her smile is authentic all right.

He shrugs in disagreement. “I prefer dashing rapscallion.” He sticks out his hand. “Killian Jones. I’m the maid of honor’s—”

“Brother-in-law. I know.” She stares at his extended hand, leaving it hanging in the air, and he doubts she’ll shake it… until she finally does, clasping it firmly. Her skin is cold from the drink she was gripping tightly with both hands, but her skin is soft and he doesn’t want to let her hand go. But she releases his grip after a few seconds, leaving the ghost of her touch on his palm.

He steps into her space, his eyes scrolling down her body and up again before locking eyes with hers and tilting his head to the side, his voice low and husky as he speaks. “So you know who I am, and here you haven’t even told me your name, love.”

She scowls. “I told you not to call me that.”

“My apologies,” he says sincerely. “What should I call you, then?”

“Emma.”

His eyes light up with recognition, even though he already knows who she is. She doesn’t know that though. “Emma Swan?”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “That’s correct. So, you’ve heard of me, too?”

He nods. “You’re Anna and Elsa’s cousin.”

She lifts her brows, prompting him to expand.

“Your name has come up once or twice in conversation.”

“Really, and what have you heard?”

“Nothing much, only that we’ve almost met about a handful of times.”

Emma nods, biting her bottom lip, which he finds extremely adorable. “It’s one of the downfalls of being a surgeon. My profession makes it hard to have a social life.”

His eyes light up and a big smile lights up his face, though he doubts not having a social life is something she’s bitter about. There is a reason her cousins have referred to her as distant and aloof more than once. “So you’re saying missing out on the opportunity to meet me is a downfall?”

She shakes her head. “Actually no, I was just being polite. I’m kind of anti-social. But I’m guessing you already knew that.”

He nods, trying to hide the disappointment he feels after her blunt admission. “You’re right, I did. You’re quite perceptive,” he remarks before slugging down the last of his rum.

She shrugs. “I’m a doctor. I have to be able to sense when a patient isn't telling me something I should know before I go cutting them open.”

He nods in understanding, and they’re both silent as she looks around the room and slowly nurses her drink. After a moment, her eyes return to his, a solemn expression on her face.

“I’m sorry about your brother by the way. I didn’t know him well but I know he was a good man to Elsa.”

His features cloud with sadness, eyes darkening at the mention of Liam. “Thank you. He was a very good man.”

Emma suddenly narrows her eyes at him. “Aren’t you a detective like him?”

Killian nods and scratches behind his ear. “I was, but not anymore.” He hates lying to her, but he has to. At least for now. “After he died, I moved to Port Lavaca and got a job as a dockhand.”

She lifts a brow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You went from being a detective to making ten dollars an hour scrubbing fish guts off of boats?”

"It's twelve dollars an hour, and I do more than clean boats," he corrects defensively.

She scoffs. "Oh sorry, I didn't mean to belittle a job a ten-year-old kid could do."

He frowns. “The pay may not be great but I get to live on the beach and inhale the salty sea air all day. It’s not a bad tradeoff, actually. Besides, if you think about it, cleaning up fish crap is not much different from the crap I cleaned up by working for the SBPD.”

She shrugs, unconvinced. “If you say so.” She takes another sip from her ice water, staring vacantly across the room as the dance floor fills up.

“Would you care to dance?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t dance.”

He nods, accepting another one of her brush-offs as his eyes circle the reception hall in search of his niece. “That’s okay, I’m sure my date will dance with me.”

When she whirls her head around to look at him and cock a brow, he can’t help but notice how much her face clouds with disappointment. “You came here with a date?”

“Is that so hard to believe, love?” He also doesn’t fail to notice she doesn’t correct her pet name this time.

“No, I’m sure there’s some poor woman out there either naive or desperate enough to fall for your charm.”

Killian brings his hand to his chest like he’d just been wounded. “Ouch, that hurts.” He spots his niece dancing with the bride and sets his glass on a vacant table. “I assure you, she is as smart as a whip. In fact, she’s probably smarter than anyone else her age.” He waves at Camila, getting her attention, and she happily rushes to him through the crowd. With a sidelong glance, he witnesses Emma’s eyes following his gaze to see who his date is.

She laughs upon realizing he was referring to Camila.

And it’s the first time he’s heard her laugh. Even though a crowd-pleasing song is pouring from the speakers, Emma’s laugh is music to his ears.

“Your niece is your date?”

“Aye.”

“Uncle Killy! Auntie Emma!” Camila chants, rushing over to them.

He extends his hand to her. “Would you care to dance, little love?”

She grins and nods, slipping her hand in his. He escorts her to the dancefloor, and she steps on each of his feet and takes her uncle’s offered hands as they move to the music.

As he dances with Camila, he does his best to avoid glancing over at Emma—he genuinely wants to spend time with his niece—but every now and then, his eyes make their way across the room.

~*~

Emma returns to the bar for a refill and plops down on a stool with a heavy sigh, her feet killing her from wearing these damn high heels. She really wishes she could drink alcohol right now because then she wouldn’t feel so nervous. She orders another water, and the bartender takes away her empty glass, giving her a fresh one. Her stomach is full of butterflies as she nurses her water and gazes over at Killian on the dance floor with Camila.

Emma doesn't know much about him, but she has learned a few things. One, his British accent does things to her when he speaks, and two, he’s much more handsome up close. She also knows he’s cocky and kind of obnoxious. Oh, and he’s ridiculously adorable with his five-year-old niece. If this weren’t her cousin's wedding and if she had her own vehicle, she would escape. Because he’s exactly the type of guy she tries to avoid at all costs—good looking and well aware of the effect he has on women. But there's also something very genuine about him. He’s honest and not afraid to say what he thinks. She appreciates that more than she’s afraid to admit.

After they had bumped into each other, she'd been apprehensive to talk to him because she'd seen him sitting with David and she knew through the grapevine he was a detective like Liam. She was afraid he was going to interrogate her about Graham's murder. But her guard lowered when he told her was no longer working for the SBPD and moved to Port Lavaca after his brother died. She knew he was telling the truth because she'd also heard through the grapevine he moved.

She sighs and averts her gaze from the dance floor and the ridiculously handsome man to take a sip of her drink. She thinks about throwing caution to the wind, carpe diem as they say, and going over to dance with him. But the thing is, she doesn't know how to dance.

Before she can ponder the thought any further, she sees out of the corner of her eye a figure claiming the stool next to her. She can feel their stare burning into her skin, and that overwhelming sense of paranoia that’s been eating away at her insides ever since the phone call from Gold takes over and she glances over to see who is sitting next to her. She exhales a deep breath of relief when she recognizes the man she thinks is one of Kristoff’s friends as he looks away from her to order a drink from the bartender.

Emma rests her elbows on the counter and buries her face in her hands, berating herself for being so paranoid. She keeps expecting Gold to show up at every turn; she keeps expecting to hear his voice on the other end of the line when she answers the phone, regardless of the number on her caller id, or lack thereof. She’s even afraid of being alone in her own freaking house!

She really needs to get a grip and stop letting that creep get to her, but at the same time she has good reason for being scared. In medical school, she had studied enough required psychology to know Gold is the most dangerous kind of criminal. He believes himself invincible and therefore will dare to do anything.

Emma lifts her head and looks over to catch the man next to her giving her a once over, his lips stretching into a coy grin. “Hi there. You’re Anna's cousin, right?”

Emma has to refrain from rolling her eyes as she steers her gaze away from him. “That’s right,” she mumbles, running a finger around the rim of her glass.

“I’m Hans.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him extending his hand to her. She doesn’t move to shake it though.

“And you are?”

She turns her head, flashing him a fake smile. “Not interested.”

He chuckles as the bartender hands him his drink. “That’s an interesting name, Not Interested. You from around here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Hmmm, okay,” he says as he takes a swig of his drink.

At least he knows how to take a hint. She sighs in relief and continues sipping her water in silence.

“Well, Not Interested, I’m from out of town. I’m staying in a hotel room around the corner from here. If you get a little too tipsy from your drink, you’re more than welcome to crash in my room for the night.”

Emma clenches her jaw and is two seconds away from getting up from her seat and either giving him a piece of her mind or throwing her drink in his face. Just as she shifts to rise from her stool, a hand on her back makes her jump out of her skin and when she spins her head around to see whose hand she has to cut off, she loses her train of thought. And her breath.

“There you are, darling. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Killian leans in to kiss her cheek, and her breath catches when she feels those warm, luscious lips on her skin. “I should have known you’d be at the bar,” he chuckles playfully and glances at Hans while his thumb is idly stroking her back. “I can’t take her anywhere.” His spicy cologne hits her senses intensely, crippling her from head to toe when he reaches over her, extending his other hand to the stranger. “Killian Jones, Emma’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.”

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

@itsfabianadocarmo @snowbellewells @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @teamhook @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @xsajx @julesep3026 @hookedmom @biefaless @cluttermind @yasbio2015 @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @harshini01 @noensnaringnet @xarandomdreamx @onceuponaprincessworld @annastasiarinaldiva @royalswan @brustudyblog @officerrogers @gingerchangeling @melly326 @singersdd @mzbossyboots @unworried-corsair @iamemmaswanjones @authorarsinoe @kingofmyheart14 @nightskylover @jamif @resident-of-storybrooke @iam2307 @winterbaby89 @chinawoodfan @mormonkryptonite @ultraluckycatnd @captainswan-shipper88 @killianswanjones @bethdacattfm @andiirivera

#cs ff #captain swan #beyond a reasonable doubt #my fic

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chocoluckchipz · 5 years ago

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A Bride for the Prince - 14

A03 ~ < Previous ~ Next >

Lady Volpina’s shriek echoing through the hallways was enough to send any king running as far away as he could.

“We should’ve taken the main hallway, Father,” Adrien groaned behind him. “I’m not in the mood to deal with another of her tantrums.”

“Main hallways are littered with people preparing for your birthday celebration, and it’s less of a hassle avoiding them than avoiding Lady Volpina.”

“Right,” Adrien sighed. “Well, if we walk by fast, hopefully, she won’t notice us.”

And that was exactly what Gabriel had been planning to do, instantly quickening his steps. Yet, as he was passing the slightly open door to the room that the voices were coming from, the words of another lady made him halt in his spot.

“… why don’t you be quiet long enough for Lady Bug to answer. For it seems that she has a far different view on staff than us.”

Gabriel paused at the confident, assertive voice talking about one of the two girls on Adrien’s shortlist of potential brides. Interesting. He walked closer and glanced inside only to see that it was Lady Riposte who was talking, the other girl that caught his son’s attention. She was the perfect candidate for the Queen’s title in Gabriel’s opinion. A competent lady from a distinguished family who, as far as he’d heard, shared a lot of his own values and beliefs.

“Father?” Adrien whispered behind his shoulder. “We should move along before they see us.”

Gabriel raised his finger to shush Adrien and listened. Lady Bug was speaking, and with every word, his heart clenched. He swallowed. It couldn’t be. These words and these beliefs… This exact point of view… He knew it was possible for others of a noble descent to hold those opinions, but it was so rare, he could hardly believe his ears. He quietly stepped into the room to make sure it was Lady Bug who was speaking and not the grief and longing in his heart giving him hallucinations.

“Compassion can be a weakness,” Lady Riposte said, none of the ladies noticing Gabriel’s presence as they continued their discussion. “Show too much and the kingdom will suffer. You must act logically to lead your kingdom the best way possible for all.”

“But how can you possibly know the best way if you do not care to know what those of the kingdom are experiencing?” Lady Bug countered.

“Their needs are ever-changing.”

Gabriel held his breath.

“Having the ability to understand the commoners you rule over is a talent only acquired through associating with those below your rank. Otherwise, how else would you know you are ruling effectively if those you are ruling don’t tell you?”

Gabriel sucked in the air, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. It was incomprehensible, but he couldn’t deny what he heard with his own ears and what he’d seen with his own eyes. No wonder Adrien liked this girl. If not for the fact that she was clearly a different person, Gabriel would’ve thought he’d just gone back in time and witnessed his beloved Emilie serve Lady Bourgeois her ass on a platter, wrapped in a bow.

Thankfully, Lady Riposte took it with more dignity than Andre’s wife ever could. Gabriel hoped he could say the same about Lady Volpina, but the reality was different as the girl snapped and proceeded to verbally attack Lady Bug. Staying as quiet as he could, Gabriel eagerly watched, curious how Lady Bug would handle the brat.

She didn’t disappoint as she managed the situation beautifully and with grace, just the way his Emilie always did. Gabriel glanced back at Adrien. The proud smirk on his son’s face was hard to miss. So was the lovesick warmth in his eyes. It seemed to him his son had made his choice already.

The clock on the wall chimed six, and Lady Bug stood up to leave. She gathered her embroidery, not giving Lady Volpina a chance to retaliate and headed towards them. A confident smile on her lips, a fire burning in her eyes, Lady Bug walked proudly towards the door, halting her steps as soon as she’d noticed their presence.

“Your Majesty! Your Highness.” Lady Bug instantly curtsied before the King and the Prince, her face red.

Gabriel nodded.

“Oh! Your Majesty. And Your Highness,” Lady Volpina cut in, her smile excessively fake as she came from behind Lady Bug. “To what do we owe the honour?” She batted her eyelashes at them, curtsying lower than was appropriate, no doubt trying to show off her overexposed bosom.

Gabriel pressed his lips into a thin line. How did this person even dare to think she was suitable to become a Queen?

“Lady Volpina,” he said, his patience with her wearing thin. “I tend to encourage people of higher ranking to ignore snide remarks when it comes to people’s unsolicited judgement of you. However, in this case, it might behoove you to listen for once.”

With those words, he turned away and marched off down the hallway, leaving not only the trio of girls but his son in shocked silence.

***

Adrien knew his father could be harsh and could humiliate anyone with a single word. Yet, he’d never seen him exercising that ability on anyone who wasn’t his enemy and especially not on anyone belonging to the families that formed his legislature, which Lady Volpina’s family was. However, even his father had his limits, and Adrien was thrilled to have witnessed him not holding back in this particular situation. Honestly, it was rather mesmerizing and highly satisfying to watch Lady Volpina squirm as Gabriel departed the room. Her face red, she clenched her fists, scrambling to compose herself as Adrien glanced her way. Marinette and Lady Riposte could hardly contain their giggles. Adrien would’ve gladly joined them, but, alas, his father wanted his presence at the dinner tonight, so Adrien nodded to the ladies, wishing them a lovely evening, and followed Gabriel’s footsteps.

“That was unexpected,” he said, catching up. “You should’ve seen her face after you left.”

“That was nothing to be proud of,” Gabriel replied. “As a king, I should’ve had more composure, but honestly, I’m rather tired of her presence. Her and her cousin’s Duke Barbot. Thankfully, I won’t have to see them daily anymore soon.”

“I’m eager for that day to come as well.”

They walked in silence for a few moments when Gabriel asked, “Have you made your choice yet? You do realize your birthday is tomorrow? Meaning you must choose a bride before the day ends.”

“I know,” Adrien said, an anxious feeling rising in his gut. He’d gone through most of the laws and regulations with only a few hours work left at most which he’d already planned to complete tonight after dinner. So far, he’d found nothing that could’ve helped him, apart from the lack of a list of eligible ranks for marriage for royalty in general. If it’d come to worst, that might be his only ploy because if the law didn’t specify the ranks and titles royals were allowed to marry, then who was to say he couldn’t marry into any social status, even a commoner one?

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll decide by tomorrow.”

Gabriel scoffed. “It’s plainly obvious you prefer one girl over the other.”

Adrien tensed. He couldn’t put Marinette in the middle of attention yet. Not until he had all the cards in his hands. “You must be mistaken, Father—”

“You know, son,” Gabriel stopped and turned to face him. “I’ve never duelled for your mother, even though sometimes I wish I would have. You, on the other hand, have broken our family’s perfect record without a second thought to defend a woman you are not even betrothed to. Although, after witnessing her just now, I’m certain she didn’t need you to do that. She can perfectly take care of herself. Beautifully and with the grace of a queen, at that. I must admit, I prefer the lineage, family standing, views, and values of Lady Riposte, but who am I to tell you that when I married a woman of a lower-rank nobility who believed the same things as your Lady Bug? So, you do what your heart tells you.”

Adrien held his breath, braving to voice his thoughts only after his father turned to resume his walk. “So, you approve? If I were to choose Lady Bug, and she’ll have me, would you approve of our union?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I already approved of all the ladies in that group, didn’t I?”

Adrien shifted his eyes to the side, nervously chuckling. “Yes. Of course. Never mind, I’m just worried she won’t accept me, so I didn’t—”

“Nonsense,” Gabriel scoffed. “There isn’t a girl in that group who wouldn’t accept your proposal. You’re the Prince. They cannot refuse you.”

Adrien frowned. “That’s not my stance on that. I don’t want a wife to lord over. I want a partner and a friend. An equal. And I want a marriage where we both would be happy and comfortable and loved. I want what you and mother had, and something like that can’t be built without my bride wanting to marry me because of her feelings for me, not because of her love for my title. When I propose, I’ll be asking her as a man, not as a Prince. I’ll be giving her a choice, not an order.”

“And do you think this Lady Bug loves you for who you are?”

Adrien couldn't help a smile, remembering Marinette’s and his encounter at the library. She’d begged the Prince to withhold his attention, admitting to loving another man, a man that, unbeknownst to her, was right in front of her. Not a lot of women would do that, none from the group of the ladies in the running to become his wife. And considering his title and her position, doing so was rather bold of Marinette, which gave him faith her feelings towards him were genuine, something a man of his statue rarely encountered and treasured when he did. “I know she does.”

“Then what are you nervous about?”

His face saddened as he shifted his sight to the side. He couldn’t tell his father yet that he could be the one standing in the way of Marinette’s and his happiness, so Adrien voiced the other reason that haunted his mind. “Her loving me doesn’t necessarily mean she’d want to marry me since, as you know, I come with responsibilities and complications.”

Adrien could feel his father rolling his eyes as he continued to walk in front of him. “Sometimes, you’re ridiculous, Adrien. If she loves you as much as you seemed to believe she does, then she’ll say Yes. If she doesn’t, then you have plenty of others to choose from, but by the end of the day tomorrow you must present a bride to the kingdom’s legislature.”

“Yes, Father,” Adrien mumbled and fell quiet.

They soon reached the dining room, and conversation shifted into a different direction, yet throughout their dinner, Adrien couldn’t stop obsessing over the thought that his father approved of Marinette. He thought she’d been worthy of a Queen’s title based on her actions alone, so maybe they had a better chance to be together than Adrien had thought they did. It made him anxious to go finish his research to find out if those last few books had anything to help him or at least nothing to stop him; anxious to behold his Father’s reaction when he’d reveal he’s fallen in love with and wanted to marry a commoner; anxious to finally take that mask off before Marinette and beg her to marry him. He was anxious for her answer. So anxious it made him nauseous.

“I don’t feel hungry tonight,” Adrien said only fifteen minutes into the meal. “Would you excuse me, Father?”

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow, looked at his untouched plate and nodded. “Get some sleep. You must look your best tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Adrien said, standing up. He bowed and departed, heading straight for the library. The faster he’d get through this, the better, and if the food didn’t sit right with him at this moment, why should he waste his time on dinner?

***

His research done, Adrien soaked in his bath, hope warming him more than hot water. He let out a sigh, sinking deeper into the tub. Tomorrow was so close yet so far away. He wondered how it’d go. Would his arguments be enough to convince his father? Would he be allowed—

“Adrien? You here?” Nino knocked on the servant’s entrance door.

“Yeah. Come in. Keep in mind I’m bathing.”

The door creaked open, and Nino slipped in, stopping behind the screen servants used as to not look at Adrien.

“Your coming in from that door means only one thing,” Adrien teased. “How was your date with Alya?”

“Fantastic,” Nino replied. “And I’ve got your answer. About Marinette’s feelings.”

Adrien perked. “And what is it?”

Nino sighed. “Alya said one has to be blind not to see that Marinette’s crushing hard on the Prince and is disgustingly, deeply in love with the guard, which may I mention causes her a lot of turmoil.”

Adrien grinned, his chest filling.

“And don’t you feel happy!” Nino snapped on the other side. “You should be ashamed of yourself. The poor girl is hardly sleeping these days, worrying herself sick, and it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll make sure to properly apologize and compensate her for all the troubles,” Adrien replied, sinking deeper into the water, a lovesick grin shining brightly on his face. “Thank you for confirming, though.”

“Confirming?”

“Yup. I already knew.”

“What? How? Don’t tell me you did something stupid and confessed, Adrien!”

“No, I didn’t. Don’t worry.” He chuckled. “But she did.”

“What?”

“Lady Bug asked the Prince to stop his advances because she was in love with someone else. And when the Prince asked if that someone else was Adrien, she admitted it.”

Nino swore under his breath. “I still think it’s too early to celebrate. What if your father won’t approve? Anything helpful in your research?”

“Only that there are no lists of titles I’m allowed to marry and a few cases of royalty marrying a low-ranking nobility, including my father.”

“But no commoners?”

“No commoners,” Adrien sighed. “Still. I say if the law doesn’t forbid it, the King can’t either.”

“The law may not forbid it, but you know how keen your father is on keeping the traditions, and the kingdom’s traditions say you shall marry nobility.”

“I’ll take my chances. She’s worth fighting for, and this is the only thing I can do here. Unless you can suggest something else?”

“I wish I could,” Nino sighed. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I’ll go to Father first thing in the morning and tell him everything. Once I have his approval, I’ll go to Marinette.”

“And if you won’t get his approval?”

Adrien fell quiet. “Don’t know,” he eventually responded. “I haven’t thought about that much.”

“You know you’ll have to choose someone, regardless of your father’s decision on Marinette?”

Adrien closed his eyes, his chest tightening. “Thank you for being supportive Nino. Love how optimistic you are.”

“Do you think I enjoy it?” Nino scoffed. “Adrien, I warned you from the start to be careful, but did you listen? You’ve always tread your own path, and I supported you while I could, but I think it’s time for both of us to face reality. You are a prince, Adrien. You have a duty and responsibility to your country and people. Your life isn’t yours as much as you might want. And I know this is unfair, and I wish I could change it for you, but I can’t and… I don’t know!” Nino threw his hands up in the air. “This whole situation sucks, and I just feel so helpless to do anything. You’re my best friend, Adrien. My job is to protect you, but what am I supposed to do now? How do you protect someone from breaking their heart?”

Adrien said nothing, clenching his fists. As much as it pained him to admit, Nino was speaking the truth. His life wasn’t so much about him as it was doing what was best for his country.

“I do root for you two,” Nino added quietly. “And I do pray you can be together. I wish I could do anything to help. You know that, right? But I just… I just think you should consider the not-so-happy outcome as well, so if it happens, it’ll be less of a blow.”

Adrien said nothing. He knew Nino was right. There was a huge possibility…

Ugh!

Who was he trying to fool? His father would forbid him to even think about Marinette once the truth would be out. Adrien was just too much of a naive romantic and an optimist—courtesy of his mother’s influence—to see the reality. He sat up in his bath and closed his eyes. “Can you tell my butler I’ll be out of here in a few minutes?”

“Adrien—”

“Please, Nino,” Adrien said, his voice cracking. “I understand everything. I know you care and want to help, but… I’d like to be alone right now.”

“Alright. Can I just suggest, though, that if the worst possible scenario happens, I think Marinette deserves to find out the truth about you before the bride selection happens? Preferably in private and from you personally. It’ll devastate her to see you getting engaged to someone else without knowing the whole story.”

With no more words, Nino walked out. Adrien clenched his fists, jaw tightening as he grit his teeth together. He shouldn’t assume the worst just yet. He shouldn't, no matter how likely it was to happen. Swiftly, he got out of the bath and dressed from the waist down, heading to his bedroom chamber.

The moment he closed the door behind himself, someone grabbed hold of him before he could react. His eyes bulging, Adrien froze in his place, sucking in a breath at the feeling of a woman’s body pressed against his back. What was going on and who the hell was she and how did she get in here?

“My Prince,” a woman behind him purred.

Adrien cringed.

Lila?

Her voice dripping with seduction, she slowly petted his chest. “You’ve finally graced me with your presence. How kind of you. I should reward Your Highness for such consideration. It’d be awfully impolite of me if I didn’t.”

Shaking the shock away, Adrien pulled Lila’s hands off himself, escaping her clutches, but didn't let go of her wrists, trying to keep her a reasonable distance away from himself. “What are you doing here, Lady Volpina? How did you get in? Weren’t there guards at the door?”

“Oh, yes, they were there, my Prince,” Lila said, leaning closer, batting her eyelashes at him. “But once they’ve learned I was here by your order, they let me in and promised not to let anyone else interrupt us.”

“By my... what?” In his confusion, he made the mistake of loosening his hold, giving Lila a chance to slip her hands out of his.

“Of course, you did, silly.” Lila stepped closer, trying to reach forward to run her fingers across his chest, only for Adrien to move away again. “Wasn’t it you who said after our last meeting that you were looking forward to seeing me again soon? I’ve waited for days—” She swooned so artificially, shivers ran up Adrien’s spine. “—and seeing as tomorrow’s the big day, I’m afraid tonight is our last chance for that meeting. So here I am, my Prince. All of me. Just for you. Any way you want.” Smiling seductively, she leaned closer, stopping only mere inches away from Adrien.

He bent backwards. “Lady Volpina. I’m afraid—”

“Ah, don’t be shy, my Prince.” Her eyes half-lidded, Lila cocked her head to the side, puffing out her chest, as she crooned further. “All I want is to talk about how perfect we’ll be together, how amazing of a wife I’ll be to you, how much love and affection I can give you, my Prince. Believe me, you won’t regret your choice. I know how to satisfy a man the way no other woman would ever be able to. You’ll be happy with me. That I can promise you, Your Highness.”

Swaying her hips, she moved closer, Adrien backtracking her every step. She reached forward, running her finger down his chest. “I heard you want children, right? I’ll bear you all the children you’ll desire, Adrien. Can’t you just see them already? How perfect they’d be? Little heirs and heiresses to the throne.”

She smirked. It sent goosebumps down Adrien’s skin as Lila continued. “With our combined beauty, our exceptional physiques—speaking of which,” she murmured with a smirk, reaching for Adrien’s face. “I suppose the rumours of your facial mutilation were a hoax? You’re very good-looking for someone who supposedly endured a horrific accident, my Prince. Why did you need to wear that awful mask all the time?”

Adrien pried her hand off his face. His voice stern, he said, “I have my reasons for what I do. That aside, I’m afraid you misinterpreted my words and my intentions, Lady Volpina. There is a difference between being polite and meaning things. Saying I was looking forward to our next meeting didn’t mean I’d be actually happy to see you again, but it’s polite to say when parting with a lady and is a requirement for someone of my statue. I’m sure you know that.”

Lila dramatically gasped. “Are you implying you didn’t want to see me, my Prince? Oh, but I’m certain you’ll change your mind once I’ll show you my outfit.” Momentarily, she untied tassels of her robe and let it drop to the floor, revealing next to nothing underneath with even what little she wore being see-through.

Adrien snapped his eyes closed and turned away. “Lila, please. Dress up and leave. I don’t want any troubles for any of us.”

“What troubles are we talking about here?” She suddenly was right in front of him, her hands, her fingers running across his bare chest. “I’m sure there are some we can indulge in—”

“No, we can’t.” Adrien backed away with his eyes closed, immediately bumping into a wall table.

Lila followed. “My Prince, why are you so flustered? Is this because of a little me?”

Adrien creaked open his eyes and scanned the area, avoiding looking at Lila as much as possible. He couldn’t go back to his bath chamber. Per his own order, the servants must be already there, taking care of his bathwater. His jumping out from his bedroom half-naked with an even less dressed Lila behind might give them the wrong idea and start rumours he didn’t need right now. Exiting through his front door would yield the same results, seeing as the guards were always there…

Actually, never mind. Adrien pressed his lips together. Exorcising Lila the same way she came in was probably his best option right now. He’d shove her out, give the guards a good talk about letting people into his private quarters without an invitation and clear his name and reputation. He tilted his head to glance at the door, looking for the best way to set his plan in motion.

“Oh, didn’t I mention,” Lila murmured, catching his line of sight. “That not wanting anyone to interrupt us, I’ve locked the door. I found the key in the drawer of that table by the wall. However, unfortunately,” she sighed dramatically. “The key slipped out of my hand and fell out of the window while I stargazed waiting for you, my Prince.”

Adrien growled, closing his eyes shut. That hussy! If he hadn’t known Theo and Lila were related, he’d sure suspect something by now.

“I hope you’ll forgive me,” Lila clung to him, pressing her barely covered chest to his, her arms wrapping around his torso. “I’m just a little clumsy, and the way I feel about you doesn’t help me…”

Trapped against the wall, Adrien got hold of Lila’s shoulders this time and pushed her back. Then, he tuned out the nonsense Lila continued to blubber and concentrated on searching for a safe exit strategy. One thing was clear: he couldn’t afford a scandal right now. Not when he was about to beg his father to let him marry a commoner. And that meant Adrien had to get rid of Lila without servants noticing or at least without anyone having the least of a reason to believe something transpired between them.

Shouting or calling for guards wasn’t an option considering the state of undress and intimate position they both were in at this moment. Not to mention the door was locked and who knew where that key really was. The only other door leading to the bath chamber was out of the question as well… His eyes fell on a balcony door. He couldn’t jump out of the window, no matter how much he wanted to do that right now: his apartment was a little too high in the building for that, and he wanted to stay alive so he could be with Marinette.

But! He could go up to the roof from his balcony! He’d done it before. That was a valid option. He only needed to get the clinging hussy off himself so he could get to that balcony.

“You know what? I think you’re right,” he said, faking his best smile.

“Of course, I am,” Lila purred, leaning closer. “Should we move to a more comfortable place to elaborate?”

“Absolutely,” Adrien nodded, taking a step aside and pulling his hands away from her. “Let me just close the windows, so no one eavesdrops. We wouldn’t want anyone to overhear our secrets, now would we?”

“I have no secrets, my Prince.” She weaved her arms around his torso again. “And it’s awfully hot. If you close the windows, we’ll die of heat.”

Adrien swallowed but mustered a smile, untangling Lila from himself once more. “We could always take the layers off to keep cool.”

Lila’s eyes widened, her lips spread in a victorious smirk. “I like your way of thinking, my Prince. I’m glad we’re on the same page at last.”

“Yes. I’m happy we’re finally getting somewhere as well,” Adrien said, taking a few steps away to the closest window. Lila followed. Adrien pressed his lips together. He had to win some distance or his only exit opportunity might be compromised. “So tell me,” he asked, closing the window. “What place would you want us to take this conversation to?”

Lila looked around ceremonially, walked to his bed, and sat down, leaning on her arms, exposing more of her chest in the process. “I rather like this one. It is spacious and comfortable. Just perfect.”

“Great choice.” Adrien nodded, closing the next window. A few more steps. He was so close. Just keep up the charade a little longer. “And what topic shall we start off?”

“I’m hot already,” Lila said, lightly pushing the strap of her nightgown down. Her sultry look travelled to her shoulder as she let her fingers run over her breasts. “Why don’t we talk about that, my Prince?”

“I’d rather not,” Adrien said as he reached the balcony doors. Quickly, he got outside and closed the doors. Jumping on a banister, Adrien grabbed the nearest ledge and pulled himself up. He continued climbing upwards until he was safely on a roof, just in time for Lila to scramble onto his balcony.

“Au revoir.” Adrien saluted and ran as fast and as far away as he could. In a few minutes, he hid behind one of the towers, pondering on what his next actions should be, ultimately deciding that going back through his front door would be the best option. He could play ignorant and pretend he wasn’t in the room all this time in the first place, playing up the surprise of finding Lila inside. That probably was his best option despite Nino and his servants knowing full well he’d spent the last half an hour in his bathroom chamber just now. He supposed Nino would have his back once explained the situation, and if Nino was on his side, the rest would follow because Nino was a saint and couldn’t lie to save his soul. Everybody knew that.

His mind made up, Adrien stood up to execute his plan, only for his eyes to be drawn to another balcony across from the place he’d hidden at. Marinette’s light was still on. She must be trying to relax after a hard day and that confrontation with Lady Riposte and Lady Volpina. Knowing her, however, she was probably freaking out because of tomorrow. Adrien paused. Maybe, he could swing by while he’s here just to say Hello and see how she was doing? If he’d be quick, he was sure everything would be fine. He hesitated only for a few moments and then, throwing the rational part of his brain aside, Adrien headed away from his quarters into direction his heart was taking him.

He didn’t bother to go down until he’d reach a spot just above Marinette’s room. A few quick tricks and Adrien landed on her balcony. He peeked in, a smile splitting his lips as soon as he caught a glance of Marinette sketching something in her album. His heart swelled. She looked absolutely lovely.

Adrien knocked. Marinette stirred, looking around for the source of the sound. Adrien knocked again, and once she spotted him, waved. She gaped at him for a moment before setting her album down and heading his way.

“What are you doing?” Marinette whispered, her face flushed, as she forced herself to look away. “Where’s your shirt, Adrien?”

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. I was in a hurry. Didn’t have time to put it on.”

“In a hurry? What… nevermind. Wait here,” she said and dashed inside, coming out a few moments later with a cloak. “Here. Put this on. Save yourself some decency.”

“Thank you, my Lady.” He smiled, swaddling himself in a garment that smelled so much like her.

“Do you often run around shirtless?”

He shook his head. “Only when I see rats in my room and have to escape as soon as I can.”

Marinette squeaked, eyes widening. “There are rats in the castle?”

“Yup. Huge ones.” Adrien chuckled. “But don’t worry. They don’t visit lovely ladies.”

She frowned, her brows furrowing cutely in confusion. “How can rats know who lives in a room: a lovely lady or an overgrown man-child who can't handle them?”

Adrien laughed. “The rats nowadays are extremely smart and sneaky, my Lady,” he said with a wink. “But enough about them. How are you? I’ve heard you’ve had quite a day, and that you served someone their rear on a platter.”

Marinette grinned. “I did. I still can’t believe it, but it feels incredible. Even the King and the Prince were there, and I dare to say they agreed with me.”

“I know for sure they did. Heard from a proven source that the King said, and I quote ‘She handled it with a grace of a Queen’. How about that?”

Marinette rolled her eyes despite the blush rapidly spreading on her cheeks. “Well, I wouldn’t put ‘grace’ or ‘Queen’ in one sentence with myself, but I do dare to think I’m getting the hang of this whole ‘being noble’ business.”

“And you’re quite good at it already,” Adrien purred, finding her hand and placing a lingering kiss on top of it. “You’re amazing, Marinette.”

Her face crimson, Marinette nervously giggled. “You know, if I’d been back home, I’d celebrate this with some eclairs and hot chocolate.”

Adrien paused. He had to go back to “catch” Lila in his room. But then, it was, probably, already too late. Lila was smarter than to simply sit around, waiting to be caught. So, it really didn’t matter if he went back now or later. Therefore…

“You know, maybe we should celebrate?”

Marinette’s eyes sparkled. “You think so?”

“Yup. Get ready, while I’ll go steal something from the kitchen. I’ll knock at the door as usual.”

Marinette grinned. “Alright. And get a shirt for yourself while you are at it.”

“Of course.” Adrien saluted and went down from her balcony to the ground. Taking Marinette out to celebrate her victory was a much better way to spend his evening than dealing with Lila. So, he’d just ignore the hussy for now and enjoy himself. After all, they might not have a lot of time left together. Life might break them apart tomorrow, so a few extra hours with each other without the burdens of titles and social hierarchy might be exactly what they both needed right now.

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #adrinette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #lila rossi #needs a kick #A Bride for the Prince #Gabriel is impressed #Lila on the prowl #Adrien is her prey

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frutavel · 4 years ago

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blizz should have an expasion where its just Blackreach 2.0 nd its all dark trolls. idk maybe we find out what happened to them nd we get to run around in near pitch blackness w/ nuthing but mushroom light to guide us. i dont trust them to make it Epic tho i think you should do it instead. go Ham bro. Hog wild. i am Eagerly Awaiting lore 👁👁

God I'd love it if they did, caves are at the same time my worst fear and my biggest love, just because of the sheer size of some cave systems and like. What's hidden down there? I have the same thing with the deep ocean, past the pressure point nobody knows what amazing type of animals or plant life or who knows what else are out there to be found, and my biggest dream is to still be alive when we find a way to dive all the way down there so I can know what wonders can be found in the deep.

(Don't even. Don't get me started on underwater cave systems, dear lord I love them so much and I hate them with a passion)

So you bet I'm gonna take this idea and run it down as best as I can (always accepting help of course! If you have any ideas or headcanons you'd like to share send it my way!!). I hope to deliver!

So here's a bit of lore for you! And a bonus at the end :D

The city is named Zul'Rukol. Rukol means tusk in Zandali, nobody knows why exactly it was named that, theories include it being in reference to the cave's rock formations looking vaguely like tusks. The original founders are long gone and they didn't leave a lot of context behind.

It doesn't have a leader, because the dark trolls have no leader. The happenstances and inner workings of the city are taken care of by a handful of trolls, each with their own strenghts, chosen by the city's inhabitants based on their competence - somewhat of a council, if you will.

Most dark trolls cast aside their surface cousins' thirst for battle and conquer and instead turned to a more peaceful and natural connection to the earth and its spirits (taken from wowpedia - and I will die on this hill), so Zul'Rukol is viewed as a sanctuary. Inner conflicts are rare, because even the rowdiest of trolls know to respect the rules, and those who don't aren't welcome.

It's far from being the only major dark troll city in the world, but it's probably the biggest. Other cities built into caves exist, and there's still smaller villages both underground and even some hidden on the surface, but many of the great dark troll cities are abandoned, and seeing as their numbers dwindled over the centuries, there's many lonely souls and scared families who seek the safety of a major settlement.

Those born outside Zul'Rukol don't typically know it's location, but they know it is there, they know it's real, and they have their ways of finding it - once there, they can come and go as they please, stay as little or as much as they'd like, but every single dark troll in Zul'Rukol is expected to keep the city's whereabouts a secret. It's one of the last safe heavens for dark trolls in Azeroth, and for most of them, it's better to keep it away from prying eyes and curious ears, so it continues to be safe.

Non dark trolls may have heard of a magnificent city hidden away beneath the earth, but to them the stories of Zul'Rukol are nothing but legend. They know the city by many other names, and there's many rumors floating about what's hidden in its streets, but very few encouraging rewards to be found other than the thrill of discovery. And seeing as it's hidden deep enough to make even the bravest adventures turn back, unless the inhabitants choose for some reason to lead travelers into it, it's unlikely Zul'Rukol will be found by non dark trolls anytime soon.

Some of the populace are permanent residents, some of them stay only long enough to fulfill their own personal quests, some of them come and go and come back again. The trolls in there keep a sense of independence, while also knowing they'll be cared for if they need. They help eachother, because if they don't, no one else will - and they make their system work, and it works wonderfully.

Zul'Rukol got it's problems of course, like every city it's size does, but they're usually quick to solve - there's a lot of interest in keeping things smooth down there from all parties involved.

And speaking of size, the city is huge. It's main force is in a clearing, at the very bottom of the cave, above a partially flooded chamber. The buildings are built into the stone, carved around the needs of the trolls, and it fits most of the populace. There's shortcuts to the surface for quick exit, pathways dug deep into the rock thought for evacuation purposes, but thankfully so far they're only used as a quick way in and out of the surface, to make hunting, resource gathering and overall travel easier. The openings into the surface and very well hidden, so that no unsuspecting traveler accidentally falls into the city.

Beyond the main structures there are miles and miles of tunnels, smaller clearings, hidden lakes and chambers, and it's all occupied. The buildings and villages get scarcer the farthest away from the main hub, but there's life bustling all around the cave system.

And for that surprise! I stole my blood troll's name, because idk if I want to keep him, but that's not important now! What's important is

An inhabitant of Zul'Rukol, one of the less permanent ones but who made most of his life in the caverns below. He's been away for too long now and desperately missing home, but he can't go back until he finds what he's looking for in the surface. And nobody knows what is it that he's after - not even himself :)

#asks answered #god this is.#so fucking long #but im so happy to blab away thank you everyone who's enabling me #also meet tau #once again i state i borrowed the name from my blood troll #who's probably going to the shelf bc i don't like him v much so #recycling names in advance #oc:urutau

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jiyel · 7 years ago

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happy holidays to @mer-birdman! what’s up ira i’m your secret santa for the @7kppsecretsanta thing! hope u enjoy even though I’m posting barely in time for christmas! prompt: delegates & april fool’s day (this doesn’t fit into the canon timeline i have no idea what’s happening) (this doesn’t even have a bunch of the delegates i’m so sorry)

The Day of Fools, the Day of Tricksters

Lyon checks the calendar, a fluttering sense of panic and a sour tang rising up in the back of his throat. He runs a finger across the numbers as he counts the days, muttering under his breath, and—

“Oh no,” he says softly, horrified. Oh no. He has even less time than he thought he did. Today’s the last day he has before every bit of order within this castle breaks down, before chaos and anarchy deck the halls and shrieking peals of laughter echo through the air.

He gathers up his things, shoving books and scrolls and notes in his bag with a brisk, hurried pace, rushing past the table where he’d spent most of his time at the Summit, rushing towards his one refuge, the one place he knows will remain untouched in the coming day of madness that he has neither the energy nor the desire to brave.

Lyon makes his way into the very heart of the library to the fort that he’d been carefully constructing for the past few days. Here, no one will find him.

No one will drag him out to socialize and converse with people whose minds are always a few steps behind, with people whose thoughts are always caught up in gossip and intrigue and secrets. No one will play tricks on him and turn him into the fool that he feels like he is at court. No one will dump glitter in his hair or salt in his tea or, or do anything to him.

Lyon nestles into the space he’d carved out for himself and closes his eyes, glad to be away from it all. He has enough to hold out here for a week, definitely enough to outlast the twenty-four hours of pranks and suffering that he knows is coming.

He’s certain that some among the delegates will enjoy the Day of Fools. And he’s okay with that, mostly. They can have their fun. They can have all the fun they want, just as long it’s far away from him, his books, and the quiet of the library.

Avalie drops a pair of sugar cubes into her already sickly sweet tea, a delicate smile tilting up the corners of her mouth, and she thinks: Oh, I am going to have fun with this.

She had thought the Summit would be amusing, a diversion, something that would keep her on her toes, but no. What she had been expecting was drama, politics, the best of the best of the best competing against each other for love and reputation and alliances. What she got, for the most part, were sweaty-handed, fumbling men who couldn’t take their eyes off her mouth, her neck, her hands and waist.

But the next day promises much more: opportunities to toy with her fellow delegates, an evershifting landscape of chaos, and chances to observe the true creativity and cleverness of those at the Summit, all with a minimal risk of permanent maiming or death!

“Lady Avalie?” Gisette asks as she butters a muffin with a small, sharp blade and surgical precision.

“Yes, Princess Gisette?” Avalie says, her mind a million miles away and whirling with plans and ideas. She could, oh she could move all the furniture just a bit to the left— she’s done that before, it’s fairly effective. Or… something else?

“I was just wondering if you were feeling alright,” says Gisette, perfectly pleasant and perfectly nasty. “You look a little out of sorts. Is the stress and the pressures of the Summit getting to you, Lady Avalie?”

“I’m perfectly alright, thank you for asking,” Avalie responds, smiling sweetly. She could always resort to something basic like the classic salt and sugar switch, but that required no finesse at all. No grace! No elegance! She sips her tea, and says, “I’m just thinking. It’s quite a common look on most people, although considering the company you tend to keep, I’d understand if you didn’t recognize it immediately.”

Gisette raises her eyebrows at that and takes a sip of her tea. “Then I suppose I’ll have to remedy that. I wouldn’t suppose you would be available tomorrow, Lady Avalie?”

Avalie dips her head apologetically. “I’m afraid I’ll be rather occupied all day. A shame, since your company is always such a pleasure, Princess. Although my schedule is a little less busy for the rest of the week, so perhaps then?”

She could fake a murder! The planning and coordination it would take… the materials and the knowledge… And in such a tight timeframe as well. What a challenge! Avalie hides a catlike smile behind her cup of tea.

“I can’t wait.”

Hamin hums as he surveys the rings and necklaces he’s got all laid out on the vanity. It’s a big day, a Big Day, and he’s got to be all appropriately dolled up for it.

He holds up a shiny gold ring embedded with dozens of tiny rubies. Or maybe it was paste? He shrugs and throws it over his shoulder. “Boring.”

It’s the Day of Tricksters, which is objectively the funnest and funniest day out of the whole year, and as the Prince of Pirates, Hamin has to live it up and be just as flashy. No, flashier. More’s always better.

But fashion aside, Hamin’s been looking forward to today for ages. Well, more like a couple of weeks, but with all the damn etiquette lessons his stuffy butler’d been hammering into his head, it had felt like years.

He’s honestly so excited he can’t see straight, not that he ever could, in the first place, really, but yeah. It’ll all be like a breath of fresh air, like that first gasping gulp of good, beautiful air you get just when you think you’re going to drown to death under an unforgiving sea of uptight nobles and salad forks, and what a poor death that would be.

Hamin slips on his rings and necklaces, admiring his tacky jewelry and flashy, colorful scarves in the mirror before sliding out the door with his supplies and into the hall. He whistles as he walks, and he’s whistling up until he crashes into someone else.

“Oh, oof,” the person mutters, sounding just a bit like a kicked puppy. He looks up and Hamin recognizes him. It’s the Arlish earl, Emmet or something. Emmet or something blinks wide blue eyes up at Hamin and says, stumbling over his words a bit, “I’m so sorry! Are you alright, Prince Hamin? Or, uh, Hamin? If that’s what you prefer?”

“Hamin is fine.” He grins and rocks back on his heels, subtly kicking his bag of glitter, gunpowder, and various other things behind him. “I’m not much of a prince by your countries standards anyway, Sunshine.” Ah, yes, the tried-and-true tactic of giving someone a nickname to avoid admitting that you have no idea what they’re called. Classic.

“Well then, Hamin, I’m glad!” Sunshine smiles at him before glancing downwards in confusion. “What’s that behind your back, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Hamin feels his casual smirk tighten in panic. “It’s, uh, it’s nothing. Just some stuff I’m bringing to my cousin, who I should be seeing now, so I’m going to get going.”

He’s preparing to dash away, one foot already sliding out with exaggerated slowness when Sunshine stops and says, “Oh! Are you planning a prank?”

Hamin turns back and says, slow, “That depends.” He can see a glint of mischief, of interest in those pretty, blue eyes, and he’s bored. Hamin’s willing to let someone in on his game if Sunshine is interested. He’s got nothing to lose and a partner-in-crime to gain, and he’s played worse odds before.

“Depends on whether I would be interested in helping out?” Sunshine says hopefully, cocking his head. “Because I, uh, would. I really would be interesting in lending you a hand.” He gives Hamin a thumbs up and beams.

“Okay, yeah, sure.” Hamin shrugs, beckoning the other guy to come closer.

“Wait, really?” Sunshine’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, really,” Hamin says, “So come closer so I can tell you what I’m planning.”

Sunshine nods and leans in as Hamin, in a low, conspiratorial voice, whispers, “So I’ve been messing around in the days leading up to this. Little things. Glitter in hair, salt in tea, little firecrackers in corners you wouldn’t expect, you know, the basics. But that was all just preparing for my grand finale, which is like, a combination of all those, but more.”

“The more the merrier!” Sunshine chimes in.

“Exactly.” Hamin nods approvingly and slings an arm around the other man’s shoulders. “C’mon. Walk with me.”

Penelope watches Cordelia knot the rope with strong, sure fingers, and feels her heart flutter in her chest.

Cordelia was always so strong and capable, so smart and polite. Penelope wishes so much that her heart aches that she could be like her, or something like that. Probably. Maybe?

“-And you pull it through this loop here and tighten it to finish,” finishes Cordelia, her hands following through with a smooth kind of grace that Penelope can’t take her eyes away from.

“Um, yeah!” Penelope says as she tries to pretend that she was totally paying attention to Cordelia’s lesson on ‘How to Set Up a Snare Trap Prank for Dummies,’ and not, well, you know, Cordelia herself. “It’s very impressive how you know all this, Cordelia! How did you learn how to do this?” She beams nervously at her friend.

Thankfully, Cordelia smiles back. “I learned back… back home, in Hise. We all learn how to tie knots as children, for the nets and the rigging. And the traps,” she pauses and her eyes flit downwards, avoiding Penelope’s. “I learned how to rig traps when I took up embroidery.”

Embroidery…? Snares…? Penelope’s confusion must’ve shown on her face since Cordelia winces and carries on her explanation.

“In Hise, sewing is a common skill. But for a family so tied up in piracy rather than trading or craftsmanship, using that skill for something other than repairing clothes or sails is, well it’s a bit embarrassing and shameful. So when I took up an interest in embroidery, there were quite a few people around my age who took offense to that. They followed me around, pestering me about it, until I decided enough was enough and caught them all in traps and left them hanging to teach them a lesson.”

Penelope feels her jaw drop a little. Cordelia really was an amazing person. Penelope never knew that she had such a side to her, but instead of scaring off Penelope, it just made Cordelia all the more interesting and clever. “Cordelia, that was very brave of you!” Penelope says, her cheeks flushing as she babbles. “I could never have done something like that.”

Cordelia flushes and says with faltering composure, “Thanks. I mean, thank you, Penelope, but it really wasn’t much.”

“Oh, but it seems like quite a lot to me,” says Penelope. “What happened to those people afterwards? You let them down right after, right?”

Cordelia stops and nods slowly. She smiles, her eyes flicking away. “Yes. I definitely did.”

Penelope beams, and pauses. She and Cordelia whip their heads around in unison to the distant sound of an explosion.

Penelope gasps, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh my God! What was that?” She turns to see Cordelia groan and press a hand to her forehead.

“Don’t let it worry you, Penelope,” Cordelia says, her hand still pressed to her face. “It’s just my cousin.”

#7kpp #7kpp secret santa #lyon #hamin #gisette #avalie #cordelia #penelope #emmet #mine #hfhfhhsdhf i had more planned but u kno guess whose computers a loser tht restarted nd didnt save the doc!#i might write the other bits so hmu if u want them #but yeah! enjoy my garbage tier jokey writing nd probably ooc characterzation!#but man hoenstly the funniest thing is how extra lyon is like. hes ttreating it like its theapocalypse what a man whatta man #avalies an asshole cat nd she just wants to have fun #spoiler alert she fakes a murder she fakes lyons murder no one can find him anyway #lyon was also th victim of hamins pranks prior to the day in casu u hadnt noticed ! it was like. one line tht implied it but yeah.#sucks to be duke lyon ig #i lvoe interpreting hamin as a spicy hot mess who's making it all up on the spot so there u go he's a spicy hot mess who's making it all up #on the spot in this ur welcome uwu #there was also gonna b a segment about zarad setting fire on something bc i love interpreting ppl to be spicy hot messes but u know!#got deleted sad reacts #nd penelope a spicy hot gay mess and i adore her #shes a lesbian!! literally says men make her uncomofrtable #LITERALLY NAMES SOME OF THE MOST MASCULINE MEN AS MAKING HER UNCOMOFTABKE #pen bby me 2 honestly #im a lesbian nd u know what men r the worst they make me so uneasy!#but yeah. cordelia. man. cordelia has 0 chill but acts like she has super chill nd i love her like? she cld 100% totally murder u nd b fine #w tht what a gal @cordelia im in lvoe w u #anyway im gonna shut up now!

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princess--cynthia · 8 years ago

Text

LEGACY || THREAD ARCHIVE

Participant(s): Exalt Cynthia Ylisse I, @lady-ylisse/Adelaide

Words: 7,381

Type: B-Support

Summary: Twenty years after ascending to the throne of Ylisse, Cynthia tries to figure out the mentality of her cousin and bodyguard - Emmeryn’s daughter, Adelaide.

“Gah.”

Cynthia’s head sunk into her hands at the wordless exhalation, shaking her head slowly. Twenty years into this job and she still couldn’t wrap her head around how on earth her father or aunt had managed it - least alone her sister, for that scant period in the future she had ruled. She slowly stood up from the throne now that the last minister was gone, running her hands through the loose blue hair styled around her shoulders as she started to hook it back into the pigtails she wore when she was younger. Damn what the diplomats thought at this point, she needed some time to be herself.

“Come on, Adelaide.” She said quietly. Her baby cousin had been something of a bastion of strength for her once she’d come of age, transitioning from a glorified babysitter for Cynthia’s kids - something she desperately needed to apologize putting her through one day - to a more than competent right-hand woman, much like her father had been to Chrom or Emmeryn during their rules. “I need a walk…and a change of clothes. Twenty years and I still don’t know how you’re meant to walk in a dress with skirts this long.”

“At once, Your Grace,” the young Falcon Knight replied with a polite nod. Eighteen years of grooming had made the perfect, little knight out of Adelaide. She was courteous, efficient, serious, and totally prepared. After failing to save Chrom from his final fate, how could the girl’s father allow her to be anything less?

“Your boots have been shined and are waiting for you in your bedchambers,” she continued, “and I’ve arranged a selection of outfits for you to choose from. Will we taking a stroll through the gardens today or should I notify the Pegasus Knights that you’ll be visiting your subjects in town?”

“Thank you, Adelaide.” She sighed, shaking her head. Sometimes she wished that her cousin would lighten up, but…well. It was hard to imagine her differently these days, considering her parents’ attitude towards her training.

“The gardens, I think.” She said after a moment. “I want to spend some time with Sigurd, and he’s still not used to crowds. Hopefully he’ll grow out of it eventually - Haley’s so petrified of them that she’s threatened to abdicate should I name her my successor. Not that a Morgan exalthood is a pleasant thought to consider…”

She shuddered, only half-jokingly at the thought of her middle child having that much power. “I hope you didn’t have anything planned for the afternoon.”

“Do I ever?” Adelaide asked rhetorically, a light smile gracing her lips. “Heh, forgive me, Your Grace. I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

Offering her cousin a hand up from the throne, Adelaide dipped her head respectfully. Her poor cousin worked far harder than anyone else she knew. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers, and I’ll send word to the nursery to have Prince Sigurd readied.”

“You really should take some time off EVENTUALLY.” Cynthia scolded her lightly. It was an old conversation, but she wasn’t going to give up on it yet.

Finishing with her hair, she dusted herself down and nodded as Adelaide led her to her quarters, sighing a little. “Yeah, tell them. Make sure he’s got his coat on, it’s getting a bit nippy outside and I don’t want him catching a cold…”

Trying to purge the thoughts of the days discussions - hardly anything seemed like good news these days - she clicked her tongue. “If you can send someone to hunt down Morgan, too, that’d be good. I think she’s buried herself in the back of the library again.”

Adelaide’s expression didn’t change at Cynthia’s scolding. There had been a time when the Falcon Knight dreamed of seeing the world like her parents had with the Shepherds. She imagined the things she could have learned and the people she could have touched. In another life, she might have been a travelling diplomat or even an ambassador. But those dreams had been put to rest long ago.

For as long as Adelaide could remember, her cousin seemed tired… and perhaps even sad. Cynthia had looked the end of the world dead in the eye twice, and was still standing. And though she was able to make a wonderful family for herself here in the present, her parents were gone again and her sister had disappeared. Deciding that she’d do anything to help ease her cousin’s burdens, Adelaide had made peace with her own little life.

“I’ll have one of Captain Cordelia’s knights see to Princess Morgan, while I head to the nursery myself,” she replied pluckily when they reached the door to Cynthia’s chambers. “Please take all the time you need, Your Grace.“

“Alright.” Cynthia nodded, dismissing her cousin as she stepped into her room. Grumbling to herself, she stripped out of the formal dress and left it abandoned on the floor, heading over to her closet and staring at her old pegasus knight uniform for a moment.

“…as if.” She muttered, shifting it off to the side. She pulled down her riding clothes instead, fastening her petticoat and thick trousers around her before pulling on her riding boots. Stomping for a moment to get her foot into the heel properly, she laced them up and shut the closet with a last, longing look at her uniform. “Can’t believe I miss that thing…”

She walked past her walls covered in memorabilia from the wars and adventures she’d used to go on, trinkets from Valm, portraits of her parents and sister, before settling in front of her weapon case. Her fingers traced the spear that she’d made with her mother so long ago, then the brave lance she used during the wars, before she sighed and wrapped her fingers around Falchion’s hilt.

“This is never not going to feel wrong.” She muttered, strapping it to her waist. Rolling her shoulders, she headed back out of her room and smiled when she saw Adelaide returning with her son in her arms.

“There’s my little hero!” She giggled, getting down on her knees and holding out her arms. “Can you walk to mommy yet?”

Adelaide’s little quest hadn’t taken very long, but it certainly wasn’t boring. She returned with Sigurd in time to see to see Cynthia stepping out of her room with Falchion strapped to her waist. The Exalt didn’t wear the old sword very often, perhaps, Adelaide believed, because it brought back too many sad memories.

“There you go, sweet little prince,” the Falcon Knight chimed as she gently stood the little boy up on the floor. Her normally neatly styled hair was a little messy from the tug young Sigurd had given it, but she didn’t let it bother her. “Right to your mother, okay?”

“That’s a clever boy.” Cynthia beamed as her son stumbled across the room, scooping him up with a giggle. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she adjusted his wool coat and raised an eyebrow at the state of Adelaide’s hair.

“He got you again, huh?” She said wryly. “Maybe I should get him on my bodyguard team as well if he can best Ylisse’s finest so easily.”

“And deprive him the chance to join the New Shepherds? Princess Lucina and my poor father will be crushed,” Adelaide joked dryly, brushing her hair back into place with her hand.

“In any case, Your Grace, Princess Morgan wasn’t in the library after all,” the young knight continued, “I saw her and your husband playing a game of chess in the study on my way to the nursery… and as usual, she was winning.”

“Oh, great. He’s going to be smiling all night again.” She grumbled, shaking her head. Resting Sigurd on her side - far away from Falchion’s hilt - she started heading to the gardens, humming a little. They passed the training grounds, the exalt stopping to longingly stare at a few of the knights engaged in lance practice before shaking her head and continuing on.

“I miss my spear.” She grumbled, partly to herself and also to her poor cousin who was duty-bound to listen to her. “I get that they need to see someone using Falchion and all, but - eugh. I sucked with swords when I started training with it, and I’m not that much better now. Plus I barely get to practice anyway. I bet if you put a lance back in my hands I could wipe the floor with half the women in the Knights right now.”

“I’d wager you’re better with it than I could ever be,” Adelaide replied reassuringly. “Besides, Your Grace, you wouldn’t be the first pegasus rider in our family to practice swordplay. In the Hero King’s time, Pegasus Knights like Queen Caeda used swords and spears alike. Perhaps you could be the one to bring that old tradition back?”

“Eugh. Maybe.” Cynthia shuddered at the thought. She just plain didn’t like using swords, and the appeal of Falchion had worn off almost as soon as she realized she’d only gotten it since her father had died.

She reached the gardens and stood there for a moment, staring at the carefully tended rows of flowers. She’d tried to keep them intact herself, but just hadn’t had the time or the patience - thankfully someone else had volunteered, knowing how important they were to her. “You see these, Sigurd? Your grandmother planted the flowers the first time.” She told her child, zoning Adelaide out for a moment as she rested her son on the floor. He stumbled over, shakily walking before sitting on the rocks containing the flowerbeds. “I wish you could have met her…”

Adelaide fell silent as she stood watch over the Exalt and her son. Occasionally, the young Falcon Knight had to remind herself that her liege lady was not the Cynthia she had grown up alongside. Though both had been orphaned by the Fell Dragon, the younger Cynthia and her older sister, Lucina, had grown up in a loving home.

“You know, my prince, your Auntie Emm likes to remind me of something whenever I think of those who aren’t here with us anymore,” the Falcon Knight said, taking a knee beside Cynthia and offering little Sigurd a tender smile. “She says that the people we love never truly leave us. That they live on in the things they left behind and the love they inspired in hearts of others. Just like the flowers here, your grandmother left so much behind for you to get to know her by. Your grandfather too. I like to think that’s their way of watching over you. What do you think, Your Grace?”

Sigurd stared up at Adeliade as she was explaining, clearly trying to follow along but not quite getting it. Cynthia herself was oddly silent, staring wordlessly at the flowerbeds in front of her as her cousin spoke. A hand tightened into a fist, trembling against her thigh as the exalt tried desperately to contain her emotions, closing her eyes and hanging her head down.

“I think,” She said choking a little. “I think that’s probably right, Adelaide.”

Concerned, Sigurd tugged on his mother’s sleeve, as she picked him up again and stood, keeping her head hung for fear of anyone seeing her cry. “…I think we need to go back inside.”

Looking at Cynthia first, and then around the gardens, the Falcon Knight wanted to be sure they were alone here. The more Adelaide thought about it, the more she began to understand how much her cousin needed this. Between Ylisse, her family, and all of her other responsibilities, Cynthia had probably been holding this in for years.

“Your Grace… it’s alright to cry,” the Falcon knight reassured, offering Cynthia her handkerchief. “We’re the only ones here right now, and I think we’re bound to happen upon someone on the way back. Besides… I think this is important. Let me hold Prince Sigurd for you.”

“Right.” Cynthia took a deep breath, handing Adelaide her son carefully. Eyes still brimming with tears, she took the handkerchief and walked over to the corner of the flowerbed. Staring at it for a moment, she crouched down and ran her hand through some of them, staring into a small goldfish pond in the middle for a moment.

She barely recognized the woman staring back out at her for a moment, even if she’d pulled her hair back into her tails again. Lines crossed her face that her makeup were barely managing to hide, bags below her eyes making her look drained and devoid of energy. Streaks of grey were starting to show in her hair, tainting the blue with the threat of stress and age. Even her figure had changed - while she’d tried to keep up her training, it had been hard, and the almost acrobatic form that she’d once been so proud of slowly vanishing, along with the future she’d dreamed of ever since she’d come back in time cruelly ripped away from her for something she never really wanted. A fish disturbed the surface on the pond, and for a moment she thought she saw her mother smiling out at her.

That was when she finally broke, years of frustration and sadness breaking through, and Cynthia started to weep uncontrollably. She buried her face in the handkerchief, trying to keep some kind of appearance of decorum if nothing else. She was there for five long, painful minutes, memories and hopes filling her mind as she let her emotions run rampant, if just for a short while. Eventually her tears ran dry, and she stood up again, clutching the wet handkerchief in a tight fist as she turned back to Adelaide. Falchion swung on her belt, slapping against the side of her thigh in a painful reminder of who she had to be now.

“…I’m sorry you had to see that.” Cynthia said quietly, reaching out to kiss her son’s head while staring at her cousin. “I know it’s not exactly something I should have been doing.”

Adelaide cradled little Sigurd in her arms, being especially careful to keep the young boy from seeing his mother let her emotions out. When her cousin began cry, the Falcon Knight distracted the child with a gentle smile and softly-sung lullaby. Cynthia had the weight of the world sheathed at her waist… and years of repressing her grief must have made that weight unbearable.

“Please, Your Grace, you needn’t apologize. Sometimes tears are necessary… and it seems to me like you’ve been holding yours back for far too long,” Adelaide replied sympathetically. Looking down at the boy in her arms, the Falcon Knight perked up a bit. “Besides, with how quickly Prince Sigurd dozes off, it isn’t like anyone important saw. Your secret is safe with me, Your Grace, and well… if you ever need to share the burden with someone, I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you.”

“Thank you.” Cynthia said again, taking her son into her arms and smiling down at him before sighing. She shook her head, biting her lip for a moment as she let her eyes wander through the gardens again before a more resolved look fell over her face. “Right, well, if the theme of the day is working through some repressed emotion I know where we’re going next.”

She set off towards Sigurd’s nursery at a brisk pace, the look on her face confident if a little…well, perhaps it was a little psychotic in a way. “We’re going to put my little sleepyhead to bed, and then we’re taking a trip down to the training grounds. I think I need to start keeping tabs on my guard’s capabilities myself.”

“That’s the spirit, Your Grace. I believe young Prince– Wh-What?!” A chill ran up the Falcon Knight’s spine as she stopped dead in her tracks. Did Cynthia mean to terrorize the Pegasus Knights of the royal guard… again?

“Your Grace, you know the oaths the guard take before they’re sworn in. They aren’t allowed to lift a finger against you,” she pleaded, making sure not to wake little Sigurd in the process. If Adelaide wanted to save her friends some grief, she’d have to think of something quickly. “Wh-Why don’t you and I have a match instead? I am technically a princess after all! Ehehe…“

“That rule seems a little abusable if I turned out to be a tyrant. I mean, I knew they were loyal, but why didn’t anyone tell me I had a rabidly dedicated death squad at my beck and call?” Cynthia wondered, before freezing. “…oh, gods above, there is no way I can let Morgan become exalt. I am not letting her get a rapidly loyal death squad. That’s the last thing she needs.”

Shaking her head to clear it, she considered Adelaide’s offer for a moment before nodding firmly. “Fine, you’ll do - but don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

Reaching Sigurd’s nursery, she placed her son in his crib and smiled, stroking his head with a finger before turning to face her cousin with a slightly less psychotic but still determined look on her face. “Although I still think it’d do them good to practice blocking drills if they’re not allowed to strike back.”

Adelaide nodded politely at the nursemaids, who seemed more than a little surprised to see them back so soon. The young prince had caused quite the ruckus only a few minutes earlier, and here he was no, sleeping perfectly sound.

“I’ll be sure to pass your input along to Captain Cordelia, then. I’m sure she could come up with a new drill along those lines for them to practice,” the young knight replied nonchalantly. Perhaps she was getting her friends into a little bit of a jam, but an afternoon of hard training seemed far kinder than what Cynthia had in mind for them.

“In any case, Your Grace, will we be sparing with swords or spears today?” Adelaide asked. “Father has trained me in both, so I hope to be enough of a challenge for you either way.”

“I want to say lances, but I’m meant to do a solid hour of training with Falchion each day…” Cynthia grimaced, shaking her head with a sigh. “…ah, what the hell. I need to make sure I don’t get rusty anyway, we’ll just cheat and do one round with each.”

She gave her son one last, quick look before leaving the nursery again, grabbing the first training spear she encountered as she practically stormed onto the training grounds. Some of the poor trainees who were in her way practically fled, electing not to stop and stare like the ones on the outskirts were.

“If you hold back, Adelaide, I’m not going to be impressed.” Cynthia said pointedly, turning on a dime to stare daggers at her cousin. It might be a blunted spear, but for a brief moment Cynthia was starting to feel like her old self again, if a bit more restrained.

Adelaide smiled and nodded, following close behind her cousin. She took a little longer to choose out her training spear, making sure the length and weight would be just right for her. Cynthia seemed very enthusiastic to get back onto training grounds with a spear in her hand again, and Adelaide wasn’t about to let her Exalt down.

“I can only promise not to hurt you too badly, Your Grace,” Adelaide chuckled, giving her lance a final twirl to check its balance. “At your ready!”

“Oh please. I’ve been doing this years longer than you have.” Cynthia snorted as she settled down into a fighting stance. Her hands slid down the shaft of her lance, the wood almost achingly familiar to her now. She’d still have preferred to be in her old uniform instead of the clothes she’d always associate with Lucina over herself, but that couldn’t be helped. Good strategy would have been to wait for Adelaide to move first, scout out her fighting style and respond correctly. She wasn’t patient enough for that crap. Instead, she let out a harsh shout, diving forwards with her lance spinning over her head for a few moments before she brought the blunted point plummeting down towards Adelaide’s exposed throat.

A little surprised at Cynthia’s approach, Adelaide quickly sidestepped the blow and maintained eye contact with her cousin. The Exalt was faster than she expected, but speed wasn’t anything Adelaide couldn’t gauge and counter.

“That isn’t going to work, Your Grace,” she replied, taking a swipe at Cynthia’s side. If she could wear the Exalt out a bit, her speed would be far less of an issue to deal with.

“Just testing.” Cynthia said lightly, easily jumping back to avoid the blow. Laughing to herself, she kept the tip of her lance low, ready to flick up if Adelaide was going to try anything.

“Come on, baby cousin. What’re you waiting for?” She taunted, tilting her head as she slowly circled around her guard. “If you’re waiting for me to get tired you’re going to have to wait a long time.”

“Just an opportunity, Your Grace,” the Falcon Knight replied, smiling at her cousin as she secretly studied the way Cynthia was circling. If she could put the Exalt on her toes, she was sure to find the opening she needed to have her on her back.

“Though father told me it was best to make my own!” Waiting until Cynthia took a step, Adelaide stepped in to make a quick swipe at her cousin’s ankle and doubled up to strike at her face. If the Exalt held her ground, Adelaide intended to close the distance and overpower her. If she moved to avoid, she’d keep her moving with another series of swift strikes.

Cynthia’s eyes widened a little at the sudden strike, hopping over the swipe at her ankle and realizing she’d fallen for the feint just a little too easily. Gods above, she was far too rusty at this.

With the lance heading towards her face, Cynthia let her instincts take over and in a series of moves that would probably have made her mother start rolling in her grave, improvised. Dropping her lance, she used one hand to grab the end of Adelaide’s just below the tip as it approached her face. Yanking it forwards to try and pull Adelaide off her balance - or at least open her guard - she brought her right fist darting forwards, missing her cousin’s face and clipping her shoulder instead. Not a bout-finishing blow by any means, but enough to knock her back a few paces.

“Don’t be afraid to make stuff up, Adelaide.” She said cheerfully, considering her options before her cousin recovered. Bending down to retrieve her lance would take far, far too long - and leave her stance too low to properly defend herself. Realizing what her only real option was, she took a jump back and drew Falchion, the magical charm keeping its edges dull during training making it gleam in the sunlight.

In the crowd, someone clapped, and the exalt had to resist the urge to curtsy. Distracting herself like that could end up with her getting humiliated in front of her guard, and that wasn’t an experience she was looking forward to having.

Wincing as she shouldered the blow, Adelaide jerked the shaft of her lance back, hoping to pull Cynthia back with her. All she needed now was a chance. If she could get Cynthia into close quarters, the match was as good as hers. One good blow, and the Exalt would be on her back.

But when that plan didn’t pan out, Adelaide narrowed her eyes as she watched Falchion come out of its scabbard. The only other time she had been on the receiving end of the holy blade was when she was knighted. Even though she now had the advantage of reach, Adelaide had to admit that she was a little intimidated.

“And here I thought you were looking forward to wielding a lance again, Your Grace,” Adelaide taunted, kicking Cynthia’s trainer out of the ring. She’d need to get into her cousin’s head in order to take control of the match. “I hope for Falchion’s sake that you’re able to keep a better grip on it.”

“Yeah, and you nixed that plan pretty quickly, didn’t you?” Cynthia responded, nodding her head towards the discarded training lance. Her eyes narrowed a little as it was casually kicked out of reach, even more as Adelaide taunted her. Her grip tightened on Falchion’s hilt, the Exalt forcing herself to take a deep breath at her cousin’s later words.

“You shouldn’t have said that.” She said quietly, before lunging forwards. She feinted with the blade, mimicking the same movements that normally led to an overhead swing while keeping the tip low enough to parry any attempts to slide under her guard, lashing out with one foot in what was possibly an overly brutal kick at Adelaide’s shin.

Adelaide saw her opportunity: Cynthia had been thrown off her balance by the taunt and it was beginning to show in how reckless her attack was. This was a good chance to finish things quickly. Taking advantage of Cynthia’s over-committed kick, Adelaide swept her cousin’s ankle to the side with the shaft of her spear, using the Exalt’s momentum to spin her off angle and make a clean opening.

“Hyaah!” With a quick turn and a harsh shout, Adelaide let the lance slip through her hands so she could strike at Cynthia with the weapon’s full length. Surely there was no avoiding this!

No.

Cynthia knew she shouldn’t be so focused on this right now. For Naga’s sake, it was a spar with her baby cousin of all people, not a life or death battle. She should feel proud, not angry. But something about having others watching, having heard Adelaide’s taunt about Falchion - something had switched off in Cynthia’s heart, unleashing feelings that she’d hoped she could have kept long buried.

Reaching out with her free hand mid-fall, she gripped the tip of the training lance, ignoring the pain as its blunted edges dug into her palm. Trickles of blood ran down the inside of her left arm as she yanked the lance to the side to pull her cousin off-balance, Falchion lashing out at the younger woman’s chest in a last, desperate strike.

She missed, and her back slammed into the floor as she finally finished her fall. Wincing, Falchion was jarred from her hand even as she kept her grip on the end of the training lance, slowly standing up without relinquishing her hold and glaring at her cousin.

A flash of steel forced Adelaide a step back, stopping her from finishing Cynthia off as she fell to the ground. Even with a protective charm keeping the holy sword from doing any serious harm, the princess-turned-knight didn’t want to feel the bite of her cousin’s blade any time soon. But when Falchion itself clattered to the ground, Adelaide noticed something that made her eyes wide with shock.

“M-My apologies, Your Grace!” she gasped, relinquishing her grip on her weapon and dropping to a knee. “This was supposed to be a friendly duel. I didn’t meant to draw first blood!”

Adelaide kept her head low. Her heart was still beating from the excitement of the match, but now she felt terrible for what had happened. She should have expected Cynthia to grab at her weapon. Perhaps she shouldn’t have swung so hard… or perhaps she shouldn’t have spun her off balance. What a fool she was to have hurt her Exalt like that.

“Oh for crying out loud.” Cynthia sighed, the sudden exasperation brought on by her reaction evaporating most of her anger in an instant. She tossed the trainer off to the side, glancing at her hand for a second before shrugging and wrapping a handkerchief around it in a makeshift bandage for the time being. “It’s okay, Adelaide. I should have grabbed it below the blade or something.”

“Stand up.” She grumbled, giving her cousin a slight kick on the walk past. The crowd of trainees around them glanced at each other nervously, realizing that the situation had just gotten a bit more serious. The exalt picked up Falchion and stared at it for a moment, eventually sighing and sheathing it again. A light kick brought her original trainer up to her good hand, fingers wrapping around the shaft. “Don’t start grovelling or anything, you know how much I hate that.”

“Yes, Your Grace…” the Falcon Knight responded, quietly rising to her feet as her cousin passed by. She spared a glance at the trainees, asking them to leave with a slight motion of her head. Now wasn’t a good time for an audience. As soon as they got the message and scattered, Adelaide sighed and looked to her cousin again.

“You know I would have taken your hand off and then some if you tried that in a real fight?” she asked, raising a concerned brow. “I don’t mean to lecture you, cousin, but you really mustn’t be so reckless. You’re our queen, Cynthia. What would become of us if something were to happened to you?”

“You wouldn’t have, that’s why there’s metal plates in the palm of the gauntlets and leather along the joints.” Cynthia said absently as she wiped her palm on her skirt, frowning a little. “Besides, losing me wouldn’t be that big a deal. Either they’d give this job to Owain for a year or so, then Micaiah sucks it up and takes it once she’s more experienced.”

Grumbling, she tightened the makeshift bandage a little more, glaring at Adelaide a little. “I’ve been reckless all my life and yet somehow I’m the only one of my closest family who made it into her forties. Auntie Emm’s the only other one who managed that.” She laughed bitterly, unstrapping Falchion from her belt and staring at the sheathed sword before hurling it across the grounds with a scream.

“I HATE THAT THING SO MUCH!”

When the sword clattered to the ground, Adelaide lost the desire to argue back. She had seen Cynthia get upset like this a few times before, and she understood her pain to an extent. To some degree, the Falcon Knight even felt responsible. She was a child who was never fated to exist, born to parents who failed to protect the man they loved so dearly.

“Father told me that it was a miracle mother survived after what happened to her,” she commented weakly, walking towards the sword Cynthia had thrown. “And mother told me that all our lives are miracles… no matter how hard they may seem.”

Falchion had come loose from its sheath and the charm had come off of the hilt, but Adelaide knew that she probably wasn’t one of its chosen wielders. Carefully picking up the sacred blade, the Falcon Knight turned back to her Exalt.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’ve gone through, cousin, but I want you to know that it would be a big deal… especially to me. I’ve always thought that you were pretty miraculous,” Adelaide offered warmly, sheathing Falchion and smiling at Cynthia. “I didn’t become a knight of the royal guard just because father asked me to. I knew how hard things had been for you, and I wanted to help however I could. And if it means being the wary knight to your reckless royal, then… hehe, I’m your knight!”

Cynthia glared at the sword before taking it back, grumbling as she strapped the sheath back around her waist. She was acting like a child again, she knew that - but she just couldn’t help it. This entire day had been…frustrating wasn’t the right word. Perhaps emotional was.

“Thanks.” She said grudgingly a few moments after Adelaide finished talking, standing with her hands loose by her side. Staring at the wall for a few moments, she groaned and sat on the nearest stool, head in her hands. “…let’s just call it a day for now, Adelaide. I need a rest.”

Well, it was more along the lines of needing to go and work off her stress in private for a moment, but there wasn’t any point in phrasing it like that. “If you can pull my husband away from his work early for once, I’d appreciate it. Feel free to use force.”

“Yes, Your Grace!” Adelaide replied with a sharp salute. She expected that allowing Cynthia to return to her normal schedule would help her calm down a bit. But when the Falcon Knight’s hand reached her forehead, something warm splashed against her face.

“Hm?” Brushing a droplet off of her cheek, Adelaide inspected her fingertips to see a red smear left behind. When she looked at her hand, she noticed a thin cut running along the palm of her hand. “Gah! W-Where did this come from?”

“…I’ve got an idea…” Cynthia said slowly, glancing at Adelaide’s hand for a moment. She was suddenly even more grateful that the rest had left for now, because if she was right this likely wasn’t the kind of news that should spread to the public. “Well, two. Either I did actually hit you at one point, or…”

She fingered Falchion’s hilt for a moment thoughtfully, wondering if she should even broach the subject. She knew that her cousin treated the sword with so much respect she almost seemed to fear the blade - but then again, at one point so had she.

Well, if nothing else, it might give the woman a confidence boost. She drew Falchion from the sheath again and tossed it hilt-first towards her knight, trusting in her own reflexes to stop herself from getting hurt. “Catch. Oh, and block!”

Hopefully before Adelaide could really process what was going on, she grabbed one of the small bags of sand normally used for in-flight archery practice and tossed it at her, hard. At worst it’d bruise.

Catch? Blinking in confusion as Falchion sailed through the air before her, Adelaide reached out and grabbed the sword by the hilt. In the moment, her only thought was to stop the sacred blade from hitting the ground again and getting damaged. Then Cynthia’s second command registered with her. Block!

The Exalt had thrown the sandbag so hard that Adelaide barely managed to see it. Panicking, she pivoted on her heel and swung the sword. When bag split apart on impact with the blade, the Falcon Knight was quickly covered in sand… though she was far too stunned to mind.

“No…”

“Remember to breathe, Lady.” Cynthia giggled, walking over to her cousin and glancing at the blade in her hands. Gods alone knew that it looked more natural in her grip than her own - although that may have been spite towards the blade, or even more likely Adelaide’s conditioning to swordsmanship.

Seeing that the knight was still in shock, Cynthia shook her head and let out an exaggerated sigh. She hated exercising authority, but maybe it would snap her out of it. If her father’s training was anything like she remembered it, well…this should be second nature. “CAPTAIN! ATTENTION!”

“Y-Your Grace!” All at once, Adelaide was standing up as straight as a pole. It was more reflex than freewill. Did Cynthia call her to attention? She was never one to pull authority, especially on her own cousin… and was she still holding Falchion? Adelaide remembered cutting through the sandbag, but it felt more like a daydream than something that had just happened.

“I-I’m sorry, Cynthia… I don’t know what got into me,” she apologized, nervously biting her lip in between sentences. “This has never happened to me before…”

“Yeah, it freaked me out the first time too.” Cynthia admitted, picking up a pair of training swords and advancing on her cousin menacingly. It was good to make sure, after all, and perhaps this would help her snap out of her reverie. “We’d better make sure, just in case.”

“Block!” She ordered, swinging one of the swords at Adelaide’s head. Falchion would cut it in two in short order, provided she met it edge-on-edge - that was the bizarre thing about using Falchion. Since the damn thing couldn’t blunt or break, meeting other’s blades on edge instead of with the flat was both possible and recommended.

“Cynthia, I’m serious!” the Falcon Knight protested. “This isn’t supposed to befreaking me out; it isn’t supposed to be happening to me at al– Eeep!”

Seeing her Exalt take a swing at her with a wooden trainer, Adelaide frantically tried to parry the practice sword only to feel it coming apart cleanly against the honed edge of the sacred sword. “P-Please! No more! I really shouldn’t have picked it up in the first place!”

“Focus, Adelaide!” Cynthia barked, tossing the ruined trainer away and circling her cousin carefully. Her eyes flickered down to the blade and back to Adelaide’s face before softening and she lowered the other blade.

“Look, I get it. Knowing you can use that thing kind of sucks.” She said gently. “Especially considering what happened to the last three people who did before me. But you should be proud of yourself, Adelaide. Even if you think you’re not worthy of it, well…welcome to the club.”

Falchion shook in her hands as she stared her cousin down. She would let Cynthia hit her with the trainer before using the holy weapon again. This wasn’t her sword. It wasn’t even her birthright. This whole situation was so wrong.

“Cynthia… Your Grace, with all due respect, I don’t think you do,” Adelaide quaked. “When I was little… I wanted to wield this sword. I wanted to feel like a part of our family… But I realized later that I wasn’t even supposed to be born. All I’ve wanted ever since then was the chance to prove my worth. Don’t you see? Having Falchion choose me as a wielder… it’s like Naga herself is pitying me! I wanted to prove myself, but… it feels like I’ve lost that chance…”

“Adelaide…” Cynthia sighed, shaking her head. She reached out and tussled her hair, stepping away before she could have a chance to give the sword back to her. “Seriously, I used to think the same thing. It used to kill me that Lucina could use it and I couldn’t, like it meant…like it meant that I wasn’t important enough to be a part of that family. Then I learned I could use it, and I became petrified that I was meant to be a replacement for when Lucina died.”

She gestured at the blade helplessly, shrugging her shoulders. “Being able to use that thing - it’s not pity, Adelaide. It might not even be a good thing. Hell, sometimes I’m convinced the stupid thing is cursed. If you really want to prove yourself, stop crying about it and do something already!”

“If it isn’t pity, Cynthia, then it’s some kind of divine joke,” the Falcon Knight quaked, clenching her eyes shut to try to stop herself from tearing up. “By all rights, this is Lucina’s sword. She’s been working her whole life to take the burden of leadership off of your shoulders, but we don’t even know if she can wield it! But me, a body guard? A second-rate royal who was never supposed to exist in the first place? What is Naga trying to say by choosing a nobody like me?”

“Trust me, I’m pretty sure it’s a joke sometimes too.” Cynthia sighed, wincing at the reminder of her…well, younger sister, now. She put a hand on Adelaide’s shoulder trying to comfort her while keeping her composure as much as she could, a small smile on her face. “Maybe Lucina was meant to be the one who used it during the war, and you’re meant to have it during peacetime.”

Her face hardened a little as Adelaide mentioned ‘never supposed to exist’, having to resist the urge to slap the other woman with physical difficulty as she took a deep breath. “Adelaide, for gods’ sakes. Of course you’re supposed to exist. The fact that you didn’t live in the future where everything went straight to shit doesn’t mean you’re not important. What, because only Morgan and Haley came back for me, does that mean Sigurd shouldn’t exist?”

She pressed Falchion’s hilt into the Falcon Knight’s hand again, determination in her eyes. “Also, seriously, you just beat me in front of a bunch of other people. Maybe Falchion’s not meant to be used by the person ruling it, but the person who keeps it safe instead. Like my father had it while your mother was ruling.”

“I… I don’t know,” the Falcon Knight gulped, shaking her head, “I’m not sure about anything. I never even considered this as a possibility, but… maybe you’re right. If Lucina’s to ascend the throne someday, then maybe I have a role in helping her keep Ylisse safe. Maybe Naga is trying show me a path forward that I can’t see just yet.”

Wiping her eyes and carefully sheathing Falchion, Adelaide dropped to a knee and offered the sword back to her cousin. “I’m sorry for putting you through all of this, Cynthia. Fate, destiny, other futures… it’s all so confusing. I don’t even know where to start. Here and now, though, before all else: I am your knight. That’s the one thing I’m sure of.”

“I’d kind of hope Lucina doesn’t end up on the throne. That means all my kids are either dead or abdicated.” Cynthia grumbled a little, trying to make it sound like a joke. Sighing, she reached down to take the sword’s hilt, fingers curling around it as she paused and glanced down at her with light in her eyes.

Drawing the blade smoothly from the sheath, she touched both of Adelaide’s shoulders in smooth succession, hopefully faster than she would be able to object, smiling to herself.

“I know you’ve already been knighted, but sometimes it’s nice to renew some vows. She joked, sheathing Falchion and tossing the blade up into the air for a few moments. She paused again, eyes flickering from Adelaide to the blade before passing it back. “Go on, Adelaide. Tell your parents the good news. I’m going to want that sword back, though, I’m not dead yet.”

Adelaide kept her head respectfully low as Cynthia joked, rolling her eyes at her cousin’s attempt at humor. Lucina was Chrom’s rightful heir, and though Cynthia had been a wonderful Exalt, she also deserved to live her life as she pleased.

With her head so low, though, Adelaide barely had time to realize what her cousin was really up to. When the sword was returned to her hands, the Falcon Knight looked up at her Exalt and gave her a very soft smile.

“As you command, Your Grace,” she replied, hesitantly accepting the sword. Adelaide imagined what this might mean for her future, and a little bit of her cousin’s optimism suddenly rubbed off on her. Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. “And… thank you, Cynthia. I don’t say this nearly enough, but I love you. Hehe, I’ll be sure to tell you all about how badly father overreacts tonight. I won’t be surprised if he ends up fainting!”

“He’s going to be very proud of you once his heart attack finishes.” Cynthia agreed with a grin, patting Adelaide on her shoulder. She picked up the training lance she’d been using earlier and slid it back into the rack, humming to herself before glancing at the knight with a hint of pride in her eyes.

“I love you too, Adelaide. Now go on, captain, scat. You’re dismissed.” She waved her off with a laugh. “At ease, off duty, whatever the right order is. Get out of here.”

#Sweet Baby Cousin;Adelaide #my legacy;exalted cynthia au #One For The History Books!;Thread Archive

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placetobenation · 6 years ago

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Welcome to Seinfeld: The PTBN Series Rewatch! On a regular basis, JT Rozzero, Aaron George, Andrew Flanagan, Jordan Duncan and Jason Greenhouse will watch an episode of TV’s greatest sitcom and provide notes and grades across a number of categories. The goal is to rewatch the entire series chronologically to see what truly worked, what still holds up today, what feels just a bit dated and yada, yada, yada it will be a great time. So settle into your couch with the cushions flipped over, grab a Snapple and enjoy the ride!

Best Character

JT: I liked Kramer the most here. The mail story was the best of the bunch and he had some strong delivery in multiple spots throughout the episode, including one of my favorite all time moments when he pops in the apartment and says that he called about the van. The dummy bucket stuff was funny too as was his showdown with the Postmaster General.

Aaron: It’s David Puddy for his ten seconds of screen time. He busts himself up with the Maytag man line then walks off towards immortality. What an indictment of this episode.

Andrew: It’s Kramer. I get the sense he’s partly on auto-pilot here, but he’s mastered the small touches so completely that the character always works. The “You said ‘a mailman I know’ and you’re a mailman I know!” line has always stayed with me, even coming from one of the weaker episodes. This isn’t the most ground-breaking performance, but it’s still worthwhile to recognize competence.

Jordan: I’ll go Kramer here. Even for a Kramer storyline, I felt the mail storyline was a stretch. So many episodes in the past have seen me struggle to choose because of so many good options, here it’s a case of trying to find anything I enjoyed.

Best Storyline

JT: The van had its moments but Kramer’s battle with the post office stands out here. It had the funniest lines and overall concept and I really liked he payoff the end with Newman being marched into far the Postmaster General. George’s cousin plot was creepy and The Wiz stuff was weak.

Aaron: George’s parents having enough of him takes the cake here. It’s as though they watched the show, saw the monster that they created and cut their losses. At first I was put off by the cousin dating, but then it struck me that it may be the most sensible relationship George has ever had.

Andrew: Definitely the post office stuff for me. George’s parents cutting him loose has an absurdist bent I enjoy, but they don’t explore the concept any further. The paranoid conspiracy movie pastiche, on the other hand, is the most fully realized idea this episode has to offer. And with Newman, Kramer, and the Postmaster General, this storyline has the best performances by far.

Jordan: As I type it out, the episode sounds fine. The post office stuff with Wilford Brimley was solid, the van stuff wasn’t terrible, and I didn’t even mind George desperate for his parents attention. Yet in execution – they all kind of fell flat? I’m going with Jerry’s van just for the scene where Kramer wants to buy it and asks about trades.

Ethical Dilemma of the Week

JT: Is being starved for attention reason enough to bang your cousin? Probably not if your cousin is Rhisa. I will let you sort out the rest.

Aaron: I’ve often wondered about incest. I guess my main question would be is there less of a stigma towards homosexual incest as opposed to heterosexual incest because of the lack of potential abominations? Countless men have fantasized about bedding twins with little regard to the damage those poor sisters would do to their souls. No one seems to bat an eye when two brothers dance the night away before a certain trip to a certain town. Why do we stand in the way of cousins, or sterile siblings? THEY ARE STERILE! If we let them own a cat together we should let them express their love in a free and horrific way.

Andrew: Is it OK to stop getting mail? Should citizens be able to opt out of government services they don’t personally care for? No. When did this segment turn into Libertarian Corner? Oh, so now I’m setting up strawmen in an argument with myself, am I? No YOU sound crazy!

Jordan: I would like to confess that I once went to a BBQ and saw a girl who I thought was smoking hot, only to be told that she was my cousin I had not seen for years. It was difficult to come to grips with, but thankfully, I maintained my dignity and did not flirt with my cousin. Nor should any of you.

Relationship Scale (Scale 1-10)

JT: Frankie Merman wants all of Jerry’s babies. The love AND lust in his eyes shone through anytime they were together. He got Jerry that van because he pictured them taking family trips to the country together every Sunday. Just tell him how you feel, Summer George! Relationship Grade: Van’s a Rockin’/Don’t Come Knockin’

Aaron: What’s grosser: Frank and Estelle christening the van or George banging his wine cooler infused cousin? Either one is preferable to Elaine and the God Damn Wiz. Relationship Grade: 0/10

Andrew: This episode is full of abhorrent couplings. But David Puddy remains a golden god. Relationship Grade: 0/Hoochie Mama

Jordan: If I can take any solace in this, it’s that Elaine Benes’ standards are so ridiculously low, that I have a legitimate shot with her. Seriously – The Wiz? Learn to love yourself, Laney! Relationship Grade: I’M NOT THE WIZ, AND I’M… AWESOOOOOME/10

What Worked:

JT: Whitey Fisk; “Jackbooted thugs” makes me laugh; What’s Jerry going to do with the old looking phone?; PUDDY~!; George scripting his calls to his parents is great; Jerry asking Elaine if the man she met was Whitey Fisk; What was Kramer’s original idea regarding the choke point?; I always enjoy how George reverts to the third person when he gets angry, such a fun callback for the rest of the series; Kramer’s brick line; Newman telling Violet to take her three hour break and his sweaty conversation with Kramer; Kramer walking in and saying “yeah I called about the van” is one off my all time favorite moments; Puddy trolling Elaine over The Wiz; The Bucket stuff is a funny running joke; Frank bringing back “hoochie mama”

Aaron: I like the creepy gravediggers who inhabit the park, especially the fact that there were potentially undressed ones the deeper into the woods you strode. The moment where Kramer realized that his “revenge” on Pottery Barn was fruitless was perfectly played. Rhisa just going for it with George was a fun twist.

Andrew: The whole Junk Mail storyline works for me. Kramer’s impotent revenge at Pottery Barn, the bricked up mailbox, the whole government conspiracy angle, and most of all the Postmaster General, gave me the most genuine laughs of the episode. David Puddy laughing at his own jokes at Elaine’s expense is great. I may be in the minority here, but Jack’s absurd strut with the Wiz crown makes me laugh.

Jordan: I popped big for Wilford Brimley. Long before he was simply “Diabetus” to today’s world, he was a legit actor. I always loved his voice. Him calmly talking to Kramer was both soothing and threatening. He did great. I also liked that Frank and Estelle are basically just done with George. The van seat lowering into a bed was a nice touch, as was George commenting that it was “a rockin'”.

What Didn’t Work

JT: Frankie Merman always looks like he just ran a marathon; I didn’t need the mental imagery of the Costanzas having intercourse; the immediate leap George makes to date his cousin feels a step too far for both him and the show; the coincidence that Jerry stumbled into the Wiz commercial just as they were talking about Jack was a bit too much; Why did George have to drive deep into the woods to execute his scheme; Jack doing that fucking Wiz dance, go get fucked

Aaron: What is going on with Elaine? Remember when she was picky with men? Sure she always dated but now she’s basically turned into a complete whore. She dumps her boyfriend at the mere hint of another man looking her in the eyes. That’s why Puddy’s Maytag man joke landed. It’s true! Ugh. What an awful turn for a once-great character. Why does callous Jerry suddenly care about ANYONE’S feelings? There is no way the guy who dropped “that’s a shames” left and right would give a living shit about some freak burying himself to death in a park. He had contempt for a bubble boy for Christ’s sake. Kramer’s whole production during the van sale made me want to vomit the compliments I lauded him with in countless of these things. Look no further than the preposterous Wiz dance for a terrific example of a guy having no idea what show he’s on.

Andrew: There are some fun, absurd ideas here that just don’t land. A park full of weirdos digging holes to lay in is a wonderful image, but somehow the episode can’t get the joke to land. Likewise, a son who’s only known withering levels of attention from his parents being “cut loose”, who then responds by trying to win them back, is a solid plot idea. And yet I’ve never given that story a second thought after the episode is over. It’s generally a bad sign when a show has a bad plot device (George’s parents agreeing to pick up the van from the woods), but the writers just lampshade it instead of fixing it (No parking meters out in the woods!). This is one of those episodes that feels rushed and unpolished to me.

Jordan: Full disclosure here, I am entering my thoughts after others have, and I scanned what JT wrote, and he sums it up for me. These stories sound OK on paper, but they seem to just dive right in. George going right to “I’ll date my cousin!” seems really far fetched, even for him. There was no escalation at all. To me, it was the same with Newman warning Kramer about getting rid of mail, it all just hits these big moments out of nowhere. Also, Jerry making fun of The Wiz after some of the things he’s worn FOR FREE is hypocrisy at it’s finest.

Key Character Debuts

– Frankie Merman

– Rhisa

Iconic Moments, Running Themes & Memorable Quotes

– “He was not the summer you. Besides, you had a summer me. Whitey Fisk, the guy who snuck you into Last Tango in Paris.” – Jerry “I made him up.” – George “So you never saw Last Tango in Paris?” – Jerry “No.” – George “Too bad. It was erotic.” – Jerry

– “Well… I’ve had it with these jackbooted thugs!” – Kramer “‘Pottery Barn’?” – Jerry

– “After dark? Please. At their age, that’s like swallowing stun grenades.” – George

– “So, this is beautiful. You, and Puddy, and this new guy, in a big pot of love stew.” – Jerry

– “Will you look at this? More catalogs! ‘Omaha Steaks’, ‘Mac Warehouse’, ‘Newsweek’?! I can’t stop all these companies, so, I’m gonna attack this problem at the choke point.” – Kramer “Stop the mail?” – Jerry “That’s… even better!” – Kramer

– “Where’d you get the bricks?” – Jerry “Jerry, the whole building is brick.” – Kramer

– “Oh, that’s it. They have gone too far. They keep pushing me, and pushing me. Now I got no choice but to go down there… and talk to them.” – Kramer

– “Ah, shut up, Jerry. My parents think they can ignore me. Heh heh. Well, they better think again.” – George “Oh, no. George, please. What are you going to do?” – Jerry “You remember my cousin Rhisa? I’m gonna date her.” – George

– “That’s pretty pathetic.” – George “I know. They’re not even related.” – Jerry

– “Oh, it’s fantastic. We were out in front of the post office today, and not one person went in.” – Kramer “It’s Sunday.” – Jerry

Oddities & Fun Facts

– Legendary actor Wilford Brimley portrays the Postmaster General

Overall Grade (Scale 1-10)

JT: This is another weak episode here in season nine. I really liked the mail saga and there was plenty of laughs but the other three stories never quite clicked. Frankie was a weirdo, George was a creep and Elaine was an idiot. I don’t mind that they are getting a bit over the top here in their final season but some of this stuff is way too much and just not believable after a certain point. The Kramer mail stuff is a bit nutty but in line with the character’s motivations. A man digging holes in Central Park when his feelings are hurt and George wanting to bang his cousin to get his parents’ attention just don’t resonate at all. They still seem to be figuring out what they want this season to be and hopefully it all clicks together soon. Final Grade: 5/10

Aaron: I think I hate this show now. The barely-recognizable characters suck, the performances are stiff and wooden and when Frank and Estelle can’t save an episode we’re in serious, serious trouble. Man the writing has become awful too. Everything used to feel organic. Everything used to feel like it would actually happen. How on Earth is Frank Costanza finding that van in the woods? The over convenient situations have reached an absurd point. Fuck the Wiz. Final Grade: 1/10

Andrew: This is not a good one. I have fond memories of the post office stuff, but otherwise it’s pretty much a dud. Final Grade: 5/10

Jordan: This feels like an episode where they had to come up with something for everyone, rather than just fit everyone into on e story. I liked the mail stuff with Kramer, and feel like they could have just built the entire episode around that story -easily bringing George and Elaine into it somehow. Instead, we have a huge swing and a miss with George and his cousin, another miss with Elaine and The Wiz, and if I’m being generous, a base hit with Jerry’s van. But it’s not memorable at all. Final Grade: 4/10

#IFTTT #Place to Be Nation

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